#slipping and putting their loved ones in danger

[nickssidewitch]

Headcannons of the triplets during missionary pretty please🫠💕

🤭❤️ The Sturniolo Triplets During Missionary Headcanons (Based on Tarot Readings) 🥺🔥

gifs by @vxnitra 🤍

🦕 Matt 🌀

One thing about Matt and missionary? They both start with M.

But more importantly, it’s one of his favorites to make you completely hypnotized with pleasure.

He is methodical in his movements, studying your face for any signs of pleasure, as well as discomfort if that ever arises.

If he hits a certain spot that makes the most heavenly sound slip between your parted lips, he’ll continue to hit the spot, only deliberately moving away from it when he wants to find a new spot or when he wants to change positions.

The tip of him hits your best areas in the most delicious ways, always sliding against it with the best amount of pressure and grace, the perpetual motions of his hips maintaining the same rhythms in order to keep that beautiful look of ecstasy painted across your face. Your eyes are rolled back or shut tight, small tears on the corners of which he knows aren’t of pain, your lips parted with small breaths and whimpers and moans escaping them.

He’ll hold your legs by your calves as anchors, sometimes putting them over his shoulders when he wants to hit an especially deep spot. He loves to watch your back arch and hands grip whatever surface is closest to them as he continues to fuck into you.

He’ll touch you all over, his hands wisping along your chest, to your sides. His hands may even find their way back to your neck, one of them wrapping around it and pressing into the pulsing jugular veins to give you a choking sensation that you may love.

Sometimes, particularly when you’re especially needy, he wants to take care of his girl. And that translates to his body cascading onto yours and trapping your body in order for you to endure more quickened strokes.

And this is where the knot in your stomach starts to tighten. Matt’s hitting that spot at the right velocity that makes your warmth ooze that beautiful creamy substance that coats his dick, making the glide easier for him and the moment more pleasurable for the both of you.

You’re tightening around him, and you feel his breath puff against your skin as he looks down at you at such a close, almost dangerous, proximity. Dangerous, in that if you ever opened your eyes at this moment, you’d immediately unravel underneath him.

And speak of the devil, it happens. Your eyes bat open at the sound of his voice coaxing the eye contact out of you. “Look at me. Come on, look at me, sweetheart,” is whispered from his lips. He wants to view you— all of you— right before that moment overtakes the both of you.

And once your eyes open, he reaches his hand down between the two of you one last time, rubbing circles into the nervous bud above your labia, wanting to see your face screw up with pleasure as you get even closer… and tighter… and closer… and—

You clamp down onto him with the perfect amount of pressure for him to stroke a couple more times, and finally, he releases. Whether it’s inside of you, or on your precious tummy below your sweaty, heaving chest, it’s all worth it in the end.

He’ll let you catch his breath as he does before helping you up, walking you over to the bathroom to clean up and replenish the energy you both transferred between each other in that moment.

💟 Nick 🍥

Missionary, if he’s the bottom, can be the most needy and whimpering state of Nick that you could ever witness. His eyes would look at you with the most desire as he waits for you to please him.

He’ll hold his legs open and his hips up for you, presenting his awaiting orifice to be filled by your love.

You’d get him ready for you though, taunting and teasing the tip of your cock around and against his rim, maybe even using your fingers to open him up even more for your insertion if you hadn’t done do already. He’d whimper and pulsate around you, the tip of his dick leaking with anticipation to feel all of you.

Then you’d slowly start to press yourself into him, his hands gripping his own thighs as he feels the length taunt his walls. His head would be thrown back and eyes shut with a beautiful combination of pleasure and pressure, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he whimpers and moans softly.

Then he’d look at you, either because you whispered a command or just because of his own will, and his eyes stay on yours. Eye contact doesn’t cease as you start to move— just the little force he used to crane his neck up to look into your eyes and/or watch you dip in and out of his hole.

His moans will get louder and a bit higher in pitch, often complimenting how raw you feel or how deep your cock is inside of him. The grip he has on his own thighs will tighten as you thrust deeper and harder, his head throwing back against whatever surface he’s on. He’d feel the blood rush through every vein of your cock, which would get his stomach stirring with ecstasy.

Once you see his dick start to twitch, you know he’s close. Some precum will start to spray out of the tip, covering his stomach as he starts to jerk himself off.

If you’re in a dominant mood, you’ll swat his hand away from his needy dick and stroke at it yourself, focusing on the inch right below his tip to get him really going. You’d spit on his cock, and your saliva would mix with his precum to make the best mixture of lubricant, which you’d use to tug, and tug, and tug, until—

He moans especially loudly and his hips buck upwards causing his orgasm to squirt up into the air and land onto his stomach and your hand. You’d praise him, and he’d whimper in response, his asshole gripping around your cock as if it sensed that your semen would start to fill him up too.

Once you’re finished unloading, you’ll slowly pull out, watching as Nick’s hole gapes and shows the aftermath of your cum inside of him. It would be a beautiful sight, one you and him definitely hope to recreate soon.

He’d probably ask you to clean him up and you’d get to work, using your tongue to clean up the excess cum running down onto the surface he’s on top of.

If Nick is the top in this dynamic, however, it could get nasty. He’ll tell you to lift your hips and hold yourself open for him, your hole pulsating with need as you wait for him to push himself in. He’d inform you to spread yourself open for him even more, asserting the dominance you’d been longing for all day.

He’d make sure to angle himself properly for you as he squirts the lube onto your hole and some on your cock. His hands would jerk you off a bit before he’d inform you to take his place, since his attention is now a bit lower as he focused on thrusting into you.

You feel it, the pressure as he slowly slides into you. It’s a warm fill, and now you can understand why he instructed you hold yourself open for him— the stretch. Yes, it is that stretch that Nick loves and that you love just the same, the one that really gets those drawled out moans from the two of you.

Nick will put his hand on his hip as he fixes his posture and positioning, really trying to find the best and most comfortable way to draw out the pleasure for the both of you. His eyes are narrowed as he focuses, and he might let out a chuckle if he’s taking too long on purpose.

Finally, the brunette starts to move , his thrusts steady, yet impactful enough for your cock to jump with every force. He tells you to jerk yourself off some more if he notices that you’d stopped, and the look on your face as you twist it in pleasure has him yearning for more.

He’ll continue his thrusts, his hands gripping your hips tightly as your legs move onto his shoulders, making sure that this angle hits your prostate with every stroke.

He’ll notice your tip start to leak with precum, maybe even a little pee, as he thrusts so deep that your prostate starts to hit against your bladder. He’ll use this as motivation to move faster, angling his body to hit against your prostate more, praising and cooing at you every time you cry out with pleasure or try to stop yourself from leaking. “Shh, it’s okay. It means I’m doing my job.” “You’re doing so well for me.”

“Take notes,” if he’s feeling a little cocky, but also if he plans on switching places with you for another round. He knows that if he acts cocky now, it’ll get you to take all of your frustrations out on him when it’s your turn to fuck.

Then he’ll start to twitch inside of you once he feels the slick of your ass make the glide of his cock easier. He’ll wait for you to cum first, his hand swatting yours away to jerk you off frantically, his thumb rubbing the tip around your seeping hole, encouraging its release.

Once he notices your start to cum, he cums as well, filling you up as he staggers his movements and finally buries himself as far as he can into you. His hands are gripping your hips tightly as you tremble underneath and around him, and he leans down to kiss you passionately and sloppily.

Once he pulls out of you, he holds your ass open to watch his cum drip out of you, maybe your hole is pulsating enough to spurt some out. The queefing sound makes you both chuckle.

He’ll lean down to kiss your heaving chest and cum-stained stomach, scooping up some of your warmth with his tongue as his eyes stay on yours.

✴️ Chris 🥭

You’re gonna feel every damn skin cell when he presses into you. Every inch, every indentation, every pulse of blood coursing through his veins, will all be felt as slowly creeps inside of you. And he makes sure of it, sometimes even asking you, “You feel all of that?”, and reminding you, “That’s all yours.”

His movements will be slow, intricate, and above all, fulfilling every inch of your chasm. He’ll watch as he goes deeper, and deeper, and deeper, loving the way your lips part and take all of him (or at least attempt to).

Once he’s buried inside of you, he’ll stay there for a few moments to get himself situated mentally just as much as physically. He’ll take a couple of breaths, looking at where you’re both connected, then up at your chest to watch the way it heaves up and down, then up to your face to see the way it construes as he starts to move.

He’ll take a moment to dig himself as deep as possible, using that opportunity to roll his hips in a circle and grind his pelvis into your clit. Luckily for you, he didn’t shave, so you’ll feel his coarse pubic hair brushing against you, the new form of friction adding onto the pleasure. You’ll release a long, low moan in response— what makes him give you a cheeky grin— before he starts his movements again, long strokes in and out.

His eyes would latch onto yours, eyebrows furrowed and teeth gritted, as he focuses on giving you what you need. If you’re trying to push him away or creep your body away from him due to all of the sensations, he’ll pin your arms down, making you take it even more. “Don’t run.” “What’re you pushing me away for?” “Where you goin’?” “Take this dick.”

He will start to speed up as he feels your body tighten around him— Not just between your legs, but also the way your nails dig into his skin, the way your feet cross around his lower back and pull him deeper, the way your head presses into the crook of his neck as your whimpers reverberate against his skin. It’s all he needs to quicken his movements.

You’ll feel his arms tense as he gets closer to the edge, and his eyes will remain on yours, narrowed with determination as he fucks into you more quickly. He’ll either anchor himself at an angle that makes you cry out or scream the most, or he’ll lay his body against yours, pumping himself repeatedly in and out of you.

A delicious sound of yourself squelching with every thrust could probably be heard throughout the whole house as he continues at the same pace. Your juices would be pushed out of you every time he strokes inwards, and the symphony of that alongside your pretty moans would be the last thing make him fall apart.

He’d hold your shaking legs in his arms as he grips into your skin, his own orgasm coming at full force as he fills you up. His last few strokes are sloppy and beautifully disgusting, his and your orgasms pooling out of you and dripping onto whatever surface is closest. He’d straighten his body to look down and watch the pool of mess form, chuckling and smirking as his chest heaves.

When he finally pulls out of you, he’ll spread your pussy with his fingers, watching the hole convulse as your concoction of arousal drips out. He might even use his finger to push some back inside if he’s feeling the need to “make it stick”, but that’s only when the time comes and he’s ready for the risk of a pregnancy.

If he doesn’t release inside of you, he’s pulling out of you and choosing one of many options. One is that he decides to cum onto your belly. Another is to use the rest of his energy left to flip you onto your stomach, give your ass one or two spanks before ejaculating onto your cheeks. Maybe he’ll choose a third option, pulling you by your legs to bring your body closer to him, adjusting you so that he could cum in your mouth or on your face. Just thinking about the way your pretty, fucked-out eyes would look up at him always persuades him to choose that last option.

[heartyluv]

Plz give the girls a full fwb!caleb fic ur little ficlet was so good like it had my cootamunk QUIVERING ‼️

Note: I just want you to know that cootamunk has had me in tears since yesterday. Literally couldn’t stop laughing and now I can’t stop saying it. You’re a hilarious genius and I luv you. This is for you, babe. Enjoy!

Creds to @/anitalenia and @/strangergraphics for the dividers!

Rating: Explicit - !!Minors DO NOT Interact!!

Warning: Smut, Caleb is a little controlling and rough.

Word Count: 2,251

Summary: Caleb finds out that you’re trying to go on a date and shuts that shit down.

Jealous&FriendsWithBenefits!Caleb/Reader

Hey. You up?

The notification that appears at the top of your phone screen stops your doom scrolling. You smile just a little to see that familiar message with the name accompanying it. You look at the time, not surprised that it’s almost two in the morning. You never go to bed at the time you intend to, unintentionally looking and reading through a whole bunch of things from your roulette of consistently used apps.

You open your messages, twiddling your thumbs before you get ready to answer. Tonight could go one of two ways: You’re either about to be put to bed with sex or you’re about be up for another hour or two watching something you’ve already seen before until you and Caleb pass out on the couch.

When Caleb proposed being your first after you shared your fears of giving yourself to someone who didn’t deserve it, you thought he was joking. But when he looked at you with those serious eyes you’ve grown to be able to identify so well, you knew that you were about to tread into some dangerous territory. But you let it happen, and you were convinced that if you ever had sex again, it wouldn’t be what Caleb showed you, what he did to you.

You’ll never forget his gentleness, his praise and respect. The way he put you and your needs above his own. Your thighs always press together just thinking about how you watched him slide on a condom and look into your eyes before he began to slip inside. You worried about pain, but Caleb had prepared you so well, gotten you so wet, that it was nothing but blissful pleasure.

“You’re doing so good for me. I got you, pretty.”

“It’s okay, hold onto me. I’ll make sure it feels good.”

“If you need me to stop, don’t hesitate to tell me. This is about you.”

You were addicted. And you were scared that your newfound desire for consistent sex was because it was Caleb who made you feel so good. You tried convincing yourself that you just wanted to feel that full and taken care of again, but you knew better.

No other man would do what he did—would feel like he did. So when you vented to Caleb about how much you enjoyed yourself, you played it off and said that it was going to be scary showing yourself like this again to a stranger. But, then he said what you would’ve never had the guts to.

“We can still have sex if you want. I mean, neither of us are dating or anything. Friends with benefits, you know? It doesn’t hurt to just feel good and we trust each other enough.”

You didn’t hesitate to accept and it’s been history ever since. He comes over all the time and you still operate like friends, but when he’s hard and you’re wet, you two fuck like a couple madly in love.

He always comes over at some point when he has a break or you go to his place. If he’s up for it—he always is—he’ll make the drive to your apartment when it’s past midnight because he tends to get off work late. Tonight is no different. Finally, you start to write your reply.

Hey. Yeah, everything okay?

Yeah. I’m outside. Open up?

Your eyebrows raise in shock. He’s outside already? That’s a first.

Your oversized shirts falls mid thigh when you stand and you walk to your front door, not needing any light to see since the moon is so bright that it casts a gentle light into your open floored space. When you open the door, Caleb looks at you with a tight smile.

“You sure you’re okay? You texted me like you weren’t here, yet you were standing outside this whole time,” you chuckle. But Caleb doesn’t laugh, he just holds that expression that you can’t read.

He steps inside when you move over and you shut the door behind him, locking it while looking at him take off his sweater.

“Caleb—” you start, but he’s cupping the side of your face and kissing you with so much intensity. You accept it, melting into his hold as your hands snake into his hair, pressing your body close to his as your tongue licks at his mouth.

It must be one of those nights where we talk after, you think. He’s done this before and so have you, where you’re so overwhelmed with something that you need to release physically before you can do it verbally.

He’s eager in his urge to pull your clothes off, tickling your skin with his fingertips as he grabs the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head. You’re just as grabby, pulling his shirt off and tugging at his pants to get them down. You kiss your way to the couch and he falls backwards when you gently push him.

You can see him, but just barely. You don’t feel like cutting a light on, so the moon illuminating through your windows will have to do. You slide your panties off and your pussy squeezes around nothing when you hear how ragged his breathing is and the wet noises that you know is him stroking his cock.

You crawl onto his lap, bracing your knees on both sides of him as you raise your hips. You put one hand on his shoulder and use the other to grip his length to put him where you both need.

“Caleb…Oh my god…” you whine as your body takes him inside, making you two become one.

You feel him twitch inside your walls as you start to move just a little bit, rubbing your breast against your palm as you hold onto him.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally speaks for the first time since his arrival and you nearly freeze, but he doesn’t let you. He keeps your hips moving, keeps thrusting into you from beneath as you choke on your breath from his words and actions.

“The thought of you letting anyone but me get the privilege to see you like this makes me fucking nauseous.” He kisses your shoulder as he moves snugly within your warm cunt, and all you can do is listen to him because he’s not giving you a second to speak.

“Could you deal with me killing a man for you? Because if you ever let him experience this, I wouldn’t hesitate. Tell me what you need from me and I’ll become that and more to fulfill your every desire.”

You whimper as he grabs your ass tightly, keeping you moving so that you take him ass deep as you can.

“Caleb, what are you—What happened?” you say breathlessly, confused and thrown off by his confession. Every time you try to stop moving, he won’t allow it.

Caleb doesn’t want you to stop because if you stop feeling how good he makes you feel, you’ll try and find a way to bullshit him.

“You think I’m going to let you leave me?” he groans when you squeeze him. “I know about your little date. Remember what you told me when we started this?”

You never told him anything, but you’re not surprised that he was able to find this out. Caleb always finds his ways and you’ve never understood how. The date was harmless, setup by a coworker of yours after she told you the guy liked you and he didn’t seem bad, so you figured—why not? Well now, you know you made a terrible mistake.

You do remember what you said, and it replays in your mind like a voice recording.

“If either of us start dating or anything, we have to cut this off. There won’t be anymore sex, but we could still be friends. But if someone can’t deal with that, it’s healthy for us to just cut ties entirely.”

“Yeah, you remember,” he licks your neck. “I never agreed, I just let you try and ignore your feelings because you said you weren’t ready for a relationship. But now?” he abruptly stands with him seated inside of you to the brim.

“It looks like I have to make the right decision for both of us.”

He walks through your dark apartment into your room with your small lamp on. You turned it on before you got up to answer the door and you’re glad you did, because you can see him so clearly now. And he looks hurt—hurt and angry.

“Caleb I didn’t mean—”

He roughly throws you down into the bed, still pulsing inside. You don’t even understand how he’s this fucking strong, but it’s turning you on so much that you know his cock is soaked with your slick.

“What?” he growls, cutting you off, grabbing your hands and placing them above your head as he starts to pound into you so hard that you can’t breathe. Your bed physically moves, you hear the frame grate against the floor.

“To hurt me, huh? To make me have to think that you were going to choose someone else over me? Over us?” He spreads your legs, spearing into you over and over while your breasts bounce in his face. He roughly takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking the peaked nub. He starts to suck on your breasts, leaving red marks that he intends to keep on you so you’ll always look in the mirror and know who owns you.

He angles himself, sitting on his knees and you don’t know how he’s able to make you so flexible right now, but you’ve never been so spread in your life. His hand comes to your throat, not putting pressure but it’s telling you what you two are without it needing to be said.

“Caleb…” you hiccup. “I can’t..I’m gonna—”

You’re going dizzy at how hard he’s fucking you, how he’s punishing your cervix with each brutally delicious thrust. His head falls to your neck while he keeps your throat in his palm, and when you hear him sniffle, you damn near cry yourself. You move your hands from above your head where he put them, tugging on his hair and tracing his back while his hips never lose their momentum.

“I’ll make you see. I’ll make you realize how much I belong to you. I want to live in your body, I want to stay a part of you forever. I’ll do everything in my power, baby. Please take me, please, please don’t make me have to know what it’s like without you.”

“I’ll never do that you,” you whine as he circles his hips to make you feel every thick inch. “I’m sorry…I’m here..”

“Show me how sorry,” you feel wetness of what you believe is a tear drop on your neck as he continues to hide his face in it. “I’m not pulling out. Let me put my cum inside you. I want you to feel it. You’ll let me, won’t you? Please tell me yes, baby… I’m so fucking close..”

“Yes,” you affirm, your own orgasm impending. “Give it to me, Caleb…”

And when he whimpers as he slams into you just a few more times, his heavy load floods your fertile pussy as his cock fucks it into you deep. Even when you cry out from how hard you finished, he’s still slowly rocking his hips, making you and him both feel that mix of pleasure and pain from overstimulation.

You feel the cum start to spill out, falling down and pooling beneath your ass. It sticks to your skin and stains your sheets but you don’t care. If you could stay like this forever, you would.

He finally pulls back to look at you and even if his eyes aren’t red, his face is flushed and you can see the wetness on his long eyelashes. Gently, you take your thumbs to his eyes to wipe his tears. You pull him down, kissing him so sloppily that you don’t care how messy it is. He follows your lead without hesitation, sticking his tongue down your throat and making you both pour the rest of yourselves into one another.

He bucks his hips, his cock slightly moving inside of you as a reminder that he’s still there—that he’ll always be. He’s not giving you a choice but to let him. And you can’t stop clenching, you can’t stop your hole from wanting to bring him deeper, to keep him there.

“Caleb,” you say softly when you two are forced to pull away to catch your breath.

He just stares down at you, his eyes dancing across your face as his breath becomes steady.

“I’m in love with you too.”

He smiles hard, holding you tight as you wrap your arms around him. He’s more than happy that the feeling was mutual, that you want him just as much. Because he wasn’t exaggerating about killing a man for even daring to think that he could have you. He wasn’t playing when he said that you’d never leave him.

But hopefully, you’ll never have to find out how far he’ll go. A man like Caleb in love is a man who has no shame or fear, other than losing you. And he’ll go great lengths to prove that.

“Forever,” he mumbles. “You’re never leaving me.”

“Never,” you kiss his neck. “I promise.”

And he intends to make sure you keep it.

[callikari]

STAY A ⭑ LITTLE LONGER

PRECIS 。 "confess i loved you, just thinking of you.. i know i've loved you, from the start."

심재윤 x fem!reader 735 fluff roommates to lovers ─── skinship kissing mild language (teasing) not proof read !!

REBLOG FOR A KiSS

it starts with the toothbrush.

you’re brushing your teeth one morning, eyes still half-shut, and jake walks into the bathroom like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“good morning,” he says through a yawn, grabbing his toothbrush from the holder next to yours.

you blink at him in the mirror, foamy toothpaste in your mouth. “we’re brushing together now?”

he shrugs. “seemed efficient.”

and maybe it’s weird at first, but it becomes a thing. part of the rhythm you’ve built with him over the past few months.

living with jake is easy. surprisingly easy. he hums when he cooks, leaves the cabinet doors open, and always forgets where he left his socks. you roll your eyes a lot, but there’s a smile behind it now. because the place feels warmer with him in it.

you didn’t expect that when you signed the lease.

you thought he’d be just a roommate. someone to share chores and utilities with. someone whose name you’d put on the wifi bill and maybe text about groceries.

but now he’s someone who texts you pictures of the sky when he sees a nice one. someone who brings back your favorite drink without asking. someone who falls asleep on your side of the couch because it “smells like you, and that’s comforting.”

yeah. it’s a little past normal now.

it’s a sunday morning when you really notice it.

you walk into the kitchen still in your pajamas, hair a mess, and jake’s already there. he’s got a hoodie on (definitely yours), dancing around the stove to a song playing low from his phone.

“you’re up early,” you mumble, squinting at the clock.

he grins. “made pancakes. and by pancakes i mean i burnt the first batch and cried a little.”

you snort, dropping into a chair. “so dramatic.”

he slides a plate in front of you, this batch golden and perfect. “drama aside, they’re edible now.”

you take a bite and hum. “edible and actually good. color me shocked.”

he bumps your shoulder with his hip. “rude. i slaved over a hot stove for you.”

“i’m grateful,” you say between bites. “seriously. this is nice.”

he looks at you for a second longer than normal. “yeah. it is.”

it keeps building, in little ways.

he starts waiting for you to get home if you’re out late, always with a “you good?” and a glass of water ready.

you catch him watching your favorite show without you one night and pretend to be mad. he spends the next hour giving you a dramatic recap, acting out every character until you’re crying with laughter.

he starts wearing your socks. you start stealing his hoodies. neither of you says anything about it.

one night, you’re both on the couch, a blanket tossed across your legs, movie playing quietly. you’re half-asleep when you feel it—his pinky brushing yours. slow. testing.

you don’t pull away.

you just let your hand slip into his like it was always meant to be there.

“so,” jake says one night, leaning against your bedroom doorframe. he’s in sweatpants and a too-big t-shirt. his hair’s a little messy, eyes soft.

“so?” you echo, setting your book down.

he walks in, a little shy. sits on the edge of your bed. “i was thinking.”

“dangerous,” you tease.

he smiles. “maybe. or maybe genius.”

you wait, heart thumping.

“what if,” he starts, glancing at you, “we stopped pretending this isn’t what it is?”

you blink. “and what is it?”

“me liking you. you liking me. this… thing.” he gestures vaguely between you. “we’re basically already dating. minus the title. and maybe the kissing.”

you laugh, cheeks warm. “so that’s what we’re missing.”

“exactly,” he says, eyes bright. “it’s a technicality.”

you reach for his hand again. “i like technicalities.”

“i like you,” he says, quieter now.

and this time, when he leans in, you meet him halfway.

his kiss is sweet. soft. familiar, like the laughter you’ve shared and the pancakes he burned and the songs he hums when he thinks you’re not listening.

when he pulls back, he grins.

“so… boyfriend privileges?” he asks.

you roll your eyes, smiling. “we’ll start with hand-holding and see how you behave.”

he winks. “i’m an excellent boyfriend. just wait.”

and you do.

you wait, and you stay, and so does he.

longer and longer, until it stops being temporary and starts feeling like forever.

taglist is open

vi says :: here is your guys long awaited work TT i had no motivation last week ..

© callikari — all rights reserved

[soundwave-starlight]

someone on here pointed out how Mel only calls Ken "Dad" in public and how she probably thinks of him being her father as a fabrication to disguise herself. I just wanted to add to that how much she clearly cares for and wants him to actually be her father.

I mean he is, but if the pilot told us anything about Ken and Mel it's that they are horrible at communicating with each other. Both Ken and Mel care so much about each other, but they can't show it to each other. Ken probably thinks he's showing it, but he fronts more concern about her being discovered as human rather than concern for HER. And his concern about her wellbeing translates as him trying to distance her from his dangerous life of crime, which while distancing her from danger, also separates her from the only family she knows. "You're not one of us! and you never will be. :)" Well meaning but crushing to receive.

Then there's Mel, who sees the separation Ken has created, and comes to the conclusion that the father daughter relationship between them is a front. But she wants to truly be apart of this family and thinks she can't without being apart of the crime. Granted I'm sure she also loves the crime, but the reason behind her insistence to join the smiling dead is from a desire to belong with her family and to truly be apart of it. Mel never gets to see the side of Ken that is full of love and genuine concern over her safety. "You're uh... proud of me, right?" she lets the mask slip for a moment there, then realizes it's too desperate and backpaddles into "with everything going according to plan and all?" she feels she has to hide her desire for his affection behind the quality of her work.

Then there's the end where Ken is giving his speech to the rest of the gaslight district, and by the gods wrath I was yelling at the screen. Because Ken doesn't mean anything he's saying, he's putting on an act. But Mel doesn't know that, doesn't help that he looks DIRECTLY AT HER when talking about the human. Like c'mon Ken you've got to give her a little bit of comfort right now you are talking about a human the prophesized human ie HER.

Ken really is trying though, and that's why I love him so much. He really needs to talk to his daughter, and she needs to talk to him. I am predicting a climactic crashout from Mel at Ken where she finally questions why Ken is keeping her around. I would imagine that is something Mel questions a lot, one thing in the intro sequence is "where do I come from" and while she has the literal answer of 'from an angel egg' she probably has no clue why Ken adopted her and why he is so adamant about keeping her secret. Then Ken can come clean about his motivations and his care for her.

This post was not supposed to be this long, I just adore their relationship. I might need to write fanfic about it.

[jupiterpiss]

GIYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS IMAGINE IMAGINE IMAGINE WITH ME! Let’s hold hands in a circle please and let me say something real thoughtful about our Irish lad Remmick.

Btw.. I wrote this at 3:54 a.m.. and I had an exam the next day.. so, I promise there is a shit ton of mistakes in here just.. JUST DONT LOOK AT THEM OKAY GUYS

Slight gore and NSFW below the cut!!

Remmick with a werewolf reader. Her family.. a long long LONG heritage of wolves that date back to who fucking knows when, made a deal with the Choctaw in order to have peace between them. Because before they would hunt them, or more so both groups would hunt each other, and eventually they found that harmony would do much better than anything. Especially cause they hear whispers of something inhuman.. unnatural lurking its way in the shadows, that feasts on the blood of the innocent and burns under the brightness of the sun.

They both make a deal to never associate with vampires, and to instead protect the land from them and to protect each other. There was strength in numbers. And both groups are amazing at just keeping to them selves when need be, aside from helping against danger— both really don’t fuck around with evil shit. They’re good.

But Remmick doesn’t give TWO SHITS!! Bro doesn’t not give a FUCK and aside from the fact that he never messed around with werewolves before cause uh duh.. he comes across one, a young woman— freshly riped, beautiful. Has the stars of the night twinkled in her eyes, the soft winds in her words and the warmth of the sun in her laugh. She holds life he’s never seen before.. and he wants that pussy NOWHHHHHHH

So he literally won’t leave this poor girl alone, he comes every night to her doorstep, pleading to be let in. That doesn’t work, and so he thinks coaxing her with sweet words and a charming smile might.. nah. She doesn’t fuck around like that.

BUT!! She doesn’t close the door.. and once his freaky ass stops drooling at her doorstep and instead he just talks.. really talks and listens, is when he actually falls a bit deeper. At which that point on the man is in love. Plain and simple. Before he wanted to be burrowed in between her thighs.. and he still really wants that but he also thinks he might want to lay with her after. Trace her features, softly hum to her, maybe even idk cook dinner for her? Love on her?

It’s how she speaks of her experiences, her memories, her family— this fondness, this gentle nature she holds. As if she cradles each story with her hands, and places them gently into his lap. Something for him to hold as well. She radiants love, really. And when he speaks back his own stories, of Ireland, of his people, the memories slipped away in the crevices of his mind.. she listens. Just as he does.. she really listens. Gives her own questions, comments on little things, holds his own memories with the same care that she does hers. And something about it just.. RAHHH it changes the dude ya know.

But don’t let that little snippet of joy fool you.. he WILL be ravishing that POOOSAYYYY lemme say that cause dude.. when the full moon calls, and she starts to switch into something mean. Cruel, hairy and tall, pure rage and festering hunger— well he’s a bit scared lol. At first.. like he sees her bones break and her flesh tear as it makes way for fur.. and a snout.. and some claws with sharp teeth it almost puts his own to shame. It’s fucking terrifying. But it’s later on.. when the moon is no longer full, she’s far from home, her appetite for flesh is gone, and all is left is a naked frame of a woman with blood painted across her skin.. she shows up to where he says he lives. Some part down by the road, near North Carolina apparently. She’s real fucking far.

And real fucking naked and she can’t just walk home bloody AND naked so she just.. decides to go to his house. Cause.. well.. he’s all that will probably help right now.

But she shows, still smothered in sweat and blood of someone or something else that she can’t quite remember.

He pratically DROOLS at the sight of her, damn near falls to his knees begging her for some of that causeeee ur saying this fine assssssss woman, covered in blood that just mauled a shit ton of wildlife and maybe a small village of people somewhere.. is at HIS doorstep.. naked as the day she was birthed.. on top of the fact that she trusted him enough to GO THERE??

That man is really fucking annoying lemme just say that cause he gets her in there, nice and cozy, before he starts tracing his way up her legs, between the skin of her thighs.

He keeps sweet talking her.. all like “yer’ good now, baby. Safe here’ with me”

And gives her some old washed out robe of his, something from far before her time, which she sits in, still bloody.

He makes her a small snack of some sort, wild berries and random stuff outside, all edible. Puts them together clumsily, presents it before her on a small plate.

She tried apologizing for yesterday night. How horrific the sight must’ve been.. which is ironic given how he’s literally a vampire but wtv.. and he’s just like “Girl, you could’ve torn the flesh straight off my bones— still would’ve allowed you in.” Which is like… okay?? Weird? Why would u do that.. but there’s a part of her that grows almost dizzy with that knowledge, that even if she were to tear him tf up.. he would still be happy as a fucking peach.

It’s not too long before he’s eating her out like come on guys.. let’s be honest. It wouldn’t take much.

He’s going to town, straight crazy style. He’s fucking that shit UPPPP okay? He’s spitting on her clit, licking his name into her, lightly nipping at the skin of her thighs.

She’s no better, she’s moaning and huffing, pushing at his shoulders as an attempt to get him to just back the fuck off cause hello?? She already came four fucking times she thinks she’s good but he literally won’t stop. And she’s sobbing on the table he placed her on, spread out like a god damn meal, open and bare and still bloody cause lord knows he wouldn’t want her to wipe it off.

And it’s fucked ip cause… well.. she sorta broke the deal. The deal her parents engraved into her head, warned her about. About how vampires are tricky bastards, how they only take and never give. She thinks of this as he rips out another orgasm from her, legs shaky, breath hitched and face wet with tears.. she really gets it now.

And given how he kisses slowly back up her again.. and how he gives a small smile before lightly brushing a tear away, eyes tracing over her features, giddy as a young boy with a school crush.. she’s starting to think he’ll never not take from her again.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 11 - Twice The Heart

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: field trip episodes i love you. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 14k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky makes a call, and you both go on a... friend date.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 10 - Chapter 12

Read on A03!

Precautions were being taken. 

That had been the first, blatant, obvious attack. Not just cryptic letters to induce fear. An attempt to take Her.  

Hogan was upping the building security. Same-grade metal detectors they’d used at Stark’s compound, before it got blown up. Increased vetting on bags, and a panic button in Her office. Firm and thorough background checks into every single person who directly reported to Her, and new badges issued to select staff, allowing them up to Her office. If anyone else wanted an appointment, they’d have to do it online. 

It had been floated that they simply stop allowing Her to have meetings. Hogan, Sam, and Bucky had been sat around a table to debrief, Hogan had floated shutting down all non-vital appointments, and Buck hadn’t bothered to try and hide his snort. 

“Something funny, Barnes?”

Sam had sighed, and Bucky had just shrugged.

“Just how horribly that’ll work out for you.”

Hogan had said Her name with a glower. “She’s in danger. She’s afraid. If we tell her this is to keep her safe-“

“You think she’ll roll over and take it?” Bucky had raised his brows. “You’re just gonna be making more work for all of us. She won’t stop working unless we tie her to a chair, and I don’t think any of us want to do that.”

“You’re a super-solider.” Hogan had snapped. “And she’s got a big bark, but that’s all it is. If we don’t overcorrect then dial back, we might under correct and something will slip past us.”

Bucky’s jaw had clenched. “Nothing’s going to slip past me.”

“Not if we make sure she’s on lockdown, it won’t.”

“Hogan,” Sam had muttered, giving Bucky an odd look before he continued. “Bucky’s right. I’ve known her longer than either of you, and if you force her to sit on her ass, she’s gonna cut off her ass and keep going.”

Hogan’s nose had wrinkled. “That’s a… horrible and graphic metaphor.”

“But it stands.” 

“I’m not sure it does-“

“It does.” Bucky had grunted, and he could still almost feel Her in his arms. Shaking and small and nervous, not long after She’d snapped at him to stop telling Her what to do. She’d push it. She’d push it right to the edge, then a little over until She fell.

And Bucky would catch Her. He’d gotten pretty damn good at catching Her. He’d even gotten good at anticipating the fall. If they did put Her on lockdown, he’d be able to keep Her there. He was a super-solider. There was no situation where She’d get this physical up on him. 

But She’d glare and sneer and bite at him, if he forced Her to stay down. And whatever they’d been building, whatever had been making Her trust him, it would be smashed. She might never smile at him again. If She spoke to him, it wouldn’t be like some sort of loud, consuming cure.

Bucky was good at his job. And his mission was to keep Her safe, so he wouldn’t fail. Not for anything.  

That wasn’t what he said though. Hogan had been glaring at him, and Sam had been giving him an even odder look, but Bucky hadn’t wavered on his position.

He just kept the real reason he didn’t want to lock Her up to himself. Sam and Hogan didn’t need to know that half of Bucky’s thoughts now just circled around Her. All the things he could do for Her, to Her, with Her. How whenever he saw Miles with Her, even heard the asshole’s name, he could taste fucking bile. 

It might be that jealously he wasn’t supposed to be feeling.

He didn’t really care either way.

Bucky had bigger things to worry about than how—every time She looked at him, laughed with him, said his name or brushed Her fingers over his arm—he was made of a wildfire that burned only for Her. 

“If we try to lock her up,” Bucky had grunted, holding Hogan’s gaze. “We’ll just lose her. She’s smarter than us. She’ll slip out, and we’ll lose any chance of keeping her safe.”

“So don’t let her slip out.” Hogan had snapped, and Bucky had shaken his head.

“I’m not looking to let her slip out. But she’s quick, and even these are going to be hard to get her to agree with. Don’t push it.”

Hogan had scowled. “I’m not doing a negotiation, Barnes. This is for her own good-“

Sam had snorted. “Yeah, tell her it’s for her own good. I’m sure that won’t end with a stapler in your forehead.”

“I don’t care if it does.” Hogan had sat a little taller, glaring between Bucky and Sam with a tight sort of destress. “We already slipped up once. That guy was one of ours. Director of marketing. If he’d gotten her, that would’ve been on my hands. And I promised Tony I’d look after her. It was in his fucking will. That if she’s doesn’t live to a million years old with a hundred cats, he’ll rise from the grave and murder me.”

Sam had frowned. “That ain’t how wills work-“

“Didn’t matter to Tony.” Hogan had grunted. “She not allowed to get fucking killed-“

“They weren’t trying to kill her.” Bucky had cut Hogan off with low words. “That was a knockout gas. They were trying to take her. Whatever they want from her, they want it alive.”

There had been a long, taut movement of silence, all of them staring at each other as it sunk in.

“That’s… a hell of a lot worse, isn’t it.” Sam had muttered. “Hydra doesn’t do prisoners.”

Bucky had given a tight nod. “But I’m not going to let that happen.” He’d focused on Hogan, trying to do the raise your chin and leave no room for argument thing She did. It didn’t feel that effective, so Bucky moved all his command into his voice. “But if you make it so I have to keep her safe from herself and Hydra, it won’t end in our favor.”

Hogan had scowled, eyeing Bucky wearily. “You’ve been taking days off?”

“Sunday and Monday.”

“Fine. I’ll give up on some of the measures, if you either drop your rest-days, or get a substitute guard-“

“I’ll drop the days.”

That had been an easy decision. More time with Her. More reasons to see Her, and talk to Her, and look at Her. 

More chances to keep Her safe. 

Because She really was in danger. That was the one thing they’d all been able to agree on. If Hydra wanted Her alive, She was in a lot more danger than they’d thought. 

Bucky had never seen a case of that before. He’d done a lot of fucked up shit in Hydra’s name, but kidnapping had somehow never made its way onto the roster. The Soldat often scratched with memories of when Hydra wanted something, but they’d only ever wanted information. Information that would be on a hard-drive Bucky could steal, or in a head that Bucky could torture open, kill, and then report back. But they’d only been looking to knock Her out. That could be to bring Her to a secondary location, but if they just wanted information, Bucky couldn’t imagine what it would be.

They obviously had plants in Stark Industries. And She didn’t have any ex-S.H.I.E.L.D connections, or any access to the kind of Stark Technology that Hydra would want. She worked for the charity. And if Hydra wanted money, they’d be putting their efforts into getting it fast, instead of risking this exact scenario. Where everyone on Her side was on high alert, and they were going to have to work harder for what they wanted.

That didn’t line up either. When Hydra wanted something, they were never this sloppy about it. This desperate. In any other case, Bucky would’ve had a solid estimate for what all this meant. 

But he didn’t have a goddamn clue. None of the information he had was lining up. She certainly didn’t have that doomsdays weapons Sam had mentioned, or access to any previous Hydra projects. She definitely wasn’t Hydra herself—Bucky dreaded the moment She remembered he’d thought that, because She might rip him in half—and She didn’t really have anyone that would sell Her-

Miles. 

Fucking Miles.

Bucky needed to keep a harsher eye on Miles. He might still be unsure of when he’d have enough of a place to say something—about how Miles treated Her, about how She deserved better, about how when She was ready for better, Bucky was right fucking here—but this wasn’t about Bucky’s growing hunger for Her. This was about his mission. 

Keep Her safe. From Hydra, and Herself, and anything else. 

He had no evidence Miles was up to something. Just the boiling and twisting feeling in his gut. But he’d work on that.

For now, all Bucky knew was that whatever Hydra wanted, it started and ended with Her. 

And he’d been getting nightmares.

New nightmares. 

Where the face of whatever long dead person Bucky had tortured as the Soldat shifted into Her face, and he couldn’t stop himself for carving Her up. Where they were on the street, Bucky looked away for one fucking second, and then She vanished. Then Bucky would tear through crowds, but he could never fucking find Her. 

Worst, where Bucky did find Her, and all the life was gone from Her beautiful face. 

And She wasn’t dead.

She was just a shell. And Pierce or Rumlow or Karpov—no matter that they were all long dead—were wrapped around Her with venomous smiles. Touching Her. And She just stood there, a hollow void in Her eyes where the Moon used to be.

Bucky wouldn’t let that happen. He’d rip off his other arm before he let anything like that happen. 

So Hogan got almost all of his measures, save for the one’s She’d actively fight against. Sam was going to be moving all his efforts into working on the Hydra code. Bucky was going to keep by Her side. 

And Her secrets. Their secrets.

Bucky had somehow worked himself into a position where they had secrets. 

“I hate this.” She muttered, lying flat on the floor with a cute little scowl. “I feel like I’m in a fucking prison.”

“You wanted to be here, Butterfly.” Bucky drawled, letting his amusement creep into his voice. “You coulda stayed at home-“

“No. We- I’d rather be here.” She wrinkled Her nose at the ceiling. “Doesn’t meant I have to like it. And don’t,” She leaned Her head back a little further, narrowing Her eyes at Bucky. “Tell me it’s for my safety. I got the lecture from Sam and Happy. If you give it to me, I’ll throw you off the roof.”

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t think you could pull that off, kid.“

“I could. I told you, Buck. I’m wily. So don’t fucking test me.”

Her glower was adorable. All of this was adorable. Her finger pointed up at Bucky, the slight pout of Her lips, and how She wasn’t moving from the floor as She threatened him. Hogan really had been right about that. Her bark was loud and strong, but Her bite seemed to be limited to Her words. And whatever threats She was making, Bucky knew they were hollow. 

That didn’t seem to stop Her from making them.

And Jesus, it only drove him a little more insane. Made him imagine Her tackling him, and he’d pry Her off his body with ease before laying Her back down and pinning Her to the floor. Just like She’d been on the couch, during the attack. Just like She was now, only Bucky wouldn’t be keeping himself at a respectable distance. He’d be pulling Her apart with fingers deep in Her cunt, making Her shake with pleasure rather than fear, and She’d shine for him. Bucky would work Her until She was relaxed and glowing under him, and he’d take good fucking care of Her-

He needed to stop. He couldn’t think about Her like that. It barely made him better than the suits, or the men in his nightmare. She was more than that. She was a smart mouth and a lot of giggling.

But maybe She’d giggle under Bucky. Maybe he’d tease Her, and She’d giggle for him-

He was going to throw himself off the roof. 

“James-“

“No testing you.” He said, smirking down at Her because he couldn’t fucking help himself. “Got it.”

“Good.” She frowned up at him, and he didn’t break Her gaze. At least he had a good excuse to look at Her, now. “I’ve got the papers, by the way. Do you- Can I show them to you?”

He gave a short nod—looking at the papers was the whole point of the meeting, but She was too cute and nervous to correct or tease—and She let out a long breath, pushing up on Her palms.

“Have you-“

“Sam doesn’t know.” Bucky muttered, offering Her a hand. 

She took it.

She let Bucky help Her up. And he’d used the metal hand, but it was still spreading the fuzzy, aching warmth over his body. 

Christ, he was fucked. 

“Okay. I brought the papers. And Miles- Don’t make that face.”

Bucky scowled. “I didn’t make a face.”

“Yes, you did.” She crossed Her arms, raising Her chin. That was how the no room for argument thing was supposed to look. “You made the disapproving face.”

“I don’t have a disapproving face-“

“Yes, you do.” She took a step forward, and Bucky froze as Her hand lifted up to his face. “You get lines here, and your mouth does a line like that.”

She was touching him. Tracing over his nose and cheeks. This was worse than Her touching his arm. This was so much fucking worse. Bucky could only stare at Her with wide eyes, trying not to lick his lips when She was this close. He could smell Her shampoo again. And when Her feather-light touch moved over his brow—pushing it into a wrinkle as She kept talking about his alleged disapproving face—Bucky felt a little fucking dizzy. 

He didn’t know how to move away. He should move away. This wasn’t helping him hold onto control, and She had a boyfriend. A boyfriend they were talking about, right now.

A boyfriend who wouldn’t touch Her like Bucky could, if he grabbed Her wrist and crashed his lips into Hers. Miles probably didn’t give Her anything. Bucky would give Her whatever She asked for, then have Her begging for more—bouncing on his cock with Her tits in his mouth, and Her face open and fucked out as Bucky gave Her everything—and his cock was twitching in his pants, but he couldn’t think about his friend like that-

“I know you don’t like him.” She mumbled, still not drawing Her hand back. “Sam doesn’t either. Just please don’t make that face.”

Bucky just grunted, forcing down a shout of then why are you with him. 

It didn’t slip past him, though. How She wasn’t asking Bucky to give Miles a chance. Just to not make that face. 

He added that to his log. He wasn’t sure what to do with it, but he added it all the same.

“Bucky-“

“Fine.” he grumbled, keeping his eyes locked on Her’s. “What were you gonna say.”

She sighed, and—in both a mercy and a torture—drew Her hand back. “Miles thinks I’m here to do work. I still haven’t told him about this, and if he shows up, I need you to hide.”

Bucky blinked at Her. “To hide.”

“Yes, please.” She gave him a smile that was filled with sorrow. And he didn’t understand why, but the Moon was rolling around in Her eyes, She was slumping slightly, and there was something so soft and sad all over Her features, to the point it might drive him insane.

He could push it.

He could demand to know why the hell She was so sad.

But Bucky was already about to push it. To test his luck. And She was still so fragile. 

He couldn’t afford to break Her. It might be the worst sin he’d ever commit. 

“Fine.” He muttered, and Her smile grew. 

“Thank you.”

Bucky grunted. He didn’t want Her thanks. He just wanted to make things better. “Papers?”

She nodded, walking back to Her desk and pulling out a stack of loose papers from Her bag. “I, um- I didn’t think anyone else would be reading them. So they’re kind of in a shorthand, and-“

“I’ll figure it out.” Bucky took the papers, scanning over the top one. “Lotta numbers.”

“Yeah, um, most of it is numbers.”

Bucky hummed, dropping down onto the couch as he continued to read.

She was silent above him. Too silent. And still. When Bucky glanced up at Her, She had her hands behind Her back, Her head slightly bowed as she watched him, and Her lips were in a tight, nervous pout.

It made Bucky’s gut clench and twist. “Sit down.”

She blinked at him, but listened. In barely a second, She was right at Bucky’s side. Legs folded under Her, fingers rubbing at Her own skin, watching him with wide doe-eyes. 

Jesus Christ. 

She’d never listened to him that fast, without some sort of threat bouncing over their heads. The wildfire was searing, where Her knee was bumping against his. Bucky’s fist curled at his side—hidden from Her sight—because all he could think about was grabbing Her. Pulling Her right into his chest until Hydra was something blurred in the distance for both of them. Until She had to be safe, because Bucky was wrapped around Her all the time. The same way Miles had been in Sam’s kitchen, only he’d never shove Her away. And She’d be doing most of the talking, and Bucky would just kiss along Her neck, sucking little marks for everyone to see. To know She was under his protection, and they wanted to even look at Her in a way She wouldn’t want, they’d have to go through Bucky first.

Bucky was looking at Her in a way She might not want. He wasn’t any better than the suits, and all the men who’d been forced into bed with. He might be worse. She trusted him, and he was fantasizing about shoving his face between Her legs-

Control.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure any lingering want was gone by the time he spoke. “Here’s the deal, Butterfly. You ready?”

She nodded, Her eyes still wide on his, and Bucky raised his brows.

“Words would be nice, sweetheart.” He made his voice a drawl. A taunt. Those always spurred Her on the best. “Where’d that smart mouth go?”

All he got was a fucking flush. She wasn’t making this easy. “I’m ready,” She whispered, and Bucky really wanted to know where this version of Her had been the whole time. 

It was a little like a bird. Sweet and beautiful, with an enchanting voice and so high above Bucky. Even if it landed on his shoulder, it could flutter away with one wrong move. He liked it almost as much as the feral parts of Her. Maybe he could blend them together, with the right touches and words.

He really was losing his mind.

“Alright.” He cleared his throat again, forcing his attention back to the papers. Focus. “We’re not gonna tell Sam. Business as usual, as far as he’s concerned. And it’s not cause we’re hiding it from him, but-“

“That sounds exactly like hiding it from him.” She said, a small, teasing smile back on Her face, and that was better. Bucky liked this version of Her too, even if it drove him insane. 

He’d been insane before anyway.

At least this kind of insane had Her. Felt good.

“It’s not.” He grumbled, and Her grin grew. “We’re just forgetting to tell him.”

“And if he asks?”

“He won’t.”

She giggled. “Solid plan, Sargent.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Smooth-“

Bucky drawled Her name, narrowing his eyes, and She cut herself off. Fucking hell, She might actually just be a Hydra asset, sent Her to be beautiful and give Bucky a heart-attack. “You gonna listen?”

Her nod was small, and the doe-eyes were back. “Yes.”

“Good.” Bucky forced himself to ignore Her flush. Friends. “If Sam finds out, he’ll stop us from looking into this. He obviously doesn’t want you tangled in the actual operation, and I’ve been told to focus on keeping you safe-

“Awww.” She grinned at him. “You want me to be safe-“

Bucky covered Her mouth with a hand and shot Her a firm glare. He’d seen the nerves all over Her pretty face. Knew that if they were talking about Her personal safety, she wouldn’t want to hear it. He wasn’t even sure She could help herself from pushing it, from trying to squirm Her way out of the conversation, even if She’d started it.

But this was Bucky’s mission.

He wasn’t going to fail it for anything.

And She didn’t push him away. The look in Her eyes wasn’t afraid or angry. It was only the Moon shining, and a triumphant sort of pride turning with it. The wildfire was going to turn into a fucking hurricane of flame and need. Bucky was screwed.

“Of course I want you to be safe.” He grumbled. She wasn’t allowed to think anything else of him. “So listen. If Sam finds out we’re doing this, he’ll stop us. So, until we’ve got something solid, we keep this between us. Got it?”

She nodded, and Bucky sighed, pulling his hand down.

“Sorry.” He scanned over Her carefully. “Needed you to listen.”

She just shrugged, and Bucky wasn’t sure if that was another flush, or if he was going insane. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t shut up-“

“Don’t care about that.” He grunted, forcing his gaze back to the papers. “You were tryin’ to see if you could distract me.”

She gave a mock gasp. “I would never.”

Bucky shot Her an amused look, a chuckle escaping his chest before he could stop it. “Sure, Butterfly. Here.”

She frowned as Bucky reached down to his bag, but he’d come prepared for this. She wouldn’t try to talk her way around things if he distracted Her. Occupied Her with her order from the deli, and a cherry coke, and-

Her eyes widened as Bucky pulled out the paint pens, and shoved them into Her hands.

“James-“

“You can draw on my arm if you fucking listen. Deal?”

“But the tech-“ “It’s resilient. I’ll clean it after. Deal?”

She looked between Bucky’s set, determined face–he would get Her to focus, even if it fucking killed him—and the pens. Then She nodded, and Bucky grinned.

He won. She would listen.

Bonus—horrible, selfish bonus—She’d be touching him.

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” Bucky extended his metal arm, and She hummed, tracing over the metal plates with too gentle fingers. 

He took it back. This was already a horrible idea. She trailed over the hook of his elbow, and he was going to lose his goddamn mind. 

Control.

Bucky coughed, and forced himself back into control.

“I’ll look over these, and see if I recognize anything. Then I’ll work out what we’ll do about Zemo, but I’m telling you now,” he said Her name, and She looked up to him with big doe-eyes again. 

Shit. 

“I, uh-“ Control. “I’m not bringing Sam here. And if it can be avoided, we’re not talkin’ to him at all. Got it?”

“Okay.” She nodded, looking back down to Bucky’s arm and drawing a little pink heart on it. “What else?”

“Uh.” Bucky cleared his throat, staring at the pattern She was starting to make around the black and gold of his arm. It was made of more hearts, and flowers, and strange little star shapes. It was almost half as beautiful as She was. “We need to have a conversation.”

“We’re having a conversation right now, Buck.”

Fuck. “No. I mean, yes, but-“ He could do this. He could push it, and deal with the consequences. “It’s a… personal. Conversation.”

She paused, blinking up at him with Her hand still on his forearm. It was a goddamn miracle he was thinking straight at all. “What kind of personal conversation?”

“We need to figure out why Hydra might be targeting you.” He muttered, holding Her gaze. “And I know you’re private-“

“No, I’m not.”

It was Bucky’s turn to blink. “Yes, you are-“

“No, I’m not.” She looked back to Her pens with a slightly softer voice. “We just weren’t friends. And I… I dunno. I how what you’ve been through. Bitching about how I tried to kill myself a few times felt... uncouth.”

Bucky could only stare at Her, even his head stuttering over words. All he could manage was a slightly dumb, “Uncouth?”

“Really rude.”

“Ah.” He still felt a little like his brain was doing a sort of scratching, uneven short-stop. Like a bad record on a player. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Bucky was a cyborg.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine.” He grunted, forcing himself to find some words. “What- Uh- Does anyone know about it?”

“The killing myself?”

“Yeah.”

She paused, scanning over him carefully. “Do you want the real answer, or the comfortable one?”

“Real.” Buck didn’t hesitate before he answered. He didn’t care what She offered him, as long as it was real. And he didn’t back down, as She stared at him for another long second. 

She relented with a sigh. “My parents knew about two of them, when they were with me. Charlie knows about one. Sam knows about almost all of them.”

That was good. At least Sam knew. But- “Almost?”

“There was one during the blip.” She mumbled. “I just… Never told him. He’d get annoyed that I hid it for so long, then angry at Tony for letting it happen, and that wouldn’t be helpful cause Tony’s dead, and I never told him either. I was just lonely. In a lot of pain, and really- It was hard. And Sam shouldn’t blame himself for not being there.” She paused, frowning up at Bucky. “Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.” Bucky grunted, and he wouldn’t. She’d trusted him. He wouldn’t break that. He’d only file it that deep in his log, and highlighted safe from Herself on the bylines his mission. “I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“Charlie is your… brother.”

“Sibling.” She pressed another flower onto Bucky’s arm. “Non-binary. That means-“

“I know what I means.” Bucky muttered. “Sam made me take a sensitivity course. Not that I needed it.” His words were quick, but if Bucky was going to stick around—and he wanted to—She couldn’t think that he wouldn’t be good to people. Bucky was angry and bitter at people, but he’d always tried to be good. Wasn’t much point in better if he didn’t. “But Sam still wanted me to.”

“Okay.” She hummed, offering Bucky a small smile that nearly knocked the air of his lungs. “What am I supposed to tell you?”

Bucky stared at Her for a little too long before he realized what She was talking about. The personal conversation.

The whole point of this. 

“Whatever you can.” He said carefully, watching Her for a reaction as he spoke. “Anything. I mean, I still don’t know how you met Sam” 

Bucky tried to offer Her a smile, and it came out too tight, but She didn’t seem to mind. 

She just hummed, matching it with Her perfect, artful smile and slow words. She was thinking, as She spoke. 

And it didn’t seem to be to hide something. 

She was just taking this seriously.

“My dad was an engineer. Air force. He specialized in experimental technology.” She gave Bucky a pointed look. “Can you guess something he might have invented?”

Bucky frowned, the pieces moving too slowly in his head, and- “Ah.”

“Yep.” She looked back to Bucky’s arm. “Sam and Ron were his favorites. His pseudo-sons. My cool big brothers who could fly, and my mom hated, because she hated everyone. Especially people my dad liked. Then Ron got blown up, and my dad took it… hard. Started drinking. Sam tried to help, but it wasn’t something that started with Ron. Just got worse, until it hit a breaking point. Then it was just my mom, and I’d only see Sam whenever it was too much, and he could help me slip away. After Hydra collapsed, I took my siblings on the run to avoid the government separating us, and he lost me for a while. Then Steve Rogers found my new contact in a notebook of some Hydra big-name, and he tracked me down. Took care of us until I turned eighteen, and I became by sibling’s legal guardian. And even then, he was still family.” 

Bucky nodded slowly, moving things around in his log. Sam was basically Her brother. Her parents were dead, and She’d taken care of her siblings. 

Sam had done for Her what Bucky had tried to do for Steve. 

She’d said Sam hadn’t known what She’d done, but Bucky was willing to bet Her name wasn’t in that notebook for reasons that didn’t make him sick. 

A few leads. Hydra big-names had hurt Her, and Her mom had been involved. But Bucky doubted the would’ve seen Her as more than just a body, or told Her anything of substance. And Her Mom had been dead since Hydra fell—Bucky needed to sit down and do some math later—so there would be no reason to strike Her now. He needed more information.

“What about your extended family?” He asked carefully. “They didn’t take you?”

“Nope. My mom burned a lot a bridges. On both sides.”

“How many siblings do you have?” This wasn’t going to help Bucky figure out the Hydra thing. He wanted to know anyway.

“Two. Charlie and Tommy. Charlie’s finishing up grad school, and Tommy’s in his second year of college. Neither blipped.”

Bucky grunted. “Do they know about your history?”

“No.” She mumbled, frowning at the flowers. “Charlie knows I had a job. They don’t know what. And- All the Hydra guys were before Sam found me again. I was younger. More desperate.” She let out a long breath. “Those are the only ones I wish I could take back. They hated me just as much as they… liked me.”

She was shrinking Her into Herself, and Bucky wanted this to be done. He had almost enough.

God, he wished it was enough.

“What about your childhood?” 

She sighed. “I don’t know. I- I don’t really remember it. There were long periods in the hospital. And these- Images. Snapshots. But they’re all glossy and-“ Her fingers curled on Bucky’s arm, Her voice suddenly a little urgent. “Have you ever seen like, a plastic plant? Or a person who’s done a lot of plastic surgery?”

“Yeah-“

“They’re like that.” She whispered, Her eyes wide on his. “I mean, some of them are. And they’re my memories, I know they happened, but I- I don’t know. It’s mostly just a lot of color and sound.”

Bucky’s jaw twitched, and he stored it in his file. 

But that was enough. 

“Alright.” He looked down at his arm. “Good job. I look like I got attacked by a pre-school.”

She flushed, tracing Her fingers over one of the flowers, and Bucky was going to break his teeth. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” She mumbled, and Bucky couldn’t stop his grin.

“You can take it however you want, Butterfly.”

“I will.”

“I know.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her flush deepened, and Bucky’s grin grew as the wildfire ripped through him. He was barely fucking better than a fucking dog. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

She gave him a confused look—pouting and teeth between Her lips—and Bucky was going to go insane. “Bucky, tomorrow’s Sunday-“

“We still doing the aquarium?”

He tried to ask the question carefully. Like it didn’t matter at all. If She didn’t want to go to the aquarium, he was a grown ass man. A war vet. And he was doing it for therapy, so Bucky didn’t need Her there at all. He wanted Her there. He wanted Her there so fucking much. 

He wanted to watch Her move around and talk like at the hospital, but it would just be them. Just Her and Bucky, and everything in his head would be quiet because She’d be there and beautiful, and goddamnit, he wanted to tease Her about the fish thing again and see if She flushed and played with Her hair-

“Yes, please.” She whispered, and Bucky nodded.

Please.

She wanted to be there. He wasn’t making Her. Bucky didn’t want to be in the business of making Her do anything. He’d toss Her around and hold Her down when it was about objective safety, and Her being insane, but even then, he’d find Her line and never cross it.

It wasn’t touching him. Or sitting next to him. Or looking at him.

She kept talking to Bucky all day, too. And She talked to everyone, but Christ, he wanted this to be different. He wanted Her to tell him whatever She wanted. He wanted to keep being safe for Her. 

Bucky hadn’t been safe for someone in so fucking long. And She had too much going on for that to be a light choice. She’d been hiding the Hydra code stuff the whole time—and he’d need to have a firmer conversation with Her about that, once he stopped feeling so dizzy when She smiled at him—and trusted Bucky to tell first. She’d asked him to help Her. No one else. Just Bucky.

And he was Her friend. That was getting bigger by the second. 

Being Her friend meant something. Maybe not what Bucky wanted it to mean—with his hands skimming on Her bare skin whenever he wanted, and his lips brushing her’s just for the hell of it—but something. She wanted to know about it. She wanted him around. To talk to, and joke with, and share things with.

Bucky liked sharing things with Her. He wanted to tell Her more and more about himself, because it wasn’t like with Raynor. He wasn’t trying to justify it, or pretend it didn’t scratch at the back of his skull all the time. He was just saying them because She was easy to tell. 

She tended to get them.

And Bucky was starting to really get Her.

All the colors and cracks and woven patterns that made Her up. 

Art. 

All of Her seemed to be art. And Bucky needed to get better at that stuff. For Her.

He wanted to start doing stuff for Her.

That was new. 

Bigger than a crush. 

He could never have Her—for some many fucking reasons, the images and ideas in Bucky’s head would have to stay fantasies—but he wanted Her.

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. She tended to wipe Her face with her hand when She ate, and Bucky wanted to grab them and clean them, then lecture Her about manners while She smiled at him. It was getting late, when he looked at his watch. And he wanted to stay with Her longer, but he knew he’d see Her tomorrow. 

He liked that She smiled at him all the time now. Bucky hadn’t been drunk in a damn long time, but he was pretty sure the closest he was going to get was Her smiling at him. About nothing but him opening the door for Her, or making a grumbling joke, or giving his thoughts on something. That last one always made Her fucking beam. Bucky wanted to make Her beam all the fucking time. 

He didn’t like that he had to bring Her back to Her apartment. Back to Miles. Back to someone who wasn’t going to look at Her with their full attention, and who didn’t care to try and catch Her as She bounced off the walls. Bucky wanted to have that job. It was one he was good at already, and maybe he’d get to throw Her down onto a bed, She’d giggle at him, and he’d-

Friends.

Control.

Bucky really needed to get himself under control. He wanted to be there for Her, however She needed, but he fucking couldn’t if everything She did made his skin warm and his pants tight.

He wanted Her. 

Almost all the time now, some part of Bucky was dedicated to wanting Her. His hands to doing things for Her like opening doors and catching Her. His eyes to watching Her. His skin to trying to brand itself with Her fleeting touch, and his mind to logging everything about Her he could, to have Her a little more.

Bucky was made of want. 

It was new. Strange.

Better.

Things were better. Really fucking impossibly, things were so much better. 

And he was still angry, but Bucky would be able to use that anger. It wasn’t made of pointless and bitter sorrow about Steve leaving and it’s not fair.

Nothing was fair. 

But Bucky wasn’t going to just roll over and take that. And if anyone deserved to have someone be really, truly angry for them, it was Her. Things were shit for Her too, but she was never fully angry about it. Not where anyone could see. Bucky had seen Her annoyed and hurt and shaking and furious, but never angry. She’d bitch about those dumbass lawyers, but never just fire them, because they had families. When Sam had shoved Bucky on Her at the start She’d been pissed, but She’d forgiven him too. When Bucky had made a face about Miles, She’d just sighed. 

Bucky had seen the Moon, rolling and shifting and swirling with Her moon.  During the Hydra accusations. It had been furious. A little terrifying, like it could rip into him and shred him apart. But even then, She’d pulled it back and forgiven him. Too fast. 

But Bucky could be unforgiving for Her. He could use the anger for Her. 

And he more than planned to. 

“You know I am quite busy, Sargent Barnes-“

“Bucky.” He muttered, glaring at the laptop She’d made him get. Handed to him. Insisted he take, or She’d set on fire right fucking there.

Bucky could’ve called Her bluff. It would’ve been really damn easy, because She really was all bark and no bite.

But She’d gotten him something, and if he didn’t take it, She might’ve been sad. Or offended. Or stopped giving Bucky things. 

So he’d taken it. 

But it was still annoying as hell. Shuri was in a little box, and Bucky was in a smaller box, and it had taken five minutes for Shuri to tell him how muting worked. 

“My apologies, Bucky.” Shuri grinned at him—eyes still dancing with amusement about the muting thing—and he sighed. “If your arm is experiencing issues, I can request that Mr. Wilson have it sent-“

“No.” Bucky sat a little taller, shaking his head. “The arm is great. Amazing. And Sam cannot know about this.”

Shuri raised her brows. “Are we keeping secrets?”

“Yes. No. It’s-“ Bucky ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the air. “I need a favor. And it’s one Sam’s gonna be pissed about.”

“What is a favor?” Shuri gave Bucky a firm look. “Is it a gun or a new addition to the arm? Because then I will do it happily. But there are other things that might not be as easy.”

Bucky braced himself, giving Shuri a grimacing look. “You’re not gonna like it. And let me explain, before you say no.”

“Bucky-“

“I want Zemo.” Bucky pushed right through the look of shock on Shuri’s face. “I know. But this isn’t like last time. I want him on a monitored call or in a secure meeting place. The Dora Milaje will be there. But I’ve got some questions for him, and I need them answered soon. It’s life or death.”

Shuri didn’t say no. She just studied Bucky through the screen for a long moment, before saying, “Whose life or death?”

“My- My friend.”

“You do not have friends, Bucky.”

He scowled. “You’re my friend-“

“I am a princess from another continent. We do not speak frequently. Your only other friend is Mr. Wilson, and you wish to keep this from him.”

“It’s our mutual friend. She’s known Sam a while, and if he finds out about this, he’ll be angry. But it’s really important, Shuri. Wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that.” Shuri shrugged. “I will speak to my brother and Okoye and see what we can do. But,” the grin returned to her face, and Bucky swallowed. 

That couldn’t be good.

“Who is your lady friend?”

“She was Sam’s lady friend first.” Bucky grumbled. “Kinda like his little Steve. And it’s not important-“

“You do not get Zemo, if you don’t tell me.”

Fuck.

He was cornered.

Bucky had to grumble Her name, keeping his face perfectly fucking blank instead of covered in want. “She’s been getting Hydra threats. We think Zemo’s involved, and we have to check.”

Shuri frowned. “Why do I recognize that name-“

“She worked with Stark.”

“No,” Shuri shook her head. “It is not that. There is another reason-“

“She’s been talking about some Wakandan vaccines a lot.” Bucky said carefully. “Could be that.”

“That is it. I’ve been researching her office before I approve the bid.” Shuri’s face morphed back into the mocking grin. “I’ve seen some pictures. She is quite beautiful.”

Bucky sighed. Shuri didn’t know the half of it.

“And her bids are well written. Moving.”

“Yeah, well, she writes them all herself. Do I get Zemo or not?”

“You’ll get Zemo. I will want more information though, before I present it to my brother-“

“I’ll email you.”

“Do you know how to email-“

Bucky grumbled Her name, ignoring how Shuri’s grin grew. “I’ll have her email you. And-“ He paused.

It might not be worth it. 

He might be pushing it.

Shit, he was going to do it anyway.

“Could you toss in the vaccines, too? She’ll be good with them.”

“Alright.” Shuri shrugged, and Bucky sat up a little straighter.

He hadn’t made this for Her. 

It was still really fucking something. Something that She’d wanted. That Bucky had gotten for Her.

Shuri hung up after that, and Bucky was still sitting tall. With pride.

He’d done things for Her. He was going to get answers out of Zemo, somehow—he wasn’t sure yet, but he’d figure it out in the moment—and She’d be safe.

Things were getting better.

For the first time, Bucky could say things were better, and fully fucking mean it.

That was sort of terrifying.

He didn’t want it to stop.

——————

Weekends are Hell, when Miles is home. 

The Show never stops. Smile and sickly-sweet words, touch him like you want to and never speak out of turn. Move and move and freeze when you need to, rest only when it can be afforded because he’s busy.

Navigate the Labyrinth of whatever mood he’s in today, and know that—if you’re lucky—you’ll curl up with the Boy on the bathroom floor when the minotaur goes to sleep. 

If you falter one step, Miles catches it, and it ends in makeup and long shirts.

You’re trapped with him. 

Nobody knows how bad it is, so you’re locked in the cage with the monster you made, and there’s never been a reasonable excuse to escape. Miles wouldn’t stop you from going to work before—the less he actually sees you, the less he has to speak to you and hear your whiny, weird voice—but Happy would.

You don’t blame him. 

He doesn’t know by design. 

Nobody knows by design. You don’t want their pity. It’s the only other thing that you never tell people. And even then, sometimes you’ll pull out the prostitution card to win an argument. Nobody needs to know about this. There’s too much to explain. They’ll try to make you leave him, or they’ll get the cops involved, or Sam will throw him off a roof, and they can’t. It’s a matter of survival, that the weekends stay horrible, and you stay a little too alive on the bathroom floor, and you survive. 

It was supposed to be all about Survival. 

Secrets and the Show and no friends was for survival.

Keeping Bucky at a distance was supposed to be about survival. And this… Going to the aquarium with someone Miles has told you he doesn’t trust. Doesn’t want you near or around.

It will end badly, if Miles finds out your office weekend ban didn’t get lifted.

So you’ll just be careful.

If you’re being this fucking stupid about a crush, you have to be careful. 

It’s just the aquarium. Friends go to aquariums together all the time. And you’re really going because you get in free, and Bucky’s bad at name dropping. 

But he could make Sam go with him. Sam probably gets in free too. 

He asked you.

And it’ll be fine. You’ll be careful. 

You’re perfect and compliant, the whole morning. Miles is working today—he always works on Sunday mornings, something about them being good for business—so you make him breakfast and kiss his cheek and swallow your vomit. He tells you about how he’s made good deals, and how they’re going to affect global trade, and then reminds you that don’t worry your pretty little head about it, honey. You wouldn’t understand if you tried.

You manage not to scream that you do understand. Not how the Dow Jones works—nobody knows how the Dow Jones works—but how supply chain boosts can be good for the economy, because you’re not a fucking idiot. 

But that wouldn’t be careful.

So you smile, and take it. Then whatever he wants from you, you give. You just have to hold on a few hours, until Bucky gets here.

“I thought you were driving your bike?” You’d frowned at him yesterday, when he’d mentioned he’d grab you tomorrow.

“I’m driving whatever you’ll go in with me.” He’d muttered, glowering out at the road. “You can even drive the car, if you want. But we’re stepping up your security. No going out alone.”

You’d swallowed, and nodded. “Do you still get days off?”

“No.”

“James-“

“Would you rather have me, or some random assholes?”

He’d shot you a challenging look, and you’d stuck your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I-“

“I want a real answer, kid.” Bucky had smirked at you. “C’mon. You want me around.”

“Bucky-“

“Say it.” 

He’d been looking at you, and using the commanding voice, and you’re too far gone.

It’s not controlling you. You don’t think he even knows how easily you fold when he does that. How he’ll pierce right into that fluttering thing, it will burst fireworks over your ribs, and by the time the Mist has started to climb you’re gone. You just want him to keep looking at you like it’s something you want to see. Telling you things that you trust him not wield like blade against you later. Bucky wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t grab chunks of you then turn them into weapons to control you.

He doesn’t need to.

“Butterfly-“

“I want you around.” You whisper, and you’re rewarded with another Look. Only the nostril flare, and the stone-like neutral features.

His voice is rough, when he speaks. You want to hear it forever. “Good. Car or bike.”

“Do you want to ride your bike?”

“That’s not-“

“Bucky.” 

He’d shot you a glare—blink, nostrils, tongue-thing—and sighed. “Yes.”

“Okay.” You’d shrugged, turning your hair between your fingers. “Bike.”

He’d grunted, and the conversation had moved on. 

Bucky would pick you up in the bike, and that was it. 

You’ll be free when Bucky gets here. 

That’s a thought that’s dangerous to have. Lines have begun to weave together in your head, and they’re so dangerous.

Bucky’s tied to the idea of freedom. He’ll be here and you won’t have to put on the Show, and that’s freedom. He’s woven with the idea of comfort, as well. You’ll be able to eat more, and better, because you’ll be sharing the food with him. He’ll see you, and that doesn’t hurt anymore. You’ll just keep fluttering and smiling under his attention, and you’ll bite at him, but he’ll just chuckle and take it. Talking to you like you’re a person.

Listening to you and looking at you like there’s not anything ugly and burning in you. 

Grinning at you, and playing the game.

You’re losing. 

And winning. 

Your crush is starting to barrel out of control, slipping through your fingers into an intoxicating mist before you can stop it, and the lines and rules of any game are far too blurred. 

“Catch.” Bucky tosses your sandwich at you in the garage, and you squeak, flying back to avoid it.

The sandwich splatters on the ground, and you and Bucky stares at you. 

He’s grinning. 

It’s handsome and strong and shining in his eyes, and the Mist is building and building and building in your spine without relent. 

“What happened, Butterfly?”

“I- You didn’t warn me!” You glare at him, kneeling down to clean up the mess, and he shrugs.

“I said catch.”

“I wasn’t ready-“

“Obviously not.” You feel him grab the hook of your elbow, and when you look up, he’s right above you. 

Something in your body starts to go molten and loose, as you just stare at each other. Bucky’s doing the fucking tongue thing again, and it’s taking a lot of effort not to slump forward against his legs. But you just want to see what he does. If he tangles a hand in your hair and mutters low praise like in your dreams, if he kneels down so that you’re on the same, even ground. Then maybe he’ll wrap you in the heat you can feel from his body, if he picks you up and carries you to safety-

Safety.

The biggest thread making up Bucky is safety. From Miles—even if just for an afternoon, it’s more than you’ve been offered before—your own too loud thoughts, and Hydra. 

Bucky said he got you. 

And you believed him. In every way, you believed him. He was going to help you with the Hydra thing, and you’d be fine, and Bucky got you. 

You should be more afraid, after the Hydra thing. And you are afraid—although the tension and fear of longer shadows isn’t really anything new—but you’ve adapted. Hydra’s trying to kidnap you, and you don’t know why, but Bucky’s got you. He said you’ll be fine. He’d held you, you hadn’t felt like you’d been locked down. 

The crush is starting to really, fully bloom. 

The Mist feels like it’s spreading over your nerves.

Bucky’s still holding your elbow, and when you close your eyes you can see your dream from last night. Still hear his voice—a mimicry of the rough one, from the car ride yesterday—telling you to take it, babydoll. So fuckin’ pretty, sucking my cock. Don’t know what I did to deserve you.

Probably see you, and not run. Pull you to your feet with a vaguely amused look, while doing the fucking tongue thing and keeping you steady against his body. 

“I’ll clean it up.” He mutters, nodding over his shoulder to his backpack, resting against-

“Is that your bike?”

“Yeah.” He smirks. “You still want to ride it?”

Another image—a dream from a few nights back, where Bucky was on his back and his hands rested on your hips as you bounced on his dick and he groaned your name—flashes through your head, and you swallow. “Yes?”

He snorts, and in some small miracle, he mistook the softness of your voice for apprehension. “It’s not too late to back out, Butterfly-“

“I’m not backing out.” You snap, raising your chin. “It’s just new. And what if you drop me-“

“I won’t drop you.” Bucky rolls his eyes like the thought is insane, and you believe him too quickly. “Go eat your sandwich.”

“But you-“

“I made the mess. And I’m not that hungry anyways.”

You don’t believe him. Your eyes narrow on his, and he just gives you a flat look.

“If you don’t eat it, I’m throwing it in the goddamn trash.”

Fuck. “You suck.”

“I know.” He grins again, and you’re going to fall over. “Go eat, sweetheart. It’s in my backpack.”

You shuffle over to the bike, carefully opening Bucky’s bag as he deals with the fallen sandwich on the ground. There’s one of the metal forks you gave him, and the mug you gave him, and the laptop you gave him, and all the Hydra notes, and the sandwich.

It’s the same as your usual order.

It’s better not to think about that too hard.

“Any updates on the thing?” You ask as Bucky returns to your side, wiping his gloves with a small frown.

“Called with Shuri last night.” He shrugs. “She’ll see what she can do. Until then it’s just us, letting me keep you alive.”

“Letting you keep me alive-“

“Yep.” Bucky leans against his bike, his gaze never leaving yours. “No more keeping shit like that from me, Butterfly.”

You flush, but keep your voice bored. “I have no clue what you’re talking about-“

“Yeah, you do.” Bucky leans down, and suddenly he’s only a few breaths away. “We’re a team. It’s dangerous to keep information from me.”

You blink at him. “We’re a team?”

“Yep.”

Bucky says it like it’s simple. Obvious. You’re not the job. He’s not the problem or danger that’s going to end in a bigger mess for him to clean up. He’s your friend, and he’s helping, and you’re a team. Together. 

He’ll keep you safe. If you let him.

You really want to let him. 

He mutters your name—you’ve been staring too long—and you clear your throat.

“Are you keeping anything from me?”

Bucky’s lips twitch. “Not that I’m aware of. You keeping anything from me?”

Yes.

So many things.

But if you tell him about Miles, you’ll have to tell him about the bond. And if you tell him about the bond-

You’re not sure what will happen, if you tell Bucky about the bond. He might try to free you of it, like Tony would’ve. He might try to just free you of Miles, like Sam would. 

He wouldn’t try to take it, like Miles did. That’s one thing you’re positive about. He’ll be disgusted by the very idea of it. 

And things are so good right now. It’s not a secret that will do any harm. You’re doing Bucky a favor, by not giving him more reasons to worry about you.

So you just shake your head, and give him a wide, free kind of smile.

One blink, clenched jaw. That’s the Look that means he’s seeing through you. That he knows your smile is a fucking lie.

But he doesn’t call you on it. And his brows quickly furrow, followed by three more blinks before he sighs, shaking his head at nothing at all. 

“You ready?”

“Ready-“

Bucky pats the seat of his bike, and you swallow. 

“Oh.”

“We can take your car-“

“No.” You stand a little taller. It’s just a bike. Bucky rides it all the time, and if you’re a team, you need to be slightly matched with him. Not just the strange, annoying, feral girl he’s been saddled with to protect and work with. Useful. 

Even if your only use is letting him ride his bike, getting him into the aquarium for free, and cracking code during bought of insomnia, you will be useful.

“I can do this.” Your words are firm, and Bucky just grins at you.

“Sure-“

“Shut up.”

He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

There’s the flush, and the Mist, and Bucky’s standing so close. His arm is brushing yours, and leaving small fevers you don’t want to be cured from, all over your skin. 

“I’m gonna wear the backpack,” Bucky says—his words gentle and slow and fuzzy in your gut—and you glance up to find him looking right into you. “And you’ll sit in front of me.”

“Is that safer than behind you?”

“No. They’re pretty much the same.”

“So-“

“You’ll freak out less, in the front.”

You swallow, and he’s probably right. If you’re in the back, you’ll spend the whole time worrying about letting go of Bucky, and-

Letting go.

If you’re in the front, you’re not going to be holding onto Bucky. He’s going to be holding onto you. He’ll be all around you. Pressed against you.

This was a horrible idea.

It’s too late to back out.

“Alright.” You give a firm nod, and Bucky’s still just grinning at you. “Let’s do this.”

He looks far too amused. The whole fucking time, Bucky looks to be enjoying your torment, and God, it’s making you dizzy. It’s not like when Miles laughs at you. Where it’s cold and mocking. 

This feels soft.

Gentle.

Safe. 

Bucky helps you onto the bike with his flesh hand, big and calloused around yours, and he’s grinning at your scowl and pout the whole time, but it’s not hateful. You don’t feel like a problem. The light in his eyes is all focused on you, and it never moves away.

Bucky never moves away. You stumble a little, and he catches you with an even wider grin.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He drawls, and when you tip your head back to glower at him, your knees feel a little weak.

He looks like a fucking god from every goddamn angle.

It’s not fair.

“I’m fine.” You grumble, and he chuckles, the sound rolling through you and causing the Mist to spread.

“You seem it.”

“I hate you.” 

“Uh huh.”

His grin doesn’t falter for a second. He knows you’re full of shit. If anything, his whole face is lit up with something easy, and it’s intoxicating.

You’re fucked.

Bucky places you on the bike. Picks you up like you’re a sack of feathers and maneuvers you onto the seat, and he really needs to stop doing that. It makes the Mist glow, and it makes your face go dumb and slack because it shouldn’t feel so good. But his touch is always careful, and there’s never any tension in your body made of wrong—not what you want, not what you need, and there’s no choice so it’s wrong—because most of Bucky is really fucking right.

And he knows you. He’s climbing on the bike behind you because he knows you. He didn’t get pissed or grumpy about you saying you hate him, because he knows you. He’s always so ready to catch you because he knows you.

It’s a relief he can’t see your face, for the entirety of the ride. Can’t see how your eyes are already squeezed shut, before you even get out of the garage-

“Put your face in my arm.” He grunts in your ear, and you stare up at him.

“What?”

“Your face,” he mutters, and you can feel his attention again, even from behind his sunglasses. “There’s gonna be a lot of wind, Butterfly. Don’t want you to get blown away.”

You roll your eyes. “Smooth words, James-“

“Yeah, yeah.” His grin returns in a second. You’re going to explode. “Just listen to me, for once in your damn life.”

If the engine wasn’t revving, and your heart wasn’t loud in your ears, you would’ve argued that you do listen to him. All the time. More than anyone else, at least. 

But instead you just obey. He’s barely using the voice, and you can’t even see that glint in his eyes, but you turn your face and bury it in his arm before you can think too hard about it, and then you’re gone.

Maybe it was the smell of him—something rainy that might be cologne, and a little bit of mint—acting as anesthetic over your senses, making you to stupid and reckless things. Maybe it was how he’s the perfect kind of balanced warm, where he’s not suffocating and sticky, but comfortable, the metal arm acting as a kind of summer breeze. There’s a strong chance it’s how strong he is around you. How his muscles keep flexing around you as he drives, and you don’t feel trapped by it. 

He’s like a shield. Not a cage. You don’t want him to move away.

That might be it. 

You just don’t ever want Bucky to move away. The wind is rushing past you, and everything is sharp movements and a little unsteady, but you just keep your face tucked into Bucky’s arm. Nothing will happen, as long as you’re safely burrowed into him.

Bucky’s got you, so nothing will happen.

This isn’t helping stomp down the crush. It’s only making the Mist expand and move into your nerves. And he knows you, so when he pulls to a stop, he doesn’t move until you do.

“That was horrible.” 

Your words are muffled in his arm, and Bucky chuckles. “You know we’re gonna have to do it again, sweetheart. Unless you’re plannin’ on living here.”

You groan, shaking your head against him. “Can you knock me out next time?”

“No.”

“That’s not very team oriented of you-“

“I think it’s perfectly team oriented to not want you passed out.” Bucky still isn’t trying to move you away. If anything, his hand has found your lower back, holding you steady in the seat.

It’s just making you dizzier. 

Bucky doesn’t need to know that. 

“Maybe I will live here.” You mumble, pulling back with a challenging glare. “You’ll see. I’ll be one with the ocean. Maybe I’m secretly a mermaid, you don’t know.”

Bucky’s grin might knock you out on its own. His sunglasses are gone so you can see him looking at you, and his smile lights up his whole face. It makes you sit a little taller to hold his gaze, and gives you a strange, hot feeling over your chest about how he’s looking at you like that. No one else. You didn’t even know his face could have this kind of clear, simple ease and joy. 

It makes him look younger. Almost boyish. The smirk dripping with teasing charm and his gaze so focused you might as well be the only person in the world. 

You’re not. You’re maybe the person least worthy of being looked at like that.

But that doesn’t stop Bucky. And it makes you feel fucking invincible. 

“I don’t think you’re a mermaid, Butterfly.” Bucky drawls. “Mermaids aren’t real.”

You snort. “But aliens are?”

“Yep. There’s more science behind aliens. Far more likely than fish-people.”

He’s right. But he doesn’t get to win. “Okay, nerd.”

That just gets a laugh. A loud, full laugh that would make you fall over, if Bucky wasn’t holding you so tight. “You feel good about that one, sweetheart?”

“Yep.” You glance around the parking lot. It’s mostly full, and Bucky’s wearing his gloves and a jacket, but- “Are we just… going inside?”

“How else is it supposed to work?”

“I dunno.” You mumble, fidgeting with the cuff of your shirt. “I just don’t want you to worry about be recognized.”

Bucky shrugs. “I’ve got a hat. It’ll be fine.”

“A hat.” You repeat, giving him a flat look. “James, a hat isn’t effective-“

“I managed to stay on the run from Steve and the government for damn near two years with a hat. Don’t worry about me.”

“But-“

“Listen,” Bucky says your name firmly, and it’s not good how quickly your body relaxes. “People aren’t here to look for me. They’re here to see the fish. Trust me.”

You let out a long breath, and give him a small nod. “Okay.”

“Good g-“ Bucky cuts himself off with a cough, his eyes widening for half a second. So fast you almost don’t catch it at all. “I- Uh- How does this work.”

“What-“

“I dunno what we’re doin’.” Bucky glances past you, to the aquarium entrance. “Never done something like this. A public thing. Where I wasn’t-“

“Punching butts?”

He snorts, and looks back down to you with a small grin. “Sure, Butterfly.”

You whack his arm thoughtlessly, and try to form a slow, concrete plan to ease Bucky into this. It’ll be loud. And crowded. He’s here for his therapy and biology class, so you’ll just find a few exhibits he likes and roll with them. Avoid the places kids tend to flock, just because there will be less people, and that’ll probably be better for him. You want to see the otters, but this isn’t about you. If Bucky wants to just stare at the sharks, you can be down with that. Sharks are cool. Although you don’t really know Bucky’s taste in animals, and he might not either if he’s never been to an aquarium, so you might be taking a lot of gambles-

“Stop thinking.”

You blink up at Bucky. “I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, you were.” His hand is still on your back. You’re losing your mind. “I just need you leading the way, kid. We’re walking around, not invading a Hydra base.”

“Oh- Okay.” You swallow, shifting carefully against his body. 

His grip tightens, and all you get is the nostril flare.

Fuck.

“What’re you-“

“We need to walk, Buck.”

He coughs, his grip loosening. “Right. You need-“

“I’ve got it.”

And you do. You can climb off the bike all by yourself.

But Bucky keeps his hand on you anyway. And it’s grounding. Your brain stops circling around all the ways to make this easier for him, to make it as efficient and enjoyable as possible do maybe—just maybe—you’ll get lucky, and Bucky will want to do it again. It can only hone in on Bucky. 

Touching you. Walking with you. Talking to you.

And listening. He wants to talk to you and listen, because he’d tell you to shut up if he didn’t. You don’t doubt that for a second. 

But he wants to. 

So here you are.

“What ocean animals have you seen?”

“Fish.”

You give him an amused look. “That it?”

“Uh,” Bucky frowns at the air. “One shark. When I was the Soldier. Some scientist was keeping it as a pet.”

“As a- Were you working with a fucking Bond villain?”

“I was killing him, not working with him.” Bucky shrugs, scanning over the lot as you walk. Watching. Always watching. 

His hand is still on your back, and he’s matching your pace exactly. It’s secure. You feel like a nuke could drop on you and you’d be fine.

“And I don’t know what a Bond villain is.” 

“James Bond is a super-spy. 007.”

“Oh. I’ve never worked with him-“

“That’s probably because he’s fictional, Buck.” Before Bucky can glower at you and grumble about how there’s no fucking way for him to know that, you make a mock gasp. “Wait. Are you James Bond?”

“What.”

“You’re a super-spy. And your name is James. Maybe they based the character on you.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

You smile at him. “But maybe it did.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

Whatever you say.

And he’s still touching you. 

For the whole day, there’s barely a second where Bucky’s not touching you.

It never goes past a hand on your back or your arm, but it doesn’t go away either. He whispers in your ear and grins at you like it’s nothing, and the crush is moving from one little blooming thing along your spine to a fucking jungle. Life and Mist and warmth all over your bones and nerves, lining the walls of your veins and making all your breaths so easy. The flutter is fucking wings, beating and crashing against your ribs whenever Bucky smiles at you, and the Mist is a haze that’s starting to shine all over your body.

If Bucky can seek it, brilliant and clean and maybe seeping through your skin, he doesn’t say anything.

But he doesn’t stop touching you either.

“What do you think is bigger than you, Sargent Barnes?”

Bucky’s nostrils flare—you really need to figure out what that means—and his grip tightens on your arm. “I don’t know.”

“Helpful.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning over you to frown at your phone. “They got otters here?”

“Apparently. Says so on the map, doesn’t it.” You grin up at him, and he scoffs, his lips twitching slightly.

“Smart mouth, Butterfly.”

“Shut up.” You raise your chin, holding his gaze. “Do you want see the otters, James?”

Bucky lets out a long sigh. “Yes. Never seen one before.”

Otters aren’t bigger than Bucky.

Most things aren’t bigger than Bucky. 

But if he wants to see an otter, you’ll punch and kick your way through the crowd until he does.

“They’re…” Bucky frowns, hanging slightly over your shoulder. “Fluffy.”

“Yep.” You scan over the little plaque, trying not to feel too dizzy from how Bucky is right fucking behind you. “What do we need for your biology class?”

“I, uh-“ Bucky coughs. “Nothin’. Was just another good reason to go Marine biology class. Thought I could test myself or somethin’.”

Just another reason to go.

He would’ve gone without you. You have to remember that he would’ve gone without you. 

“Alright.” You look back to the plaque. “How do otters get their food?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Your fancy class, Buck. I’m testing you.”

He scowls, his voice dry. “We haven’t covered otter food.”

“Shame.” You hum. “They dive for it. Like penguins-“ You cut yourself off, your eyes widening. “Can we go see penguins?”

Nostril flare. Tight nod. “It’s a group trip, Butterfly. I don’t care where we go.”

“I care.” You snap. “We’re here so you can remember how small you are, Bucky.”

“Sure.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma'am." A pause. “We’ll do the penguins. Never seen those either.”

“Awesome. And look,” You grin at Bucky over your shoulder. “Otters are diurnal.”

Bucky snorts. “You sure? Cause they don’t really seem to be up right now.”

“Have you never taken a nap?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “That’s why you’re so grumpy all the time.”

He rolls his eyes, starting to guide you away from the exhibit. “I am not grumpy. I take things seriously.”

“Of course you do.” You can’t lean too close into his touch, no matter how fucking easy it would be. “All play and no work makes James a dull boy.”

“That’s not the quote.”

“Yeah, well-“ You pause, frowning up at him. “How did you know that? The Shining came out in the 80s.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “Sam made me watch it.”

You scan over him carefully. Tense. Glaring at the air ahead of him and pressing out his chest like he’s having an invisible showdown with the air. “You didn’t like it, did you.”

He shakes his head, and you grin at him.

“I told you that you needed happy endings.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “You did. Penguins?”

You keep smiling at him, because it’s so simple. You’re smiling to smile, and because it’s at Bucky, and he doesn’t really have anyone who smiles at him. 

Same as you don’t have anyone to smile at.

And when he glances back, there’s a flash over his features when he sees you, and he returns the smile. It’s a little cautious and tight, but it’s still starting in his eyes. 

He’s gotten better at that. At offering smiles, when they’re not being pulled out of him.

And from here—at least for the rest of the day—it seems to be only up.

“Why are they so round.” Bucky grumbles, frowning at a penguin, and you shrug.

“You tell me, Sargent Science.”

He shoots you a dry look. “You think I’m a lot better that shit than I am, Butterfly.”

“Sorry I believe in you.” You cross your arms, holding his gaze. “And you’re better at it than I am. You won us the whole trivia round.”

“I think you woulda been fine without me.”

“I thought peppers made dynamite, Bucky.”

“Maybe they do.” He gives you a small smirk. “Anythin’ can blow up if you try hard enough, sweetheart.”

You can’t stop smiling at him. I might be making you look like an idiot. “You know, I believe that.”

“Thanks. Means a lot.”

You whack him again, and his grin only grows. 

“You gonna tell me why penguins are round?” Bucky drawls your name, and you sigh.

“It’s so they can roll. On the ice. It’s faster than walking.”

“Alright.” Bucky hums, raising his brows. “And the rest reason?”

You flush, turning your hair between your fingers. “For warmth. The roundness is fat, and it keeps them alive.”

He nods slowly, does the tongue thing, and the Mist is warm all over your skin.

“What else do you want to see?” You ask—your voice far too breathy—and Bucky shrugs. 

“What’s good?”

Most of it. 

Bucky’s walking with you the whole way, and he’s trusting you to tell him things—where to go, what to look at, what to do—so most of it is good. 

There are big seals that seem to enjoy staring at Bucky—you understand that—and dead-eyed, sharks that enjoy starting at you.

“Why are they looking at me?” You whisper, the fifth shark in a row gliding past with its attention entirely following your movements, and Bucky shrugs. 

“I don’t think-“

“Don’t call me paranoid.” You snap, and Bucky gives you an amused look. 

“Wasn’t planning on it. They’re definitely watching you. I was gonna say that there’s probably no reason to it.” He shrugs. “Maybe you’re the best thing to look at they’ve seen in a while.”

You shake your head, falling a pace back so Bucky’s blocking you from view. “No. They’re gonna try to eat me.”

“That works too.”

Bucky grins at your glare, but picks up his pace, and keeps you hidden from the view of the sharks until you’re out of the tunnel. 

You linger on the turtles, and when you ask Bucky if he’d like a vibranium shell too, he just rolls his eye. The jellyfish are there, floating mindless through the water and a little enchanting, and the giant fucking crab is going to give you nightmares, but you’ll get over it.

You’re pulled to safety by Bucky anyway. 

And it hits you, when you’re watching the sea lion show from a safe distance, neither of you really all that interested in getting closer.

“You think they like doing that shit?” Bucky asks, nodding to the show. “Performing for treats?”

“I didn’t.” You mumble, and before you can hear yourself and take it back, Bucky shrugs. 

“Never got treats. Didn’t like it either, though.”

You hum, watching the animal build up to a flip. “Sea lions,” Your words are soft. Mostly for yourself. “Natures snakes.”

Bucky frowns at you. “What?”

“It’s reference. Don’t worry about it.”

“What movie?”

You shake your head. “You won’t like it-“

“You like it. Enough to quote it.” He raises his brows. “C’mon. Tell me.”

He’s looking at you. Into you. 

And the Mist is shining.

“Penguins of Madagascar.” You mumble, and Bucky nods.

“Alright. I’ll watch it.”

“It’s not a good movie-“

“I don’t care.”

That’s it. There’s a firmness to Bucky’s tone that tells you he’s not arguing with you about this, and it’s really not worth arguing about.

You want to know why, though. Why he’d be so resolved about something so dumb, and not waver on it, and if it’s you or he’s like this with Sam-

“Think it’s time to prove fish are real, Butterfly?”

You blink up at Bucky, and there’s the fucking grin again. And the tongue thing.

Jesus Christ.

“Fish aren’t real.” You pull out your phone, frowning at the map on your phone. “And it looks like we’re supposed to go, uh- That way, then that way, then there.”

You point as you speak, and Bucky leans over you to frown at your screen. “Two rights and a left.”

You’re not really sure you’re breathing. “That’s- Uh- I’m not-“

“Turn in this way,” he shakes his normal arm. “Twice. Then to the metal one once. Got it?”

You stare up at him, and it crashes through you like a wave.  

You’ve never done things like this with anyone. 

Talked this easy. Had someone know you like that, and be patient with it, and never balk at all the You that can’t be strangled or choked or smothered. You’re smiling because it doesn’t really feel like there’s another choice. You’re following Bucky because you want to, and having fun, and it’s not for money or foreplay or to keep the Show going for the sake of it. 

Miles doesn’t let you drive, because of the left-right thing. 

Bucky’s just flexing his arm whenever you forget, and letting you lead the way. 

You need to stop comparing them. It’s not helping. It just makes the fantasies of Bucky sweeping you away stronger, and your own heart turn bitter because that won’t happen. Can’t happen. It’s the kind of thought that would get you shredded apart, if voiced aloud, because you’re not supposed to be saved. You’re supposed to save yourself.

You don’t know how to save yourself. You don’t care enough about yourself to save yourself, because you—the real, angry, furious you that has sharp teeth and spits poison—don’t deserve to be saved.

That doesn’t stop the want though. The selfish, vile want for anything else but what you’re going to return to.

The hunger to stop being alone. 

And there’s a massive tunnel. Full of countless sea creatures, floating and drifting around you without a care in the world. All in a seemingly endless dark.

None of them seem to mind it at all. 

“Do you feel small?” Your voice is soft, and Bucky lets out a long, slow breath.

“No. Think I feel bigger, actually.”

You nod, and that’s it. 

You understand him. He seems to understand you.

And you might not be alone anymore.

You have Bucky. 

And if you don’t keep that in check, it will get you both really fucking hurt. 

“Huh.” Bucky frowns around the parking lot as he helps you onto the bike. “We’re close to Coney Island.”

“We’re in Coney Island, Buck. How- You drove us here-“

“I just studied the directions from your apartment. I’m not a fucking map.” Bucky’s features pull into a scowl, and you let out a soft laugh.

It earns you another nostril flare. And Bucky staring at you like you’re a specimen again, but with something softer in his eyes. It’s the same look from when he smiles.

And his voice is low, when he breaks the odd silence. “Used to go to the island all the time. Would like to go back. See how it’s changed.”

“Would you,” you swallow, trying to force the words out before you think too hard, and swallow them forever. “Like company?”

“Yeah. I think I would.”

“Alright.” You give him a nervous smile, he returns it so fast, and you want to tell him again.

The whole ride back to your apartment, and when he’s helping you off the bike, you want to tell Bucky. You want to tell him when your mumble strange and pointless goodbyes—you’ll see him tomorrow, but in feels like your lungs will collapse when the elevator doors close and he’s not at your side—and when you open your door. 

You want to tell him when you get the text, and everything flips and settles so fast.

Miles

heading back to korea

big deal

back when its done

behave

There’s not prior warning, but he’s done that before. Vanished without warning. 

And you really don’t mind, because it means he’s gone.

Miles is gone. Not forever—never forever—but for a while, Miles is gone. 

You want to call Bucky right there. Explain that you’re trapped in a show like the Sea Lion, and you’d like to keep smiling at him but it’s dangerous, and you’re starving for freedom and safety all at once. 

And right now, freedom and safety looks a lot like being known and not whipped for it.

And Bucky really looks like being known. 

But Miles will return. 

You’ll grow sick again, and Miles will need to come back if only to cure you, and he’ll take whatever price he pleases as penance. 

Until then is time you’re safe. Until then you’re grabbing out Bucky’s sweater from the back of the closet, and you curl up with the Boy on the bed. Turning through more and more Hydra code until the world starts to blur, and your head feels a little heavy, and-

“Do you feel small?”

Bucky groans, dropping his brow onto your shoulder. “You gotta stop askin’ me that while you’re on my lap, Butterfly.”

You giggle, leaning back into him. “Got something to prove, Sargent?”

“You know I don’t, babydoll-“

“No fucking on the ferris wheel.” You swat his hand on your thigh, but don’t really try to pry it away. It’s making you feel more secure than any seatbelts or safety bars could. “Sam could see.”

“He’s on the ground-“

“For now.”

“Better not be for now.” Bucky grumbles, kissing over your neck. “Or I’ll toss him into the goddamn harbor for-“

“No murder, James. You promised.”

“I promised I’d stop you from murder. Never said anything about myself.”

You sigh, twisting to drop your face into the dip of his neck. “But it’ll be such a bummer when you get thrown in jail.”

“I’d be fine. My girl would visit me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

You sigh—he’s right, and you have no argument against it—and Bucky tugs on your hair until you lean back.

“And just for the record,” Bucky mumbles, just a breath from your lips. “I could never feel small with you, Butterfly. ’S why I keep you right here.”

The Mist is flowing, when you wake up. 

It’s not just a dizzying, soft feeling anymore. It’s something buzzing and turning and shifting in your fucking body, something building up your spine that trying to break out of your fucking chest, and you can’t breathe.

This sweater smells like a stale version Bucky, but the sheets still smell like Miles. And it’s becoming like a toxic, as the Mist presses over your bones and itches under your chest.

Miles has only been gone a night. But there’s a burning, sickening pain in your whole fucking body that feels like Death.

It’s another night that’s long and lonely. You’re too human, and it hurts, but the power trapped in your body is festering, and it’s fucking eating you alive. Sticky and crushing on all your organs, and the Mist just keeping fucking turning in your body. At some point you shuffle out of bed in a haze, crawling to the bathroom just to ground yourself on the cool tile. It’s just you, the Boy at your side, and a sliver of moonlight through the window, keeping you company until the dawn breaks.

But the dawn does break. The Mist settles after hours of bile on your tongue and scratching at your arms, and the dawn breaks. 

It always breaks. 

And you always adapt.

There’s still a feeling as if flowers are growing, all over your bones and under a few layers of skin.

Dawn breaks, and it brings a beating of wings deep in your chest.

You’ll see Bucky again in a few hours. 

And you won’t be alone.

End Note: Feelings are their number one op fr.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[stewpidcheescatarinabluu]

“Love’s Gonna Get You Killed”

Chapter 1

“A faithful encounter”

Synopsis: A wounded mafia heir stumbles into a late-night convenience store, where a quiet clerk patches him up. He walks out—but can’t stop watching her. As danger circles and their worlds quietly collide, one question remains: Can you stay untouched in a life soaked in blood?

Word Count: 1,740

Karina X Male Reader

It was a gloomy night—you remembered it vividly. The kind of night that smelled like rust and asphalt, soaked in sweat and danger.

You were panting, one hand pressed hard against your bleeding stomach, the other skimming the alley walls to keep upright. Cuts laced your arms and face, blood dripping with every step as you weaved through the city’s underbelly—alley to alley, turn after turn.

“Hey, mafia boy!” one of the grunts behind you shouted, voice echoing off the walls. “Just give up and let us catch you. We’ll put you up for ransom nice and easy, yeah?”

You grinned despite the pain. “As if. You’ll croak before you see a damn cent with that old ass of yours.”

Your legs screamed, but you kept running.

Eventually, you stumbled onto a dimly lit street. A lone convenience store buzzed under flickering lights—your salvation. The glowing “OPEN” sign might as well have been a lighthouse in a storm.

You pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling like a laugh in the dead of night.

Inside, it was quiet. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. A lone clerk was kneeling behind one of the shelves, restocking chips. She didn’t notice you at first.

“Hey, uh…” you croaked, blood soaking your shirt. “You sell bandages here?”

Still focused on the shelf, she replied casually, “Yeah—what kind? Like finger bandages or—”

Then she turned.

Her eyes went wide. You could tell she doubted what she was seeing—some guy bleeding out at 2 in the morning, looking half-dead.

“What the hell happened to you?” she whispered, rushing to your side.

You didn’t answer.

She grabbed your arm, led you behind the counter, sat you down gently like she’d done this before. She asked questions—too many—but you stayed quiet. You just looked at her name tag.

Karina.

She worked quickly. Alcohol stung. The cuts burned. You watched her hands more than anything—steady, warm, kind.

After a while, she stood, brushing her palms on her apron. “The bandages and alcohol come out to $13.75,” she said softly.

You leaned against the counter, breath still uneven. “And add a pack of cigarettes.”

She hesitated, then grabbed one and slid it across to you.

You reached into your coat and pulled out a wad of cash. Peeled off a hundred, set it on the counter.

“Keep it. Thanks for the aid, Karina.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wait… how do you know my—

But you were already walking toward the door. She glanced down and realized.

Her name tag.

The bell jingled again as you stepped out into the night, and just like that, the street went quiet. The blood, the danger, the man with the cash—gone. Like a ghost.

You made your way back to the world beneath the world—the place where sunlight didn’t reach and names were whispered more than spoken.

The entrance was hidden behind a long-abandoned coal mine, one only the old families knew about. You slipped through the rusted gate, past the fake collapse wall, and into the gaping dark.

Your boots echoed against the cavern floor. Every step sent a new jolt through your battered body. The cigarette between your lips glowed faintly, its smoke curling through the cold, damp air.

As you emerged from the tunnel into the dim lights of the underground compound, a familiar figure greeted you at the checkpoint.

“Welcome home, sir,” said your father’s right hand, Joon-ho, bowing slightly.

“Thanks, Joon-ho.”

His eyes scanned your injuries without comment. “Quite a night, sir?”

“Yeah.” You took a drag from the cigarette. “Some punks wanted to ransom me. Came in a pack—thirteen of them. I took out ten before they brought out guns and blades.”

Joon-ho nodded once, expression unreadable. “I see. That is… unfortunate. Is there anything I can do?”

You paused, exhaled smoke into the low light, and winced as you shifted your weight.

“Yeah. Find out who sent them.”

His face tightened. “Understood. I’ll begin right away.”

You tossed the cigarette, the ember dying out against the rock.

“And Joon-ho…”

He looked back.

“Burn their hideout. I want ash by morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

You continued on, deeper into the underworld. Past men who stood straighter when they saw you. Past eyes that wouldn’t meet yours. Past bloodstained walls that still remembered your name.

The underground air was heavy with smoke and silence. Somewhere in the distance, metal clanged—someone training, or someone being punished. Down here, the two sounded the same.

You sat in your quarters, shirt off, wounds stitched by the compound’s medic. The pain had dulled to a steady throb. You leaned back in the leather chair, staring at the ceiling, a lit cigarette burning between your fingers. You weren’t thinking about the grunts. Not the betrayal. Not the blood still drying on your boots.

You were thinking about her.

Karina.

You didn’t know why. She was just a clerk. A stranger. Another face in the city you were raised to rule from the shadows.

But something about her… stuck.

The way her eyes went wide when she saw your wounds—fear, yeah, but also something else. Concern. Real concern. You hadn’t seen that in years.

Most people either looked at you like a threat or a god. Never like a man.

But she did.

You remembered how her hands didn’t shake while cleaning your cuts. How she didn’t flinch, even when you bled all over her floor. She didn’t ask who you were—only what she could do.

And her voice… it had this softness. Like the world hadn’t ruined her yet.

You took another drag and let your head fall back.

“This city’s gonna eat her alive,” you muttered to yourself.

The worst part? You’d already dragged her into your orbit. Whether she knew it or not.

You didn’t go back to that store because you needed bandages. You could’ve gotten treated here.

You went because something in you wanted to see her again.

You laughed bitterly to yourself.

What the hell are you doing, falling for a convenience store girl?

You’d seen men die over less. And yet… you lit another cigarette.

You knew you’d be back.

Not because you had to.

Because you wanted to.

You stepped out of your quarters, the air thick with metal and mildew. The compound always smelled like secrets.

Down the corridor, you spotted Joon-ho, crouched over a bloodstained tarp. His sleeves were rolled up, gloves slick with something you didn’t want to name.

You lit a cigarette and raised a brow. “Hey, Joon-ho. What the hell are you doing?”

He glanced up, unfazed. “Ah, sir. Your father tasked me with cleaning these… body parts.”

You exhaled smoke, amused. “You sure you’re his right-hand man? Not just a glorified janitor?”

Joon-ho sighed as he scrubbed what looked like a severed hand. “I’ve been thinking about that too, sir.”

You chuckled quietly, then your face hardened. “I need something.”

He stood, wiping his gloves off with a stained rag. “Of course. What are your needs?”

You stepped closer, voice low. “I need you to find someone.”

Joon-ho tilted his head. “Name?”

“…Karina. Convenience store clerk. Late shift. East 42nd, near the train line.”

Joon-ho blinked, caught off guard by the name. “You want background?”

“Yeah,” you said. “All of it.”

“Understood. I’ll pull records—residence, family, affiliations. You want work history too?”

“Everything. Where she lives. Who she talks to. If she owes anyone anything. I want to know what kind of world she walks in when I’m not looking.”

Joon-ho gave a slight nod. “You think she’s a threat?”

You looked at him, then away. “…No. I just need to know if someone else sees her as one.”

He didn’t press further. He never did. That’s what made him useful.

“You’ll have a full file by tomorrow night,” he said. “Should I keep surveillance after?”

“For now… just get me the truth.”

Joon-ho went back to work, scrubbing blood like it was just another chore.

And you walked off into the dark, not sure why your gut felt heavier than usual.

Not sure why you were dragging a civilian into a world built on lies, smoke, and bone.

But you told yourself it was just precaution.

That you needed the information.

That it was the smart move.

The next night.

You sat alone in your father’s old office, the one he rarely used now. The desk still smelled like old tobacco and iron. Papers scattered. Gun oil in the drawer. A reminder of what your bloodline build.

A knock.

“Come in.”

Joon-ho stepped in with a black folder tucked under his arm. He shut the door behind him.

“It’s everything you asked for,” he said, placing the folder down in front of you. “Karina Yuu. Twenty-Five. No priors. No connections to any syndicates, law enforcement, or debt collectors. Lives in a one-bedroom apartment above a laundromat five blocks from the store. Commutes by foot. Quiet life.”

You flipped the file open.

A grainy photo of her ID. A surveillance still of her locking up the store. Her school records—decent grades, dropped out sophomore year. Medical file, thin. No hospital visits in years.

“She’s clean,” Joon-ho added. “Too clean, maybe. Girl keeps her head down. Doesn’t talk to coworkers. Doesn’t drink. Parents passed in a car crash when she was seventeen. No siblings. No emergency contacts.”

You lingered on a photo someone snapped from across the street—her sitting by the store window, sipping something from a paper cup, face half-lit by a neon sign. She looked tired. Like someone who never let herself rest.

“She’s alone,” you muttered.

“Yes, sir.”

You closed the file slowly. The air felt colder now.

“No one like that stays invisible forever in this city,” you said. “Someone’s bound to notice her.”

“She’s not being watched,” Joon-ho said. “Yet.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, mind racing.

“Keep a man posted near the store. Distant, but alert. If anyone else starts sniffing around…”

“They won’t get far,” Joon-ho finished.

You nodded.

As he turned to leave, you added, “And don’t let her see him. She doesn’t know she’s in the dark yet. Let her keep thinking she’s safe.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door closed behind him.

You sat there in the dim light, staring at her photo again.

No debts. No enemies. No ties. Just… existing.

You leaned back, cigarette between your lips again.

But in this city, existing without noise was the loudest thing of all.

[fantasticfourthwingimagines]

If You Wait Pairing - Ridoc Gamlyn x Reader Summary - Violet's been captured, and your rescue attempt has failed. You still have one option though. You can reveal the secret you'd been hiding for years. That you killed Varrish's closest comrade. Your father. The only question is, will Ridoc forgive you for putting yourself in danger? Word Count - 2.2k Warnings - Mentions of past child abuse, mentions of accidental death, canon typical violence, language.

You had tried, and you had all failed. 

Your squad was lined up beside you - defeated and lost, still no clue where Violet was, no access to Fidah after they had forced the serum down your throats. There was no way out. Not this time.

Varrish paced in front of you, smug and controlled. That smirk on his face - it froze your lungs and ignited rage all at once. You remembered it. You remembered how it made you disappear into corners, under tables, into silence.

“It was a valiant effort I’ll admit. Pointless, but valiant.” Varrish said, stopping in front of you. His smirk widened when you flinched. “Almost a pity you’ll all be killed for it.” 

No. No. No. No. 

You couldn’t look at them. Your squad. Your family. They couldn’t die because of this. 

“Sir. She’s awake, and Aetos has been informed.” 

Aetos? Oh shit, he was going to go back to Violet and make her reveal everything. As soon as Varrish heard what he needed, he would kill her. You had no doubts about that. Your squad mate, someone you could call a friend, would die. 

“Excellent.” Varrish said, pulling his gaze away from you and clapping his hands. “Unfortunately this conversation will have to be continued, Iron Squad. I’m afraid you won’t remain that way for long.” 

You couldn’t let him get to Violet.

Even if it meant losing everything. 

You turned your head, gaze locking on the man at the far end of the row. Ridoc. His eyes found yours, wide with realization of what you were about to do. Don’t, they begged. Don’t do this. 

You gave him the softest apology your broken expression could manage. 

“Iver Youngford.” 

The name slipped from your lips like a blade. 

Varrish froze, mid-stride. You didn’t look at your squad, didn’t need to. You felt their stares burning into your skin. Still, your eyes held steady on him. 

“What did you say?” He asked, voice low and taut. 

“He’d been drinking again. You know how much he loved his scotch.” You said, each word heavier than the last. 

“Don’t,” Ridoc growled, causing one of the guards to step up behind him to hold him down. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Leave her alone!” 

“Ridoc, no!” You snapped, more at yourself than at him, but it was too late. 

Varrish didn’t even glance at him. A sharp snap of his fingers - and a guard moved. 

The punch landed with a sickening crunch. 

You flinched, but you didn’t look. You couldn’t. If you looked at Ridoc, if you saw what they’d done to him, you wouldn’t be able to keep going. 

“He was chasing me up the stairs.” You said. “He’d already hit me a few times that night, and something inside me . . . Snapped.” 

You could feel Ridoc’s silence now. Not anger - fear. Not for himself, but for you. 

“He reached the top of the stairs, and I shoved.” 

In that moment you let yourself become something else. Someone vicious. Something that maybe had always been there, tucked under layers of who you wanted to be. “Ask me if I regret it,” you hissed. “Ask me if, as a fourteen year old girl, I regretted shoving my father down those stairs and watching him crumble at the bottom.” Your grin was teeth and fury. A reflection of the monster you came from. 

Somewhere down the line, Ridoc’s breath hitched. Quiet. Terrified. Still with you. 

You refuse to make a sound. 

Varrish’s hand snaps forward, fingers knotting in  your hair. He yanks, hard - forcing your head back until your neck strains and your eyes meet his above you. 

“Who are you?” He hisses, breath hot with rage. 

When you don’t answer, don’t flinch, don’t give, he strikes. 

The hit is so fast you don’t even process the movement. A sharp crack of knuckles meeting cheek, and pain blossoms in your jaw. Blood spills into your mouth, thick and metallic. You feel it dribble down your chin as his grip keeps your head locked in place.

“You lay another fucking hand on her, and I swear I’ll kill you!” Ridoc’s voice roars through the room - rough, cracked, furious. The kind of fury that promises follow-through. 

Another hit. A grunt of pain. Then a loud bang. 

Ridoc had hit the ground. Hard. 

“You fucker!” Sawyer’s voice, sharp and wild.  

“You’re going to pay for that!” Rhiannon’s shout, right on his heels. 

Chairs screech against the floor, but it stopped almost immediately. Stopped by something you’re too afraid to look at. Something worse than more violence. 

“Mouthy, that one, isn’t he?” Varrish says, casual, glancing toward Ridoc with a sick kind of amusement. “That should shut him up for a while.” 

Your stomach turns over. Oh gods. Please, please let him be okay. The silence from Ridoc is louder than any scream.

“Now,” Varrish says, eyes gleaming, “tell me, who are you?” 

You swallow the blood. Grit your teeth. Let the mask slid into place, the one that looks a little too much like the monster who raised you. “A part of me wished he was still alive when I got brave enough to check. So I could put my hands on him like he put his on me.” 

His face shifts - recognition sparking behind those cold eyes. 

“You know why I set that fire?” You go on, louder now. “Because I knew no one would believe me. Because of you. You’d make it my fault. Your best friend was perfect, right? He never could’ve hurt his daughter. I was just some troubled girl with deep issues-”

The hand flies again.

You see it coming, but that didn’t make it easier. The blow rattles your vision, white sparks dancing in your eyes as your head jerks to the side. You blink through the pain, through the double image of him, still standing there with that satisfied sneer.

“I should have known it was you.” He says. “I blame my ignorance on the fact that I’ve always thought you too pathetic to survive the parapet.” 

You try not to flinch - but those words echo. Familiar. Your father’s voice wearing a new mouth. 

“Of course it would be you though.” Varrish spits. “With a signet as useless as you are.” 

“Sir,” one of the guards interrupts. “Something’s happening. Sives said there’s movement at the border. If you want to find out what Sorrengail-” 

Don’t go after Violet, stay here . . . 

You keep your eyes on him. Daring him. Challenging him. 

Then he smirks.

Your heart stumbles. 

“You murdered Iver, so I’m going to make sure you watch every one of your dear friends die. Starting with Sorrengail, as soon as she leads Riorson to me.”

He forces your head to turn - fingers still tangled in your hair - as if presenting a gallery of your guilt. 

“Then your Squad Leader.” Your eyes land on Rhiannon, a blade to her throat. “Followed by your Executive Officer.” Sawyer, a blade to his throat as well. “Then him.” 

Ridoc. 

Still on the floor. Still not moving. 

No no no - 

He shoved you back, and you hit the ground hard, pain ricocheting up your spine, but you barely felt it. You watched in horror as Varrish walked out the door. 

You’d done all you could, and it still hadn’t been enough. Now your friends were going to die, and you were going to have to watch. 

Something inside of you cracked. 

You stopped caring about the pain. About the blood. About the shame clawing at your insides. 

You crawled to Ridoc. Your fingers trembled as they pressed against his neck, searching. One second. Two - There. A pulse. 

You let out a shaky sob of relief, your body collapsing beside him for a moment. Sawyer and Rhiannon dropped beside you, their guards having followed Varrish out. Sawyer’s hand rested solid and warm on your shoulder. Rhiannon leaned over Ridoc, checking his head. 

“He’s going to have a killer headache when he wakes up,” she murmured, “but I think he’ll be okay.” 

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from Ridoc’s face with shaking fingers. “I’m so sorry . . .” You whispered, the words breaking apart in your throat. “I thought maybe if I could buy some time - Now I’ve made everything worse.”

“Hey.” Rhiannon cut you off before you could spiral further. “You tried, and did a damn good job of it.” Her voice was firm, no-nonsense. “We’ll figure out another way out of this.” 

You didn’t see how, but when Sawyer gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, you nodded anyway.

All your focus narrowed to Ridoc, and as if he could sense how badly you needed him, he stirred.

A low groan. “Fuck.”  

Relief burst in your chest. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and cupped his cheek. Your thumb traced the curve of his cheekbone, sticky with blood. “How bad are you hurting?” You asked.

His eyes locked on yours. Took in every bruise, every smear of blood. His jaw tightened. A storm brewed behind his gaze. “Not as bad as that fucker is going to be.” He growled.

“Agreed.” Sawyer said, moving to help him up. “But first we’ve gotta get out of here. Any ideas?” 

“The door is not just locked, it’s warded!” Rhiannon called, having already moved to check. “Pretty strong, too.” 

“Shit.” Sawyer muttered, hurrying over to join her. 

You turned back to Ridoc. He was still watching you, rage simmering beneath the surface.

But you knew him. That rage wasn’t only for Varrish. 

“Can you not be mad at me right now?” You asked quietly. “I’m already terrified he’s going to walk back in here and kill you in front of me.” 

The change was instant. His face softened. His grip found yours, grounding and warm. “I’ll be mad at you when we get out of here.” He said, gentle. Honest. 

It turned out to be sooner than you expected. 

The door crashed open, and Sawyer and Rhiannon nearly lost their balance. You flinched, heart pounding, but Ridoc’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

Then a familiar voice rang out: 

“Rescue mission not go so well?” 

Garrick Tavis stood in the doorway, looking entirely too casual for someone breaking into a war college.

You slumped against Ridoc, muscles giving out. The crash after the storm. 

—-----------------

About an hour later you were headed to a formation called by Aetos, your limbs heavy with exhaustion. Ridoc hadn’t let go of your hand since you walked out of the classroom, and maybe he was still angry, maybe he’d yell later, but right now, he was here, and he wasn’t letting go. 

Until then, you would keep going, and the moment you saw Violet, surrounded by Rhiannon, Sawyer and Xaden, your body sagged with relief. 

She was alive.

You wanted to run to her, to throw your arms around her and thank all the gods that she was alive, but looking at her, bruised, pale, covered in blood, made you feel sick. You didn’t want to imagine what Varrish had done. What she’d survived. 

Then her eyes met yours. 

She stumbled forward, and you rushed to meet her, heart hammering. “Violet I’m so sorry, I tried to buy you time-”

But she cut you off, her hand gripping yours. “They told me what happened.” She nodded towards Rhiannon and Sawyer, then looked back at you. “And I want you to know . . . he’s dead.” 

You stared at her, the words not quite landing. “I - what?” 

“I killed Varrish.” She said, her voice steady, but her hand tightening in yours like she was bracing for your reaction. 

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. She’d killed him. 

Varrish is dead. 

The words echoed in your head like thunder in a canyon. Over and over until you could start to believe them. 

The man who could have you executed for your father’s death - the man who knew what you were and hated you for it - was gone. 

You were free. 

The world tilted, and suddenly you were falling, but Ridoc was there, arms wrapping around you, holding you steady. “He’s - it’s over?” You whispered, unable to look away from Violet’s face. 

“It’s over.” She confirmed, giving your hand another squeeze, eyes shining despite the pain in them.

You didn’t know what you felt. Relief. Rage. Exhaustion. Joy. Grief. It all crushed in on you at once, too much for one body to hold. You wanted to sob, scream and sleep for a year. All you could do though was keep breathing, keep standing, until you were alone. Or at least somewhere quiet. Somewhere with Ridoc. 

Then his voice cut through, low and razor-sharp. “Did you hurt him?” 

The steel in his tone made you flinch - because it wasn’t just a question. It was a demand.

Xaden answered for her. “Not as much as I wish she could have.” 

And maybe, eventually, you’d wish the same. That he’d suffered more. Screamed more. Begged. But for now? Knowing he was gone was enough. As time passed, maybe you’d wish she could have made it hurt more too, but for now, knowing he was gone was good enough. 

You squeezed Violet’s hand. “Thank you.” The words felt too small. You didn’t have anything bigger.

She gave a faint smile. Not much, but real. 

Everybody was called into official formation then, and an hour later, you were on Fiadh’s back with Ridoc and Aotrom flying close to your right and Sawyer and Sliseag flanking you on the left.

The wind rushed past your face.

You’d never felt so free.

[hard-core-super-star]

redo the prophecy [L.Calderu]

pairing: lilia calderu x vampire!reader

summary: when demons from your past start chasing you again, you end up with the one person you can always count on...even if being with you puts her in danger.

warnings: hurt/comfort; mentions of blood but nothing super graphic; neck kisses + bites; longing; allusions to sex but nothing explicit; exes who clearly don't want to be exes anymore; not proofread

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: someone stop letting me start a new series when i'm in the middle of working on other ones 😅 i couldn't help it, my hand slipped and now i'm invested. believe it or not, there's actually worldbuilding this time! the vampire stuff works very similarly to First Kill but if you're not familiar/confused with any aspect, feel free to send me an ask, i'd love to talk about it! anyway, the next part will be smut with feelings so keep your eyes peeled for that. for now, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

The bright sign in the window clashes with the dark storm clouds moving overhead. The rain had soaked through your coat at some point but the cold barely bothered you at this point. The real issue was the searing pain in your side and the seemingly endless cars driving down every street your feet took you to.

Truly, it shouldn't have been surprising that the only place your mind could think of going would be here. Madame Calderu's.

Even in the pouring rain, the outside is stunning. The blinds are drawn just enough for you to see inside. To catch a glimpse of the candles and seemingly endless vintage books on old shelves.

Somehow, swallowing your pride is the most difficult part. You stand outside the door like a lost puppy for at least five minutes, mentally debating whether to actually come in or not.

You don't want to admit it but ultimately, your precarious situation won over whatever pretenses you had.

The door creaks as you push inside with a heavy sigh. You're not even fully inside when Lilia steps out from behind a curtain of colorful beads. The subtle furrow of her brows lets you know she hadn't been expecting you.

Good to know you could still surprise her.

"So, it seems Dracula has a heart after all," she says, stopping a few feet away from you, hand on her hip like a disappointed girlfriend.

The thought makes your heart clench but you ignore it. You roll your eyes, leaning against the door to hide your limping. "Shut up. You know how I feel about that guy."

She waves her hand dismissively but the soft look in her eyes betrays her. Her eyes have always spoken louder than any other part of her, those brown depths far too real to be contained. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" You respond, vaguely gesturing to your injured side.

"You're being hunted again." It's not a question, she says it like she knows. Like she can somehow see exactly what kind of trouble you've wrapped yourself into this time. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

It takes all your strength to not roll your eyes at her. Instead, you push off the door and start walking deeper into the store, your eyes sweeping across all the different knick-knacks she has for sale.

"Don't act like you don't have runes stacked on runes inside this place."

Your light accusation makes her laugh, and the corners of your lips twitch up into a smile in response to the sweet sound.

"A woman can never be too cautious."

Your feet carry you over to the older woman despite your hesitations. Ironically, the blood loss is starting to get to you but that only makes your stomach hurt and your fangs ache.

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book," you complain as the room spins on its axis.

Lilia's hands hold you upright, the furrow in her brows making itself known once again. "Come on, you can hardly stand."

If the pain wasn't overwhelming your mind, you might have allowed yourself to sink into her touch. It had been years since you'd been this close to her. Countless nights spent thinking of her, wishing you could go back to her.

You never thought your reunion would be like this.

"Are you asking or telling me?"

Your joke doesn't land and it earns you a quick smack to the shoulder. "Insolent fool."

The familiarity of the action makes you smile and you suddenly can't tell if the weakness in your knees comes from being close to the witch or the blood loss. It's hard to tell and before you know it, she's sitting you down on the couch.

The comfort of the cushion calls to you, your eyes drooping closed before you can stop them.

That earns you another swat. "Don't you dare pass out on me."

"I'm already injured, Lilia, you don't have to keep hitting me."

She huffs as she rummages through her cabinets. "Yes, I do. I'm far too old to be stressing so much about you."

Even though you know where her complaints are truly coming from, you prefer not to think about it too much. Injuries first, complicated past and feelings later. "Ouch?"

Lilia doesn't reply and you busy yourself with removing your blood-soaked shirt. Whatever new weapons the Guild is using now are far too effective. You briefly miss the days of silver knives and crosses.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened to you?"

The question shouldn't be surprising considering the situation, and the danger, but it still makes you groan. The last thing you want to do is explain anything, much less how you almost died to a monster hunter. "Do I have to?"

She hums as she approaches you, a first-aid kit in her hands. "I guess not. But it would be nice to know if I'm on someone's watchlist."

You sit up and wince, which tells you everything you need to know about how the next few minutes will go. "You're always on the Guild's watchlist. You're what they call a wildcard."

Lilia approaches with far more softness than she should and settles beside you. This time, her eyebrows reveal to you how bad your injury looks. "I don't think they're the only ones who would say that. I'm a covenless witch."

"With a history of helping both vampires and humans," you point out as you shift closer, giving her access to your bleeding side. "They don't know who you're truly allied to."

Her eyes meet yours and for a second, you wonder if you're wrong. If she chose a side long before you found your way back to her. "They've been trying to recruit me, you know? Help them make better weapons and such."

A pained chuckle leaves you. "I don't think they need help with that."

She hums before putting on her glasses and preparing to disinfect the area. That seems to be the end of the conversation for the moment, so you busy yourself with taking deep breaths and not looking like a complete wuss by groaning in pain every few seconds.

Thankfully, there are tons of things to look out, lots of trinkets scattered everywhere and loose witchy decorations. The countless decks of tarot cards catch your attention as she gets to work patching you up.

It's easier said than done, especially when she starts poking around the hole the enchanted knife left behind. All she does is start disinfecting your skin and you already start squirming. You wait for her to scold you but she doesn't so the task of staying still lands squarely on you.

Somehow, you manage. Maybe part of it comes from having her hands on you again despite the situation. You should hate it but…you can't deny how good it is to be in her presence.

Almost as if reading your mind, her hands speed up. You can't really complain because it means you get through the painful part quickly (albeit with lots of groans and distracting, mumbled, curse words) and before you know it, she's bandaging your side.

"You're still a fool, you know that?" Lilia says, almost like an after-thought. "What mess did you get yourself into this time?"

"You don't want to know," you respond, trying to deflect again. "Just more of the usual. Hunters with a grudge and vampires who don't know better than to listen to my family's lies."

She sits back up, her eyes slowly trailing back up to yours. "Lies? So, you didn't betray them after failing your First Kill ceremony?"

"Oh, shut up." You huff. "That's the least of my worries right now."

The words make her eyebrows raise and for a moment, you remember better days spent trailing your fingers over every inch of her face, examining every contour and figuring out what made her react in what way.

You force yourself to sit up before you can get too carried away, your hand digging into your pant pocket and pulling out your trusty pill pouch. If the witch recognizes it, she doesn't say anything and you groan as you come up empty. "Fuck…I'm out of pills."

Lilia snorts. "You sound older than me, darling."

"That's low."

Even though you want to look at her, you force yourself to stare straight ahead, the ache in your stomach growing deeper. Clearly, the pain you thought was coming from your injury had another meaning all along.

Of course, using simple blood pills to replace your overwhelming thirst for human blood wasn't the best way of going about fixing your seemingly never-ending hunger but it was much better than the alternative. You hated drinking from humans, hated the animalistic side of you that wanted to hunt and drink and kill.

As you grumble to yourself over your unfortunate situation, Lilia finally seems to catch up to your words. "Hold on, why are you using pills again? Aren't they bad for you?"

"They're better than the alternative," you reply. "It's like I'm a fucking teenager again, can't control myself."

Judging by the sharp look the older woman sends you, she doesn't think the same. "So you're starving yourself? How is that any better, y/n?"

"I'm not starving myself, that's what the pills are for," you counter.

Lilia sighs and you somehow feel scolded just from the sound. "You never learn, do you?"

Her words could mean a handful of things so you merely shrug and pretend to care much less than you do about being here with her. About the way her scent, herbal and sweet like lavender and honey, fills your nose. The ache inside you that only she can fix.

You force yourself to rise to your feet, your vision swimming for a second as all your pain blends together. Coming here was a bad idea and you know it.

It's like you can't escape her or the flickers of memories that her eyes bring out of you. That sinking feeling you get when you remember why you can't be here. Why you left in the first place.

"y/n." You're not sure when she got up but she's behind you now. Warm hands encompass your waist. "Why are you in such a rush? Sit back down, we'll figure it out."

Her words do little to ease the guilt you've been carrying for what feels like centuries. "We can't. Lilia, I…I can't be here. You know it's not safe."

Her grip on you tightens and before you know it, she's turning you around, those same soft eyes staring through you. "I'm not going to let you walk out again."

Oh, how you wish it were that simple. That you didn't know the things you did. That you didn't carry the weight and guilt and shame you do.

"Don't give me that," you say. "Don't act like you don't know why I had to leave."

That seems to get her attention. You almost want to kick yourself for the way her face changes. It's like you can see her walls building themselves back up in real time. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You try to stop yourself from scoffing but you can't. The disbelief spilling from your lips without a full thought. "What did you see? The night before I left, what did you see?"

The way her eyebrows shoot up tells you everything you need to know.

"y/n, I-"

"Exactly."

You don't even want to hear what she has to say. Explanations that don't hold any meaning. Not when you had the same vision she did. Perks of being a Legacy and all that.

Or maybe it was your bond that was responsible for that.

Lilia studies you for a second, her grip on you not allowing much movement. Hell, even if you wanted to move, you wouldn't. Not with the way you're swaying.

"Listen," she starts. "We can play the blame game all night or you can let me finish helping you. Believe it or not, I'd rather not be responsible for your death."

The chuckle you let out is more bitter than anything else. "Don't you know it's already written that you will be?"

One of her hands moves up to cup your face, her touch far more tender than it has any right to be. You lean into the touch before you can stop yourself.

"Darling, I wouldn't have gotten to this age if I'd listened every time something told me I was going to die."

You sigh, knowing you won't be winning this fight. "You're such a piece of work, Lilia."

"Look who's talking. A vampire who hates blood? It's a wonder you're still here."

All she gets from you is a grumble.

Well, a grumble and two incredibly focused eyes zeroing in on her neck. It doesn't matter how hard you try to rein yourself in, the hunger makes your head spin, your thoughts spiraling until all that's left are the veins on the side of the witch's neck.

"My eyes are up here, you know?" She teases, her smirk all-knowing. "Why don't you stop making yourself suffer and just take what you need?"

It would be easier to lie or deflect with a joke but you're far too tired to keep fighting. Especially when the pull between you only grows stronger with every second you spend together.

"I don't want to lose control," you whisper as you move closer. "I can't hurt you again."

"You won't." Her words are so sure, you don't even dare question her. "I trust you."

Your hands shake as you hold her close, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. The feeling of her skin against your mouth makes your heart skip a beat and you barely manage to stop yourself from sinking your fangs into her.

You will but you want to savor having her in your arms before you do it.

Kisses get littered to the older woman's neck, your tongue trailing along the prominent vein you find as you allow her to fill all your senses. It's incredible how much you ache for her, how even your fangs start hurting from holding back.

"Do it, sweetheart," she murmurs, one hand cradling the back of your head and holding you against her. "Take what you need."

You can't hold back after that.

Instead, your mouth moves on its own and your fangs sink down into her vein. The sound of her gasp fills your ears but you pay it no mind. You can't think, you can't breathe, all you can do is take in gulps of her blood.

It's desperate and messy and reminds you of the many nights you spent buried like this somewhere else but more than anything, it's ecstacy.

You can feel her trembling against you, her form growing weaker as you drink. The thought lingers in your mind but you can't stop yet. Not until the pain in your stomach disappears.

"y/n," Lilia whispers, the hand in your hair tightening. "I'm going to, ah- need you to stop soon."

The words register in your brain but even then, you don't pay them much mind. You're not sure if she's simply that sweet or if her magic lingers even in her blood. All you know is you can't get enough of her.

At least, until the fingers in your hair start pulling and your fear of hurting her maximizes.

As much as you hate to admit it, she was right. You could never hurt her. Even the monster inside of you can agree to that.

You force yourself to pull away from her neck, your fangs retracting as the bite mark closes. You've never been able to figure out if it's her magic or yours that causes it but it doesn't matter.

Once you lean back, your arms wrap around her waist, holding her up as your strength returns and hers dwindles. You move her back toward the couch without a word, lying down before easing her on top of you.

"Was this your plan all along?" You question as you get comfortable beneath her.

"I think it was yours," she quips with a breathless laugh.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

Slowly, as if no time has passed at all, your bodies mold together. Your arms remain wrapped around her waist as she tucks her face into your neck.

For all the flaws that come with your vampirism, at least you clean up quick. Then again, she's so drained, you doubt she'd care if you had her blood dripping onto her.

"You should get some rest," you whisper. "We'll talk tomorrow?"

All she does is hum and you already know her eyes must be drooping. Stubborn as ever, though, she fights against it. "I suppose. Unless you're planning on running again?"

"No." The word slips out easily. Not quite a promise but still heavy. "Not yet, anyway. I'll figure something out."

"We'll figure it out," she corrects you.

"We sure will," you mumble even though you're not completely convinced.

Even now, with her tucked against you, your body thrums, urging you to move, to keep running before you're hunted again. It's not like running ever brought anything good, though.

At least here, in the comfort of Lilia's weird little shop, you can be together.

If only for the night.

[tonycries]

ABRACADABRA

Synopsis. No one else made you cúm before? No problem! Of course, he’s there to help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, JJK men making you cúm after your ex couldn’t, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, dúmbifícation, TALKING YOU THROUGH IT, biiig stretch, creampíes, spítting, chokíng, oraI (f), exhíbitíonism (Gojo), use of jujutsu, doctor!Higuruma, p examinations, true form Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s second mouth, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Happy early VaIentine’s day lovelies <33

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - COCK(Y)

“M’almost insulted, doll.” Toji’s letting his muscular back slouch heftily against the padded pillow, pinkish tongue poking out to drag a slow lick across his scar at the way you straddled him. “Let your dear Toji here take gooood care of this pretty pussy now.”

“B-but Toji–” Your hands ghost down his tensing abs, rock-hard and so sculptured underneath your sensory tips that you can’t help but ogle. Whispering, “None of my exes have ever made me c-”

“So what, girl?”

He’s latching a strong hand onto the side of your waist, letting your eager hips slip n’ slide all down that girthy length of his. Scorching hot, lathering your entrance in a slobbering layer of pre at just the thought of being inside you. 

A puffy vein catches on your sappy entrance and you find yourself letting off a moan, spine arching into his bulging pecs. And all you can hear are his rasping chuckles, something dangerous. “Ya seriously think Toji Fushiguro wouldn’t be able to make ya cum?”

And it was a rhetorical question - something to make your bottom lip wobble oh-so-cutely just the way he liked. 

But when you’re steeling your hazy gaze on him and shaking your head? Oh, if Toji was any lesser man then he might’ve just cum right then and there. 

Aching shaft throbbing out a rapid little ba-dump–! right around your gummy ring of muscle. Stretching you out agape, Toji’s of such staggering size that he has to splay out his feet flat on the springy mattress - rutting up in sloppy strikes to your mushy walls just to fit inside. 

He takes a fat few fingers to pry open your leaky maw, thumbing apart your kiss-bitten lips until your tongue lolls out automatically for him to spit-

“See that?” Toji thumbs away the see-through splatter sprayed at the edges of your cockdrunken grin, murmuring. “Show me- show me.”

“Ngh- s-so dirty, Toji.” You whine, jittery body wracking with shivers after every inch he slipped inside of you. After every moment spent basking in his heady gaze, willowy eyes narrowing down when you dart out your tongue to put that webbed mass of saliva all on display. 

“H-heh, yeahhhh, atta girl. Mine inside n’ out now.” Your eyes slide allll the way to the back of your weary lids when he splats your tastebuds with- not one, but two more weighty wads of spittle. Closing your slackened jaw shut with one hand, the other finds itself cushioned underneath his sweat-dampened locks. Biceps flexing sexily, your stomach tightens in need. “Ride yerself stupid on me now, why don’t ya- Make that pussy cum.”

He’s pounding up into you like he hated you - like he hated those stupid memories of faking your orgasms in the years before. Wanted to prove himself with every syrupy peck at goopy pussy. 

Breaths spilling out in clouded puffs, your nose crinkles at the way that you’re stumbling to take such copious inches of him. Every bounce swabbing Toji’s rounded mushroom tip at the deepest sponges of your cervix, “Shit- shit, s-so big–”

“Yeah? Big, huh? Just big?” 

Babbling away, “Really, really big.”

And that only made him harder - bulging out your tautly stretched walls until you were wrapped around him like a clingy second skin. Until you were molding to every bit of his circumference and bumpy veins. Meeting your pap! pap! papping! cadence with mean bucks of his own, Toji wastes no time rolling the plump hill of his thumb across your clit. “See her? That cute, needy clit? Ever had her played with?”

“O-only on my own.” You’re sinking your teeth into your quivering lower lip to stop the overspilling squeals - but it doesn’t work. Not when every lil’ calloused heart being drawn on your bundled nub makes you see stars, “Feels so good Toji—”

“What’d I tell ya, silly girl?” Oh, he’s so smug. Stray hand grazing down your spine in a little massage that makes your hips stutter down even harder. Faster. With a quirked brow, Toji feels himself grin at the wet little slurps slurring from between your bloated lips. Your other ones. “Damn, real hngh- chatty she is- hold on, you’re gonna loooove this, doll.”

Your head bobbles stupidly, mewling. “Love wh-wha- oh.”

In the split-second it takes the honeyed syllables to fall from your mouth - Toji’s fucking them out just as fast. With a jagged, drilling thud! of his fattened cockhead against your g-spot. 

For the first time ever.

“Tha’s your g-spot.” Rovering up the globed pad of his index all up your tummy, you flinch when he presses hard down where his length was striking the very bottom of your pussy. “My favorite.”

“H-hit it again-” 

“Tch, greedy.”

Your throat is rendered so very parched with every soppy French kiss he planting on your magical spots. Once. Twice. Thrice. You were addicted. So many times that you can’t help but lose count and drool- “Fuuuuck. Oh my god, th-there. There- I’m so close.”

“Shush, girl.” A bulky hand plasters over your noisy mouth, seeping Toji’s steaming hot skin with glossy lathers of your spilling saliva. He nods downwards, where you were screaming out squelches. “Give ‘er some respect, she’s bein’ fucked properly for the fist time n’ wants to speak.”

You were being fucked properly for the fist time.

And it seemed like Toji had no thoughts of stopping - no thoughts of even slowing down from the way he was spearheading every tender orifice homed inside of you. Making you dizzier and dizzier and dizzier with each passing second-

“Toj- mmpf- Toji-” you’re sobbing, like a little mantra. Like the only thing in your mind right now - and he knew it, smugly. 

Pulling the curved edges of his fingers away with a slick few strings of juices connecting them, it’s the last thing you register before the solid spank. “Cum.”

You were so pretty when you hit your high. He thinks he might be in….love.

All throaty moans of Tooooji, and your lashes glazing with thick layers upon layers of tears. Hitting headfirst into the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had, it’s all you can do to throw your head back and clench around Toji’s thick, throbbing length tightly. 

Dirtily. Until he was hissing and fighting to drag you n’ your gripping cunt with one big, beefy arm to fuck you through your high.

“Tha’s why you couldn’t ngh- c-cum, doll.” He spits into your open mouth, letting you claw and bite and ruin the steamy plane of his sweat-simmered flesh. “Wasn’t fucked properly- wasn’t- s’alright. Toji’s here, Toji’s makin’ you cum. Gonna take gooood f-fucking ah- care of you.”

And your vision tinges with black, treacly slit grinding back against the delicious curve of his plumpened balls. Head static, entire body still wracking with shivers when you feel it-

He’s teasing an innocent kiss near the curled corner of your mouth. Feverish. “Now…have ya ever heard of squirting, doll?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Ladies first.

“Never?”

“Never.” 

Fuck- a gorgeous girl like you and none of those boys have ever even made your pretty pussy cum? 

Your coworker finds himself gulping, thickened digits trekking up to his yellow tie and loosening. He feels so…feverish at the thought.

Thank god it was just the two of you working overtime tonight.

And even clearing his throat doesn’t make that ragged edge of his words bate, doesn’t make him sound any less feral. Eyes molten and hot on yours, you catch the way the tips of Nanami’s ears scorch bright red. “I-if you would like, darling…I could show you how a real man fucks.”

That’s how you found yourself like this - pinned face-down on your corporate cubicle desk, maw leaking saturated waves of drool onto documents you were sure were important. Struggling to squirm against the shackles of his tie with every pressurized pound-

Ptwah! A messy wad of something slick and slippery strikes your overstuffed pussy, spittle smeared across your bulging folds with a sultry swipe of Nanami’s fat thumb. 

“Kento–”

“Almost hah- almost there, my love.” He’s gruffing out in a roughly condensed pant from behind you, hot breath hitting the back of your neck and making your skin simmer with goosebumps. The doughy curve of his length twitches, “Just a little longer.”

“L-longer?” You’re babbling away stupidly through flooding strings of saliva, head able to lift only a few centimeters off of the cool plane of your office desk. “Are you gonna c-cum too, Kento?”

“Ladies first.”

And, shit- Nanami Kento might be known around the office as the perfect gentleman - but when he fucked, he fucked you so filthy. Like no one else ever had before.

You swear you could feel your goopy walls contracting and molding to every hot, weighty square inch of him.

Curling a few dexterous fingers underneath where your wrists were pinned haplessly behind your back, all it takes is the tiniest of jerks for Nanami to lift you cleanly off the desk. With one hand, weightless. 

Pressing a sweet, sweet kiss against your sweaty temple, he was hunched over you so close now with the changed angle. And you could count every flex of Nanami’s thick thighs pushing you from behind, every scratch of his tawny happy trail against the jiggling curve of your ass.

Humming, “Mhm— this cute cunt’s tellin’ me that she’s gonna cum right about…” One soft peck at the corner of your mouth, and then another one from his globular tip against your g-spot. Hard. “-now.”

And when has Nanami ever been wrong?

It takes one- two thuds! of his bulky tip crashing into your most tender spots before your vision closes and you see black. Jaw dropping open to gape n’ close soundlessly, brows furrowing at the heat in your tummy because shit, it feels so good.

Your melty walls clinging onto his shaft so cozily- “Fuck, s’f-fucking tight. Can barely even fuck you through your cute high. How are ya even ngh- taking this big fucking cock, darling?”

“Wait-” you’re trilling away like his favorite song. Every dab of his weepy orifice into your cunt making you sob, “Oh my god- feels so- so good. So fuck! D-does it always feel like this, Ken–?”

“Awww, poor girl missin’ out.” Nanami’s glissading pecs stick to your back like a cushion, rumbling. Hips hitting yours with a thwack! thwack! thwack! that leaves you craving carnally for more. “Gotta teach her proper- teach- teach her properly.”

Before you can even ask what he means - before you can even register Nanami’s moans - he’s latching on a few fingertips onto your plump clit. Rolling over and over in lazy circles-

“Cute lil’ clit- poor thing’s never been given ngh- loving before.” Oh, he’s been holding this back - heart racing at the way you’d cum all over his cock and nothing but his cock. And Nanami sounds desperate now. “Clench ‘round me, my love- clench. Please.”

Heedlessly, you’re listening to his exact words before you even register them.

Dewy walls squeezing around Nanami’s girthy length, massaging every lightning bolt of his veins. His slit. Everything. And he’s losing his fucking mind- 

“Ohhh—” Planting kiss after kiss on your neck, he tugs you with that lecherous tie wrapped around your wrists until you were just plastered all across Nanami’s Herculean front. “Good, huh? Good? Can you say biiig stretch?”

“B-big-”

“Mhm?”

“Biiig s-stretch-” God, he was fucking you until you felt shy.

“Atta girl.”

“Feels so w-weird, Ken–” You’re yelping, pearly gumdrop of tears welling up behind your lids at the way you feel so raw. Your sensitive walls pried apart with Nanami’s flaming red tip, probing inside until it felt like he was jackhammering your very lungs. “M’all- ngh- extra s-sensitive and- ah!”

And you don’t know what you expected Nanami to do - you don’t know how you expected him to react. But it certainly wasn’t for him to snicker. 

Octaves higher, reverent. 

“Awww, my overstimulated girl.” Murked clouds hit your prespired neck, and it’s as if his strokes get impossibly deeper. Faster. Sloppier. So, so messy on your clit that your syrupy ribbons of slick puddle on the ground with a spattering splat! “Don’t worry, m’g-gonna make it allll better- ya here? Gonna make you feel so good.”

You can’t even think at this point. “Good?”

“Mhm–” Within only a few blinks, a tannish veiny forearm takes up your blurry vision. Nudging your slobbering lips, “Now bite.”

Your teeth sink into his muscled mounds of flesh before you can stop yourself - and Nanami’s letting his head fall before he can. A grated f-fuck! escaping him once he graces your snug pussy with a thrust so harsh that it leaves your legs dangling in midair. 

You think you’re cumming again for the second time - you think you’re blanking out. But the only thing you can feel right now is the scorching hot dripping of Nanami’s warm cum seeping into each nook n’ cranny inside you.

Overspilling from your puffy lips. Sloshing around with every drilling stab-

“Now that’s called a c-creampie, darlin’.” He’s groaning out - and you know what it is. You can feel it swashing down in buttery rivulets from the insides of your thighs, sticking to your warm innards like a sloppy second skin. And he’s still pounding you utterly stupid- “Say ngh- ‘creampie’ f’me?”

You’re whimpering, wrung so tautly that it felt like you were about to snap. “C-creampie.”

“Good…good girl.” Nanami’s purring, sneaking in a thumb to pattern little drawings all over the ivory splatters of cum topping your clit. Plugging those very same fingers into your mouth- “Now can you ngh- say ‘Ken, please b-breed me’, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Never enough?!

“S-Suguru, I’m gonna-”

“Damn right.” He’s spitting glinting speckles of spit past your slackened lips, narrowed eyes boring down at you deeply through an inky curtain of bangs. The look in them is animalistic. “Again- cum f’me again. Cum goddammit-”

With your head striking the ends of the puffy pillow with a thud! you swear your entire body shivers as if shocked by a thousand volts of electricity. Crashing headfirst into so many white-hot peaks of bliss that it makes your head spin.

Over and over.

And it’s just about all you can manage to force your boneless limbs right now to throw your hands around Geto’s sweat-glistened back and claw your way back to sanity. “M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”

“Fuck!” He hisses at the agonizing sting that only makes Geto’s puffy cockhead twitch ‘round your gooey insides. Tight. “Got ya fucking addicted now, huh? Needy lil’ slut.”

It could’ve been your fifth orgasm of the night - hell, it could’ve been the five-hundredth and you wouldn’t have known at this point. 

Because Geto Suguru wasn’t just making up for a single round of missed orgasms - he was well and fully intent on making up for all of them.

And you’ve barely stolen back heady clouds of your breath, barely even blinked the woozy vision back into your eyes before Geto gives your fluttering cunt a sharp spank. Snickering mercilessly at the way you’re flinching your spine into a deep curvature. 

Cute. 

Padded kneecaps smearing your helpless thighs ever-wider in a mating press so filthy it couldn’t even be called one right now. You can only watch as Geto’s toned hips slow down until he was barely even grinding. Lazy, sensual drags of his swollen shaft up n’ down your tender walls. 

He smears the doughy fringes of his fingertips all over where you were simply bulging to desperately accommodate his size, “Not gonna s-say ‘thank you’ for your fifth orgasm, gorgeous?”

“Wh-wha- thank- ngh!” Your veins boil with embarrassment at how you can only gurgle and gasp right about now, a thick stream of drool flooding from the edges of your mouth. “Sugu—”

“Oh?” Before you know it, there’s a searing grasp on your scalp - Geto. His perfectly manicured fingers clawing onto the sweat-dampened crown of your head and dragging you mercilessly off of the drenched mattress. All the way until your tears cooled with his murked puffs, “What was that?”

Teeth drawn, canines glinting. He was snarling. 

You’re squirming impatiently, jostling his split-ended tip in wet swivels around your greedy cunt. Still throbbing. Still unmoving. “Said- ngh-”

Bent alllll the way back - he’s angling his ears to face your fucked-out face with a grin, tightening that shackle-like hold on you until you were keening. Enjoying this way too much. “What? What was that? How bad do you hah- want it because m’not moving an inch.”

You didn’t even know if you could cum at this point - whether you could physically even handle it. Stringing endless beads of tears from your eyes, skin breaking out with heaps upon heaps of shivers.

Sensitive. 

“Can’t- can’t even-” And the only time you’re seeing his rude façade splinter is once your trembly fingers trek upwards to clasp around Geto’s own slender throat. Tight. His breath hitches, bumpy Adam’s apple bobbing underneath your touch-

Fuck.

Fuck.

And he can’t fucking stop himself from giving in to slash your slick-buttered cervix with a sudden thrust. Arching off of the soaked-through bed with a slightly singing creak! the clammy skin of Geto’s pelvis sticks to your own like glue. Smearing and oh-so-sloppy.

All that it takes for the words to be fucked out of you cockdrunkenly, still twitching with the remnants of your previous orgasm. “Th-thank- Thank you, Suguru–”

Oh, what a sight it was.

With Geto’s eyes glazed over, long Stygian lashes flickering like they were about to screw shut. High cheekbones radiating off scorching waves of his bright blush, and- and he was drooling. 

A thin, silvery line of saliva that spattered from the edges of his oh-so-feral snarl. “Y-yeah?” Oh, his pretty baritone cracks many multiple octaves higher. “Now you can sh-show some fucking ngh- appreciation, can’t you?”

“Sugu-”

“Shut up.” One push. Two. Three. Until it felt like the scratch of Geto’s drenched black happy trail against your pelvis was going to brand permanently on your skin, scratching something deep and primal seated inside of you. He darts out his candied pink tongue, “Suck on m’tongue.”

And when you do it’s like your favorite bubblegum candy, he tasted so sweet - and he was fucking you the exact opposite. Quick, rugged thrusts that rendered you speechless-

“S-stupid girl- isn’t that right gorgeous?” Muffled and mean. It takes you a few tizzy seconds to realize that Geto wasn’t even talking to you at this point - clouded amethyst eyes locked on your saturated pussy. The way she was swallowing his reddened length endlessly, “Doesn’t even know what she m-missed out on ngh-”

Each pressurized force of his pounds left your heart racing, swabbing to leave geysers of pre in softened spots that you didn’t even realize you had - hell, you might just be falling in love. 

Fingers dipping away from the prespired column of his flushed neck, just a mere slippery inch before you’re startled by his parched voice. Shaky. Begging. “No- nooo you d-don’t-” Geto’s clasp on your wrist is bruising - permanent. Wrapping your fingers back where they were beginning to form red banded marks ‘round his throat. Tightly. “Ch-choke me- choke me while I make you cum a sixth time, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Sweet Expresso

“Oh, baby…” Choso’s drawing out in a sweet, simpering sigh - entire mouth just watering at the sloppy bucketloads of slick pouring from between your sappy folds. It was like he had his favorite meal all laid out in front of him. “Baby baby baby—”

Your legs splayed apart on the soft mattress, twitching ever-so-slightly with every hot cloud of breath that your awestruck best friend was panting out. 

In love with you. In love with your drooling cunt.

Back arching off of the sticky sheets, you’re lifting your hand to run over Choso’s long mahogany locks. Lower lip jutting out in a way that makes him almost whine- 

“T-told you, Cho- no ex of mine has ever made me cum before by eating me out- ah!”

And Choso Kamo wasn’t one to interrupt his lovely lady. He wasn’t one to cut off the pretty noises you were making before they’d finished ringing in his ears - but now?

Oh, now he’s promptly bludgeoning his clammy head between your heated thighs. Stealing a hypnotized little kiss right on the edge of your puffy clit. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“F-fuck.” He’s gurgling in a hoarse little tone all the way from the back of his throat, a thin line of drool spraying from the upturned corners of Choso’s plump lips because he just couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m gonna m-make you cum, baby- me.”

You’re almost breathless at the way he sounded so desperate that it was pained; dark chestnut brows scrunching together as if in prayer. “R-really?”

It didn’t matter to him what your tch- exes have failed to do before, he neve thought they were good enough for you anyway.

Choso saw a pretty pussy he wanted to kiss over n’ over again and he couldn’t stop. 

Pointed peak of his button nose pressing right into the perk of your clit, the scratchy pads of his tastebuds everywhere. Every vibration of Choso’s tremoring your snug outer ring, whimpering. “Yeah. Yeah, want you to cum- need- need you to cum.”

“Seems like you want me to cum more than ngh- I do, Cho–” You’re giggling out, eyes hazy with the curling swashes of his mouth pressing repeated French kisses on your puffed-up pussylips. 

“Ngh-” God, he sounded so pretty - whining the very moment you comb your trembly digits through Choso’s velvety strands. Cheeks painted red with a delicate blush, his breath hitches just darting his eyes up to meet your own. Fully heart-eyed. “I do. Need to show m-my best friend what she’s been missing, baby.”

Thumbing apart the gluey fringes of your folds with a squelched pap! You’re feeling his plump tongue swirl out saturated hearts right on the sultry target of your clit - and he’s never looked more like he’s in heaven. 

“Gonna f-fuck her now, m’kay–?” Just the thought of filling your snugly winking cunt up with his tongue is enough to have Choso’s hips rutting down on the mattress mindlessly. Groaning. 

Needy.

He wanted you so badly - he’s been wanting you so badly for years and years and years - that you’ve barely even started your lazy nodding before he snarls back his teeth to swipe swiftly into your leaky hole. Ragged texture of his tongue swiveling into every ridge and crevice-

“S-so warm–” you hiccup, fingers tangling into Choso’s perspiration-matted hair because he was moving ravenously. Animalistically. Your oh-so-gentle best friend- you couldn’t even control him at this point.

And he couldn’t control himself.

Pinning you down with his powerful upper body, the curve of his sculpted deltoids dig into your rutting mounds of flesh once Choso grinds his chin underneath your treacly slit and roughly shoves your thighs apart. Further n’ further until it burned. 

Groaning into the weepy mound of your cunt, his tongue slashes in an urgent in and out that makes your hips jerk- shit, you can’t help but think mindlessly that you wanted this…forever. 

“H-hold on–” Choso darts out one hand to guide both of your own - allll the way until you’re steering the soft spheroids of his dishevelled spacebuns. Tightly. “Hold on t’me, baby. Use me- use me.”

He wanted you to use his hair to guide him. Faster. 

And doing it so fervently. Folding to your every want and whim when you’re angling your hips into a tempo just the way you like it - Choso’s chin clacking into the base of your pussy, his nose rovering all over your sensitive clit. With squelch after squelch, you swear you feel him stall over that fleshy nub to take a loooong sniff of your cunt-

“Shiiiit- d-didn’t know you were s-so good-” You’re practically shrilling out, ogling the bob of his Adam’s apple after every gulp of your sweet, sweet sap. Your slick overfloods his mouth and puddles right up to his cheekbones. “Where did you even learn this?”

And for perhaps the first time ever in his life, your best friend doesn’t answer you immediately. 

He doesn’t do anything but let the bed sing out splintering creaks! when he increases the speed of his motions - until you’re rendered spellbound. 

You’re tugging more forcefully on one of his knotted spacebuns and he gives you the sweetest full-bodied whine. 

“I i-imagined it.” Comes the shy answer, and a long few inches of two of Choso’s ringed fingers pumping your goopy cavern doubly full. He makes your tummy lurch just by gliding over your pretty g-spot, whispering. “With…you. With you all the time.”

And you don’t know whether it’s that little confession, you don’t know whether it’s the sudden press off of his doughy fingerpads into the sweltering hot bullseye of your g-spot - but something about it makes you cum.

All of a sudden.

“Choso-” Your breath hitches, pushing him ever-deeper between your legs. Spine electrifying with something white-hot, seeing fucking stars. He was right - you were missing out. “Choso.”

And if you were surprised, then Choso was enchanted. 

Hips coming down hard to hump against the puffy sheets on the bed - feral. Through the crack in your woozy eyes, you sneak glimpses at the way his dark eyes twinkle, tips of his ears blazing red.

So pretty. The sight was enough to make your hips twitch with more and more sparks of euphoria - yeah, you were really missing out before this.

Long tongue slithering out to gyrate over and over fucking you through your high, your skin beads with blissed-out sweat with every peak he’s trawling out. Brows furrowed, Choso just couldn’t decide between licking his lips for the voluminous ounces of slick clinging onto his skin or fucking his wet muscle back into your wet mess again and again and-

“Fuh-fuck—” You’re hearing from above you, still so numb from your orgasm that it takes you a long few seconds to even realize that Choso had pulled away from his favorite spot making out with your pussy. And was now hovering over you with his red, furious cock clasped in one fist-

Your mouth lacquers with a fresh wave of greedy spit, dryly. “Cho?”

“Fuck fuck fuck m’sorry m’cumming–” He’s spitting hotly, fingers flying furious down the tender edges of his girth. Hunching over until his washboard abs were rippling almost painfully, every inch of skin burned an aroused red. “I can’t stop- I can’t stop, baby—!”

“Give it t’me.” You’re managing out, giggling at the strained whine it makes Choso spill out into the air. “Give it all to me, baby.”

His hulking body jolts like he’s been shocked with a million bolts of lightning at the mere sound of your voice. Gasping, “Don’t- don’t call me that or m’gonna-” 

But it’s too late. 

He’s not even given the mercy of finishing his sentence before Choso’s frosting your open entrance with such thick globs of cum. Ribbon after ribbon that sprays over your drooling slit in such a viciously syrupy sheen. 

“Look- look what you’ve done.” He babbles away, slurring over the very curve of his mushroomed tip down your pussy - and it makes such a mess that Choso just can’t help but imagine how much messier it would be if he plugged you full of his seed from your deepest innards. Coral pink mouth slacking into an oh! at the puddles oozing below you. “Fuck- cumming jus’ from eatin’ ya out- ngh- o-only you, my baby.”

Sloppy.

But what was even sloppier was the way that it takes only two seconds for Choso to sift down till he was back lips-to-lips with your ballooned pussymound. Smiling. Giggling to himself. 

You can only watch in awe when he takes a looong lick up your overstimulated slit, purposefully showing off the creamy layers upon layers all over his tongue. So much of it that you can barely see any usual bubblegum pink-

“C-can we kiss, baby–?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Big, big O

“Hm? Have I got ya babbling like a cockdrunk lil’ slut already or what, ma?” Sukuna’s entrapping your cheeks between two fat fingers in an embarrassing little pout. The curled edges of his nails poking your heated skin, and he looks into your heart-eyes deeply. “Because I swear I heard ya say no one else has ever made ya cum.”

“I-it’s true–” you’re stuttering out, barely louder than the sappy squelches ringing from below. Your hips were rutting almost mindlessly into his and he found that so cute. 

Well, if he wasn’t fucking irritated right now, that is.

Not at you - no, never at you even though he’ll never ever admit that. More so at those pesky lil’ losers before him that didn’t know how to work your pretty pussy properly.

So instead the king of curses slouches back on his decadent throne room, and if someone was to walk into his court - let them. 

He’s leaving a stinging little swat! right at where your pussylips were spewing out the most ribbons of sloppy slick. Tugging your plump folds apart to give a thorough few slides of his dually aching cocks, “Stupid girl. I’ll be fucking damned if I never make my human cum.”

“Wh-wha-” Your eyes are snapping open with a gasp, immediately darting down to where Sukuna’s lengths stood hot and throbbing. He was certainly staggeringly bigger than anyone else you’ve had before…both of him. 

“Nuh uh- are you second-guessing your king, girl-” Pointed, you’re rewarded with numerous spanks upon spanks that leave your perked clit stinging. His globular tip cleaning off the geysers of slick leaking out of you, “Now spread those legs n’ take it.”

Hands clawing precariously onto the mountain of his broad shoulders when Sukuna’s meaty thighs start bouncing to inch you down-

Fuck, you can’t help but lean all back and- god, it felt like you were being split apart. Two plummy crownheads mazing past your snug entrance, Sukuna was bullying up into every single sensitive orifice inside you without even trying. 

“Gonna do more than make you c-cum, brat- just you fuckin’ wait. ” He’s spitting out into your drunkenly open maw, face twisted into a feral growl. “Just watch, ohhh just you watch.”

So hot inside of you, every wiry string of precum leftover in your gummy walls after each papping ride was scorching - and the only thing hotter was that fat, glutinous brush of something wet. Squelching. 

Sukuna’s cushy pecs rumble instantaneously with a thunderous groan, “Mmm tastes as sweet as sh-she looks.”

“Wh-what is–” And you don’t know where to look - Sukuna’s handsome face, where he looked so very fucked, or down where his second monstrous mouth was making out with your overstuffed pussy. 

He’s inching back even further on his throne to let the large glistening tongue - almost the size of your face - loll out. Drawing deft little circles on your teary slit, honing down right on the button of your clit. Tasting you. Savoring you. “Oh.”

“Oh? Oh?” Rolling his crimson eyes, “That all you can say? Maybe I really have fucked ya stupid.”

“N-no, I–” But you were - ah, you were. 

All it takes is for Sukuna to lurch off of the sticky cushion of the throne with a creaking schwaf! Sultry hipbones smacking into the backs of your thighs, up n’ down. He’s hitting the very back of your dewy cervix with a resounding thud! drawing long, long lines with the sprinkling ends of his cocks. 

God- pounding into places you never even knew existed before. Rubbing his puffed-up veins against the grazing area of your tender g-spot. Sukuna was having the time of his life making you break-

“H-heh, yeah right— S’that why you’re all drooling f’me, ma?” A plump palm comes down on your spit-flooded mouth to lather itself in a filthy glaze of saliva, all trickling n’ spilling down the sides of Sukuna’s wrist. “As if the king wouldn’t be able to make this pretty pussy cum- a-as if m’like those useless bastards.”

Speaking more to himself than you at this point. He’s muttering underneath his breath, light coral bows pinching together and concentrating. 

Concentrating on striking your bulging magical spots with each second of his ruthless staccato - he wasn’t letting up just because it was your first time about to orgasm from someone else. He wasn’t going to go easy on you- no, you only find yourself growing ever-spellbound with each slip n’ slide of his matchingly rock-hard shafts.

Plap! The curved edge of his tongue swirls around your clit, and you all but sob. “F-faster, Kuna—”

Kuna, huh? He’s finding his brows quirking up - and if there was a faint pinkish blush breezing across his cheeks, well, then he was just glad the increasing pace of his hips is enough to drive you crazy ‘nough not to notice. Growling, “Greedy greedy.”

With two hands latched onto your hips, and another on the crown of your head to push you rudely into each one of his incoming thrusts, you’re being fucked like he had a point to prove. 

“H-harder—” Your arms wrap in a wobbly semi-circle looped around his thick neck - and if there was anything that could get you even wetter right now, then it was a firsthand eyeful of your size difference. 

“As you wish, ma’am–” Gazing down at his slobbery second tongue below, “Jus’ that way- make her scream.”

Scream you did. 

Because Sukuna was monstrous, in both size and the rugged circular brandings he was leaving on your cervix. And the drag of his scratchy tastebuds down your pulsing clit- Oh, you could feel your thighs starting to shake already.

“S’gonna be a big one–” He’s tittering from above, something dangerous glinting in both sets of his cursed eyes. Peering in even closer - until you could count each heady pant of his - something catches Sukuna’s eyes and his breath hitches. “Oho? A reeeeal big one.”

And when he meant big - he meant big. 

Because in only a few merciless hits, you’re not just cumming - you’re squirting. In thick, generous heavals of sloshing slick that drip down the sides of his sculptured front. It glazes all the way down to puddle at his throne, it makes such a slobbering mess that you can’t rip your ogling eyes away from it. 

Gasping for air, head lolling from side to side at the sheer intensity. The buzzing electricity that sprints down your spine goes on for ages. 

“What’d I tell ya? Love when you’re filthy, ma.” Sukuna gives your quivering cunt another spank of good job with the flattened base of his velveteen tongue. 

Shit, how his second mouth was enjoying every peak of your orgasm.

Lapping out graciously to catch every fountaining squirt, the entirety of his pinkish muscle coats with a lather of pure gloss. He was drinking you in like he was addicted.

He is.

And you thought that might be it, you didn’t think with all your cottony mind that he would continue edging his tongue to slip right past your mushy hole. Smearing your entrance widely agape until your vision was flashing blissful white, “Do that f’me on my hah- tongue again, ma, n’ I’ll breed ya until you can’t remember your name.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “She jus’ came.”

And that’s what makes you finally pry your gluey eyelids apart, batting tearily up at the filthy, filthy image of Gojo still plastered to your phone. 

Pert, bubblegum tongue peeking out when he plugs his puffy pink head between your bawling folds and lets out a drawling sigh— “Fuck- y-you get me so hard, sweetheart.”

It’s almost as if he’s forgotten the yelling from your ex on the other end of the phone already. Forgotten everything but how warm n’ soft you were - you always did have that effect on him. 

And it’s with leisurely, drunken motions that the strongest takes a looong few seconds to swab the doughy edges of his pale thumb over your slit. Up n’ down. Making you throb in a rapid ba-dump–! as soon as he smears the scorching hot ounces of sappy slick escaping from you. 

Before darting them into his parched mouth with an exaggerated slurp! 

There’s another tinny crackle from the call that makes Gojo’s pretty features twist in dark delight-

“T-Toru…” You’re squirming your hips impatiently, giving his pre-glossed, oozing tip treacly peck after peck. You might’ve just cum, but with Gojo your body always wanted more. “‘Nough teasing.”

“Ohhh? What’s that? This c-cute cunt wants me that bad, huh?” He’s snickering out into the speaker, a cute lil’ dimple embedding itself onto the edge of his smirk. “Bet you never had her begging for you like that, huh? Not when you’ve never even made her cum.”

Shit, as if to prove his point, he’s leaving a few generous heaps of sappy precum on your bloated folds. 

Streaming out layer after layer that makes Gojo slide in even deeper. That makes him swipe down a few fingers across where you were most puckered and forcing out a saturated squelch. “Heh, that’s the sound of ‘er agreeing with me.”

Gasping, you’re swatting at the bulging curve of Gojo’s bicep - something that only makes his mushroomed tip even more achingly hard. 

“Ah ah- hold on, buddy.” Before you know it, you’re feeling the sultry pap! pap! pap! of Gojo’s rounded thumb circling your overwhelmed clit. Sensitive. Buzzing with a few stray dredges of cursed energy, “M’about to do something your loser ass had never even hah- heard of.”

You were so pretty like this - his gorgeous girl. And you only ever deserved the best. So what if he made a show for that bastard ex of yours that just wouldn’t stop blasting your phone with calls?

He was going to make you his star.

“Prettyyyy fuckin’ pussy.” Gojo’s whispering - low, hoarse. Almost to himself when he slips apart your adhesive-like lips to steal a solid eyeful of your perked hood. “You’re missing out real bad, y’know?” 

He really, really can’t help the few vibrating sparks bleeding through his thickened digits. Pressing down hard on that buttony tip of your clit, twisting n’ turning in all the right lazy circles, over and over. Just a single ounce of Gojo’s touch is enough to make your tummy lurch heedlessly, to make your thighs shake when he rovers ravenously to your nub-

And pinches. 

“Sh-shit.” You’re gurgling out, head bent stupidly backwards into the velvety pillowcase. Hands clawing red all over the supple mountains of his deltoids. And you swear you can count each and every flex- “Toru- Toru, I’m–”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence before Gojo’s narrating it all. 

Cerulean eyes glazed over with something…feral, coral pink lips loosening into a stark oh! Ones that Gojo himself has to lick over before he can even begin to rasp, “O-oh? Look at thaaat-”

Your maw slackens with free rivers of saliva that Gojo leans in and licks clean off. Giggling - giggling - once your gooey walls clench around the rock-hard crown of his cock, snug with that fat circumference. “Made her c-cum with jus’ my ngh- tip in her. She had to ngh- fake that all the time with you, didn’t she?”

He was in awe.

You wonder whether he’s even breathing at this point. Thinking.

But it was like Gojo had lost all control of his body - moving yards and yards in front of his melty mind. Because as soon as you can manage to jerk your head off of the perspiration-drenched pillow, he’s moving. Washboard abs tensing deliciously. Rutting. 

All hot, plump inches of Gojo’s shaft rub your every tender orifice through and through. He’s pushing and pushing past your weepy pussylips like he never ever wanted to stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Fuck yeah–” You’re startling at the sudden syllables wrenching out of Gojo’s bobbing Adam’s apple, a slow line of sweat starting to trickle down his throat. But he simply flashes you one more sleazy grin, and two more pinches. “Show me wh-where I am, sweetheart- can you do that for Toru?”

“Y-yeah.” You’re whining, and somewhere in the distance sounds a gasp. The unsteady ends of your fingers curve all the way to about halfway up your tummy, pressuring a nudge at the cylindrical globe of Gojo’s crownhead mazing through you. Only halfway still. “Here, all the way u-up in my ngh- womb.

“Good girl–” He’s holding your mushy folds tighter together in a squeeze, so that his veiny cock was smearing even cozier - even louder. Squelch after squelch. Voice hardening, “Hear that? Fuck- fucking lucky you didn’t video call.” Slurring with every rugged thrust, it’s so hot inside you that he feels like he’s melting. Head lolling ever-so-slightly, “M’about to hit her cute g-spot now, but you wouldn’t know h-heh anything about that, right?”

If there was a response then you didn’t hear it. You can’t, because your ears are popping the very next second. Blurry vision tinging with black no matter how much you fluttered your heavy lids-

You think you’re cumming again. Once more. Twice more - so many years and years of missed orgasms crashing into you all at once until all you can do is latch onto Gojo’s muscled back and whine. 

And he loved every second. Meaty thighs massaging against yours, your boyfriend pounds you through every peak. Harshly. 

Tears bursting from the edges of your hazy eyes, head oh-so-cottony with the sheer burning stretch - it takes you a few seconds to realize. 

To realize that he’d finally, finally bottomed out with a stinging plap! of skin-on-skin, brushing a fat glide down that magical spot. And Gojo finds himself shivering, he finds himself hunching over.

SLAM!

Your veins boil greedily at the way you get even wetter once he reaches up to strikes a powerful hand down on his mahogany headboard and splits it in half. Easily. Tensing abs rubbing down your front, “That sound? The s-sound of me about to make her my wife n’ fuck her full of my ngh- kids, asshat.”

Then suddenly your ears resound with that familiar ending tone. And it was just you two.

Eyes darting syrupily upwards, “G-glad he’s never going to c-” 

Oh. 

You were fucked. 

Because Gojo’s eyes were blown wide - crazed. Smiling, and you think he’s never looked more like he was about to rack up a kill list higher than could be counted. 

Stray bolts of lightning curl at the ends of his snowy lashes, flickering when Gojo leans down to give the tummy bulge he was fucking into you a slow kiss. 

Lips grazing over his outlined puff, your heated skin gets hit with the splat! of something…wet. And it’s only then that you realize that you just made Gojo Satoru so pussydrunken that he was drooling. 

“Jus’ you n’ me now, girl.” His chuckles make your most sensitive spots vibrate, and Gojo bucks into you mindlessly. Half-way through, like he couldn’t even bear the thought of pulling out. Could never. “Jus’ say the word n’ you can use the hah- s-strongest like a fuh-fucktoy.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - EMERGENCY, DR.~

“Hm, labia majora and minora are supple and soft.”

“Dr. Higu-” You barely even have the time to catch your breath before you can catch the tail end of your sentence. Voice breaking off into a lecherous whimper the moment the stern man hovering above you swipes a thick thumb over your throbbing clit. 

Humming at the glossy rivulet of slick that seeps from between your puffed-up lips, it slathers a thick coating down his digits. “Good lubrication, clitoris is reactive, too. Spread yourself nice and open f’me?”

Before you even have the time to blink, Higuruma’s leaning back mere inches to take a looong, solid look at your splayed-out legs. You’re arching off of the cool examination table like such a slut-

“And above all–” He’s drawling away, and you swear you catch his lips quirk up into a sultry smirk. Dark brows arching, his strawberry pink tongue nips out at the heavenly sight of you. “-she’s pretty.”

This inspection was both such torture and heaven for you. 

You’re whining, fists balling up mindlessly in his cottony medical coat - you can’t think. You can’t even say anything other than a few clouded pants of, “I- I need it- I just want to cum, but no one else has ever…”

“Ohhh, s’that so, sugar?” Your bottom lip wobbles like heedless jelly as soon as he caresses the side of your cheek. So close now that your tits heave against his rock-hard pecs, he’s boring into your yes so deeply. Pretty. “Then let Dr. Hiromi here help you.”

It took only mere minutes for Higuruma to have your face bullied down into the chilling plane of the table, a puddle of drool already ever-growing when he swabs his tip sensually down your slit. 

“Easy there, easy there- spread your legs f’me.” Just about all you can do to listen to listen to his every word, your capped knees smear until Higuruma was getting a sinful eyeful of your glistening cunt. Already aching and so, so wet. “Atta girl- so needy…so, so needy.”

You’re flinching - full-bodied and gasping - the second he strikes your slick-flooding entrance with three exact wads of messy spit. Rolling the wadded mess over your bloated clit, “Pubovaginalis is tight- reeeeal tight, heh. Wonder if I’d even fit, angel–?”

Veering your head back to catch sight of his painfully hard cock, your eyes travel down his veiny length - the way it seems never-endless. Massive. 

And suddenly you can’t help but let your mouth water at the way you want him inside you oh-so-badly. 

“Oh?” Higuruma’s deep bass sends shivers running down your spine, and you can’t believe how you’re so positively soaked and he hasn’t even put it in yet. “Lubrication increased significantly- s’this turn you on, sugar?”

“Yes- yes.” You can’t even lie- fuck, you can’t even stop yourself from pushing your hips back in repeated ruts that graze Higuruma’s slender, expert fingers against where your core was the hottest. 

Needy.

Cooing down at you, “Awww, s’alright—” The very sounds sends your heart racing, and your thighs shivering once he measures out a looong few inches from the very base of your treacly entrance to about halfway down your tummy. “S’gonna fit- m’gonna make it.”

Your jaw loosens as if you were stunned, “W-were you measuring out just how deep you’d be inside me- ”

“Of course, angel.” Dark tone much too smooth for the way that Higuruma was swashing aside his formal white coat to make room. “The muscularis will feel better ah- raw…” You needed him. To barely crown your drooling hole with the very rotund fringe of his fat tip, pushing. “Count now. Count every inch m’inside you.”

And a sudden dab into a bundle of nerves in your weepy orifice told you that he was serious. “C’mon- with me now. Oooone–‘

Your voice shaking as you whimper, “O-one…two.”

“Good girl.” Comes the response, and of course Higuruma was a good doctor. Of course he was rewarding you with a pinch to the hood of your nub, “Keep counting. Three–”

Drawing little patterns of his name right where you were most sensitive, he was poking his swollen veins saccharinely into every nook and cranny inside of you. Scouring. 

It just makes you melt. 

“Four- six?” The disbelief just kept piling on, and with a low moan into the hard surface of the table you’re bucking. Eager to find out for yourself just how many inches he was hiding away, grinding the plump of your clit over into his palm - all slathered in an oozing layer of slick now. “Sev- eight…eight!”

You swear you hear Higuruma snickering, “Close, but…” Right before he sucks in a sharply condensed breath and ruts- “-it’s nine.”

Bottoming out - finally. Until your spongy cervix recoils back with the sticky French snog of his readily puckered head, until your clit stings with the impact of his buxom balls thwacking!

And when Higuruma strikes, he hits. Dead-on into the bulging target of your g-spot, he’s laying on long n’ girthy inches that take up every square centimeter of space inside your snug pussy. Stretching out your glutinous walls to his exact shape until you almost feel like sobbing- “Hiromi–”

“Rhythmic muscularis contraction, body heart, heart rate increase- There we go, thereeee we f-fuckin’ go-” 

Did you just make Higuruma Hiromi stutter? You don’t know what you’re reeling from more - that, or the fact that you didn’t know who was cumming first. You feel him shiver above you, “You’re cumming, angel– congratulations.”

Were you? Fuck- you were, riding your hips back into his swollen inches to drag out the burning stars bursting behind your heavy lids. 

And Higuruma was just collapsing right down with you, his muscular body pinning you helplessly. Washboards abs practically melding into you and making your orgasm only increase with intensity.

Your mouth wrenches open with breathless whimpers upon whimpers and drivel, ones that Higuruma plugs up easily with just a few fingers over your maw. Tutting, “Hydration is important, sugar- though, you’re already like fuckin’ waterpark d-down hah- there.”

Not just with your own sugary juices - but Higuruma had cum, too. 

Sloshing around a warm river of cum that knocks on your womb, it was so thick frosting your hole and way down into your thighs below. Streaming out until you felt like you were bawling from below, feeling the weight of his seed stick to your walls all filthily.

But Higuruma doesn’t mind the mess - he fucking loves it. Loves how it paints glistening rings on his bulky base, loves the way your cunt twitches once he scoops the escaping ribbons back in with two fingers. “Now for a full body check-up, sugar.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[luveline]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

you get a good dose, confess your affections, and leave poor, oblivious hotch to fix things up neatly. 

cw painkiller high, light suggestive theme 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“Hello.” 

You lift your gaze without blinking. Hotch is standing in the doorway, making his way in with a bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm and a white envelope against his chest. 

“Hello,” he says again, meeting your wide, still eyes with concern. “You okay?” 

“Flowers for me?” 

“You’re the one here in a hospital bed. They’re from me and Jack. He insisted.” 

You nod up and down robotically. Your heart is unhappy today. You’ve been fast and slow and now it’s running fast again, a tip-tip-tip on the heart monitor that makes Hotch frown. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “They told me you were on a lot of pain medication, you shouldn’t be hurting anymore. Is it not working?” 

“I feel a lot.” 

“And that’s unsettling,” he surmises.

“Can I have my flowers?” 

Hotch offers them to you immediately. “Why don’t you count to a hundred for me?” 

“They’re beautiful, but there’s not that many.” 

“Count to one hundred. I can start. Do you need me to start for you?” 

You dip your face into the flowers. “I love when you say stuff like that.” 

Hotch doesn’t answer you. You begin counting, hoping he’ll say a nice thing if you do as he asked. The numbers get mixed up after thirty five, there really aren’t enough flowers to count to a hundred, but when forty five and fifty four begin to feel like the same number spiritually, Hotch reaches for your forearm and gives it a squeeze. That means job well done. Nobody else in the team gets arm squeezes —they’re for you. Nobody else has noticed, but you have. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

You beam at him. The heart monitor beeps in slow loops. “You’re welcome. Did it help?” 

“I’d say so.” He takes off his suit jacket and puts it over the back of the chair, pulling the chair towards the bed with his foot, and getting comfortable beside you, a little lower down than you but tall regardless. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“I can’t believe you got me flowers.” 

“I got you flowers the last time you were injured.” 

“I know,” you say with a laugh. “I know, it was amazing.” 

“Here’s your card from Jack. I’ve opened it for you, I hope that’s okay.” 

“I cannot open anything. I tried to stab my pudding open with a spoon and broke it and can’t find the sharp part in my blankets. I’m worried it’s going to poke me.” 

Hotch stands from his chair. “That’s not good.” 

You take up Jack’s card, pinching the folded printer paper and pulling all of its homemade glory from the envelope. The front has a red heart drawn with bandages wrapped around it, and inside is a message written in impressive penmanship considering his age. To Y/N, it says, Please get well soon. We are hoping you to have a speedy recovery! Love you, Jack and Aaron 

“It says you love me,” you say. 

“Mm, Jack wrote the message. He misses you.” 

You catch the feeling of Hotch’s hand where it slips between your legs and almost burst, giggling excitedly, which makes his hand jump away from you like a fish out of water. “You have the spoon!” 

“Found it. No more danger.” 

“Thank you. I knew you could find it.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

The pain medication Hotch spoke of is starting to make itself known. You hadn’t felt very different to begin with, the only worthy note your absence of pain, but right now you feel weird. Light. Happy, but strange, like the opposite feeling of missing a step. You know something’s wrong and you know it’s the medication, but you’re elated at the same time. Hotch is here. Maybe it’s just him. Maybe he’ll know. 

“Do you think I feel happy ‘cos of you or the morphine?” you ask. Softly, slurring, you swallow and try not to sound as drunk. “I feel amazing.” 

“It’s the morphine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Well, it’s been a long time since I had some myself, but I remember feeling amazing at the time, and you’re on a lot more of it than I was.” Hotch sets himself back down in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Are you staying for long?” 

“Until they make me leave,” he says. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Yesterday you were here for ten minutes and I felt like my heart was bruised.” 

He doesn’t speak for a moment. His eyes seem darker than usual. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I had to be home to take care of Jack.” 

“I know you had to, it’s not your fault, but I still missed you.” 

You prop Jack’s amazing card on the nightstand with a proud grin. You love Jack Hotchner, he’s the smartest, kindest, sweetest boy you’ve ever met, and it must be because of his parents. You’ve not met Haley many times, but Hotch is amazing. It makes sense that his kid would be just as awesome as he is. Turning your attention back to the flowers, you find the courage to ask, “Do you think you could bring Jack to see me?” 

“I think he might be a little young for hospitals, I’m sorry.” 

“Well, maybe I can see him when I’m out of the hospital? How can I say thank you for the card? Does he still like bears?” 

“He has enough bears,” Hotch says gently. “You don’t need to buy him anything, he just wants you to get better soon.” 

“You’re such a good dad.” Your lashes kiss with the force of your smile. “You’re lovely. Jack is really kind.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re handsome,” you continue, slinking down in the bed. You feel tired but not sleepy, craving a really big, hot sandwich. Hotch holds your gaze. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“What?” he asks quietly. 

“Can you please get me a big, hot sandwich? Maybe with hot chicken? Or spicy chicken in a burrito? I really need it to be hot.” 

Hotch laughs aloud and reaches for your forearm to squeeze you again. “Of course I can. I’ll call Derek and I’ll make him get you both of those things, if you like.” 

“Oh, good. I really really don’t want you to leave but I really want the sandwich more than I want you to stay.” You tip your head to one side. “If you hugged me again I’d say I want you to stay more than I want the sandwich, ‘cos you haven’t hugged me in a long time.” 

“Does that bother you?” he asks, the pad of his thumb working against your wrist. 

“No, I know I’m not supposed to want you to hug me.” 

“We’re friends,” he says, shaking his head, “good friends, aren’t we? It’s alright if you want a hug. I should be better at giving them.” 

When he was with Haley you wouldn’t have dreamed of wanting it, because your affection for him has always been more than a friend‘s. You’ve guarded the secret carefully over the years. What’s more unfair to a wife than to fancy her husband? But Haley left Hotch, and he’s been single for a while now, and you think that lately he’s actively dating. He’s always had pride in his appearance, but his suits are tailored again. His hair is left to grow beyond what’s easily maintained. He and Dave occasionally joke about him getting back out there —he doesn’t need to get out there, you’re right here. 

You can’t help frowning. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I think I’m a bad friend.” 

“You aren’t a bad friend.” 

“I am, I have ulterior motives.” 

Hotch rolls his eyes. “Honey, everybody does. You’re fine. You’re a good friend. You know you’re the sole member of the team who’s remembered Jack’s birthday every year? Remembered mine?” 

“I don’t do that to be a good friend, I just love Jack.” 

His hand slips down to yours. He holds it briefly. “I know you do.” 

“It’s why I remember yours,” you say, shaking your head, annoyed he’s taken his hand back but ready to move on to better things. “Can you ask Derek for my sandwich now, please? Please, please, I’m so hungry I’m gonna die.” 

Hotch gives you a funny look. “How about I go and get you your sandwich? I’ll be very fast. I’ll go to Sam’s across the street, would you like that?” 

“Can I have maybe a donut too?” 

“Sure, honey. I’ll get you a half dozen.” 

“Really?” 

“Sure. Do you want any in particular?” 

Hotch goes off to get you a sandwich and you click the button for more morphine without really thinking. You’re asleep before he gets back.

—

You wake up shaking. 

Aaron straightens in his chair. He hadn’t meant to doze off, but it’s nearing the end of your visiting hours and he’s been here since three. Your sandwich is stone cold in the bag and he’s not sure how he’ll get it warmed up.

Your arms are trembling badly. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“What for?” 

“Hotch, where am I?” 

Aaron stands. “You’re in the hospital. You’ve had some morphine and it ended up sedating you. The shaking will calm down soon, but nothing’s wrong, okay?” 

You’re noticeably confused, and Aaron hates it enough to sew his fingers between yours. His are thicker by quite a bit, but he’s used to smaller hands. He’s careful with you. He can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier. 

The undercurrent of fear you’d been harbouring begins to ebb. You let Aaron hold your hand and settle back down into your sheets, turning your face toward him and shutting your eyes. You don’t seem sleepy. He’s not sure what’s wrong. 

When you say you love him, he understands. He loves you, too. He doesn’t think that he’s in love with you, but he could be. He’s had enough guilty daydreams about it, batted them away, moments doing the dishes or at the gym or when you’re standing together working a case, where he forgets to forbid himself the pleasure and imagines you in simple intimacies. He sees himself taking your hand. He pictures waking up to the smell of you on his pillows. When he’s especially pent up and you’ve haunted him with your bare face or a shy smile, he ends the day thinking of you. How he’d kiss your head with just a little of his weight atop you, or a lot. 

And then he feels so horribly wrong for doing it that he resigns himself to the distance between you forever. 

Aaron doesn’t know what you want from him, but he knows he could fall in love with you if given the chance. He has to determine how honest your morphine-confession was, and there’s no time like the present. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks softly. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back. 

“I brought you the donuts and a sandwich, but I’ll have to reheat it. I’m sorry.” 

“Did I ask for a sandwich?” you ask, startled.

“A hot one. You emphasised.” 

“Thank you, Aaron. I don’t think I’m hungry now, I’m kinda queasy.” 

“You had a little bit more morphine than you should’ve.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says under his breath, “that’s not your fault.” 

You squeeze his hand weakly. Any want to draw the truth from you is quickly dwindling. All he wants now is to make sure you’re okay. 

He spills himself closer to you and, without untangling your hands, brings your thin blankets to your shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay. The queasiness won’t last long. In fact, eating might help, but we can wait.” 

“Don’t you have to go home?” 

“No, I can stay if you want me to.” 

“Please, I want you to.” 

“You’re still on the morphine,” he says, rubbing your hand, “I can ask them to lower your dosage if you don’t like it, but you have to remember that it’s keeping you unaware of your pain.” 

You hesitate. “I don’t want it to hurt.” 

“Then it won’t,” he promises. You had more than your fair share of pain. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“This is all I want. For you to look after me.” 

He takes a measured breath. “I would love to look after you.” 

You turn your head half an inch to see him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” He’s trying to blend the half of him you know at work with the half of him responsible for his outer life, the part of him that flirts with beautiful women at bars, the part of him that loved being a husband. “I don’t know what you want, and now isn’t the time, but,” —he prepares to be brave— “if you want me to look after you, then I will.” 

“You promise?” 

“I promise.”

“Can you kiss me?” 

His heart skips a beat. “No, honey, I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“Not even on the head?” 

His stomach aches, but it’s a good feeling. Like worrying you lost something and finding it in the first place you’ve looked. “On the head I can do.” 

You squeeze your eyes closed in wait of his kiss, a light, chaste brush of the lips to your temple. The morphine makes you laugh, a girly, giggly bubble of it as you burrow into the sheets, like he’s tickled you. He’s twice as endeared when you squint at him like you’re waiting. 

“Can I–”

“One more,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “Any more than that and you’ll die of embarrassment when you’re not drugged out of your mind.” 

“I’m not out of my mind. I’m just hallucinating. Or having a great dream.” 

He’s inclined to agree, but he knows with confidence he hasn’t had any heavy medication today. He gives you a fond look and sits back down, obliging you when you scramble to put your hand in his again. It’s a weight he could get used to holding.

“I really like you,” you confess quietly. 

He quite likes you in return. “That’s great, honey. Do you want to talk about it later? Maybe you can have one of your donuts.” 

You don’t take his misdirection as rejection, you just pull his hand to your chest and smile. “No thank you. I can wait.” 

He can wait too. 

[mariasont]

Early seasons Spencer’s gf joining the team and quickly realizing just how used to Spencer she is bc the rest of the team’s reactions to him are so different from hers

Cinnamon Sticks - S.R

a/n: obsessed with the idea of baby spencie having a gf who just gets him while he's still an awkward, nerdy little genius! thanks for requesting bestie so sorry it took so long i am the worst LOL

masterlist

pairings: early!seasons!spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, secret relationship, relationship being exposed bc these two are just so in love

wc: 1.7k

Garcia burst into the bullpen like some sort of whirlwind that was practically painted in neon, her scarf fluttering behind her almost like a cape. She juggled a precariously full cup of coffee, while her phone teetered between ear and shoulder as if testing the limits of human dexterity.

"I swear to all that is holy, if my life doesn't slow down in the next five minutes —"

The sentence derailed as she misjudged her pace, the coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup. She stopped abruptly, but not quick enough to stop the scalding liquid from spilling over and searing her fingers.

"Oh, fantastic! Just what I needed!" she huffed, waving her hand like it might stop the sting.

She threw herself into the closest chair with a dejected sigh, slumping back and fixing the coffee cup with a murderous glare, like this was just another tally in a long line of grievances.

Your eyes darted up from your work, only for a moment, enough to confirm what you already knew. You hadn't been working here long, but it was long enough to recognize the phenomenon that was Garcia: a blur of movement and words, mid-rant before anyone had the chance to catch up. It was like clockwork really.

You risked a glance across the desk at Spencer, who was so absorbed in his notebook it was a wonder he even remembered to breathe. If Garcia's antics registered as white noise to anyone, it was him. But then, almost like he had a radar for being watched, he looked up, catching your gaze.

His eyebrows lifted into a subtle what can you do? expression, and you couldn't help but smile back.

That was the thing about Spencer. He had this uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you were thinking, almost as if he had a cheat sheet for your brain. And maybe he did, like his brain worked three times faster than everyone else's in the room (which, let's face it, it definitely did). But instead of that being intimidating, it was oddly reassuring.

"At this rate, I'm one bad email away from alphabetizing my entire pantry for stress relief."

Spencer's notebook hit the desk, and there it was, the shift you loved to look for. His shoulders drew back, face lighting up, the kind of thing that signaled his mini-lecture was incoming.

"Organizing your pantry is actually a practical stress management technique. By categorizing items, you create a structured environment that reduces decision fatigue. Its why people feel calmer in tidy spaces, it's psychological."

Morgan held up a hand. "Psychological, huh? Sounds like you’re just trying to justify your weird love affair with labels, pretty boy.”

“Don’t forget,” you added absently, flipping a page in your report, “it also saves time when you’re cooking. I think you called it practical efficiency."

The words slipped out without much thought, but as soon as they did, the bullpen stilled. You glanced up, heart sinking as you saw every face turned in your direction.

Morgan’s grin was the first thing you notice, wide and knowing, stretching across his face. He tilted his head, eyes bouncing between you and Spencer like he was putting pieces together in real time.

“Wait a minute,” he said, sitting forward with a gleam in his eye. “Did you just quote him? Like, word for word?”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “What? No. I mean — maybe. I don’t know.”

“Pretty sure you did,” Morgan shot back, smirking. “Man, what else has he been teaching you? You got the periodic table memorized too?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, please. If you’ve been around Spencer long enough, you’re bound to pick up a few things. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.”

“Well,” Spencer said, his head tilting slightly as he spoke, “your cinnamon sticks always end up at the back of your pantry. That’s why I figured you might appreciate the idea of organizing by use frequency. Like I said, practical efficiency.”

The moment the words left his mouth, you knew he’d made a tactical error.

Garcia gasped, her eyes lighting up like she’d just been handed the juiciest piece of gossip of her life. 

“Oh. My. God. Spencer Reid, how exactly do you know what the back of her pantry looks like?”

You froze, rooted to the spot as the realization hit you like a cartoon anvil. 

This was bad.

Spencer’s expression mirrored yours for half a second, bug-eyed panic, but he quickly scrambled for an answer. 

“It’s, um… a logical assumption,” he stammered, his fingers toying with the pen in his hand, a nervous tell he couldn’t quite suppress. “Spices like cinnamon sticks always seem to migrate to the back of the pantry unless there’s an intentional system in place.”

Morgan let out a long, low whistle, rocking back in his chair with enough force to make it creak.

“Nice save. But I don’t think Garcia’s buying it.”

Garcia tapped her chin, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “Oh, no, no, no. This is too good. I mean, logical assumption  my fabulous behind! Cinnamon sticks in the back of her pantry? Really? What’s next? A detailed analysis of how she stacks her cereal boxes?”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a bark than anything natural. “You’re all reading way too much into this. Spencer just knows weirdly specific things about, well, everything. That’s kind of his thing, remember?”

“Mmhmm,” Garcia hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, genius, I’ll let it slide this time. But I’m watching you.”

“Please don’t,” Spencer muttered under his breath, earning a round of laughter from the team.

Garcia spent a solid ten minutes in full interrogation mode after that, her eyes narrowing with each and every pointed question she lobbed your way. Morgan, of course, was no help. He leaned back, grinning like a kid with a front-row seat to the circus, his smirk practically screaming that he knew they were this close to striking a nerve.

Spencer and you had been so careful. You'd been dating long before you joined the BAU, but the moment Hotch had called to offer you the position, you both knew you'd have to keep things under wraps. Dating a coworker was one thing; dating Spencer Reid, a genius with an accidentally too-honest mouth, was an entirely different challenge.

You hadn't expected it to be this hard, though. Keeping the secret wasn't the worst part, it was pretending he wasn't the center of your universe every time you walked into the room. It was keeping your hands to yourself when all you wanted to do was smooth out the messy strands of hair that always fell into his eyes. It was biting your tongue when someone interrupted his long-winded tangents because the truth was, you loved hearing him talk.

The hours stretched on, and the bullpen slowly thinned out. Garcia was the first to leave, blowing a kiss to the room. Morgan left soon after, pausing to flash you one last grin before disappearing. Even Prentiss packed up for the night, muttering something about needed an extra shot of espresso tomorrow morning.

"You handled that well."

You looked up from your report to find Spencer by your desk, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other skimming lightly along the edge of the divider. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost bashful, as though he had been waiting to get you alone.

"Handled that well?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You were the one who almost blew it, Spencer. Cinnamon sticks? Really?"

He smiled, lips twitching upward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Okay, I'll admit that wasn't my most subtle moment. But in my defense, they do end up at the back of most pantries."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as you leaned back in your chair. 

"We're lucky Garcia got distracted. If she'd pushed any harder..." Your voice drifted into a soft sigh. "That could've been bad."

"That was a close one."

The quiet that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt a little more substantial, if that was the word, filled with that miniscule ache that always bloomed in your chest when he was near. 

Spencer stepped closer, his hand brushing against the edge of your desk. His body angled toward you, like even when you weren’t touching, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t think she actually suspects anything. But we should probably be more careful.”

"Probably," you replied, drawing out the word in a teasing, sing-song tone. “Unless you’d rather keep showing off how ridiculously well you know me.”

His cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, that shy, boyish smile, the one that always made you a little breathless, spread across his lips.

"That's going to be hard," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I noticed a lot about you."

You could feel the flush creeping up to your neck, and you mentally cursed him for how easily he was able to do this to you.

"You're lucky I like you."

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in that way they only came out at specific moments. Like when he successfully performed a card trick for the team or when he stumbled across an original copy of a book at a library sale. 

The same one you'd seen when he talked about his mom on her good days, or when you asked him on a date. 

You leaned forward. "And since I like you, any chance you'd want to kiss me right now?"

"How could I not, with you looking at me like that?"

The angle was clumsy, your chair too low, his frame leaning awkwardly over, but all of that melted away the second his hands found your face. His thumbs brushed soft circles against the place where your cheek met your jaw.

His lips were soft against yours at first, testing, before growing firmer, more sure. The kind of confidence that came with a hundred familiar kisses before. 

Time seemed to slow, or at least for you it did, the rest of the world nonexistent.

The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and you jerked back from Spencer, your chair wobbling slightly as you turned toward the sound. You immediately regretted it — your lips felt swollen, your face hot, and there was Prentiss, leaning against the doorframe.

"We were... uh, testing something," you blurted, avidly avoiding eye contact. "You know, like... oxygen exchange! For scientific purposes."

Spencer blinked, then mumbled, "Oxygen exchange? That's the best you got?"

"Shut it," you hissed through gritted teeth, not daring to look at him.

Prentiss arched a brow. "Relax, lovebirds. If this is your idea of scientific research, I'll make sure Garcia doesn't find out. You're welcome."

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[crushmeeren]

ᝰ FIRST TIME FUCKING YOU WITHOUT A CONDOM .ᐟ

⋆ ft. itachi, neji, kakashi, sasuke ⋆

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ itachi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Itachi is not someone who’d be reckless with this decision.

Sure, his cheeks would turn scarlet when you ask. His head would whip to the side so fast his neck would be in danger of snapping, drawing one leg up as his entire body shifts towards you on the couch. He would slip two fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tug, desperate for a cool breeze to tame the suffocating heat now creeping down his throat, flushing his chest.

His gaze would flicker across your face, hand resting on your thigh, squeezing once. He’d ask, “You — are you sure? You don’t want me to wear a condom anymore?” His voice would crack on the word condom and his blush would darken. Itachi would take a second to clear his throat, glaring at you without any real heat when you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m sure, Itachi.” You’d readjust your position, mirroring his, and look up at him through your lashes. “I just, I need to feel you. All of you,” you’d admit, playing with his fingers before lacing them together. The sweet heat building in your belly would remind you of the way it feels to drink a cup of hot chocolate.

Itachi’s lips would part, and you’d be certain you caught his dick jerking in his sweats. He’d make you wait until you’re on some other form of birth control. No surprise babies in this house.

Itachi would hold his breath when he pushed his latex free cock into you for the first time. His eyes would squeeze shut, a shaky exhale of your name spilling from his lips as he bottomed out and fucking came. You’d be able to feel the harsh twitching of his dick as he made you look nothing short of a cream filled donut. He’d be so embarrassed, ready to apologize, but he’d stop short at the fucked out look on your face.

The added slick sensation would turn you on like no other, cheeks hot to the touch as you begged him to keep going. He’d stay as hard as a rock, rolling you both until you’re perched in his lap. He’d draw his knees up, tangle his fingers with yours, and encourage you to “Ride me, sweetheart. C’mon, take what you need. I’ll let you use me until your pretty little pussy is sore.”

Itachi doesn’t have to tell you twice.

༝ ᭝ ༝ neji ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Neji loves having sex with you, but he’d be a bit paranoid.

Neji’s uptight. From the outside, you’d never be able to tell how pussy drunk he gets. He’s a whiny, breathy mess any time his cock’s inside you.

However, he’d also be hyper aware he could get you pregnant if he’s not careful. He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of having a baby with you, but he wouldn’t be ready for quite some time. He’d wear a condom, no matter how bad he wants your pussy to squeeze him raw. You’d have multiple conversations about it, convincing him to try just putting the tip in.

He’d be….hooked, to say the least. It’d be by sheer force of will that he doesn’t shove his entire cock in your pussy that first time. But, it’d also be the very next time Neji swears “just the tip”, when things spiral.

The warm ache in Neji’s belly would overshadow his concerns. He’d end up knocking your thighs further apart with his knees, bending forward and planting his elbows on either side of your head, leaving just a few centimeters between you. He’d whine, “Baby, I can’t handle this temptation any longer. Please, can I feel your pussy?”

“Fuck, put it in Neji. As long as you pull out it’ll be fine, I promise.” You’d lift your hips to take more of him before he could regret it, and Neji would oblige. Your pussy would hug his cock better than in his dreams, and Neji’s low, broken moan would light your blood on fire.

Neji would straighten up to sit on his knees, grip one of your ankles and haul your leg over his shoulder, allowing the other leg to hang loosely at his hip. He’d bend you in half to deepen the angle, hands resting by your shoulders. Just to tease you both, he’d pull out halfway and push back in at an agonizing pace.

Neji would fuck you within an inch of your life, long hair becoming a curtain that cuts you off from the world. Your nails would scratch angry pink lines down his chest, and his cock would start to throb as he toed the line of release. You’d smack his chest, reminding him with a desperate plea, “Don’t cum inside me! Neji, Neji, baby — you gotta pull out!”

He’d slip his cock free at the last second, letting your body flop to the bed as he stroked his cock. With three quick pumps he’d cum all over your belly.

Safe to say, this would be Neji’s new favorite way to have sex.

༝ ᭝ ༝ sasuke ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Unlike his brother, Sasuke is impulsive.

He couldn’t deny the thought would cross his mind every now and then, playing with the idea of fucking you raw and seeing his sticky, white cum cover his cock and spill from your pussy.

Usually when he got the urge he’d jerk himself off. Cool fingers would wrap around his warm cock, shivers running down his spine as he stroked himself slowly. He’d cum in a heartbeat.

It would dull the ache of his desire for a while. Hell, he definitely wouldn’t want to have a baby any time in the near future. But soon enough it’d start to eat at him again. His stomach would clench tight every time you’d have sex, nasty dreams forcing him to wake up hard. That’s why, when you beg him to take the condom off, it’s take zero effort to convince him.

Your face would be buried in your pillow, ass in the air, and one hand would fist the sheets. The other would twist behind to smack against Sasuke’s lean lower belly, pushing at him to wait. He’d be too focused, hands pressing your lower back into a harsh arch, sweat trailing down his temple, over his jaw, dripping onto your back.

“Sasuke,” you’d moan, asking for his attention. “Wait, Sasuke — ah fuck!” You’d dig your nails into his belly until he sucked in a sharp breath. “Take the condom off, please!”

His hips would still, pressed flush to your ass. “What?” He’d ask, already be pulling out. “You want me to fuck you raw?” He’d tease. “So spoiled, princess.”

You’d roll onto your back, cheeks heated, chest heaving. “Just fucking take it off,” you’d demand, reaching to grasp the slippery latex and slide it free. Sasuke would smirk, eyes glued to his dick as it bobs once the condom pops off.

Sasuke’s jaw would go slack once you stroked his cock, the skin soft and slick from leftover lube. He’d fucking whimper, a noise he’d never made before, when he pushes all the way in. Sasuke’s thoughts wouldn’t be coherent after that. He’d put your knees to your ears and fuck you until he’s cum twice and you’re squirting onto his pelvis.

He would panic the next day, going dizzy with relief when you inform him you started getting birth control shots.

༝ ᭝ ༝ kakashi ༝ ᭝ ༝

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Kakashi would be asking you if he could hit it raw.

For your entire relationship, Kakashi would have it known that he’s got a fantasy about giving you a “cream pie”, for lack of a better word. He’d never push you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, no, he’d be more than happy to even role play the act.

There’s no denying that Kakashi would truly want to get you pregnant. He’d love to see your belly round with his baby, but he’d be patient and wait for you to give him the go ahead. However, Kakashi has a loud mouth, and he’d voice his desires at least every other time you have sex.

In the end, the idea would get in your head and become more than appealing to you. When you gave in, it’d be when Kakashi least expected it. It’d be a night when his back is propped up by a couple pillows near your headboard, calloused hands gripping your ass and guiding the slow roll of your hips. Kakashi would be drooling about how well you ride his cock.

Your hands would brace themselves on his pecs, nails digging into his skin, and Kakashi wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. No surprise there. “Babygirl,” he’d moan, eyes rolling towards the ceiling when your pussy clenches tight. “Look so pretty when you ride me, m’gonna cum so hard. You’ll let me knock you up, yeah? Wanna see you swollen with my baby so bad.”

You’d slap your hand over his mouth to stop the stream of filthy words, cheeks blistering. “Kakashi,” you’d say through your teeth, voice pitching higher. “Take off the condom.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows would shoot to his hairline, jaw dropping open as the words he’d been waiting forever to hear sunk in. There’s no way in hell you’d have to repeat yourself. He’d shove you off his lap and onto your back, settling between your spread thighs as he all but ripped off the condom. He’d stroke his cock a couple times before readjusting his weight, taking his time to slide his bare cock back inside you.

Kakashi would whine in back of his throat, pushing your thighs apart until your muscles started to protest. “Kakashi!” You’d gasp, pushing up to your elbows, fisting the sheets as he railed the shit out of you.

“Sorry, can’t — fuck, can’t help myself,” he’d pant, not sounding sorry at all. You’d catch a glimpse of Kakashi’s sharingan whirling and then he’d be cumming before you realized he’s close.

He wouldn’t stop with one round. He’d wring pleasure out of you until your legs turned to jelly. He’d cum again after that, making such a mess that you’d both end up in the shower.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty in places, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- OH BOY- fingering, Suguru being a psychotic munch so oral (f recieving) rough sex, dirty talk, multiple positions, choking and smacking (in and out of the bedroom) cockwarming, mating press, creampie, TOXIC asf, hate sex, angst. WC this part- 8k

Will be three parts I THOUGHT now looking like four lmao <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!- This won the poll as the thank you for 7k followers, tysmmm!

<<<Part One - Playlist - Masterlist - Part Three (soon) Based on Clan Leader Geto

Part Two

“Now.”

Suguru’s quiet command was just that, a command, one for you to obey as his ‘wife’. But you damn sure weren’t going to act like you wanted to fuck this deranged psycho any more than you already did.

“Get it over with then, the sooner I get pregnant the better.”

“Exactly, we won’t have to do this any longer. Useless little-”

You smack him, earning a psychotic glare, violet eyes glittering dangerously as your hand stings, and red lifts on his perfect face. “Call me a monkey one more time.”

He smirks, leaning close now, yanking you to him, turning you and unzipping your dress, letting it fall, so you don’t see just how perfect he thinks you are. His hands slip around your front, one sliding up to squish a breast, thumb brushing a nipple, making you cry out before you can stop yourself, he chuckles at your response, his other finding your pussy now, dripping.

“Already so wet, hmm? Admit it, you love getting fucked by me, you know how above you I am, pathetic… human. Hmm?” You turn in surprise, as you’re soaking his fingers now, your lips parted, tantalizing, eyes rolling back as he finds your engorged little clit, swirling his fingers on it.

“Fuck… you… mnh…” Is all you manage, as he feels your hair fall back against his chest, and his cock is already throbbing, even after jerking it this morning and last night, he has to be inside you again.

“Soaking me from a little touch? So fucking pathetic.” He whispers, you bite down on your lip, shoving at his hands then, turning.

“Just put it in, I can take it now.” You have him lifting you like you’re nothing, and for this brief moment when he holds you, and your lips are too close, he pictures it, letting go with someone so measly and useless, someone so annoying and absolutely insolent.

But he can never think that way.

He tosses you on the bed, spreading your thighs, spitting right on your pussy then, you gasp at it, lewd and wanton, as he watches the bubbly clear liquid pool between lips still puffy from getting fucked last night. He moans at the sight, at loud, as he leans down, inhaling you, and you shove at him with your feet, earning another death glare.

“What are you doing, just get it done. Don’t… whatever that is!” He aches to taste you, fuck you’re annoying him, the scent driving him insane. He can smell how badly you want him, as he gathers his spit and shoves it in your little hole, and you whine out, sore and throbbing.

“Stop thinking you can tell me what to do, you’re nothing but a tool for me, a pretty little tool.”

“Pretty huh?” You cry out as he scissors his fingers now, done with your remarks, his other hand slamming on your mouth, muffling your protests.

“Will you shut up, fuck I’ll get there.” Suguru took his time with things, he wants to devour every pretty inch of your body, but you’re correct, it is in fact stupid to do so, to waste the talents of his tongue and mouth on your pretty, but useless human body. “Undress me.”

You take a shaky breath, sitting up now, with no help of his, undoing the buttons  of these black robes he’s wearing, pretentious and royal, stupid just like him. You’re filled with so much hate your chest heaves, as you realize your body wants this, and you hate that it does. You quickly drop his robes and once again, gulping as you remember the initial pain last night.

Suguru watches you hesitate, raising a dark brow now, acting as if his tip leaking precum is just so normal for this situation. “Go on, I’ll allow it.” He says then, and your eyes narrow.

“Allow what?” Your voice is full of laughter, he wonders if you have any sense of self preservation, serving to only infuriate him further.

“You to serve me, you may if you beg pretty enough.” He tilts your chin up then, and you burst into laughter, only making him scowl down at you.

“I’ll not serve you anymore than I already have to. Get one of your little cult girls to do that.”

“You insolent-”

“Come on now, what position is best for baby making?” He turns you around then, until you’re on your knees, you look back wildly at him, at his flexing muscles, his long dark hair falling over a shoulder as he grabs your hips.

“Arch your back, monkey.” Your jaw sets, and he realizes very quickly you won’t, sighing and rolling violet eyes, pressing between your shoulder blades, yanking on your hip and almost cumming at how pretty your ass looks arched. “Fuck…”

“This is the best po-mnh!” He’s pressing his tip against you, up your slit now, which pools out arousal, when he smacks you firm on one ass cheek. “Don’t fucking do that psycho!”

“You’ve irritated me.”

Your ass looks perfect with his handprints.

“Now, arch more, hmm?”

He just wants a good look at you, how small your waist looks like this, how your ass is shaped so perfectly, hips fitting in his big hands that are taking you over, and he presses deeper, sucking in his moans. His thumbs press into the dimples on your lower back, cursing silently at how perfect you feel, gripping just his tip he could cum, his head falling forward as he leans over you.

His feet planted on the floor, he presses further, making you cry out, as he stretches you, fills you, and damn if it doesn’t feel good. You bite it back again, inhaling sharply as he leans over you, his hair now falling against your bare shoulders, his breath hot in your neck as he shoves his cock so deep. His hand comes to cup your chin, turning it to make you look up at him.

God you’re pretty.

“Got you to shut up- hah.” He huffs, and you open your mouth to protest when he slams your cervix, squeezing your throat just so, until you’re fuzzy, and your cunt is slick, sucking him in hungry.

“F-fuck you… hate it…” You whisper, he laughs then, deep and dark in your ear, squeezing your throat tighter with long fingers, beginning to fuck into you, lewd noises filling your bed chamber as he moves.

“Could fucking kill you right now, tiny, pathetic little neck. Could snap it right now, huh?” He squeezes further, and you should be terrified, surely, but instead you’re convulsing around his cock, making you both sigh in pleasure, as each of you try to hide your body's reactions, and fail the more he pumps.

“Kill me… then… do it…” You whisper, and he squeezes more now, your windpipe pressed between his strong hand, as he presses fully in, bottoming out all his inches in your pussy, and you scream silently, eyes rolling back in your skull as you feel fuzzy, like you’re floating.

“I could do it, oh I could do it.” He loves it then, feeling as you’re close, he can tell with how your body jerks and moves, then he’s shoving deep and rolling his hips, watching as you shatter for him. “Can’t fucking help it, feel too good?”

You shake your head even as he’s squeezing your neck, as you’re cumming all over his cock, when he lets go, and you take a breath, burying your face, fingers gripping the silk red and black blankets. You don’t see Geto losing it, his hands shaking, cock pulsing as your walls flutter, and he feels it, he’s close already, you’re too tight, you’re too much.

Annoying.

“Don’t wanna show me how much you like it, do you?” You shake your head, gasping for a breath then.

“Hate it, hate you, hate your dick- ah!” He’s on you then, prone position, heavy weight over your much smaller body, taking you over. You’re whimpering helplessly when he finds your clit again, and shoves his cock deep. “S-stop touching it, shit!”

“You like it, huh?” You bite your lip, shaking your head as he fucks you far too intimately, one elbow holding himself up, hand right back on your throat, as he laps up sweat that’s dripping down the curve of your neck. “You love it, me inside you, don’t you monkey?”

“Fuck you.” You manage to breathe out, giving him no satisfaction as you bury your face again, hands gripping the blankets so hard they’re crumpling, screaming as he makes you cum again, as he makes you hate him more.

Suguru loses himself in you, burying his face in your neck, as he had last night, groaning softly as he feels your orgasm surround him, milk him, pulling his fingers back finally giving your overstimulated clit a reprieve. He puts his fingers to his lips then, and when he tastes you!?

Suguru pauses his thrusts, the sweetness of you unlike anything he’s ever tasted, making his cock twitch inside you, and suddenly it’s too intimate, it’s too much, having him inside you, on you, teeth sinking into your neck. It feels far too perfect, and you despise this monster even more for it, for making you weak against him, under him like this.

“God…” He murmurs, confusing you when he presses his lips against your ear, breath tickling it again, making you shiver. “Ready for me to fill you up?”

“Get it d-done.” You squeak out, he yanks you further down on his cock, pumping inside you then, and you swear this psycho cult leader whimpers, it’s almost disorienting hearing it, you barely manage to focus, as your vision swims. When his sexy - fuck it’s not sexy - moan fills your ears, and he’s shoving his thick cock so deep, you can’t stop your body’s reaction.

You’re cumming again, only edging him on further, laughing at you, even as he’s crying out, pulling your hair by the nape of your neck, pumping so deep. “F-fuck… gonna put so much in you, fill you till your stupid little ass can’t walk.”

“Fuck you- ngh!” Your orgasm is just extended as his cum fills you so deep inside, feeling him pulse and spurt so much cum it’s stupid.

“Bratty, annoying, insolent… fuck…” perfect, you feel perfect.

Suguru supposes if he had to be paired with a monkey, you were by far the best, he’d never felt anything like you before, even how you smell, the softness of your skin, everything just draws him in. He tries to shake himself out of the stupor, feeling your aftershocks milking every last drop from him, impulse making him press a kiss on your upper back.

“Don’t do that.” You whisper now, and he pauses himself, why is he kissing your skin, why is he lingering. This isn’t what this is for, it’s for power, it’s for an heir to get the Geto clan off his fucking back.

After that you won’t be needed to breed would you?

Suguru contemplates that for a moment, still laying on you, hoping you don’t get pregnant any time soon, which confuses him more than anything, as you’re gasping for a breath under him, wriggling just so. “You’re heavy, get off me.”

“You’re such a mean little bitch, you know that?” He hops off you then, turning you to your back and shoving you down by your collar bones, your breaths come faster as he looms over you, thin sheen of sweat coating his perfect body.

“A bitch? You expect me to be happy, to worship you? I never will.” You whisper, his fingers itch to touch you more, when he finally pulls back, and sees it, the milky white cum starting to ooze from your little hole. The sight of it ignites something feral in him, as he takes his fingers and scoops it up, your mouth drops open just a bit.

“You’re not even keeping the cum inside you, hmm? Guess I’ll have to help you keep it in.” He shoves his two thick, long fingers in your cunt then, watching as your hole swallows it, and you’re whimpering, so sexy his cock, sticky from you still, twitches again.

“N-not necessary, is this?” You whisper, clearly naive and innocent, it’s him defiling you really, but how can he help himself, when he needs more of you.

“It is very necessary, slutty little cunt wasting it all.”

“Slutty, bet your cult girls are like a - ah!” Suguru is curling his fingers in you again as you speak, making you stutter, when his thumb hits your clit again. “That… part… why do you…”

“Cumming, it’ll help it take.” You frown at him, brows drawing together. “It’s not as if I want you to have pleasure, or work at it, but it’s true.”

“We’re already done now though, can you- f-fuck I…” You’re gushing down his hands, the mix of his own cum and yours making him die to taste it.

“Tsk, so messy, aren’t you?” He slips his fingers out now, putting them inside your mouth, only for you to enjoy this asshole’s taste before you think better and bite the shit out of his fingers, making him scowl as he pulls them back. “Not just weak and useless, you’re stupid. Think I won’t kill you before you have a baby?”

“Worth it to bite your stupid fingers and slap your stupid face.” You sit up as he finally stands, blushing for a moment as you see the wet spot you’ve caused, as you see his cum trailing down his tip. You think wildly about licking it before you stand and turn away, clearing your throat and bending down to get your robes.

“You’re lucky my family needs you around, or I’d send a curse in and kill you in your fucking sleep.” You roll your eyes, adjusting your robes now as you turn, seeing him still shirtless, as he adjusts his own robes.

“Anything else you require of me, husband or Lord Geto- whatever the hell I’m supposed to call you.” He chuckles then, cupping your face, but not sweetly, no he’s squeezing it, violet eyes so dilated they look black, the intensity making your heart falter for a moment.

“Your mouth is just begging to be shut. Maybe if I fuck your throat good enough you’ll lose your voice?” He taunts, and your glare just makes him hard all over again, along with the thought of fucking this insolent mouth of yours. “Nothing to say about that? Get you wet?’

Yes.

“You wish.” He smirks his full lips, trailing his fingers down your waist now.

“You’ll be dripping me all day, won’t you?”

“I sure hope not, it’s uncomfortable and disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You are!” You shove at him now, breaths faster and faster, he loses his smirk, his humor, gripping your wrist bruisingly.

“You’ll be ready for dinner tonight, as well as my meeting tomorrow, you’ll be everywhere I am publicly.”

“Oh joy, can’t wait.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he opens the door, summoning the little bull curse again, who runs up to you now. Suguru’s eyes narrow, as he turns and watches the curse lick your cheek. He’s known the curse to be odd, but the way you giggle, how your face lights up?

He’s seen you scowl, seen tears in your eyes, seen your jaw set and your eyes full of fire, but for the moment you’re just happy, as the curse is nudging at your hand, and he realizes you’re not just a pretty human. You’re fucking beautiful, the kind of girl who would have taken the Suguru of Jujutsu high days by his heart, that would have had him desperate for you.

He’s not that man, but some part of him annoyingly persists, the part that misses Gojo, Shoko, fuck he misses Nanami, so many of his fallen classmates. The rage he holds is usually enough to keep the loneliness at bay, the fact that though he’s surrounded by people who love him, who need him, he’s truly alone. There are no friends, there is no love anymore.

You remind him of a past he aches to forget, when your smile and glittery eyes look at him, before they fall, and you remember yourself, which Suguru needs almost, he doesn’t need to crave happiness for you. A means to an end, perhaps the sex has ruined his fucking brain.

“Could I name him?” You ask, and he wants to smile at you, the smile he used to have, not the cruel psychotic smirk, but instead he just shrugs a broad shoulder.

“If you must, I never gave him one. He’ll keep you…” Safe. “From leaving, but he won’t…” Hurt you. “He’s very calm.”

“I know, I like him a lot. Hmm, I’ll think of a name for you, handsome boy.” You tease him, and then Suguru hears your tummy growl quite loudly, making you flush in embarrassment.

“I’ll have someone show you where the kitchens are.” He says, he hasn’t even contemplated that you need food, and even curse users eat. Clearly he’s been a little too… involved with that insane pussy you think is normal, to worry about you properly functioning.

“Oh thank you I guess… I haven’t eaten since I’ve been here.”

“Ah, that’s… not okay for making a baby.” A baby, the words hit hard then, you know your duty but to think of it… to think of your life being over… to think of bearing this man a baby.

Your tummy lurches even as you’re starving.

“I’ll send the girls up, they’re a little more…” What should he care of your comfort!? “They’re well adapted here, it’s their home.” You nod then, and he walks out, leaving you with this derpy looking curse, body aching from Suguru’s touches, as you sit on the bed, and the curse jumps up for more pets.

Just who was Suguru Geto, how did he get this way?

Should you even care, and would you survive long enough to know if it’s even worth it?

Soon Mimiko and Nanako are giggling, taking each of your hands, sucking on little lollipops and damn near frolicking, as they guide you through each hall of this ridiculous estate. They start asking you more and more questions, and for whatever reason it doesn’t feel malicious, like Suguru, like the others, like the Geto family.

“Dad seems to really think you’re pretty.” Nanako says, and you shake your head with a laugh.

“No way.”

“Have you seen how he stared at you? While you were dancing?” Mimiko asks, and you almost snort.

“Yeah, no, your dad… hates me. Clearly.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.” Nanako says, then points to a kitchen with cooks actively working, the aromas making your tummy growl again. “Go ahead, get whatever you want.”

“It’s all yummy.” Mimiko says, they run over and giggle, grabbing little pieces of different sushis, as the curse licks your hand, you smile a bit at him.

“What if I named you Sashimi?” It lolls its tongue out, head tilting to the side, and you giggle. “I like it though!”

Suguru finds you sitting with his daughters, who are on either side of you, stirring something in him that should not be there. But it’s undeniable, when you smile softly at them, a smile you’d never shoot his direction. Manami comes and tries to kiss him, which he quickly tilts his head away, but not before you catch him, but your eyes avert and you show no emotion.

Do you feel anything towards him but pure hatred and fear? Has he given you any reason to? Do you feel this odd energy, or is it all in Suguru’s head?

“It wouldn’t look right.” He says. Manami is his best and most loyal assistant, but he can’t stand the thought of anyone touching him.

But you.

And would you ever?

Why does he care?

“Then later, Lord Geto?” She asks, and he eyes her for a moment, her breasts apparent in this low cut blazer.

“I think it best I don’t… divert from trying to have an heir with… my…”

“Your wife?” She finishes, laughing a bit, Suguru’s jaw tenses.

“Best to spend the energy there, get it done.”

“As you say, Lord Geto. What’s on the agenda for today?” He starts to speak, but all he can really think is how much he wants you to hit him again, how just that feels like more than he’s had since long ago.

Annoying girl.

*****

Three days later

Over the next few days, Suguru can’t get enough of your pussy, of your face when he makes you cum, of your scent, of your presence. He hates it, how much he wants you all the time, like you’re some leech that’s sunk into his brain. He constantly calls you in for more, now you’re right in his office, he’s fingering you as you sit on his lap, your legs up on the arms of his enormous leather seat.

“You’re close, aren’t you dumb little monkey?” He whispers, you shake your head, jaw clenched when he pulls his fingers out and you whine pathetically. “Oh, need something?”

“Just fuck me, god.” Your legs are shaking as he’s teasing you with his fingers again, circling your clit, his other hand gripping your breast, squishing it in his hand, cock aching to pump you full.

“Sit on my desk.” He orders, husky toned, you struggle to get up, and he laughs cruelly. “Can’t stand huh? Gotta do everything, don’t I?”

He hoists you up, spreading your thighs then, sinking back into his seat as he eyes your perfect pussy, and he’s so tired of holding back, what he’s been dying to do, as he leans over, fingers pressing into the plush of your thighs. Your eyes go wide when you feel his breath on your clit, making you jerk, this mother fucker inhales you, moaning and shutting his eyes.

“What… are you sniffing me!?” You demand, thighs threatening to close, and Suguru exhales, eyes locking on yours.

“I’m going to fuck you with my mouth.” Those words are far too attractive, as your pussy throbs in response, you try to focus, you hate this psycho, you can’t have him further fucking up your head.

“That’s not how babies are made, Suguru.”

“Orgasms help, remember?” You frown, biting your lower lip, it seems too intimate, it seems like too much, as your hands grip his desk, and your hips arch, his lashes lowering, casting shadows on his cheeks.

“I cum anyway, stop acting like you don’t know that.” You look away, hating even admitting it out loud, and he smirks, chuckling and making you tickle again, as he spreads your puffy lips, watching your pussy drool out wetness more and more.

“Try not to scream too loudly.” You snort, rolling your eyes.

“Oh you’re so full of yourself, I doubt- ah!” He swipes the flat of his tongue from your hole, and then when he tastes your honeyed arousal, it’s over for him.

Moaning, he drags you against him now, closer to his face as he swipes his tongue in, and your head falls back, mouth open in a slutty O as he lavishes you, it feels so good you’re not sure you’ve ever enjoyed something this much. Addictive with each stroke, with each breath, the way his teeth hit you, fuck how his straight nose bumps your engorged clit.

Your hands instinctively grip his silky hair, for the first time you’re touching it, glossy strands in your fingers as you try to pull him off, it’s too good, way too good, this can’t be something you do. He’s licking you up and moaning, tastebuds slid inside your fluttering walls, as you desperately cry out, whining and pulling at his hair for him to detatch his mouth.

“What are you doing!?” You manage to squeak out, and he pulls back just a bit, feeling your little pathetic hands pulling on him, as if you could stop him now, that he has your slick all over his lower face.

The sight of Suguru Geto between your thighs, licking his glossy lips, eyes dilated and drunk off your pussy is far too tempting. You feel your pussy clench around nothing, as your breaths come quicker and quicker, and Suguru exhales right on you, smirking as he watches your tiny clit twitch for him in response.

“Eating your pussy, are you so stupid you don’t know what it is?” You bite your lower lip, glaring now.

“I’ve heard of it, I just… Why do you want to? Remember, you don’t want to ‘prep a monkey’ your exact words.”

“Will you shut up and just…” He pulls you back again, and he’s devouring you, no other word for it, the insane way he licks you, drinks you up, the sounds of him inhaling and slurping obscenely in his office, and you find your hands pulling him closer.

As he feels you press your cunt further in his face, he’s done, cock throbbing in his pants and oozing precum out, making him damn near cum as he feels her clenching his tongue. He dares to look up, tilting his head that you’re still yanking on, your thighs trembling on each side of his raven haired head, as you whimper, hiccuping in pleasure, tears falling from your eyes.

“Close, aren’t you?” He whispers, tauntingly, those violet eyes glinting as you shake your head, and he laughs, just the laugh touching you he sees you’re drooling more and more from your pretty pussy. “No?”

“Don’t like it.” You whisper, he smirks and flicks his tongue one more time, ending you, your orgasm washes all over your body until you are cupping a hand on your face to stop your scream, and he moans again, drinking all your cum that’s pouring down out of you.

“Fuck…” He whispers, more to himself than anything, Suguru loves eating pussy but he never thought a pathetic human would taste like you, your heat burning him, he can hardly delatch his mouth even as you pull on him.

“What even… is that…” You weakly manage, and he slips two fingers through your slick, your hands fall weakly when he leans over now, undoing his robes to reveal his ready cock, thick and heavy, slapping his belly button and leaving sticky white residue on his robes.

“Shut it, useless little human.” You can’t find the energy to scowl, your body is still shaking, trying to recover from all the pleasure he’d brought you. You grip his biceps as he sinks into you, so wet he slips in easily, and you’re so sensitive you almost cum when he slips all the way inside.

“Shit…” Is all you manage, you want to tell him- hurry up or - fuck you- maybe - hate you- but for just a moment he’s got your brain too addled, when he starts fucking you, you’re clinging to him, whining, and you hate yourself for it.

He hates you, as he watches you for once pliant, sweet even, fuck what would it be like if you wanted this fully, if you wanted him?

He can’t think like this, no it’s your pretty face and your sweet taste, he can’t stand how bad he wants to kiss your lips as he spreads you over his desk, pumping in and out of your slick cunt over and over. Your thighs grip him, your hands gripping his arms so tightly, when your head falls back, and he’s kissing and licking your pretty throat.

“Shut you up, it is possible.” He whispers meanly in your ear, and you try to focus, as his tip drags on your spot.

“F-fuck y-you.” He smiles, he smiles, loving just how that sounds, a tiny little mewl of words.

“I am fucking you, should thank me.”

“Never.” He groans now, yanking you down, turning you so you’re bent over his desk, feet dangling like you’re nothing, the way he moves you with his strength is heady, exhilarating, not frightening like it should be.

Suguru is shoving his cock back inside, gripping your wrists behind your back. He can’t take how pretty you look, he needs to stop, it’s easier this way. “Won’t thank me for fucking you? Me, a curse user, you a-”

“Shut up and fuck me then.” You glare, turning your pretty face to him, and he does just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck… stupid, pathetic little thing-mnh…” He busts deep inside you, squeezing your wrists so tightly you can’t even feel them, cum filling you to the brim. He exhales as your head rests on the cool wood, and tears fall.

Why did he have to make you enjoy him more?

Suguru turns you and releases you now, you stumble and the fucker doesn’t even catch you, instead he hovers, lips just an inch from yours, as you struggle to gain any senses. “I hate you, Lord Geto.”

Suguru, could you call him Suguru?

“I don’t even hate you, you’re so insignificant.” He whispers, tilting your chin up, imagining having you taste yourself off his mouth. “Hate is even too good for a nothing like you.”

“I have enough hate for both of us.” You whisper back, before stumbling away, righting yourself, hurriedly walking to the door when he murmurs.

“My meeting tomorrow, you’ll be there.”

You just scowl and walk away, detesting the thought of having to be in a room full of psychos that want you eradicated. “Why?”

“You’re my wife, it’s one of your duties.”

“They want me dead.” He scoffs now.

“And you think I don’t?” You stomp off, slamming the door, Suguru groans as he slumps into the chair, burying his head in his arms on the cherry wood desk, thinking of how much he wishes he did want you dead.

*****

“Are you ready for the meeting?” Manami asks, coldly, and you smile at her then, shaking your head.

“You’re so worried about me, why? I don’t want your cult daddy.”

Manami glares now, tossing back her red locks. “Cult daddy!?”

“Yeah, him, you can have him. What do I fucking care? I am sure he still comes to you plenty, and I won’t stop him.” She blinks once more, mouth open in shock.

“You haven’t… you don’t care if he does?”

“Not one bit.”

“Then why hasn’t he-”

“Let’s go, monkey.” You hear now, and he catches sight of you, in a gorgeous white gown that makes your skin glimmer, you’re far, far too beautiful. For a moment he's standing there, stupidly, thinking of just how good your pussy tasted yesterday, thinking of burying his face back against it, before he shakes it off, clearing his throat. “Did I stutter, human?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go then.” You huff, as Suguru’s assistants eagerly set up the stage he’s to be on, and you’re both behind this dumb fucking curtain. “You’re pretentious as fuck.”

“What did you say?” He demands, brows lowering, and you laugh then, shaking your head.

“A stage, a microphone, as if you’re something so profound, and not some angry little fucking emo bitch.” Suguru glares now, smacking you right in the face, instantly hating himself more when you blink rapidly, and he sees the mark on your face.

You’re both silent then, as he just stares at what he did, but you smile suddenly, as he stutters. “I… you…I should-”

“Thank you,” you cut him off then. “For a moment sometimes I forget how fucking horrible you are.” As you turn away, you’re slipping your hair to the other side of your face, so that it’s even more apparent. “So they can see you treat humans how you should, right? Beneath you.”

Suguru’s heart pounds in his chest now, you’ve slapped him, he’s said the nastiest things, you’ve both declared hate. He’s slaughtered fucking villages, but something about his hand print on your cheek feels just too far. What’s he become, what’s he doing, why does he care if you’re hurt? Soon you and all of useless humanity will be dead.

Even if he keeps you around, who would you have? You’d be some toy, a pretty prisoner for his pleasure. You’re nothing, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.

You look at him curiously, as you wait for him to signal for the curtain to lift, standing so damn strong and proud, you remind him of his friends, of people he’s loved and lost. Your resilience in the face of everything, it’s stupid but admirable, fuck he’s admiring you, he’s…

He’s caring for you.

He’s desiring you more than anyone.

He’s upset that he just hurt you, more upset than you clearly are, what do you expect from a monster, but this, but coldness, cruelty. He’d shown you no affection aside from a small brush of his lips on your shoulder, a kiss on your clit, those were sexual. He doesn’t show you anything else but his cruelty.

“Are you going to start?” You ask, voice not even shaken, wearing his smack like a badge of honor, not sensing the inner turmoil. “Need to hit the other one, make it even or something?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You blink then, and he grabs your face, thumb brushing over raised skin, he’s too strong, you’re too pathetic and small. “Useless, weak, stupid little human.”

You go to open your mouth when he slams his lips against yours, you exhale at the sensation, yanking back in confusion at how your lips tingle, how your heart hammers in your ears. You panic as you feel it, something far different than anything before.

You can’t.

“I’d rather you hit me than kiss me.”

“I bet you would.” He drags you back to his lips again, stumbling as the onlookers from behind see what’s unfolding, mad passionate and angry kisses, teeth clicking, as you bite his lower lip till you draw blood, and he laughs at you.

“Don’t fucking kiss me.” You watch as he touches the blood on his lips, hearing a low moan that makes no sense.

“You have something, there is cursed energy, there has to be.” You laugh at him then, outright, as he studies you in the dark.

“There are no excuses for you, I’m all human. If you like anything about me, even if it’s just my pussy, I’m human.”

He curses under his breath, as you right yourself, and he aches to…

Goddamit Suguru Geto wants to apologize.

To a human, a monkey, someone beneath him, the cause of all wrong with the goddamn world. You all cause it all.

Right?

But he can’t live with smacking you now, it makes him sick, he wonders what younger him would think, would say. He wonders what Satoru would think, but then, Satoru’s long since given up on him, he’s sure. The havoc he’s brought for the past eight years alone is unforgivable, he wonders… is he going too far? But he can’t make those thoughts tangible, not now.

“You can go to your rooms if you wish.” Is all he says, and you look at him in shock again. “If you don’t… feel well now.”

“Why would you care how I feel? I’m a tool.” As you spit his own words back at him, he can do nothing but agree.

“Then let’s begin.” The curtains lift, and it’s a different Suguru than you know, he’s laughing and joking, and pointing, as he spews the most vile things about humans he can, and you’re just sitting there next to him. The few humans he allows look almost as terrified as you do, as you tremble and try to hold it together.

When it’s finally over, you go to head to your chambers, and he pauses you, a hand on your waist, you look up at him curiously. “I’ll have you tonight.”

“Again?” You whisper, he drags you now, away from your chamber, you blink in confusion as he pulls you further down the halls. Mimiko and Nanako wave at you curiously, and he pats their heads and murmurs a fond good night, before taking you by your wrist once more. “Why your room?”

“Why ask endless questions, human?” You go to protest as you enter his room for the first time, but you can’t speak once he’s got you against the door, barred with his arms. “What exactly are you?”

“I’m a human, Lord Geto.”

“That’s what you call me, huh?” Your jaw locks, when he cups your face, right where he hit you prior, you can still feel the shock, the sting.

“I could call you an emo bitch, but you like to smack for that, and I’d like my jaw intact.” He exhales now, forehead resting against yours, once again, too intimate, too close. “Don’t kiss me again, if I can ask anything.”

“You think you get to ask things from me?” You shake your head. “Hate kissing me, huh?”

“Despise it. More than anything.” His lips are a breath away from yours, when he turns you, having you face the door, hands pressed on the cool wood, and he’s slipping your dress up your hips.

“Spread your thighs.” You keep them together, frustrating him to no end.

Imagine if you wanted him.

If this was your choice.

“Fine, stupid little monkey.” He spreads them for you, finding you soaking wet, clicking sounds as his fingers pump in and out, and your head falls back, as you moan out loud.

“I hate you, Suguru.” You whisper softly, he dies then, at the use of his name, from your perfect lips, shoving two fingers inside you to the knuckle, you’re drooling down his hands, down his sleeves.

“I know you do, it’s what humans do, it’s how you create them. Fuck you’re soaked.” You blink as you register his words, as he turns you again, dropping to his knees, you gasp at the sight.

“I’ll cum without it. You don’t have to.” You whisper, knowing this man’s tongue makes you stupid, him on his knees makes you stupid, you can barely function when he puts a leg on his broad shoulder.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up I wondered? But then I realized, this is the only time you do.” He buries his face against your hot, eager pussy again, and you don’t even try to fight it, your head smacks the wall as his mouth finds you.

“It’s the only time I don’t h-hate you completely…” He chuckles, and you damn near laugh at the insanity, when he presses a kiss on your inner thigh, biting it between his teeth as you’re trembling.

“Mutually beneficial.”

“That’s it. The only reason.”

“Right.” He buries his face against you, moaning as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth, and you’re cumming then and there, pulling on this psycho’s silly locks, as he drinks every bit of cum you produce, dying for you to scream his name.

Insanity.

You’re insanity.

He’s humming as he’s got your little clit in his mouth, looking at you under long lush lashes as you cum so hard you nearly fall, clinging to him barely. He drags you down then, slamming you on the floor and shoving his cock fully in, groaning and kissing you once more, you shove at his chest.

“Fuck me, don’t kiss me, d-don’t.”

“You should taste yourself, stupid little pathetic bitch. How good you taste, what you fucking do.” You glare, but he’s kissing you again, as he fucks you, and it’s overwhelming, the dizziness, how good it is, how perfect he feels. “Prefer me to spit it in your mouth?”

“What!?” He spits then, as he holds your mouth open, chuckling darkly.

“Swallow.”

Why do you obey!?

It’s hard to hate a man who eats pussy and fucks like the god he thinks he is, though you’d never fucking let him know.

Suguru can’t get enough of you after that night, not even fucking close, and soon you’re in a whole cult meeting, and you’re cockwarming him. You hate this - you want to hate it at least- you tell yourself, the fact that you’re casually in his lap in front of hundreds of followers, as he’s spewing hatred, all while being shoved deep in your pussy.

You’re soaking him down to his balls, his thighs, as his veiny cock just pulses inside you, unmoving, and you feel how hot your cheeks are, your ears, trying desperately not to move. Suguru hears someone ask about you then, referring to you as a ‘monkey’ and he glares, before flinging a curse in their direction, cock twitching in your tight entrance.

All of this mind you while he has a goddamn creepy one eyed curse just standing with a morbid grin. This psycho holds a meeting while he’s buried eight inches deep in your cunt, with curses and curse users all around, not missing a single word. You look at him and hate him more, and you still hate him, even when you’re left alone, and he finally moves you up and down him.

“F-fuck… feel you… stupid, pathetic pussy so wet?” You shake your head when he lifts you off and spins you, putting you on top of him. He’s fucking up into you now, grabbing your ass as you cling to him on his plush cushions, and the angle feels so good your eyes roll back, head lolling to the side.

“F-fuck you, Suguru.” He groans at that, at his name, picking you up and slamming him down on his sensitive cock, as you eye the creepy ass curse, mumbling - ‘it’s f-fucking watching’.

Suguru laughs then, not a dark chuckle, it’s… real, as he brushes your hair back and flips you on your back for a moment, studying you with mirth in his eyes. For just one moment, as the curse disintegrates, you think… Is there more to him, is that glimmer a piece of who he used to be?

No, there can’t be.

“A whole room watched you sitting on my cock, but you mind the curse?” He’s… being teasing? You just glare, and he laughs again, enjoying it too much, enjoying you far too much.

He should worry about that, but you look too pretty, especially when he folds you in a mating press, making you suck in a breath, eyes wide on him. “This is how babies are best made, how you'll take my cum.”

You just nod weakly, while he's slamming into you, even though you've taken him many times now, the stretch and how deep he hit were too much to take. Your hands grip his back, nails digging in, and he groans at it, as he folds you under his weight, his full lips parted, eyes boring into yours, watching as you struggle to take him.

“You should beg me, for my cum inside you.”

“Hah- n-never.” He glares, pressing harder on the backs of your thighs, fucking you rougher and rougher, until you’re both shattering messes, and he’s cum so deep you feel him everywhere. You shove at him when he lays atop of you after a moment, your thighs falling to the side, as you try to get yourself together. “Beg you? You’re even more delusional than I thought.”

“You can’t keep lying.” He brushes your hair back, jaw locking as he studies your fucked out face. “You fucking love it, me inside you. Bet you have never felt anything better in your shitty human existence.”

Your teeth clench together. “You’re a conceited, arrogant, psychotic, delusional man.”

“That’s all?” He asks, raising a brow.

“With a good dick, yes, that doesn’t matter. How long till you kill me? Till you kill everyone?” He pauses, watching your perfect breasts heave up and down, as your little hands now push on his chest. “Sure, I enjoy it, what do you care, Suguru?”

“I… you just… why do…” How do you make him stutter, a man like him, a puny little girl like you have him on his knees, have him obsessed, you’re all he can even fucking think of.

You can’t fall into this, into him, with his beautiful face and his sad fucking eyes, you can’t fix this man, there’s no fixing the psychotic nature of him. As badly as you want to, as much as you feel that you keep in, that’s brimming to the surface as you lean up on your elbows, and tears make their way out of your eyes, falling down your cheeks.

Suguru pauses, as you can’t hold it back anymore, as he’s pulling back, out of you, making a mess with all of your fluids, making you feel empty. “What does it matter if I enjoy something when I’ll be dead soon? Will you… kill our baby if it’s human too?”

Suguru scowls now, on his knees, as you hastily cover up, hands shaking. “What the fuck do you mean, powers are genetic-”

“No, you don’t know that. What if one kid has em, one doesn’t huh? Gonna kill one of my kids?” He blinks rapidly, opening his mouth as you stand, and he looks up at you. “You better hope I’m long dead if you do, because I will make sure that’s the last thing you ever do.”

“Will you fucking stop?” He is standing now, grabbing your shoulders, as you shake your head, heart ripping into pieces.

“I can’t feel things for you.” You say, more to yourself than him. “Yes, pathetic monkeys feel things. As you said, too much. We cause them, yeah?”

He gulps now, hands squeezing your shoulders too tightly. “Yes, you cause them, all of it. If not for humanity, then-”

“Then what would you do? If a kid doesn’t have any cursed energy?”

“I wouldn’t kill them.” He whispers, and you laugh without humor.

“No, I can’t believe that. Where’s your line, Suguru Geto? Where does this end for you, for anyone?” He pauses as a human girl destroys him with her looks, when you cup his face for just a moment, making his heart falter. “That Suguru I met, he was sweet. I actually had a crush.” Your words speak to something, he’s transfixed, refusing to believe it.

“You were staring at Gojo.” You shake your head and smile.

“That’s what you saw. Yeah, your friend is something to look at for sure. But no, it was you that day I had eyes on. Felt butterflies.” You can’t believe you’re saying it, that he’s… listening, for just a moment. You sigh. “Do you ever miss him? The guy that you were?”

Yes.

No.

He can’t.

Suguru says nothing as you drop your hands, tugging your robes closed. “Can you summon Sashimi?”

“You named it fucking Sashimi?” You glare, a little back to normal, but he dresses, summoning him for you, as you sigh a bit.

“I’m really sore, okay? Can I go rest?” Suguru scoffs, feigning as if he could care less, when he wants you again, more of you, all of you, like a black hole that’s sucking him in deeper and deeper.

“Can’t handle dick with your puny little body?” He taunts, instead of just… Saying it.

“Not this much. You could get your-”

“I don’t go to anyone.” You blink in surprise, as he confirms what you had assumed a bit from Manami.

“Why?”

Suguru scoffs, rolling his violet eyes. “Why!? I don’t have to explain myself to a pathetic-”

“Yeah, never mind. Come on Sashimi.” You walk off, leaving him to swipe a hand across his face, your scent is all over him, your slick still on his cock, his fingers still taste like you.

“Fuck.” He grumbles, as his room spins, as he’s covered in you, consumed by you, wondering…

Did he miss who he was?

No, surely not. He sets his jaw, you’ve taken so much of his mind, and he has much to do, heading to his room alone, but he can’t focus, all he does is stare at his ceiling, thinking of you, of your words. Your face, your body, your eyes that see right fucking through him.

God, Suguru hates you.

A/N LMAO why did I think I could do anything short? I need four parts now not three my baddd babess lol. But I hope you're enjoying psycho whipped Sugu- the monkey thing should lessen as he gets more pathetic hehe. Tysm for all the comments and love !?! I am excited to see what ya'll think hehe

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[quickestgold]

Okay but LISTENNNNN. Reader and Jack having feelings for eachother but he pulls back (she’s still new , too young , etc) he’s been cold and she decided to take that day off work and go to Pitt Fest and …oh no…. (Still lives but it’s BAD)

Strip Her: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: Amidst a mass casualty event, Jack’s medical instincts clash with his personal life when the woman he loves risks her own life to save another. Is he about to watch you die?

Warnings: Canon-typical depictions of trauma/gun violence, mass shooting, GSWs, blood; Reader basically does what Santos did, but in the field hah! > No "good girl" energy from Jack, just anger for putting yourself in danger lol

Word count: 2k+

A/n: Thanks so much for sending this in, so sorry it's taken so long!! Lmk what you think!! ♡

This is not exactly in our mass casualty plan.

Blood is for the ones we can save.

Ten other patients will die if you put all of your energy into saving this girl.

Jack’s own words haunt him, playing through his mind on a torturous loop.

He looks at Robby, pleading for something. Then back at you, watching you fight for your life.

"Hi, handsome."

"Wanna come over after your shift?"

Read.

You huff out a humorless laugh. The old man really left you on Read.

You know Jack isn't a big texter, making the age-gap between you hilariously obvious. But today it gets to you.

Jack isn't your immediate superior, but you wonder if this is why he's been acting cold. More than usual.

The ER staff love to talk. Of course they do. But neither Jack nor you care about that. You’ve made it clear there’s an undeniable connection between you.

So, you’ve acted on it.

The last couple of months have been bliss, an unspoken understanding of exclusivity.

But now, Jack's been distant. Swapping shifts, avoiding working with you.

Was it something you did?

You've already double texted him today, wishing him a good shift and letting him know that Robby's asked you to 'babysit'.

How embarrassing. But you draft another.

"Heading to Pitt Fest now, will be up for some fun when you get home... ;)"

You delete the last part. God. Don't show your age!

"Heading to Pitt Fest now, see you soon."

You hit send.

Code Triage. Emergency Department Now.

The mass casualty event is in full swing. Patients come and go. Green. Yellow. Pink. Red. Black and White.

It's a haze of coordinated chaos.

Jack keeps trying to reach you in-between treating patients, leaving you countless voicemails.

Of course he would.

"Hey, Y/N. It's Jack. Call or text me the second you get this message, okay?" His voice trembles. "She's not picking up."

"I can't reach Jake either." Robby mutters.

"I'm sure they're ok." Dana offers gently.

Time slips away, minutes turning into hours. Their shift was supposed to end a while ago, but they've stopped keeping track.

"I'm going to check on triage." Robby announces, stepping out to help Shen and Ellis assess incoming patients. "No pulse. Black and white. Pink zone. Strong pulse. Unresponsive. No obvious GSW. Red zone GSW left chest."

A familiar voice cuts through the noise. "She was talking when we first got into the truck. T- There was so much blood."

"Jake!" Robby's at his side in a flash.

"Robby! Leah got shot. It's really bad...", Jake cries out.

Robby is at a loss for words, his medical instincts fighting the fatherly ones in a gruesome match.

"I've been putting pressure on the wound the whole time", Jake stutters.

"That's good. You're good", Robby reassures him, more for himself than Jake.

The team rushes Leah into the ER. Jake follows closely behind. "You can't stay with her. There's no room and we need to work on Leah right now", Robby says firmly, getting to work immediately.

Jack spots them and hurries over, panic rising in his chest.

"Where’s Y/N?" he asks, voice tight.

"I- I don’t know," Jake mutters. "She stopped Leah’s bleeding, then went back in."

"What do you mean?" Jack growls, trying to keep his voice calm.

Robby looks up, taking in Jake's words. The lines on his forehead growing deeper.

"People were screaming. The shots were so loud. She- She went back to see if others needed help." Jake's eyes well up, before he is wheeled off to get treated.

Of course you would put someone else's safety over your own.

Others might see it as noble, but Robby and Jack think it's reckless.

They exchange a look, knowing there's nothing they can do to reach you. To make sure you're okay.

Jack is called to another patient, while Robby proceeds to work on Leah.

Despite their best efforts, it's not enough.

Minutes pass. Jack watches Robby closely, his desperation becoming more evident by the second. Dana gives Jack a knowing look, recognizing the only person who can reach Robby right now is him.

Jack steps closer, glasses off, his voice gentle.

"The bullet tore through her heart", he says softly, giving Robby time to process.

"Anyone else with a wound like this is pronounced dead in the field. You can't keep up with the blood loss. If she was our only patient, we'd do a thoracotamy, maybe ECMO. But even then, I doubt we'd get her back." Jack's words hang heavy in the air, but he continues.

"We're gonna lose ten other patients if you put all your efforts into saving this girl." Jack doesn't let it show, but it pains him to see Robby hurting like this.

Robby does one final pulse check. But Leah's heart is no longer beating, the realization shattering his own.

"Okay, we're done", Robby whispers, breaking.

"We stopped at 19:47", Dana declares. "Move her to Pedes?", she asks gently.

Robby just nods.

"You want me to go with you to talk to Jake?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, thanks. I got it."

But another gurney is wheeled in. Robby notices first.

"Jesus Christ", he mutters. "What's going on?"

"Female. 30s. GSW to the right inguinal region. Retroperitoneal bleed", Dr. Mohan declares. But there's someone else kneeling at the end of the gurney, holding the patient's leg up. Robby and Jack's eyes widen, when they meet yours.

"The bullet must have tracked north and hit the external illiac", you state nonchalantly, ignoring the stunned looks from your colleagues.

It was supposed to be your day off.

"Dr. Y/LN did a REBOA in the field to stop the bleeding", Samira continues.

"You did what?!" Robby gasps, incredulous but unable to hide his pride.

Jack is by your side in an instant. "Are you shitting me?"

"Hello to you too, Dr. Abbot", you smile weakly, still focused on the patient’s wound.

Another time, your smile would’ve lit a spark. Not now.

Jack's anger is palpable.

You’ve seen it before, his cold, stone-faced demeanor, always one existential crisis away from breaking. But never directed at you.

"Are you hurt?" Jack’s voice is dangerously low.

He's scared.

Robby and Jack scan your blood-soaked clothing. You quickly dismiss their concern.

"Uncontrollable bleeding from a pelvic artery, no other options. I blew up a balloon in the aorta to stop the bleed. Going in a few inches, zone three, below the kidney. I just needed to hit the femoral artery."

You hesitate, but go for it anyway.

"Piece of cake", you grin, weaker than usual, but you hope they don't notice. They do.

"Radial's stronger." Mel confirms.

Robby and Jack both notice your uneven breathing but chalk it up to the stress and trauma you've experienced.

"Also, GSW to the chest, left hypochondriac region. Probable internal bleeding", you continue.

"No. That's not true-", Samira objects.

You direct everyone's attention to your own chest, your breathing becoming erratic.

"What?!" Jack's voice cracks, disbelief, shock and fear hitting him all at once.

You feel like you can hear your own heartbeat, the ER growing eerily quiet at your confession.

"Okay. Let go of her leg", Robby orders in an intimidating tone.

"Gurney!" Jack barks.

"I need to lock the balloon first." You stare directly into Jack's eyes, knowing he won't budge. You turn to your friend and mentor, pleading.

"Robby." He knows you're right.

"Do it." Robby nods, ordering Whittaker to check the wound once you're done.

"BP's 110, by palp", Donnie announces.

Jack remains frozen, his mind racing a million miles a minute.

"The balloon can stay up for an hour max. Get IR and Vascular on the case." Robby directs, before drawing everyone's attention back to you.

Your patient is stable.

You've done what you can.

But the blood loss is catching up with you.

"I- I think it's a through-and-through. My back hurts like hell and my legs feel funny." Jack snaps out of his trance, his training kicking in.

Robby lifts your top, shocked at the severity of the injury. Jack shuts his eyes, unable to stomach the sight.

It must be bad.

But it doesn't hurt too much.

Not a great sign.

"Okay. Stabilize her", Robby orders, multiple hands are on you immediately, steadying you. Grabbing the base of your neck, your shoulders and hips, securing you in place.

You're still sat on the gurney, but have now let go of the patient's leg.

"Strip her", Jack commands, voice low and firm, eyes dark and unreadable.

You try to lighten the mood. "Gee, buy me dinner first, won't you?"

A few giggles from the team, but Jack's lips are tightly pressed together in a fine line, facing downwards.

Dana cuts through your top, leaving only your bra. Unusual. But you're relieved to not flash your coworkers. You'd rather like to maintain the mysterious vibe you've got going on.

"Cowards", you tease. More chuckles, but worry growing on everyone's faces.

You whisper to Jack, "I'm sorry."

He doesn't respond. Can't look at you. Instead he orders a chest tube and a unit of blood.

A sharp gasp rips through you, the weight on your chest suddenly making it hard to breathe. "Fuck, that hurts." Any last traces of playfulness vanish, replaced by something else.

Fear.

Jack realizes he has to save his anger for later. "Hey. It's okay", a slight smile now tugging at his lips. "I've seen you worse", but the vulnerability in his voice betrays him.

Shit. It must be really bad. He's cracking jokes now?

Your anxiety spikes.

Is Jack about to watch you die?

You shiver at the thought. Or maybe it's the blood loss. Probably both.

Your vision blurs. Your thoughts get foggy.

"J-Jack?" You're not sure he hears you. Or anybody really. Did the words even come out?

Your eyes flutter shut. There are no more thoughts.

Only darkness.

Robby orders Jack to step back, the roles tragically reversed.

This is not exactly in our mass casualty plan.

Blood is for the ones we can save.

Ten other patients will die if you put all of your energy into saving this girl.

Jack’s own words haunt him, playing through his mind on a torturous loop.

He has been distant with you. But not because of your age, or your careers.

No, it's because letting you in means risking losing you and he knows he can't survive that kind of pain. He’s seen too much death, too much loss. And loving you only makes that fear stronger.

He looks at Robby, pleading for something. Then back at you, watching you fight for your life.

"I know." Robby is laser-focused, but shudders at the thought of Jack up on that roof again.

Painfully aware of the inevitable cost of losing you.

They won't. They can't.

Monitors and machines beep in a faint rhythm.

You wake, eyes heavy. A familiar figure is propped up in the armchair beside your bed.

He looks like shit.

Jack's wearing the same bloodstained scrubs, dark circles beneath his eyes, hair dishevelled. On second thought... it's a look.

"Hi, handsome", you whisper, unsure if it’s the relief of being alive, the pain meds or just seeing Jack, but a wave of comfort floods you.

He leans in, eyes wide with tenderness.

"Hi, beautiful."

His gaze radiates a warmth that kept you alive, even when your skin grew cold.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is soft. So unbelievably soft. The anger has subsided, but you know there’s a conversation you’ll have another day.

He takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently.

"Peachy", you exhale, giving him a warm and genuine smile. He returns it, his shoulders relaxing more with every steady breath you take.

You hesitate, but finally go for it. "So, about you leaving me on Read." Your smile turns into a familiar smirk. "You know only old people leave voicemails, right?"

Jack's breath catches in his throat, caught off guard. He chokes out a strangled laugh.

"You're unbelievable", he says, before leaning down, his lips brushing gently over yours.

The grip this man has on me I swear... Also, I'm still in shock from ep13 and I fear it's only getting worse... Jack being so rational about letting Leah go was So Painful, so writing this was very cathartic. Pls comment/share your thoughts below. ♡

[pochaccoups]

things you do that make svt bust quick (nsfw)

seungcheol —; tell him how good he’s doing

he’s a leo male… please stroke his ego.

tell him how you love his cock, how big he is, how it hits so deep inside you. tell him “right there,” and “keep going,” and to do it “just like that.”

stroke his possessive side too. tell him no one else can fuck you like he can, no one else can stretch you out so good, no one else can make you cum like he does. tell him that your pussy is made for him only.

be loud for him. god, he loves hearing you moan. say his name, beg for more, sob, whimper, gasp for him. don’t be shy about it. it’ll only be a matter of time before you butter him up enough to make him cum.

jeonghan —; beg

everyone knows yoon jeonghan likes having people at his mercy. he gets a little unhinged when he has power over someone—so imagine what he gets like when you’re writhing on his cock, gasping his name so sweetly, your eyes glimmering with tears as he fucks you hard.

“what is it, pretty?” he asks, and like the devil he is, he slows the movement of hips, pulling out of you until his tip barely kisses your also weeping hole. it’s torture for him too, to leave the hot, tight haven that is your cunt, but to him it’s worthwhile.

“wanna cum, hannie,” you whimper.

“hm… i don’t know if i should let you yet,” he says, dipping back inside just an inch. years of him being yours means you don’t miss the tiny strain in his voice that betrays his perfectly collected demeanour.

“please, hannie, please, please, please, let me cum. i’ve been so good,” you sob, squeezing your thighs where they rest on his hips.

you watch as a switch flips in his eyes within a millisecond. a grin lights up his face and he shudders, and he’s sliding back inside you, fucking in and out of you harder and faster than before. safe to say it doesn’t take long for either of you to cum after that.

joshua —; make eye contact

his pretty doe eyes make staring into them your favourite thing in the world, and if you asked him his favourite pastime, he’d tell you that it was gazing into your irises.

it’s also his biggest weakness. from the way you’ve got your mouth wrapped around his dick, throat gagging even though you’re only halfway down it, joshua feels his sanity slipping away. his fingers curl into the bedsheets below as he watches you work him, revels in the warmth of your tongue sliding up and down his shaft.

when your eyes flick up to meet his he doesn’t stand a chance. not with how glimmering they are, brimming softly with tears, yet swimming with adoration. with worship.

heat washes over his whole body, he’s gasping, and the salty warmth of his release pools on your tongue.

jun —; put his fingers in your mouth

when junhui gets inside you he has a one-track mind. he becomes rapt with pleasure, drunk from the warm squeeze of your pussy around him, focused on nothing but the sensation of you, the sight of you under him, the sound of you in his ears.

the effect you have on him is dangerous, because you’re equally obsessed with him as he is with you, and you’re not afraid to show him.

and you love his hands, he knows you do—knows how you love his slender fingers and their soft touches all over you, inside you. your brain is cloudy, fogged by lust when you take him by his wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. your eyes sparkle as your lips wrap around his index finger, your soft tongue swirling around it.

jun’s mouth parts with awe, his eyes growing round. a second later, he stills inside you with a gasp of your name, like he’s praying to you, all the while you’re sucking on his finger like a devil.

hoshi —; scratch him

he’s a little bit of a freak, and a masochist too.

when he’s got you folded in half, hitting all the right spots inside you, you cling to him in every way you can—fingers grabbing at his biceps, his shoulders. one particular stroke of his hips has you squealing.

your nails sink into his skin, crying out his name as you rake them down the toned planes of his back. the second you do, soonyoung is grunting, hips stilling, cock twitching as a sticky warmth suddenly floods your cervix.

the worst part about it is how he always has the stupidest, most shit-eating smug grin on his face when he examines your damage in the bathroom after, and you know that if he could, he would post the selfies he takes in the mirror all over instagram. what’s even worse though? seeing your marks makes him hard again.

wonwoo —; cry

you’re such a sensitive little thing and wonwoo adores you. one orgasm on his fingers and you’re already overstimulated—“but baby, i haven’t even put my cock in you yet,” he’ll coo.

like it’s your fault you have a boyfriend with skilled fingers and a skilled tongue and who knows you inside and out like the back of his hand, who knows where to touch you and how hard and what pace makes you writhe the most.

by the time he does get inside you, you’re gasping and whining and clawing at him, tears springing to your eyes because he’s so big and so deep, but the stretch is so addictive that it’s dizzying. his voice is low and husky as he mutters to you a mixture of teases and praise, calls you his pretty girl and then laughs at sensitive you are, pretends he’s not on the verge of coming from the sound of your choked gasps.

your belly starts to pulse with that familiar heat and by then you’re keening for him, whimpering a mixture of his name and endless pleas as it starts to become too much. your sobs go straight to his cock, and it’s only a matter of time before he reaches his climax, and his gasps of pleasure harmonise with your own cries.

woozi —; pull his hair

he’s been growing his hair out. after all your begging, he finally listened. in a way, though, it’s backfired a little on you, because the longer it gets the more insane you become. and the thing is you never expected him to let it get to his shoulders—and still he doesn’t plan on cutting it. well, good. you would kill him if he did.

when his face is between your legs you’re nothing short of a feral animal—your hips bucking wild against his mouth, your legs trembling on his shoulders, your fingers, of course, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. he makes you whine when he pulls away from your needy, sticky cunt to tsk at you, tells you to cut it out and keep your hands to yourself. (it’s because he’s about to cream his pants).

when he bends you in half beneath him, ruts into you hard and fast and relentless, you need leverage. your hands land on the back of his neck, fingertips grazing at his roots, then one slam of his hips into yours has his cock bumping against the most sensitive spot inside you and your grasping at his hair and crying his name so desperately. no longer can he hold back, strained groans slipping past his lips as he lets go inside you.

dokyeom —; hold his hand

a sentimental sweetheart, seokmin is an utter romantic who thinks that being inside of you, whether in your mouth or your pussy, is intimacy in its purest form. now imagine showing him just how much more intimate things can get.

he’s losing his mind at the feeling of your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, the way you swallow his length down making him see stars. he can’t bare to look at you—he needs to focus on taking deep breaths so that he doesn’t cum straight down your throat. then he feels you grabbing at one of his hands, lacing your fingers together, and no amount of deep breathing can stop him from releasing.

and when he fucks you it’s no different—it’s him in near tears, whimpering your name between incoherent words over and over, and as soon as you take his hand in yours and your fingers wrap around his, there’s nothing else he can do but succumb to his own pleasure.

mingyu —; take control

he’s big and strong; strong enough to put you into whatever position he wants, to make you cum at his command, to do just as he pleases with you.

but that’s exactly why he likes it when you slap him around a little.

you can’t exactly bend him into doggy or use your weight to keep him pinned to the mattress, but you can sit yourself pretty on his cock and ride him teasingly slow. you can tell him he’s not allowed to touch you or you’ll stop moving. you can tell him to kiss you, to go slower, to go harder.

you can sit up and put a hand around his throat, still your hips, and tell him he can fuck you himself if he wants to cum. and he’ll do just that—and as soon as you utter the words, he’s gone, whining out curses as he fills you up in white, warm spurts.

minghao —; whisper in his ear

minghao often tells you how he adores your voice. when you talk to him he’s entranced, and he’s always been more of a listener than a talker, and it’s perfect because you always have so much to say, and minghao will listen to every last word of yours.

your voice—minghao’s kryptonite, his achilles’ heel, his undoing and, oh, the way you moan for him when he’s got you on his cock is enough to make his heart stop beating. the perverted part of him wishes he could record you, hide the file away on his phone and listen to you when he’s overseas and he can’t call you. maybe he’ll ask you about that, if he can find the courage.

the final blow is when you’re getting close. you lean in, right next to his ear, so close that your breath sends shivers along his skin. “please, hao, i’m so close,” you whisper, yet you still sound so desperate and depraved. “you are too, right? cum for me, please. i’ll cum for you too.”

so he does just that—minghao gives in and lets his orgasm wash over him, fingertips drawing circles on your clit until mere moments later he hears the sound of your own cresting pleasure and he feels himself getting hard again.

seungkwan —; wrap your legs around him

it’s a fact that seungkwan loves to be close to you. if he could, he would crawl inside of your skin and live in your heart. but since he can’t, constant physical touch is the next best thing.

he likes to think he has relatively good self-control…most of the time. like when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, he’s incredible at keeping in rhythm, fucking into you at the most perfect pace for both you and him, hitting the spot that makes your back arch off the bed.

somehow he never sees it coming—when your arms are snaked around his neck and you’re holding onto him for dear life as he takes you to heaven, and your legs wrap around his waist so that you can pull him in impossibly deep. then you bring his face to yours, and you have the most irresistible little pout on your face when you make your request. “cum inside me, seungkwannie?”

and it’s not like he has much choice with the way you’ve trapped him inside of you, but that’s the very reason why the next second he’s pumping you full, because when it’s you, how is he supposed to have any self-control?

vernon —; touch yourself

it’s not like vernon can last long in general. he thinks you’re the hottest thing alive and he’s so enamoured with you that it’s too much for him sometimes, but you best believe he’ll put his all into holding out just for you.

there are times, however, where he’s just a man. and what’s a man to do when he has a goddess riding his dick? when your tits look so pretty, bouncing in his face, when you have that fucked out look in your eyes, when you feel like heaven and hell all at once?

and what the fuck is a man to do when your hand drifts down between your legs, to your aching clit, and your fingers start to rub it in circles, or when your other hand grasps one of your tits and tugs at one of your own nipples? and your sweet pussy clenches around him so tight when you do, clamps down on him in an hot, wet embrace, so what else can he do but cum?

dino —; say ‘i love you’

another sweet, sentimental boy. lee chan is head over heels for you, enamoured, obsessed, smitten, infatuated with you… the list of things he is around you is endless.

it shows in the way he fucks you—always takes his time with you, never rushes taking you apart. every touch of his is intentional, meant to set you both ablaze. when he eats you out to prep you for his cock, he has to try not to cum in his pants from how pretty you are.

where he really doesn’t stand a chance however is when he’s bottomed out inside you, as close as he can possibly be with you—so close you’re practically one. the sweetest sounds fall from your lips, spurring on his expert thrusts.

his forehead is plastered to yours, the pair of you revelling in one another’s sweat and gasps for air. “i love you,” you confess gently, and chan falls over the edge of pleasure not a moment later.