#so they just told me to think if I really needed it

[nightingale-prompts]

Phantom is so Moody

"I don't even understand what I am. I'm a clone so I can't age. But what does it even mean to be a clone? I'm not 100% Superman but I'm still nit like him or Lex? I wasn't born like a normal person so does that mean I don't have a soul?" Kon ranted.

Danny the multi-dimensional godlike being the team had contracted into being their aid slowly shuffled from under his mountain of blankets and pillows and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" He drawled lazily. "Of course you have a soul.

"But I'm like artificially made in a lab." Kon retorted.

"And? So what? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" Danny challenged " Hey stupid, everything has a soul. You, your friends, animals, a tree, a fucking blade of grass, even a kid's toy. If it has energy it has a soul. I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean literally. Souls are a real tangible thing and I will eat your soul if you don't put some food on my sacrificial altar. Also, get therapy."

Kon much like the others had gotten used to Danny. He was mostly all bark and no bite.

As Kon headed to the kitchen to get the god his post-nap snack he heard Danny speak again.

"Also, you can age. Who told you that you couldn't? Age isn't anything but the slow decay of atoms. You are aging. You just aren't changing because your body is so new. Given enough years it'll start to show. Then you'll be no different from anyone else. Granted Superman's race also grows differently. You are so fucking dramatic. You are fine the way you are." The godling huffed, "Ancients, you guys are annoying. You treat existence like it's torture and you'll bearly understand how blessed you are to exist simply because of how un-ideal it is. Look shit sucks, it sucks most of the time but human suffering is caused by humans. You are torturing yourself with all these what-ifs and angst. Just stop caring."

Danny wasn't saying all this to be comforting. He rarely does stuff like that. If anything he was ambivalent to Kon. It still made him feel better though. One thing you could trust about Danny was that he was honest. He could even be helpful considering his job was to be a living encyclopedia of information from beyond the pale. He has always been an asset if you can wake him up from his days long naps.

****

"You sleep all the time." Raven complained.

The Titans were here this time. They needed something from Danny. Something about having to seal a threat away.

"Just death being shy." Danny mumbled curling up on his raised platform. "Now go away."

Raven pulled out a smudge stick of white sage when Nightwing silently held up a hand to stop her.

"Phantom, look we need your help. This issue needs your assistance. We just want info on how to seal this threat properly." Nightwing said.

"Ask Constantine."Danny whined back as he shuffled deeper into his blanket cocoon.

"Unfortunately he can't help. This is Darkseid—"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Immediately he was wide awake. You see there are few things to stir Phantom to his full attention. He isn't inactive out of pure laziness. He lets the hero do their thing and he helps when he thinks it's appropriate. But he will not let anything or anyone harm the planet

*****

"He really doesn't like people," Impulse whispered to Aqualad.

"I still don't understand how the Justice League managed to get in contact with him let alone sign a contract with him. " Aqualad answered.

"Flash said he was pretty easy to convince. Hell he said that Phantom was so docile he let Wonder Woman carry him around. Now he'll practically snap of your hand if you touch him."

"Emm...think about it he must have just been really weak back then. If he was injured badly enough maybe he—"

"Stop talking."

*****

"I still don't trust you. What is your game?" Raven said sternly.

A being with origins like Phantom couldn't really be helping them out of the kindness of his heart. What did he gain from this contract.

"You assume you are worth games."

"Were you sent by my father?"

"Your father, Trigon? That nuisance? A petty demon like that having any say over me? I'd crush him if I ever saw him. He claims to have conquered a billion worlds. That alone makes me want to destroy him. No one OWNS a world. If anything I own all worlds. No one touches my universe, all universes are mine. And if people would just stop touching my stuff I wouldn't be here." Phantom growled furiously.

"So you are just like him." Raven hissed in anger.

"Like I said. I own it. It is my domain. My realm. So no one can destroy it. No one can control it. I make it. Every star, every planet, every person is a product of chaos. It is the universal law. I keep my chaos in check. Trigon, Darkseid, Anti-Monitor—I don't care. If they touch what is mine I will destroy them."

"Anti-Monitor?"

Phantom curled his lip in anger then relaxed.

"He is someone you don't need to be concerned about. Not anymore." Phantom sighed. "Just know; I don't care what you think of me. I only care about keeping things the way they should be. I'd prefer if you didn't trust me."

Raven narrowed her eyes in thought before she relaxed. Then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"No. I think I can trust you."

Phantom immediately frowned. This wasn't the response he wanted.

"I think you are doing this on purpose. I think you want us to dislike you." Raven teased "Phantom do you perhaps have a heart?"

Phantom just sighed, his cheeks were greenish hue. He was blushing. Then went back to his dais to sleep.

****

Phantom was certainly a prickly guy. He was sweet deep down. Everyone could tell after a while. It didn't help that Wonder Woman always gave as good as she got.

"Answer the question Phantom. No cryptic riddles either." She said climbing the dias.

Phantom scrambled to escape as she grabbed him by the ankle and held him upside down.

"That's not fair! Kronos said I didn't have to answer this one. I have permission to tell you wherever I feel like."

"Oh? Then how about not having snacks on your offering plate? We'll burn nothing but vegetables until you tell me."

"How dare you! That's child abuse. You'll be starving me."

"You don't even need to eat."

"I still taste everything you burn. That's force-feeding. That's bad too."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Phantom grumbled "Trevor Barnes...didn't pass over yet. He waits for you in the realms between. You shouldn't know that though. He doesn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't he—"

"Because he wants you to live for yourself. He wants you to love again. You have a long life ahead of you and he didn't want to hold you back with his memory. Although he contradicted himself because he still wants you to think of him fondly."

Phantom phased through Diana's grasp and retreated to his lair.

****

Phantom was like a stray cat or maybe a spoiled one. He was wary of most people.

But even the most moody cat likes at least one person.

"Phantom I—"

"What do you need?"

Tim had entered the chamber only half expecting Phantom to be awake. Though Phantom was always awake when Tim entered. He guessed he was lucky since he didn't have talk to empty space.

"Eh, nothing. I got put on sacrifice duty. I brought some Bat Burger and cookies from home. I'm warning you now that Wonder Woman said you have to eat a serving of vegetables. So I'm burning them first." Tim placed the steamed vegetables on the offering plate and before he tossed them into the green fire he felt the cold hand of Phantom wrap around him.

"Don't." He said softly.

"It's just broccoli and cauliflower," Tim said still putting it on the electrum disk.

"Don't wanna," Phantom whined petulantly holding Tim in place. His head buried in his shoulder.

"You big baby." Tim sighed.

If anyone saw this interaction they'd be disgusted. The oh-so-great and moody god is l acting like a soft and pitiful little guy. Phantom seemed to have such a unique fascination with Red Robin. To the point he acts completely different if Tim was in the room.

"Two-faced." Kon mumbled as he watched Phantom readily answered Red Robin's every question without complaint.

"He's always like that," Tim said afterward " It's probably because I was the one to help form the contract with him when he was summoned here. The League treated him like a threat when it wasn't his fault he was here. He just wants to keep his distance but he is the same age as us."

"He is?" Kon asked astonished.

[natsaffection]

Not like the stories. | N.R

BasketballPlayer!Natasha x Cheerleader!Reader

Everyone says Natasha Romanoff is a heartbreaker, cold, careless, and dangerous. A player who leaves a trail of broken girls behind her and never looks back. But when she catches your eye across a crowded place and starts to unravel everything you thought you knew, you realize the stories might not be the full truth. Because beneath the reputation and the swagger is someone quieter. Softer. Someone who sees you in a way no one else ever has, and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Warnings: girls being sexualized, none for now

Word count: 2,7k

A/n: First off..!- I don’t even know how many parts there will be. 🍾 But, I like the chemistry…feels oddly familiar.

It was too early in the school year for everything to already feel so loud.

The cafeteria was packed, students flooding the long tables like they hadn’t seen each other in decades instead of just three months. Back-to-school energy vibrated through the walls, locker doors slamming, trays clattering, laughter bubbling from every direction. It was all background noise, really, but to you, it might as well have been static. Your focus was drifting..Again.

“…and Coach said if we don’t hit the new formation by Friday, we’re running suicides until our thighs fall off..” Lexie was saying, twirling her smoothie straw with a dramatic sigh.

You sat at the edge of the cheer table, chin propped on your hand, trying to listen. You really were. But your mind kept pulling you elsewhere, like a stubborn tide.

“I think it’s cute when our thighs fall off.” another girl, Jessie giggled, nudging Lexie. “Mine are finally getting somewhere.”

“Ugh!” Lexie rolled her eyes. “You don’t count. Your body’s already perfect. Right, you? Back me up.”

You hummed vaguely in agreement, your eyes drifting, again, across the cafeteria. You didn’t mean to look. You told yourself you were just spacing out. Just observing. That it was muscle memory, nothing intentional. But there she was.

Natasha Romanoff.

Like gravity, she pulled focus. Your gaze settled on her automatically. She was surrounded, as usual, her basketball teammates crowding around their end of the room, the unofficial royal court of the school’s social hierarchy. Even sitting still, Natasha looked like she was mid-motion. Like she was seconds away from doing something sharp and beautiful and impossible. Her posture was casual but loose-limbed with strength, one leg slung over the other, fingers spinning a pen between them like it was part of her.

The coppery sheen of her hair glinted under the overhead lights, pulled back into one of those effortlessly messy buns that looked like it took two seconds and somehow made her look hotter than half the girls in school who tried for hours. Her face was unreadable, cool, composed, only breaking into smirks when someone cracked a joke. But even then, there was something distant about it. Something guarded.

God, she was…something. You didn’t have words for it. You never had. You’d noticed Natasha before, obviously. Everyone had. You couldn’t not. It wasn’t just the way she played ball, though that was impressive enough. It was the way she moved through the world like nothing and no one could touch her. Always five steps ahead, like she already knew what you were going to say, what you wanted from her.

And yeah…people wanted.

Girls in every hallway cornered her with nervous smiles and flirtatious eyes. Some bold. Some shy. Some daring to hope they’d be the one to get through whatever armor Natasha wore like second skin. And for a minute? Sometimes they did. They’d hold her attention long enough to think they mattered.

Until they didn’t. Because that was the thing about her, she never stayed. You had heard the stories. Everyone had. You’d seen the aftermath. There were always whispers. Always rumors. Never confirmations. Natasha didn’t explain herself. She didn’t need to.

And yet, still…girls kept falling. Like moths to flame, even knowing they’d burn. You weren’t like them. You weren’t. Except… your eyes were still on her.

Something twisted in your chest, part ache, part irritation. Because you knew. You knew the truth about Natasha. You knew she was reckless with people’s hearts. You knew she didn’t do relationships, or feelings, or slow Sunday mornings. Natasha was fast and wild and dangerous.

So why were you still looking? And why..why was Natasha suddenly looking back? Your eyes met across the room. It was fleeting. Barely a moment. But in that half-second, Natasha’s stare settled like a spark in your lungs. Like she’d been expecting you to look all along.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Hell no.” Lexie muttered beside you, voice low and sharp, snapping you back to the moment. “Don’t even think about it.”

You blinked, guilt rushing to your face like a slap. “I, what?”

“You were staring. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Please.” Lexie leaned in, serious now. Her usual teasing tone gone. “Look. I love you. But you’re not getting caught in the Romanoff tornado. No way.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Hard. “I’m not caught in anything.”

Lexie gave you a look, one of those older-sister, you’re-fooling-yourself stares. “She’ll eat you alive.” she said flatly. “She does it to everyone. She reels you in, makes you feel seen, makes you feel like you’re the one. And then she leaves. Always.”

You stayed quiet andLexie sighed. “She’s not the girl who holds your hand at parties. Or slow dances in the gym. She’s the girl who kisses you in the locker room and forgets your name by the weekend.”

You wanted to argue. You really did. But the words wouldn’t come. Because maybe Lexie was right. Maybe she knew better. Maybe it was obvious, from the outside, that Natasha Romanoff was the last kind of person you should want..

The rest of the school day crawled by in fragments. You barely remembered what was said in your last two classes, something about essay deadlines, something about group projects. None of it stuck. Your head was full of glitter, choreography counts, and Natasha Romanoff’s eyes. That half-second in the cafeteria had rewired something in your brain, and no amount of blinking could undo it.

By the time the final bell rang, the school practically exploded into motion. Students rushed to lockers, pulling out face paint, noise sticks, jerseys. Someone blasted music from a speaker they weren’t supposed to have, and no one told them to stop. The energy was buzzing, tonight was the first home game of the season, and people were treating it like a national holiday.

You changed in the locker room with the rest of the squad, tying your laces tight and fixing your hair twice. You didn’t ask yourself why you cared so much about how you looked tonight. You already knew..

Bass thumped from the speakers high above the bleachers, the music shaking the court like thunder. Students jumped and screamed in their school colors, stomping in sync until the whole gym felt alive. Lights flashed in bursts. Smoke machines puffed clouds from the corners of the court, catching in the spotlights. The cheerleaders had already done their pre-game tunnel formation, lining the entrance with pom-poms and cheers, but now the real show was about to begin.

The announcer’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker:

“Aaaand now..yoooour Blackridge Panthers!!”

The crowd exploded. From the locker room tunnel, Natasha sprinted out first, her teammates charging behind her like a wave. She leapt into the air and landed hard, sneakers squealing against the court, pumping her fist into the air. The crowd roared louder. This was her world. Her element. The place where she didn’t have to be anyone but herself.

She high-fived Steve, bumped shoulders with Maria, spun the ball on her finger, all while grinning like fire was in her veins. This wasn’t about reputation or rumors or girls whispering in hallways. This was about winning. About playing.

From the sidelines, you watched, heart hammering at the sheer presence of her. There was no denying it: Natasha on the court was…different. Wild, electric, herself in a way you hadn’t seen anywhere else. Not in the cafeteria, not in the halls. This wasn’t the smooth-talking, rule-breaking girl people warned you about. This was someone else, someone with fire in her blood and nothing to prove to anyone but herself.

The buzzer blared. Tipoff.

From the start, Natasha was locked in. She called every switch, read every screen before it even formed, passed with precision, and drove to the basket like the ball belonged to her. The game was fast, physical. Shouts echoed. Sneakers scraped. Bodies slammed. But Natasha didn’t blink.

She was in it, and then, the whistle. Timeout. Second quarter. The Panthers were up, but barely.

Natasha jogged to the bench, grabbing a towel, slick with sweat. Her chest heaved as the coach pulled them into a tight circle. His voice barked sharp commands over the chaos, drawing on the whiteboard with furious speed. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, forcing herself to stay locked in. She needed to listen. Every point counted. Every second mattered.

And then..The music changed. The cheerleaders ran onto the court, forming their intermission line. The crowd cheered. And somewhere in all the movement, Natasha’s eyes lifted, just for a second-And there you were.

Dancing in the front, your smile wide, eyes glittering under the lights, hair catching in the spinning glow of the gym. You were flipping, turning, nailing every count, and Natasha watched like she couldn’t not. Her chest tightened. She tried to look away. She really did, but it was like trying to breathe underwater.

You looked so damn happy out there. So alive. It made something deep inside Natasha ache, made her forget the sweat on her forehead, the ache in her arms, the pressure in the room. She forgot the play-

A hard slap landed on the back of her head. She turned, and saw Steve giving her a pointed look. “Eyes here, Nat.” he said under his breath, nudging her with his elbow.

Natasha exhaled through her nose, forcing her head back down. “Thanks.” she murmured, almost embarrassed. He nodded once and looked back at the coach.

Natasha scrubbed her towel over her face and tried to clear her head. Focus. This was the game. She couldn’t afford to get caught up in…whatever this was.

But as the cheerleaders finished their routine and the crowd roared again, she knew the damage was done..You had already gotten under her skin. And the worst part? Natasha didn’t even want you out.

The second half was war. The gym was an open flame, crowd screaming, shoes squeaking, bodies crashing, whistles blaring, but inside the chaos, Natasha was still.

Focused and locked in. The visiting team had found their rhythm, and the Panthers were barely holding on. Every basket was answered, every steal returned. It wasn’t just physical now, it was personal. Natasha could feel it in her bones. The sting of every missed shot, the roar of every cheer that wasn’t for them.

Her jersey clung to her skin, soaked in sweat, ponytail damp at the back of her neck. Her thighs ached from pushing harder, her lungs burned. But she didn’t care. This was hers. This was what she lived for.

Final timeout. Tie game. Seconds left on the clock. The coach barked out the last play, sweat dotting his brow as he pointed at the diagram. Steve would pass to Maya. Maya would fake left, swing back right. Natasha would be open at the arc.

It was risky. But Natasha was already nodding. She stood up, bouncing on her toes, chest heaving.

“Let’s finish this.” she said, voice low but steady. The whistle blew. The ball was back in play.

Five seconds.

Natasha moved like instinct, sharp and cutting. She darted to the top of the key, hands out. Maya passed clean. The ball slapped into her palms.

Four seconds.

A defender lunged, Natasha pivoted, stepped back behind the line.

Three.

She breathed in.

Two.

She jumped, and the ball left her hands. You felt your heart freeze the second the ball left Natasha’s hands. The air had gone still. The sound had vanished.

When it hit, when the net snapped, your scream joined the others before you could stop it. You jumped, yelled, clapped, louder than you meant to, your voice lost in the storm. But your eyes never left Natasha. Not for a second.

The gym exploded right after you. Screams shot through the air like fireworks, the bleachers shook with pounding feet, and suddenly Natasha was swarmed. Her teammates tackled her from all sides, Maria yelling in her ear, Steve throwing an arm around her neck, someone lifting her off the floor. And then, through the chaos, through the wild, tangled joy..Natasha looked at you.

Your eyes met like a wire pulled tight. Your breath caught. Your smile faded, just a little. Your heart was pounding so hard it hurt. But Natasha, just as quickly..looked away. Like it burned.

The locker room was humid with sweat, cologne, and the sharp sting of victory. Everyone was still riding the high of the win, talking loud, voices overlapping, laughter bouncing off the tiled walls. Jerseys were half-pulled off, towels hung low around waists, and someone had turned up a speaker in the corner playing some bass-heavy track that rattled the benches.

Natasha sat at the end of the row, one foot propped up on the bench, her head bowed as she slowly unwrapped her wrist tape. Her pulse was only just coming down. The buzz of adrenaline still hummed in her fingertips, the taste of the last shot still lingering in the back of her throat. Around her, the team was loud, looser now. The game was over. The bravado was back.

“Yo.” one of the forwards, Matt called across the locker room. “Tell me I wasn’t the only one who saw the blonde in the front row of the cheer line. The one with the white bow?”

“Dude..” another laughed, “everyone saw her. Those shorts should be illegal.”

Natasha didn’t react. Not yet, but then came the shift. “What about Romanoff’s girl, though?”

That name. That tone..She didn’t look up, but her jaw twitched.

“You mean Y/n?” Matt grinned. A few heads turned. Smirks spread. “She’d let you do anything.” He made a slow, lewd gesture with his hips, subtle but unmistakable, like it wasn’t the first time they’d joked like this. One hand against the locker, the other at his waistband. More laughter.

“Come on, Romanoff. You’ve got the in. She wants it.”

“You could fold her in half and she’d say thank you..” Matt added with a low laugh, voice husky from the game. “Hell, I would.”

That was it. Natasha’s head snapped up. The look in her eyes stopped three people mid-breath. The laughter died out in patches. Not from fear. From confusion. She hadn’t said a word. She didn’t need to. Her stare was enough.

One hand landed gently on her shoulder, grounding her. His voice was low, just for her. “Don’t.”

Natasha didn’t take her eyes off the guy across the row, the one who’d said that last part. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the bench.

“He doesn’t mean it.” Steve added. “He’s just talking shit.”

“He keeps talking, I’ll make him swallow his teeth.” Natasha muttered, her voice low and flat.

Steve leaned in closer. “Not worth it.”

Natasha exhaled slowly through her nose, tension coiled in every muscle like a loaded spring.

“Look.” Steve said, a little quieter, “I get it. I do. But if she means anything to you, you’ve gotta stop pretending she’s just another girl.”

Natasha blinked, like the words slapped her harder than the comments. Steve gave a small shrug. “You keep hesitating..” Steve continued, voice barely above the music. “And one of these assholes is gonna try it for real. And you’re gonna hate yourself for letting it happen.”

That hit. Hard. Natasha didn’t move. But her jaw flexed, and for the first time that night, her face cracked. Not with anger. With something else. A decision starting to form. Steve stood, patting her once. “She’s not a game. And you’re not like them.”

The gym was still echoing with celebration, but Natasha had already stepped out into the cool night air. She exhaled slowly, sweat still drying on her skin, the back of her neck damp beneath her hoodie. Her motorcycle sat where she’d left it, parked in the corner of the lot under a crooked lamppost, half in shadow. She slung one leg over the seat, fingers gripping the keys, ready to start the engine.

You keep hesitating..and one of these assholes is gonna try it for real.

She cursed under her breath. Fingers drumming once against the gas tank..And that’s when she saw you.

Stepping out from the side doors of the gym with Lexie at your side, both of you chatting under the glow of the overhead lights. You had changed out of your cheer gear into jeans and a soft hoodie, hair still pulled back, face flushed and pretty from the heat of the night. You were laughing quietly, head tilted slightly, arms wrapped around yourself.

Natasha’s heart stuttered. She was just about to look away, just about to turn the key and forget it-when she saw him.

Matt. He’d exited from the same side doors, slowing his stride as his eyes trailed lazily in the same direction. Natasha saw the shift in his posture. The way his gaze lingered too long. The way his smirk tugged at the side of his mouth like he was already running a script in his head.

And that was it. Natasha’s heart kicked like it was trying to break free from her ribs. She pulled her leg off the bike in one smooth motion, leaving everything as it was, keys in the ignition, gym bag slung across the seat. No hesitation. No plan. Just instinct.

She walked fast, her boots hitting pavement with quiet force. Lexie saw her first. “Oh, hell no.” she muttered under her breath, elbowing you lightly. “Problem incoming.”

You turned, confused. “What?”

Lexie kept her voice low. “Romanoff. Behind us. Coming this way.”

Your stomach dropped

Oh god. Was this it? Was Natasha about to ask me to go home with her? After the game, the eye contact, the ride out of the locker room..this was where it happened in the stories. The moment the girl got caught, pulled into something she wouldn’t be able to-

But it was too late. Natasha was already close, her stride slow and casual now, hands in the front pocket of her hoodie like she hadn’t just made a life-or-death decision one minutes ago.

“Hey..” Natasha said, her voice low, calm, almost too neutral.

Lexie squared her shoulders. “What do you want?”

Natasha kept her tone low and calm. “Just wanted to talk. That’s all.”

Lexie squinted. “Is that what you tell all the girls before-”

“Lex.” you cut in quietly. “It’s okay.”

Lexie looked ready to argue, but her bus appeared down the street, tires grinding against the pavement.

“Fuck..” she muttered. “Of course. Now.” She looked at you, worry creasing her brow. “You want me to stay? I can stay.”

You hesitated. Heart in your throat. “I’ll be okay.” you said, softly. “Go.”

Lexie cursed again under her breath, then pointed two fingers at Natasha. “If you so much as breathe wrong near her-”

“I know.” Natasha said softly.

Lexie gave you one last glance and jogged toward the bus.

“So…” you began, stuffing your hands into the sleeves of your hoodie, “I’m just heading home.”

“Walking?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s like a thirty-minute walk.”

Natasha blinked. “Alone?”

You shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “Not tonight.” Before you could ask, Natasha added, “Let me drive you.”

You hesitated. Your mind was screaming again, this is it, this is when she asks if I wanna come over, when she tries to be charming and seductive and get me to bed.

Still, you asked, “You mean…on your bike?”

Natasha nodded. “It’s not a problem.”

“I..don’t have a helmet..” you tried, already searching for a polite excuse to back out.

“I always carry an extra.”

Of course you do, you thought. For the rotation.. But Natasha’s eyes weren’t flirty, or smug. They were…careful.

So you nodded, and followed her to the bike. It gleamed under the light, black and lean, humming with quiet power. You stopped a few feet short.

“It’s bigger than I expected.” you said, and immediately regretted it. “The bike..! I meant the bike..”

Natasha’s mouth twitched,just a tiny smile. She didn’t tease you.

“I’ll go slow.” she said instead. She opened the side compartment and pulled out a matte black helmet. “Here. Let me.”

You held still as Natasha stepped close, lifting the helmet gently. Her fingers brushed your cheek as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before sliding the helmet down. The strap clicked softly beneath your chin.

“You okay?” Natasha asked, voice low, eyes searching yours.

You nodded, heartbeat hammering. “Yeah. Just..never done this before.”

Natasha held your gaze. “You’ll be safe.”

Then she straddled the bike and leaned it slightly to one side, holding it steady. “Climb on. Swing your right leg over.”

You did, slowly, fingers gripping Natasha’s shoulders for balance. You settled behind her, the leather seat warm from the engine, legs tucked in close.

Natasha reached back, lightly placing her hands on your thighs. “Scoot in. You’ll feel more stable.”

You moved closer, arms hesitating at Natasha’s waist. “When I turn, lean with me. I’ll tell you when.” Natasha said over her shoulder, her voice softer than before.

“o-okay.”

You tightened your grip, and the engine growled to life beneath you, and Natasha drove slower than she normally would, much slower. Careful with every shift. She gave you warnings softly through the helmet radio. “Left turn coming. Hold on.”

You pressed your forehead lightly to Natasha’s shoulder, trying to breathe through the adrenaline. Not just from the ride. From the proximity..From the her.

“You okay back there?” Natasha’s voice buzzed in your helmet.

“Yeah.” you said. “More than okay.”

“You’re not freezing?”

“No. You’re kinda warm..” you admitted, blushing instantly.

Natasha chuckled softly. “It’s the adrenaline.”

They stopped at a red light, the hum of the engine low beneath them. That’s when Natasha spotted the glowing yellow sign.

“Wanna stop for ice cream?”

You blinked, startled. “You want to stop for ice cream right now?”

“You said you’ve never been on a bike.” Natasha replied. “Thought I’d give you the full experience.”

You smiled as Natasha ordered two vanilla cones and paid. You sat at the edge of the parking lot on the bike, cones in hand, music humming from the speakers overhead. For a while, you didn’t say anything.

Then, quietly, “You were…really good tonight.” you said. “I mean, the shot? That was insane.”

Natasha’s voice softened. “Thanks.”

“Like, game-winning, heart-attack, scream-out-loud insane.”

“Hey..” Natasha added, “you weren’t exactly subtle out there either.”

You grinned. “What do you mean?”

“You lit up the court.”

“Oh god..” you groaned. “You were watching.”

“Hard not to.”

You didn’t answer. You just held your ice tighter.

You both finished your ice cream quietly. It was easier, now. The tension had thinned a little, melted under the soft streetlights, the sugar, and the way Natasha had let herself be there, not as the girl with a reputation, but just a girl who’d wanted a reason to sit next to someone. No pressure. No expectation.

After a few quiet laughs and a mutual agreement that soft-serve somehow tasted better at night, Natasha flicked the keys in her hand and nodded to the bike.

“Ready to head home?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

The ride this time was different. No adrenaline. No performance. Just cool wind brushing over your cheeks and the subtle rumble of the bike beneath you.

Natasha didn’t say much. But when she did, it was soft, gentle, for your comfort.

“Small curve coming up. Lean with me a little.”

You obeyed instinctively, gripping Natasha’s waist tighter.

A minute later, “Bump ahead. Just hold on.”

Natasha slowed for every turn. Every crack in the road. She drove like you were something precious and breakable, something to protect. And you sat behind her, heart slowly unraveling.

You didn’t know how to feel. Part of you was still wound up tight, trying to prepare a way to say no. Just in case. You mentally rehearsed polite excuses.

“I have early practice tomorrow.”

“My parents are still up.”

“I’m not ready.”

But before you could even settle on which one sounded the most casual, you looked up and saw the corner of your street.

“Right here.” you said quickly, tapping Natasha’s side. Natasha nodded once and pulled over.

The engine cut, the sudden silence making your breath catch in your throat. Natasha stepped off the bike smoothly and reached out a hand, steadying it with one arm while offering the other to you.

“Take your time.” she murmured.

You climbed down a little awkwardly, and Natasha’s hand stayed lightly on your hip, helping until your boots hit the pavement. Then the hand dropped. Respectfully. Like it had never been there at all.

And just as you opened your mouth to finally deliver the awkward goodbye-

“Thanks.” Natasha said quietly, cutting in. “For the talk. And the company.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

Natasha smiled a little, but there was something knowing behind her eyes.

“You can text your friend now.” she added softly. “Tell her you made it home. Safe and unseduced.”

Your cheeks burned. “I..wait, no..God.”

Natasha laughed once, low and warm.

“I’m sorry.” you blurted. “I just..I really thought you were going to ask to come inside. For, you know..sex.”

The word felt huge in your mouth. Natasha didn’t flinch. Just raised her eyebrows a little. “I get that a lot.” she said gently. “But I’m not..always like that.”

You looked down, embarrassed. “It’s just what people say. I guess I assumed, I’m really sorry..” you whispered. “I just didn’t know what to expect.”

“I get it.” Natasha said with a small shrug. “I know what they say. And I’ve let some of it be true..But not tonight, and for the record, I liked this version better.”

You swallowed. “Me too.”

Natasha took a small step back toward her bike. “Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She stood there in the driveway, helmet in one hand, and gave you one last look, quiet, unreadable, but kind. Then she turned the engine over and pulled away, tires humming softly as she disappeared into the night.

And you, still standing on your lawn, felt like the ground under you had changed in ways you hadn’t even begun to understand.

Because Natasha Romanoff had just made you feel more seen in twenty minutes than anyone had in twenty years.

And..without ever laying a hand on you.

[azsazz]

Growing Pains

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Will we ever get more info of how Az was during readers pregnancy with each baby(I really want to see his reaction when he found out you were having a girl for the first time),Just asking ;)))))

AKA: Snippets of Azriel's family growing.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 3117

_________________________________________

Wren:

“Azriel, I’m fine,” you insist, though your back aches as you try to pick up the kitchen towel that had accidentally fallen to the ground. You have no idea how you’re going to pick it up. You can’t bend over like you used to, not with your full, round belly in the way. “I still have an entire month, and then some.”

Rhys has decided to send your mate on a mission. He’d argued vehemently, asking the High Lord to send one of his spies instead, but Rhys had been adamant Azriel was the one to go. Why, you’re not sure. Azriel hasn’t divulged that information, not wanting to worry you.

What he doesn’t know is that it only worries you more.

“Love, you can’t even pick up the towel,” he argues, sliding around the counter to pluck it from the ground. You sigh, setting your hip on the counter, but it does little to ease your muscles. What you really want to do is sit down and not get up until the babe arrives.

“I don’t need to pick it up,” you argue. “I was just doing it to be nice since I know how tidy you like the house.”

Azriel raises a brow. “So you didn’t need it for anything?”

“No.”

“And what would you have done with it if I weren’t here?” he teases. “Left it on the floor?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I could’ve just gotten a new one from the linen closet.”

“That,” Azriel steps in front of you, swooping down to peck a soft kiss to your lips. You melt into him immediately, falling into his warm embrace. His hands come to the base of your spine to knead at the tight muscles there and you sigh in pleasure. Those shadows must have told him about your tender back. They can be useful, sometimes. “Sounds like it would’ve been a good idea.”

You hum in response, lost to your mate’s touch. He’s a godsend, this one. The cauldron picked perfectly. “I still don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know,” Azriel soothes. “It will make me feel better about leaving you though, love. I don’t want to worry about you while I’m gone.”

You don’t want that, either. Don’t want him distracted while he’s on a mission.

“Okay,” you give in when he kneads against a particularly tight knot in your spine. Gods, those hands…you could take him right to bed, maybe even convince your mate to give you a full body massage instead. Yes, that would be nice. “Cassian can stay.”

You refuse to move to the House of Wind. You’d rather be comfortable in your own home, especially since you’ve just begun nesting. Hence, the towel on the floor. Weirdly enough, you wanted that very piece for part of your nest because of all of the times you’ve seen it in Azriel’s hands, twisting it aimlessly between his fingers while conversing while he cooks, thrown over his shoulder while he slices and dices fruits and vegetables. Strange, but you haven’t stopped thinking about it since you felt the urge to collect objects from around your home to comfort yourself with.

So, if Azriel wants you to have a babysitter while he’s gone, the babysitter can join you here.

“Cassian’s going to have the best time rubbing my feet and making me breakfast,” you smile, thinking of all of the things you know you can get your mates best friend to do for you. You know he’ll do it without compliant, because he’s secretly trying to get you to name your first born after him.

Not happening.

“Give him hell, love.”

Basil:

“He wants cake, the baby wants cake,” you defend, stuffing another bite of cake into your mouth. “The baby wants the cake.”

Azriel huffs a laugh, more than amused at your sweet tooth during your second pregnancy. It’s been difficult to get you to eat anything that isn’t coated in chocolate or pumped full of sugar.

Wren, nearing a year old, giggles in his father’s lap. He reaches his hand across the table to your plate, eager to share in the sugary goodness. You lick the icing from your lips and scoot your plate closer to his grabby hands, more than happy to share your treat with your son.

You’re surprised your mate, who has an insane sweet tooth of his own, isn’t getting in on this cake. It’s delicious, the icing creamy and fluffy. The cake is moist, and the moan you let out when you bit into it was almost one you’d be embarrassed about, if you were paying attention to anything other than the dessert.

He’s been letting you eat your fill before even attempting a bite, more so because only a few weeks ago, he’d eaten the last macron, the one you’d been saving for a midnight snack. This babe did not want you to sleep, kicking and squirming inside of you nonstop, more than eager to meet the world. You’d burst into a fit of tears when you noticed your treat was gone, and couldn’t reign in your emotions until Azriel had come home with more than half of the pastries in the case from your favorite shop. Elain even threw in some of her freshly baked pastries after hearing what happened, and you almost lost yourself to another fit of tears at how nice that was of her.

“We’re supposed to be choosing a cake for Wren’s first birthday,” Azriel reminds you gently. Then, teasingly, he says, “Have you even actually tasted the cake with how quickly you’re eating, love?”

You peg him with a look, swallowing down the bite of cake in your mouth. He’s right, this is about Wren, not the baby inside of you who only seems to wiggle around more with a sugar high.

It’s difficult to place the fork down in front of you, but somehow, you manage. You turn toward your son, who hasn’t seemed to notice the way you’d been sampling all of the cakes in front of you. By sampling, you mean inhaling. You’d been inhaling the cake samples in front of you. All seven flavors.  

“Wrenny,” you ask the boy currently mashing a bite of cake onto a napkin. He’s enthralled in the texture, and doesn’t even notice your grimace at the ruined treat.

Azriel slips his hand into yours in comfort.

“What kind of cake do you want for your birthday, baby?” You ask, grabbing a fresh napkin to help him clean up. He protests with a shout, squirming on his father’s lap. Azriel tries his best to soothe the boy, but you’ve disturbed his playtime, and you’re going to pay.

“Come on, buddy,” Azriel smooths the furrow between Wren’s brows. You sit back in your seat, smoothing your hands across your stomach when your son kicks close to your bladder. It’s only a matter of time before he hits his mark, and then your day out at the Rainbow with your mate and son will be over. “Which one do you like best?”

Wren stares at the cakes. Some more gone than others. He reaches for a red cake that’s almost entirely full. You liked that one, but it wasn’t better than the chocolate slice with chocolate frosting. That one only has a small bite left.

Your son grabs a handful of the cake and flings his arms around in excitement. You plant a hand over your mouth as the cake goes flying, only to land in Azriel’s hair. Your shoulders shake with laugher, tears welling in your eyes at the look on your mates face.

Azriel’s grin is blinding. He laughs freely, something he might not have been comfortable doing in public years ago. This, this is all he’s ever wanted. You. A family. A life.

You help your mate rid the cake form his dark locks as much as you can. Frosting sticks to the strands, pulling them this way and that. You swipe at a glob of icing that made its way above his lip, and he stares at you with simmering eyes. The kind of eyes that got you into this situation in the first place. He’s going to need a shower when he gets home, and, if you can put Wren down for a nap, maybe you can join him, too.

When you’ve successfully cleaned as much of Azriel as you can, he plops your son down into your lap and shoves the pile of napkins closer to you before standing.

“Where are you going?” you ask as Wren reaches out for his father. You snag a napkin and his chubby arm, beginning to clean him up.

“I’m going to tip the staff for the mess we made,” he says easily. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and something more, something you can’t wait to get home to. “And I’m going to buy a chocolate cake to bring home with us, since you liked it so much.” He nods to the nearly gone slice on the table, and your heart swells in your chest. You love him so, so much.

Zuzu:

“It’s a girl?” he whispers, voice raw with emotion. Tears flood your eyes at the utter awe in your mate’s eyes. Of course, she has her father wrapped around her finger already.

Azriel places his hands across your stomach. He’s kneeling in front of you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so vulnerable, not even when he admitted he loved you for the first time, nor when you gave birth to your first and second child. But this little girl growing inside of you, she’s unlocked something special inside of Azriel, and you know that in this moment, that she’s going to have the most loving, protective father there is. And you’re sure her brothers won’t be far behind with that mentality.

She’s the first female born into one of the Inner Circle’s families. Four boys, but not a single girl. And now, everything has changed. You know she is going to be surrounded by so much love, she’s going to be so spoiled. You’ve had conversations with Feyre and Nesta, Elain too, about how cute the female toys and clothing were in the shops lining the Sidra. They all begged you to have a girl when you announced your third pregnancy, placing bets with their mates on whether or not you’d bring a little girl into the family, and their pleading has all paid off.

You can’t wait to tell them.

Azriel kisses across your stomach. You thread your fingers through his hair, allowing him this time with his daughter. It’s sweet, more than, to see him like this. He’s so in love with her already, you can see it in the way his wings wiggle with excitement, the way his thumbs stroke the soft skin where his daughter is growing inside of you.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers, finally raising his gaze to look at you. He doesn’t move away, instead resting his chin on your stomach. “We’re having a girl.”

You can’t help your smile, a tear escaping your eye. He’s wanted a daughter for just as long as you have, and you promised not to stop having children until you had a girl, but soon, with two boys and one girl, you don’t think you’ll stop until this little one has a sister to play with as well.

You can see the same sentiment in your mates eyes.

“We’re having a girl,” you agree, lifting his chin so you can kiss your mate.

Jax:

“Azriel,” you squeeze your eyes shut through the uncomfortableness of a contraction. Your mate’s hand is strong on your lower back, his other arm gripped tightly in your grasp. “I love you, but are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Easy,” Azriel replies gently. His touch is soft but firm as he helps you to your bed. It’s set up with all of the essentials for giving birth, and with this being your fourth child, you’re more than prepared. The little one has been a fairly easy pregnancy, as if each moment spent in your womb was better than the last. He wasn’t eager to meet the world like his older brother, Baz, who kicked you relentlessly for nine months straight. It was almost as if the babe inside of you enjoyed the comfort you provided, but his father and siblings are more than excited to meet the new member of the family.

Your water broke this morning over breakfast with your family. Baz had burst into a fit of giggles over his waffles, pointing and shouting about how you’d peed your pants. Wren, your oldest, perked with excitement, knowing exactly what that meant. He’s slipped from his chair, offering you a tight hug before scampering to his room with his little brother in tow, talking all about how they were going to get to see their cousins while you had another baby.

Zuzu, just one, was covered in whipped cream, giggling and gurgling and making a mess with the sweet cream. You had torn Azriel’s attention from where he bopped a bit of cream onto her nose, and, after a quick once-over, worry lacing his hazel eyes, his face melted into something sweet when he caught your smile, the happy tears in your eyes.

Your son couldn’t choose a more perfect day to enter the world.

“What do you mean?” Azriel asks, pulling back the covers. He’d be latched to your side until the babe entered the world, whenever that may be. Could be nearly an entire day, like Wren, or mere hours, like Baz and Zuzu.

“You’re talking about letting the male who gifted Baz a real blade for Starfall when he was only 3, watch our boys for the night.” You had agreed to the plan at first because you didn’t think Cassian was all that serious about it, but now that it’s really happening, you can’t help but worry.

“Cassian wants this more than anything, love,” Az replies, helping organize the pillows behind your back. When all is to his liking, he sits on the edge of the bed, caressing your face. His hazel eyes are soft, a comfort that you lean into, or as much as you can with your belly in the way. “He’ll be fine. Rhys and Nyx are going to be there too,” he reassures. And well, that doesn’t make you feel that much better. Rhys and Cassian and four children under 6. They’re in for a night. “And Zuz is getting all loved up by her aunties tonight.” Your daughter is spending the night at Feyre’s with her sisters, and you know that if anything, Rhys will have no problem calling in backup for the mischievous little boys.

“You’ll check in on them ever hour?” You ask, trying your best to get comfortable. The babe in your stomach gives a little kick, and you place your hand on your stomach, whispering down to him. “Soon, little guy, soon you’ll meet the world.”

“I’ll check on them every ten minutes if you want me to,” Azriel promises, placing his large hand over yours. Like the babe knows you and your mate are showing him affection, he kicks again. “But I don’t want you to worry. You need to focus on getting little Jax out.” He says the babes name like it’s the best he’s ever heard. He’s done that with all of your children, though. It fills you with warmth, his strong presence eases you into the comfort of your bed.

Malos and Knox:

“A sister!” Zuzu screeches in her uncle’s arms. You wince at the sheer volume of your four-year-old daughter, but you won’t scold her even through one of the hours old newborns in your arms squirms at the sound. She can’t help her excitement at the sight of her little sister, kicking out her tiny legs in demand to be released from Rhys’ clutches. He laughs and tries to situate Zuzu better in his arms. He looks to you for action, and with a soft nod of your head, he lets your daughter down.

Azriel, who has just handed Knox off to Feyre, who has tears in her eyes, quickly catches his oldest daughter around the waist before she can launch herself onto your bed and disturb the snoozing babe.

“Daddy,” Zuzu whines, but clings tightly to his shirt. Azriel immediately smooths her hair back from her face, disheveled from playing with her brothers all morning at her uncle’s house while you gave birth to the two newest members of your family. “I want to see my sissy!”

“Sissy’s sleeping,” he parent’s gently, bringing her closer. He sets Zuzu on the bed but stays close. “You need to be gentle, Zuz. She’s brand new.”

“Brand new,” Zuzu echoes, but you’re not entirely sure she knows what it means. She’s completely distracted by the small bundle in your arms anyway, her dark eyes glowing with delight. She looks up at you, wide-eyed, and you can’t help but smile at your daughter. “She’s mine?”

“She’s your sister,” you laugh softly. You position Malos in your arms so Zuzu can see better.

“Wow,” she whispers, awe in her tone. She softly reaches out and brushes a finger across her sister’s chubby cheeks. The babe makes a noise and Zuzu snatches her hand back to her chest.

“It’s okay, Zuz,” Azriel says gently. “She’s just saying hello.”

Zuzu nods at her father eagerly, then returns her attention to Malos. “Hello, little baby. I’m Zuz. I’m going to be the bestest big sister ever! I’m going to teach you so much, and nothing like our naughty brothers can show you…” She babbles while you share a loving look with your mate.

You were worried how Zuzu might react to a sister. She’s been surrounded by boys for four years, and right now, you can see that this is something special, something pure between the two girls.

“What are their names?” Feyre asks, placing Knox carefully in your arms while your sons join you and the rest of your family on the bed. Jax climbs directly into Azriel’s lap, clinging to him like a monkey. He peers down at the babes in your arms with curiosity.

Wren and Baz settle on your other side, leaning over to see both of the babes. They look just as excited as the rest of your family, and this moment right now, surrounded by your family and the people you love the most, makes everything worthwhile.

You smile at your mate, who gives you a soft nod of encouragement.

“Their names are Malos and Knox.”

[gf2bellamy]

hii i absolutely LOVE your writing,, its just so perfect🤭

may i please request a story with spencer realizing he has a crush on reader and so he starts getting nervous and stutter-y around reader. so then reader gets a little upset thinking she did something wrong and they end up talking about what’s happening and it leads to a confession + kiss

thank you!!💖💖

crush — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: a tiny bit of angst bc reader thinks she did something wrong a/n: hii !! this request is so cute <3 i hope you like this <333

Spencer had it bad. 

Like, really bad. 

It wasn’t even up for debate anymore—he was completely, undeniably, and overwhelmingly crushing on you.

Right now, he was sitting at his desk, staring at you as you leaned casually against it, deep in conversation with Emily at her desk across from his. You were animated, gesturing with your hands as you made a passionate argument. 

“No, look, the movie sucks,” you insisted, pointing a finger at Emily. “You have to read the book. It’s so much better.” 

Emily rolled her eyes but smirked, clearly enjoying the debate. “I don’t know, I think the movie has its moments—” 

“Absolutely not.” You cut her off, shaking your head. “The book has so much more depth. The movie just—” You let out a dramatic sigh, exasperated. “It butchers it.” 

Spencer wasn’t even listening to Emily. He was too busy watching you, completely entranced. 

Two days ago, he’d come to a life-altering realization. 

He liked you. 

Not in the casual, oh-she’s-nice-to-be-around kind of way. No. This was the heart-racing, brain-melting, can’t-think-straight-when-you-smile-at-him kind of way. 

And it had all started with a cup of coffee. 

You had placed it in front of him, your fingers brushing his for a fleeting moment as he reached for it. A harmless, everyday interaction—except that it wasn’t harmless. Because then, you had smiled at him. Soft and warm. 

“New tie?” you had asked, tilting your head slightly as you pointed at the green tie he was wearing. 

Spencer had looked down at it, momentarily forgetting how words worked. “Oh—uh—yeah. Yeah, I got it yesterday.” 

You had grinned. “Looks good on you. I like it.” 

And then, as if your words hadn’t already short-circuited his brain, you had reached out—just for a second—adjusting the fabric between your fingers before turning away and heading back to your desk. 

That was the moment. The exact second Spencer knew he was doomed. 

And now? Two days later, he was struggling. 

Struggling to focus. Struggling to act normal. Struggling to not stare at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the entire world—which, let’s be honest, you were. 

“Spence.” 

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. You had turned to him now, one hand resting lightly on his arm as you smiled. 

“Tell her the book is better than the movie,” you said, tilting your head toward Emily. “Back me up here.” 

Spencer knew, logically, that he had said those exact words to you a few weeks ago. He agreed with you. He had data, facts, and literary analysis to support the claim. It was an easy argument. 

And yet— 

He was completely, entirely tongue-tied. 

You were looking at him expectantly, your touch burning through the fabric of his sleeve like a brand. 

“I—uhm—I think—” He swallowed, feeling his face heat up. 

You frowned slightly, confused by his sudden inability to form a coherent sentence. 

He needed to get it together. 

“Yes,” he finally forced out, clearing his throat. “Uh, the book is—definitely better. Than the movie.” 

You grinned, triumphant. “See? Told you.” 

Emily just smirked at Spencer, amusement flickering in her eyes. 

You, then , watched as Spencer quickly withdrew his hand from your touch, avoiding your eyes like it physically pained him to look at you. 

And over the next day, it kept happening. 

It was subtle at first—small moments that could’ve easily been brushed off as coincidences. But then they started piling up. 

Like when you were working on the geographical profile together. You had been standing close to him, pointing at a section of the map, asking for his input. But instead of responding immediately, Spencer had frozen. 

Completely. 

You had glanced up, expecting one of his usual rapid-fire responses, filled with statistics and insightful observations. But nothing came. Instead, he stood there, his jaw slightly clenched, his fingers gripping the edge of the table.

You had frowned, waiting. 

A long, awkward silence stretched between you until someone else had walked by, snapping him out of it. He mumbled a quick, barely audible response before abruptly walking away. 

Then there was the night the team went out for drinks. You had slid into a booth at the bar, expecting Spencer to take the seat beside you—like he always did. It was a habit. Something that just was. 

Except this time, he didn’t. 

He sat at the far end of the table, wedging himself between JJ and Rossi, not even acknowledging you. 

That was when the doubts started creeping in. 

Had you done something wrong? Had you said something to upset him? 

You replayed the past week in your mind, searching for anything that might have caused this shift. But there was nothing. At least, nothing you could think of. 

Still, it didn’t stop the sinking feeling in your chest every time Spencer avoided your gaze, every time he hesitated before answering you, every time he refused to sit near you. 

And now, back at Quantico, the case closed, reports needing to be filed, you sat at your desk, watching him. 

The office was quieter than usual—most of the team had taken the morning off to rest, leaving only you and Spencer to handle the paperwork, just as you always did. 

Except this time, Spencer wasn’t talking to you. 

He sat across the room, his eyes fixed on his files, his pen moving rapidly across the paper. And still—not once—did he look up at you. 

Your fingers curled slightly against the report in front of you, a dull ache settling in your chest. 

The silence between you was suffocating. 

Hours passed, the only sounds filling the room were the scratch of pens against paper and the occasional shuffle of files. It was unnatural—terribly unnatural. The two of you were never this quiet around each other. 

Spencer wanted to talk to you. He always wanted to talk to you. But every time he opened his mouth, he managed to embarrass himself. So, he just... stopped trying. 

And then there was the other problem—his newfound hyper-awareness of you. 

Every touch, no matter how small, felt like an electric current running through his skin. Like when the two of you were sitting in the back of the SUV on the way back from a case, and your knee had accidentally brushed against his. It had been nothing to you, a completely normal, casual thing. But to him? To him, it had set his entire body on fire. 

Or when you touched his arm , casually, the way you always did—except now, it wasn’t just casual to him. Now, it was overwhelming. Too much. 

So he did what he thought was best—he avoided it. Avoided you. 

It was time to leave, and coincidentally, both of you started packing your bags at the same time. 

Somehow, despite everything, you still moved in sync. 

It was a habit at this point. You always left work together, falling into step beside one another like second nature. Some nights, you’d end up at the movies, where Spencer would hesitantly—almost shyly—share his food with you. Something he never did with anyone else. Not with his germophobia. Not even with the team. 

But with you it had never been a problem. 

Other nights, you’d wind up at his apartment, curled up on his couch, just hanging out. Just you and him. And in hindsight, Spencer supposed he should’ve seen this coming. 

Should’ve realized that whatever this was—whatever you were to him—wasn’t just friendship. 

Maybe he’d been crushing on you all along. 

The two of you walked to the elevator, the air thick with awkwardness. You exchanged shy smiles, unsure of what to say or do.

Finally, you both spoke at the same time. 

"Are you okay?" 

The words tumbled out of your mouths in perfect unison, and for a moment, you both froze, staring at each other. Then you both chuckled awkwardly, the sound breaking the tension, just for a second. 

“Go ahead,” Spencer nodded at you, pressing the button to call the elevator.  

“You—just... I feel like I haven’t talked to you properly in ages,” you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping as you fiddled with the strap of your bag. 

Spencer looked away quickly, a guilty blush creeping up his neck. 

Oh god, why couldn’t he just act normal around you? 

“Did I do something wrong?” You blurted out, suddenly worried. "Because I—I’m not entirely sure what it was, but you haven’t been looking at me, or talking to me, and I’m just—” 

Before you could ramble on any longer, Spencer cut you off. His voice was a little too loud, too eager. 

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong!” He shook his head quickly, almost desperately, as if trying to reassure you. His wide eyes met yours, and there was a softness in them. “I promise.” 

The elevator doors slid open, and the two of you stepped inside. 

You pressed the button to the ground floor, still watching him, trying to make sense of everything. 

“So, what is it then?” you asked, your voice more hesitant now, as the elevator began its descent. 

Spencer bit his lip, his fingers nervously tapping against the strap of his bag. What was he supposed to say? That he had a huge crush on you, but he couldn’t even stand to be near you without fumbling through his words and avoiding your gaze? It sounded so stupid when he thought about it. 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring at the doors in front of him as the elevator descended slowly. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you pointed at him, a hint of teasing in your voice, but the concern still lingered. “You’re acting like this because something’s going on, and I’m just—I don’t know what it is.” 

Spencer’s heart raced.

The doors finally opened, and you both headed towards the exit , where you stepped out into the chilly night air. You instinctively pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, waiting for him to speak. 

Spencer hesitated again. His mind was spinning.

“No, I swear it’s not you,” Spencer muttered, tugging on the strap of his satchel, trying to buy himself some time. “It’s just I—I…” 

You waited, eyes fixed on him, your breath fogging in the cold air. You were getting impatient, and the more time passed, the more you started to worry that whatever had been going on was something you had no control over. Something that was maybe your fault. 

You were now standing by your car, watching him. Spencer looked torn, his fingers gripping the strap of his satchel tightly, his body tense like he was debating whether to run or stay. His lips parted slightly, and then, as if he couldn’t hold it in anymore, the words tumbled out. 

“I like you.” His voice was quiet.

For a moment, you just stared at him, confusion flickering across your face. 

“I… didn’t realize you disliked me until now?” You frowned slightly, your voice uncertain, trying to make sense of what he was saying. 

Spencer’s eyes widened in panic. “Wait—no!” He rushed to correct himself, shaking his head frantically. “That’s not what I meant—I didn’t mean that.” 

His breath came out in a nervous puff of air, his cheeks burning red as he struggled to find the right words. 

“I mean—I like you. Like, like like you.” His voice dropped to a mumble, the last part barely above a whisper. “Like, I have a crush on you.” 

He swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest as he finally said it. 

And then, silence. 

His eyes darted to you hesitantly, searching your face for a reaction, his stomach twisting with anticipation. 

You stood frozen. Did he just say what you think he said? 

“I… what?” you blinked, your breath hitching. 

Spencer’s face was already bright red, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the pavement, like he regretted saying anything at all. His voice had been so quiet at the end, barely above a whisper, but you heard him. 

He liked you. Like liked you. 

“I have a crush on you,” he repeated, this time slightly louder, but his voice was still laced with hesitation. His eyes flickered between yours and the ground, as if he was trying to gauge your reaction but couldn’t bear to look for too long. “That’s… that’s why I’ve been acting so weird.” 

A rush of emotions hit you all at once. Relief. Surprise. And something else—something warm, something thrilling. 

You let out a small breathy laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Spencer, you’ve been avoiding me for days because you have a crush on me?” 

He winced slightly. “Yes?” 

A smile tugged at your lips. The pieces started falling into place—the nervous stammering, the awkward silences, the way he’d flinched at even the smallest touches. You had spent the entire week wondering if you’d somehow upset him when, in reality, he was just… flustered. 

Over you. 

It was almost funny. No—it was funny. 

Spencer watched you carefully, his anxiety spiking at your silence. He had just spilled his feelings to you in the most awkward way possible, and now you were just standing there, staring at him with this unreadable look. He braced himself for rejection, for you to awkwardly brush it off, for you to tell him that you didn’t feel the same way— 

Instead, you smiled. 

And then you laughed. 

Spencer blinked. “Are you—are you laughing at me?” He sounded both confused and slightly horrified. 

You quickly shook your head, even though you were still grinning. “No! No, I swear, I’m not laughing at you.” You bit your lip to stifle another giggle, but it wasn’t working. “It’s just—you’ve been torturing yourself over this ?” 

Spencer huffed, looking away. “I wouldn’t call it torture—” 

“You literally stopped making eye contact with me.” 

“That’s—okay, that’s fair.” He sighed. “I just… I didn’t know how to act. Every time I tried to talk to you, I ended up embarrassing myself, and I figured it would be easier if I just… didn’t.” 

You softened at that. 

“Spence,” you said gently, reaching for his hand before he could overthink it. The second your fingers brushed his, you felt him stiffen. But he didn’t pull away. “You know you could’ve just told me, right?” 

He let out a breath, finally meeting your eyes. “I was afraid that if I told you… things would change.” 

You squeezed his hand lightly, feeling a rush of fondness for him. His brain was the most brilliant one you’d ever known, but sometimes he made things so complicated. 

“Well, things are going to change,” you admitted, watching his expression closely. 

His heart stuttered. “Oh.” 

A flicker of panic flashed across his face, and you quickly squeezed his hand again before he spiraled. 

“Not in a bad way,” you reassured him, stepping a little closer. You tilted your head, smiling softly. “I like you too, Spencer.” 

Spencer’s breath caught. “You…?” 

“Mhm.” 

He blinked rapidly, like he was trying to process your words, as if he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you might feel the same way. 

And then—oh. 

Oh. 

His entire body relaxed, the tension melting from his shoulders. He let out a breathy laugh, running his free hand through his hair as he shook his head. 

You smiled as you leaned back against your car, watching the relief wash over Spencer.

He stared at you, his eyes flickering between your own and your lips, and you could practically see the thoughts racing through his mind.

Spencer swallowed, his hands fidgeting at his sides. And then, as if the rush of confidence from his confession hadn’t completely worn off yet, he asked, “Can—can I kiss you?” 

Your stomach flipped at his words, your smile widening. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

Spencer exhaled something that sounded like half a laugh, half a breath of relief, before you reached for him, your fingers curling gently around the fabric of his cardigan as you tugged him toward you.

He let out a shaky breath, his hands hovering for only a second before settling on your cheeks. His fingers were warm despite the cold air.

His fingertips barely grazing your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, and for a second, he just looked at you—like he wanted to take his time, like he wanted to remember everything about this moment before it even happened.

Then, finally, he leaned in. 

The first touch of his lips was soft, almost tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn’t—when you kissed him back just as eagerly—he let himself relax. His hands cupped your face more firmly, his body leaning just slightly into yours.

You sighed against him, your hands sliding up to rest against his shoulders, your fingers gently threading into the curls at the nape of his neck. That was all it took. You felt him shiver slightly under your touch, a quiet hum of contentment vibrating in his chest.

When you finally pulled away for air, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathless but smiling.

Spencer opened his eyes, his pupils slightly blown, a soft, dazed smile tugging at his lips.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he murmured.

You chuckled, your hands still resting against his neck. “You really thought I didn’t like you back?”

He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

You brushed your thumb along his cheek, tilting your head playfully. “Well, you should’ve. Because I really like you, Spencer.”

His smile widened, something utterly adorable in the way his entire face lit up at your words.

“I like you too,” he said again, as if he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to say it out loud.

You grinned. “Yeah, I think I got that part.”

[darkredsugarcookie]

Hi!! I’m new here so I’m sorry if I do this wrong. Just want to send some Thunderbolts!Bucky ideas maybe he called his girlfriend (the reader) for backup (maybe she’s a former shield agent) but didn’t share too many info with the group and they all a little surprised to find out he has a girlfriend

Let me know what you think, thanks!

i absolutely LOVE this!!! Ever since I saw Thunderbolts I've been thinking about almost this exact thing and I got another ask for something similar, so here we are! I'm also tempted to make a part two of this but focus on the two of them more and make it a comfort thing to apologize for my shame room fic LOL

love you 3000!

Signed Up For This

Word count: 1,143

As far as the media knew, the two of you were nothing more than acquaintances. 

But it was a bond that had gone back a lifetime, from when the two of you had first met when you were fresh out of escaping the Red Room, to when he was the contact you had made to get a fresh start on life and he was in the process of trying to make amends with his existence, so he had offered to get coffee. “We both need some… new connections,” he had said, offering that awkward smile that you had fallen for almost as quickly as he’d fallen for you. 

It was your idea to keep it a secret. You knew how he felt about weaknesses and you were currently the only one he really had. If anyone knew the truth… God, it terrified him. The idea of losing the one pure and right thing he’d gained in this side of the century drove him into a panic more often than he’d admit. So he was glad you had brought it up, worried you might be offended or think he was ashamed of you.

Which was what made him making you the head of his security when he decided to run for Congress a little out of the blue, but you took it. Any opportunity to be close. Plus… who said sneaking around at work was for teenagers? 

But tonight, you had a different reason for asking to speak to him in private in the middle of the fundraiser gala. You knew that look on his face. That look that said he was plotting when he very much should not have been. 

“What are you thinking?” you asked, peeking around the corner for a moment before your gaze fixed on him again. It was a miracle his hair had stayed in place, but there was a reason he always made you do it for him. “I can see that look.”

“What look?” he replied, that dumb grin you’d fallen for years ago pulling at his mouth. “I’m not thinking.”

“You are such a liar, James Barnes. I can see it. Whatever you’re thinking, leave it alone. We are past our meddling days.”

“I’m not meddling,” he said. 

You tilted your head. “Do not let this stuff with Valentina get personal. You can’t afford to get in trouble with all this.” 

“The politics don’t—”

“I’m not talking about politics,” you said. “I’m talking about you, Buck. We don’t know for sure what’s going on and we can’t act until we do. Otherwise we’ll be in just as much trouble as she is.”

“I talked to her assistant,” Bucky said. 

“Her assistant? Mel?” 

“Yes. She’s on the fence.” 

“Okay. Tell her to call you when she’s made a decision. Don’t make it your job to change her mind,” you said, taking a step closer. He just stood there a moment, looking you over. Not in that ‘get in the office and take off that dress’ kind of way he normally did, but like he was just taking in your existence. “You told me that my job as your security is to keep you safe. But my job as your fiance is to make sure that we’re not making dumb decisions. Let Mel come to you.”

He nodded, reaching for your waist to tug your body closer. Normally you’d pull away in a setting like this, even hidden, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Not now. Not when you had that feeling in your stomach that something was just off. And that feeling had never led you astray. “I just make your job harder, don’t I?” he said with a small, teasing smile. 

“You do, but I signed up for it,” you replied. 

“I’ll be good,” he said, nodding. “But… Mel’s just a kid. If she needs help—”

“Help her,” I said. “And if she needs more than that, call me.” 

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth. “My best girl,” he whispered. 

“Always.”

And you should’ve known after that conversation that it was only a matter of time. Within thirty-six hours, you were sent a pin drop link to some place in the middle of nowhere and a message that just said “need you.”

You’d tugged on that leather uniform jacket you hadn’t touched in a long time and braided back your hair before pulling up to some abandoned garage in the middle of nowhere, intel in hand. You could hear voices from inside, something about a “Bob” and exclamations of words you hardly understood. 

You shoved through the rusted door, swiping up on the tab in your hands. “She took over the old Avengers tower,” you said, approaching and offering Bucky the tablet. “Heat signatures say she has the place crawling with security and I ran facial rec on the guy she brought in early this morning.”

“So guns blazing is the only way in,” Bucky said, reaching to squeeze your hand in a silent thank you. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Guess so,” you replied before turning to the abstract group of circus people tied up in front of you. And John. “What the hell happened here? Bucky, I told you to just leave Walker alone, he’s been through enough.”

“Who are you?” the little blonde in black asked. If you squinted, you might recognize her. Like some sort of really distant, childhood memory. 

Bucky blew out a breath before you could answer. “She’s my fiance.”

“Your what?” came from all four of them. 

“He’s married?” the brunette asked. 

“In the process,” I corrected. 

“How did that happen?” Walker muttered. 

“Oh, that is cute!” the large one exclaimed, seeming to be way too happy considering the circumstance.

You glanced at Bucky, your arms folded over your chest. “This is… who was so important?” 

“They’re witnesses,” Bucky said, giving you a look as if to tell you to be kind. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the others. “Most ragtag team I’ve ever seen,” you said, shaking your head. “What, exactly, is the plan here?”

“Well, originally, they were my witnesses,” Bucky said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “But now the agenda looks a little different. Take out Val, help Bob. Then we go home.” 

“Bob?” You asked. “Like Robert?” You took the tablet from his hands and swiped it open. “Yeah, he’s a big deal now. If we’re gonna move, we need to do it fast.” You swapped a knowing look with Bucky as he nodded. “I’ll start the car.” 

As you made your way towards the door, you heard the voices behind you. 

“So you’re really not all bite, huh?” one of the girls said. 

“Someone really does have a soft spot.”

“Isn’t that cute."

And despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your lips.

[t1red-twilight]

hold me close

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, cuddling, no plot oops, avengers tower new era, probably spelling mistakes (i’m falling asleep)

wc: 2k

masterlist r. r. masterlist

the rest of the team had left about twenty minutes ago to go on a mission. you hadn’t really caught onto why they were leaving, but currently you couldn’t find it in yourself to care that much. to be honest, it just sounded like: “blah, blah, blah, guns, blah, blah, blah, the power of friendship.“

bob, of course, stayed behind. and while you were always upset that he couldn’t join the team on these important missions, currently you were enjoying spending time alone with him. somehow, someway, when he was alone he was even softer and gentler than he was regularly.

plus, it helped to have a alone time with him. especially when the two of you weren’t quite ready to tell the team that you were, well, together. you knew that they wouldn’t mind. not at all, in fact. there was already some teasing on a regular basis.

but the both of you reveled in the privacy, for as long as you had it. eventually, you would tell the rest of the team. but right now, this felt perfect.

as for why you were staying behind, it was because you had gotten injured on the last mission. you had gotten shot through your abdomen, and while you insisted that you were perfectly fine the rest of the team insisted that you stay behind.

you remembered bob’s reaction when you had to came back from that mission. you had been stitched up at that point, but that did not stop him from panicking. his breath had quickened in pace, and his hands were shaking violently. it took you, yelena and ava to calm him down.

ever since then, he had been even gentler with you than before, and you hadn’t even considered that physically possible. you reassured him daily that the pain medication was working, and just him being around was medication in and of itself.

when you had told bob that you were staying behind on this one, you could tell that he was definitely upset about your injury. but, there was an underlying feeling that you both caught onto. you staying behind meant that you could have more alone time together without having to hide. his small, giddy smile, never got old.

so, the team had left quite a few minutes ago. you and bob waited just in case alexei or john had left something behind and needed to double back. after enough time it passed, you could finally be as close to him as he wanted to be.

you laid down on the couch. the plush of the couch caressed your back and provided comfort that you needed for what remained of your injury. you were fine, you swore. no one seemed to believe you, though. after some negotiating, you had successfully convinced bob to lay on top of you. if anything, the pressure on what was left of your wound was quite comforting and provided relief.

some rerun ran in the background. all you could focus on was bob’s soft breathing that brushed against your collarbone. you ran your fingers through his hair. you always found yourself able to relax when you were around him. you hoped and prayed that it was the same for him too. you knew he wasn’t asleep, just retreating into a relieved, calm state.

his arms were encircled around your waist, and you would’ve asked him if his blood circulation was being cut off, and he had casually and honestly told you that no, they weren’t, and he didn’t really care.

you felt bob inhale deeply. you were sure that if you looked at him, you could see him smiling widely. “this is always my favorite.“ he inhaled deeply again, “being with you. it’s the best part of my day.“

your thumb began to caress his cheek. “i don’t know what i would do without this. you’re always able to ground me.“

he craned his neck up to look at you. this time, you could see his smile in all its glory. “mhm. i agree completely. not in a way that i want you to think that i need you around constantly – i don’t want you to ever feel like you’re obligated to –“

you chuckled slightly and cut yourself off quickly. “you could never make me feel like that, bob. i wouldn’t want to be around you so much if i didn’t like you. you’re one of my favorite people on this planet.” you paused for a moment, then continued. “perhaps in this galaxy and every single multiverse. i’m never gonna leave unless you want me to.“ you matched his smile.

bob’s eyes softened. the slight tension in his jaw released; you caught onto the fact that he clenched his jaw often, and ground his teeth in his sleep. (not that you snuck into his room, and vice versa, and left before anyone could find out. never. there was also, never, any sort of pleading that either of you should stay longer. of course not.)

bob returned his head down on your collarbone again. his hand on your waist, dragged up to your upper back. you leaned down and kiss the crown of his head. you could’ve sworn that you felt slight shiver up his spine. you hoped that the effect that you had on each other would never lessen. you knew for a fact that his effect on you would never lighten.

all your partners before bob had not treated you in the nicest way, and occasionally his kindness and softness surprised you. bob nuzzled his nose into the spot where your neck met your collarbone. you could’ve sworn that you felt him smell you, but honest to god, you didn’t mind. after all, bob always smelled nice to you. it was flattering that it seemed that he felt the same for you.

“are you enjoying the show?” bob murmured it into your neck. the vibrations from his voice sent shivers through your body, and you tried to suppress them. he still had an effect on you, and you were trying to get used to not hiding that despite your embarrassment. the embarrassment just stemmed from a place of being embarrassed of liking him as much as you did. you had never liked someone like you had him.

you chuckled mischievously. “i’m not really watching it, to be honest.“

bob laughed with you. “yeah, me neither. i’m just too lost in how comfortable you are.“ you laughed again, louder this time. you pulled his head closer to you and kiss his forehead this time.

bob responded by pulling you closer to him as well. you traced circles on his neck with your fingertips. you sighed contentedly, it was so easy to get “lost“ (to match his phrasing). he was just so perfect for you. he understood you when you were hurting, and so did you for him.

when you first started your rendezvous, you hadn’t expected him to be so touchy. but the more time you had with him, the more you realized that physical touch was something that he longed for. you didn’t like to think how much of that he had denied himself, or that he had been denied.

and while you weren’t super fond of physical touch from other people, you craved it so very deep deeply from him. he would kill a man just for one hug from him, as dramatic as that was.

bob was just teddy bear heart. a large teddy bear, and a traumatized teddy bear, but neither of those bothered you. you’d give him all the reassurance and comfort that he needed because he returned that when you needed it.

“how long do you think it will take for them to get back?” you whispered, teetering the edge between being awake and falling asleep.

bob tried before responding. “i don’t know. i just hope it takes a while.” you snorted.

you bit your lip as you held back a smile. “so you want them to struggle? do you want them to be in danger?” you stated with sarcasm saturating every word.

bob looked up again, meeting your eye line. “what? of course, not. i just want to have as much time with you as I can.” his watery blue eyes looked at you with confusion. you couldn’t really tell if he was also being sarcastic or not.

you laughed at his response. “i’m just joking, honey. i knew that’s not what you meant. in the least sadistic way possible, i hope there’s just a tinier bit of trouble more than usual. just so i can have a little more time with you.”

you tucked his head back down again. “i figured.” after a few moments he spoke up again. “should we turn off the tv? we’re not really watching it.” his voice was dropping in decibels, sleep clouding his words.

you shrugged. “i don’t really mind if it’s on or off. if you want it off, we can turn it off though.” he mirrored you by shrugging again. neither of you had really watched the movie.

his breath began to slow, and he once again pulled you tighter to him. “eh, i don’t really care.“ he placed a kiss along the column of your throat, and grinned when he felt you shiver.

you reached to your side to grab the remote off of the coffee table. at this action, bob grunted in faux annoyance. you smiled lovingly and shut off the tv. then, you settled back in and wrapped your arms around him. one of your hands was on his upper back and the other was on the back of his head.

in the back of your mind, you knew that it wasn’t a good idea to be falling asleep on the couch. however, you didn’t really care in the moment. bob was just holding you so closely that you couldn’t focus on what was best, considering your secret arrangement.

you noticed the chill of the room. some part of you wondered if he had lowered the temperature right before the team had left so that when the time came, he would have some excuse to be close to you. you had caught him doing this before. but you didn’t mind; it was kind of cute.

it didn’t take long until sleep overcame you despite you best efforts. bob always fell asleep before you did, and at some point he had mentioned that falling asleep was easier with you around. you too felt more comfortable around him than you did alone.

-

you awoke to the sound of a shutter noise, coming from above you. “shit!” someone, probably ava, hoarsely whispered. “why isn’t your phone on silent?” her tone was filled with vitriol.

“what do you mean silent?“ another voice whisper-yelled. bucky, maybe? “i don’t know what that means. i only have this phone because you and yelena made me get it.” yep. definitely bucky.

your eyes opened just a crack. there was the team, coated in dirt and grime, and hovering above you. bucky’s phone was directly in front of his face, akin to how an old man would be holding his phone. well, that is technically what he was.

you shook bob awake. “bob, we have an audience.” he shook the sleep off, and pulled an arm out from underneath you to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“huh?” bob looked around at your crowd. “oh. damn. i guess we don’t have to tell them now.” he looked back down at you, and he didn’t seem all that upset. and frankly, neither were you.

alexei yelled, making you flinch at the noise. “what do you mean tell us? have you been banging behind our backs? how long?”

you looked at him and confusion. “first of all, no one says ‘banging’ anymore. second of all, this is exactly why we didn’t tell you in the first place.“ while you were being honest, you made an effort to sound not too serious. bob was right though, at least now you didn’t have to sit them down and tell them.

[taintedtort]

" BRAT VS GOOD GIRL! "

summary. do they prefer brats or good girls?

characters. iwaizumi, akaashi, kuroo, kenma, nishinoya, hinata, daichi, kyotani

warnings. nsfw/smut!!!, afab!reader, post!timeskip

a/n. i saw someone else do this but i forgot the user!! :(

☆ — IWAIZUMI

quiet bratty girls. he enjoys a little bit of sass and mouthing off, he thinks it’s cute. it keeps things from getting boring. he‘ll get you back for all the little comments and eye rolls you give him, don’t worry. you won’t have the brain to talk back when he’s got you bent over the bed with his cock jamming into your spot over and over.

"told you to shut that shit up— now look at you, baby."

☆ — AKAASHI

good girls. he likes a girl who will play with his hair and read with him. a girl who will stay up late when he’s at work for a few extra hours. a girl who will gladly let him devour you for as long as he wants. he likes when you get all whiny and squirmy, but of course you’d never push him away whenever he spews encouraging praises at you, gently shushing you whenever tears start to roll down your cheeks.

"so good for me… shh, calm down, love."

☆ — KUROO

semi good semi bad. he likes a girl who can have a little attitude, but will still get on her knees whenever he asks. it’s a bit cute whenever you get mouthy with him, but it never lasts for long. a simple kiss and a redirecting word, and you’re melting for him.

"why are you being so difficult, babe? cmon, i know you can be good."

☆ — KENMA

good girls. bratty girls are too much work, and he doesn’t always have the energy for it. he likes girls who will play games with him and cuddle up in bed with him all day. and a girl who will ride him without complaint when he’s feeling too sluggish to do any work.

"you’ll ride me? really? …that’s sweet."

☆ — NISHINOYA

somewhat bratty girls. he likes the chase to be honest. it’s endearing how you try to act like your little panties don’t get wet whenever he’s around. don’t worry though, he’s very determined. he‘ll have you under him eventually, taking his cock with rapid thrusts.

"think it’s funny making me wait? hm?"

☆ — HINATA

good girls. loves a girl who will cheer him on during his beach games, even when the hot sun is beating down on you. especially loves a girl who will let him fuck after a loss— or even a good win. he likes to get the rest of his adrenaline out, or let his frustrations out. whichever one he needs, you’re there waiting to bend over, offering your tight cunt.

"gonna let me fuck you, baby? yeah… as a reward for the win."

☆ — DAICHI

good girls. as a police officer, it only makes sense that he’d enjoy a nice, sweet girl that listens to him and doesn’t cause any trouble. might be okay if you were teasingly being a brat, just as long as you go back to being his perfect girl once he gets his hands on you.

"you’re cute, babe, nice try."

☆ — KYOTANI

both. he kind of needs a girl who can keep up with his attitude, he can’t handle a girl that’s too soft and sweet. a girl with a bit of feistiness to keep him in check, but also a girl who will be patient with him. he definitely prefers someone who is more pliant while getting fucked though. the way you just move into whatever position he wants, and the way you whine and cry his name is all so addicting.

"take your panties off and turn around."

[wbellab]

Therapy session | J. Bucky Barnes

this could be read as a standalone or a part 2 of Busy Woman.

summary: after a chaotic mission, you end up attending a therapy session with bucky trying to mend up your relationship. this seems to have worsen up everything.

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

cw: angsssst, therapy session, inspired by sambucky session in tfatws, graphic violence, some fluff (crumbles and bits)

3.1 k words

"Alright, Dr Raynor." You stated, more like a question and she nodded. "I get why you want me to talk to freaky magoo over here. But I’m a hundred per cent fine."

You definitely were not fine.

After the failed mission, Sam had dragged both you and Bucky to Baltimore in a failed attempt to get information from a former super soldier. That went about as well as expected—meaning not at all. And to top it off, Bucky got arrested for skipping therapy.

But the real question was: why were you sitting there with him now?

There’s a high chance that Sam had conveniently brought up the fact that your relationship with Bucky had become a bit rocky— not that you ever really got along. Either that, or the tension between you had been so thick it practically walked into the room before you did.

"It is my job to make sure you both are okay. Sam told me what happened, so yeah." Oh so you were right. "This may be slightly unprofessional but it’s the only way that I can see you getting over whatever’s eating at you."

"This is ridiculous." You muttered.

"Yeah i agree."

"Okay we’re going to do an exercise. It’s something I use with couples when they’re trying to figure what kind of life they’re trying to build together." You let out a snort, not out of amusement but irony. Bucky just rolled his eyes.

"Are you familiar with the miracle question ?"

"I don’t think it’s necessar-" Bucky started but you cut him off.

"No I’m not. What is it ?"

"Okay it goes like this. Suppose that while you are sleeping, a miracle occurs. When you wake up what is something you would like to see that would make your life better ?"

With no surprise, Bucky was the first to answer the question.

"In my miracle, she would talk less."

"Is that why you threw me out of a moving truck asshole?"

"See what i mean." He turned to the therapist, which made you send a glare towards him.

"You both are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul gazing exercise."

"I like this one."

"Oh thank you I love this."

"Oh you should really enjoy this." You told him, moving your chair so that you would be facing him.

"I’m going to."

"I know you are."

"Okay you both face each other." The therapist instructed.

"Let’s do it let’s stare."

"We get close this is a good exercise."

"Thanks doc." You muttered.

"Alright, good get close. Come on closer."

"Well which way you want to go, right or left ?"

"Why do you have your legs wide open. You want me to sit on your lap or what ? You know what, fine." You scooted forward, legs angling inward until your knee pressed between his—and his was between yours.

The position was awkward. Too awkward. You could feel the brush of his knee against your inner thigh, too high, too warm. And though you hated to admit it, you could’ve almost been aroused by it. If your anger toward him didn’t burn hotter than the tension.

"You happy now ?" You huffed, successfully concealing your flustered state—which Bucky hasn’t been able to hide.

He sat stiffly, visibly uncomfortable, like even the slightest movement might set something off. He hadn’t moved an inch since you got close. Shoulders tense, jaw tight, clearly unsure where to look. It would’ve been satisfying if you weren’t equally rattled beneath the surface.

"All right, good. That’s fine." The therapist tried to stop your banter.

"It’s a little close." He muttered.

"It’s very close that’s what you wanted right ?" You retorted aggressively.

"Guys,"you both stopped. "Now look at each other. You need to look at each other in the eyes," you stared right at his blue eyes, a frown on your face similar to his. "There you see that wasn’t so hard."

You just continued staring right in them. Your eyes squinted trying hard not to blink as he did the same back.

You were still mad, furious actually, that he tossed you out of the damn truck without a single word. Like you were just some reckless burden he couldn’t deal with a second longer. And now, you wanted him to feel that. Every ounce of your anger.

So you weren’t about to blink. Not once. Not until he squirmed. Not until he realized you weren’t going to let him off easy.

Probably childish but effective.

"Wait what are you doing ? Are you having a staring contest ?" When none of you responded she snapped her fingers, making you close your teary eyes. Dammit.

"Just blink. Sweet Jesus."

Bucky’s frown was still on his face as he stared at the doctor.

"All right, Bucky, why does she aggravate you ?" A smirk started forming on his lips. He could definitely think of a bunch of reasons why you aggravated him. And when he was about to mention your current interest to his ass, Doctor Raynor cut him off. "And don’t say something childish."

Bucky’s smirk faltered and he let out a frustrated breathe. His jaw clenched as he started thinking, the muscle twitching like he was holding something back. For a second, he looked like he might drop it entirely. But then he sighed, tired of carrying the question around in silence.

"Why are you always flirting with me?" he asked quietly, almost too quietly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t bitter. It was genuine, and that made it worse. There was a flicker of something raw behind his eyes, like he hated that he even had to ask. He sounded insecure and he hated it.


"Oh my god is this what it is all about?" You dryly chuckle. "Why are you making such a big deal out of something so insignificant ?"

"Do you flirt with Bucky to push his buttons ?" The therapist chimed in, a bit more interested in the direction the conversation was flowing.

You rolled your eyes. What is it with all these weird questions ?

"I flirt with him because I like him. The button pushing is just a bonus."

"Yeah. Of course you would." His voice was cold. Harsh and condescending. Every hint of amusement disappeared from your face. "Do you get a kick out of messing with people just for fun? You don’t get to flirt with people and then act like none of this matters. Like I’m just something to pass the time until you get bored. It’s fucking disgraceful. And I’m–"

He couldn’t bring himself to say more. You were staring right at him, a frown on your face. How could he bring himself to explain what he was feeling out loud?

Bucky couldn’t believe you. He wouldn’t believe that you simply liked him. This was too simple of an explanation for someone like him. Someone that did horrible things couldn’t be wanted in the first place.

And it wasn’t just his own insecurities getting through him.

No. This was anchored in his brain, as if a small cognitive part of it told him this wasn’t possible. That every small moment of kindness was a lie he wasn’t allowed to believe in. Someone like him don’t get the girl, not really. Not without her regretting it later.

Another part of his brain told him your boldness and playfulness were just a reflection of the value you had of him, insignificant. You were messing with him, knowing Bucky would fall for you.

And how could he not ? You did everything to make him. When you were so insistent with him, bold, charismatic and funny. Clingy and affectionate. You were everything he had been craving since he came back from Hydra. There was absolutely no universe in which James Buchanan Barnes wouldn’t have fallen for you.

"Don’t act like this is real. It’s unfair." He said more softly.

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. It wasn’t mean, not exactly but this was as if. You couldn’t believe you ever let yourself fall for someone like him. He never really understood you.

What you felt in that moment was a deep, gut-punch kind of hurt.

Being told it all meant nothing. That your affection was careless or meaningless. This all shattered something fragile inside you. Everything you ever said or did, thinking it was sweet or meaningful felt exposed, misunderstood. Like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place, something you’d been too oblivious to see or too hopeful to admit.

He would never like, never reciprocate the feelings.

This wasn’t just romantic rejection. It was emotional rejection. He hadn’t just dismissed your feelings, he’d rejected the way you showed your love to him. And that hit harder than anything else. It was humiliating to care so much, and be accused of the exact opposite.

With a final sigh, you told yourself this would be all over. You were done being taken for a fool.

"You know what’s really unfair? You dismissing my fucking feelings when I have been displaying them so obviously." You bit back, scooting your chair away from him, when you noticed the proximity you still had. "Maybe this is something you would never understand and I’m so done making a fool out of myself just for you to not get the signals." You snapped. Breathe in, breathe out. You turned to the doctor, glaring at her like she'd personally orchestrated this mess. She did nothing wrong but she was the reason why you were here, trapped in this room, sitting across from him. And right now, that was enough.

You didn’t even have the sense to feel guilty for it. Not with the way your chest burned. Not after everything that had gone unsaid.

"You know what Doc I don’t have time for this. We have some real serious shit going on. So how about this, I will squash it, right now. We’re gonna deal with this and when we’re done we’ll go on long separate vacations. And never see each other again."

"Yeah." He sighed, he did not want you to squash it. He wanted to talk, to understand. "I like that." He lied.

"Great then let’s get to work." You turned to the therapist. "Thanks doc for making it weird. I feel so much better. See you outside." You rolled your eyes, stomping to the door. This was a total mess.

"Thank you." She answered, but you were already gone. She turned to Bucky. "That was really great. You’re doing better at expressing your emotions. Maybe next time, we’ll work on the dating part." He completely ignored her, standing up to leave before being interrupted by her. "I know that look." She stared at him as if she would see right through him. "You’re pushing her away."

He ignored what she said once again. "What was rule number two again ?"

"Don’t hurt anyone." She simply answered.

"Goodbye doc."

This session did not help your case. It was worse and Sam noticed.

"So how did it go ?" He asked you once you were out.

"Get lost." You muttered, going through the door to leave the police station.

Sam turned to Bucky who left the room a few seconds after you, noticing the gloomy stare on his face.

"I get that it did not go as well as expected."

"Oh fuck off."

"Ok guys I don’t know what happened in this room but you need to deal with it like right now before we enter Madripoor."

"There’s nothing wrong. I’m totally fine, let’s deal with the more important matters." You scoffed

"If I may say–"

"Shut up."

"Please don’t."

You and Bucky said at the same time. Zemo raised an eyebrow but wisely chose silence, folding his hands behind his back. It had barely been three hours since Bucky busted him out of prison, and those three hours had already been filled with tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The fallout of that decision had led to a heated argument between you and Bucky, and the aftermath still lingered, electric and unspoken, hovering just beneath the surface.

And this tension would linger for days.

"You should fuck the tension off. Worked well with my wife." Zemo mentioned once in the jet.

"That’s what I told them." Sam grumbled, it seemed like it was the only thing he agreed about with Zemo.

You and Bucky both turned to glare at him in unison.

This was hard. The comments, all the underlying tension. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to anyone else but you hadn’t moved on. Not really. It still hurt to think about it. Not in a loud, obvious way but in a slow, aching kind that sat in your chest and made it hard to breathe.


It was over before it ever began. That was the part that stung the most.

You kept your eyes off him. Avoided looking. You didn’t know if he was watching you, and you didn’t care anymore. Or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The mission was done. You had stopped the Flash Smaggers’ attack on New York. You’d won.

And yet.

You noticed how close Sam and Bucky had become. You also noticed how far you’d drifted, not just from Sam, but from everyone. Two months. No calls returned. No contact. Just silence. You were alone again. Like before. And somehow, that felt almost familiar. Pathetic, but familiar.

Your boots hit the pavement in steady, silent steps. You were walking nowhere. Just moving.

And then you felt it, the presence behind you. Subtle, careful. But not careful enough. You’d clocked them almost thirty minutes ago. You were trained for this. So you led them here in a dark alley, bad angles.

You pressed your back to the cold brick wall, waited. As soon as the figure passed the corner, you struck. Knife in hand, aiming for the throat.

But they were faster. The blade never made it.


You felt cold metal clamp around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion. Bucky. Of course.

You didn’t hesitate. If anything, that just made you angrier.

You slammed your heel into his solar plexus. He faltered, loosened his grip, and your wrist slipped free. In one fluid motion, you ducked low, sweeping for his legs.
But he was already moving.

Instead, he grabbed your jacket, yanked you forward, and slammed you against the wall with a thud that echoed.

You retaliated immediately, headbutting him hard bone cracking against bone. He staggered, blood running from his nose, and you used the opening to punch him in the stomach.

But before it could collide, he grabbed your wrist, and twisted it back. But you twisted with him, using the momentum to slam your elbow into his ribs again and shove him into the wall.

He gripped your waist, lifted you, and threw you to the ground. Hard.

You hit the concrete with a grunt, For a second, something flickered in his expression, concern, hesitation. And that split-second lapse was all you needed. You kicked upward, catching him in the thigh, rolling to your feet before he could pin you.

You were breathing hard now, both of you bruised, dirt and blood smeared across your clothes, faces cut and scraped from the pavement.

"You think you can just toss me out of a truck and then follow me like nothing happened?" you snarled, your leg connected with the back of his knee to destabilize him. "You don’t get to throw me away literally and come running when you feel like it."

He stumbled back, but he caught himself. "You’re the one who disappeared."

You didn’t even wait. You slammed your elbow to his throat, driving him into the alley wall with a loud thud.

"Because you made it clear I meant nothing to you!"

"I did not mean to hurt you." he spat back, shoving you off him roughly. "You think any of this is easy for me?"

"I don’t care if it’s easy!" You shoved again, fists pounding at his chest now. "You said I toyed with you. You said I didn’t care. You made me feel like I was some stupid little girl who couldn’t take this seriously—"

"You think I don’t feel anything?" His voice cracked, but not out of emotion. Out of sheer frustration. "I was lost and I couldn’t understand you. I was trying to protect you!"

"By humiliating me? By making me feel like shit? You don't get to act like some noble idiot now, Bucky. You’re not the victim."

He lunged again, catching your wrists, holding them against the wall this time. Not gently.

"You think I’m not aware of that?" his voice was low in your ear. "I know I’m screwed up. I know what people see when they look at me. So forgive me if I don’t believe it when someone like you pretends to give a damn."

Your breathing was ragged. The tension between you was suffocating.

"Get your hands off me," you whispered.

He didn’t move. "Say you didn’t mean it."

"What?"

"All the flirting. The drunk night. The things you said. Say you didn’t mean any of it."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. But you didn’t say a word.

That silence was enough.

He let go of you like your skin burned him, and took two steps back.

The distance felt a hell of a lot colder than the fight.

"I was cruel," he said quietly.

"You were," you answered, not softening it for him.

And he nodded, like he knew you would say that. Like he needed to hear it.

“It wasn’t about you,” he said. "But I made it about you. I made you pay for the shit in my head, and that’s on me."

"I no longer care." You lied.

"Please come back." His hand grabbed you arm, softly now. You let him guide you towards him. Although your expression was close.

"No. James don’t."

He ignored you and caressed the bruise that was forming on your forehead.

"I’m sorry." He muttered. You couldn’t tell if he meant the bruise or everything else—but your throat tightened anyway.

You frowned, eyes stinging, and before you could stop yourself, everything that you’ve been bottling up had exploded. Tears spilled over and he saw it.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he could keep the world out.

"It’s okay. I’ve got you." He muttered, his hand stroking your hair.

You sank into him, both of you slowly lowering to the ground. He followed without letting go, holding you as tightly as he could while you cried against his chest.

"You deserve better, doll."

"I don’t–" Your choked on a sob. And he only pulled you tighter.

"We’ll figure it out. I’m not letting you go again."

Dirtied, bloodied, bruised. You both looked wrecked. And somehow, in the thick of it all, you decided to believe him. To start over.

Not with promises. Not with pretty words. But with this—his arms around you, your tears on his shirt, and the silence that didn’t need to be filled.

That was how it would begin: in the comfort of the chaos. Not clean, not easy. But real.

a/n: i was about to separate this one and make a part 3 but i m on my exam period so it was either binge writing it or never finishing it. Thank you for everyone all of you I truly appreciate that you liked the first part !

@vxllys @seventeen-x @softpia @just-a-little-awkward @am-3-thyst @freshfreakoaftrash @awinchester83 @stars4birdie @ladyliloslife @starstruckfirecat @hannahbanannax @genlovesdcb @fandomsearcherforcuntymen

@astermwah @spaceunicorn293 @inloveallthetime @bigteefsmallbrain @oceanaroma @winchestert101 @thatgirljas13

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Can I see your d*ck? (pt 4)

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

synopsis: you finally get what you wanted... and it turns out to be more than you expected.

wc: 2.0k

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity

a/n: enjoy the final part, lovelies!❤️ and look forward for channie dolly and other bigger projects i'm working on *wink wink*

masterlist

"I guess I'll give you exactly what you need." Felix smirked at you, pulling you down and swiftly turning you over so he was on top.

You let out a little gasp as you grabbed onto his shoulders and looked up at him, seeing something soft flashing in his eyes before he leaned down to capture your lips in his. He kissed you softly at first, savoring the moment, your taste and the hint of him on your tongue.

He pushed his tongue deeper in your mouth, swirling it around yours as his hands slowly ran over your body, his touch gentle before he kissed you harder, lightly groping your hips. He stopped himself before he started losing more control.

"Are you sure about this?" Felix asked breathlessly while his eyes searched yours.

"Yes." you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer, you yearned to have him as close to you as you could.

"This'll change everything between us." he whispered as he looked at you, something akin to longing appearing in his eyes.

"We already stepped over the boundaries." you let out a chuckle. "I wanna go all the way, with you. I'm sure."

"Okay." he smiled and kissed you again, pressing his warm body against yours. You felt his dick twitching as soon as it pressed against your wet core, the mere touch was already making him become hard once more.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he spread your legs, gripping at your thighs and dragging his length against your wet pussy. You whimpered into his mouth as excitement started building inside you.

Nervousness washed over you as well, knowing it was your first time and you still couldn't believe that it would belong to your best friend who you've been pining over for years. It was a matter of time for the two of you to end up like this. You noticed the way he looked at you, the way his touch always lingered, the way he always searched for you first when he needed to share good news or ask for advice or just someone to vent with. You were hoping it meant more than just best friends, for years you had imagined different scenarios of your first kiss with him.

Never in a million years would you think it would happen like this, out of a silly question; now you giving yourself to him, the two of you going all the way.

"You okay?" Felix whispered as he leaned back, noticing that you were deep in your thoughts.

"Yeah, just a little tense. You know... First time and all." you giggled nervously, your face becoming red and Felix smirked at your cuteness.

"I'll be gentle, sweetheart. Don't worry. You're in good hands." he assured you as his palms ran up and down your waist.

"I trust you." you whispered as you looked at him.

He smiled and then groaned when he remembered, "I don't have a condom. It's not like I expected for this to happen like this, on a random Thursday afternoon." Felix laughed awkwardly and you chuckled.

"I don't have any either. It's okay, we don't have to use them, I mean... I've never been with anyone." you gulped as your stomach twisted a little. "W-what about you?"

Felix looked taken aback for a moment, his freckled cheeks becoming more red the more he avoided to look into your eyes.

"Actually, I never went all the way with anyone either." he confessed and you gasped.

"You? Really? Never?" you chuckled in disbelief.

"Yeah, why are you so shocked?" Felix finally looked at you, his face almost as red as a tomato.

"Because you're you... You know." you groaned in frustration.

"Elaborate." he lifted one brow as he kept looking at you.

"Have you seen yourself? It's just impossible to me that no one wanted to fuck you, you know. You never even told me about going out with anyone."

"I didn't say that no one wanted me. I just didn't want them." Felix leaned in closer, his eyes dark and intense as he stared into yours.

"But you want me?" you whispered as your voice became shaky, you were falling under his spell even more.

"I want you so much." Felix said, the rawness and honesty in his voice made a shiver run down your spine and your pussy clenched in anticipation.

"P-please, Felix." you whimpered, getting more and more impatient as you felt his hardness pressing against you. It was well into the evening hours and the sun went down since the time you asked that faithful question and you didn't have it in you to take any more of his teasing.

"Shh, I got you baby." Felix kissed your jaw as he grabbed his dick, running the tip over your folds before gently pressing it between and you gasped, arching your back off the mattress and gripping at his upper back. Felix attached his lips on your exposed neck as he slowly started pushing in, feeling the way you were stretching around him, taking him in like you were made for him. His eyes almost rolled back but he leaned up and looked at you, he wanted to see your face as he pushed the rest of his length in very slowly, making you feel every inch of him.

Your eyes glazed over and your lips fell open, small gasps and whimpers leaving them as Felix stretched you open.

"F-Felix." you gasped and he groaned lowly as he bottomed out.

"A-are you okay?" he asked, his grip on your hips bruising as he held back.

"Mhm." you moaned, gripping the back of his head and pulling him down in a kiss. You could feel the way he shuddered against you, it was taking everything in him not to thrust hard into you.

"You can move." you whispered and Felix held onto your hips as he started dragging his dick against your folds languidly, making you feel everything, all of it, his tip pressing into a spot that made you tremble and whimper.

"Fuck. You feel so good, baby." he buried his face in your neck, leaving sloppy kisses on your soft skin, nipping at it as his hands ran all over your body, everywhere he could reach like he had no idea where to start first.

"You feel so good too, Lixie." you moaned as you wrapped your legs around him, bringing him even closer and making him push in deeper.

"C-careful, sweetheart." Felix was losing his mind, it was all too much. He always imagined having you all to himself, making you completely his, being close to you like this but none of his fantasies could ever compare to the real feel of you. Your warmth, your wetness, your smell, your taste. Your everything was driving him crazy with need.

You smirked a little as you clenched around him, pulling him in even closer to your body so you were pressed together.

"Or what?" you taunted and he looked at you so darkly that you shivered against him.

"Or I won't be able to hold back anymore." he said as he continued slowly moving inside you and you needed more. The little bit of nervousness you felt disappeared the moment he slotted himself inside you, like he belonged right there, connected with you. It was Felix, your Felix and you trusted him completely.

"Don't hold back." you whispered and he groaned, gripping at your breasts and making you whimper and arch into him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes I'm sure. Please, faster." you whined and held onto him as he leaned in and kissed you passionately and sloppily, his hands massaging your breasts and pinching your sensitive nipples while he slowly started increasing the movement of his hips against yours.

"Felix, ah Felix, more!" you moaned against his lips as your nails dug in his his skin and he groaned deeply into your ear, hips snapping against yours deliciously as he fucked you harder and faster.

Your eyes rolled back and closed as you got completely lost in the feeling of him inside you and Felix couldn't take his eyes off of you, watching you claw at him desperately as you kept moaning and begging, his name leaving your lips constantly as you clenched around him painfully tightly. He knew he wouldn't last long, not when he was the one making you fall apart like this, making you look so beautiful, making you only his.

"Look at me." Felix growled, needing that connection, wanting you to be present in the moment with him. You gasped and locked eyes with him as he grabbed your hands and pinned them on either sides of your head before intertwining your fingers together and fucking into you harder, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" you couldn't even finish your sentence as you held onto Felix's hands, your legs gripping around him and your thighs trembling while you exploded around his length.

"Fuck." his eyes widened as he looked at you and he couldn't hold back, following right after you and finishing inside you, making you gasp when you felt his warm cum filling you up.

"Lix-Lixie!" you whimpered as he gripped your hands harder and looked at you like you weren't even real in that moment, like he was dreaming that he finally had you like this, that you finally belonged to him.

"I love you." he said while you still clenched around him, your body trembling and your ears ringing that you almost missed it.

"What?" you gasped, you didn't mean to react like that but you didn't even think of what would happen after everything you did with Felix this afternoon, after you fell into such an intimate atmosphere with your best friend.

Felix froze at your reaction and quickly pulled out, rolling away from you to lay on his back. "Forget it, forget I said anything please." he covered his eyes with his arm and you stared at him for a moment, still not completely back to Earth after the orgasm he gave you.

"You really love me? As in more than best friends?" you asked quietly after you scooted closer to him and leaned over him, trying to pry his arm away from his face. It was a struggle as he didn't want to let go and your giggles made him laugh too before he let his arm fall to the side.

"Yeah, I love you more than best friends." Felix whispered and looked at you with those big, sweet and innocent eyes like he didn't just ruin your insides moments ago. "It's okay if you don't-"

"Shut up, Lix. Don't even finish that sentence. I love you too." you smiled and grabbed his hand gently.

"Y-you do?" his eyes widened as he sat up.

"Was it not obvious?" you chuckled, your cheeks becoming rosy.

"I was hoping but honestly, I thought I was just imagining things because I wanted them to be that way, you know? I wanted you to love me like I love you." Felix sat up and gently caressed your cheek, making you melt into his touch.

"I felt the same." you chuckled and Felix started laughing. Both of you were idiots in love and hadn't noticed it in years of being friends. At any other moment it would be tragic but right now you were more than estatic and you couldn't help it as you wrapped your arms around Felix and practically pushed him down on the bed with the force of your hug. Felix laughed so happily as he held you tightly against him.

"I'm glad you let your intrusive thoughts win and asked to see my dick." Felix teased and you smacked his arm playfully.

"I don't have to ask to see it anymore, it's mine now, hm?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

"Is that your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?" Felix snickered in amusement. "Cause the answer is yes."

"Of course it is." you giggled and kissed him.

"Wanna go for round two?" he whispered and you gasped as you looked at him.

"Are we gonna skip the torture and teasing and just get to the main course?"

"If you wish so, sweetheart." Felix smirked and rolled on top of you once again.

The night was just beginning and you didn't wanna spend even a second away from Felix, not after you became completely his.

@moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog @pancake-freckle @felixsbrowniesarmystayengene @minhooofr

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight - Part 24

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 23 | Series Masterlist | Part 25

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.8k

Chapter Summary: You're ready for some answers so you can move forward.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence and death, threats, tension, talk of assault, obsession, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby and @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Natasha didn't say a word after wrapping up the phone call with her sister. Neither did you. What was there to say? Both of you knew Zemo was outside of the club.  As much as you wanted to confront him, it wouldn't be a smart move. Not alone at least. You needed Bucky. 

How would he react knowing you needed him once again?

“You really should try to rest,” Natasha finally spoke. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. It was too overwhelming, your mind too frantic.

“I know it won't be easy to do so and you rightfully want answers, but just try to relax as best as you can.”

It took a moment, but you curled up on the sofa and tried to quiet your mind. Your eyes drifted to the dahlia painting, remembering Bucky’s words. The man was all about loyalty, and he expected you to be loyal to him. You’d give him that. What choice was there?

“May I ask you something crazy?” you asked.

“The question may be more normal than you think, so shoot,” she answered.

“Do you think I could love Bucky?”

Love was about acceptance and understanding, but your situation wasn’t normal. Would it ever be love or a form of Stockholm Syndrome? Were you doomed to accept it at face value, or could you smooth out the path for both of you?

Natasha considered your question. “I think if anyone could grow to love him, it’s you,” she answered, leaning into the cushion herself. “But it should be on your terms, not his.”

Neither of you spoke again after that.

You weren’t sure how much time passed when the office door slowly opened. Natasha moved when you sat up, placing herself in front of you. Was she protecting you because of Bucky or was she looking out for you because she wanted to?

“It’s just me. Well, Ray and Steve are here, too,” Bucky announced, stepping further into the room. Ray and Steve hung back by the door, but both of them looked at you with concern.

Was everyone going to treat you like a porcelain doll ready to break? To be fair, it wasn’t that long ago since your attack. You would’ve looked at anyone else the same way. 

You took in the sight of Bucky once Natasha moved completely out of the way. Gone was his jacket, his hair a mess. Had he changed his shirt? Your eyes searched his and you found lingering darkness lurking. The tension in his shoulders didn’t bode well either. 

He either didn’t get the answers he was looking for or something was still wrong.

“You didn’t sleep, did you?” he asked.

“No,” you answered, giving him room so he could sit beside you. “Did you lose yourself?”

“Not completely. I told you I had you to come back to,” he replied, brushing a kiss to your forehead before looking over his shoulder. “Give us a minute.”

Natasha hesitated. “Zemo is-”

“Outside, I know,” Bucky interrupted, a slight edge to his voice. “Just give us a minute.”

Ray held the door open, silently ordering Natasha to leave. You managed a small smile for her before she left, the shutting of the door sealing more of your fate. “Bucky, what-”

His arms nearly crushed you when he pulled you in for a hug, his face buried in your neck to inhale your scent. Just as quickly as he grabbed you, he released you, like he suddenly remembered what you had gone through earlier and that the sudden touch may have frightened you. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“What?” you asked, telling yourself to relax. He wasn’t going to hurt you.

“He wanted to take you away from me. From your home,” he whispered. You took his hand to inspect it, half expecting to see blood. “You don’t have to worry about me. I cleaned myself up a bit, and I’m fine,” he added.

You hummed, thankful for that as your fingers touched his knuckles. Seeing blood on him may have fried your emotions once again. “What do you mean he wanted to take me from my home?”

Bucky gripped your hand when you tried to pull away and explained what Clark told him- How Clark was involved with Zemo and your instinct regarding the drugging of your friends was correct. How Clark intended to take you to Gotham, giving you a way to start over again away from Bucky. It would’ve put you in another cage. 

Steel blue eyes watched you process the information, a featherlight touch on the top of your hand willing you to take a breath. “He was really going to take me away?”

The thought of being ripped away from your friends, your stability, it made your heart ache. As much as the turn of events in your life terrified you, the city was still your home. If anyone would decide when and if you left, it would be you. Except now you didn’t really have a choice since Bucky would dictate when and if you ever left. 

Bucky’s jaw clenched before he nodded. “He was. He thought he’d be your hero,” he said, practically spitting out the last word.

Clark wasn’t a hero. No hero would’ve done what he did. “But my friends are okay? And Lois, she’s okay?” you asked.

The smile on Bucky’s face stretched to his eyes. “How are you so good?” he asked, rhetorically. “I still need the info on what the driver put in the drinks, but it was likely diluted and they should be okay. Lois…” He took a breath. “She isn’t in great shape, but she’s going to get the best care possible.”

You sighed in relief for your friends and Lois, though it hurt to hear that she wasn’t in the best shape, since she didn’t deserve whatever happened to her. “Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered. Lois wasn’t his responsibility, but it meant a lot to you that he wanted to help her heal. Maybe you could meet her, if only to see for yourself that she would be safe and sound. “What about Cl-”

“Don’t say his name, please.,” he gently ordered. “Whatever happens to him after tonight is still his fault.”

You shuddered. So Clark was still alive. For now. “And Zemo? I want to talk to him.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said softly. You were doing your best to control your temper since you knew he was trying to protect you. “You’ve been through a lot, especially tonight.”

“Partially thanks to you,” you reminded him, making him wince. You didn’t mean it as a jab, but he had to keep that in mind. “And this is my life they tried to mess with. I think I’m owed some answers.”

He sighed. “Kotyonok…”

Maybe it was a dirty tactic, but you ran a hand through his hair and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Nothing too extraordinary or forward, but you heard the swift intake of breath. “Please,” you whispered, needing him on your side for this.

“Fine,” he conceded, turning his head to give you a proper kiss. As much as you knew he wanted to deepen it, he stopped himself. “But you’re staying right by my side, and we’ll speak to him in the VIP area. I don’t want him in my office.”

“If that’s what you want.” It was his club, his rules, but it was a small victory that he gave in.

And once the conversation took place, you could finally try to get some sleep.

“Wait,” he said, stopping you from standing. He didn’t hide the vulnerability in his expression when he uttered, “I’m going to earn your love, and I’m not giving up until I have it. Even when I have it, I won’t stop earning it. Or your trust.”

Your mouth fell open. Where had that come from? Had Clark said or done something to get under his skin? 

“I haven’t earned yours,” you said, needing to say something. You saved his mother, sure, and he felt a connection after seeing and hearing you at his club, but that shouldn’t mean that his love and trust should be given so freely.

“You earned it a long time ago, but I haven’t earned yours,” he said easily, helping you to your feet. “I’ll start tonight once we’re home.”

You fell in step beside Bucky, ignoring the gazes of the group in the hall. “Ray, bring Zemo to the VIP area. Have Ari and Jax behind him. Steve, I want you there with us.”

“And what about me? I’m not leaving her,” Natasha said as she followed.

“This isn’t your concern,” Bucky said, tightening his grip on you.

“You made it my concern when you called me. She made it my concern when she asked me to be here,” the redhead argued. “And my sister is the one who followed him, so I think I have a right to stick around.”

“I think she should stay,” you said. Natasha had gone out of her way to be there for you. It only felt right that she knew what was going on. 

Bucky swore under his breath. “Hang back with Ari and Jax and keep your sister from shooting him.”

“I make no promises that she won’t shoot him,” she half teased before Bucky glared over his shoulder. “But she won’t kill him.”

You tried not to tremble once Bucky brought you to the VIP area. It was strange seeing the place lit up, but with no music or a crowd. You could almost picture Addison and your friends there with you, laughing and having a good time. 

Briefly closing your eyes, you allowed Bucky’s touch on your arm to soothe you. “This is where you were sitting when I saw you on camera,” he said. 

“It’s come full circle,” you said. The area would become another place fully tied back to Bucky. Not because he owned it, but because you would talk to Zemo there and it would be a reminder of what happened to you.

“And soon you’ll be with me in my office, keeping me company, making memories together,” he said, happy in spite of the circumstances. 

Steve placed a bottle of water in front of you. How was it that a man as dark as Bucky looked so kind? “Buck thought you’d want bottled water instead of a glass,” he said, giving you a small smile. 

You nodded in understanding. If anyone had brought you a glass, you wouldn’t have seen them pour it and you may have questioned what was in it. It was… thoughtful. “Thanks.”

Your heart beat too loud when you heard footsteps, your next breath ragged when Zemo walked toward you like he owned the place. Though he looked put together and at ease, you detected the slightest bit of discomfort when he looked your way. You took small satisfaction in that.

Bucky held up a hand before Zemo could take a seat or speak to you. “If you have any weapons on you, I suggest you set them on the table,” he said, skipping the pleasantries. 

Gesturing to Ari and Jax, he sighed. “Ms. Belova relieved me of my weapons, and your men did another search themselves,” he said. You couldn’t see Natasha or her sister with the men blocking your view, but you sensed them watching. “Now may I please sit?”

Bucky waited until Ray stood by your side and Steve on his. “As much as I’d like to beat the ever loving shit out of you, we do need to talk, so sit.”

“As much as I know you’d enjoy that, I’m not here to speak to you.” Zemo turned his attention to you once he sat down and carefully removed his gloves. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

You placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh, hoping your touch would keep him grounded. “So, you’re aware of what happened to me?”

“I do not know the details, but I knew something must have happened since I hadn't heard from Clark or the driver. And I thought if I hadn't heard from them that James either figured out my involvement or would find out soon enough,” he explained, relaxing in his seat. “Better to show up and explain my side than wait to be dragged in for questioning.”

It surprised you how easily he gave up that information. “I was attacked,” you stated, avoiding Bucky's gaze.

You didn't expect to see sorrow on Zemo’s face. “Where is he?” he whispered.

“Where do you think?” Bucky asked.

The man nodded. “Though I’m not the one who laid hands on you, I am sorry for encouraging Clark.” He shook his head wearily. “I warned him not to lay a hand on you in harm, but he was not one of my usual men, and I must admit I miscalculated this plan.”

“What was your plan exactly?” you asked. Did it align with Clark's plan?

“I wanted James to lose you,” he replied, stating the obvious. “James knows most of my men and he would've caught on if I sent one of them to spirit you away. I thought Clark was enough of an outsider to stay under the radar and convince you to somehow, some way, walk away from your new boyfriend.”

Of course, it all led back to Bucky. “He broke into my home when I refused to go with him and he attacked me,” you said, proud that your voice didn't crack. 

“He was going to rape her,” Bucky said through his teeth. The rage in his eyes was frightening, so you squeezed his thigh. He had to stay calm. 

If Zemo looked sorrowful moments ago, now he looked sick. He recovered quickly. “You must believe me when I say my intention was never for anyone to attack you.”

“But you still knowingly or unknowingly sent some sort of predator to woo me? That's supposed to make me feel better?” you asked. Did he have any shame?

Zemo sighed. “I fear nothing I say will make you feel better.”

“No, it won’t. Everything that happened is going to stick with me, and your apologies aren’t going to alleviate any of the pain,” you said, breathing a bit easier when Bucky put his hand over yours. “Not to mention, it still doesn’t make any sense to me. He came into the shop once a month and until recently he had a girlfriend. Now he stalks and attacks me? Why?”

Zemo tilted his head, amused by the question. “Why did James stalk you?”

Bucky stiffened under your touch before he began, “That’s not-”

“Clark likes to believe that he isn’t like James or I or any of the other men here, but he isn’t a good man either. He has darkness like so many of us and he didn't need much of a push to go after you.” Zemo shrugged. “Your rejection may have been the final push to bring out his darkness.”

Bucky reached for something in his pocket. “If you’re blaming my girl-”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Zemo promised, his hands raised in surrender.

Bile rose to your throat anyway. “Really? Because it sounds like you’re saying that my rejection drove him to this.” How could he blame you for Clark’s actions?

“Your rejection was a tipping point, but it wasn’t your fault,” he assured you. It didn't make you feel any better. “His facade slipped and he showed you who he really is. It is troublesome that I did not notice how far he would go before you were put in harm's way.”

“Because you let whatever hatred you have for Bucky blind you,” you accused. What other explanation was there?

“Perhaps you are right.” Zemo swallowed, but didn’t spare the man beside you a glance. “But as much as I hate him, I still did not intend for you to get hurt.”

“Why does it matter if I'm hurt?” you asked. It wasn't like any of them cared for your opinion regarding your own life. 

“Because it wasn’t about harming you. I just wanted James to be without you,” he admitted without shame. “I wanted him to lose the thing he cherished the most, that’s all.”

You exhaled. He wanted to destroy Bucky. Not through his club, his money, or anything of that sort. Zemo wanted to destroy him by removing you from the equation. 

“It wouldn't have been enough if I took you myself,” he continued. “No, I wanted him to see you thrive with someone outside of our circle. To show him money and power can't buy him what he so desperately desires. I wanted him to suffer knowing how happy you were without him.”

Bucky audibly exhaled, anger rising in both of you. “That's insane,” you whispered. Another puppet master trying to control the strings of your life. “And you really think that Bucky would have allowed that?!”

Zemo finally looked at the club owner with a blank expression. “I’d like to think James would give you anything that would make you happy. That if you truly found happiness with another man, he would let you go. Even if it killed him.”

You almost crawled into Bucky’s lap when you thought he’d stand up. “There will never be another man,” he gritted.

“He won't let me go. You have to know that,” you said, uncaring of who nearby heard it since they knew the truth anyway. “My freedom is the only thing he won't give me.”

“Is it really love if he won’t let you go?” Zemo asked. 

Bucky made a sound like he got punched. “I love her,” he stated, turning toward you. “I love you.”

“I know,” you whispered. He believed so desperately that he did. “Zemo, even if Bucky let me go, do you really think I could give my heart to someone else knowing he will always watch over me?”

If there was even the slightest chance that you’d ever leave him, you’d forever look over your shoulder and wait for him to drag you back. 

“Bruce Wayne wouldn't let the likes of James into his city,” he said. 

Bucky had mentioned the name Bruce to you in his office. You hoped you never met him. “And if he went to Gotham anyway?”

“I wanted to believe that he would start off watching. That if there was a moment where he could swoop in and take you back he would, but would ultimately resist. That over time, it would hurt him too much to keep his eye on you and he would have eventually let you go.” The smile on his face unnerved you. “Your rejection of Bucky and choosing someone else would destroy him from the inside out. He would fall, and his empire would fall with him because why would he want to rule without you by his side?”

“She isn't rejecting me, and I’m not letting her go. Ever,” Bucky spoke for you, that stark possession shining through. “Our souls are entwined. She’s meant to be with me forever.”

A scowl crossed Zemo’s face. “I loved someone like that once.”

“And you lost her,” you said. He lost his wife, and his child. “If revenge was something you wanted, why not just kill me? An eye for an eye.”

He sighed, picking at one of his gloves. “I thought about killing you with my bare hands. To watch the life leave your eyes,” he said, dispassionately. 

Your eyes widened when Bucky got to his feet and took out a knife. Ray tried to shield you when you jumped up, but you grabbed Bucky’s arm before he could move. “Bucky, please, don’t,” you begged. Hearing that Zemo had wanted to kill you scared you, but he was unarmed and you didn't want more blood shed because of you. 

“Listen to her, Buck,” Steve urged. 

“I’m done talking and listening, and I’m going to slit his fucking throat for even thinking about killing her,” he growled. He was going to kill him if you didn’t stop him. And Zemo… He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch or try to move away. Did he want to die?

“Boss?” Ray questioned. If Bucky ordered it, they would kill him. You had no doubt in your mind.

“Please,” you whispered, putting your hand over his so he’d lower the knife. “He could’ve killed me, but he didn’t. He didn’t even want Clark to put a hand on me,” you pointed out. Zemo’s thoughts shifted at some point. That had to mean something. 

“Because the more I thought about it, I realized that you’re a victim, too. Innocent. Another soul tainted by the Barnes family,” Zemo said, making you think of his family again. They were victims. “Death may set you free from his grasp, but I suspect death is not what you're looking for or what you deserve. Killing you wouldn't have brought me peace either.”

It was clear that he was in a lot of pain and projecting it onto others, but killing you wouldn't have filled the void in his heart. “What happened with your family?” you asked. It wasn’t just collateral damage. It was enough to drive him to this.

“Oh, James didn’t tell you?” The scowl was back on Zemo’s face. 

“She doesn't know the whole story,” Bucky said after a moment. 

Your nails dug into his hand. “You said he blamed some of the men you worked with for what happened.”

“Oh, I do blame them and James because it was their fault. They heard about a deal that I made with some dangerous people that would’ve made us all a lot of money. James didn’t like that, so he tipped off the police.” You could see Bucky and Steve hang their heads briefly out of the corner of your eye and Ray blinked a few times, but their shame didn’t lessen the fury in Zemo’s eyes. “For retaliation, these men took something priceless from me- my wife and child. And they didn't just take them. They made them suffer before they died.”

Tears filled your eyes. You couldn’t help it. It was an innocent woman and child. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are.” He looked touched, but it didn't outweigh his anger. “But you see, if James didn't call in that tip and his men hadn't informed him of the deal in the first place, my family would still be alive.”

You glanced around through your tears. No one spoke, but you saw the guilt. And it made sense why Bucky said they were lost in a deal gone wrong, but he left his part in it out of the story. Was it to protect you or himself? “They didn't deserve what happened to them,” you said. No one deserved that. 

Zemo blinked, erasing the ghosts behind his eyes. “No, they didn’t. And I can’t change the past or bring them back.”

“Neither can I,” Bucky said, touching your cheek. He looked hesitant, like you’d hate him for this. “I should’ve told you the whole story. I’m sorry for that.”

But Bucky hadn’t. He hadn't lied, but he hadn't told you everything. It was another hurdle to get across. “So, where do we go from here?” you asked. You weren’t going to continue to be a pawn in their game. 

Bucky still had his knife out. “I want to kill him, but I can’t,” he said, grinding his teeth. You raised an eyebrow. That would be another conversation for later, but you suspected it had to do with their shady politics or whatever they dealt in. “But I also can’t let this go.”

“You want to retaliate,” Zemo said. 

“Yes,” Bucky said. He wanted blood. You could practically smell it. 

“No. No retaliation,” you said, looking at all of the men. “I mean it.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, but one more glance at you and he nodded. “No retaliation for now.”

“I’m in your debt,” Zemo said not to Bucky, but to you. It surprised you to say the least. “Name your price.”

All eyes were on you and it made you feel faint. You couldn’t be weak since you were in this world now. “You paid the driver to turn on Bucky?” you asked, waiting for him to nod. “Whatever you paid him, I want you to double the amount and donate it to the hospital. The wing that Winifired Barnes stayed in.”

Bucky inhaled, gazing at you like he fell in love all over again. “Kotyonok,” he said thickly.

“And Lois, Clark’s ex-girlfriend. I want you to cover her medical expenses, and throw in a little extra so she can recover in peace once she’s out,” you said. It was the least the woman deserved. 

“Done,” Zemo agreed, a smile touching his lips. “Is there anything else? Perhaps your own flower shop? The things you asked for aren’t for you, but for others.”

“Because that’s the kind of person she is,” Bucky proudly said, slipping an arm around you. “And if anyone’s going to get her her own shop, it’s me.”

“Please, stop with the dick measuring contest,” you said. Even when it was about you, they made it about themselves. Regardless, the truth was you didn’t want anything from Zemo, except for him to leave you be. “Just leave Bucky and me alone, and anyone close to me. If you two have to work together, fine, but don’t interfere with our lives,” you said. 

“And that’s it?” he asked. 

“That’s it,” you replied. You didn't need much, but you deserve a bit of peace from one of Bucky’s enemies. 

“You have my word.” Zemo slipped his gloves back on and stood up. If he didn't keep his word, you were sure Bucky would make him pay. “But I still owe you a debt. When you’re ready to cash in, James can tell you how to get in touch with me.”

Bucky finally put his knife away. “I still want to kill you and I still have questions for you,” he said. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be satisfied, but at least no blood was shed in front of you. “Because you had no right to go after my girl.”

“Be thankful she’s still alive and beside you,” he said with subtle longing. “Truce? Perhaps we can talk next week and bury the hatchet for good? No retaliation. You agreed.”

Bucky didn't offer his hand. Just a smile without any semblance of warmth. “Next week,” he said, his fist flying before you could blink. You gasped when Zemo stumbled back and clutched his jaw. It took him a moment to straighten up, a mark already forming on his face as he lowered his hand. He didn't look at all surprised by the punch, and he was lucky his jaw wasn't broken. “Now get the fuck out of my club.”

“I appreciate your compassion, and I look forward to your call one day,” Zemo smiled at you through the pain. “I truly am sorry for what transpired,” he added in a sincere tone. 

You nodded, not accepting or rejecting the apology, and slowly exhaled while Jax and Ari led him away. He hadn't gotten his revenge, but at least it was over. You had answers. Maybe you’d sleep easier. 

Maybe not. 

You finally spotted Natasha in the distance standing beside a blonde woman. That must be Yelena. And neither of them looked impressed as they stared after the man who put Clark in your path. 

“You sure I can't kill him?” Yelena asked. 

“I appreciate the offer, Yelena, but not today,” Bucky said, turning toward you. Why did he look nervous? Was he expecting you to scream? Hit him? “Are you okay?”

You buried your face in his chest before you could stop yourself, and he took the opportunity to hold you against him. Were you okay? No. But you’d heal. You had to. “I will be.”

But was it really the end of Zemo? What kind of favor would he do for you? Would you take him up on any sort of offer after everything?

“I’m sorry, too. For all of this,” he whispered low enough for only you to hear. “But now we can move forward together.”

Bucky sounded like he wanted to close this chapter and move on, but it wasn't up to him to turn the page. It was your decision. “I might stumble along the way.”

“I'll catch you,” he promised, pulling away and taking your hand. “Are you ready to go home?”

You weren't sure if you’d ever be ready, but you had to believe this chapter of your life was over. Zemo would leave you alone. Clark wouldn't hurt anyone else. It had to be enough for today. 

You could figure out the next step tomorrow. 

“Sure,” you whispered, letting Bucky lead you away. “Let’s go home.”

A moment to breathe. Maybe? I view this as an ending (not the story, I wouldn't do that to you lovelies) and a beginning. Eager to hear what you think will happen going forward! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[straows]

Are you cheating on me?

Request ✔️ @sejel

—In which, Jjk men have dupes of your lip-gloss in case you need it, but you didn't know 'til you found it.

Gojo, Nanami, Sukuna

A/n: I hope this is what you were looking for, as I got to writing I kinda forgot what the prompt rlly was... hope you enjoy though!

Groaning, you looked through your makeup bag to try and find your favorite lipgloss. You’d swear you’d bought a spare, but you cant find it. It had your brows furrowing and a your lips to pull into an angry pout.

Slipping off your heels, you marched right into the kitchen, practically turning the place upside down.

“Where the fuck is it?!” You mumbled, stressing because you’d told him you’d be ready to leave for your date by the next four minutes.

Going back into your bedroom, you looked through his bedside dresser. Only to pause when you noticed a tube of lipgloss. The same brand as yours, just one shade off.

You stared at that tube for a lot longer than four minutes. Hell you stared at it so long that your eyes got dry and you were almost squinting.

Because why the fuck, did he have this lip-gloss?

Your knuckles closed around it so tight they turned white. The possibility that he was cheating on you had your blood running hot. But you had to calm down. It could be a misunderstanding. Right? Right?

Walking into the kitchen, barefoot, no lipgloss, you leaned against the counter top, voice all sweet and doting like it usually was, except for the drips of venom that clouded your tone. “Baby, can I ask you a question real quick?”

Gojo Satoru;

Turning away from the sugar cookies he was gulping down, Gojo wiped his mouth and nodded with a smile. “Of course sweets, you’re lookin’ good. No gloss today?”

He looked your figure over appreciatively, oblivious to the grave mistakes he’d made.

“Well, I just wanted to ask you,” A sardonic smile on your lips, you put the gloss on the counter top, that smile dropping with a glare, “what the fuck is this doing in your drawer?”

“Huh?” Gojo just looked at you stupidly. So confused as to why his woman was getting angry over a tube of gloss he’d bought for her in case she needed it, but also absolutely turned on with how your talking to him.

“This isn’t even my shade, so don’t you play stupid with me, Gojo.” Your nose wrinkled slightly as your lip curled in anger. “Who’s is this? Was she in our house? Why the fuck is she using the same brand as me?”

Gojo felt a shiver go down his spine at how you said his name, and quickly he moved forward to do damage control. “What do you mean wrong shade? Baby that’s your shade. I’d bought it for you in case the one you had ran out.”

You paused, before quickly pulling out your phone to look at your shared bank account, and surely enough there was the charge from Ulta for the gloss.

“Oh.”

“Did you think I was cheating on you? Really baby?” Gojo would be upset, if he didn’t love how embarrassed you were. Taking slow but big steps towards you, his hands found your hips and pulled you in close. “How could you think id cheat on you?”

“I- well- it just- it’s not my shade and it’s in your drawer and I just- I’m so sorry, Toru.” Groaning, your head dropped to his chest, hands resting on his forearm.

“It’s alright… but I think you should make it up to me.” Gojo grinned against your cheek, pressing a few kisses here and there before biting down teasingly under your jaw.

“…but the date—“

“Fuck the date, I gotta remind you how much I love you.” Picking you up easily by the underside of your thighs, Gojo easily carried you back to your shared bedroom.

The tube of lip-gloss left on the counter alone.

Nanami Kento;

“Yes honey?” Kento didn’t turn to look at you, and was looking the reflection of the microwave. He’d been struggling with his tie for the past five minutes, and usually he had it down pat but today was not his day. “Can you help me with this real quick, I seem to be struggling for whatever reason today.”

Feeling your resolve crack, you just cleared your throat. “Kento.”

Pausing, he finally turned around only to find your very serious expression. One that was hardly ever sees you with. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Why was this lipgloss in your drawer?” You had to keep your voice stern because the way he was looking at you like you were crazy almost made you want to crumble and laugh.

“You don’t remember?” Kento walked up to the counter, and picked up the gloss, “you’d asked a few weeks ago if I had any idea where your gloss went, and I didn’t, so I went and ordered you one. I apologize if this isn’t the right shade, but it’s the one I ordered for you.”

Your mouth was left opened for a moment before you closed it and nodded. “I knew that, I was just um… testing you.” Cheeks red in embarrassment, you quickly grabbed the gloss and tried to walk away, however a hand on your wrist had you turning around and landing into Kento’s chest.

“Did you think I was cheating on you?” Kento’s voice was low and quiet, his eyes locked with yours as he held you.

“…no…” Looking away, a pout on your lips.

“Honey,” Kento gently tilted your head back towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “I have absolutely no time to juggle you and another woman. You simply take up all space in my mind.”

You smiled sweetly up at him, before tilting your head, “did you just call me fat?”

“Huh?”

“I’m kidding. I love you, thank you. ‘M sorry for jumping to conclusions.” Getting on your tip toes, you pressed a kiss to his cheek before helping him with his tie.

Sukuna Ryomen;

Sukuna just stared at you, brows furrowed as he looked you over. First, appreciating your appearance, secondly, confused on what the fuck you’re talking about.

“Why are you showing me some tube?” Crossing his arms, his arms flexing as he did.

“Why was this lipgloss in your drawer?” You huffed, brows furrowed and voice demanding.

“Woman, you have the memory of the peanut.” Sukuna groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“So you are cheating!” You pointed, eyes wide as if you’d been suspecting it for days it’s been 8 minutes.

“Cheating on you? I’ve killed all the concubines. All of the servants are over the age of 45, and you are constantly near me.” Sukuna leaned against the counter, his face inches from yours. “Are you sure in this accusation or do you just want to punished?”

Blinking once, twice, thrice, you paused. “Hey I never said that—“

“Too late.” Wrapping an arm around you, Sukuna easily lifted you by your hips. Holding you like a dog that just caught trying to run off.

“No! Wait— I’m still sore!” Whining, you try to bite at his arms but he just grins.

“You know I like it when you bite, you must be eager. Not to worry woman, I will satiate you.” That shit eating grin on his mouth and his stomach mouth.

“Can I at least ride you?”

“No.”

“PLEASSEEEEE”

“Keep talking, it will only elongate the inevitable.”

[elodieunderglass]

There was an utterly random person who accused me of reblogging things in a pattern indicating I was part of a group that secretly gathered to mock them. They asked why I was bullying them, which was done by reblogging specific posts that were secretly about them, in patterns and times designed to trigger them and mock them. For example, reblogging a certain piece of art and a certain queer positivity post in succession was a pattern, and if I thought I was fooling anybody, look how other people did it too (clearly their dash had a lot of mutuals who were online at the same time and reblogged the same thing.)

I had a similar conversation, and they pretty much instantly calmed down and explained that they sometimes had trouble distinguishing reality, and that perhaps I was participating in the pattern in all innocence. I attempted to handle this compassionately. I worried that I shouldn’t block them, because what if that harmed them?

This came back recently, and I searched for their name, and saw they were having some sort of outbreak, and doing this to other people as well. Some of the people they messaged had their own troubles with distinguishing reality, and being told quite firmly that they were a bully, part of a secret bullying ring, who gathered on tumblr to mock nudes - the evidence being the pattern of posts they’d reblogged; look who else reblogged this, they’re in the ring with you, aren’t they, you disgusting bully - was incredibly destabilising for them. This was so awful, and helped me understand how Beyond My Problem this person was.

I think I’m someone who tries to behave fairly sensibly and scrupulously, and with decent manners, online. Unfortunately, that often results in me feeling like I have to manage other people’s reactions for them. Like, if I was a better person, and hit every word perfectly, nobody would get mad at me. That’s certainly the impression the Internet likes to give - that if people get mad at someone, it’s because they were Wrong and Okay to Punish, so if you don’t want people mad at you, you just have to behave perfectly. Simple, right?

But interactions like the OP and the one I had recently really go to show that you can’t manage other people. There is no perfect behavior you could pull off that would have stopped this happening. They are just having a separate experience that’s nothing to do with you as a person. They are mad at you not because of you as a person, or anything you did, or even on purpose (they might be genuinely distressed by feeling this way.) sometimes people are just mad and you can’t fix it and it’s not about you.

Are they trying to be funny? Are they trying to set up some false accusation blackmail thing? Are they having trouble distinguishing reality? Did they mistake you for someone else? Is it a bot? Are they genuinely in need of help? Are they doing a bit to screencap you? Do they think that you deliberately reblog posts in significant targeted patterns?

None of them are within your gift to solve over internet messages. Sometimes people are just mad, and you happened to be there. Sometimes it’s just something that happens, like weather.

I’m sorry it happened, OP. You were really funny about it but it’s not pleasant.

what the hell is going on

[gay-dorito-dust]

random Bob shit because why not.

There was one thing that Bob did that you loved and that was how he casually displays his strength in mundane means, whether that'd be gently moving you to the side as he reached for something, moving furnature with effortless ease so you didn't have to strain yourself in carrying heavy boxes; and or rushing to your aid upon seeing that you were at risk of having something hit you square on the head as he held them at bay with one hand and keeping you protectively against him with the other that laid respectively on your lower back.

His question of 'are you okay?' were enough to have you internally swooning as you intentionally leaned further into him, listening to his calm heart as your brain tried to comprehend that he had traversed from one side of the room to you within miliseconds, just to stop you from getting hurt from something so small as a stray cup from falling on your head.

You often called Bob your golden guardian becuase of it, that and mainly becuase you liked how his eyes would avert from yours just as a shy smile crept across his face, giving away his true feelings towards the nickname.

For a man as powerful as Bob he sure managed to somehow make himself the least physically imposing man you've ever met by being sweet and somewhat awkward at times, so much so that when he does prove that he was the most powerful of your ragtag group was enough to have you question where the strength came from, only to remember that Bob was always the stronger one out of all of you.

Which was silly but you couldn't help it as you didn't want to reduce Bob to his powers and other attributes that came with all that he endured. You even forget that he was completely invincible, immune to all forms of harm when you thought he had gotten hurt once, quickly rushing to his side just to see he was perfectly fine.

'i thought you were hurt.' you tell him when you saw his look of confusion sent your way.

'you've seen me do incredible feets of strength and yet you thought i would get hurt from a papercut?' Bob asks with hints of amusement in his voice as he watched you craddle his unscathed hand to your chest, caressing in means of calming yourself down more then him.

'i wouldn't refer to almost having a knife slice open your palm as a paper cut.' you replied as your thumb moves across his palm that would've been a bloody mess had his healing factor not kicked in, feeling a little silly as you were reminded that Bob was beyond human in every aspect you could possibly think of, a god amongst men if you were to really think about it.

Bob smiles, finding your forgetfulness towards his powers adorable and endearing as this only further told him that you loved him regardless of whether he had powers or not, given how quickly you were to move to see if he was okay in the same manner as he would when he thought you were hurt. It warmed his heart to know that you both reacted in similar circumstances, wanting to keep the other safe to the best of your abilities, to take care of each other while sharing moments that felt reminiscent of a dream domestic life by having a shared living space together.

A dream come true for Bob, not that he needed to admit this to you as he knew his face gave it all away for you to understand his inner workings. He kisses the side of your head, smiling. 'i'll be more careful next time if that makes you feel better.' he says and you couldn't help but softly slap his bicep, pouting.

'god forbid i get worried about you.' you said as Bob held you closer to him, now laughing at your seemingly moppy state.

'i'm not making fun of you for it, if anything i find it really sweet of you being concerned about me. So i'd much rather you do this more constantly if it makes you feel better.' Bob kisses your head once again as he closed his eyes, hoping everyday with you would be like this all the time.

[leriexoxo]

Angry Boys - Chan

Now Be A Good Girl

Tags: dom chan, angst, blow job deepthroat, bondage, unprotected sex, edging, oral sex, slight degradation, smut 18+

Word count: 4k

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANGRY BOYS MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You weren’t supposed to go out.

That was the only rule he gave you tonight.

He was busy working late in the studio, and when you texted “I’m bored,” he replied fast and sharp:

“Stay home. Don’t make me come get you.”

But you didn’t listen.

You got dressed.

Put on that little top he hates—tight, black, cropped way too high.

And you left.

⸻

You knew you fucked up the second the door closed.

Not slammed. Not banged.

Just… clicked shut.

It was quiet. You didn’t even turn around—you didn’t have to. You could feel him behind you. The weight of his presence. The fury he wore like a second skin.

The same fury he never said out loud.

That was the worst thing about Bang Chan.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t threaten. Didn’t explode.

He watched and he waited.

And when he was mad? Really, truly pissed?

He got quiet, scarily quiet.

Like right now.

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, fingers still wrapped around a glass of water you suddenly didn’t need anymore.

Your voice cracked first.

“Chan, I—”

“Where were you?”

Three words. Low. Measured. Like a warning wrapped in silk.

You swallowed hard, staring down at the countertop. “Out.”

“Not what I asked.”

You flinched.

He hadn’t even moved, and still, your entire body tensed like prey sensing a predator.

“I was with friends,” you said, softer now.

“Whose?”

You hesitated and he stepped forward.

Your breath caught.

“I told you not to go,” he murmured. “Didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“And you went anyway.”

You nodded again.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

You turned then, slowly, unsure why your legs were shaking. “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to—”

“To what?” His head tilted. “Piss me off? Test me? Show me how little you think of my rules?”

Your mouth opened. No sound came out.

That’s when he smiled.

Not the sweet, boyish smile you were used to.

No. This one was sharp. Slow. Dangerous.

The kind of smile you’d never seen on him before.

It made your stomach drop.

“I see,” he said softly, dragging the words out like honey.

He stepped forward again. One step. Then another.

You backed into the counter.

He didn’t stop.

“I give you rules,” he continued, “because I know how this works. I know how you work. I know what happens when you get bored.”

“Chan…”

“And what do you do?” He was close now. Too close. “You run off to some guy’s house. Let him touch what isn’t his.”

“I didn’t— No one touched me—”

Chan’s eyes darkened.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast. You didn’t understand why your thighs were clenching together. Why your pulse was racing in fear—or was it something else entirely?

Then his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Take your clothes off.”

Your lips parted. “What?”

He leaned in. His breath hit your cheek. “Now.”

You didn’t move.

He exhaled a humorless laugh.

“Still so stubborn.”

Then, without another word, he turned around and walked away.

You blinked.

Where was he going?

But he didn’t leave. He went to the living room. Sat down in the middle of the couch. Then spoke loud enough for you to hear:

“You’ve got ten seconds to come kneel. If I get to ten, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Your entire body pulsed.

That was the moment you realized…

This wasn’t casual anymore.

This wasn’t the friends-with-benefits arrangement you thought you had control over.

This was Chan, taking the reins you dropped the second you disobeyed him.

And he wasn’t going to give them back.

You didn’t even remember moving. One second you were frozen in the kitchen, heart punching your ribs. The next, you were walking—no, drifting—toward him like your body knew what to do even if your mind didn’t.

Ten seconds had passed. Probably more. He hadn’t called out again. He didn’t need to.

You found him on the couch, legs spread wide, head tilted back, one arm draped along the backrest like a king on a throne.

Your place was already waiting for you.

On the floor. Between his knees.

You stopped in front of him, fists clenched at your sides, your pride flaring up in one last flicker.

He looked at you then.

Not your face. Not your eyes.

He looked down.

“You’re not kneeling.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

That landed like a slap. Your breath caught. He didn’t take it back.

The silence that followed stretched razor-thin.

And then, slowly, like the smallest white flag—

You sank.

First to your knees. Then to your heels. Hands in your lap. Eyes cast low.

There was a sharp inhale. His.

A beat. Maybe two.

Then he leaned forward.

“You disobeyed me,” he said quietly. “And then you lied to me. And now you’re on your knees.”

You nodded once. Shame bloomed low in your stomach—but it curled up with heat too.

He reached out and tilted your chin up.

His gaze was fire and ice.

“Do you think I like punishing you?”

“I…” You swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t.”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip.

“But I will.”

You almost whimpered.

He stood up, moving around you like a wolf circling its prey. The air behind you shifted as he knelt, leaned in, whispered at your ear.

“I want you to sit with it,” he murmured. “The guilt. The tension. The ache.”

Goosebumps swept your skin.

“I want you to feel how different everything is now. This isn’t just casual anymore, is it?”

You shook your head, lips trembling.

“Say it.”

“It’s not casual anymore.”

“Why?”

You blinked, breath stuttering. “Because I broke the rules.”

His hand slid down your arm, slow and deliberate.

“Because you’re mine,” he said. “And you’re going to learn exactly what that means.”

“I’m sorry”

“You want to play games?” His voice was low—barely above a growl. “Then open that bratty mouth and show me how sorry you are.”

He didn’t wait for you to obey.

Chan stood up, pulled his cock free, and slapped it across your face with a sharp smack that made your cheek sting. You flinched, but he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.

“That’s right,” he sneered. “Eyes on me while I fuck that pretty little throat raw.”

You barely got your mouth open before he shoved his cock in, thick and heavy, filling your tongue and pushing deep without hesitation. You gagged around him instantly, but he didn’t ease up—not even a little.

“You thought you could act like a fucking brat and not pay for it?”

He shoved deeper.

“Now look at you. Exactly where you belong.”

You choked, drool already spilling down your chin as his hips snapped forward again—rough, punishing thrusts that didn’t give you space to breathe. His grip in your hair was brutal, controlling every movement of your head, using you like you were nothing but a hole to fuck the rage out of.

“Cry for me,” he bit out. “I want to see tears. I want you wrecked.”

And you were—mascara running, jaw aching, throat tight around his cock as he kept pushing deeper, harder. He slapped the base of his cock against your lips again just to watch you flinch and moan, then shoved it back down your throat until your eyes rolled.

“You hear that?” he grunted, voice ragged with control. “That sloppy little gag? That’s the sound of you being put in your fucking place.”

You gasped when he pulled out suddenly, your body sagging with the rush of air.

But it didn’t last.

He slapped his cock across your tear-streaked face again, then shoved it back into your mouth—deeper this time, holding your head still as he forced you to take every inch.

“Fucking useless unless you’ve got my dick in your throat, huh?”

You moaned around him. Shameful. Desperate.

“You better cum from this,” he growled. “You better be soaking the floor while I fuck your face or I swear—”

He cut himself off with a curse, thrusting once, twice—then groaning as his cock twitched deep in your throat. Your eyes watered harder, lungs burning as you swallowed around him like you were made for it.

And even as you choked, you reached between your legs, rubbing yourself frantically—because fuck, this was what you needed.

He yanked you off him with a wet pop, spit and cum dripping from your lips as he stared down at your wrecked face.

“You’re not done,” he hissed. “Get on the couch. Now.”

⸻

You were already begging and he hadn’t even touched you properly.

The sharp look in Chan’s eyes was enough to undo every ounce of bravado you had left. You backed up a step—then another—bare feet scuffing against the floor as you tried to put space between the two of you.

“Don’t,” you whispered, voice shaky.

His stare dropped to your trembling legs, then dragged up your body with slow, dangerous precision. His jaw flexed once—tight, controlled—before he moved.

You turned to run. It was pure instinct.

But you didn’t get far.

In seconds he was behind you, one strong arm hooking around your waist as he dragged you back against his chest. His other hand clamped down over your mouth as you let out a gasp, muffled and desperate.

“I warned you,” he breathed against your ear. “Didn’t I?”

You shook your head frantically, but he ignored it.

He lifted you—just picked you up like you weighed nothing—and tossed you onto the bed. Your breath caught, wrists scrambling to push up, but Chan was already crawling over you, his thighs caging yours in, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down.

“Stay,” he said, low and clipped.

Your heart was pounding.

You heard him shift behind you, the sound of fabric rustling—and when you turned your head to look, he was already looping a long strip of black cloth between his fingers.

“No—wait, I—”

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, using the cloth to bind them together. His knot was tight and fast, practiced.

“Too late for begging now,” he said. “You wanted to act like a brat?”

You whimpered.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Chan sat back on his heels behind you, dragging your hips up into the air with a single, rough tug. Your chest stayed flush against the mattress, arms stretched out above your head, wrists locked tight in the soft fabric. You could barely move.

“Look at you,” he muttered, staring down at your soaked thighs. “Soaked, and I haven’t even touched you.”

He palmed your ass, spreading you open, watching the way you clenched. You whined, trying to push your face into the sheets.

He landed a hard slap across your skin.

You gasped, body jerking.

“That’s not where your attention belongs.”

He spanked you again—harder—and then again, until you were crying out with every strike, breathless and squirming.

“You backtalked,” he growled. Smack. “You disobeyed.” Smack. “And now you’re gonna take every second of this.”

He leaned down, his chest warm against your spine.

“You’re gonna thank me for it too.”

You swallowed hard, barely able to think through the sting and heat of his hands. “Th-Thank you,” you whispered.

He chuckled—cold, low.

“Not yet.”

And then you felt it—his fingers, slipping between your legs, stroking through your slick folds, teasing you with slow, cruel pressure that didn’t give you what you needed. You cried out, frustrated, your wrists straining against the binds.

But Chan was patient. So fucking patient.

“You don’t get my cock,” he murmured, “until you’ve earned it.”

Your wrists ached in the best way—tied tight, stretched out, your whole body bent into a position you couldn’t fight even if you tried. Not that you would.

Not when you felt Chan kneel behind you again, his rough hands trailing up your thighs like he was deciding what to devour first.

“You’ve made a mess of yourself,” he muttered, running his thumb through your soaked folds.

You whimpered at the contact, body twitching.

“Didn’t even get fucked, and you’re already dripping down your legs.” His voice was low, dangerous. “What kind of girl are you, hmm?”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back just enough to speak into your ear.

“Answer me.”

Your voice was broken, breathless. “Y-Yours—”

He shoved your face back into the mattress with a grunt. “That’s right.”

Then he dropped lower behind you, spreading you open like it was nothing—hands firm on your ass, forcing you wide, fully exposed.

You gasped when you felt his mouth.

His tongue licked a slow stripe from your clit to your entrance, teasing, almost gentle—but the grip on your hips said otherwise. Said you weren’t going anywhere.

And then he groaned.

The sound vibrated through your core, deep and feral.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You taste unreal.”

And then he dug in.

His mouth was ruthless, tongue working in steady, unrelenting circles over your clit while his hands held you down. Your knees trembled under the force of it. You tried to rock your hips, to chase that pressure—but he just tightened his grip until you couldn’t move an inch.

He flicked his tongue faster, then slower, dragging your orgasm right to the edge before pulling back, lips slick with you.

You whined—high and needy.

“Thought you were bratty,” he said. “Didn’t realize you were this easy.”

He lowered again, this time sucking hard on your clit, letting his nose bump against your skin as he groaned into your cunt. Your moans were broken, loud, shaking into the mattress.

And when he slipped his tongue into you, thick and slow, you screamed.

Your thighs shook, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter until—

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, pulling back just enough to speak. “Don’t you fucking come.”

You sobbed into the sheets, shaking from the denial. “C-Chan—please—”

But he dove back in, tongue moving faster, lips pulling you apart until your vision went white and your body betrayed you—

You came. Hard.

He felt it instantly—your muscles clenching around nothing, the sob that left your throat, the taste of you spilling over his tongue.

And then he froze.

He pulled back slowly, breathing hard, his mouth wet with your release.

You barely had time to gasp before he was speaking again—calm, dangerous.

“You didn’t just do that.”

Silence.

“You really came without permission.”

Your breath hitched.

“Alright,” he said, voice low and final. “You want to act like that? Fine.”

And before you could blink— He was grabbing your hips, lining himself up, and thrusting in.

The sound he made when he sank into you was feral—a low, guttural growl that vibrated through your bones. He bottomed out in one brutal thrust, hips flush to your ass, so deep you could feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice gravel. “You really came without my permission?”

You tried to speak—but all that came out was a wrecked little sob. He grabbed your bound wrists, yanked your arms back, and used them as leverage to pull you onto his cock again. Harder.

“Answer me.”

“I—I’m sorry—!”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I—I couldn’t help it—!”

He laughed—cold, dangerous. “Then let me help you.”

He dragged almost all the way out before slamming back in, again and again, every thrust deeper than the last, until your breath stuttered and your thighs shook. You were already so sensitive, so overstimulated from the orgasm he explicitly told you not to have, and he was nowhere near done.

One hand released your arms only to close around your throat, pulling you up until your back was pressed to his chest, your knees barely stable under the weight of his body.

“You like being used?” he whispered into your ear. “Being just a hole for me to fuck until I decide you’re worth more than that?”

You whined—completely at his mercy.

He tightened his grip on your neck, choking you just enough to make your vision blur at the edges.

“I said,” he snarled, hips snapping into you with punishing rhythm, “do you like being used?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy—”

That name. That name.

He groaned darkly, slamming into you so hard your toes left the ground for a second.

“Of course you do. Fucking brat.”

His free hand came down hard on your ass—smack—then again, until the skin stung, and all you could do was take it, let him rut into you while you cried out into the sheets.

Then he bent you forward again, one hand fisting your hair this time, the other dragging down your back possessively. “Look at this,” he murmured, watching your body ripple with every thrust. “Taking me so well for someone who doesn’t know how to fucking listen.”

You were babbling by now, some mix of apologies and moans and desperate pleas for more—words you didn’t even know you were saying, your body already starting to tighten again, dangerously close to coming.

He noticed. He always noticed.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, slapping your clit once, sharp and precise. You screamed.

“Please—please, I can’t—!”

“You can.” He leaned over your back, kissed your shoulder almost mockingly, then bit it. “You’ll come when I say so, and not a second before.”

Your hands struggled against the cloth binding you, but there was no escape—only the relentless rhythm of his hips, the stretch of his cock, the burn of need threatening to swallow you whole.

He pulled out suddenly, and you cried out at the loss—only to be flipped over roughly, legs pushed wide, knees to your chest. The look in his eyes was deadly.

“You want to come so badly?”

You nodded, eyes wild, begging silently.

“Then earn it.”

He shoved back in, deeper than before, and started fucking you like a man possessed. Sweat dripped from his brow, muscles tense, his voice a constant stream of filth between gritted teeth.

“Losing your fucking mind on my cock… Look at you. Crying for it.”

Your vision blurred with tears.

“Say it,” he snarled, grabbing your cheeks to force your eyes to his. “Say whose you are.”

“Y-Yours, Daddy—!”

“And who does this pussy belong to?”

“You—Only you—!”

He growled again, nearly folding you in half as he drove into you harder, faster, until you were screaming his name into the room, your second orgasm detonating like a bomb inside you, every muscle locking tight.

And this time?

He let you have it.

He watched you fall apart, eyes fixed on your trembling body as he finally gave in, pulled out just in time to stroke himself fast over your stomach, cum spilling hot and thick across your skin with a ragged moan of your name.

“Fuck… fuck—”

Then silence.

Only the sound of your shattered breathing, the tremble in your thighs.

Then soft hands untied your wrists. Warm fingers cupped your cheeks.

“Hey…” he whispered, thumb brushing away a tear. “You okay?”

You nodded, dazed.

“You really drive me insane, you know that?”

You smiled, weak and ruined.

“I like making you crazy.”

He laughed, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He stayed there for a moment, just kneeling between your legs, his breathing still ragged, sweat dotting his flushed skin.

You were a mess—trembling, legs spread, slick and cum coating your thighs and stomach. But the moment he looked at you again, all that brutal dominance melted into something tender. His expression shifted.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was soft now, impossibly gentle.

He leaned down, kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then your lips—slow and unhurried, like he hadn’t just ruined you minutes ago.

“You okay?” he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, but your body was still twitching.

“I’m gonna clean you up, yeah?”

You hummed in response, eyes fluttering closed as his hands moved over your body—soft now, tracing bruises with guilt-lined fingers, kissing your wrists where the cloth had pressed into your skin. He wiped between your legs with warm, damp cloths, whispering apologies when you flinched.

“There we go… good girl. You did so well.”

You should’ve been spent, drifting. But then he kissed your chest—first out of affection.

Then again.

And again.

And then he lingered, mouth warm and open over your nipple, and your eyes snapped open.

“Chan…”

He hummed around you, tongue circling before he gently sucked, wet and slow.

“I thought…” you breathed. “I thought we were done…”

He looked up, and his eyes were anything but innocent.

“I said i wasn’t.” he murmured, switching to the other breast, dragging his teeth softly over the tender skin. “And I remembered how good these taste.”

You whined, arching as his hand slipped up your ribs, cupping one breast while his mouth worked the other.

“You’re still sensitive,” he said, almost in awe. “Still twitching every time I touch you…”

“Chan—!”

“You can take it. One more.” His lips curved into a wicked grin as he latched on again, tongue flicking fast against your nipple while his fingers rolled the other.

The ache between your thighs returned like a flame sparking to life.

Your hands found his curls, tugging, and he groaned softly against your chest, only sucking harder, sloppier now—like he couldn’t stop, couldn’t get enough.

Your hips shifted on instinct.

“You gonna come just from this?” he murmured against your skin. “From me sucking on your pretty tits like this?”

You moaned, and he didn’t stop—licking, sucking, kneading you like you were his personal obsession.

“I could do this all night,” he whispered. “Look at how wrecked you are already. One more, baby. Let me have one more.”

And honestly?

You were helpless to deny him.

His hand trailed down your stomach, fingers brushing over your puffy clit like a ghost. Just enough to make you jerk.

“Fuck, you’re soaked again.”

He chuckled darkly and sucked harder at your nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue before gently biting down—just enough to make your back arch.

Then his fingers returned, sliding over your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit.

“I didn’t even touch you yet,” he said, licking a circle around your nipple. “You’re dripping already.”

“Chan—” you gasped, but he cut you off with another deep suck, tongue dragging over the wet, sensitive skin as he slipped two fingers between your legs and finally rubbed tight circles on your clit.

Your whole body jolted.

“Oh my god—”

“There it is,” he purred, watching you squirm. “Look at you—hips rocking, tits bouncing while I suck on them and make you come on my fingers like a good girl.”

The pleasure was building again, sharper now, and too fast. He was sucking you like he was starving, moaning into your chest, fingers relentless on your clit while you writhed beneath him.

“C-Chan—!”

“You gonna come for me again?” he murmured, still flicking your nipple with his tongue. “Gonna soak my fingers while I suck on your pretty tits like they’re mine?”

You cried out, thighs shaking, hips jerking up as that pressure snapped.

You came—hard—legs trembling, moans strangled, head thrown back against the pillow while his fingers slowed down just enough to let you ride it out.

He didn’t stop licking your nipple, though. Didn’t stop dragging those sinful fingers in slow, wet circles.

You twitched again. And again.

Too much.

“Too much—!”

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered, lifting his head to kiss your mouth this time, swallowing your desperate whimpers. “So good. So perfect. I could fuckin’ worship this body all night.”

You collapsed, breathless, overstimulated, skin on fire—and Chan was still there, touching, kissing, whispering sweet filth like he had all the time in the world to love you apart.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Authors note: And we have come to the end of the Angry boys series! It was fun writing all that smutty angst lol 😂 NOW WE CAN START TAKING REQUESTS!

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @sagestarlight @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @universeyuto @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss

[inkedinshadows]

And Soon They Were Three

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

Summary: You're waiting for Cassian to come back home and give him news that will change your lives.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

Main masterlist | Week Masterlist | Cassian Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

You were fidgety, unable to keep your hands still for more than a minute. If you sat down and tried to calm yourself, all it took was a quiet sound—a leaking faucet, a bird singing outside, hurried steps on the street—and you were up and on the move again. Every noise made you think Cassian was about to open the door and walk in, even though you knew it wasn't him.

He'd told you the night before that he would leave early and come back late. He was already gone when you woke up, but a blueberry muffin was waiting for you on the kitchen table, like every time he had to leave before you got up. He still refused to tell you where he got them from.

But that morning, the usual delicious fragrance made you race to the bathroom before you could even step into the kitchen. Fortunately, it passed quickly, and you dared to attempt a bite, only to devour the muffin once you realized you felt fine. It was your favorite flavor, after all.

The day went by quickly, yet not quickly enough. You had an appointment with Madja in the morning, and since then, you had been counting down the minutes until Cassian's return.

You cleaned the whole house, but it wasn't enough to dim your excitement. You tried to read, but you couldn't focus on the words and had to reread the same page four times before you gave up and opted for a stroll along the Sidra. It didn't help much, though, and you spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between pacing aimlessly and sitting for only a few seconds at a time until you decided you might as well start making dinner.

Right at that moment, you heard the click of a key turning in the lock and the front door opened.

“Sweetheart, I'm…”

You didn't give Cassian time to even finish the sentence before you raced out of the kitchen and straight into his arms.

“...home,” he finished with a chuckle as he hugged you back. He kissed the top of your head. “Hello, sweetheart. Did I miss something? Or are you just really happy to see me?”

You pulled back, a large smile plastered on your face. “I have to tell you something.”

Cassian lifted his brows. He took in your expression and the excitement that seemed to radiate off you in waves.

“Well,” he said with his usual confident, charming smile, “at least I know it's good news.”

At your enthusiastic nod, he gave you a questioning look. “Are you going to tell me or…?”

He left the question hanging, and you immediately grabbed his hand and guided him to the couch. “I think you'll want to sit down for this.”

You could sense his growing curiosity as he sat on the edge of the couch.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “So what is it?”

You stood in front of him, and suddenly, all the ways you had planned to give him the news were gone, completely forgotten, as you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

Cassian stared at you for a moment, then his eyes slowly widened. “Wait, what?”

You had thought of different puns and jokes to tell him and let him figure it out on his own, but it was too late now. You only nodded and repeated it, a wide grin on your face. “I’m pregnant, Cass.”

His shocked expression was soon replaced by a huge smile, as if hearing it again was all he needed to truly understand what you were saying, to be sure that you weren’t just messing with him.

He lunged forward, almost tackling you to the ground in the process of wrapping his arms around you and spinning you around. His boisterous laugh rang loud in your ears, but you could only laugh with him.

“I’m going to be a father!” He peppered your face with kisses, his stubble tickling your skin. “Can you believe it, sweetheart? We’re going to be parents!”

You were about to answer that no, you couldn’t believe it. Madja had confirmed it that morning, and though you had been—and still were—overjoyed, it still didn’t feel real. After all the time spent trying, it was finally happening.

But Cassian's excitement had reached a whole new level. He didn't give you time to respond as he set you back on your feet—your head slightly dizzy—and a moment later, he was at the window. He yanked it open and leaned out, his wings folded but still as wide as the frame.

“I'm going to be a father!” he shouted to the world outside. “My mate's pregnant! We're going to be parents!”

“Cass…” you chuckled, eyes soft and heart full as you watched your mate shout his joy to anyone passing by.

“What?” He turned back to you and in just two long strides, he was at your side again. He cupped your face and pressed a loud kiss to your lips before pulling you into his arms. “Oh, this is wonderful! Parents, sweetheart. Can you believe it?”

You covered the broad hand he’d placed over your still-flat stomach with yours.

A baby. There was a baby slowly growing inside you right as you stood there—one you and Cassian had created, one you had wished and waited for, for so long. And now, in just a few months, the wait would be over, and you would finally be able to hold your baby. Your child.

The more you repeated it in your head, the more it began to feel real.

“Barely,” you finally answered. You looked up at him, meeting his loving gaze as you both smiled. “I’ve never seen you this happy, my love.”

He seemed to almost vibrate with joy, and he was more beautiful than ever. Your mate, your love—and soon, the father of your child.

“Of course I am,” he replied instantly. “We’ve wanted a child for so long, and now the Mother has blessed us with one.”

Taking a step back, he knelt in front of you. His hands settled on your hips, and he leaned in close, lips brushing against your shirt.

“Do you know that, little one?” he murmured. “We can't wait for you to arrive.”

Your heart was so full of love for the male in front of you that it felt like it might burst. There couldn't possibly be enough space in your chest, or in your whole body, to contain all of it.

“Cass…” you said quietly. You buried your fingers in his hair, gently stroking it as tears welled in your eyes. “I don't think the baby can hear you yet.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don't care. I want them to know that they are already loved.”

His mouth was so close to your shirt that you could feel his warm breath through the thin fabric as he added, “You hear that? Mama and Dada already love you, little one.”

He lifted the hem of your shirt, just enough to press a kiss to your bare stomach before rising again. His grin faltered when he noticed the tears now rolling down your cheeks, but you smiled at him.

You looped your arms around him and leaned up to kiss him. It was gentle, tender, an attempt to show him just how much he and this moment meant to you, though you knew no words or gesture could ever be enough.

“I love you,” you murmured when you pulled back and rested your head on his chest. “You're going to be a great father.”

His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you against him. You felt his lips press to your temple, then your hair.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered as he tucked you under his chin. “And I'll try. I'll try to be the best father I can for our child. I promise.”

You wanted to tell him that he didn't need to promise anything, that he didn't even need to try. He was already so good with children. He'd be even better with his own.

But the words slipped away.

All you could do was breathe in the moment and let the realization slowly settle.

You were pregnant. You were going to have a baby. You were about to have the family you and Cassian had always dreamed of.

You'd have to tell your families, you knew that. And the next months wouldn't be perfect or easy. But for now, you could just enjoy the beginning of this journey with the person you loved the most.

You snuggled closer to Cassian, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent—the one you had come to associate not just with him, but with home. He held you tighter, his heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm against your ear.

The two of you stood in the middle of the living room—a home that would soon be filled with even more love.

*lovely divider by @slytherin-pen

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[taeyongdoyoung]

t-t-teach me

summary: college life sucks. but at least you get to study with the hottest guy on campus... pairing: soobin x reader genre: college au, slight angst, smut, colleagues to study buddies to lovers warnings: academic setting, studying, mild allusions to anxiety/insecurities, reader is older than soobin, kissing, praise kink, size kink, handjob, fingering, lots of touching, protected sex (gasp), manipulation if you squint but it's all consensual, some lyrics references as usual author's note: someone on social media commented that soobin's "t-t-teach me" part in love language lowkey sounds like "t-t-touch me" and i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are... word count: 2.2k

Your college life is pretty boring. Study, eat, study some more, eat again, sleep, repeat. So, when your most handsome colleague (in your humble opinion) asks you to help him study for the upcoming exams, you are tempted to agree.

"Pleaseee, Y/N," Soobin begs so cutely. The way his glasses are slightly tilted doesn't help your case. "I can even pay you!"

"I don't want your money, Soobin," you shake your head, determined to play with him a little longer. After all, it is not every day that such a hot guy acknowledges your existence.

"What do you want, then? I'd do anything, I really need to pass, my whole future depends on it."

"Well, shouldn't you have studied throughout the year?" you tease him. "Instead of, I don't know, partying or whatever it is you and your squad do."

"I don't even go to parties. I'm just in my dorm playing games all the time."

"Case in point," you tsk, pretending to be disappointed.

"Okay, I realize I should have taken the courses more seriously, but can you please consider it?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I told you already, the sky is the limit. Just t-t-teach me the material," he stammers sweetly. "When the professors do it, I literally can't focus and understand anything."

"You do realize this isn't an easy task, right? We have less than a month until finals. Even if I do help you study…I can't promise you'll pass."

"Where's your confidence, teacher?" Soobin pouts.

"I haven't agreed yet!"

"Oh, but you just did," Soobin is too adorable to say 'no' to.

So, this is how it starts. Every day, after your lectures end, you go to Soobin's dorm to study. You use every method that has been helpful for you throughout the years. Highlights, flashcards, quizzes, you try everything and anything in order to help Soobin understand the material. At the end of each week you prepare a short test that is meant to aid Soobin in revising the most important information. The first week, his results are disastrous. You honestly don't see any hope but you promised him you'd try your best so you keep modifying the material in order to improve his understanding. The second week, his results are still below average, but slightly better. By the third week, he has definitely reached the expected pass level.

"My God, Soobin, this is amazing progress!" you praise him honestly.

"Really? You think I'd be able to pass?" he asks, still worried about the upcoming exams.

"If you keep up the great work, you surely will," you are confident that he'll make it. "We have one more week until the first exam, I'm sure we'll manage to cover some more ground and revise the essentials."

"Yeah, I think there's still enough time to stick to the plan you made," Soobin nods thoughtfully.

"Here's an idea that might be motivational. If you pass all your exams, I'll reward you."

"Reward me how?" Soobin eyes you curiously.

"However you like."

"What about me paying you back?" Soobin reminds you of the original deal.

"You can just buy me dinner at that sushi place near the university," you suggest simply.

"Sounds good. I'll do my best to pass."

"I know you can do it!" at this point, you genuinely believe in him and are amazed to see how much he's improved.

The exam period starts sooner than you'd like and you now have less time for your study sessions with Soobin, prioritizing individual preparation instead. Honestly, you kind of miss seeing his pretty face every day and explaining things to him. Talking about the material out loud has been helpful for you, as well. The final exams pass by in a flash and now you only have to wait one more week for the results to come out.

"How do you think you did?" you ask Soobin on the phone.

"Ugh, don't ask," he complains. "Even though I felt like we covered all the material, having to explain it in my own words and provide examples was so draining. I have no idea how I did but don't get your hopes up."

"I see," you reply with a sigh.

"I'm not gonna ask how you did, because I'm pretty sure you nailed them," Soobin shuts down any possibility of boasting before it even started.

"Hey, the exams were pretty difficult for me, too," you mumble shyly.

"Yeah, yeah, talk to me again when you flaunt those 100 points."

"Just because I tend to get high results most of the time, doesn't mean I don't struggle," you express your feelings a little harsher than intended.

Soobin is stunned into silence.

"Sorry, that was insensitive of me to say. I guess I never realized how much effort you put into studying."

"It's okay, I'm used to being misunderstood," you answer sheepishly.

"Just because you're used to it, doesn't make it okay. Get some rest. You sure deserve it."

"You too, Soobin."

And with that, the phone call ends. Tensions run high as you anxiously check your email once every two hours for results. You probably care more about this than you should. Only this time your own results are not the only thing on your mind. You really want Soobin to be satisfied with the work he's done. Because you feel like you poured more energy into helping him and you would really hate to see him fail. Not only because you'd feel responsible for it, but because you genuinely like him and want to see him happy.

After what feels like forever, the results are out. Of course, you can only see your own due to privacy reasons. But you know Soobin has also received the same email as every other student. It is only the content that varies. You quickly check your stats and though you didn't get a 100 points everywhere, as Soobin jokingly suggested, you are still pretty proud of yourself. You eagerly grab your phone, meaning to call Soobin when you stop yourself in the last second.

What if he didn't pass all the exams? What if he doesn't want to talk about it? So, instead, you wait until he contacts you first. Luckily, you don't wait long.

"Come over" is the simple message he sends you.

You put on a jacket and practically sprint to his dorm. Is he okay? Is he inviting you over to celebrate or to drink his sorrows away? Your mind races and so do your legs as you near his room. A hesitant knock on his door. A quiet "It's open".

You cautiously enter and study Soobin's expressions in an attempt to read the room. He doesn't look depressed but he doesn't look ecstatic either. What's going on? You just need to know, the uncertainty is killing you.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Soobin asks you coldly.

"Uh…good news?" you mumble, feeling more nervous about whatever he has to say than about your own results.

"Good news is I passed all my exams. I got between 60 and 75 points on most of them."

"That's…incredible! Congratulations, Soobin!" you exclaim proudly. "I'm really happy for you! Wait…what are the bad news, then?"

"The bad news is…you promised me a reward," he whispers darkly.

"Why is that bad news?" you are utterly confused, as you sit down on the couch next to him. "You deserve to be rewarded, you worked so hard to accomplish this."

"That's true, but…I'm not sure you'll like the way I want to be rewarded."

"Anything is okay," you vow, not knowing what's in store for you. "I'll keep my word."

"Oh, I know you will," Soobin smirks and crashes his lips against yours, shocking you completely. Is this really happening? Did you just…both pass all your exams and are now kissing with the hottest guy in your university to celebrate?

"T-t-touch me," he begs so prettily who are you to reject him?

"Where do you want me to touch you?" you easily agree.

He grabs your hand and slides it under his shirt so that you are now caressing his abs. Fuck, his skin is so smooth and hard.

"You're so pretty," you mutter what you've been thinking every time you see him.

"I try to look my best for you," Soobin admits.

"Shut up," you shake your head in disbelief.

"Yes, teacher," he teases you.

"Don't call me that," you groan.

"What would you prefer? Ma'am?"

"Ugh, no, that makes me feel old," your eyes roll.

"Well, you are older than me. How about noona?" Soobin blinks cutely.

"Oh my God, do you ever shut up?"

"Touch me somewhere else," he doesn't ask this time, he demands. You don't even have the time to ask where he'd like to be touched before he's grabbed your wrist again and moves it right on top of his clothed cock. You're seriously gonna die. You're gonna die right in this moment and you won't even go to that cute sushi place. "Take my jeans off."

Your hands are shaking but you do your best to follow Soobin's orders. All your academic knowledge is completely useless in this moment. What you lack in practice, you try to make up for with enthusiasm. Stroking his length and licking him softly seem to do the trick and Soobin grows harder under your touch.

"Why are you so pretty?" you can't help but marvel.

"It's both a blessing and a curse," Soobin grunts loudly. "Wait, stop."

You immediately halt your movements, letting go of his cock.

"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" you ask nervously, almost getting teary-eyed at the thought.

"What? No, you're doing amazing, I just…didn't want to come yet."

"Oh, I see," you reply, even though you can't see shit. "When do you want to come?"

"Wrong question, teacher," Soobin disregards your preference for not being called that. But in this moment, you no longer care. "Replace the wh-word with another wh-word."

"Hmm," you ponder out loud. "Where do you want to come?"

"Inside you. If you'd let me."

"Erm, I'm not sure…" you try to find a polite say that you are not really interested in getting pregnant at this point of your life.

"Relax, I've got condoms," Soobin laughs at you gently. "We can save the risky activities for after graduation."

He's already thinking that far into the future?

Soobin touches your folds gently, trying to ease your worries.

"Does it feel good?"

"So good, Soobin," you confess.

"Yeah?" he smirks proudly, as his long finger stretches you open. "Bet I can teach you a thing or two myself."

"I believe you," you sigh wistfully, as you near your high.

While Soobin puts on protection, you try to think of a logical solution as to how this will work. Honestly, you are too wet to care but his enormous size is still intimidating. Your brain seems incapable of coming up with a formula, so you give up entirely. Thinking only makes it worse.

When he slides inside of you, the feeling is so overwhelming you need something to keep you from falling apart.

"Talk to me," you beg.

"What do you want me to talk about?" Soobin asks.

"Anything."

"Linguistics is the scientific study of language. The areas of linguistic analysis are syntax, morphology, phonetics and-"

"Oh my God, really?" you scoff in disbelief. "Exams are over, let's put that behind us."

"What's your love language?" Soobin wants to know.

"Probably words of affirmation. What's yours?"

"Same. Quality time, as well," he responds.

"Oh yeah, definitely," you agree.

"You're taking me so well," Soobin immediately puts the newfound knowledge to use.

"You're fucking me so well," you whisper sincerely.

And this is all it takes for you two burst in each other's arms, experiencing pleasure like never before.

Once you've dutifully helped clean each other up and are cozied up underneath the sheets, the time for a more serious conversation arrives.

"I don't wanna lose this," Soobin gestures in the air between the two of you.

"We can keep studying together," you reply dumbly.

"That's not what I meant," Soobin chuckles. "Wanna spend time with you. We don't have to be studying, we can watch movies and I can teach you how to play games and…other stuff."

"I like the sound of that," you smile warmly.

"Actually, I have a confession to make," Soobin blurts out.

"Oh?"

"Deep down, I knew I'd pass the exams somehow," Soobin whispers. "I just couldn't be bothered to study. Needed an excuse to get close to you."

You can't even be mad at him.

"I have a confession, as well," you say in return. "I agreed to help you because I wanted to know more about you. I could tell you're smart."

"Is it the glasses?" Soobin pouts adorably, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah, you just give off that…sexy nerdy vibe. Glasses or no glasses."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is. From one nerd to another."

"I can live with that," Soobin flicks your nose playfully.

"You still owe me sushi, by the way. For helping you study."

"Oh, teacher. Sushi is not the only thing you'll be eating tonight."

The End