#sorry ignore this post i’m just losing my fucking mind over here

[johndonneswife]

ahhhhhghgggg. watching a trainwreck happen two feet in front of me and there’s nothing i can do about it but oh my god. oh my goooood holy shit

[queenimmadolla]

alrighty, this fucking sucks to type because I hate having to address anything like this on here when this blog was made to dump my fangirl thoughts and fics into and talk to others with the same interest in it as me, not nearly anything serious. i thought it was me being and acting like an adult, and I’m sure im gonna regret this (not for the reason one would think, but because I’m aware a large majority of tumblr users are—for lack of better words and a more commonly known term—perpetually online) but it appears more so like we have a heavy bystander effect going on, and yes, I can unfortunately admit I was a part of that. look the other way, right?

why the heck are so many people deleting their accounts, and why are so many other people afraid to talk about it? I get it, maybe one person deleting isn’t concerning, maybe they needed a break. but two, three, all in the span of like two days and somehow everyone is afraid and anxious to talk about why?

that’s not normal my friends, that is like the Voldemort effect, don’t speak of it or bad things will happen. what’s going on? this fandom is starting to seem more and more unfriendly and policed, which is completely ridiculous given how acceptance, friendship and differences are the heart of the show.

I’m not gonna lie and say I haven’t seen or heard things because whether anyone likes it or not, shit shows up on other people’s dashes even if it isn’t tagged, depending on who interacts with it. I’m not gonna say anything further on that, people hate context here and I’m not about to be attacked by anons who developed Main Character syndrome, all I’m simply going to ask is can we all just stop and go back to posting content, reblogging it, liking it, IGNORING IT IF WE DO NOT LIKE IT, and letting others live? talk to the people you like, make friends, I’m so happy for you if you can but if you can’t and you come across someone you don’t like, simply leave them alone. don’t encourage hate, definitely discourage it if you can, but standing around and saying/doing nothing is making this place unbearable. I am too fucking old for this. feels like I’m in high school all over again and every freaking clique is fighting and i’m tryna address it without having my high school peers rip me to shreds in their group chats.

it’s easy for people to leave at the drop of a hat because I promise you it’s probably been on there minds for a while now. and they’ve reached a snapping point, which is so unfortunate. It’s not the fics I care about losing (yes, I appreciated them and loved them), it’s the people who wrote them I care about more. so whatever this is, let’s stop it, yeah?

this isn’t a call-out post (and if you feel called out, sorry, but also why do you feel that way???) this is a please let’s just put a fucking end to this post. it’s ridiculous. we write fucking fanfiction about people who don’t exist. there’s no reason to be making people who do exist feel like they can’t do so in this space.

thanks for reading!

🩷 vivi

[vesselmade-a]

itadori's thoughts post nanamin ( first person pov )

you’re  not  here  anymore  and  everything’s  worse.

no  matter  how  many  have  fallen  i’m  trying  to  keep  fighting  just  like  you  told  me.  you’ve  got  it  from  here  ,  your  last  words  still  held  close  to  my  heart. i’m  trying  ,  i  really  am. 

it’s  my  role  to  make  up  for  the  lives  lost  and  to  keep  living  for  them.  even  if  their  lives  were  taken  because  of  me  and  my  weakness.  your  words  are  just  an  extension  of  that.  

you  know  ,  you  remind  me  so  much  of  my  grandfather.  both  so  stern  and  serious  but  i  know  there’s  a�� softness  hidden  underneath  that  seemingly  cold  exterior. 

but  good  things  only  seem  to  be  coming  to  the  worst  people  —  the  cursed  spirits  and  users  got  exactly  what  they  wanted  and  now  we  continue  to  lose  more  and  more  people. 

you  smiled  at  me  before  you  died  as  if  all  of  this  wasn’t  my  fault. how  many  more  lives  will  be  taken  by  my  hands ?  how  many  more  bodies  on  my  shoulders  before  i  buckle  underneath  the  weight ?  how  much  time  until  my  mind  just  breaks ?

i’ve  always  been  someone  who  could  run  forever. you  tell  me  what  needs  to  be  done  and  i’ll  go  through  anything  ,  i’ll  keep  fast  and  cross  over  any  terrain  for  however  long  no  matter  how  bad  i’m  hurting.  but  ,  nanamin  ,  for  the  first  time  i  don’t  think  i  can  keep  running  anymore. 

for  the  first  time  since  i  was  a  kid  i  want  to  quit. i  want  to  lie  down  and  give  up  and  give  in  and  just  stop  fighting.  i’m  so  tired.  i  don’t  know  how  you  did  it  for  so  long.  but  you’re  you  and  i’m  .  .  .  a  failure. 

at  this  point  i  only  get  in  the  way  of  those  i  care  about  ,  i’m  not  strong  enough  yet.  

todo  tells  me  to  snap  out  of  it  ,  it  doesn’t  matter  if  i’m  here  or  not  because  i’m  a  jujutsu  sorcerer  and  i  just  have  to  live  with  things  like  that.  honestly  i  wanted  to  tell  him  to  fuck  off  but  he’s  right. 

if  i  stop  here  then  they  win.  if  i  stop  here  i’ll  never  get  to  see  megumi  again.  if  i  stop  here  gojo  may  be  sealed  forever. 

i’m  sorry  i  almost  lost  my  way  ,  nanamin. i  should’ve  never  ignored  your  last  words. i  swear  on  everything  i  have  that  i’ll  finish  this  for  you.  you’re  suffering  is  mine  now  and  i’ll  take  it  and  bear  it.  

i’ve  got  it  from  here.

[imrryr]

“post the last few lines of your WIP" meme, courtesy of @stealthnoodle. Anyone who wants to do this absolutely should! :)

So I can’t post the last few lines because this doc I’m working on today is a giant mess of completed scenes, unconnected paragraphs, and random sentences that I typed in the vain hope that I can fit them in somewhere later, but here are two as yet unconnected bits of a scene from a Mass Effect Femshep/Jack story I’ve been working on for the past 84 years.

For context, it takes place on the Citadel in a sliver of time just before Priority: Earth. Shepard, Jack, and Zaeed have joined a tournament at the Armax arena while the Normandy is being refitted. The hard part has been trying to keep a humorous tone while all sentient life in the galaxy is being methodically wiped out by the Reapers ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

She’d never liked hospitals. Who did? Lots of judgmental doctors and nurses telling you where to go and what to do and who not to throw a shockwave at. Like sorry, but that fucking Cerberus trooper they had under guard fucking deserved it. Recognized that asshole from Grissom…

Anyway, this time she kept her hands firmly clasped behind her back and patiently ignored everyone who looked at her sideways until she found the door she was searching for.

And there was Zaeed, lying on a bed with his injured foot propped up on a pillow. Every free inch of his room, the wall, the tables, the chairs, was covered in bright flowers. The sight brought a big smile to her lips. It had to be Shepard’s doing.

He lay there, looking out the window and seemingly oblivious to the utter absurdity of his surroundings.

Unable to find a place to sit, Jack settled for the edge of the bed.

“Hey, careful,” he grumbled. He slid his foot, protected inside an enormous cast, as far away from Jack as possible.

She would’ve apologized, but eh...

Instead, Jack nodded in lieu of a greeting as she looked out on the Presidium. Hospitals still sucked, but she had to admit that Huerta Memorial had a pretty sweet view. The window made up one entire side of the room, and the gentle curving arc of the Presidium stretched out before her.

A minute passed. Things got quiet. She’d spoken to Zaeed alone a few times back in the good old suicide mission days. He’d wisely kept his mouth shut that first time she’d come on board – said nothing about her tattoos or what she chose to wear, and never once asked about any of the more prickly bits of her past life (i.e. any of it).

All taken together, it had elevated him to a spot on her ‘only kill if he gets in my way’ list.

When it was just the two of them, they tended to talk about… well, take a guess. It wasn’t horticulture. She frowned, scratching the back of her hand. Today was clearly proving to be a very strange day. “When’s the operation?”

Zaeed grumbled. “Tomorrow morning. Told them it’d better be over by nightfall. Don’t want to miss the match.”

“Really excited to see us lose, huh?”

“You’d better not. I’ve got fifty thousand credits on that match. Who’s replacing me anyway?”

“Some asari chick. Supposed to be famous on Thessia or something, I don’t know.”

“Huh. She any good?”

Jack shrugged. “If she isn’t, Shepard and I will just have to carry the weight ourselves. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

Zaeed grunted. “You’re real goddamn hilarious, you know that?”

(snip)

“Can I ask you something?”

His eyes – well, the good one at least – went wide as if that innocuous question alone had blown his mind.

Still, Jack pressed on. There wasn’t, after all, anyone else she could think to put the question to. “If you asked Shepard out, where would you take her?”

Surprisingly, the answer came without a second’s hesitation. “Easy. ‘This One’s House of Plentiful Amusements. It’s that new Hanar comedy club down on Zakeera Ward.’”

“A comedy club? Really?”  

“Yeah, I figure once I asked her out, she wouldn’t stop laughing for a good three or four hours. Might as well take her someplace appropriate, right?”

She let out a long breath. What was this, Give Sarcastic Advice to Jack Day? Gritting her teeth, she asked, “And what if it was me?”

“Uh…” he visibly swallowed, “No offense, but you’re not my type.”

Fuck you, Zaeed. “No, where would I take her out?”

“Oh.” His brow furrowed. “Don’t know? Someplace with a lot of goddamned explosions, I guess. Or, judging from a year of experience, just follow her around for a day and the explosions will come to you.”

Jack hummed in thought. True enough, she thought.

“You know,” he continued, “these painkillers must be really damned powerful, because I could swear that you’re asking me for relationship advice.”

Ugh. “Forget I said anything.”

Zaeed ignored her. “Everyone’s gone fucking respectable. Kasumi’s working on the Crucible, Garrus is a military advisor, and look at you, I bet you haven’t crashed a space-station into a moon in at least a month.”

Jack rolled her eyes. “No, but I’ve thought about it,” she said with a laugh. As far as the Citadel was concerned it might be an improvement. The trick would be finding a large enough moon.

“And me, I’m sittin’ here with my thumb up my ass.”

“It’s probably too late to be having a mid-life crisis, Zaeed.”

“It’s this goddamned bed,” he said, grunting as he tried to sit up. “Gives a man too much time to think. Damned nurse took away my omni-tool. He said ‘Towers of Hanoi‘ was going to give me an aneurysm.”

“Hmm. I’ll give Kasumi a call, maybe she can hook you up with something.”

He nodded, relieved. “Look,” he said, that good eye fixed on her. “I think you should do whatever keeps the team together. When Shepard puts something together, nothing in galaxy can stop it. Only way I see us winning this fucking war.” He stretched, adding in a yawn for good measure. “Besides, I’m hoping if Shepard lets me stick around long enough she’ll hook me up with a pension plan.”

Yeah, thanks, Zaeed. The sad thing was she could picture Shepard fighting the Alliance to set something like that up. A second suicide mission to rival the first.

“Haven’t had this much fun in years. Blowing shit up and feeling like a hero afterwards? Not used to that. Feels good, you know what I mean?”

Jack sighed. Yeah. It wasn’t the worst feeling in the world.

She could only think of one thing that would make it better.

[momochizoey]

I posted 878 times in 2022

That's 678 more posts than 2021!

63 posts created (7%)

815 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@visdiefje

@appsa

@dreamofnightsandfireflies

@likeadragonfruit

@madelyn-mads74

I tagged 350 of my posts in 2022

#goncharov - 55 posts

#zoey wrestles with writing - 16 posts

#ask game - 14 posts

#azula - 10 posts

#thanks for the ask! - 10 posts

#zoey rambles in the tags - 10 posts

#atla - 9 posts

#likeadragonfruit - 8 posts

#victoria chase - 6 posts

#life is strange - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#anytime im on the bus or train with headphones in i try to embody the feelings i got from seeing max look out the window listening to music

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

An excerpt of the multi chapter Chasefield fic I'm currently working on:

“OMG, V, don’t be obvious, but look at the hippie. She totally spaced out and broke that dumb camera of hers.”

Victoria rolled her eyes at Taylor. As if she was ever obvious about spying unless she wanted to be. What is she, an amateur? Still, she leaned back in her seat, changing the angle she was sitting at as if she was getting more comfortable listening to Mr Jefferson. She kept her gaze on him attentively for a few seconds longer (not like that was much of a chore) before she flicked her eyes to the side.

Taylor was right: Max’s camera looked busted, loose parts gathered here and there on the table, and she was visibly stressing out trying to put it back together.

Victoria almost laughed and whispered a snide remark towards Max, when suddenly the words caught in her throat.

A cloud had parted outside as Max was bent over her camera, her knuckles pressed against the side of her head. The hair falling in front of her face was lit up with a golden glow in the rays of the sun, and the soft shadow and light playfully danced across her frowning face.

Before she could think about what she was doing, she reached down to her bag. She took out her camera, aimed it at the vision before her, and with no extra thought, no perfecting the settings, no changing the depth of field, she shot.

The click of her camera snapped her out of it. Hurriedly, she tried to hide her camera again, hoping nobody saw-

“Victoria. I know this is a photography class, and I understand the urge to capture an image can feel overwhelming. But please, pay attention. I don’t get paid to talk at you, I’m here to teach you, and I can’t do that if you aren’t listening when I speak.”

She flinched at Mr Jefferson's reprimand, blushing as she noticed the rest of the class was staring at her. 

She scrambled for a convincing cover story. "I'm so sorry Mr Jefferson, I just bumped into my camera bag, and I thought I saw a scratch on the lense and wanted to see if it showed up on a picture. I was paying attention though, you were talking about chiaroscuro? That's like, the interplay between light and dark, right? Like Diane Arbus?"

He sighed. "That's correct Victoria. But please, next time, wait until after class?"

She nodded, and, ignoring her friends' inquisitive looks, she sank into her seat with her arms crossed in front of her.

What the hell was that? Why did Max-fucking-Selfield cause her to completely lose her mind? She was in the middle of class! And not just any other boring class, but Mark Jefferson's class! 

And then that picture! It was like she completely forgot everything her parents had taught her about the exact art of photography! It was entirely unprofessional, the environment was completely uncontrolled, the lighting wasn't coming from a precisely calculated angle, her model (whose identity she refused to think about for the moment) wasn't posed to her exact directions to evoke the specific emotions she had determined in advance. Frankly, she was almost convinced she must've damaged her camera by forcing it to take such a terrible photo. 

She shot the cause of this… lapse of judgement, a look of disdain, only to startle at the intense stare the normally timid hipster had aimed her way. 

Something behind those blue, usually doe-like eyes, had turned its attention to Victoria, and she could almost see the cogs turning in her skull. 

For a second, she wondered if this is how prey felt.

Then Max blinked, and the feeling disappeared.

I've been working on this fic for weeks now, and I'm currently about 7k words in? But while I want to have more chapters ready before I actually start publishing it, I got too impatient and had to share this first scene with you all here! Consider it a teaser! Anyway, I hope you like it! Life Is Strange, and especially Maximum Victory/Chasefield has (once again) taken over my heart, and I'm so excited for the moment I can share the full and completed story with you. Which is definitely coming, I'm in a pretty good writing groove and I know where I'm going, so look forward to it!

20 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

#4

Azula Week 2022 Day 4 - Discovery

Decades had passed since the end of the war. Time may have healed most wounds, some better than others. But discovering impossible ghosts on your doorstep can reopen old wounds.

'He shuffled his feet for a moment and cleared his throat. “Is- is this the residence of Grandmaster Katara?”

“That’s me, yes. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Baatar. I believe you knew my father, Sokka?”'

For Azulaweek, thank you so much for hosting @azulaweek

26 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

#3

I know the clock symbolism has been talked to death already, but what I haven't seen anyone mention is Katya's watch!

In the boat scene, Katya's escape plan hinges entirely on the perfect timing: Sofia's stumble, Andrey's distraction, the cigarette, all of it. And she makes it! Her timing is perfect to the millisecond, which she could because of her very expensive Swiss watch, the one she asked Goncharov for for their anniversary.

Just one problem: her watch was actually ahead by 12 seconds.

She was extremely lucky that the timing actually called for a slight delay, but there was no way she could've known that, or even that her watch watch was delayed. The only reason we know, is that if you pay attention you notice the clock tower rings 12 seconds after her watch said it should have. And yes, you could argue that that was a delay on the clocktower's part, or perhaps even a mistake of the film crew, but if there's one thing we know about Martin Scorsese it's that nothing in this movie has been unintentional.

And my heart just aches for Katya because it's the foreshadowing of it all. She did everything right, acting correctly with the information she had, and it was pure luck, fate almost, that it worked out this time. But in the final scenes (when she's noticeably wearing a different watch, the Italian one given to her by Sofia, that does run perfectly on time), her betrayal of both Goncharov and Sofia is also the only correct course of action she could have taken given the information she had, only this time it doesn't work out. It's the perfection that leads to her downfall: by attempting to control her fate she actually ensured that fate couldn't give her the help she needed. By trying to shackle time, she actually bound herself to it, mercilessly dragged into the gearbox until she's ground down by the clockwork of time.

And that's not even mentioning the red-stained strap of the new watch! It's suggested to symbolise her determination, willpower and leadership at first (making excellent use of colour theory), but it actually has its meaning flipped on its head, because Scorsese actually uses the much rarer negative connotations of red, symbolising danger, violence and anger, again foreshadowing her path.

39 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

#2

A Scene from Getting Family Approval

I've been struggling with chapter 3 of Getting Family Approval (the combined Ursa/Iroh chapter) for months now, but I really wanted to write Something for the Ozai chapter which is set after that one and the Hakoda one, so I wrote this. Not sure yet if this will be part of the actual chapter when I get to it, or if it's just a different POV of what's happening there, but I hope you enjoy!

Ozai took a deep breath as he was led into the prison’s garden by his guards, enjoying the smell of the fresh air and the feeling of the sun on his skin. He might not have his inner flame anymore, but sometimes, in the heat of the sun, he could pretend.

Of course, unlike his old cell, this one had a window, so he wasn’t completely cut off from the sunlight, but it couldn’t compare to the direct feeling of the rays of Agni during his rare visit to the garden.

Watching my words when I speak to my daughter is a small price to pay to enjoy this, he thought.

Speaking of Azula, he wondered what the occasion was. Usually she came by once every six months, but it had barely been four months since her last visit.

There’d always be a low table set up in the garden, where they’d share tea and even some fried mochi with togarashi seasoning. He’d never admit it, but he appreciated the fact that she remembered his favourite snack, and that she actually made sure to get him some even if it was only twice a year.

He’d asked her once, why she did all this. The nicer cell, the visits, the books (carefully selected and approved, but still). He knew he would not have done the same in her position.

“You’re a terrible person, dad,” she’d answered, looking him in the eye with a quiet intensity. “You used me and Zuko, you were a tyrant and you happily continued waging a war on the world we never should have fought in the first place, and I will never forgive you for it.” She’d sighed, then. “But you are still my father, and that means something to me, even if it doesn’t to you.”

They hadn’t spoken more during that visit after that, finishing their tea in silence. He still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Now, as he reached the table, he noted with surprise that his daughter wasn’t alone this time.

Seated next to her was a Water Tribesman. If he remembered correctly, it was the same boy who'd insulted him after his defeat, the one who’d masterminded the invasion during the eclipse.

Ozai couldn’t think of a single reason the boy could have to visit him. Probably not a social visit then. He sat down at the table, back straight, and greeted his daughter with a nod. “Good afternoon, Azula. This is a surprise. Zuko hasn’t changed the calendar, has he?”

Azula snorted, and the Water Tribesman coughed to hide a laugh, looking at Azula in disbelief as if he couldn’t believe Ozai was capable of making a joke.

“No dad, we’re here with a reason, actually.” Interesting, the use of ‘we’ meant the two had planned this together. As he took a sip of his tea he puzzled over what the two of them could have been doing that involved him of all people.

“Let me start with introductions. Sokka, this is my father, Ozai. Dad, this is Sokka, my fiancé.”

Ozai choked on his tea.

What?

41 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My post-canon Yuezula oneshot is finally done!

Summary:

“Have you been angry about it? Felt genuine anger?”

Yue looked away, eyes staring out over the field of vibrant pink spirit flowers. “No, I- That wouldn’t help anything. I can’t change what happened. And I wouldn’t, I had to do it for my people and the world. It’s not like I could let Tui die. I had a duty and it’s good that I could help.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be angry about it.”

42 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sluttywonwoo]

take it off || k.mg x reader

Pairing: mob!mingyu x fem reader

Summary: as much as you hate to admit it, jealousy looks good on your fiancé 

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Mingyu, slow down,” you said with a sigh, trying not to roll your eyes.

“What was he thinking?” Mingyu spat, not acknowledging what you had just said. He gripped the steering wheel even harder.

You watched as his knuckles began to turn white and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Baby, take a deep breath. Relax.”

He just shrugged you off and cursed at the car in front of him.

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gyu.”

He actually turned his head towards you and looked at you this time. “You’re joking.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You winced, knowing you’d probably made it worse and that Mingyu was likely now picturing the grimy hands of ill-intentioned strangers all over your body.

“I should have him killed,” he snarled.

To most, that threat would sound completely ridiculous or utterly insane, but your fiancé was the head of the Seoul mob-the South West branch anyway- and he was no stranger to violence. Having someone killed would be as easy as snapping his fingers.

You scoffed to call his bluff.

“You think I won’t?” he challenged and you groaned.

“You promised you were done with that.”

It’s true, one of the conditions of your engagement had been that Mingyu agree to put the more sinister side of his business to rest, and although you trusted him, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how well he was upholding his end of the deal.

“I’d make an exception.”

“Well don’t. I don’t want some poor guy’s blood on my hands.”

At that, the car screeched to a stop right in the middle of the freeway. The cars behind you honked and flashed their lights at Mingyu as they maneuvered to avoid a collision.

You huffed in frustration, wanting to bang your head against the dashboard. This was exactly why you didn’t like for Mingyu to drive himself: he pulled dangerous shit all the time like this. Literally, all of his other men had drivers who took them places and you desperately wished Mingyu would hire someone, but he insisted that it was safest if he was the one driving (yet here you were in the middle of the highway).

“You could’ve fucking killed us!” you shouted, more annoyed than anything.

Mingyu took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But y/n, he’s not just some poor guy.”

“He was trying to get a rise out of you, Gyu. He fucking hates you, of course, he’d go after me, and he was drunk.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, foot still pressed firmly on the brake. “That’s not a fucking excuse, you of all people should know that. Why are you trying to defend him?”

“I’m not trying to defend him, I’m just saying he doesn’t deserve to die. Can we please just get home?”

Mingyu relented and put the car back into motion making you breathe a sigh of relief.

Even though he didn’t say anything else you could tell his mind was still going a thousand miles a minute. You watched him chew at his lip in silence and wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of his. Nothing good, you could be sure of that.

Mingyu’s mind was darker than most. Occupational hazard. He carried so much pain that you hadn’t known about when you first met him. He’d let you in slowly, keeping you at arm’s length for months, until he almost lost you. And then he knew he couldn’t keep things from you anymore. It was still a challenge to understand his thought process sometimes, but you liked it that way. How could a ruthless, power-hungry mobster also be the most loving, family-oriented person you’d ever met in your life? How could someone who dropped a grand on a dinner like it was nothing secretly rather spend one more night picnicking with crappy Chinese food on the bedroom floor in your old apartment? You couldn’t think of an answer, and you didn’t want to.

The guy at the bar tonight had been some rival of Mingyu’s. You hadn’t seen him before, but you could tell because when Mingyu got up to get the two of you more drinks he swooped in and laid it on heavy. He looped one arm around your waist and placed his other hand on your knee and began attempting to seduce you. Sure, you were uncomfortable but more than anything you were angry. And tired. Tired of being used as bait, something to get to Mingyu.

You didn’t want to make a scene so you listened to the asshole talk about how much better he’d treat you than Mingyu until your fiancé eventually returned with your drinks in hand, face beet red, eyes dark with anger.

The man, you never caught his name, left the bar with a broken nose. Mingyu left with bruised knuckles. You’d thought it would end at that, but of course, once Mingyu got started it was hard for him to stop. It was a gift in the bedroom, but a curse in the rest of your life.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it, Mingyu broke the silence in the car and said “I know what he said to you,” and it all clicked.

Normally, a hand on your shoulder, thigh, ass was enough to set Mingyu off, but combine that with the filthy words he’d undoubtedly overheard spilling from the man’s lips… no wonder all he could see was red.

“Mingyu, I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to start something.”

“Start something? Is that true? Or do you think he’s right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think he can satisfy you better than I can?”

“Mingyu!”

“Well do you?”

You shook your head and rubbed your thighs together, fighting a shiver. As irritating as Mingyu’s jealousy could be, the effect it had on you was even more infuriating. The man could already turn you on without doing anything and whenever he started acting a little jealous it was game over for you. It was pathetic, really.

“Why the fuck did he even think it was okay to look at you, let alone touch you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged finally settling in to play the game. “These big dudes with huge muscles just think they can have whoever they want.”

Mingyu whipped his head back towards you. “What did you say?”

You ignored him. “I mean he definitely wouldn’t be as good as you, but he could do some damage.” Mingyu was full-on glaring at you now, and you wanted to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but you couldn’t give up so fast. “I mean, just one of his hands could probably wrap around my whole neck. Like they were giant, and you know what they say about guys with big hands-“

“Do you think this is funny?”

Any sane person wouldn’t even think about taunting Mingyu like this, not with his reputation, but you couldn’t be sane to be with someone like Mingyu anyway, and besides, you knew he was a big softie at heart.

“A little,” you admitted. “You look really hot right now.”

He really did. His hair was tousled with silver highlights from the moonlight streaming in through the windshield, his tan skin was flushed with adrenaline, and his white button-up was unbuttoned just a few times to show off his collarbone. You bit your lip. You were so fucking weak.

“That’s not going to work.”

“No?” You quirked an eyebrow and leaned over the console to see that he was already more than half hard in his dress pants. “Because it looks like it’s working.” You reached over and began to palm him through his trousers, smirking when he cursed and rolled his neck at the contact.

“Y/n, if I have to pull over, you’re not going to be able to walk for the next week.”

Oh no, that’d be horrible you thought to yourself and rolled your eyes. He had to know that’s what you secretly wanted, right? Right? Why were men so stupid?

Either way, you took your hand back and moved it up under the hem of your dress to where you were feeling a little desperate for some friction. You sighed deeply when you rubbed yourself over your panties, not even surprised at how wet you were.

“Fuck,” you hissed out and hiked your legs up onto the seat so you could give Mingyu a better view.

“Stop that.”

He said it so forcefully that you froze, fingers hovering over your panties, about to pull them to the side. Then you smiled.

“No.” You went ahead and did it anyway, slipping two fingers inside of yourself easily.

You weren’t one to defy Mingyu often, especially when it came to what he asked of you in the bedroom, but you knew how crazy it drove him and just couldn’t resist.

Mingyu groaned, trying and failing to maintain an angry expression. His eyes betrayed an absolutely sinful lust that made you want to melt and you wished more than anything he’d just pull the fucking car over.

“Fuck, Gyu,” you gasped, “I wish these were your fingers, you’re so good with your fingers.”

“Yeah? You sure you wish they’re my fingers? Not someone else’s?”

You shook your head vigorously. “Never. You’re the only one who knows how to make me cum that hard.”

“Is that what you want? To cum hard?”

“God, yes,” you moaned, pumping your fingers in and out of you faster.

“Take off your dress.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right, you were still driving down the highway after all.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Not wanting to push your luck any further you didn’t hesitate to listen this time and pulled the loose fabric up and over your head.

“Good girl,” he praised and you whined. You were still wearing your bra and underwear and as much as you’d love to flash oncoming traffic, you hoped Mingyu wouldn’t ask you to take them off.

“You can touch yourself,” he said and you complied, knowing it was more of an instruction than an allowance.

It felt good, really good, but you still wished it was him instead of you.

“Fuck, darling you look so beautiful like that, God, I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“If, you stop, killing people,” you managed to get out through gritted teeth and Mingyu laughed.

“I’m not going to kill him, baby. I made a promise. You’re too important to risk losing, even if he is a fucking prick.”

You whimpered, the mixture of complete head-over-heels love you felt for Mingyu and pleasure making you crumble.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, reaching over and taking you by the wrist, stalling your movements just as you were about to fall over the edge. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget you ever met that asshole.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[frogtanii]

your palms were sweaty as you adjusted your slacks, making sure the pleats were where they should be with not a wrinkle in sight. you wanted to look professional and put together, at least on the outside, because you knew you were actually about .2 seconds away from falling apart.

your palms were sweaty as you adjusted your slacks, making sure the pleats were where they should be with not a wrinkle in sight. you wanted to look professional and put together, at least on the outside, because you knew you were actually about .2 seconds away from falling apart.

a quick glance to the boys at your sides notified you that they weren’t faring much better. atsumu kept fidgeting with his cufflinks, sakusa was so stiff you could knock him over with your pinky, kenma looked like he was about to pass out, bokuto was debating on squeezing under the table in front of you, kuroo was tapping a pattern on his pants (akeelah and the bee style), and akaashi kept reciting ominous poems under his breath.

the only people in the room who looked even remotely fine were osamu, oikawa, sugawara, daichi, and, surprisingly, yachi. osamu was munching on some peanuts that he pulled from... somewhere, while oikawa and sugawara were holding their own conversation by the window. daichi seemed to be minding his own business but you could never really get a proper read on him anyway.

well, you supposed yachi was okay because she knew what to expect. i mean, you were meeting her boss.

after you and kenma had posted your “exposing the hype(r) house” youtube video, an email had come to the both of you, inviting you to visit the “big boss” along with the rest of the crew.

you weren’t necessarily afraid of losing your job; the hype(r) house was already being dissolved and you were (finally!!!) getting to move in with makki and mattsun until you found your own place. you were genuinely excited to put the drama and literal hell behind you and begin to live your life again but...

that didn’t mean meeting the Man™ wasn’t terrifying. it was like being called into the principal’s office, complete with the existential dread and occasional bouts of gassiness.

the door opening made you flinch as you quickly moved out of the way to let the newcomers enter. while they walked past you, you couldn’t contain the shock that overtook your face, your jaw practically on the floor.

the man was massive.

built like a brick wall, the man who you assumed to be the “big boss,” had a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and massive fucking pecs, his white button up barely closing around them.

beside him stood a tall, lanky man who was dressed suspiciously un-office-like with a red buzz cut and wild eyes that seemed to cut into you as he took his place at the table.

the final man seemed a bit awkward in comparison to the other two, but he was trying to seem unaffected, his purple bowlcut, despite being rather juvenile, fitting perfectly with his slim but toned build and bright complexion.

yachi hurried to greet them, giving all three a blinding smile before motioning for everyone else to take a seat. you ended up between the redhead and atsumu, the former being way too entertained by just your general being. his eyes rarely, if ever, left your face sending shivers down your spine. the remaining members all hesitantly took their seats and “big boss” began.

“it is an honor to meet you all. i am ushijima wakatoshi but you can call me ushijima or wakatoshi or ushiwaka or toshijima or just ushi or just jima or just waka or just toshi.” for a moment you thought he was joking but his face never moved, not even with the awkward silence that followed. redhead seemed rather amused by the whole display and bowl cut looked like he was on the verge of spontaneously combusting.

it took an uncomfortably long moment for ushijima to proceed but he did as though nothing had happened. “these are my associates, satori—” redhead gave you a mischievous grin “—and tsutomu.”

“goshiki,” bowl cut interrupted, his voice wavering but his eyes gleaming with righteous indignation as though he was challenging wakatoshi to say something in defiance. instead, ushijima just gave him a nod and he visibly deflated back into his seat.

“goshiki is the social media manager for imla and satori is... satori,” big boss continued, not a hint of emotion on his face. the rest of the table perked up at his comment but atsumu was the only one who apparently had the balls to say anything.

“so yer the one who wrote that shitty among us tweet?” goshiki flushed horribly and sunk further into his plush leather chair, his body language showing he must’ve already gotten an earful about it. “thought it was a good idea,” he muttered while averting his eyes, completely ignoring satori’s cackle from across the wood.

ushijima put up a (massive???) hand to calm the both of them and it instantly worked. satori quieted down though he never lost the mirth in his expression and goshiki straightened up, a new wave of determination crossing his features.

you sat up as well, feeling the shift of energy in the room but you were startled to realize the boss had decided to focus his energy on you, his deep baritone voice calling your full name. “i am extremely sorry. we have failed you as a management team and as men. i have failed you.”

he sounded remarkably remorseful, his brown irises conveying heavy emotion and guilt. you had no idea what to say but he wasn’t done.

“although i do not have full control of the decisions that have been made here, i should have fought harder for what i believed was right and for that, i will forever be sorry.” you shifted uncomfortably under his weighty gaze, not that he noticed because his attention was swiftly taken by kenma at the opposite end of the room.

“who is in charge then? aren’t you like the ceo or whatever?” he asked. ushijima took a moment before nodding very slowly, his attention clearly on something in his head.

thankfully, satori rapidly took over the thread of conversation before the room could fall in tense silence yet again. “there’s a board of old, stuffy guys who basically kicked miracle boy wakatoshi to the curb and make all their decisions without him.”

...miracle boy? what did he have to do to earn that kind of nickname? you shook your head and tuned back in, just as the ceo spoke up once again.

“because i have not succeeded in doing my job properly, i have something to give to you,” ushijima deadpanned, sliding a thick envelope towards you. you carefully grabbed it and opened it up to reveal a thick, thick, wad of cash.

a gasp caught in your throat, words not coming to you as you thumbed through the money. there had to be at least $60k in there, your eyes filling with tears while you took in his generosity. “thank you,” you whispered, not trusting your voice to speak any louder.

wakatoshi nodded at you before addressing the rest of the table about something but you weren’t even listening.

you were so overwhelmed. for the longest time, you’d hated whoever management was for ignoring your pleas for help and trying to placate you with nice dresses and fancy dinners so meeting ushijima was quite the welcomed surprise.

despite everything that occurred, you could tell he felt horrible for letting things slide even though it was technically out of his hands and you couldn’t even articulate how much that meant to you.

the fact that he had gone out of his way to pay you extra, assumingly without the permission of the board, was heartwarming, confusing, shocking, and staggering all at once.

i mean, you could probably describe the past few months as exactly that. so much had happened, so much had changed, and while you could do without some of the life adjustments (the nightmares, spare trauma, and fear of public bathrooms to start), you felt blessed with new friends and the experiences that helped shape you to the person you were now.

the boys didn’t hate you anymore (well, not all of them at least and none were actively antagonizing you), you were seeing dr yamada again, you were getting to move in with your two best friends, you were just given enough money to expand your channel drastically, and you were finally feeling good. better than good.

meiko was behind you and though you missed the person she once was, you were so glad she was out of your life in a way where she couldn’t harm you or the boys any longer.

a grin spread across your face, your cheeks nearly burning from the intensity of it. things were definitely looking up.

a soft call of your name jolted you from your thoughts, your eyes landing on all the boys already standing as they got ready to leave the room. you could sense their worry and you shot them a genuine, reassuring smile before standing yourself.

you waved goodbye to the three men at the table, thanking ushijima profusely for his kindness but he shook you off, insisting that he had just been doing what he should’ve done a long time ago.

what a nice guy.

as you followed the boys out of the building, you took a moment to observe them together with fondness written all over your expression. they were laughing and joking around, the happiest and most carefree you had ever seen any of them. bokuto was begging yachi to get them ice cream, the rest of them piling on until she gave in with a playful roll of her eyes, giggling at the cheer that went up from the group.

atsumu seemed to notice you lagging behind, falling back to join you. “ya okay angel?” he asked, eyes focused on your feet as he slowed down to match your pace.

you didn’t answer for a while, instead focusing on the sun warming your cheeks, the cool breeze messing up your hair, and the sounds of pure joy swirling above you.

“i’m absolutely perfect.” you replied and you actually meant it. “race you to the van?” you sent him an impish grin before taking off, his yells of indignation making you laugh freely as the rest of the boys joined in, right on your heels.

this is it, you thought. no matter what, i’ll have this moment and i’ll be okay.

you’d been through hell and back and you’d survived. you’d been cursed at, choked out, hospitalized, and been beaten at mario kart more times than you could count and you had still made it through. you were resilient and strong and you’d never given up, despite how badly you’d wanted to, multiple times over.

things weren’t perfect, they rarely are, but you knew that if you could make it through all that, you could get through practically anything, especially with the boys by your side.

yeah. i’ll be just fine.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

bonus!!

���told you it sounded stupid as hell.”

“gah, stop talking about it!!”

“you sounded sooooo old ‘shiki, what are you, 92?”

“AAAAAAAAAA!!!”

“satori...”

“what’s up miracle boy?”

“...what is ‘sus’?”

℗ poker face

i’ll be just fine

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - AND THATS A WRAP FOLKS 🥳 wowowow did the ending give me trouble but that’s ok SISJSK the endings will be coming shortly but they might not be daily just cs they may take more time, who knows lmfao i’ll let y’all know :3 AAAA ANYWAYS ILY I HOPE U GUYS LIKED KITH KITH don’t forget to feed me <3

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the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[scaramouche-bully]

THAT POST ABOUT OVERSTIM MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I WANT TO DESTROY CHILDE HELP. CAN U WRITE SMTH WHERE HIS S/O USUALLY BOTTOMS BUT WANTS TO TRY TOPPING HIM AND HE JUST KEEPS TRYING TO FLUSTER HER AND TEASE HER AND SHE GETS SO ANNOYED THAT SHE JUST FUCKS HIM STUPID 💕💕

— ☆ Wrecking T*rtaglia headcanons

Includes: Childe

[ Top ] Female reader

Contains: Overstimulation, bratty sub, mind break, sub space, aphrodisiacs, anal gaping, dacryphilia, degradation, size kink, slapping, choking, cock-stepping, humiliation, rough sex, stomach bulge, multiple orgasms, masochism + sadism.

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]  

— ☆ Bratty Sub headcanons - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, and Childe 🐑 [ GN ]

[ masterlist ]

Welcome to the "Bully T*rtaglia" club, we are currently taking applications (u‿ฺu✿ฺ). My original draft was sweet but then my computer crashed and I lost everything. So I'm going to channel all my anger into destroying this man (consensually, I promise the ending is soft.).

— ☆ Childe

When you bring up the idea of you topping him, he doesn't take you seriously but he's open to it. While he thinks it's cute that you want to try new things, he's so much bigger than you, and being on top is actually a lot of work compared to being a pillow princess. Are you sure you can handle it?

One of the big issues that came up during your first times was Childe's competitive nature and how fast his recovery time was. He could have came three times and then suddenly flip you on your back and fuck your brains out instead.

Even when he had the patience to be the sub, he would constantly taunt you and be an insufferable brat. Constantly disrespecting you and trying to fluster you. Always reaching down to finger fuck you even when he was stuffed full.

So the next time you brought him a drink, you decided to add something extra. Sitting patiently as he thanked you and downed the entire cup. It only took a few minutes before he began to squirm in his seat.

Childe's face was slowly growing redder and redder, soft pants breaking through the quiet office, his eyes darting to you before settling on the ground. It was amusing seeing him be so quiet rather than running his mouth off every minute. It's only when you start to walk over him in feign concern does he break out of his haze.

Stumbling over himself as he makes wild hand gestures to stop you but as soon as you round his desk, you see his cock straining against his pants, and the embarrassment flood Childe's face. Trying to laugh it off, you're just so pretty he can't help himself, but he's quickly cut off when you prop yourself up onto his desk and step on his cock.

"W-Wait-" Childe groans as his hips buck into your shoe as he grinds against it. Clutching the hand rests of his chair as he leans his head against your knee, soft keens slipping out as you run your fingers through his matted hair as he humps against you. He makes a confused noise when you suddenly tip his chin up, smile sweetly at him, before he's sprawled on the ground as you slap him.

"When did I say you could touch me?" you shot him a cruel look that sent shudders up his spine but also made his cock throb. Whatever you fed him was slowly making him lose his senses until there was just you, you, you. He whines, still on his back, when you take a seat in his chair and dig your shoe onto his dick, randomly applying pressure here and there, his pre-cum wetting his pants as he yelps at the pain. His hands flying up to lift your foot away but he catches himself as chooses to claw his fingers into the wooden flooring instead as he reaches his peak. It's so empowering seeing the man who used to fuck you stupid, whimper and cry as he cums in his pants just from you stepping on his dick.

"P-Please...ah! mm...wha?" Childe looks down confused to see that even after just orgasming, his cock is still hard. His body is so hot that if he doesn't cum again, he feels like he's going to die. He's tries to lift himself onto his elbows and unbutton his pants before you kick him in the chest and send him back down. He's disorientated from the fall when he feels you sit on his chest, cupping his face in your hands to lift him, before slamming his head down. You're almost ripping his hair out with every yank and slap you abuse him with as he yelps like a dog.

"You filthy whore. Did I say you could cum? You ungrateful brat," you spit out as Childe wails in pain, almost knocking you off when he seizes up and shakes. You don't even need to check to know he came again, "Maybe I should gag you and throw you onto the streets. Let everyone here know how much of a pig you are. Is that it what you want?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" his voice is choked up from his tears as he cries over himself. You almost feel bad but he's basically useless in this state, sniffling over himself as he apologizes over and over again. You softly coo at him as you lean over and kiss him sweetly, taking his arms and placing them on your waist as he grips onto you like a lifeline.

"There there Childe. It's alright now, we're going to teach you how to be a good boy. That's what you want right?" you whisper to him as he nods. You pull yourself up even as he grips onto your clothing to stay with him as you unclasp the buttons of his pants and free his cock. Still red and hard in your hands as if he hadn't already orgasmed twice in the span of a few minutes. He's already so wet with pre-come that you don't even need to find lube to jack him off. Ignoring his moans and screams to stop, he's still sensitive, you take him to the hilt in your mouth. Quickly pinning his hips from jerking upwards and choking you, you're the image of content as you swallow around his cock as Childe throws his head back and sobs as he cums down your throat.

“Pl-please, please, mmn- put it in me, please…” he manages to pant you, his mind melted as his eyes blink in and out of consciousness. His body is still burning hot and he can't escape the feeling of being empty. He wants to be filled with your cock, stuffed fill until he can't live without being fucked by you. You've completely ruined him.

"It seems we still have a long way to go. You really are a disappointment Childe," you sigh as you wipe away the stray cum dripping from your mouth as you reach over and feed it to him. He whines low in the throat at tasteing himself but feeling you touch him in some way is the only thing grounding him before you pull away and stand up, "Go on. Finger yourself open for me."

"W-Wha?"

"Childe. I said. Finger yourself open. I won't repeat myself again."

He quickly nods, not ready to disobey you again, as he lifts himself up to get his pants fully off. He knows what you want and it makes the fire in him burn hotter. Using his own pre-come with shaky hands, he reaches over to hold his legs up for you, and circles around his rim before dipping inside. The embarrassment of holding himself open like this and your watchful gaze almost has him cumming again but he can't. He wants to be good. He does his best to spread himself open at this awkward angle but he soon loses himself. He should feel ashamed for getting off on someone watching him but it makes him finger himself deeper and harder. He's taken out of his pleasurable moment when he feels your hand join his. Taking one hand as you spread his ass to see his loose hole. The pre-cum from his cock slowly leaking down. You're absentmindedly lacing your fingers inside him, before pulling both your hands out as you line your strap on to his rim. He didn't even notice you put it on.

"Did you know I had to fake every orgasm because you were such a sloppy fuck? Perhaps I should show you how to fuck someone properly," is the only warning he gets before you grip his hips until your fingernails draw blood, before slamming into him. He throws his head back and chokes on his screams as his cock shoots cum all over his chest.

"Who said you could come?" you spit out as you grip his cock and squeeze harshly as he screams. The overstimulation is too much, it hurts. He's desperately trying to push you away but whatever strength he built is lost. Only able to lay there and take it. He looks down to see his stomach bulge with every thrust you make, the image of you rearranging his insides sends him flying as he tries to cum again but the death grip you have on him, he just can't. He's full-on sobbing as you continue to abuse his prostate, he's going to break, you're breaking him.

"nO! P-PLEASE! STO-" he begging as you continue to pound into him. You push even further, until your cock fully inside him now, and stay there rubbing right up against his prostate. Watching amused as Childe tries to shudder to the large intrusion, the never-ending pressure on his sensitive spots makes him almost feral. You swear he has hearts in his eyes right now.

"Pleasepleaseplease-"

You pull out slowly, just until the tip is inside him, before gripping his wrists as leverage and ruthless slamming into him. Childe parts his hips in a voiceless cry as you finally break his mind and fuck him dumb. He scrambles against the floor as he tries to find anything to ground him, trying to fuck himself back on your cock as he drools all over the floor. His vision leaves him as all his senses focused on the harsh drag of your cock in him, the wet slapping noise that fills the room, and the tears that slip from his eyes down to the floor. His cock throbs with each thrust you force into his body, thighs jerking, as his tongue lolls out.

"Oh!--mh, m-more!" Childe babbles deliriously, he's being reduced to nothing but a warm hole for you to fill whenever you feel like it. Reduced from a harbinger to a whore for you to use. He feels the breath get punched out of his lungs as his abdomen stretches and burns. His hole clenching around your dick that you have to forcefully yank him down to stuff him, "Hahh, you're tearing me o-open."

"You disgusting whore. Can you feel it?" you mock as you take one hand to spread his ass apart, you see his hole is red and puffy, pre-cum from his semi-hard cock leaking down where you're both connected. He shudders that you've fucked him so bad that his hole is gaping. It's when you reach over and clasp both of your hands around his neck and squeeze that he comes crashing down. Wheezing at the lack of oxygen that makes him see white, he feels so warm and content, mind filled with bliss, as he cums. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into him as his cock finally softens as he relaxes and drifts off into space before slowly losing consciousness.

--- You slowly blink awake to soft kisses being placed on your neck, Childe's lazy form cuddled up to you as you stroke his hair. He's always so clingy the morning after. "Are you feeling alright? I was a bit mean wasn't I?" you ask a bit embarrassed as memories of last night flood your mind. You know you both agreed on what your limits were but you couldn't help but feel a bit worried you may have pushed him too far. Childe props himself on his elbow to smile dumbly at you, you were perfect.

"It was alright I suppose," he chuckles when you lightly punch him in the chest, "I didn't think you would try and drug me like that. You know I could get you arrested for that. " "Ha! Good luck finding someone that will fulfill your perverted fantasies. Besides you're the one that wanted to experiment with them and don't phrase it like that either," you shake your head at him before leaning up to kiss him. When you pull away you take notice of all the bruises and marks you left on him. There's a small part of you that purrs at the claim you made but you quickly shoo it away. It's too early for that. If your back is hurting you have no idea how Childe is faring. "Here, let me get you some water and let me see your head," you offer, pulling yourself up before Childe's arm wraps around you and pulls you down to lay beside him. Placing his weight on top of you so you can't squirm away, even as you swat at his back he smothers you until you give up.

"Stay with me."

"Hah...alright. Just for a bit."

[masterofmunson]

look after you (1)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining

Word Count: 6k+ 

Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing. 

Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed. 

You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him. 

You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul. 

He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him. 

Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly. 

He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was. 

Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam. 

You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question. 

You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough. 

So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you. 

“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone. 

Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly. 

“What is it, Sam?” 

“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”

Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”

“Me and Barnes.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam? 

“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”

“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor. 

You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in. 

You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him. 

It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.

....

You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia. 

Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam. 

When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car. 

You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person. 

“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously. 

Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.

“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth. 

“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”

No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense. 

“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation. 

“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand. 

You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”

Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”

“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”

You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you. 

His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”

You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”

Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”

You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.

He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her. 

It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him. 

After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude. 

You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky. 

Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier. 

 “We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”

Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face. 

“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”

Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”

You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real. 

You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did. 

You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours. 

“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.

“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”

Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”

Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake. 

Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”

You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand. 

“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers. 

“You don’t either,” you mumbled back. 

He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you. 

“Touché, honey.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs. 

You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind. 

…

When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure. 

Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl. 

Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs. 

He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”

You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”

The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you. 

“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car. 

Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same. 

Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to. 

Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?” 

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return. 

“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased. 

He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar. 

Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow. 

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian. 

It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.

You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.

You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath. 

A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.” 

You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need. 

Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.

“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam. 

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky. 

Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”

Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.

Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it. 

A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.

Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan. 

Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years. 

There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you. 

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood. 

“He will do anything you want.”

Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring. 

She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic. 

Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah. 

“Kill them—” 

Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over. 

You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm. 

You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives. 

You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious. 

Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out. 

You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue. 

“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him. 

He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off. 

Time stands still. 

You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot. 

You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town. 

Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound. 

A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you. 

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked. 

“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”

She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond. 

Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor. 

Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit. 

“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat. 

Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder. 

The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling. 

“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”

He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila. 

Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name. 

You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep. 

You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it. 

“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”

You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe. 

“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”

“It was reckless!”

“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back. 

“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued. 

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you. 

“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”

The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home. 

You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again. 

“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”

Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest. 

There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you. 

You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”

[parkersbliss]

Tough | K. Brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

warnings: blood, cursing, kaz being a simp

wc; 2K

synopsis: mission gone wrong… gone right?

prompts: 028: “hey, hey, hey, I’m right here.” 030: “you could’ve died!”

a/n: I don’t know how I always end up so off track

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“This is ridiculous,” Jesper hisses, looking between you and Inej. “Someone tell him that!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Tell Kaz to back out of a job? No way.”

“I prefer to keep my head,” Inej said.

Jesper rolls his eyes. “You’ll lose it either way at this point!”

“Jesper, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not! Do you realize how-”

“Shut up, Jesper,” Kaz scowled through the earpiece.

Jesper mumbles something under his breath, but you don’t catch it.

“How’s everything looking, Kaz?” Inej asked.

“One last round of guards, and then you two can come in.”

You nod, securing your gun in place as you stand up.

“If you two don’t come back, I told you so!” Jesper said.

“If we don’t come back, we probably ditched you,” You quip back.

Jesper scoffs, standing up. “At least I still have Wylan.”

“No, you don’t,” Wylan responded through the earpiece.

Jesper throws his hands in the air, “No one appreciates the voice of wisdom around here.”

“(Y/N), Inej, go.”

Inej takes the lead, climbing the gate and dropping safely on the other side. You follow after and make a run for the main entrance. You hide behind a column, holding your breath as two guards walk back to their posts. A hand sticks out from the opposite column on you, and Inej makes a hand signal that means go.

With what you hope are quiet footsteps, you emerge from behind the column and follow Inej to the hallway to the left. You patiently wait as two Grisha emerge from the bedrooms, and in the span of a few seconds, it takes the door to close; you both rush in.

Inej opens the closet, throwing you a kefta, and you gasp at the softness of the fabric.

“Do you think we can keep these?” You jokingly ask.

“Unless you want to be an even bigger target in Ketterdam: I’d advise not.”

“They’re bulletproof and warm,” You said, slipping on the blue kefta with red and yellow detailing.

Inej only hums as she slips hers on, which has green swirls embellished on it.

“Tidemaker,” You said.

“Inferni,” Inej replied. “Suits you.”

You both walk out of the bedroom, the kefta’s making it easier to walk through the palace undetected. The Grisha all automatically assumed you belonged there. They didn’t bother to take a good look at your face.

“Status?” Kaz asked.

“On track,” You said softly, passing by two Grisha’s.

Kaz nods on his side, dressed as a guard inside of the palace. He waits patiently by the door for the two of you. He can just barely spot Wylan in the distance, acting as a servant to the Queen.

She was too stuck up to ever notice or acknowledge any of the servant's names. Similar to the Mercher’s back in Ketterdam.

What snobs they are.

Kaz watches as you and Inej round the corner. The Kefta’s fit both of you surprisingly well. He nods at you two, giving Wylan one last glance before going to unlock the Queen’s room. His fingers and quick, and the lock cracks open in a few seconds.

In those few seconds, someone screams. You can hear Wylan laughing nervously before being pinned down by a guard.

Kaz instantly stops what he’s doing as you all watch the scene unfold. They disarm him, grabbing a remote and throwing it across the floor.

“Get back!” Kaz shouts as the button lands first onto the ground. There’s a moment of silence, utter stillness as you and Inej look toward the Queen’s room, and then it explodes. The blast echoes through the castle and shatters everything. Pieces of rumble rain down as the building begins to shake.

You slam against the adjacent wall, coughing at the dust and groaning. Blood trickles down from your forehead, and your entire body aches.

A low moan catches your attention, and you look up to see a crystal chandelier, cracks surrounding the ceiling it was attached to.

“(Y/N)!” You can hear Kaz scream as it gives way.

You don’t have enough time to get away, you know that. Your vision was still blurry, a loud ringing in your ears. You were too disoriented to even comprehend the idea of being pierced with the decorative piece.

But Kaz isn’t.

He lunges forward, tackling you to the opposite end and shielding you with his body. He’s holding his breath the entire time, counting in his head and reminding himself that it’s just you. If he lets go, then you’ll be dead.

Don’t let go. He repeats it like a mantra inside his head, focusing on the sound of glass shattering as you both skid across the floor.

Sharp glass shards pierce his jacket and skin, but he’s barely fazed by it. It gives him something else to focus on other than the feeling of you.

“Don’t move,” You said quietly, and you can see his eyes widen because by saints he needs to, or he’s going to pass out. “Kaz, if you move, you’re going to push a piece of glass further into yourself.”

He starts shaking his head because the feeling of you breathing under him is overwhelming. Your voice had snapped him out of his daze, and now he was fully aware and fully scared. He doesn't know why. It's you and you were the one person he wishes he could be able to touch, but right now, he can't.

“I can’t,” He whispers.

“Kaz, don’t.”

“Please.”

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here,” You assure. “I’m alive, okay? Just breathe slowly until I can get out.”

Kaz closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Every nerve in his body is screaming. It’s worse than the shard of glass sticking out of him. He can’t do it.

“Kaz!” You scream as he rolls off of you and onto the floor.

Almost instantly, the glass pierces through him, and he groans. There’s a huge shard sticking out of his stomach, and you can feel panic surging through you.

Your instincts overwhelm the pain, and your senses come rushing back to you. There’s no way you can grab the glass without cutting yourself in the process, and Kaz would bleed out before you can do anything.

“Kaz Brekker, don’t you dare die on me.”

“I’m not trying to,” He hisses back.

“Inej!” You shout, searching for the Suli girl through the rubble.

“A healer,” Kaz coughs out. “You look Grisha, call for a healer.”

You blink, still amazed how Kaz’s mind is still working, before standing up. “Healer!”

On cue, a girl with a red kefta and silver detailing runs over from the area where Wylan was. You don’t want to imagine how many others are hurt. Behind her is Inej, who nods at you, and you thank the saints for her.

“I need to get the glass out," The healer said.

You look at her, then back to Kaz. “Okay. I can do that. Trust me."

“What you did was stupid,” You said to Kaz, kneeling down by his side once more.

“You were going to die,” he protests weakly.

You slowly grip the glass tightly, trying to ignore the sharp sting of it as the jagged sides cut through your skin.

“You could’ve died!” You scowl, but Kaz could hear the fear in your voice. “You still could.”

“It’s better me than you.”

“No, it isn’t,” You reply, “Kaz, how can you not see it?”

“See what?”

“That I'm in love with you!”

His eyes widen, and at that moment, you grab the glass and yank it out. Kaz screams out in pain, shutting his eyes. “Fuck!”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him curse.

The healer jumps into action. She leans over Kaz, and with a single motion of her hand, stitches him up.

She looks at you, and before you can say anything, she heals the cut on your forehead and the gashes on your hands.

“Thank you,” You said.

She nods, and Inej thanks her as well before turning her attention back to you and Kaz. “We need to go, like now. Wylan’s already running out the door as we speak.”

You nod, looking to Kaz. “Okay, can you walk?”

Inej hands him his cane, and he uses it to steady himself. “I can.”

“Okay… can you run?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Inej said, tugging on your kefta and gesturing to the guards eyeing you down.

“We’re running!” You announce, taking off with Inej and Kaz on your heels. The guards immediately start pursuing you, and you try to lose them in the many hallways.

“Where the hell is Jesper when you need him?”

“Right here!”

“I’m here as well!” Nina shouts, coming to a stop behind him. “The Kefta’s suit you two.”

“Thanks.”

Jesper winks before beginning to fire as Nina drops their heart rate.

“I take it the mission was unsuccessful?” Nina asked, turning to run when the guards become too many.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jesper said.

“I would,” Kaz seethed.

“Yes, well, you happen to be the most pessimistic person here,” Jesper replied, firing a shot at an approaching guard.

“(Y/N) confessed her love for Kaz,” Inej said through labored breaths, finally reaching the exit.

Nina whirls to face you, “What?”

“About damn time,” Jesper grumbled, ignoring the look Kaz gives him.

You roll your eyes at him, grateful to see your getaway carriage on time.

“And then she pulled a piece of glass out of him,” Inej added, opening the door and hopping into the carriage.

“Oh wow, that’s really the cherry on top of it, isn’t it?” Jesper asked sarcastically.

“You guys are the only people that gossip while being chased down with guns,” Your driver, Matthias, chuckled.

“When else are we supposed to be doing it?” Nina asked, getting into the seat next to him and grabbing the reins.

“Oh sorry, didn’t realize there’s a time and place for it. I’ll stop being a criminal and getting chased now,” You sassily replied, climbing in behind Kaz.

“Just go!”

Nina and Matthias don’t have to be told twice, and you all take off, leaving empty-handed, or so you thought.

Jesper and Wylan sit across from Inej, you, and Kaz. The curly-haired boy holds a bag tightly to his chest, and you’re not oblivious to it.

“What’s in the bag?” Inej asked.

Jesper grins. “Why thank you for asking. Care to share, Wylan?”

The boy rolls his eyes and opens the bag, revealing a crown.

“Oh my god,” You gasp.

“I told you we weren’t leaving empty-handed,” Jesper smirks, leaning back and ruffling his boyfriend's hair.

“How?” Kaz asked.

“Stole it from the queen after the explosion and quite literally ran for my life.”

“We taught him well.”

The ride back to Os Kervo is long, and most of the Dregs fall asleep, except for Nina and Matthias, of course.

Inej rests her head against the window, using her hoodie and scarf as a pillow. Jesper does the same, with Wylan resting on his shoulder.

However, you’re wide awake, not finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

“Did you mean it?” Kaz whispered, turning to face you.

His features stick out more in the moonlight, casting sharp shadows across his face. His blue eyes feel like they're piercing you in a single gaze.

“Mean what?”

“What you said before you yanked the glass out of me, or was it just a distraction?”

“Oh,” You said softly. “I meant it.”

“I mean it too.”

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

Kaz realizes he has to say it back. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he felt like a child once again. There were butterflies in his stomach as he speaks. “I love you too.”

“Is that so?” You ask, a slightly teasing tone to your voice, and he knows it.

“I don’t risk my life for just anyone.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“I also don’t offer my shoulder to sleep on to anyone.”

Your eyes brighten. “Kaz?”

He gives you a small smile, “I can take it.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it means both of us get some shut-eye, yes.”

A slow smile spread across your face as you pull up your own hoodie, having shed the Kefta long ago. It was too bulky for you.

You slowly let your head fall onto his shoulder, and his breathing stutters for a brief moment before relaxing again when he can feel your heartbeat. It should freak him out, and it does, but he stays strong. That’s what you do for the people you love.

You tough it out.

That, and Kaz falls asleep a few moments later with his own head resting on yours.

— END —

🏷 Kaz Brekker Taglist: @ms-awkward @kykymyeon @alcottsangel @kaqua

want to be added? click here!

[hyunjilicious]

summary: there's no plot, this is just porn with boyfriend!Bucky. SMUT 2.3k

warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), face fucking, spit play, cum play, breath play, slight Daddy kink, light subby/dom vibes but not established dynamics. also unedited I'm lazy. Also 18+ PLS THANKS!

(Also I'm posting from my phone so if the readmore isn't working pls let me know!)

-

The sound of Bucky washing dishes was audible throughout the whole apartment, even reaching your ears as you laid in bed. Instagram was getting boring, and the fact that he had been gone for more than 15 minutes started to annoy you. Of course, you could have allowed yourself to think rationally and it would have been really easy for you to understand why ignoring household chores for days wasn't a good idea, but you refused to do so. You wanted him back in bed. And when he told you for the 4th time it would still be a while, you decided to take matters into your own hands. 

Jumping out of bed, you shuffled out of your shorts and let your hair down, before heading for the kitchen. When you spotted him, he had his back turned to you, his muscular back only serving as a reinforcement when it came to your idea. He seemed absorbed, with his mind miles away, as he failed to hear you walk up beside him.

Placing a soft hand on his back, you reached around his frame and turned the tap off, lowering yourself to your knees by his side.

"Y/n, what are you..." Bucky started mumbling, but eventually trailed off when he saw you settle on the marble floor.

He sighed and shook his head, but he didn't stop you.

And then, the games began. You started with an innocent pout, looking up into his eyes as you licked along your bottom lip. Your brows furrowed into a confused and playful frown and you started wiggling your body, pushing your ass back. 

A reaction from him wasn't slow to materialize, as he chuckled in disbelief and leaned back against the counter - a sign for you to keep going. And you did.

The further you went, the easier it was for you to come up with new ideas to tease him. Poking your tongue out and closing your eyes, you brought one hand up and pawed at his thigh. It wasn't enough to get him to comply, but the grunt that forced its way past his lips told you you were on the right track. 

You licked your lips and sucked on your thumb, pushing two fingers knuckle deep into your mouth as you looked him in the eye. The first light gagging sound that reached him broadened his grin, but he still refused to give you what you wanted. Judging by the darkening stare in his eyes and the way his chest rose and fell, he was enjoying this too much.

By now, you were already tingling all over. Opening your mouth and tilting your head back, you bend forward, giving him a view you knew he wouldn't resist. Your almost naked ass, on the floor - too far for him to reach, and your awaiting tongue, millimeters away from his hardening cock. 

But it still wasn't enough. You were sure it would be, but it wasn't. He remained motionless in his spot, watching you put on a show. But it was supposed to be more than that - you needed him to take part in it, and you wanted to do it on his own. You wanted to see him snap, to see him unable to control himself. 

Running out of ideas, you pushed yourself back and leaned against the counter, spreading your legs. The eye contact wasn't dropped as you started fiddling with the cotton of your panties, your fingers slowly finding their way inside. Just a small brush against your clit was enough to elicit a moan from your damp lips. It was exaggerated, yes, and you pushed your chest out as you whined out loud, begging him with your stare to join in. And there was no way he'd resist that too. He was too tightly wrapped around your finger, too weak for you and whatever you did, and this was the last straw. 

"Fuck-" Bucky errupted, prompting his hands against the edge of the counter behind him. His head fell forward, and he sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth.

Proud of yourself for getting him to this point, your eyes drifted lower to his jeans, specifically the area where his cock struggled against the material.

"I managed to get you hard!" you cheered, innocently.

At that, Bucky seemed offended. "You thought there was a universe where you could whore yourself out on the floor in front of me like that, and I wouldn't get hard?"

"I hoped there wasn't" you smiled, crawling closer to him and planting your hands on his massive thighs. His hand instantly came into your hair, petting it a few times before moving lower to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

"Such a good, little kitten" he hummed, "Couldn't wait for me to finish up here..."

"I'm sorry, Daddy" you whimpered.

"No, you're not"

"No, I'm not" you laughed out loud, making Bucky do the same. 

"Then get to it, doll" he urged you, "finish what you started"

"What's the magic word?" 

You were pushing it. "Finish what you started. ??Now" Bucky made himself clear, and it was even better than what you initially wanted to hear. 

With his hand back in your hair - his fingers loosely wrapped around your roots, you unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down his thighs. In your eagerness, you grabbed his underwear too, getting rid of it at the same time. His almost rock hard cock all but sprung out, and you didn't waste one second before taking it into your mouth.

You didn't even bother to use your hands, instead you just lowered yourself and sloppily closed your lips around his tip. 

Taking him as deep as you found it comfortable, you started bobbing your head up and down against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as your eyes slowly traveled up.

He was already looking down at you, awe visible in his stare, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to conform to your teasing pace.

Bucky did his best to let you work your magic in your own way, his thumb stocking your hair as the perverse sounds of you sucking his cock easily covered his rugged breathing.

Taking him out of your mouth, you wrapped your fingers around his base and moved to lick your way along his length, making it easier for you to pump into your hand. Working him up with lazy strokes and soft touches of your thumb against his slit, you shuffled closer and buried yourself between his legs, taking his balls into your mouth.

For whatever reason, he didn't see that coming and in turn bucked his hips into you, his head falling back in absolute bliss. "Holy fuck- doll, so, so good-"

You sent him a hum of approval as you lightly sucked, applying that specific amount of pressure you knew would drive him insane.

His thighs were shaking around your frame, and you were ready to lick your way back up his cock when he tightened his grip on your hair and pushed you away.

Filled with panic, you gasped, "Did I-?"

"You're fucking perfect" Bucky cut you off, bending down to furiously kiss your lips. His tongue forced its way inside your mouth before you even managed to register what was happening, but you complied sweetly, melting under his touch.

And you wanted to gush and to let yourself get absorbed, but at the same time, you weren't the type of person to leave a job halfway done - especially a blow job, and especially with Bucky. 

"Come on, baby, back to it" he urged you, straightening his frame as he helped guide you back on his cock, "Take me all the way in, doll. The way you always do"

And he didn't have to ask twice. You eagerly resumed your spot, welcoming his already licking tip on your tongue. You sucked softly, moaning against his cock, even whimpering every now and then, all of it for the sole purpose of making him lose it. Taking him out of your mouth, you swirled your tongue around his tip a few times, smiling up up him, "Do you like it, Bucky? Am I doing ok?"

"More than ok, doll" he weakly huffed. His hand fell from your hair, as he brought his thumb to your lips, rubbing them softly as you sat and waited. When he pushed his thumb into your mouth, you obediently welcomed him in. 

He did taste like dish soap but you didn't care. You had only one thing in mind, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the chores that was previously doing. 

"Suck, baby" he urged you.

Bucky squatted down in front of you, his finger still in your mouth as he did so. You obediently watched him, closing your lips around his thumb and starting to suck - maybe a bit too shily for his liking.

"Come on, baby" he laughed, "I know you can do better than that"

But he didn't give you a chance to show him. Instead, he pulled his hand back, his pointer and middle finger replacing his thumb. He shoved his fingers inside your mouth, knuckle deep, pushing down against your tongue. With each passing second your eyebrows would slightly raise as the need to cough only grew stronger. 

"That's it" he cooed when the innocent sound of you gagging against his fingers reached his ears. "A bit more, doll, for me, come on"

Despite your increasing need for air, you kept calm, struggling to choke down every cough and gag that threatened to erupt from your throat. When you reached your limit, he let you go, only then to hurry to kiss your lips before you'd get a chance to breathe properly. 

He had you so weak for him, so eager to do absolutely anything he'd ask. He knew it and loved it. 

The kiss was rough and passionate, but way too short. You couldn't help but moan in disappointment when he pulled away.

"Shh" he urged you, "Open up"

You listened to him in a heartbeat, parting your lips for him. Bucky grabbed ahold of your neck, keeping you in place as he spat on your tongue. Your jaw was shaking with eagerness, but you waited for him to place his thumb on your chin and close your mouth himself.

"Swallow, baby"

You did so with an innocent bob of your head. "Tasty" 

"Is it?" he laughed, "Got something better"

Of course you didn't have to ask what that was. Bucky straightened his back and you didn't waste a second before picking up his cock into your hand. However, he stopped you before you could to work, as he cupped your cheeks in his palms.

"Take me down your throat, beautiful, yeah? I don't want you breathing for this one"

You shook your head yes, and pumped him in your hand a few times, before taking him in your mouth. No matter how much you wanted to, your body refused to let you take him all the way down on your own. But he knew that, and loved the way he always needed to help you. 

With his fingers tightly wrapped into the roots of your hair, Bucky forced your head down his cock, keeping you in place. The way your throat convulsed against his tip was heavenly, accelerating the approach of his high. With precum and spit dripping down your chin, you sat in place. You concentrated on your grip on his thighs, on his heavy and strong muscles and the little hairs that tickled your fingers. But no matter how much you tried, tears did eventually build up in your eyes, soon cascading down your cheeks.

"Take it easy" he whispered, not loosening his grip in the slightest. "Relax, baby. I know you can take more"

You wanted to nod, but that was out of the question. Instead, you just wiggled around, curling your toes and sinking your nails into his toned thighs. It was very easy to tell just how close he was, the way his hips bucked and all the sweet little moans that escaped his lips. You struggled to hold on, choking and gagging on his cock, waiting for his release and for that breath of fresh air that would come with it. And it didn't take much longer, it didn't matter how big and buff he was, or how much of that supersoldier serum was still pumping through his veins, he never managed to resist you for too long.

Before you knew it, you found yourself harshly yanked back. Bucky's metal hand held your hair tightly as he fisted himself into his right hand, breathing heavily as he looked down at you.

"Turn around, doll" he commanded, "Ass up for me"

You followed his words in an instant, spinning around and laying down on the floor, your ass on full display for him. In one swift and rather painful motion, he ripped the underwear off of you, proceeding to cum all over your ass and lower back. 

"Fuck, fuck- yes-" he panted as he finished, holding onto your hips as he did so. Before telling you to stand up, he gathered a few droplets of cum on his thumb, "Come here, baby, look at me"

When you turned to face him, Bucky stuck his finger inside your mouth, barely managing to also get it out before attacking your lips with his own. The kiss was rather sloppy, with him being so out of breath and you so taken aback, but it worked. You both stumbled back, the kitchen floor cold against your skin you rolled over and dragged him with you.

"And you did this just to prove to yourself that you could do it?" Bucky questioned, staring at the ceiling as he caught his breath.

"Basically"

"Then why the fuck am I praising you so often? Might as well call you useless every now and then and see where that gets us"

"Ha" you giggled, "Kink unlocked"

For a split second, Bucky laughed along, but when realisation hit him, his face fell. "Wait what?"

[ysljoon]

Personal Business|CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Assistant Reader

This fanfic is mature so please avoid if you are not 18+ this is also a yandere fic so there are sensitive topics. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, noncon sex, public sex, crying, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk (jungkook has a filthy mouth christ), creampie, assault?

Being the personal assistant to Jeon Jungkook definitely has been a rollercoaster of experiences, but after working with him for about 2 years now you’ve gotten used to his erratic behavior such as mood swings and unreasonable demands. Everyone in the workplace has admired how long you’ve stuck around, but the paycheck you receive every two weeks is too pretty to pass up. You saw the listing for the job on a job search website and the pay per hour almost had you pass out, but once you came into the office you realized you were getting paid so generously almost as a test to see if the money could keep you around and it sure has.

Today Jungkook was in an extra gruff mood for the day because he had plenty of meetings to go through and not enough time for proper breaks and that’s the least ideal day for him. He loves breaks as much as any other person, but just tenfold. Everyone in the office is allowed a 45 minute lunch break, but since Jungkook is the CEO he will disappear on 2 hour breaks and not a single person knows where he goes. Not even you and people don’t understand how since you’re practically his right hand. You pay no mind to his whereabouts since it doesn’t affect and busy yourself with whatever tasks Jungkook left for you to do. Today he left no tasks for you since he’s been cooped up in his office occupied with other business officials. You haven’t been able to meet with him to get a briefing for the day so now you’re talking with Taehyung at his cubicle while you share a small pizza he ordered for lunch.

“Taehyung, I’m telling you right now there is no way that Joon and the receptionist don’t have something going on! They’re always eyeing each other up and Namjoon is always requesting for her to come to his office. It’s highly suspect.” You explained your reasoning to Taehyung exasperated and took another bite of your crust.

“Listen Y/N, all I’m saying is that it’s way too obvious for it to actually have any worth. Anyways you know how Mr. Jeon feels about workplace romance; he absolutely abhors the thought and would probably fire people on the spot if he ever found out.”

You continued to have your disagreement with Taehyung for a little while more, but what you didn’t realize was that Jungkook was done with his meeting a while ago and was watching you on his laptop through the camera system and was frowning deeply watching you fraternize with your coworker. He was tired of watching you practically throw yourself at Taehyung when you were his and only his. Jungkook got up from his desk and strode to Taehyung’s cubicle to stop this foolishness immediately.

“Mr. Kim, is there a reason why you are holding up my assistant from her work and why the expense report I asked you to do isn’t done?” Jungkook had a look on his face that he wanted to wring Taehyung’s neck and he was very close to, but he didn’t want to scare you off. He had to have you in his possession before he got rid of anybody that even tried to look in your direction so for right now this was his version of playing it cool.

“I-I’m very sorry sir it won’t happen again and I’ll get right to it!” Taehyung quickly turned to his computer and fervently typed in his password to get to work immediately. Jungkook then turned to you and grabbed you by the arm to drag you to his office. You were shocked and stunned by this action because sure he had talked to you roughly, but had never put his hands on you. He swiftly pulled you into his office and slammed the door. He even fully shut his blinds. This started to have you scared. He had this look in his eyes that made your body start to tremble. “S-sir I’m sorry for not working! I just wasn’t able to get the daily briefing for today so I tried my best to get work done. I had a lot of free time so I thought to spend it with Taehyung. I’m sorry if that was wasting company time you can deduct it from my pay!” You were heavily breathing by the time you were done with your panicked spiel. Jungkook chuckled at your anxiety and strode towards you till you were backed up into the wall and at this point you thought he could feel how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“Darling, if you really want to make it up to me you can kiss me.” He purred in your ear and it sent sickening shivers up your spine. Your head started to spin when you felt him plant his lips on the column of your neck and work his way up to your jaw. You tried to shove him off, but naturally he was able to overpower you and he used his leg and chest to trap you between him and the wall.

“My dear Y/N, I hope you cooperate with me if you know what’s good for you.” He slyly grinned against your skin and started to passionately kiss you. To really show he was in charge he bit down on your bottom lip with force you have never felt before. It had you cry out in pain, but you were quickly silenced when you felt your boss reach under your skirt and start to trace circles against your cunt. He placed a hand against your mouth and gave you a threatening look you have never seen. It was so sinister it had you squirming away from his touch. You thought you could have gotten away but by the time you were able to slide past his body he was grabbing your wrist and slamming you down against his desk which sent things tumbling down to the floor.

“Jungkook, please stop, I'm so sorry!” You didn’t even realize you were bawling at this point, but he ignored your pleas and sobs and continued with his sinister acts. He grasped your wrists in one hand and with his other he slid your panties off and inserted a single long finger into your cunt. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight and wet for me.” He kept pumping his finger into you until he felt like he could insert another one into you. Once the second finger was deep in your hole Jungkook started to pick up the pace and you couldn’t even cry out to what he was doing to you. You felt numb and helpless and wanted him to stop, but your efforts were useless.

“Kitten, I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I make you fucking feel. I want to see you get dumb on my fucking fingers and cock that you don’t even know what to do with yourself. I want you to beg to have your dirty cunt stretched out.” Hearing your boss talk to you like this makes you speechless, but you listen to him because you don’t know what other worse things he can do to you. You let your body succumb to what he’s doing and you let out small moans and whimpers and this makes him let out his own grunts and groans in response. Before you can assess what’s happening when you feel his fingers slip out of your soaked pussy, Jungkook is shoving his cock balls deep into you and you gasp for air feeling the heavy pressure between your legs. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust and starts to pound into you. You cry out in both pain and pleasure from hearing skin slap against skin. You feel close to an orgasm and tears are rolling down your cheeks from desperation. “Sir please let me cum! I need to cum so bad! Please let me cum all over your cock.” You can’t even process the words you’re saying, you just want to have your release so badly. Jungkook slaps your ass and groans a ‘fuck yes baby’ and just seconds after that action you’re creaming on his thick cock. You feel your walls pulse around your boss and this brings him close to the edge and he’s losing control over himself. He starts to wild slam into your cunt and after a few more pumps he’s spilling his cum into you and you feel delirious from everything that had just happened. You hear him adjusting himself behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to even move at the moment. You hear his steps come close to you and you just lie there motionless while you wait for him to speak. “I can’t wait to bring you home with me princess.” After that sentence all you can recall is a blunt object coming in contact with your skull and nothing else.

Notes: thank you so much for reading I’ve been on a pretty solid hiatus and will crosspost what I have written on AO3 on to here too because I have some fics there that I haven’t posted on to Tumblr! If you enjoyed please like and reblog it really helps and you can also give me a Kofi.

[chuckbass-love]

hii! I have a request for prompt 71 with Andy or ransom ☺️

Hey lovely, thank you so much for waiting this long for me to post this and i really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, unprotected sex, rough sex, ass spanking, vagina spanking, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, daddy kink, breeding kink and angst.

Word Count: 3,486

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @sergeantbuckybarnes go check them out💜

In The Mirror

Standing in the middle of the master bedroom, you start to fold the freshly washed clothes before putting them away neatly in the closet. You start off by putting shirts away, Andy’s and then yours before moving on to jeans. Sometimes you wonder how he even has the room for his own clothes since you take up the majority of the space. But you just put that down to shopping trips he's so insistent on treating you to.

As you’re just finishing up, you hear the front door open before it slams shut so hard that the anger fuelling the slam of it can be felt even upstairs where you are.

Looks like Andy is finally home...

You decide to finish up with what you’re currently doing, taking your time before approaching your husband with caution. It was probably another run in with Neil, something you’ve grown accustom to dealing with ever since you met him. Doesn’t mean you don’t run out of ways to handle it occasionally though, your best option is to just allow him to vent before you distract him. Usually distracting him requires an old movie and takeout but other times it requires rough and needy sex.

“Andy” you call out as you pad down the stairs and into the kitchen, only to find him practically chugging a beer way to quickly. It must be bad if he couldn’t even wait until dinner to drink alcohol.

“You know sometimes i think why do i even bother going to work. I mean, Lynn sure seems to enjoy screwing me over for that fucking prick Neil and i’ve had just about enough of it”

Okay, now he’s really angry. You have no idea what to do or even what to say to him, you’re rendered speechless by his cursing and boiling temper.

“I was just about to make dinner, uh, lasagne perhaps. Or maybe we could order takeout again and rent that movie you were telling me about. It’s up to y-“

“Did you not listen to a goddam word i said? I don’t give a shit about dinner, do whatever. I’m going to take a shower” his decibels rise, his tone scolding as he storms past you and up the stairs taking two at a time until he reaches the top. You hear his heavy footsteps stomping to the bedroom and then suddenly it all turns quiet until the shower water starts to run.

Rather than leaving him to cool off, you decide to head up to check on him.

In a way, he was right. You practically ignored his annoyed state and changed the subject, in fact you couldn’t have changed it fast enough. But that’s only because you didn’t know what to say. When he gets like that, there’s not a lot you can say.

“Andy, i’m sorry” you squeak, stepping into the master bedroom to find him stood with his back to you as he removes his dress shirt and tie. His back muscles tense as he stands still for a second before turning around and tossing his clothes to the floor before starting on his belt.

“Andy” you mumble, desperate for him to acknowledge you.

“What?” he snaps, slipping out of all clothes until he’s in nothing but his birthday suit, his impressive size dangling between his legs.

“I’m sor-“

“I heard you”

You gently step closer to him, examining his face for any tell tale signs of discomfort before you rest your hand on his right forearm, “please, just talk to me. What happened today?”

“Like you care, all you seemed to give a shit about was dinner, so how about you go focus on that like a good little house wife and leave me to deal with the tough shit... does that sound like a deal?”

“That’s not fair, Andy. I didn’t know what to say to you, that’s all. You’ve had that many run ins with Neil lately that i lose sight of how to help you. But i’m here now, just talk to me. Tell me what i can do to make it better”

Silence.

His hand pulls from your touch, but before you can even understand what’s going on you’re back is already touching his toned tatted chest. His arms rest on your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

“Well, there is one thing...” he starts, moving your hair to the other side of your neck, freeing up some skin for him to feast on. His mouth nears closer, his hot breath fanning you torturously as his nose nudges at you. That’s when you feel his hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt teasingly, slowly lifting it up your torso with ease. You lift your arms in the air, allowing him to remove it before he discards it behind him without a care.

“Such a beautiful body, honey. Be a shame to waste it fretting away about dinner in that kitchen” you gulp in response, feeling his lips barely grazing the nape of your neck, the action causes a shiver to dance down your spine as his beard scratches you.

“Andy” your voice is nothing but a breathless whimper as you turn to face him, his hands instantly rest on your waist at the band of your booty shorts. Of course when he tugs at them, you know what he’s after now and you also know that no matter what you do or say, he’ll take it regardless.

He drops down to his knees, surrendering to your body and dragging your shorts down your legs as he sinks to the floor. You step out of them for him, even going as far as to kick them to one side before he pushes you back to the wall.

The palm of his hand gives your calf a soft squeeze as the other lifts your leg up to drape over his shoulder, your aching sex on show for his lustful orbs to focus on. The insatiable hunger is starting to drown out his mind, body and soul, he’s incapable of thinking of anything else but you, craving anything else but you.

He’s starving, desperate to taste you.

A couple more minutes pass with him peppering kisses along your ankle at first before moving up to your calf and then your thigh. You try to push him away due to the sensitivity there but he only forces you off him, he’s so much stronger than you could ever be and you know now that you’ve lost.

He presses another chaste kiss to your bundle of nerves before pausing and feeling your body react to his touch. Your shaking body begs to be worshipped and devoured whilst he begs to drink and breathe you in like you’re his only lifeline.

“Smell so good” he coos, poking his tongue out to give your clit a kitten lick as his nose nudges at your mound, the action causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. Whatever you did to deserve this agonising torture, you will make sure to never do it again. This is teasing at its peak.

“Please, Andy. I need you”

“Oh you’ll have me, alright” his response is quick yet snappy as he dives into you. His mouth latches onto your sex aggressively, sucking, slurping and biting. His beard scratching your inner thighs and it's sure to leave a burn there.

The tip of his tongue points all the more as he winds it around your clit rapidly and even with one hand gripping your hips roughly whilst the other strokes your leg up and down before settling on your ass, you still feel unsteady as if the smallest wave of pleasure could knock you to the floor.

His mouth right where you want him comes and goes as he takes breaks in between to come up for air, but right when you feel yourself getting lost in the feeling, it comes to a complete halt.

You glance down at him, eyelids heavy, chest rising and falling, only to find him rising to his feet.

“What the hell, Andy?” you ask, your entire body heating up.

“You sound angry” he cocks his head to the side as he grazes his hand across your hardened nipple.

“I am”

“Now, that’s exactly how i felt when i came home. Yet instead of comforting me like a good little wife should do, you made me feel worse. So therefore, you don’t deserve to cum”

What the hell is wrong with him tonight?

He shoots you a wink before padding into the bathroom, the shower water still running and steaming up all of the mirrors in your eye-line until he closes the door, locking it to prevent you from entering and leaving you standing there perplexed at his actions.

He did all of that on purpose. He built you up to the edge of ecstasy before leaving you to come crashing down all alone, all in the name of proving a point.

You reach for your robe off the hook on the bedroom door before storming out, brimming with frustration as you make a start on the dinner. Lasagne will do for tonight.

You prep it as fast as you can whilst the oven preheats to the correct temperature before putting it in and setting the timer. Now you can relax.

As soon as you throw yourself down onto the couch and flick the tv on, you hear the bathroom door open. You’re almost certain that he expected you to wait for him like a lost puppy dog but you refuse to play into his petty games of revenge. All because you didn’t comfort him. It was silly and unnecessary.

So for now, you’ll indulge in some reality television whilst you wait for dinner to cook and if there’s one thing that’s for certain, it’s that you are most definitely not putting out for him tonight. No matter what he says or how much he sweet talks you. It’s not good enough for him to treat you like that.

Whatever Neil did or said, that’s a work problem.

Andy can’t believe his eyes when he comes back into the bedroom only to find it empty. He wraps his white towel around his waist, covering up his modesty before heading out into the hallway and down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom of them, he spots you watching tv in the lounge, giggling away at whatever The Kardashian family are doing now, but whatever it is, he doesn’t care.

Instead of leaving you be, he stomps over “what do you think you’re doing?” he inquires, voice bellowing more than he intended “i’m waiting for the lasagne to cook, it’s in the oven. Enjoy your shower, honey?” you probe sarcastically, a rhetorical question. However your sarcasm infuriates him further as he picks you up with ease.

“Andy, put me down. NOW” you shout, kicking your legs and slapping his upper back as he drapes you over like you weigh nothing.

“Dinner is in the oven” you remind him, desperate to avoid burning it. But that’s when he puts you down before walking over to the kitchen and turning the oven off.

Your eyes widen as he approaches you once again, picking you up and carrying you up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he always does.

“Andy” you groan until he places you back onto your own two feet, his hands practically rip your robe off to expose your naked body before he does the same to the towel covering his manhood up.

“I’ll tell you what’s about to happen, honey and you’re going to listen” he informs you, stepping closer and moving you to stand in front of the mirror. You correct your abysmal posture as you look back at him in the mirror. A sinister glint in his eyes becomes crystal clear as a wicked grin graces his handsome face. His beard full, his hair still wet from the shower as droplets of water drip down his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me” the pure filth has you holding your breath in shock before exhaling dramatically.

He’s always been kinky but sometimes he still manages to leave you shocked. Although it’s times like these that you love him the most, the whines and whimpers he draws from you so effortlessly, the way he causes your body to tremble raggedly and most of all the way your entire world stops turning as he brings you to that cliff edge, pushing you off of it with his two large menacing hands.

He kicks your legs apart further before pulling your arms to the back of you. He hooks his arm inside of them to prevent you from moving away from him whilst his other hand massages your puffy petal like folds before circling your dripping entrance.

Once his tip is resting directly at the tight hole, he proceeds to move forward, the skin around your entrance catching onto him as your walls welcome him inside.

“Oh, fuckkk” he draws out the word, groaning and gasping for air as he drives home, the feeling overwhelming you to the limit.

How can one man have such a firm and tight grip on you like this?

How did you end up here, unable to utter out a single word as his pace picks up before he’s fucking into you so violently, snapping his hips with no signs of slowing down.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, honey, do as i say” he warns, and the moment you look up at him, you see the darkness and it causes you to look away, focusing back on yourself just like he instructed you to do.

The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls so fast is enough to cause the knot in your stomach to tighten painfully. The pleasure is almost too intense to bare, too much for your fragile body to handle. Yet you continue to take it, allowing him to fuck away his anger, channeling it into this moment.

His arm and hand tightens around your arms, holding you in place as he keeps his sights on you, watching as your mouth hangs open in the perfect O shape. Fuck, you look perfect like this with him bending you to his will, using you for the sole purpose of his pleasure and his pleasure only.

How did he get so lucky to be graced with you’re beauty?

The harder he snaps his hips into you, the more the coil tightens and the all too familiar feeling builds all the more inside of you. An ongoing reminder of your impending orgasm.

“Andy, i-i’m gonna c-cum” you tell him, begging for him to allow you the privilege of releasing, the privilege of creaming all over his rock hard cock.

A dark chuckle erupts from his throat, mocking your pleas for a release before tutting at you, the torment continuing.

“Please” you beg once again, only to be reprimanded with the harsh sting of his hand landing on your ass cheek “keep your eyes on the mirror, honey. You’ll come when i tell you to, quit being a brat”

The need to release is almost unbearable, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes and drowning out your vision before you blink, allowing them to stream down your innocent looking face for him to see. It only spurs him on more as he moves his free hand in from of you, kicking your legs further apart before smacking down on your sex brutally. Your body jerks in response before somewhat relaxing at the feel of him rubbing briskly at your pulsating clit.

“That’s it, honey. Taking that cock so fucking well”

“I need to c-cum, A-Andy” your voice trembles frantically in hopes of him taking pity upon you.

“Shhh, baby. Just let daddy fuck the frustration away, gotta fuck it all away” his words are pure filth but his tone is gentle and needy. He just wants to take his anger out on your body, channel it into something.

You can imagine that with the field of work he’s in that he finds it hard to keep his cool with Neil every day. Which is a shame because they used to be close.

Granted that was back when Neil first started and Andy mentored him, whipped him into shape and taught him everything he knows. And Neil is a better lawyer because of it. However, it also means that he’s just rude, obnoxious and cocky towards Andy, pushing him to the edge and taunting him a little more every day.

“Hold yourself back for daddy, you’ll cum when i give you permission to. Is that clear, honey?”

“Yes” you mumble, barely audible.

“What was that?”

“I mean, yes daddy” you correct, watching his eyes intently, searching for any sign of him letting up his tight hold and hard thrusts.

“Good girl, being so perfect for daddy and taking this fucking like a pro, huh?”

“Yes daddy”

Your eyes glaze over as you struggle to keep yourself in tact, the hold you have on your orgasm is slipping from your control slowly but surely and you know that if he doesn’t give you the go ahead soon then you’ll end up breaking the rules.

Something that will surely earn you a painful punishment.

“God, fuck. I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum with me, honey?” he asks, gasping. You throw your head back onto his chest, arching your back into him further. You nod your head as quickly as you can as you feel your knees turning weak.

“Count down with me”

“10’ you say in unison, his fingers rubbing furiously at your sex.

“9” the sound of your skin slapping together bounces off of the walls.

“8” the feel of his mouth latching onto the sweet spot on your neck, pearly white teeth sinking in to mark you up.

“7” the moans he’s eliciting are now flowing out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“6” deep grunts escape him as he pushes you against the mirror, causing your cheek to push up against it.

“5” the feel of him fucking into you tightens the coil for the final time, the feeling agonising.

“4” you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you arrive at the cliff edge.

“3” you say in unison as his thrusts turn from fast and rough to slow and hard.

“2” his cock twitches inside of you, your walls flutter around him over and over.

“1”

“That’s it, baby, cream all over that cock for me”

You let go, body shuttering as you stand up onto your tip toes. His grip on your arms lets up, causing you to fall forward, hands resting on the wall either side of the mirror.

“Oh god” he growls, hands splaying across the soft globes of your ass before he fills you with hot ropes of cum, breeding you unofficially.

He remains seated deep inside of you for a minute or two whilst the two of you struggle to regain control of your breathing, both of your hearts beating so fast that it feels as though they are on the cusp of exploding out of your chest.

“How are you feeling now?” you ask as he pulls out, turning to face him.

“Hungry for Chinese takeout and a night filled with fucking that tight cunt”

“Was that not enough?”

“I’ll never get my fill of you” he says, pulling your naked body flush against his “i want you all of the time and besides, that was just to channel my anger into something. The next time will be to make a baby”

“W-what?” your voice shaky as you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You heard me, i’m gonna spend all night breeding you, honey. Gonna make you all nice and round with my child. Gives me a chance to take my mind of that cunt Neil”

You nod your head, humming your agreement before pressing your lips to his.

Sure, you’ve had chats about kids before but this is the first time he’s openly suggested trying and even after his outburst, your love for him remains.

You can’t wait to spend the night tangled up in the crisp white sheets of your bed, filled with his cum.

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

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[notanotherreidgirl]

spencer being really horny every time he’s around you but your completely oblivious until MORGAN tells you and then you take it upon yourself to go fuck reid (sub!spence pls!)

here you go! by the way, i am such a big fan of your writing and I was so psyched that you sent me a request - i hope you like it!

wc: 1058

Warnings: masturbation, language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex

Derek frowned. He wasn't usually one to meddle, leaving that to his baby girl but enough was enough. If he had to watch Spencer trip over his words (and his feet) when you walked into a room one more time he was going to lose his mind. Just last week he practically had to smack Spencer for staring down your low-cut blouse for 10 straight minutes during a briefing. Spencer Reid was a lot of things but subtle was not one of them.

The only thing worse than his perpetual and blatant arousal was your unrelenting obliviousness. There was Spencer turning bright red every time you so much as breathed in his direction and running off to the bathroom whenever you came within 3 feet of him and you had absolutely no clue. It was infuriating. Derek had never understood Penelope’s tendency to get involved in other people’s love lives until he was watching this scene unfold before his very eyes.

Spencer was returning from the file room, a stack of folders in his arms when he passed by your desk. At that very moment, you stretched, your shirt riding up to reveal the tiniest sliver of your lower back. It was perfectly innocuous for most, hardly noticeable really, but it was absolutely overwhelming for Spencer. The files tumbled from his grasp, scattering across the floor. You quickly bent down to gather them up which did nothing to help the growing bulge he was desperately trying to conceal. He dropped to the ground and hastily pushed the papers into a poor semblance of a pile - letting out a little yelp when your hands brushed - before depositing them on his desk and rushing out the door, mumbling something about forgetting a file.

When you got back to your seat Derek was there, toying with the Ray Bradbury novel that Spencer had given you a few weeks ago. You shrugged at him, preparing to get back to work and forget all about Spencer’s odd behavior. “When are you gonna put pretty boy out of his misery?”

You looked up confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on now. You’re too good of a profiler not to notice that Reid’s got it bad for you” he picked up the book as if to present evidence. You opened your mouth then closed it. Then opened it again.

“Oh.” It was all you could think to say. Your entire world just shifted to the left slightly and you swore you could hear it click into place. You turned on your heel, tracing Spencer’s steps and ignoring Derek’s laughter. Finding him was easy. He had retreated to the privacy of the file room, the Bureau had nearly gone completely digital and no one came down to rummage around for paper files when they could just look them up. He was biting down on his fist in order to muffle himself but his moans reverberated through the room. “You do this often?”

He jumped, making a useless attempt to cover himself with his hands but it was too late. Who knew the resident genius would have such a pretty cock? “I asked you a question”

“Y-yes. Yes, I do.” Much to Spencer’s chagrin, his erection did not subside after getting caught, if anything your presence had the opposite effect. He was sure he had never been this hard in his life. “I think about you all the time. I’m so sorry”

“You’re sorry? That’s not good enough, Spence” you pulled yourself up on a desk, parting your legs. “Come apologize to me properly”

After he got over his initial shock, he wasted no time dropping to his knees in front of you watching entranced as you removed your panties. His hands shook as they slid up your thighs and he brought himself to your core hesitantly, certain this was a dream. But all his disbelief was suspended at the very first taste. He ate you out like a man starved. You could feel him everywhere - licking up your folds, darting into your entrance, gripping your thighs, circling your clit - until you came apart. But he made no move to stop forcing you to pull him up by the hair. “You taste so good. Please, I want-”

You yanked his hair harshly and his words devolved into a lewd moan. “I don’t give a fuck about what you want. You got that?”

He nodded vigorously. “Good. Now I want you to fuck me, Dr. Reid. Do you think you can handle that?”

He stammered out a yes but you were already positioning him at your entrance, gathering a fistful of his cardigan and pulling him into you. His eyes were glued to where the two of you joined, watching himself disappear into you with wide eyes. You were setting the pace, propelling him in and out as he tried to process the enormity of the situation. Every time he started to wrap his mind around the fact that his dreams were coming true, you would envelop him in your warmth or let out a soft moan that dashed his mind to bits. He desperately tried to keep his release at bay but it was no use. “I-I’m going to -”

“Come for me, baby. Fill me up” you brought a hand to your clit, bringing yourself to your peak as he came with a low whine. For a moment the two of you just held each other, basking in the afterglow of resolving weeks of tension. Spencer swallowed before speaking. “I really am sorry. If I ever made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry. I just can’t get you out of my head.”

“The only thing you have to be sorry for is not telling me sooner.” You placed a soft kiss on his lips and shuffled back, easing him out of you and letting his cum leak out. “You belong to me now, baby”

---

You had decided to stagger your return to the bullpen, having Spencer go first with you following 5 minutes later but your efforts were made in vain. When Derek spotted Spencer enter with a wide grin on his flushed face he stood right up and started clapping. Penelope sprinkled some makeshift confetti she had fashioned out of multi-colored post-its over his head as Derek grabbed his shoulder. “Finally! Way to go, pretty boy”

Blurb Masterlist

[xutokawa]

I really love your s/o finding scratch marks, so I was wondering if you can do one for Bokuto & Hinata- if not Hinata you can do Akaashi uwu please crush my soul ~🥝

pairings: akaashi x reader, hinata x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.4k

» masterlist

a/n: anon!! tysm for this request hehe. sorry it took so long to write :( but I hope you enjoy!! since i already wrote one for bokuto, it’s just hinata and akaashi in this one! also tysm guys for 400 followers!?!!??! i def don’t deserve it since i barely post oops but i still can’t be grateful enough for your support!

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

suna and bokuto ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Akaashi

Excitement bubbled in your stomach as you checked your appearance in the mirror. 

“How do I look?” you teasingly asked your boyfriend. Looking up from his phone, his face immediately formed into a smile.

“Ethereal,” Akaashi replied, taking in your appearance. You giggle as you walked over to where he was sitting on your shared bed, wrapping your arms around his waist, snuggling into his chest. His scent filled your nostrils as you felt his hand reach up to smooth your hair. Warmth spread through your body. 

“You ready to go then?” Akaashi asked you.

“Ready when you are,” you replied, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes filled with adoration.

“Let’s go then.”

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The two of you were seated in a nice cafe, hunger satiated as the two of you talked. Your conversations were filled with smiles and laughter. Yet Akaashi’s smiles never seemed to truly reach his eyes. How could they when nothing but guilt filled his mind, when evidence of a drunken escapade was marked on his body?

Akaashi had noticed your intense gaze on his neck, shifting uncomfortably. Panic and dread rose to his throat at the thought of there being a hickey on his neck from the night before. Despite checking in the mirror countless times, he still couldn’t help but feel panicked at the thought of missing one.

“Is everything okay, y/n?” Akaashi tentatively asked, rubbing his hand over his neck. Snapped out of your trance, you meet his eyes before laughing it off.

“Yeah, just zoning out,” you tried to laugh off. You couldn’t shake it from your head. That couldn’t have been a hickey. Even if it was, Akaashi wouldn’t be so careless to not cover it, right? Unless he wanted you to see it. Tears pricked at your eyes. You quickly excused yourself to the bathroom, not wanting Akaashi to see your tears. 

As soon as you left his sight, Akaashi hurriedly checked his camera on his phone to see what you were staring at. Sure enough, a purple splotch was peeking out from underneath his shirt. Akaashi cursed as he wracked his mind with what to do. All he could come up with was pulling his shirt collar to one side.

His heart hammered in his chest. Would you break up with him when you came out of the bathroom? He felt his heart crumble at the thought of you leaving him. Akaashi was hoping he would eventually forget about his mistake and move on with his life with you. He just wanted to move onto the moment he got down on one knee, the moment the two of you would buy a house for the first time, the moment you held your children in your arms. He just needed to get past this moment.

He knew as soon as he saw you walk out of the bathroom. Your red eyes and blotchy cheeks gave it away. You saw, and now you knew how shitty of a person he was.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you sat back down.

“So you saw,” Akaashi confirmed. All you could do was nod in response.

“Wh-what do you want to do now?” Akaashi choked out. He truly didn’t want to lose you. It was like living in a nightmare, but the most he could do now was respect your wishes.

“I-” you started off, taking a breath before continuing, “I want to go back to the apartment.”

Akaashi silently nodded in understanding before gathering his things and leaving to pay. You buried your face in your hands, not fully grasping the situation at hand. Why was he acting so guilty? This was Akaashi, your boyfriend since your third year at high school. Never once did you doubt the love you held for each other during your relationship. 

“C’mon, y/n, let’s go,” Akaashi said, tentatively reaching his hand out to you. You debated whether or not you should take it, still unsure of everything going on. Finally, you gave him, letting his long fingers intertwined with yours. You almost wanted to laugh at how easily your unease washed away at his touch, how you immediately felt comforted, when the man who made you feel this way had traces of another on his skin. 

The two of you drove in silence, neither one of you sure of what to say in this situation. Confusion swarmed Akaashi’s mind. You obviously saw the hickey on his neck, yet you weren’t lashing out, demanding to break up with him. Yet he could see you were visibly troubled, your history and past with him getting in the way of your rationality. Guilt and shame pooled in Akaashi’s stomach. He shouldn’t be using his familiarity with you as a way to keep you with him. He was unfaithful, and deserved all the consequences. He knew that, no matter how heart wrenching it was to have you leave him.

Silence continued to envelop the two of you as you walked up to your shared apartment. As soon as you entered the threshold of your home, Akaashi attempted to start some sort of conversation.

“Y/n, I think we need-” Akaashi attempted to start.

“Baby, I’m really tired, can this wait till after I take a nap,” you cut him off. Maybe if you continued to pretend you saw nothing, that this was just another day, everything would be okay. You and Akaashi would be okay.

“You can’t just ignore what just happened, y/n!” Akaashi reasoned. Your detachment from the situation honestly scared him a bit. He would’ve expected you to demand him to move out, maybe even a smack across the face, but your reaction was unexpected and unsettling.

“Nothing’s wrong, Akaashi,” you said, tears beginning to pool, “I still love you, and you love me, right?” 

“Y/n-” Akaashi started, “of course I love you, which is why I can’t stand to see you like this! I fucking cheated on you! I don’t deserve your love! You shouldn’t be forgiving me! I don’t deserve you anymore!”

Tears began streaming down your face at his words.

“No, no no no, Akaashi, no! We’re supposed to be together! You wouldn’t hurt me like that, Akaashi, you love me too much to do that to me!” You tried to reason. Deep down, you knew. Even if the two of you somehow got past this moment, new insecurities from this moment would arise. Your relationship would never be the same.

“Y/n! Get it through your fucking head! I cheated on you! I’m a fucking scumbag who forgot how fucking amazing you are! I’m the asshole here! You can’t just forgive me like this! How are you going to forgive me when I’m never going to forgive myself?!” Akaashi’s voice broke at the end.

“Akaashi, stop it! There’s no proof!” You yelled back, not wanting reality to hit. Your eyes widened when Akaashi moved to pull his shirt over his head.

“Is this proof enough?” Akaashi started, “What will it take for you to realize? Did you want me to call them up? Have them tell you? Y/n, please, don’t put yourself through this! Fucking wake up and realize!”

You collapsed to the ground, sobbing as you took in his appearance. Hickeys littered his neck and chest, red scratches on his shoulders. It finally hit you. Akaashi cheated on you. He left you for another. 

“Why? Why did you have to ruin this, Akaashi!” you yelled, “was this not enough?”

“I don’t know, y/n,” Akaashi began breaking down, “I regret all of it. I would give anything to turn the clock back, but I can’t! This is reality, and we both have to face it whether we like it or not!”

Pain flared in Akaashi’s chest as your eyes met his. He watched as the love you held for him slowly dissolved from your eyes. His heart fell into pieces as you walked into your shared bedroom, only to emerge moments later with a small duffle bag. He recognized it. It was the duffle bag you used when the two of you took trips. You were leaving.

Tears freely flowed down Akaashi’s face as you wordlessly brushed past him, nothing sounding in the room except your hiccups. 

“Y/n,” Akaashi started, “where are you going?”

“Away,” you replied, giving no other explanation. The coldness and sadness in your voice sent knives into Akaashi’s heart, but it’s what he deserved. He couldn’t beg for your love again, or have the right to yearn for your warm embrace. He’s the one who ruined everything, so Akaashi could do nothing but helplessly watch you walk away from him, leaving him alone in a cold apartment.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Hinata

“Y/n~” Your boyfriend whined, plopping his head into your lap. Your hand instinctively went to comb through his orange hair.

“What’s up?” You replied, not looking up from your phone screen. Your eyes finally met his, however, when he pushed away your hands, forcing you to look at him. One look at his pleading eyes was all it took for your heart to melt.

“Can we please go out today? The weather looks so nice,” Hinata pleaded, “Don’t you want to go to the beach?”

“But I just want to watch Netflix,” you whined.

“C’mon, baby. Please?” Hinata looked at you, bottom lip sticking out, “Let’s go outside and enjoy the sun! We can buy ice cream!”

You hesitated for a second.

“Ice cream and smoothies,” you said, “and we go to the mall tomorrow.”

Hinata sent you the brightest smile.

“Deal!”

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“Ugh, y/n, I love you so much,” Hinata mumbled out around a mouthful of ice cream. Giggling, you wiped the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too, baby,” you cooed back, heart swelling at the sight of his smile. Hinata didn’t understand how you still managed to give him butterflies after five years of dating, but he wasn’t complaining. The way your eyes crinkled and your nose scrunched when you laughed made him feel warm inside, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life like this with you,” you said, eyes shining with adoration as you looked at your boyfriend. The amount of love you held for the spiker in front of you was unexplainable. All you knew is he made you feel like you were on top of the world, the only thing that mattered to him.

Gasping dramatically, Hinata replied, “That’s insane, because I’ve been thinking that too!”

“Stop teasing me,” you laughed off. Hinata’s chuckles blended with yours. The spiker’s joy was cut off as guilt began rising in his stomach. Of course he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You were his everything, the reason he felt like he could breathe easier, the reason everything in his world was so bright. But he knew he wasn’t faithful during your relationship. Hinata didn’t even know how it happened. All he remembered was waking up in a hotel room, his legs tangled with another’s. He remembered the feeling of his stomach plummeting to his feet once he saw the mangled marks on his back.

Hinata was pulled out of his thoughts by your voice.

“Is that Bokuto?” You questioned, gaze pointed at the sandy beach. Sure enough, the wing spiker along with Atsumu were there, standing on opposite sides of a volleyball net.

“Yeah, Kageyama and Hoshiumi are there too!” Hinata excitedly pointed out, already walking towards the volleyball match. You recognized a couple of other players standing around the area.

Hinata bounded towards them, yelling out, asking if he could join. You laughed as you watched him immediately settle into a disagreement with Kageyama before he came running back towards you.

“Y/n!” Hinata panted out, “I know this was supposed to be a date, but do you mind if I play a couple matches?”

You giggled as you saw the excitement shining in his eyes. 

“It’s no problem, I’ll just go shopping around the boardwalk! Call me when you’re done, but don’t play for too long,” you said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Yes! You’re the best! I love you,” Hinata said as he enveloped you in a hug before taking his shirt off and running back to the volleyball net. Your eyes immediately fell on his shoulders. 

“Shoyo, what’s on your back?”

Hinata stopped in his tracks as his stomach fell to his feet. He had completely forgotten about the evidence of his infidelity on his back. The prospect of playing beach volleyball with his friends overtook his rationality, and now he was paying the price for it. He whipped around, eyes now wide, panic replacing the excitement that was there moments before. The hurt swimming in your eyes was enough to make his heart shatter.

“Y/n, I-” Hinata breathed out, unable to form a complete sentence. The spiker felt his knees go weak as he watched you turn around and walk away from him, shoulders shaking. It wasn’t until he heard you say, ‘I won’t be going back to the apartment tonight, don’t wait up’ that he scrambled for his shirt, shoving it over his head as he attempted to catch up to you.

“Y/n, please wait! Let me explain-” Hinata ran after you. He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, when you turned around. Nothing but hurt blazed in your eyes as you looked him in the eyes.

“Explain what, Hinata? Did you want to go into detail about how you fucked someone else? Was simply cheating on me not enough? You don’t get to hurt me more than you already have,” you spewed back at him, venom laced in your words. Hinata’s face crumpled into sobs.

“No, y/n, that’s not it at all. I never wanted to hurt you, not ever! I’m so pathetic! I can’t even remember how it happened. It never should have happened, I can’t lose you like this,” Hinata sobbed, falling to his knees at your feet. The thought of losing you sent Hinata’s mind into a panic. His hands scrambled to find yours, clasping to them for dear life. You scoffed at his actions.

“Get up,” you said, looking away from his figure. Hinata hopefully looked up, hoping you would give him the chance to make it up to you. His hopes were shattered, however, when he met your eyes. Instead of the care and affection he was hoping to see, he was met with nothing but embarrassment and putrid hate.

“You’re making a scene. People are staring,” you said, looking around you, “I told you, I’m not going back to the apartment tonight. I’ll grab my stuff later.”

“I’m sorry,” Hinata choked out, “I’m so sorry for everything. Please, you deserve better. Someone who won’t forget what he has in front of him. Someone who will cradle your heart and give you everything you deserve. I love you, y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“I wish I could believe you when you say ‘I love you’, but we both know it’s not true at this point. No loving boyfriend would cheat,” you said lowly, energy drained from the situation.

“No, y/n. Please, if anything, trust that I love you with all of my being, and I would do anything to try and fix this. I can’t imagine my life without you, let me fix this!” Hinata sobbed.

“You should’ve thought about that before you ruined everything,” you said as you looked into his eyes. Tears pooled in both of your eyes. The hurt and regret was evident on the spiker’s face, but you couldn’t give in.

“Goodbye, Hinata.”

[xjoonchildx]

greedy | myg x reader | chapter five: do we look like recruiters to you?

summary: being a loner has never bothered yoongi until now.  until you.

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 6.7K

notes:  thank you all so much for rolling with the changes to my posting schedule. it’s been a while since i posted an update and i really wanted to give you guys a chapter. plus it makes more sense, in my mind to break it out like this.  in this chapter, you’ll notice that ko starts calling OC “jagiya.” thank you to the korean reader who brought to my attention that my previous nickname for her didn’t fit as well as this one! 

anyway, you guys make me endlessly happy with your feedback on this story. i’d love to hear what you think of this chapter.  beta read by @hobi-gif​ because i would wither away without her analysis. also beta’d by the awesome @btsarmy9593​ who has been so awesome to give me her feedback. thank you to @augustbutwinter​ for the words of encouragement. and of course, the boos @ladyartemesia​ and @untaemedqueen​ pitched in to help me in this journey as well.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*************************

Min Yoongi wakes up with a problem.  Well a few problems, actually.

The first is that he has to pee.

The second is the head-to-toe pain that starts to register the moment his sluggish brain kicks into gear.  He starts from the bottom -- gingerly wiggling his toes, carefully stretching his legs -- and slowly works his way up, taking mental inventory of what hurts and what doesn’t.

A lot of shit is landing on the hurts list right now.

The third problem -- and perhaps the most pressing -- is the problem pressing into his side right now.

Your hair is still damp.

Yoongi noses into it and lies in the quiet for a while, breathing you in while you sleep.  You smell like his shampoo and his soap.  You’re wearing his t-shirt and basketball shorts.  You are covered in him; fitted to him.  Solid and warm and real.

Which brings him to his next problem.  

This is the kind of feeling that’s way too easy to become addicted to.  The kind of feeling that makes you do stupid shit.  Take away the mangled body and the looming safety concerns and this is easily the best morning of his life.

That’s why when you stir and burrow a bit deeper into his side, Yoongi ignores the pain radiating from his sore ribs.  He ignores the way his arm has fallen asleep under you, ignores the intermittent buzzing of his phone from the nightstand warning of missed texts.

He ignores the tiny voice in his head that says don’t get attached to this feeling.

Yoongi ignores everything but you and this because right now, it’s the only thing he wants to think about.

And then he’s drifting off again.

***************************

This time, Yoongi wakes up alone.

The deep steadying breath he takes while he’s trying to work up the nerve to get out of bed hurts like hell.

Everything hurts like hell, actually -- the back of his head where he can feel scrapes left behind by the brick wall, his jaw from where he took that driller to the face.  His knee from where he jammed it into that fucking goon’s stomach.  

But his shoulder is what’s really fucking everything up right now.

He can’t remember telling you where to find the sling or how you got it on.  Can’t remember you positioning his pillows around his injured arm or slipping into bed beside him.  He’d been so fucked up by the pain and the adrenaline withdrawal that he’s pretty sure he blacked out at some point.  

So Yoongi lies there for a minute, trying to piece together what he can remember of last night.  

The memories come back to him blurred and disjointed, out of order.

He remembers feeling like he might vomit when you shoved his shoulder back into place.  Awkwardly accepting your help taking off his jeans so he could shower.  Nearly falling to his knees under the hot water.  Pulling himself together long enough to stash his gun in a drawer when you’d stepped away.

And it’s that last memory that makes his chest go tight.

Last night, hiding his gun seemed like the right thing to do.  A way to keep you separate from the ugliness he normalized a long time ago.  But this morning the half-assed lie of omission makes him feel guilty as hell.  A pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable.  Chewing gum jammed into the crack of a dam.

He has to tell you about that gun.

So he gets to work on dragging his ass out of bed.  It takes him way too damned long to sit upright, way too damned long to slide himself off the edge of the mattress.  Longer than that to slowly limp his way into the bathroom where he pees for what feels like a solid ten minutes.

He’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he spots the bright red toothbrush sitting in the cup on his sink.  

It’s just some cheap throwaway he brought home after his last visit to the dentist -- a long-forgotten backup that’s been stashed in the cabinet under the bathroom counter for months.  But now it’s sitting out in the open, in that cup. Right next to his own blue one.

Yoongi stares at it and scrubs a hand over his face.

And that tiny voice in his head gets a bit louder.

************************

He finds you seated at his piano, bare-faced and hair tousled.  Fingers tracing light patterns across the keys of his custom instrument, gaze taking in all of the tiny details he paid a small fortune for.

He could have stayed there for a while, just appreciating the view had you not caught him staring.

Your dark eyes flick up to find his and Yoongi’s pulse quickens at the warmth in them.  At the soft, shy smile that comes over you just before you clear your throat and lower your eyes back to the keys.

“Beautiful,” you sigh.  

No kidding, Yoongi thinks.

He crosses the room slowly.  Tries his hardest not to limp but the throb in his knee makes that nearly impossible.  Sadness flashes across your face as you watch him sink heavily onto the bench beside you.  

“I can help you, you know,” you admonish softly.

Yoongi shrugs, motioning to the sling.  “You already have.”

He stills when you reach one hand out to brush your fingertips across the redness on his jaw.  You stroke your thumb across his aching cheek and Yoongi leans into the touch, savoring the feeling of your skin against his.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry you’re hurt, and -- ” you pause to shake your head sadly,  “-- and I’m so sorry it’s because I put you in this position.”

Yoongi sucks in a deep breath.

He can’t bring himself to tell you that he can’t think straight when he imagines what could have happened if that fucking goon had gotten you alone.  Can’t bring himself to admit out loud that he could have pulled his gun and ended that piece of shit without losing a second of sleep.  

Would have, had you not been there.

“Better me than you, Doc,” he says thickly.  “You made the right call.”

You press a gentle kiss to his throbbing jaw.

“You still mad at me?”

You whisper the words into the shell of Yoongi’s ear and a slow heat builds in his gut.  

“Yeah,” he lies, dropping a kiss on the delicate skin below your jaw.  He ghosts the tip of his nose against the curve of your neck and you shudder under his touch. He’s forced to check himself, leaning back for a few inches of badly-needed space.  

On the bright side, at least his dick isn’t broken, too.

He clears his throat.  “If that guy had brought backup -- ”

“ -- If that guy had brought backup, he’d have been out of the car long before you left his buddy in a pile on the floor,” you interrupt gently.

Yoongi chuckles.  “Just admit you’re terrible at following directions.”

“You happen to have your MRI results around here anywhere? I’d be interested to see what they say about that shoulder.”  

You raise one brow when Yoongi narrows his eyes at you in response.  “No? Well, then I guess I’m not the only one who’s bad at following directions.”

“Guess not,” Yoongi admits with a smile.  

Your turn your attention back to his piano, touch reverent as you slide one hand across the rich black lacquer.  

“When you first walked in, I was going to say something really dumb like do you play?” you admit with a laugh.  “But no one owns something this magnificent unless they have a passion for it.”

“Yeah, I play,” Yoongi murmurs.  “When I have two functioning arms.”

He’d intended to earn a laugh with that tease, but the joke falls flat.  Sadness creeps back into your features.

“Yoongi,” you say quietly, gaze dropping into your lap.  “I honestly don’t know what would have happened to me last night without you.  And all I can think about this morning is why?  Why did you do this for me?”

Fuck, that’s a loaded question.  

If Yoongi had the balls, he’d tell you straight up that he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you at Songdo .  That you feel like his chance at something more.  But Yoongi doesn’t say any of that.  

Instead, he coughs up a weak white lie.

“We’re both out here flying solo Doc.  We have to look out for each other.  Besides -- ” he tips your chin up with a gentle press of his fingers and finds your dark eyes glassy with unshed tears.  “ -- I have a thing for that smart mouth of yours.”

He earns a tiny smile from you then, just the slightest curve of your lips.  And he’s this close to kissing the soft, sad expression right off your face when that voice in his mind fucks everything up again.

Tell her about the gun.  

The thought is like a bucket of cold water over his head, jarring him from the intimacy of this moment.  Yoongi swallows thickly before opening his mouth to tell you the truth.  But before he can speak, you do.

“I have something of yours,” you say, reaching into the pocket of your borrowed basketball shorts.  Yoongi watches you produce a worn handmade bracelet and holds his palm open to accept it.  “It fell out of your jacket last night,” you explain.

He rubs his thumb over the smooth metal corners of the cross that dangles from aged leather.  It brings back the memory of his baptism -- of the day Mrs. Bak proudly gifted it to him while he was still damp from the ceremony.  It also brings back the memory of last night -- when he’d clutched it between his fingers and sent a silent plea for protection skyward.

It’s been a long time since he’s prayed.  It’s been a long time since he had anything to pray for.

“Are you religious?” you ask softly.

Yoongi shakes his head.  “Honestly? I don’t know.”  A self-conscious heat creeps up his neck.  “Just makes me feel better, I guess.  Is that dumb?”

“No,” you reassure quietly, bringing one warm hand up to cup his cheek.  Yoongi covers your hand with his, laces his fingers in between yours.  “Not dumb at all.”

Tell her about the gun.

“Doc,” Yoongi whispers thickly, “We need to talk about something.”

Your hand falls away from his face and your spine goes stiff with tension and Yoongi almost loses his nerve.

Almost.

“Okay, so I was, uh -- carrying a gun last night,” he starts, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck,  “I carry a gun all the time, actually.  I hid it because I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You say nothing, expression unreadable.  And Yoongi keeps talking.

“But I don’t want to keep things from you,” he says quietly.  “I want you to know exactly who I am. No half-truths.”

Your eyes drop back down to the piano.  You pluck at one of the keys and a somber note rings out, lingers in the air between you before you speak.

“You have a gunshot wound in your back, Yoongi,” you murmur.  “It’s not exactly a leap of logic.  Besides, I already saw your gun.  It was in your drawer last night when I got you a change of clothes.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing the fact that you’d discovered the gleaming silver piece and hadn’t written him off right away.  You’d still slept in the crook of his arm last night.  You’re still here right now.

“And yeah, maybe it does freak me out a bit,” you admit.  “But after what I saw last night, maybe I can understand a bit, too.”

Yoongi lets go of the breath he’s been holding and takes your hand in his.  Maybe is as good as he could have hoped for at this point.  Maybe is not a dead end.  

“I have something to tell you, too,” you admit after a moment.  “I’m due at the hospital in a few hours.”

“Doc,” Yoongi groans, hand tightening reflexively around yours.  “You can’t go back there.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you insist, pulling away.  “This isn’t just some job I fell into, Yoongi.  This is years of my life.”

Yoongi is quiet for a few seconds, willing his rising agitation to subside.  He’s careful to check his tone before he speaks.

“You’re not safe there.”

“I have to go back.  I don’t have a choice,” you repeat.  “I can’t afford to get blacklisted and Lee is still my boss. And if he’s already got wind of what happened last night, he’s going to be gunning for me even harder than he already has been.  I have to tread carefully.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“You have to meet me in the middle here, Doc,” he exhales.  “There’s got to be something halfway between you walking right back into that hellhole and you losing your job.  Take a couple of sick days.  Give me some time to figure out who your boss is working with and what I can do about it.  Can you do that?”

You’re quiet for a moment as you consider his proposal.

“Yeah,” you concede softly.  “I can do that.”  

You lift a hand to brush a lock of hair out of his face and press your mouth to his.

Every cell in Yoongi’s body stands at attention.  He cards his fingers into the soft mass of your hair and kisses you slowly -- carefully -- all too aware of the way he’d manhandled you last night.  

Not even the pain in his jaw could take away from how good it feels to touch you like this.  Not even the ache in his ribs could stop him from leaning into you. He slips his tongue past your lips and you whimper, fingers curling into his sore knee.  

He could not give a shit.

Yoongi leaves your mouth to trail kisses down your jaw, and you tip your head back, offering him the soft expanse of your neck.  He accepts it gladly, mouth hot and open on your skin, savoring your scent and taste -- enjoying the way he can feel your pulse fluttering wildly under his lips.

He’s enjoying it all so much that he gets careless.  The elbow of his injured arm connects with the sharp edge of the piano and he recoils instantly.

“Dammit,” he groans. “Fuck.”

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth.

The pain is so potent it seems to radiate all the way from his arm to his temples. Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the ringing in his ears to subside.

“Yoongi, your shoulder, it's -- it’s really bad,” you admonish quietly.  “If you keep going like this, the damage is going to be permanent.”

“Trust me, I know,” he sighs.  “I’m going to get this looked at, I just haven’t.”

“I want you to see a friend of mine at Asan today,” you urge.  “He’s a good doctor.  He can get you some pain relief.  Get you back to working condition.”

Yoongi nods weakly, pain still ebbing from his arm.

“But it’s not a substitute for an MRI and it’s not a substitute for surgery,” you warn.  “This is just a temporary fix.  You have to be careful.  Whatever you’re planning, just please be careful.”

Yoongi skates the pad of his thumb over your lips before kissing you just one more time.

“Don’t worry about me, Doc,” he murmurs.  “I’m going to have some help.”

**************************

It’s amazing what a pair of high-powered steroid shots and a bottle of industrial-strength painkillers can do for a guy.  

Yoongi pulls into the parking lot at Maekju feeling almost human again.

If the text messages that have been blowing up his phone all afternoon are any indication, everyone is here tonight.  Everyone with the exception of Namjoon, of course.  He doesn’t drink anymore and even when he did, he always preferred to drink alone.

Jungkook is the first person Yoongi spots, leaned up against a pool table, beer in hand.  He’s watching Jimin and Taehyung face off at billiards while Seokjin and Hoseok sit side-by-side at the bar, deep in conversation.

The maknae’s eyes go a bit wide when he takes in Yoongi’s unusual gait and immobilized arm.

“Holy shit, hyung,” he breathes as Yoongi approaches.  “What the hell happened to you?”

Seokjin whips around in his barstool at the sound of Jungkook’s greeting, but Hoseok doesn’t take the bait.  He stiffens in his seat but refuses to turn around. Stubborn bastard.

“Yoga accident,” Yoongi mutters, stepping up to the bar next to Seokjin.  The older man smirks as he takes a long pull of his beer.

“How’d you drive with that thing on?” Seokjin asks, motioning to Yoongi’s sling.

“Carefully,” Yoongi says dryly.  “Listen, can you give me a minute with Jung here?”

Seokjin’s critical gaze bounces back and forth between Yoongi and Hoseok, who is still resolutely pretending not to notice the conversation taking place just inches from his face.  He stares into a television mounted high above the bar and sips his whiskey with feigned indifference.

“You two need couple’s counseling, I swear,” Seokjin groans, rolling his eyes. He stands to his feet to relinquish his barstool and claps a hand over Yoongi’s good shoulder.  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Hoseok, the fucking infant, grabs a newspaper abandoned on the bartop and proceeds to pretend to read it.  Yoongi slides into the stool next to him anyway.

“Miss me?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer.

“You’re not gonna say hello?  Not gonna ask me why it looks like I spent all night falling off a cliff?”

“Nope.”

Yoongi waves off the bartender who starts walking in his direction.  The last thing he needs is a drink.  He’s got so many painkillers in his system right now that one sip of booze would probably have him under the bar in seconds.

“Come on Hoseok,” Yoongi sighs.  “Don’t be a dick.  I’ve literally never seen you read a newspaper.”

“I like to stay informed,” Hoseok shrugs.

“Well, I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Oh, so you talk to me now?” Hoseok snickers.  “That’s new.”

Hoseok’s probably earned the right to his petulance, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.  Yoongi starts to reconsider that drink.

“Jung,” he groans.  “I’m trying to apologize here.”

“So apologize then.”

“Fine,” Yoongi mutters.  “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole lately.  I’ve been twisted up over some shit that has nothing to do with you or family business.”

Hoseok grabs his whiskey off the bar and finally -- finally -- pivots to face him.

“A giant asshole,” he corrects dryly.  

“Yes. A giant asshole,” Yoongi repeats.  “We good now?”

Hoseok sips his whiskey slowly, eyes narrowed at Yoongi over the lip of his glass.

“Buy me a drink.”

“Fine,” Yoongi hisses, flagging the bartender.  

Hoseok leans back in his barstool, looking a bit smug.

“Now this shit you’ve been twisted up about,” he starts, brow cocked.  “Would this have anything to do with your secret doctor friend?”

“Maybe,” Yoongi admits, scratching at the back of his neck.  His injured shoulder is tired from carrying the extra weight of the sling.  He rolls it gingerly as Hoseok looks on.

“Would this have anything to do with why you look like you got jumped on your way in here tonight?”

Yoongi’s cheeks warm at his partner’s blunt observation.  “Maybe.”

Hoseok drains his whiskey just as the bartender arrives with a fresh one.  He takes a long drink before setting his glass back down on the bar.  His lips purse thoughtfully as he levels Yoongi with a long, assessing look.

“Okay,” he says calmly. “So who do we have to go fuck up?”

**************************

Dr. Lee Geon just looks like a fucking weasel.

Yoongi glares at the man as he strolls into the coffee shop a few blocks from Songdo with just minutes to spare to his shift.  

Lee bears little resemblance to his photos on the hospital website.

He’s thin -- just this side of gaunt -- hollow cheeks prominent below dark under eyes beneath a sparse dusting of greasy hair.  Were he not dressed in a rumpled lab coat and equally creased scrubs, Yoongi might have missed him entirely.

Across the room, Hoseok peers at Yoongi over the top of yet another borrowed newspaper -- is this the guy? -- and Yoongi answers with a furtive nod.  

He goes over the plan they’d worked out in the car in his head.  They’d find the guy -- make sure he was the guy -- and then follow him out of the shop.  Catch him just before he got into his car.  Shake him up a bit before shaking him down for information.

There’s one thing Yoongi still hasn’t worked out, though.

Just how much he’s going to allow himself to hurt this asshole before sending him on his way.  Lee slowly shuffles his way to the front of the line as Yoongi imagines jamming his fist into the man’s stupid fucking face.  Imagines doing it over and over again until the piece of shit is unrecognizable.

Yoongi watches Lee order his drink as he kneads at the tender muscles of his shoulder.

Ditching the sling was probably a bad idea -- definitely against doctor’s orders -- but it was a risk he was more than willing to take.  He’d downed a couple of painkillers and shoved his shoulder into a brace and decided he could deal with the dull throb just for the night.  

No way in hell he was going to confront this scumbag looking like some kid who just fell off his skateboard.  

It doesn’t take long for the barista to put together Lee’s drink.  He grabs his coffee and Yoongi tenses in anticipation of his next move.  But instead of heading for the exit, Lee heads for the bathroom instead.

Yoongi locks eyes with Hoseok across the room and Hoseok raises one brow.

Change of plans?

Yoongi nods.

*****************************

Lee’s coffee sits abandoned atop the sink ledge.

Yoongi and Hoseok slip silently into the bathroom and get right to work.  Hoseok blocks the door as Yoongi quietly creeps past the stalls, ducking his head to peer beneath each one.  Lee’s scuffed sneakers are the only pair of shoes he spots.

His ears pick up on a faint sound coming from inside the locked stall.

It’s a kind of soft, intermittent rasping.  Yoongi concentrates on the noise, isolates it until he comes to the realization that it’s sniffling he’s hearing.  He turns to Hoseok and taps his finger against the side of his nose and Hoseok nods his agreement.

Yoongi shakes his head in disgust.  Is there a single substance this idiot isn’t addicted to?

It takes a moment for the sniffling to subside.  It’s followed by a few seconds of quiet rustling in which Yoongi can picture Lee carefully pocketing whatever’s left of his coke.  The noises from behind the brushed steel barrier finally stop and the next thing Yoongi hears is the distinct clink of the latch coming apart.

Lee swings the door wide -- gets one look at what’s waiting for him on the other side -- and nearly jumps out of his skin.  

He startles so hard that he almost falls backward into the toilet.  But he catches himself, regaining his balance and staring back at Yoongi with wide, worried eyes.

Yoongi stands there and says nothing.

“Excuse me,” Lee mumbles, eyeing him wearily as he tries to slide past.  He takes two steps forward then stops in his tracks when he spots Hoseok.  Lee swallows thickly, eyes darting back and forth between both men.

“Is there a problem gentlemen?” he croaks.

Yoongi takes a step towards Lee.  He shrinks back when Yoongi reaches for his badge, yanking the retractable cord as he pulls it close to examine it.  Yoongi runs his thumb over the raised lettering on the laminated card, letting the taut silence linger for dramatic effect.

Then he lets go of the badge without warning, fighting a smile when Lee flinches as it snaps back into place.

“Yes, we have a problem,” Yoongi confirms pleasantly.  “And yes, it’s you.”

The little color left in Lee’s face immediately drains out.

“Look, I don’t know who you guys are, but you don’t w-want to mess with me,” he stammers, voice cracking comically halfway through his flimsy threat.  “I know people.”

“Oh shit,” Yoongi’s eyes go wide with feigned concern, “You hear that, Jung?  This guy knows people.”

“Sounds scary,” Hoseok chuckles.

Lee starts to breathe harder, chest rising and falling faster.  Pupils blown with fear and coke.

“Now, here’s the difference between you and us, Dr. Lee,” Yoongi explains calmly.  “You know people.  But we -- ” he motions to himself and then to Hoseok, “ -- are people . Do you understand what I’m trying to say here?”

Yoongi punctuates his point by brushing the edge of his open leather jacket aside, allowing his pistol to peek out from underneath.  Lee’s eyes lock on it as he nods slowly, pulling deep, noisy breaths through his nose.

“Great.  Now we don’t have to play the game where you pretend not to know about the bullshit you’ve been pulling over at the hospital, right?”

Lee shakes his head slowly.

“So that means we also don’t have to play the game where you pretend you didn’t send some fucking street goon to rough up a little old lady, either. Right?”

The man’s mouth drops open like his first instinct is to deny that accusation. But he steals another look at Hoseok and shuts it instead.

“And then -- ” Yoongi jabs Lee in the chest with one finger and the man jumps back, “-- you tried to send that same goon after your own resident.  But here’s the thing, Doctor Lee.  She knows people, too.”

Lee’s body goes rigid.  Yoongi watches him process the information with his drug-addled brain, a flare of recognition finally sparking in his dull eyes.

“I saw you at the hospital,” Lee whispers.  “You know her.”

“Don’t worry about who I know,” Yoongi shrugs.  “Worry about what you’re going to say in your resignation letter.”

He advances on the man again, closing the space between them.  Lee tries to back away, but he runs out of room.  He tilts against the stall door.

“Resignation letter?” he echoes weakly.

“The one you’re turning in tonight,” Yoongi explains coolly.  “Before you get the fuck out of Songdo and then get the fuck out of Seoul.”

Lee sputters for a moment, grasping for his next words.  

“Well, where am I supposed to go?” he bleats.

“Do we look like recruiters to you, man?” Hoseok cuts in sharply.  “We don’t give a shit where you go -- you just have to go.  You sure this guy is a doctor, Min?  He seems way too dumb to be a doctor.”

“Nah.  This guy’s a junkie pretending to be a doctor,” Yoongi accuses, dropping any pretense of good humor.  “Pretending to be a tough guy, too.  But all of that ends tonight.”

Yoongi grabs Lee by the chin, jerking his head into place and forcing the trembling man to look him in the eye.

“In ten minutes, you’re going to walk your ass into that hospital.  You’re going to tell them you are leaving.  You are going to take that piece of shit pharmacist and anyone else who’s involved with you.  And then you are never going to step foot in this city again.”

He pauses to enjoy the way Lee’s pupils dilate even wider with fear.

“You’re not too high to understand what I’m saying to you right now, right?”

Lee shakes his head weakly, jaw still pinned in Yoongi’s vice grip.

“Great. Now just one more thing before you go on your merry way,” Yoongi says, voice low with menace.  “Give us the name of your street guys.”

Lee panics.  “I can’t,” he whines from between compressed cheeks.  “They’ll kill me.”

Yoongi grips his face tighter, crushing the man’s jaw and using it to push his body flush against the stall.  His fingers and knuckles turn white with the force of his grasp and Lee groans weakly at the pain.  

“I will kill you,” Yoongi seethes. “Me.  Right fucking now with my bare fucking hands if you don’t give me that name.”

Lee is sweating so profusely that Yoongi wonders briefly if he’s having a heart attack.  He’s probably got enough coke in his system for that to be an actual concern.  But the pathetic little shit manages to pull himself together long enough to follow directions.

“Kkangpae,” he wheezes.

Yoongi’s iron grip stays in place, even as he turns to Hoseok, even as both men exchange a look.  That is something he did not see coming.  Perhaps his recent personal issues are family business, after all.

He finally releases Lee’s jaw and the man rears back, breathing hard.

“You have exactly one day to get the fuck out of this city,” Yoongi instructs quietly.  “And that is not an offer I’m prepared to make twice.”

Lee licks his dry lips, nodding his head slowly like he’s just come out of a trance.  “Okay.”

“Great chat,” Yoongi smiles, patting Lee’s cheek.

Hoseok leaves his post at the door to cross the cramped bathroom and reach for the coffee Lee abandoned minutes ago.  Both men watch in silence as he turns it up over the sink, pours it out, and then tosses it in the trash.

He heads back to the door and holds it open.

“Damn Hoseok,” Yoongi murmurs as he brushes past.  “That was cold.”

*********************************

YOU

There’s buzzing.  Of that, you’re sure.

But in those first few moments that you’re rousing, you can’t be sure if you’re hearing it or dreaming it.  You’re disoriented.  It’s the second time in as many days you’ve woken up in an unfamiliar bed.

Shafts of sunlight pour through the blinds and you squint at them, trying to get a sense of the time of day.  If the amber tinge is any indication, it’s late into the afternoon.

The buzzing sounds again.

You roll to your side to grab your cell phone off the nightstand and blink at a long list of waiting texts.

ko: wake up sleeping beauty [ 11:36 AM ]

ko: i have news [ 11:45 AM ]

ko: big news [ 12:22 PM ]

ko: and gaeran tost-u [ 1:02 PM ]

ko: ready for you to wake up now [ 1:43 PM ]

ko: don’t mind me just gonna bang a few pots and pans [ 2:11 PM ]

Any curiosity over Ko’s big news is overshadowed by the way your heart drops when none of those messages is from Yoongi.  

Before you’d left his apartment, he’d asked you to stay.  He’d cleared his throat and looked down at his hands and explained that he’d feel better if you weren’t alone until this entire mess was settled.  But the way he looked at you in those last few minutes together made you feel like his proposition was about much more than just your protection.

It made you want to say yes.

Never mind that it’s insane to feel so at home in his personal space -- or that coming to that realization might have sent you into a mild panic.  In the end, you’d had to say no because you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Ko on her own while this madness played out.

You rub the sleep out of your eyes and fire off two quick texts.

you: i hope you’re okay. please be careful [ 2:33 PM ]

you: up now. be down in five [ 2:34 PM ]

**************************

Ko makes good on her promise of gaeran tost-u.

You’re greeted by the pleasant smell of the sugared egg dish as you walk down the stairs.  Ko sits at her kitchen table, eyes shining with excitement, and pushes a plate at you when you slide into the chair across from hers.

“Eat,” she orders sweetly.  Your stomach rumbles on cue and you waste no time digging in.

“This is really good,” you declare around a mouthful of bread and eggs.  “I might have to live with you forever.”

Ko smiles wide and the expression makes you feel warm from the inside out. The bruising on her face is barely visible now, easily hidden with a little makeup. Her eyes crinkle with happiness as she watches you eat without saying a word.

“Alright,” you sigh, loathe to stop eating even for as long as it takes to speak.  “Spill it. You look fit to burst.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she complains cheerfully.  “Dr. Lee is gone.  Walked into Songdo last night and walked out forever.”

You gasp halfway through your next bite, sputtering as you try to catch your breath around a mouthful of toasted bread.  Ko stands to grab you a glass of water which you gratefully accept.

“Well, don’t die on me now,” she teases, “Because there’s more.  Nang left, too.  And Tuan and Beom from pathology.  All four of them quit without even so much as a notice, Jagi.  Isn’t that wild?”

You sip your water slowly and Ko’s eyes flash as she watches you.

“Yoo called me early this morning and said the entire hospital is talking about it. There’s a bunch of crazy theories going around.  And here I am, drinking my tea.  Thinking about how you took a few sick days and showed up here. Thinking about how healthy and rested you look right now.  Isn’t that interesting?”

You nod, jamming the sandwich back in your mouth for an obnoxiously large bite.

“And I can’t help but wonder if there’s some connection between this very convenient development and my very sweet, secretive friend.”

Ko’s mouth twists into a teasing smile as you chew your food absurdly slow.

“That sandwich isn’t going to last forever, Jagi,” she says dryly.  She lifts her teacup to her mouth and takes a dainty sip.  “And trust me, I have nothing but time.”

She leans back, cup in hand.

“Okay, so I might know something about it,” you admit after a while.  “But there’s still a lot I don’t know.  And I’m not sure how much of this you want to hear.”

Ko tuts under her breath.

“I want to hear it all.  I’ve got quite a few years on you and trust me, very little shocks me anymore.  So now you spill it.”

You take another sip of water and clear your throat.

“Okay,” you exhale.  “So there’s this guy -- ”

“ -- Oh, I love it when stories start like this,” Ko interrupts.  She props her chin up with her hands like you’re telling a bedtime story and you shake your head with a wry smile.

“He’s been kind of… helping me, I guess.”

“Helping you,” Ko echoes.  “As in helping you out of your clothes?”

“No,” you deny hotly, cheeks warming.  “He’s a friend.”

Ko doesn’t bother to call you out on the weak lie.  But her face says what her mouth doesn’t when one skeptical brow raises high.

“Go on.”

“I told him about what was going on at the hospital and he said he could help me,” you explain slowly.  “So I’m pretty sure he figured out a way to run off Lee and Nang.”

Ko taps her finger against the side of her teacup.

“So let me see if I have this right,” she muses.  “You tell this friend -- who you’ve never once mentioned, by the way -- that you’ve been having this very dangerous trouble at work.  And then your friend somehow manages to convince two grown men who’ve worked at Songdo for years to give up their high-paying jobs and up-front access to IV drugs overnight.”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“And just like that -- ” Ko snaps her fingers for emphasis, “ -- they’re gone without so much as a fuss.”

You nod weakly.

“Jagi,” Ko’s voice drops low.  “I take it your friend’s not a mailman, is he?”

“No,” you mumble.  “Definitely not.”

Ko hums under her breath.  She carefully lifts her teacup to drink, eyes trained on you over the rim.  Her quiet scrutiny makes you anxious.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks after a long pause.

“If I said no would that stop you?”

“Not a chance,” Ko laughs.  “Would this friend happen to be the mysterious, handsome man who asked for you in the ER a few weeks back?”

Mind like a steel trap, this woman.  You should have known Ko would make that connection and fast.  There’s no point in denying it, so you don’t.

“Yes,” you whisper thickly. “He is.”

It’s hard to get a read on Ko’s reaction.  Over the years, you’ve come to rely on her sweetness and wisdom and warmth.  But now, as you stare into her dark eyes and try to interpret her careful expression, you realize there’s something else you need from her.

Her approval.

“Ko, I think I -- ” you pause to choose your words carefully, “ -- I think I might be in really deep with this guy.”

Ko snorts.

“Oh, I think you might be right about that, Jagiya .  And if he’s helping you with something like this?  Chances are, you’re not alone.”

“Yeah,” you exhale, wringing your hands together beneath the table.  “Thing is -- I need you to tell me I’m not making a mistake here.”

The corners of Ko’s mouth lift into a soft expression of surprise.

“Oh, Jagi,” she chides sweetly.  “You know I can’t tell you that. I don’t know anything about this man.”  She reaches across the table to cover your hand with her own.  “But you do.  You’re the only one who knows how you feel about him.  And you’re the only one who knows if he’s a good man underneath it all.”

Ko squeezes your hand and you turn your head before she can see the tears that threaten in your eyes.  The amber sunlight outside her kitchen window is shifting orange now, flares of light reflecting off the glass.  

You stare at them and think about Yoongi.

Until now, it’s like you’ve been splitting him into two different men -- the bruised, bloody con artist from the exam room and the quiet, teasing flirt from the coffee shop.  Until now, it’s been the only way to reconcile your complicated feelings.

But it's well past time you accepted the truth.

The same Yoongi whose cheeks had pinked when he’d asked you to stay is the same Yoongi you watched beat the shit out of a hired thug.  The Yoongi who carries a cross is the Yoongi who carries a gun.  They’re two halves of one whole.  

And you can’t pine for one and reject the other.

Your cell phone buzzes from the pocket of your pajama pants.  You reach for it, relief coursing through you when you spot Yoongi’s name on the screen.

yoongi: one more thing to do before we can talk [ 3:01 PM ]

yoongi: it’s cold outside, be sure to bundle up [ 3:01 PM ]

Yoongi’s random mention of the weather confuses you.  You stare at the texts and Ko stares at you, concerned by the baffled expression on your face.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” you insist, shaking your head.  “Just, um -- ”

Bundle up.   A tingle runs up the length of your spine as realization slowly creeps over you.  

“Excuse me for a moment,” you murmur, slipping out of your seat.

Ko watches you dash up the stairs, slack-jawed.

You make a beeline for your borrowed room, throwing open the closet doors to find the coat you’d left hanging there on arrival.  The coat you’d worn to and from Yoongi’s.  You hurriedly dig into the pockets, fingers immediately making contact with something hard and jagged.  

You pull it out.

The shiny silver key in your palm looks like it’s never been used, sharp edges gleaming in the waning sunlight streaming into this room.

You don’t have to guess what it’s for.

You just close your fingers around it and hold it tight.

*****************

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