#that buzzing sound you hear are my clippers

[malakaie]

i'm gonna shave ospreay's head until he agrees to return the curls

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART II

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

-

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

-

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

-

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

-

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

-

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

-

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

-

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[converted-rubbertoy]

I wake up panicked, where am I? Strapped to a chair holding me upright and covered neck down in latex. The inky black sprawling across my body, hugging tightly to my skin. My beautiful long hair draped down my shoulders, brushing against my cheeks softly. I stare at the ominous red blinking of the camera staring back at me, the large lense capturing my every movement and emotion written on my face. Trying to explore my predicament, I find my hands encased in black rubber balls; rendering my hands useless. I wait for what seems like forever until I hear the click of the door. He walks in wearing a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled and black dress pants, the sound of his dress shoes clicking on the floor beneath him fills the room as he stalks closer to his prey. He walks behind me; out of view and the only thing I hear is the snapping of latex and he puts on his latex gloves. He says nothing to me, barely acknowledging my presence, like I’m an item in need of restoring. meticulously setting his tools aside, out of my eyesight and unable to see, I only hear the clink of various items against the metal tray. He grabs a brush and begins brushing my long hair softly, combing knots from tip to root, relaxing my nervous body. He gathers my luscious locks into one hand and pulls taught, the buzzing of clippers coming to life. Immediately panic consumes me but it’s too late; I’m helpless against him. The clippers make quick work of my hair, locks falling past my face as I being to sob, drool and tears coating my face, loose hairs sticking; my hair gone and left with a buzz cut. Thinking it’s over with, I begin to calm, coming to terms with the long growth journey ahead when he pulls out his shaving cream, coating the brush with the soap and lathers the rest of the hair I have left. The sobbing begins harder than before as I feel the straight razor blade glide across my scalp, leaving a cool air in its wake. He finishes by wiping my bare scalp with a towel and applies a hood, perfectly molded to my face. The tight latex stretching over my face and stretching and pulling into place. The hood clung to my head, the feeling unlike any other on my bare head. And all I hear from behind me is the click of a lock and he grabs my chin and whispers into my ear “awe, it’s okay baby, we can save it to make you a wig”

[hellowhisperingstars]

It'll Grow Back

Summary: You do something you’ve always wanted to do. Your mother hates it and has no problem telling you so. But what will Eddie think?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Words: 1791

Warnings: Mom is a bit mean but that's pretty much it. Cussing, Fluff. Not proofread cause I didn't want to. Please let me know if there are any mistakes!

AN: The girl in the photo doesn't indicate what the reader looks like. It's just to show the hairstyle!

You did it. You actually did it. Looking at the clippers in your hand, a breath left your lips as your eyes gazed down to the sink in front of you. Your hair that your mother was so proud of was laying in clumps in the basin, on the counter, and the floor. On your shoulders as well. Glancing up into the mirror you stared wide eyed at yourself. It was gone. All gone.

Putting the clippers down you ran your hand over the soft peach fuzz that now covered your entire head. A wide smile graced your lips as you let out a little laugh, you had always wanted to do this at least once in your life, buzz all the hair from your head, just to say that you did. Happy tears welled in your eyes as you covered your mouth. You looked so cool! 

Turning your head from left to right you couldn’t stop touching it. 

Then you heard it, the sound of the garage door opening. Panic filled you. Your mother was going to kill you. She loved your hair, she would spend hours brushing it, styling it, making sure it was always shiny and perfect. As quickly as you could you collected all the hair that covered you and the bathroom, tossed it in the trashcan before grabbing the bag from the little bin and tying it closed. Grabbing a towel you leaned over and wrapped it around your head like you had just taken a shower and put your dads clippers away.

Taking the bag of hair you walk out of the bathroom and head back to your room to hide it until you can toss it without her knowing. 

“Y/N? Honey, is that you?” Your mom called from the kitchen, you can hear her putting away groceries.

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, it’s me!” You call back, tossing the bag into your closet. Closing the door you close your eyes hoping, no praying, to any god that was willing to listen that she wouldn’t kill you. 

“Come help me put these away?” She called down the hall, making your heart beat faster. You would have to face the music at some point.

Taking a deep breath you let your feet take you to the kitchen where you smiled at your mom. “Hey!”

“Hi baby,” She smiled as she placed some cans of fruit in the pantry. “Can you start putting those frozen things away?”

“Yeah, no problem.” You nod carefully making sure your little towel hat doesn’t fall off. 

“Thank you!” She says as she moves around putting more items away. “When we’re done here I’ll brush your hair for you. Okay?”

“That’s okay,” You said quickly. A little too quickly. Coughing, a little to clear your throat you put away the frozen items. “I can do it.”

“You know I love to do it.” She said walking behind you, placing her hand on the towel gently. 

“I’m actually going to be leaving right after this. I told Eddie I’d meet him for lunch.” You said standing up quickly and moving away from her. 

“He can’t wait five minutes?” She scoffed her hands on her hips.

“He only gets thirty minutes for lunch, mom.” 

“It won’t take that long.” She said pointing to the chair she pulled out from the kitchen table. “Sit.”

“Mom, it’s fine I can brush my own hair.”

“Why are you being so stubborn today?” She huffed walking over to you. She grabbed your shoulders and pushed you into the chair, closing your eyes tightly as you waited for your death. You felt the towel unravel from your head as she took in a gasping breath that was honestly more like a scream. “What happened?!”

Turning around you grabbed the back of the chair and looked up at her with a shrug. “I shaved it off.” 

“Why would you do that?!”

“I wanted to.” 

“You wanted to?!” She screeched, throwing the towel onto the counter. “You had such lovely hair! We spent years growing it out!”

“No, I spent years growing it out for you!” You shouted, pushing yourself out of the chair and rubbing the soft peach fuzz again. “I wanted something different! Just once in my life I wanted to control what my hair looked like!”

“What do you think Eddie is going to say about this?” She yelled her hands on her hips.

“Eddie’s not going to care!”

“He’s going to leave you.” 

“No, he’s not!”

“No one is going to want to date someone with hair like that!” She said with tears in her eyes. “How do you expect me to explain this to the neighbors when they see you?”

“Tell them it’s my hair and I’ll do what I want! It’s not a big deal, it'll grow back!” You yelled at her as you stormed from the kitchen. Grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door you pulled it on as she continued to yell at you, but you had tuned her out by this point. Pulling your keys from your bag you quickly left your house pulling the hood of your jacket up over your head. You didn’t see the big deal, it was just hair. You liked it… 

Chucking your bag into your car you flopped in and started the engine, ignoring your mother who followed you from the house still screaming at you to come back inside. You are an adult, you can make your own decisions; about your hair, your life, if you were going to go back in that house, and you decided you were not going back until she calmed the fuck down. 

Pulling out of the driveway you headed towards the town. You had a lunch date after all. Hopefully Eddie would still love you after he saw it…

Pulling up in front of the record store you sighed as you leaned back in your seat. Have you made a mistake? Looking into the rearview mirror you bit your lip when you saw the little bit of hair peeking out, was Eddie going to leave you over this? He liked your hair too, he was always playing with it, pulling on it in heated moments. Oh god you had fucked up. Putting your face in your hands you sniffled a little before a knock on your car window made you jump. Looking up you can see Eddie as he stood next to your car with a smile on his face as he waved, gesturing you out of the vehicle.

Unlocking the door you wiped at your face, trying not to show how upset you are and smiled at him as he opened the door for you.

“Hey you.” He smiled as you grabbed your bag. 

“Hey baby.” You said as you fixed your hood a little. “How’s work?”

“Taking forever to end but it’s lunch time and I am starving. I stopped by the deli on the way to work today and got us sandwiches with some fruit. You know since you’re trying to get me to stop eating my weight in chips.” He laughed as he held up the bag he had pulled out of the fridge in the break room. 

You let out a little huffed laugh and pulled the blanket out of the backseat that you had thrown in there a few days ago. “Picnic in the park?”

“Picnic in the park.” He nodded, locking and closing your car door once you had stepped out with your bag and the blanket bundled up in your arms. Together you walked across the street to the small park that Hawkins had and laid the blanket out so you could sit and be comfortable. Pulling the bag towards him he started to take your lunch out and looked up at you as you fiddled with the sleeves on your hoodie. “You okay sweetheart? You seem upset.”

“I’m fine.” You nodded, fixing your hood again. “I.. uh.. Got into a fight with my mom.”

“What about?” He muttered, handing you a sandwich and watched as you opened the little bowl of fruit putting a grape in your mouth.

“My hair. Like usual.” You said through your chewing. 

“Do you want to cut it or something?” Eddie asked curiously, cocking his head to the side. It wasn’t a new fight for the two of you and he’s been there to watch a few of them. He never quite understood your moms obsession with your hair. 

“I.. kind of.. Already did.” You said tossing half a grape to a duck that waddled by. “But it looks stupid and I’m regretting it.”

“Show me.”

“What?” Looking up at him you squint your eyes in the afternoon sun.

Taking a bite of his sandwich he gestures to your hood. “Your hair. Show me. You know I'll never lie to you, but I'm sure it doesn’t look stupid. You look amazing no matter what.”

Biting your lip shook your head for a moment before his quiet “come oooon” made you smile a little bit. Closing your eyes you pulled the hood off your head and waited for his reply. A few moments go by and dread fills you. This is it. He hates it. He’s going to do what you mom said he would and he’s going to leave you. Why did you do this?

“Holy shit.” Was all he said as he looked at your buzz cut. “That’s so metal!”

“What?” You ask, looking at him with wide round eyes. 

“You look so hot babe!” He said dropping his sandwich and wiping his hands on his jeans before gesturing you closer. He needed to feel it right now or he would die. “I love it!”

“Really?” You asked with a laugh as he ran his hands over the short soft hair. 

“Fuck yeah! Look at you!” He laughed as he cupped your cheeks before pulling you in for a kiss. “So pretty no matter what you do.”

“You don’t think I look dumb?” You asked, letting him kiss your face. “Mom said you would break up with me. That you wouldn’t like it.”

“Okay well your mom is wrong. I love it and I’m not going to break up with you over some hair.” He said rubbing your head. “The thing about hair is.. It grows back. I like it. But more importantly do you like it?" 

“I love it.”

“Then that’s all that matters. I’m gonna get you a leather jacket and you are going to look so hot!”

Laughing you spent the rest of his lunch with his hand occasionally rubbing your head as you both ate. He couldn’t get enough of it and that made you feel so much better.

[agaypanic]

Hey hey heeey! How's my favourite writer going?

Okay, this request is a little inspired because I recently cut my hair so:

How would Reese be like with a person with Long or short hair?

or!

Reese recently tried to prank reader with the "fake hair clipper" thing. To make it more believable, he actually puts a hair clipper in her hair and was NORMALLY supposed to play the sound on his phone or something. Since Reese is a little um...dense? I'd like to say?...He mixes up the buttons and accidentally turns the hair clipper on and shaves a part of Reader's hair. Yeah...Reader isn't too happy about that 😀. But! Reese manages to fix the catastrophe later on!

You do not have to do both ofc!

I really do hope you're having a good day, stay safe!

Just a Trim (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Sick of the summer heat, you wanted a haircut. Reese sees this as an opportunity to play a prank on you. But like most things Reese does, it doesn’t go as planned.

A/N: omg someone calling me their favorite writer makes me wanna cry, ily anon. i hope you’re having a good day too!! also, slight modern AU because Reese has a cellphone

***

“Reese, I dunno about this. Maybe I should just go to a salon.” You said, nervously toying with the towel that was laid over your shoulders. The California heat was extremely brutal this summer, so you wanted to trim your hair a bit. Reese had volunteered to do so, claiming it couldn’t be that hard to do. After all, if his dad could do it, why couldn’t he?

“It’s like you don’t trust me, Y/n.” Your boyfriend responded as he looked around the junk drawer for some scissors.

“I don’t.” It was only half a joke. He found a pair of scissors and went over to you. 

“Rude.” He drew all your hair back so it rested behind your shoulders. “How much do you want off?”

“Just a little bit.” Reese suddenly set the scissors down on the counter.

“I’ll be right back; I’m gonna get a comb.” He then went to the bathroom. You could hear him rummage around down the hall. You didn’t think it’d take so much searching to get a comb, considering your boyfriend’s hair was one of his most prized assets. But you brushed it off because soon he had come back. “Ready?”

“Yup.” You closed your eyes. Even if it came out a bit lopsided, you enjoyed getting haircuts. It was something about being handled with care. So you relaxed in the chair and waited for Reese to make the first chop. It seemed to take unnecessarily long, but you chalked that up to him being nervous about messing up. “Just go for it, Reese.”

Immediately after you said that, you heard a buzzing sound very close to your head. Suddenly a part of the back of your head felt cooler and not as weighed down by your hair. You froze, eyes wide open.

“Reese.” You took a deep breath. “What did you do?”

“It’s not that bad.” He said nervously. You turned around in the chair to look at him. He looked scared as he held his phone in one hand and hair clippers in the other. The clipper was full of your hair.

“Oh my God, Reese!” He flinched; you were using the same tone that his mom would use when finding out about something despicable he had done. “What’s wrong with you?!”

“It was an accident!”

“What do you mean it was an accident? The clippers are in your hand.”

“I was gonna play a buzzing sound on my phone to make you think I buzzed it off, but….” Reese sighed, setting the clippers on the table. “But my hands got mixed up. I’m really sorry, babe.”

You stood from your seat, grabbed the hand mirror that Reese had brought, and stalked off to the bathroom. Reese nervously tailed you. You turned your back to the bathroom mirror and used the handheld one to try to see the damage.

“Jesus.” You whispered. Lifting the back of your hair up, there was a practically bald stripe in the back of your head, reaching the middle of your skull.

“It’s not that bad, baby.” Reese tried to convince you, but he still winced as he looked at your hair through the big mirror. You let your hair down, pointing the hand mirror at him with a glare.

“You’re gonna fix this.”

“What?! How?” Reese followed you back to the kitchen. You picked up the clippers and shoved them into his hands before situating yourself back in the chair.

“Make it even. How else?” Your boyfriend looked nervous, making you sigh. “Reese, this is your mess, and you gotta fix it. I refuse to go out in public like this.”

After many words of encouragement and some threats when he tried to stop, Reese had finished fixing the disaster that he had made. Although it wasn’t originally what you wanted, it felt nice to have less hair in this crazy heat. 

“You look hot with an undercut,” Reese told you while you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“Yeah, I do.” You responded, staring at your reflection. You turned around to look at your boyfriend, arms wrapping around his neck to give him a kiss. “I’m still mad at you, though.” You whispered against his lips.

“Yeah, I figured.”

[amuchneededhaircut]

I have long blonde hair that reaches my butt. I wanna take the plunge and get my haircut, never had a short haircut in my adult years, what would you forcefully do to my hair. Would I leave bobbed buzzed pixied nape shaved or some bangs??. Also would you make me sweep up the hair on the floor

Sounds like it's time someone sat you down for a proper haircut. All that blonde hair has to be snipped short, one lock at a time. If you're lucky you might get to keep it as a bob, but if I hear any complaining, I'll have to get out the clippers. And of course since you made the mess, you can sweep up afterwards.

[hair-and-headshaves]

i have long (down to my butt), thick, shiny brown hair. i've been always very protective over them. im also your shy girlfriend and ask you for a haircut during a hot moment between us. i tell you that you can do anything that you want, but make it very sensual. you cover my eyes and start the process

what do you do?

All you can hear is the sound of clippers buzzing around you, and you feel these clippers running over and around your scalp, as well as your long hair occasionally sliding down your shoulder and onto the floor. Moments later I tell you to open your eyes. You now see what’s been left of your hair. What remains is a short, fuzzy buzzcut. Not even an inch is left.

[you-aremy-sunshine]

ten things i hate about you ☆ bonus ☆ - b.b.

summary: you have met this man once in your life, at a bar after you passed out. and the second time you meet him it definitely is less pleasant. thankfully you never ever have to see him again. except now you are forced on a plane with him to the mediterranean because the tickets are non-refundable. fuck this.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: cursing, maybe?

a/n: GUYS😭😭 i'm literally leaving all y'all DRY. i am deeply sorry i just have like NO inspiration. (cuz like i get inspo from my life but i have no fucking action rn guys💀) ANYWAYS i hope u like it cuz its all ur getting until like a week or 2 from now🤭🫶

also i meant to post this after i finished the series but i wanted to give y'all smth

top five insults by barnes and y/l/n

number one

you could hear the buzz of the hair clipper coming from the bungalow bathroom. the sound stopped abruptly, and bucky walked out. you looked up from your book to see bucky putting his fancy clippers away into his suitcase.

“i just love what you did to your hair,” you exclaimed, “how did you get it to come out of your nose like that?” you mocked innocence, trying to hold back laughter.

“very funny, y/n…” he said, mocking you, while walking back into the bathroom to inspect his nose.

number two

you adjusted the cotton sundress you had on in front of the mirror, trying to get it to fit properly. the part holding your boobs up didn’t sit properly and the straps were too big.

“at this point you should just take the mirror with you,” bucky remarked.

“honestly, i think you’re just jealous that you look like a ‘before’ picture and i look like an ‘after picture’,” you spun around to face him, arms crossed agaisnt your torso.

you turned back around and found a way to make the dress feel comfortable.

“okay, i got to agree that was a good one,” he laughed, his eyes drifting over your outfit.

number three

“oh my god, bucky look,” you signaled towards a book, “10 ways to help your everyday life this is perfect for your pathetic life,” you flashed him a wide grin.

he picked it up, inspected it, but you could tell he was trying to fight a smile.

“hmm,” he said, thoughtfully, “don’t worry about me, sweetheart, worry about that hideous wardrobe.”

“i know you love it, i saw the way you were eyeing my sundress the other day,” you hit his arm, snickering.

he nodded in response to your reply, a sneaky grin lingering.

number four

the two of you were emptying the dishwasher of the bungalow, you were drying the plates and bowls, and bucky was putting them away.

“this isn’t dry enough, y/n,” bucky insisted, flipping the mug over, while watching the extra water drip out of it, “you left some water in here.”

“do it yourself then,” you said, rolling your eyes at him.

“you’re just adorable, y/n!” bucky said, laughing to himself a bit, “you’re just like my cat, stupid and fiesty for no reason.” he began to cackle.

“aww! and you’re just like a clown, no hidden reason behind that,” you smiled up at him mischievously.

number five

you were spending your downtime standing by the kitchen counters, checking your phone. bucky was standing next to you, baking a small batch of muffins.

“literally every guy i get matched with on this stupid app is mediocre,” you said scrolling through a dating app, “i hate online dating.”

“oh honey, im so sorry for you,” bucky said, faking pity, “all those guys are just way too out of your league. you have miles and miles to go before you reach mediocre!” as he said that he crouched down to your height.

“shut the fuck up barnes,” you said pushing his face away from you.

he let out a loud cackle, pleased with your response.

----

hope u liked it cuz its all i got rn🙂🙂

masterlist

[ughdontbeboring]

Stay

Syverson x Reader (WoC)

Sy adjusts to being home.

warnings: angst, ptsd (?), coping, mentions of war, smut 🥲🤷🏽‍♀️

sidenote: dammint I will finish those other wips before New Years! 😩🥲 this has been on my mind for months and I just did the outline and I hadnt been in the mood to write it but here it is! Its ANGST AF YALL! Ok so I do two things ANGST AND SMUT! Also it’s 2:30 am here and I’m at work sleepy af so yea.

do not use or translate my work anywhere BUT please do like,love,comment,reblog all that good shit if you fucks with it 🤪

Texas.

94°. It was a fucking 94° out, it may be a normal summer evening for Texas, but even after all these years she still wasn’t accustomed to this kind of dry weather, not a fucking breeze of wind in sight. Thank God the sun would be setting soon, the heat was slowly staring to break.

She shut the last bedroom door as she walked to the kitchen passing the master bedroom door, she had just finished cleaning the babies rooms. Both rooms fairly easy to clean since both children were still so young. She could relax now, the rest of the day was for her and her hubby once he finished up outside.

She looked through the cabinets for the snacks to start their binge Saturday. They usually reserved Fridays and Saturdays for their mommy daddy time since some Sundays they meet Sy’s mama for church in the morning and the evening was a big family dinner followed by time spent getting ready for the week. There was always a lot of work to be done on the ranch, though she had her own job in the near by city of San Antonio she made sure to help Sy on Sunday evenings plan the week out for his family business.

She was laying out all the snacks up on the cute tray she had for movie nights when the heavy wooden front door busted open and bounced off the wall, causing her head to snap up. He was moving so fast she hardly caught his imposing figure barreling past the kitchen and down the hallway.

“Sy?”

no response.

“Sy” she said a with a bit louder as she walked toward the hallway he just disappeared down, she could hear distant voices outside and thats when she realized the front door was still open. She moved to close it, wondering what had happened.

Before she could close the door she seen Sy’s riding lawnmower sitting idling in the middle of their lawn. Her mind started to whirl, not again.

One of the ranch workers was talking to another worker before getting off their horse and making their way towards the abandoned machine. She glanced at his face as he sent her a small almost sympathetic smile. One that no matter how kind, Sy would not appreciate. He wouldn’t want sympathy. She returned the small smile before mouthing thank you and shutting the door.

Her palms laid on the door as she took some deep breathes, sending a quick prayer that God would help her get them both past this.

Her body felt heavy, like she could feel the pain, the emotions suffocating the air as she walked down the hallway. Every step closer to their bedroom made her feel like her heart was going to beat right out her chest and die on the floor while she was forced to stay alive just to watch.

When she rounded the corner of the master suite she could make of the sound of a low buzz. If she closed her eyes she would have thought she stopped walking, everything felt at a stand still.

But her feet would not let her stop, her heart pulling her closer and closer to the heart it belongs to. That very heart stopped and squeezed in her chest at the sight before her.

His back was to her. The clippers in his hand, the buzz even louder now. Almost deafening. He was gripping them so hard his knuckles were white. His body tight, the muscles under his damp skin rolling with tension. He looked ready to pop at any moment.

His eyes, oh God his eyes broke her. She could see him staring at himself in the mirror, but his eyes were empty, so far away. No doubt replaying every moment every second of the hard things he had to do while a million miles away from home, from her. The life and duty he had lived since he was just a young man. The men he’s lost to war, the parts of himself he lost, still mourning all of it.

She had to fight back the sob that sat in her chest threatening to claw its way out. She couldn’t even stop herself is she tired as she moved forward to him slowly.

“Sy”

She waited a few feet behind him, standing to the side allowing her body to be fully visible. Though Sy would never hurt her on purpose she didn’t want to surprise him in this state.

“Baby look at me” she pleaded softly.

His eyes slowly moved to hers in the reflection. She moved forward and wrapped her hand around his wrist holding the hair clippers and the other hand resting on his back.

“Buzz?” She asked.

She watched as he shook his head yes.

“Let me help, please” she said in a gentle voice. She took it as an ok when he didn’t move to stop her as she slowly pulled him away from the counter. Once there was enough room she jumped on the large vanity, there was enough room to sit comfortably without her butt falling into the sink.

The past 2 days or so Sy had been slightly off and it made sense now. If she didn’t know the man so intimately she’s sure she wouldn’t have even noticed, that’s how well Sy hide it.

He was breathing heavy but at least he was looking at her now. Eyes watching her as she slowly brought the clippers up to his head. His hair wasn’t super long but it was getting longer then Sy had been allowed to have it since he joined right after High School. She watched the first patch of hair fall and gaged his reaction. His eyes followed it as it fell on her lap, his fingers brushing it off before looking back at her, a small nod letting her know it was ok to continue.

She let out a breathe she didn’t realize she was holding. He wasn’t in the clear but it was the first crack in the ice.

A few minutes later the last patch of hair fell, and she watched Sy look in the mirror, the icey exterior slowly melting, the warmth of a brilliant blue ocean on a summer day swirling back into his eyes.

Without warning the big bear of a man crashed into her, knocking the air out of her. A loud “oof” leaving her as he buried his face in her neck. Inhaling as his hand roamed her body.

“Hey hey, it’s ok baby” she repeated over and over as her hands ran over his tense body and scratching lately at his scalp. Her heart eased as she felt the tension slowly, very slowly start to leave his body.

“Thank you” he said startling her, she let the tears fall, he was slowly coming back.

“I love you” she replied without hesitation “always”.

She pulled him back from her neck to place soft kisses on his neck, working her way up his face, she kissed every inch on his face before landing on his lips. The salty taste of his sweat strong.

“Scooch back baby”

She jumped down from the counter and walked over to the tub. She turned on the water for a shower, her hand checking the temp. Once she was satisfied she walked back over to the father of her children and started to under dress him. She made quick work of his clothes before throwing them in the hamper, sitting his boots on the side of it. At this moment she was thankful her mother was in town and had the kids. They were having a grandparents slumber party at Sy’s mother house on the north side of the ranch.

She tangled Sy’s hand in her before pulling him toward the tub and guiding him in. She pulled her shirt and shorts off and left them on the floor before climbing in the shower with him.

She had Sy rise before working the soap into the loofah she had once she switched with him so she was standing under the water. She could feel her long box braids start to soak as she started to rub the loofah into his neck and shoulders. Taking her time as she working down each arm. She could feel his eyes burning into her.

She scrubbed his board chest and continued down, washing each strong thick leg and washing over this man hood, trying not to pull too much as she felt him start to harden slightly in her hand. She clenched her legs at the feel of his heavy cock in her hand.

Focus you hoe she lightly scolded herself.

She worked her way back up and ran up his chest, her eyes watching the suds before going over his neck and down his back. Her body pulling closer into his as she scrubbed his back. Her breathe hitching at the feel of his semi hard cock against her.

She quickly washes up while Sy rises off, his hand going to cup her breast. His thumb working over he nipple, soapy suds dripping down her full breast.

“Fuck” she moaned. Sy needs you YN! Her brain yelled, right now was not about her.

She had Sy lay down in the tub, they made sure from the beginning when the house was being built that the tub was big enough for her bear. Once Sy is comfortable, she crawls on his lap, the soap making her extra slippery.

With her straddling over his hips she grasp his cock in her hand, giving him a few strokes to get him from semi hard to just where she needed him to be. It didn’t take much, Sy’s cock growing harder and harder.

She sunk herself down into his length, slowly taking him inch by inch. They both groaned. Sex wasn’t the way to work through this, well not alone. She need Sy grounded and this was one of the ways that worked for them, after and when he was ready he would talk to her. For right now, she wanted him to feel her, ground himself, root himself deep inside her.

Once she had Sy full seated inside her, she let out a hiss at the stretch, it always took a moment to adjust. She slowly lowered her face to his. His gaze intense as he watched her every move.

Her body starting to rock, as Sy’s hand gripped her hips, pushing her into a pace he needed. Her breast brush against his hard chest as they stared into eachother eyes.

That cold ice that had went up so quick was slowly coming down more and more. She could start to feel the warmth from his body again, his body relaxing under her touch.

“I’m here, your here, your never going back so please stay here, all the way here” she whispered.

His face scrunches up for a moment as his eyes swell with unshed tears. Early retirement that been harder on Sy then they thought it would be. It wasn’t the worst case but he still had his moment here and there. That need to cut his hair as if he was going back a urge he couldn’t fight when he got like this.

It was a tell tale sign to her, their family and friends, when Sy showed up with a fresh buzz cut.

Her hips rocked harder as Sy started thrusting up into her. The feel of her tight pussy I’m gripping him in this moment just so overwhelming.

“Feel me Sy, your home baby and your gonna stay home with me and our babies, we’re all safe because of your sacrifices” she said as the tears rolled down her face again. She needed to remind him and she would whenever he needed to hear it, “you’re safe”.

“Fuck Suga” his hoarse voice said as she laid her forehead on his. Her lips pecked his check before falling to his neck, sucking gently before whispering in his ear.

“I love you Sy, you’re everything to me”

Sy groans as his fingers dig into her hips, his thrust becoming more brutal as he chased his release. She gripped his cock, her own orgasm nearing. Her mouth falling open, Sy took the chance to lick into her mouth before bitting her lip. The water from the shower head making the slapping of skin sound louder in the bathroom.

“Fucking dammint I love you more darlin’, you’re my life” He said, as his cock swelled, his milky cum spurting into her waiting warm cunt.

“Oh fuck Sy” she moaned out as her own orgasm ripped through her. Her cunt gripping at Sy’s large velvety cock. His thrusts still working them through their orgasm as her body tensed, the pleasure so overwhelming.

Sy’s thrust slowly came to a stop as YN rolled her hips gently.

She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. The shower water still hot as it rain down on them. Sy’s cock soften inside her.

“I know it wasn’t easy and it felt like hell on earth, the things you saw and did made you feel like you didn’t deserve it, that notice that you would be coming back for good but thank you for coming home to me, to us, you deserve this, you deserve all of this” She whispered a few inches from his face. Neither one of then wiped away the tears that blended into the shower rain.

“Bug, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me”

She smiled while cradling his face in her hands, her thumbs running over his bearded cheeks. His ocean eyes coming back to life.

Well damn

also!!!

henry would drop a sweaty selfie while Im posting this 🥲

[nanivinsmoke]

needed some angst on this page. adding some diversity in my writing. please don’t be mad at me for this, this just popped up into my head 🤧. I switch from 2nd to 3rd pov in this one.

“P.S. I Hate You” ~ Bruno x Fem!Reader ~ Angst

1:30 am

Her reflection stared back at her, her eyes trailing all over her sweaty, tear painted face. Her shaky hands touched her lips, she could feel her’s against her own lips. She could feel each time her lip’s met her boyfriend’s, each time his tongue met her’s. She could feel the other woman’s tongue invading her mouth. Each time his tongue met her pus—she scrambled to the toilet, hacking up what she ate a few hours ago.

She hovered over the toilet for a few more minutes, emptying out the contents from her stomach, before she flushed it and walked back over to the sink and mirror. She took another good look in the mirror, her eyes were red and puffy, slob was coated on her cheek and her complexion was now a lighter shade. She looked how she felt. Disgusting.

Her mind replayed the scenario where she caught her boyfriend cheating on her with another woman. Fucking her senseless in the bed she rested her head in every night. She could hear the sounds of their moans echoing in her ears. Y/N couldn’t help but to think, this wasn’t their first time doing this. How could he do this her? She wanted to scream, she wanted to knock everything off the sink’s marble counters, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to wake him, not yet at least.

Grabbing the mouth wash and her toothbrush, she began to erase the horrible taste from her mouth. She wanted to remove everything, including him. After scrubbing the hell out of her mouth, she quickly began to undress; turning on the shower to the hottest temperature she could manage, before stepping in. She grabbed her wash cloth and the bar of soap that sat on the shower’s shelves and began scrubbing his touch, mixed with that woman’s, off of her body.

Y/N finished about twenty minutes later, the shower was too cold by then. She wiped away the fog from the mirror and took another look at herself. Her hair had puffed up from the humidity. She touched it and could feel his hands on it whenever they made love, or when he would run his fingers through it as they cuddled.

She gagged once more and grabbed the scissors that sat on his side of the sink. She began snipping her hair away, letting it fall onto the white sink. But, it wasn’t enough. She could still feel him and she needed to get rid of everything he touched on her body. So, she opened the cabinets underneath the sink, and grabbed a pair of buzz cutter’s.

That’s when an idea popped into her mind. Her act of revenge. Although it wasn’t as cruel as sleeping with another person, she still found a way to embarrass him like he did her. She tipped toed into the bedroom where he was fast asleep and turned the clippers onto it’s silent setting, before she got to work.

11:30 Am

The sun peeked over the curtains, waking up the well rested Bucciarati. He woke up with a smile, remembering what he did last night, he made a mental note to call the woman later on today, after spending a little time with you. Speaking of you, he didn’t feel your usual shift in your side of the bed, something you do around this time. He turned to look on his right side, hoping to find you there, instead he was met with shreds of hair. ‘Was it yours?’ He thought while picking it up. But, he soon realized it was his own after inspecting it.

He scrambled out of bed, tripping on the covers he was entangled in, before rushing into the bathroom; hoping to prove himself wrong. Unfortunately, he was not. There it was, a huge bald spot was cut straight through the middle of his head. It started to from his bangs, to the top of his head. While analyzing it in the mirror, he found the note you stuck to the mirror. As he read it, he could hear the members of his gang call out his name from the lowest level in the mansion he once shared with you.

“Bucciarati!”

“I’ll be down in a minute!” He quickly responded back to Narancia’s calls, his eyes still glued on the note you wrote to him. You told him how you knew everything about his affair and that you were leaving him. His eyes skimmed over your words almost a hundred times, his emotions all over the place. Something told him to turn over the note, and when he did; he let it go in an instant. It was more than a note, on the other side was a picture you snapped of him and the other woman committing adultery. Reality had hit him. You had found out.

“There you are. What’s with the hat?” Narancia spoke, pointing out the hat that sat on his boss’s head. It was unusual to see him with one, since he hardly ever wears one. “Don’t mind him, Bucciarati. But, you do look off today. You alright, boss?” Fugo asked, nudging Narancia as he kept his eyes on Bruno; whom put his kettle on the stove, lighting it.

“I’m alright” He lied, his eyes trailing over to the blinking answering machine, before he walked over to listening to the message left on it. “One New Message” After the beep, your voice caught him off guard as he listened to the message you left him.

“I shouldn’t even be leaving you this message, but I have a lot to say to you” You began, taking a pause before continuing. “I’m leaving you, Bruno. For good. I hope it was all worth it. I hope she was worth it. I don’t care to hear your excuses for what you did. There isn’t one good enough to make me stay and be with you. I hope you’re happy. I’m sure as hell am, I don’t have to spend the rest of my life with a scum bag like you.” You chuckled and then continued on with what you had to say.

“I’ve changed my name, my number and how I look, so you’ll never get to see me again. And don’t go having Abbachio using his stand to try and find me. I’ve made it where I won’t have to be found. Boy, I could imagine your face right now. You’re probably clenching your jaw, trying to mask your embarrassment. Good, I want you to feel embarrassed” Bruno turned his head a little as he could feel his friends’ stares melt through his skin.

“I’m almost done with what I have to say, my minutes on this pay phone are almost up.” You cleared your throat, saying your last words to the man you once loved. “I hope you liked my present by the way. Bald doesn’t quite suit you though. Goodbye Bruno Bucciarati, you selfish son of a bitch” Your words had trigged him, you had embarrassed him alright. Especially in front of his subordinates. As he reached for the answering machine’s deletion button, your voice could be heard one more.

“P.S. I Hate You, bastardo”

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Whumptober Day 1: Bound

It's October so of course I'm writing again! We'll see how far I get through Whumptober this year lol.

Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Characters: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne

Summary: When Damian becomes the latest victim in a string of kidnappings across Gotham, it's down to Dick to save him and the rest of the missing kids. He just has to get there in time.

AO3 Link

~

The sound of Dick’s boots echoed in the empty hall even as his heart pounded in his chest and his comm buzzed white noise into his ear. Dim lights flickered around him, only just illuminating his path through the old abandoned hotel. But he had to keep moving, had to find the missing kids. Had to find Damian .

He pushed himself a little faster through the hall, pausing only whenever he came to a door to throw it open, then on finding it empty, start his mad dash again. They had to be here, everything pointed to this location.

Batman and Robin had been investigating a series of kidnappings over the past month. Dick had done his best to keep Damian away from the information but the kid was about as stubborn as Bruce had been when he decided on something, so Dick had let him in with the promise they did everything together.

And he’d kept that promise. He’d done so well, and then it had been Dick who’d lost him.

“Stupid.” Dick grumbled, peering into yet another empty room. Every room was empty on this floor, but there were still the ballrooms at the top to check.

He’d been so stupid, taking Damian out to do some shopping then turning away for a moment. A second had been all the kidnapper needed to grab another kid. Another victim. And it was Dick’s fault. For looking away when there was a person out there grabbing kids Damian’s age.

Alfred’s consoling voice from earlier flooded through his thoughts as he took the stairs down two at a time, ‘It is not your fault, you were simply trying to have a good day amidst all this terribleness.’ And what good had it done either of them? Panic in Dick’s chest, and a missing brother.

The only thing that kept him moving was that none of the kids had been found yet. No ransoms had been sent out either, but no bodies meant they had to be somewhere. And Dick was going to find them.

He’d tracked the kidnapper here via an unusual series of shipments of food and chemicals sent to a Dr. Keith Raimy. An ex-professor from Gotham U who’d been kicked out for multiple breaches of student privacy and theft of university property. He'd recently had a paper rejected. It's title? Fear and Trauma: Can We Make Our Kids Strong Enough for the Future, Through Fear Today? Dick had skimmed the paper, and what had been proposed inside had made him sick to his stomach.

The door to the first ball room he tried on the top floor was locked. Muffled, and just through the door, Dick could hear screams. In a fit of rage, and fueled by the panic Dick was only just keeping in check, he kicked it down. The old rotting hinges gave way and the thing toppled backward with a heavy thump.

Silence filled the room for a moment, giving Dick a breath to take it in. Mostly empty, it had rotting carpet and peeling wallpaper. A tattered chandelier hung from the ceiling, pieces held on by a few dangling wires, but mostly disassembled either from time or theft.

Huddled in a group in one corner of an old ballroom, were children. The children Dick had been searching for. From what he could see, they were bound with some sort of rope, and looked rough, but alive and breathing.

At the far back of the room there was a stage, or what had once been used as a stage. Now it was mostly just a raised platform with tall floodlights dragged up to it, a rumbling generator the source of their power. It was cluttered with other equipment too, tables filled with jars and beakers, boxes opened with bits poking out of the top, and a laptop hooked up to a microscope. Standing among the clutter was Dr. Raimy in a stained lab coat just blocking a table.

He had turned to stare at Dick when the door came crashing down. Now, he moved to raise his arm, mouth opening, and in the next breath the moment of silence was broken as the screaming started again. The doctor tensed, shifting a bit to cover the table, but it wouldn’t help.

Clear now, the voice was unmistakably Damian’s, high and terrified in a way Dick had never heard it before and it was coming from behind the doctor.

Dick bolted forward, slipping batagrangs out of his belt. Damian was his only thought. His boy was up there, terrified and suffering all because of the man in front of him.

Dr. Raimy jumped to the side, attempting to make a run for it, and stumbled into another table. It gave Dick long enough to cover most of the distance between them and fling a few batarangs in the man’s direction. One caught his jacket, and the other stabbed into junk on the table making him yelp.  He jerked back, and then turned towards the table he’d been guarding, making a second dart for it, and the figure writhing atop it. Red clouded Dick’s vision as he got his first clear view of his little brother, strapped down to the table with a long strand of barbed wire, and straining against it as he yelled.

Dick roared, and leapt up to the platform, grabbing the doctor as he did so. The man released an aborted shout as Dick flung him back and away from the table into a pile of boxes. He turned for a moment to Damian, catching sight of his brother’s pupils blown wide. He hadn’t even registered the action beside him, trapped in whatever horrorscape he’d been dropped into.

The sound of rustling indicated that Raimy was already pushing himself up, babbling something about science and progress and Batman not understanding.

He stalked forward, raising himself up to as imposing a height as possible and kicked at the doctor, knocking him back into the boxes to stun him. Then, he reached down and dragged the man upwards.

“What did you give him?” he demanded.

“It was--a mixture of my own making.”

Dick shook him so hard that he heard something pop, “Did you make an antidote?”

Behind him, Damian’s screaming changed pitch to something even more desperate.

“ Tell me .” he growled.

“T-there, it’s--it’s in the line of blue vials. Please don’t kill me, I was only trying-”

Dick didn’t give the man the time to finish his sentence, he punched him square in the face, and dropped him unconscious back into the boxes. Then he was over at the vials, thankfully a syringe had already been filled or he’d have to waste time figuring out how much to give Damian. He pocketed it, swapping it out in his hand for a pair of wire clippers and rushed back to the table.

“Damian, I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s alright.” Dick said, voice gentle, “I’m getting you out of here.”

Something must have gotten through to him, because Damian stilled at his words, staring with wide, terrified eyes up at Dick. Dick tried not to look at the red lines of blood on Damian’s arms and chest he worked on clipping the barbed wire, instead murmuring quietly to Damian to keep him calm.

Thankfully, the man hadn’t totally wrapped Damian in the stuff. The single band was thick and strong enough to keep a drugged kid down, but hopefully hadn’t done too much damage. Still, it made Dick’s stomach churn as he lifted it as gently as he could off his brother, Damian making only the tiniest of sobs as each barb still embedded in his skin pulled out.

“Just one more second, sweetheart.” Dick whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t carrying over to the other kids. There was murmuring coming from them by now, as they realized rescue was at hand, but Dick’s focus was on the kid currently in need of the most help. At last, Dick dropped the discarded wire onto the table and leaned back to find the vial of the antidote.

Something about the sound of the wire, or a movement Dick made, or just whatever concoction the doctor had given him triggered something in Damian the moment Dick leaned away. He shot up from where he’d been lying, and grabbed the wire with both hands, heedless of any damage it was causing.

Dick reached for him, ready to pull the barbed wire away from him but Damian scooted back, precariously close to the edge of the table and yelled, “No! Don’t!”

“Hey, it’s alright, why don’t you give me that?” Dick asked, trying to calm him back down.

“Stop!” Damian yelled again, gripping the wire tighter and pressing it to his chest, “Don’t take him!”

“Damian please, you have to let go. It’s hurting you.” Dick tried again, wincing as red started to drip down the wire.

“No! I won’t let you!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick held up both hands, whatever Damian was seeing must have been convincing and he didn’t want to hurt the kid by forcing the barbed wire out of his hands, he’d only tear them up more that way.

“Would you let me give you something?” Dick asked, gently lowering his arms to retrieve the syringe, “It’ll make you feel better.”

Damian eyed him, the look almost like what he’d normally make when suspicious, but just off enough from the drugs, “Yes?” he said.

“Great. I just need your arm, you don’t have to let go of anything or anyone okay?” Dick said, slowly reaching for Damian’s arm with his free hand. When the boy let him place his hands by his elbow, Dick angled it up, then after a moment, praying he hadn’t been lied to, injected his brother with the liquid in one motion.

Damian jerked back, squeezing the wire closer to him and went tumbling from the table. Dick lunged over it, and just managed to hook an arm around the kid, tugging him up. He heard the clatter of glass falling and hitting the ground as the syringe that had still been stuck in Damian’s arm slipped out and shattered.

“No! No! Stop!” Damian wailed, kicking and jerking in Dick’s hold.

Mindful that if he tugged Damian into his chest the barbed wire would do more harm, Dick decided he'd restrain him by pulling his back towards him. That was easier said than done with a flailing kid. At last, Dick had an arm hooked under Damian’s arms and had him held tight against him, seated again on the table. His brother continued to scream and kick and tug at him for another minute, then two, until gradually Damian’s own chest slowed it’s rapid rise and fall and his cries quieted down to nothing.

“Batman?” His voice was tiny, shattered from screaming, but almost lucid.

Dick dropped his face into Damian’s hair and sighed, “Yeah, I’ve got you.”

He let go of Damian and stepped around to face his front. There, he pointed at the tangled barbed wire still in Damian’s hands, “Will you hand me that?”

Damian looked down surprised to see it, “Oh.”

Wincing he released it, and before anything else could happen, Dick balled it up and tossed it away from them. When he turned back to Damian, the kid was staring down at his palms that were red and torn. He hadn’t said anything else, but Dick could hear the tight way he was breathing, the sound almost like whistles, like he was holding back the pain.

He dug out some gauze, wraps, and something to numb the pain, “Here, let me.”

With gentle motions Dick bandaged Damian’s hands. When he was done, he dropped a kiss onto the knuckles of each one, “Wait for me right here? I have to help the others.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, “The kids--”

“Are mostly fine.” Dick said, sparing them another glance, they’d been remarkably patient, but their chatter had gone up from quiet murmurs to full conversations, “But eager to be untied I’m sure.”

His brother nodded. Even though it tore at Dick’s heart to step away, he did. And he took as much time with each of them as they needed. Batman couldn’t focus only on one child after all, especially when others showed signs of having gone through something similar to Damian.  Gradually though, Dick got them all settled down, untied, and called Oracle to let her know to send police and paramedics. Then he swung by Damian to scoop him up into his arms --the kid for once not arguing being carried-- and corralled everyone downstairs.

Dick could see the lights of the emergency vehicles through the windows, and sent the children out before him, lingering back in the building with Damian. The last thing he wanted to do was let go of his brother, even if it was to hand him off to medical professionals. He’d just gotten him back, and the mere thought of having him out of his sight for a second felt impossible to manage. All he could think of were the number of --mostly implausible-- ways Damian could end up hurt or in danger again.

He was starting to see why Bruce had been so protective of his Robins.

"Batman?" Damian's voice was very quiet in the dim lighting.

"Yes?"

Damian shifted so his face was pressed a little closer to Dick's neck, "I'm sorry. I got caught."

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I let you get taken."

"I-" Damian sighed, "Thank you for coming."

Dick tugged him a little closer, mindful that he still had injuries that needed to be cared for, "Always. Now, what do you say we sneak out and let Alfred finish patching you up? The police are used to Batman disappearing, and I found you before I ever reported you missing."

Damian, hummed, “I would like that, I want to go home.”

Dick pressed a kiss into Damian’s hair, “Then straight home we go.”

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: namjoon and y/n can’t get enough of each other & it shows

➳ pairing; kim namjoon x y/n

➳ genre; lveb!universe!!! smaybe/smalmost/smerhaps smut?? slightly suggestive is what i’m trying to say idk!! namjoon and y/n are obsessed with each other and yoongi likes making a big deal about it because both their faces get really red and it’s funny to him 

➳ wordcount; 1.7k

➳ gif sourced from here but please note that it still remains property of its original maker!

                                      »»————-　♥　————-««

“hello, hellooo!” yoongi kicks the door shut behind him as he steps into your apartment, tossing his set of keys up into the air before catching it and shoving it into his hoodie pocket, “let’s rock n’ roll, y/n! i’m ready to raid the supermarket!” he claps his hands as he enters the living room, turning to stare down the empty hallway before pausing

wow

the most exciting part of his week is when you guys go grocery shopping together?

there’s really no way to make that sound even remotely cool 

“…anyone home?” yoongi’s brows furrow in concern when he’s acknowledged by nothing but the sound of silence, “y/n?”

you’re usually sitting on the couch buzzing and ready to go when he gets here so it’s a little concerning that you weren’t the first thing he saw when he got here

he turns back to look at the shoe rack, everything suddenly clicking into place when he sees that there’s a pair of larger, definitely-not-y/n-sized sneakers sitting neatly on the top shelf

ahhhhh

okay

now he understands what’s going on

no wonder you barely responded to any of his texts yesterday

you were too busy getting busy with-

“yoongi! good morning!”

“morni-” yoongi turns his head back towards the hallway quickly, his brows practically stretching up to his hairline at the sight of namjoon’s current state

first of all, the man is wearing nothing but a blanket around his waist and it’s pretty clear to see that he’s not wearing any briefs underneath 

second of all, his cheeks are flushed, his hair is ruffled, and his skin is glowing

and yoongi isn’t a self-proclaimed genius but he knows that two plus two makes four 

“wow, wow, wow! good morning indeed-” yoongi whistles, immediately looking upwards as to avoid accidentally making eye contact with namjoon’s… fifth lim- “i’m hoping that’s a cactus under your blanket and that you’re not just ecstatic to see me-” 

“oh-!” namjoon gasps lightly, quickly pulling the blanket up a little higher before turning his hips in the other direction, “i, um, i didn’t know you were coming over today!“ he chuckles awkwardly, his grip tightening on the sheets, “i just came out for some water so i wasn’t expecting to see you- uh, did you have plans with y/n today?”

“yeah, it’s sunday, so… grocery shopping and stuff.” yoongi looks back down before holding his hand up to shield namjoon’s lower half from his poor, innocent eyes, “you’re welcome to come with us, but i’m definitely going to need you to at least put some underwear on-”

“today’s sunday?” namjoon breathes out, pausing for a second before blinking quickly and shaking his head, “jeez, i thought it was saturday! time flies, huh?”

“it sure does…” the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a smirk before he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “…especially when you’re spending most of it railing y/n into oblivion-”

“yoongi-”

“speaking of y/n!” yoongi claps his hands and rubs them together, “is she ready to go?” he hums, leaning over slightly so he can peer into the hallway over namjoon’s shoulder 

“she’s, um, she’s actually still in bed but but i’ll go and tell her now that you’re waiting for her-” namjoon smiles sheepishly before pointing towards the kitchen, “do you want coffee or anything? i can make a latte for you! i’ve been practicing a lot with my frother- y/n really likes my milk foam-”

“oh, i bet she does-” yoongi snorts, leaning against the back of the couch before crossing his arms, “maybe next time, my man. you just go and get y/n for m- holy shit!” his eyes widen as soon as namjoon spins around to head back down the hallway, namjoon immediately turning back to glance at yoongi over his shoulder in concern

“what??”

“your back!” yoongi gawks, getting up from the couch to go over and force namjoon to turn back around so he can get a better look, “jesus, it looks like you got into a fight with like, ten cats!” he exclaims, his eyes glued on the fading red claw marks that start at namjoon’s shoulders and end at his lower back

he brushes his fingers over the (obviously fresh) half-crescent nail marks embedded on the tops of namjoon’s shoulders before wincing to himself, “maybe i should’ve gotten y/n a nail clipper for christmas-”

“o-oh-!” namjoon whips back around so that his back is facing the hallway before he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, offering yoongi a nervous smile, “i, uh, it’s- i’m totally fine, don’t even worry about it-”

“joonie, i-” yoongi perks up when he hears your voice only for you to pop out from behind namjoon a second later, “yoongi! ...you’re here?” you ask, ducking behind namjoon slightly and peeking at him over his shoulder

“it’s sunday, moron.”

“...?”

“oh, dear god-” yoongi gasps suddenly, eyes widening as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth, “namjoon fucked you dumb, didn’t he? i bet that banging your head against the headboard multiple times made you lose a bunch of brain cells. now i'm going to have to be the smart one out of the two of us??”

you roll your eyes immediately at yoongi’s sarcastic remark, though his comment about namjoon makes your cheeks warm slightly 

last week you slept over at his apartment so this week it was your turn to be a good host

and naturally…

let’s just say that you showed him how good of a host you were on the kitchen counter,,.., in bed,,.. on the couch,.,. in the hallway,.., in bed again.,.,

“anyway- how long do you need to get ready? twenty minutes?” yoongi pulls his phone out of his back pocket to check the time, “i wanna get my hands on a fresh, warm loaf of sourdough so we have to leave soon otherwise they’re all going to be gone and we’ll have to wait, like, five hours for the bakery to restock.” 

“right! yes! sourdough!” you clear your throat, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you sort through your thoughts

you didn’t know today was sunday so you weren’t ready to go grocery shopping at aLL 

 “okay! coffee first, then i’ll change, then we go-” you nod, nudging namjoon aside so you can brush past him 

“yeah, i think i’m gonna pop in the shower-” namjoon clears his throat, pulling the blanket up again before gesturing back towards the hallway, “i’m happy to stay here if you guys wanna go off and do your yoongi-y/n-only activities-”

“woah, woah-” 

you don’t get the chance to walk past yoongi before he’s reaching over and pinching the back of your shirt to keep you from going anywhere

you let out a little yelp when he tugs you back abruptly before twirling you around so that you’re facing namjoon 

“kim namjoon, you naughty, naughty man! what did you do to y/n??”

“wha- what?” namjoon blinks owlishly, yoongi tsking shamefully before wagging a finger at him 

“look!” yoongi gasps, hooking his finger into the collar of the shirt you’re wearing before yanking it down so he can expose more of your skin, “what, were you trying to suck the blood out of her??”

heat immediately rushes up namjoon’s neck and up to his ears when he realizes that yoongi’s referring to the multiple blotches of purple and red staining your skin 

maybe he got a little carried away last night 

but there were no complaints on your end so namjoon was more than happy to mark you up!

“he-” your face flushes and you slap yoongi’s hand away before pulling your shirt up to hide them, “they’re just hickies, yoongi-”

“first of all, only horny teenagers give each other hickies- second of all, hickies are supposed to be sexy little secrets-” yoongi hums, seemingly uncaring of the way that you wince as soon as he jabs his pointer finger directly into one of them (ow!!), “and these practically scream I’M GETTING LAID and every single single person that we pass by is going to glare at you-”

“why don’t you go and make us some coffee while i go and get changed?” you turn to give yoongi a warning look before pointing to the kitchen door, “go!” 

“i’m just looking out for the two of you!” yoongi raises his hands in defense, letting out a laugh as when you start kicking at him gently all while slowly nudging him towards the direction of the kitchen, “is it so bad of me to want to protect you from mr. mosquito over ther- ow, okay, okay-!”

you close the kitchen door shut with a breath, rolling your eyes at the sound of yoongi still babbling away to himself (“i’m realizing now that a vampire would’ve been a sexier example but mr. mosquito was the first thing that came to my head-”)

you turn your head slowly with your hand still on the doorknob, you and namjoon exchanging glances before bursting into giggles 

“sorry... you know how he gets.” you mutter sheepishly, making sure the door is closed properly before making your way back over to namjoon

“it’s all good!” he flicks his wrist at you before reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, “sorry about the, uh, the hickies.”

“it’s okay... i like ‘em, so...” you confess quietly, your stomach fluttering at the memory of namjoon’s soft lips pressing against your skin, “sorry about the scratches.” 

“no, i like them too... they remind me that i’m probably doing a good job-” namjoon grins as he slips his free arm around your waist before pulling you towards him, another soft giggle bubbling from your lips when he swoops down to give you a kiss, “guess i’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone… i’ll miss you.”

“i’ll only be gone for a couple of hours…” you tease, reaching up to pinch his cheeks together so that his lips turn squidgy, “needy.”

“for god’s sake, i’m taking her grocery shopping, i’m not sending her off to space!” the kitchen door suddenly swings open as yoongi busts through, clapping his hands loudly to break the two of you up before he flicks his wrists to get you to move, “c’mon, let’s get a move on- i want my sourdough!” 

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

🌟or something even shorter? 

[dearest-kibble]

WELLL GANG IT TOOK FOR FUCKIN EVER BUT HEY HERE IT IS ABOUT 7,000 WORDS OF KAGEYAMA. THANK YOU ALL FOR STICKING WITH ME IT REALLY MEANS A LOT THAT Y’ALL WERE STILL HERE EVEN THOUGH I WAS TAKING FOREVER LIKE HOLY FUCK MAN I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO SO SO MUCH FOR THIS AND HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT!! 

tw: noncon dacryphilia breathplay(choking) kidnapping general shady-ness  very blink and you’ll miss religious symbolism. Abuse

“Don’t mess this up Kageyama.” You wake up in an old building, seven men stand above you, head to toe in suits. And you distinctly remember reading something someday, about how the yakuza always cover their body. And about how the yakuza have a hand in human trafficking.

“Damn Kageyama, we don’t do any of that Oikawa-Gumi shit here!” The Man who's speaking is shirtless and his hair is buzzed short. He’s got a red dragon winding up his stomach and a red koi on his sternum.

“So many women were brought to Oikawa I just thought-” The man - Kageyama you assume - has black hair and blue eyes. You think he’s staring at you.

“You thought? I find that hard to believe.” A guy with glasses (do yakuza wear glasses?) sniffs and turns his nose at Kageyama. “I thought you only thought about being Oyabun.”

“Shittykawa is a liar and you all know it!”

“Still more honorable than a guy who deserted his family and has a samurai tattoo!” A considerably smaller redhead speaks up with a defiant voice.

“They betrayed me!!” His attention (if it was on you, is not anymore.) shifts as Kageyama raises his voice, flails his hands a little and starts to pace.

“Kageyama, be quiet!” A man behind you talks. The man with blue eyes immediately stops talking, the man with glasses and blonde hair laughs.

“All of you shut up!” A louder voice bounces off the walls, all five men stop talking and look to the man behind you. He’s got brown hair, short, militant and an angry-looking scowl on his face. The man next to him has silver hair, but you don’t think it’s from age. A chorus of “sorry Oyabun” echoes through the room, large, dark and empty.

“Kageyama, you will not mess this up.” Intense coal eyes stare into blue.

“No Oyabun, I will not.”

“Good because she’s under your care.” You almost expect the man with brown hair to offer you a smile, it’s the silver haired one who does.

“What?!” You turn around quickly as the voice sounds much closer than you remember it being. “I’m-” The man takes a few seconds looking at his fingers. (His left pinky is a stub) Before continuing. “Oikawa never had me do anything like that. Girls just talked to me.”

“Girls talked to you!?” A newer person, short, standing next to the shirtless one - has an energetic voice. “Why’d you ever leave?”

“Because Oikawa treats his family like shit!” And like that, the talking erupts into furious voices trying to get a word in edgewise until once more, the two behind you speak up.

“Everyone shut up!”

Once again they all fall silent.

“Kageyama, get her where she needs to go. You know what to do right?”

“Yes Oyabun.”

“Good.” His gaze is away from you, glaring at someone else as silence splits the room.

“C’mon.” He makes a show of not looking at you when he gruffly gestures for you to move to his side. Try as you might to seem calm, your joints are cold and stiff as you march to his left.

“Don’t cause a fuss okay?” He sends a sharp glare your way.

“She’s terrified Kageyama, you don’t need to scare her more.” The man with silver hair looks at you more apologetically than you’d thought a yakuza could. But as his hands rest on his hips you can see the gun holstered on his side. You look away quickly after smiling quickly.

“Yeah! Be nicer to her!” Kageyama shrugs off what the redhead says and walks towards the singular door and opens it to walk through. It leads to an empty, grey hallway - chilled and complete with flickering light. About fifteen paces ahead, there's a flight of stairs with the much-needed railing that rusts and peels in the flickering, damp hallway. There's the faint sound of city pop coming from the top of the stairs, through a bleak door with peeling paint. There are no other places of entry or exit, simply the one large, looming, decrepit door at the top of steep steps. Still begrudgingly silent, Kageyama starts up the stairs, feet falling hard on each step like drops of a guillotine. You follow numbly after him. What other choice is there really? Go back to the room with so many others? Die in a hallway while muffled music plays from a door? Your legs ache by the time you stand near the door. It’s not a high climb. Kageyama opens the door and you expect to hear nails on a chalkboard but are greeted by the soft melody of plastic love and the smell of cigarettes. The beeps of slot machines punctuate loud cheers and disappointments around a roulette table, the thwap of cards hitting the table and laughter at a bar does little to distract from the fact that Kageyama who had barely looked at you before — (Was it on purpose?)  — was staring directly at you. Pressing a hand to your face, you feel a drop of wetness on your cheek. A tear. You wipe it quickly and Kageyama turns away slowly. Eyes lingering a second after he turns his head.

“You’re slow, move quicker!” You nod in his direction though he’s already moving ahead again. The casino is loud and boisterous and though you’re sure it’s actually an illegal gambling den, many well known wealthies sit around a roulette table with a man in a suit, typical of a yakuza.

“You want a drink?” You expect it to come from a sleazy, older man wearing an old baggy suit, not the man who’s been leading you through this mess of tables and smoke and glitz. It’s fine, there are so many people around you.

“Why are you offering me a drink?” He’s turned to face you, still not smiling but eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“O-Oikawa said to offer women drinks. I-” Oikawa? He might not be so bad. Still, a yakuza who didn’t run with the good kind any more so-

“No thanks.” The confusion displayed earlier on his face, deepens into a frown that forms on his lips and lines that appear in between his brows.

“What, why?” He’s actually confused somehow.

“I don’t know you, you’re a yakuza - you might drug my drink - the list could go on?”

“I'm not going to drug you" He sounds angry and mutters "Just trying to be nice, fuck." And you've stopped for only one moment but the sleazy men you thought would hound you start to crowd, either unknowing or uncaring that you are in the custody of organized crime.

"Pretty lady want a drink? Got a margarita with your name on it." It's unsurprisingly a man with cigarettes' smoke on his breath and intoxication in his step. You note he's already holding the drink in question.

"No thank you-" You begin to answer, in a politely exasperated tone that you think is quite amicable for someone whose arm is practically around your waist.

"Listen - she's with me, alright?" Kageyama doesn't stop there, despite that in your opinion, he should. "She's mine." The words send a pang of anxiety straight through your spine and into your brain before they reach your feet and as they itch to step away into a crowd, another man speaks up someone much less intoxicated, still - with a drink in hand.

"She in trouble with the Daichi-Gumi then?" They're much more informed. And Kageyama nods to the asker.

"Guess he's still got his Oikawa roots then, huh?" And that doesn't make any sense at all because he's nothing like the man you talked to and who gave you a handsome wink and made small conversation.

"Don't compare me to that bastard." And instead of the usual anger, you think it's a note of exhaustion in his voice. And the conversation ends right there, "mine" being a forgotten word in the mix of much more confusing sentences. It's relatively peaceful after that, the scowl on your captors face scaring many others away. You continue down the luxurious gambling hall and into much quieter corridors with soft sounds passing through doors as you walk down a carpeted hallway, well lit and warmer. Once again, Kageyama opens a door and walks through. For a long, fleeting, whirlwind of a moment, you are alone before remembering that if you walk out without Kageyama, you run the risk of having a yakuza family hunting for you. Hell, they'd hunt your family, you've heard about what they do to screamers. Twisted fingers, bloody stomachs and scarred backs - missing eyes if the they’re lucky. You step through the open door and into the room. It's low-lit, casting a pleasant glow on the furniture.

Kageyama is already sitting down on an expensive - looking sofa no —loveseat. He picks up a remote from the side armrest and turns on a TV installed into the wall. Loud moans and the sound of flesh on flesh boom from the speakers before he switches to the sounds of shoes squeaking as they run across a floor. He pulls a nail clipper from his pocket to trim already short fingernails. There's a large bed with lights hanging above it on one side of the room, a wardrobe - open - full of thin clothing you wouldn't be caught dead in outside of your house. There's a small table, a bottle of wine and two glasses on mahogany wood, next to a singular unlit candle. Though the sound is gone you can’t help but linger on the moans that came from the TV and how Kageyama has led you into a room with such a large bed and a shower that has no door and is only walled with glass. You forcibly relax your jaw just before you speak.

"I'm here to-" You gulp down air, trying not to look at the silk sheeted bed. "Pay a debt."

"Yeah dumbass, what else would you be here for?" If he doesn't bring up any other possibility, neither will you.

"How?" The way that he instantly looks at you, blue eyes ever intense when he speaks  makes your stomach flip unpleasantly. You know exactly how. He’s led you to this room, what else could he be expecting?

"Daichi put me in charge of you, you'll do what I say." Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"I'm not going to do what you tell me. I'll work off my debt in this casino, but I'm not doing everything you tell me to do!” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He blinks at you, brow once again furrowed in confusion. He puts his nail clippers down on the arm of his seat, and stands, taking off his jacket in the process. You knew it - you fucking knew it.

You shuffle backwards as quickly as possible, spine hitting the round doorknob.

You can’t go any further.

Kageyama creeps forwards, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal raging water delicately inked into the toned muscle of his right forearm, chrysanthemum petals drifting downstream from a skull at his shoulder. Down his left, where his elbow meets his forearm stands a samurai, maple leaves falling gently from the mouth of a black koi that flounders to appear just over the edge of his shoulder. On the front of his chest there is only a solitary demon - red and standing amongst black clouds which dig deep - over his nipples as the Oni stands on the cool blue with its fiery feet. He walks over to you, shirt off and tugging at his belt. With a decorated arm, he sets the white shirt on your head, careful not to touch you. What flees from your lips is a very audible sigh expressing your relief that he doesn’t seem to want to violate you.

“I’m going to take a shower. Put that away for me.” You don’t even attempt to retort as you quickly move it off your head and turn away from wherever Kageyama sounded like he was. You conveniently face towards the wardrobe and walking towards it, you notice all the clothing you had neglected to think about. Short schoolgirl uniforms, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, all sorts of exposing clothing that you think for the second time, you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in. You push sets of clothing aside to find an empty hanger, not finding one, you kneel down to check the bottom of the cabinet. You find a box full of something, flat squares that are easily torn, and one empty hanger with a leather suit that probably went on it beforehand. You instinctually turn at the sound of water hitting the tiled shower. He’s standing still, body naked through the glass and quickly you avert your eyes from him. The loud crash of falling water on the tile makes you turn, despite your knowledge of where it comes from. You can see Kageyama’s naked back through the clear glass, koi and cherry blossoms disappearing in rapidly forming fog that covers the rest of his body. Watching the glass fog with the softening sound of water on tile in the dim light of the room, a dry sob of relief releases from your throat. He isn’t going to do anything. It’s just one large scare tactic. With the realization that Kageyama is just going to unorthodox lengths to make sure you don’t run, your knees buckle and you crumple to the floor, back stable against the side of the wardrobe - and you let the tears fall.

Each bone, muscle and thought eases with the knowledge that this yakuza is just taking a shower. He’s still the good kind of yakuza - Oikawa taught him well. He just happens to be a little strange. While he showers, your face is bathed with your own free tears. Your hands cup your cheeks and you smile softly into your palms, feeling so much steadier as your breathing returns to its normal steady in and out. Picking yourself up from the carpeted floor and feeling you back crack you bring yourself in front of the TV watching as people toss a volleyball into the air. It’s awfully methodical as they toss it to each side over and over, you almost forget about the pitter-patter of water behind you. You don’t even notice as it stops and the man comes out to watch you watching the game. You barely hear the zipper on his pants - just dismissing it as some sound from the game. It’s not until he’s directly behind the couch and he asks you a question that you remember where you are.

“Where’d you put my shirt?” You turn and tilt your head to look at his dripping hair, wet pants and wetter jacket.

“It’s in the closet.”

“What?”

“It’s the only place to put a shirt.” He grumbles at your words but it’s not hostile.

“You have the bed, that’s where I normally put my stuff.” You glance at the bed again and then back to him.

“Who doesn’t use a closet?”

“Next time you’re going to put it on the bed. No point in using that shitty closet - can’t find anything in there,”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” His eyes squint face lowering to yours. He blinks twice before his blues widen.

“Have you… been crying?” Your eyes must still be puffy red.

“No?” His nose is just a hairs’ width away from yours.

“You better not be lying. Lying to your Oyabun has serious consequences.” Abruptly he stands up. “And you’re mine now. You can’t lie to me.” His hair bobs as he nods and removes his dripping suit jacket. Once again the black koi  surfaces across the spanse of his muscular back.

“I’m…” You shouldn’t be asking, but he must mean this in some other way, right? “Yours?”

“Daichi told me to watch you,” He says dumbly. Well, If that’s all he means, it shouldn’t be bad. You’re going to ignore how his head turns slightly to look and that the lights that glint off his eyes menacingly. “You're part of the family now. My family” A slimy feeling crawls up your back at his words, not for the first time.

“What does that mean?”

“Talking back to your Oyabun has consequences.” It hangs over your head, his words and your next ones clashing in your mind before deciding on,

“Same can be said for thinking you’re Oyabun.” It’s a much less dangerous thing to say, now that you know you’re safe and he’s just a strange person.

“I will be Oyabun, and you’re part of my family. You already have to do what I say.” He’s scared you enough, he’s not going to do anything and you’re not even sure he can with patrons of the gambling den so near. You take a breath and steady yourself though you aren’t even nervous and without thinking-

“I’m not some part of your fucking yakuza family!” Your palm makes harsh contact on his cheek. He was just trying to scare you earlier. You turn aside as he stands still as a leaf in water. Clasping your hands together you wait trying not to think about the fact that you just slapped a yakuza. He turns slowly, wide eyes a lighter blue than you had originally thought.

“Do it again.” A large hand rubs at his red cheek. “Please?” Kageyama cocks his head to the side, hand still over his red cheek. You’re rooted to the ground, standing still, you're not going to move even if he said he wants you to hit him again.

“If you won’t do it, I will.” He removes his hand from his cheek, and makes a fist before stopping. “You had an open palm.” All four fingers of his left hand splay open as he inches towards you with confident steps. “It felt so nice to be touched by someone again.” Eyes like the Starry Night glare down while his face holds the least unsettling smile you’ve seen from him. You can’t do anything against a member of the yakuza, and the important thing about the yakuza floods back into your mind: the man with silver hair had a gun, why shouldn’t he?. You stand still as a statue, you will not flinch, you will not cry. He’s right in front of you, and you stare defiantly into his eyes as he stares right back. There is nothing to say and both of you are waiting for the first blow.

It lands.

Hard, right on your cheek and the sting is so much but so little compared to the gun that could’ve put a hole in your head. Your head is pushed to the side by force before you snap it back to look into his eyes.

“It doesn’t feel the same…” He mutters the words. “Maybe if you-”

“I’m not going to do anything you want me to.”

“Fine. I’ll try again.” And the hand connects with your cheek once again. If the first stung, the second was like a stab. Cold and sharp and the feeling staying much longer than you’d hope. Kageyama looks at you, whose face is still utterly defiant and pointed towards him. Though the red welt on your cheek is far more noticeable, he seems to be looking at your eyes.

“Shit.”  It’s a quiet utterance, but he sounds mildly put out. “It’s not gonna work unless you touch me.”

“No.”

“Either you touch me and I figure out why I get this weird pit around you. Or,” And he seems to have to think for a second about his phrasing. You think you hear a ‘can’t blow her brains out.’ “Or I give you to Oikawa.”

“Oikawa?” And you know this is a bad idea, you’re standing up to a Yakuza for fucks sake. “Oikawa just gets people to pay their protection tax. Hell, he’d clear my debt.”

“He’s the guy who has the top joint of my pinky, you don’t wanna be given to him, trust me.”

“Oikawa has a soft spot for women, he’d clear my debt and let me go.”

“He had me bring in any woman I found.” Oh. “A lot of them lived where he used to spend a lot of time. Called them prostitutes?” Oh no. “I think Oikawa would be happy to see you. Suga always says to try and make things better between our families.” He’s not going to get to you like this, you’ve seen Oikawa around - talked to him. The most harm he’d ever cause is when someone harassed a woman. Knowing this yakuza, he’s probably trying to scare you again.

“You’re lying. Oikawa helps women on the streets. I heard he even set up a safe house!” Oikawa would never do anything like what Kageyama said he would. He wouldn't!

“He called it a brothel.” He wouldn’t he wouldn’t. Oikawa always said to go to him if you needed help - he did.

“Oikawa wouldn’t do that! Not to me, not to anyone!” He wouldn’t he wouldn’t he wouldn’t.

“Shut up!” Deep unexplored, ocean blue eyes churn as the yell falls upon your ears..  

“Oikawa wouldn’t do that! He’s kind and he’s helpful!” You’re advancing so much closer to him, letting your guard fall.

“You’ll shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” His hand is gathering in a fist again, skin straining against his rapidly whitening knuckles

“No I won’t! Because Oikawa would only ever take care of a woman and treat her much better! You’re making up blatant lies to ma-” The blow lands hard on your stomach, and you stumble back on shaky feet, tripping over themselves as you try to stay upright.

“He called your “Safehouse” a brothel. He kept women there, they smiled after enough time. I won’t fucking hesitate to give you to him too.” You fall over as he speaks, air being beat from your lungs as you fall flat on your back. Even while you’re gasping for breath he continues.

“The guys call it a horrible, shitty place and I don’t wanna send you to Oikawa, he’s a shitheel. But you’ve gotta fucking learn to listen - and Oikawa always made sure they did.” But Oikawa wouldn’t - he told you that you were safe with him and his people, that they were the good kind of yakuza.

“He’s not like that.” It sounds hollow to the both of you.

“Just listen to me dammit!” His large hand is tangled in your hair, threatening to beat your head into the floor. “I’m trying not to send-” The agonizing feeling of hairs being pulled from your scalp forces you to blink back tears. You yell at him again anyway.

“You just wanna see me as a prostitute!” And your voice doesn’t break but you can feel the tug of your vocal chords pulling on your eyes.

“Maybe.” It’s strange that his eyebrows furrow at your words but his grip on your hair tightens. “I wouldn’t have to threaten if you listen and touch me.”

“I shouldn’t have to if I don’t want to!” The wet tears that might’ve shed earlier are replaced with dry anger.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. Your Oyabun told you, that should be enough.” He yanks your head up by your hair, a few strands ripping right out of your scalp with a sharp pain. “Touch me.” The pain is splitting in your head, on your cheeks, in the breath that you're still trying to regain. “I said, touch me!” And he drops you. Weight held up by Kageyama comes crashing down onto the carpeted floor and you with it. He growls, sound deep in his throat as he makes another threat.

“Fuck, I’ll even give you to the Ushijimas’ to use as target practice if you aren’t obedient. How’d you like to be shot full of holes? That better than touching me?” The words come out in a harsh jumble, spilling from his mouth like a bitter wine. “Do it. Touch me before I stop being nice and kill you myself.” This time it's a kick to your back. “Then someone from your precious family will pay your debt.”  

“How do you-”

“I make it a point to know my future family members.”  He gives you an uncomfortable smile, mouth curling up as eyes don’t shift from their stoic glare. He steps even closer, hand rising once again to make you flinch but it doesn’t stop rising as he squeezes your neck harshly. “C’mon, get my hands off your neck! Pry me off of you!”

“N..” Air is fleeing your collapsing lungs, “O” It takes all the willpower in your body to fight against the muscles in your shoulders that want to lift your arm and the tendons that control your fingers to curl around his wrist and tug. Kageyama snarls as he frees your throat. His hands reach behind him and he must have a gun. He’s threatened to shoot. His hand moves so slowly, fingers curling around something behind his back. The black of his suit jacket reflects the all too bright light, cheers and beeps of the slots muffled by thick walls. The blunt pain throbbing in your face, on your stomach. The sharp intakes of breath sending stabs of pain to your lungs and the man with dark black hair and dark blue eyes keeps his hand behind his back, his left hand tugging on his suit jacket. He’s getting the gun, it’s in the back of his pants. You feel the familiar, cold prick of tears at the back of your eyes, that only intensifies as you he squats down and you flinch softly.

“C’mon,” His hand is still behind his back “Touch me.” You don’t want to die. You don’t want anyone to bear your debt. You suck in a deep breath, heavy weight forming in your chest as you reach out your hand towards his face. He inhales a tight breath, cheek twitching as your palm inches closer and closer. When just a finger finally grazes his cheek he flinches away from it and the weight inside you gets heavier. You didn’t do what he wanted. 

You fucked it up. 

You clamp your eyes shut. Slowly - what’ll he do if you move too quickly - you begin to drag your fingers from his cheek, rough with the smallest starts of stubble. He raises his hand with four fingers to keep yours on his cheek, trapping your palm against his clammy hand and rough chin. He exhales a shaky breath, his black-blue eyes closing and head nuzzling into your hand.

Softly feeding from the hand that bit.

“Thank you,” Your eyes are wide open as you stare at his features seeming so soft in comparison to his sharp, metallic anger. He murmurs softly into your palm. “It feels... nice when you touch me.” It’s such a stark contrast from the roaring, growling man threatening to force you into prostitution. The Kageyama who’s in front of you is smiling gently while his hand - though chilled and rough - is gentle against the back of your hand. It’s too much, one blink and tears start to fall. A hiccup erupts from your mouth which you shut as soon as he pokes an eye open. Whimpers based in the bottom of your sore throat start to strain against your closed mouth. His smile widens, growing into that uncomfortable smirk with lips stretched too thin.

“Fuck, you’re such a pretty crier, y’know that?” Kageyama groans the words staring at your face, still in the palm of your hand. “It makes me hard.” As if to emphasize his point, he jerks your hand downward, to the bulge in his suit pants.

“I - Kageyama I’m here to pay off a debt,”

“Yeah, you are.” He grinds his clothed hard-on into your palm. “You’re here to do whatever I tell you to. And I said-” The back of his hand brushes against your palm as it reaches to pull at the zipper of his pants. The grip around your wrist tightens as he drags your hand down. “Touch me.” and slowly your fingers curl around the length that was pulled from his pants.

“Good girl.” He snarls the words as his fingers ghost over your clothed sex, thin panties doing little to dull the strangely gentle caress of his four fingers. He pushes the fabric aside quickly and though you’re completely dry, shoves a finger into your tight cunny.

“Haven’t touched… anyone,” He groans as your hand stays deathly still on his cock. “Like this.” He thrusts his finger into you again. Beads of precum drip from his cock onto the back of your hand.

“Stop… please,” He smiles at your watery eyes. “It doesn’t feel good…” It feels like someone breaking your trust. How could you have trusted a yakuza?

“I’ll make it feel good.” He was going to leave you alone. He was going to leave you alone. A fat tear rolls down your face. Kageyama’s lips curl into another smirk as he pumps his fingers just a little faster.

“Is this what Oikawa meant when he said I’d have trouble ‘fingering’?” He says it to himself more than to you. “Cause I don’t think I’m having much trouble.” He wasn’t going to do anything. A small scream falls from your mouth as you think — you did this to yourself. You slapped him and now… Your hold on his cock tightens. You wish you could say it was in anger rather than for the sparks flying through your body. “Stop closing your eyes.” He huffs. “Makes it seem like you’re not enjoying it.”

You aren’t. You aren’t fucking enjoying it. The way he stares at you, leering at your misty eyes and dripping nose. The way he’s got his fingers stuffed inside you. The way he has your hand wrapped around his dick. It’s much easier to think this is some dream. To pretend your breath isn’t quickening or this is just some fucked up fantasy you’d never want to be real. But it is. And the gasp you let out when you feel your pussy clench - that’s real too.

“Sounds like you do. Feels like you do. Tightening around my fingers like that?” He chuckles darkly to himself before barking, “Dumb whore! Move your hand!” Immediately you release your grip on his cock.

“Not like that.” He glares at you and uses his free hand to grab your wrist once more. Harshly, he tugs it to his mouth and spits onto your palm. “Stroke my cock.” Once more, he shoves your hand down, saliva dripping from your palm to the couch and his bare legs. He hisses at the feeling of your hand, moans as you pump your fist. “Keep doing that.”  You nod, mouth parting to gasp only for tears to fall in.

“Holy shit.” His fingers curl inside you, his cock twitches harshly in your hand. His arms woven with ink, flex as his right hand curls into a fist slowly unclenching - rising. All too late, do you notice his fingers lacing themselves around your neck pushing you down, down into the cushions. You can still breathe, he’s not meaning to choke you yet. Your head is still, and that is enough, his face inching ever closer, blue eyes blown wide - mouth parting just so slightly. His face growing closer with each second that makes your brain tick with dread.

“So fuckin pretty….” He sighs quietly. “Bet your tears even taste good.” His mouth presses to yours. He wastes no time shoving his tongue inside. It’s sloppy - like you’d’ve expected, salty saliva spilling from the corners of your lips as he drags his long, rough fingers slowly from your cunt. You whine through spit and sob as the feeling of fullness is taken from you. (though you’ve felt empty this whole time) Your hips roll on their own, grazing against his knuckle. Your cunt weeps at one final touch before you're stuck humping nothing.

“You're wet enough right?” Breathless, he pulls away from your mouth, lips pink, swollen and parted, his cheeks flushed a dark shade of cherry. He looks from your eyes to his fingers to the hand around your neck. “You better be after all that crying. My pathetic little crybaby, so wet for my cock.”

You wish you could spit in his face, wish you could scream. But all that can escape your lips are soft moans, little whines at the loss of his fingers. “Please” dances on the tip of your tongue, pirouetting its way through your teeth and tapping at your lips.

“God…” His cock pokes at your entrance. “You’re so warm…” It’s hard to ignore as he presses in, pushing against your walls so firmly, warmth making your hips roll to meet his cock as it buries deeper inside you. Your hand had been moved a long time ago - or just recently, it’s hard to tell, hard to remember. Or have you already forgotten? Still coated in spit and precum, it rests on his chest, over one of his many tattoos, you slide it upwards to his shoulder. Watching as the spit leaves a trail over his body. Pretending like it’s just water. Your eyes gloss over the forced extravagance of your prison. The ceiling is in between - the sky. Some say heaven. And your sullied hand raises to pull for the sky. When was the last time you’d seen the moon. Surely only hours ago. A rough thrust and something loud echoes in the room. You can barely hear it over the dry crust on your hand. Reaching for the above as your beaten body is defiled. For a second you can feel it, the clouds of the sky.

The sky disappears too as you’re dragged back down to earth by long fingers that squeeze more harshly at your neck. Suddenly only the constricting of his fingers on your windpipe and your pussy on his fat cock are present in your mind. Pleasure and fear hazing together in your mind to create nothing more than blank sight in your eyes and sparks running from your legs to your brain. Your hands continue to tighten around his wrist, pulling harshly as he continues to squeeze and squeeze at your throat.

“You gonna cum?” He continues, picking up his pace and pushing you further into the sofa. You try to shake your head, despite the tightening in your stomach,

“No Kagey-” He looks up from where he’d been pounding into your sloppy cunt, cock shoved right against your cervix, throbbing hashly while he raises his other hand to give a harsh slap to your cheek.

“What do you call me?”

“O-o” You can barely breath and the cock inside of you is so hot. The stinging against your cheek feels so good in the fog of shallow breath and fullness that you can’t help but moan at - when he adjusts his angle and turns you around, pushing your face into the cushions and ass in the air.

“Oyabun,” You can’t help the way your voice breaks as you sob and Kageyama once again starts to move.

“Fuck I feel powerful when you cry.” If only every word didn’t make you wail even louder.

“That’s a good girl, keep crying.” You shove your face further into the cushions, tears soaking into the fabric.

“Please,” You don’t sound like yourself. You already sound broken and halfway gone. “Just cum.” Anything — fucking anything to just end this.

Kageyama just groans behind you as the nauseating pleasure continues. Balls slapping against your clit, friction building slowly as you moan through every thrust unable to keep from feeling every tiny twitch of his cock, every vein sliding against the walls of your cunt.

“Fuck fuck fuck! I want you—” He lets out a loud shaky breath as years of frustration paint your walls.

Breathing heavily with his hands planted firmly on your hips bruisingly tight, he holds you against him. Even fuller than before — with your womb filled with his cum. His hold on your hips releases so gently before he puts a hand on your ass, rubbing it softly, stopping occasionally to squeeze lightly at the flesh. You whimper softly, “Please, no more.” He ignores you, or perhaps he didn’t hear, coming off of his first orgasm. His hands find your hips once more, far gentler than before as he speaks with labored breath.

“Everyone better’ve heard you moaning.” Slowly he begins to pull out, inch after painful inch slowly exiting your sore cunt. He slaps you again, right on your ass. You’re too sore, too used to the point of breakage to cry at the pain (or is it pleasure?) “I’m your Oyabun, they better know that.” The zip of his pants coincides with the cheering for a point in the game that’s still playing. He sits next to your fucked out body on the sofa, and rubs one hand over the still sensitive part of your ass before quickly running his hand over your spine, shoulder blades and neck, settling in your hair. His fingers stay there, nails grazing gently against your scalp. His fingers linger for a minute before he pulls your body up and into his side, propping your head against his shoulder. You stare blankly ahead, eyes glazed with tears and cum dripping from your abused pussy onto the sofa. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you as close as he can, both of you breathing heavily. Kageyama seems to recover his breath quicker than you, as his slows and steadies — head falling against your crown with tiny, quiet snores coming from his chest. Half clothed, sore and exhausted you breath in the smell of the room, barely registering the feeling of cum dripping from your cunt. Hardly noticeable with the sound of snores and the feel of a body pressed against yours. Fat, raindropped tears roll down your cheeks. And instead of your wish to pull away, to leave this room — you cannot. What would happen to your family, to you? Would the man who beat you really let you pull away from him even in his sleep?

No.

So you settle into his side, raise a hand to rest over his tattoos and wait. Eyes wide open.

---

He wakes up about thirty minutes later - pats your head - dresses and runs out of the door without a word. You're too catatonic, still on the couch, still watching men play volleyball on the television. You watch him leave, tension held in your shoulders melting — unlike the candle on the table. Realistically, it's probably thirty minutes that he’s out of the room but it feels like only a few seconds. Time flies when you're having fun. He returns with a bottle of water and a bowl of something that smells wonderfully of spices and cooked pork. He sets both water and bowl on the glass coffee table. He’s gotten one spoon and he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs onto his lap, jerkily giving a message to your thighs that only serves to renew tension in your body. He continues for a few seconds, delicate hands hardened with callouses knead into the flesh before abruptly stopping and leaning forward. He picks up the bowl and lifts the spoon, a small drop of liquid spills.

“I don’t know your favorite yet so I got you mine.” He waits, watching your lips tremble. Your jaw falls and even if you were to speak, you're not allowed to. He shoves the spoon in and waits for your mouth to close. He sits there for a minute. He’s staring at you again and instead of wiping a tear from your cheek, closes your mouth with a delicate touch. You begin to chew slowly, staring straight ahead of you. The sound of volleyball fills your ears and Kageyama doesn’t speak for ten whole minutes, only feeding you curry and closing your mouth when you cannot. It’s peaceful. Even as you're naked and Kageyama is shirtless again. He takes his time making you finish your meal. Only watching set after set of volleyball on the screen.

“You like volleyball?” The hand that has settled back onto your thigh rests softly - so different to the way he was beating you before - moves to where your neck meets your shoulder. “My grandfather was a coach.” One more bite and you’re done. “I think he was gonna teach me before he died.” The match on the screen ends, shifting to commentary and Kageyama opens the bottle of water. “Let me know what you like to eat, okay? I’ll make sure to get it next time.” He brings the bottle to your lips without any sudden movements and steady hands, and with his other he takes your chin and holds you in the most gentle grip you’ve ever felt. He rubs the bottom of your jaw line, easing your mouth open once more and presses his lips softly to your temple before tilting the water back.

“You’re such a pretty crier,” He pulls the bottle away and kisses the corner of your mouth, the slight stubble on his cheek grazing against your cheek. “When I’m Oyabun, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, okay?” He sets the plastic water bottle down and pushes your legs from his lap. He rises from the cushions only to sink between your thighs. “Just do what you’re told and I won’t have to do - this -” He presses two fingers onto the forming bruise at your stomach. “again.” He parts your sore legs. 

“So will you be my good little crybaby?”

[tvpeongsstuff]

Supreme Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi ( part 4)

Waiting for the surgery to be completed on the commanders was both interminable and no time at all. Obi-Wan had the other troopers put binders on sidious and the imperial guards. He could not risk tham waking up and trying to get away. He wondered what it said about him that death and not force-castration was what he most wanted for all the people Vader was draining.

He could hear the buzzing of the hair clippers and then the whirring of the saw. The medidroids were efficient and the commanders were quiet. There was nothing except his own busy work to distract him from thoughts of the future.

He had one of the other troopers get a tally of all the medidroids in the building. He set another to find the statistics of troopers injured or killed in the shootout on the rotunda. Yet another was to give him a count of the total number of clone troopers with an emphasis on those on or near Coruscant. He needed printouts of troop movements since the start of the empire and campaigns that had been carried out. He could not ask a secretary for the information. Palpatine had none. He had received no thoughts from Palpatine. He took that to mean that the sith had not removed the biochips from the men.

Why would he? It was clear that sidious had wanted complete control over everyone. It was evident in the ident codes he forced the entire galaxy to adopt, in the cyborgs he turned otherwise healthy men into, in the laws he enacted to hoard power for himself. Obi-Wan prepared himself for the worst possible outcome. Maybe the biochips had been in too long; the clones may never be who they were before.

The arrival of Senator Organa was a relief. Obi-Wan wondered if the good senator was expecting treachery from him. He would hate to lose Bail's goodwill. Bail walked into the office calmly saying, "Congratulations Emperor Kenobi. That was quite a feat you pulled off. Tell me, what do you plan to do? You are a Jedi sworn to uphold republic ideals. Will you turn the empire back into a republic?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, "eventually. Tell me Bail, why are you here by yourself? Why did no one else come with you. I bet I can guess the answer! They want to see how I treat you and if I will be more willing to share my plans with someone who I once regarded as a friend. They hope that I won't remember how the entire senate cheered when they heard of all the Jedi murders. Well, when you leave here you can tell them not to worry. I have no plans for revenge. I meant what I said on the Senate floor. My rule will be just."

What does that mean?" Bail sounded frustrated. He was too good of a politician to allow that much real emotion into his voice with someone he did not regard as a friend. That was a relief. It meant that Bail still trusted him.

But, just then all the noise from the corner stopped. ZT-57 said, "The surgery has been a complete success Emperor. The commanders could be mobile immediately. However, they should be allowed bed rest for the next two days while the bacta patches heal the wound."

"Bacta?" Bail sounded confused, "What is going on?" Obi-Wan did not answer him. Commander Cody was walking towards him. Obi-Wan couldn't move. He could hear sobbing coming from the corner. Appo.

"Kriff, kriff, General" Cody said. His voice sounded like he had been screaming but Obi-Wan knew that not to be true. "General...I mean Emperor. Is this real?" Cody was standing before him. Obi-Wan wanted to...but he had to be sure.

"Commander Cody. Nothing has ever been more real. Do you have any questions about your biochips now?"

"Yes. So many questions. I want to know exactly what they did to us. Controlling chips! Like we were droids!" And, now Cody started crying. In the corner, Appo was gasping saying, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" over and over.

Cody was shaking. "I've hunted and killed Jedi! I've killed Vod! What did they do to us? What did they do?" Obi-Wan could stand it no longer. He grabbed and hugged Cody. He did not know if this would be something that Cody would want or accept from him but he had to try. Cody wavered on his feet and collapsed bringing Obi-Wan down with him. He was still crying.

Bail cleared his throat. "What the Kriff is going on here Obi-Wan?" Obi-Wan looked up. Bail was still by the entrance to the office. Standing around them were the other troopers who were getting the reports that Obi-Wan had asked for. Every man was staring at them.

Obi-Wan did not stop comforting Cody. "The clones turned on the Jedi because they have inhibitor chips that can take over their minds and force them to carry out orders. I had two removed. As you can see the results were instantaneous. This is the truth at the heart of Sidious' empire - it is all built on slaves. Earlier you asked me what I intended.

"I plan to free the slaves."

[explosionshark]

7 for LiS, ship of your choice.

god i went through like 3 drafts of this bc i’ve got a lot to say about trust as a theme in my lis ships, i guess. in the interest of finishing something in one sitting, i went w something simple.

“Just trust me,” Chloe says, fingers brushing the underside of Max’s wrist as she withdraws her grip.

“I’m just,” Max can keep the tremble out of her hands (for now) but not quite her voice. She cuts herself off with a sharp breath, counts a beat in her head, then two, then three and let’s herself continue, steadier. “I don’t wanna mess up. Or-or hurt you...”

“You won’t. Max, this isn’t, like, my first time.”

“It’s not?” This is news to Max, who had never exactly pictured Chloe having done this, like, a lot.

“No. I mean, the first time, I did it myself. And then, later, Rachel...”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you pictures later. But, like, point is, you can totally do this.”

“Yeah, Max,” Rachel pipes up through a mouthful of smoke someplace behind them. Max twists around to see her sprawled languidly on the floor, one hand propping up her head, the other holding a joint to her lips. She smiles that lazy, hungry smile that turns Max’s stomach to butterflies, and nods toward them. “I already got her like, 90% of the way there. You just need to finish her off.”

At this, Max blushes again, all the way up to her ears and turns back to Chloe, who flashes her a grin.

It’s not like Rachel watching makes this any easier. Especially not now, not knowing that she and Chloe have already done this before. That Rachel and Chloe are both going to be able to tell if she’s doing it wrong, if she fucks it up.

“Max,” Chloe says, voice low, pitched just for her.

When she meets Chloe’s eyes this time, they’re bright and full of love, that sharp twist of her mouth has faded to something gentler, more tender. 

“Look, you don’t have to,” Chloe says, soft and Max knows she means it. ”I didn’t think it’d freak you out and--”

“No, it’s okay,” Max says, tightening her grip on the handle of the device, adjusting the angle of her hand. She slides the power button on with her thumb and the buzzing in her hand matches the buzzing of her nerves. But Rachel’s eyes on her back are warm and confident. And Chloe’s shoulder under the palm of her other hand is familiar, a little sweat-damp, totally relaxed.

The first pass of the clippers shears off a wide swath of light brown hair. Logically, Max knew this would happen, but she can’t help the way she yelps and jumps back a little.

Chloe laughs and swipes an arm out behind her until she grabs first Max’s ass, then her hip, and drags her back closer. “Max, relax, it’s literally impossible to fuck up a buzz cut.”

“You say that, but what if I’m the first?” Max mutters, letting out a deep sigh and gamely sliding closer to Chloe, who squeezes her hip again in response. “Stop squirming.”

“Stop sliding away from me,” Chloe says, still facing away but Max can hear the pout in her voice.

“Shut up,” Max says, leaning her whole body into Chloe’s back, taking momentary advantage of her height advantage while Chloe sits on a stool in her backyard, to press a wet kiss to the side of Chloe’s head.

It relaxes them both. Chloe settles back into her seat, hands folded obediently in her lap and Max resumes her work the the clippers, more prepared for the results on her next pass.

It’s nice out, still early enough to not be too hot, but late enough for the neighborhood to feel alive. There’s birds chirping, and, down the street, the sound of kids playing in their yards, the distant spurt of lawn sprinklers, and the low hum of calm traffic.

The world gets smaller. Just this backyard that she spent half her childhood in. Just Rachel on a beach towel on the concrete behind them, sunning herself and humming along to a Jane’s Addiction song on the radio. Just the clippers in her hand, Chloe’s head rolling pliantly on her neck when Max tips her this way and that with the gentlest suggestion of her fingers. The bead of sweat that rolls down the side of her neck that Max surprises herself by wanting to lean forward and catch with her tongue. 

It doesn’t take all that long before she’s done. Rachel had done the work of cutting Chloe’s hair short with scissors before passing the clippers to Max and asking her to finish the job. Max slides the power off on the clippers and finds herself almost disappointed to end the peaceful limbo they’d drifted into. Feels herself suddenly sentimental about the surprising tenderness of the moment, this new way for Chloe to put herself into Max’s hands and say: I’m yours, I know you’ll take care of me.

Max sets the clippers down, grabs a clean washrag from the pile they’d brought out and tips about half of her water bottle onto it. She doesn’t rush, dragging the wet terry cloth across Chloe’s scalp and neck, cleaning up the stray hairs that have fallen.

Chloe shivers and makes that little sound in her throat that Max loves, that one that’s almost like a purr, leaning back into Max’s touch. “Feels good.”

And this time Max doesn’t stop herself, drapes the washrag over Chloe’s shoulder and leans forward, wraps her arms around Chloe’s front and dips her head to kiss Chloe’s neck, her jaw.

Chloe’s hand immediately cups the back of Max’s head, weaving fingers through her hair, tugging just a little. Encouraging.

And it’s an awkward angle but Max pulls back, tilts Chloe’s face to hers and meets her halfway.

Chloe’s kiss is bright, brilliant sunlight. It’s summer, warm and open, on Max’s lips and under the pads of her fingers.

It’s the smell of chlorine and fresh cut grass and the buzz of hair clippers and the chime of a distant ice cream truck and waves of heat rolling off the pavement and days so long and wide open they feel endless.

Max pulls back, lets Chloe swivel in place until she’s dragging Max down into her lap, kissing the laughter right out of her mouth. Max runs her hands through the short prickly hair along Chloe’s scalp. “Wow.”

“Wow,” Chloe grins, kissing her again, hungry.

“I did that,” Max murmurs, fascinated with the sensation of Chloe’s shorn hair against the skin of her palms. “I can see your ears.”

She drags her fingers down the shell of Chloe’s ear, to toy with the lobes gently, delighting in Chloe’s answering shiver, the renewed eagerness of her kiss at the sensation.

“Not so bad, huh?” Chloe mumbles into Max’s mouth and then pulls back to grin again. “How do I look?”

“Not bad at all,” Max agrees, cupping Chloe’s head again. “You look good, Chloe. Beautiful.”

There’s something shyer, sweeter in Chloe’s next kiss. Max is grateful to receive it, teases it out gently between them. The sun beats down, rays falling into them, and Max knows that together under skies like these they will grow and grow and grow.

[buckyskorpion]

“take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while” with bucky barnes? please and thanks! i love your writing btw xoxo

i know this was sent ages ago but i needed to get mi creative juices flowing so im filling this prompt now! thank you for sending this and thank u so much for enjoying my work!!

~~~~~~~~~

Bucky appears in the doorway look grumpy, lumpy, and thoroughly confused. He stuffs his hands in his oversized hoodie and glares at you from the shadows, frown deepening as you catch his eye and grin. 

“Good morning,” you sing-song. The stormcloud in the doorway grumbles like thunder. 

“It’s two-thirty,” he says, and you just shrug. 

Natasha whacks you on the side of the head which hurts like a bitch (not that you’d tell her) and says, “Stop moving.”

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, sounding wary. He shuffles further into the room with a deeply suspicious squint, trying to see what Natasha is doing on your head. You sit cross-legged at her feet while she works - she’s already sectioned your hair so you’re sure you look a treat with the deformed buns littered over your head. Now she’s got the clippers and is carefully shaving the hair at the nape of your neck, moving up in careful strokes. 

“Shaving my head,” you tell Bucky, gesturing to your hair wildly which earns you another slap from Nat. “Duh.” 

“Why?” Bucky asks slowly, like you’re dumb, and maybe you are but honestly you’re just so bored. Quarantine sucks, your hair sucks, you’re sick of it getting in your face and in your mouth and being a general pain in your ass. Training is a nightmare with long hair, Steve always sits on it somehow during movie night, and Sam won’t stop bitching about it clogging the drain in the gym showers. This is what’s best for everyone. 

“My hair, my choice,” you say, and Nat hums in agreement. “I wanna see what my skull looks like. Don’t you ever wonder that? What if I’ve had a weird shaped head this whole time and never knew.”

“You do have a weird shaped head,” Bucky says, “Don’t need to shave it to figure that out.”

“Rude,” you huff. Under you breath, like an actual child, you mutter, “Your mum’s got a weird shaped head.”

“My mum’s dead,” Bucky says, deadpan. Nat snorts and you grab a chunk of your hair to throw at Bucky, but it just falls uselessly at his feet. 

A few beats of silence pass, save for the low buzz of Nat’s clippers. It feels really nice, like every stroke is ten pounds off your shoulders (or scalp, you suppose) and you can’t wait for Nat to be done. She moves onto the next section, kneeling in a ring of your hair on the ground, while Bucky just stands in front of you shuffling from foot to foot like an idiot.

“Take a seat,” you say, gesturing to the floor space in front of you. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

Bucky hesitates for a second. You can hear his metal hand whirring in the pocket of his hoodie like he’s wringing his hands together, but eventually he folds himself down to sit cross-legged in front of you. You smile at him, and he smiles back but it morphs into more of a laugh. His face scrunches up all cute as he looks at you and you can’t help but poke your tongue out at him. 

“You look funny,” he says, gesturing to the weird buns Nat’s put your hair in to hold it out of her way. 

“That’s rich,” you say, gesturing to his face. He rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling, so you know he’s not really offended. But you’re looking at him now and he does look funny - dark circles under his eyes, red rimmed like he’s been crying or up all night or maybe both. He must’ve been wandering around the compound at two in the morning for a reason, and unless it was to shave his head as well, it probably wasn’t a good one. 

He seems happy enough now, sitting on your bedroom floor with you and Nat and the soft hum of the clippers. She’s done one side of your head now, and it feels weird to not have the familiar curtain of hair tucked behind your ear. You reach up to move it only to find nothing there, your fingers brushing against fresh, cropped stubble instead. It feels so different - soft but rough at the same time, scratchy under your fingertips but so good on your scalp. You feel your eyes grow wide as you run your fingers over your new hair again, ignoring Nat’s annoyed huff at your movements. 

“You like it?” Bucky asks, smiling at you stupid. A rush of giddy excitement shoots through your chest, spurring you to reach out and grab Bucky’s arm without thinking. 

“Feel it,” you say, tugging his arm until his hand leaves his pocket. He looks wildly uncomfortable for a moment before he relents, letting you manoeuvre his flesh hand onto the side of your head. 

“Do you want me to cut you?” Nat asks, but she doesn’t sound pissed. In fact, she sounds amused, and that’s never a good sign for you. But you can’t really focus on that when Bucky is now entranced with the feeling of your buzzed head under his fingertips. 

He stares wide-eyed as he rubs the side of your head, and you let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. It’s nice, alright? Bucky’s touch tingles all over your scalp and down your spine, little lightning bolts to follow his moody thunder from before. All trace of his bad mood is gone as he scratches at your buzz, now, making you shiver. 

That seems to be the final straw for Natasha, who finishes off the last chunk and clicks the clippers off. The silence startles Bucky and he lets his hand drop, looking up almost guiltily at Nat as she says, “I’m done, I’m going to bed. Have fun, idiots.”

“Thanks Tash,” you say, but you don’t even look at her as she leaves the room. You’re too busy looking at Bucky. 

“How’s it look?” you ask, all quiet in your now silent bedroom. Bucky snaps his gaze back from the empty space Nat once took up to you, eyes widening as he takes in the full picture of your middle-of-the-night-breakdown decision. 

He swallows, but his voice still sounds hoarse when he says, “Um, good. Looks neat.”

“Neat, huh?” you say, and run your hand over your head. That’s different, for sure. Gone is the length and weight around your shoulders, and when you shake your head like a wet dog you’ve never felt so unencumbered. Bucky laughs at your antics and you grin back, almost breathless, so enamoured with the cool waft of the aircon on your nearly exposed scalp and the absolute lack of anything to get in your way. You say, “Yeah, pretty fucking neat.”

“I liked your long hair,” Bucky says, and you almost frown until he adds, “But I like this, too. Maybe more. It feels nice.”

“Like a tennis ball,” you say, nodding solemnly. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Bucky says with an eyeroll, but you just grin. You rise onto your knees, crawling into Bucky’s lap before he can say anything and rubbing your head in his face like a deranged cat. He squawks and tries to lean away from you without also toppling over onto his back, and you just laugh. He grips your waist to stabilise you both and you settle a bit, letting your legs loop around his hips and your hands to rest on his shoulders.

“You think it feels nice,” you say, teasing lightly. Bucky makes to shove you off but you clench your thighs and hold on tight, all two-hundred pounds of Bucky no match for your stubborn idiot-streak. “You like it.”

“Said that, didn’t I? Turn your ears on,” Bucky says, but he’s blushing so you know you’ve won. 

“You like me,” you say, and you grin, because you finally push Bucky over the line you always love to toe. Teasing Bucky is a sport and you’re the Olympic champion, the Usain Bolt - you win every time. Bucky growls and snaps a hand up to grip the back of your skull. You’re delighted to find his giant hand spans the entirety of the back of your scalp as he holds you in place. He scritches into the short hairs and you’re even more delighted at the feeling that zings down your spine to your cunt almost instantaneously. 

“And you like that,” Bucky grins, all sharp teeth and dark eyes because he’s a devil and teasing you just so happens to be his Olympic gold as well. You make a sound almost like a groan, kind of like a purr, and nudge your head back into his hand some more so he keeps touching you like that. 

“Don’t like you, though,” you say, breathless now so it doesn’t quite have the same impact. Bucky rocks you backwards, lying you flat so he can crawl on top of you despite the absolute carnage of your old hair littering the carpet and now, probably, all of your clothes. Good thing you won’t be needing those much longer.

“We’ll see about that,” Bucky says, and see about that you most definitely do.