#the flour on his head LOL

[spookyclookykinz]

he wants to lick the batter

[icannotgetoverbirds]

I'M ALIVE I PROMISE

Sorry I kinda fell off the face of the earth, y'all - i got moved to transitional housing and the wifi here sucks ass. Currently posting this from my mobile browser because I'm using my app account for a side project.

I love my moots and followers and followees and i promise I'll be back online asap!

Feel free to keep tagging me in bird posts - I can't wait to see what y'all have found for me!

here. a silly little concept art sketch of a scrapped scene from my fic in which harvey is lost in the sauce flour.

[winterarmyy]

Welcome Home... Soldat? | Part III

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 5.2k++ (sorry y'all)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, fluffy stuff, tiny sprinkle of angst, soldat is heartbreakingly adorable until the very end, bucky not being very communicative, self-loathing, confusion, conflicted feelings between guilt and need, two idiots in love who are lost in a miscommunication, excessive use of the word 'fuck', and... what else? I'm not sure either lol.

P/S: This has been truly a journey. Thank you so much for the support y'all have been giving me. I really do appreciate all the comments and dms about my work regardless which one of them. Just wanna remind you that I won't be here without you; that's the degree of importance that you possess. Anyway, enjoy your reading.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

It's only been eight in the morning and the soldat had Y/N trapped between his arms as she focused on sifting the flour for the pancake batter. There were barely any space between them; not when he made sure that her soft plushy butt rests right against his crotch, while his fingers subtly move along her hips.

Those gentle trailings didn't last too long for comfort as he slipped his left hand under her sweatshirt. The soldat let his instinct took control as the metal of his touch draws invisible circles all across her bare stomach, while his lips peppered endless amount of butterfly kisses on the marks from last night; each one was now hidden under layers of color correcter and concealer.

"Wow." A raw sound of astonisment naturally slipped from Sam's lips as he found himself frozen in his spot at the corridor leading to the entrance of the kitchen.

Look at them. Acting like newlyweds on their honeymoon.

For a moment he forgot that the huge cuddly hunk in front of him was the winter soldier and not his fellow comrade.

But then again, it might as well made sense that it was not the Bucky he knew, because that man would've been a puddle of mess if he got the chance to touch Y/N like this.

Sam still remember that night when they had a Harry Potter movie marathon and Y/N ended up falling asleep on Bucky's shoulder. Even in the room that was scarce from light, Sam could clearly see the redness on Bucky's cheeks and ears.

It was an understatement to say that Sam had the best time of his life teasing the shit out of Bucky that night, knowing he can't do anything about it without waking Y/N from her comfy slumber.

"Soldat, please. I need to move around, you know?" Y/N's amused giggle pulled the soldat from his dreamy trance.

He shakes his head in the crook of her neck, snuggling deeper as he took a deep breath of her sweet scent,  "No, you don't. You just need to stay here." The soldat huffed as he pouted and tighten his hold on her.

Y/N chuckled at his child-like antics, "You do know that you're not gonna get any breakfast any time soon if you keep doing this, right?"

Sometimes, she couldn't help but wondered if this is how it would feel like to have Bucky doting on her.

"Родная (darling), I'll gladly have you for breakfast. I'm sure I'd have a feast on that sweet little pussy of yours." He whispered seductively into her ears, as he sensed Sam's presence approaching the kitchen. 

Y/N briefly fluttered her eyes shut as he purred in her ears, before slightly peel herself off from him, "Soldat." Her voice was stern and her eyes narrowed into a frown.

The soldat gaze down at her with a hazy grin on his lips, "Родная (darling)."

Unknowingly, the one-sided glaring battle began when Y/N refused to break their intense eye contact; each opponent uses a very contrasting approach, where one has a deep frown and a pair of blazing eyes while the other has the softest, droopy stare and literal hearts in his steel blues.

"Move." Y/N instructed as if it was a warning.

The brunnette let out a defeated laugh as he loosen his hold on her, "Okay, okay. Anything for you, sweet one."

"Thank you." She sighed. "Finally" she thought. She was worried that they gonna have breakfast for lunch if he refuses to let her go.

On the other hand, the soldat was unable to sit still on his own, so he continue to follow her around, like a hungry cat rubbing their forehead up their human's leg, mewling for attention.

"Morning, y/n and... her shadow." Sam finally make himself known as he greeted while naturally went to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Sam." she greeted back while the soldat swiftly put himself in between them like a barrier. He shot a menancing glare at Sam as the man was standing 'too close to Y/N' for the soldat's comfort.

Obviously offended, "Dude, calm down. I was just greeting her good morning." His voice raised as he defended himself for his rights, "Tell him y/n" he continued to tattle tail.

In which Y/N responded by patting the back of the soldat's shoulder as a reassurance before asking him to move away.

Let's just say that he begrudgingly agreed to just because it was Y/N's request.

"Unbeliveable." Sam rolled his eyes, "This your friend?" He asked as Steve entered the scene, greeting everyone a good morning before he quirked, "What?"

"Look at him." Sam accusingly pointed as the soldat, "He's hogging y/n." He continued to explain while purposely reach his hand to touch her. The soldat wordlessly pulled her away before he could reach any further, "See?" Sam pointed again.

Steve didn't defend anyone this time as he only laughed it off before finding his seat. His eyes sparkled with delight to the amount of pancake made by Y/N and the multiple choice of topping and sides; from the sickening sweet stuff to the oddly savoury ones.

He glanced over at his best friend, who was unsubtly trying to hog Y/N away from Sam and his baby blues soften as he thought maybe Shuri was right. Maybe Bucky was always present somewhere in this soldat's persona.

It was such a typical Bucky behaviour to be possessive as the soldat was being. Steve noticed that Bucky would always get a bit agitated when someone touch his girl, even if he doesn't actively show it as much. In the 40's he might've been able to hide it behind his charming smile and witty jokes, but nowdays anyone can see it on his ever-present frown and unintelligible grunts.

That applies for both Bucky and the soldat.

Y/N rolled her eyes at Sam as she pulled the soldat by the hand, "Ignore him, soldat. Now, come have breakfast with me." She sat him on one of the stool by the kitchen isle as she prepared his plate.

Perplexed by the lack response, Sam admitted his defeat for once and joined the isle to have his bite of the morning.

As soon as she settled on her own seat next to him, the soldat took her hand into his, briefly kissing her the back of it. "Thank you, darling."  He whispered before placing their locked hands on his lap as they ate, casually rubbing his thumb on her for comfort.

If you thought Y/N was the only one who was blushing at the domestic show of affection, well you'd think again when you see the shade of red on the tip of his ears or the way Sam purposely looked away.

The morning went by with mostly three of them having a pleasant conversation and the soldat silently distract himself by playing with her hand, apparently enthralled by the size difference and how fragile looking hers was.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team came by the kitchen on their own time since some of them prefer to sleep off the pain from the previous mission.

Half an hour later, she felt as if she was caught in a dejavu when she found herself in the same position as before. She laughed softly as she washed dishes, while the soldat stuck himself to her like a oversize koala to a tiny tree.

"I smell pancakes." Tony spoke as he made a bee line towards the kitchen, looking like he just survived a bio hazard in the lab.

"I made extra. Help yourself." Y/N announced, not even trying to look back at them, especially when the soldat had her trapped in his tight embrace.

Tony peeked to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Y/N, "Did you see her? I didn't even know she was here until she spoke." He asked, though he sounded more like he was teasing her.

Before Tony could reach out for his plate, Shuri stormed to the kitchen, catching everyone's attention, "Pancakes can wait, Tony." She stopped him which only cause him to whine dramatically.

It felt as if Y/N's heart completely dropped out of her body when Shuri nodded knowingly, "It's time."

There was a quick briefing of the process with everyone involved while they prep the soldat in the other side of the glassed section of the lab. Y/N tried to focus on watching the simple simulation video that was prepared by Tony.

And she heard every single words of Shuri's but all she could think was if the soldat knew what they were doing. If he felt like he was being thrown, being disposed of like some kind of object.

By the time they the explanation ended, Y/N didn't think twice as she marched towards the soldat. The team didn't questioned her motive as they can see the determination in her eyes. 

She stopped on her tracks, right at the entrance when a thought ran across her mind.

Of course, she wanted Bucky back but why does this feel so wrong?

"How are you feeling, soldat?" She prompted as she walked over to him, passing the lab employee who scurried away leaving the couple to have some privacy.

The soldat brightened in her presence as he reached out to her with grabby hands, triggering a soft giggle from Y/N. She let her hands gravitate towards his, intertwining her fingers in his hold as he replied, "Much better now." He sighed in contentment the moment he felt her skin against his own.

There was a comforting silence in the room, but Y/N's mind was the complete opposite. There was only chaos of questions that felt so sinful and immoral to utter out loud.

The soldat grip tightens with tenderness, as if he could hear the loud havoc in her head. Moments later, he decided to break the silence with an honest confession.

"I know that I'm not welcomed here."  He glanced at the other side of the glass, watching the team pacing around. "I know that you're trying to get rid of me." His ocean blues changed its tides to gaze up at her; the smile on his lips was soft and pure.

"You know, I have been many things in this life..." the soldat looked down where his hands were entangled with hers, "...a killer, a weapon, a monster, you name it." there was a hint of grudge in his voice but mostly it was woven with regret.

"But, worst of all, I have been a thief." It felt as if he has been holding his breath as he avowed.

"I have stolen decades worth of his life, robbed him of his freedom for so many years, every single happiness and hope he could ever experienced had been stripped away right before his eyes," the soldat chuckled ironically before looking up to meet her teary eyes, "...yet I'm still greedy for more days with you."

Y/N found herself unable to speak, afraid that her words would do nothing to coax him; or maybe she just couldn't trust that her voice won't crack in the middle of her sentence especially when she was damn sure that her heart was already cracking for him.

The soldat's eyes softens when he reached his hand to her face, "I never knew that I was capable to feel these futile emotions such as joy and love, until I felt it when he looks at you." Y/N didn't even notice she was crying until he wiped them away with the gentle caresses of his thumb.

"Everything I felt towards you were his to begin with." He confessed as he felt the guilt of stealing yet another precious thing from him again, "That's why, I don't deserve this." The said as he recalled every moment he got to spend with her, "I don't deserve you."

The soldat knows that very well, but that didn't stop the natural curiosity that resides from within him, "And I can't help but to wonder..." he hesitated as he tried to construct the most raw and truthful question to sum up whatever this emotion he was currently feeling.

"Will you remember me?" His voice was small and quiet, almost afraid of the answer that might come his way.

More tears were spilling out as she unhesitantly replied, "How could I not?" Her hands raised to his face, cupping his scruffy cheeks in her palms.

The soldat's eyes sightly wobbled when he asked again, "Will you miss me?" At that time, he didn't know that the feeling he felt was called 'heartache', yet he was handling it like he had been experiencing it all his life.

Y/N leaned as she pressed the most tender kiss on his forehead, "More than you know." Her answer made the soldat smile as he purred in her hold.

He peeled one away from his face and pressed a kiss of his own on the delicate palm of her hand. The same ones that had showed him nothing but so much love and kindness.

When Shuri came into the scene, they know it was time to say goodbye. But, both refused to say anything remotely close to it. So, they wordlessly walked out towards the cylinder shaped glass pod, located right in the middle of the lab.

Until the very end, Y/N stood by his side as he lay on the tight space of the pod. And just as the door was about the close, the soldat smiled lovingly at his precious person, as he called for her nickname one last time.

"So long, Родная (darling)."

Three weeks later. At Avenger's private gym.

Steve re-adjusted his stance as he took cautious step backwards, "Why are you avoiding her?" He asked straightforwardly.

Bucky huffed a heavy breath as he lunged forward for a strike, "What are you talking about?" He missed when Steve easily swerved away and countered back, "Don't play dumb, Buck. I'm not in a mood for that."

The brunette blocked his punch with his left forearm but Steve uses that as an opportunity to grab him and pushed him on the floor. Bucky groaned as he landed flat on his chest, left hand on his back.

"Well, I'm not in a mood to talk about it either." He growled as he swing his leg backwards, toppling Steve on his back and pushed his metal arm against his neck, choking him out of his breath, "So, drop it." He warned.

Steve tapped the floor as a sign of defeat and Bucky released his hold while retreat his arm away. Both of them was out of breath but for entirely different reason; Steve was literally choked, so that's fair, but Bucky was breathing heavily as soon as Y/N stepped into the gym.

He stood there with an intense frown on his face, glaring at the woman of his dreams. Literal dreams, or memories of the soldat that was left behind for Bucky after what happened with the winter soldier situation.

Thankfully the method worked, Shuri and Tony managed to bring Bucky back but just like before, he don't have any clear recollection what happened.

While Y/N made the team swore to never speak to Bucky about what he did when he relapsed, while Bucky himself also hides the fact that, much like his previous experience where the memories comes in a form of unsightly nightmares, his memories of those few days were also coming back in a form of dreams.

Though they were never linear. There was no way of knowing the actual flow of his memories.

It came more like snippets of certain moments, sometimes repetitive, sometimes glitchy but they were mostly such good dreams, beautiful even, however they didn't last very long.

At least, not according to Bucky.

Y/N stopped on her tracks as she saw Bucky, who blatantly throwing daggers at her through his eyes. She didn't know why but she didn't want to think of the worst, so she went towards him in hopes of proving her own mind that the negative instincts that she had was wrong.

But the moment she got close, "Hi Buck--" Bucky walked passed her as if she wasn't there in the first place. And she had to admit that, that shit was painful to go through.

And he had been acting like this for two weeks now. Avoiding her like a fucking plague. And she doesn't know why.

He was acting normal during the first week of his awakening, or maybe a little bit more reserved that he usually would be.

She doesn't know how else to explain it but he seemed to act really shy whenever Y/N accidently touched him.

Did someone told him about what happened? Is that why he's mad? She doesn't get it, and she wants to know why.

So before Bucky managed to walk further pass her, Y/N turned on her heels and tugged him by his right arm to stop him. Little did she knew, that might just be the one thing she shouldn't do.

It was like a pre-programmed reaction, when Bucky's body move on his own, as he harshly ripped himself from her grasps, almost dropping her to the ground.

Steve was second away from reaching out to catch her but luckily she found her balance back on her own.

Bucky leered down at her as he spoke, "Don't touch me." His voice came out much more venomous than he intended, making Y/N flinched to his command.

But if that what he needs to do to chase her away from him then so be it, "Just stay the fuck away from me." Bucky spat a cold warning before marching his way out.

Not only leaving Y/N in utter confusion, but with her heart torn to bled dry.

"No... soldat." She whimpered in his ears as his finger drew slow circles on her clit, his mouth latched on her shoulder.

Salty tears started to blur her vision when she sniffled them back.

"Look at you. Look how well you're taking me. My darling is such a good girl, isn't she?" The soldat sounds sickeningly sweet when he murmured in her ears.

"Don't." she whispered quietly.

"p-please soldat, ahh." She mewled, scratching the metal of his arm. 

"That's it darling, cum for your soldat. give it to me,, aahhh" He motioned, forming an 'O' with his mouth as she clamp down on his fingers; with his wide eyes looking down at her exposed pussy.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, ripping him out of the distorted memories only to leave him gasping in the darkness. He woke up swimming in his bed, drowning in the flood of sheets with his heart pounding as if it was desperate to tear out of his chest.

He looked around suspiciously as if he didn't recognized his own room, until strain of his crotch distracted him. His eyes pried downwards to see his cock struggling to fit in his pants and the images of his lucid dream flashes again.

Bucky shuts his eyes tightly, hoping the torture would stop reminding him of his sins, "You sick fuck." A deep frown formed as he muttered curses to himself.

After hours and hours of free falling tears in her room, letting herself drown in a sorrow that she never knew she would ever experience, she let herself wonder back to those lovely moments of her with the soldat.

She found it ironic that somehow the memories of his touch was also the cure to the wounds left by cruelty of his words.

It's hours passed midnight and her tears finally stopped, at least until her body was able physically form more tears in her glands, she took the time as a chance for her to rest.

Y/N laid on her back, letting the remaining tears to fall into her ears.

Worst part of all of this was not knowing why, and being left in the dark, yet he managed to effortlessly left her heart broken into shatters.

"Don't touch me."

"Just stay the fuck away from me."

Bucky's words had been circling her mind like a raging tornado. It felt like the spitefulness of his voice was mocking the flaws of her fragmented heart, toying with what's left behind after the storm.

Y/N didn't even realized when did she started to make her way towards the kitchen, but it was as if her body knew its own limit when her feet walked her out of the confinement of her room and her mind remind her to hydrate herself.

As she entered the kitchen area, she wasn't expecting to see Bucky standing in the middle of it, leaning forward towards the counter tops.

Even with the little source of light from the corridor, Y/N could see the tiredness in his face as he stare blankly into nothing. But, his expression soon changed when he saw her.

She didn't know what she had done to make him so agitated whenever he laid his eyes on her.

The silence between them was so loud that Y/N couldn't help but to approach him.

"I..." She truly didn't know what to say but it felt like it was her fault. She did take advantage of him when the soldat took over; endless use of his body, hands, lips and not to mention what happened that night. "I'm sorry."

Bucky was truly appalled to her words, even though he didn't show it on his expression. Why does she had to apologize to him when he was clearly the problem, "Why are you apologizing?" his anger naturally slipped through as he spoke.

But Y/N didn't know that he was frustrated at himself, and not at her, so the tone that he used stung her as much as it did prior, "I don't know." She simply said.

Lies.

She knew exactly why apologized but she wasn't sure if Bucky knew what happened when he blacked-out. "I just... I don't want to stay away from you. I don't like it."

She can't; not when her yearning for him had grew stronger than ever before.

"Well, you better get used to it because it won't change any time soon." Bucky spat harshly.

Y/N felt her own rage started to bubble from within.

Why is he being so hot-headed and stubborn like a sulking child? Can't he just act like a fucking adult and talk it out?

Her brows crunched into a frown as she held back her tone, "Why?"

Bucky let out a frustrated as he tried to walk away, shooting a demanding glare as he was passing her, "Just do as you're told, y/n"

"Oh no, you're not gonna run away from this."

She grabbed him by his arms and pulled him back into the conversation. "That's not fair, Bucky."

"Not fair?" His eyes narrowed, as he looked down at the smaller.

She puffed out an angry breath as she glared up, "No, it is not fair! It's not entirely your choice to make." She can feel the flames started to spread, "Especially when you refused to tell me why." She yelled accusingly as she shoved her finger to his chest.

Blood roaring in Bucky's ears as his heart pounded hard, pouring the concealed frustration out like a broken dam as he explodes, "He almost raped you, y/n!!"

There was a few milliseconds of non-movements as both them let those few words sink into their processing brain, "I... almost raped you." His voice shook in both anguish and anger, leaving Y/N frozen in a speechless shock.

"Or maybe I already did and I don't even fucking remember." His hands roughly tugged his long hair back as if he tried to go through the pieces of shattered memories in his wrecked mind.

"And if that is not a fucking sign for you stay away from me, I don't know what else I should do to make you see that." Bucky was breathing heavily that his breaths echoed through the silenced space.

Y/N's mind was running wild as everything slowly clicked. Did he thought that he... No. She blinked several times before she could form actual words, "Bucky, what are you saying? It's okay, it's okay. Just please calm down first and--" she tried to reach for him but that only made Bucky retorted, physically and mentally.

"It's okay? No, it's fucking not. Are you even listening to yourself? Can't you see? I'm dangerous y/n." He sounded as desperate as he was for air. "Especially to you. And if my messed up past was not enough to prove it, then what happened between us when I relapsed certainly did."

His heart rate increase rapidly, and his lungs seemed to work double time. Yet, he refused to let her see how badly he needed comfort.

"Bucky, please breathe. And just.. listen to me--" Y/N was hopeless trying to pull him out of the chaos of his mind but he just wouldn't listen.

Bucky's voice started to waver as the dark revelation continued to cloud him, "He assault you, y/n. I fucking assault you. And I can't let that happened again. So, just please, stay awa--"

"It was my choice!" Y/N snapped as she grabbed Bucky by his shoulder, forcing him to focus on her. "Bucky, I let him touch me. I could stop him if I want to, but I didn't."

Bucky didn't understand, "W-why?"

"Because I know he wouldn't hurt me. You wouldn't hurt me." Y/N tried to lay it out for him slowly but then she realized that maybe he didn't need that right now.

"Fuck, Bucky! I'm not a saint." She cursed after a few short moments of hesitation, "I have a lot of feelings I need to deal with like every other human being. Lust, love, you name it. And he..."

In a brief moment, she thought of the soldat, "He gave me the opportunity to feel the love that I always wanted from you. He showed me what we could've been." There was a sense of longing in her eyes, "It started small, soft touches and loving kisses." She smiled to the memories of it.

"And the moment that I thought that it could've been you who's kissing me, touching me. I knew it was over." She didn't know how many times she almost slipped out his name whenever she calls for the soldat; the name 'Bucky' was always at the tip of her tongue but never out.

"One thing led to another and we... I didn't mean to let it stray too far." She confessed, "Bucky, I admit it was wrong for me to take advatange of you, of the soldat, and I know there's no excuse to my behaviour than my own inability to control my feelings for you."

If the soldat thought that he was being greedy, then that makes the two of them.

"I understand if you want me to stay away from you, but just let me say this out loud." Her hands slid down to find his, thankfully he didn't repulsed this time, "Bucky... I love you." She finally spilled the truth as her soften gaze trained on his eyes, "I have loved you for a long time."

Afraid that this could be the end, she refused to look away. She didn't care if Bucky would plunge daggers to her through his words, she want him to know that her feelings for him was unconditional.

And Bucky really tried his best to let all her words sink in, even though most of them were somehow redacted and lost in his head.

But, thankfully the most important ones was so loud and clear for him to draw a simple conclusion that would ease his relentless worries, "You...I.. I didn't force it on you?"

Y/N didn't know why she wasn't expecting him to believe her but she was glad that he did, "No" she replied simply.

Bucky's voice strangled while his hand gripping tighter in her hold, "I didn't hurt you?" His teary eyes pleaded for the truth.

"Not a even close." She smiled kindly.

Bucky felt as the unbearable burden on his shoulders was lifted off completely just by those few simple words that Y/N just uttered. The tears he was desperately holding back broke freely as they stream down his face, his shoulders trembled with the force of his emotions running through his veins.

He whispered, "You don't hate me for it?" He pulled her hands closer to his face, fluttering his eyes shut as he kissed the knuckles of her fingers.

"Never." Y/N reassured, as she cupped his face; stroking her thumbs on his scruffy cheeks, wiping the warm, salty tears away.

Bucky sighed to her touch, it seemed that his body remembered her more than his mind did, "And you love me?" He blinked as he placed his hand on top of her.

Y/N nodded with a loving curve on her lips, "Always have."

Bucky didn't know how she does it but she really did managed to mend and melt his heart all at the same time. It was magic. Or, maybe it was sorcery. But even if she ended up leaving a curse behind, Bucky would still be glad that he let her bewitched him.

Bucky stared down at her, admiring her the kindness in her eyes despite the swolleness of them. He felt bad for breaking her heart, making her cry. It tore his heart just thinking about it.

His tongue darted out for a brief second as his metal hand fell, wrapping around her body.

Y/N maintained to lock her eyes on his as her hand slid down, and pressed on his chest. Despite being comfortable with his touches, and with the amount of kisses the soldat had generously gave her, she shouldn't be nervous anymore but she was.

After all, the soldat never kisses her on the lips and Bucky had his eyes on hers since the beginning.

She wanted his too.

Seeing the anticipation in her eyes, Bucky leaned in to press a kiss on her lips, his flesh hand came up to tilt her chin up, then gently cupped her face as he pulled her closer.

Her lips was so soft against his, that Bucky was sure that he will crave to this every single day.

He briefly pulled away from the kiss to whisper a soft, "I love you too, y/n." Before coming down for another chaste, "More than you could ever fucking imagine." He almost growled as he dipped for more.

Their innocent kiss soon turned into something deeper. They kissed passionately, lost in the bubble of time and space, ignoring the silenced ambiance as they were fixated on the sound of their beating hearts.

And when they pulled away for air, Y/N giggled as a silly thought went through her mind, "Well, I kinda see the glimpse of it in those few days with the soldat, so I think I got the gist of it."

That caused Bucky to let out a genuinely hearty laugh before humming playfully, "Hmm, do you now?" He went in for another kiss, knowing full well that he was already addicted to the taste of her lips.

He just can't get enough of it.

Y/N answered briefly in between his kisses, "Yes."

Bucky smirked as he smoothly guided her backwards, until the back of her waist met with the cold tile of the kitchen isle, "Three times, was it?" his eyes glint with mischieve when he leaned again to steal another kiss.

"What is?" Y/N titled her head to the side, unknowingly giving access for Bucky to lead his kisses from her soft cheek down to her exposed neck.

His lips trailed along the crook of it as he whispered, "Was it three times that he made you cum?" If his goal was to seduce her; well it was safe to say that he did it rather flawlessly.

Y/N thanked god that the kitchen was dim-litted, because the redness on her cheek was rather embarrassing, "I-I'm not sure."

She lied. But, Bucky didn't need to know that.

Bucky chuckled lowly as he murmured, "It's okay, babydoll. We have all the time in the world to beat that record." his naughty hands had already made their way toward her ass before she even have the time to register what he suggested.

Lust decorated the blues in his eyes as he whispered, "Starting now."

End.

<< Part II || Extra >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Yeay, we have reached the end but I might have more of the couple in the future. Though I don't know when will it happen but I have hopes for it. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me what you think of the series and checkout my other work!

[zepskies]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

AN: Here we go! lol. This is the highly requested Part 2 to This One’s For You, over in the BMD-verse!

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, edging, teasing, fluff, and feels.

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

You gasped, your nails raking through his hair. Your grip threatened to rip out a few strands as you panted into his neck.

“Ben, please…for God’s sake…”

“Please what?” he said. There was grit in his voice when he spoke into your ear, but he was all too controlled. Taunting.

Asshole.

He was relentless, dragging his fingers inside your quivering pussy, rubbing his thumb around your clit, but almost never where you wanted him. Your thighs were shaking on either side of his frame as he had you naked on your back, writhing in the middle of your shared bed. You’d sucked him off until his spine rattled and his eyes nearly crossed, swallowing up as much as you could of what he had to give.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m sorry!” you burst in frustration, but you also had to stifle your laughter. Your husband narrowed his eyes at you, spying the hint of your smile.

“How come I don’t fucking believe you?” said Ben. With his elbow digging into the bed beside your shoulder, his occupied fingers curled inside you, finally brushing against the sensitive ridge of your inner walls. It drew a faltering moan from your lips. 

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he demanded. He bowed his head and laid a biting kiss along your throat. “Use your fucking words.”

You exhaled roughly, gripping his hair tight again. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you could allow yourself to grin in amusement.

Three Days Ago…

Ben was tired and more irritable than usual when he stepped into the Flatiron Building. The night before had been a battle of wills between him and his infant daughter, who’d been finnicky, having a hard time going back to sleep. He’d done his best to help her get back to sleep, since you had been dead to the world and unable to leave the bed (or so you’d seemed).

Now, he took the elevator up to the right floor and used his key to get into the office suite, where Butcher and the rest of your delinquent friends were already dicking around.

Some horrible French rap was playing on the Bluetooth speaker. Kimiko was flicking tiny pieces of paper across the dining table, into a “goal” made by Hughie’s hands. Frenchie wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron as he pulled a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven in the kitchenette, while M.M. swept the excess flour stains off the counter. 

Annie was trying to get Butcher to smoke his cigarette out on the balcony.

“Really, you had fucking cancer. You’d think you’d try a little harder to take care of yourself,” she said. Butcher gave her a wan smile, and blew a coil of smoke upward between them.

“Nice,” she said flatly.

But all that stopped when Ben strode into the room. They stared at him, each starting to smile, no matter how much some of them tried to hide it (like Kimiko, with a hand over her mouth).

“What the fuck’re you staring at?” Ben snapped. “We got a job, right?”

Butcher cleared his throat and recovered first. He dabbed his cigarette on an ashtray on the dining table and grabbed an iPad to give to the supe.

“Yeah, got us an escapee. Our little slumlord, Sapphire,” he said.

Ben frowned. Sapphire was the supe who nearly vaporized you a couple of years ago, after they broke up her drug ring. While he read the file documenting detailing her escape and what the CIA knew of her whereabouts so far, Hughie shared a look with Kimiko and Annie before he spoke.

“So, uh, how’s Lila doing?”

 Ben shot him a look through furrowed brows.

“Fine. She’s with her mother,” he replied. Hughie predictably asked about you, and again, Ben said you were fine at home with the baby.

“Lila’s almost a year old, right?” Hughie asked. “Aw man, that’s gotta be a fun age, right? I mean, fun, but challenging. All the crying, the diaper changing. Getting her to sleep through the night must be tough.”

Ben’s attention piqued at that, and not in a good way. His dark suspicion grew when his gaze flicked up to Hughie’s dumb fucking face, and then the rest of them, with their dumbass smiles. Biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, Annie pressed a button on her phone.

All of a sudden, Ben heard his own voice playing from the speaker.

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?”

“Now ain’t that a lovely warble,” Butcher remarked. Ben shot him a warning glare, but the Brit raised his hands in amused surrender. He crossed his arms and continued to smoke as he watched the scene unfold.

Ben tossed the iPad onto the kitchen counter and strode over to Annie with menacing steps, intending to put an end to this bullshit. She grinned and tossed her phone over to Kimiko, and Ben glowered, changing directions.

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened at the angry supe heading toward her. She tossed the phone to Frenchie next. The phone bounced between his flour-stained hands as he yelped in surprise.

“Oh, shit,” he uttered, when Ben began stomping his way.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

“A voice like warm butter,” Frenchie praised. He quickly tried to move from side to side to evade his attacker. “You should be proud, Monsiuer Grincheux! A man soothing his baby is a beautiful thing.”

“Shut your fucking cockhole,” Ben gritted out, but he still reached out when the phone sailed under his arm—only to land in M.M.’s hands. He froze with widened eyes, not wanting to be in the game. But it was too late, for him and Ben.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” his voice sang, more quietly, more tender, deep and baritone. “This one’s for you…”

A brief pause. And then—

“What the fuck’re you doing?”

M.M. managed to pause the video. A beat of utter silence, and then...

Everyone burst out into laughter. Hughie started it; he was damn near folded in half, leaning heavily on his girlfriend as he wiped a tear out of his eye. M.M. tossed the phone back to Frenchie, whose entire frame was shaking with restrained glee.

Ben’s jaw worked as he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill every one of these cocksucking morons.

And then you. Because how else had they gotten that video? You had to have sent it somehow before he got ahold of you last night.

“All right, enough!” he bellowed.

The entire room fell silent.

“First of all, erase that shit right now, or it’s coming out your ass,” he barked, pointing at Frenchie. The other man jolted and did as he was told.

“As for the rest of you, I better not hear another fucking word about this, or so help me Christ, I’m gonna do some barbecuing.” 

About three days later, Sapphire had been caught and re-imprisoned, and Ben returned home. He found you in the living room. He was taciturn to your happy smile when you welcomed him with a hug around his waist, though your smile fell after he didn’t respond to your kiss.

He slowly lowered his gaze down to you, and you knew.

Biting your lip, you soothed a hand along his cheek. “So, how’d it go?”

“Fine,” he said, but little else.

In fact, Ben didn’t speak to you for most of the evening. You tried cooking him a good hot meal, but he barely said two words to you. The only thing he did, before he was even showered and changed, was venture into the nursery to lay a gentle hand on his daughter’s head as she slept, over her downy brown hair. He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

After that, he strode past you in the doorway and slammed the door shut in the bathroom.

Aw shit. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help chortling with laughter. You should’ve known he’d be a great big man child about this.

So you decided to call your mom and see if she could take Lila for the night.

You had some damage control to do.

Now…

He'd brought you to the edge of your pleasure three times before he withdrew his mouth or his hand from your body, not letting you touch yourself, not letting you come—driving you to the point of frustrated tears.

You grabbed his head with both hands and guided him to look you in the eyes.

“Baby, please. Stop torturing me,” you pleaded. You used every tool in your arsenal to make him break, giving him soft, tearful eyes. You leaned up and pressed gentle kisses to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I need you,” you whispered, drawing him into deeper, messier kisses. Part of him started to falter. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed into your kiss.

But then, he stubbornly broke from you with a frown.

“Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “Now say it. Why the fuck are you sorry?”

You huffed in aggravation, but you twined your arms around his neck and brushed slightly sweaty strands of his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you said, even though your mouth began to curve upward. “It was a sweet thing you did, and I’m glad I captured it. But I am sorry that sharing that moment with our friends bothers you so much.”

“First of all, they’re your idiot friends,” he said. You wanted to interject on that one, but you knew he wasn’t in the mood, and you didn’t want to fight with him for real.

“Second of all,” he began…but he didn’t have any more words after that. They were caught between his irritation, and his unwillingness to even voice what it was he felt. Eventually, he found them.

“There’s some shit that needs to stay between us,” he said.  

You smiled, but you mercifully drew him down for another slow kiss.

“Okay, okay. I hear you. It’s not that big a deal though. You love your family, and look! Your macho-ness is still very much intact,” you said, gesturing at his very much hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Now are you gonna fuck me like a man, or do I need to find a vibrator that will?”

At that Ben looked down at you with a raise of his brows. His lips twitched, mostly at your audacity. Shaking his head, he slid a hand behind your neck and drew you in for a kiss, fueled by passion and frustration in equal measure.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips, urging him closer. His straining length pressed against your center, the wet tip slipping against your glistening folds. He groaned at the sensation.

“Please,” you repeated, licking into his mouth for a sensuous kiss.

The once-iron grip on his restraint finally broke. Ben slid a hand between you to hold himself to your entrance. With one smooth thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moan of relief echoed his own. If nothing else good came out of this situation, you two hadn’t had the time or the energy to go at it like this in a long time.

He grabbed your thigh and angled you higher, so he could sink in at an even better angle as he began to rut into you.

With all of his earlier edging and teasing, you were already so close. Your inner walls fluttered around him, welcoming him home and gripping him tight. All it took was a few well-placed swipes of his thumb over your clit to have you tumbling over the edge—a delicious cresting of pleasure that made you arch off the bed, biting your nails into his shoulders, a cry caught in your throat.

Ben fucked you through your release, all while chasing his own. His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts grew ragged, his own breathing shallow and rough, until his balls tightened and his body locked up on him. He spent himself inside you, coating your inner walls until he had nothing left.

He just barely managed to keep himself from smothering you as his body relaxed. You still welcomed his weight on you, soothing your hands up and down his back while you both caught your breath. Your thighs slipped from his hips, your feet meeting bed and sliding out a little.

Ben brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. Looking down on you now, his face gentled from its hardened angles and furrowed brows. You smiled lazily.

“Still mad at me?” you teased.

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a rough exhale through his nose.

“Something tells me you didn’t learn your lesson,” he said, somewhat incredulous, and yet, amused.

Your smile was undoubtedly cheeky, even as you leaned up to give him a sweeter kiss.

“Sure did, baby,” you said against his lips. And another kiss. “Lesson learned, I promise.”

He really did roll his eyes this time.

AN: 😂 Ben just can't win, can he?

Translation: Monsiuer Grincheux - "Mr. Grumpy" in French

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, Ben has his Adventures in Babysitting moment in Green:

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

▶️ Keep Reading: Green

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[fluentmoviequoter]

Divorcing Dad

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (they're parents!)

Summary: When your daughter asks Tim if he's getting a divorce, he doesn't know what to say. In the aftermath of the question, you have to comfort both Bradfords.

Warnings: mentions of divorce obv, fluff, crying, comfort, I changed the spelling of Capt. Andersen's last name for Tim's daughter

Word Count: 1.5k+ words (this was supposed to be a blurb lol)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim’s favorite day of the week is Friday. Not because it marks the end of a week or is the mostly agreed upon best day of the week, but because it’s the day that he gets off work early and gets to pick up your daughter from school. Since his promotion to Sergeant, Tim began leaving early one day a week to spend extra time with his daughter, who has him wrapped around his finger. She’s been a daddy’s girl since you gave birth. Still, whenever you see your favorite Bradfords together, you become more convinced that Tim Bradford didn’t truly understand love until he cradled you and your beautiful daughter in his arms. Although, you’re a bit jealous that she is Tim's spitting image. At least he’s gorgeous, you remind yourself often.

“Munchkin!” your daughter, Anderson, named for Tim’s late captain, yells as she exits her classroom.

Tim shakes his head as he pulls her into his arms and against his chest. A few weeks ago, she overheard you call Tim Munchkin while teasing him about playing princess dress-up, and she’s picked it up as well. Rather than remind her that he’s Dad, not Munchkin, Tim moves his hand to her side and tickles beneath her backpack strap.

“Dad, dad, stop!” she yells through her giggles.

Tim relents, smiling as he waves to her teacher and turns toward the parking area. As he walks, he listens to Anderson talk about her day. When she hesitates before talking about what she and her friend Marcie did at recess, Tim fights the urge to get protective.

“Did you play any games?” Tim asks as he places her in the booster seat.

“We played fairies!” she answers, perking up again to explain what her fairy looks like.

Tim nods along, but his mind drifts back to her sudden pause. He’ll wait for her to bring it up, he decides… or for you to get home.

“What do you want for dinner, my little fairy?” Tim asks as he looks in the pantry.

“Are you getting divorced?” Anderson asks, her voice soft behind him.

Tim freezes with his hand on a container of flour. He has no idea where she came up with the idea; he’s never said it, which means she must have heard it at school. Or, worse, he thinks suddenly, from you. Shocked, with his mind racing, Tim doesn’t realize that his silence has misled Anderson. When she begins crying, Tim turns quickly. He shakes his head, confused and desperate to know if you mentioned divorce around her, which only makes it worse. Anderson’s cries turn to sobs, so Tim lowers to his knees and pulls her close. She clings to his neck, crying against his shirt, and he can only rub her back.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s alright,” Tim whispers.

Anderson hiccups and shakes her head. “No!” she wails through her cries.

Tim shifts back, leaning against the cabinets as he pulls his knees up to hold Anderson as tightly as possible. Anderson needs time to calm down, so nothing Tim says now will help. Convinced that he can’t help his daughter, Tim is forced to return to the question of where she came up with the idea that you were getting divorced.

“We love you, Anderson,” Tim promises.

You stretch your neck to the side as you exit your car. As you walk toward your front door, you smile because it’s Friday. So, Tim and Anderson are already home, likely making dinner and messing up your kitchen. It’s the most family time you get all week, even with Tim’s new Sergeant schedule. The door is closed and locked, which is unusual. Usually, you’re greeted by Tim, your daughter, or both. Shrugging, you fish your keys out of your bag and let yourself into the house. Rather than the television, music, or laughing, you’re greeted by your daughter crying and Tim whispering. Rushing toward the kitchen, you stop when you see Tim sitting on the floor with a visibly distraught Anderson curled against his chest.

“What happened?” you ask softly, stepping toward them carefully.

At the sound of your voice, Anderson begins crying harder, harsh, hiccupping sounds before she pants for air.

“Tim?” you inquire.

Anderson takes several short breaths as she stands and maneuvers out of Tim’s lap. When she reaches you, she wraps her arms around your legs and presses her face against you. You place your hands over her hair and look at Tim, wide-eyed as he stands and wipes his cheeks.

“She, uh, she asked if we were getting divorced,” he explains quietly.

“What did you say?” you ask, slightly more accusatory than intended.

“Nothing. She- I don’t know where she even heard about it!”

“Anderson,” you coo, carefully bending to smile at her. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re divorcing Dad,” she whispers, heartbroken.

You shake your head and take her hands in yours. “No, I’m not, sweetheart.” You lean closer, conspiratorial as you add, “He’s stuck with me.”

“You’re not?” Tim asks.

Your brows furrow as you look up at him. He shrugs, and you realize he thinks Anderson heard you talking about it.

“Anderson, where’d you hear about divorce?” you inquire.

“Marcie,” she answers shyly, attempting to drop her head against your side again. “She said her mom or dad aren’t living with her anymore.”

“Alright,” you murmur as you pull Anderson into your arms and stand. Looking at Tim, you smile and request, “Order us pizza and then meet us in the living room?”

“Sure,” Tim agrees. He toys with his wedding ring while on the phone with your favorite pizza place. Though his worries have lessened since you returned, especially after hearing that someone at school introduced the topic to his daughter, Tim is still eager to hear everything. “Twenty minutes,” he tells you as he lowers onto the couch beside you.

You offer your hand behind Anderson, and Tim happily takes it in his. As you begin speaking, he notices that your wedding ring is on Anderson’s finger.

“Anderson, your dad and I aren’t getting divorced, okay? We love each other so much, but we love you even more,” you explain. “Marcie’s parents will always love her too, even if they don’t live together.”

Anderson nods and leans against Tim’s side. She’s not old enough to hear about his previous divorce from Isabel, but he knows that he needs to acknowledge the topic, the same as you.

“Yeah, Munchkin,” he teases. “We love you so much that we’re never letting you go. You’ll be with us like a baby kangaroo in a pouch.”

Anderson laughs, then, as kids tend to do, she changes the subject. “Can I draw a picture?” she asks.

“Of course,” you answer. “Grab your color case and come back, I want to watch.”

“Okay, Mommy!” she cheers as she slides off the couch, leaving your ring on Tim’s thigh.

Tim watches her with a smile, then picks up your ring and turns to you. “Sorry I freaked her out.”

“You didn’t look too good yourself, there, Sergeant,” you reply.

Tim rolls his eyes and raises your left hand to put your ring in its rightful and permanent place.

“I mean, after all this time, you should know that I’m never letting you go. Marrying an Abercrombie model-level-hot cop is a once in a lifetime thing,” you tease, leaning toward him.

“Is that how it is?” Tim challenges.

“You’re right. You are the lucky one, I’m a catch.”

Tim’s eyes soften as he takes your hand and murmurs, “Yes, you are.”

“You want cuddles tonight don’t you?”

“I just spent an hour in the kitchen floor worried that you were divorcing me, what do you think?”

“Mom!” Anderson calls as she returns with her drawing items. “Can I draw us at the beach?”

“At the beach?” you repeat excitedly. “Absolutely.”

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you,” you reply – promise.

“Me too,” Anderson agrees before deliberating between blue and gray for the clouds.

Bonus:

“Wait, wait, Anderson asked if you were getting a divorce, and your mind immediately went to my wife is leaving me without telling me? The woman who treats you far better than you deserve and kind of settled for you?” Angela asks.

“The insults felt a bit unnecessary, but, yeah,” Tim answers. “What else was I supposed to think?”

“She’s six, Tim, kids her age have no filter. If someone in her class hears a word, she’s going to hear it,” Wesley points out.

Tim tips his head back and groans.

“I’m with Wesley on this one,” Nyla chimes in. “You should’ve asked instead of freezing, which to most kids sounds like, yep.”

“I’m still stuck on the fact that you could even think she’d leave you,” Lucy muses. “She loves you, like, a concerning amount.”

“Never took you for the insecure type, Bradford,” Nolan adds.

“It’s not insecurity,” Wade interjects. “Not wanting to lose the love of your life is a whole ‘nother thing.”

“Dad!” Anderson yells as she runs toward the table.

“Sorry,” you apologize, approaching behind her.

“Yeah, clearly, she wants to divorce you,” Angela tells Tim.

“Well,” you begin, wrapping your arm around Tim’s shoulders as you stand beside his seat. “I guess we’ve just got this marriage thing figured out more than Marcie’s parents.”

Tim smiles at you, and you barely catch Angela exclaim, “Marcie’s mom from PTA? That witch had more than a divorce coming.”

[mr-bas00nist]

I saw you’re requesting Jjk so maybe you and Nanami agree he can quit working since it’s tiring him out so much if he’s your cute househusband (the art you reblogged inspired this) and he treats you right when you come home because it’s what master deserves (is that too much? Feel free to ignore if it is)

Kick Off Your Shoes

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝~Sub!Afab!Nanami Kento x Dom!Male!Reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝~Not to much at all! Ngl breeding kink kind of jumped out of me at the domesticness of this so I made him afab 😭 (I need to impregnate him)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝~Cw: Cunnlingus, squirting, creampie, slight breeding kink (more of just filling him up but baby mention), slight baby talk at the end and soft sex lol

Kento was a man who couldn’t stand working. Whether it be long hours and overnights spent at the office as a salaryman, or fighting horrific curses and protecting people as a sorcerer. He grew up knowing and understanding the purpose of hard work. But god, he fucking HATED it.

Though, after he met you and married you, it made it more bearable. He had a reason to come home, to be happy, to work. He wasn’t just running on autopilot waiting for something or someone to take him out anymore. He had a new purpose, you.

After Shibuya Kento had gotten enough money to run away with you to his dream, Malaysia. The two of you bought that dream house you always wanted right by the water. Seeing it was amazing, experiencing it was like paradise. Paradise with you.

Since you two made enough money to leave thanks to Kento, you decided to take the brunt and work on his behalf. He’d done so much, ‘it’s my turn’, you thought to yourself. So with that revelation Kento decided that he would be the one to take care of the house. You always joked with him about being your househusband and now he finally was.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You soon returned home as you parked your car in the garage. You took a deep breath inhaling the ocean air before you walked up the steps. You grabbed your keys opening the door and kicking off your shoes. Your nose was directed to the sound of humming. You smiled to yourself feeling the warmth of the house, and the smell of something yummy pulling you to the kitchen.

“Hey honey.” You smiled softly as you saw Kento with his apron on. He currently had flour dusted over his forearms, hands and cheeks. You hummed as he glanced up to you with a soft smile. “Hey handsome.” You walked over as you kissed him on the lips.

“Food smells delicious.” You smirk to yourself as he helped you take your suit coat off after washing his hands. He saw how tense you were as he trailed a hand down your back. He sighed as he gently put his hands on your broad shoulders. You spoke softly, “I’m okay for now, let’s eat.”

He then pulled his hands away before nodding. “Yeah, let’s eat.” He smiled softly at you as he kissed you on the cheek. He sat you down as he got you a plate of pasta and the homemade bread he made. He then poured you a glass of red wine as he gave a wink.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

As you were getting ready for bed you felt Kento’s hands run from your waist to your chest, his head going to the crook of your neck. He inhaled your scent as he then brought his hands to the waist of your belt giving a gentle tug. You gripped his wrist gently as you pushed him back on the bed. He gave you a look of protest but you shot him your own which shut him up.

“You know this calms me.” You spoke softly as you pulled his pants off leaving him in his navy blue boxers. You smiled as you ran your finger along his clothed pussy feeling the heat emanating from it. “Please…” he spoke softly.

Who were you to deny your sweet man? You pulled his briefs off with a slick move as you observed his soaked center. You trailed your thumb between his lips as you softly rubbed his clit in tight circles. You watched as he clenched around nothing, slick dripping like a waterfall.

You saw how much he wanted to beg but he stayed quiet, this was your time to wind down. You continued inspecting his pussy as you gently pushed a finger to his hilt. He moaned softly as he moved his hand to your shoulder. You began slowly pumping a finger in and out as you looked up to see his reactions.

He had his head relaxed against the pillow as he moaned softly. Groans and whimpers slipping past his slick lips. Another finger was pushed into him as you began curling your fingers inside. You listened in awe to the squelch and wetness of his dripping pussy around your fingers.

You smiled softly as you leaned down, mouth enveloping his swollen clit as you circled your lips around the bud. His toes curled as he let out a loud groan. He propped himself up on his elbows as he looked down at you. Heavy eyes peering up at him as you lost yourself in the taste of his musk.

Kento began groaning and grunting increasingly louder as you felt his walls begin to tighten. You pulled your fingers out as you roughly rubbed his clit with two precise fingers back and forth. His back arched as he let out a cry, liquid spurting out in small streams onto you and the sheets.

“There he is… shhhh, atta boy…” you smiled as you popped your fingers into your mouth sucking on them. He stared at you dazedly before he registered you sliding your belt off. “I’d eat you out longer but…. I’m aching for you honey… think you can take some more?” You asked softly.

He nodded quickly as you chuckled. “I’m going to pound you nice and deep… cum in you nice and deep.. I know that pussy wants it… doesn’t it?” You asked softly knowing he wasn’t really going to give you an answer. Though the flush on his face was enough to tell you.

You slid your pulsing flesh back and forth on his sloppy cunt before you gripped yourself and slowly pushed in. You slid into the hilt as you pulled his legs together and put them along your body. You wrapped your arms around them as you began thrusting.

He gripped the back of his pillow as his jaw dropped open with a soft moan. As much as you wanted to fuck him slow and soft… the stress from work and his warm vice around you was driving you up a wall. You began thrusting back and forth focusing on each expression his handsome face gave.

Slicked back blond strands falling in his face, hazel eyes squeezed shut, face scrunched up and eyebrows furrowed. He looked like he was trying to solve a complex arithmetic problem. You smiled softly at him as you thrusted back, forth, back, forth. His pussy sloshing around you as he sucked your dick back in as soon as you pulled back.

“Sucking me in soooo tight…. You want me to cum in you? Fill that pussy and give you my baby?” You asked curiously with a coo as you trailed a reassuring hand down to his hip as you gave a squeeze. “Y-yeah- ah~ so good… m’ so full!” He exclaimed as his hazel eyes peered open.

You adjusted your position so that his legs were over both of your shoulders. You leaned over him as you put your elbows on his side as you kissed him passionately. You watched as he brought his hand down to his clit, mewling into your mouth as he began vigorously rubbing his clit.

You began feeling that telltale sign of orgasm impending as you cooed. “You want to cum with me? Want to cream on my dick honey?” You asked softly. Tone not at all fitting the filthy words coming out your mouth. He nodded rapidly as he threw his head back.

He wrapped his arms around your neck as you brought your own hand back down to his clit. You picked up your pace on everything as he clamped down on you. You let out a groan into his neck as you both were set over the edge by one another. You felt your orgasm deep in your stomach as you came inside him, heavy balls emptying inside while he squirted all over your stomach and the bed.

You hummed as you stayed in him. “Think it’s gonna take?” You asked him softly to which he smiled holding your hand with his ringed one. “Hopefully… I think a little one would be a nice addition to the family…” he looked down to where you guys met. “They’ll be perfect huh?”

He nodded with a grin. “Just like you..”

A/n: Hopefully you guys fw afab Nanami. Ngl, love writing with pussy involved lmao. Certified munch 😚🤳🏽. Anyways, see you guys in the next!

[speed-world]

Idea for a story...based off something I saw somewhere else.

Y/n sucked into the cookie run kingdom game and transformed into a cookie and is a complete coward...like cookies, if they want y/n to come with them on adventures, have to bribe y/n into coming...or drag them as they scream in fear. They are terrified of plot because they know what happens in the cookie run story and feel like they wouldn't survive....

Buuuuut then, as they progress through the story, more cookies are revealed to love y/n and their presence in general make the cookies...nicer and more focused on making y/n happy than the plot lol. Like they start making sure y/n has their treats, that y/n is having fun, etc!

Cowardice…Pays Off?!

(Is this self aware? Kinda i guess right?)

You aren’t sure how or why this happened. One moment you were just by yourself, ready to play a newly downloaded Cookie Run Kingdom-The Game. You saw a lot of videos about its story and characters, and you wanted to give it a shot since it all seemed so cool!! Then, just as you started the game up, your game glitched and got stuck. The screen of your phone went blank. Then, like a vortex, it pulled you inside of the game and your entire body composition changed. You were flat, smelled appetizing, and you were a lot smaller than you were supposed to be.

You became a cookie…which horrifies you immensely!

Sure, it sounded neat to be surrounded by the characters that you loved, until you realize that you now have to go through the same story as them. A story that you knew most of the outcomes…

As you finally came to, you heard the crashing sounds of asteroids from outside. You studied your surroundings a bit more until you realized: This is the Final Battle of the Dark Flour War, which surely means-

“This is…Oh no, what a horrible sight.”

“The whole place is covered in Cookie crumbs!”

You heard footsteps of 5 cookies approaching you. You vividly remembered there words as the same words from the Final Battle prologue scene. But of course, you were there. And you noticed that the Ancients immediately froze and changed once they saw you.

“Despite the foul stench and scene, it appears that a Cookie made it after all…”

“Ah! W-wait, I-I’m not s-supposed to uh— p-please I-I’m so scared, d-don’t h-hurt me p-please!!” You freaked out at the realization, and buried your face in your knees. Tears welled up in your eyes as you began to weep.

Pure Vanilla Cookie softly approached you and caressed your back. He sat down in front of you and held your arm.

“We promise you, the last thing we’d ever want is to hurt you! You don’t have to worry, we’re here to protect you with our own lives, you have my word! I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie, may I know who you are?”

With how softly and assuring he spoke, you held his hand and nodded.

“Y/N…I’m Y/N.”

You hugged him out of instinct, which definitely surprised the healer, but he didn’t mind at all. He reciprocated the hug and then hugged even tighter…as if he’s been waiting for this specific hug with you for a while

“A-wait! You g-guys have to leave!! D-D-Dark E-Enchantress Cookie is too strong for y-you all!! Y-you won’t win against her!!” You panicked as you remembered the fate that awaited the Ancients. They all looked surprised initially, but then they all looked more determined than ever.

“While your concern is appreciated, we assure that we won’t back down from Dark Enchantress Cookie. We’ll take her down AND make assure your safety at the same time.”

You looked at Golden Cheese Cookie, quietly pleading with her and the other Ancients to not go and fight this battle. They all do their best to reassure and comfort you, hoping that you understand they can’t abandon this fight. One Ancient however, stared at you differently than the others. She looked at you as if…she actually knew who you were…

White Lily Cookie saw you catch onto her staring, and she shook her head to snap back to reality.

“I-I believe we should get ready! W-We need t-to find Dark Enchantress Cookie before she finds us!”

And then, as if on cue, you all notice the sounds of Cake Hounds rapidly charging at you. The Ancients ready themselves to fight, and you trembled as you got to your feet. You hid behind Hollyberry Cookie, tightly holding onto her for dear life and shutting your eyes…until you felt various Cake Hounds nuzzling your legs. You opened your eyes to the cute creatures smiling at you and not hurting you at all, which confused the Ancients.

“Shouldn’t these Cake Hounds be attacking us? These are Dark Enchantress Cookie’s forces, and yet they’re…rolling around and nuzzling us?!”

“It appears they’ve a fondness for Y/N. We could use this to our advantage, let’s move!”

Dark Cacao Cookie scooped you up with one arm and carried you as the Ancients ran to the castle area where Dark Enchantress Cookie was.

You screamed and pleaded to not go with them since you knew what would happen. Since comforting you didn’t seem to work, two Ancients had the bright idea of bribing you to come along.

“Come now Y/N, I promise to gift with riches beyond your dreams after we win this fight! I’ll even let these Cake Hounds be with you, but you’ll spend more time with me, my closest treasure~!”

“I’ll be sure to grace you with the finest berry juice ever! My treat!! You’ll never have to worry with me around, I promise you!!”

You were more relaxed after hearing the offers of Hollyberry Cookie and Golden Cheese Cookie. After a while, you noticed everyone had stopped moving. You slowly looked up in horror…Dark Enchantress Cookie was waiting there.

“And so, upon the ruins of your home we finally meet. And it would appear…that you brought an uninvited guest~.”

…She was talking about you. You met your worried eyes with hers, but she didn’t look at you with malice. More she looked down at you like a mother would a little child…and you had no clue how to react.

Pure Vanilla Cookie stood in front of you, and had hardened gaze on Dark Enchantress Cookie.

“Dark Enchantress Cookie! What is the meaning of this?”

“Now, now. No need to be so hostile. In fact, I have a…proposition for you lot.”

“Proposition? What nonsense are you rambling about now?”

Dark Enchantress Cookie focused her gaze on you. You hid behind Pure Vanilla Cookie, but Dark Enchantress’s eyes never stopped following your movements.

“I would like to believe that we have a common interest. The Cookie that you’re shielding - Y/N I believe was your name, no? - There’s something about them that’s quite incredible, wouldn’t you say~?”

“What…w-w-what are y-you getting a-at?!” You decided to speak, or more stutter, for yourself.

“I’m saying I believe we’ve all taken an interest in you. Dare I say, we can come to a deal: I’ll cease my own vision for the world in exchange for the safety and prosperity of Y/N. Does that sound alright with you?”

You were very reluctant to respond, mostly because of how much you were taken aback by this. Is this really the same Dark Enchantress Cookie you remember?! Apparently, the Ancients had the same conflicted expressions. None of them truly knew what to say about this ordeal.

“Can we really trust her words? This could easily be just another scheme-“

“I AM serious about this, mind YOU! It’s abundantly clear none of us want Y/N in any kind of danger, and I can see it clearly in your eyes—all of us feel a special attraction to them, despite the odd circumstance~. There’s no reason to lie about it.”

You looked to the rest of the Ancients in anticipation. You had zero idea what the right answer was, if there was one, but you just prayed that you wouldn’t be hurt in any way.

“…..Fine then. For the sake of all Cookiekind, and for Y/N, we’ll trust you. But know this Dark Enchantress Cookie, we will fight you again if you ever back down from your word!”

“Hah, you won’t have to look forward to it~…”

————————————————————————

It’s been a while since then, and you still have no idea how to feel about your situation.

On one hand, literally nothing wants to harm you in any way. Every Cookie you’ve met has been extremely kind and generous to you, even if they’re evil aligned. The Bear Jellies are so warm and welcoming, and the Sugar Gnomes have virtually become your best supportive friends. Not to mention the Cake Hounds being head over heels for you, which you reciprocated the love for them.

On the other hand…there always seemed to be some small layer of tension whenever Dark Enchantress Cookie comes to see you. She’s always super nice to you, giving you immense affection that at times seems out of character.

Of course, the Ancients always get slightly agitated when Dark Enchantess Cookie visits. Especially Golden Cheese Cookie and White Lily Cookie, who really got upset whenever Dark Enchantress took you away from them.

Granted, White Lily made some sense with her relationship with Dark Enchantress.

But Golden Cheese really took offense to whenever you’re attention was taken off of her

In any sense, the most confusing thing was whenever the Cookies wanted to take you on adventures. Mainly the Gingerbrave gang.

You were incredibly scared of going with them, mostly because you knew of the danger of their adventures and thought you’d either be harmed or get in their way.

Whenever a Cookie invites you to travel with them, they always make sure your safety is prioritized. Sometimes they’ll try to bribe you with treats, gifts, or rewards if you tag along.

But sometimes, they’ll abandon their plans just to be with you and make sure you’re comfortable.

This life of yours was so odd and scary, but your fears would eventually wash away with how much the Cookies would treasure your being above all else. You’d grow to enjoy and love the affection and care, even if it seemed to be overwhelming at times.

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki + lava Quirk!wife (both Pro Heroes)

☆—a.n; i woke up today feeling feisty lol not really xd just wanted some "i'm crazy as you are" type of love today lmao✌🏼🖤

Bakugou Katsuki is obsessed with you.

And he doesn't even try to hide it.

You're his sidekick. You had trained in his Agency since you were a mere brat doing your internship your first year at UA. Of course, there were literally counted the times you had encountered him in person. The other Heroes that joined his Agency were the ones in charge of the kids. They had told you how Dynamight hated when babysitting time came every year, he wouldn't even participate in those actually. So they would advice to not cross his path.

From time to time, Dynamight would watch their sparrings sessions, gave them a bit of advice–more like mean criticism yell at them. But he had better things to do, people to save, villains to get their asses destroyed by him. He was not going to waste his time with annoying brats like you.

He had heard of you, of course. The one brat that could control and handle freaking lava like it was fucking nothing. Of course when he saw you, he thought his sidekick had pulled a prank on him, joking to see if would be excited about the idea of having someone with that type of Quirk in his Agency. You couldn't be the one with the lava quirk. You looked... normal. Quirkless even–if this were other times and if he would judge people about it. He had changed, okay? Thank you very fucking much. But he did think it was impossible that you were that amazing brat the other heroes were talking about. They had even compared you to him, in witty and determination to become the number one Pro Hero on the ranks, in strength and no mercy against villains, or other heroes and classmates.

When he stood right in front of you one day, towering almost three heads over you and almost one more person's size to the side, Dynamight laughed. You looked like a little bunny caught red-handed, terrified by everyone around you–especially by the size of him–and skittish, almost like what Deku had been as a kid.

That should have been a first warning for Bakugou–never judge a book by its cover.

You have trained in his Agency the three years you had been in UA, and he has never once seen you nor your Quirk on display, nevertheless in real action. He had only heard how good you were in trainings from the other heroes. But he didn't care enough to actually sought-after. He was already fighting Deku for the number one spot on the rankings, he didn't have time for brats like you.

Until one day, a dangerous villain, that created enormous monsters of metal almost to the size of a ten flour building, was causing too much disaster appeared. It was more than chaos, it had been a destruction like no other.

Dynamight nor Deku could contain the motherfucker.

He was bruised, his hands beat with agony at the amount of times he had used his blasts and the push to keep going, his body muscles were screaming for him to stop. A quick glance to his side where Deku was, and the guy wasn't better than him, breathing like his lungs couldn’t no more. Every other hero in the scene was in the same shape.

They were fucking losing.

And then, like an angel sent from heaven–or better said, a demon sent from the deepest hell for the way you fucking looked, you appeared in all your majestic glory, lava making you slide in between them, surrounding you like it was nothing, like strings coming from inside your body, and began a new fight with that fucking villain's monsters.

Bakugou saw –an enamored expression on his face– how you your whole demeanor changed, your skin, your eyes, everything in you became so menacingly, so evil looking, so freaking scary, that if you weren't training to be a Hero, he thought you would be one the most terrifying villains of all times –even more than that piece of shit AFO.

The lava was visible in all your body, and you fought, a crazed smile and eyes opened wide, enjoying the damage you were doing to the metal monsters; your joy was shining bright for everyone to see, as you yelled, "DIE, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" as the monster melted under your hands and body.

He was captivated, fucking spellbound, by the sight in front of him. He fell to his knees, watching you melt every single one of the monster in one more movement of your hand, as lava flowed towards them, capturing and melting them as you stand straight, the expression on your face serious and deadly. You then walked towards the source, the main villain who was creating this chaos, and the guy literally fell to the floor in fear, trying to crawl away from you in tears. When you stood before him, you crouched to his level, and smiled devilishly.

The villain pissed his pants.

And Bakugou's cock twitched.

He then murmured, "I'm gonna marry the shit out that woman."

Deku chuckled, shaking his head and letting his body fall to ground in tiredness. Everything was okay now.

From then on, you were by Dynamight's side all the time. The second you graduated –Bakugou Katsuki of fucking course attended the graduation ceremony– he offered a job on his Agency for you. And you said yes, even though you had options like Deku's Agency, or Hawk's, and even Endeavor had offered you a big place on his, trying to win you by saying that most of his sidekicks were fire-like Quirks and that his mother had a Quirk similar to yours, he could ask her for advice for you. Bakugou's stomach turned thinking he might had won you over that. But before he could finish the sentence, "Would you like a spot on my Ag–", you exclaimed a big YES, smiling warmly and eyes shining in excitement.

He had to clear his throat and look away at your expression, making something tingle in his chest. Was that his heart?

You became his partner then, in missions, in interviews, in meetings with other Agencies when some big villain appeared and they had to join forces. You were always there, not behind him but next to him.

In interviews he would always let you speak about how everything went and thank every body who helped. But Katsuki would look at you. Look as the lava started to dissipate from your skin, slowly turning down the temperature and going back to your normal color. Your hair that became liquid lava slowly became the color of greyish-black rock and then smoothed its way to your normal texture and color. He always felt mesmerized watching the process, and he would look at it any opportunity he got.

It wasn't until one night out with his old friends that Pikachu said, "Dude, tone down your thirst a lil' bit," in between laughs with Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kirishima patted his back, shaking his head, "Your sidekick, man. The lava girl?"

"What?"

"What we are trying to say," Mina smirked, "is that everytime you look at her, its almost palpable the way you want to eat her."

Bakugou gulped. "Shut the fuck up. I don't look at her like that."

Mina winked at him, "If you say so..."

That night he searched on the internet in his phone for interviews, desperately. Fuck, his friends were right. He did look at you with a fascination and hunger he had never saw himself do. He remembered thinking about marrying you back in the days, but that had been the heat of the moment, right? This annoyed the shit out of him. But watching you again in those videos, as you smiled so kindly to the reporters or other Hero friends or to even civilians while looking so freaking scary when your Quirk was activated, made something stir inside his belly.

Fuck, you're gorgeous. You're everything he didn't know he wanted.

And that's when he decided he would not hide his feelings for you anymore.

So now, a few years after, when you are married to number two Pro Hero Dynamight, people always talk about how your husband always looks at you. How he always encourages you in your fights to "kill those fucking piece of shits, baby!!" as he is very close to you fighting his own set of shitty villains and you encourage him saying "show them who is the number two hero, love!" He looses it then, a blast that ends it all.

They talk about how he would always kiss you after a fight, even after all that adrenaline that makes him want to bury himself deep inside your warmth, he only holds your face gently, gloved thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly, eyes locked onto each other like the world doesn't exist outside that moment, and he kisses you softly, a simple touch, a cute press of lips that lasts a millisecond so he doesn't burn the skin of his face and lips. And then he pulls one of your hands with his up in victory.

He didn't only win the battles, he won you each and every time he got to simply look at you, be next to you, kiss you.

He is obsessed with you, and he doesn't want to fucking hide it from the world.

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. homemade love.

about. katsuki takes the pain of his middle-born daughter to heart, and does anything he can to fix it.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up, bakugou is a girl dad of three, reader is referred to as ‘ma’, their daughter is quirkless like deku lol, he makes her pasta, pro hero!bakugou, fem!reader, … a draft from a long time ago!! enjoy please <3

katsuki who cooks and makes his middle daughter her favourite pasta recipe whenever she’s down.

she comes home from middle school with scraped palms and knees, teary eyed and with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“they don’t like me ‘cause ‘m quirkless.” she says as soon as she’s through the door — the authentic bakugou twang thick in her shaky voice. her face is pressed into your torso when you make eye contact with katsuki, who’s emerged from the kitchen down the hall and to your left.

you see it all flash before his eyes — his childhood, his high school career and the day he died. the way he treated the number one, uncle izuku, for so many years. it’s all reflected in the familiar red of his middle child’s eyes and it kills him.

“c’mere squirt,” katsuki calls to her, drying off his hands with the red riot tea towel slung lazily over his shoulder. he’d been washing dishes before she got home. “we’re makin’ dinner together.”

“but i—“

“i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” the older blonde nudges his head towards the kitchen, reaching a hand out for his daughter which she tenderly takes. when she sniffles, bakugou tucks her into his side as if to protect her from the horrors of the world. you let them go without interrupting, knowing the importance of this moment for the two.

it’s not easy, being a bakugou when you’ve got dynamight’s reputation to live up to. he’s fearsome and fiery, confident and calculated. your husband and the father of your three beautiful daughters is one of the main reasons why japan is safe today. the burden and weight of his reputation that your children carry is unimaginable — only made worse by the fact that your middle is quirkless.

and yet, dynamight’s love for her doesn’t falter. since the moment he first held his baby girl she’s been his entire world, his moon along with his sun and now his stars. he’s adored her before she even became a twinkle in his eye — no amount of power or special ability would change that for him.

she’s katsuki’s girl, not just dynamight’s daughter. he’d tear the world apart to find anyone who ever hurt her.

“hold the knife properly. you cut your finger off ‘n yer ma will have my head.” his gruff voice, holding no malice, makes your sweet girl snort with laughter — a change from her earlier wobbly bottom lip and teary eyes. “we’re tryna mince garlic for the sauce, not yer little hands, squirt.”

she sticks her tongue out at him, bright blonde curls bouncing when she narrowly misses a playful swat from her father. “i’m trying,” your middle child wails with faux upset — her nose scrunches all too similarly to how yours and it sends an arrow of love straight through katsuki’s chest. for a moment, the kitchen falls to silence and the elder of the two turns his attention to the pasta dough in his large floured hands — focusing on shaping them into little bow ties just how his daughter likes, on occasion adding them to a boiling pot of water.

“i’m trying,” she says again, but quieter. “but daddy, everythin’s so hard.”

and like pot simmering away on the stove, her emotions start to boil over — tiny hiccups forming a sad symphony with the sounds of a working kitchen.

bakugou instantly springs into dad mode, dropping everything that he had been doing to take your daughter’s hand in his. despite how messy it may be. “hey now gorgeous, don’t cry…tell me what’s wrong, yeah?”

“i-i don’t want to disappoint you by not havin’ a quirk n not bein’ a hero…” she manages to get out through her blubbering — digging the heal of her palm into wet eyes. “i jus’ wanna make you proud!”

katsuki’s face softens, everything except for love for his daughter melting away. “‘nd i am proud. fiercely fuckin’ so…ah, shit, don’t tell yer ma i cursed, kay?” he stumbles over his words, he’s never been the best at comforting people but when bakugou’s child needs him, he’ll be damned if he leaves her in any pain. “from the moment y’first came into this shitty — i mean — crappy world, i’ve been proud of you. you’ve always pushed yourself beyond anythin’ i could achieve, you’re kind to people when they don’t deserve it, you smile whenever things get tough…”

taking a moment from his passionate rant, katsuki slows his breathing and composed himself — squeezing his little girl close. “yer the best thing that’s ever happened t’me ‘n yer ma. my proudest moment… i love ya so much. you’d never disappoint me.”

“really, daddy?” your baby sniffles, rubbing at her snotty nose.

bakugou nods with a gentle smile, cupping her face between his two floury hands before kissing her forehead z “really.” he affirms. “now get yer choppin’ skills together, this pasta sauce ain’t gonna make itself.”

the two blonde’s return to cooking, a comfortable silence settling in your family kitchen, also full of love. that night, your family of five sit together munching on homemade pasta bow ties in a sauce that your middle daughter had worked so hard to make. she grins brightly between her sisters, staring at her father with her shining red eyes thankfully.

in that moment, she knows that she is loved no matter what the status of her quirk is.

you link your fingers with bakugou’s under the table. “you did good, dad.” you whisper to him, stabbing through your pasta with your fork. “

“so did you, ma.” he whispers back gruffly, thumb running over your wedding band as he eats his pasta too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[white-poppie]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 ⎯⎯⎯ Part II of the '𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇' series

SYNOPSIS: In the bleakest times of your life, there kindled a little ember in you. Tsukiko, moon child, you were coping, one way or another. But dark clouds claw at the litte light of hope in your life as you come face to face with Suguru again.

TW: crying, teen-pregnancy, panic attacks, lactation, depression-like symptoms, post-partum, adoption,, self-loathing, su!c!dal ideation, jealousy, mentions of suguru's twisted ideals of a perfect jujutsu society, big sad :(

A/N: Thank you for all the support to this series!! Ps! look out for the symbolism in objects, i used big brain power lol. Plus I am sooooo sorry for delaying this so much

NOTE: reader is in her last year so she'd be around 17-19 :) This big sad will build up to happiest happy in the last part so bear with me.

WC: 4k lmaooo

Series masterlist Pt1: 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 ⏮ ⏸ ⏭ Part 3 Now playing: Part 2

The child, a baby girl, lay giggling and cooing in your arms as you look down at her with warmth in your eyes. She's the spitting image of an angel with her wide and expressive eyes, her small nose, a sharp arch exactly like her father, pink flushed cheeks and a tuft of soft dark black hair on her head…She looks exactly like Suguru.

She is a talkative baby, her little pink lips opening and closing wit soft 'pops', thats quite literally talking, what even is the difference when you are holding a squishy 2 month old? Her hands and movements are disoriented, jerky, flailing her chubby little arms and legs without care.

Her tiny hand reaching up to grab at your strands of hair, her big eyes looking curiously at your hair, observing how it moves with her tiny wrist.

"Come on, sweetheart, let mama do shopping for you." you whisper to the tiny baby strapped to your chest as you go around picking the essentials

She looks up at your voice, her lips almost forming a little pout and you can't help but coo lightly at her cuteness. You resist the urge to snap another photo and send it to Shoko to which she would always reply with a boring thumbs up emoji, but you know well how she smiles after seeing her god-child.

"Let's see what we have... we got the diapers, baby oil, flour, we got the veggies and other stuff...ah pear, we should get some pears." you say to the baby. It was difficult to think singularly in singular pronouns, it was the two of you-- it was 'us', 'our' through and through.

You walk down to the fruit isle, looking for some pears. Eventually you find the last pack in the thin mesh. Your hands reach forward to grip it and so does another. Your heart ceases. There is no way you wouldn't recognise that hand. The faint tan under which lie a constellation of protruding green veins. Fingers with a naturally large nail bed, the skin around it slightly discoloured. Suguru. There was no doubt it was him, you didn't even need to look up or rather you didn't have the strength to.

You suddenly wanted to laugh. You felt like a tragic greek hero, comung across your beloved, a bit too late. Orpheus and Eurydice, Hyacinthus and Apollo. Achilles and Patroclus. But the real tragedy was, as the poets said, "I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

"Suguru..." You whisper out breathlessly as you finally dare and look him in the eye.

His name leaving your lips like a plea tears straight through his chest, his heart aching at the sound of his beloved's voice again. He can't help but feel his heart racing as he looks at your face, drinking in the sight of your tired but radiant face. "Y/N," he murmurs out.

He feels sick, how instantly his sleep-deprived body finds solitude at the sight of you. Relief flooding into his lungs, spreading throughout his veins like a chasm. Its shattering, he feels like a man who was lost in a desert after having left his paradise for a mirage of an oasis.

His body is on fire, his muscles searing to envelop you, to somehow make you melt into him and never let go. His vision blurs, watery, and then suddenly, his breath stills, when his eyes fall onto the soft bundle safely strapped to you chest. An appearance uncanny similar to his, its alive, living. His ears buzz in trepidation. On one hand you stand in front of him and he wants to fall on his knees and tell you how miserable and lonely he was, how being the villain in everyone's story, including yours doesn't bother him anymore, but that child...

"Is that.." he murmurs, but his voice trembles more that he would have liked it to.

Your eyebrows etch into a small frown, you almost want to scream at him for even asking this question. "Obviously." You reply your eyes darting to the aisles in the mart.

His breath stutters and his palms turn cold. No, no, no, no, no. A soft gasp leaves his mouth. The revelation tumbling down him. he had thought of everything. He was ready to face anything, and every consequence, and yet somehow some way he had forgotten to calculate a variable. A variable that was a variable that you, a variable was his child.

He killed his parents without hesitation, left the walls of the quaint house he grew up in all sullied with but somehow the sight of you with his child brings him to his knees. He wants to sob, rest his head on your knee and shakily kiss you and the baby in forgiveness.

"That's my child..." he says, but it sounds more like a statement than a question. With his silken black hair and nose bridge, the same bright black eyes he had as a kid....that's his

You take in a deep breath and nod, your heart pounds in your chest till it aches. "Tsukiko." You whisper out, your voice hoarse as you look at the little girl

Suguru has to bite his lip just to keep himself sane, memories of that bittersweet night flooding in and he feels he would topple over the pear rack.

"Tsukiko...she's named Tsukiko..." He says out and his hand shakes. That's his blood, his daughter and yet he is the farthest thing from a father. Seeing her so close to you, the way you are fussing over her, it has his throat run dry by the intensity of a ground marred from rain, a rain that fell always but now doesn't fall in the courtyard of his heart, leaving all the plants of humane emotions, wilting and dry.

He can't help but murmur out, "A pretty name. It suits her." He whispers out softly, gently reaching out a hand towards the small child. "May I?"

You look at him as a strange anger wells up within. You want to refuse, yet you want to cry in his sturdy arms, for him to envelope you so hard that you can't breathe. You want to beg him to come back, and yet you want to slap him and tell him to never show his face.

You want him to stay, to apologise for letting some as young as you go through pregnancy alone. You want him to apologise for leaving you in a state where the shadows around you seemed to warp in oddly threatening shapes, where intrusive thoughts had you so scared you had to call Shoko or Satoru just to listen to their voice, so that you feel real and don't end up doing anything stupid.

You want him to go back to your dorm room in jujutsu high, where all of his belongings are untouched like the day he left.

You gently unclasp her from the carrier. “Support her neck, she’s only two months old.”

He swallows the lump in his throat as he gently takes the child into his arms, watching as you gently unclasp her from the carrier and gently place her into his arms. His heart hammers in his chest as he carefully and gently supports her small, fragile neck, feeling her small frame in his arms. Tsukiko blinks her wide eyes in confusion, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes.

You feel anguished, thinking of what life could have been if Suguru had never left for his goals. What if you hadn’t lost half of your soul that day.

His heart aches as he holds the small baby in his arms, thinking of all the moments he will lose out on seeing now. Never seeing her first steps, her first words, never reading her bedtime stories, never having her call him ‘daddy’. He will never get to see her experience the feeling of pure and unbridled joy for the first time, or seeing her face light up at all the small, everyday things that make children happy. He knows he has missed so much already, and the thought of missing more...

His heart aches and his breath catches in his throat as he feels the small child’s bottom lip tremble slightly, her head turning up to look at you with a conflicted look in her eyes. He can feel her small frame quiver slightly in his arms, probably still confused by the fact that she is in a stranger’s arms, but she isn’t crying to get away from him. The fact that she’s not crying to get back into your arms makes him want to laugh and sob all at the same time.

"Tsuki." You whisper out as you gently brush your fingers on her face. For some odd reason you don't want her to cry in his arms. After all the pain he has inflicted on me, Iyou still don't want him to be hurt by his girl crying to get away from him.

You take a sudden breath as your fingers brush against his arm accidentally, and suddenly you feel so small, so alone. With Tsuki away from your chest, even though she is right in front of you, you feel a strange fear of abandonment.

His heart races as he feels your fingers brush against his arm accidentally, your fingers leaving a scorching heat in their wake even though you’re only brushing against his arm. Your fingers are icy cold, and it’s just then that he realizes that you have tears streaming down your face, the droplets running down your chin and dripping onto the linoleum flooring of the grocery store. Your shoulders are trembling and you’re trying to hold back your sobs, but he can hear your strangled breaths.

"Give her back to me and leave." You whisper out as you bite your lips. Its not fair, It hurts so much. You have been so strong until now, taking care of everything, but now he is here and everything is rushing back like a riptide, knocking you off your feet, making you fall face-first onto the sand

He can feel his eyes widening in shock as your strangled words reach his ears, his heart aching painfully as he holds back the urge to cry out. He watches you struggle to stop tears from streaming down your face, watching the way your shoulders tremble as you try to hold back your sobs, watching as you fight back the urge to just hold the baby and run back to his arms.

"Geto." You murmur. Not Sugu, not Suguru. "Give me my child back," You whisper as you look at him, your hand clutching your chest as it aches so painfully. "Are you having fun seeing me make a spectacle of myself in the middle of a mart?" You croak out, but your voice doesn't waver.

His heart breaks as you call him ‘Geto’ in such a cold, detached voice. He gulps and hand the baby to you, his hands immediately feeling so empty, thats his daughter, his little girl. He wants to hold her, kiss her head, kiss the beautiful woman who brought her to life, but he is going to make a new world, and when all that is done, you would all be a family....

You gently tuck Tsukiko back in the carrier as he hands her to you and walk out of the mart, towards the exit. The groceries forgotten. You will buy them some other day. Each step is so difficult.

You wanna go back to him, cry in his arms, sob and hit his chest. Standing underneath a stop as you dial your phone to Satoru and he answers. "Satoru...can you pick us up?" you murmur tiredly, your voice hoarse

The moment he heard your voice over the phone, Satoru felt his heart dropping to his stomach. He can hear the way your voice is strained and hoarse, and he can sense the way that you are on the verge of tears. Satoru swallows the lump in his throat as he stands up from his desk and grabs the keys off his desk. “I’m on my way.”

You nod and cut the call, staring blankly at the clouds. You hear the automated door of the mart open and look at Suguru exiting the mart, three polybags in his hands as he walks up to you and keeps two of them on the ground. You look at the bag...its all the things in my cart and the pears.

Your lip trembles as I look up at him, eyes bleary. Tsukiko is now peacefully asleep against your chest. Her faint smell, that of baby powder and milk...It lingers from Suguru too, your head pounds.

He faintly smells like her too now and the way he looks at her, like he is aching, his eyes begging--- they are peading in the same way as they were on the night which lead to Tsuki. I wish I can have what I love, but to protect what I love, I must make a society where those I love ⎯ sorcerers: you, Tsuki, Satoru, Shoko ⎯ are safe

"Go, it's about to rain soon. You'll catch a cold if you get wet." You whisper out tiredly.

His heart aches as he watches you whisper out your words, the exhaustion plain on your face. He can’t bear to see you struggling and forcing yourself to be strong when he is the sole reason for your pain. And as he hears your tired voice, he just can’t help the way his hand reaches out to gently brush the tear away from your cheek. “Y/N…don’t cry,” he whispers.

You look at his hand caressing your cheek before a soft sob escapes your mouth. His touch making goosebumps rise all over your body. “Don’t do that, you have no right to when you decided to leave….” You say as you weakly push his hand away, but it’s so feeble and weary that it’s like a gentle nudge.

A fresh wave of tears builds in your eyes, and all he wants to do is draw you into his arms and hold you until your sobs fade away. It kills him how weak you are, how weak his leaving has made you. He wants to hold you and never let you suffer like this ever again. But how could he after he’s the one that caused this pain to begin with?

His phone rings, an unfamiliar contact name flashes on his screen. Mimiko with a little childish flower emoji next to it.

You feel your heart drop to your stomach; to the point that you feel as if you are having morning sickness all over again.

"That's your girlfriend?" you ask with a soft chuckle, as you don't feel this ugly cold wave wash over you, you feel your limbs stiffen, your teeth chattering at how cold I feel.

Its as if your heart has closed off, putting up a barrier around it and locking away all those painful emotion that he has inflicted on you. He looks down at his phone, seeing a picture of Mimiko and Nanako, the little girls he rescued and adopted 11 months ago, smiling in the caller ID. "Y/N..no..."

"You don't have to defend yourself y'know." you say with a fake breathy laugh as your hand supports Tsumiko's sleeping head to your chest. "Not that it matters anymore."

He bites his lip as he stares at your expression, his heart being "I’m not gonna defend myself but...those are my kids, not my girlfriends," he says softly.

Your eyebrows furrow as your grip on Tsukiko tightens instinctively. "...What?" Its too much. Its way too much for you to handle, your ears ring uncomfortably, yet you try to stand firm.

"Mimiko and Nanako..." He swallows nervously, trying to figure out the right words to say. "I-I found them, when I left you. They are sisters. Their parents were murdered, and they were in such horrendous conditions that I just had to rescue them," he stutters, feeling a sudden uncomfortable rush of warmth on his cheeks from his heart racing.

"I see, uhm thats very nice of you." You mutter with a little smile. "Having two daughters, must be nice. something positive amongst all that you are doing..." You say, but your throat runs dry. He has two daughters. That’s basically a family. He is raising them out of goodwill and love, it’s optimistic.

Your heart aches as you think about Tsukiko. Her mother still stuck to her past, clinging to her lover.

Most of the days you can't tell the date from start to finish. You blankly do all the work, function normally but trapped in this surreal dream that you can't snap out from, until your back hits the bed and you stare at a picture of you and Suguru on the bedside. Finally crying, showing some humane emotion after acting like a non-sentient being.

He has two daughters. Who first had happy lives with their parents until they tragically died, and were taken in by an equally loving caretaker.

Your expression turns from shock to something a little more painful, a sad half-smile that looks like it’s masking the emotional turmoil that he can see building up beneath it. He can see the way that your shoulders droop a little, your head bowing just a fraction more towards your chest. He can see your fingers tightening just slightly around Tsukiko, "Yeah..it is...” he murmurs out weakly.

“I am glad…every child deserves a home.” You mutter genuinely, but you feel so so terrible, like the worst person on earth that you am jealous of those little girls. Those little kids who get to live with their adoptive dad, a happy life. Full of joys and laughter. While Tsukiko was born in such despair. So much pain. Her mother, her godparents; everyone suffering in the tumultuous Jujutsu society. But what about Tsukiko, who's only fault was being born, why does she have to experience this tragedy?

Suguru's heart shatters as he watches you silently struggle and hold back your tears. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He did this to you. He did this to you, and now his two adopted children are getting the life that he ripped from you. That he denied you. There’s so much you already hear from people, about your character. When your only crime was being in love

“I won’t tell her that you have kids when she grows up.” You say with smile. “Wouldn’t want her to think she’s not a good kid and that’s why her dad left her for other children who are better than her. She’ll think her daddy didn’t like her.” You mumur. “Kids can be particularly fragile…who would know better than a mother who’s a kid herself?”

His heart drops at your cold, quiet words, his breath catching in his throat, tears building in his eyes at the pure agony that he can feel in your words. The way you’re already resigning yourself to being a single parent all alone. The way you can only do this because you’re still a damn kid yourself. Suguru heaves breathlessly as he gulps, his bottom lip trembling. The words don't leave his mouth. He should just ask you to come with him, to live with him, to be together as a family, a big family.

“At least raise them well Suguru…the two of them should get a safe environment. You look down at Tsukiko, your fingers gently brushing the little hair on her hair. She’s so tiny, hasn’t even gotten hair on her head fully.

Suguru's hands shakes as he takes a step closer, just basking in the sight of his beloved and his daughter. "Yeah," he mutters. "They are good kids, my girls..." he says in a faint whisper as a soft smile graces his face at the sight of Tsukiko's pudgy cheeks.

What a mighty child, she can stop world wars, she has him stopped and he is the closest thing to be a cause of a war in near future.

My girls? Your knees buckle at the words. “Ah I see… they are your girls.” You can't help but be bitter at his phrasing as you look at our little Tsukiko. She looks so much like her daddy. From her eyes, nose, hair, skin…she is a replica of him and yet he’s never had the chance to call her his child. It’s so cruel.

He feels a sharp spike of pain shoot through his heart at your words. His girls…not our girls. His girls. He doesn’t have the right to have you call them our girls. They’re just his. All because of him.

“Will she ever be your daughter Suguru…?” You can’t help but mutter so shakily, your voice quivering like a child’s as tears roll down your eyes…you feel so small it’s embarrassing.

A soft breathy sob leaves Suguru, he can't do this, he is goddamn monster. The sound almost makes you flinch as you look up at him. He sucks in a deep breath and holds it in for a few seconds before exhaling. “How could I...she’s…” he struggles to get the words out. “She’s ours. She’s ours and she’ll always be ours.”

Suguru sakes his head as he runs his fingers through his hair, he so goddamn dizzy. "She is my daughter, Nanako and Mimiko are my kids." he says, the change of a synonym making such a huge difference in the meaning.

"And you- you are mine, you have no- no idea who difficult it has been, I can't even try to compare, but I've missed you so goddamn much." his voice cracks. "And its so lonely, the girls they see me staring at your picture everyday and I tell them that's their mother. When they ask where you are, I tell them how I messed up- left to protect you, because you do not agree with my ideas, I thought you would be better off without me, that you'd move on slowly. But there's my daughter and I feel so guilty. You cannot move on, not when she is a reminder of me, of us. Of our youth."

The tears don't drop, but they pain is etched on his face, deep frown and upturned brows. You breathe out and shake your head. "I can't-" you murmur and he bites his lip, his index finger lightly running on Tsukiko's palm.

"I know." he says, "I just wish- I just wish I had more time, with you and Tsukiko." he whispers in the same soft tone as he conflicted eyes look into yours as if to say. Come with me, leave the jujutsu society, just us, our family.

But leaving with Suguru meant betraying everyone. Satoru, Shoko, Yaga sensei and the entirety of the sorcerers who work day and night for the future. A safe future from people like Suguru. Who heedlessly killed thousands of innocents.

"Go," you whisper out. "the girls must be waiting." You pause, your fingers shakily finding his and his eyes widen. He firmly squeezes your hand, the warmth of his hand against yours rouses and inexplicable pain and fondness in you.

"Satoru must be arriving." you mutter.

He nods his head slowly as he steps away, his voice thick. “I love you." he whispers out. The same words he had denied you the privilege of last time as he leaves...

Moments later a panicked Gojo pulls over, alarmed by your call before his eyes widen as he senses the remnants of Suguru’s cursed energy. His best friend, the strongest along him. Gojo can feel a cold shudder wash down his spine as he senses the remnants of Suguru’s cursed energy in the air, his breath catching in his throat as recognition hits him instantly, realising what may have happened.

You are sitting on the seats on the bus-stand as he comes close.He steps closer to you, his heart breaking upon seeing the dried tear tracks that are on your cheeks and the look of brokenness and despair in your eyes. He kneels down in front of you and gently rests his hand on your knee, his eyes gentle as he looks at you. “Y/N....” he whispers.

“Satoru…” You whimper softly, your voice cracking out of desperation and relief.

He quickly reaches up to pull you into a tight hug, his heart aching at the small, whimpering whisper of his name from your lips and the way your breathing hitches and a choked sob escapes your lips, the rest of your body quivering in his arms from the force of your tears. His arms are locked tightly against your body, keeping you pulled firm against his chest as you cry into your hands and he gently strokes a hand up and down your back. “Hey…shh..it’s okay…I’m here.”

He mutters as he winces, closing his eyes while the remnants of his best friend's cursed energy remains...

A/N: I sincerely apologise for the pain, but I don't have enough money for everyone's therapy.

EXP: Pear symbolism: In Chinese, the word li means both pear and separation, so it's said that to avoid a separation, friends and lovers should not divide pears between themselves.

[sleepyhutcherson]

those eyes, that mouth

peeta bakes you cinnamon rolls but can’t fight the urge to feed you…

pairing: peeta mellark x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: food play… not sure if it counts? established relationship, fluff, reader is feeling down at the beginning but yk nothing really mentioned, not necessarily nsfw but he feeds you and has you suck the frosting from his fingers… lol.

a/n: have this short thing i wrote whilee i struggle getting to my requests aaannd part two of know it’s for the better <33 alsoo first time writing for peeta!! i feel like this blog is mostly mike and derek but istg i have a lot of requests for more jhutch characters so i’ll be bringing in more josh futterman and billy content !!!

You weren’t feeling too well, Peeta had noticed the frown on your face the moment you woke up. He pulled you closer to him, your eyes meeting his as the early sun cleared Peeta’s usual brown eyes to a tender hazel tone. “What’s wrong, honey?” He asks, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand.

Honestly? You weren’t sure what was wrong, you woke up with a heavy feeling in your chest, a familiar sadness weighing down on you. You nuzzle your face into the crook of Peeta’s exposed neck, you hear him giggle softly at your actions. “I don’t know,” your words are muffled against his warm, precious skin. “I just feel a little down.” You admit with a bit of shame.

Peeta continues to rub your bare back comfortingly, his chin resting above your head. “Do you want to stay in bed a little longer?” He asks, his tone soft.

You nod a little, peppering a few small kisses on his neck—your way of thanking him for understanding. He stays with you, humming some made up tune to fill the silence in your shared bedroom, rubbing your back Right as you were drifting back to sleep you felt him pull away, a small whine escaping your lips making him chuckle softly.

“Please don’t go,” you mumble, half asleep. You don’t have enough strength or energy to pull him back down so he’s up before you know it. He pulls on a pair of pyjama pants and a white t-shirt, all while staring down at the lovely sight of you trying to stay awake, your eyes half lidded. You were so adorable.

He leans down, planting a loving kiss on your forehead all while smiling. “I’ll be back,” he whispers, assuring you even if you already passed out.

—

You wake up hours later to a rainy scenery outside, droplets of water hitting your bedroom window threateningly. You can’t help but feel a strange comfort in the gloomy weather; oddly enough, you were feeling just a little better—well, better than you were feeling in the morning. You took notice of the extra blankets that you were tangled up in, you smiled knowing Peeta had draped them over you sometime while you were asleep.

“Feeling better?” Your head perks up at his voice, you could practically hear the smile in his words. You sit up and you’re greeted with a lovely sight: a smiley Peeta wearing a dark brown knitted jumper, a smudge of—what you assume is—flour on his forehead and a warm scent of cinnamon following him in. Your eyes follow down to a porcelain plate in his hands with a freshly made cinnamon roll, your stomach growls at the sight.

You nod. “Much better,” you reply, ogling the pastry.

“Eyes up here,” he teases, but there’s something so demanding about his tone—even if it’s lathered with his usual gentle tone—it’s difficult not to find it hot. You meet his eyes and he smiles with satisfaction, making his way towards you, sitting beside you on the bed. He sets the plate down at the night stand, his hands free to caress your face, holding you so delicately. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He rubs your cheek with his thumb, his eyes taking the sight of you. You were so beautiful to him, so precious. You could see it in his eyes alone just how much he loved you. A shade of pink tints your cheeks feeling flustered by having Peeta’s eyes on you for this long. He was taking his time, as he always did when it came to admiring your beauty. “Those eyes…” he whispers, his eyes boring into yours, “such pretty eyes.”

You feel suddenly shy at his compliment, ducking your head slightly, trying to hide the deeper shade of pink you probably are now. He lifts your head up to look at him, his pointer under your chin as he gently forces you to meet his eyes. “Hungry?” He asks, his eyes trailing down to your lips with such hunger. You nod, too overstimulated to use your words now.

He reached for the cinnamon roll, he knew how much you loved the warm bun, especially when it was made by him. He holds it there for you, there’s no fork, he glances up at you and you see this sudden lust in his eyes…a small smirk on his lips. He sets the plate down between you two, his hands reaching down to rip a piece of the warm bread for you. It’s warm and sticky against his fingers, he brings it up to your lips, holding it just a few inches away from you. “Open,” he instructs, trying to keep a stern tone. You do as told, slightly opening your mouth, and he nearly melts at the sight. “Oh, that mouth…” he says breathlessly. He feeds you the tasty roll, watching you slowly eat it and it’s such a gorgeous sight seeing you eat.

Once you’ve swallowed the small piece he brings up the whole cinnamon roll up to you, you giggle softly. “Big bite,” he whispers with an eagerness to his tone you can’t miss. You slowly inch closer to him, looking up at him as you gradually take a bite of the cinnamon roll all while keeping your pretty eyes interlocked with his. He lets out a pathetic moan at the mere sight.

You giggle softly, chewing on the chunk you bit off. Peeta reaches up to wipe the bit of frosting off from the corner of your lips. Then an idea occurs to him.

With his pointer finger and his middle he dips the two into the middle of the cinnamon roll, the white glaze coating his long fingers. He makes sure to get enough on them—enough to keep your mouth on his fingers for long. You watch him with hunger, wanting his fingers in your mouth now so desperately.

His fingers come up to your lips, moving his digits covered in the sweet icing around your lips, swiping them slowly. Your lips are now covered and Peeta can’t help but think of how similar the white glaze looks like…

“Open, sweetheart.” He commands eagerly, so mesmerised by the sight of you. You do as told, parting your lips, giving him access to your mouth.

His fingers enter your mouth, the icing tasting so good on your tongue or maybe it was Peeta’s fingers. Your eyes are locked with his as your lips wrap around his fingers, a grin on his face. “Suck,” he says more sternly now and you obide sucking all the sweet icing from his perfectly long fingers, lewd sounds filling the room now and fuck does Peeta almost get off from the sight alone. “So good,” he moans breathlessly as you continue to work your mouth on his fingers, attempting to clean them off from the stickiness.

You pull away with a pop! sound that makes Peeta weak. He pulls you in immediately craving your lips—a taste of you. His hands are pressed up at the sides of you face, crashing his lips into yours with a force he’s never really used before but God was he so fucking hungry for you right now. He tastes the glaze on your lips, the desire and lust all over your mouth.

“Mm’you taste so good, sweetheart.”

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream and baking with them!

Mark Lee

Thinks that he can handle baking a cake but is probably stressed out already during grocery shopping. He lets you take the lead, afraid that he might ruin it for the two of you. The type to just gaze on what you are doing. Probably tried to be helpful like cracking the egg or measuring the ingredients. TRIES!!! so hard to make sure that he's doing it right,,, asks you again and again before proceeding to do it. "I'll just pour all of this?" "Mark, for the last time yes, it's on the recipe." 

Huang Renjun

Oh he's the perfect assistant! He reads the recipe so that you don't have to look at the recipe over and over again. Helps you by getting the tools and needs. Also a perfectionist, like if the recipe says 1 cup, it has to be 1 cup!! He's very helpful since he knows his way to the kitchen, probably preheats the oven while you mix the ingredient, and while you two wait for it the pastry to bake, he made a drink for the two of you to enjoy! :<

Lee Jeno

Another one who's lets you take the lead. Literally, like a puppy following you everywhere. Probably the type to backhug you while you measure ingredients. He thinks he's helping but he's not, but he's an emotional support, so it's fine!! I feel like he read the recipe and while you already memorized the recipe by heart, so when you skipped an ingredient, he stops you and just panics, like,,, "is that part of the instructions?" you laughed at how serious he was, but you assured him that you know what you're doing. 

Lee Donghyuck

Baking with Haechan is kinda stressful but that's because he sees that you're having a hard time with the cake, (in your defense, it's your first time baking a cake.) Probably takes the lead more, has a serious expression on his face, (even if it was his first time baking a cake too.) You watch as he skillfully mixed the ingredient, place it at the baking pan, and put it inside the oven. Oh, and when you two are making the icing, he'll be the type to get a spoonful of it just to taste it. (He had three more spoons later lol.)

Na Jaemin

Baking with Jaemin sounds like a very peaceful thing to do!! You can hear the song playing from the speaker, probably a soft lo-fi or something from your shared playlist!! It's so serene and calm that you two don't really speak to each other and have a sort-of telepathic connection on what to do. You two would work together on baking a cake, like how Jaemin measure and pour the ingredients while you mix it with a handmixer. Would probably smear flour on your cheek but it won't go to that extent that you two are throwing flour at each other. 

Zhong Chenle

I feel like Chenle is very confident with his cooking skills, so he takes the lead!! But once it gets complicated, he'll ask you help. Once you're the one who's taking the lead, Chenle would probably be the type to be clinging on you. He's like a koala on you, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulder as you mix the batter. You probably had a hard time moving because your boyfriend is being stubborn lol. 

Park Jisung

He's ban in the kitchen tbh. BUT sometimes he really wants to help you with your baking because he likes spending quality time with you. Probably the type to watch from a far but you tend to ask him to do stuff like cracking the egg or maybe pour the ingredient while you mix the batter. Oh and he's such a foodie!! Like, he's the type to watch you while he nimble on the crushed chocolates or maybe he found a snack on your pantry so he's munching that while you bake. 

[bono-aesthetic]

𝙘'𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮....

₊˚ପ⊹: ̗̀➛ a short appreciation drabble of soft, fluffy kento nanami as your beloved husband

note: this is my 'debut' drabble on tumblr so it might not be so good-

warning: none! just fluffy kento as your hubby <3 (and a small mention of lovemaking, not detailed.)

word count: 500+

: ̗̀➛enjoy <3

husband!kento who is the type to pull you away from whatever you're doing (especially cooking) and lead you into a dance, smiling softly at your laughter-filled protests.

husband!kento who seems to be the sort of man who listens to gregory porter or barry white during rainy, lazy days when you both struggle to tumble out of bed.

husband!kento who makes sure to look down at you with sincere, lovesick eyes while he twirls you around in whatever new dress you're wearing, complimenting you ever so graciously.

husband!kento who admires your naked form and soft features in the morning sunlight that peeps through the windows after a night of passionate lovemaking.

husband!kento who would most likely then tuck a few strands of your hair away from your face, place a tender kiss on your forehead and whisper sweet nothings into your hair to gently wake you up.

husband!kento whose heart swells when he sees how gentle and sweet you are to children, already imagining just how much of a perfect mother you'll be to your own little ones.

husband!kento who has a particular green armchair in the living room, where on a polished wooden side table resides a shaded lamp, the daily newspaper and his reading glasses.

husband!kento who appreciates deeply that you don't move anything from that table. he is a man of structure and organisation and likes when things (neatly) stay how he first placed them.

husband!kento who will always listen attentively to what you have to say. whether it be about your day, suggestions on what to have for dinner or even rants about your bitchy co-worker, he will listen like it's his last day on earth.

husband!kento who is always happy to embrace the inner playful side of him when you both have ‘flour fights’ during your couple baking sessions. it usually end with both of you a giggling mess, flour covering a majority of your clothing and hair.

husband!kento who always seems to have to pull you away from the baby section of any store, a small smile contouring the corner of his lips when you ramble on and on about how adorable and tiny anything baby related is.

husband!kento who is always somewhat amused when you try to size him up and try to intimidate him with your height. mind you, he is taller and broader than you, so in his eyes, it's rather adorable.

husband!kento who would most likely take a few steps into your personal space and teasingly pat your head, a small smirk decorating his lips when you visibly bristle at this.

husband!kento who can't help but enjoy late afternoon chats with you (when he has the time) over a cup of tea. i see him as an earl grey type of man (maybe because of how mature i view him lol).

husband!kento who loves you so, so dearly and is willing to do everything to keep you happy as his darling wife. ask him to pluck all the stars from the heavens: he'll pleasantly spend the rest of his days, with you by his side, doing exactly that…

©𝖻𝗈𝗇𝗈-𝖺𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼.

[zepskies]

Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now. 

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.   

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.  

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears. 

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

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@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

[jasmines-library]

batfam with the youngest robin (prob 12-13) who gets kidnapped by the joker during a mission and a year or so later the joker reveals the kid who is now brainwashed to be the joker jr

i was thinking like maybe how they’d react and maybe that they can rescue y/n and un-brainwash them and like comfort them and stuff

if not that’s fine i don’t mind!!! i can also like explain better if needed lol

The Stranger In The Mirror.

Note: You guys literally send in the best requests, I took inspo from Batman Beyond where this happens to Tim but I also added my own little twists as always.

Warnings: Torture (graphic), brainwashing, manipulation, drugging, breakdown basically hurt not comfort (poor reader is going through it all in this one.)

Word count: 2.5k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Help! Somebody please!”

You heard the cry before you saw what was happening. A female voice begging desperately for help, pleading for mercy as the two men backed her against the wall of the alley. They stalked towards her menacingly and you could see the way her face contorted with a fear that gripped her so tight as she moved feebly in an attempt to get past the two men. But they were large and between them took up most of the alley so that it was nearly impossible for her to slip past, and even if she did they would be on her in a second. 

Using your grappling hook to secure a line on a nearby railing, you propelled yourself down from the rooftop. Before your feet hit the floor, you took the crooks out with a well placed blow that sent them crumpling to the ground like a sack of flour. Resheathing your hook, you turned to the woman. 

“Are you alright, Miss?”

She smiled, looking at you from under the brim of her hat with an all too familiar smile “Much better now you’re here.”

A brief flash of recognition crossed over your face, obscured by your mask as you realised who those brown eyes belonged to but you had no time to act on it before she hit you on the back of the head. Hard. With a manic laugh. 

“Night night, Birdy.”

~

When you awoke, you were laying on something cold. A piece of metal that you had been bound to by ropes that burned against your wrists and feet as you struggled to free yourself. The table was tilted at an angle that allowed you to squint against your throbbing head to take in your surroundings. The room you were in was well lit and seemed surprisingly sterile given the situation. Strange concoctions of colours that made you grimace hung on the walls and bubbled away in tubes on one of the many workbenches across the room. The tools made your stomach churn. But then you saw him. 

Perched all high and mighty in a chair opposite you the Joker had sprawled himself out across a chair, flashing you one of his sickening, signature grins. 

“Hiya, Birdy!” He stood with glee, making his way over to you with a spring in his step-almost like he was skipping. 

“Why the hell am I here, Joker?” You spat at him, baring your teeth. 

“Can’t a guy just hang out with his favourite vigilante?” He mused, turning away from you as he began organising things on the desk that you couldn’t see, you tugged in the restraints to try and catch a glimpse of them.

“Cut the crap.”

“You all really are no fun.” He rolled his eyes “Not to worry that’ll all change soon when I morph you into the perfect weapon. Me.”

“What?” 

“Well, what’s better than one of me? Two of me. And you little bird, know all the ways to destroy your pesky family.”

“I’m not going to tell you shit.”

He shrugged, turning back to you with a pair of jump leads in hand. “We’ll see.”

Walking towards you with a grin he attached them to the table before reaching towards the dial. You thrashed desperate to break free but the ropes securing you in place allowed no leeway for you to move. When his fingers brushed the dial and the voltage came flooding through the wires, you let out a blood curdling scream. The pain was everywhere as your body arched, twitched and writhed against the rope. It burned at your skin, drawing blood and forming blisters against your wrists and your ankles. When the current finally stopped and you fell slack against the restraints your diaphragm jerked and spluttered against each pain filled gasp. 

“Are you ready to talk now?”

~

They realised very quickly that you were missing. You hadn’t returned home after your patrol. They tried not to let the worry get the best of them, but this was Gotham. They waited, watching the seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, but there was no sign of you. You were gone. 

Everyone was on high alert. For three, agonising weeks they searched every inch of Gotham, using every possible connection they had but no one found any leads. Tim was growing frustrated, hacking into every database he could find as Bruce and the other boys scoured the city. But you were gone without a trace. That was until one tedious Wednesday morning, the batcave received an urgent call. 

~

Your head was fuzzy. Whatever the Joker had dozed you with this time was really taking a toll on you. 

Your head hung low resting against your chest as you breathed slowly, trying to push away the fuzziness in your brain. Your entire body had grown numb; now too used to the pain it had been put through, too weak to hold yourself up as you lay slack against the table and although all dosed up now you may not be able to feel anything, you would never be able to forget the endless torment he had put you through; that would forever be etched into your mind. 

The screams still seemed to ricochet off of the walls, burying themselves into each crack just to resurface once it went quiet. The feeling of your skin being torn apart still lingered, the pinch followed by the burn as the Joker slashed you with his weapons, screaming at you to tell him all that you knew about Batman. Of course, you refused at first. Oh how you were so brave trying to hold your tongue. But you couldn’t help the screams that ripped from your mouth and left your throat raw and soon when they layers of your mind had been peeled away by the cruel hallucinations he put you through with his serums and his words, you soon began to crack; your fragile body unable to take anymore of this torture. 

Your wrists had been burnt red raw; the trails of blood tracked down your arms and mixed with dirt and blood, showing where it had beaded down your forearms as you struggled. Burned with tears your anguish was clear amongst your struggle and you were pretty sure that you had at least three broken ribs and four missing fingernails. Maybe more. 

But you were growing to like the pain somewhat. Because it meant that you were still alive. It meant that your family was on your way…or… had they stopped looking for you. 

The Joker's cruel words rang through your hazy mind. He had told you about the video he had sent to them. How there was no response. They didn’t care. None of them did or you would have been home right now. He had injected you with something as he said it, but you swatted off the prick of the needle as though it were a pesky mosquito bite. 

“Soon,” He told you as the drug settled into the numbness of your body. “You will realise that I am helping you. That I am the only one that cares for you. Not Batman. Not any of those pesky Birds. Me.” he hovered in the doorway just before he left. “I’ll be back, Junior.” Junior.  He had stopped calling you by your name recently. 

And as much as you didn’t want to agree with the man who had put you and your family through so much…you were beginning to believe it. The Joker had dragged you away from a life cycle of patrol and ending crimes. He was giving you a place to stay when your family had so clearly given up on you. The Joker had confided so much in you in your time together that you felt like you almost knew him personally. And it had made you think that… he was misunderstood. Lonely. Much more similar to you than- 

No.

No. No. No. You shook the thoughts from your head. ‘They’re coming.’ you told yourself. ‘But…’

Your mind was fighting itself now, conflicted between what you knew and what you were being told. Fighting between your family and the man who stood constantly before you.  It fought until one side finally inched free and you realised something. 

The Joker. 

The Joker was right. He was helping you. 

When he returned to you that night, you greeted him with a dumb smile. He was  glad to see that his plan had worked. That he had broken you down enough to mould you into exactly what he wants. 

He grinned manically. He could now move onto phase two: training you to kill The Bat. This stage would be considerably easier. You already knew Batman’s weaknesses; you had admitted that during one of the electroshock sessions. He just had to convince you that Batman was the real enemy. The only thing left to do besides that was lure him over to you. Which should’ve been easy enough.

~

Tim shot up from his seat the moment your face flashed up on the screen. Somehow, someone had overridden the computer’s controls and he was now staring at your bloodied and beaten face lolling against a metal table. 

“Bruce!” Tim cried, scrambling to grab the attention of his father. 

Bruce had never moved faster across the cave than he did to reach Tim, his stomach dropping when he saw the screen, with him came the rest of his sons who too were alerted by the shout. 

Tim didn’t have to say anything else as they all gathered around to look queasily at the screen. You weren’t moving as the live stream played and this only worried your family more, but then an all too familiar green hair came into frame walking towards you menacingly. 

Bruce felt sick when he saw you flinch and try to squirm away from the Joker’s touch. 

“Smile for the camera.” He said, gripping your hair so that they could see your face. You blinked slowly permanent tears scarring your face amongst the blood and dirt. 

“I hope you’re watching Batsy. You’re about to see the end of your little bird.”

Dick, who bit his lip anxiously as he observed instinctively gripped Damians shoulders and tried to push him away as the Joker reached for the dial again. They saw your body react despite its weakened state; legs kicking and trying as you tried to scramble away. But Damian refused to leave, especially when his little sibling was in this state. It was horrific, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the screen so he watched shell shocked. That was until your first scream cut through all of them and he turned away. Dick pulled him close as he screwed his eyes shut and Jason clenched his fists. 

“Tim.” Bruce ordered “Turn it off. Find a signal.”

“I’m trying.” He said “But…there is no signal and something is overriding the controls.”

Bruce ran his hands through his hair until after an agonising few minutes, your screams stopped. 

The Joker moved swiftly for a syringe which you didn’t even react to as he injected it into your system. Not good. 

“They’re not coming for you, birdy. They don’t care.” The Joker taunted before turning back towards the camera. With one manic laugh he gave a final bow and the signal fizzled out. 

The five of them stood there in complete silence. All silent. Most angry. Most heartbroken. 

“Suit up. We don’t stop until we find them.”

~

By the time the vigilantes arrived, you were ready. Poised on the top floor of Arkham’s abandoned asylum cafeteria. 

You had seen Batman arrive, sauntering furiously into the open room to where Joker had positioned himself. You had seen the other four sneak in too, wrapping themselves around the room and slinking throughout the asylum in search of you. 

Once Joker had riled up the Bat enough to send him on a chase to him around a loop of the asylum, you jumped down from the bannister with a conniving grin. 

“I know you’re all in here.” You laughed. And soon, one after the other your brothers appeared from the shadows gawping at the stark contrast of your appearance. You were skinnier and clearly injured from head to toe, but what struck them the most was the purple and green that the Joker had donned you in. 

“R…” Red hood warned as he stepped toward you. “We don’t wanna hurt you. We just want to take you home.”’

You raised your weapon. “Liar!”

“No kid. We wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” Red Robin said.

“You left me. You didn’t come back for me and you left me here to rot!” You gritted your teeth.

“That’s not true. That’s the joker talking.” Damian.

“He is helping me! He is helping me reach my full potential- I am already so much more than I was before.”

You raised the pistol. It was loaded and you knew that it would do damage. That was the intention. And that's what you were going to do. You were going to take them out one by one until they get what they deserve-

“R…” Dick said as you raised the gun your finger inching towards the trigger. “You know us Little Wing. We’re your big brothers.”

You moved swiftly, dodging them as they moved closer in sync. One of them reached out to try and grab you, but you gripped his arm and threw him over your shoulder. The five of you tussled until everything paused when Batman burst back into the room. 

Your gun was pointed at him in an instant, locking in on him as you readied your stance and poised your finger on the trigger. no one said anything. No one even dared to breathe. Bruce just looked at you from behind his cowl as you grinned at him, sickeningly mirroring the villain who appeared behind him sending him keeling to the ground. You laughed. 

“Do it.” Joker urged. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Your hand trembled as you looked down at him pleading at you. He looked so…vulnerable. And your mind screamed at you. Wrongwrongwrong. You were torn again. This was Bruce…your father. Your family. Your enemy- 

“Do it, Junior.” He pressed. Your lip trembled. 

Do it. No. Do it-  You wanted to scream. 

“R.” Batman uttered one single letter.

You pulled the trigger. No one moved. A cry of pain rang out across the room. The Joker dropped to the floor.

You let out a sob and dropped to your knees realisation catching up on you. A pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you to their chest as you completely broke down. 

“It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. We’ve got you now.”

Everything hurt. Everything was so disgustingly wrong. You had tried to kill Bruce- you had given away your secrets… you let out an unholy sob.

“Shh.” Jason cooed. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it.”

“Everyone is okay, Little wing.” Damian promised, taking your bloodied hand gently and tracing circles across the back of it. “We can fix this…”

Batfam Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

[heartfeltcherie]

Lucifer x shy Baker reader

very first lucifer story and i can’t tell if i like it or hate it lol but i hope u guys enjoy it!! :)

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

sugar. butter. flour.

that’s how most of your days went — baking pastries in one of hell’s finest bakeries, serving regular, everyday sinners, to the fanciest overlords of hell. it was tiring work, starting everything from scratch each and every morning and making sure every bite would be the freshest it could be.

you, yourself, weren’t an overlord — just a normal city goer on the streets of pentagram city, doing your job to make a living. even in hell you’re expected to pay rent; but i guess that’s why it’s called hell.

the door chimes, signalling a customer entering your quiet little bakery that smelled of strawberries and sweetness.

“hello, darling” and there he was — lucifer morningstar, the king of hell, himself. you look up from where you were putting the last of your pies in the display case, your cheeks becoming as red as the strawberries you cut up earlier. “oh, your majesty! hello!” you make your way to the front counter, hoping he doesn’t realize how flustered he makes you merely by his own presence.

oh, he absolutely notices. and it feeds his ego tenfold.

he rests his elbow on the counter, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

“i believe i ordered a dozen of your finest cupcakes. shaped like ducks, to be more precise” you chuckle to yourself — who knew the king of hell would get so much enjoyment out of rubber ducks? “let me go get those for you, your majesty”

“oh, dear, there’s no need for formalities. lucifer’s just fine. especially since i’m in here oh-so often” he looks at you with half lidded eyes, raising his eyebrows at you. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you when he speaks in that tone.

you try not to stumble over your own two feet as you get the fancy pink box that has a clear lid, perfectly displaying his highness’s order. you can feel yourself trying not to shake with nerves because satan, he’s so beautiful. “i’m beginning to think you come in here for more than just the sweets i bake” you place the box with fragile goods down in front of him on the counter. lucifer chuckles at your statement, drawing small circles with his pointer finger on your counter. “oh, really? and what makes you say that, hm?”

“i-i don’t know… maybe it’s just an observation, but you come here more than the regulars. and when you do, you usually strike up a conversation with me for hours on end until i have to tell you we’re closed” you chuckle shyly, recalling the countless times lucifer has come in just to talk to you, or give you so many compliments that turn you into a blushing mess.

you don’t understand why he has specific interest in you; he barely knows you, and you him. only in the fairytales in your mind are happily holding hands together.

“oh! haha! that!” he looks nervous, fiddling with his jacket lapels and wiping none existent dirt off his sleeves, not realizing how many times he’s come in just to see you. but he can’t help it, he’s craving the sweetness you give off of lavender and daydreams that it spins him poetic; and he hopes that maybe one day you’ll let him have a taste (you will). “i suppose you just have a way of… drawing me in, i-i guess”

“i just work here, lucifer… you don’t even know me”

“well then, perhaps we should change that then, don’t you think?” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head like a small puppy. lucifer’s heart nearly beats out of his chest. “what do you mean?”

“i meaaan… come by! a-and share some cupcakes with me! and we can also have tea! or chocolate milk! we don’t even have to have the cupcakes! i can get something made for us! michelin-tasting menu, free à la carte!”

you giggle at his excitement and lucifer swears he could listen to that sound for the rest of eternity.

“i-i get off work at five?” you ask with a shy smile, pink dusting your cheeks at the thought of a date with the man you’ve been crushing on for so long. “then i shall see you then, my dear” he kisses the back of your hand with a gentleness that leaves your head spinning as he picks up the box of duck-shaped cupcakes and walks out of your bakery.

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