#the tags will have nothing to do with writing or the ask anymore i just need to hyperfixate my mind for a minute!!

[wheeboo]

off the record | kim mingyu {TEASER}

SYNOPSIS. Kim Mingyu lives a double life. On one end, he’s the perfectly charming yet clumsy coworker at the Daily Planet. On the other, he’s saving the world. But when you–a sharp-witted journalist–are paired up with him on solving a mysterious case of kryptonite trafficking, Mingyu finds it harder and harder to keep his secret at bay. And falling for you only makes it worse, when he’s only given two choices: protect his identity, or risk everything by letting you in.  PAIRING. superman!kim mingyu x journalist!fem!reader GENRE. superman au, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, humour, slow burn, suggestive WARNINGS (FOR TEASER). swearing WARNINGS (FOR FULL FIC). swearing, suggestive content (kissing + implied sexual content), crimes being committed (hijacking, robbery, theft, illegal trafficking), violence (guns, fighting, etc), they're both in love with each other god help us all, mingyu in glasses yes, full warnings in the final fic <3 WORD COUNT (FOR TEASER). 1.5k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). estimated 20k+

notes: hello!! i'm alive and writing!! this is all inspired from this soft thought sent by my beloved @bananabubble which has been stuck in my head for the past many many months 😭 shout out to @tomodachiii for supplying the delusions and rooting for me too! i've only started writing this not that long ago and i'm already 14k in 💀 if you would like to be tagged for this fic when it's done, please send in an ask or comment down below <3

His cape flaps elegantly behind him as he carries the truck back to where all the police cars were coming in on the highway. Slowly, he lowers the truck back down onto the ground, a loud slam screaming through the air. At the corner of his eye, he notices one of the hijackers attempting to crawl through the broken window, but Mingyu is faster.

He yanks the man out of the truck by the collar and heaves him to the ground, but there’s something about the man’s close presence that physically makes Mingyu recoil back, and his eyes keenly focus on the faintest glow of green underneath the man’s shirt. 

Is that a… kryptonite pendant?

“Who the hell gave that to you?” Mingyu questions angrily, gripping the man by the collar of his shirt.

“I-I don’t know!” the guy sputters weakly. “I just drive the truck, man! I was supposed to leave it at Pier 13𑁋”

“I didn’t ask where you park the damn thing,” Mingyu interjects furiously. “Tell me who gave it to you.”

“I don’t fucking know anything! I swear, dude!”

Before Mingyu could do anymore questioning, the police are beginning to swarm them now. He gives the man one last glare, and reaches over to grip the pendant in his hand, ripping it from around the man’s neck. A stinging ache settles in his muscles, but it wasn’t any normal kind of soreness𑁋it’s the kryptonite kind. 

Yet with every ounce of strength he could muster, he tosses the pendant into the hands of an incoming officer. He already feels the pain lift off his skin as he bastardly drops the man back onto the ground, a fleet of other police officers coming to apprehend him.

“Put that thing into a lead case and to a lab immediately,” Mingyu groans out towards the dazed officer. 

Before anyone could say another word, he’s already shot himself up towards the skies, leaving nothing but a gust of wind behind.

He’s back in his civilian clothes and landing on the roof of the Daily Planet within a few short minutes. His glasses are on, his tie straightened, hair still a bit windswept which he brushes back with his hands. He wipes away some dust off his clothes before sneaking back into the building, resuming his normal routine.

Mingyu already knows he’s late, and at this point, he’s accepted defeat. He could only hope an extra cup of coffee that he might have put a bit too much sugar in would be enough to make up for his unexpected detour.

When he arrives at the conference room𑁋six minutes late𑁋you’re already sitting there in one of the seats, flipping through the case files with your brows slightly furrowed. A pen is tucked behind your ear, and he swears he can smell your perfume from where he’s standing at the door. It’s like a scent of lavender, and something else. Perhaps warm and sharp, just like you.

Mingyu takes a singular step forward, and your head snaps back up.

“Hey,” You greet him. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Mingyu breathes out, trying to keep casual. “Elevator broke down.”

You chuckle at that, pulling a chair out for him. “Does it break down often?”

He smiles faintly at your gesture, sitting down next to you. “You have no idea.” He slides one of the cups over to you. “For you, by the way.”

You glance inquisitively at the cup. “Oh. Thank you. Trying to bribe your way out of being late?”

“Depends if it works or not,” Mingyu remarks back, and he tries not to notice the way the corners of your lips twitch up into a small smile. 

A soft laugh leaves you, and it makes something flutter beneath his ribs. 

You take a sip from the coffee, and nearly choke it out. “Wow, that is dangerously sweet.”

“Ah, crap,” Mingyu mutters in embarrassment. “Sorry, I wasn’t, uh, paying attention to how much sugar I poured in.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, still coughing through a laugh. “It’s all good. I needed the sugar rush anyway.”

“Still,” Mingyu chimes back in. “I’ll get the ratio right next time, don’t worry.”

Next time.

The morning light shining in through the conference room windows shine on your cheekbones, casting flecks of gold across your skin and over the smile you were still wearing. His breath nearly catches in his throat at the sight𑁋the kind of smile that makes Mingyu almost forget he was mid-air just ten minutes ago and lifting a stolen truck with his own bare hands, freaking out about how you’d react to him showing up late. 

“It’s funny, right?” You start, turning your body to face him. “How we went from a stupid coffee incident to being paired up for a case like this. Who would’ve thought?” 

Mingyu hums thoughtfully, taking a sip of his own overly sweet coffee. “If I knew you were an A-list journalist, I probably would’ve risked being late to that meeting when we first met.”

You roll your eyes at him, tiling your head a little. “Why?”

Mingyu swallows a lump down in his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose shyly. “Uh… first impression, you know? It was your first day that week, so… I could’ve shown you the ropes of this place.”

Amusement glitters in your eyes, and you lean in, settling your chin on your hand. “We spilled coffee on each other, then you complimented my shirt. I don’t think anything is salvageable after that.”

“Okay, well, technically…” Mingyu starts, but his resolve falters quickly when he catches your gaze on him. “I didn’t plan to spill it on you. I was just nervous.”

“You? Nervous?” You repeat. “Why would you be nervous?”

Mingyu stiffens a little in his seat. “I mean, not nervous because of you, exactly. I mean, yes. You’re just kind of… I don’t know, intimidating?”

You stare at him.

“I’m saying you’re…” he pauses, knowing all too well he’s digging himself deeper into this hole he’s making. “...very cool. Like, cool-cool. Like, you have that unbothered, domineering energy𑁋okay, let me shut up.”

Your shoulders shake with a lighthearted laugh, and it seems to fill the large room more than it should. Mingyu only sinks down further into the chair, hoping that it could swallow him whole, as the heat spreads up to the tip of his ears. But even despite the embarrassment radiating off him, he can’t bring himself to look away from you for that long. 

“That was probably the best trainwreck of a compliment I’ve heard ever,” You tease playfully while tapping your pen on the table as if to stabilise yourself.

Mingyu groans into his hand. “Please forget I said any of that.”

“Oh no.” You grin. “Sorry, I’m filing that away in our case notes.”

His mouth flies open. “You’re joking.”

You merely shrug. “You’ll never know.”

That silence that follows after is strangely comfortable. Maybe a bit awkward, but not in a bad way. It’s quiet enough for Mingyu to realise this is probably the most peace he’s felt in a while. The adrenaline from the hijacking and discovery of the kryptonite pendant is momentarily forgotten, dulled by the sunlight falling on your face and a smile that crawls right under his skin. 

“Listen,” You begin, your tone turning a bit more serious, though sincere. “I know how people around here work. Trust is a weird currency nowadays. People hold their cards close to their chest, and sometimes, it doesn’t end well. We don’t have to share our life stories with each other. I just need to know…”

You pause for a moment. Mingyu is still waiting for you to continue.

“...that if things ever get messy, you’ll have my back.”

The weight of your words settle heavily on his chest. And there’s something about the way you’re looking at him𑁋steadily, hopeful𑁋that makes his stomach flutter. The same kind of feelings he gets when he’s flying too fast or perched at the edge of space and staring down at the place he’s dedicated to protect. 

He’s not used to this kind of vulnerability. Not from others, and definitely not from himself. 

“I will,” he finally says, voice low yet certain. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Mingyu notices the way you study him for a moment, as if you’re trying to read between the lines of his words and expressions. But then, the curve at your lips fades into something more softer, less amused, reassured. 

“Good,” You murmur, sitting up straighter in the chair. “Because I’ll have yours, too.”

And in the back of his mind, Mingyu knows one thing for sure: that he’ll protect you. From thieves, criminals, and the quiet threats that no one else sees.

Even from himself, if it ever comes to that.

God, especially from himself.

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@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@planetkiimchi @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk @gigification @ahuiahoe

@svtficsarchive @lllucere @reiofsuns2001 @ppyopulii @smiileflower

@fujiswn

[hrrtshape]

n e ways. i need to put this somewhere. i assume this is @realitycanbewhateveridesire. and i'm not doing this to be cruel. or to start something. or to make your inbox miserable. i'm doing this because i can't sit on it anymore and because peace of mind costs something and i've paid enough already.

you have been sending messages under my posts, sending me asks, flooding with pictures of cats. it would have been fine, maybe even funny, if i hadn't already blocked five of your other accounts. i blocked them because i had to. because i didn't want to keep arguing. because i didn't owe you an explanation past that.

this didn't start with nothing. you and your friends started calling me names first. a cult leader. a fake. a bitch. entitled. trying to take over the community. someone who "acts like she knows everything about shifting and loa while she's some sort of goddess, but she in fact isn't". a bully. ableist. you said i called you an abuse enabler. you said you were 'happy' seeing people start beef with me. you said you were 'tempted' to imitate my posts just to see if it would make me angry.

i never called you an abuse enabler. i never said that.

my followers told me you even spoke about us having 'beef' in the shifting space (aka shifting corner the community). and i checked out your posts, you mention me to at least 3 people. and i know that's petty to say, but i have a hard time understanding why you talked about me then. i genuinely do. especially because you genuinely do keep mentioning me.

all of this started because i said someone shouldn't be scripting rape victims alongside rapists and abusers like they're the same thing. i said that publicly, like i was allowed to. because i am allowed to. i didn't even say it to you. it's not a sin to have a public opinion on a public forum. i'm not a priest. i'm not a confessional booth for anyone's guilt. i spoke like a person who still believes in right and wrong and maybe that's embarrassing now, maybe that's outdated, but it's still mine. (besides that, this was 5 months ago. i have shifted over 10+ since that. i have spent over a year all added up.)

the second time. the one you say proved i'm some villain, was when i reblogged a post about misinformation. lightly. ironically. the way everyone else was doing. you can still find the original reblog. it's still there. there's nothing cruel in it. nothing close to harassment. it was me saying my piece and replying to asks that i got about the situation - a right that i have. the same right you have, the same right everyone else has. i'm sorry if the person deactivated, but you cannot pin that on me. i'm not forcing anyone to send hate to that person. i'm really just tired of being put on a pedestal to be pushed off of it. i don't know what else you want from me. truly. i'm asking you now, leave me alone. that's it. that's all.

i didn't make a post about you when my inbox was filling up. i didn't weaponise it. i didn't encourage anything. i let it lie because i wanted it dead in the ground. because i still hoped it could die quietly.

but now i'm saying it clearly: i don't feel comfortable unblocking you. i don't want to talk. i don't want to be friends. i don't want to be some ironic punchline in your tags. i don't want your cat pictures. i don't want to shift to another reality just to be rid of this. i want to be left alone. you seem like a nice enough person when you're not writing posts about me but that doesn't mean you're entitled to my energy. it doesn't mean you're entitled to forgiveness.

thank you.

[todayisafridaynight]

def made a post bout this before but Heaven Knows Im Not Hunting For It anyway how public. yall think sawashiro was once aoki became governor right.... like do we know what im asking rn.......

[idiaa-shroxd]

HEY HELLO I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM I'M SO JELOUS MARRY ME???/j

awww thank you so so much!! 💗💞 I absolutely would marry you (*´∀｀*) i hope you don’t mind but i checked out your blog aesthetic is literally so pretty?? i’m very jealous of people who know how to make a pretty profile!!! i adore the color it’s so pleasing to the eyes!! i also checked your writing and it’s very nice!! it’s easy to read and understand and i also respect the first post being one about deuce! <3

i also really love the genshin emotes, makes me happy to see another fan ehe so here’s one in response, as faruzan’s got to basically be my main besides wanderer because i adore her so much?? play style is absolutely fun despite only being c4 i crowned her. my wanderer is like triple crowned and has cons with a BIS but I still love faruzan so much—. she’s literally so cute!! (´・ω・)

[slapmeshigaraki]

⭒˚‧ ⭒ཐིཋྀ "Only nice girls get treats." ཐིཋྀ⭒ ‧˚⭒

♡ warnings: caleb x fem!reader, (18+ mdni), reader is insecure, fingering, dirty talk, pussy eating, begging, crying, dumbification, heavy praise, denial, spit, finger sucking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, mirror

♡ a/n: little treat for the middle of the week. been working on this one for a while so it got a little long,, so sorry. finished this instead of writing my research paper,, butttttt i love writing for caleb so i hope u enjoy xx

You're taking a lot longer than usual to get ready. Nothing seems to be fitting right, every outfit looking worse than the last. Maybe you should just stay home tonight, or maybe, you Caleb needs to remind you just how beautiful his girl is.

“Hey, did you need me to iron something for you? I was gonna’ do my shirt, so—” You listened, turning towards the bathroom door as the honeyed voice came to a halt. There he was, leaning against the wooden door frame, muscled torso on full display, dog tag draped around his neck and glistening in the dim lighting, a white collared dress shirt draped over his shoulder. His pants were held up by a fine leather belt that hung loosely around his hips, the buckle undone. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you, notes of cedarwood and lavender softly calming your otherwise hectic state. The bathroom was a mess, makeup brushes strewn about on the marble countertop, clothes and bras and panties thrown in the corner, heels that didn't match were all over the floor, making for a minefield of a space that you'd been moving around for the last two hours.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” His brow furrowed at the abnormally dry response, violet eyes studying you as you frantically hurried around the small space, makeup and hair both half done. The dress that he’d seen you in only five minutes earlier was balled up near a pile of purses on the tiled floor now, your skin only covered by a matching black lace set. He was almost drooling at the sight, opting to bite his full bottom lip to keep himself from doing so.

“Everything okay, baby?” His tone was cautious, testing the temperature of the water. You didn’t bother to meet his gaze, too busy wracking your brain to put together a different outfit—or maybe you needed to change your hair? Should you even bother going at all? Maybe you should suddenly pretend to have a stomachache.

“I’m fine, just rushed.” Another short answer.

“There’s no rush, sugar. They can’t start without us after all.” You gave him a soft laugh, brushing off the comment, but he was right. This night was about him after all—a ceremony awarding him for his accomplishments with the fleet this past year. He’d been going over his speech with you tirelessly every day for the last week, picking apart every line one by one until it was perfect. This was Caleb’s night, so why were you the one feeling so much pressure?

“Hey, look at me for a second.” You did, eyes meeting his in the mirror as you ran another coat of red lipstick over your bottom lip, suddenly questioning the color.

“You can tell me if something's wrong ya’ know. We don’t have to go.” You shook your head in dismissal, breaking the eye contact that was quickly making something well up in your chest, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes against your will.

“Of course we have to go, Caleb. I’m going—I want to go, I’m just trying to hurry up.”

“What was wrong with the last dress? Or the four before that?” He wasn’t teasing but genuinely asking you as he searched for your attention in the mirror again, to no avail. A single tear fell from your eye, effortlessly ruining your makeup, a line of foundation erased as you tried not to let anymore escape.

“They just weren’t right. Nothing is fitting right for some reason.” He wasted no time moving over to you, shirt falling to the floor in the process, but he didn’t care. His eyes were locked on you, noticing the way your face slowly crumpled, head hanging as if there was a thousand-pound weight holding you down.

“Don’t cry, baby. Hey, hey, shh…” His arms wrapped around you, toned chest pressing into your back, the warmth of his skin inescapable as he held you as tightly as he could. Your body gently shook against him as you let the tears fall freely now, the thought of ruining Caleb’s night making your heart even heavier.

“You could wear a burlap sack and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in any room, you know that, right? Why are you being so mean to my pretty girl, hm?” His soft palm snaked it’s way across your chest and neck, cupping your wet cheek, sticking your skin to his. He gently guiding your chin up, your reflection staring back at his now.

“Tell me what you didn’t like about the pink dress.” You subconsciously shrunk against him at the question, the visual of your bare skin against him, only covered by the thin pieces of fabric sending shivers down your spine. The little hairs on the back of your neck stood up, ears growing hot—you were so vulnerable like this.

“Be honest with me this time. Please,” he said, voice thick and syrupy like molasses, almost like he was begging as he craned his head down, resting his chin in the crook of your neck and pressing a feather-light kiss to your face.

“My- my shoulders…they looked too wide in it.” His eyes grew big at the confession before they shifted down in the mirror, locking onto your shoulders. He left another kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, next your neck, trailing them across your collar bone before his full lips finally lingered against the back of your shoulder. Your head slowly fell again, before you heard his voice,

“Don’t look away, sugar.”  You watched his slender fingers graze across your skin, faintly dancing over your shoulder blades along with his lips which were still peppering kissing over your frame. Your breath hitched at the sight of his body against yours, his tall and muscular physique towering over you, making you look so fragile in his grasp.

“What was wrong with the red outfit, hm? I think I liked that one the best.” Your eyes rolled at the question which Caleb caught in the mirror. You hated the way you looked in the red dress. The outfit accentuating every curve, the short length hugging your thighs just a little too tightly. You felt so… naked in that dress—every flaw you’d seen in the mirror on full display in that gown.

“My body just doesn’t look good in it.”

“Your body looks amazing in anything. If I didn’t think I’d want to break the bones of any man that looked, I’d suggest you go just like this.” His eyes were not the same when they met yours this time. They were dark, pupils enlarged, darkening his irises. He looked hungry at the sight of you, like a vampire that hadn’t fed in weeks. His lips watered at the thought of devouring you, getting to see sweat glistening on your bare chest, nipples hardened under his rough fingertips, back arched as he pressed himself into you. The thing he loved the most though was your faces, your bottom lip almost bleeding from how hard your teeth grinded against it as you tried to silence your moans, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes that were desperate to escape once he hit just the right spot inside of your soft walls. Your face and body were the things he dreamed about in his sleep, but they were also what would keep him up at night while you were away. They were the things that made him fist his cock, eyes shut tight as he pictured the artwork known as his girl. He was ravenous for you—always, so why couldn’t you see what he did? Why didn’t the lamb understand what made the lion so hungry for it; what made him hunt day and night just for a taste.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his clothed cock hardened against you. He didn’t grind into you like you wanted, his focus instead on getting his fingers on every inch of you. Your gaze fell again, embarrassment heating your cheeks at the sight of his digits languidly sliding underneath the cups of your bra.

“I won’t tell you again. Look up.” You did. You core grew wetter, dampening the fabric of your panties at the contact.

“You know…” His free hand ghosted over your spine, causing you to shiver at his touch as he unclasped your bra, freeing your flesh. A small moan escaped his lips at the reveal, his fingers quickly found your breasts, large hands cupping them, much to his enjoyment.

“I’d kill anyone who talked bad about you. I would never let anyone speak about my girl the way that you do.” A harsh pinch to your nipple forced your chest to push out towards the mirror, your perfect French manicure gripping the edge of the marble countertop. The sight was absolutely sinful.

“So why do you think that you should be the exception, huh? Do you think you’re above the rules?” Caleb rolled your sensitive nipples between his fingers, reveling in the way you writhed beneath his touch.

“No…” You whined, head slowly falling forward at the sensation, you body going limp against his.

“No? Apologize then.” His voice was harsh suddenly, as you felt your muscles give way, gaze being forced back to the mirror against your will as he used his evol against you. He did say he wouldn’t ask again, instead, he would make you look.

“I-I’m sorry,” It was barely audible, strained out between your soft moans as you pushed your ass against the man behind you, unabashedly wanted to feel some sort of friction between your thighs.

“No no no, not to me. Apologize to my baby, hm?  Look at her and say you’re sorry for being mean.” You tried to turn your head away at the humiliating request, but it was no use, you were practically immobilized between his arms. You looked at yourself in the mirror, body laid bare, chest heaving, ass grinding against Caleb like a bitch in heat.

“I’m sorry for being mean.”

“Aww how nice. See I knew you could be sweet. You always listen so well, my obedient pretty girl.” His right hand left your chest feeling cold as his middle and index fingers found themselves pressed against your lips.

“Get 'em wet for me, baby. Go ahead, it’s okay.” So you listen—you let your lips part, sucking his fingers between them, running your tongue in circles around his knuckles as he slides them in and out of your mouth. “Fuck… you look so good.”

“You want my fingers somewhere else? Been grinding this pussy against me like you need something. Do you want me to make you feel good, hm? Will that make my pretty girl stop crying?” He was mocking you, reveling in the way you squirmed against him as he pressed your hips into the counter.

“Caleb… please,” You said, words muffled by his thick fingers pushing down against your tongue, your saliva dripping halfway down his arm at this point.

“But you’re so mean, baby. Only nice girls get treats. Are you gonna be nice from now on? Gonna' treat my pretty girl better?” He watched as your reflection nodded up and down, pretty little eyes closed tightly, nose scrunched up like a bunny. He was in awe at this sight—he almost wanted to give you your reward without making you work for it...almost.

“Answer me, baby. C’mon, be good for me… please,” His words were strained, like he was getting off just as much as you were without him even being touched. It made your knees buckle a little beneath you, forcing your limp fingers to grip around his forearm, desperately searching for some stability.

“Yes yes I’ll be nice. I promise. Just touch me please.” With that, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, your spit glistening around his digits as they traveled slowly down your body, leaving you painted in your own wetness.

“You have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, you know that?” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck as his wet fingers slid beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck this pussy’s so wet already. I can feel your little clit’s already excited, she’s so swollen. Aw, does it hurt, baby?” His muscled thigh forced its way between your legs, spreading them wider as his fingers lightly toyed with your most sensitive spot, soaked fingers rubbing on each side of your clit. Your hole clenched around nothing, juices spilling out against the fabric, desperately wanting to be filled—hungry.

“Look so pretty when you don’t get what you want though. Maybe this is all you should get, huh? After all, mean girls shouldn’t be rewarded, should they?” You squirmed even more at his words, trying to force his fingers to move faster or press against you harder—something. Caleb was having none of it though, his big hand gripping your waist, pinning you still. Whines fell from between your lips at the denial.

“Didn’t you just say you would be good? Were you lying to me again or does this messy hole between your legs make it so you can’t think straight? Don’t tell me my fingers barely touching you makes you this dumb, sugar. That’s cute… but a little pathetic, don’t you think?” He sloppily kissed your skin between words, teeth nipping against the flesh, tongue lapping at your wounds only to bite into you again.

“I guess you can’t think. Is that it? You need me to tell you what to do, hm?” You nodded uncontrollably, that heavy weight moving your muscles against your will once again.

“My pretty girl with the sloppy cunt. Say it.” His thumb found your clit now, hovering over it, just barely touching the aching button… but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until you did what he told you to.

“Caleb please…”

“No more whining. If you’re not saying what I told you to then you shouldn’t be speaking at all. Say you’re my pretty girl.” He freed your waist, certain that you wouldn’t disobey when he had you like this—so pliable. His hand made it’s way to your half-undone hair now, gripping it, as he pushed your face closer to the mirror, your body bent over the sink, reflection painfully close.

You said it… but not the way he wanted you to. Your eyes were on him, words barely audible, attitude palpable through the statement. Without warning the warmth of his fingers on your cunt was quickly gone as he slipped his fingers out of your panties to deliver a swift slap to your clit over the fabric. You screamed out at the painful sensation, which only resulted in another smack against your cunt.

“Do it the right way. Look at my girl while you tell her she’s pretty and mean it.”  You looked at your reflection, chest bare, sweat staining your skin, hair messy from the way Caleb’s fingers gripped it forcing you not to look away. Your eyes were glazed over, lipstick smudged onto your chin—you were a mess, but you said it.

“I- I’m your pretty girl.” Not even a second passed after the words left your lips before Caleb slid the crotch of your panties to the side, fingers pressing all the way against you now. His middle finger, still wet from the impromptu blowjob you’d given it, made it’s way into your tight hole inch by inch.

“See what happens when you’re not a fucking brat? Don’t you know that only good girls get what they want?” You nodded, your head feeling fuzzy as his thick finger forced itself between your walls, its length allowing him to brush against your g-spot with hardly any effort.

“Say it again.” You did, looking yourself in the eyes once more.

“That’s right. You’re my pretty girl who listens so well. My god you are fucking prefect.” You were rewarded with another finger amongst the praise, but he hadn’t touched your clit again. He knew that the second he did, you would fall apart in his arms. He just wasn’t quite done playing with you yet.

“Aw my baby gets so fucking dumb when her holes get filled. How cute… you having trouble with your words again? What is it, sugar? Come on, tell me, you can do it.” His lips were so close to your ear as he spoke, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His tone was sweet, slightly higher in pitch, as if he were calling out for a stray dog to come eat a treat out of his palm. The condescending sound made you whine out once again, just like a puppy would.

“Aww am I not giving you what you want? Am I being mean to you?” His fingers quickened as he watched you pant, your palms flattened out against the mirror as he rocked you back and forth against his hand.

“Caleb please touch me.”

“I’m already touching you silly girl? What is it, did you want a kiss?” The thought of getting to feel his lips on yours as his fingers fucked harder into you, his tongue lapping at yours, brought more tears to your eyes.

“Yes. Please ‘wanna kiss so bad.” He pushed your head closer to your reflection, until your lips were only a millimeter from the mirror,

“Go on then. Give her a kiss—such a pretty girl deserves a kiss.” His cock ached in his pants against you as he watched it—the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen so desperate for his fingers that she was kissing herself in the mirror just because he’d said so.

“Goood girl. Good job being so sweet. Tell her you’re sorry again for hurting her feelings.” His thumb finally nudged against your clit again, slowly rubbing small little circles around it. The stimulation made you cry once more as he found just the right rhythm to keep you on the edge as apologies flowed from your lips.

“You must be getting close, beautiful. This little pussy is grippin’ on my fingers so tight. She doesn’t wanna let me go. Do you need to cum, baby?”

“Yes yes wanna cum so bad for you.”

“Aw I know I know. It’s okay. I’ll stop being mean to you since you’ve been so sweet. Tell me where you wanna cum, sugar.” The question only made you squeeze him tighter, your sloppy hole clenching and spasming around his fingers and you pressed your lips to the mirror once more, leaving little red kiss marks all over the reflection of your face. Your hips free now, you pushed into his cock again, grinding against the fabric of his pants, leaving an even bigger wet spot than before.

“No no no, you can’t have my cock. This is about you, just wanna make you feel good, yeah?” You whined louder at the denial, your voice trembling as you shook from your sobs.

“Don’t cry anymore, baby. I’ll do you one better yeah?” He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, despite the fight your hole tried to put up in keeping him inside. His hand’s grip on your hair was gone, but not before he used it to force you to turn towards him for the first time. He lowered himself to his knees, rough hands gently grabbing your thigh as he placed it over his shoulder.

“You are a fucking goddess,” he whispered as he brought his mouth between your legs, placing tiny kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Shouldn’t I pay my respects?” He wasted no more time getting his tongue on your cunt, pushing your lips apart as he savored your juices in his mouth. Your fingers tangled into his hair now, pushing your hips into his face as he gripped your thigh even tighter making you moan out at the mix of pain and pleasure. You were already so close, the feeling of Caleb suckling on your puffy clit, the rhythm just how he knew you liked it, made you beg to cum once more in no time.

“So fucking gorgeous, grinding on my tongue. Go on, say it one more time for me. Say you’re my pretty girl. Say you’ll never be mean to yourself again and I’ll let you cum for me.” He looked up at you as the words spilled out of your mouth just like he said, the look on your face intoxicating as you screamed out his name.

“Gooood girl you can cum for me. C'mon pretty girl, cum in my mouth, it’s okay. You earned it.” He held you still, tongue continuing to harass your poor little clit as you writhed above him. Your legs gave out, quivering as he continued to lick up the mess you’d made.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Keep cumming for me, let it all out,” he said, voice sweet once again as he steadied you with his hands and you rode out the rest of your orgasm.

“You did so good. I’m so proud of you.” He pressed one more kiss to your clit, as you finished coming down, your body finally feeling steady in his arms. He stood up, towering over you once again, face wet with your juices as he held your fingers between his. His other hand cupped your face, thumb softly wiping away your tears.

“I love you more than anything and I want you to know that you have nothing to be insecure about. Even if you’re not feeling your best, you can always talk to me and I’ll remind you of just how beautiful you are. Okay?” You nodded, looking up at him with big eyes, your heart hurting in your chest from how full it felt in that moment.

“I love you, Caleb.”

“I can tell because you let me ruin your makeup when we only have…” He glanced over at my phone on the countertop, “thirty minutes before the car gets here.”

“Thirty minutes?” You shouted out, pushing against Caleb’s chest.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make them wait,” he said, reaching down to pick up the white dress shirt that had been previously discarded onto the floor. 

“And hey, put on that red dress. I’ll need something pretty to look at while everyone else is droning on about how great I am.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh that perfectly harmonized with his as you threw the balled up dress towards him.

“Now you’ll have to iron them both.” He hummed in acceptance, violet irises glimmering at the sight of you.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.”

[tokkiwrites]

ㅤ⠀ ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀⠀토키⠀⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀( ✿ . )⠀⠀⠀⠀† ꯭ ⎯⎯

꒰ ꪆ୧ ꒱ SUℳM𝛢RY ⌢ ꒰੭. You always thought things would change after high school. College was supposed to be your escape. But things don't change. You drop out and move back into your small home town, where you are still invisible, still too soft, still too dumb. Then people start dying. People who hurt you. People who laughed at you. People who touched you when they shouldn’t have. It feels like fate. Like someone’s watching out for you. And when you finally meet him it doesn’t feel like fear. It feels like being chosen.

˖˙ ᰋ ── 𝖙ags ˚ DARK JOEL MILLER FIC, killer! joel miller x fem! reader, afab reader, no outbreak au, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, violence, mention of bullying, slow descent into obsession, delusional reader, outcast reader, age gap (mentioned once), morally grey characters, made up characters and places, semi public sex, rough p in v (unprotected), creampie, knife play, marking/branding, cum eating, degradation, dumbification of reader, choking, slight size kink, slight breeding kink.

𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒﹙ʚɞ˚﹚ 𝖓ote: hey...how yall doin...? im sooo sorry i disappeared on you guys :( uni has been kicking my ass but i promise i will be more active from now on!!! had a chance to write for some of the requests so those will be coming soon! here's a small spring gift for you all :p i hope you enjoy it! 🎀🌟🐇

You thought it would feel different, leaving.

You thought that when high school ended, you’d find something different waiting for you. You imagined a new beginning, a fresh start, maybe something exciting—something where you wouldn’t fade into the background. But the reality was far from that.

You were always too soft. Too nice. You never knew how to be anything else, even when everyone around you told you to toughen up, to stop being so stupid.

In high school, they made sure you knew how weak you were. How easy it was to push you aside. You were a target for the mean girls, the ones with sharp smiles and even sharper tongues. They loved to mock you, but you didn’t have the heart to fight back. Instead, you retreated into yourself, hoping that one day, they’d stop.

You thought maybe things would change when you went off to college. It wasn’t like you had high expectations—it was just supposed to be a chance for something different. You imagined that the people there wouldn’t see you the same way. But it wasn’t different. It was the same. It felt like rot.

College was just high school in a bigger building. Louder rooms. Longer halls. The same laughter behind your back.

Your professors barely knew your name. The other students walked past you like you were invisible. And no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you smiled or how polite you were, it was always the same. You thought that maybe it was just a phase. That things would get better after a few months. But after three years, it just felt like you were fading. You didn’t belong anywhere. You didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. You didn’t feel like you were living.

That’s when you decided to come home.

Your parents didn’t question you at first. They asked once, maybe twice, but after a few months, the questions stopped. They stopped expecting anything from you. And so did you.

Now you live in a small apartment above an old antique store in Northridge, a place where no one expects anything from you. It’s quiet except of the floors that creak beneath your feet, and the window by your bed is stuck halfway open, even when you beg it not to. You don’t even bother trying to fix it anymore. It’s just easier this way.

You work at Sloan’s Bakery, a quiet little shop that smells like cinnamon and fresh bread. It’s nothing glamorous, but it’s safe. You like the routine. You like the silence. Now, you don’t mind being unnoticed.

Today isn’t supposed to be different. You’re just doing your usual thing, putting the price tags on the pastries like you always do. The oven hums in the back, the cash register dings every so often as customers come and go. You feel like you’re in a bubble, watching the world outside through the small window at the counter. Nothing remarkable. Everything in its place.

And then, the bell above the door rings too loudly. You glance up, expecting some sleepy regular—maybe Mr. Hanley, or that tired-looking woman who orders oat milk but forgets every time that you don’t carry it.

But you were never the luckiest person.

It’s Macy King. Her heels click too sharply against the floor, and for a second, it feels like you're back in high-school. You haven’t seen her since then. You don’t know why, but the second you see her, you freeze. You’ve never forgotten her face.

“Oh my god,” she says, too loud, too fake. “It’s you.” She laughs. That same high-pitched laugh you remember from the cafeteria. It scrapes something raw inside you. You don’t know what to say. You feel like you’ve been caught in something. “I haven’t seen you in, like… forever.” She giggles like it’s funny, but you know it’s not. She’s looking at you with that same old smugness, that always made you feel small. It funny really, she's at the same level since high-school yet she still believes everyone is beneath her.

“Didn’t you go to college or something? I thought you’d be, like, doing something by now.” You can’t find your voice. You nod slowly, trying to force the words out, but your mouth feels dry. “IㅡYeah… for a while.”

She doesn’t ask why you’re back. She doesn’t care.

“So this is what you’re doing now?” Her eyes sweep across the bakery. She’s sizing you up, like she’s inspecting the life you’ve built. “Wow, that’s… cute. Really, though, I didn’t expect you to end up here.” She doesn’t say it mean. But that’s the trick with Macy. She never said it mean. Not directly. Just enough to make you feel like dirt on the floor.

You don’t answer. You can’t. You want to scream, but it’s like your throat’s closed up, and the words aren’t coming. She steps closer, running her fingers over the glass of the pastry case like she owns the place.

“Oh my god, do you still make those little cookies?” she asks, peering into the display case. “The ones with the filling in the middle? What are they called? The jelly blobs?”

“Thumbprints,” you say softly.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll try one.” You give it to her, unsure of what to expect. She bites into it immediately, but her face twists in distaste.

“Ew,” she spits out, loud enough for the whole bakery to hear. “This is disgusting. Too sweet.”

You don’t move. You just watch as she drops the half-eaten cookie on the floor, the soft thud of it making your stomach turn. “Oh, wait. Let me try that one,” she says, pointing at a different pastry. You give it to her. She bites into it and immediately frowns, dropping it to the ground too.

“Ugh, all of these are gross,” she says, shaking her head like you’re the one at fault. She turns her back on you like she’s bored, her eyes scanning the other pastries, dismissing them with a flick of her wrist. “Do you ever get anything right?” she adds, but it’s not a question. It’s just another jab.

You bend down to clean up the mess she’s made, your hands shaking as you gather the pieces of pastry from the floor. The crumbs stick to your skin, like a reminder of how small and invisible you are.

She doesn’t say goodbye when she leaves. She just walks out, her footsteps echoing in the silence she leaves behind.

It’s hours later and it's finally time for you to close up. You don’t know why you turn the radio on, but you do. It’s the static hum of the local station, the voice on the other end dull and distant.

“…Body discovered behind the Valero gas station early this morning. Authorities have confirmed it’s a local man in his twenties…” Your heart skips a beat and you sit up straight, the words striking you harder than they should.

“…Multiple stab wounds to the chest. Police are investigating but no suspects have been identified. More details to come as the investigation unfolds.” You don’t know why it strikes you so hard, but you can’t shake it. The voice continues, but you’re already lost in your own thoughts.

Its not long until the whole town starts talking. Brandon Haynes. You remember him. He was just like everyone else. He touched you. Too much, too harsh. More than enough to make you feel small. To make you feel like nothing.

You don’t know why it’s so strange. Why it feels like you’re holding your breath. It doesn’t matter.

You don’t feel anything for him. But you feel something for the moment. For the chance that maybe something’s shifting. Something is moving. And in that quiet, empty way, you realize that maybe you’re not the only one who’s been pushed aside.

A few days later and it is close up time again. As always the radio voice drones on as you wipe the counters. “Macy King found dead this morningㅡ”

You don’t need to hear more. You already know.

Macy is dead too. How is this even possible? Was it all a dream, or was it the karma they couldn't escape from? You don’t feel sorry for her. You don’t feel sorry for Brandon either. But something’s stirring deep inside you. Something darker. Something that’s been waiting for a long time. It feels liberating. Maybe it makes you broken. But you don’t care.

Because some quiet part of you smiles.

You never said it out loud, but you hated them. For how they made you feel. For how they touched you, laughed at you, stepped on you. And now they’re gone. You tell yourself it’s not coincidence. How could it be? What if someone saw you? What if someone knows?

What if someone did it… for you?

The thought makes your breath catch. Makes your cheeks flush. It’s stupid. Delusional. But it feels like the first real thing you’ve had in months. Maybe longer.

Someone out there, somewhere in this cruel, gray little town, might’ve done what you’ve never had the courage to. And that makes you feel seen. Wanted. It doesn’t scare you. It makes your chest flutter.

So you hope, quietly, selfishly, shamefully, that whoever it is, does it again. For you.

Days later, the radio talks about Macy's death like it’s a warning. Like the whole town should be afraid. They now know the crimes were done by the same person. A man. But you’re not afraid. You’re captivated.

You walk home that day in a daze, the cold air biting at your cheeks, and for the first time in so long, you feel like someone is walking with you. Not beside you, but behind you. Somewhere. Watching. At least thats how it seems, or that's what you hope for.

And that thought that maybe someone sees you, maybe someone is thinking of you, it makes you ache. It makes your chest feel full. Like you matter. Like you’re real again.

So the next morning, you get up early. You shower longer than usual. You put on perfume, the one you wore back in college when you thought someone might notice you. You do your hair, just a little lipstick, and put on that soft sweater that hugs you just right. You don’t know why you’re doing it.

Except you do.

Because maybe he is out there. Maybe he's watching. Maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of him one day— maybe at work, across the street, reflected in the bakery window. Maybe he’ll come in and ask for a loaf of rye bread. And you’ll know. It’s stupid. But you don’t stop.

You start waking up earlier. Dressing softer. Smiling, just in case. The town is still cold and gray, but inside you, something is blooming.

A few weeks pass. You’ve stopped keeping track of the days. Everything just folds together now—sugar, flour, radio static, names whispered on the news.

The third victim throws you for a loop. Julian Moore.

He wasn’t like Macy or Brandon. He never laughed in your face, never whispered about your thighs or stole things from your locker. He wasn’t cruel.

But he stood by. That's your reasoning.

He was there, every time you were shoved into a locker or had your tray flipped in the cafeteria. He saw you crying in the girls’ bathroom after gym, after someone stole your clothes. He saw everything. And he never said a word. So when they find Julian’s body slumped behind the old church parking lot, throat cut clean through, something inside you hums. Not with guilt. Not even with relief.

But with a kind of satisfaction.

'You see me', you think. 'You’re doing this for me'. You’re too far gone now. You know it. But it’s like slipping into warm water. Soft and quiet and too easy to sink.

You don’t pray to God anymore. You pray to him.

Whoever he is.

Some nights, you whisper your thoughts aloud. Just in case he can hear you. You tell him about the people you hated, the ones that ruined you, the ones that still smile like they got away with it. You tell him about your dreams. About how sometimes you think you feel him just outside your apartment, under your window, in the creak of the floorboards that shouldn’t creak. You leave your curtain open a crack at night.

Just in case.

More days pass. The sky is bruised purple and gold, streetlights humming like quiet thoughts, the pavement still sticky with sun. You smell like sugar, yeast and a little vanilla, your apron folded neatly in your bag, your perfume still clinging to your collarbones. And you feel good.

It’s not something you admit often. But tonight, the wind is soft. Your chest feels light. And there’s that quiet, persistent buzz in your stomach that maybe—just maybe, he’s proud of you.

You walk slower than usual. You want to be seen. You smile at the window reflections. At your shoes. At nothing.

And then it shifts. At first it’s subtle. There's a sound that doesn’t belong. A presence you can’t place. But it thickens around you slowly, like fog, until you know you’re not alone. There’s someone behind you.

It's ot a feeling anymore. Not a maybe.

Someone is there. Slowly, your steps falter. You stop, you turn. And he’s there.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Older. He’s standing under the glow of a flickering lamppost like it’s a spotlight and he is the misunderstood actor, with shadows cutting across his face. His hair is dark and slightly curled, his jawline sharp, mouth neutral. He doesn’t move.

But he’s looking at you. Your heart slams up into your ribs. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak. Just watches. You don’t know him. Or maybe you do. Maybe you’ve seen him before, in your dreams, in your prayers, behind your eyes when you’re alone in bed with nothing but wanting. Maybe he’s always been there.

The street is silent. The street lights glow faint behind you. Somewhere far off, a dog barks. And you— God, you don’t run.

You take a step forward. And he doesn’t move. Not until his hand shifts just a little and you see something glint. A blade. Maybe. Or maybe your mind wants it to be. You gasp, but it’s soft, almost reverent. You don’t feel fear. You feel certain.

You open your mouth, voice trembling but real. “I am not afraid o-of you…” He laughs. It’s a quiet sound. Deep and low and almost surprised. “Oh?”

But you mean it. You’re not afraid. You’ve wanted this—him, whatever this is, for so long, you’re not sure there’s any room left inside you for fear.

For months you’ve been dreaming of this. Not of murder or blood, but of him. Of being seen. Of being chosen.

And now he’s here. You don’t blink. Don’t breathe. “Stupid girl…” he mutters. His fingers brush the knife at his belt. And you? You smile.

He steps closer. You don’t move. Can’t. Your mouth is dry, breath catching somewhere between your chest and your throat, your heart trying to crawl up your neck. He’s beautiful. Not in any way you’ve ever known. He’s rough, a scar curling just near his temple, his face carved from something too human and too wild at once. His eyes are dark, unreadable. His mouth is stern, unmoved. You feel heat flush up your neck and to your cold cheeks. He’s right in front of you.

Close enough to see the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the way his eyes linger on your face for just a second longer than they should. “I—I know what you did,” you whisper, voice trembling, breathless.

He raises an eyebrow. You swallow hard. “Those people… Brandon. Macy. Julian. They hurt me. Back then. You—you knew, didn’t you? You did it for m-me…”

He doesn’t say anything. Just watches.

And that silence, it pulls more out of you. “I mean, it makes sense. Doesn’t it?” You laugh, soft and shaky, hands trembling at your sides. “No one ever remembered me. No one ever noticed me. But you—you saw me. You must’ve. That’s why you��” You trail off. You can’t bring yourself to say killed. Not out loud.

His expression shifts. A little. One corner of his mouth twitches. And then he laughs. It’s sudden and deep and rough, like it bursts straight from his chest.

You flinch, but not away. Never away.

“You’re a real sweet thing, aren’t you?” he drawls low, the faintest southern rasp brushing the words. You don’t know what to say. You just stare up at him, cheeks burning, stomach a mess of tangled knots. Then he leans closer. Close enough that you can smell leather and smoke and something more darker. Close enough that his voice grazes your ear when he speaks again. “I might just keep you longer.”

The words burn. You feel them everywhere. Your legs tremble. You’re too warm. Too soft. You feel like you could fall straight into him and vanish.

And still, he doesn’t touch you. He just watches the way you unravel—eyes wide, lips parted, breath shallow, as if it’s his favorite pastime. As if he likes watching you break.

The space between you is so tight it feels like you have been touched. Brushed. You wonder what his hand would feel like on your throat. You shouldn't want that. “I…” you whisper, barely audible. “Can I know y-our name?" He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even blink but you see his jaw tighten. Just a little. Like maybe something in him twitches when he looks at you too long.

“Why me?” you ask, stupidly, helplessly, hopelessly. His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up. And he smiles. Barely. “You talk too much,” he mutters. He leans in again “I liked you better when you were just starin’.” You feel heat bloom low in your stomach.

“You ever wonder what it’d feel like,” he murmurs, his voice a low drag in your ear, “if I just took you right here?” Your breath stops.

Right here. This alley. The air thick and sticky with heat, the only light coming from the weak glow of the streetlamp at the corner, flickering like it’s about to die too. He pulls back just enough to look at you.

“No one can see you out here. No one can hear you.” His hand trails down slowly, fingers dragging across your arm, your waist, until it rests low on your hip.

“What if I held you up against this wall,” he continues, voice crueler, “fucked you until you beg for me to stop, and then put a knife in your gut?” You should run. You should scream. But your breath comes out shuddered, and your eyes go wide, not in fear, but something closer to desire.

You want it. You want him.

He sees it. He feels it. Your body leaning closer, your thighs shifting, the way your lips part and tremble. And he stills. For a second. A long one.

“…Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “You like that?” You nod. He stares at you. Quiet. Like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re the dumbest girl he’s ever met or the most dangerous. Maybe both.

He shoves you back against the alley wall and kisses you like a punishment, like he hates that he wants you, like he wants to see how deep the rabbit hole goes.

You moan. Loud. Needy. And that’s all it takes. His hands are everywhere—on your hips, your ass, your throat. One knee forces your legs apart and he grinds against you through your clothes, a low, guttural sound in his throat when he feels how soaked you are already. “You’re fuckin’ filthy,” he growls. “Gettin’ wet from me talkin’ about killin’ you. You sick little thing.”

You nod again, whispering a barely-there, “please—” And then it happens. Just like you have dreaming of. His mouth was on your neck, his breath in your ear, his body pressing you into the wall like he’s carving your shape into it. He quickly takes off his pants, leaving you no time to react to the sheer size of him. He forces the head inside of you, leaving you mewling under his touch. “Look at you, lettin’ a killer fuck you in a goddamn alley like a whore.” In no time he was in your guts, each stroke sending you further into oblivion. Your fingernails dig into his skin and he growls, rough hands wrapping around your throat as he whispered dirty nothings into your hair. “This little cunt’s never been touched, has it? Feels too fuckin’ tight to beㅡ shit!" He uses you like he owns you, like you’re a soft and stupid doll made just for him. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop—feels so good…”

“I could kill you right now, and you’d still thank me for it, wouldn’t you?” he gloats, each snap of his hips hitting deeper into your cunt. Your tear stained cheeks press agains his hard chest, sobs muffled and eyes blurry from crying. Your head is spinning, brain melting into nothing but thoughts of him. “You’re gonna remember this every time you sit down, darlin’. Gonnaㅡ fuck, feel me for days.”

You hiccup, head bobbing up and down, as he hastily chases his high. He groans low into your neck, voice cracking like gravel, rough fingers digging into your hips as he jerks once, twice, then stills as he spills his cum inside of your ruined insides.

“Fuck… that’s it, girl. Take it. Take all of it, you stupid thing.” He stays inside, breathing heavy against your cheek, his hand slipping down to hold your belly like he’s wanting to feel how deep in he still is. “Maybe it’ll stick. God knows you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, dazed, breathless. You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to. But you're full. Of him. Of this moment. Of something filthy and real and unforgettable. It’s dripping out of you already and you shudder as it drops onto your newly bought underwear.

Your thighs still trembling, your skin still burning where he touched you. “I hope it does…” you whisper, blinking up at him, lips swollen, brain a haze of sugar and sin. “I really hope it sticks…” And he just laughs, sharp and cruel. He is entertained. “You're so fuckin’ pathetic.” But he doesn’t pull out. Not yet. The words sting. But not in the way they should. Not in the way a normal girl would cry over.

There's that filthy slickness between your thighs, and his rough hand moves down, slow, before dragging fingers through the mess he's left inside of you. You gasp.

He brings his fingers back up, slick and warm, and pushes them against your lips. "Open," he commads. And you do. You part your lips like it’s holy, like it’s something good, something earned. You wrap your mouth around his fingers and taste salt, heat and him. He watches you, slow and dark, chest rising. “ God dammit...”

Your eyes flutter shut as you suck, as if this will anchor him to you. As if this will mean something. And when he finally pulls his fingers away, wiping them on your cheek with something like contempt, you're still there, ruined, breathless, glowing in it.

He pulls away from you slowly, lazily, like he’s in no rush to care. His belt’s already half-fastened, knuckles grazed from the rough press of brick and skin. You’re still trembling, ruined and bare and aching in places you never knew could ache.

He pulls out like it means nothing. Like you mean nothing. The air cools around you instantly, and so does he. Zipping his jeans, flexing his jaw, his gaze flickers down at you once more, lazy and cold.

Then he turns. One step. Another.

It shouldn’t hurt this bad. But it does. Your voice cracks before you even know what you’re saying. “Please don’t leave—please—I’ll be good, I swear!" You’re shaking. Still sore. Still wet. Still his, in some awful, ruined way.

“Don’t go fallin’ in love, dumb girl. I ain’t your savior. I’m the reason people like you go missin’.” His eyes are sharp, unreadable.You're on your knees, legs trembling, underwear pushed to the side and forgotten, dress wrinkled and twisted halfway around your thighs. Your elbows ache from where you caught yourself against the brick, and your lips are raw from biting down too hard. There’s a stream of his come between your legs and bruises blooming along your skin. The alley smells like him. You do too.

Your heartbeat is still stuttering, off-kilter, your body stuck somewhere between shame and a high you never want to come down from. You blink up at him through damp lashes. “That’s all you wanted, huh? Someone to fuck the stupid outta you. Thought you’d get a happily ever after?”

It feels like you're begging without even saying a word. He should leave. He said he would. But he's still here, isn’t he? He just stares. Something in his brain ticks. And then, slowly, he pulls the knife from his belt. The steel hits the streetlight close to him and you freeze. He doesn’t say a word as he shifts closer. One knee between your legs again. Hand under your chin, tilting your face up to his. Finally, the blade touches your skin. “Stay still,” he mutters.

The metal is cold when it drags along your collarbone, slow. You whimper, but don’t pull away. It’s not deep. Just enough to hurt a bit. Just enough to bleed a little. When he leans back, satisfied, there’s a rough little 'J' carved just above your heart.

“Now you’re mine,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. Then louder “ So don’t go forgettin’ who you belong to, girl.”

You don’t say anything. You’re too out of it. Your fingers come back red as you touch the small mark.

He tucks the knife away. “I’ll find you again. Same spot. Don't make me come lookin' for you." And then he’s gone. Just like that.

You stay there, knees scraped, heart pounding, sticky, aching and marked. You should be afraid. Instead, your fingers ghost over the wound, and all you can think is he’s coming back.

You walk home with your head light and your lips smiling. So stupid. So giddy. You’ll clean yourself up, cover the mark with something soft and cottony. And maybe tomorrow, you’ll wear something nicer to work. Just in case he’s watching.

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she’s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?”

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[wholoveseggs]

I’m so upset with the lack of Daemon requests so I wanted to give you a challenge.

Reader x Daemon on a dragon. That is all :)

Ride the Sky

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Hightower!Reader} As the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, your own life feels completely out of your control. But a chance encounter with Prince Daemon gives you the opportunity to step out of your cage and touch the sky.

♡♡ ahhhh I love you @elijahstwink, this was such a fun idea & I 100% believe Daemon would do this... ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smut, hightower!reader, fingering, sex on dragon back, daemon being a flirt & hating Otto, kinda mentions of marital rape? tyland lannister {ew} && caraxes being the best noodle boi...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

The tower of the hand was always such a foreboding place for you. It never meant good news when you were summoned and this time was no different. You stood there, shifting from foot to foot, and finally, the man you were supposed to call father, turned around from the window. He had been watching the city below, and now his gaze was on you.

"I've heard rumors," he said and you flinched. This wasn't the first time he had accused you of doing something inappropriate. In his mind, a lady was a lady, and she should act accordingly. But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to please him, nothing you ever did was good enough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved you away. "I don't want to hear your excu-”

"I wish to know what I've been accused of, then," you snapped back, your own temper getting the better of you. You knew you would pay for that later, but right now, you wanted to hear what it was.

"That you've been imbibing in too much wine and games, not focusing on your duties as a lady of the court," he said sharply, looking back down at his papers. He began writing and you stood there, seething.

"So?" you finally asked, and he looked back up at you.

"It's unbecoming," he replied, his tone laced with condescension, "Especially when you are here at court, looking for a husband. Any potential suitors do not wish to have a drunken wife. It will not look good for him."

You sighed. It was always about men, what would please them, what would make them happy. Never you. And the way Otto looked at you, the disdain in his eyes, you knew what was coming. He had been making the same noises for a while, that he needed to find a match for you, and it seemed as if he had finally found one.

"Lord Lannister is a powerful ally," he began, and you immediately felt your temper rise again. You bit back the urge to yell at him.

"And you think I'll be a perfect wife for him? A boring drunkard whose bed I'll have to warm?" you asked, and you could feel the tears welling up.

Otto's expression was hard. "I would think him being a drunkard would be something you have in common," he replied.

He could see the distress on your face and his voice softened just a little. "We must look to the future of House Hightower, and Lord Tyland would make a fine match for you."

You shook your head, tears spilling over. "I don't want him-”

"And what is it that you want?" Otto snapped.

You stared at him. You wanted so much, and none of it was the life he would choose for you. You couldn't stand it anymore, and you spun on your heel, heading for the door.

He didn't try to stop you, and you didn't care.

You didn't want to go back to your chambers, because Alicent would be there, and you couldn't face her either. So, instead, you went outside to the garden, trying to find a quiet spot where you could cry and hopefully not be found.

You found a stone bench, tucked away in a quiet corner and sat down. The tears flowed freely, and you cried and cried, wondering what would happen now, what would become of your life.

You felt as if it had been planned out without any input from you, and now you were going to have to marry a man who was full and passionless. All because it was what was good for the family, and what was best for House Hightower.

It wasn't fair.

You let out a sob and stood up, looking for something to throw, to break, just to let out the anger and frustration that was coursing through you.

Your eyes fell on a statue.

It was one of the Kings, long dead, but you couldn't remember which one. You glared at it and then, without a second thought, gave it a shove.

It didn't fall over, but it teetered a little, and then settled back.

"Is that how we honor our kings now, by toppling their statues?" "A voice said, and you whirled around. Prince Daemon was standing there, looking at the statue, and then you, a small smirk on his face.

"I-I didn't mean," you stammered, wiping your tears, but he held up his hand.

He didn't say a word, just walked over to the bench. He motioned for you to sit, and you did. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you tried to control your tears.

Your father loathed the prince, and therefore you were expected to avoid him. You had seen him only once or twice, and the first time you had seen him, you were a girl of ten, and he had just turned seventeen.

You remembered seeing him, and being amazed by the beauty of him. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and the fact that he was a prince just made him all the more alluring.

You remembered asking your father if you could marry the prince. Your father had laughed, and told you no, he was not suited for you.

Of course, that hadn't stopped you from having the occasional daydream about the two of you, and here he was, sitting next to you, while you were crying over the thought of your father giving you to an old man.

"What is it like," you asked him, sniffling slightly, "To have the freedom to do what you wish?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "Freedom is an illusion," he replied, his voice quiet, "We are all prisoners in one way or another, even kings,"

"Then I wish for my prison to have a dragon," you muttered bitterly, immediately regretting the words. It wasn't proper to speak to him like that, but he only laughed.

"Perhaps one day," he said, his gaze settling on your face. You could feel his eyes on you, and you blushed, ducking your head.

"Why do you ask about freedom, Lady Hightower," he said in an almost teasing tone, "Is your life not everything a lady could want?"

You didn't meet his gaze, and he observed you thoughtfully, you were a mystery to him as much as he was to you.

"Or perhaps, it is not," he said, his eyes narrowing, "Perhaps you want more than what your father will allow,"

There was a bitterness in his tone when he mentioned your father, the disdain they had for each other was no secret. You didn't wish to add to it, but you couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"My father is marrying me off to Tyland Lannister," you said, and his lips curved into a small smile.

"And I assume that is why you're here, hiding in the garden," he replied, and you nodded.

He was still watching you, and his gaze made you feel uncomfortable, but in a good way. "I don't want some dull drunkard in my bed, I want..."

You trailed off. It was an improper thing to say, he was the prince, your better. You shouldn't be speaking this way.

"Say it," he said, his voice soft, yet commanding.

"I want my husband to be able to bring me pleasure," you said, the words falling from your lips.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that came from within his chest. You felt even more ashamed by his response, here was the prince laughing at you, thinking you foolish and stupid.

You stood, trying to hide the fresh tears threatening to spill. "I should return to the keep," you said, "Thank you for the company, your grace,"

You took a step, and then suddenly his hand was around your wrist. His touch made your skin feel hot and a strange sensation spread between your legs. You gasped softly, and he stood up, stepping closer.

He towered over you, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, and his violet eyes were dark and intense, his lips were still curved in a smile, and he was close enough for you to smell him, the scent of smoke, leather and musk.

"Would you like a taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice low. "Before your cage closes,"

"I-I-Yes," you stammered.

He pulled you with him, and you followed.

He led you down the paths and out the gate, along the long stone road to the dragon pit. The guards bowed, and let him pass, and then, to your amazement, he led you into the pit itself.

"My Prince-” you gasped, but he held up his hand again, silencing you.

In the dark of the cave, you could hear them stirring, the great beasts of his house. There was a deep rumble, a sound that felt ancient and primal, and a shadow fell over the both of you.

You stepped back, fear making your heart race. He turned, and you saw the amusement in his face. "Don't worry," he said, "He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to,"

You heard the sounds of his dragon moving forward, and a large snout appeared from the darkness.

"Lady Hightower, meet Caraxes," Daemon said, gesturing to the beast with a wide smile on his face.

You could only stare as the dragon came forward. His body was covered in red scales, and the wings were enormous, his claws scraped against the stone floor, his neck long like that of a snake, and he had a crown of horns on his head.

You have never seen one up close before, only ever far away and up high in the sky. But now, here, in front of you, he was a sight to behold.

Daemon reached out his hand and the dragon nuzzled it, his large, golden eyes fixing on you. He whispered something to the beast, in the language of Valyria, and then turned to you, beckoning you closer.

You hesitated, and he smiled. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand.

Tentatively, you reached out and touched his palm, letting him take your hand in his. It was soft and warm, and his long fingers curled around yours. He raised it, and pressed it to the dragon's snout.

His scales were smooth and hot to the touch, and the dragon exhaled a deep breath, the sound like a purr. You could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled of sulfur and heat, and underneath that, the metallic scent of blood.

He nuzzled you, his eyes half closing. Daemon smiled and let go of your hand, and you stroked the dragon, amazed.

"He's beautiful," you said softly, admiring the red of his scales and the gold of his eyes.

"Yes," Daemon replied, his gaze fixed on you.

Caraxes pulled away and then, to your astonishment, the dragon lay down on the ground. You looked at Daemon, not understanding, and his smile grew.

"I promised you a taste of freedom, didn't I," he said, and suddenly you realized what he meant.

You watched, amazed as he climbed onto the dragon's back, and held out his hand to you. "Come," he said.

You stared up at him. His hand outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You didn't know what to do. Your father would be furious if he found out. But this was an opportunity you might not get again.

Without hesitation, you put your hand in his, and let him pull you up, settling you in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your skirts were in the way, and you struggled to find a comfortable position. You were suddenly very aware of the heat of his body behind you.

"Here," he said softly, his hands moving up your thighs, and then, you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, until the material was up around your hips.

The dragon raised his head, and stretched his wings, a deafening screech filling the air. You could feel him move, the muscles in his shoulders shifting, his body flexing.

With one last scream, he began to move forward, at a speed faster than anything you had ever seen, and suddenly, with a running leap, his body was rising. Daemon had his arms wrapped around you, holding on to the reins as Caraxes' wings beat against the air.

He rose, higher and higher, and suddenly the ground was falling away below you, and the sky opened up before you. You could feel the dragon's strength as he climbed, the power in his body, and the heat and the wind and the roar of his wings.

The sky was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges and pinks as the sun began to set. You could see the Red Keep and the city below, the winding streets and the river and the ocean beyond. It was a breathtaking sight.

Daemon said something in Valyrian, and the dragon gave a cry and suddenly he was moving forward, gliding along the air, his wings spread.

The horizon was endless, the clouds were around you, and the world seemed small and insignificant, all your problems forgotten, at least for a moment.

"Does it feel like freedom, lady Hightower," he murmured, his lips against your ear.

You flushed at his closeness, the warmth of his body and his voice. "Yes," you whispered.

He took your hands, placing them on the reins. You held tight, feeling the dragon move beneath you, the muscles and tendons rippling, the scales smooth and hot.

"Hold them tightly, and pull on them, to turn him," he said.

You did as he instructed, and Caraxes changed course, heading north. The dragon rumbled and roared, a loud squeaking sound that made you laugh.

You felt Daemon smile against your neck, his hands winded around your waist, one hand pressing into your stomach, and the other resting on your thigh, his long fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, the fabric flapping in the wind.

He held you like that, his grip strong and steady. You didn't want it to end, this freedom, the feeling of his arms around you and the dragon flying beneath you.

The hand that was pressed against your stomach moved lower, his fingertips brushing the inside of your thigh. You wanted him to continue, but you also wanted him to stop. It was not appropriate, and you were unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," you said softly, a hot flush coming over you. He was touching you in a way no one ever had, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"You are far too beautiful to marry some dull Lannister cunt," he said, his voice low, his lips grazing your neck. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress with it. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved underneath the linen shift you wore, brushing the soft, wet flesh between your legs.

"This isn't proper, my Prince," you said, trying to focus on the reins and not the way his hand was making you feel.

"And who is here to see? Or to hear?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "Only my dragon, and I don't think he'll care,"

He pressed a kiss to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, and you inhaled sharply, your body arching into his. He smiled, his fingers finding the small nub of pleasure between your legs, brushing over it softly. Your hips jerked and you gasped, your head falling back against his chest.

"A woman like you should be in control of who she gives her maidenhead to," he whispered, sucking little marks onto the delicate skin of your neck, "Who gives you that pleasure you crave."

The wind was cool on your skin, but inside you burned. He was igniting a fire deep within you and you were powerless to stop it.

His fingers moved faster, circling the little bud and then stroking it. He knew exactly how to touch you, and you were helpless under his hands.

You knew that you were being indecent, letting him fuck you with his hand, your skirts shoved up, the dragon soaring through the sky. Your father would kill you if he knew. But the thought of it made you only wetter, and you began to push harder against his hand.

"That's it, chase the feeling," he breathed, his fingers moving faster, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you back against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock, pressing against your back, and the knowledge that he was aroused by you, only made the sensation stronger.

Your hands let go of the reins and Daemon quickly grabbed them with his free hand, keeping the dragon steady. You clutched his arm, your body shaking, the pressure building inside you, your legs trembling.

You let out a cry, and then stars were exploding behind your eyes and he was whispering to you, soft and low, encouraging you as you felt yourself fall apart, coming undone.

You slumped against him, the tension leaving your body, and he was there, holding you. You felt his chest rumble with a laugh and you managed to get yourself upright.

You looked at him, his violet eyes, the smirk on his face. You reached out and touched his cheek, and then pulled him towards you, kissing him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you back, his tongue parting your lips and entering your mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when he finally pulled away, you were breathing hard.

He smiled, his eyes darting from your lips down your chest. "Perhaps we should return to the keep, my Lady," he said, his tone amused, "before we get carried away,"

You looked down, and saw the sprawling countryside, a sea of green dotted with little villages and the faint outlines of crops and farmland.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"Near Duskendale," he said, his eyes boring into you. He gave you a smile, and in that moment, you lost yourself completely, mesmerized by him and everything that had just happened.

Daemon pulled on the reins, yelling something in Valyrian. The dragon gave a loud screech, and began to descend. He guided Caraxes lower, heading for a field near a small village.

The dragon landed gracefully, his wings folding against his body. The trees and grass bent in the wind from his wings, and the few animals nearby scattered. You could feel the rumble as his belly hit the ground, and then he was still, his breathing deep and steady.

Daemon hopped off the dragon and held his arms out to you. You let him help you down, his hands sliding around your waist. As your feet touched the ground you stumbled, your legs were weak and shaky, and you had to cling to his arm to keep from falling.

His eyes met yours and he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and firm, and you melted into the kiss, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair. He pressed you into Caraxes side, the dragon curled around the two of you protectively, his tail flicking lazily.

The beast was warm against your back, you could feel its chest expand with each deep breath, a gentle rattling sound coming from it.

Daemon broke the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. Your whole body was on fire, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against you.

"Would you like me to make you come again, lady Hightower," he whispered, his teeth grazing your skin.

"My Prince... I've never...," you managed to get out, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Better me than a Lannister, yes?" he said, a smirk on his face.

You blushed furiously, unable to respond. He was right. You didn't want to give your maidenhead to some Lannister bore. You wanted it to be him.

Caraxes curled tighter around the two of you, warm and surprisingly still, his long neck and head outstretched, surveying the area around you. His eyes were lazy, and he was making a strange rumbling sound, almost content, like a big cat.

Daemon looked up at him, smiling at the beast, then back to you, his hands moving up to cradle your face. He leaned in and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss that had you clinging to him.

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you closer. You could feel the hard length of him against your belly, and a hot ache settled between your legs. You had never felt like this before, so hungry, so desperate.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. His hands moved down, pushing the skirt of your dress up and bunching the fabric around your waist. He lifted your thigh, hooking it around his hip.

With his other hand he unlaced his trousers, freeing his hard cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight of his had you blushing even deeper. It was thick and long, the tip pink and leaking a clear fluid.

He smiled, seeing the look on your face, "go on, touch it," he said, his voice low.

Tentatively, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and velvety. You moved your hand up and down, marveling at the way he grew harder and thicker.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face. He had a satisfied smile on his lips, his violet eyes dark and intense.

"Like this," he said, placing his hand over yours and guiding you. He showed you how to stroke him, the pressure and speed. When he let go, you continued, enjoying the way his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his lips parting as he breathed heavily.

You watched him, entranced by the sight of him, his pleasure growing. He placed his hand back over yours, stilling you.

He took your other thigh and hoisted you up. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hard cock rubbed against the soft flesh of your cunt, and you moaned softly, the ache inside you growing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he thrust against you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your clit, the head bumping against your entrance.

You looked up at him, pleading. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark, his hair falling across his forehead. He was so handsome, so strong.

"Please, my prince," you breathed, desperate.

He smirked, his eyes flashing, and then he was guiding himself inside you, the tip of his cock parting the soft, wet flesh.

He pushed slowly into you, and you felt a sharp pain as his cock tore through your maidenhead. You cried out, and he kissed you, swallowing your gasp.

He hummed against your lips, a soothing, comforting sound. His hands squeezed your bottom, holding you steady. He moved slowly, rocking his hips, pulling you into him with each thrust.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a delicious, aching pleasure. You clung to him, your eyes closing, lost in the sensation of him filling you.

You could hear the sound of the wind, and the rustle of the trees. The deep gentle sounds of Caraxes' breathing. And the sound of your heart pounding, and Daemon's labored breaths.

He slowed his thrusts, drawing it out, pushing hard and deep, slamming your body back against the beast with each motion. You clutched at his shirt, nails digging into the soft material, gasps and sighs and half-formed moans fell from your lips. He picked up the pace, faster now, and you both lost yourselves in it, your pleasure was all that mattered.

His face was a picture, pleasure and devotion and tension and complete and total ecstasy. Your name was on his lips, a litany of beautiful profanities fell from them, a mix of Valerian and common that made the redness in your face grow deeper. You began to grind your hips against him, rolling them as he moved with you, his movements becoming erratic. His hand came down to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady as he leaned in and captured your lips in a messy kiss.

He stilled, letting out a low groan as he pressed himself deep, holding your hips in place as he filled you with his seed. Your body shuddered and twitched and you whimpered against his mouth, clenching down on him. It was too much, and you followed him over the edge, a bright burst of light going off behind your eyes as you succumbed to the feeling.

He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. You giggled, running your hands through his hair, and he managed a lazy smile.

"Think of me when Tyland is trying to stick his cock in you on your wedding night," he said, his words warm and breathy against your lips.

You chuckled, then turned sad, remembering that your wedding would take place soon, and you would never see Daemon again.

He seemed to sense your sadness, his hands cupping your face, his eyes full of promises he could not keep. He said nothing, just kissed you again and held you, pressing you back against the dragon.

Caraxes purred, you could hear a faint rattling, like old armor, and the dragon's chest expanded and deflated slowly, the rhythm soothing.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, Daemon wrapped around you, his hand tracing gentle circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

You sighed, content and warm and happy, but knowing that the spell was soon to be broken, and you would have to return to the reality of the life that had been laid out before you.

"We should be getting back," you said, frowning. You didn't want the moment to end, but you had been gone for far too long, and your maids would be wondering where you were.

Daemon nodded, reluctantly pulling away. He laced up his pants and then helped you straighten your dress. You tried to flatten the wrinkles with your hands, but there was no helping it. You had been flying, and then you had been fucked, thoroughly, by the heir to the throne, and there was no hiding that.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes full of promise and heat. You blushed, and he grinned, pulling you back to the dragon.

The ride back was slower, the dragon gliding gently through the sky, and you had the urge to cry. You wanted this feeling, of freedom and warmth and safety, to last forever.

You sat back against Daemon's chest, his arms tight around you, the wind whipping through your hair.

Caraxes flew lazily through the sky, and you could see the Red Keep getting closer, the massive walls looming large. The dragon descended, the air rushing around you, and then the beast landed in the center of the courtyard near the dragon pit, his wings beating wildly, sending clouds of dust and dirt swirling around him.

He roared, a great and terrible sound, his long neck twisting and his wings stretching. The beast was restless, and he seemed unhappy to be back in the confines of the castle.

Daemon leapt off the dragon, landing gracefully, and then turned and helped you down, his hands lingering on your waist. He gave you a wicked smile, and you blushed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I swear," he said, lifting your hand and pressing another kiss to your knuckles, "I'll burn down Casterly Rock just to get a taste of you again."

You chuckled, a blush coloring your cheeks, then you looked him in the eyes.

"And I will gladly watch it burn," you said, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone, climbing back onto Caraxes and taking to the sky. You watched them disappear, the great, crimson beast disappearing into the clouds.

You stood there, alone in the courtyard, watching the sky long after he had disappeared. Your heart was heavy, despite his promises, you knew that you would never see him again.

You turned and walked back to the keep, your mind filled with memories of your time together. It was a small moment, a stolen moment, but you knew you would hold on to it…

And be reminded of it every time you looked to the sky.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you’re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

(Quick note!!! If you want to be added to the tag list, I absolutely will but when you request that, can you pleeeeease let me know if you want to be on my general tag list or just the specific fic you're commenting on. ❤️)

Tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @ilove-tswizzle

[musette22]

Speaking of a “dead” fandom. Do you have a list of Stucky blogs to follow? I need to follow more and go through my followers list for fandoms I’m not in anymore but… also maybe that would help some people who are new to the fandom as well? 🎉

Mandy, my love! Great idea, thanks for asking! ❤️ It's been a really long time since I did a blog rec list, because I am genuinely terrified of missing anyone out and potentially making someone feel bad 🙈 That would never be my intention, obviously!

But I swear, from the bottom of my heart: if you're not on this list and you feel like you should have been, it was most likely just one of those brain = sieve things and nothing personal at ALL. Which is also why I want to wholeheartedly encourage anyone who also considers themselves a Stucky-centric blog and would like to be added to this list to let me know/drop a comment in the notes/reblog with a note etc. etc. The more of us the merrier!!

Also, if you're included in this list but you would rather not be, for whatever reason, let me know and I'll remove you! No hard feelings. I also think there are a couple of blogs that are no longer super active / mainly Stucky blogs, but I did check that they all posted at least in the last couple of weeks, so most of them should still be active!

The Tumblr tag limit per post is sadly 50, so not all @'s on the list will be clickable and not everyone will get a notification of this, so I'm going to try to tag the blogs that aren't tagged under the cut in the notes instead, in order to notify them (so those added there by me are the same ones as on the list below)

Stucky blog recs under the cut, in no particular order!

@fandomfluffandfuck

@rillils

@buckvrogers

@sparkagrace

@voylitscope

@gloromeien

@metalbvcky

@dharmasharks

@leihaddock

@amarriageoftrueminds

@lavenderbuckyy

@steviesmarigold

@randomfandompenguin

@writeyourdarlings

@scriggle-scraggle

@wewringmagicfromtheordinary

@beardoesdoodles

@stuckydrewx

@yourbuckies

@smerfols

@incorrectstevebucky

@steveandbvcky

@riricitaa

@bluesimplicity

@dreadlockholiday

@stuckytogether

@hereforhappystucky

@stevebuckythyla

@luna-rainbow

@caps-boo-bear

@howdoyousleep3

@estelior

@stoveandhisbucket

@im-just-a-random-fandom-girl

@godmerlin

@capibuck

@fenrir-flamekeeper

@bucky-boychik-barnes

@ace-bucket

@shkretart

@smlmsworld

@hipsterdiva

@mentalmeles

@airybmore

@stevefightmerogerss

@guiltypleasureisfun

@twomisplacedsouls

@zenaidamacrouras1

@ace-in-reserve

@msilverstar

@gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes

@thevampireazula

@booksandabeer

@xoxobuckybarnes

@bromcommie

@burberrycanary

@partofthefandom

@fsbc-librarian

@fsbc-stucky-library

@cinnamoncascadian

@wintershield-always

@evenwhenihadnothingihad-stucky

@aimmyarrowshigh

@dienaziscum

@lilyinthesnow

@thestuckynation

@kaiya3333

@son-justdont

@stuckytoyoulikeglue

@norelationtoatticus

@transstuckywriter

@steverogersnotebook

@onecontinuoussigh

@fizz-pop-thwip

@whiteglovemanor

@arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

@artwinx

@behindthesehazeleyes27

@haz-n-boo-world

@steebling

@montyc

@forwritingwork

@steevbuckk

@its-tortle

@raven-writes-fanfic

@sarahowritesostucky

@burnin-brighter

@stevebvck

@geekinthefuschiahair

@innerslumber

@postmodernmulticoloredcloak

@sebastian-lips

@not-withoutyou

@circaclementine

@vincentvanh03

@bisxualbucky

@thesocietyporg

@aciremii

@ywecanthavenicethingsanymore

@turtle-steverogers

@steviesunrises

@somanywords

@karrieharrie

@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place

@supersoldiercore

@livingoutload

@winterbaebucky

@reducedemtasketch

@preyasi

@bittersweet-in-boston

@stucky-just-stucky

@rachelica9

@kiu-k

@stucky-in-love-with-you

@fishyandclintbarton

@hey-rissyroo

@possibleplatypus

@ariane-giudice

@backonefish

@martelldoran

@schoolyardtobattlefield

@kalee60

@chubbiedumpling

@cat-ws

@greyhoundsgirl

@winterofthedarkestlight

@deadto27

@petite-madame

@kijrbds

@deusv-ult

@weeklybuckydoodles

@stjohn27

@glittery-koi

@buckysbud

@hettolandija

@lucidasidera

@barnestags

@waverleyrogers

@whoastitchywoman

@duckinatruck

@murkycrush

@thewintersoldier3

@whendidyou-leaveheaven

@faeriecap

@captain-dorito-is-a-snack

@princeofbadassery

@timetopanic34

@16woodsequ

[farmerstarter]

maybe some general seb relationship headcanons if you dont mind? especially prior to it or crushing/early dating. how would he react to the confession? would his friends tease him? etc.

im a little picky w sdv hc blog interpretations and i love yours! theyre so sweet. if this is a lot feel free to just do as much as you'd like 💟

ʚ👾ɞ ˚ · . Crushing

tags: sebastian from sdv x gn! reader

OMG Anon! I am so sorry this is sooooo late. I just finished my 2nd year of college and it was so hectic. But now I have WAY more time to write. Writing this was so fun! if you have any fic requests then feel free to send me an ask! <3 purple divider by @saradika-graphics <3

𐙚⭑ Sebastian couldn’t deny that he, like everyone else in the valley, was curious about the new farmer moving into the overgrown expanse of land to the west of town. He was a bit down on the idea of not having his usual smoking place anymore, but the intrigue easily overpowered it. He was one of the last people to meet you. Sam and Abigail couldn’t stop talking about you. Which was reasonable, nothing ever happens in the valley. The more Sebastian knew about you, the more confused he got. Why move out in the middle of nowhere? Why leave the city for a pile of dirt and a mosquito-infested house? It was weird. For him, at least.

𐙚⭑ You two finally met at night. Sebastian was smoking by the waterfall, and you ambled your way out of the cave with a bag full of copper and coal. The mountains were wisped with fog, cold with dew. Sebastian was sure he was the only living soul out in the open. Much to his surprise, and at the expense of his dignity, he let out the loudest scream he could muster when you decided it was a good idea to sneak up on him to say hello while you were covered in soot and mud. While he was calming himself down and you were washing your face in the lake, you promised not to tell Sam or Abigail about the encounter. Sebastian was very grateful for that. The two of you spent the next hour talking.

𐙚⭑ The next time you met him was when you were discussing building plans with Robin in her house. Robin was just explaining that you needed more wood for your planned chicken coop, and Sebastian just so happened to come out to return his pile of plates to the kitchen. Robin waved him over to introduce him to you. His eyes met yours, and you immediately introduced yourself properly. You gave him a discreet wink when Robin’s back was turned. You deduced that Robin wouldn’t have been too happy to know her son was out at the late hours of the night, smoking his third cigarette in one sitting. Seeing this as an opportunity for her son to get some sunlight, Robin asked Sebastian to accompany you while you got more wood. He didn’t have anything to do; he had finished his module for the week, and he was curious about what his friends were telling him about you. So, he agreed to do it.

𐙚⭑ The two of you decided that Cindersnap Forest would be a good place to chop down some trees. You led the way while Sebastian followed suit, dragging along a wheelbarrow that Robin gave you to make the trip back to the mountains easier. Sebastian spent the day sitting on the makeshift bridge over the river and watching you cut down too many trees for him to count. There were times when you offered to teach him how to wield an axe. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you, so he just shook his head and decided to arrange the logs of wood in the wheelbarrow instead. It was 2 pm when you finally had enough wood for the coop, but neither of you wanted to go back just yet, mostly because it was too hot to walk back, and Sebastian didn’t want to burn off his skin.

𐙚⭑ You and Sebastian went to look at whatever the traveling cart was selling. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way the dark-haired man’s eyes widened when he found out the merchant was selling an egg for 500 gold.

𐙚⭑ It would be so cute if you and Sebastian stumbled into the secret woods and that became your little hideaway to hang out when life got demanding for both of you.

𐙚⭑ You definitely fell for him first, but Sebastian fell in love harder. It all started when you invited him, Sam, and Abigail over to eat the many fish dishes you cooked when you finally had a kitchen in your abode. You specifically made sashimi for him since you remembered he mentioned it was his favorite. He was touched. You took the effort to even remember what he said, and that made his heart stutter. (“It tastes just like the ones Linus makes.”) ((Side note: it would be so cute if Sebastian and Linus became friends because Linus would make sashimi for both of them to eat at night by his tent, but I digress.))

𐙚⭑ Your friendship with Sebastian continued to bloom when you found a frog egg in the cave. You immediately ran to Sebastian to show it off. The two of you became parents to a very hungry frog named Blimp.

𐙚⭑ You and Sebastian rode his motorcycle at night when the two of you had nothing to do. He didn’t have an extra helmet yet, so he insisted you wear his helmet instead of him. He wanted you safe.

𐙚⭑ I am a firm believer that Sebastian is the type of person to become loud and talkative when he’s around people he is truly comfortable with. So, the moment you two became friends, Sebastian would invite you to hang out with him and Sam in his room to play Solarian Chronicles. He becomes more animated the longer you play, laughing at Sam’s crappy rolls and your insistence that every small enemy is the true boss in disguise. To both Robin and Demetrius’ surprise, Sebastian spends more time outside compared to the past. The two of you either hang out in the Secret Woods or play the arcade games in the saloon. PICNICS! IN THE SECRET WOODS!!

𐙚⭑ You confessed first, and Sebastian became red in the face in an instant. He couldn’t stop smiling, though. Sam doesn’t let him hear the end of it.

𐙚⭑ On clear nights, you and Sebastian climb up to the roof of his house to stargaze. He loves pointing out constellations to you, showing off what Maru taught him. If he asked nicely enough, his half-sister would let the two of you borrow her telescope.

[34tmyh34rt]

König wanting to be tied up but he’s nervous to ask

Tying up subby König

Smut Ahead!!

A/n: This scared me to be completely honest, like how do I write this 😭 BUT I CAN DO THIS.

Sorry for the wait, I wanted to make sure that this was good for all of y’all :)

Tags: gn reader, afab reader, fat friendly fic, no pronouns except for ‘you’, sub König, dom reader, bondage, degradation (m receiving), after care included, slight obsessive König, toxic masculinity mentioned, gender roles mentioned, König being a wuss, what color have we agreed his eyes are??? also this fic is a lil silly, don’t take me too seriously, gets better as you read lol

König’s huge and beefy. He’s not made to be gentle, vulnerable. When you’re in military you gotta have muscles, not feelings. But lord does this big man just want to be put in his place.

Whenever he had the time - or privacy - bondage was always his favorite to pleasure himself to. The lack of control, putting your body in the hands of someone else, having to take everything you were given.

The soldiers he worked with didn’t have much of a filter, using any chance they could to compete in some stupid testosterone pissing match. They boasted about coming back home to their submissive wife that they could fold into a million positions. Talking about how strong and dominant they were - but König couldn’t help but wish for the roles to be reversed.

Being a dom never really did it for him, he didn’t get all the hype. He’d much rather be the one being played with like clay. Pushed and pulled in all directions, used like a doll, treated like a slut. But he could never tell the other men this! No, he’d be ridiculed! I mean, he breaks open doors for a living! He can’t whimper and beg!

But oh lord does he.

He loves his relationship with you. He doesn’t think he could ever find anyone who cares for him as much as you do. God you’re just so fucking perfect. You understand him so well. You don’t make fun of him, you know that he comes with a lot of fucking baggage. You’re so patient with him, especially when his anxiety is taking over.

He’s been too scared to go too far with you in the bedroom. He won’t even let you touch him, worried that he’ll turn into subby mess right under your hands. He’ll finger you or eat you out, never using his dick. If you ever complain or feel bad about the only one getting pleasured, he’ll just tell you that you deserve to feel good, so why don’t you just sit back and let him play with your body?

You guessed that he was just too anxious or insecure to actually fuck yet. You remind him every day that you love him and you’d never leave him, I mean, even that bulge is impressive. If he let you suck his dick once you’d be his forever. He’s so fucking hot and god won’t he just fuck you already!! Nothing could turn you off of an absolute hunk of man like him.

You’ve been begging more and more every day, even resorting wearing only his shirt and your underwear, hoping he’ll rip it right off of you and take you right then and there. Crawling into his lap and grinding down. But of course he’ll just effortlessly pick you up and set you down next to him, giving you a kiss on the head as a sort of apology and racing to the bathroom to deal with his massive… problem

You rolled your eyes, seriously?!?!?

You know that he’s jerking off. This is ridiculous, he obviously wants to fuck you, what the hell is going on? You can’t do this anymore! That’s it, you’re confronting him and getting a goddamn answer.

Your knuckles knock against the wooden door of the bathroom, “König. Get out here. Right now. I know you’re jerking off in there.”

König felt heat rush from his tummy to his cock, goddamnit now he was even harder. He strained against his pants painfully, a soft whimper tumbling past his lips. You’ve never been so demanding before. He hate how much it turned him on.

With a large hand clumsily hiding his bulge, König stumbled out of the bathroom. He was sheepish, refusing to look you in the eye. He looked so fucking pathetic. And he still looked sexy.

“König,” you drawled out his name, frustration evident in your tone - it sent another rush south, König’s eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the sound, “Are you gonna keep beating your dick in the bathroom or are you going to fuck me?”

You could practically hear König gulp, his hand squeezing down over his hard on. His wide eyes flickered down to your lips, you looked so hot when you were angry.

He nodded slowly, never breaking his gaze from you. He’ll probably last long enough, he just has to go slow - that’s all! He just has to keep focusing on being strong and manly and he won’t melt at the feeling of your pussy around his cock! Oh god, who is he kidding, he can’t stay dominate around yo-

“You want me to top you, don’t you?”

His heart dropped. How do you know? He’s quiet, he never has told you anything about his preferences! He’s in the military! He acts like all his peers, right?

His thoughts are racing and you can tell. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes moving back and forth - something you realized that he does every time he’s deep in thought. You let out a small giggle, “König, don’t be so oblivious, baby.”

You walk up to him, hand reaching up to hold his face. The simple touch has him sinking into your hold. “God look at you, it’s not hard to tell. You always liked it when I took charge,” you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “You want me to tie you up? Ride your cock until you can’t see straight? Prove to you how much of a slut you are?”

His knees almost buckle under him, you’re all he could ever want. He’s fantasied about you so many nights, worried that he’d never be enough for you. Worried that he wouldn’t live up to your expectations. But that’s okay, you have all the time in the world to prove to him what a good boy he is.

He couldn’t even think, stumbling as you dragged him into your shared room. You quickly tore off your shirt and pants, only allowing him enough time to take off his shirt before throwing him down on the bed, climbing onto his lap and straddling his thick, muscular thighs.

You looked so pretty on top of him. He loved being under you, he wish he could spend the rest of his life right here.

You playfully rutted your heat down on his rock hard cock, König threw back his head. He let out a loud whine, fingers digging into your hips. “You know König, I’ve been planning for this for oh so long. I’ve seen how squirmy you get whenever someone’s tied up on TV. How you grab something to cover your lap. But you’re just so obvious, huh baby?” You squished his cheeks between your fingers. Your voice was so condescending and he couldn’t help but thrust his hips up into you.

“God, you’re such a whore for me König.”

He whined, loud. His pretty pink lip caught between his teeth, brows drawn together. He watched as you opened up your bedside drawer and pulled out a bundle of delicate black lace. His face flushed, cock throbbing against you.

He stayed perfectly still for you as you gently grabbed his hands, leading them up the headboard, and tying them together in a neat little bow. The intricate fabric looked perfect next to his bulging muscles. You ran your fingers up and down the sprawling vine like veins in his arms, you could feel him quivering beneath you. His shallow breathes and occasional low moans tumbling past his mouth.

He gave an experimental tug to his bindings, he could barely move. A rush of blood flowed down to his cock. You were so strong, tying him up so tight, leaving him to your mercy.

You could feel him harden even more, a smirk gracing your face, “You like that baby? You like being tied up under me?” His head quickly nodded, his pretty blue eyes looking up at you.

“Maybe I should just leave you here…” you trail off, leaving kisses along his collarbone, “all desperate and whiny… I mean, it’s only fair after making me wait this long.”

You don’t think you’ve seen König so panicked before. His eyes were blown wide, hands tugging at his bindings so he can hold onto you and keep you right where he needs you. “N-no! Schatz please… please! Bitte mein leibling… I- y/n, I can’t-“ His words slurred, strung together by his thick accent.

“Come on König, stop blabbering. I know you can beg me better than that.” Your words shut him right up. You could see him process, his mind clouded with lust.

“Liebling… ich braunche dich, I need to have you t-touch me…” he pleaded for you, lips trembling and dick pressing against your thigh. “I want to be inside of you so bad, maus… fuck, I’m so hard for you y/n…” How could you deny him when he was begging you so sweetly?

“Only because you’re being such a good boy for me.” You smirked as you oh so slowly unbuttoned his pants. He thrust into the air uncontrollably, even the slightest touch drove him mad. “Ah-ah, stay still König.” His teeth dug into his lip at your words.

You pulled him out of his boxers, his cock slapping up against his tummy with how aroused he was. Pre cum slid down to his base in pretty droplets. You wrapped your hand around him, barely covering him entirely from just how big he was. König let out small breathy whimpers, the heat of your hand was just so warm and nice against his hard on.

You gave him a small lick at his tip, the flavor of his cock spreading deliciously across your tongue. König let out a loud, drawn out groan. More and more peals dribbled from the slit and you quickly caught them in your mouth. König pulled down on his restraints as you slowly took the head of his dick in your mouth, sucking gently.

He loved when you treated him so sweetly, so softly. So lovingly. But lord could he not wait for you to fuck him up.

You started bobbing up and down on his cock effortlessly, taking him nice and easy. You looked up him through your lashes as you hollowed your cheeks and it sent his stomach in knots. It felt so good, the warmth and wetness of your mouth was like heaven. Your teeth grazing the skin of his dick, a small reminder that he was under your mercy and control. To another man it might be threatening to think that their pleasure could so easily be turned into something so painful if the person blowing them off only clamped slightly…

But it just pushed him closer to the edge. Being placed in between those pretty jaws of yours, so sweet but so dangerous. Of course you’d never hurt him, at least not more than he could handle - or enjoy.

He thrusted up into your mouth only for your hands to hold down his hips. Your eyes glowered at him in warning, you were in charge of his pleasure. He whimpered as a sort of apology, too enraptured in the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips to form words. Your saliva pooling at his base and mixing with his pre cum.

He couldn’t wait any longer, his stomach tightening in short spasms. “Maus, I- I’m gonna… ‘M gonna cum…” His breath came out heavy in between his words, your mouth never ceasing as you watched him stumble his words out.

Your lips pulled off his cock with a small ‘pop’, hand lazily moving up and down on his length. “Yeah? You gonna cum? Am I making you feel that good?” His eyes watered, your words so teasing and mean but so arousing. You let out a little chuckle at his state, feeling him twitch in your hand, “Go ahead, cum for me. Cum for me like the slut you are”

You brought your head back down on his dick, moving fast and rough. He loves the way you talk to him, the way you treat him. Like he’s yours. He pulled harder on the lace holding him in hopes of grounding himself, hoping to somehow deal with the overwhelming pleasure you were giving him.

You let his hips thrust into you as he chased his orgasm, loud whines and strings of your name leaving his mouth. You kept your gaze on his face as his brows pinched and eyes closed tight. You felt his cum spill past your lips and leaking down onto his lap. You kept sucking his off long past his high came down, aftershocks twitching throughout his body.

“W-wait it’s, it’s too much- ngh! Oh my god…- y/n!” You giggled watching him squirm with overstimulation. You laid one of your hands down on his hips, pressing down against him. The other hand traced up and down his cock. It was still hard, pressed against his tummy and smearing left over cum on his skin. He jumped with each ghost of your fingers and whined for your teasing to stop.

You eventually slowed your hand, grinning at the mess König had become beneath you, “Alright pretty boy, so fucking sensitive, huh? But if you’re too sensitive for me to even touch you, how am I going to properly fuck you?”

Standing at the edge of the bed you slowly pulled your underwear down, looking at every twitch of König cock as he watched you. You climbed into his lap, your bare cunt hovering above his dick.

Tears fell from the corners of his eyes and he gazed at you as though you were sent by god just for him. “Du bist so schön, meine Liebe.”

König’s lip quivered as you lower yourself down onto him. His hard cock stretched out your walls so wonderfully. So hot and thick, and all yours. You threw back your head at the feeling of König disappearing into you inch by inch.

“König you feel so fucking good baby, filling me up soooo much”

König searched for your eyes, needing to know just how good he was making you feel. Him. Not anyone else, him. He felt like he’d cum just at the thought of pleasuring you so well.

His hands shook in his bindings, he craved the feeling of your skin. He needed to run his hands up the curves of your tits, and down the fat of your hips. He needed to grab your stomach and grope your thigh. He just needed to touch- but he was a good boy. He wouldn’t beg you to untie him, no, he needed to prove he could be nothing but a toy for you to use. This was all about you.

God, you.

Your hips met his and the final stretch lodged a moan through your pretty lips. König involuntarily bucked into you as a tear rolled down his cheek at the bliss of being inside of you.

You reached down a hand to dry his face, your other hand pressing down against his lap,

“Aw, Baby, it’s okay. Don’t get too excited though, you keep still.”

Your voice was soft but firm. So melodious. It sounded like honey to König and you could feel him throb inside of you as he held back another thrust.

You teasingly rolled your hips with his full dick inside of you, head thrown back and thoroughly enjoying yourself. König’s teeth burrowed into the soft plush of his lip, overwhelmed by the sight of your heavenly state and the overstimulation to his cock.

His jaw dropped open as he felt you slowly rise up until only the tip was encased in your warmth, and then quickly falling back down to his hips. You watched as König whimpered, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through him.

You picked up the pace with each movement, up and down, up and down. More and more whines tumbling past König’s lips as they harmonized with your own moans. Your slick and his cum mixed together over his hips and the insides of your thighs. You reached a hand forward, tracing patterns on his stone hard stomach. It was like chiseled marble, perfectly sculpted all for only you to see and to touch.

He jumped, the muscle in his tummy jumping at the feeling and relaxing at your chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are, König.” You leaned forward even more, lips teasing his ear. “It’s gonna make fucking you a lot harder for you and a lot more fun for me.”

You straightened your back, mean grin gracing your features. König’s eyes reached the back of his skull, too pleasured to feel real fear at your words. It only pushed him further to finishing. His stomach muscles spasming in preparation and his body tensing.

You suddenly stopped, his cock fully encased in your tight warmth. A twisted cry came from König, desperate for you to continue but not daring to thrust his hips into you. You leaned against your arms propped on his chest, staring deeply into his eyes as he stared back.

Your voice was low aa you spoke, “Are you gonna cum again, König? Cum for your first time from my pussy? Cumming like the pussy drunk slut you are?”

A small sob left König, tears falling from his face. It was as all so much, almost too much. Having you be everything he’s ever dreamed of. He nodded his head, your word bouncing around his skull.

“Y-yes meine liebe, please. Please, let me. I love you.” Another sob, “Ngh, I’m- I’m your slut y/n, I’m your whore.”

“Awww.” You smiled wickedly at him, crashing your lips against his as you continued to ride him. His cock reached all the right places, leading you to your own release. You bit at his lips and even his tongue, his moans filling your mouth. Drool dribbled down his chin and slid down his neck.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, gripping him like you never wanted him to leave. The sound of your skin connecting was like music to König’s ears. The sound of accomplishment. The sound of his love in physical form. The sound of you taking him and putting him right where he fucking belonged.

His tummy tightened again, dick pulsing inside of you. You felt your own stomach pool with pleasure. You momentarily broke from König’s mouth, saliva stringing you together. His tongue lolled out, desperate for your connection to resume.

“Cum for me König, cum with me and prove to me that you’re mine and only mine.” Your lips reached his yet again as your hips moved faster and faster. You even allowed König to sloppily thrust into you. Each time your bodies met it felt like heaven, pushing you further and further to what you knew would be an other worldly orgasm.

All that mattered in this moment was you, it didn’t matter if he fucked before or if he’d cum from someone else before. It felt like he was doing it for the first time. Like this was the only time that mattered. The only person that made him feel this fucking good. This fucking loved.

The pleasure rose and rose, until it snapped. Euphoria rushing over your bodies in waves. A strangled cry pushed into your mouth from König. You could feel him filling you up, warmth spreading throughout your body. You did a few more slow lazy thrusts before pulling yourself off of him, sitting up and looking down at the mess you made.

God he was pathetic, tears drying against his face, lips swollen and bruised, and his eyes looking at you with pure admiration.

You lazily crawled off the bed, leaving König whining for you. When you returned you had a warm wet towel. You sat next to König and gently cleaned him off, careful to not overwhelm him too much. You could feel him jump underneath you every now and then from his overstimulation. When you were done you quickly cleaned your self off and laid the towel on the bed side table, turning back to König who watched your every move with a soft gaze.

You untied the lace around his wrists, holding them in your hands and massaging them lightly. “Does your skin hurt at all baby?”

“N-no. Well, not unbearably. The sting… feels nice.” His voice was husky and low. You smiled at him, before lying down and cuddling up to his chest. He was damp with sweat and his flesh was feverishly hot under your hands. His arm snaked under you and held you tight against him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you so much maus, thank you… thank you for making me yours.”

A/n: oh. my. god. It’s finally over. I finally finished it. Sorry for being gone for so long! Hope this makes up for my absence :)

[memorizingthedigitsofpi]

I've been doing some introspection to try to figure out why I have such an intensely strong emotional reaction when someone takes a post with a hopeful or positive message and reblogs it with negativity.

I've blocked a lot of tumblr users for calling an OP stupid for being optimistic or hopeful. You know, people who are just being mean and hateful because it's edgy or cool or whatever. I think that's a reasonable reaction and a way to keep toxicity out of my feed.

But I've also blocked folks who read a post about being kinder to oneself and they respond to that with, "That's okay for other people, but I'm not allowed." They don't usually use those exact words of course, but that's the message. And that message cuts me to my core every single time I read it. Blocking those people isn't about avoiding trolls. It's about protecting myself from being hurt.

Because that's the thing. It hurts to see that and feel helpless. To see someone being so cruel to themselves and know there's nothing I can do to show them they don't have to be.

I'll write a post about how oneshots are amazing, or I'll see one talking all about how doodle art is so expressive and charming etc. and I'll see in my notes or in the reblogs a lot of people agreeing and a lot of people appreciating someone sharing that point of view.

But I'll also see a lot of people who say things like, "Maybe so, but my writing still stucks." or "Sure, OTHER PEOPLE's doodles are cool but mine are dumb."

When I see that, I just want to tell them they're wrong. That the post applies to them too. That they're allowed to love themselves, and they don't have to wait until they're better or perfect to do it.

Except you can't just roll up into a stranger's ask box and say, "I don't know you and I've never read your writing or seen your art, and the only piece of you I've seen are one set of tags on one post on this entire website, but you're wrong."

I think part of the reason why it hurts so much to see that is the feeling of wanting to help and knowing that I can't. But I think another part of the hurt comes from recognizing that feeling and remembering what it was like to be stuck believing my own lies about myself.

I don't think those things anymore. Or if I do, it's pretty rare. But every time I see those comments the pain wells up inside of me and brings back that feeling of hopelessness I had once upon a time. The feeling of shame that went along with it. The guilt and the anger and the frustration and the desperate need for someone to tell me I was really okay.

I wish I could do that for all of you out there who need someone like that right now. I wish you'd believe me if I tried. But I guess, for now at least, I'll just wish that when you see those posts that you let yourself believe them. Let yourself apply them to you too. Just for a little while.

[violentdelights-violentendss]

Pretending to Give Logan a Blowjob.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Logan Howlett

Synopsis: You decide to prank logan with the TikTok prank: you pretend to get ready to give him a blowjob, and right when you have convinced him, you pretend you had been wanting a shoulder massage all along.

•

Hey guys! Hope you like this! I have a few more TikTok pranks, and if you guys are interested I could write a few little scenarios like this one with Logan.

The other TikTok pranks include:

1. Pretending to be wearing nothing underneath your towel and suddenly opening it while recording a TikTok.

2. Asking him to multitask, by cutting something while telling the story of how you met.

3. Walking on him naked while he’s working.

4. The jacked and kind trend

Let me know if you want anymore with these scenarios, both for Logan or for other characters I write for.

You had been assigned to overview a physics exam in the afternoon. Currently sitting on the hard, plastic chair that dug into your ass, you looked at the rows and rows of teenagers. Some were writing non stop, while others gripped their hair in desperation. You tried to get comfortable, shifting your hips on the seat, almost cursing out loud when you only managed to somehow make the chair more uncomfortable. You huffed, crossing your arms and trying to distract yourself from the stuffiness of the room.

You leaned back against the chair, crossing your legs. The frantic scratching of the pens on paper soon became a distant sound to your distracted ears as you started thinking about your boyfriend, Logan, who was currently training with a bunch of students just a few floors down. You missed him, even if you had been snoring happily in his arms just that morning.

You sighed, touching his dog tags which were currently resting around your neck. As you played with them, stewing in the mixture of the students’ adrenaline pervading the air and your personal boredom, your mind conjured up a plan, your mouth splitting in a mischievous grin. Your for you page on TikTok had been recently flooded by various girlfriends pranking their boyfriend by pretending to get ready to give them a blow job, tying their hair up while sitting in between their boyfriend’s legs, only to turn around and demand a shoulder massage. Your excitement rose as your plan consolidated in your mind, further spurned by the absolute hatred Logan felt for TikTok, preventing him from downloading it. He would not know what hit him.

Your boredom now turned to pure excitement, your knee bouncing up and down. The minute your supervision time was up, Scott to switching with you, you sprung up and darted down the hallway, the light of the setting sun painting long windows in your path.

You hastily ran to your bedroom, shutting the door when you realized it was empty. He wasn’t in the training room, the lights shut off. You glanced in the kitchen, finding it empty as well. You stopped in the entrance, utterly confused.

“Whatcha looking for, bub?” You turned around, seeing Logan lazily sitting on the couch in the common room, remote in hand.

“Logan!” You squealed, smiling, running up to him. “Where you here the whole time?”

“Yeah. I think I watched you pass in front of the door a good five times.” He pointed to the doorway with the remote. “What got your panties in a twist?” He joked, gently reaching out for your hand.

You grinned, your early mischievousness seeping back into your eyes. You had wanted to record this on your phone, but you quickly eyed the security camera staring at you with its black eye on the wall; that would do. “You. I was looking for you.” You whispered, placing your hand on his chin.

“Me?” Logan asked. You nodded, letting your hand glide down his neck, down his chest, stopping on his belt buckle. You glanced up at him, biting your lip. Logan raised his eyebrow, a confused smile dancing on his face. Teasingly slow you spread his legs, falling down to your knees, until you were level with his crotch. The confusion on his boyfriend quickly evaporated, arousal flashing in his brown eyes. He glanced towards the door. “[Y/N], baby, here?” He asked, disbelief coloring his voice. You nodded, not trusting your voice, terrified you’d burst out laughing at his hopeful expression.

Logan licked his lips, excitement and nervousness bubbling in his chest as his eyes frantically jumped back and forth between you and the open door. A part of him wanted this, slightly reveling in the risk, and the other utterly loathing the idea of anyone seeing you like that. His erratic train of thought derailed when he saw you collect your hair into a hasty ponytail, your stray hairs caressing your face beautifully.

The moment he saw that, all of his doubts and nervousness evaporated. “Oh, fuck it.” He grunted, as he got comfortable against the leather couch, spreading his legs further. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank fuck.” He added, as he slyly placed both hands behind his head, looking at you through his hooded eyes.

You closed your eyes, exhaling loudly as you tried to not laugh. As you stuffed your laughter deep down into your stomach, you squeezed his thigh, a small part of you feeling bad for fooling him. You opened your eyes, trying to give him your best bedroom eyes, while your mouth quivered with silent laughter. You reached for his belt buckle, toying with it. Logan closed his eyes, leaning his head back. You chose that exact moment to strike.

You turned around, showing him your back. “You’re too sweet, baby. Thank you for offering to massage me. My shoulders are killing me. If you could really get in there, baby?” You asked, your voice sickeningly sweet as you waited for his reaction, eyeing him through the mirror hung on the wall. You watched as Logan’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at your back with dazed confusion.

“What? Massage?” He croaked, furrowing his brows. He knew he hadn’t imagined things: you clearly had been about to give him the blowjob of his life… how did it suddenly turn into a massage for you.

“My shoulders have ached ever since I trained with Storm a few days ago,” you whined, shrugging them. Logan blinked in confusion a few times, the arousal disappearing from his gut with every passing second. He stared down at you for a few moments, starting to move very slowly, getting whiplash from the sudden change, and feeling his ecstasy sink as fast as a rock in a river. His warm hands descended on your shoulders, as he slowly started to massage your non existent knots.

As you glanced up at him, and noticed his crestfallen expression, even as he diligently massaged you, you lost it. Your repressed laughter burst of you. You laughed so loudly you saw Logan flinch with his super hearing. He looked at you, his hands freezing. “What? Did I do it wrong?” He grunted, irked.

You turned around, slapping his thigh as the laughter kept pouring out of you. The minute you looked at him, seeing the confusion even more evident on his face only spurred you to laugh even louder, leaning heavily against his legs to not collapse on the ground. When you couldn’t breathe anymore, and your stomach hurt, you wiped the tears from your eyes, collapsing on the sofa next to him.

“I’m glad I amuse you so, bub.” Logan grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Could I know what I did to entertain you so?”

You turned to look at him, clasping his jaw. “Let me kiss this frown away.” You leaned in, pressing a few pecks on his lips. You pulled back, seeing Logan was still eyeing you with suspicion. “I’m sorry, baby! It was a prank! I saw it on TikTok,” you explained, squeezing his thigh.

Logan stared at you in utter disbelief, his mouth hanging open. “Are you shitting me princess?” He croaked. You only managed to giggle sheepishly. “Am…am I supposed to laugh right now?” He deadpanned. “I got tricked into thinking I would get a blowjob for a TikTok prank…” Logan shook his head, scoffing in utter shock.

A snort escaped your lips. “Logan, I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would make you so sad! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!” You said, pouting at him.

“No luck, baby. Pouts only work for good girls. And you’ve been a bad one,” he said, grinning at you. “Well, baby, as much as I’d love to say here and be led on, I have another training class with my students.” Logan said, standing up.

You suddenly felt very very guilty about having lead him on during his short break: before he could get too far you grabbed him by his belt, yanking him back on the couch. You knew Logan could very well resist, but he let himself be pulled back, landing right next to you. You leaned in, slipping your hand underneath his shirt and caressing his happy trail. “Come to the bathroom closest to the training room after you’re done with your lesson. I’ll be waiting for you.” You pressed a kiss to his neck. “On my knees.”

Logan eyed you, a grin spreading on his lips. “Better be the truth this time, princess,” he grunted, sensually squeezing your thigh, before he stood up, readjusting his pants and heading to the training room. You laughed at the sudden jump in his step.

Right before he disappeared in the hall, Logan turned to wink at you. You blew him a kiss. The hour could not past fast enough.

[backinmyphase]

Not my mother

Synopsis: As Gojo Satoru's wife you are most of the time alone at home and you have made your peace with that. However a visit from your mother in law results in a pleasant surprise. Well, not for him as he meets your mother.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 4300 words Masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu Clans suck, reader's mom is a warning alone, talking about drugging a person, dark implications

A/n: Sorry for the long wait again! This chapter just seemed especially hard to write :') As usual just say if you want to be tagged and feel free to comment any thoughts regarding this post, it always makes my day. Enjoy!

"Satoru, do you like your family?"

Once in a while there are thoughts that pop up in your head, questions about your husband, that you are just slipping out of your mouth. After all you two didn't really have much time together. Question because of time away from him. So much time.

You sit with him at the breakfast table, the big table now not used anymore, just a little one where you sit opposite of each other. Now you can fully see how he is taken by surprise. How his eyebrows rise. And how his lips...

In the last days you really had strange thoughts.

"Do you?"

You stopped eating for a second, now realizing what kind of question that is. Someone else would think the answer had to be obvious. But when your family is a Clan it seems so strange to talk about it as 'family'.

"I... Do. I think." your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

He looked at you with these eyes that seemed to look right through you. And even though you didn't think you were lying, you didn't know if it was the truth either.

Then he shrugged.

"If I'm being honest, I don't really. I don't really see them as family. They are just people I'm representing." he chews for a bit, but then stops. "You know, they didn't treat me as family either. So I guess I never saw them as it."

He looked up with an almost apologetic look. "Too cold?"

"What? No!" you shook your head. "I'm the one asking. I'm happy with the honest answer."

"And you know," you fidgeted with your ring. The feeling of it cold, heavy. "I get what you mean. In fact I think you described my feelings really well."

He looked at you like always when he didn't really get what you meant but didn't want to ask. But this morning you dropped the topic of family as he had to go on missions and you... Had to get rid of your boredom with other ways.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

"So I am free for half of the day?" Satoru couldn't believe as he heard the news from Yaga.

"Not really. There's just someone who requested a meeting with you. And you have to go Gojo, I don't want to hear any excuses." Yaga had still that tone like when Gojo was his student. And somehow it was still working.

"Yeah, yeah. When is it?"

"Just read the formula I gave you!" he sighed. "It's in half an hour."

"Okay, okay." Satoru looked back at the formula Yaga gave him, wondering why he had to go to their house of this person for a meeting they requested, but sure.

He was slightly annoyed he couldn't just go home to you.

Since last week the only thing on his mind when he went on missions was how and when he got back to his wife. Even though he wished he had more free time with you, it was calming to just have a regular evening talk with you.

No pressure, no higher-ups. Just talking.

You had such a pretty smile and he was such an idiot to make you not smile so freely before. He couldn't believe how easily you have forgiven him. Because he sure hasn't. Everytime he saw you sleep on the couch when he came back he felt bad. Like he was still not doing enough.

Since when did he feel like he wasn't doing enough?

He still had to learn so much about you. How to make you laugh regularly and what was your favorite food. And how not to make you angry or sad. Because that was something he wanted to avoid by all costs.

He looked at the address and it did seem familiar. But he didn't remember from where. But somewhere in the back of his mind, something was telling him that this seemed like an obvious trap.

But he didn't want to piss of his old teacher.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

The Gojo mansion was warming up to you. Even though it was often still empty and cold, you did find the garden and library endearing.

But you missed Satoru.

Without him this house still didn't feel like home, no matter how many books you started to read or how many facts Hina told you about the plants in the garden.

Whenever he came back in the evening the time was always passing so fast. Sometimes you just wanted to have a new honeymoon without the pressure. Just him and time. After all, you never went to that restaurant.

But wishing and thinking of what if's wasn't a good pass of the time. You still had to build your own life.

Oftentimes you went into the kitchen to watch the work of the chefs and chat with them, but today you didn't feel like it. You didn't want to admit it but you were bored.

The hours alone at home were eating you up. When you distracted yourself from your anxious thoughts regarding the Clan matter, the boredom came. Maybe you were just not cut out to be a stay at home wife. Or maybe you grew too lazy. Oh, what would your mother say when she would see you complaining? She would eat you up.

You strolled through the mansion alone, wondering again why the big house was so empty. No old pictures of Gojo or anything like that. Why?

And as you went to the garden, you couldn't help but sigh at your lack of tasks and-

"Of course he didn't get a gardener! Even though I have told him for months! Always just a little boy with too much-"

You couldn't move as you looked at the woman who sat between the lilies. Speechless because the last time you saw her was on your wedding day as your mother ranted about her and her son.

Mrs. Gojo had such a strong presence.

Even when she was just ranting about her son.

"Oh my!" her eyes lit up as she spotted you. And even though they didn't have the color of the ones your husband had, they had the same light and crinkle when they were excited.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" she got up, cleared her very expensive looking dress and slowly strutted towards to you. "I haven't seen you in such a long time!"

"Pleasure meeting you again." you bowed your head a bit, you still had to be careful in the presence of your mother in law. "But I didn't know you would visit today Mrs. Gojo?"

"Oh please drop the formals!" she shook her head and for the first time she really smiled. Like a real sincere smile. "We are both Mrs. Gojo now, aren't we? You can call me Ayaka."

"If you say so Mrs- I mean Ayaka." she nodded approvingly while having an amused glint in her eyes. "Ayaka, I wasn't informed you would come to visit. Is there a something you want to discuss with Satoru? If so he is at work-"

She laughed and shook her head. "Oh I know don't worry. I'm not here for him. I'm tending the garden. Once in a month I come here to make sure the Gojo garden isn't forgotten. The boy seemed to forget his mother the moment she wasn't living here anymore."

"Oh." now as she mentioned it, you never saw anyone in the garden tending the flowers before. You just assumed there was someone who did it, because... Well it was Gojo's garden.

"Do you like it?" Your mother in law pointed at the lila flowers that were blooming in the center of all the flowers. "I planted those Hydrangeas at your wedding day. They seem to bloom very well."

"Oh, yeah. They are very beautiful." It was calming to watch those flowers dance in the wind.

"Do you have fresh tea?" Gojo's mother held her head high, her hands intertwined at waist height as she looked at you. "I would like to drink one with you."

Perplexed you blinked at her. "I think we do. Is there a special occasion?"

"Oh, you know." she gently took your arm, intertwining it with her own as she took steady steps towards the mansion. "I just want to talk with my daughter in law about her and her husband."

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

The mansion, which had the address, wasn't the biggest. But it was big enough Satoru knew it had to be of a Clan.

Now, Meetings with other Clans weren't unusual. In fact they were a remaining part of his childhood. But most of the time the Clan came to him and it was planned weeks prior.

There were no plants outside, no decorations.

Satoru walked with slow, steady steps. He couldn't afford to be caught of guard. And even though this was just a meeting he felt cursed energy from somewhere in the mansion.

He rang and waited.

One. Two. Three.

Should he ring again? Or should he just go home to you-

A maid opened the door, her eyes widening as she saw him. "Gojo Satoru?"

"Yeah?" what was with that reaction? "I was ordered here for a meeting." But in reality no one should order him around-

"Oh yes. But the lady of the house is busy right now." she opened the door far enough for him to step inside. "Let me show you the room of the meeting and serve you tea while you wait."

He didn't want to be here. It felt like a bad horror movie and his gut told him he should tell Yaga that he couldn't attend such meetings. But he didn't want another higher-up at his doorstep, so he did step in.

The mansion had a couple of pictures. People he didn't know looking at him with such stone cold faces. Who would want that kind of picture?

The hallway was long, multiple doors were passed as he followed the maid.

And then there was that door.

He knew. There was the cursed energy he felt. It wasn't a normal amount. It had such a presence, it had to be a curse of some sort. Or a curse user.

No matter what, his gut wanted him to rip the door open and end it.

"Mr. Gojo?" the maid wasn't pleased he stopped in his tracks. No, in fact she looked a bit frightened. "The appointment room is a couple doors down there."

"Is it?" he looked at the wooden door before him and wondered what this 'lady' wanted from him. And why she had this much cursed energy in one of her rooms.

"Then let's keep going."

It wasn't for long, when he followed the maid into a small room. It had a table ready with cups.

"I will serve tea as you are waiting." the maid was already hurrying to get out.

"Wait! I don't need tea right now." she stopped at the doorframe and looked at him.

And she had that eerily smile. "But my lady insists."

With that she turned around and left him alone. What in the world was that? This whole thing was becoming more and more weird with the second he spend here. But he did sat down at the table.

However he didn't touch the tea that was him served.

The room he was in was kinda spooky. It didn't have anything precisely unusual in it, but the atmosphere was killing him.

There were medals and certificates on the walls. Some flowers were put underneath like it was meant to show pride. But if they would really be proud there wouldn't be any dust on these highly things.

He didn't wait for long. But maybe that wouldn't have been so bad.

The door opened and an older woman stepped in, which seemed familiar. Her stern look and cold gaze gave him a shiver. She stepped at the table and sat down on the opposite of him.

"Apologies for my late appearance." she fetched herself a cup of tea. Her cup was decorated with gold which simmered in the light. But behind that shimmer he didn't miss the side eye she gave him. "I wasn't expecting you following an invite."

"What is that supposed to mean?" who did this woman think she was? He was still Satoru Gojo. And normally people respected him for that.

She took a long sip and somehow that made him shut up. She placed her cup carefully on the table and smiled at him. But something about that smile made him uneasy. "You haven't touched your tea, have you Mr. Gojo?"

"No, I haven't." he glanced at his untouched cup. It wasn't as fancy as hers.

"Is the cup offending you?" she seemed to have followed his glance. "If it is, my apologies but in one of our last meetings with the Gojo Clan one of our family cups has been destroyed. Forgive me for being hesitant to give one to the likes of you again."

Oh, this woman knew how to piss someone of. "In one of the last meetings with the Gojo Clan? I can't remember such a meeting."

At that she smiled fully while her eyes somehow became more icy. "You can't, can't you?"

Something wasn't adding up. Satoru had to be at every meeting his Clan had. He was the head of the Clan for a reason. Did he skip a meeting? But then he had to catch up the meeting. So what was he forgetting?

He felt her gaze on him as he tried to remember any solution to this. She was smiling as she watched him frown.

"The meetings with the Gojo Clan were rather a  success, you know? I had hoped to strengthen the relationship of our Clans." she took another sip. "Well, it is still left to be desired."

"I'm sorry," he didn't want to dance around the question any longer. This woman was obviously looking down on him right now and he couldn't stand it. And even though he couldn't place a name to the face, it seemed so strangely familiar. "But have we met before?"

She placed her cup on the table with force. "Well, we did see each other on a rather big occasion, but I am not mad at you for forgetting me."

Something in the room shifted as she stood up and opened the door again. "Shihiro? Our guest hasn't touched his tea. Could you bring another cup and fresh tea, please?"

He heard a muffled voice agreeing and steps running away from the room. "I really don't need any tea."

She sat down again carefully while making sure not to knock something over. "But it is our duty and our sign for hospitality! I insist."

And just like that the tea inside his cup was warm again. His gut was killing him, but under her gaze he did take a small sip out of the cup of tea.

It tasted... Bitter.

"Well, you are probably wondering why I have called you here." she looked slightly satisfied. And for the first time he seemed to remember this woman.

She was the one who gave him that icy look at his wedding. She was the one sawing him leave. The one who tsked at his doing and only raised an eyebrow as he saw her.

"I wanted to talk with my son in law about his wife and their marriage."

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

"Lovely weather, isn't it?"

She was right. The sun was shining and the wind was not too strong. While sitting here on the balcony, you had an amazing view of the garden from above.

"Yeah it is." The tea was a bit warmer and sweeter than the tea you knew and normally drank. You liked it.

Ayaka had talked with the cooks in the kitchen, you didn't know about what but you heard much laughter. Their voices seemed so much louder than before, the whole estate so much more lively with her here.

"I always spent my time in the garden and kitchen when I lived here, you know?" she sighed dreamily. "Especially with that weather."

Her posture was screaming authority. Elegance and experience. However her arms weren't tense, they seemed like they were open.

"Do you like it here?"

There it was. You were ready for this question, ready to calm all her possible worries.

"I do. I'm glad I was so lucky to marry Sat-"

She chuckled and shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Do you like it here?"

She seemed amused at your dumbfounded face. You watched as she took another sip. You looked at the beautiful garden which had so many flowers you adored every day. Hina, who was bringing another teapot with fresh tea.

"I do." carefully, you took your teacup. "It's calming here."

She was watching you as you took another sip. Her small smile never leaving. She leaned a bit forward, her arms bow crossed but somehow still seemed open.

"But.." you placed the teacup on the table. "It's also too calm sometimes."

Hesitant you looked at the older woman sitting in front of you. "Do you know what I mean?"

A pleasant breeze surprised you, the teacups shaking a bit. Ayaka leaned now slowly back again, in her hand her teacup.

"When Satoru was little.." her eyes were locked on her tea. "He always wanted to go outside. He didn't like the mansion, the kitchen or the garden. After he was born I was always kept moving."

She sighed and closed her eyes. She looked like one of these stone statures which were built to admire.

"I didn't want to have it any other way."

There was a silence which followed her words, embracing you and calming your senses.

"I still love to tend the garden and chat in the kitchen. But something inside me was really devastated when my little boy started to leave me alone."

There was something inside her voice. Something that made you feel with her.

"Do you like him?"

You couldn't help but grip your teacup stronger. "He is my husband."

She opened her eyes again, looking at you with such tenderness. "He is."

Your mouth seemed so dry. You sipped on the teacup again hoping it would also give you words to use. But it didn't.

"My marriage was also arranged, you know?" she slightly tilted her head. "The Gojo Clan was trying for decades to get another six eyes and infinity user. That's why my husband and I married."

She fetched herself fresh tea and tried to cool it down. "Our wedding was big. The honeymoon successful and we got the perfect child. Well in the book." she chuckled a bit. "But I never liked my husband."

"He was my acquaintance, nothing more."

She filled your cup too, watching you and waiting for you to answer.

"You were right." you took your teacup again, a small smile stole itself onto your face. "In our first meeting."

She smiled and laughed quietly.

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

"I wasn't informed that my mother in law wanted to speak to me." Satoru never felt so tense before. His hands gripping at each other for dear life. "I was being told that just someone wanted a meeting."

"Yeah, after all I wasn't sure you would even show up." this woman seemed so smug just by simply taking a sip, it drove him mad.

That was your mother.

Oh, he wanted to say so much to her. He had read what this woman had written to you. He had seen how you had sobbed in your sleep and whispered her name. Begging her to listen and stop.

But he didn't want her to go after you for anything he said. You still seemed to be so reliable on your mother.

"What do you want?" he tried to sound as polite as possible, he really did but there was just something that made him see red when he looked at her. Made him see your exhausted face.

She placed her teacup on the table again, her face now with a frown. "Well, my dear son in law," she straightened her position. "It has come to my understanding that you have still not consumed with your wife."

His mouth dried out by the second her words left hers. He couldn't believe how she could just sit there and say-

"Do you feel disgusted by her?"

And mean it unironically.

He couldn't move, just stare at this woman before him. He gripped his teacup realizing his tea was cold again, since he hadn't touched it since his first sip.

She shook her head, her face now looking at him disapproving. "Even if you did, there are solutions for it. I know my daughter isn't the brightest diamond in the jewelry box, but she knows that she should fulfill her duties as your wife."

She took another sip. "There are... Ways to make you feel more attracted to her."

"Stop talking." his teeth had started to grit.

She tsked at him. "I'm just suggesting ways to make this arrangement work. As her mother that is my duty."

"I don't care." he shook his head. "I don't care that you are her mother."

There was no politeness left in his voice. He couldn't bring himself for even a little bit.

"I forbid you from talking about my wife like that."

Her body stiffened, just slightly but enough for him to catch it. She inspected him, her look now cautious. "How dare you-"

She broke off. Her eyes lit up from realization. And then she smiled that eerily smile again.

"I see." she chuckled. A shiver went down his spine. "Does she not want to consume?"

"If so there is the same solution and I could talk with her." she took another loud sip. Her body now completely relaxed as if she wasn't talking about...

"Are you..." he couldn't believe this woman. "Are you seriously suggesting to drug my wife?"

She stared at him for a couple of seconds as if she was taken back by his reaction. Then she smiled again. "She would understand, I'm sure. Anything for the heir."

He stood up. This room, this floor felt like it was burning. No, like he was burning. His infinity unsteady as he was slightly shaking.

"The 'heir' doesn't matter to you. Whatever we are doing doesn't matter to you." he tried to remain a calm voice. "You can drink this bitter tea for the rest of your life for all I care. But don't talk about my wife as if she is just a tool."

She looked up at him, her smile now falling at his words. "I am trying to make this arrangement work, for my daughter-"

"Well, you don't talk about her as if she was your daughter." a scoff left his lips. "Who would suggest drugging their own daughter?"

She stood up. Her eyes now wide and staring at him while her lips were a thin line. "You don't know what a wife has to sacrifice, boy."

"What a mother has to sacrifice."

This woman before him was shaking. But not because of fear he knew that. He just couldn't understand how she was ticking, how a human would say such things.

"Shikabane?" a male voice interrupted the cold atmosphere in the room. The call wasn't loud but still very demanding.

"Coming!" his mother in law called back, her tense shoulders now falling.

She looked at him with many emotions, he could see it in her eyes. But one stuck out. Envy.

"Get out of my house, Satoru Gojo."

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

It was later than usual.

You didn't remember much, since you fell asleep on the couch in the living room shortly after Ayaka left.

She was a nice lady. The conversation with her lasted long into the afternoon, maybe even a bit into the evening. She suggested to come often for a cup of tea and you agreed.

But only if you were informed a couple of days prior.

It was much later than usual. You had slept two to three hours since she left and the kitchen was already closed.

You should go into your room and rest. But you didn't. Because you still wanted to see him.

Your legs were heavy but you still got up and made your way into the garden.

It was cold since it was probably almost night. But it was also refreshing. And under the moonlight the flowers shone in a new kind of way.

Yesterday you wouldn't have sat down on the ground next to these flowers, since you were always told that wasn't how a lady should behave. But today it felt like breathing to just sit down and admire those blooming stars up close.

A breeze made you shiver but it somehow also felt good. Alive.

You looked around, the plants around you dancing in the wind.

Till your gaze fell on him.

He was standing at the door. Leaning on the doorframe while his look remained on you. His arms crossed and a small smile on his lips.

"Are you not cold?" He had that warm look which made you smile back at him.

"I am." You stood up again, making your way towards him. "But I am also really warm."

He shook his head with resignation but still a smile. "Sometimes I can't believe how you... Endure so much."

As you stood before him and caught that uncertainty in his eyes, you thought that maybe this wasn't about coldness.

"Satoru are you okay?"

His smile got a bit smaller. His normally so tall and strong frame seemed out of glass. You were scared to come any closer.

And then he embraced you.

His strong arms pulling you gently towards him and holding onto you for dear life. His chest to your face, you could hear his heartbeat. You put your arms around his warm frame too.

You didn't know what was bothering him and you felt like right now wasn't the moment to ask him. Regardless you were sure to comfort him.

For all he was still your Husband. Your Satoru.

"I am now."

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Ongoing Taglist (I will add everyone in the Masterlist):

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@n1vi @enouche @shutuppeter @just-pure-trash

[moyazaika]

Fangdokja baby, unblock me, will you? I just wanna talk :)

Genocide. Antisemitism. Concentration camps. White supremacy. Islamophobia. The klu klux klan. Conversion therapy. Pedophilia.

Listed above, my loves, are only a few of the topics FD hopes to write about when it migrates platforms and leaves tumblr. (I mean thank christ. baruch hashem. alhamdulillah. we're finally free.)

FD says quite explicitly and at length that she has been, in her own words, holding back from writing about such topics due to tumbr guidelines and not, as she makes sure to let us know multiple times and very explicitly so, because of a "lack of desire” on her own part.

Huh. Okay, interesting.

Say, FD, why have you been holding back on writing about the very painful and devastating realities that billions of people in the world face every single day as if they are trivial topics and fanfiction tags you have been permitted to use? :)

Maybe I'm missing something here. Fill me in, won’t you? Why could you have possibly been yearning to write about little kids in a sexual context? How did you put it? Ohhh, yeah;

Infants? So close! That’s actually CSAM babes!

This is not even about yandere content anymore. It’s about your sheer ignorance and prejudice which prevents you from seeing just how fucked up of a person you are. Jesus did not ask you to trivialise and sensationalise incredibly sensitive experiences and prejudices that you will never understand nor live through.

You know what your religion does say, though?

1 Corinthians 10:23 NIV; "I have the right to do anything," you say—but not everything is beneficial. "I have the right to do anything, but not everything is constructive."

Think on that, won’t you? :)

Let me end this by saying, as a dark content writer myself, I firmly reject the idea of censorship and pirating fictional content both when it is created and when it is consumed.

However, I'm also not a fucking idiot.

When adults use their critical thinking skills to separate fiction from reality, I'm all for the exploration/unpacking/interrogation of taboo topics. It is very dangerous to condemn people for what they choose to write as an expression of their artistic abilities or personal experiences.

Fiction ≠ Reality. This idea is nothing new, and rightfully so. Everyone should be able to write what they want.

But a Christian woman shamelessly expresses homophobia? Has said very clearly in the past that the reader inserts in her posts will only ever be written as being pale, skinny, teenagers in mind? And now she wants to turn around and say she's writing about topics like conversion therapy and racism and expects anyone to believe it's from a purely creative standpoint?

Omg baby you must think we're all as moronic as you :(

Your vendetta, FD, is clear as day, and your vindication is utterly disgusting.

I condemn you.

I condemn your content.

I condemn the 'creative freedom' under which you and your supporters will defend your ability to take the lived experiences of millions of queer people, transgender people, jews, muslims, survivors of vicious hate crimes, children, victims of grooming, disabled people, black people, brown people, asians, and survivors of genocide to turn into content for your bigoted anime porn blog.

Whilst I still firmly believe fiction does not equate to reality, I wonder whether you think the same. Every other belief except for your own is up for grabs in a taboo free for all.

So when you say nothing is sacred in fiction?

I wonder whether that’s true of your own God as well—or just everybody else’s.