#this movie is mid as hell. but i liked it enough

[priestfrommidnightmass]

Josh O’Connor & Daniel Metz in “Hide & Seek” (2014)

[isaacathom]

based on our movie night track records its possible that i, isaac, simply should not watch any comedy movie published before 2007

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 [ 2 ]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Friends to Lovers. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky just not getting enough of you, fingering, cunnilingus, Oral [M&F], unprotected piv, creampie. Just PURE making love, no kinks. Summary: It's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him. A/N: 2 of 2. And I must say. . . JAYSUS. BON APETITIDDIES.

Part One

You were stiff. You were sore. Your arm was asleep. And you felt fucking fantastic.

Maybe in the movies people woke up entwined in each other's arms after a night of spirited lovemaking, but for you, reality was much more awkward. Your head had somehow become wedged behind Bucky’s shoulder, and both his legs were about to slide off the couch altogether. You untangled yourself as best you could, looking down at him as you moved his limbs out of the way.

Bucky was sleeping peacefully, his dark lashes lying flat against the skin beneath his eyes. They fluttered slightly as you pulled free of him, and he stirred.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, and turned over so he was facing the back of the couch, still caught in mid-slide towards the floor.

You tried not to laugh. God, he was adorable.

You sat up, arching your back to stretch out the sore muscles. Then your breath caught. What time was it? Holy hell, I’m going to be late.

You stood up quickly, and was seized by an ache between your legs so unfamiliar that you nearly sat back down again. Holy crap. It had been way too long. You almost felt like a virgin again. You rose again shakily, noticing that your whole groin felt sore, and so did your hips—probably from throwing your legs up around his waist. God, what a wanton hussy you were, you thought happily.

You went quietly towards the bathroom, checking the clock on the stove as you walked by. It was nearly eight-thirty. Crap. You were supposed to be at work by nine, or nine-thirty at the latest. you'd  have to make the shower a quick one.

You stood under the hot water, letting it pour over your sore muscles. You washed out your hair, lathered up your body and massaged your sore hips as random images from last night invaded your thoughts. Even now you weren't entirely convinced it hadn't all been a dream. Has it really happened? The soreness was real enough. And so were the images flashing through your mind.

Bucky’s body on yours, looming over you, holding your wrists, kissing you with abandon. Taking each breast in his mouth, teasing you with his fingers. Sliding into you, tilting your back and thrusting deeper, faster, harder.

Suddenly a blurry figure appeared on the other side of the glass door. The door slid open and he stood there, looking disheveled from sleep but adorably sexy. And naked, too.

"Hi," he said, a seductive smile curving his lips. His eyes traveled down your naked body, pausing at your breasts and then sliding down to the between your legs where rivulets of water coursed and ran together.

You flushed at the frank inspection but willed yourself not to try to hide from him. You shifted your weight, jutting your hip out provocatively and smiled.

His eyes returned to yours, desire glinting in them. "May I join you?"

You pushed the door back and invited him in. Bucky stepped in and crowded you, not unpleasantly, until your back was up against the tiles. He braced his hands on the wall behind you, and let the water flow over him as he leaned down and kissed you.

You opened to him and kissed him back, winding your hands around his waist and sliding them down his ass, squeezing appreciatively. He smiled into the kiss, enjoying your wandering hands, then pushed forward so your bodies were pressed together, the water slick and warm between you.

"So," he murmured in your ear, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the water. "So much for that idea."

"What idea was that?" you whispered back, kissing his ear.

"The idea that we could ever be just friends," he said, catching your jaw with his lips as you turned your head. He covered your neck with slow, lingering kisses, trailing his mouth down your and cupping your breast with his hand.

"Oh, I don't know, I think it's a great idea so far," you said coquettishly. "Besides," you joked. "I do this with all my male friends."

He mocked a scowl at you, and gave you  that smile that had always melted you. "Well, that's going to have to stop. You're mine now."

He kissed you slowly, his tongue tangling with yours as he teased and tasted, enjoying your mouth.

You kissed him back, licking and tasting and enjoying him until you felt rather than heard a hum of desire, of pure carnal lust, vibrating through him. He was growing hard against your belly, his cock pressing against you urgently.

He lowered his head further and took your  nipple into his mouth, licking the soft nub until it grew hard beneath his tongue. Pleasure shot through you, and he turned to lavish the same attention on your other breast. You writhed against the cold tiles at your back, arching into him and sinking your fingers into his hair to hold him to you. He smiled as you moaned with pleasure, and laughed softly when he took your nipple between his teeth and made you suck in a sharp breath.

His cock was as hard as it had been a few hours ago, and it surged in your hand as he took your breasts. You gathered some suds into your palm and grasped him again, feeling the iron-hardness of him beneath the silky skin. You began to stroke, gliding fast and smooth, and he groaned from the pleasure of it, collapsing against you and kissing you between his soft, low sounds of pleasure and need.

You kept stroking and teasing, gliding over him in a steady rhythm, and felt yourself growing warm and slick at how hard he was beneath your fingers. You loved that you were doing that to him, making him want you so much. He groaned, his breath jagged and shallow. He tried to kiss you through his mounting pleasure but he had to break off to breathe, to lose himself in the sensation.

"God, baby," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "So good."

You tried not to focus on him calling you baby, knowing it was only his arousal talking. You focused instead on the intense pleasure that was making him say it. You continued stroking him, changing your hand position so that you pulled up with each stroke, teasingly pulling his skin up over the head each time and sinking down to the base, pleasuring every inch of him. Your other hand cupped his balls and caressed him, gently rolling him around in your fingers as he tensed and surged and seemed to fight against you, against the unbearable pleasure you were causing him.

After a few torturous moments he stopped your hand, his breathing so fast and ragged that he could hardly speak. 

“You—don't want—this to end too soon, do you?” he warned, kissing you in between breaths. “Because, my God, you could make me come in seconds if you wanted to.”

“That might be fun,” you said, kissing the edges of his mouth, licking at his lips and his tongue when he opened his mouth to you again.

“For me, yes,” he breathed, breaking away from you. “But I'm not nearly finished with you yet.”

He slipped his hand into your hair and held your head, kissing you with such raw passion, such naked need that you felt a surge of warmth flood between your legs in spite of the cooling effects of the water. He had wrung a soul-shattering orgasm out of you just a few hours ago and yet here you were again, eager for him again. Wanton hussy indeed.

"Do you remember that night, two years ago?" he asked, his voice low and deep. "At the party, when I played that song on the guitar for you, and you asked whether it hurt my fingers to play the steel strings?"

He was watching his own fingers trail over your breasts, over your tightened nipple, down past your navel, as the water trickled over you both.

"Mmm hmmm," you murmured, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation of the water coursing down your body and his hand moving over you.

“And you touched my fingertips…”

Of course you remembered; you'd run your  fingers over the roughened pads of his fingertips, and had watched in delight as he'd twitched a little, and then trembled, just a little, at your touch. You'd kept your touch feather-light and soft, drifting over his fingertips and down his fingers a little, feeling the shiver of heightened awareness in your  own hands.

Maybe you'd been a little too suggestive, a little too lingering, whispering-touching those parts of him that were supposedly hardened against such sensations—but you'd been unable to stop yourself. His hands had been warm and strong and eminently male, and when he'd stiffened and held his breath, as if willing himself not to react to your seductive touch, you'd felt that shiver of awareness deepen into an intense desire.

Such a seemingly innocent touch, just a friend examining the time-worn calluses of a guitar player's fingertips. . .and yet in that moment, even amongst their friends, even with the music playing loud and the laughter soaring above it, you'd felt like it had been just the two of you in that room, touching each other intentionally for the very first time, your hand tentatively reaching out for his, and his reaching to meet your half way.

“You drove me wild.” he said, leaning to kiss your neck. “I got so hard, I was afraid to move. And after that, I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you with these fingers.” He slipped his hand between your  legs and caressed your folds, parting them gently and sliding inside you. “Like this, for instance.”

You moaned and leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him touch you wherever he wanted. His fingers explored you, caressed you, possessed you, expertly as though they, too, knew you were his.

“I just had to touch you,” you breathed against him. “And believe me, this is what I was thinking about too.”

“You stopped me last night,” he murmured, dragging his mouth along your neck. “I wanted to feel you come for me. To finish what you started that night.”

You groaned at the sound of his voice, so low and sexual, so heated with his own desire.

“Let me feel you come for me, baby,” he whispered into your ear, licking your  earlobe. “Please.”

He gripped your hip and lifted you up against the wall slightly, positioning you so he could slide his fingers deep inside you. He held you firmly around the waist, bracing you against the wall, and thrust into you gently, with first one finger, then two, sliding deeper and deeper each time, stretching you, mimicking the size and power of his cock. His thumb played over your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you as he pressed his forehead to yours and gazed down into your  eyes. You gasped and cried out from the overwhelming pleasure of it even as you squirmed beneath his fingers and ached for more.

He braced you against his thigh and pressed against you while his arm steadied you from behind, holding you completely in his grasp. Bucky had such a way of holding you, letting you know that you were going nowhere, making sure you had no desire to be anywhere but in his arms. You felt safe, and secure, and above all, worshiped.

Bucky bent down and kissed you, sliding his fingers into your with a wild, sensuous rhythm that matched the increasing speed of his thumb as it stroked and rubbed and swirled around your aching clit. His hand was so strong, his fingers curving inside you to caress you, to find that super-sensitive inner spot even as he plunged and drove and took. With his thumb circling your clit in a relentless rhythm and his fingers deep inside you, stretching you, claiming you, you felt completely owned by him, by the hand that possessed every inch of you.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers, swirling, tasting, mutely revealing that he had had another  fantasy, too. The thought of his mouth on you, his tongue tasting you, torturing you, swirling over your clit as you writhed beneath it made you go weak in the knees.

Bucky broke away from the kiss and began trailing kisses down your neck, your breasts, lowering himself to his knees in front of you  while bracing your hips against the tiles with his strong hands.

"Did I mention what it did to me the first time your tongue touched mine?" he whispered devilishly.

He looked up at you so intently, his beautiful blue eyes blazing as the water streamed over his shoulder and down the contours of his chest. You gazed down at him, and for the second time this morning questioned whether  all this could actually be happening. This gorgeous, virile man gripping you, kneeling before you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It couldn't be real, could it?

Then he lowered his lips to your and you knew it was.

Sensation tore through your touch, so delicately gentle at first, and you arched against the wall with a startled cry. You reached down and gripped his shoulder, steadying yourself on one foot as he brought you to your leg up slowly, gently and eased it over his shoulder. The sight of it alone nearly made you come. He moved so languidly, so sensuously, positioning you better so he could enjoy your all the more.

He closed his mouth over your clit and kissed it luxuriously, his lips moving as though he were kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled over you in large, sensuous circles and he groaned against you, tightening his grip on your hip as you moaned against the sudden overwhelming pleasure of it. The tip of his tongue darted out to flick against your  rapidly as he looked up at you again, watching your pleasure, his eyes smiling at you as if he knew precisely how good he was making you feel. Then he fell on you again, his tongue roaming over you, tasting you, luxuriating in your folds and dipping to lap at your entrance.

“Oh my, g-god. Bucky—”

You bucked against him and cried out as his tongue slipped into your and pulsed there, gently, savouring you. Your hand sank into his wet hair and as you gripped his head, you were rewarded with a muted chuckle and a more intense forward surge of his tongue inside you. He liked the moans he wrought from you. He liked being able to make your  cry out and seize him, your head thrown back in agonizing pleasure.

And fuck did you like it, too.

"Oh God," you breathed, your heart thundering in your chest. "My God, that feels so good..."

He withdrew from your and slid his tongue up to torture your aching clit, and just when you began to miss the feel of him inside your he gently pushed his fingers into your again and began to thrust.

Pleasure soared through you and you cried out even louder, and the leg draped over his shoulder began to tremble. His tongue circled your clit again, deliciously slowly, as his fingers slid into you over and over again, a sensual, primitive rhythm that made you  want to grind your hips against the pleasure.

“I'm coming,” you whispered urgently. “You're going to make me come…”

His fingers thrust deeper and faster and he began to lick you so quickly, with such a throaty groan of pleasure that you felt your  orgasm rise, terrifyingly fast and sharp, making you cry out in increasing, panting breaths until you shattered, coming violently around his fingers and that sensuous, irresistible tongue. You shuddered with an aching cry and trembled from the spasms he sent rippling through you. Your body curled forward as you gripped him tighter, your  fingers pulling on his hair from the pressure.

He removed your leg from his shoulder gently as you continued to shudder, feeling aftershocks of pleasure shiver through you. He got to his feet and helped you stand, pressing himself against your  and nuzzling your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, your voice shaking. your  whole body shaking. “That was incredible.”

“That...was just the prelude,” he whispered, kissing you. “I haven't even started pleasuring you yet.”

God, he was going to kill you. Death by orgasm, you thought happily. What a way to go.

He leaned to turn off the water, but he stilled his hand. He looked back at you with a questioning expression, and then understood. You pulled him back towards yourself and he went willingly, stepping back under the stream of water, kissing you deeply, his hands roaming greedily over your  body.

You weren't done with him. He had made you feel like a goddess, worshiped, cherished, adored.

You broke off the kiss and began trailing your  lips down his neck, his collarbone and chest, enjoying the warmth of the water trickling past your mouth. His chest muscles tensed as you kissed them, and as you moved your  lips slowly down his abdomen you felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. You sank to your knees in the tub and brushed kisses along his navel, his hip bones, and he put his hands on your shoulders to steady himself. Water coursed over both of you, and you delighted in it, closing your eyes against the spray.

“Baby,” Bucky said softly, barely audible above the water.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was about to say something but you smiled and glanced away, focusing instead on the head of his cock, hard and urgent in front of you. He was thick and beautiful, and still as hard, maybe even harder, than he had been when you'd teased him with your  hands.

“I want to taste you,” you said playfully. “All of you.”

You leaned forward and gently licked the swollen tip of his cock. He inhaled sharply, his whole body tensing, and you smiled up at him, letting him know this was for your  pleasure as much as for his. You swirl your  tongue around the head, taking it into your  mouth and suckling gently, teasing it. The skin was soft and smooth, stretched deliciously tight from the hardness of his erection.

You let your tongue play over it, dipping into the opening, making him moan. You drifted your tongue along the ridge, and down to the sensitive skin just beneath the head, licking and tasting, nipping and kissing.

You looked up at him, and his dark eyes were wild with desire. You smiled, and ran your  tongue up and down the length of him, ending at the head and flicking at it delicately, teasingly. He moaned softly, his breathing starting to grow rapid. You rose up slightly to take the whole length of him into your mouth and sucked him, long and hard.

He let out a gasp and braced himself against the wall with one hand, his other  hand gripping your  shoulder.

“Oh fuck—Baby...”

You slid your mouth over his shaft, deeper, deeper, and slid back up the length of him. Your hands came around and gripped his ass, pulling him towards you. He staggered forward slightly as you took him into your  mouth again, luxuriously taking in his entire length, sucking, licking, tasting as you went. The sensation of him in your mouth was almost as overwhelming as his first entrance into your body had been, so unfamiliar but so right at the same time.

You caressed his balls with one hand as you played your tongue over his cock. He groaned, his breathing jagged now, his cock harder than ever. His hand moved from your  shoulder to sink into your wet hair, and he gripped your head with barely restrained urgency. Gently he guided your head closer to him as you sucked. You lowered yourself onto him and slowly sucked your way back up, your mouth gripping him, your cheeks hollowing, as your tongue slid over him with each pass.

His hips began to move as he started to match your rhythm, thrusting into you, meeting your mouth. Bucky gripped your head more firmly and held your head still, driving into you gently.

You let your hand fall and you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the feeling of him sliding in and out of your mouth, controlling his own pleasure, taking what he wanted, and what you were so willing to give. Yet you could tell he was holding back, wanting to thrust harder and faster but restraining himself and settling for a smoother, slower pace.

For you. Bucky was holding back for your sake. This passionate, soulful, virile man was holding back his own pleasure because he wanted to be gentle with you.

The very thought of it excited you, and you increased your own rhythm, encouraging him, moaning with pleasure as he drove into you. You sucked harder, faster, turning your  gaze up to him with an urgent plea in your  eyes. Faster. Deeper. Now, my love.

And he understood.

Bucky groaned, and stepped forward. His hand clenched in your hair and he began to move, faster and harder, plunging deeper, holding your head as he thrust into your  mouth with urgent, rhythmic strokes. He slid in and out of your mouth as if through warm honey, and you felt and heard his pleasure mounting with every ratcheted breath and every desperate moan that escaped his lips.

His eyes watched your with rapt adoration and abject lust, and you could tell that the sight of your taking him fully into your mouth, of your sucking him with pure, greedy abandon and complete acceptance, was pushing him closer to the edge as much as the intense pleasure of your tongue on his cock was. Or more.

He tensed as his rhythm grew faster, his breathing harder, until you felt him tighten and strain so much that you felt certain he was going to spill himself into your mouth. But at the last moment he cried out and pulled back, his cock slipping out of your  mouth quickly. He stood still, breathless, his eyes closed as if willing his orgasm to retreat. Water sliced down his neck and chest, and finally he let out a slow, jagged moan of a breath and opened his eyes. He looked down at you wildly, and reached for you,helping you to your feet.

“Jesus,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as he tried to catch his breath. “I can't...I can't believe how goddamn good that felt. You brought me so close, so fast, I almost couldn't stop it.”

“Why did you?” you asked, running your  finger along his jaw. “I wanted to feel you come for me.”

He groaned against you, his hands roaming over your  body. “I told you, I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He kissed you hungrily, his cock surging against your violently as your bodies met. you could feel him moving against you, his cock rubbing against you,and you knew how badly he wanted to be inside you again.

As badly as you wanted him inside you again.

He stepped back, his breath still ragged, and pressed his forehead to yours as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“You're not done yet, huh?” you teased gently, letting your fingers sink into his wet hair as you kissed his neck.

“Not nearly.”

“But I have to go to work. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll be here when I get home?”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

He reached to turn off the water and stepped out of the shower, turning to help your step over the wall of the tub. You threw your robe on and cinched the belt as he dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. You caught him grinning at you, and it was so clear what he was thinking that it made your  laugh.

“What?” you demanded, squeezing the excess water out of your hair with a hand towel. “What are you smiling at?”

Bucky wetted his lips with his tongue, “Fuck it. You're just going to have to be late for work. Come here…”

“Hey!” your eyes widened playfully, jumping away from him. “Are you trying to kill me? Stop!”

Bucky untied your robe and you yelped, trying to slap his hands away. He just kept advancing on you, grinning devilishly. You turned and scampered away from him with a squeal of delight.

He followed behind, still grasping for the robe. You shrieked and laughed and ran towards the bedroom, and he followed, catching up to you and pushing you onto the bed with a resounding crack of the bed frame.

You laughed as he tumbled on top of you, but he silenced you with his mouth, kissing you hungrily as he impatiently pushed your robe aside. His breath was ragged as he nudged your legs apart with his knee, his need too great for the slow, sensual lovemaking of last night. He held his cock against your entrance and smoothly thrusts into you and moaned against your mouth, and you wrapped your legs around him to draw him deeper.

He plunged into you, covering your body and your mouth with the same hungry possession. You were still so warm and wet, so exquisitely ready for him that he filled you easily, driving you relentlessly as he tasted your tongue, your lips, your neck, and groaned from the pleasure your body was giving him.

You tensed around him and he moaned breathlessly, a throaty, male sound of pure ecstasy. He pounded into you, falling into a steady rhythm born of raw, primitive need. Your body tightened around him with every thrust, and waves of pleasure rippled through you, building in intensity up to an almost unbearable pressure, a delicious heat that made you moan into his mouth as he kissed you.

He rose up, his arms braced beside you, to look down as he stroked and withdrew and breathed out his pleasure while his eyes glowed pure heat. He grabbed your rear, tilting one hip up towards him, entering you  on such an angle that a new kaleidoscope of pleasure bloomed throughout you. He gripped you possessively, driving you deeper and faster and harder. His eyes burned, glowing like obsidian, hot and wild and almost frenzied with desire.

“Baby,” he groaned, his eyes pinning you, claiming you, as though he were branding you with your heat.

You're mine...

You're mine...

Your first time together had only been hours ago, but it was as if you had been lovers for years...every fluid flexing of his hips against you hit just the right spot, every deep, powerful thrust of his cock stretched your pussy with a familiar, almost expected surge of pleasure.

“Yes—oh god yes, Bucky—fuck me,” you breathed.

Two simple words and suddenly he was on the edge...buried so deep inside you, thrusting, plunging, your breasts pressed against his chest, the pleasure roaring through his body.

Suddenly he wanted to take you, hard. He wanted to fuck you with abandon, the eyes-closed, head-back, moaning-out-loud kind of sexual abandon that he had so rarely experienced in his life, but which was crashing through his body and mind right now.

He wanted this woman...he wanted to own you, to take you, to claim your body as his....he wanted to fuck you until he'd emptied his balls into you, feeling your pussy clenching and spasming in orgasm around his cock as he came, as you came, as you came together.

He withdrew from you quickly, barely able to catch his breath, and, as if you could read his thoughts, you turned onto your stomach just as his trembling hands guided your hips over. Your hair spilled over your bare back and your ass curved out so seductively it was all he could do not to cum right there, all over your smooth skin. But his cock knew what it wanted, and he pulled you forward to slide into the heaven of your pussy, so wet and tight and swollen for him.

He cried out when he took your again, his cock parting your folds and filling you so completely. The feel of him stretching you, the crest of his head pressing against your  from this new angle...you felt a tremor of pleasure ripple through you and knew you were close, as close as he was. When he leaned over you and began to kiss your  shoulders you shuddered, and when he began to thrust you buried your face in the pillow and moaned.

Your moans of pleasure filled the room and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to last, begging his aching cock not to explode just yet. . .this pace, these quick short strokes as his hips slapped against your ass, your body moving with his every thrust. . .It was almost too much to bear. Bucky buried his faced in your sweet-smelling hair and let his cock plunge as it would, faster and faster, making him shake, making him breathless, making him feel like nothing but a desperate cock as he fucked you.

And fucked you. And fucked you, as you had begged him to...

You could only whimper now, lost to the pleasure of his man taking you like this, fucking you so wildly, almost savagely. The pleasure he was taking from your body, his moans and groans and the growls of pleasure you could feel against your back and in the warm breath at your ear. . . it was pure, primal lust.

You felt worshiped beneath him, as if every thrust of his hungry cock was a tribute to you, every growl and sharp breath an oath. He was fucking you, mindlessly, and yet every part of him was attuned to you, touching you, adoring you.

As his pace grew even faster, his thrusts shallower, you could sense he was about to come, and you felt your muscles tighten around him to heighten his pleasure and hers. His thrusts were so powerful that you felt the orgasm rising in you and you closed your eyes, lifting your head back so he could slide his hand into your hair, gently holding your neck and kissing your jaw with breathy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Oh, God Bucky...I'm coming,” you moaned. “I'm coming.”

“Yes...cum for me baby....cum on my cock.”

“Cum with me....please....I want you to cum inside me, please....please....”

And he could withstand it no more.

Pleasure detonated through him as his orgasm spasmed throughout his body, wracking him with wave after wave of euphoric release. He cried out your name as he thrust and bucked against your flesh, driving his cock deeper and deeper as he came and came and came. It felt like he would never stop cumming, and when he felt your orgasm tear through your pussy and clench his cock in waves, he thought he might black out from the sheer ecstasy of it.

You slammed back against him as the first spurts of cum began to fill you, and felt your  ravaged pussy begin to spasm again and again, milking his cock, pulling his cum deeper into you, flooding you with ripples of pleasure. You moaned and writhed, riding the crest of one orgasm only to feel a second one begin to climb and then crash over you. Breathless, almost sobbing from the pleasure, you let him hold you as he continued to pound into you, draining his balls into you at his will, lost in the utter bliss of a man taking a woman in the most primal way.

When he could bear it no longer, when his exquisitely sensitive cock throbbed within you and the pleasure bordered on pain, he stilled, finally, and shuddered. Sharp spasms of pleasure shot through him as his cock surged one last time within you, his aching balls emptying every last ounce of come. Bucky was almost lightheaded, his chest heaving, sweat glazing his skin as he withdrew his hand from your hair and ran it down the center of your back, needing to touch you, needing to feel your heated skin. You were breathless too, your back moving beneath his hand as you lay your head down and tried to catch your breath.

You felt him withdraw from you, and your  pussy rebelled, clenching to keep him there, as if pleading with him not to go. Bucky groaned softly against your ear as he pulled out and fell on the bed beside you, his arms surrounding you and pulling your back against him. You fit perfectly together, and every muscle in your body relaxed as you snuggled into him and breathed out a contented sigh. You felt his lips on the shell of your ear, kissing softly, felt his slowing breath against your skin as his soft sounds of contentment and pleasure hummed in his throat.

This is heaven, you thought. Pure heaven. your pussy twitched and tingled as you felt his warm come beginning to slip down your  inner thighs. His strong arms surrounded you, his soft lips murmured and whispered and kissed, his spent cock nestled against the curve of your ass.

“There was something I wanted to tell you, remember?” he murmurs, his words brushing warmly against your skin as he kisses a path down to your shoulder. “Last night… something I wanted to say to you. Something I wanted you to know.”

You shift slightly, turning to look at him, your heart pounding as you search his eyes, barely able to breathe. 

“Tell me,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea.

His gaze softens, an unmistakable warmth filling his expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“I love you.”

The words settle between you, simple but perfect, like they were always meant to be there. Your heart feels like it’s soaring, every nerve in your body alive with the thrill of it, of finally hearing what you’d been aching to hear.

You break into a smile, biting your lip, feeling giddy and light, and without a second thought, you lean forward, kissing him softly, your hand finding his as you whisper back, “I love you too.”

And as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that feels like home, you realize that, for the first time, everything feels right.

tags: @cereal6666 @thatesqcrush @cl7ire @bighappypiels @mostlymarvelgirl

@winchestert101 @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mcira @elvenrin

@xunquish-blog @meetmeattheapt

[crushmeeren]

omg but imagine secretly giving the mha boys aphrodisiac chocolate and seeing how they react..

No but you’re RIGHT…. ( ੭ ˙ᗜ˙ )੭

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Katsuki would stare at you with narrowed eyes when you hold your hand out and offer the piece of chocolate to him, your gaze wide and innocent until he pops the candy in his mouth.

Katsuki would be in a meeting not too long after, jaw clenched and teeth creaking when his uniform pants get too fucking snug for no reason. His cheeks will flush bubblegum pink, biting the head off of some hero he can’t remember the name of when asked what’s wrong.

Why the fuck can he only picture you face down and ass up in the air?

Why does he have to sink his nails into his thighs to hang onto his last thread of self control and restrain himself from palming his stiff cock when he thinks of your pussy split open for him?

Why the hell is sweat running down his temples and along his jaw like a goddamn river??

He doesn’t know.

What he is certain of, is his plan to tackle you to the bed as soon as he gets home. To cum the second he slides his achy cock inside your tight pussy, and then to fuck you until neither of you can stand to climax one more time.

Eijirou would happily accept the chocolate, humming in delight once he begins chewing.

Eijirou would then be relaxing with you on the couch, using every ounce of willpower to concentrate on the movie you’re watching together. His cheeks would turn as scarlet as his hair and he’d try to hide his face with the loose strands when you glance at him.

He’d squeak out that’s he’s fine when you ask if he’s feeling feverish. He’ll clumsily cover his cock with large hands, knees knocking into one another when he tries to close his legs.

Eijirou would whimper in your ear “fuck, I’m sorry baby, I need your pussy. I can’t stop myself,” as he gives in to the heat churning in his belly and bends you over the armrest of your couch to fuck you like a dog.

You’ll babble and gasp it’s okay, crying out his name when he makes you orgasm for what feels like the hundredth time — only for his dick to remain hot and full after he’s already cum inside you so much that you’re sure you’re going to get pregnant.

Shouto would take a bit more convincing. He doesn’t ordinarily eat chocolate, but he’s willing to try it if you’re the one presenting it to him.

Shouto would be leisurely walking alongside you in the grocery store, occasionally making noises of agreement as you tell him about your day.

Shouto would suddenly freeze mid stride, becoming rigid in the middle of the aisle. He’ll blink owlish eyes at you several times when you turn back to question what he’s doing.

You’ll snap your fingers to get his attention when he starts to stare at the swell of your tits for way too long instead of listening to you, cheeks filling out with a blush when he meets your gaze.

The next thing you know, your half full grocery cart is abandoned in the aisle and you’re yanked by the wrist back to your car in the parking lot.

Shouto would mutter breathlessly “sorry baby, I can’t seem to control myself,” when he gets your pants off, leaving the material to dangle from one ankle before tugging you down to straddle his lap in the backseat.

He’ll unbutton his pants and shove them down far enough to free himself, not bothering with your panties and sliding them to the side as he sits you down on his cock and let’s out a low moan.

Shouto will match your every move, thrusting upwards harshly each time you sit down. He won’t give a single fuck if someone walks past the car, he just knows he needs your pussy to keep swallowing his cock until the insatiable burn in his lower belly subsides.

It takes…awhile.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

3 times bakugou tried to kiss you + 1 time he actually did !!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: i can never not write something cute with katsukiii, actually no it’s most of my faves ngl. anyways no warnings here! reader is gender neutral and this is just pure fluff!!

1.

the gym was hot and noisy, filled with the sound of fists hitting pads and shoes squeaking against the mats. bakugou wiped the sweat off his face, barely winded, but when he turned around, there was you, standing at the edge of the ring, smiling at him like he’d just won a damn medal.

“what the hell are you smiling at?” bakugou barked, storming over.

you blinked up at him, your hands clasped in front of you. “you’re really amazing, you know that? you’re so strong!”

bakugou’s heart stumbled over itself. His brain screamed, say something cool, idiot, do something cool! instead, he muttered, “tch. whatever,” and leaned closer, his face hovering inches from yours.

your smile faltered. you took a step back, eyes wide. “sorry, katsuki! did i do something wrong?”

the words hit bakugou like a slap. this was totally going in the wrong direction. “what? no! you—” he cut himself off, growling in frustration before spinning on his heel. “forget it!” he snapped over his shoulder, storming out of the gym.

behind him, you continued to stare after him, completely baffled.

2.

the rain pattered against the umbrella as bakugou held it over both your heads. it wasn’t a big umbrella, which meant that you had to stick close to his side, your shoulder brushing against his every few steps.

“thanks for walking me home,” you said, your voice soft, almost drowned out by the rain.

bakugou swallowed hard. “whatever. not like i had anything better to do.” liar.

the warmth of your presence was messing with his head. his eyes flicked to your face, droplets of water clinging to your fluttering lashes. his heart kicked into overdrive.

he shifted the umbrella slightly, leaning closer under the guise of adjusting it. your lips were right there, soft and pink and—

“oh!” you crouched suddenly, eyes wide as you scooped something off the ground. “it’s a kitten!”

“eh?” bakugou froze mid-lean, almost dropping the umbrella.

you cradled the soaked little animal in your arms, smiling. “look how cute it is! poor thing.”

katsuki gritted his teeth. “yeah, cute,” he muttered, glaring at the oblivious cat like it had just personally insulted him.

3.

the room was dark except for the faint glow of the tv screen. the others were all passed out on the floor or slumped against the furniture, leaving bakugou and you alone on the couch.

you were snuggled under a blanket, your eyes glued to the movie. you weren’t even paying attention to him, which was just as well, because bakugou could barely breathe with you sitting so close.

his fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants. come on, just do it. it’s not a big deal. just lean over and—

you shifted suddenly, yawning as you stretched your arms above your head. one of your hands smacked him right in the face.

“ah! oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you gasped, sitting up straight.

bakugou clutched his face, cheeks burning. “what the hell?! watch where you’re swinging those things, idiot!”

“i didn’t mean to! are you okay?” your fingers tried to pry off his hand, but he reflexively waved you off.

“i’m fine!” he snapped, scooting to the far end of the couch, crossing his arms, and glaring at the screen like it was the movie’s fault. he didn’t look at you for the rest of the night.

+ 1.

the city stretched out below them, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. you sat on the edge of the rooftop, your legs dangling over the side. you looked sad, your usual brightness dimmed, which really concerned bakugou.

“i just… don’t know if i’m good enough,” you said softly, your hands twisting in your lap.

bakugou leaned against the railing a few feet away, his jaw tightening. “that’s stupid,” he said gruffly.

you glanced up at him, surprised. “what?”

bakugou rubbed his face, tugging his mask higher over his forehead before directing his gaze at you.

“you’re good enough,” he said, his voice low and rough, like he was choking on the words. “you’re better than good enough. you’re—” he cut himself off, scowling.

your lips quirked into a small, tentative smile. “thanks. that means a lot. you’re… nicer than you act, you know.”

katsuki’s chest felt too tight, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. “screw it,” he muttered under his breath. before he could lose his nerve, he crossed the space between you and him in two quick steps, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you.

you gasped softly against his lips, but didn’t pull away. instead, your hands found their way to his arms, holding on gently as you kissed him back.

for the first time, bakugou felt like he wasn’t completely screwing everything up.

[dilf-docs]

This Thing Upon Me, Howls Like A Beast

professor!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: to cover some social hours and as a favor to your recently fallen-ill friend, you become your research methodology professor's TA. but here's the catch: you've got history, and what you really mean is beef; good, pure, unadulterated loath.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, rivals to ??, hate sex, p. in v. (do i even wrap it atp), degradation kink, daddy kink, lwk exhibition kink bc this happens on his office (rip to the furniture), bit dom!pedro + brat taming (again?? stop it mayor we get itttt omg) sprinkled here and there, fingering, squirting, creampie (everyone got invited to the party), reader is a loud-mouth (who's this divaaa), pedro's kind of an asshole and a perv in this one (ooc sorry), don't expect a second part this is literally just self-fulfilling filth without a storyline

word count: 6,451 words

side note: hello! this won the poll. am i the only one with this fantasy? pls tell me not; i feel insane looking some of my professors like a fucking starved drooling dog. giggling as we speak, bc the movie's got everybody insane between marvel renaissance, gif dump, new content, husband!pedro material and professor wet dreams out there... this piece of work is the last. hope you enjoy it, citizens! ps. jin of bts makes an appearance bc i love my seven men and i'm currently sick so he is sick too lmao (ah pero para escribir cochinadas ahí sí estás sana verdad)

It's your fault, really, for opening it in the middle of the class. It was a link, and you should've saved it for later, but then your thumb clicked into the blue underlined text your friend sent, and the reel popped up on your screen.

Your laugh erupted before you could cover your mouth, your professors' words hanging mid-air.

"Who did that?"

Everyone looks at you. Those sell-out, ass-kissing, boot-licking dicks.

His eyebrows furrow until they seem to melt into one, a big angry scowl on Mr. Pascal's face.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Y/n?"

His voice reverberates on the class' walls, sounding even scarier.

You shake your head, tone quiet as you let out a small, "No"

"No?" he repeats your words, mocking your insecure demeanor, "because with that loud ass laugh, it seemed like something important enough to dissrupt my class. So please, share. You can't leave us wondering in here"

People cough and avoid your gaze while you wish the building would collapse and kill everyone inside, you included. Oh, that would be good. But no, you're stuck on a space that now feels too small and his persistent gaze cuts right through you.

"I-It's not important-" you stumble over your words.

"Can't speak anymore? All that boldness, suddenly gone"

"Mr. Pascal" you plead. God, you had never even begged for anything in your life. But there's always a first.

"I said share" his voice menacing, like he's got not an ounce of sympathy in that sturdy body that could fit plenty. No, wait. Focus!

He grows impatient at your lack of movement, practically growling his next words:

"I won't repeat myself"

"I-I I don't know how to-" you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sound. "It's a video, so-"

"Then cast your phone and project it" he clicks his tongue, clearly enjoying this. What a sadistic motherfucker.

"I-I can't-"

Can Jesus please hurry up and come fast? Even better, immediately take this one to hell, please.

"Aw, you poor thing" he tuts, mockingly. No one dares to speak, and you'll learn later that he's got his own reputation. For a reason.

"Don't worry, I'll help you myself"

Turns out, the fucker made you and your shaky legs stand up and walk the walk of shame. Then, you had to proyect the silly video, which in handsight, wasn't funny anymore. While some of your classmates laughed, that didn't lessen how humilliated you felt.

It had happened during your first year at university, on a subject you really couldn't care less and when you were still (practically) a baby; freshly eighteen. But now you were twenty, almost finishing your career, and the shaky insecure teenager was long gone, replaced by a secure (albeit a bit of a bitch), confident woman.

That had been your first encounter with professor Pascal.

You have to give him some credit: he is kind of the reason why you did a full 180 on your personality.

But life always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"What do you mean you're sick?" you scoff, "we were supposed to go to Dave's party tonight!"

Your friend lets out a cough that sounds borderline animalistic.

"First of all, don't come closer. I'll pass it to you" Jin speaks up, voice rough from the earlier death-threatening cough. "And second, do you think I care about a stupid party? I'm dying here"

"Don't be so dramatic" you roll your eyes.

"Hello? Didn't you hear that cough?!" he sounds offended, reinforcing the feeling by throwing one of his used tissues at you. You dodge his lame throw with a yuck. "I think you're devoid of empathy"

"Well, thank Mr. Pascal for that"

Jin wasn't your friend when that happened, but when you became buddies, he eventually came to know about your beef with the older man. Yes, beef, because after the Reel Deal (as you both have come to call it), he made your life impossible. If it weren't for your skills and intelligence, you'd probably fail his subject. Mr. Pascal gave you the hardest time ever: be it pairing you with the absolute worst students or making your assigments more difficult, for an "unknown" reason.

Eventually, even after such a traumatic experience and subject being way behind, it became a staple in your duo to bring him up everytime something negative happened or was mentioned.

("You're so funny!")

("Thanks, a professor pushing fifty made my life impossible when I was eighteen")

But here's an even funnier thing: for unknown reasons, Jin became his TA last semester. Probably he didn't know that you were friends, and that has to be the reason he's actually a decent human being towards the younger boy. I'm telling you, Jin would insist, the whole mean asshole shtick is propaganda!

"Talking about him..."

"Stop" you raise your hand dramatically, "enough bad news today"

"You can still go to the party, you know?" he giggles, earning another cough that practically leaves him voiceless. "Why do you insist on taking me? I don't know this people!"

Jin was two years older your senior.

"But it's not fun without you!" you insisted on dragging him around everywhere after you met because he tutored you. "Who will I bore with all my failed flirting attempts?"

"Thank God, not me" he ignores your pout. "Besides, wasn't like Marcos insisting you went with him? There's your chance!"

"But Marcos is boring..." you draw out, "and I need a man who makes me laugh"

"You can't really ask for that much in this economy"

Okay, here's the deal: there's another reason you can't let go of the Mr. Pascal subject, and it's not because of the beef. Hell, Jin can't know about this or he'll never let you live.

The answer is quite simple: as infuriating as he is, Mr. Pascal is hot. Like, middle-aged hot, with the greying hair and face marked by lines that tell time. If it wasn't for him you'd probably never discover your preference towards more... aged meat. You should be furious, and you were, but during all your petty arguments over topics or slides that didn't deserve to be reviewed for more than five minutes, the fire that ignited in your lower belly? You've never felt it before, and if that managed to get you more hot and bothered than a fresh boy ready to kiss your lips, neck and below? Well, that's a serious issue.

But it was his voice, that treated you with such vitriol, a deep and rich sound reserved just for you, or be it the way his auburn eyes seem to catch fire whenever you opened your mouth, dark forests burning in flames that threathened to reduce it all to ashes; yo were eager, anticipating the burn.

He saw your defiance, and instead of putting you in your place, he matched that wild rageful spirit of yours that refused to be tamed.

And that you liked, despite the history of hate between you.

"What about him?" you appear nonchalant, while retouching your makeup for the party.

"About him who?" Jin quips, "we just talked about two fine men-"

"The much older man"

A weird smirk forms across his lips. "Sure, of course"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. But it will be fun, nonetheless" he sits up straight from his previous surrendered position on the couch. "So, remember how I'm his TA, right?"

"Yes?" you pause. "Wait, if this is for me to help you check again more homeworks, no. I am not helping you read a hundred papers again for free"

"They weren't a hundred!" he barks. "Besides, it's not that"

"Then?" you press, not admiting how interested you were.

"Do you see my poor state?" you nod, not understaning where he's going. "Then, you're aware I'm not capacitated to do said task as of right now"

"I'm aware" you repeat, "what I'm not, is what does that have to do with me?" you resume your activity, going for your eyeliner. "So much mystery when you could've just said it in a pass"

"I need you to cover up for me"

The liquid eyeliner paints a line across half of your face. "What?!"

He laughs at your reaction, "You heard me"

You leave the mirror, now focusing your attention on him. "It's not April Fools yet, Jin. Heads up, it was a terrible prank"

Even if it made you hot to have such dynamic with your former IM professor, you weren't exactly keen on seeing him again. For you, he had turned into a memory slash fantasy at some point: an asshole that got your panties wet and pussy slick when you touched yourself at night, on behalf of all the dumb uni boys who couldn't reach that sweet spot of yours. What a dirty girl, his velvet voice on your head would say. Why are you touching yourself to your supposed foe, a much older guy? Fucking slut. Yeah, there was no way you'd go back to the real thing for the real him to taint the image you got off almost every night to, so he could say your name in that animosity that leaked with a barely contained rage and poorly disguised distate that left a bitter taste on your mouth, ego and self-steem on the ground. Because the truth is, no matter how much you argued back, he always won. You had just found your voice, but all efforts to bring him down seemed powerless, and he had won every single battle: even if he didn't have the last word, just with a look, he made you feel small, stupid and meaningless.

Nope. Not going back.

"And you have a terrible way of coping" he's quick to counter back. "Listen, it's not so bad. You just have to do meaningless tasks and pretend to be interested. Simple, right? Look, those extra credits could be useful, you know? And you excelled the class, y/n. Easy!"

"You're making it sound trouble-free as if the man doesn't hate me"

"He's definitely forgotten about it!" he waves his hand, dissmisively. "Probably jokes about it, like us!"

"Mr. Pascal doesn't seem the type of guy to have humor"

"Humor me, then" Jin sighs. "Do this for me, yes? When have I ever failed you?"

You wish for some sense to get into his skull. Had he forgotten every single anecdote?

"Think of all those times where I've taken you home, carried you drunk. Or the sad heart breaks I've been through with you, remember? Brought you ice cream and watched your favorite movies. Or when I used to tutor you? Or-"

"Enough of your emotional manipulation, Mr. Kim" you shake your head, dissapointed, all to avoid the quiet rage to settle in. "I thought better of you"

"It's for a week. Days if this pills do a miracle" his big black eyes look at you, pleading.

"Jin, you're not being a very good friend"

"It's just this one favor" he sighs. "Look, I can't loose this thing, okay? I get the credits I need to finally leave this shithole. If I don't show up, they'll hand it to someone else. You may not believe it, but it's very demanded"

People making lines to be emotionally abused by your former IM professor? Sure thing!

"Can't you tell someone, though? I'm sure they'll understand and you can go back once this cold is gone"

"I already did so, and they told me to show up or quit, due to the wait list of people applying for the position" you roll your eyes at your university's antics and their bullshit policies. "I don't trust anyone else to not fuck it up, but you. You'll just have to tell him about this minor inconvenience, and Mr. Pascal will understand. You know, I'm kind of his favorite guy in there..."

Great, just what you needed.

"Sorry to break it to you, but as soon as I walk through that door, all that pretty boy privilege would be gone"

"Please, y/n. Please"

"You'll never ask me any other favor?"

"No" he looks rather desperate; it's funny. "Hell, you can use the lake cabin for your birthday bash if you-"

"Deal"

Were you that easy to buy, huh? What does that say about you? Fucking ass sell-out.

Okay, but a birthday party in that all glass modern cabin with a deck and a jacuzzi does sound tempting. Who could be blamed? Not you, who will have to face her biggest foe in exchange for one wild bash.

You take a deep breath, imagining the lake water splashing and champagne on the deck (ugh, Jin's parents had a waterbike too. They were loaded), before knocking on his office. The door flings open, almost hitting you in the face, and there he is: Mr. Pascal, with his brown hair with white on the sides, loose curl over his face. Your fingers definitely don't itch to touch it, of course.

He's sporting a grumpy look (when doesn't he?), his big hands (you had forgotten how big they were) holding a bunch of papers (great, work!).

"Goddamn it, Jin. I was about to call you for standing me up, you know I hate when people don't tell me-"

He stops on his tracks, and that all too familiar scowl deepens his face.

"You"

Seethed with such venom, it's quite scary. Your legs tremble, yet your pussy clenches.

"Yes, me" you can't help but let out a little laugh at his antics. What did Jin said about him not remembering you? Well, can't be blamed; you weren't easy to forget.

His jaw clenches while looking down at you, but this time, you don't dare to flinch.

"What are you doing here?"

"See, Jin is my friend-"

He interrupts you, body frame resting on the door with a relaxed posture, but his shoulder looks tense.

"Oh, I liked him. Liked, as in past tense" he emphasizes, like a child throwing a tantrum. "How can a kid like him be friends with you?"

"We're best friends, thank you very much. As a matter of fact, I'm here as a favor" you hand him Jin's written apology, that may have one or two sneezes over it. "He's sick, and I'll cover him for a week, just so he doesn't loose the position. Said you would understand"

"I do" he replies on an instant, "you I don't"

"I passed your subject. With honors, even after you made my life impossible" you reply. "I'm the best candidate, face it"

He's rendered speechless for a moment, before he bites back:

"What makes you think I won't do it again?"

Now it's you who doesn't know what to say. It's infuriating how he still keeps winning.

"That's right" a wicked smile adorns his face. "Stay and find out"

Boy, don't you love a challenge?

So you stayed, much to his surprise. The bastard probably thought you were still the same scaredy mouse from first year.

Oh, it was delicious the way his whole face fell at your entrance next morning, how he quickly replaced it and introduced you in a clipped tone.

"Where's Jin?" a girl sitting in the front row had asked, more students joining to ask for his absence. You wonder if your friend's popularity stems from his brain or looks.

"He's sick" you answered. "But don't worry, he'll be back soon"

"Thank God" Mr. Pascal voices out loud.

You shoot him a look. He wasn't joking about not making it easy, was he?

"Oh, I didn't take you as a man of faith, Mr. Pascal, but you're right. It's important to thank our Lord everyday. So, thank Him for this week where I get to offer my suffering. In reward" you turn to face him, all the class silent as they take in your weird exchange, the atmosphere tense, "I'll never see your face again"

This time, you weren't going down without a fight.

"We'll see about that"

There it was: the fire to your gasoline.

So you pushed back, and argued everytime you disagreed, things that weren't part of your work but you still did because well, if he was still hellbent on making you suffer, you weren't going to make it easy for him this time.

If students argued against him, you took their side; even if just one did, you had their back.

You finished grading, but when returning the papers, you'd let them fall with a heavy thud over his desk, not even daring to look back.

At the time he'd talk to you, you wouldn't answer, instead just doing so, but no words to be uttered his way, as if he wasn't worth the effort. Not even a clipped okay.

And you enjoyed this; savored how he'd take every one of your petty actions with his full chest, eyebrows furrowed and face red in anger, but never answering, just silent, like deep in thought, a cold and calculated look overtaking his brown eyes.

Then the veins on his neck would pop as the ones of his tight white-knuckled grip on his mug. He'd speak up, and his voice had your legs shaking for some friction, wet spots now more often on your lingerie.

That he didn't know.

All he did was you were now more than a pebble on his shoe: a huge fucking stone, going down the hill, ready to squash him.

But boy, didn't he love a challenge?

It's Friday, aka last day of Torture Week.

You drop the quizzes for next Monday on his desk with the same harsh movement you had done all week.

"And it's over" you announce, papers plopping next to him, who is writing something. Mr. Pascal's hand moves, his L much longer than it should be. He looks up at you, annoyed, but his eyes flash with a hint of amusement.

"I see you can talk"

"Well, you already know me, Mr. Pascal. So you should be aware of what I can do"

"Love if you'd enlighten me"

He leans back on his chair, arms resting behind his head. It's hard not to take a brief glance to the flexing muscles, or how he's rolled up his sleeves, arms bulking up with the action, the fabric tense. It's hot in here. Wait, or has it gotten hot? Your face feels red, and when he catches your lingering gaze, he smiles devilishly.

"Like what you see, Ms. Y/n?"

No. You refuse to let him win this again, so close to the end.

"The release from prison?" you regain your posture, "very much"

"You may be a loud-mouthed brat, always knowin' what to say. I'll give that to you" he props himself to the front, elbows now resting on the desk as his eyes scan yours with a shade of dark covering them. "But a good liar you ain't"

You try to remain still, face emotionless, but your professor is a man of experience; an expert on his field. He who investigates, who has majored to be able to notice every small detail that can contribute to a hypothesis, has now formulated his.

You want this as much as he wants to.

You, with your wobbly legs and nervous eyes, glancing up at him with a hungry gaze that matches his own, despite your angry posture and irritated tone. You, that picked up petty arguments just to rile him up, because you liked the command for power on his voice. You like this, didn't you? Feeling small and weak, fangs pointy, just barely gracing the skin; the edge what set your skin on fire.

He isn't one to hold grudges (he's just mean all the time), but Pedro is willing to show you he hasn't forgotten about the years, and he'll be more than willing to fuck that bitchy attitude out of you.

"Hello?" you snap your fingers in front of him, "are you there?"

He snaps back to reality, your face covering his vision. In his position, he gets rewarded with a delicious peak at your breasts and the nude lingerine hiding them. He can imagine the perked nipples and the rosy plush skin he'd love to trace his tongue with, because even when you speak in a harsh voice, your eyes speak another thing. Fuck, he thinks he can even smell your arousal.

"I was talking to you" you don't even give him room to reply; snotty ass. "Said I was already leaving"

He thinks of himself as merciful. So he stands up, your bodies barely brushing against each other for a second, before he's opening the door, towering over you. He's so close, you can see the grey hairs mixed with the brown ones on his beard and mustache. God, you can smell him: coffee, cigarrettes, sandalwood and leather.

"You're free, Ms. Y/n" he follows your line of joke from before. "Just, humor me with one last thing"

You glance over at the clock above his desk. It's barely noon.

"Yes?" as dry as possible.

"Why did you accept?"

It's a simple question, really, but it manages to catch you off guard.

His tone is so different, maybe that's why: it's low, impossibly low. For less attentive people, it could even pass as a growl. But you hear, the amusement and dare laced within the velvety tone.

"Because I'm a good friend" you manage to speak, his body caging your smaller frame against the door.

This is ridiculous. You can leave at any time. Hello? Have your legs not gotten the memo?

"I didn't think you were capable of good things"

You huff, annoyed. "Well, I passed your subject, didn't I?"

He clicks his tongue.

"Many before you, and more after you have. Doesn't make you special, y/n"

Your name alone leaves a savory and toxic sweetness on his tongue.

"But how many of those you remember?" Mr. Pascal shots up an eyebrow, confused. "Tell me, how many can you name? That's right. I changed your life, whether you like it or not"

He's quick to reply. "Bullshit"

"Bullshit" you mock his angry tone, "but you recognized me the moment you opened the door. It didn't even take you seconds, hell, you hadn't even fully seen me and you knew who I was. Doesn't take a great investigator to figure it out, does it? So I take you missed me"

He can't believe your fucking mouth.

But then Pedro's remembering the way his pants tightened when you started to stand up to him, getting even worse when he still managed to shut you up. Fuck, the way you had smirked when you approved his subject during your last project delivery. He let you, because well, you had earned it: for the way your image had been the perfect companion for his hand pistoning his cock will full force, thinking of that loud mouth of yours gagged with it. Or when you walked past him in the hallways, wrapped in your own little bubble, your carefree laugh erupting and bouncing off the walls, tickling every hair of his body.

Part of him had accepted Jin to be his TA if that meant having a piece of you, even if a small connection, to you. Did you think he wouldn't know? That he wouldn't see you walking by in those small skirts that rode over when you bent? He noticed you; after all, you were in the same place most of your day.

You had excelled his subject after all, hadn't you?

So of course you'd notice his stare lingering in your back like a hand over your ass. How his eyes would dart to the skirts you wore on purpose, attentive to the moment you'd drop a pen on accident and your panties would be on sight, a wet spot in the middle you hadn't even noticed that smelled. Fuck, and wasn't it sweet?

You really feel like you have won this, don't you?

"Miss you?" Pedro hisses the words out. "I didn't miss you. What I think is happenin', is that me missing you is what you want"

"And I think you're repeating the same words and fumbling thoughts because you're a big egocentric prideful asshole who can't admit he's got the hots for his younger student"

"God. Don't you have such a filthy mouth, baby?"

Before he can register and you've fully let the nickname sink, your hand slaps his face with a potent movement that reverberates across his office's walls.

"You're a fucking piece of work, Mr. Pascal" but instead of being offended (or you don't know, fight back?), he remains silent. "You dirty old spoiled prick. Think I would never fight you back? That you can get away with whatever this is?"

"Whatever this is?" he chuckles, a sound rumbling deep from his chest. "Well, pretty girl, ain't you started this?"

He looms over you, hot breath carressing your face softly.

"Me? Unbelievable" you scoff. "You're one to talk, humiliating a poor freshman"

"Poor? You were distracted, in my class! Did your parents never teach you manners?!" his words leave droplets of spit that land in your face. "I had to put your stupid ass in place; that'll teach you something"

"Like what?" you taunt, recklessly, chest up and down with uneven breaths.

"I see it didn't work" his body language does an immediate switch. You remember a predator ready to strike their prey. "Maybe I should've tried harder"

His eyes do a wild dance over your body as so do yours.

Lip. Eyes. Skin. Cleavage. His tight pants. Biceps. Legs. Hair.

Before you can register, he's got you pinned against his desk, door closed in a loud move. There's a click sound somewhere in between, but you're too busy feeling his big hands grabbing your face roughly, as if he wants to consume your skin and feel your very bones on his calloused tips.

His lips are impossibly wet and eager, hands needily gropping your body. He pushes all his weight over you as he deepens the kiss, his tongue now inside your mouth, making you falter.

You let out a breathy moan when your back hits the desk, the wood digging your skin, but he swallows it whole, making it impossible for you to talk.

"Mmph-"

"Mmph?" he mocks between kisses, not giving you the chance to take a breath, or maybe he was scared you would get the time to think and would push him away. "Just my mouth got you all worked up, baby? Can't even speak"

Your fingers run through his hair for support, curls between your fingers. They felt soft, like they were meant to be combed through over and over again. He dives his head in your neck, hot mouth wet with its trail of kisses, making you squirm.

"I see" his breath ghosts over your reddened skin, "you wanted this just as much, don't you? This boys aren't enough for you?"

Every hair on your body prickles, his mouth claiming every spot he could, bites and hickeys all over your skin. You whine, pouting your lips, missing his already.

"It's okay, baby" he laughs, "just gotta show them who's enough for you" he grunts, "a man"

Mr. Pascal takes off your shirt, well, basically rips the poor thing, his hands relieved to finally touch your breasts. He roughly grabs one of them, and you bite your lip so hard, you almost feel the bitter metallic taste in your mouth. He lowers himself, despite his aching joints, to play with your hardened nipples, lapping them with his warm tongue, sucking and swirling until they turn swollen.

Your hand finds its way to his formal pants, fingers gracing over the fabric, feeling his cock straining against it. Just like you imagined it: big, like his presence. If it could, your pussy would jump in excitement, realistically just throbbing and leaking.

You untie his belt and buttons so you can begin to rub over his boxers. You can feel him trying to meet your touches, grinding onto your palm. He groans, deeply, enjoying your hungry stare, steady beat, parted lips and wet cunt.

He bucks his hips against you, propping himself on the wall behind his desk, which had moved from its original position thanks to the mayhem.

"You clearly don't know what you got yourself into, baby. But don't worry, I ain't letting you go just yet"

He pulls the skirt up, revealing the damp panties and mess between your legs. He licks his lips before rough digits find your wet folds. His fingers carress your impossibly tight walls, coating them with your slick.

"So fucking tight" he groans against your collarbones, "thought of yourself as uptight but I can fucking smell you dripping, you dirty slut. Could tell you loved provoking me becayse that's the only way your snotty ass can get off"

"F-fuck you, Mr. Pascal" you manage to choke out.

"Where are your manners? After how I've rewarded your big mouth, you bitch" he takes off your panties with skilled practice, the piece falling to the floor with a weak sound. Your bare cunt makes you shiver. "You think you're smart, baby? You think you can play these games and face no consequences at all?" he tuts. "No, Ms. Y/n, you know I hate wastin' my time, so be a good girl and don't make this harder for you, get that?"

You whine at his words, but refuse to shut your mouth.

"Oh, I'm smart" you laugh, "smart enough to have you on your knees for me"

An ugly grin spreads across his features.

"I will never bend for a bratty pretentious slut like you" he grips your hair with force, leaving your neck exposed, "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, stupid cock hungry whore. You wanted my attention? It's all yours"

Then, with a low, almost feral growl, he grabs your hips and hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sweeps the papers and books onto the floor with a clatter, setting you down on the edge.

"You better behave, baby" Mr. Pascal bites your lower lip, "don't want people to know what we're doing in here, do you? Or would you want them to know just how much of a slut you are, spread on my desk as your cunt drips for me?"

He steps between your legs, pushing them further apart, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He leans in, his face inches from yours, voice low in a threatening rasp.

"I'll behave, I promise" mind in blank.

"No loud mouth bitchy stuck up attitude?"

You free his cock, hands scouting his shaft, his base, and balls. You fondled them while his fingers lingered closer to your pussy.

"No"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure? Well, get ready, because I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill of this sweet little cunt"

He savors at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Let me-"

He laughs, seeing how you desire to guide his cock towards your entrance.

"Eager, little one?" he teases.

"Yes" you whimper, "I need you so badly, papi"

Your plea mixed with Spanish sends him on edge. His eyes darken with a primal, almost feral hunger at your desperate plea.

His voice is strained, rough with barely restrained lust.

"Fuck, you needy little thing. You want to take my dick until this desk breaks?"

He rubs the swollen head of his dick against your dripping slit, coating it in your arousal. Then, with one powerful thrust, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, hot cunt.

"So tight" he groans, starting to move and setting a brutal pace from the very beginning. The desk shakes and creaks beneath you with each forceful thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the empty office. He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit. He sets a relentless, punishing rhythm, determined to fuck you into oblivion.

It's a goddamn view in here: him above you, droplets of sweat falling to your face, pristine hair now disheveled.

At this point, you were clenching so hard it hurt, walls fluttering around his massive girth. But he's greedy, and he's pushing himself deeper and deeper.

"Runnin' your mouth but now all quiet as you take all of me, hungry greedy whore" he digs his fingers into your cheeks harshly, but you find pleasure in the sting the pain causes. "Bet this is all you been thinking since you started talking back, huh? Don't worry, daddy's got you"

Surprisingly, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a dominating kiss, tongue invading your mouth. His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly, a silent reminder of who you belong to.

"God. You're wet everywhere, baby"

His sweaty chest presses itself onto your tits as he forced his cock deeper within you, the plaid shirt sticking with sweat to his ablazed body, temperature high.

"T-the desk" you protest numbly; mind-fucked.

And oh, boy, doesn't he enjoy this view? Your fluttering eyelids, hazy eyes and trembling body.

So he keeps fucking you: pounding into you, rolling his hips skillfully, taking up all the space within you.

"I don't give a damn fuck about the desk, Ms. Y/n. I'm gonna fuck that attitude of yours until all you know is my name" he leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. His hands grip your hips with bruising force, pulling you harder against him with each violent thrust. "Gonna break the desk, hell, fuck you on the floor if necessary, but you ain't leaving this office until my cum drips from your legs and everyone knows your tight little cunt is mine"

The desk groans and wobbles beneath you, the legs scraping against the floor as Pedro fucks you with wild abandon. The sound of your moans and the crude, wet slap of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the room.

His pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust, the rough friction sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. His cock hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the desk.

He feels your walls starting to flutter around him, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches. Mr. Pascal leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Why don't you be a good girl and tell daddy how good he's making you feel? Show me and everyone else what a desperate little slut you are, waiting for me to fill you up nicely with my seed"

He makes out of you a loud mess, a series of sweet sounds falling from your lips. You clench and he twitches, his digits holding your waist, keeping you in place for him.

"Good girl" he praises, "now you're gonna take it all, milk me dry, you greedy cocksleeve"

His thrusts become erratic and sloppier. The older man can feel your walls starting to flutter around him, body tensing as your orgasm approaches. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Will you be a good girl?"

"Yes!" you cry out, "don't stop!"

You hated this humilliation, how easy it is for him to fuck you with his big cock. You fucking hated him. But didn't he make you feel so good.

"Then come on my cock, bitch"

You didn't think it was capable, no, but you did. A first, another first when it came to Mr. Pascal.

You squirt. You fucking squirted.

Pedro lets out a feral roar of triumph when your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, your release gushing out and soaking his dick and the desk, papers and shit beneath you (no, not the quizzes! You had printed them this morning). He savors the way you throw your head back, eyes rolling until they turn white on your fucked-out face.

"Such a sweet cunt, baby" he praises. "Milk me dry, come on"

Your slick walls milking him dry pushes him over the edge, clenching around him, and he knew it was over. He snaps, arching his back as he roughly moans. With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come. Thick, scorching ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your womb with his potent seed, still pushing the remnants inside when he grinds against you, his pelvis pressed tight to yours as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. His grip on your hips tightens, fingermarks surely to be left in the soft flesh as he holds you in place, ensuring you take every last drop of his release.

"That's it, pretty baby. Can't even speak, can you?" he captures your mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. Like he owns you. "As you can see, I'm a man of my word"

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. His eyes, when they meet yours, are dark and intense, filled with a primal, almost feral satisfaction.

It's humilliating, really, how your lips search for more. You need him, badly, despite how shit he treats you and how wrong all of this is. Is this a win or a loose?

"Good girl" he repeats, his sweaty forehead clashing against yours. The desk creaks yet again. You love when he praises you, and you whine on instintic, making him laugh. "Learned your place just yet? Listen carefully, Ms. Y/n: no matter what you do or say, I'll always win, get it? And you'll be nothing but a needy uptight slut who begs for my attention and cock"

He pulls out of you slowly, his softening dick slipping from your well-used hole with a gush of their combined releases. He tucks himself away, doing up his pants with quick, efficient movements. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, smearing a streak of his cum across it.

"Go on. Taste it, and tell me how it feels"

Your tongue does a lazy movement, making your lips moist thanks to the saliva and his cum, like a fucking gloss. You shouldn't enjoy this, really, but your body shivers when you feel the taste of him going down your throat as you swallow.

"Good" you manage to speak, salt on the tip of your tongue.

"Good" he repeats, voice low and menacing, "because we're just getting started"

[beloveds-embrace]

So glad you asked for more roommates cause I’ve been brooding over it for the last 2 seconds since you asked.

Now just see the vision rq, it’s still kinda early into her moving in but yk they still want her BAD anyways she brings home a guy thinking they were gonna and now she just has four military men questioning and intimidating her tinder date…

I love writing for the roommate au sm so i am always happy for shared thoughts! 🙂‍↕️💕

Roommate au masterlist

The date had started innocently enough- or at least, you thought so.

It wasn’t like you were expecting the boys to be home. They’d mentioned a late training session, and with how demanding their schedules were, you figured you had the apartment to yourself for the evening. So, when your Tinder match, Matt, suggested coming over to watch a movie, you agreed. What harm could it do? Maybe it’d even turn to more. Hell, you hoped it’d turn to more.

Matt was nice enough, you supposed. Decent-looking, polite, and he hadn’t said anything off-putting yet. But as the two of you settled on the couch, popcorn in hand and the glow of the TV filling the room, your front door clicked open.

Your could practically feel a ball drop in your stomach.

The sight of Price stepping through the door, his shoulders hulking under his coat, was enough to send your nerves spiraling. He stopped mid-step, sharp eyes locking onto you and your date.

Behind him, Simon followed, pulling down his hood, but balaclava not yet removed. Johnny and Kyle weren’t far behind, their conversation halting as they took in the scene.

The air turned thick, tension palpable as four pairs of eyes honed in on Matt, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable by the second. You honestly couldn’t blame him.

“Didn’t know we were having company,” Price said, his tone low and deceptively calm as he shut the door behind him.

Your voice caught in your throat. Honest to God, you felt like you were a soldier who’d fucked up in front of him. He just had that Vibe. “I… I thought you guys wouldn’t be home until later.”

“And who’s this?” Soap asked, his smile wide as he nodded toward Matt. It didn’t feel friendly and even you could tell.

Matt shifted nervously, offering a small, awkward wave. “Uh, hi. I’m Matt. Nice to meet you guys.”

The silence that followed could’ve cut glass.

“Matt,” Simon repeated, his voice flat, his imposing frame seeming to block out all the light in the room. To you, he’d never felt that scary before… more like a particularly grumpy giant whose toes were always freezing. “And what exactly are you doing here, Matt?”

“I- I’m just hanging out with her,” Matt stammered, looking at you for reassurance. “A date.”

Kyle crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall, though his eyes never left Matt. “Funny. We don’t remember her mentioning anything about a date.” He almost spat the word out.

You shot to your feet, hands up in a placating gesture. “Guys, seriously, it’s not a big deal. We were just going to watch a movie-”

“And you thought bringing a stranger into the house without telling us was a good idea?” Price cut in, his tone clipped.

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that…

Matt’s eyes widened. “I’m not- I mean, I’m not dangerous or anything.”

“Oh, aye? That right, then?” Soap drawled, stepping closer, his easy smile taking on a sharp, menacing edge. “And how d’ye reckon we’re meant to trust ye, Matt? Could be anyone. A thief, a creep, someone tryin’ tae take advantage of her.”

“I- … what?” Matt looked at you again, desperation in his eyes and voice.

“Relax, Johnny, it’s-” you tried, but your voice wavered under the weight of their combined stares.

“We’re just looking out for her,” Kyle said, his tone deceptively smooth as he grabbed a chair and spun it around to sit on it backward. “You understand, don’t you? We are her roommates.”

Simon didn’t say much- he didn’t have to. The way he loomed was enough to make Matt visibly sweat.

Price, meanwhile, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are she let you in? She’s trusting. Sweet. Too sweet, if you ask me. Makes her a target for the wrong sort of people.”

“I- I’d never hurt her, sir-” Matt stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

Price’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. He looked unimpressed, more than anything else. “Good. Because if you did…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but the unspoken threat hung heavy in the air.

“Okay!” you blurted, stepping between them. You gave up; you knew this date has gone to shit. “That’s enough. Matt was just leaving.”

Matt didn’t need to be told twice. He practically bolted for the door, not even stammering a quick goodbye before disappearing into the night.

As the door clicked shut, you turned to face them, your cheeks burning. “What the hell was that?”

“…you can do much better than him.” Kyle huffed, drawing you to sit down beside him on the couch even as you pouted glared. “Much, much better. Ain’t that right, John?”

Price nodded, sighing. “He was trembling like a leaf, love. Men like him? Not worth your time.”

Simon simply stood there, his eyes fixed on you. “Next time,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let us know before you bring someone here.”

You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead. “…You’re all impossible.”

Though by the end of the night, you still found yourself between Johnny and Kyle, and finished the movie anyways, date forgotten.

[persona-m4a]

my fellow ppl on the internet, ask yourself this question: does it bring you genuine joy to call something popular mid? do you really feel special? does the statement bring you fulfillment in life?

[evergumi]

M. FUSHIGURO ⋆ no more running.

pairing ⋆ guilty!megumi fushiguro x reader

summary ⋆ megumi cant be close to you anymore at all. hes avoiding you, and you dont know why. it hurts. missing your friendship, you are determined to find out why hes doing this.. ending in a unique relationship

warnings ⋆ fluff, fluff, fluff !! one sooort of spicy kiss heh :P also lowkey angsty.. poor gumi thinks hes hurt you but you prove him wrong ! we love y/n <3

wc ⋆ 2.56k words

a/n ⋆ awww the cuties ! i love gumi sm omg my adorable boyfieee, anyways enjoy ! i lowkey dont like this buttt :((

the warm glow of the setting sun stretched across the training grounds as you and nobara exchanged quick strikes, the air sharp with the rhythm of your sparring. you moved effortlessly, feeling the rush of energy, but something in the corner of your vision caught your attention. megumi stood at the edge of the field, his posture tense, eyes fixed on you. you knew exactly where his gaze was: the scar on your neck, a permanent reminder of that day.

you couldn’t help the tightness in your chest. you’d never asked him about it, never pushed him, but you knew it weighed on him—that day. the day he was trapped inside his own body. the day he killed two people he cared about the most. the day he hurt you.

"hey, fushiguro," you called out, your voice light, teasing, but there was an edge to it that betrayed your curiosity. you paused mid-motion, turning toward him with a grin as nobara glanced at you knowingly, heading toward her water bottle where yuji was standing. "wanna spar?"

for a moment, megumi didn’t respond. his eyes stayed on you, but they were unreadable, heavy. his jaw clenched. when he finally spoke, his words were quiet. "no thanks," he muttered, his gaze flickering to the scar on your neck, then quickly darting away. "i’m… busy."

you bit your lip, sensing the guilt in his tone. it was almost like he was afraid to be near you, and that stung more than you expected. he’d been distant these past few days, but maybe it was just a one-time thing. maybe he really was busy. you smiled, brushing it off.

"busy with what?" you asked softly, the teasing edge in your voice. "you don’t seem to be occupied, fushi."

"with—uh. itadori. me and itadori were heading to the… uh… store," he mumbled, looking anywhere but at you.

you frowned, your eyes shifting to where yuji was chatting with nobara, totally unaware of the tension between you and megumi. he was holding out a towel for her, laughing as she tossed her empty water bottle at his head. you smiled softly at the sight but then turned back to megumi.

"yuji… seems busy with his own things," you murmured, watching him shift under your gaze. his eyes avoided yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the bead of sweat rolling down his temple. maybe it was just sixteen-year-old-boy things, you thought, trying to convince yourself. but it still stung a little.

"oi! itadori! get the hell over here!" megumi called out, his voice rough, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough. yuji scrambled over with a pout, and megumi grabbed him by the collar, pulling him along hurriedly as they left.

you frowned after them, a strange mix of confusion and something else stirring in your chest. why was he avoiding you? why did it feel like he was running away from something that had nothing to do with the store?

this wouldn’t be the last time. over the next few days, you’d start to notice little things. his avoidance grew clearer. texts would go unanswered for hours, or when they were answered, they felt curt. and every time you tried to ask him to hang out, there was always an excuse.

you decided to reach out again, despite the growing frustration in your chest.

you hey fushiguro! wanna hang out today? maybe watch tangled in my dorm for the millionth time?

you smirked to yourself. tangled was your favorite movie, and you knew megumi wouldn’t be able to resist.

megumi can't, got stuff to do. sorry.

you frowned at your screen, your grip tightening imperceptibly, your smile fading.

you oh, okay. well, tell me if you change your mind!

megumi yeah, sure. maybe.

you stared at the message for a while, the vague response gnawing at you. megumi had always been blunt, but he never seemed to shy away from hanging out before. so why now? what was he busy with?

you walked to the dojo early, hoping to catch megumi before his training session. as you approached, you saw him deep in conversation with yuji and nobara, laughing about something—you couldn’t hear exactly what, but their laughter seemed genuine. when you stepped into the room, the conversation stilled for a moment.

megumi didn’t turn to greet you. he just nodded quickly, his eyes darting back to the floor. yuji, on the other hand, waved at you, totally oblivious to the tension.

"hey, you finally here?" yuji grinned. "we’re just talking about our next mission."

"yeah…" you said softly, but your eyes flickered back to megumi. "hey, fushi, wanna train?"

he hesitated. too long of a hesitation. then, he mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch.

"um, maybe later. i think i have a… thing," he said, trailing off before turning back to yuji.

your heart sank. thing? was he just brushing you off again?

you hey. you still up for tangled? we don’t have to do that if you're not comfortable, of course! i just want to hang out.

megumi no, sorry.

you oh. okay, ig.

megumi sorry. just been busy. i didn’t mean to make it awkward.

you it’s fine. just… if you don’t want to talk, it’s okay. no need to make excuses.

you stared at the messages for a long time. the words felt like a punch to the gut, but at the same time, they made your chest ache. what did you even do? was he avoiding you because of that day? the day when he hurt you? was he punishing himself for it? or was he just… shutting you out?

you walked down the hallway toward the dorms after sparring, your body still buzzing from the fight. nobara had gone off to take a shower, and yuji was probably somewhere being loud, as usual. but tonight, something felt different. you couldn’t shake the feeling that megumi had been avoiding you more than usual.

as you passed the common area, you noticed the dim light spilling from the small courtyard outside. curiosity pulled you in that direction. the quiet night was starting to settle, and everyone else was winding down. there, leaning against the stone wall of the courtyard, stood megumi.

he didn’t notice you at first. his shoulders were tense, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his gaze was lost in the shadows. he looked almost… distant, like he was trying to escape from something. but you knew—you knew—he wasn’t running from the world outside. he was running from you.

you paused for a moment, your thoughts racing. then, despite every instinct telling you to leave it alone, you stepped forward. gravel crunched softly beneath your shoes as you approached.

"fushiguro," you called, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night.

he flinched like your words had startled him. slowly, he turned his head, but not enough to meet your gaze right away. his eyes lingered on the ground, and when they finally lifted, they didn’t seem to focus on you. they flicked up, then down again.

"hey," you said again, trying to keep your voice steady. but there was something shaky in it you couldn’t hide. "are you gonna keep avoiding me?"

there was a long silence. then, he spoke. his voice was low, strained. "i'm not avoiding you."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "really? 'cause it sure seems like you are."

megumi shifted uncomfortably against the wall, his gaze drifting away again. "it’s not like that."

you could feel your frustration building. every time you tried to reach him, he shut you out. you stepped closer, standing just a few feet away. your voice grew sharp.

"then what is it? why do you keep pushing me away?"

he hesitated, his jaw tightening, then finally met your eyes. guilt and something darker swirled in his expression. the same guilt he’d been carrying since that day. the day he hurt you.

"come on, fushiguro! this is stupid! why are you doing this? don’t you realize it hurts me?" your voice rose, frustration spilling over.

his gaze flickered to your neck, the scar still fresh, and for a moment, it looked like he might say something. but instead, he stepped back, his shoulders tensing.

"god, just��just shut up!" he hissed.

you stopped talking immediately. the words stuck in your throat.

"don’t you realize? i can’t do this anymore!" he exploded, his eyes wild with frustration. "i can’t just—just watch you knowing what i did!"

and in that moment, you knew. he wasn’t just avoiding you. he was fighting something inside himself.

you took a deep breath, stepping forward, your pulse quickening. "fushiguro… i…"

but before you could say anything else, he was already walking away, his steps quick and purposeful. leaving you standing in the cold silence.

you stood there, the words still hanging between you, unspoken, unanswered.

and then you moved.

one step, then another, quickening your pace until you were right behind him, fingers brushing against his shoulder.

"don’t touch me!" he snapped.

you recoiled, hurt flashing across your face. so, he had yelled not once, not twice—but now three times. at you. you couldn't breathe, the question on your lips strangled by confusion and pain.

"what did i do wrong?" you whispered, almost to yourself.

megumi glanced away, a sharp look of anguish in his eyes. "i can’t. i can’t do it. i can’t come near you, talk to you, touch you, look at you."

you frowned up at him, confused. "can’t do… why?"

"i can’t go a day without thinking about what i did to you!" he hissed, voice breaking. "i see that scar, and i beat myself up over it. i… i can’t look at it. i can’t even spar with you. i can't… even stand my hand being this close to yours."

without thinking, you reached out, gently taking his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. you looked him in the eyes, your gaze tender. "look," you murmured, cupping his calloused hand with your own. "is this hurting me in any way?"

he didn’t answer.

you brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek with it. "am i hurt?" you whispered, eyes closing for a moment, savoring the warmth of his touch. you felt his thumb twitch as it brushed against your skin. you leaned into it, your breath catching. "am i hurt, fushiguro?"

you stood there, the weight of his hand in yours grounding you, as the silence stretched between you. his thumb brushed against your scar, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles were taut as if he were about to break. you could see the guilt clouding his eyes—heavy, suffocating. you knew what he was thinking. he was terrified.

"you're not hurting me," you whispered, your voice quiet but steady. you brought his hand to your cheek, pressing it gently against your skin. "see? you're not hurting me, megumi."

he didn’t say anything at first, but his breath hitched at the touch. his eyes flickered between yours, searching for something—maybe an answer, maybe reassurance. his thumb gently caressed your jaw, and you felt your heart race in your chest.

he opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. instead, his gaze shifted to your neck—the scar that was still so fresh, the scar he couldn't bring himself to look at. you watched his jaw tighten, his gaze drifting downward like it always did when he was avoiding something he couldn’t confront.

you took a small step closer, your fingers brushing over the back of his hand, encouraging him, urging him to let go. "megumi," you whispered again, this time a little more gently, "please… look at me."

his chest rose and fell with every shaky breath, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to pull away. but he didn’t. he stayed, standing there in the quiet of the night, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

slowly, carefully, his hand moved to your neck. his thumb brushed lightly over your scar, and you could feel him flinch, just a little. but then he stopped, his hand hovering over your skin, like he was afraid to touch it too much. you gently guided his fingers down your neck, showing him that you weren’t afraid.

"megumi," you whispered, your voice softer this time, "i’m not afraid."

his gaze finally met yours, and you saw it—the hesitation, the guilt, the regret all etched in his features. but underneath all of that, you saw something else, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart ache.

"i’m so sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "i can't… i can’t stand seeing it. what i did to you…"

you shook your head, a small smile forming on your lips. "megumi, you’re not the only one hurting. but i’m not afraid of you. i never was. i never will be."

he swallowed, his hand trembling in yours. he was close enough now that you could feel the warmth of his breath, could hear the soft hitch of his breath as his eyes flickered down to your lips.

you closed the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest as you lifted your other hand to his face, cupping it gently. "look at me," you whispered again, your voice barely audible. "please."

he did. and when his eyes met yours, everything else seemed to fade away. there were no more words, no more hesitation. just the soft, steady rhythm of your breaths as your faces inched closer.

he leaned in, your lips brushing against his. it was tentative at first, just the barest of touches, as if he were still afraid that he might hurt you. but when you didn’t pull away, when you leaned into him, the kiss deepened. his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his other hand sliding to your waist, holding you as if you might disappear.

you let out a soft gasp as you melted into him, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate, as if you both needed this, needed to feel the connection, to feel the warmth of each other’s presence after so much distance. his lips were soft against yours, and you could taste the mixture of fear and longing that had been building between you for days.

when you finally pulled away, breathless, you rested your forehead against his, your heart still racing in your chest. you could feel his pulse under your fingertips, his breathing shallow as he tried to steady himself.

"megumi," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "you’re not the only one who’s been hurting. but i’m here. i’m not going anywhere."

his eyes were wide, almost searching, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. his thumb gently traced your jaw, his touch tender now, as if he were finally allowing himself to feel what had been building inside of him.

"i’m sorry," he whispered again, his voice cracking with emotion. "i didn’t want to hurt you. i don’t ever want to hurt you again."

you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "you won’t," you said simply. "i'll say it again. i’m not afraid of you, megumi. i never was."

the tension between you had finally broken. and in its place was something deeper—something real, something raw. you didn’t need words anymore. all you needed was him, and you knew, in that moment, that he needed you too.

a/n ⋆ nonnie ! ty for this req, this was so fun to write ! i honestly had trouble at the start butttttt omg the fluffy moments near the end made my heart melttt <33 i hope this was what you were looking for !

i heart the way megumi cares soooo much for yn but just wont admit it :( he literally says it but so indirectly yk ?? like he toooootally doesnt care..

thank you for reading, ily ! lmk if you wanna be tagged and remember, reqs are always open loves !

© evergumi

[lovemaybankk]

sweet - part 1: rafe cameron x kook!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!reader

read part 2 here!

inspired by lana del rey's song, "sweet" ♡

summary: growing up with your protective older brother, topper thornton, has been challenging yet comforting. until recently, have you been starting to see your older brother's friend, rafe cameron, in a new light and your relationship with him starts to change.

word count: 2,324 words

author's note: thank you so much for reading this new series!! i sincerely hope you enjoy :)

p.s. next chapter includes smut!!

warning: cursing, mostly fluff!

"topper!" you called out, your voice sharp as it bounced off the walls of your large kitchen. "topper, where are you?!" frustration bubbled up as you roamed through your house, checking room after room. the faint thrum of loud music reached your ears, pulling your attention toward the home gym.

with a deep breath, you shoved open the door to the home gym, the music instantly blasting at full volume as if it had been lying in wait.

"topper!" you yelled, your voice barely cutting through the pounding bass that seemed to vibrate the very walls.

dumbbells, resistance bands, and foam rollers were scattered across the floor and in the center of it all, topper was doing bicep curls with his dumbbells, completely immersed in his conversation with his two friends, kelce and rafe. you had absolutely no idea how they could even hear each other with that loud of music playing.

"topper!" you shouted again, louder this time. he froze mid-curl, finally noticing you, and a little startled yet annoyed at his younger sister for barging in.

"what do you want, y/n?" he barked, as though you were the one intruding.

you marched straight to the speaker and turned the volume down to a level that wouldn’t have the neighbors filing noise complaints. the music dropped to a faint hum.

behind you, kelce was pumping through incline bench presses, his grunts in rhythm with his reps. rafe, meanwhile, was bent over a barbell, effortlessly pulling through a set of deadlifts.

"are you kidding me?" you snapped, spinning around to glare at your brother. "topper, you ate my food in the fridge! that was mine!"

he rolled his eyes, tossing the dumbbells onto the floor with a loud thud. "god, y/n, relax. it’s not a big deal. i'll give you cash and you can buy another one that's freshly cooked anyways."

"you’re so selfish, you know that?" you said, folding your arms.

he snorted. "chill out, y/n. here..." he pulled out his phone in his pockets and started frantically pressing the screen. you felt a vibration in your pockets and brought your phone lit up to your face to see a notification,

"'top' sent $100"

"that should be more than enough. go get yourself snacks if you want too. whatever will make you shut the hell up."

growing up, topper had a habit of finding ways to annoy you whether it was stealing your food when he knew you’d been saving it, blasting his music in the middle of your movie nights (with yourself), and even leaving behind his messes for you to clean.

and yet, in his own way, he cared about you. like the time in elementary school when you scraped your knee during a particularly bad fall on your bike. you’d been crying, more out of frustration than pain, and instead of teasing you for being "soft," he had come back minutes later with a band-aid, your favorite snack, and an awkward pat on the back.

there were moments when he let his guard down to be a good older brother. moments when he’d pick you up from sports practice, or buy you a bag of clothes after a long day, or cover for you when you accidentally broke the vase that one summer.

since then, topper had continued to care for you in his clumsy older-brother way. sure, your parents mostly favored him but their expectations for him still existed. they expected him to excel, to lead, and to be a perfect role model for you, especially since he was (exactly two years) older. topper carried the weight of their demands, which often translated into him pestering you with the same energy he’d picked up from your parents. like now.

"why don’t you just go and hop on your bike now, huh?" he said, cracking open his water bottle as though the solution was obvious. "go grab something to eat, chill out, and leave us alone."

"it’s literally freezing outside, topper," you shot back, already regretting coming into the gym.

"you’ll be fine,” he said, smirking as he leaned back against the bench.

and before you could deliver your next scathing comeback, rafe came in, setting down his barbell with a clang. "i’ll drive her," he offered, shrugging casually as he wiped his hands on a nearby towel. "it’s too cold for a bike ride, and she looks like she’s about to bite your head off, dude."

truth be told, you’d always kind of liked rafe cameron growing up. unlike most of topper’s other friends, who barely acknowledged your existence, rafe was the one who always made an effort to be friendly. he’d always greet you when he came over, ask how school was going, and sometimes even share a laugh at topper’s expense with you.

and then there was that one memorable time, back during the ninth-grade, when you’d gotten stood up for your first high school dance. you’d spent weeks picking out the perfect dress, building up the courage to say yes when a boy you liked asked you to go. but when the night came, he’d never shown up. you had sat on the couch, trying to hide your disappointment as topper and his friends teased you about your "special night".

rafe had been different, though. he’d walked into the room, taken one look at you sitting there all dressed up, and without missing a beat, said, "i’ll take you." you’d blinked at him in response, a little stunned. "what?"

"i’ll take you to the dance," he repeated, a faint grin on his face as he shrugged. "you’ve already got the dress and everything, right? might as well go."

topper had rolled his eyes and laughed, but rafe had ignored him. twenty minutes later, he was in a suit jacket, standing by the front door, waiting for you like a proper date.

that night, he made sure you didn’t feel out of place, even though you were nervous and embarrassed at first. he’d danced with you, cracked jokes until you were smiling, and even pretended to be your date when your friends asked questions.

when the night had finally wound down, rafe hadn’t dropped you off and gone home like anyone else would. he’d offered to take you out for a late-night snack. so, the two of you had ended up at a diner near the city, picking at plates of fries and sharing stories while the neon lights flickered outside. and for a brief moment, it made you forget all the times you felt like an afterthought in your family, while your older brother was the center of attention.

that night had turned into one of those memories that stuck with you dearly. and though rafe was still the same cocky, laid-back guy, he had an empathy that maybe only you saw. and by the way, your older brother made the decision to gather himself and his friends, including rafe, to "confront" that same boy who stood you up.

topper groaned, rolling his eyes. "fine. go, whatever. just let me and kelce finish our workout in peace."

luckily, rafe was already grabbing his keys.

"c’mon," he said, his voice low but firm. "i could use the break anyway."

as you climbed into rafe’s car, you glanced around the messy interior: empty water bottles, a stray jacket, and a faint scent of mint and cologne. he turned down the music as he started the engine, his movements smooth and unhurried.

"you okay?" he asked, glancing over at you as the car warmed up along with the slightly loud noises of the air conditioning. his tone was casual, but there was an edge of sincerity in it that comforted you. "yes," you muttered. "thanks for this."

he smirked, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "don’t thank me yet. topper for sure owes me for this one."

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension from earlier melting enough to make the ride bearable.

as rafe pulled into the familiar parking lot, you realized where he was taking you: the same diner you’d gone to after the dance. the neon lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow across the empty lot. a wave of nostalgia hit you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of that night.

inside, the warmth of the diner greeted you, and the smell of greasy fries and fresh burgers filled the air. you both slid into a booth, and rafe didn’t waste any time before he ordered. you hesitated, but eventually chose something simple, the kind of comfort food you knew would hit the spot.

"you know, this place actually isn’t half bad," rafe said as he looked over at you, his voice light. he gave you a quick smile before shrugging.

you laughed, feeling a little lighter. "it's actually really good!"

as the food arrived, rafe handed you his jacket, noticing you shiver. "here, you look like you could use it." you blinked in surprise, but his easy, nonchalant gesture made it feel completely natural. you draped it over your shoulders, grateful for the warmth.

the ride back home was quiet, the sound of the car humming as you leaned back against the seat. the warmth from the jacket and the full stomach made your eyelids heavy, and before long, you were drifting off, your head lolling against the window.

when the car finally stopped, you felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder. "hey," rafe said softly, "we’re here."

you blinked awake, your body delaying to respond. you looked like a complete mess with a little drool coming out and your hair bunched up, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he gently slid the seat back, helping you out of the car.

before you could protest, he had already scooped you up into his arms, carrying you with surprising ease toward the front door.

"rafe, what the....?" you mumbled, still half-asleep and confused, but he didn’t answer. he just chuckled quietly and continued up the stairs to your room. when he set you down on your bed, he tucked the blanket around you, his movements careful as if he were trying not to wake you completely.

"get some sleep y/n," he said softly, pausing at the door. "you’ll need it."

your eyes fluttered closed again, the warmth of your bed and the comfort of rafe’s care wrapping around you. you barely registered when the door shut, but you knew, even if you couldn’t thank him properly, he’d done something more than just drop you off.

you felt a sudden tug at your shoulders, and your eyes slowly blinked open to find your older brother standing over you, shaking you awake.

"oh my god, what do you want, topper?!" you groaned, trying to push the blankets over your head in a futile attempt to block out the morning.

"it's 10 am y/n," he said, his voice more annoying than usual, "you remember breakfast with our grandparents, right?"

you blinked a few times, still trying to shake off the fog of sleep. the memory gradually crept back into your mind, and you groaned again, this time more out of frustration than sleepiness.

"ugh, i forgot about that," you muttered, rubbing your eyes and sitting up. "why did you have to remind me? it's too early for this."

topper shrugged, unfazed by your groggy attitude. "because mom wants us there by 11, and you know how she gets when we’re late. i also know you take forever to get ready and clearly, you're not even close to ready."

you shot him a glare, already thinking about how this day was shaping up to be like every other which was full of reminders about family obligations. "fine," you grumbled, throwing off the covers and getting out of bed. "i’ll go. but this better be worth it."

"no wonder you're so tired," he said, clearly annoyed. "i bet staying out late with rafe last night did you in, huh?"

you groaned, sitting up a little, now fully aware of the teasing tone in his voice. "it wasn’t that late," you mumbled, trying to sound convincing, but you knew he wouldn’t let it slide. "and maybe if you didn't eat my food, i would've slept at a decent time. and your friend actually had the decency to help me get that food back."

topper raised an eyebrow. "sure..." he paused and gave you a concerned look.

"and i’m not exhausted because of that, topper," you snapped, rubbing your face. "i’m just exhausted because you woke me up too early."

he let out a little laugh, walking toward the door. he shot you a teasing grin before he left. "you know, if you didn't stay up snacking with him, maybe you wouldn't be like this right now."

"you’re a pain in the ass," you muttered under your breath as he disappeared, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. you knew he was just being his usual protective yet controlling self, and maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of concern underneath the teasing regarding his friend's relationship with his little sister.

you heard the door suddenly open again, with topper lingering by the hinge, his hand hovering over the handle. "by the way," he said, his tone still calm, "we go in thirty minutes. so be ready and at the car."

"i got it," you grumbled, not looking up from where you were half-draped over your bed.

topper didn’t wait for a response. he just turned and walked out, leaving the door wide open.

"topper, are you serious?!" you called after him, your frustration mounting. "close my door!"

but of course, he didn’t. typical of him.

you sighed in annoyance, getting up to close the door yourself. and with the door finally shut, you hurried to get ready. you took a deep breath, grabbing your belongings and heading downstairs, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

[theoraeeken]

I saw a post a while ago about Tommy and Buck running into Buck's exes, but I'd be interested in them running into Tommy's exes (boyfriend and/or girlfriends)

i spent such a long time fleshing out an OC for this tiny little oneshot but i could not get this out of my head gfhdhsjjdf.

EDIT: okay this isn't tiny and maybe i got over excited.

bucktommy / rated t / prompt requests still open

-

"Tommy?"

Chim stops mid-sentence, hands still up in a gesture, and his mouth is a little open as he looks over Buck's shoulder, behind him. Hen and Eddie seem similarly afflicted. Confused, Buck turns around, and-

Woah.

Buck's not unfamiliar with attractive people - he works in an environment with a lot of hot, athletic people, who do insane, heroic things, and since discovering that he's playing equal time for both teams, the pool of people that are nice to look at has grown considerably. That's a given. But... woah.

Green. Very green eyes.

"Dan! Oh, shit, how long has it been?" Tommy grins, getting up quickly enough that his chair scrapes against the concrete.

Hen and Chimney are doing their freaky psychic parademic mind melding communication thing, which mostly involves a lot of eyebrow movement and head tilting, and Eddie is glancing from Dan to Buck like he's nervous. This was supposed to be a chill little brunch, a catch up between friends. It's nice, being able to bring his partner to brunch like this, the same way Hen brings Karen and Chim brings Maddie. He never brought Ali, or Taylor, or any of his girlfriends. For reasons he could never quite pinpoint, he never wanted to let his worlds collide like that.

But Tommy is already part of his world. He's got inside jokes with Chim and Hen that Buck still doesn't quite get. He brings his own stories about the job, and he can laugh at everyone elses without getting maudlin and worried the way any of Buck's exes would. Tommy is as much a part of Buck's world as Buck is of his.

Except, Tommy's world apparantly has other things in it. Like Dan. Dan with the very green eyes, and the black hair swept carelessly back off his face like he thinks he's a 90's movie star, a little grey peppered at his temples and a t-shirt that has to be at least two sizes too small. Dan with his arm around Tommy's shoulder, and a 1000 watt smile dangerously close to Tommy's mouth, like he's not 100% committed to pulling out of this extremely long hug.

"What are you doing in California? You miss the sunshine?" Tommy asks, his hand still very noticably on Dan's hip.

"Don't even say that, those Oregon winters are no joke," he huffs, "Nah, I'm down for my sister's wedding."

"Emily's getting married? What the hell, she was barely out of college last time I checked."

"Yeah, Tommy, that was six years ago," he laughs, "All grown up now, marrying some IT geek from San Diego. Don't know what he did to deserve her, but my balls have been well and truly threatened if I give him anymore shit."

They chat for another few minutes, completely oblivious to the audience they have, oblivious to the way that Buck's hands are clenching into fists under the table. Tommy's usually so poised, straight-backed, almost stoic. Even his humour is deadpan, but Buck relishes the moments where he can tease easy smiles and full body laughs and dorky jokes out of him. Dan and his pretty eyes seem to have that down pat, too.

"Uh, I feel like I've crashed a party here, Tom."

Tommy blinks, looking back over at their table.

"Shit, sorry," he says, "I should have said. These are the good folks of the 118 firehouse. You probably know Hen and Howie by reputation, and this is Karen and Maddie," Tommy indicates each of them in turn, and they give a wave, "That's Eddie, and this is my boyfriend, Evan."

He says is so casually, like it costs him nothing, and it drags a smile out him the way it always does. Boyfriend. Buck stands, offering a hand. There are still half-cresent marks on his palm from where he'd dug his nails in.

"Good to meet you, man."

"You too, Evan."

"Buck," he says reflexively, "People call me Buck."

"Sure," he says easily.

Tommy is staring at him, face unreadable, but he smiles anyway, polite, almost professional.

"This is Dan Archer, and he used to be the best damn EMT in California," he says, clapping him on the shoulder, "until he deserted us for the PFR."

"Portland, huh? That's a good department to work for, from what I hear," Hen grins, "You guys were trialling those new electric ambulances in 2019, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Dan laughs, "All green, baby. Not that it matters when you're pulling another hiker out the Cascades in mid-December, but for some reason no one wanted to put the funding into my caterpillar-tread gurneys idea."

Chim snorts, "Shit, that's a good one. We should start lobbying for that, Hen."

"Ain't that the truth," she mutters.

"I don't have that problem," Tommy says smugly. Dan punches him in the arm, "You wanna stick around? This place some amazing bruschetta."

The collective inhale the table takes is probably loud enough to hear across the street. Eddie puts his coffee down like he's worried he's going to have to do something that involves having both of his hands free, like restrain Buck.

"Nah, I'm just doing a coffee run, then I've got to get back to the pre-festivities festivities," Dan shrugs, apparantly oblivious, "And maybe buy a shotgun to clean somewhere in view of Samuel."

Tommy laughs, "Give 'em hell, Archer. And don't be a stranger."

"You neither, Kinard," he grins, "I'll take you up on that bruschetta before I head back North."

"You better."

Tommy sits back down, and puts a hand on Buck's thigh. Nothing salacious or suggestive, just the weight of his palm and the heat of his skin. Familiar. The group lapses back into the same kind of easy chatter that they had before. Maddie and Chim talking about something cute Jee had done last week. Hen recounts in detail the call out they got that ended with having to deep bleach the inside of the ambulance. Buck takes a hold of Tommy's wrist, feels his pulse against his fingers, a steady, paitent beat.

-

Tommy's mouth paints lines of heat against Buck's shoulders. He's on his stomach in Tommy's bed - their bed, really, with how often Buck is here these days - propped up on his elbows. There's a book open on the pillow in front of him, something he found on Tommy's bookshelf about the history of the American rail network. It's been open on the same page for the last ten minutes, Buck's eyes somewhere in the middle distance.

There's temptation here, in the form of Tommy's half naked body pressed up alongside his, the hand on his lower back, his mouth. But Buck's mind is going a mile a minute.

"Baby," Tommy murmers, lips pressed to the nape of his neck.

"How do you know him?"

Tommy stills, just a moment where he freezes, before he exhales.

"I don't know if I like you thinking about other men while I'm trying to seduce you."

"Well, he is a very handsome man," Buck mutters, before he can help himself.

Tommy snorts, "Seriously?"

"It's ridiculous," he grumbles, "He's a paramedic, not a model. What's he even-"

Tommy muffles his laughter into Buck's shoulder, his body shaking with it. It should irritate him, it should make him feel belittled and mocked, but the way Tommy curls over Buck's naked back, smudging kisses into his hair and muttering his name softens the blow.

"I'm being an idiot, aren't I?" he says flatly, and it just makes Tommy laugh harder.

"No, Evan, you're being jealous, and possessive, and very sweet," he says, indulgent. Tommy is always indulgent with him, and Buck aches with how much he doesn't deserve it, "I know there's no way for me to say this without it sounding sarcastic, but I really do think that you glaring daggers at my ex like you're thinking about burying him under a carpark is extremely attractive."

Buck huffs, "So, he is your ex."

"Yes, he's my ex," he says, trailing a finger down the dip of Buck's spine, "We dated for nearly a year, the first year I moved to Harbour. He was my first serious relationship after I came out."

Buck doesn't really know what to say to that. Tommy represents a whole lot of firsts to Buck. First kisses, first touches, first fucks. Not first ever, obviously, but a kind of first all their own. And maybe Buck is always going to be a too much, too fast kinda guy, but he can't imagine getting over that, getting over him. Not even after five, six years.

"It ended amiciably. He got the job offer from Portland. Captaincy. Dan's job is important to him, too important to pass it up. I understood that."

"Do you miss him?"

Tommy kisses his shoulder, "All the time. He's been a good friend to me over the years."

"Do you see him very often?"

"Handful of times, since he moved," Tommy smiles, curling his fingers into the hair at the back of Buck's neck, "Came down for Harris' retirement. Couple years ago, we met up while he visiting family. I went up to Portland last year, too."

"Oh?" Buck says, feigning indifference and probably missing it by a mile, "How was it?"

"It was great. Awesome city. Great hiking in the area, and the ceremony was beautiful."

"What ceremony?" Buck asks, jerking up.

"You would have cried," Tommy continues like he didn't even hear him, like he didn't almost just headbutted in Buck's eagerness tosit upright, "I bet you always cry at weddings, but you definitely would have cried at this one. I bawled like a baby."

Buck shoves at Tommy's chest playfully, and he bounces when his back hits the mattress, laughing again.

"What wedding?"

"Dan's wedding," Tommy grins, "to his husband, Jake. Who he loves very very much."

He groans, shoving his head into the pillow, but Tommy doesn'tlet him mope about it for very long. A strong pair of hands roll him flat onto his back, and Tommy wastes absolutely no time in covering his body with his own, pushing between his legs and kissing him halfway to stupid. Which doesn't bode well for Buck, who's pretty sure he was more than halfway there already.

"You're ridiculous," Tommy says fondly, pressing a kiss to Buck's cheek.

"I know," he sighs, "I'm sorry."

Tommy kisses him again, before propping himself upon his elbows, "We're gonna talk about this properly tomorrow, about you being this worried about me... leaving? Or being interested in other people? Whatever it is, okay? We're gonna talk about it, because I don't actually want you to be upset, Evan," he says softly, "but you don't need to apologise for being jealous. It's just an emotion."

"Not the best emotion on me, though," Buck sighs, "It's not even rational."

"Maybe," Tommy shrugs, "but I wasn't lying when I said I like it on you sometimes. I don't regret my relationship with Dan, so what's rational about me liking how much you wish you were the only one who has ever touched me?"

Tommy's got a talent for taking Buck's most ridiculous thoughts, his worst traits, the ugliest sides of him, and rearranging all the pieces so that they actually make sense. He's so steadying, like a hand on his back while he feels like he's constantly walking on a tightrope. All of it is like water off a duck's back to Tommy, even when it feels like Buck's about to drown in it.

"God, please just kiss me," Buck whispers, half because he wants to, he always wants to, and half because it minimises the risk of saying anything else stupid, like 'I hate your gorgeous hero of an ex just because he got to kiss you before I did', or 'I like myself better when I'm with you than I ever had before', or 'I love you', or 'please don't talk about weddings around me because I'm terrified of the images in my head right now and how good you look in a suit'.

"Yeah?" Tommy breathes, his mouth hovering just over Buck's, "You gonna be thinking about him again?"

"Thinking about who?" Buck mutters back, just to be a brat.

Tommy laughs, a gentle, soft little thing that's so, so fond, but he kisses him anyway.

[wherenymphsroam]

leon actually has like …. breeder balls. it’s actually so bad. they’re probably so warm n big and hang so pretty. just makes you wanna nuzzle your face into him, mouth at him idly.

and I say that in like … a non sexual context.

(cw: implied ddlg, reader with an oral fixation)

you just love him so much, you trust him so much. sometimes even just the sound of his voice has you melting into a puddle against him. he’s noticed it, it’s hard not to. but he’s not about to point out your… mouthy habits.

in all honesty, he finds it adorable. how needy you get for him, in the most mundane of situations. go ahead, tug at his jeans when you curl up on the couch to watch a movie. get on your knees under his desk on the rare occasion he uses his home office. he’ll acknowledge you with a stroke of his fingers through your hair and a hum of contentment when your mouth finds his bulge through his boxers. he’ll even help you tug his jeans down, maybe just enough to get at the warmth of his crotch, about mid thigh.

really, he should get hard every time you surprise him with a tap of his thigh or a tug at his belt. but at his age, he didn’t feel the need to be hard, to find your greed overtly sexual.

sure, he’ll press your thighs to your chest and fuck you into the mattress later that night, but this … it’s different. the effect he has on you — the fog that clouds your brain when you lap at his soft cock, the weight of your lashes fluttering, the slur to your speech when he talks to you like that — it’s not something sexual, more often than not. you’re just … safe. he make you feel safe, and he loves that.

however.

on the off chance you do end up getting a lil drunk on him, drool coating your chin, lashes fluttering so sweetly… maybe his dick will twitch in interest. you’re so pretty, almost nauseatingly so. it really does make his head spin sometimes, thinking about how the hell he ended up with such a pretty baby attached to his hip. but to see you so eager, so greedy for him and him alone …. so much so that you’re pushing his fingers past your lips at a moments notice, whining for him to slide his sweats down …

sometimes, he thinks you just might be the death of him.

[lucysarah-c]

Mother's smile

Summary: Raging war, it turns boys into men. Author note: Since the Marley world seemed to be around the 30s-40s, I’ll set this idea in a world that looks like the mid-50s. This is POST WAR. I've no idea what is this... the idea just came into my mind. Warnings: None...Angst? Perhaps? Word count: 3.8k Pairing: Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader

The muscles of his body twitched as he ran up and down, changing the train’s platform to return home. His hair flowed in the air, almost freezing from the bitter cold. He could feel the icy air biting at his undercut and chilling everything in its path. Exhaustion escaped with every puff of his reddened lips, the air condensing in front of his face. Yet, he kept running, desperate to connect one train to another.

If he didn’t time it perfectly, his family might begin to suspect he wasn't going to practice. He had quickly changed back into his regular school uniform in one of the train station's public bathrooms.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a couple of girls. They couldn't be older than him, mumbling and locking eyes. He had no time to dwell on it, but he couldn't ignore it either. It was becoming a regular occurrence. People were starting to recognize him in the crowded streets of the capital.

"Why?" he wondered, even though he knew the answer. But he reasoned, "There are TV stars and movie actresses who take the train… I'm nobody."

He knew. Ever since someone took unauthorized pictures of him during practice, fully suited up, and they were posted first in the Paradise newspaper and then spread worldwide.

"Oh my- Sorry!" He almost tripped over someone. He quickly dodged a mother carrying two kids. "I’m SO sorry," he insisted.

"Please, something for my kids," she pleaded.

Levi's intuition told him something had been off lately.

"I’m so sorry… I have nothing," he replied, feeling a deep pang in his heart. The hunger and misery on the streets had only worsened since the war restarted.

—

"Could you set the table, love? Dinner is almost ready," Y/N said, breaking his deep thoughts as she handed him a pile of dishes. "It's just that the pot is old, and if I stop stirring it-"

"Sure," Levi quickly replied, not needing any further explanation. He stood up, grabbed the dishes, and wobbled a bit on his way to the dining room. "Tch," he clicked his tongue as he checked the clock. This was usually his son's duty.

Speak of the devil, the front door swung open. "I’M HOME!" Adrien shouted as he entered. 'Finally,' Levi thought. It was winter, and it got dark outside rather quickly.

"Welcome home, dear," Y/N said, peeking over from the kitchen to see her son taking off his shoes and coat in the hall. He quickly moved to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I was starting to wonder."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, mom," Adrien said, hurriedly.

"Dinner is ready," Y/N announced.

Adrien rushed into the dining room and almost bumped into his father.

"Where the hell have you been?" Levi demanded, almost pushing the dishware into his son’s arms.

"Sorry, I'll do it-" Adrien began, but as soon as he got closer, Levi grimaced in disgust.

"Shower, now. You stink," Levi commanded, holding onto the dishes.

Adrien took a quick sniff and seemed puzzled by his father's reaction. Groaning, he quickly moved upstairs. Levi frowned and continued setting the table. "The hormones are certainly working," he muttered.

Adrien had been arriving slightly late recently, not enough to raise concern but enough to annoy Levi. "The train services are delayed by the power outages…" Y/N tried to explain. These issues had become common since the war resumed and was edging closer to home as Paradise's forces, led by a queen Levi once helped put on the throne, continued their campaign.

Unauthorized pictures of his son had made it to the front page. His baby boy, photographed by spies. 'They fucking did not.' HIS baby boy, mocked by Paradise's news.

Initially, Levi thought it was a fluke. He went to grab the morning's newspaper at the front door and noticed the front page was missing. 'Maybe the boy tore it without realizing,' he thought. The delivery was usually smooth, so he dismissed it. He figured he could grab another edition on his way to his meeting. But when he saw it, his blood boiled.

Levi was furious. He broke every personal vow he had made to himself, that whatever war Paradise and the Jaegerists wanted to get into after almost 15 years post-Rumbling was none of his business. But taking pictures of HIS son and making fun of him? He made calls to people he hadn’t spoken to in years and simply stated, "Keep my son’s name out of your fucking mouth."

Adrien had been offered personal 3DMG training by the government from a very young age. Levi and Y/N were not naive. They knew since Adrien was a little kid why the government wanted him. He was Levi’s only child. The only available Ackerman after Levi and Mikasa stopped the Rumbling.

Levi had decided to break ties with the Paradise government because they continued to support the Jaegerists. He moved to another country, seeking peace for his family. That country was one of the few places the Rumbling hadn't devastated. He, Onkopop, Falco, Gabi, his wife, and his kids lived a peaceful life for many years.

Falco and Gabi eventually moved out as they grew older, though they visited frequently. Levi wanted to give his kid the childhood he never had. But he couldn't protect him forever. Adrien had insisted on practicing with 3DMG after being offered the chance as a kid. Levi stood firm on his decision. No. It was a firm no for months. Adrien was going to have a normal childhood, playing sports with his classmates and eating lunches packed by his mother. Levi had moved across the globe for his family to live without war, his family by blood and the one he made along the way.

The door slammed, surprising him. The family dog rushed to bark at the sound.

"Addy? You okay, kiddo?" Gabi asked, as they were still living with them. Hearing his son's name, Levi got up and walked as fast as his injuries allowed. It was too early for Adrien to be back from school. Also, Levi was the one who usually picked him up.

Wobbling, he reached the bedroom door, which was unusually closed. Even before he reached it, his heart began to ache as he could hear his 7-year-old boy's muffled cries. Adrien's chubby legs dangled from the edge of his bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"Oi, oi, oi," Levi said softly as he reached the bed and tried to gently push Adrien’s shoulder to the side to see his face. Adrien resisted. "Kid, what happened? Why are you back from school?"

Levi's mind raced, searching for injuries, any sign of hurt. Trying to come up with reasons, his brain was haunted by his baby’s endless tears.

"They kicked me off the team," Adrien finally managed to say between sobs. "The mothers complained that it’s not fair that I play."

Levi's heart sank. It had been hard for Adrien to make friends as a kid from another country, and he was obsessed with baseball since being allowed to join the team. He loved having a group of friends.

"I hate it, I hate it!" Adrien's soul-breaking cries echoed as his young mind couldn't comprehend the reasons. "Why can't I be normal?"

Levi forced himself out of his shock, slightly shaking his head to clear his mind. "Don’t say that. You’re normal. I'll talk to your teachers-"

Talking had never been his strength. He wished his wife was home.

“No, I’m not! All my friends look at me weirdly! Nobody wants to play with me anymore!” Adrien screamed at the top of his lungs. The frustration of his father not understanding only added salt to the wound. “I hate it!”

“No, Adrien—I'll talk—”

“I hate being an Ackerman!”

Levi felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart. White noise filled his head, merging with the sound of his son’s cries. Levi argued with himself that it shouldn’t have hurt as deeply as it did. “He’s just a kid who wants to play with the others,” he thought, remembering all the arguments he’d had with sports teams.

“It’s just not fair to the other kids, Mr. Ackerman.”

‘Next time, just point to my head,’ he thought bitterly. Watching his son sit on the benches with doe-like red eyes, trying to hold back tears at school, haunted Levi. He had come to pick him up and was forced to stay behind while the rest of the team practiced.

Falco and Gabi tried to play with him when they had free time, but they had their own responsibilities. Levi himself tried to play with Adrien as much as his injured leg allowed, but how fun could a one-on-one game be?

For many months, Levi refused to let Adrien take special training offered by the government. He knew they only saw his son as a potential new weapon.

“Daddy, did you see me? Did you see me?” Adrien’s face lit up with a smile that seemed too big for it, brimming with excitement after mastering a new 3DMG trick.

“Mm-hmm,” Levi hummed in approval, watching his son with a mix of pride and concern.

“He’s a prodigy, sir,” the female soldier standing next to him remarked. “You must be such a proud father.”

Levi’s death stare could hardly be disguised as he clenched his teeth. ‘This is wrong,’ he thought, but his hand, missing two fingers, reached for the Polaroid camera and took a picture. ‘It can’t be that wrong… if he’s smiling like this.’

“And then I twist! And then I jump! And then I—” Adrien rambled on excitedly at the dinner table.

“Addy, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Y/N gently reprimanded him, but he continued to beam, bright and cheerful, happy.

If teaching his boy everything he knew about 3DMG made him smile again, then perhaps it was worth it. He did it for his baby, only for his baby.

Adrien had grown into a moody teenager who now stole his car and rarely talked to Levi without an attitude. Levi wasn’t usually the melancholic type, but he missed the days when he was greeted at home with tight hugs and dreamy eyes.

Now, the war was getting closer to home. Paradise, untouched during the Rumbling, was growing increasingly tense. The Jaegerists wanted to finish what Eren had started, and the new regime wasn’t open to negotiation. They demanded blood; they demanded fire.

Admiring his reflection in the mirror, Levi noted how tired he looked. Time was unforgiving. He spotted several grey hairs among what used to be pristine raven locks. History seemed to be repeating itself, and sometimes he felt like he had fought for nothing. Small towns that were slowly rebuilding after the Rumbling were falling under the power of an island he had once defended with his blood and sweat.

The tie felt tight around his neck as he adjusted the bow tie. He had been asked—almost forced—to attend a charity event to raise funds for displaced refugees and military forces. They had declared war only a few months ago, and he felt strangely hopeless. “I’m just old,” he whispered to himself.

“Hey…”

Levi turned to his left to see his 16-year-old son leaning against the door frame with folded arms.

“Hey,” Levi greeted back cautiously. “I’ve no money,” he added quickly, the interaction feeling odd since Adrien rarely came into the couple’s bedroom, much less to talk to him.

Adrien rolled his eyes so dramatically Levi thought he might tear a muscle. “I wasn’t going to ask for anything!”

The teenager walked in and sat down on the bed, petting the cat. His long face and distant, translucent eyes were hard to ignore. Levi watched him for a while before turning back to the mirror to continue getting ready. The silence was so heavy it felt like breathing steam from the Colossal Titan.

After several minutes, Adrien's voice broke the silence, trembling with emotion. “You… you know I love you, Dad, right?”

Levi turned around, frowning deeply. “… What did you do?” he asked instinctively.

“Nothing!” Adrien's defensive tone only made him more suspicious.

“You got a chick knocked up?” Levi guessed quietly.

“W-what?!” Adrien’s face turned beet red with embarrassment. “NO!”

“What—”

“NOTHING! I did nothing!” Adrien protested, jumping up from the bed and heading for the door. “I’m never saying it again, you old man!”

The door slammed, and Levi clenched his teeth. The mood swings were something he wasn’t used to, no matter how hard he tried. Levi clicked his tongue. ‘What’s gotten into him lately?’

That was the issue; everything had been slightly off. Not enough to raise serious concerns, but as Levi walked downstairs to leave for the event, his mind kept replaying the scene in their bedroom. ‘Something smells off.’

‘I may be getting fucking old, but I’m not crazy.’

“He’s trying to grow up. Let’s show him that we trust him. Let’s give him some freedom, as long as he respects the curfew,” Y/N had tried to explain that shutting their son off wasn’t going to help.

Adrien’s insistence on coming home on his own… Levi had always driven him to and from school, especially since the school was quite far away by public transport. After the photo incident, Levi didn’t feel it was safe for his kid to walk back alone.

The front page of the newspaper had been missing the day his boy’s picture and the Paradise headline appeared:

“The Ackerman’s Cub: As Harmless as a Pussycat.”

Levi cursed at the memory, yanking his coat from the hanger by the door. Arms in—

It was too big.

He looked down at the sleeves, which hung past his hands. A part of his ego cracked a little—it was his son’s coat. His baby boy was growing non-stop, now 193 cm tall.

“Soon, he won’t fit through the damn door,” Levi muttered, half offended, half endeared. He wondered if he would have grown that tall if he hadn’t suffered so much as a child. “He truly inherited Kenny’s height,” his wife would say as their kid grew taller and taller.

Putting on his own coat—it was freezing outside—Levi sat in his car, but his mind kept circling back to it.

Adrien arriving late by only 10-15 minutes. His recent attitude wasn’t just typical teenage sulkiness; it was different. Adrien was distant but not moody.

Already at the party, Onyankopon, Falco, Gabi, and Y/N were talking around him, but Levi wasn’t there, at least not mentally. Call it the universe, call it signs, call it his Ackerman instincts. Call it what you want. But Levi knew something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, fragments of memories from the past month flashed through his mind. They hadn’t seemed suspicious at the time, just slightly unusual. Like that moment when he picked up something from Y/N’s boudoir table and got pricked by a needle.

“Ow,” he muttered, though it didn’t really hurt.

“Oh, I left a needle out? I thought I put it away,” she said innocently, placing it back in the sewing box.

Or when he was walking down the upper floor’s hall and noticed the string hanging from the attic hatch swaying. “Y/N, did you go to the attic?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing…” He meant to ask Adrien about it but got distracted by the teen blasting his record player.

Levi opened the door without knocking. He had warned Adrien to keep the door open multiple times. The teenager quickly turned down the rock music. “Hey!” Adrien complained, but Levi didn’t care.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep the volume down? I’m half-blind; don’t make me deaf too,” Levi ordered. Before leaving, he added, “And get your shoes off the bed.”

Levi’s leg tapped against the floor uneasily. Something was not right. The silence of his brain seeking a logical explanation was becoming deafening. His wife squeezed his arm, drawing his attention.

“Captain Ackerman,” a man approached them, bowing slightly out of respect. Levi’s days as a captain were long gone, but he never lost the title in the eyes of some. “It’s an honor…”

The man’s hands fidgeted nervously as a timid smile appeared on his face. He pressed his lips together, wet them, and then opened them as if trying to find the right words. “It must fill your heart with pride that you and your family stood up in such a difficult situation and did the right thing. As a representative of the Eldian community outside Paradise, we don’t stand with the Jaegerist decisions—”

Levi dismissed him quickly. “No need to praise me,” he cut in, anticipating the man’s gratitude for his role in the fight against Eren during the Rumbling. “I fought for what I believed was right.”

The man’s face twisted in confusion. “No—I…” he stammered, his previous uneasiness turning to confusion. “I wanted to thank you and acknowledge your family’s altruistic action.”

“No need—”

“I mean, it must be an honor but also extremely hard for you as a father to allow your son to volunteer for the front lines.”

It hit Levi like a thunder spear, just as the one he had once used against Zeke. As if the explosion had gone off right next to him, and he could only hear the ringing in his ears. Y/N’s grip on his arm loosened in shock before her nails dug in as the realization sank in.

Despite his Ackerman powers, Levi felt control over his body slip away as his legs shook. It felt impossible to breathe as he drove back home as fast as he could, but it surely felt as if his lungs caught no oxygen.

He slammed the door open, his injured leg giving way as he rushed upstairs to his son’s bedroom. Pain fading into nothing as it once did during the war. The white noise in his brain was shattered by Y/N’s piercing scream when they found the bedroom empty, except for a single paper note on the made bed. Falco held Y/N as she broke down in tears.

Levi’s face remained expressionless, but it felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. Holding the note in his hands, he sank onto the mattress. The bed where he had once read Mother Goose stories.

“I’m sorry… I just couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

P.S. Sorry for the coat.”

His baby, his baby boy. The mere thought of Adrien witnessing even half of what he had as a soldier brought tears to Levi’s eyes, a knot forming in his throat. His child, stolen from his arms, dragged into the chaos like pigs to a slaughterhouse. Everything Levi had fought for, everything he had done…

If only he hadn’t used that thunder spear, he would be as good as new. He would have fought a thousand wars and led a thousand more just to keep his baby safe at home. To wake up to Y/N making his favorite waffles on a lazy Sunday morning.

It should have been him. He should have been in better shape. If only—

After a few days, Levi understood what Adrien meant about the coat in the note. His lost eyes fixed on the piece of clothing that had been cut. His old scout’s jacket, stored in the attic, had been altered. Adrien must have cut and sewn the Wings of Freedom patch onto something else. The house had become a cemetery since the day Adrien left. Y/N hadn’t been able to sleep soundly as she usually did, waking at the slightest sound.

“I thought I heard the front door,” she said, as Levi tried to calm her down in the middle of the night.

Levi hated rock music; he found it too noisy. But one afternoon, he felt compelled to put on one of Adrien’s records. Each second felt like it was squeezing the life out of him.

As the days passed, the missing front page of the newspaper became a sign enough. The news arrived loudly at their home.

“Undaunted. As the higher-ranks abandoned the zone, giving up the strategic petrol supply, Adrien Ackerman held the front lines and won.

A kid worth an entire army, honoring his name.”

Levi’s eyes scanned the paragraphs without emotion. “While all wore the same uniform, Ackerman decided to stick a striking patch to his. ‘They called me powerless, so I made myself an easy target. If they want to come for me, let them come, and I’ll put up a fight,’” the article quoted Adrien.

A scoff escaped Levi’s lips; he had surely inherited his temper.

“I cut and stuck the article to my locker to remind myself who I have to show their place,” Adrien replied when asked about the Paradise press’s coverage.

“LEVI!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the house. He rushed to her side with worry, only to find her smiling softly and sobbing as she watched the black-and-white TV.

The screen showed his baby boy, his comrades ruffling his hair, beer bottles flying in celebration, and citizens offering him drinks. They hadn’t won the war, but it was clear this victory was much needed to lift their spirits. People looked at Adrien with starry eyes, much like they had looked at Levi after their first wins against the Titans.

Levi’s lips trembled as he bit the inside of his cheeks, trying to hold his composure.

“He’s alright,” Y/N whispered, slightly relieved. “God, he got your knack for giving me a heart attack.”

She tried to joke, but noticing her husband’s silence, she turned around. “Oh… Lev…” she sighed, quickly moving to hug him tightly.

Tears streamed down Levi’s cheeks as he watched his baby on the screen, basking in the attention and hope he gave to others. They hadn’t won the war, but for now, it was enough.

“We knew deep down we couldn’t shelter him forever,” Y/N said, caressing him. She understood the weight now on Adrien’s shoulders, responsibilities that had haunted Levi for many years. She sighed, making peace with herself. A part of her had known from the moment she gave birth to an Ackerman that this day would come.

However, through watery eyes, Levi saw something different. Watching the young man on the screen, Levi whispered with a broken voice the same words he had said when Adrien was born.

“He got your smile.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthor @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @storiesofsung @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @r3becca_0 @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @hyuckwon-my-husbands @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[lara4eclipze]

›› bon vin

sypnosis -» it wouldn't hurt to earn a little bit more right? — god forbid you find yourself a sugar mommy

beware -» smut , fluff , age gap , sugar mommy!manon, sweettalk , praise , having sex after an argument , swearing , toxic!manon , mommy kink

talks -» don't ask how i thought of this I just did

taglist (open): @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

red = can't tag

saying you were broke was an understatement you were actually on your last legs — college was hard and so expensive yet you obviously wanted to graduate so you started working

you got yourself a job as a waiter in some fancy restaurant , sometimes you got good tips mostly you'll just get berated by some snobby rich men — well you at least get to see beautiful women almost every day, some too old for you and some just straight up well straight

today wasn't any special — you were on your last shift and only had about an hour left till closing

"y/n — table 6 is seated , you know what to do" your manager says snapping you out of your thoughts — you walk towards the table bringing some complementary bread and water

"hello miss — welcome to the restaurant , what can I get you started with?" the woman looked no older than 25 yet she had this mature aura to her , her clothing looked expensive a fur coat lining her mid back and a black dress with her back exposed

gorgeous, you thought to yourself

"hi darling — what do you recommend?" she asks , her voice was beautiful like honey dripping — her eyes were captivating she was alluring

"oh well — our sirloin steaks are something to get you going , perfectly cooked by our head chefs" you said smiling at her offering the menu to show what you were previously talking about

"perfectly? — we'll see , I'd have that with some of your favorite wine" she reads your name tag "y/n... gorgeous name darling"

"thank you miss — I'm not much of a wine drinker myself but our red wine is spectacular" you replied , gosh did she just flirt to you? — keep your cool y/n

"thank you darling — that'll be under ms.bannerman" she replied handing you her card , well not any card a black card— so she was rich rich , you swiped her card and gave her the receipt, it was what the restaurant you worked in did — to ensure that the card will go through

𝜗𝜚

since then she's been a frequent customer and she always requested your section — and obviously college was getting hefty especially with graduations approaching , the only way you could earn more was to pick up more shifts

well that's until she offered you a deal — one you fought yourself to accept

"I can take you in , and you'll only have to worry about studying nothing else" manon says as she tries to persuade you onto being her sugar baby , first where's your self respect if you accep-

"that seems amazing" you replied , without further thinking manon hired help to help you move out of your shabby apartment

her house was like those expensive movie sets where the main character is a nepo baby — the halls were furnished with exquisite paintings and dozens of doors were everywhere, you got lost during the first day trying to find where the hell the bathroom was ; not knowing you had one in your room

it took a bit of time to get used to your life now , that's the main reason you got your own room for at least 2 weeks before you got comfortable enough to sleep next to manon

she wasn't home for 8 hours everyday , as an act of gratitude to her you would cook her frequently ordered food from the restaurant and surprise her with it

𝜗𝜚

you were in deep trouble today — you didn't really ask for permission from manon but you went out with your friends till midnight

now sneaking in the house you tried your best to avoid making any sound in hopes of not waking her up

"where have you been?" you hear the older woman mutter , fuck — she was sitting on the sofa her hair still beautifully tied up

"out studying..." you replied, who were you fooling who wears a black tight dress when studying especially at midnight? — "oh so now you can lie to me?" manon says her teeth are gritting standing up and she drags you from your wrist , your protest useless

you could sense her anger , not only at you coming home late but also attempting to conceal it with a badly made up lie

she pushes open the door towards your shared room , and throws you on the bed — soon she sits on your waist her hands on your jaw as she forces you to look at her

"if you ever lie to me again I'll make sure you won't be able to leave this house for a month" she threatens — you swallow a lump in your throat actually scared at what might happen

she roughly kisses you her hands fumbling with your dress — manon's fingers hiked up till it was on the apex of your thighs pressing on your clothed clit

the moans you let go were so sweet to hear — manon could've easily forgotten why she was mad , she sucks and soothes parts of your neck leaving hickeys that are sure to bloom into a darker purple later

before you can even process it her fingers were already knuckles deep in you hitting all the spots you needed her in "fuck! — mo-mommy!" you whine as she curls her fingers deeper , manon then kisses your chest trailing her tongue along the line of your cleavage

"good job darling you're taking me so well" she whispers her fingers still mercilessly going fast in you , she feels you clench around her tighter sensing your impending orgasm she made sure to hit deeper spots that got you whining and thrashing under her

"gonn'a cum!" you manage to whine before you cum all over her fingers messing up the sheets below you — she moans feeling your nectar run down her fingers , she places one of her fingers in her mouth licking up the remnants rolling back her eyes at the exquisite taste

"you did so well darling — next time you'll tell me when you're going out okay? , and who are you going out with" manon whispers as you lay in bed partially knocked out by the post orgasmic bliss

you nod unable to form words , she hugs you closely resting your head in the crook of her neck as she whispers sweet nothings into your ears until you fell asleep

[solxamber]

hello hello! hope your well^^

For the mini holiday event,

[Octavinelle, 2, Comedy]

Is that OK? If your inbox is flooded w requests, feel free to skip mine, though!

it's completely fine! i'm having so much fun with this event so don't worry about it!

Kitchen Nightmare || Floyd Leech

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Cooking/Baking together ; Genre: Comedy

You should’ve known better than to trust Floyd in a kitchen.

“Floyd, what are you doing?”

Floyd’s standing at the stove, humming an off-key tune with the most ominous grin you’ve ever seen. His sleeves are rolled up, there’s an entire octopus dangling from his hands, and the pot on the stove is bubbling ominously like a witch’s cauldron.

“Cookin’,” he chirps, completely unbothered. “What’s it look like, Shrimpy?”

“It looks like you’re summoning a sea monster.”

“Even better! We’re havin’ octopus stew!”

You freeze. “Floyd, Azul's an octo-mer”

“Yup! That’s why it’s extra funny.”

Before you can question that logic, the door creaks open, and in walks Azul. He takes one look at Floyd’s wild grin, the bubbling pot, and the suspiciously large octopus carcass being stuffed into it headfirst. The sound of Floyd’s cackling fills the room like background music to a horror movie.

Azul pauses mid-step. “...I’ll come back later.”

He turns and backs away so quickly, it’s like you just caught him fleeing a crime scene.

“Azul, wait! HELP ME!” you yell, but he’s already gone.

Floyd snorts, clearly pleased. “Heh, Boss is such a scaredy fish. S’not like it’s his cousin.”

You gape at him. “Is it your cousin?!”

“Nah,” he says cheerfully. “But wouldn’t that make it more exciting?”

“Floyd, that’s disturbing.”

He doesn’t answer, just stirs the pot like the unhinged chef he is, muttering things like, “Nice and tender~” and “This’ll be so good it’ll knock your fins off.”

Your survival instincts kick in. “You know what? I think I’ll stick to sandwiches.”

“Nuh-uh, Shrimpy!”

You don’t even have time to blink before Floyd’s behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other waving a spoonful of ominous-looking stew in front of your face like it’s some sort of prize.

“Come on, just one bite~”

“Floyd, I will scream.”

“Oh~ Then I’ll just make you louder.” He’s grinning way too much for your liking, and you’re pretty sure he’s not letting go until you try the stew.

“Fine! FINE!” You swat at the spoon, grabbing it from him with an overly dramatic sigh. “But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

He lets you go with a triumphant hum, leaning way too close as you hesitantly bring the spoon to your mouth. You close your eyes, fully prepared for disaster.

And then—

It’s… good.

You freeze mid-chew. Your brain can’t even process it properly. “Wait a minute.”

Floyd beams. “Told ya it’d knock your fins off!”

“Floyd, what the hell—this is actually delicious.”

“Right?!”

You stare at the stew like it’s personally betrayed you. “No. No way. There’s no reason it should taste this good when it looks like that.”

Floyd’s grinning so wide you’re worried his face might split in two. “Guess I’m just a natural-born chef, huh?”

You glance at him, then back at the spoon, and then back at him again, spiraling into some sort of crisis. “I don’t understand. This is unfair. I was ready to mock you for life.”

“Guess you’ll have to praise me instead,” Floyd sing-songs, rocking back and forth on his heels. “C’mon, admit it, Shrimpy! I’m amazin’!”

You sigh, dramatically collapsing against the counter. “I hate that you’re good at this. I’m so conflicted.”

Floyd cackles, shoving another spoonful toward you like a proud toddler. “Here, eat more! I made enough to feed, like, the whole ocean.”

“I’ll eat it, but I refuse to compliment you further,” you grumble, accepting the bite begrudgingly.

Floyd’s grin only widens as he watches you eat. “You’re so fun to mess with, Shrimpy~”

And for once, you can’t even argue with him.

Masterlist

[hysteria-things]

PLEASE MAKE A MEET AND GREET PART 2

♛ TWO ° •

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you miss matt like crazy, and can’t help but to send a dirty photo to him…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, suggestive, masturbation (female), there might be more idk

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 751

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i swear ghost and BFB part two will be coming soon🫡

thank you for 2.6K btw i love you all very much :)

texting your celebrity crush is like what happens in movies or wattpad, but the fact that you're doing just that still blows your mind. however, it's not as mindblowing when you had sex with said celebrity crush three days ago.

biting your lip, you giggle and tap on your phone like there's no tomorrow.

“are you even watching the movie? you seem to be more intrigued with your phone instead.” hannah says, leaning to the coffee table to grab the remote and pause the TV. “you’re never so glued to your phone. is it a boy? do i know him? what does— is that a hickey?”

pausing mid-type, you place your phone down and try to cover the healing hickey on your neck with your hair. “…no.”

“oh my god, it so is!” she gasps, smiling wide. “who the hell are you fucking? is it the person you're texting? when did it happen?”

“you ask a lot of questions, you know that?” you joke, trying to maneuver this conversation.

“y/n, come on. i’m your best friend. best friends tell each other everything.”

you sigh. she’s right, you guys do tell each other everything. clearing your throat and fidgeting with your hands, you try to find words to explain the recent events in your life.

“so… remember when i went to the bathroom at the sturniolo’s tour? and left you standing outside for an hour?”

she rolls her eyes. “yeah.”

“what if i told you that i actually didn’t go to the bathroom, and matt snuck me on the tour bus and… bentmeoverthetableandfuckedtheshitoutofme?”

she looks at you with eyebrows furrowed, confused as hell. “what?”

you exhale. “matt bent me over the table and may or may not have fucked the shit out of me?”

her face now morphs to shock, trying to read your body language to see if you’re lying. “what the fuck? is that why you came out limping and looking like you got manhandled?”

“yes.”

she blinks, shaking her head to take in this sudden information. “was the dick at least good?”

biting your lip, you nod. “duh.”

“hello?” you say innocently into the phone, running your hand from your stomach into your underwear.

matt’s leaning against the wall in a hallway that the venue has, far away so nobody can see nor hear him. “hi, y/n.” he chuckles.

you pout, rubbing your clit hard to get some sort of sensation rubbing through your body. “hi, matt.”

he licks his teeth and smiles smugly, knowing exactly why you wanted him to call. “whatcha doing?”

with fluttering eyes, your finger moves to your folds, moving up and down on your slit slowly. your breath hitches. “t-touching myself.” you whine. “thinking about you.”

as much as matt wants to do it himself, he can’t. the ache in his pants will last until after the show, that’s for sure.

“is that so?” he teases. you feel your wetness start to pool. “what’re thinking about, hm?”

“about the other night.” you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip. after a few long strokes, you’re wet enough to slip a finger inside.

he sighs, adjusting the phone on his ear. “you mean when i bent you over the table and bred you? or when i tongue-fucked you to where you couldn’t stand?”

moaning loudly, you insert a second finger and move them rapidly. “b-both. god, i miss the way you feel.”

“i wish i could fuck you dumb again.” he says lowly, hearing your pants and arousal all in one. “screaming so pathetically beneath me. isn’t that right?”

even though he can’t hear you, you still nod your head, arching your back when that spot gets hit at just the right angle. “yes, matt!” you moan loudly. “i miss you. i miss you so much! fuck, i’m going to cum. please let me cum.”

you ramble on as he stands there quietly to listen. the way your sounds get louder and faster the more your orgasm builds. “go ahead. nobody’s stopping you.”

clawing at the sheets with your eyes rolling back, you rut your hips on your fingers when you feel your release coat them.

“good luck tonight,” you mumble, trying to catch your breath.

he laughs, checking the time with a sigh. “i have to go. i’ll make sure to win for you.”

you hang up the phone, and not even a minute later, a picture comes rolling in. you love that he’s acting like you didn’t just cum to his voice.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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