#this is becoming longer than i thought it would be...

[caramelkoo]

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

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Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing. 

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off? 

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile. 

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.” 

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?” 

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have. 

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.” 

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter. 

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?” 

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No. 

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes. 

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves. 

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it. 

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides. 

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me. 

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense. 

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.” 

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?” 

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything? 

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?” 

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you. 

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

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“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always. 

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.” 

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing. 

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?” 

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?” 

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.” 

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices. 

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work. 

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?” 

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice 

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it? 

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew. 

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness. 

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness. 

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?” 

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries. 

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up. 

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.” 

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss” 

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing. 

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate. 

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

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Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won. 

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off. 

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know? 

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him. 

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade? 

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory. 

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man. 

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?” 

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones. 

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.” 

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?” 

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?” 

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle. 

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways. 

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off. 

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh. 

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back. 

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The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room. 

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C��mon.” 

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps. 

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you. 

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. 

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.” 

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive. 

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.” 

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?” 

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod. 

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-” 

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows. 

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway. 

“Excuse me.” 

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?” 

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.” 

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad. 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?” 

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.” 

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before. 

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision. 

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter. 

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him. 

“You fucking bitch.” 

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished. 

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize. 

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe” 

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care. 

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you. 

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back. 

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”. 

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?” 

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.” 

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At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question. 

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her. 

Initially, it bothered him. A lot. 

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?” 

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse. 

Thump thump thump. 

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.” 

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.” 

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.” 

And he does. For now. 

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one. 

Just when he thinks  _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?” 

“Come here.” 

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.” 

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?” 

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.” 

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint. 

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers. 

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine. 

The feeling is very much mutual. 

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting. 

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will. 

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it. 

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily. 

“Please.” she begs. 

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?” 

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.” 

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her. 

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her. 

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock. 

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that. 

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car. 

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.” 

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?” 

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?” 

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers. 

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own. 

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick. 

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.” 

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?” 

“As sure as one can be.” 

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers. 

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her. 

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch. 

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her. 

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure. 

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name. 

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?” 

She cries out. 

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god” 

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.” 

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again. 

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders. 

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate. 

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts. 

“What?” 

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes” 

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?” 

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words. 

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry. 

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.” 

[movie-robotnik-positivity]

I don't think Robotnik ever saw Stone's affection as genuine. He's used to people only valuing him if he's useful. His own bosses call him a freak, yet they put up with him because of his "perfect operation record". He isn't even shocked when he learns the goverment erased him, he expected it and had a contingency plan ready.

He keeps calling Stone a sycophant and a barnacle, because why else would someone stay with him if not to gain something? Clearly, Stone is just a suck-up wanting to ride his coattails. And Ivo is fine with that! He gets his ego stroked and in return Stone gets a slice of the world-domination pie. Mutually beneficial!

This symbiotic relationship gives Ivo a sense of control and ensures that Stone won't abandon him like everyone else. It also keeps him detached: of course Stone waited months or him to return from space, that's his job. His admiration is inevitable, and meaningless.

Ivo develops a genuine, irrational attachment to Stone, one he's able to rationalize as just being transactional. Those emotional walls shield him from the fear of abandonment that comes with caring for another person.

Except...even after Robotnik becomes a liability, Stone stays. There's no benefit, no plans of ruling humanity, not even a paycheck. Yet despite everything, Ivo tries to keep the old boss/employee dynamic going. He can't fathom the idea that someone would stay for anything other than convenience.

Then Gerald shows up, and for the first time Ivo allows himself to put down those walls. As an orphan he had built up this idealized image of family that he thought he could never have. People will use you then toss you aside when convenient, but family? Family is different. Family will always be there for you and love you no matter what. Family won't abandon you.

And suddently Stone's grovelling is no longer necessary. Why would he need someone who just pretends to like him when he now has all the unconditional love he's always longed for? That's obviously why Stone got so jealous, it couldn't have been real concern, he was just afraid of losing his comfy position as the lapdog of humanity's new king. Between a sycophant and family, the choice felt obvious.

And, of course, Gerald turns out to be just like everyone else in Ivo's life: just another person trying to get something from him. The second he stopped being useful, he was tossed aside.

His image of family is once again shattered, but those emotional walls are already down. Now that Ivo experienced that betrayal he was so afraid of, now that he's about to die, he's finally able to be honest with himself.

Looking down on Earth, he realizes there had only ever been one person on that blue marble who actually cared. Someone who had always been there, even when there was nothing to gain. Stone had never abandoned him.

But he had abandoned Stone. He tossed him aside, just like Gerald did to him. Now that he's able to understand how Stone felt, this is his last chance to make things right.

In his final moments, with nothing to fear, Robotnik puts down his emotional walls and opens up as best as he can. Stone had done so much for him, asked for nothing in return, and now it was his turn to do the same. Ivo helped save the world, not for recognition or convenience, but simply out of love.

Stone had always been a sycophant to him, yes, but he had also been a friend. A sycofriend.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[lightseoul]

a/n. i really don't know where i'm going with this, y'all. but getting to role-play as a therapist and explore bakugou's psyche has been lots of fun, so bear with me. please let me know what you think and/or would want to see! maybe that'll give me an idea lol. (1.1k)

navigation. part 1, part 2, (you are here)

“n-no.”

at that, the woman’s eyebrows shoot up, disappearing underneath her fringe. “no?”

“you heard me,” bakugou spits instinctively, immediately regretting how hostile that sounded not even a second later. “i mean, no, i didn’t.”

his therapist, apparently unfazed by his show of aggression—she must’ve gotten used to it by now, although he still feels bad when he gets testy—only jots something down in her clipboard before looking back up at him, an inexplicable expression etched across her features.

“do you have any ideas, then, why, for the first time in seemingly forever, you’re fixating on a particular social encounter?”

bakugou barely manages to bite back a scowl.

he hates it—this part. the part where his psychologist obviously has theories as to why he’s acting a certain way or how he’s actually feeling but chooses to ask him instead, in an attempt to draw it out of him.

as if talking about difficult shit in the first place isn’t already painful enough.

and isn’t that what he’s paying her to do? give him answers? why’d he have to be the one to wrack his brain for uncomfortable answers to uncomfortable questions?

“do you?” he then challenges, emboldened by that train of thought just now.

“yes,” she responds truthfully and without missing a beat it somewhat surprises him. “but as i’ve explained to you before, i think it’ll be helpful for you if we try a more active approach on your end so that any insights gleaned from our discussions become more personalized and stick with you longer.”

well, then. fuck.

the lady’s got a point.

“so,” she continues when he doesn’t reply, annoyingly aware her little spiel got to him, “any ideas? working hypotheses?”

“uh,” he starts begrudgingly, eyes roving over the bookshelves lining the room’s walls as he struggles to come up with another angle. then it dawns on him, and he looks directly at the woman. “i didn’t expect to see someone in here, and when i did, it caught me off guard.”

“that may be because most of our clients opt for virtual consultations rather than face-to-face ones.”

“yeah,” he piles on quickly, admittedly thankful for the validation, and for the fact. the absolute last thing he needs is to bump into some extras before and after therapy. “that must be why.”

“but how does that explain your, and i quote, ‘dumb as shit reaction’?”

bakugou instantly feels himself flame. he clears his throat, “i told you, didn’t i? it caught me off guard. how the fuck did you expect me to react?”

that must’ve been a reasonable point, thank the fuck, because the woman pauses in thought before nodding slowly. “i suppose you’re right.”

he narrowly bites back an of course, i am.

but then she’s spouting off again.

“although it’s interesting to me how your immediate reaction was to say hi, when that’s not really…how should i say, your style, based on our prior sessions and your personality test results.”

a pause.

bakugou scrambles for a bulletproof rebuttal. he comes up short.

the lady cocks her head to the side, curious. “how often would you say you mull over social blunders?”

never, he thinks to himself. because they never happen.

“i figured as much,” comes her unexpected reply, and only then does it dawn on him that he said the last bit out loud.

“can we talk about something else?” he finds himself suddenly asking, totally over this entire conversation. he can worry about being a loser and pathetically begging for an out some other time. right now, he just needs a break.

“actually, you’re in luck,” she checks her smartwatch, “the session’s just about to end.”

at that, his shoulders almost instantly sag in relief, which makes the woman laugh. he shoots her a half-hearted glare.

they spend the next few minutes summarizing what has been discussed, as well as the arrangements for the following weeks, with bakugou eventually throwing his bag over his shoulders and bidding her a mumbled goodbye. he tosses her a nod over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold of her office, mind already drifting to what he’s going to cook himself for dinner.

and that, for a typical session, he’s walking out relatively unscathed.

but then he does the stupid thing of looking up from where he was studying his trainers when a door creaks open, and he freezes.

because standing a few feet away from him, right beside the entrance to the restroom, is you, equally frozen.

he doesn’t know how much time passes with him just staring at you like a motherfucking idiot, and you, strangely enough, peering at him back, but it’s you who eventually takes a hammer to the silence.

“h-hi,” you offer, voice soft and quiet, just like how he vaguely remembers it from two weeks ago.

“hey,” comes his gruff reply, which would’ve been immediately followed by a wince at how rough his tone was just now had he not stopped himself in the nick of time.

at least he didn’t stutter.

“…b-bakugou, right?” you ask after a moment of neither of you saying anything, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“right.”

you nod, a polite yet somehow stilted smile on your face, and suddenly he’s mentally slapping himself. since when was he fucking bound to one-word sentences?

he decides then and there that this shit won’t do.

in an attempt to convince himself that no, this is just a weird outlier of an encounter for him, and that no, he’s not a fucking idiot like dunce face, and that yes, he is and is being perfectly fucking normal, he resolves to ask you for your name.

and he was just about to do that—he swears he was—when someone from the other side of the door calls out a name, and you whip to face their direction, breaking eye contact.

“yes, doc!” you holler back, and he watches you as you hesitate in place for a second, before turning to face him with an awkward smile.

“nice meeting you, bakugou-san.”

and then you’re off and shutting the door behind you.

he stands there for what feels like a few minutes, just blinking at the door in front of him, what must be your name echoing—again and again—up to the far recesses of his mind.

then: fuck.

he may or may not have just lied to his therapist.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @kalulakunundrum @cheezemanz @gold24fish @lunaryasha

[sebsbarnes]

unspoken || minho moon

minho x reader

summary: there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable.

warnings: angst! insecurity. probably a few grammar errors

word count: 950+

masterlist

a/n: i fear i couldn't resist writing for him. first work for him so there isn't others in the masterlist. i wrote this pretty quick so i apologize in case.

you always fought, but that night you didn't.

it was inevitable that when you and minho were around, some sort of bickering would ensue. it was as if the friendship you had relied on those sharp-tongued comments and eye rolls. there was some enjoyment in the banter; you could always rely on minho to be as quick-witted as you. most of the time, it was truly nonsense and comical to those around you, but sometimes he took it too far.

he would cross a boundary, known or unknown, and the aftermath was either venomous words spilling off your tongue or complete silence and avoidance.

it hurt, to ignore him. act like minho wasn't there. sure you would come around to him after a few days and pick right back up where you left off. and yes maybe it was unfair to ignore him after an argument, but that was you, that's what you did.

what you've really come to recognize is these silly little arguments hurt because you had feelings for minho. you hated the giddy feeling you had when he was around. the slight heat to your cheeks when he gave a real, genuine, compliment. the sizzling sensation that coursed through your skin when his hand brushed against you. or the way it felt like your chest was caving in on you and your lungs were screaming for help when minho confessed to q that he had a crush on someone, someone that isn't you.

so here you were avoiding him after he made an innocent remark about his crush. it shouldn't have, but it rubbed you the wrong way and perhaps it was because of the newfound knowledge of your feelings towards minho.

the evening was approaching and soon the sun would exchange places with the moon. the friday night would come alive and the sounds of eager students heading off campus would echo into the night, almost taunting you in your sadness. there was a nice footpath you've called home for the last week. after classes were finished you found yourself walking on the winding path away from school, taking in the fresh air and allowing yourself some peace. nestled a few feet away from the path was a small gazebo with a picnic table in the center. you sat down and allowed your eyes to close, soaking in the tranquility of nature away from the dizziness of life.

"hey..." a voice called out ripping you back to reality.

the voice. his voice. in this moment it made you feel sick. you swear you could feel the bile rising up and threatening to escape. your vision went white. heart beating so hard you could've sworn you saw its outline rising from your chest.

"hey minho," you exhaled as he sat across from you.

his throat bobbed, "how are you?"

you hummed in response, unsure what to say.

the silence between you stretches longer than it ever has. there was no space for quick-witted responses or light-hearted banter. minho didn't know what was the reason for your absence, but he missed you. when he looked at you your eyes didn't hold that mischief it normally possessed. he knew this was not a moment for a sarcastic quip.

"talk to me," minho nearly pleaded, eyes dancing across your face.

you paused trying to find a way to convey your thoughts to minho without confessing your feelings, "have you ever realized something too late?"

his eyebrow pulled up on his face, "well...of course, yeah. i think we all have."

"like, the thing is right there," you nearly laughed, "right in front of you the whole time. but by the time you realize, it's gone, it's moved on like everything else. i realized the importance of it too late."

you looked to minho who sat silently as you rambled. his eyes were clear of any judgment or jokes. the typical smirk etched on his lips was erased. his brows pulled softly together, a delicate ridge separating them. you watched as his hand snaked up from his lap and cradled your hand. his fingers lazily intertwining with your own.

"you know you can tell me anything," he said softly, his accent lighter.

you offered him a small smile. not a fake one, a real one. you could tell minho everything, everything but this. not when he is interested in someone else, you can't ruin that for him. can't ruin your friendship.

he sensed the hesitation, "...c'mon," he urged gently, eyes hopeful.

there was a moment of consideration as you gnawed on the inside of your mouth. the weight of your secret was becoming unbearable. all you wanted to do was scream at the top of your lungs for every person in KISS and for every star in the galaxy to hear that you were falling for minho. but before you could open your mouth and string together all the consonants and vowels for 'minho i'm falling for you' his phone rang.

minho's hand slid out from yours leaving you feeling icy but not as icy as the blood coursing through your body as you watched a shy smile adorn his face. one of his hands ran through his hair, a movement he did when he was feeling nervous, in a good way. you sat in agonizing silence waiting for him to hang up.

a pink hue dusted across his cheeks, "that was uh-"

"go," you replied softly, barely above a whisper, "have fun."

the moonlight that illuminated your face was now blocked my minho's standing figure. if you could, you wanted to be swallowed by his shadow into the darkness.

"oh. what were you going to say before the call?" minho asked.

you shook your head, "it was nothing."

[thechaoticcherub]

Cherub

Pairing: Priest!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Reader is a student teacher at the Catholic nursery school attached to the church she attended growing up. While becoming disillusioned with being a teacher she runs into the church's priest that she has known since he taught her confirmation classes.

Warnings: 18+ please, large age gap, power dynamics, dubcon(?), priests, catholicism, lots of religious imagery, i mean i am GOING TO HELL, blatant blasphemy, violation of holy spaces, joel is a PERVERT, some mentions of him being interested in reader as a underage teenager(no actual underage anything), masturbation, sexual shame, humiliation, embarrassment, innocence kink, virgin reader, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, light choking(not even really choking), rough sex, pussy pronouns, no use of y/n, religious trauma, i really gotta underscore how much I violate holy things from christianity, smoking, cigarettes, cum play, lots of pet names, no daddy kink but lots of calling him Father

Notes: Okay please bless me lord for I have SINNED. this is FILTH even thought there isn't like constant smut it might be the dirtiest thing i've written? I'm so sorry to Catholics everywhere. And I'm sorry if I fucked up terminology. I tried to do lots of research but you know, liturgical shit is hard to understand. also yeah, i get how much this is more writer insert than reader considering the title. Ahem. I'm sorry this is again not really edited or beta read. sorry. Well I hope you enjoy!

OH! also: I have a playlist for this if anyone would be interested, let me know!

Word Count: 6.4 K

🎀👼🏻Home | Ask | Masterlist👼🏻🎀

It had been a long week at Holy Trinity Catholic Nursery School and you were exhausted, when you had first started your student teaching unit you had been beyond excited to be back at the church you grew up going to. You were familiar with the facilities including the big, beautiful sanctuary and the priest who still presided over the Parish was the priest who had done confirmation with you. Father Joel Miller had always been a slightly off-beat, interesting, yet intimidating choice for priest of a Catholic church. He was known for smoking Marlboro Reds in his office, having a scruffy unshaven face, giving short homilies in his gruff Texan accent and seeming more like a cowboy than a priest. 

There was something about him though that had always sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver, or something sinister. He was handsome, that was a known fact around the church when you were growing up, the other girls in your confirmation class giggled about it and  even now your co-workers at the nursery school often made jokes or teasing comments to each other. He had to be in his mid-fifties now with greying stubble and hair and lines around his eyes and forehead but yes, you did still find him attractive, but it didn’t shake the sense that your tingling sense of something might not have been entirely positive. 

Maybe it was the simple fact that his eyes always had lingered on you for longer than you felt necessary. Even when you were a young teenager in his confirmation classes, learning prayers, handing in your sermon notes, sitting in mass every Sunday, you felt his eyes on you. You never understood what it was about you that made him look for so long but he had. Now that you were working on becoming a teacher like you had always hoped, you found that when he came to visit the classrooms, he spent his time asking you questions about the classroom instead of the lead teachers. That was easy to brush off as maybe he felt like he was helping you learn, but when you brought the children to the main church for their daily prayers his eyes would spark on you and he would come to you first when he gave a blessing to everyone. His hand resting on your forehead as he spoke his short blessing before drawing the sign of the cross on your forehead with his thumb, his eyes stuck on yours as if he would never look away. Eventually he always did, moving on to each individual child and adult from your classroom, but he didn’t linger with any of them the way he lingered with you. 

Now, as the day was coming to a close you had snuck away from the classroom to try and escape the exhaustion that was working with children day in and day out. You had always wanted to be a Nursery school teacher but now that you were experiencing a classroom you understood why burnout was so common. You had made up a bad excuse and snuck down the cool hallway, away from the school portion of the building,  to the candle lit nave, you weaved your way through the pews over to the side aisle lined with stone arches. You took a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of the cutesy dress you wore because of your ridiculous desire to be the next Ms Frizzle. In your opinion, just under the arches to the side of the pews was the best place to sneak away to and smoke without being in too much danger of being caught. The incense that was regularly burned covered up most of the smell, you could enjoy the view of the sanctuary and the altar while you smoked and it was usually deserted. You tucked yourself under one of the arches, your back pressed into the cool stone and lit up. Taking a long inhale you relished in the fact that you weren’t surrounded by screaming preschoolers. It was allowing yourself these couple minutes away from the chaos of the end of the day that made this week bearable. You smoked and tapped the ash off onto the stone floor, rubbing it into the cracks with your foot as you went. 

“You ain’t sposed to be smokin’ in here, young lady.” The voice came from a few yards away by the priest’s door that opened into the sanctuary by the altar, you jumped and turned to face the man whose voice it was. Father Miller was watching you as he walked across the sanctuary, first past the altar and then the pulpit and down through the central gap between the altar rails. You felt frozen in place, you had smoked here multiple times and no one had ever come in and of course now, it was Father Miller who had found you here. He stood in front of the first pew and crossed his arms over his chest, still watching you. 

“Shit,” you said, unsure of what to do with the lit cigarette. Usually when you were done smoking you’d put it out on the floor and rub out the mark and shove the butt into the pack to get rid of later. Now he was there and the smoke from your cigarette filtered up above you, curling against the stone arch and then dispersing. 

“Got a fresh mouth on you too,” He added with a laugh. “Never knew that about you before,” he crossed in front of the pew, walking towards you. You felt like a small animal caught in a trap and he was some kind of giant predator stalking towards you. He was wearing all black, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his clerical collar was bright white against the black of the shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Father, I…didn’t think-” You broke off because really you didn’t think you would be caught, not that you didn’t think it would be a problem or anything. Joel’s eyes widened a little as he waited for you to finish your sentence, he turned at the end of the pew to walk along the side aisle to the first arch where you were still trapped. His finger grazed alone the  wood of the pew, 

“You didn’t think…?” He prompted when your voice faltered. You shrugged, 

“I don’t have an excuse, Father.” You admitted. Father Miller walked right up to you in your alcove that you thought would be so secret and stood in front of you. You remembered how intimidated by him you had always been, suddenly you felt fifteen again, having to recite scripture and prayers correctly in your weekly confirmation classes. Your heart thudded in your chest as he looked down at you, he was tall, broad and as he stood so close to you, popping any sort of personal space bubble you thought you had, you realized you could smell him. Tobacco, cool mint, fresh sweat and then underneath it all, an acrid heat, almost metallic. It mingled into something not unpleasant but it did mean he was too close. 

“Go ahead and smoke that, kid.” Joel’s eyes moved from yours down towards the cigarette dangling in your fingers and he nodded slowly, encouraging you. 

“I-I shouldn’t…” You stuttered, still looking up at him, almost transfixed on his face, still frozen there half with fear, half just trapped in his gaze. 

“No, you shouldn’t…but you already are, cherub, may as well finish.” Joel said and you watched as a sly smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. Cherub. Not typically did a priest use any sort of nickname for a parishioner, let alone a pet name like that. If anything they would say “my child” if in confession. Cherub sent that familiar shiver down your spine, a memory surfaced of that word on his lips years before. It had been to you then too,

“Say a hail mary and you will be absolved, cherub.” You must have confessed something to him or done something wrong in class.  Your heart sped at the memory and your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was telling you to smoke, daring you to and there was no reason not to anymore. It wasn’t like he didn’t smoke in the church, Mr. Marlboro Reds in his office. So you held his gaze as best you could and lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. You blew the smoke away from him and he watched you, like he had so many times before. 

“Aint you supposed to be with the kids?” He asked, still standing to close, his scent still wafting over you, still just watching you smoke. 

“Yes,” You said softly, “But I needed…a minute away,” You didn’t even want to admit how much you needed to get away from your job, your responsibilities but the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. You hurriedly brought the cigarette up to your lips again, as if to silence yourself.

“A minute away…” Joel repeated, “To pray?” He asked, his voice mocked you because even though you were in the church, you weren’t lighting a candle or on your knees asking for peace. You were smoking and feeling bad for yourself. You started to shake your head, the cigarette dangling from your lips now, before you could even complete the motion his hand was on your chin, halting your movement.  His thick thumb dug into one side of your jaw, his pointer finger curled down the other side. Breath, and all thought was knocked out of you. All you could do was look up at the chiseled face above you.  There was grey in the scruff on his cheeks and peppering his mustache and  his chin was tilted up as his eyes looked down on you, examining your face. The old priest shouldn’t have been touching you like this, you knew that but your feet wouldn’t work, your stomach twisted and the shiver running up and down your spine still couldn’t make up its mind about whether it was a good shiver or a bad shiver. “I think you need’ta get on your knees to pray more often,” his voice had lowered slightly but the gruff resonance in it was enough to shake you. You thought for a half second he was about to force your to your knees now but instead he reached up with his other hand and plucked the dangling cigarette from your lips. He put it into his mouth, inhaled and then removed it, taking a step away from you,

“Thanks, cherub.” he said and then he turned on his  nice leather shoes and walked back up through the pews. 

+

You didn’t return to the church to smoke again. You did tell yourself you would go to mass more often. The thoughts you were having about that evening were completely unholy, and you needed to force them out of your mind. You needed to take the Eucharist and try and heal yourself from these sins of the flesh. For the first time in a long time you had been tempted, really tempted to do something you knew was wrong. When you were young you had touched yourself plenty but as you got older you became more and more disgusted by your actions and resisted it, knowing self love was sinful, but that interaction with Father Joel Miller had you thinking things that made your body heat up. The crawling shiver up your spine had been a warning, a warning about feelings that had bubbled up in your tummy and how it would be so easy for those feelings, those desires, wants, needs to take over. It was your own dirty mind that was allowing you to believe it was because of Father Joel looking at you that you got that creeping sensation. He was a priest, a little bit of an unorthodox priest, but a priest nonetheless and you were allowing dirty thoughts to change your opinion of him. So going to mass was a good idea. 

You didn’t allow yourself to look at Father Miller during the service on Sunday, but his gruff voice speaking his homily reminded you vividly of the way he said “cherub”. The way he had told you that you needed to “get on your knees to pray.” You could barely pay attention to his words because simply his voice, that resounding, husky voice did something to you and warmth pooled deep in your belly. It felt like there was a persistent drip of warmth sliding lower down, lower to that place that remained mostly unexplored by you, by anyone. All because of his voice.

You felt like it vibrated through the floor of the church and up into your pew, making you pulse with your disgusting desires.

You kept your eyes down, on your hymnal, refusing to look up at Father Miller because there was a quiet part of you, in the back of your mind, that told you if you looked at him, you’d be meeting his gaze. That would do absolutely nothing to help control that heat that was pooling inside of you. 

When you stood to go to the altar rails and receive the eucharist your legs were wobbly, damn this weakness. There was no reason to sexualize Father Miller’s kindness to you. He hadn’t gotten you in trouble for smoking in the church and in return you were allowing these debased thoughts to happen to you in church on your way to receive the very body and blood of Christ. While you walked up the aisle, the crucifix directly in front of you, a statue of the Virgin Mary staring into your soul, you could feel that drip of heat wetting your underwear. You tried your hardest to tell yourself it was nothing, it was just natural discharge, not what you knew it to be, your body’s reaction to Father Miller’s voice as he spoke holy words, prayers and talked of repentance during his Homily.

At the altar rail you knelt down on the cushion and clasped your hands in front of you to pray while you waited for your turn to receive communion.  You knew you would have to look at Father Miller while he gave you the body of Christ but you were scared, you had forced yourself to avoid looking at him all throughout mass, you hadn’t met his gaze when you knew he was looking at you and you told yourself time and time again that his gaze meant nothing. But your attempts to curb your desires had been in vain something about his voice, about the memories of his hand on your chin, his body so close to you, his smell had caused you to leak arousal into your underwear. Your labia felt swollen against the tight cotton and you were ashamed to be kneeling in church like this, your face was burning much like you would be if you were to be struck down dead right now. You could hear him approaching, speaking to each parishioner as he placed the body of Christ on their tongue and blessed them. You would have to look up at him shortly, your eyes would have to meet his, you would have to take in that face that had been haunting you while he spoke his blessing to you. He was on the person to your right and now was the time to tilt your head up, you almost didn’t but as he moved over, you knew your place as a good Catholic and you looked up at your priest. 

He was just as entrancing as he always had been, in off white vestments with gold stitching, his greying hair pushed back away from his face, a little long in the back, curling around his neck and his eyes, dark and hungry, staring down at you. Your vagina clenched around nothing and you burned with shame and the memory of his big hand at your chin and jaw. 

Your eyes locked onto his and his gaze held yours, refusing to let you go, there was no choice in the matter, you would gaze up into his eyes until the end of time if he wanted it. He held the body of Christ out to you, your head upturned. At the time you didn’t understand just how reverent you looked, all you could think of was him and the vague worry that your juices might have been dripping down your leg. 

“The body of Christ,” Father Miller’s voice changed ever so slightly when he spoke the words to you. You had been listening the whole time you had been kneeling and now his voice had lost the monotone pitch he had had. There was a lilt in his voice that was only for you. 

“Amen,” You said, you opened your mouth, your tongue very slightly pushed out, resting on the edge of your bottom lip, your eyes still captured in his gaze. Something blazed there, behind his eyes and despite the heat in your cheeks and the heat that was making your wet and swollen vulva pulse with a need you had never felt before, that familiar shiver crawled up your spine. Joel placed the body of Christ on your tongue and maybe you imagined it, maybe it was a split second that felt like it stretched into eternity but you could have sworn the tip of his finger grazed the side of your tongue as he took his hand away. That tiniest touch of his thick, calloused finger against an intimate and sensitive part of yourself made your brow briefly furrow and that deep clench of your sex to take over your body again. You closed your mouth around the wafer that you believed to be the actual flesh of your Savior and your gaze remained on the man granting you that sacrament. You watched his lip twitch ever so slightly as, without taking those dark, burning brown eyes form yours, he took the chalice he was handed and held it before you. 

“The blood of Christ,” he said, you could hear that lilt again, like he was mocking not only you but God himself as he held that chalice out. 

“Amen,” you said and he brought the chalice to your mouth, tilting it back while cupping his hand under your chin in case it spilled over. The proximity of his hand to your chin buzzed something in you. Your eyes remained on him and his eyebrows raised slightly as he fed you the Blood of Christ. When he removed the chalice from your lips, a droplet of the wine dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. You were about to reach up and wipe it when his thumb beat you to it. In one quick motion, he swiped it away, the calloused thumb leaving a trail of heat on your face. You felt him tear his eyes away from you like a punch to the gut and you knew you had to continue on. You made the sign of the cross on yourself, collected every ounce of strength you had and got up from the altar rail. You could feel your slick soaking your underwear, and wetting your thighs as you walked. You knew you had to beg for forgiveness and the only place to do that was Confession. 

+

You knew you had to confess. You hadn’t been able to resist your carnal desires, once you had returned to your apartment after mass on Sunday you had tried your hardest to relieve that mounting pressure between your thighs. You had delicately stroked your folds and experimented with pace and tried to find a rhythm that would relieve you but as if as punishment, you couldn’t. Now, you needed to confess and to make matters worse, the only person you could confess to was Father Miller. You came to confession on a Friday night after school had let out. The hours for confession were set and you knew he would be in the confessional, waiting for perishoners.

Friday was usually silent at the church, the staff had left for the weekend and most people didn’t confess on a Friday. You walked into the church  and down the side aisle to where the confessional was. It was tucked into the side aisle just in front of the very altar rail you had knelt at and drenched your underwear earlier in the week. Your cheeks were bright red as you stepped into the booth and knelt down in front of the partition, there was a screen between you and him but you knew he was there. The smell of him lingered all around you. Tobacco, mint and the acrid metallic scent…what could that be? If you had to guess you’d say gunpowder but that made no sense to you. Your body reacted to his scent as if you were being touched by him again, your body clenched and your heart skipped a beat. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was…” You actually had to think about it for a moment, you had confessed at your church in college but that was over a year ago…was that the last time you had confessed? “Over a year ago,” You mumbled. You paused, unsure if you should just start or if he would say something else. 

“What are your sins, Cherub?” He knew it was you. He’d never say that to someone else. It would have been, “My child”. But no, cherub. You were taken aback by this breach in protocol and you didn’t speak for so long he cleared his throat, “We ain’t gettin’ any younger.” He said. “And your sins aint any closer to absolved,” You needed to speak and speak now, to get all this off of your chest so you could lay it to rest and forget it. 

“I’ve…been plagued with unholy desires, Father.” You said. You could hear him shift in the box next to you and you leaned your head forward, your forehead pressed to the screen separating you. “I’ve been having these intense…” Embarrassment made your cheeks flush, you fiddled with the hem of the skirt you wore today and you knew you had to keep going, “Sexual fantasies,” You blurted it out and you heard him let out a long, slow breath. “I can’t stop them but the thoughts are so intense…and wrong,” You said. You listened to his breathing while your own breathing quickened because the heady scent of him was doing something to you again. Your knees were aching from where they were pressed into the kneeler and your whole body felt tight and tense. 

“You been actin’ on these…fantasies?” He asked. Acting on them? Did an aborted masturbation attempt count as acting on them? In the eyes of the Lord, yes. You needed to admit it to him. 

“Yes, Father…I…I believe I have.” You said it even as you could feel that blooming, dripping heat fill your belly. 

“You believe you have, huh?” He asked, that mocking lilt colored his voice and another shiver crawled up your spine. While the shiver might have been caused by something unholy, it certainly was a good shiver. 

“I’ve touched myself because of these fantasies,” You admitted softly, your fingers still twisting the end of your skirt. “I was never able to…finish but it’s still a sin.” You told him taking a deep breath through your nose, you wondered if he was leaning in towards the screen too. You pulled your head back to look,  you could see bits of him through the latticed wood that created the screen that was supposedly there to protect anonymity.  

“Yea, Cherub, it sure is a sin.” He spoke and the words, his voice was like an injection of heat straight to your core. You had already practically leaked all over the altar rails at communion but now you were going to drip down your thighs in confession. “And I know what your penance should be,” he said. You let out a relieved breath, maybe if you did the penance you would be absolved and God would take the lust from your body. 

“Yes, Father. What should I do?” You asked. You heard Joel lean forward now, his voice was closer to the screen and the seat he was on creaked slightly. 

“You gotta reach your fingers under your skirt and touch yourself again, right here, right now.” His low voice sounded even more gravely than usual and the words burned through you. 

“F-Father?” You questioned, unsure if this could be possible. Your brain was already addled with lust, and this felt wrong but the temptation was so strong. 

“The only way we can absolve you of these sins is to complete them.” He insisted and you knew how wrong he was. Those shivers you felt were warnings of him. But how could you resist this? His voice was like a drug and that scent and the way you remembered the feeling of his fingers on your jaw, the pad of his thumb on your chin at communion, the ridge of his finger on the side of your tongue. “I want you to tell me just how wet you are, kneeling there before God,” Joel’s voice came to you through your lust filled fog and before you could think further you reached your hand up under your skirt and into your underwear. Your fingers immediately slipped over your soaked lips and you let out a gasp at the realization you had been soaking your underwear during the entirety of the confession. 

“Father, it’s…so wet.” You gasped, you heard movement again from his side of the confessional, the rustle of clothing and maybe the clinking of a belt being adjusted. 

“Get those knees nice and wide and stroke your lips for me,” Father Miller said, and you knew he was close to you leaned into the wood lattice screen. You could practically feel his breath. You did as you were told, kneeling a little wider and stroking your lips. You let out a squeak of pleasure, “Nice n’ slow, darlin’” His voice floated through the screen and your fingers slowly, painfully slow stroked along your puffy lips. 

“Oh God,” The words were ripped from you as the tips of your delicate fingers grazed your clitorus and your whole body throbbed. 

“Jus’ your lips, pretty girl, don’t touch that clit of yours.” The filth words coming from your priest's mouth only spurred you on. You wanted to ignore him and touch your clit again, but how had he known you had touched it in the first place? “Stroke down to your hole, cherub,” it was horribly disgusting and lewd to hear him talk like that but it still stoked a terrible fire inside you. You reached your hand farther down, sinking your butt back towards your feet as you knelt. Your finger found your entrance, the source of your wetness and you found yourself longing to push your finger into yourself. As if he heard your very thought Joel chuckled,

“Dont even think about fingerin’ yourself, little girl.” He said. A moan of desperation that matched any of the vulgarity he had spewed to you fell from your lips. “Tell me, cherub, is that a virgin cunt you’ve got over there? Or is there somethin’ else you need to be confessin’ to your Father?” he asked. Your fingers were tracing a circle around your soaked hole, trying to listen to him and not let your finger enter your body. 

“I’m a virgin, Father. Please…” You didn’t know what you were asking for with that please but it felt appropriate. Once you said that, there was a rush of movement and then the door to your side of the confessional was thrown open and Father Miller stood in front of you. You nearly toppled over from where you were kneeling, your hand still shoved into  your underwear.  He made a tsking sound, 

“Oh my little Virgin Mary,” his voice crawled up your spine like the shiver. “I’ve always known you were my good girl,” He reached down to where you were kneeling and wrapped his arm around your upper arm, pulling you up to stand. You gasped and he pulled you out of the confessional, his body moving your weight like it was nothing. His hand tightened on your arm as he pulled you into his body and then it dropped to around your waist and his mouth was on yours, kissing you. It was anything but a chaste kiss, his tongue lavished your mouth, circling yours while his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you locked against his broad, strong body.  When he pulled away from you, you were gasping for breath and he let out a dark chuckle

“Oh, I am going to eat you up, Cherub.” It was a threat, but it made you pulse with need. Joel took your upper arms in his hands again, fingers digging in, “Let’s pray,” he said and he started to pull you over a few feet to the altar rail. In a sharp movement he pushed you down, bent at the waist over the rail, your feet pressed into the kneeler, you squealed in surprise, 

“Father!” You managed to squeak out.

“Let’s see this pretty cunt that’s causin’ you such problems, sweetheart.” Joel growled and with one hand shoved your skirt up and then ripped your undies down, exposing your soaked pussy to him. You whimper in shame and embarrassment. You were so close to the holy altar, staring up at the crucifix while your most private part was exposed to Father Joel Miller. He let out a laugh, as his hand came up to your ass, he grabbed the meat of it, digging his fingers in and spreading it enough to expose more of your pussy to him. 

“Ohhh there she is,” He breathed, he let out a low whistle, “So swollen, so wet.” The fingers of his other hand stroked down your wet lips and in response you spread your legs a little more. “Is that what you want, Cherub?” he asked. You nodded vigorously, completely lost in lust. Joel stroked along your lips up to your clit and he started to flick slow circles around it. Your moans started to echo as he worked you up. “That’s it, enjoy that sin, darlin,” he breathed, leaning over your back to whisper into your ear. You could feel his black button up pressed into your back while his fingers continued to circle around your clit, sending burning pleasure coursing through you. 

“P-please!” You begged, letting yourself go completely to the need for more. “God! Please!” You cried. 

“Please, what?” Joel asked into your ear, you could feel his stubble and mustache against your ear. His scent washed over you, intoxicating you further. 

“Please, I want you inside of me, Father!” You cried, you hadn’t even realized that was what you would say when you opened your mouth but it came tumbling out anyway. His fingers moved from your clit to your entrance where you were clenching on nothing, your cunt was begging for it regardless of what you said. His middle finger circled around your hole, not entering you but noticing how tight you were. Joel pulled back enough to look down at your pussy again, 

“You want me inside of your virgin pussy?” He asked, You nodded before letting your head hang down in shame, the shame of how much you needed it and how much you were willing to sacrifice for it. The temptation of him had been too much. You could feel his eyes on your fluttering sex while he started to ease his finger inside of you. He rocked his finger inside of you and you pressed yourself back against him. 

“Oh cherub, I can see that you’re a virgin.” He said, those greedy, dark eyes on you, still, even now, sending shivers up your spine. His finger had barely made it halfway inside of you when he tugged his finger away. You gasped at the loss and pressed yourself back towards him. 

“Father! No! Please!” You whined, wiggling your hips. 

“If your virginity is gunna be mine, I sure as hell am gunna take it with my cock.” Joel’s molten voice sizzled inside of you and the realization washed over you that you weren’t going to try to stop him, and you were about to be filled with his cock right here in the middle of the church. You heard the buckle of his belt and the shift of clothes, still leaned over the altar railing, legs spread wide, ready to for him to fully know you. 

Joel watched your pussy as he notched his thick cock against your hole, your inner lips were parting for him waiting for your cunt to accept him. 

“Joel,” you gasped his name for the first time as you fully understood what was about to happen. “Is it going to hurt?”You asked. 

“Well it ain’t goin’ to be a walk in the park at first, Cherub.” He said, and you could feel how thick his cock head felt at your entrance“But I think she’ll open up for me,” his voice had that mocking lilt to it again. Before you could say anything else he had started to push into you and the stretch was so much that the breath was completely knocked out of you. You lurched forward as his hips rocked into you. 

“Oh, that looks so good…pretty cunt splittin’ open for me.” He said and you knew he was watching the place where your bodies connected. He pressed himself forward again, forcing his way inside of you, making a spot for his thick cock in your tight hole. You let out a whine and he gripped your hips tugging you back more. “Atta girl, you’re takin’ my cock so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?” he asked and all you could manage was a garbled moan in response. It did hurt some as he continued to ease himself in inch by thick inch but you were also completely drenched with slick that it was decently quick work to ease you open. 

“Father! Oh, its…so big!” You pressed your hips back, hoping to open yourself more to him. When he was fully sheathed inside of you, he was still for so long that you felt like you might go crazy with the need for friction. “Please…father…fuck me.” You gasped and that seemed to spur Joel on, he started to pull his cock back before shoving it back in, setting a brutal pace. Joels breath started to grow ragged with his own pleasure,

“Is that what you want, little girl?” He asked as his hips snapped forward to fill you over and over. “You want my cock to fuck you?” He asked. You nodded, still dazed. 

“I wanna hear you, Cherub. Confess to me, what do you want?” Joel bent forward over you, one hand snaking around you and grabbing your throat , fingers pressing into your jaw.  You moaned, unable to form a proper sentence as he pulled you back by your neck, making you look up at the altar in front of you. “Come on, let‘s hear that confession,” he said as his cock ruthlessly pummeled against your cervix, splitting you open more and more with each thrust. His other hand, the one not forcing you to look at the image of your savior, trailed down your belly and underneath your skirt. His middle finger found your clit, stroking it in those quick, flicking circles. Your body tensed against the feeling, tightening around his cock. He groaned into your cheek while he held you up with his hand on your neck. “Come on, tell me you want me to fuck your pretty little cunt.” He said. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cried, your eyes blurring with tears as you admitted it in front of him, and God all the same. “Yes, I want your cock to fuck me and I want to come!” You cried. 

“You want to come?” He asked, “Is that it, Cherub? You wanna come while confessin’ your sins right here in front of the holy altar?” his voice was strained and you could feel his thrusts becoming messier, harder as he chased his own orgasm. 

“Yes! Father! Please!” his finger stroked across your clit. 

“Come on my cock, Cherub. Let go for me,” He spoke the word into her cheek, your head turned to the side, leaning back into him. Your orgasm burst over you like white light, heat and shivers down your spine. He stroked your clit through it while his hips pumped his thick cock in and out of you, pulling mewls of pleasure out of. Your eyes opened and you watched the statue of the Virgin Mary while his cock pummeled your cervix and he released ropes of his hot spend inside of you. He groaned into your cheek, your body still back against him. Joel’s teeth caught your jaw, biting you briefly. 

As your breathing settled a little, Father Joel Miller pulled himself out of you. You felt his eyes on your completely destroyed pussy and his fingers briefly stroked at your entrance, gathering a generous amount of his sticky come onto his fingers before he lifted your underwear for you, covering you again. 

“Turn around, Cherub.” he instructed and you did, your face burning with the shame of what had just happened. Joel grabbed your jaw with one of his hands, “Open,” he said and you did what you were told, your tongue pressed out just a tiny bit, resting against your bottom lip. He brought the finger coated in his come that had been dripping out of you to your tongue and swiped across it. The salty, heady taste mixed with the scent of Father Joel Miller, Tobacco, mint, fresh sweat and the acrid burning metallic gunpowder smell. Shivers ran up and down your spine as you stood in front of the holy altar, bleary eyed and red cheeked. 

“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

A soft breeze came through the curtains in my living room as my eyes scanned the same sentence in the book that was placed in my lap. The sentence that I had reread four times now. Closing the book with a groan, I set it on the other end of the couch and grabbed my phone from the coffee table in front of me. 

No new messages. 

I pocketed my phone while pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Worry etched in my bones as I realized that I hadn’t heard from Steve in over 48 hours. He never went that long without sending some kind of message back to me. It was supposed to be a simple “save the hostages from a ship in the middle of the ocean. It’ll take a day tops.” Steve words. So here I was, two days later wondering what the hell went wrong. 

“Stupid ankle,” I cursed my sprained ankle as it was the reason I couldn’t go on the current mission. 

I had tweaked it a few weeks back and Steve wanted to make sure it was 100% before going back in the field. No matter how hard I tried to convince him I was fine, Steve could tell in the small limp that I was lying. 

I’d been on Team Captain America for almost a year now, Nick recruiting me because of my background. Three years on New York Swat and almost five as a secret agent for the FBI. There was more to my past, which helped mold me into the agent I was today but that was a part of my life that I kept hidden from everyone, including Steve. There was a time in my life where I was at my lowest and darkest; however, as much as that moment in my life caused me many emotional and permanent scars, I don’t think I would be where I was today. 

My finger ran over a small scar on my wrist as I thought back to that time, years ago, and my skin quivered as those memories came back. A dark, cold room with only one bed and the looming fear of when the next time would be when I would see him; would it also be the last time? Would my end be near?

“Christ, I haven’t thought of him in years.” I shuttered, pushing those thoughts away and tried to think of Steve.

In the year that I had been working side by side with him, Steve and I had become incredibly close. Soft touches, hushed conversions just between the two of us, and stares that never went unnoticed. We weren’t official, afraid of it getting in the way of work so we would never make it past first base; hell we never even made it close to first base.

Tired eyes read the clock that hung above the fireplace and a soft sigh left my lips. Calling him would be a waste of time because I knew he never kept his phone on him while on the field, it always stayed on the jet, so I decided to send him a text. 

I should have figured it would take you longer than a day without me.-Y/N. 

I didn’t even have a chance to set my phone down because a few seconds later it was buzzing and Steve’s face appeared on my screen, indicating he was face timing me. 

“Thank god I actually look somewhat decent,” I muttered before hitting the green button, accepting the call. 

Steve’s bright smile warmed my heart as I took in his appearance. Soot covered his forehead and chin, his typically styled hair was a mess, almost falling in his eyes as those tired blue eyes stared at me. 

“Hi,” I breathed. 

“Hey yourself. What time is it there?” Steve questioned. 

I looked at the clock before my gaze rested back on Steve. “Just past 6 in the morning. How’d the mission go?” 

Steve leaned back in the chair of the jet and ran a hand over his face, unbeknownst to him smearing the soot over his face. I suppressed a giggle, not wanting to let him know. 

“You’re cleared to go back on duty. Starting three days ago.” 

“I told you! We could have been finished days ago and you wouldn’t have needed me to water your plants.” I joked.

Steve shot up. “You have been watering them, right?” 

The seriousness in his voice made me roll my eyes. 

“Oh my god, grandpa. Yes, I did water your plants. You know, I forget that you’re 95 years old then you act like that and suddenly it all comes back.” I said with a small smile. 

“You love me,” Steve gave me a smug smile. 

My heart flipped. You have no idea. 

“So when are you going to be back?” I changed the subject. 

“The jet is landing at SHIELD in a few hours. I have to do a few errands but then I’m all yours,” the softness in his smile warmed my heart. 

“The usual?” I asked. 

“I’ve called in the pizza. It should be ready to go by seven.” 

“I’ll bring the beers then,” I smiled 

Every time we complete a mission, Steve and I would meet at his place for pizza and beers. It had been our tradition for the past year, no one else from the team joining. 

Just us. 

Steve’s lips moved as he was about to say something but a certain redhead appeared from behind him, coming into view. 

“NAT!” I yelled, “I miss you!” 

Her smile mirrored my own. 

“You are forbidden from ever taking leave again. This one almost forgot his shield.” Natasha pointed at Steve. 

“I did not!” He defended. 

“Oh Stevie, what would you do without me?” I cooed and noticed his cheeks burned red. 

We stared at each other for a few seconds and if feeling some type of tension between us, Nat shook her head before ruffling Steve’s hair. 

“You’ve got something on your face.” 

Steve looked closer into his phone and I swore, his cheeks were a deep crimson now. 

“You let me talk to you like this the entire time?” Steve questioned, quietly thanking Nat who gave him a towel. 

I shrugged. “I thought it was a cute look.” 

“Maybe if you stopped giving Y/N bedroom eyes, you would have noticed how dirty you were,” Natasha teased. 

“Nat!” I scoffed, feeling some warmth spread to my stomach. 

“What?” She shrugged, “Someone has to call him out."

Shaking my head with a laugh, I gave them a small wave goodbye and told Steve I would see him later. 

I ended the phone call with a sigh and felt excitement spread through my veins as the thought of being alone with Steve kept creeping in the back of my mind. 

“Where the hell are you Rogers,” I grumbled as I checked my phone for the fifth time since arriving at his apartment twenty minutes ago. 

I had called and texted him wondering when he would be home but was met with silence. My fingers slid over his door frame before peaking under the doormat hoping to find a spare key but nothing. 

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute,” I cursed when I checked my phone yet again. 

“Talking to yourself?” 

Spinning on my heels towards the voice, my heart leaped when I saw Steve ascend the staircase, wearing the brown leather jacket that looked so good on him. He had the box of pizza in one hand and was messing with his keys in the other.

“I left my spare key at home. You should really leave another one somewhere.” I noted. 

“I do,” he nodded towards his neighbor across the hall, “Kate has one.” 

“Oh,” I sighed. 

As if the Gods’ wanted to torture me more with the thought of Steve’s neighbor across the hall, she came out from her apartment. Adjusting the laundry basket on her hip, she smiled towards Steve. 

Jealous eyes watched as they chatted, Steve flirting almost effortlessly with her. She giggled at a lame joke he told and I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. My shoulders slouched in anger when Steve invited her over to join us. 

“I don’t want to impose,” she looked between Steve and I. 

Steve quickly shook his head. “No, we’re just friends.” 

My heart dropped to my stomach. “Yeah, friends.” 

“Maybe next time. I’ve got a load in the wash.” 

Steve agreed the next time and I had to turn away as he hugged Kate. 

“You could have been a little nicer to her,” Steve asked as he leaned against his door. 

“I’ve been waiting almost a half hour for you. I’m tired and hungry so sorry I didn’t feel like being friendly,” I snapped but immediately apologized when I saw the hurt flash across his face. 

“It’s been a really long day,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Steve pulled me into his chest and left a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was visiting a friend at the V.A center.” 

My brows rose. “The V.A center?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Sam. I met him a few days ago. He’s nice, I can set you up with him if you want?” 

“No thanks,” I scrunch my face, “I can find a guy by myself.” 

“How’s that working out for you?” Steve joked. 

Scoffing, I gave him a slight push and I nodded towards the door. “My pizza is getting cold.” 

He laughed but his body froze leaning an ear against the door. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“My record player is on.” Steve glanced over to me. 

I leaned my ear against the door but shook my head, “I don’t hear anything.”

“You don’t have super soldier hearing,” Steve teased. “Did you leave it on?”

“I swear I turned it off when I left the other day.” I promised. 

Getting into Captain America mode, Steve shielded me as he slowly unlocked the door, pushing it open. I slipped my knife out of my boot as I followed close behind. The music vibrated off the walls as Steve grabbed his shield from its place on the wall. The knife flipped in my fingers with ease as we reached the living room and saw the slouched figure sitting in the chair. 

Nick Furry.

“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Steve sighed while leaning against the wall.

“Did you really think I would need one?,” Nick defended while sitting up, “My wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” I admitted. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Nick admitted.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve declared while turning on the light.

Goosebumps pricked my skin when I took in Nick’s appearance. He had a giant gash to the side of his head and blood was dripping down onto Steve’s chair. I wanted to ask what happened but he held up a finger to silence me while he turned off the light. Nick typed a message into his phone before showing us. 

Ears everywhere.

Steve and I shared a look before our eyes glanced around the apartment. Steve tensed up next to me, the anger of being watched rose from within and he cursed under his breath. All of his private moments suddenly weren’t so private anymore. 

“I’m sorry to do this but I had no other place to crash,” Nick showed us a new message on his phone. 

Shield Compromised.

“What the fuck,” I cursed. 

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve continued to play along, in case it was true that his apartment was bugged. 

Nick stood with a groan and limped over to us, clutching his side. “Just my friends.”

Just us. The new message on his phone read. 

Steve scoffed. “Is that what we are, Nick?” 

“Steve,” I warned, “Now isn’t the time for whatever beef you have with him.” 

“That’s up to you,” Nick admitted. 

The floor beneath our feet shook as a scream erupted from my throat when the wall behind Nick exploded in gunfire. Steve grabbed my waist and pulled me into his chest as we watched in horror as Nick’s limp body fell to the ground. 

“What the fuck?!” I yelled. 

“Get away from the window!” Steve demanded, pulling Nick’s body in the hallway with us. 

He went to look out the window to see if he was able to see the shooter but Nick grasped his arm stopping him. 

He opened his hand and a hard drive sparkled from the light outside. 

“Don’t. Trust. Anyone.” Nick sputtered before passing out. 

“Steve, what the hell is going on?” My voice quivered with fear. 

Before Steve could answer, his front door busted open and Kate walked in, gun armed and aimed. 

“Captain Rogers, I’m Agent 13, Shield Special Service.” Kate said, walking further into Steve’s apartment. 

“Kate? What the hell are you doing here?” I questioned. 

“I’ve been assigned to protect Steve,” She defended. 

“On whose order?” Steve snapped. 

Kate set her gun down before nodding towards Nick. “His.” 

Steve and I shared a look and giving him a slight nod, I turned my attention towards Kate. “You should call it in, Agent.”

“Foxtrot is down and unresponsive. I need EMT’S.” Kate ignored me as she talked into the radio. 

“Do we have a twenty on the shooter?”

Steve peaked around the corner and grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. “Tell them we’re in pursuit.” 

Not asking any questions, I let Steve wrap his arm around my waist as we ran through the window, literally, and felt the ground vanish beneath our feet. Glass shattered around us as we landed hard on the floor of the building across the street. 

“Ow, that’s gonna leave a mark,” I groaned, rising to my feet taking off in a chase after the shooter.

Steve was just a few paces ahead of me while the shooter was on the roof above us, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty offices. Steve busted through doors and glass windows, making it easier for me to keep up with him.

“There has to be a staircase to the roof somewhere!” I yelled before I watched through the window in front of us as the shooter jumped down onto the roof of the building in front.

“We’re going through the window, aren't we?” I semi whined. 

“Yup!” 

Suddenly, Steve barreled his way through the window rolling onto his knees and threw his shield at the shooter. The broken glass crunched beneath my boots as I came to a sudden halt when my eyes landed on the man who had caught Captain America’s shield mid throw. 

Long brown locks. 

Blue eyes. 

A metal arm. 

My mouth ran dry while my hands shook, unable to move out of the way as the shield came flying back towards me. Ears rang in silence as the blood drained from my face, memories of that same metal arm slamming into me like a brick wall. The same man that I thought of earlier for the first time in years was standing right in front of me, in the flesh. 

“Y/N!” 

Steve’s voice brought me back as I fell to the ground with his body on mine. With the shield gripped tight in one hand, his other gently cupped my cheek. Steve pulled my face to look into his eyes; however, I couldn’t focus. I ignored the feeling that took over my body when Steve pressed his hips into mine, unknowingly, and licked my dry lips. 

My past life had just barreled into me; a private part of my life that absolutely no one knew about and suddenly, I was very terrified of them finding out. 

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

rockstar sevika x influencer reader

Chapter 10: Family Reunion

summary : (y/n) takes sevika to her annual family reunion.

mentions : homophobia, lil angst, angry sevika, competitive sevika, drunk sevika, fame au, modern au, happy ending, time skip, fast paced beginning, sevika being a passenger princess, domestic sevika

notes: last chapter yall…😔 just a psa it’s been a total of 5 1/2 months (y/n) and Sevika have been together after the end

You were seated in first class, but the quiet wasn’t comforting—it felt strange, almost unsettling, after weeks of chaos. No Caitlyn lightly humming a tune while tapping out a melody on her keyboard. No Jinx banging out a rhythm on any surface she could find, nor Vi throwing mock punches into the air while Sevika teased her with bass riffs. It was just you now, left to your thoughts and the buzzing emptiness.

You leaned back, headphones over your ears, but even the music didn’t drown out the vivid memories. Watching them all on stage had been electric: Vi’s commanding voice tearing through the air as her fingers shredded the guitar strings, Jinx drumming like she was setting the world on fire, and Sevika—wild and untamed—plucking her bass with enough intensity to send the crowd into a frenzy. Caitlyn was the calm amidst the chaos, playing her keys and singing backing vocals with a steady, elegant precision that balanced the energy of the others.

You missed it all: the long road trips, the ridiculous banter, the post-show exhilaration, and of course, Sevika—completely in her element, sweating and grinning like a maniac as the fans screamed her name. You sighed, pulling out your phone and setting up your camera on the tray table in front of you. The angle wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

After connecting your microphone to ensure the audio was crisp, you pressed record.

“Hey, guys,” you began, offering a small, tired smile. “So... this is it. I’m officially done touring with Shattered Souls. I’m back to personal bigger things and most definitely the biggest high of my career. By the time I post this video, they’ll still be out there, tearing it up on stage. If you can, seriously, buy a ticket to the nearest city. Watching them live is something else. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

You paused, the faint hum of the airplane filling the silence as you gathered your thoughts.

“I just wanna say, before I close this video off, that I had the time of my life with them. They are genuine, talented, and absolutely insane—in the best way possible. They love their fans, they love their music, and they give it everything they’ve got every single night.

“Honestly, when Caitlyn first messaged me asking if I wanted to collab with her band, I thought it was a terrible idea.” You laughed, shaking your head at the memory. “But it turned out to be the best mistake of my life. Because of that, I met Sevika, and I love her so much. Like... a ridiculous amount.”

The smile on your face softened as the emotions bubbled up.

“I’ve also grown to connect with all of them like family. Vi’s chaotic energy, Jinx being, well, Jinx, Caitlyn’s calm genius... and Sevika—who’s somehow even crazier on stage than Vi and Jinx combined. These people have become such an important part of my life, and I know I’ll keep that connection with them.

“If you haven’t checked them out or their music yet, their Spotify link will, of course, be below along with their Instagrams. Go give them a listen. Seriously, do it.”

You took a deep breath, letting your smile linger a little longer.

“And, uh, yeah... this is your favorite YouTuber logging off. Until next time.”

You stopped the recording, turning off the microphone on your phone. The screen went blank, but your thoughts raced. You missed them already—missed the energy, the madness, the shared moments of triumph after a show. But this wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself. It was just the beginning of a new chapter.

Leaning back into your seat, you closed your eyes, the faint echoes of their last performance still buzzing in your ears. You couldn’t wait for the moment you’d reunite, and until then, you’d hold onto every memory like a lifeline.

“Yes, Sevika, I am on the way,” you grumbled into the phone as you slid into the driver’s seat and started your car. It had been a whole month since you’d last seen Sevika and the others. A long month. During that time, your last video blew up, garnering millions of views and likes. That kind of exposure turned every one of Shattered Souls’ remaining shows into sold-out events. Their managers even had to add repeat shows in certain states due to the overwhelming demand, raking in even more cash.

You adjusted your AirPods as Sevika’s voice came through, teasing you about having to get up so early. “Oh, like it’s my fault you booked the first flight out,” you shot back, exasperated but grinning nonetheless. She had insisted on an early flight to see you as soon as possible, leaving the others to return on their usual schedule.

You glanced down at yourself as you hit the road, slightly embarrassed by your appearance. A ramen-stained shirt, baggy sweatpants, and mismatched Crocs—whatever you’d found in the rush out the door. “I swear, I look like I just rolled out of bed,” you muttered, though Sevika didn’t seem to care.

As you drove, she kept the conversation light, her laughter filling the silence in between. “Did you have to book such an early flight, ba—OH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, WHO TOLD YOU TO GO?!” you yelled, slamming on the brakes as a car cut you off.

The sound of Sevika laughing uproariously came through your AirPods, and you could practically hear the smirk on her face. “You’re really not a morning person, are you?” she teased.

You grumbled under your breath, trying to focus on the road as you neared the airport. “Ugh… I’m parking now. Come out—I’m in a red Camaro,” you said, glancing for an empty spot.

“I think I know what your car looks like,” Sevika replied dryly. “You’ve sent me about a hundred photos of it since you bought it.”

“Well, excuse me for being proud of my baby,” you retorted, cutting the engine. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you waited, watching the revolving doors of the terminal. The anticipation of seeing her again after so long was starting to make your heart race.

A few minutes later, you spotted her walking toward the car, looking impossibly good even after an early morning flight. “Finally,” you sighed as she opened the passenger door and slid in.

“Took you long enough,” Sevika teased, leaning over to plant a kiss on your temple.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, a soft smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. Seeing her again made the whole chaotic morning worth it.

The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds as you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself. It was another busy day ahead, but the real challenge was getting Sevika out of bed. After another long night exploring new... territories in your sex life, she was completely passed out, her arm draped over her face as if shielding herself from any obligations.

Sevika had been bouncing between your house and hers for months now. Between her schedule and your own packed calendar, your time together felt fleeting. Since your influencer career had skyrocketed, luxury brands were constantly reaching out to have you model for their campaigns. You’d even graced a few runways, though so far, only in Los Angeles. Despite your hectic modeling gigs, you always found time to vlog, keeping your followers engaged and rooting for your success.

Once dressed, you glanced at Sevika sprawled on the bed. She was still deep in sleep, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as if she was dreaming about something—probably last night. Rolling your eyes, you walked over and leaned down, brushing your lips against hers until she stirred.

“Mmm,” she groaned, cracking one eye open to see you. A sleepy smile tugged at her face before she pulled you down for another kiss.

“Wake up,” you said against her lips, pulling back just enough to speak. “We’ve gotta be in New York by noon.”

She groaned again, flopping back dramatically as you straightened up and grabbed the suitcases you both had packed the night before. Dragging them to the bedroom door, you glanced over your shoulder. “Come on, Sev. I’m not breaking a nail carrying these downstairs.”

That seemed to do the trick. With a grumble and a stretch, Sevika swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered as she tugged on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, her hair still a little messy but effortlessly cool.

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, watching as she hefted the suitcases with ease and carried them to the car. You followed her downstairs, doing a final mental checklist to make sure nothing was forgotten. Tomorrow was Easter, which meant a big family reunion, and you needed to be in New York by the afternoon to help with food prep, decorations, and setting up games for the kids.

Once the suitcases were securely packed in the trunk, you walked around the car to the driver’s side. “We have everything, right?” you asked, pausing before opening the door.

“Everything,” Sevika confirmed, already buckled in and leaning back in her seat.

You nodded, climbing in and starting the car. The drive to the airport wasn’t long, but the anticipation of seeing your family—and the chaos that always came with reunions—had you both a little on edge.

The private jet you’d rented was waiting for you on the tarmac, sleek and ready to whisk you both away to New York. It was a luxury you didn’t take for granted, and as you settled into the plush seats, you glanced over at Sevika. She was already dozing off again, her head resting against the window.

“Lazy,” you muttered under your breath, smiling softly. With everything you had going on, moments like these—just the two of you—were what you treasured the most.

The crisp New York air greeted you as you stepped out of the car with Sevika, luggage in tow. Your parents’ house came into view, its familiar warmth already making you smile. The front door opened before you even had a chance to knock, and your parents stood there beaming.

“Oh, welcome, Sevika!” your mother exclaimed, stepping forward to hug her tightly. Your mother wasn’t the handshake type, and neither was your father, who followed with an equally warm hug. Sevika, though a little caught off guard by their enthusiasm, accepted their hugs with a shy smile, murmuring her thanks.

“Come on in,” your dad said, motioning toward the door. “I cleaned (Y/N)’s room for you two… Well, I dusted. She’s always been good about keeping her room clean,” he added with a chuckle.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said, shooting him a playful grin. You turned to Sevika and gestured toward the stairs. “Sevika, you can go ahead and take the luggage up to my room. I’m sure I already need to help with the food.”

“Sure,” Sevika said, hefting the bags effortlessly. She paused for a moment. “You sure I can’t help out either?”

“You’ll have plenty to do, trust me,” you teased, patting her arm before heading toward the kitchen with your mom.

As the evening progressed, Sevika became an unofficial extra set of hands for your family. Anytime someone needed a jar opened, a can pried, or something retrieved from the highest shelf, Sevika was called upon.

“Sevika, can you open this?” your mom asked, holding out a stubborn jar of pickles.

“Sevika, can you grab that pan up there? No, no, the one way in the back,” your dad chimed in, pointing toward the top shelf.

Sevika handled each request with ease, and despite her usually intimidating demeanor, she blended in with your family as if she’d been there all along.

By the time everything was prepped and ready for the reunion, you found Sevika sitting at the kitchen counter, a slightly amused look on her face. “I told you you’d have plenty to do,” you said with a grin, handing her a glass of water.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, smirking. “I didn’t think I’d be the designated muscle for the night, though.”

Your parents laughed from across the room. “You’re a lifesaver, Sevika,” your mom said. “We might have to borrow you for every holiday!”

“Don’t get used to it,” Sevika joked, but there was a softness in her tone, like she didn’t really mind.

You smiled, watching her interact so naturally with your family. It made you feel even more certain that she belonged here, with you, no matter how chaotic things got.

The clock had just struck midnight, and the kitchen was still bustling with activity. The counters were covered with bowls, spatulas, and a fine dusting of flour from the cakes you and your mom had been making earlier. The sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate wafted through the air as the cakes baked in the oven, their golden tops rising slowly.

You let out a long yawn, leaning against the counter as your eyelids grew heavier. “I think I’m gonna take a nap for a few hours,” you said, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

Your dad, sitting on the couch in the living room, was deeply engrossed in an episode of Criminal Minds. Sevika was right beside him, equally locked in, her arms crossed as she stared at the screen with intense focus. Neither of them even glanced away as they replied in perfect unison, “Okay.”

Your mom, still wiping down the counters, looked over at you with a soft smile. “Of course, hun. Get plenty of sleep. I’ll finish up here.”

You gave her a small nod, your movements slow and heavy as the sleepiness really started to set in. “Good night,” you said, your voice gentle as you turned toward the living room.

“Good night,” your dad mumbled distractedly, his eyes glued to the TV.

“Night,” Sevika added, sparing you a quick glance and a small smirk before her attention returned to the unfolding crime scene on the screen.

With that, you headed upstairs, the sound of the TV faintly trailing behind you. As you climbed into your old bed, you smiled faintly at the thought of Sevika and your dad bonding over their shared love of Criminal Minds. It wasn’t long before the warmth of your blanket and the faint hum of the oven downstairs lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

When you woke up, the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen drew you out of bed. After showering and getting dressed, you headed downstairs, expecting to find your mom working on the last-minute preparations. Instead, you were met with a sight that stopped you in your tracks.

Sevika was already a thousand steps ahead of you. She stood at the counter wearing a pink apron with the word “Mommy” embroidered on it, her broad frame completely at odds with the delicate garment. Your mom was by her side, showing her how to frost the cakes that had been cooling overnight.

You leaned against the doorway, taking in the scene. Sevika’s muscles flexed every time she squeezed the piping bag, her large hands surprisingly gentle as she guided the frosting in smooth, even swirls across the cake’s surface. Her face was the perfect picture of concentration, her tongue sticking out just slightly as she focused on getting the perfect amount of frosting out. It was almost unfair how good she looked—domestic and strong all at once.

You couldn’t help yourself. You took out your phone and snapped a quick picture without her noticing. It was too cute not to capture. Her brows furrowed, her tongue still poking out as she worked, completely unaware of you standing there. The sight of her in that ridiculous pink apron, paired with her muscular build, was the perfect contradiction—and you were adding this to your “Sevi-bear” photo album immediately.

You grinned to yourself as you looked at the photo, already imagining teasing her about it later. But for now, you stayed quiet, content to watch her try something so completely out of her element—and excel at it, as she always did.

The family car was packed carefully, each dish delicately arranged in the trunk to avoid any spills. You and Sevika sat in the backseat with the cakes balanced on your laps, your mom driving while your dad gave directions. Sevika kept her hand steady on one of the cakes to ensure it wouldn’t slide, her other hand casually resting on your knee.

When you arrived at the reunion venue, the energy was palpable. Family members swarmed to greet you, all warm smiles and hugs. For a brief moment, some assumed Sevika was just a friend accompanying you. That assumption didn’t last long as the day unfolded.

Your little cousins were particularly fascinated by Sevika’s metal arm. A cluster of them crowded around her, asking endless questions and eagerly poking at the cool surface. She was patient with them, answering their curious questions and even flexing the arm for their amusement. “Does it hurt?” one of them asked, wide-eyed. “Not anymore,” Sevika replied, ruffling the kid’s hair with her free hand.

As more family members chatted with you, the usual questions about your career came up. You fielded inquiries about your success as an influencer, politely sidestepping the occasional fake family member who tried to slip in a request for money or a shoutout. Sevika noticed, giving you a small smirk when one particularly pushy cousin asked for free promo. You handled it gracefully, your hand squeezing Sevika’s reassuringly.

After lunch, it became clear to most of the family that Sevika wasn’t just your friend. It started with her casually wiping frosting off your cheek, the gesture intimate and tender. Some family members caught on quickly and congratulated you on finding someone who seemed to genuinely adore you. Others weren’t as supportive—chiefly your grandpa.

You hadn’t prepared Sevika for your grandfather’s homophobic tendencies, so when he began loudly hurling slurs, it caught her completely off guard. The room fell silent as Sevika’s face darkened with anger. You quickly grabbed her arm and led her outside before she could say or do something she might regret.

“I’m sorry, Sevi,” you said once you were outside, your voice trembling. “I should’ve told you about him. I didn’t think—”

“It’s not your fault,” Sevika interrupted, her jaw tight but her voice steady. “I’ll take his words as a challenge. He’ll come around.”

Her words hung in the air, and before you could fully grasp what she meant, the evening’s adult games kicked off—and Sevika turned them into a battleground. She and your grandpa faced off in every event: drinking musical chairs, beer pong, and even an impromptu dance battle when both were too drunk to care about anything else. You stood on the sidelines, utterly baffled as your girlfriend and grandfather line-danced together like lifelong friends, the rest of the family cheering them on.

By the end of the night, your grandpa was slumped in a chair next to Sevika, both of them too drunk to stand but deep in conversation about fishing, hunting, and other pastimes you never knew Sevika had indulged in before her rockstar days. You listened quietly as they spoke, the unexpected camaraderie between them leaving you stunned.

At one point, their conversation shifted, and both pairs of eyes landed on you.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Sevika said, her voice filled with affection.

“She got the looks from her grandmother,” your grandpa replied, his words slurred but sincere. “May she rest in peace.”

“I’m gonna marry her,” Sevika announced casually, taking a sip from her beer.

Your heart stopped. “Marry my wife?” your grandfather slurred, looking utterly confused.

“No, you dumbass,” Sevika shot back with a drunken grin. “Marry your granddaughter. I’ve already got her parents’ approval, and I’ve got the ring. I just need yours, old man.”

Your eyes widened as the words sank in. Sevika was planning to propose to you? And you were finding out like this?

Your grandfather scratched his chin, pretending to mull it over. Finally, he shrugged. “Sure… why not.”

Sevika grinned triumphantly, raising her beer in a mock toast. “Good. Now you can’t take it back.”

You stood there in shock, your heart racing, as Sevika shot you a sly look. “Surprise,” she muttered, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Sevika knelt before you, the vibrant sounds of All of Me played softly in the background, the violinist swaying to each note with practiced grace. Snow glistened around the edges of the path, blending with the blooming flowers of early spring in Central Park. The people you loved most—your parents, your grandpa, your cousins, and even Sevika’s closest friends from the band, Vi, Jinx, and Caitlyn—stood nearby, beaming with anticipation.

Your breath caught in your throat, and your hand flew to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes. Sevika, the tough, confident rockstar you’d fallen in love with, now looked at you with such softness it was almost overwhelming. Her fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, trembled slightly as she held the velvet box in her hands.

“Before you say anything,” she began, her voice steady but laced with emotion, “let me talk.” She took a deep breath, her stormy gray eyes locking onto yours, and you saw the vulnerability she rarely let anyone else see.

“I know we’ve only been together for a few months,” she started, a small, self-deprecating chuckle escaping her lips. “But in those months, you’ve turned my life upside down in the best way. Touring was always the dream for me—traveling from state to state, performing for thousands of people, living that wild rockstar life. But I didn’t realize how empty it all felt until I met you.”

Your tears began to spill over as she continued, her voice growing softer.

“Every stop on tour, you made it feel like home. Whether it was late-night takeout in crappy motels or those quiet moments backstage before a show, you reminded me that life isn’t just about the music or the fame—it’s about who you share it with.”

“This place,” Sevika said, glancing around at the snowy park and the familiar gates overlooking the water, “I knew it was special to you. Your mom told me this is where your dad proposed to her. And I wanted this moment to be just as meaningful for us.”

She took a steadying breath, her voice firm as she said, “I know what I want. And what I want is you—your laughter, your humor, the way you stayed up late at night with me on FaceTime, and the way you saw past my stubbornness and taught me how to love. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. So… will you marry me?”

The world seemed to stand still as you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Sevika slipped the ring onto your finger, her hands surprisingly gentle despite their strength. She stood, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a kiss that made your heart race.

“You’re mine now,” she murmured softly against your lips, her smirk returning as the confidence you loved so much settled back into place.

“Always,” you replied, smiling as your arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

As your family and friends crowded around to congratulate you, the violinist transitioned into a celebratory tune, and Sevika looked at you like you were her entire world. And in that moment, with the love of your life holding you close, you knew that this was only the beginning of your next adventure together.

— ran out of divider space :(

SURPRISE SHAWTY EXTRAS !

Three years had passed since you and Sevika tied the knot, and not a day went by where the memories of that perfect wedding didn’t make you smile. Everything about it had been uniquely you and Sevika—the all-black theme, the gothic elegance, and the sheer joy radiating from your friends and family as they celebrated your love. Famous faces mingled with relatives, everyone dressed to impress, and the night was filled with laughter, Jayce’s weird ass speech, dancing, and, of course, music. Sevika even performed a surprise set, which had everyone raving for weeks afterward.

After the honeymoon, you and Sevika bought into two homes in LA and New York, though the sunny LA house became you guys primary sanctuary. You continued thriving in your career as a model and influencer, while Sevika poured her heart and soul into Shattered Souls, the band only growing bigger with each passing year. Every album release brought in millions, and their relentless touring schedule kept Sevika busy, but it was clear she always prioritized you.

Life had been eventful not just for you but for your inner circle too. Not long after your wedding, Vi and Caitlyn also said their vows, sealing their love in a ceremony that was just as vibrant and wild as their personalities. Things took an unexpected yet joyous turn when Caitlyn announced she was pregnant. She and Vi had chosen a donor together, and though Cait took a temporary break from the band to focus on the pregnancy, she urged Vi to stay with Shattered Souls until the baby arrived.

When Caitlyn’s pregnancy began progressing, you decided to take a break from your own work to help out. Between the late-night cravings and Cait’s stubborn insistence on decorating the nursery herself, there was plenty to keep you occupied. Sevika often teased you about being "Mommy’s helper," but her eyes always sparkled with pride when she saw how much you loved caring for Cait.

Around this time, you started having more serious conversations with Sevika about starting a family of your own. It wasn’t exactly a new topic—Sevika had been talking about wanting kids ever since the engagement, casually dreaming about what your future family might look like. But now, it felt real. Sevika was patient and understanding, knowing you wanted everything to be just right.

For months, you searched for the perfect donor, determined to find someone who bore a strong resemblance to Sevika. It wasn’t just about looks; it was about creating a child that truly felt like a piece of both of you. You pored over profiles, cross-checked every detail, and refused to settle for anything less than perfection.

Sevika, as always, supported your every decision. Whenever she caught you deep in thought, scrolling through potential donors, she’d come up behind you, rest her chin on your shoulder, and say, “We’ll find them. Our kid’s gonna be amazing, just like you.” Her unwavering confidence made you believe it too.

The two of you spent countless nights dreaming about the future. Sevika talked about teaching your kid to play guitar, how they’d grow up surrounded by music and love. She joked about how they’d have to deal with two moms who would fiercely embarrass them at every school recital or sports game. You laughed, imagining the chaos, but deep down, the idea of starting a family with Sevika made your heart ache in the best way.

After weeks of searching, you finally found him—the perfect donor. He had Sevika’s striking features: her sharp nose, deep skin tone, tall and athletic build, and a clean bill of health that only made the decision easier. Everything about him mirrored Sevika in the best way, and without hesitation, you jumped at the opportunity. The next step was IVF, a process you were both equally nervous and excited about. Now came the hardest part—waiting.

To pass the time, you threw yourself into helping Caitlyn with her nursery. From painting the walls in a soft pastel blue to assembling cribs and organizing baby clothes, you and Cait poured all your energy into making the space perfect. Caitlyn often joked that you were acting more like a second mom than a helper, but you didn’t mind—it kept your hands busy and your mind occupied. By the time the few weeks of waiting were up, the nursery was complete, right down to the tiniest detail.

Then the day came. You sat on the toilet in your bathroom, staring at the Clearblue pregnancy test in your hand, willing yourself to stay calm. Sevika stood a few feet away, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. She was usually the picture of composure, but the anticipation had her just as wound up as you were. “How long does this thing take?” she muttered, running a hand through her short hair for the third time.

“It’ll beep when it’s ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seconds felt like hours, but then—beep.

Your heart raced as you looked down at the little screen. There it was, clear as day: Pregnant.

“Oh my god…” you gasped, the realization washing over you like a wave. Then, louder, “OH MY GOD, I’M PREGNANT!”

You jumped to your feet, holding the test up for Sevika to see. Her eyes widened as she stepped closer, taking it from your hands to double-check. When the word registered, a wide grin broke across her face.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “We’re gonna have a baby…”

The two of you hugged tightly, your emotions spilling over in laughter and tears. Sevika’s strong arms held you close as she kissed your temple. “We’re gonna be awesome parents,” you said, your voice shaking with happiness.

“Damn right we are,” Sevika replied, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom. And I’ll—well, I’ll try not to mess the kid up too much.”

You laughed, wiping at your tears. “You? Mess them up? Sev, you’re going to be their hero.”

She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “And you’re already mine.”

That moment felt like the start of something magical, the first step into a whole new chapter of your lives. Together, you were ready to take it on, one step at a time.

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl @nanajustnana-a

[feedingher]

You’ll never be too big for me baby

I know, we got in to this together when it was just a bit of fun.

You thought you’d let go and enjoy your food, and get a little softer.

It wasn’t enough for us, and you just wanted a little more.

I know, it feels like we’ve barely started and you already no longer have hips, it all melts into that hanging belly of yours.

You thought maybe that would be enough for us, but it’s not.

I know you’re addicted now. You’re out of control and you’re only getting bigger and bigger. You’re worried I’ll have had enough. But I won’t.

I promise you baby,

you’ll never be too big for me.

When we got together I knew how you’d end up. I prepared from the start. I’m ready to care for you in every instance. You’re no burden, this was a team effort.

Need help with your clothes? I’m here for you.

Need help in the car? I’m here for you.

Need help around the house? Here for you.

I know it seems like a way off for now, and that’s you wouldn’t let yourself become so helpless. But I can see it in you baby. It’s coming. Quicker than you think.

Thankfully, there is no number that is a limit for me. For us.

I will always be there for my growing girl 🫶

[dem0batz]

Curiosity Killed the Kitten

Sylus x MC // Love and Deepspace

Author's Note: First I was horny about Caleb's return, but catching up on the lore has me in my feelings. No smut, just emotional hurt/comfort with Sylus. All of my LADS fics take place in the same universe and is a connected story which means MC is romantically involved with ALL 5 love interests. This is just me trying to put the pieces together that we get in the game and applying it how I think makes sense in MC's situation.

Summary: After going to Skyhaven for an undercover mission and learning that Caleb is alive and well, as well as discovering some unsettling information about the Farspace Fleet and his role in it, MC returns home to Linkon City. All of the men in her life are concerned about her sudden unexpected vacation, but Sylus most of all does not accept the flimsy excuses of her brief disappearance. Content Warnings: Reverse Harem/Why Choose (MC is with all five love interests in my au), afab!MC, she/her!MC, tracking device without MC's consent, canon-typical Sylus stalking, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: ~2600 words | Read on AO3 | Chapter List

Since returning to Linkon City after your extended “vacation” in Skyhaven, you have felt an uneasiness settling in your gut. You should be over the moon that your long-dead brother wasn’t dead after all but everything about Caleb seemed… off.

There were still traces of the boy you remember. He still doted on your every need. Was still over protective in the most annoying ways and still used humor and guilt to soften your irritation. He had never been straight forward with you, always willing to do whatever he needed to protect you even if it meant keeping you in the dark. So the fact that he deflected most of your suspicious questions concerning the practices of the Farspace Fleet was not a surprise, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lied right to your face about many of the things he did answer, which was new.

He had always seemed a little haunted to you; like there were things he wasn’t saying or couldn’t say and that hadn’t changed, but the depth of it now seems insurmountable. What was it they said about gazing into the abyss? Well now, often times when Caleb looked at you, you felt the abyss gazing back. Like your caring brother was gone and the cold officer he had become was steering the wheel. You couldn’t decipher where Caleb began and the Colonel ended.

While in Skyhaven, you hadn’t received any of messages and had connectivity issues with the wifi. Initially, you had reasonably blamed the shoddy signal on the fact that you were in a city in the sky and that the near-constant storms were to blame, but after uncovering some suspicious information about Caleb’s new life, you were no longer convinced it was a mere accident. Which left you to believe either the Fleet had more of an influence on Skyhaven than anyone suspected, despite what their public policies claimed, or Caleb himself had intentionally isolated you. Both were concerning and likely had some truth to them, but the former was more painful to think about.

Your phone had been buzzing nearly non-stop since coming back to the city, updating with message after message. Messages from Xavier about hot pot and confusion about your sudden approved vacation days that you never mentioned taking; Rafayel feigning danger, saying he needed his bodyguard to come and check on him asap; Zayne concerned that he hadn’t heard a word from you after Mia’s unfortunate death and insisting you check in with him as soon as you are able.

They had been relatively easy to appease for now. You informed them all you had just returned home and would make sure to see them in the coming days— you just needed one day to sort through your thoughts and feelings about the Caleb situation. Besides, what were you supposed to say? I didn’t actually go on vacation because I went on a solo undercover mission for the Association connected to the explosion of my grandmother’s house just to find my long-dead brother/sort of ex-boyfriend is actually alive and well, and is now one of the top ranking leaders of the Farspace Fleet who may be involved in some unethical practices because I had one conversation with a little boy whom they had been searching for and he seemed to have a complete personality change in the two days after his sister’s death?

It wasn’t exactly something that could be explained in a text message.

Needless to say, your men were worried about you, but Sylus most of all. Though his messages where a lot more direct in their efforts to get to the bottom of your disappearance. They started off playful enough in their probing, but the longer you were gone, the more insistent they became.  

Mr. Crow: Mephisto reported that you packed a bag. A big one. Where are we going? 

Mr. Crow: Now he says you boarded a shuttle. Why would you do that when you have a helicopter in the N109 at your disposal?

Mr. Crow: Your return date is a week from now. Did you go on vacation without me, kitten? You never mentioned a work trip.

Mr. Crow: I know you’re a busy big time hunter but it’s unlike you to ignore my messages like this, sweetie.

Mr. Crow: Mephisto lost you. The twins can’t find you either.

Mr. Crow: Where are you?

Mr. Crow: You disappeared on me and I’m worried. This isn’t like you.

Mr. Crow: I’m very unhappy with you right now.

Mr. Crow: You can’t hide forever, kitten…

You knew without a shadow of a doubt that Sylus saw the moment you returned to the city because your mechanical bird companion was tailing you again. You hadn’t intentionally slipped his detail or left Sylus hanging during your leave. It was no secret that the Onichynus leader kept watch of you and it had actually become a welcome security over the months since you began seeing one another.

It should have struck you as odd that Sylus didn’t hunt you down during your two week stay in Skyhaven but the truth was you had been hit with near constant surprises in the floating city that you had no time to think about anything but what was happening in that moment. But now that you were away and had space to think, you were left to wonder why Sylus never came for you. Why you were able to be imprisoned on a military fleet ship against your will and your mighty crime boss didn’t track you down and bust you out.

Your phone buzzes again, shaking you from your thoughts.

Mr. Crow: Look who’s back in town.

Kitten: Will you meet me somewhere?

Mr. Crow: Turn around.

You lower your phone, eyebrows drawn together as you turn against the flow of pedestrian traffic. Your eyes flit through the decorated streets, colorful ribbons and lanterns decorating the way in preparation for the New Year. The crowd parts, making way for a hulking man in a leather jacket walking steadily toward you with danger flashing in his crimson eyes, his mouth set into a hard line. It never ceased to amaze you how Sylus was able to blend in with a crowd when he stood out to you so much. He towered over everyone and had a dangerous aura to him, yet no one batted an eye in his direction.

You gulp nervously, knowing he wouldn’t let you get away without an explanation. One you still weren’t even sure how to say. Anxiousness has your feet moving quickly as you duck into an alleyway to wait for him. You couldn’t do this with an audience. Though it’s still light out, the strings of decorations above has the alley appearing more dark than usual, allowing you to slink into the shadows and away from prying eyes. It doesn’t take Sylus long to catch up, his own shadow eating up whatever light remains as he draws closer until he’s towering above and caging you against the stone wall.

“Sylus—”

“Would you look at that? I caught myself a stray.”

His fingers curl under your chin, not-too-gently angling your face toward his. That simmering anger in his eyes softens at the sight of you, disappearing completely to be replaced with concern. He reads you entirely too well, even if he doesn’t know the cause.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

You let out a vulnerable sigh, lip wedging between your teeth to combat the sting in your eyes as the relief of this secret you’ve been holding onto is lifted off of your shoulders the slightest bit. You didn’t realize just how much you had been carrying since Caleb’s return, but if a single soft look and concerned question from one of your boyfriends was enough to make you feel like crumbling, it must be a lot.

You still hardly believed it yourself that Caleb was alive and well after all this time. Had seen him with your own eyes and yet you still felt the loss of grief from his death and the sting of betrayal at his return. A confusing whorl of emotion builds up inside your chest because along with the relief that he was alive, you felt an overwhelming sense of resentment toward him.

For so long, Caleb was the only one you saw, blinded by the tunnel vision of his affection. Then he went and died before you could navigate the complex secret relationship the two of you shared only to return from the death of a literal explosion to metaphorically blow up your life just when you had started learning how to live without him. Just when you had begun to find comfort and care with Sylus and the other men in your life. They had become your new foundation in the rubble of Caleb’s place and now he was returning from the dead to level it once again. The rebuilding process had been overbearing and painful and lonely and you didn’t know how much more you had in you to start over again.

As much as you loved Caleb, he never played well with others when it came to you. Sylus thought Zayne’s jealousy and reluctance to share your time had been a hurdle but your childhood friend was nothing compared to your brother’s jealous streak. In the handful of times you were shared between Caleb and Zayne in your youth, it was always at Caleb’s command. Nothing happened without his approval. What he said went and neither you nor Zayne ever dared cross that line to try to further explore your attraction to one another. Not until after the explosion, anyway.

A gentle thumb on your jaw brings your attention back to the present, sympathetic ruby eyes grounding you.

“Does it have to do with how much time you spent in Skyhaven recently?”

Surprise and panic flicker across your face at Sylus’s question.

So he did know where you had gone, after all.

“Please, sweetie. After all this time and you’re still surprised that I keep tabs on you?  Mephisto may well be glued to your side. And that’s not even taking the twins into consideration or counting the various tracking devices planted on you and in you.”

“Sylus!”

“What?” he feigns innocence.

“Mephisto following me is one thing but you can’t bug me! I’m an agent of the law. Not to mention, where the hell did you get plant devices that can evade government detection? And more importantly, how did you get one inside of me without me knowing?”

Sylus’s proud grin widens as a thick leather-covered arm wraps around you like a vine. He pulls you into a slow dance in the alley, no musical accompaniment or reason for it other than he wanted to and he missed you.

It soothed some of the warring emotions within you, making your irritation with his stalking tendencies dissipate. Truth be told, you were grateful that he cared so much about your safety. You know Sylus now and know that his only intentions are your safety and success. Though you wouldn’t ask it of him, he would burn the whole world down if you requested him to, for the mere purpose of pleasing you. You couldn’t same the same about Caleb, who only ever kept you in the dark about his intentions.

“You should know by now that nothing is out of my budget or reach, kitten,” he purrs.

His playful demeanor slips a fraction. To anyone else it would have been undetectable but having spent so much intimate time with the Onychinus leader, you have learned to read him nearly as well as he reads you.

“What is it?” you ask, cupping his jaw.

Sylus nuzzles into your palm, a heavy sigh puffing through his nostrils, reminding you of a mighty beast that had been tamed.

“Nothing is out of my reach,” he repeats, “except whenever you disappeared into Skyhaven. Mephisto managed to follow your shuttle all the way to the city gates but the moment he tried to cross the threshold he began to short out. He had no choice but to turn back. Once you crossed over, I also lost signal of every tracking device on your person, including this one,” his finger lightly trace a spot between your shoulder blades. So that’s where it is. “I lost the ability to track you. To keep you safe. That’s never happened before and naturally was a cause for concern.” He hesitates for a moment as if afraid to ask but does anyway. “Where did you go during your ‘vacation’?”

“I don’t know where to start,” you admit as the tightness in your chest starts to constrict to a painful degree. The cardiac event monitor on your watch begins to beep erratically, indicating a dangerous rise in your pulse oxygen levels.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Sylus pulls you close to his chest, resting your head and hand against the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.

He talks you through the attack, his calming voice like a balm to your ringing ears. After several long moments, you feel like you can breathe again and your watch finally goes quiet.

“Yes, I’m with her right now and she seems to be coming out of it,” Sylus’s voice drifts clearly to your ears once more. His voice tightens irritably at whatever the person on the other end says. “I wouldn’t put her in that kind of danger. I called you as soon as her symptoms began, didn’t I?”

He pauses again to listen to whatever was being said, giving you a reassuring smile though he still looks annoyed.

“I can drop her off at your office tomorrow morning. Or if you’re truly concerned and thinks she needs immediate medical attention, you’re welcome to meet me in the N109 Zone in an hour.”

Pause.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll continue to monitor her and if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know. Have a nice day, doctor.”

Sylus hangs up the phone and tucks the device back into his pocket. Hearing his side of the conversation, you have an idea of who he had been talking to.

“Dr. Zayne wants you to report to his office first thing in the morning. He said he won’t clear you to return to work until you do.”

This news comes as no surprise. Since an event was triggered, you would have to answer to Zayne about the cause, yet another conversation you weren’t ready to have. But he deserves to know Caleb is back. You just didn’t know how to tell him most of all. At least Sylus, Xavier, and Raf were a degree removed from the situation. Zayne would be almost as affected by the news as you, considering that Caleb was his best friend and the odd nature of the relationship the three of you previously shared.

“You could start from the beginning, sweetie,” Sylus murmurs against your hair, lips brushing your head in a loving kiss as he reminds you of what caused your heart rate to spike in the first place.

“I can’t,” your voice croaks. “Not now. Not here. It’s… too much.”

“Okay,” he relents. “But I’m taking you home with me regardless. After spending two weeks worrying about your safety and unable to reach you, I need you with me tonight. Then after a good meal and a lavender bath soak, if you feel like telling me what’s going on, I’ll be all ears.”

The sting returns to your eyes and you grip the back of his leather coat like an anchor. You were so grateful for your dragon and the way he kept you safe, even from yourself. That when you were spiraling down a vortex he would always catch you.

“I love you, Sylus,” you whisper, throat tight with emotion.

“I love you too, kitten.”

OpaLADS Taglist: @i-messed-up-big-time

[hauntedhokage]

Anticipation

Itoshi Rin/F!Reader

rating: explicit

summary: you’re cat sitting for Rin while he’s away, the distance between you encouraging you to ask for help with more intimate matters.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: phone sex

Requested!

“Your cat is an asshole.”

Your comment makes Rin snort, a rare amused sound leaving the stoic striker.

“He likes you more than me.”

“I doubt it.”

This time it’s a thoughtful hum that leaves him, your best friend clearly considering how he would try to convince you that his cat did actually like you. But instead he tells you that the fluffy menace was only your problem for a couple more days, then you were no longer at risk of having your feet swiped at from under various pieces of furniture in his apartment.

“It’ll be nice to have you back for the mid season break,” you comment, making your way to his bedroom to get ready for bed. Time zones had been tricky for his daily check ins, his practices rubbing late had him calling and leaving voicemails while you were asleep. This was the first time in about a week that you’d actually spoken to him, and that was only because you were staying up late to get to do that.

“Yeah, save you from my asshole cat.”

“We can have a movie night or something,” you suggest, getting comfortable in his bed that has become yours while he was gone. The sheets still smelled like him despite his absence, and you weren’t going to deny how nice it was to be surrounded by his scent. “A lot of good ones streaming now.”

“That’d be fine. What are you doing right now, I don’t want to keep you up.”

“I want to talk to you,” you start, settling into the pillows while eyeing the vibrator charging on his nightstand. “Just got into bed, but I’m not tired so don’t hang up unless you have to.”

“I’ve got about an hour. Enjoying my bed?”

“A lot.” He hums at that. “Might just move in and make you take the couch.”

“We can share.”

That wasn’t a standard Rin answer; he should’ve said something along the lines of changing the locks or making you sleep on the floor. Not that you hadn’t shared a bed with him before, you were both mature adults that could do that without things faring awkward, but that was how he teased you.

But speaking of teasing, there was something more delicate on your mind and you were confident that Rin would be able to help - it would just be easier to ask if you didn’t have to look at him when you did. You’d need to be careful, tiptoeing along this line between friend and something else - something more - was a task done delicately. Otherwise the whole friendship could crumble, and Rin was not a person that you wanted to lose.

“Why are you quiet?”

“Wanted to ask you something, but I’m not sure how to ask.”

“Then just ask.”

Easy for him to say, he was great at being blunt (most of the time). This wasn’t something you were sure about, as Rin’s affection came few and far between. But you’d known about a girlfriend or two, affairs that didn’t last long but were long enough that he’d slept with them so he was your only option.

“How do you make a girl cum? Like…what’s your technique?” You feel like you’re in a furnace, your face hot as there’s a pause on the other side of the call. He probably thought you were stupid, figuring out how to cut this tie and ensure his cat was still taken care of from today on.

“Was there a sexual awakening that I missed?”

“Uh…no?” Your voice wobbles, embarrassment having taken over but you know you’re in the fire now. Rin wouldn’t drop this - he sounded too interested to be willing to. “It’s more like a me problem.”

“You need help finishing yourself off.”

“It sounds pathetic when you say it like that!” Your complaint earns a chuckle from him on the other side, and your face is warm with embarrassment. “But basically, yeah. I get so close and then it’s just…gone. Kinda silly, but it’s bugging me.”

“I can see why. Are you in my bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring anything with you?”

You hesitate to answer, since the implication of a positive response would be that you were masturbating in his bed while he was away. Not that it mattered, considering that you just told him something deeply personal regarding your sex life - a vibrator in his bed likely would be nothing in comparison.

“Don’t get it yet, first take your shorts off for me.”

It’s easy to follow instructions when it was Rin dishing them out. Usually the mask he wore when out playing soccer slipped, leaving a soft spoken man who just rolled with the punches for you to hang out with in your shared free time. When he maintained that control it always turned you on, the dull tenor of his voice and cold gaze sending shockwaves directly to your core that had you pushing yourself closer to him to absorb more of that energy that radiated off of him.

You’re obedient as he gives you instructions, first to wet your middle finger before sliding it between your folds. It’s only a bit embarrassing to feel just how wet you were hurt from talking to Rin - and you couldn’t even see what he was doing on the other side of the ocean. He sounds amused at the information, telling you to bring some of that wetness up to your clit.

“It’s about building anticipation,” he says, and you open your legs more as you continue to move your finger in tight circles. “Patience is key, don’t rush it.”

It was hard to be patient when you were desperate for that release that had been evading you for weeks. First it was just day by day, believing it was just a mental block or stress keeping you from cumming, but gradually became hour-by-hour that you worried you would never feel that bliss again. Patience would be near impossible when this was something you wanted more than anything else - if anything just to make sure that there wasn’t something irreversibly wrong with you.

“Relax.”

“‘M trying.”

“Not hard enough.” He was such a bastard. “I can’t get off until you do.”

Of course he’d challenge himself, placing a stipulation on his ability to help you reach that peak and actually fall off the edge and onto the other side. Typical Rin, but the labored breathing on the other end tells you something else. This wasn't just him helping you get off, this was full fledged phone sex now, the official crossing of a line previously left untouched. The question of what happens after this is better left unspoken, held back until Rin was in the same room as you and neither of you could dance around the topic. Not that he would, but you wanted to cover all bases.

“Do you need to stretch yourself out a bit or can you take your vibrator without it?”

“I should be okay without it.”

“Get it wet with your mouth, but play with it a little bit like you would if it was me.”

This had to be part of the anticipation. Playing with the toy that would be penetrating you as if trying to get it just as excited as you were. The additional prompt to treat it as if it were him you were sucking has your face hot - as if you were sitting directly in front of a fire.

“D-do you want it to be me stroking your cock?”

“As much as I’m sure you want it to be me rubbing your clit right now.” That had you humming as you brought your vibrator to your lips, setting your phone on your chest while on speaker so you could still hear him but use both your hands. “But we’ll work that out when I get back.”

You wish he could see you nod around the vibrator, since the sound you made at his statement could easily be interpreted as a sound you made at rubbing your clit. This would be so much easier if he was here, but you’d make do with what you had.

“Sounds so messy,” he teases, but you don’t care because you knew he liked it since he bothered to comment on it. “Get it nice and wet?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then push it in slowly. I want you to feel every inch of it.”

You do as he says, eyes falling shut at the feeling of the penetration and trying to picture Rin on top of you. His hair would probably fall in his face, tickling your face as it moved with his head and his thrust.

His name tumbles from your lips in a stuttered gasp, prompting his own groan that has you clenching around your toy as you continue to guide it in. He reminds you to relax and take it slow, and you take a couple deep breaths before continuing until it’s at the hilt.

“Don’t turn it on yet, fuck yourself with it for me. Move slow,” he instructs, voice heavy with his own lust. “But move your fingers slow on your clit. Feel it build a bit.”

You crave the additional stimulation from the vibration but don’t dare to defy Rin’s instructions after you’d asked him for help. He wasn’t above stopping entirely if you went against his suggestion, and for your own sake you push the thought aside as your hands move like he’d instructed.

When he tells you to turn on the toy you don’t hesitate, keeping it on the lowest setting as he’d instructed and keeping the thrusts slow.

“Takin’ it so well,” he mumbles, and you nod your agreement as your hips raise of their own accord. “Feel good?”

“Y-yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” He pauses, and you can hear the wet sound of his hand sliding along his shaft. His breathing was labored, you assumed that he was doing his best to hold off as he’d promised, the sound one of the sexiest noises you'd ever heard in your life and would happily play on loop as the soundtrack to assist in your next solo session.

“Pick up the pace a bit. Not too fast and angle it so it’s pointing upwards a bit.”

He continues to instruct you, an “oh, fuck” or “shit” breaking up his sentences on occasion but making you clench around the toy you fucked yourself with. Being part of the reason why the ever-collected Rin Itoshi was falling apart was a unique position to be in, but a position you were excited to be in. The adjusted angle has you seeing stars, the tightening of your core an indicator of an ending you hoped you achieved.

“R-Rin, I’m gonna cum.” You actually were, and you were so excited that he’d gotten you there. “Oh my god, I’m gonna-“

“Don’t hold it. Cum for me and let me hear you.”

The way you cry out when you finally tip over that edge is unrecognizable. The waves of pleasure that crash through your system have your legs shaking as your thighs clench around your hand, tears pricking at your eyes at the immense pleasure you were finally getting to experience after what felt like a lifetime. On the other end of the line you hear Rin’s stifled groans as you assume he reached his own end. He probably looked so pretty, chest heaving and hair sticking to his forehead since he’d sweat, you couldn’t wait to see it in person when he got back.

Your body relaxes back into the mattress, your vibrator turned off but still held in your pussy as you try to steady your breathing as he asks: “Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m home on Thursday, and I’ll make you cum so many times you’ll forget you ever had issues with it.”

“Threat or promise?”

“Both.”

[itsmemuffy]

Booksmart

Prompt:"do you like that?" "i like anything you do." + person a wants to be even closer to person b, so they take their hands under person b's shirt and grabs their chest. (x)

Contents: Logan Howlett (any version) x gender neutral reader, established relationship, 110% fluff

Author's note: I have a few stories in the works that are becoming way longer than expected, so I wanted to challenge myself to write something quick and simple ♡

Your footsteps echoed through the room, shoes clacking against glossy hardwood panels. Logan sat at the far end of the couch where you were coming up behind him, not acknowledging your presence. He lounged with his feet up on the coffee table in a way Charles would never fail to scold him for.

Of course, the man knew you were there. Logan had the beat of your walk memorized– steady strides with an eagerness in your step. He could practically see the sway of your hips from just listening to the sound. Still, the train of thought he was riding needed to get to it's destination before anything else. He wouldn't allow his focus to be broken just yet.

Firmly in his grasp was an old, weathered paperback. You doubt he found it in that condition. Perhaps it was something that has been in his possession for a long time. As you made your way around the couch, you watched Logan's eyes zig-zag as they moved down the walls of text.

He reads at a measured pace, taking in each word and their relation to another. Just as Logan turned to the next page, he feels you slump down into the cushion next to him. Still focused on his book, he gently placed his free hand on your knee to placate you for the time being.

You leaned into his side with a sigh of relief. Today had been a long one for the both of you. Now that you were beside him, all that tension finally had a chance to melt away. Logan felt the same as he traced lazy circles on your thigh. He wishes he was able to make time for more moments like these.

"I am starting to think I'm less interesting than a dead guy from the 18th century," you whine in faux offense, wrapping yourself around Logan's heavy arm.

He lets out an affectionate hum, sparing you a glance from the corner of his eye. "19th century, darlin'. Not too long ago, mind you." Logan shakes his arm out of your grasp to blanket it around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. "Ya got Thoreau off by 'bout a hundred years," he lowly rumbles into your ear, making you giggle.

Not too long ago? you thought. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, yes. But Logan's perpective throws you for a bit of a loop sometimes. Oh, how you wish you had the ability to peek into his mind. You've gotten closer to Logan than most people in his drawn-out life ever have, yet all you get is pieces of his story. Nothing even close to the full picture.

Even in his strong embrace, you longed to be closer. You wait until his attention is drawn back into the world of his novel. Then, you sneak your hands under the layers of clothing; his jacket, his flannel, his shirt, and finally his tank.

You run your palms from his stomach up to his chest, fingers combing through the thick fields of hair. Logan shifts and flexes under your touch. He pretends his focus hadn't been broken until the gentle scrape of your nails across his pecs illicits a deep grumble from his throat.

"Do you like that?" you tease, finally achieving the desired amount of closeness (or something near enough to it).

Logan turns his neck to look at you head-on. "I like anything you do," he replies. He stamps your lips with delicate kiss, letting your deliberate strokes to his torso hypnotize him until the end of the chapter.

[idontactuallyremember]

Squid Game- Thanos x Fem!reader

Day 3 on this island and you're withdrawing- bad. Thanos offers to help but only if he & Nam-Gyu get something in return. Only, they start bickering and Thanos decides to show everybody who's in charge.

Pairing: Fem!reader x Thanos

(Nam-Guy slightly involved but him and Thanos don't touch)

CW: mentions of withdrawal symptoms, unprotected sex, a lot of cursing, substance use, Nam-Gyu watches you and Thanos, use of the nickname "daddy"

Authors note: If you are only interested in the spicy parts & not the backstory; it starts at the pink paragraph!! This is longer than I wanted it to be but I love this lil story

NSFW BELOW THE CUT- MINORS DNI

You wake up sweating, even though you feel the cool air on your face. It's only your second (maybe third ?) day locked away with these strangers- strangers that would likely all be dead within a few more days time.

You would care, only if you could get something to take this edge off.

Your bones and joints hurt.

As you shift in a sitting position in your bed- you realize there still aren't any lights on. How much longer you would have to sleep is up in the air, as there is no clock or windows indicating what time it is.

You try to place what time it could be and you guess there's only an hour or two left of darkness.

You would go back to sleep. You would, only, your sheets and pillow are covered in sweat. Your back hurts and your hands are shaking. Your stomach turns over as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. The nausea is starting. Your legs are restless.

Your thoughts are eating away at you. If only you had just one pill, one hit... anything. You're obsessed with how badly you feel, it's all you can think about.

Only then, in the darkness, do you hear soft whispering.

It distracts you from your pain. You decide to eavesdrop.

"No, just one, greedy fuck..." A low voice says.

You close your eyes to focus better.

"I still need enough to last the next few days- Just until we get out of here with our money." The voice carries on, the person he is speaking to stays silent.

You decide to peak over the edge of your bed to see where the voices are coming from.

In the darkness, you can vaguely make out two men sitting on a bottom bunk.

The first one is Thanos. You only remember his name because it's so unusual. As is his appearance. The other man- you have no idea what his name is.

A lot of people tried recruiting you, introducing themselves to you. At first, you didn't mind. But the longer you go without a high, the more belligerent and annoyed you feel yourself becoming.

Although it was obvious, it didn't occur to you what the two boys were doing until you see them place something in their mouth.

Immediately, without thinking, you climb down your bunk and start over to them. You don't even think about what you're going to say- you only know you need to get high. And you'd do whatever you have to if it meant you could just feel a little less weak and nauseous.

They hear you before they see you- Thanos wildly looks around to see where the noise is coming from.

As you approach, you see Thanos scramble to hide what is in his hands.

The only thing your withdrawing brain can think to say is, "Hey..."

You would mentally smack yourself if you weren't so desperate right now.

"Hello, pretty." Thanos says. You see the other man open his mouth to speak but says nothing.

There's a moment of silence.

"I'm Nam-Gyu." The man finally decides to say.

"I'm Y/N." You say, even though you don't like the idea of anyone knowing your real name.

Thanos looks you up and down. He sees you shaking, itching your arms. He sees the pool of sweat around the collar of your shirt.

"You don't feel too good, huh?" He notices.

"No, not really." You say, weakly. You were hoping he offered something to you so you wouldn't have to ask.

"Sit down." He orders.

You do as you're told, even if you don't appreciate the bossy tone.

"You want one of these?" He asks, his hands holding the cross emerging from his hiding place. You didn't like the connotation behind his voice.

"Yes, if you can spare one. I'm withdrawing bad..." You say.

"Aww..." He says and grabs your hand, "you wanna feel better?"

"Yes, I do." Is all you say, his flirtatious tone does nothing but annoy you.

"Just give it to me, dude. Not in the fucking mood." You think to yourself.

"Well..." Thanos looks at Nam-Gyu. You sense they are having a silent conversation with their eyes. A conversation in a language you don't understand.

"I can give you one, if you really need it." He offers.

"Thank you." You say, expecting him to say more.

He pulls out the necklace under his shirt and opens the cross. Sitting there are multiple, colorful, small tablets.

"Here:" Thanos grabs a random one, "Take it."

You open your palm to him, waiting for him to hand it to you.

Only, he doesn't. He pops the pill in his mouth, instead.

"C'mere, fast." He directs. You're unsure of where this is going but, again, do as you're told anyway.

As you scoot closer to him, he grabs your face. In a second, he is kissing you. With his tongue, he passes the small tablet to you in your mouth. He kisses you for a few more moments.

As he pulls away, you chew the already dissolving pill and swallow.

"You'll feel better soon, okay?" He says, as if he didn't just force his tongue in your mouth, "it hits fast."

You don't have much to say. While you're grateful you will feel less sick today- the kiss left you stunned. It was unexpected. And maybe a tiny bit hot.

"Thanks." Is all you say and you get up to return to your bunk.

"No way, senorita, you stay here." Thanos says, grabbing you around the waist. He forces you back sitting in his bed.

Part of you already knows what direction this is heading. Part of you can't care- you're finally going to be high again for the first time in days.

"Show some gratitude, yeah? He just saved you from withdrawals." Nam-Gyu says, the first words he's uttered since introducing himself.

You decide to say nothing in response.

As the minutes go by, you wait for it to kick in. You're praying it does work fast- like Thanos promised.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Thanos asks you.

"I got in a lot of debt from my addictions. Gambling, drugs, drinking.." you say.

"Mmm, not good. You're too pretty to be doing those things." Thanos hums, absentmindedly.

You start to feel a little woozy. You notice your pain is slowly getting better, your mood lifting a little.

Somehow, by your body language, the two boys notice, too.

"You feel better already, see?" Nam-Gyu says. You nod in agreement.

As if waiting for the perfect moment- the moment you started feeling it, Thanos asks: "So what do I get in return for making you feel better?"

You were waiting for this.

"What do you want?" You ask.

You know his answer before he even tells you. The look in his eye, his shit-eating grin. You see what he wants.

"Well, I made you feel good. You're gonna make me feel good, too, right?" Thanos smiles.

You are silent for a minute. If you don't agree, you were scared he would do it anyway. Plus, with the drugs kicking in, you felt much more care-free, maybe even a little horny.

You thought Thanos was attractive but his personality wasn't exactly all he cracked it up to be.

They might be jackasses, but Thanos did at least help you- even if it was truthfully for his own benefit.

"Okay" you agree, "I'll make you feel good."

His smile only widens, "Good girl, I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." He scoots closer to you.

Thanos grabs your face to kiss you, again. You comply; letting him take dominance.

"I knew from the moment I saw you... I was waiting for you to come begging for a high." He whispers, between kisses.

He pauses for a moment to lay you down, your head falls in Nam-Gyu's lap, unexpectedly.

You look up at Nam-Gyu, then back at Thanos.

"He wants to watch us, okay? You can pretend he's not there." Thanos says, running a hand down your face.

You get a little embarrassed at the thought of someone watching you but it sort of turned you on.

You say nothing. You decide ignoring him might be the best course of action, even if it intimidated you.

With Thanos still on top of you, he kisses your face softly. He nibbles your neck and earlobes. Maybe it's the high, but it feels like fucking magic. You put your hands in his hair as he teases you, continuing to kiss you everywhere he can.

He puts his hands under your shirt and gropes at you, rubbing circles around your nipple over the thin fabric of your bra.

In the midst of the moment, you look up at Nam-Gyu, just above you, your head still laying in his lap. He paws at himself through his pants but doesn't say anything. He doesn't touch you.

Thanos sits you up for a moment, taking off your shirt and bra. The cold air makes your nipples hard and Thanos licks his lips before latching himself to one of them, sucking hard and swirling circles with his tongue.

You groan, quietly.

"This is what you've been hiding under these baggy clothes?" He asks, "So fucking sexy..."

You feel Nam-Gyu move nearer towards Thanos' side of the bed, you assume, to see you from his perspective.

Thanos doesn't even give him a glance. He pretends he isn't there at all. His attention is only on you.

He lays you back down, and messes with the waistband of your pants. A shiver runs through you.

Thanos takes off his shirt in one quick motion as he grinds against you- pulling it over his head. It made your knees weak to see him shirtless- his necklace swaying back and forth just above your head. Your eyes are all over him.

"Don't look at me like that, not yet." He warns.

"Like what?" You ask, a cheeky smile peaking through your attempted deadpanned gaze.

"Like you're begging for it..." He kisses your stomach, "be patient..."

Nam-Gyu silently watches, listens to your conversation. He hungrily paws at himself- his hips bucking in anticipation. It makes you wary to say much but as the minutes pass, the relief that you're not withdrawing anymore is overwhelming. You were scared you'd do anything Thanos asks, out of appreciation.

"Get on top of me." He orders.

Before you straddle him, already shirtless, he hums, "Let's take these off, too, okay?"

He gently slides off your pants, but when he sees a pair of cute, lacy panties, he pauses.

"Fuck..." He stares at the intricate, purple lace, "You're a fucking dream to me."

Before you get on top of him as requested, he quickly removes his sweats & boxers, letting you see everything.

Once on top of him, he groans as you rub against him. You lean down to kiss Thanos, your ass in the air.

Nam-Gyu swallows thickly; he has a perfect view of you here. His hands fumble with his waistband as he slowly begins to properly touch himself.

Thanos' hands are all over you. In your hair, scratching your back, gently squeezing your throat, down your hips as you grind against him. You kiss his neck, his chest.

"You wanna ride me, Princess?" He asks.

You nod and he quickly reaches down and slides your panties to the side.

You make quick work of lowering yourself down perfectly, letting only the tip graze against your wetness.

"Do you feel how much I need you?" You ask.

"Fuck... yes... yes, I do." He manages.

Only when you let him enter you completely do you get your first real moan from him.

He groans, loud and then, "C'mere." He grabs your throat, "you're so fucking tight for me... treating me so good.." His hips thrust into you as you ride up and down slowly.

He stops, suddenly, reaching for the cross around his neck. Still inside you, he opens it, places a red pill on his tongue and then says to you, "Open..."

He pops another pill in your mouth. Nam-Gyu's face goes pale.

"Dude, are you fucking serious?" He asks.

"What?" Thanos asks, looking at you slowly ride him, smiling and nodding as you chew and swallow.

"You're gonna give her another one just because she let you fuck? You're so fucking easy, man. You're a fucking pushover. I asked for another one and you said yo-" Nam-Gyu starts but is interrupted.

"I said 'no' because last time I fucking checked these belong to me. I decide who to give them to. How many I give. How many I take. That's up to me. I'm no pushover- you think you deserve more than what you do. That's not my fucking problem, man. I don't have to give you fucking ANY, you realize that? I don't owe you. I protect you in here- YOU owe me. If you sucked my dick maybe I'd give you a few extra, too. Everyone can see who's in charge here. Respect that or go somewhere else..." Thanos says, then- directed to you, "Tell me who's in charge, baby?"

"You're in charge" You say, playing his dumb game.

"Who's the boss, princess? Tell me."

"You are."

"What's my fucking name?" He thrusts inside you, hard, gripping your hair.

"Thanos, fuck!" You moan out in response.

Nam-Gyu sucks his teeth but says nothing more.

"I wanna be on top, now." Thanos says, flipping you over.

Your hair sprawls out around you and Thanos makes a show of taking off your panties now that you're laying down.

A show seemingly for Nam-Gyu. Almost as if to say, "Fuck you, you wish this was you, huh?"

Just as he begins to fuck you again, he turns to Nam-Gyu.

"Move off the bed, you're in the fucking way." Thanos orders.

"Where do you expect me to sit, then?" Nam-Gyu questions, clearly annoyed.

"Sit on the fucking floor for all I care, I don't give a fuck- move."

Nam-Gyu chews his lips, "I don't want to sit on the fucking floor like a dog."

"Don't act like one, then! Your options are you sit on the floor or you go sit in your fucking bed. Either way you have to stop bitching. Decide -fast- and shut the fuck up." Thanos says and a muscle in Nam-Gyu's jaw tightens. They are both irked.

"You think you can just talk to me however the fuck you want?" Nam-Guy says.

"Yeah, I do. And you're not gonna do a fucking thing because I give you drugs and you're a fucking junkie." Thanos laughs.

He continues to fuck you, slowly at first but speeds up as he hears your feedback.

Nam-Gyu is silent but the energy is different.

"You're a junkie, too. You chose drugs over your fucking career, man. Don't act better than me." He finally says.

Thanos snaps, "Did I not tell you to sit on the fucking floor, bitch? Did I not fucking tell you that?"

"What makes you think I have to do what you say?" Nam-Gyu starts, "I'm over it. You think you're God's fucking gift to this earth when in reality you are a freak."

Thanos shoulders him off the bed and to the ground, "The shoes I came in here with cost more than your fucking rent, don't talk to me like that again."

Nam-Gyu stays on the ground but sits up. He rubs his shoulder, where he hit the ground.

"Should we show him how much of a freak I am, baby?" He asks, smugly, back to hovering over you in an instant.

He enters you, again. This time: no distractions.

He fucks you hard and deep; he's using you like a toy. His colorful nails dig deep into your hips, directing your every move.

"Fuck, Thanos..." You say and he digs his fingers into your soft skin harder.

"I love when you say my name." He groans.

You turn your head, Nam-Gyu sits on the floor, pathetically grabbing at himself.

Thanos grabs your head, harshly, and faces it back to him so you are locking eyes,

"Are you fucking him?" He asks, harshly.

"What... No..." You say.

"Then don't fucking look at him." He says, then lowering and whispering in your ear, "Don't pay him no mind, baby. Think about how good my cock feels, okay? Be a good girl now..."

"Yes, Daddy" you say, accidentally. Thanos grips the sheets in reaction.

"Fuck! Call me that again. Who am I?"

"Daddy... please..." You moan.

"Please what, baby?" He purrs

"I'm close..."

His pace quickens at your soft pleading as he hits the same spot over and over. Your legs are shaking soon, your knuckles white- gripping his hair.

You hear Nam-Gyu making soft noises beside you, straining his head to get the best view.

"Show me how good it feels, Princess." He says, he's fucking you so hard a bead of sweat drips off his jaw, splattering on your cheek.

Uncontrollably, it comes to you. You cry out, loud. This does nothing to slow him down.

"Yeah, baby? It feels that good?" He smirks.

When you finish, he doesn't stop, he continues, ruthlessly.

He only slows to lift up your legs so they're resting on his shoulders.

Nam-Gyu's pumping gets more reckless, he sits on his knees and moans softly after you finish.

You ride out your orgasm as Thanos grows closer. Your moans are meaningless streams of words now.

"Fuck... c'mon, baby... I'm so close." His eyes roll back.

"Please, cum inside me, Daddy" You beg.

With that, he's finally tipping over the edge, his thrusts getting sloppier as he fills you up.

"Yes, Princess, fuck... You're perfect..." He says, finally slowing down. He remains inside you only long enough to lean down and give you a quick kiss.

"That was fucking... amazing..." he says, out of breath. You both fall asleep right there, neither worried about Nam-Gyu.

[tulpanya]

How would everyone react when they have a crush? Are the obvious or good at keeping secret that they have a huge love for the reader?

a crush? on you? haha... yeah.

includes : (mouthwashing) anya, curly, daisuke, swansea.

summary : how they are when they have a crush on you!

warnings : gn! reader.

ANYA

It takes Anya a while to realize she has a crush on you, either because she's pushing her blooming feelings very far down or because she's just a bit oblivious.

When she does finally come to terms with the fact she has a crush on you?

She suddenly gets very clumsy whenever you enter a room, and her thoughts are all askew whenever you send her a smile or ask her a question. It becomes a little obvious that something is up with her.

"Anya?" You call after catching her from almost tripping and landing on her face. "You okay?" She blinks up at you a few times, her brain slowly processing what's happening.

"I- uhm, huh?" Concern is written all over your face. You help her stand upright, though you don't let her scramble away like she was planning.

"Let's get you to the medbay, I'll give you a check up." Her face is flushed, especially when you insist on helping her walk back to medbay, which only makes you more concern for her wellbeing.

In terms of affection, Anya does grow a little detached because she worries that perhaps her previously casual and friend-like affection will make you uncomfortable.

She definitely isn't one to make any moves on you despite her growing feelings. She'll wait until you ask her out- and if that never happens then she'll just try her hardest to put the feelings to rest.

Anya is very patient though, so take your time- but maybe not too long, yeah?

CURLY

TAKES SO, SO LONG for him to realize he has a crush on you. He has a lot of responsibilities so romance isn't necessarily at the top of him mind

He finally realizes he may or may not have giant crush on you when despite himself he finds himself missing your presence. He just wants to sit with you, talk to you, be near you, forever and ever and oh... he has a crush!

As soon as he realizes? He is trying to romance you.

"Flowers? For me?" You're honestly surprised when Curly hands you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He's got his charming smile that could make anyone swoon, his eyes twinkling with something you can't quite place (love), and he holds up two tickets to a movie you've been dying to go see.

"I- Curly, what is this all about?" He lets out a low hum, leaning against your doorway, his arms crossed and an easy smile on his lips.

"Well I was thinking, if you wanted to, let's go on a date." It seems like it came out of nowhere, but he's been slowly trying to charm you since the moment he realized his feelings. Whether or not you decline is up to you, and Curly will respect your choice, but he oh-so-hopes that you'll join him for a dinner and movie.

He 100% makes his affections known when he has a crush on you. The favoritism is insane, and anyone who points it out will be met with Curly confirming his crush on you.

Of course if it makes you uncomfortable, Curly will take it down a notch, but if you seem to enjoy his affections and cute courting tactics then he'll definitely ramp it up.

Either way, Curly takes action when it comes to having a crush!

DAISUKE

Daisuke realizes he has a crush on you the second he develops one but he won't really saying anything about it.

He's very good at keeping it cool- his feelings only make him want to be an even better friend to you! Honestly, you can't really tell if he has a crush on you or not bc anything he does could be written off as being a good friend!

But there are a few indicators if you look hard enough: Daisuke puts a little extra effort into his appearance, he'll get a little frazzled if you compliment him, his touch will linger a little longer than normal, his playful flirting seeming a little more serious, etc.

Daisuke had messed around with his hair for almost an hour- it just wasn't falling the way he wanted it to, the way he knew you'd compliment him for, so he was stuck messing with it until it was perfect. When he finally glanced over at the time, dread filled his stomach. Good appearance or not, he was definitely late to your meet up!

The whole way to meeting you, he was fussing with his outfit, however in his eyes the stress was definitely worth it as he stepped his way over to where you were waiting. "Hey, sorry, I was-"

"Woah! Daisuke, why do you look so good? Now I feel like I should've dressed up more!" His eyes widened a little at your response, but then a soft smile graces his features and a warmth blossomed on his cheeks.

"No, you look perfect."

Daisuke's affections are so casual yet so romantic that he's definitely the type to make your other friends ask if you two are dating or not already.

Although he has no plans on actually acting on his crush yet, wanting to wait to ask you out until he's certain it's something you want to, he definitely does daydream about it and giggle to himself often.

Daisuke really likes having a crush, the way his heart races and he gets all giddy around you is super addictive to him.

SWANSEA

Dread. The moment Swansea realizes he's developing a crush on you he is filled with dread. He thinks crushes are childish and he can't believe he managed to get one.

Whenever he catches himself being too lenient or sweet with you, he'll immediately do a double take and accidentally be a little rude to you. It's very confusing for you.

Swansea is definitely an acts of service type of guy, so bet that if he has a crush on you that he'll be helping you with anything and everything.

"You did good." Swansea nodded, praising you for your work. You sent him a grin, which had his heart skipping a beat or two. He grunted, suddenly becoming too aware of everything- how his body is heating up, how sweet he was being, how close he was to you- everything.

"Uh, but you also fucked up this part- just lemme do it..." He grumbled as if he was annoyed... and he was, just not at you. He didn't miss the small frown that you gave him, which only made him feel worse. Damn it, why did you have to be so confusing to be around?!

"Don't... Ugh, don't be upset. You did good for your first time, okay?" He mumbled, and he didn't check to see if you heard him or not because either way- a smile or a frown- would have him spiraling.

His crush definitely isn't obvious to the untrained eye- in fact most people actually begin to think he hates you. Those who really pay attention though will catch on to his actions and suspect he likes you though.

Swansea definitely isn't blabbering about his crush either, he's keeping that shit under tight wraps until he's ready.

He'll eventually come to terms with his feelings, and when he does, it won't take him too much longer until he's ready to confess how he feels, but until then... stay strong.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[elssero]

YOOO CONGRATS ON 1K !!! <333 i’ll totally send in an ask for funsies hehehe (but ofc no pressure to write it!)

sooo how abt a one shot with reader and teenage hawks (like 17 or 18? but definitely before he has his official hero debut) and him and her started as partners at the commission, but they click from the start and are total trauma bonded best friends to lovers

ANYWAYS THEY’RE TRAINING TOGETHER BC THEIR HERO DEBUTS ARE COMING UP SOON AND SO THEY SPAR 🤗 he flirts, she flirts, he get flustered, she pins him and wins the match, they both go quiet and stare at each other longer than “just friends” would—

the age old story that i eat up every time tbh 😪 bonus points if he confesses and lands an actual non-platonic date with her, but i’ll leave it up to youuu <3

impending lovers.

hawks

-from partners in the commission, to friends, and maybe something more.

part of my 1k event! submit your asks!

‘ready to get your ass beat today birdboy?’

keigo stands around 15 paces in front of you, an amused look on his face.

‘i thought i told you to stop calling me that’

the gym is empty other than you two, it gives you the ability to speak freely, act freely, a small sense of freedom. but only when it’s just you and him.

you had originally thought it best to ignore him, all those years ago when he was brought into the commission just a couple of months after you were.

he was.. a distraction.

you think he still is.

but when he smiled at you on the first day you met him you knew it was no use.

‘you finally decided on a hero name?’

‘oh um yeah- i think im going for hawks.’

hawks. it suited him. it felt powerful, matched his huge- beautiful red wings. it’s why you had suggested it in the first place.

‘you went for my suggestion huh?’

he looks away- maybe a little embarrassed. bashful and blushing at your realisation that he picked the only name you suggested.

it’s always been like this. you tease and you laugh, border on flirting until- nothing. nothing ever happens, your beginning to think nothing ever will, although that’s probably for the best.

‘of course i did- come on, we’re wasting good sparing time’

the first part of his sentence is hushed, whispered, as though he doesn’t want you to hear it.

you don’t comment on it, instead you get into position, fists in front of your face to avoid a potential quick attack from him.

you’ll always find yourself here, standing in front of him, a couple feet away, just slightly out of reach.

he doesn’t count down, instead lunging towards you in one quick movement. you watch his hands, he’s not looking to punch, it’s more of a grab, a push maybe.

you move to the left- not quick enough, he trips you up with the side of his wing but the impact sends you both tumbling in the same direction.

neither of you give up, tossing around on the ground- hands reaching to grab the others in an attempt to stop them moving.

you hook his legs on yours, immobilising his lower half before you climb over him, giving yourself the upper hand.

it’s harder for him to fight you from below you, he’s trying to push you off, but your legs have his in a vice and it becomes clear to him that your not going anywhere.

you have his hands now, pinned together above his head, he’s attempts to move his wings, but their trapped under both of your body weights. you have him.

you haven’t really been looking at him- other than predicting where he was going to put his hands, he’s unmoving now, accepting defeat. it gives you a second to look at him, his face.

he’s staring at you, your faces are alot closer than you thought. your nose is inches from his, you can feel his breath on your face, you can feel his chest rise and fall.

your staring at each other now- and he has this look in his eye, you’ve seen it before, for split seconds. it’s admiration- but there’s something more. he looks almost dazed.

you want to move- but you can’t. there’s nothing holding you down but the idea of ruining this moment- so delicate, soft. it breaks your heart.

you can’t indulge, you’ve never let yourself before. you see him, of course you do. you’ve always saw him.

you see him fly, you see him laugh, and cry- your the only one who ever sees him.

it hurts that he’ll never see you too.

it’s better to push him away, don’t let yourself indulge.

in one quick movement your separated from him, you miss the look of panic in his eyes as he jumps up after you.

walking away, going to grab your water or a rag to dry the sweat, just anything to have a little space from him.

you don’t make it far.

‘wait- stop-!’ his voice is a little frantic- whatever he’s about to do is unplanned.

‘how long are we going to pretend?’

it catches you of guard- he’s gripping your hand, spinning you towards him. the look of upset on his face breaks your heart all over again.

‘what are you talking about?’

he shakes his head, even lets out a little laugh, as though he’s saying something obvious that your not understanding.

but there’s something desperate about the way he’s holding your hand in his, about the uneven breaths he’s letting out, about the way he’s looking at you.

he’s desperate- and suddenly it all makes sense.

‘i can’t keep pretending you don’t mean everything to me.’

[laswells-ashtray]

Irritated Kate, irritated Kate

"It wasn't like I meant for it to happen."

John's voice is grating in a way that signals in the back of her mind that she's exhausted and should probably eat something. That doesn't make his gruff-sounding though admittedly sheepish attempt to talk himself out of Kate's irritation any less exasperating.

Her tone is clipped, face tight with barely restrained annoyance at their circumstances as she responds. "I'm aware."

John grimaces, glancing back at Nikolai in desperation as he looks for verbal backup. Nikolai waves him away, not a hint of sympathy on the Russian's face.

"I'll get you a new shirt." He offers up as a solution, turning his attention back to Kate, guilt weighing down his shoulders. Serves him right.

He and Nikolai were tasked with finding a man for later questioning and managing to subtly load him in the back of the car they were using. It should've been easy enough given the difference in size and skills between their target and the two men.

The only issue was neither of them had thought to anticipate that the man might have been carrying a blade instead of a gun. The wound on John's arm was shallow, child's play for a man with his history. The blood he had accidentally smeared across the cuff of the shirt Kate was wearing, however, would stain. Given that she had borrowed Sarah's favourite shirt in an attempt to look casual in the area they had picked up their target, the stain would be more of an issue than it originally appeared to be.

She narrows her eyes at the Brit, holding her forearm out to him and forcing him to look at the soaked material that clings to her wrist. "You know that won't help this situation."

She ignores Nikolai's snort of blatant amusement, as does John.

"I'll get Sarah a new shirt?" It's a question instead of a statement, if he expected to throw out apparent solutions until he was no longer the subject of Kate's ire then he'd be sorely mistaken.

Sensing the failure of his current tactic, he swiftly swaps to trying to guilt her. "You can't be pissy with me when I'm injured."

Kate stares blankly at him silently for a minute or two, remaining indifferent to his plight. "You just said that you've knicked yourself worse while shaving."

"He has."

Nikolai's attempt at instigating almost amuses her. Almost.

John grumbles under his breath, something about partners and betrayal as his tone becomes pleading, almost petulantly so.

"I'm sorry about the blood on the shirt, I didn't even notice it until you pointed it out. Kate, fuck sake, don't do this to me."

At the very back of her mind, she ponders just how many lunches she can get him to pay for by using this as ammunition.