#this one’s extra sweet gang
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darksigns-exe · 9 months ago
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A little birthday themed Jolly fluff for the lovely @circle-with-me 🩷🩷🩷 I was going to drop this into your inbox but it got a little out of hand 😅
Jolly on your birthday. Sweet boy has made plans in advance bc you can’t tell me that he doesn’t go all out for his loved ones.
Step one of his master plan is breakfast. He’s getting all of your favourites onto the table. Whatever you like he’s got it. Fresh juice, cookbook pretty pancakes, a very beautifully arranged assortment of fruit, croissants truly whatever you want. He bought flowers and there’s a little wrapped box right in front of where you’ll sit. Just a little thing (the real thing comes later)
For step two he’s pampering his darling. While he’s planned a whole day for you, he hasn’t stuffed it too full because he doesn’t want it to feel as if there’s no room to breathe. He got the face masks you like but never buy because they’re just a little bit too pricey and a brand new scented candle that fills the bathroom with that soft freshly washed linen scent.
Next stop is the second hand store you like for a little browse. Even if it takes a little convince you eventually let him pay for the pretty dress you’ve been looking at for a while.
After that he’ll take you to a cosy little café for a mid day treat.
You’ll head home for a bit after that. Watch a little movie, maybe get a little comfy and cosy if you catch my drift.
Later in the day he’ll take you out for a nice dinner. Jolly made a reservation at one of your bucket list restaurants as a special treat. It’s pricey but nothing is too expensive for his love. The food is fantastic, the service is excellent and the man next to you is the cherry on top of all of it. His hand doesn’t leave your thigh the entire night. He steals kisses once in a while and it always makes you giggle a little. God you’re so in love with this man, even though this is far from your first year together.
After dinner you’re going on a little walk together. You’re perfectly content with how the day went but of course Jolly has one more thing up his sleeve. Just when you think that things can’t get better he hands you another wrapped box. This one feels lighter than the first one.
You unwrap it and maybe you already knew that it would be that but actually seeing it makes your heart skip in the best way possible.
“Jolly?” You ask, not wanting to assume that it’s more than just a very beautiful ring.
“Yes, älskling?”
And when you look over to him he’s already down on one knee and how could you possibly say no to him.
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amiableness · 6 months ago
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hiii!
first, i’m loving this dad!james series its genuinely so heart fulfilling so thank you for taking time out of your day to write
now i’m not sure if this will spark any interest but maybe dad!james and r have been dating for a like a month but no one knows and then the whole gang (or just rem and sirius) come over and like James is like extra touchy with her which like he was before but more so now so they’re both kinda like ??? until james is like she’s my girlfriend
ily
Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 977 words
thank you sm babe! i love writing for you all! hope you like it <3 series masterlist ; main masterlist
“Do they seem off to you?” Remus murmurs, his gaze following James as he heads into the kitchen. He had muttered something about helping you with the tea, but it wasn’t like you really needed the help.
The whole afternoon, Remus had noticed how James couldn’t keep his eyes off you, his gaze filled with that familiar, adoring warmth. That in itself wasn’t unusual—James had always looked at you that way. But what really caught Remus off guard was how openly you were returning those looks, your eyes just as soft, filled with the same affection. It wasn’t just the casual brush of his fingers against yours or his hand resting briefly on your lower back as you passed. It was also in the subtle, consistent touches—his knee brushing against yours under the table or the way his hand would linger on your arm during conversations.
You both appeared entirely and undeniably in love.
Sirius, however, is lost in his own world, meticulously taking apart one of Henry’s Lego sets just to rebuild it. “No,” he replies, not even looking up, his fingers expertly snapping the pieces back together. “Why? Did you notice something?”
“He hasn’t stopped touching her since we’ve got here.” Remus continues to stare at the doorway, as if expecting it to provide an answer somehow. The wall separating the kitchen from the living room blocks his view, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is different.
“He’s always like that with her.” Sirius says, focusing on a new Lego piece that refuses to snap into place. His frustration is clear as he twists and turns the piece, trying to make it fit.
“No,” Remus replies, shaking his head with a hint of uncertainty. “I’m sure I heard him call her ‘baby’ earlier.”
Sirius finally looks up, curiosity piqued by Remus’s tone. “When did you hear that?”
“When we first got here,” Remus says, his gaze distant as he recalls the moment. “James was talking to her in a more intimate way than usual.”
Sirius considers this, his frown softening slightly. “Oh, he probably did. He’s always calling her something sweet,” Sirius says with a casual shrug. “Lovesick is what he is.”
“He’s never called her ‘baby,’” Remus insists, his brow furrowing. “It’s different, I swear it.”
Sirius sighs and shakes his head, still engrossed in his Lego project. “We’ve thought that for years, and nothing’s ever really changed. Maybe this is just another nickname of his.”
Remus swears he hears you sigh James’ name from the kitchen, light and airy, and before Sirius can react, Remus is on his feet, tugging at his shirt with a sense of urgency. Sirius starts to protest, a frown forming on his face, but Remus doesn’t bother with an explanation. “C’mon,” he insists, pulling him toward the kitchen without another word.
“Nothing’s different, Rem. They’re just—” Sirius’s words die in his throat as he catches sight of you both.
James has you perched on the edge of the counter, his body firmly nestled between your legs, the warmth of him pressing against you in all the right ways. One hand cradles your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he tilts your head just so, deepening the kiss. His other hand grips your hip, fingers curling into the soft flesh where your shirt has bunched up, his touch pulling a gasp from you. The kiss is slow, unhurried, every brush of his lips against yours filled with a lingering desire, like he’s savoring every second. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the way your body arches into his, seeking more of him, makes it clear that neither of you wants to let go. The heat between you is palpable, each movement charged with a quiet intensity that speaks of just how much you want each other.
This is not the first time you’ve kissed clearly.
Remus clears his throat, a sound that cuts through the charged silence. You pull away from James, your breath coming in short, startled gasps. Your lips are swollen and pouty, still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. You clutch at James, reluctant to let go, as if the contact alone is grounding you.
James quickly tugs your shirt back into place, his hands lingering for a moment as he smooths out the fabric with a touch that’s both tender and possessive. His gaze flicks over to the boys, a mix of surprise and awkwardness crossing his face as he registers their stunned expressions. The heat in the room seems to intensify, the once-private moment now exposed under their watchful eyes.
“What the hell?” Sirius exclaims, his voice sharp with disbelief. “We’re out here building Legos—” 
“I wasn’t building—” Remus begins to protest, but Sirius cuts him off.
“—as we wait for our tea, and you two are in here snogging?”
“No, we weren’t sno—” You start to protest, but Remus and Sirius cut you off with pointed looks.
“When did this happen?” Sirius demands, clearly miffed. “Because that’s obviously not the first time you’ve kissed her.”His tone reflects his hurt that James, his best friend, hadn’t mentioned anything about this development.
James clears his throat, his face a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness. “About a month ago,” he admits.
“So you two are just messing around?” Remus asks, raising an eyebrow. James’s expression turns from defensive to offended, his brows knitting together.
“No, you prat! She’s my girlfriend.” James snaps, his voice tinged with frustration.
“Bloody hell, it only took you about eight years.” Remus retorts, a smirk playing on his lips. You let out a laugh, unable to help yourself at Remus’s quip.
Sirius, his annoyance settling, lets out an exaggerated sigh, “I expect another niece or nephew as compensation for making us all wait this long for you two to get together.”
please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌
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peachdues · 3 months ago
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WISH
Compass one-shot • bad boy!Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!Reader
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A tooth-rottingly sweet one-shot honoring my sweet boy’s birthday.
This takes place a few months into Sanemi x Reader’s relationship in Compass — the main story is still in the hot, sticky summer. So think of this like a flash-forward. Don’t worry if you’re not fully caught up — no real spoilers here!
CW: 6k • MDNI • the cozy comfort winter oneshot of your dreams • mostly sickeningly sweet fluff but enough allusions/references to these horny idiots’ very active sex life • some references to gang violence (not descriptive) • swearing • abuse of cake
COMPASS MASTERLIST
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Good birthday?
The two words sit on his home screen, a notification labeled with Genya’s name.
It takes Sanemi a moment to make sense of his brother’s text, until he spies the date reflected in the upper corner of his phone.
It’s November 29th.
For someone like Sanemi, dates are only important as far as they signal when something is due — and when something is late. The only dates that matter to him are the ones he’s told to care about; those hard deadlines that go unmet and require Sanemi to strap his crowbar to his back and his gun to his hip, so he can pay some poor bastard a visit.
Today is one of those deadlines, and Sanemi has a list of obligations to follow through on. But Genya’s text is a glaring reminder of the other thing today represents.
It’s his birthday.
Every year, his brother asks him the same thing — though, admittedly, Sanemi thinks the text is more a reminder rather than a happy wish of another year’s passing. Without Genya’s annual good birthday? Sanemi is fairly certain he’d forget November 29th held any significance to him at all.
I’ll be damned, Sanemi thinks, walking up the back entrance to an old computer parts shop — his first stop of the morning. Made it another year.
As unenthused Sanemi is about his birthday, he usually answered his brother with some pithy little acknowledgement. A biting Still alive, ain’t I? or, if he was feeling particularly festive, he’d simply send a thumb’s up, one that signaled his brother that Sanemi was working and didn’t want to risk smearing more blood and sweat across his phone screen than absolutely necessary.
This year, though — his twenty-second, he realizes after doing a quick bit of math — Sanemi’s not in any position to reply to his brother. Not yet, at least. So for now, his phone will have to sit in his pocket; his hands are about to be busy.
He’s got debts to collect.
Two hours later, Sanemi sits on his bike in an empty alleyway spliced between Market and Eastern Avenue.
In the last week or so, a strong front of arctic air had swept through the City, plunging it deep into the throes of winter. For a moment, Sanemi was grateful for the chill of the air; he always gets worked up after a collection, his limbs abuzz with hot blood and adrenaline. Cold air helped him settle down faster, cleared his mind so he could approach the next job with the same, violent precision.
Except, it’s now colder than he likes, but that itch still burns hot inside him. Hence, why Sanemi remains here, tucked away in this dark, forgotten alley, huddled over his bike. He’s got nothing to keep warm with but his worn leather jacket and the cigarette perched his lips, its end flowing a faint orange.
Tobacco-tinged smoke curls around his head, mixing with condensation of his breath as he exhales long and slow. The rush of nicotine is both a welcome distraction and extra sedative and finally, Sanemi feels his shoulders relax.
He’s only halfway through his cigarette, but he flicks it to the ground anyway. He’s not sure whether the burning in his throat is from the cold air or this particular bad habit of his, but it’s enough to kill his desire for anything more now that his edge has been sufficiently dulled. Still, he considers whittling himself down to the occasional cigarette is a marked improvement from the daily half pack he blazed through in his youth, before he discovered other outlets for his stress. Maybe he’ll be able to kick the habit all together by this time next year.
Assuming he lives long enough to see his next birthday, that is.
Sanemi’s in the middle of stuffing his lighter back inside his jacket pocket when he feels his phone buzz. He shouldn’t check it, not when his to do list still has one more name to cross off, but he’s already indulged in one bad habit this afternoon. Might as well go two-for-two.
And boy, is he glad he does when he spies the notification bearing your name.
Tell me you’re coming over tonight.
Sanemi’s lips twitch up with a smile he hasn’t been able to muster in days. Leave it to you to brighten his day in so few words.
What time you want me, sweetness?
A cutting gust of wind tears down the alley, whipping and tearing through the layers of his clothes. Any other time, Sanemi would simply hunch over the clutch of his bike and speed off, thinking only of someplace that wasn’t outside.
Now, he’s got you to look forward to.
Your reply arrives a few seconds later. Got a few errands to run so I’m closing up early. Owner can suck it. It’s cold.
It is, Sanemi mentally agrees, and he feels a rush of relief that closing nearly means you’ll be home — or close enough to it — before dark. The uptick in violence through the City has crept too close to your neighborhood for his comfort, and Sanemi already hates you walking home in the dark without him as it is. The season’s shortened days only makes that particular anxiety of his worse.
Thank the fucking stars you’re less inclined to weather the arrival of winter than he is.
It’s a date, beautiful. He texts back before pocketing his phone. He cups his hands around his mouth and huffs, willing his breath to unfreeze his fingers enough to grip his bike’s clutch.
Another torrent of wind rips through the alley, but this time, it brings with it the first snow of winter, pelting his face with fat, cold flakes.
Sanemi tilts his face up toward the sky and grins. It is a sharp, feral thing, full of teeth and challenge. Good. Let it snow as hard as it wants; let it suffocate the City under a thick blanket of white. He wouldn’t care; Sanemi can’t think of a way better to warm up than by crawling under the covers with you. Maybe he’ll even treat himself and convince you to sleep in with him tomorrow. It’s been a few days since he last had the chance to see you. While he knows better than to be a betting man, he’d wager his odds of keeping you in bed were pretty good.
Huffing nice, twice more on his hands and Sanemi starts his bike, its motor roaring to life underneath him. His fingers are still stiff, but he can at least grip his clutch enough to steer it. No doubt the icy sting of the wind will freeze his hands in place, but he’ll worry about how to unstick himself later.
For now, he still has work to do.
In the northwest corridor of the City is a port marina that harbors a smattering of small house boats. It’s inside one of these drafty little boats where his next target hides, no doubt relying on the sudden arrival of winter to trick his creditors into looking for him elsewhere.
That ruse might have worked if anyone else other than Sanemi had been tasked with hunting him down. Unfortunately for him, his name fell in Sanemi’s lap, and now he’s going to have to play host to some very unpleasant company.
Slowly, Sanemi treads his bike to the end of the alley, eyes squinted against the wind and the snow, sweeping the street for any unsuspecting travelers. Finding nothing but the odd plastic bag being whipped and tossed down the sidewalk, Sanemi kicks his bike into gear.
As soon as he gets this job over with, he’ll get to see you.
The engine revs, and then Sanemi is thundering down the street, a renewed warmth spreading through his chest that even the biting cold of November can’t dampen.
It’s just after dark when Sanemi pulls up to your apartment, quickly killing the motor on his bike. He scans the dark alleyway behind your complex once, twice, before he glances up at the series of windows. Once satisfied that there are no unwanted eyes tracking his movements, Sanemi makes his way to the building’s side entrance, and begins his steady climb up the stairs.
He twirls his key to your place around his finger. God, he can’t wait to get kick his boots off, strip down to his sweater, and climb into bed with you. Maybe you’ll let him poach off your neighbor’s cable satellite again, and that way, he can find you a movie to half-pay attention to. Or, maybe you’ve snuck away another handful of advanced release copies from work, and the two of you can get to work reading and reviewing them. Either way, Sanemi is ready for the calm he only feels when he’s with you; he’s ready to relax.
The first thing he notices when he steps into your apartment is the smell of something burning.
“Motherfucker ��“ he hears your vicious snarl from the kitchen right as something clatters to the floor. “One more fucking thing go wrong, I dare you —“
Calm is not on the agenda, it seems.
The air inside your studio is hazy with smoke, enough that it tickles the back of his throat. Hastily, Sanemi pushes your door shut before it can spill into the hallway and tempt one of the building’s ancient fire alarms. The last thing he wants is to summon the City’s finest and tip them off that a high profile gang member likes frequenting this neighborhood. Or the reason why.
“It’s me.” He calls out, crossing through your living room to crank open one of the arched windows behind your bed. Cold air floods your apartment, the winter wind chasing out the thickest of the smoke into night. “Baby?”
No answer; only more furious clanging and a particularly fierce “oh, fuck you.”
Cautious, Sanemi pokes his head into your small kitchenette. “Y/N?”
He’s not sure what he expected, but he can’t say he’s prepared for the sight of you, standing in front of your oven, hands on your hips and your foot tapping irritably on the floor. A cooling tray lays by your feet, and you don’t seem to be in any hurry to collect it; not when you’re too busy glowering down at your stove.
Sanemi’s eyes follow yours, and he finds what he presumes is the source of the stench. The worst of the smoke rolls off something sitting on your stove, though it’s too black for Sanemi to even guess what it’s supposed to be.
You whirl around and Sanemi has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
There’s flour on your cheek and dusted all down your front, along with other smears and stains of beige — batter of some sort, if he had to guess, given the cluttered mess on your counter of used mixing bowls and measuring cups. Your hair is a mess, puffed up and frizzed out from the smoke, framing a face scrunched up in pinched fury.
All things considered, you look pretty damn adorable, but he isn’t about to tell you that. The block of kitchen knives you rarely touch are too close within your reach for his comfort.
So, Sanemi takes the pragmatic approach and casually folds his arms across his chest. He offers with a measured nod of his head toward your oven. “I thought we talked about you cookin’ without supervision.”
For all the grief he’d given you about your inability to make anything more substantive than cereal, Sanemi learned rather quickly it was the most you could be trusted with. Once, you’d tried to show off your culinary skills by making him ramen, only for you to stick the dried noodles in your microwave without water. You hadn’t even noticed the acrid smell of something burning until he pointed it out, and by then, it was too late. It was only after he’d thrown the smoking bowl of scorched, blackened noodles into your sink that he hotly declared you were not to use any appliance in your kitchen while by yourself.
He’d thought you’d agreed to that ban but, as he peers over your shoulder to inspect whatever it is that’s about to set off your fire alarm, Sanemi grimly realizes the two of you are not on the same page.
“I wasn’t cooking, I was baking.” You snap, as though the distinction matters. You yank an oven mitt off one hand and snatch a loose fork from the counter, jamming it right into the smoldering center of whatever the hell it is you’ve tried to make. It pops and sags beneath the stab of the fork, more steam hissing out of the wound you’ve opened in its surface.
You hold the fork up for inspection and your eyes widen with outrage. “How is it burnt on the outside and fucking raw on the inside —?”
Sanemi glances at your oven settings and raises an eyebrow. “‘Cuz you have it set to five hundred — didn’t even know ovens could go that high.”
You chuck the fork into the kitchen sink with more force than necessary. “I was trying to get your stupid cake done before you got here. I wanted you to be surprised!”
He blinks. “What cake?”
“Your birthday cake!” You rip the other oven mitt from your hands scrunching it up before throwing it to the counter in defeat. “It’s your birthday, and I didn’t leave the store ‘til late, so I had to rush to get it done because I couldn’t swing a present other than this stupid cake!” You jab a finger toward the blackened pan still smoking on the stove. “And I couldn’t even do that!”
Sanemi’s eyes widen and for a moment, he can’t remember to blink.
All he can do is stare.
As much as he’s tried to forget them, there were a handful of November 29ths that had stuck with him over the years; a wad of chewing gum cemented to his memory that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried scraping it away.
His fifth birthday was spent clinging to his mother’s arm, begging her not to leave him alone in that dinky, unheated shoebox where they lived. His eyes had been teary, and he hated that he was acting like a crybaby, but he didn’t want his Ma to go — didn’t want to be left alone. He wanted her to scoop him up in her arms, to hum fragments of lullabies into his hair as she curled over him beneath their threadbare blankets, desperate for her body heat to sink into her son and keep him warm.
But it was winter, and Sanemi needed something to eat, so Shizu, heavily pregnant, had to go work.
She returned the next day with a lukewarm fast food hamburger Sanemi couldn’t stomach eating. Not when his mother came home sporting a new black eye, so dark and purple that not even her paper thin smile could dull her obvious wince, or the shadowy bruises peppered along her too-thin arms.
He spent his eighth birthday scavenging for spare coins dropped between the sagging, stained cushions of the old man’s broken down furniture.
Genya was nearly three and crying, his belly aching with a hunger he didn’t understand. Their mother was dead, and no one knew how to care for them except for Sanemi, and he’d been desperate; enough so that he’d clawed at the broken wooden couch slats until his numb fingers turned raw; bloody.
Because it was snowing and cold and Kyogo had left his sons at home in the dark, unheated apartment with nothing to eat.
He’d found enough loose change to justify running down to his neighbor’s place, and the old man had been kind enough to give him a packet of stale instant noodles. No seasoning packets, but the Shinazugawa boys had been too hungry to mind.
The only candles he had to mark the day were the mismatched stumps scrounged out of some cluttered drawer. His birthday wish — the very first one he’d ever made — a feeble plea that come December, Kyogo wouldn’t waste the month’s electric bill on booze his sons couldn’t even drink to keep warm. Winter in the Silo was harsh enough.
But December came and went, heralding in harsh winds and thick sheets of ice, and the apartment never once turned warm.
Sanemi never made another birthday wish again.
When he turned ten, Genya brought him home a tiny green race car, no doubt swiped from the basket of loose toys that sat next to the cashier at the nearby corner store. The paint was chipped, and one of the wheels had a tendency to stick whenever Sanemi skated it over the kitchen’s cracked linoleum, but it was a toy, and Sanemi hadn’t had one of those before. So, he ruffled his brother’s hair and the two spent the night rolling the car back and forth to one another across the floor, giddy with that childlike innocence they never got to keep come sunrise.
The corner store it came from closed not long after his birthday, its owner having been dragged out sometime in the night by hooded men, face too swollen and mouth too bloodied to scream.
Not that anyone would’ve helped, anyway. Not here.
Sanemi still has the car, though. It’s since lost a wheel, and the paint has nearly faded away, but it sits in his window sill; a prized token of the boy he’d never been.
For his fifteenth birthday, Sanemi’s lucky ass got not one, but two presents: a broken rib and a black eye. Courtesy of Kyogai, a sleazy had-been in the Corps’ ranks, whose penchant for downers meant he never had enough money to pay his dues to the Corps. Sanemi, a junior at the time, had been sent to collect money Kyogai refused to cough up, and in his youthful arrogance, thought he could simply strong-arm the Corps’ payment back.
That was when he learned never to get between a junkie and their fix — especially once withdrawal set in.
Sanemi returned the birthday generosity on a cold day in January, with his crowbar to Kyogai’s kneecaps. Rumor was he still couldn’t walk without a cane. But he never tried his bullshit with Sanemi again, and he thought that was probably the best gift of all.
So no, Sanemi can’t say he expects much out of his birthdays.
“No one’s ever made me a birthday cake before.”
It’s a breathless sort of admission, one that he’d probably be embarrassed about making if he wasn’t so caught off guard.
His admission monetarily stuns you into silence, and he almost feels ashamed. But you quickly recover and instead offer only a brittle laugh. “Yeah, well. Fucked that up for you, I guess.”
You finally look at him and Sanemi is startled by the tears rapidly lining your eyes.
“It’s just a cake, baby,” Sanemi soothes, hands reaching for you. “And today’s just a day. ‘S no big deal.”
Another great sniff. “It is a big deal!”
Sanemi is all too used to never having and not being allowed to want, so accepting what others want or try to give doesn’t exactly come easy to him. But the sight of you, nearly reduced to tears over the scorched disaster you’d tried desperately to make into something worth marking the day with has him reevaluating twenty-two years’ worth of trained indifference.
Beneath your frustration is clear upset with the situation. Because, you tried.
Sure, Sanemi’s birthdays passed without the usual triumvirate of cake-ice cream-presents he supposes other kids got. Frankly, he didn’t quite see the appeal of it anyway, but that may have been because Sanemi hadn’t known to miss what he never had. November 29th was just a day, after all; the mark of another year gone by without him taking a bullet to the head or having his body dumped in some faraway hole. The watery sun that rose that morning was no different all the others he’d managed to cheat his way into seeing. To him, it’s insignificant.
But not to you. For some reason, you don’t think you’ve given him enough.
Months of being together, and he still hasn’t figured out how to make you understand that he doesn’t need any grand gestures from you. It’s enough that you continue allowing him into your home, your bed, your life; that you soothe his fragmented heart, and chase away the cloud of numbness always lurking over his shoulder with one of your sweet smiles.
He doesn’t want for anything because he already has everything in you.
But you still want to give him more.
God, he doesn’t deserve you. And he certainly doesn’t deserve the tears swimming in your eyes or the frustration that weighs down your shoulders.
Sure, he doesn’t really give a damn about his birthday, but he sure as hell gives several about you, and your defeat is not something he’ll tolerate.
Sanemi fishes his set of keys from his pocket. “C’mon,” he nods toward the door. “We’re going to the store.”
“It’s not right,” you sniff an hour later as you hand him an oven mitt. “You shouldn’t be making your own birthday cake.”
“We’re making,” Sanemi corrects, seamlessly pulling the hot pan from your oven and placing it atop your stove to cool. “The present ain’t the cake, anyway.”
He tosses the mitt to your counter and turns to you, eyeing the can of frosting in your hand, one you absently stir a butter knife into, unsure of how else to help.
With a faint smile, Sanemi swipes his finger through the top layer of sprinkled sugar, dolloping it right on the tip of your nose. “You are.”
You roll your eyes, swiping your finger through the small blob of icing and bringing it to your mouth. As you suck the tip of your finger clean, you peer over his arm, nose wrinkling as you as you look down at the golden brown surface of the very much baked-through cake. “Still, box cake mix?”
“A cake’s a cake.”
The kitchen is teeming with the warm, comforting scent of sweet vanilla, one that spreads through the rest of your studio, chasing away the last remnants of burnt confectionary which lingered after your earlier baking fiasco. Boxed mix or not, you have to know that plan b smells leagues better than plan a, even if that means your ego has to take the hit.
“If you say so,” you grumble, shouldering him out of the way as you scoop out a glob of frosting, ready to slap it across the cake’s surface.
“Not yet,” Sanemi corrects, gently catching your wrist before your knife can make contact. “It’s gotta cool first, or else that’s just gonna melt all over the place.”
Your mouth twists into an annoyed grimace. “That seems stupid.” You gripe, stabbing the knife back into the canister of icing, right in its center.
“Chemistry, sweetheart. Didn’t you pay attention?”
“I slept through most of chem back in the day.”
That surprises him. “Weren’t you a goody two shoes?”
You snort. “Not when it came to science. Or math, for that matter. Always got my lowest grades in science and math.”
Sanemi rolls his eyes. “And a low grade for you would’ve been —?”
This time, you drop your head, suddenly sheepish. “Anything below an A.”
Of course. “Damn, wish I’d known.” Sanemi smirks. “Maybe I could’ve made bank tutoring instead of runnin’ around, bein’ a delinquent.” At the skeptical raise of your brow, he scoffs. “What? You think a blossoming criminal couldn’t also score a few As?”
Math had always come easily to him, though that may have been out of necessity than raw talent. Knowing numbers meant he could tally up debts quickly in his head and calculate the exact interest owed, which meant less time wasted wherein his target might be able to get one over on him. Not once had he ever finished a job short-changed. That’s what made him so valuable to the Corps, even back then.
His academic success across the various fields of mathematics and science (which was math with more words thrown in), was just an added bonus.
“Still, though — tutoring?” You laugh. “Sorry — for some reason I can’t picture you meeting some poor kid in the library to go over formulas and equations. I can’t even imagine someone willing to ask you — I mean —“ you gesture to him, and Sanemi knows that’s explanation enough.
“I might’ve. Especially if a certain pretty girl had batted her lashes and asked me all nice and sweet.” Gently, he pushes your hair back over your shoulder, his eyes watching your breath hitch in your throat; the goosebumps that spread over your skin. Smirking, he leans in and presses his lips right below your ear. “Kinda like how you did last week — ‘cept, you were asking me to give you something then, weren’t you?”
The way your cheeks darken tell him you know exactly what he’s talking about.
It was him. Specifically, his cum; you’d begged for it, actually, your recurring chant of fill me up, fill me up, baby, please! sweeter than music to his fucking ears.
You turn to grab the can of icing, defiantly putting your back to him, if only to avoid having to look at the cocky set of his mouth.
Sanemi’s gloating isn’t over. It’s his birthday, after all. “You know I’m right.”
“Oh, shut up before I make you decorate your damn cake.”
Still grinning, he lets you shoo him from the kitchen. Sanemi plops himself onto your sofa and fishes your tv remote from between the cushions. He busies himself flipping through the handful of channels you get, finally landing on some pro baseball game he only watches with half-interest.
“Ready!” You call a few moments later, and Sanemi tosses the remote aside, the game, forgotten.
You hover in front of your counter, hands together twisting nervously. The moment he appears in the kitchen’s small entryway, you step aside, revealing the fruit of your shared labor.
“Happy Birthday, Sanemi.”
The cake is small and its edges are a little lopsided. The icing looks like it was applied the same way as wallpaper paste. A lone, green candle sits lit in the cake’s center, its flame bright and merry.
Sanemi’s never seen anything more appealing in his life.
“You have to make your wish,” you sternly remind him as he leans over the cake, his eyes glued to the candle. “And you can’t say it out loud.”
A birthday cake; his very own birthday cake.
There’s a part of him that hesitates to blow out the candle, too entranced by the way the little flame dances and bends around the wick. After all, the last time he’d made a wish, it hadn’t come true.
And yet, another part of him — that silly, hopelessly optimistic part he knows better than to indulge — wonders if perhaps his eight-year-old self’s wish hadn’t worked because he’d lit the candles for light and feeble warmth. They hadn’t been intended for celebration, and he certainly hadn’t had a cake to hold them.
Maybe that was part of the magic; the spell’s missing ingredients.
This time, maybe things will be different.
His wish is simple, if not a little selfish. But Sanemi thinks that birthdays might be the chance to be selfish, and he’s not making his wish out loud anyways, so maybe he can get away with this.
Sanemi closes his eyes and he wishes for time. Time with you. Time with Genya. As much as the universe will let him have.
That would be enough.
Sanemi blows out the candle.
“C’mere you,” he says roughly, reaching for you. He pulls you into his side and presses a kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”
Your arms wind around his middle. “You did most of the work.”
“You made it a birthday cake, though.” He lays his cheek atop your head. “You turned this whole damn day into somethin’ special. Thank you.”
Without you, Sanemi would never know what it felt like to have his own birthday cake or a candle to wish upon.
Neither of you of bother with plates or cutting slices; instead, you hand him another fork and the two of you dig right in.
At the first bite, Sanemi’s eyes slide shut. Cheap box cake has never tasted so fucking good.
“Not bad,” you say thickly through your own mouthful, leaning over your counter. Another bite is already loaded on your fork. “Wonder what mine would’ve tasted like.”
Sanemi swallows. “Like raw cake batter.”
You turn over your shoulder to stick your tongue out at him, not caring that your mouth is full, or for the crumbs that fall on the counter top.
You’re about to return to the cake when a smear of white catches his eye.
“Hold it.” Sanemi sets his fork down and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger before you turn away. He tilts your face up, and smirks.
That’s when he leans in, flicks his tongue along your lower lip. He moans at the taste of sugar, the spare bit of icing left on your lip further sweetening the honey of your kiss, his mouth capturing yours.
Your moan rights everything in his world full of wrongs, your fork clattering to the counter.
The hand he keeps on your chin slides to the back of your neck, tilting your head; the other finds purchase at your hip, tugging you closer into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before Sanemi is drunk on your lips, the warmth of the evening liquid honey that pools in his stomach.
Your kiss tastes like cake and home.
He’d stay here all night if he could, but the fervor of your lips moving with his has quickly stolen his breath away. No matter how much he craves your kiss, his body demands air.
With a faint grunt, Sanemi breaks your kiss. The hand on the back of your neck remains firmly in place, keeping you close as Sanemi traces the slope of your nose with the tip of his. “You had icing on your lip. Had to fix it.”
Through his lowered lids, he can see the quickened rise and fall of your chest as you steady your own breathing; the flush in your cheeks. Your eyes are bright, however, illuminated with equal desire and challenge.
Your tongue flicks out to dampen your lower lip and Sanemi’s eyes narrow. “Maybe you should check for more.”
Fuck oxygen. His mouth is back on yours before you can finish your next inhale.
And then, he’s moving.
Though you’re walking backwards, you’re the one guiding him, your fingers hooked through his belt loops as you tug him through your kitchenette and out into the open space of your studio.
His groan vibrates into your mouth. Sanemi doesn’t have to open his eyes to know where you’re leading him; he’s treaded this very path to your bed too many times to count.
Oh, there’s plenty of time for this later, and he’ll happily indulge himself then. Besides, you’re even more sensitive in the mornings, and that means he’s guaranteed to coax two or three orgasms out of you with just his tongue before you both have to go to work in the morning, never mind what he’ll be able to do once he’s actually inside you. It’ll be worth holding off, for now.
But right now, his heart is too full, and tonight has been mending something inside of him he hadn’t known was broken. Something shy and curious, a remnant from the boy who might have secretly longed to know what it felt like to have a birthday mean something; to matter.
Still, he can’t resist fanning the fire a little, the hand on your hip sliding to your ass and squeezing, his fingers dangerously close to the dip in your thighs.
He lets you strip him down to his underwear and you to yours, since that’s how you prefer to sleep when not otherwise naked. Only when he feels your hand sliding down his bare abdomen does he still you, his fingers wrapping delicately around your wrist.
He feels your frown before he sees it. Cautious, your mouth breaks away from his and you lower yourself down from the tips of your toes.
A dent has notched itself between your eyebrows. “You don’t want —?”
Later, he’ll be sure to tell you that he wants you all the time — so much so that it might be a problem. But that’s not what tonight is about — not for him. For now, he can’t risk you discovering that he’s half-hard already; the second your hand finds him, he’ll be too erect to function, let alone think clearly.
He shakes his head. “Actually,” Sanemi hooks his arm around your waist and tugs you back against the bed, falling into your tower of pillows and blankets with you safely encased in his embrace. “I think I just wanna hold you, if that’s cool.”
Confusion flits briefly across your face before your eyes soften. “Of course. Don’t you know that birthdays mean you get whatever you want?”
He didn’t, but that doesn’t matter. Because this is why he loves you: you know, without him ever having to explain. You understand.
With a soft smile, Sanemi rolls to capture you under him, but braces himself above you long enough to allow you to sit up against the headboard. The moment you settle, Sanemi inches up beside you until he can rest his head on your stomach, his arm hugging your waist.
He swears he can hear your smile as you ask, “Happy?”
Exuberantly so; your body is soft in every way his isn’t, and warm. He’s in a heated, dimly lit apartment with no fear of the lights cutting out or the cold outside making his toes turn numb. The girl he loves, loves him back. Everything he hadn’t dared let himself wish for is now his, carding her beautiful fingers through his hair.
it’s almost perfect. Almost.
“Nah, I’ve got one more request.”
He leans over you and pulls a novel from the top of the stack that perpetually sits on your side of the bed, never shrinking. He hands it to you, meeting your inquisitive eyebrow with his smirk. “Read to me.”
He doesn’t care what book it is — whether it’s something he’s read before, or of a genre he isn’t all that into, it doesn’t matter. He just wants to hear you.
“A bedtime story? Really?” You tease, but you’re already flipping to the first page.
Content, Sanemi turns his face further into your stomach, burrowing harder into you. One hand still smoothing through his hair, you begin to read the prologue, pausing for dramatic effect where the passage calls for it. Slowly, the hours unfold as your voice weaves together the story — some high fantasy set in a distant world. Once upon a time, Sanemi would’ve wished he could dive into the pages of his book; anything to escape his reality.
Now, he can’t imagine being any place better than right here, with you.
It’s nearly midnight when Sanemi remembers Genya’s unanswered text still sitting in his inbox. Carefully, so as not to disturb you and your faint snoring, he untangles himself from you. One hand pats across the surface of your bedspread, searching for the small rectangle while the other gingerly removes the book still propped between your fingers. You’d made it about five chapters, your thumb still marking the page where you’d dozed off mid-passage.
Book in hand, he turns and tosses it on your threadbare rug, and it lands with a dull thump. He finds his phone near the foot of your bed. His eyes flick to you once to confirm that his gentle movements have not disturbed your well-earned rest.
Your mouth twitches with another light snore, and Sanemi smiles.
He clicks his phone to life, taking care to keep it turned away from you, mindful of the bright little screen. Quietly, he thumbs his answer to his brother. The moment he taps the send arrow, he tosses his phone back to the ground and reaches across the duvet for you once more.
A few hundred miles away inside a sleeping boys’ dormitory, under Zenitsu’s nasally snores and the odd, violent twitch from Inosuke, Genya’s phone buzzes from its place under his pillow.
Yeah. Good birthday.
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REBLOGS AND COMMENTS APPRECIATED!!
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suugarbabe · 4 months ago
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omg ok ok ok, I love your Sirius, so, I'm wondering if you could write a sirius x fem!reader who is maybe the grumpy to his sunshine? he's the one who is always super flirty and outgoing and the life of the party, and she would sort of rather die but begrudgingly puts up with it for him? OH but maybe one day she has a bad day and he gets to see a softer side of her 🥹 IDK idk I'm too excited to request this is so bad sorry my love xoxoxoxo kisses for youuuu
I am *living* for this okay. l i v i n g. because Sirius is my sunshine to my grumpy. I am the grumpy reader. okay let’s do this baby. kiss kiss kiss yoooou <3
Opposites attract right? At least that’s what others seemed to deem as the explanation for your relationship. Sirius was in a category all his own as far as you were concerned, but that category was nearly the opposite of where people would place you. Sirius was a people person, it came so easily to him it was like he never even had to try. It annoyed you to no fucking end when you first met him.
Being a descendent of the most noble and ancient House of Black had its advantages. Like incredibly sharp cheekbones, beautiful alabaster skin that contrasted perfectly with onyx locks and eyes so deep and blue you could drown in them. Sirius exuded this energy that seemed to pull people towards him; like he had his own force field. He could walk into a room and everything shifted, like he breathed extra life into the area and everyone was desperate to live.
Most people when asked about you would say you were…short-tempered. Your housemates tended to steer clear of your presence. Which was fine with you because you were easily annoyed by most of them. Ravenclaws were known for being know-it-alls and truthfully you found it rather repugnant. Thankfully you had Pandora as company. Usually her overly sweet demeanor would drive you insane, but you knew more than the rest. Being a Rosier sorted into Ravenclaw essentially meant she was the black sheep of her family. But that seemed to be your soft spot.
Pandora would tease that this was why you started falling for Sirius. Despite your more grumpy demeanor, you were never quite as grumpy when it came to Sirius. Hearing the ins and outs of what was going on over breaks from Pan made you want to take care of him.
The first time Sirius brought you around the rest of the marauders it was not without sideways glances. “Er, Pads, you seemed to have picked up a shadow,” James nodded towards your frame just behind Sirius. “Sod off, Potter,” you’d grumbled, Sirius’s palm big and flat against your back moving in slow circles. “S’alright love, he’s just teasing. Be nice, Prongs or she’ll hex you into next week and I won’t be able to stop her.”
“Not that you’d try to stop her, would ya mate. I’m Remus, but all these miserable gits call me Moony,” Remus gave a small fingered wave as he plopped onto the couch ceremoniously. He would eventually turn into the one that’d help you gang up on Sirius, if ever needed.
On this particular night, though, you were feeling just…down. It wasn’t often you felt like this, despite outward appearances. However when this feeling did hit you, there was only one person that could fully get you out of it. You knew that the Gryffindors were having their annual Halloween party. Which meant if you wanted to find Sirius that’s where he’d be.
You had of course agreed to come to the party ages ago; much to do with Sirius begging and pouting his pretty pink lips and sucking you in with his pretty blue eyes. Sirius had insisted that costumes were required, “Even for an angel like yourself” which earned him a particularly large eye roll. Thus, you threw on some fishnet tights and a black minidress with your signature black boots. Atop your head a small pair of black cat ears, thanks to Pandoras charm work.
She was dressed as an actual angel, charmed halo floating above her nearly white blonde locks. Any muggle would think they were truly hallucinating if they would have seen her. You greeted the fat lady with the password, “Hiddlypunks,” and she swung open. Within the first few steps one would be none the wiser. But two steps into the commonroom and the barrier was broken, music and singing and murmuring filling the room.
“Drinks yes? Please yes,” you nodded at Pandora who found her way to to the drink table to create what you were hoping were very strong concoctions. You didn’t need to look around in order to find him. That magnetic pull leading you closer and closer until you heard the boisterous laugh of Sirius Black. You were quiet in your approach, not drawing any attention to yourself on purpose. Even though you yearned for his touch you knew how much he enjoyed entertaining and didn’t want to interrupt.
Remus spots you of course, the observant bastard. He throws a playful wink in your direction; you responding with a middle finger and a forced smile. Sirius is in the middle of recalling “a truly amazing play, great play” from the last quidditch match, but Remus’s low chuckle from your display of affection towards him causes your boyfriend to turn around in search of who could have possibly pulled attention away from him.
His furrowed brows disperse as you catch his sights and smile lights his face, “Well, hello there, Kitten.” You give a weak smile in response, “Hi Siri.” His brows are furrowed once more. The others try to greet you but immediately you’re swept away to a farther corner of the room. Sirius swirls his wand around you both, muttering a quick muffliato, coating you both in silence. “Okay, out with it what’s wrong?” Sirius’s hands were laid gently on your waist, head dipped down to force your avoidant eyes to keep contact with his. “Come now, pet. You know I can’t do anything without knowing what’s wrong,” he urged, giving your waist a small squeeze.
You met his eyes and yours immediately began to brim with tears. In an instant Sirius has engulfed you, one hand grasping your head and holding you close to his chest while the other wraps around your back, squeezing you as close to him as possible and hoping the pressure of his pull is soothing. His heart breaks ever so slightly at the muffled sobs against him. Your emotions seem to be everywhere but embarrassment is toping the list as you begin to pull away, aggressively wiping your face with the heel of your palms, hoping no one but Sirius is noticing you in this state.
"I-I'm sorry Siri, 've just..." you trailed off, choked breaths causing your intake of air to stutter. Sirius's touch has yet to cease, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other finds solace in the dip of your waist, "Rough day, love?" You nod once, looking to the ceiling and willing any tears to fall back into your head instead of trailing down your face. "Alright, let's go," his head tilts towards the spiral staircase that would lead to his dorm.
You sniffle quickly, shaking your head, "N-no, I'll be okay. I'm not going to take you away from the party, Siri. Not gonna steal you from your friends like that." Sirius can't help but scoff, "Fuck my friends." You laugh a little at his brashness and the sound makes Sirius grin again, "There you are, love." He takes a quick peek over his shoulder, "Now. Let's just go tell the others we're going up, Remus will make sure we're left alone for a good few hours then, hmm?"
You nod, agreeing, knowing that there's no use in arguing with Sirius when he's made up his mind. His fingers laced with yours and the cool feeling of his rings are such a contrast the the heat in your body that it's calming. He gives your hand an extra squeeze as you approach the group. You decide to try and stay hidden behind Sirius, almost burying your face against his shoulder blade, barely peeking one eye out to see the others.
Sirius explains that he's feeling tired and wants to go back to the room with you. James does not look convinced in the slightest. He looks even more confused by your seemingly shy and reserved demeanor. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so...vulnerable. Remus is the only person you make eye contact with and he gives you a simple wink and a nod. The reassurance from the smallest action making you sigh in relief.
It's almost like Sirius can feel you relax slightly, turning to you and asking if you're ready to go. You give a feeble nod and a shy wave to the others, most of which look a little skeptical but say no protests in return.
When you make it to his dorm Sirius immediately goes to his trunk, pulling out his favorite concert tee and handing it to you. You take off your outfit slowly, pulling his shirt over your head and letting it consume you, the additional scent of Sirius now enveloping your body and adding to your relief. Sirius changes himself and then pulls back the duvet, "In you go, pet."
You oblige, going and getting comfortable on your back. Sirius climbs in after you, crawling over your form and placing two soft kisses on either apple of your cheek before giving you the most gentle yet firm kiss. He rests his head against yours, asking you almost in a whisper, "D'you wanna talk about it?"
"No," your response so soft it would've been missed had it not been only you two in the room, "Will you just...lay on me?" Sirius kissed you softly once more, scooching down just enough to lay his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around you, relaxing himself and allowing his full weight to now lay on top of you. The weight of your boyfriend was the grounding you needed, your breathing now finally able to even out.
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navybrat817 · 2 months ago
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Hey- if you're still taking prompts for ficlet Friday- Bucky and #31- pinky swear.
Oh, this is sweeet! How about more of our drunk!Bucky before that night out?
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Pinky Swear
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Word Count: Over 800
Warnings: Talk of fear of heights, backstory, slight angst, slight fluff
A/N: Takes place before Pretty Girl.
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Bucky deeply inhaled the cool evening air and exhaled slowly. He hadn't moved from his spot on the outdoor sofa since he sat down, but he knew the number of steps it would take to get from his seat to the door. Looking at the rooftop guardrail, he reminded himself it was more than tall and sturdy enough to prevent anyone from falling. He was fine. Everything was fine.
“Bucky!” your pretty voice beckoned to him over the rest of the chatter from the group. “Come look at this view.”
Finding a stable point to look at was always good practice when he was afraid, and who better to look at than you? His pretty girl. You weren't technically his girl, but you were in his heart and you looked extra pretty tonight. He told himself the reason his heart stopped was because of how pretty you looked and not because of how close you were to the guardrail.
And here you wanted him to join you, but his body wouldn't move.
“I’m good right here,” he said, his smile tight. He gripped his beer bottle so tight he almost shattered it.
“You sure?” you smiled over your shoulder.
All he had to do was take a breath, get up, and join you. His head spun at the very thought, and he couldn't do it. He was a fucking coward. “I’m good,” he said again.
There was a frown on your pretty face as you went over to the sofa and sat beside him. “Hey. Are you okay?”
You always seemed to know when he was feeling off and he wanted to remove the concern from your eyes. “I don't…”
“You don't what?”
He inhaled and exhaled again, and he felt your pretty gaze on him as he ran a hand through his hand. There was nothing wrong with telling you. Maybe it would make him feel better. “I don't like heights,” he said above a whisper, feeling some of his anxiety subside.
It stemmed from his childhood when he lost his dad in a parachute accident, and it never went away. The fear only got worse when he fell from the train. When he was under HYDRA’s command, he wasn't allowed to experience fear. They locked it away deep inside with the rest of him. Now that was himself again, his fears came back to the surface stronger than before.
“Oh, Bucky.” You moved a little closer and angled your body as if to shield him from the view. It was sweet of you. “Are you okay?”
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “I'm fine as long as I don't go to the railing.”
Your eyes widened and he felt like shit when he saw the guilt that swam there. “Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have asked you to look if-”
“Don’t be. You had no idea,” he said, putting his hand over yours and quickly pulling away when he realized what he did. “I know you wouldn't have asked if you knew.” You were one of the most thoughtful people in his life. If you knew in advance that he hated heights, you not only would've kept him far from the railing, but you would've made the gang move the gathering somewhere else to accommodate him.
“No, I wouldn’t push you out of your comfort zone,” you confirmed, staring at your hand where he touched it.
“You’d somehow widen the comfort zone so I felt okay,” he smiled. That was the kind of person you were.
“Maybe,” you smiled. “May I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he nodded. Anything you wanted.
“If you don't like heights, what made you come up here?” you asked curiously.
You.
But he didn't admit that you were the reason. It would've been the right time or place. “I… I don't want it to be a big deal. Besides, I wouldn't look like a team player if I skipped,” he answered, and he was telling the truth. You were still the number one reason though.
“Well, if you aren't feeling it, we can go to the lounge. Just say the word,” you offered.
“We?” he repeated.
You played with the hem of your shirt, which made him smile. “Yeah, I mean, if you want the company.”
Bucky always wanted your company. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, leaning in a little closer. “And listen. I know this is silly, but if you could not say anything. Steve’s the only one who knows and…”
Bucky was learning to be vulnerable again. He was trying. And if there was anyone who wouldn’t use his fears against him even in a joking manner, it was you. He trusted you.
“I won't say a word,” you whispered.
“You swear?” he smiled.
You surprised him by wrapping your pinky around his, and your touch would linger long after you let go. “Pinky swear.”
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Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️ And we still need him to confess.
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ddejavvu · 3 months ago
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darry Curtis x daughter reader where shes superrr sweet? Like she shared all her toys, she loves to randomly tell the gang members she loves them, she loves to give compliments, and things like that?
The red and white checkered hem of your dress tucks neatly beneath you as you clamor clumsily onto Dallas's jean-clad legs, and immediately, before you've even settled into his lap, he's complaining.
"Hey, c'mon, I'm trying to watch the movie." He gripes, dodging your curly pigtails as they obscure his view of the television set. He waves his hand in exasperation but he doesn't push you off, and your tiny hands brace against his chest as you settle in a cross-legged position in his lap.
"I brought you gum," You whisper, loud because you're still four and you don't know that you're not whispering right, "Dally, I brought you gum."
Dallas squints at the slightly squished stick of gum you're holding out to him, definitely warm and partially melted from being concealed in your little fist.
"You brought me gum?" Dally repeats, staring at it but pointedly not taking it, "Why?"
"Because I love you." You say simply, "Daddy only lets me have one stick a day but I snuck an extra one for you 'cause it's real good."
Dally's face holds a mixture of bewilderment, distaste, and for a moment anger that anyone on the outside would have found comical. He truly doesn't know how to respond, not when you're settling into the curve of his chest with your mary janes braced on his thigh, smacking your own gum and slipping into the trance of the movie playing on the tv.
You've always been a sweet kid, taking more after Sodapop than you do your dad. At least in the way that your eyes sparkle as you hand off your favorite toys to the members of Darry's little gang, and you've always got yourself parked in someone's lap.
Dallas is typically lucky enough to avoid these confrontations, but this is what he gets for picking up babysitting duty while Darrel takes an extra shift at work. Now the crown of your head is tucked beneath his chin and your fingers are fiddling with the side seams of his jeans, one pudgy hand still clutching the stick of gum you'd swiped for him.
Perhaps you're taking after Dallas a little bit too, stealing things.
Peppermint gum is a sorry swap for nicotine, but Dallas snubs his cigarette out on the side of the couch and plucks the stick of gum out of your tiny fingers as a silent acceptance of your sentiment- perhaps even a reciprocation.
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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago
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I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-
I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)
(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)
bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake
Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon
Oh I can definitely work with this ^^
......
When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.
"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.
Easy as pizza pie, right?
Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.
Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.
So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.
Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.
"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.
Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.
Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"
But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.
You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.
On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.
While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.
Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.
Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.
The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.
But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.
Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.
He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!
Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.
So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.
When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.
He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.
But as it turns out, you love your job!
You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.
And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).
Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.
Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.
Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.
But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.
Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.
Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.
"Was he just laughing at us...?"
"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."
Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.
1K notes · View notes
daydreams-after-dark · 3 months ago
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Free Use Jail Cell, Extra
Dinner date with Minho
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final) | extra: Police Reports | Dinner date with Minho
full master list for additional installments
Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader
Premise: A continuation of the free use jail cell series.
Word Count: this installment 4.3k approx.
Chapter Summary: You are free from the ot8 free use jail, Minho helps you out and then asks you over for dinner.
CW below the cut.
This is also in response to this ask here.
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CW: masturbation with sex toys, video sex, spanking, vaginal penetration with an object, oral sex (m rec), vaginal sex (unprotected), restraints, stretch kink (because I'm obsessed).
After he’s finished kissing you and watching you drive away, Minho heads back into the police station. He feels giddy, like a school boy who’s just had his first kiss. It's a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time and he is both excited and fearful of it. Usually, when things start off this good, they inevitably end in disaster. But you know what he’s like when it comes to sex, and you weren’t scared off. That’s one fundamental difference from his past partners.
“Why the fuck are you smirking like that?” Says Jeongin looking up from his seat in the Chief’s office. 
Everyone is sitting around the coffee table as Chan had gathered everyone for a meeting before going home.
“Not sure what you’re talking about?” Minho grunts, taking a seat next to Jisung, and trying to act like he didn’t just have the most delicious kiss of his life.
 Chan looks at him suspiciously.
“Yeah, you’ve been a little weird ever since you and Seungmin ‘interrogated’ her.” Hyunjin adds.
“Yeah, man. And what was that back in the gang bang?” Changbin joins in.
“The fuck you talking about?” Growls Minho.
“Gees, someone’s sensitive.” Hyunjin mumbles.
“I’m talking about how soft you were with her. You barely said a fucking word, then you fucked her so… so gently. That wasn’t in her request list.” Changbin replies.
Everyone turns to MInho and he feels the cogs in their heads turning. 
“Well, Minho is good at picking up what people need, especially without them saying anything.” Offers Felix.
“That’s right.” Reiterates Chan sternly, staring directly at Minho.
Minho shifts awkwardly in his seat, feeling caught out.
“Fine. I just think he was a little too soft, that's all.” Changbin grumbles, settling back into his seat.
“Okay, boys.” Chan claps, signaling it’s time to move on. “I know we’ve only just finished our contract with Y/n, but I wanted to take the opportunity to discuss our next client and their requests.” 
But Minho is barely listening. His mind keeps going back to you. Back to the way your lips felt against his own. The way your tongue sought his. The way you hooked a leg over his arm, seeking friction against your sweet little pussy. Fuck. Focus.
“So we have several women requesting two of us at once, and a couple are just after one. I thought we could divvy up the contracts and conduct them over the same few days.”
Everyone nods in agreement. It makes sense, that way if another client seeks five or six of them then they will have availability. 
“Okay. The first is a request for two doctors. I think Seungmin and Jeongin would be good for that, yes?” He looks up at the pair and they both nod. Neither of them are new to that role. “Then a request for a fae themed scenario. I’m thinking we could use that cabin in the woods, the one we used for the kidnapping one, yeah? Felix, I think you’d be perfect.”
”No worries. I’ll get the place ready, and I’m pretty sure I saw the perfect costume online.” He makes a note on his phone to follow up.
“Good, make sure it can be sent express post. Um, a vampire request. Hyunjin?” he looks up at him and Hyunjin nods in acceptance. 
“Then there’s this one I quote ‘threesome where one guy is in me and another guy in him.’”
“Ooo ooo me!” Jisung raises his hand enthusiastically, almost jumping out of his seat.
“Alright, Jisung. Who else is happy to assist?”
Jisung turns to Minho. “Please, hyung!!! Be my partner!” He bats his eyelids at him.
“Fine.” Minho rolls his eyes. Actually he is secretly glad he does’t have to directly fuck another woman so soon after you.
“Yes!” Jisung fist pumps the air.
“Lastly, a personal trainer fantasy. Bin, you and I can take that one. Okay, everyone will receive emails with the full details, so make sure you read them thoroughly, and converse with your partner if you have one. Good job, boys. Enjoy your time off, and see you soon.”
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I wonder if she likes cats? Minho is still thinking about you when he lets himself into his apartment and is greeted by his fur baby. “Hey, Soonie,” he says, squatting down and patting his cat. “You miss me, huh? It’s okay, Daddy’s home now.” 
He potters around his apartment, putting on a load of clothes washing, vacuuming, and then cooking himself a meal. All while trying not to look at his phone where he now has your phone number he stole from your file. 
At some point while he’s cooking, he finds his phone in his hand and is staring at the number.
Is it too soon to call you? Of course it is. What kind of desperate fool are you?
He sighs and locks his phone, setting it back on the countertop and resumes stirring his pot of sauce. Maybe he could ask you over for a meal? His eyes drift back to his phone. Stop. No. Fuck. You are driving him crazy. He shuts his phone away in a kitchen drawer and goes to eat his dinner.
After successfully ignoring the strong pull coming from the kitchen drawer, Minho takes a shower, rubs one out to the thought of you on the interrogation table, then settles down on his couch to open his laptop.
He sighs and rubs his eyes, willing himself to focus, while Soonie decides it's the perfect time for pats. “What a cute little pussy, hmm.” Minho coos as it tries to climb onto his laptop as he reads the notes for his upcoming threesome. But it’s not long until his eyes drift towards his kitchen, to where his phone is still sitting in the drawer.
“Fuck it”. He says, sliding out from under his cat. He can’t think of anything else but messaging or calling you. He can’t focus on this next assignment. Fuck, he could barely think about his dinner without his mind drifting off to wondering how your sweet cunt would taste.
He doesn’t care if he looks desperate. Fuck, he is desperate. He opens the drawer and pulls out his phone, and after taking a deep, grounding breath, he dials your number.
>>>>>>>>>>>>
‘Resisted arrest. Force required to detain the suspect. However, once handcuffed she was extremely enthusiastic to obey. Her mouth was very skilled and cunt was cooperative.’ - Changbin
‘I will be keeping an eye on her to ensure she is arrested and questioned for any criminal activity she becomes involved in.’ - Minho
‘The suspect was easily coerced into double penetration, climaxing multiple times. She was displeased when we removed our penises from her to restrain her to the ceiling chains, but settled once we were back inside her.
The suspect is the most responsive we have encountered so far, and is definitely a favorite.’ - Hyunjin
‘How we ended up with the prettiest suspect in the world I will never know! Her pussy is the most perfect I have ever felt. So tight, warm and soaking wet.’ Han
‘CONCERNS: Detective Lee Minho.’ - Chan
“Fucking hell.” You whistle low, closing the police report. “Chief Chan is concerned with Minho?” you mumble to yourself. Was he not acting his usual self with you? Did the Chi-, Chan, know about the kiss?
You have done absolutely nothing since arriving home from the police station several hours ago. Except for looking through your file and reliving all those beautiful cocks that filled you up perfectly. You’re still buzzing from the entire experience, and you’re not quite ready to come back to reality. 
You flick to the photos Felix took of you. He was right, they are beautiful. Erotic even. You bite your lip as your eyes run over your bruises, bites marks, and injuries. You feel a pulsing sensation in your core. You need to touch yourself. Already? You say to your pussy, looking down in disbelief.
You gather all the items you need - a vibrating anal plug, lube, and your thickest dildo, and climb into bed. You moan when you press a lubed finger to your ass. As usual, it doesn’t take long until you’ve slipped a finger inside, preparing yourself to take the plug. Once you deem yourself ready, you push the plug inside and turn on the vibrator. Your breath quickens as the stretch, fullness and vibrations combined begin to send you feral.
You play with your clit. Rough, fast motions, all while your mind visualizes the photographs Felix took. You’re going to come hard and fast, but you want to prolong it. You slow your fingers right down to rubbing lazy circles on your clit, allowing your body to calm down.
You reach for the dildo and drench it in lube. Not that you need it, your pussy is absolutely dripping in arousal. You open your legs wider and push the dildo deep into your vagina. You cry out at the intrusion, your walls barely having time to adjust before you’re pulling it out and ramming it back inside you. Again, harder. You whimper from the pleasure-pain. You reach behind you and increase the speed of the anal vibrator, then you start to tug on it, stretching your anus slightly.
“Fuck!” You moan, feeling yourself about to climax. “Close. So fucking close.” You babble to yourself. You’re almost there. The point of no return. Your body tenses, your legs shake.
Your phone rings.
Your eyes shoot open and you grab your phone. Minho! A video call? Fuck. You scramble to sit up, fix your hair, and forgetting you are naked, you answer the phone.
Minho’s eyes almost pop out of his head, but he recovers quickly. “Nice tits, kitten.” He smirks.
Your arm quickly comes to cover yourself. 
“Hey, it’s not like I haven’t seen absolutely everything.” He teases. “Anyway, I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time - actually, what are you doing? You’re all flushed.” His eyes narrow.
“Nothing!” You squeak. 
“I don’t believe you.” he quips.
“Okay, fine I was masturbating.” You roll your eyes.
“Really? Already? Aren’t you sore?” 
“Nope. I'm fine.”
“Show me.”
“What?” You say shocked.
“I said show me.” He repeats seriously.
Nervously, You position the camera so he can see how wet you are.
“Fuck! You’ve got a plug in. Have you come yet?” He says in disbelief.
“Nope. Was almost there when you called. It’s like you knew.” You pouted.
“Oh kitten. Fuck. Such a good girl waiting for me before coming. Or is it you can’t come without me, hmm?”
“S’hard to come without someone watching.” You sulk, playing along.
“Fuck! Lucky I called. Go on. Play with yourself.”
You start to rub your clit again. Every so often you dip your fingers inside you to gather some wetness then bring it up to your clit.
“Have you got something you can fuck yourself with?” Minho says in a deep voice. 
You reach for your thick dildo and resume fucking yourself like you were doing earlier.
“Deeper. Wanna see you take it deeper.” Minho instructs. 
You want to obey, be a good girl for him, so you push the dildo in further so it hits your cervix on every thrust. “Need to come, Minho. Need to come.” You cry, thrusting into yourself frantically. “S’close..”
“I can hear how wet you are, kitten. That’s it, rub your clit. Good girl. I want you to imagine that’s me inside you.”
“Oh, God. Oh, fuck!” You whimper. “Let me come.”
“Scream for me, y/n.”
You explode into a million pieces, screaming, just as Minho demanded. Your body shakes for what feels like an eternity as waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you.
Eventually, you collapse on your mattress in exhaustion, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try and catch your breath.
“Fuck. You alright?” Minho laughs softly.
“No.” You choke. “So intense.”
“Well, glad I got to see that. Luckily I called when I did.”
“Why did you call?” You pick up your phone so you can look at him.
He runs his hands through his hair. “Oh yeah. So, um, the reason I actually called was to see if you maybe wanted to come over for dinner one night?”
You’re taken by surprise. Minho wants to have dinner with you?
“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t. It’s probably not wh-”
“I’d love to.” You smile.
“Yeah?” He says in disbelief.
“Yeah.”
>>>>>>
“This looks delicious, Minho. You have lots of skills it seems.” You say grinning at the plate of pasta and bolognese in front of you. Your eyes almost roll back into your head when you take a bite. “Oh my god. This is fucking amazing!” you say with a mouthful of food. “Did you make the pasta from scratch?”
Minho smiles triumphantly. “Yes. The sauce too. Glad you like it.”
“It’s delicious.”  You grin and try your best to not scoff the entire plate down in one mouthful. 
“You look beautiful tonight.” He says gazing at you. You feel a heat flush over you. You aren’t particularly dressed up, opting for a nice top and denim shorts. You hoped it would be suitable enough for the occasion.
“Thank you. I think it’s the first time you’ve seen me in clothing?” You laugh. “You look good too.” You notice his cheeks flush a little.
“So,” You put your fork down. “How is it you came to be in your…um…profession?” You ask curiously.
Minho sits back in his chair, and pauses in thought. “Well, Chan started the business with Jisung - Han - and Changbin. Business grew quicker than they expected and so they needed to hire more staff.”
“Interesting. But what made you join?” You lean your elbows on the table, resting your chin in your hands. You’re curious to know more.
“Hmm. I suppose I thought it would make life easier, sexually speaking. It’s hard to find a partner that wants both a sex life like mine and also a sickly sweet romantic dynamic. It was too confusing for my previous partners. The ones I could see myself having a future with were put off by my tendencies. So I joined the group and got my satisfaction there. And it’s thrilling to please client’s who share similar desires. It really is.”
“But what about the sickly sweet romance? You don’t get that in the job.”
Minho shrugs. “I guess not. But at least I don’t keep being rejected by women this way.”
You can’t believe how anyone could reject Minho. He is kind and thoughtful. Very domesticated. You look around at his tidy home and then at the meal on your plate. But you get what he means. You know it too well.
“So have you got your next contract?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows.
He cracks a huge grin. “Yeah. I do.”
“Well? What is it? What do you have to do?” Your eyes widen with enthusiasm.
“Hey, hey, Kitten.” He holds his hands up in a bid to calm you down. “That’s confidential.”
“Oh come on, it’s not like I know them. Please.” You bat your eyelids.
“Okay, fine. It’s a threesome.” he concedes.
“A threesome? Yes, go ahead. Tell me more..” You gesture for him to continue.
“The exact wording of the brief is ‘I want someone in me, and someone inside him.’ Okay maybe that wasn’t the exact wording, but you get the gist.”
Your mouth hangs open in excitement. “So you’re telling me—”
“Jisung’s going to be in the client’s vagina, and I am going to be in Jisung’s ass.” He states.
“Woah! So you guys fuck each other too?” You shriek.
“Sometimes.” 
“Wait! I could’ve asked for you to fuck each other? Oh man, no one told me that.” You sit back and scowl.
“Well, you’ll have to book us again.” He teases.
“I just might. So who have you fucked in the group?” You ask excitedly, taking another mouthful of pasta.
“Jisung, a few times. Chan too.” He says matter of fact.
“Chan?! No way! Has anyone fucked you?” You say with your mouth full.
“Chan. Seungmin.”
“Seungmin?” You almost choke.
“It was an experience. Although you know perfectly well how he likes to fuck an ass.”
You nod laughing, then falling quiet as the image of Seungmin inside Minho flashes through your mind. Jisung too. He���d look so pretty being ruined by Minho.
“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to meet your gaze.
“Yeah. Just trying to work out my next fantasy request for you guys. I quite like the idea of someone in me, someone in them, another in my mouth, then everyone else inside each other.”
“Do you now? I might have to keep a mental note of that.” Minho’s eyes sparkle deviously.
>>>>
“That really was a delicious meal, Minho. Thank you for cooking.” You say placing your empty plate by the sink. “Would you like me to lend a hand washing up?” You start looking for dishwashing detergent and sponges.
Minho’s arms wrap around you from behind and he nuzzles his mouth into your neck. You smile at the warm gesture. 
“I’d like you to lend a hand with something else.” He whispers against your ear. “But first.” He spins you around and presses your back against the bench. “I’ve been dying to kiss these lips all night.” he smashes down on you in a heated kiss, setting your insides on fire.
He pulls back to peel your top off over your head and throws it to the side. Then he’s unclasping your bra with skilled fingers, and that’s gone from your body in a matter of moments.
You suck in a breath as he leans down to take a nipple in his mouth, nipping at it rough and urgently. Your head lolls back and you sigh. Your hands find the top of his head, weaving your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. He bites down hard on your nipple and you whimper. Your core throbs for more of his roughness.
He comes up for air, a smear of blood across his lip, and kisses you wildly. “Turn around.” He growls, turning you so you’re facing away from him. Reaching into a drawer, he pulls out a pair of handcuffs and tugs on your arms so they are above your head. He threads the cuffs through the overhead cupboard handle and attaches them to your wrists. You tug on the restraints, but they are extremely secure, and now you are at the mercy of Detective Minho.
“Look at you.” He whispers as he cups a breast and squeezes it. “Looks like you need questioning again, hmm?” he snarls and your cunt squeezes.
Silently, he moves to the pantry, scanning the shelves. He nods when he finds what he’s looking for, a bottle of fractionated coconut oil. He takes it from the shelf and returns to resume his interrogation.
He sets the bottle of oil on the countertop and crouches behind you to yank your shorts and panties down your legs. He guides you step out of them. Leaving you naked and chained to his kitchen cupboard. 
You poke your ass out as he slides his palms up the backs of your thighs, finding their grip on your cheeks and spreading you wide. You’re dripping wet. You know it. You can feel it, and the grunt that Minho emits tells you he knows you're soaking. The need for him to touch you is too great and you make some pathetic noise. But he simply stands back up, leaving your deprived pussy untouched.
He reaches into the kitchen drawer again, pulling out a silicone spatula and places that next to the oil. Then to your delight he strips off his own clothes so he is naked too. You lick your lips and take in the magnificent form that is Lee Minho.
“Oh you like that, hmm? Too bad you’re unable to touch me.” He smirks as he unscrews the bottle of coconut oil and applies some to his hands.
You moan as he runs his oiled hands down your back and over your ass, then whimper as he kneads the skin near your hips. He repeats the motion, slicking up your body with the oil and massaging your breasts and eventually your pussy. 
“Fuck! Yes. Min. God.” You choke when he slides a finger inside you. You grind back against him, only for him to remove his hand and leave you empty. Your eyes follow his hand as it grasps the handle of the spatula, then you feel him dragging it down your spine.
Slap!
He hits you hard on your ass. You moan, digging your teeth into your lip. 
He gently strokes you with the spatula to sooth the skin, then he pulls it back.
Slap!
He massages the red skin with his free hand. 
“God, so fucking red. So pretty.”
Slap!
You cry out louder, the sting so much more harsh than the last.
And again. Slap! 
You whimper, your legs feeling like jelly.
Minho is about to land another blow when a voice from the living room interrupts you.
You both freeze.
“Hey, Hyung? I had an idea for our — Woah!” Jisung stops in his tracks as he rounds the corner into the kitchen. “Oh fuck I’m sorry! I didn’t realize…wait… Y/n? Is that you?” His eyes narrow as you turn your head sheepishly. 
“Hi Han, Jisung? Can I call you that?” You smile, like nothing is happening.
Jusung blinks rapidly. Then he looks at Minho who is standing in the middle of the kitchen naked and outraged, and then back at you. Finally his gaze settles on your bright red bottom.
“Yah!” Yells Minho, throwing a tea towel over your rear end to try to offer some sort of coverage.
“Hyung, Man, it’s not like I haven’t seen all of her before. Hey! Actually, what is she doing here?” Jisung’s tone turns accusatory.
Minho glares at him. It’s all it takes for Jisung to concede. He throws his hands up “Okay, I’m leaving. Even though it looks like a lot of fun and… you know I could sit on the floor underneath her… suck her clit while you continue doing your dominant thing… No? Okay. Well. I’ll go. Bye Y/n.” He waves at you. 
“Bye, Jisung. Lovely to see you again.” You wink at him and the tea towel slips off, giving the stunned man a last view of you before Minho is ushering him out.
“You did that on purpose, kitten.” He growls, returning to the kitchen and pulling your head back by your hair. “Bet you wanted me to let him stay, huh?” 
“No…of course not. Just want you.” You whine. The reality though, is that you would have loved to feel Jisung’s mouth against your pussy. You close your eyes at the thought and squeeze your legs together.
Minho notices it and scoffs. “I know you’re lying. Which means… punishment.”
Once again he goes to the kitchen draw, this time taking out a wooden spoon and silicone coated tongs. Your eyes widen. 
“Five. You’ll receive five strikes with the wooden spoon. If you say orange or red, I stop immediately.” He gives his hand an experimental slap with the item. “Then,” he picks up the tongs, holding them in the air and letting them spring open.
You cunt clenches. The fact that Minho remembers you have a stretch kink makes your heart beat faster.  
He makes his way behind you and you prepare yourself for the wooden spoon.
“You have to count for me.” He states.
He brings the wooden spoon down onto your already sore ass with a hard slap. Your legs almost give way. “One.” you cry.
He strikes you again and again. A loud slap fills the room each time the wood makes contact with your skin. Tears stream down your face and you can barely count, each number coming out like a choked sob. 
“F-five.” You cry out the final number.
Minho returns the wooden spoon to the bench, then holds you in his arms. His hard, naked body against yours is comforting, his words of praise are soothing.
“Good girl. You took that so well.” He whispers, kissing your shoulder and massaging where he’d spanked you. “How was it? Not too much?” he checks in with you. “How are you feeling?”
“S’good..S’wet…Aching…p-pussy needs filling up. Need to come.” you babble.
Minho chuckles, his eyes smiling with admiration. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. One last thing before I fuck you. I know you can take it.”
He drizzles the end of the tongs with oil, then crouches down behind you. He holds the tongs closed and runs them through your glistening labia. You let out a moan. Then he catches your clit. He allows the tongs to open just enough so can capture it, pinching it hard. 
Jolts of arousal shoot through you and you cry out.
Then you feel the tongs at your entrance and you automatically push your ass out further, giving Minho more access. Keeping the tongs closed, he slides them inside you. You must look so filthy with a pair of kitchen utensils shoved up your vagina. 
He’s not gentle when he fucks you with them. He’s messy, sloppy, rough, but he manages to find your g-spot every time. You’re surely about to come, but he slows down, bringing the tongs to a standstill. You whimper, frustrated from having your orgasm stolen from you. Then you feel it. The tongs opening inside you. 
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You cry.
“Color?”
“Green. Fucking green.” You scream.
He chuckles as he scissors you open. 
“Fuck.” He hisses. His free hand spreads your cheek wide. “Pussy’s so good when it’s stretched like this.”
“Maybe you should’ve been a doctor.” You pant.
“Sometimes I am darlin’. You wait till I use a real speculum on this pretty cunt. Open you right up so I can see inside.”
His fingers land on your clit. The added sensation has you on the verge of release. “Minho… please. Need to come.” You beg.
“Yeah? Pussy needs to come, huh? Do it.” He starts an onslaught of scissoring then thrusting, while his deft fingers on your clit tighten that coil inside you.
You're perspiring, shaking, sobbing as you’re thrown off the precipice in an earth shattering orgasm.
“That’s it. Making a mess for me. Mmm… can hardly move these tongs you’re gripping so tight.”
You can’t even respond, your panting and shivering so hard, barely able to stand.
He eases the utensil out of you, tossing them into the kitchen sink, along with the items he used to cook for you earlier, then he’s lining himself up to your entrance.
“Just relax for me. Yes… fuck yes… that’s my girl… let me in…” he pushes himself all the way inside you. You welcome the smooth silky hardness against your walls, and he slides in and out with ease, despite your tight grip on him. 
Holding onto your hips he fucks into you harder until he’s built up a brutal pace that reminds you of when you were in the interrogation room. Except this time, he leans his body against your back and massages your breasts, caresses your stomach, and plants hot wet kisses anywhere his mouth can reach.
The roughness and the softness combined sends all sorts of unfamiliar feelings through your body. You like it, it feels good, and you feel tears pricking your eyes. You’re going to come again. Any second now the tension is going to snap.
“You take me so well, Kitten. It's like you were made for me.”
That does it. You come hard around his cock with a loud wailing sound. He fucks you through it, chasing his own orgasm. “Gonna fill you. Gonna fill this perfect little cunt. My cunt.” He slams into you, almost knocking you off your feet then pulls out. He quickly works on freeing your wrists, turning you and lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he impales you on his cock, fucking you whilst he makes his way to the dining table.
He lays you down on the table, and starts to slam into you hard again. His rhythm is hard, fast, and so so deep. “Gonna fill you..” he growls as he throws his head back and empties himself inside you. He stills, but you can still feel him pulsing and filling you to the brim.
He leans over you, collapsing on your chest, and you bring your arms around him, holding him silently for a few minutes.
“Let’s go wash you.” He says eventually, pulling himself out, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom.
Once the temperature of the water is comfortable, he helps you climb in with him and proceeds to wash your body.
It isn’t long until you’ve regained your composure and are able to stand steady on your feet. It’s only now that you can take in the man before you. You take the sponge from him, lather it up with body wash and start to wash his body. With a look of surprise and a hint of hesitation, he lets out an exhale and allows you to wash him.
He watches you as you run the sponge over his chest, down his torso, and drop to your knees in front of him. You swear you hear him whimper when your eyes land on his cock.
You drop the sponge and place your hands on his strong thighs. You need him in your mouth. He cups your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, and through hooded eyelids you silently seek permission to take care of him. He releases your chin and lets out a shaky breath when you wrap your hand around the base of his semi erect cock. Slowly, you lick the length of the underside. Then swirl your tongue around the tip. He grows rapidly, and it has you dying to choke on it.
Minho simply stands still while you work his cock, providing absolutely no help. But that doesn’t deter you. Or slow you down. You decide you’re going to choke on him all by yourself. You pop off with a plop, fill your lungs with air, then take him fully into your mouth. Cupping his delicious ass cheeks with your hands, you pull him towards you while you bob your head up and down his shaft. 
You hear his breath become heavier, and a hand wraps around your wet hair, his other he rests against the tiled wall behind you. 
“Look at you. So hungry for cock, you’re choking yourself.” He purrs. “I’m close… fuck, im so close.” His hips begin to press forwards, pushing his dick further into your throat. He cums quickly, spurting thick ropes cum into your mouth. “Holy shit!” He chokes as he empties himself.
After you’ve milked him of every drop and swallowed him down, he pulls you back to your feet. He looks almost bewildered when he looks into your eyes. “Y/n. How are you so perfect for me?” He whispers. 
You swallow hard. You’re thinking something similar about him. Instead, you shrug. “Well I’m not sure detective. Maybe you’ll have to investigate further?” you quip.
He chuckles. “Maybe it's better to just go with it and not question it.”
You nod in agreement. “Let’s not overthink it, then.”
You both dry off, and Minho leads you to his bed, a big King size bed with black sheets and a black quilt. 
“Oh, you’re not sending me on my way?” You tease.
”Fuck no. I need…need to hold you.” He says softly, pulling you onto the bed with him.
He falls asleep quickly with his arms around you and your head on his chest. His steady breath is soothing as his chest rises and falls. You’re not sure what is happening, how this man seems to be able to fill so many of your needs, or how easy he is to be around. Yet here you are, and you’re thankful you took a chance with the sex fantasy agency. 
Your thoughts shift to Minho’s next assignment. Jisung in some woman’s cunt, and Minho in Jisung. Fuck, that sounds like a dream. Then your mind goes to Jisung walking in on you and Minho earlier. What would have happened if Minho asked him to stay?
You sigh, feeling confused. You've got strong feelings for Minho, yet you feel yourself grow wet at the thought of Jisung, and the rest of them.
You find Minho’s hand and thread your fingers through his. That’ll be a problem for future you. Right now you’re ready to fall asleep in the arms of someone that finally accepts you for who you are.
>>>>>>
@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife @delulustardust @eastjonowhere
@jeonginsleftcheek @meilix @itgirlalisaa @linocz @boi-bi-ahaha @frozenpeasworld @grandma143 @milkypinkmimi @bangchansbbgirl @lunearta @leefelixsslut @privhace @justforreaders @jiwoos-babygirl @kavifornia @chuuyaobsessed @iadorethemskz @hyun-hwanj @courtnort455 @brimarie0512
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lostbookmark · 9 days ago
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MDNI 🔞
Main Masterlist here
Finding Masterlist here
Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.
Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,
Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance
Jin slides a dish of vanilla ice cream to you. You smile when you see he remembers the extra sprinkles on top. Yoongi has taken a play out of your book and has been actively avoiding you since your conversation at his house two weeks ago. Every day, you watched out your window from your living room, hoping that he would come over when he returned home from work. He never did. Why was he so upset? Why was he so offended that you didn't want to sell the recipes to the farm? It's not like you were hurting the farm financially. They were doing perfectly well before you came along. They didn't need your bread or jam to be successful. It really shouldn't have mattered that you said no. You regret even agreeing to bake for them in the first place.
“Was I stupid for not selling the recipes?” You ask Jin, who is leaning on the counter in front of you with his own dish of ice cream.
“No, they mean something to you, and you shouldn't feel bad, ” he assures you. “Anyone of us could have talked to you about it. We are all at fault for this whole mess. I don't know why he is taking it so hard.”
“I feel like I've fucked everything up,” you say shoving the sweet cold ice cream in your mouth. As you chew on the colorful sprinkles the bell above the door jingles catching your attention. Hobi walks into the cafe and sits on the stool next to you as he steals a spoonful of your dessert. Your friendship with him went back to normal in a blink of an eye. It wasn't long after you both apologized that Jin and Namjoon sent you their own apologies. They didn't try to come up with excuses for Yoongi or try to make you feel bad. They were simple heartfelt apologies that you accepted right away. “Jimin and Tae even texted me asking why I was making a big deal out of it. They made a whole group chat with the three of us so they could gang up on me together.”
“Really?” Hobi asked, surprised, and you nodded.
“I'll have a talk with them later,” Jin comments, shaking his head.
“I…I just feel like I was back on track with my life, settling in nicely, and now everyone hates me,” you cry. Tears fall down your face that you quickly wipe away with your sleeve. “With the way everything has been going, I wouldn't be surprised if Kook doesn't evict me.”
“He would never do that to you. No one hates you,” Jin said, patting your head as if you're a child.
“It's all going to blow over,” Hobi said, hugging you.
“It's too late. Yoongi is clearly talking shit about me, and now everyone is going to choose sides. Jimin warned me not to let this get messy and look at us. I was so stupid to get involved with him,” you say, shaking your head disagreeing with them. “I've talked to my one and only friend from my old school district. They have a third grade teacher leaving next year. I think I'm going to take the position.”
“No, you're not,” Joon said, coming into the cafe with that damn bell jingling behind him. “We are not going to let you run away. I'll reject your resignation, and I won't give you any recommendations.”
“You would really do that to me?” You ask as he sits on your free side.
“Absolutely,” Namjoon said. “You belong here with us….you're family. Yoongi is stubborn, and so are you. Let things settle down, talk it out, and we will all move on.”
“What if we can't agree on things?” You ask, stirring the ice cream around in your bowl. “He doesn't seem to be in a rush to talk to me. He's had two weeks to talk to me. It's not like he doesn't know where I live. What if there is no fixing this?”
“What if?” Jin asks as he stares off into space as if he’s deep in thought. “What if…”
“What if what?” Hobi asks, smacking the counter, knocking Jin out of his daze.
“What if you sell the recipes to Tannie Farms, but make everything yourself?” Jin asks, looking at you curiously before breaking out in a wide smile.
“I'm not following,” you say, and your other two friends seem just as confused. The three of you in front of the counter look at each other as if Jin has gone insane. “His whole point was that I couldn't make everything myself. I can't supply you with the amount you would need.”
“I don't want to run the cafe anymore. I want to make the food I want to make,” he explains, turning serious. “Think about it, Y/N. A restaurant and bakery. Yours and mine….mine and yours. Ours. People from all over would flock to us.”
“That's….not a bad idea,” Joon said, looking at you with a surprised look on his face. Now, you are looking at him like he is the crazy one. “You would have multiple ovens big enough to make the quantities we need for deliveries, and the recipes would be safe with you. You wouldn't be selling them to strangers.”
“Okay, what about my job? Do I just give up on teaching and throw away my degree that I worked hard for? I am still paying off my student loan. I don't have the money to help you start a restaurant and bakery,” you tell them, pushing your dish of melting ice cream away. “I don't even know if I can make anything else. We can't run a bakery on one cake, bread, and a couple of jams.”
“Yoongi says he's willing to talk about it,” Hobi says, holding up his phone. You glare at him, that traitor. You knew he loved Yoongi more. “You wouldn't have to put up any money because Tannie Farms would own it. Financially, you wouldn't be on the hook for anything.”
“So, I would work for Yoongi,” you say, sounding very unamused as you take in their faces, looking excited at the possible new venture. Shaking your head, you wave your hands in front of you, showing that you were not interested. “Yeah, no thanks.”
“Please, please. Don't crush my dreams,” Jin begs, hands pressed together underneath his chin. “We could be successful. You would work for all of us, not just Yoongi. I don't want to work for my parents forever.”
“You'll have plenty of time to find more recipes and experiment,” Hobi assures you. “The whole process will take time. Months, if not years. You can do it.”
“You wouldn't even have to talk to Yoongi. Jin will handle everything, and all of us are available if you need anything. I think that you definitely can do it,” Joon says, agreeing with Hobi.
Can you? Can you do it? In theory, yes, you probably could. Your grandmother has so many different recipes that you haven't even explored yet. It's the whole working for your friends and Yoongi that is causing you to question this new business opportunity. Could you handle working for Yoongi after everything happened? You're not sure if you can or even want to. To actually work for them puts your entire livelihood at risk. If you get involved, fully involved, there is no way you could walk away at the drop of a hat if things get rough. It was a major commitment.
“Please?” Jin said, giving you puppy dog eyes. “Please, I'll love you forever. I wouldn't even dream of doing this with anyone else. We would work so well together.”
“Okay,” you give in and smack the counter with your hands, causing them to smile at you. “I guess I will be willing to listen to a full-on business plan when you have one. A complete business plan and not just an idea. However, that's all for right now ….I'll listen and consider.”
“Great! We are going to be great together,” Jin exclaims. “I need to get a menu around. Jolly Jin’s Cafe and Bakery. I can see the sign now.”
You sigh as you watch him run back into the kitchen. You think you're getting a headache.
Pulling back into your driveway, you notice Yoongi's house is dark like it has been recently. You barely even see the lights on for an extended period of time in his home at night anymore. You wonder if he kept the same routine he had when you would stay over. Dinner in the kitchen preceded by sitting in the living room curled up on the couch, reading a book. You would have been tucked into his side watching tv or scrolling through your phone as his eyes flew over the pages of his book. Sometimes, the nights would end with him pinning your against the couch cushions or scurrying upstairs quickly and into the bed. Now, those nights are over and gone with one stupid fight.
Sniffling, you blink away the unshed tears. It was then that you noticed the car parked along the side of your driveway. Looking over to your house, you stare at Changkyun from your driver's seat as you throw your car into park as he stands on your porch waiting for you. There was no reason for him to be here. He made it very loud and clear that the two of you were over. Getting out of your car, you stand rooted in your spot just looking at him. You are not willing to walk up to him. He seemed to take the hint and walked off your porch in your direction. Closing your door, you cross your arms and wait with baited breath as he nears.
“You look good,” he says, once reaching you.
He still looked good, too. Handsome as ever with that damn sharp jawline that you had fallen for in the beginning. It pissed you off. You want him to look guilty. You want him to look sad and tired. You want him to apologize for all the shit he put you through. For making you feel like you had to push your friends away. For making you feel like you were not good enough for him. However, he doesn't. He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.
“How did you find me?” You ask, taking a step back away from him. A part of you wonders if you can jump back in your car and drive away quickly.
“I went to your parents' house, and your mom told me where you were living. I really need to talk to you,” he says.
“I think you said plenty when you said, and I quote ‘I don't love you anymore’,” you tell him. “I don't think that there is anything left to say. You wasted your time coming here.”
You push past him, but he reaches out and grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving. You pull out of his grasp and glare at him. You don't want him to touch you. You don't even want to look at him. Crossing your arms, you raise an eyebrow at him.
“I’m really trying to be civil about this, Y/N,” he said. “I just want my engagement ring back.”
“Why now?” You ask with a laugh. “What, are you getting married sometime soon?” He looks away, not able to look you in the eye. Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? I've only been gone for a few months and you're engaged. Who?”
“It doesn't matter who. Just give me the ring, and I'll be gone out of your life forever,” he says harshly.
“Tell me who,” you demand. You notice Yoongi pull into his driveway with perfect timing. Great, just great. This day just couldn't get any better. “You owe me that much.”
“Hanna,” he said quietly, looking down at his shoes as you hear Yoongi's car door open and close in the background.
Hanna, the one who you caught him in bed with. The one who you thought was one of your friends. You see Yoongi linger by his kitchen door in your peripheral vision after he slowly made his way up the steps to his house. You turn your head to look at him. Unfortunately, it triggered Changkyun to do the same. Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed.
“Baby, I wish I could change things,” he said in a sickeningly sweet, smooth voice. “I know we were so good together at one point, but that ended. I’ve moved on, and you need to accept that. It's time for you to move on as well.”
“Don't call me that. You need to leave. I'm not giving you anything,” you hiss at him and turn to leave.
“That ring is mine,” he growled at you, grabbing onto you again and pulling you to him. You stumble over your feet as he pulls. “Just give it to me.”
Before you can even comprehend what was happening, Yoongi was in between the two of you. He gives Changkyun a forceful shove, making him stumble backward away from you. Yoongi reaches behind his back and pulls you behind him more, shielding your body. Protecting you. Keeping you safe.
“Just go,” Yoongi growls at him, and Changkyun just laughs at him. “It's clear she doesn't want you here. Get in your car and get the fuck out of here!”
“You think I'm afraid of you?” he asks, looking at him with a distasteful look before looking over Yoongi's shoulder at you. Changkyun laughs at the two of you, shaking his head in amusement. “Min Yoongi? Really, that’s the best you can do? Fuck, are you that desprate?”
“Well he's a million times better than a selfish jackass I know. I don't have the ring anymore, so just leave,” you yell at him from behind Yoongi.
“Where is it?” he snaps at you.
“Watch how you fucking talk to her,” Yoongi snaps back at him, still holding you behind him.
“I pawned it,” you laugh from behind the blonde man, making Changkyun narrow his eyes at you. “It bought me a lovely tv hanging on my wall right now. It's much more pleasant to look at than that ugly ass ring.”
You watch as Changkyun clenches his jaw and stomps away back to his fancy SUV. He stops halfway to his destination before turning back to look at both you and Yoongi. Changing his mind, he walks back toward you. Yoongi reaches back again, making sure that you're still tucked away safely behind him.
“You know,” he says, approaching you. “I never wanted to marry you. I only asked becasue you wouldn’t fucking stop nagging me about it. You were never good enough to be my wife, you stupid…”
That was enough for Yoongi as something inside him snapped. You watch in horror as he throws himself at Changkyun, taking them both onto the hard ground below their feet. It probably would have been comical watching two grown men roll around on the ground had they been strangers, but they weren't, and they were both pissed. This wasn't funny at all. You watch on, with your hands in front of your mouth in shock as Yoongi, who comes out on top lands a punch to Changkyuns stomach from above making him double over and turn slightly away from him. Changkyun, although laid out underneath the pissed off blonde, he wasn't deterred for too long. Using all his power, he spun his torso around quickly, elbowing Yoongi in the face and successfully knocking Yoongi off of him.
“STOP IT!” You yell out into the evening air as Yoongi lands on the ground next to your ex-boyfriend. They didn't listen to you. Changkyun stands, quickly grabbing Yoongi by the back of his jacket, bringing up on his own feet and bending him down low enough to knee him in the side, making him drop again. Yoongi's knees hit the ground hard before catching himself with his hands so he didn’t fall flat on his face. “CHANGKYUN STOP IT! STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” You scream at him as he goes to grab Yoongi again.
You push forward, latching onto Changkyun’s arm, trying to shake him off Yoongi. Unfortunately, he wasn't discouraged and managed to get Yoongi back up. Grabbing his wrist, you pull as hard as you could, but he was much stronger than you. Instead, you sink your nails into his skin, dragging them across his flesh, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Changkyun growls. With his free hand, he pushes you away, causing you to stumble back and fall on your ass.
“Keep your hands off her,” Yoongi barks sharply.
Gaining some strength, Yoongi sweeps Changkyun's leg, causing them both to fall once more upon the ground. They roll around a couple of times, trying to each gain the upper hand. You scooch back on your butt trying to stay out of the way.
“She deserved it,” Changkyun growls, pinning Yoongi underneath him. They are both panting, but Changkyun smirks in victory as he looks down at Yoongi. “You think you're so tough. Fucking Min Yoongi, you ain't shit!”
You're too focused on watching your ex pull his arm back for a punch, you hardly register the footsteps quickly running up the driveway until an extra body jumps on Changkyun’s back pulling him off of Yoongi. Jungkook wraps his arms fully around him, dragging him back and away from the hurt man on the ground. Changkyun struggles with your friend, trying to get out of his hold. Tae jumps in quickly, getting in front of them just in case he breaks away and helps Jungkook push Changkyun back until they get him to his car.
“Yoongi,” you cry out, throwing yourself next to him as he struggles to get himself onto his knees.
You grab on to him gently and bring him close to you. He rests his head on your chest as he tries to catch his breath after getting the wind knocked out of him. You stroke his hair with your hand, hoping desperately that he was okay. You see him close his eyes, taking in your touch. You wish you knew what else to do. You wish you could take everything back. You wish for a lot of things.
“You're both pathetic and deserve each other,” Changkyun yells out before finally getting into his vehicle, slamming his door shut in anger.
“Go, before we call the police,” Kook said, pointing to the end of the driveway.
Changkyun backs out of your driveway and squeals his tires before racing away, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt behind in the air. You watch him drive away until his tail lights disappear in the rapidly darkening horizon. Tae comes over and helps Yoongi stand on his own feet. You slowly get off the ground and stand beside them, waiting for someone to say something. Carefully, you place your hand on Yoongi's shoulder, but he instantly shrugs it off. That hurt. You can feel your heart drop down to your stomach. It's really over.
Yoongi and Taehyung take off, walking to his place while holding his side and slightly hunched over. Jungkook approaches you, and the two of you stare at each other. He looks sad. It's been weeks since you last talked to him. He's probably been actively avoiding this whole mess. You know he would never want to choose between you and Yoongi like Jimin and Tae apparently did.
“I should go with them,” he says, jerking his thumbs to the house next door. He's choosing Yoongi, and your heart breaks a little. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you answer with a nod. You don't blame him for wanting to leave. They were his brothers. You, you were the bitch he was renting his house to. The bitch who they can't make money off of. “Yeah.”
You turn and go to your house before he can even walk away or say anything more. Unlocking the door, you enter your house and slam the door shut, making the blinds on the kitchen windows shake and rattle. It wasn't going to work. The business plan wouldn't work. Your friendships weren't going to work. This small ass town wasn't going to work. You grab your phone from your bag. Pulling up Joons contact, you open a new message.
I’m taking the third grade job. I'm sorry I can't do this.
You can't. You won't.
Tagged Readers:
@mar-lo-pap , @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822 , @busanbby-jjk , @pitchblack0309 , @bluesiebirdie
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2demondogs · 5 months ago
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Pet Name Headcanons | Arthur, Dutch, Hosea
A/N: Gender-neutral reader. I wanna do these for most of the gang but didn't know a good "grouping" so I went with the old guard fellas first. GIF cred: 1 / 2 / 3.
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Sweetheart, honey, sugar, pretty lady / handsome man, my girl / man, sunshine, moonshine for flavor, physical traits (freckles, shortstack, etc.)
It leaves a weird taste in Arthur's mouth to be less than genuine about these things. If it doesn't fit you, he won't say it. If it isn't the right time, he won't call you a nickname. If he doesn't feel particularly struck by affection-- he won't say anything just to be cute.
The right time to him is usually when you're alone or around company you both trust. If you're upset or hurt, he'll lay it on extra thick because he feels useless with verbal comfort and it helps communicate that he cares.
His catalogue isn't too broad, and he tends to stick with casual, but overall sweet pet names.
He'll probably get used to anything you call him, but I can't imagine he'd be too keen on it being debuted in front of someone else. He'd rather chew on how it makes him feel in private company first.
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Darlin', beautiful, gorgeous, angel, baby, dove, lamb, variations of your name, my love, my dear, make anything possessive and he'll say it
Dutch always has something new to call you, whether it's from reading, overhearing a couple in town, or a song. He would be more unwilling to admit that he sees a lot of things that remind him of you, and that's where some stranger nicknames have come from.
Where Arthur's names are youthful, at least for the time, Dutch is a middle-ground between him and Hosea. He tends to go for old money type endearments more than old coot -- ones that carry the sense of high class that he ironically wants to maintain. Because of course, he overthinks even this.
His possessiveness is largely insecurity, so he drops a my in front of any name he calls you in public. It's typically a steady stream of endearments. Honestly, sometimes you wonder if he's forgotten your first name.
In the vain of maintaining images, he'll be fine with whatever you call him in private, in the end. In public, he will get very uncomfortable with certain names. Maybe don't call him Old Girl.
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Dear, darling, m'love, my girl / my man, old girl / old man, babe, honey, sweetheart, precious, my heart, peach, handsome man / pretty girl
Hosea is a bit older, and it shows. His choices in endearments are usually saccharine and the type people only like to say after making a commitment.
Timing doesn't concern him. If it's clearly an inappropriate time, that's different. Usually, though, it's second-nature to call you the first kind thing that comes to mind.
He says your name often. He likes it because it's, well, you as a word can get. Mister/Miss and your last name is another common occurrence, though usually in a playful way.
He doesn't care what you call him or when. Well, if it's really out there, he might -- mostly, he's content that you want to refer to him as anything but his name. A reminder that you're sweet on him is always a good thing. It's like a verbal kiss on the cheek to him.
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angelbaby-fics · 1 year ago
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Cg stucky x little reader x little Peter where he is the older bro and very protective about his little sis and they go to the avenger tower but she is in babyspace and non-verbal and he won't let anyone near her and is like "nooooo she to tiny you make her owie" and when someone else than their caregivers try to pick her up he Hit the person and get punished by daddies
Baby's Bodyguard
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Word Count: 800
A/N: This is such a sweet idea!!!! I love big bro Peter & there's gonna be a lot more of him coming in the future I think 💕 Also nobody yell at me but I haven't actually watched Hawkeye & I don't know anything about Kate imsosorry enjoy!! 💕
Joining the Rogers-Barnes family as their precious and littlest baby was the greatest thing that happened to everyone involved, but nobody took on a greater pride than your big bubba Peter. Steve and Bucky had been worried at first that he wouldn’t take it well, no longer being an only child and the absolute center of their attention. To their surprised delight, however, Peter took on his new older sibling responsibilities with a soldier’s pride. 
Any time you were out on an errand or playing in the park, Peter took it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you, even though your daddies were more than capable. Whenever you weren’t in your daddies’ arms, you were holding Peter’s hand. At the playground, he’d go down the slide first to make sure it wasn’t too fast, and then wait at the bottom to catch you as you followed. When you ordered food in a restaurant, Peter always took the first bite to make sure it was safe. Well, maybe that one wasn’t as much about protection as it was getting an extra bite, but still. At parties and playdates it was a little easier for him to get distracted, but he always made sure you were within earshot.
That’s how you found yourself now, in one of the common rooms of the sprawling Avengers compound, stacking blocks into a castle while Peter half paid attention to Wanda’s game of pretend on the other side of the room, his focus divided between her and you. Steve was standing around the snack table talking to Bruce and Tony, while Bucky and Sam cracked open a couple of beers on the balcony. It wasn’t a party so much as a lively get-together, team members and family only. 
It also happened to be Kate’s first party with the gang. Kate had been kind to you the few times you had met her, engaged with you in your pretend games and played hide and seek around the compound with you and your friends, but you didn’t trust her all the way yet. She was new here, she didn’t know that the only ones you allowed to carry you were your daddies. When Tony announced that dinner was ready, she was the closest to you, so she picked you up to carry you into the dining room with everyone. She meant well, she handled you gently, but that meant nothing to you at this moment. 
Peter’s spidey senses noticed it first, the sharp intake of your breath as you started to wail. Poor Kate didn’t realize what was happening as everything unfolded. A sticky web splatted into the back of her shirt as Peter ran over to the two of you. 
“No! You put baby down!!” He shouted, smacking the side of Kate’s arm like a cat batting a toy; not enough to hurt her.
Kate let go of you as you flung yourself into Peter’s arms, now sobbing from both the fright of being picked up by a new person and the commotion that had followed it. Peter barely had time to comfort you when a strong voice rang out over the noise. 
“Hey!” Steve shouted, not needing to say anything else to get everyone in the room silent and staring at him. Even you had stopped crying when you saw your daddy enter the room. Peter immediately spoke out in your defense. 
“She was scaring baby!” He cried out, pointing an accusatory finger at Kate.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t! I was just bringing her to dinner!” Kate defended herself, desperately hoping the super soldier would understand. It wasn’t Steve she was worried about, though; Bucky was glaring at her with ice cold eyes. 
Steve placed a calming hand on his husband’s shoulder, calming him instantly.
“Alright, everybody calm down,” Steve said, his face softening as he turned to meet your eyes. “Are you hurt, babydoll?”
You shook your head, reaching out for your daddy’s arms. 
“I promise,” Kate said, “all I did was pick her up!” “I believe you.” Steve nodded. “She just doesn’t like getting picked up by anybody but her family. It's okay, you didn’t know yet.” Kate smiled, grateful for the forgiveness. Your tears had dried, your breathing had calmed, and your tummy had started to rumble. Steve gave you a kiss on the head, and with the chaos settled, everyone began to shuffle off to the dining room. Peter mingled in amongst them until he felt a cold hand on the back of his shirt. 
“Uh uh, not so fast kiddo,” Bucky warned, pulling the youngster aside. “I saw you hit Kate. That’s not nice and you know it.”
Peter looked down at his sneakers. “I’m sorry Baba,” he said dejectedly.
“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Kate. Bucky let Peter go, following him into the kitchen before adding: “and no dessert tonight!”
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bella-goths-wife · 1 year ago
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What would happen if Ballerina reader started to take a liking to Belch more than the others? Like the others can't find her one day and now that they think about it they haven't seen belch either. They find them just having time together ballerina reader doing sweet things for him?
(I love Belch, he's my favorite.)
Yandere bowers gang reactions to ballerina reader preferring belch
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Warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse, forced relationships, sexual abuse, psychological abuse, injuries
I do not intend to romanticise or encourage any of the following warnings, my writing is solely for entertainment and informational purposes. I do not support or condone any and all abuse and I do not believe in any of the various themes I write about
Henry bowers:
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Henry is the first to notice that you and belch had been spending a lot of time together
At first he brushed it off as belch being the ‘safest’ option for you
After all, Henry was physically abusive and unpredictable, Patrick was a sexually abuse sociopath and vic was a possessive and obsessive abuser
So Henry justified the amount of time you spent with belch as him simply being the least likely to hurt you unpredictably
But it’s when you start putting up more of a fight he becomes more aware of the fact that belch could actually be a threat
Henry had made it clear to the group from day one that even though they all were in a relationship with you, Henry was the one who owned you
And he made it clear that he would be the one to eventually marry you and have children with you after high school
And one of these ways he made it clear was that he would demand that every now and again that you would have a night with just him and you
The nights could be random or they could be a set in stone date, it depended on the month really
It mostly depended on if he thought he was losing control, he would force the command in place to remind everyone of where they stood on the hierarchy
So when he set a date in stone for a private night of just you and him, and you came and asked for the night to be rescheduled because it was belchs birthday? Let’s just say he wasn’t pleased
He didn’t even know it was belchs birthday despite knowing him since childhood, so why on earth would he let you reschedule if the cause was unimportant to him?
He denied your request and made it a point to be extra rough with you as a punishment
After that he made it so you and belch didn’t get to spend as much time together as usual by sending belch off on pointless errands and keeping you close to him at all times by optimising PDA
He will also act extremely cold and rude to belch
And because belch is sickeningly loyal and utterly manipulated by Henry, this will make him desperate to please Henry
So Henry will use this as an advantage to slowly build a wedge between you and belch to avoid belch getting the idea that you could be taken away from Henry
Patrick Hockstetter:
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Patrick remained uncaring of your preference to belch until it directly affected him
Sure, he saw that you were more affectionate with belch and that you hung around him more than the others when you could
But he didn’t care about that
For the early days with your forced relationship, Patrick just views any affection as foreplay
So he saw this as belch completing the meaningless tasks of a relationship while Patrick got to enjoy the rewards
You were doing your best to manipulate Patrick for a while, so whenever he sought you out for sex you would act enthusiastically
Patrick was loving your new attitude about having sex with him, until you suddenly stopped being enthusiastic
It was like reverting back to day 1 as he had to force himself onto you to gain any sexual pleasure
During this instance, he spotted something on your thighs
There were dark, hickey like bruising around your thighs along side what looked like bite marks
Now, he knew they couldn’t be from Henry because of the night he got so high and admitted to Patrick that he tried to force himself onto you but couldn’t because the act reminded him of what happened to his mother
A confession that Patrick had been threatened to secrecy about
And he knew that vic couldn’t have done it because he was on the receiving end of Henry’s punishment of not being able to see you for a month after he got mouthy about how Henry hogged you
So that left, belch
It all clicked in Patrick’s mind
For weeks now you’d been denying Patrick’s advances and made up excuses to make him adverse for a short time
All that time, you’d evidently been fucking belch and you didn’t want Patrick to know
This enraged him
You gave something up to belch enthusiastically and happily that Patrick had to force you to give to him and you were always so withdraw during the act
It wasn’t fair to Patrick
He was higher than belch in the hierarchy, so why was belch receiving all the benefits even though he was a third tier member of the group
He thought over the possibility that belch had forced himself onto you, but Patrick knew that was highly unlikely because of how much belch adored you
The entire situation prompted Patrick to punish you with extremely rough treatment during sec and also running to Henry to report his findings
This gained belch a ban from seeing you for two months because of ‘disrespect to the hierarchy’ and it gained you a harsh beating off of Henry for not acting ‘pleasantly’ with Patrick
Patrick couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of belch pathetically trailing his eyes up and down your beaten figure with the same look as a kicked puppy who just got put outside for the night
And he couldn’t help the even smugger smirk spread across his face when Henry ordered for you to spend the night with Patrick to apologise
Because Patrick could always trust that his place as second in command in the group would always gain him more benefits
One of which would be making Henry do his dirty work, while he patiently waits until he finds out something of interest to tell him
Vic criss
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Vic noticed your preference for belch the minute it spawned
He noticed how belch was the only one allowed to touch in you in certain ways without you flinching, how you would fix him up after he got a punishment from Henry
You never did that for vic
He noticed how you would smile for belch
That smile, the smile that could launch a thousand ships to battle
A smile you rarely gave to any of them
But you gave one to belch after he asked you about your newest ballet routine
How come belch got a smile and vic didn’t? That’s not fair!
It brought back the constant memories of when him and belch were younger and belch would break all of vic’s toys just to spite him
Is that what belch is doing now?
Is he using you like vic’s old toys? And is he going to break you the same way he broke them?
He deludes himself into thinking that you needed to be protected from belch
Obviously belch just wants to use you, he doesn’t love you like vic loves you
None of them do
He’d become frantically violent with you, you’d end up with bruises covering your arms from his desperate grips on them to keep you by vic’s side
Vic’s not stupid by any means, he knows that belch being the muscle of the group puts him above vic in the groups hierarchy
That puts vic in fourth in command, only above you
He knows that demanding Henry do something wouldn’t work because Henry trusts and likes belch more than him, all it would do is get vic punished and let belch know of his motives
I’d say that out of all the boys, he is the one to take his anger out on you mostly because he knows the groups dynamic doesn’t grant him the privilege of taking out his aggression on belch
That mixed with his constant possessive behaviour makes me believe that vic is the most likely to try and kill belch out of a jealous and possessive rage
He’d either end up killing belch and the other boys would turn on him or belch would end up killing him and the other boys would help him cover up the murder
Either way your wants or needs would not be factored into the equation, you follow them like a stray dog and you’ll spare yourself an isolated and painful few months
Belch Huggins
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Belch already adores you
You were practically the first person to acknowledge him in a positive way, the first person to make him feel awestruck just a the sight of your pretty smile
So when you start to act sweeter to him and you do small things for him that you don’t do for the others?
He’s over joyed, literal heart eyes whenever he looks at you
But he isn’t as stupid as he knows everyone thinks he is
He knows that your preference is dangerous to both you and him
He’d try and be crueler to you in the hopes of pushing you away slightly, but without Henry’s command he doesn’t have the strength to hurt you
It would be like a lion playing with his food, so the proud lion would let the fearful mouse run back home
Now just because he’s absolutely head over heels for you, does not mean he’s not still very manipulated by Henry
So if Henry spotted the preference, he’d make belch the person to carry out your physical punishments
It would kill belch to hurt you but he had to, didn’t he?
Small seeds of doubt would enter belchs mind, and they would grow bigger and bigger as the other boys became ruder to him out of jealousy
If we were going down the route of reader manipulating belch for personal gain, they would encourage the doubt until belch felt resentment towards his friends
And if he didn’t escape with you, he’d eventually snap
And he’d definitely snap during one of your punishments
He’d watch as one of the boys hurt you and his usual sorrowful aching feelings would be replaced by an unbridled rage at your cries of agony
It would be an instant reaction to protect and defend
He’d kill all of them or he’d die trying
If he survives, he’ll escape with you and live on the run
And while he’s still abusive, it’s mostly psychological and emotional so he’s the lesser of two evils
If he dies trying, Henry would force you to dig belch’s grave and would claim that it was all your fault
And you’d be in for the roughest punishment you’d ever received
So you’d better pray that belch wins
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javierpena-inatacvest · 6 months ago
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Girl Dad! Javier Peña
Girl Dad!Javi who was once terrified to be a dad to daughters, wondering how in the world he could ever be the right person to raise and protect his sweet girls from the dangers of the world he knew all too well
Girl Dad!Javi who hopes that his girls grow up to be just like you- tough, strong and independent
Girl Dad!Javi who loves spoiling his daughters, and will not stop buying them cute outfits and accessories (especially when they're younger) because of how adorable they'll look in them
Girl Dad!Javi who will happily play anything his daughters ask him to- Barbies, princesses, tea parties, unicorns? You name it, he'll do it. He'll even dress for the part, too, just to make his girls giggle when he puts on a tutu and sparkly tiara
Girl Dad!Javi who loves his girl gang so much, he's always asking if you want to have another baby and give your daughters another sister to play with
Girl Dad!Javi who always lets everyone know how much he loves his girls. His friends and co-workers always used to ask him if he wishes he had a son, or if he gets sick of dealing with his daughters, but they learned to stop asking that real fast after Javi gave them an ear full about how much he loved everything about being a girl dad and what a stupid question that was
Girl Dad!Javi who keeps every single piece of artwork his daughters have ever given him. He's got a file folder in his desk overflowing with scribbles of puppies, rainbows, and god knows how much glitter, but he can't bring himself to get rid of anything
Girl Dad!Javi who constantly sings Disney Princess songs to himself, because after the 74th time of watching The Little Mermaid this week, how could they not be
Girl Dad!Javi who learns how to braid so he can help do his daughter's hair before school in the morning. He'll admit, it's not perfect, and he hates those little clear elastics, but he loves getting to spend a little extra one on one time with his girls. He even practices on you when the two of you are hanging out in bed before you go to sleep
Girl Dad!Javi who loves taking his girls to Chucho's ranch to do chores around the farm, teaching them all the in's and out's of how to take care for the animals, use tools, problem solve and work hard. He's also not above bribing them with extra pony rides as incentive to work a little longer
Girl Dad!Javi who shows up to every single practice, game, recital, and school event the girls are apart of, because there is nothing more important to him than making sure his girls know he'll always be there for them.
Girl Dad!Javi who has to remember to not get too upset when his girls give him sass, knowing damn well they inherited all of their stubbornness and strong will from him
Girl Dad!Javi who has absolutely zero tolerance for any misogynistic bullshit he encounters, trying to do what he can to make the world a better place for his daughters to grow up in
Girl Dad!Javi who teaches everything he would have taught to his son to his girls- how to change a tire, mow the lawn, fix things around the house, toss a football, throw a punch, the list goes on and on. He never wants his girls to feel like they need to rely on anyone else to get things done
Girl Dad!Javi who desperately tries to keep up to date on all the things his girls are into, even if it means listening to one too many boy bands on their trips to and from soccer practice (He'll never admit how much he secretly loves One Direction). Not because he necessarily needs his daughters to think he's cool, but because what's important to them is important to him
Girl Dad!Javi who always encourages his daughters to stand up for themselves. Even if they may end up getting in trouble for something questionable, Javi still can't help be proud of the little badasses his girls are
Girl Dad!Javi who tries to act all cool and tough the first time his oldest daughter goes on a date, but has to keep from crying once she leaves, wondering how his little girl has grown up so fast
Girl Dad!Javi who wouldn't trade being a girl dad for anything else in the world, and is so proud of the amazing daughters he's raised with you 🥹
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A/N: I will personally fight anyone who doesn't think that Javi is the king of girl dads. You know that man is SUCH a softie and would love his daughters with his whole heart. I will not be taking further questions at this time. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Long live Girl Dad Javi 🫡
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satoruxx · 6 months ago
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PARACOSM OF THE GODS. (THE CANON AU)
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✧ SUMMARY : a collection of oneshots about your life as a part of the 2006 gang. this series follows the canon path of jjk, except with a whole lot more angsty romance involved. while these are all standalone installments, they are semi connected and often refer to each other. additionally, these fics almost always involve satoru and suguru having feelings for reader, and vice versa—but they're all their canon emotionally reserved selves.
✧ INCLUDES : gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love but cannot express it, timeskips, canon typical violence, death, longing, mutual pining, bittersweet, emotionally stunted teenagers, unresolved feelings, banter, literally just very canon !!
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INSTALLMENTS :: the steps that led us down this road.
i. PARACOSM OF THE GODS :: YOU THINK YOU WILL ALWAYS FIND COMFORT IN THE SHADOWS OF THE STRONGEST.
the orginal fic. focuses on how your relationship with satoru and suguru changes throughout the years, and how the three of you end up walking different paths. goes through many canon events of jjk and how you deal with each one of them.
ii. SAUDADE :: YOU ARE MORE BITTER THAN SWEET.
in the span of a few years, you've realized that you have changed how you celebrate valentine's day. somehow, the blame always falls on the two of them.
iii. DEAD RECKONING :: MORE TROUBLED THAN I COULD'VE EXPECTED.
(coming soon...!)
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EXTRAS :: on another page.
i. ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER :: TILL DEATH DO WE PART?
satoru isn't crazy. he's had time to recognize the events that have unfolded. he stood at your funeral with an impassive look on his face, hands shoved deep into his pockets. he'd put a bouquet at your grave every afternoon since that day. you're dead and he knows it. and yet somehow you're right in front of him, translucent and opaque, and yet so pretty. suddenly he doesn't know what's real anymore, but he doesn't want to question it. not when you've come back to him. not when he's missed you so much. (aka ... how the au would change if you died in high school.)
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tojisun · 6 months ago
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biker simon who picks you up and drops you off to uni im js dizzy at the thought of it 😵‍💫
yeahhhhhHHHHHH
you signed up for that year-long discounted parking in campus and gave simon the little tag for when he picks you up. he teased when you gave it to him, saying that this whole backpack thing was just a one-time ride, but you and him both know that he’s just joking. hell, he won’t even make you take the commute to home because of how tedious it is, saying things like he’ll always pick you up so you better hang on tight.
which is why you just rolled your eyes at his drawled tease before waltzing away because your class is about to start.
thinking about how simon’s got his rucksack packed with essentials—extra protective gear from the jacket to the helmet, then some snacks like cookies and gummies. he’s even got a travel-sized tube of lotion just in case you forgot yours.
and it’s sweet, yes, but just the inherent softness in being picked up and dropped off without hesitation nor prompting. how he follows your schedule, easily taking in the change of routine just so he can be with you.
you told him that he didn’t have to, but he’s insistent. excited for it, even. so you fall into the idea of being pampered; getting used to being his backpack to the point that you’ve even began getting to know his biker gang—his usual friends, kyle and johnny and mr. price—but also those he just met in meets—konig and ajax.
it’s exhilarating.
every ride fills you up with giddiness, triumphing over all your worries and problems because, well, in the dead of the early morning or late night, as the city becomes a blur in your cruising journey, you feel suspended with just simon there for you.
he’s always been there for you; always caring for you; always protective of you. and every time, even with the silence, you feel the tension seep out of your body. then, you’re looking forward to the next day again, even if it’s just so you can reunite with simon when the afternoon bleeds into the sky.
.
there’s a certain curl in your shoulders that lets him know that you’ve had a bad day. he wants to ask, to comfort you, but you’re already snagging the helmet from inside of his bag with your lips jutted out just for the smallest of frowns. he bites the desire to croon and instead reaches forward to take the helmet away from you. you let him do so, huffing quietly, but turning to present your face to him because this—simon helping you with putting on the helmet—has become a tradition of some sorts now.
with him, tugging at the straps and then tapping at the casing when he’s done, and you, waiting with infinite patience because you know he loves doing last minute pokes. like today, he shakes your head as an extra step, and basked in the sound of your surprised giggles.
with your laughter petering out, simon reaches forward to cup your jaw. “ready?”
“yup!” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ you’re bouncing on your spot, eyes shining with excitement, and simon almost laughs because he knows. he gets it.
he gets the way you look forward to the thrill of a ride; of feeling the warm air turn into whipping wind; of going great speeds and dancing between traffic. of feeling like you’re untouchable (ironically, this is the most you will be vulnerable while you’re on the road, but simon has always been extra vigilant; never one to trust the dead silence of intersections or often unused roads because he knows how difficult it can be when one tests fate.)
but on its own, in its entirety, the ride is truly a unique experience, one that simon’s glad he gets to sure with you.
the travel back home is longer tonight, and that’s alright. you know that simon took the longer route back, anyway. that he purposefully took the wrong exit just so he can loop back in and extend your time together. you couldn’t thank him enough because this, just like this, you feel like things would end up turning for the better.
biker!simon mlist
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virq-qgo · 27 days ago
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If you still need Arthur Morgan requests, what about some angst that turns into fluff or smut in the form of being captured by a gang and forming a bond with a fellow captive?
Or perhaps him desperately longing for someone he thinks he has no chance with until he finds out they're just as into him? Bonus for him breaking down a little about it >:)
I fucked up *sobs* I wanted extra money on rdr2 so I was introduced the world of cheats. I didn't fucking know it wouldn't save my process until I found out when I was fucking sent back to the beginning. Not too happy about that.
Also, I'm so sorry for the delay. I am working on the other requests, but I have a hard time writing when I notice that nobody sees/likes/reposts/comment my work. Cause I work hard on it, and lose the motivation if it goes unnoticed. So please forgive me for the slow updates! I also feel like I can't write anymore so now it's just shitty.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! I decided to write the second prompt because my brain generated ideas for that one!!!
Warnings: Arthur is OOC (probably, idk..) I don't remember that one guys name, but he was an "O'Driscoll" but joined the camp. Drunk Arthur, my writing, unedited because my neck and back hurts. (I locked in.) FEM reader
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Arthur Morgan, the man who had a five thousand dollar bounty on his head. The man who was deemed as dangerous and do not approach. Had some silly school boy crush on the sweet girl at the camp. And that girl was you.
The way you would care for him when he returns back from a trip Dutch had sent him on, make sure to have left over meals so that he could eat. You even go as far to bathe him when Arthur has no energy left in him to do it himself. 
Oh, how deep in love he has fallen.
But he couldn’t help but let his mind wander if those soft hands of yours had touched another man's body.
Or if you smiled that beautiful smile to somebody else.
Maybe your arms wrap tighter against another man's body when you’re sharing a horse.
A sigh escaped his lips as he guided his horse back into camp, he was starting to think too much of you and it was taking a serious toll on him. As soon as Arthur arrived at the posts to hitch his horse. He heard your laughter. 
There he saw you with Kieran, laughing. 
He didn’t know why it had made him so angry, but it did. He wanted to beat Kieran for making you laugh. For getting to see your smile. 
But, Arthur couldn’t help but think about just how much better Kieran was. He was a good man, and didn't have a bounty. And treated everyone with kindness even if he didn’t get it back. Arthur Morgan truly had no chance with you. And it hurts.
So he did what he did best when it came to dealing with shitty emotions. Going to the bar and getting absolutely shit faced.
Arthur had been six beers in and lost count of the amount of shots he took. Despite being shitfaced, he would never be shitfaced enough to not notice you. He felt your presence near him and when looking, there you were right next to him with a concerned look on your pretty face.
“Arthur,” Your voice was soft and gentle. “Come home, it’s getting late.”
He knew he should've listened to you and put down the beers. But he was too deep in to care. “Go on back to Kieran.” Arthur slurred over his words before calling over the bartender for another beer.
But as soon as the man tried giving another bottle to Arthur. You snatched it and gave it to the next person.
“H-hey!” Arthur yelled, turning his body to face you but stumbled over his feet. Almost nearly losing his balance. “That was mine!”
You slipped the bartender some money before grabbing Arthur by the arm and leading him to the entrance of the saloon. Ignoring his drunken protest and attempts at pulling away from you, you still took him to the hotel.
“One room please,” You say with a smile on your face to the man behind the counter. Paying what you owed, the man placed the key to the room into the palm of your hand. 
“Please no trouble, that man is a trouble maker as it is.” He spoke sheepishly. Almost regretting letting you buy a room.
But unfortunately for him, you were already gone and up the stairs.
“Arthur, stop dragging your feet.” You grumbled and tugged on his hand while trying not to get irritated with him.
“Then take me back to the damn saloon.” Arthur argued.
With a surprising amount of strength, you yanked him to the hotel door and held onto him with a death grip while trying to unlock the door. Soon enough, you unlocked the door and guided Arthur in before shutting it behind you. 
“God dammit woman.” Arthur grumbles at you as he wobbles over to the bed and flops onto it. “your always ruinin, it for me! For making me feel the way I do about yah,” Arthur rubs a hand over his face before taking off his hat and placing it on the nightstand beside him. “Yer lucky that I love yah, otherwise I wouldn’t have been that easy to take!”
You look at Arthur puzzled, he loved you? Nonsense. You saw the way he interacted with Mary Linton. Now that was love, the way he would caress her cheeks when she was upset. How would he take her on trips with him just to make her happy? Arthur just bout did almost anything for that woman.
But he was drunk, maybe he thought you were her.
“Arthur you’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
He calls out your name and sits up to look at you, like he wasn’t absolutely plastered. “I wanted to kill that boy today. I should be the only one who gets to make you laugh like that, o-or smile.” He drunkenly grumbles, “can’t but think about how good you are. I shouldn’t have these feelings for yah.”
“Arthur-” you try to stop him but he interrupts you.
“You’re so beautiful, and I'm so in love with you. And it makes me so mad that some boy can make you laugh so easily. I get it, I'm older, roughed up. Even got a bounty on my head. I don’t deserve to have these feelings for you.”
You watch Arthur ramble, but you notice something that makes you frown. There were tears in his eyes but he wiped them before you got a chance to say anything.
“I might be drunk, but i’m not drunk enough to not remember how in love I am with you. The damn alcohol didn’t stop from how much I'm hurting.” He chuckles, trying to attempt to mask the pain in his voice.
“Arthur, even if you don’t know what you’re talking about. You are loved, you are meant to be loved. I don’t know why you bother hiding how you truly feel about the people you care about, because everyone I know loves you. All the women back at camp boast about just how safe they feel, the children look up to you and tell me about how Uncle Arthur taught them how to bug Dutch. And the men, they see you as their brother.” You rant, but your voice was gentle. Even though this was meant to drill into that head of his, you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with him. But as soon as you were about to go off on him again. You notice those same tears that he was trying so hard to hide, fall down his cheeks.
And without thinking, you step closer to Arthur and wipe his tears away with your thumb. “Maybe tomorrow morning, if you remember telling me just how much you love me. You can treat me to breakfast and I’ll tell you how I feel.” 
With a nod of his head, Arthur agreed. “Can you stay with me for the night? I don’t want to be left alone.
“Of course I can.” You smile before walking to the chair in the corner. It won't be comfortable, but it’ll work. 
“What are you doin’?” Arthurs voice broke you from your train of thought.
You gave the man a weird look before sitting down in the chair ,“Getting comfortable?” 
You see Arthur roll his eyes before standing up, still very wobbly. But managed to walk over to you and pull you up.” “Get in the damn bed woman.” he grumbled while he guided you to the bed.
“Are you sure-” You try to talk but he interrupts you once again.
“Drunk or not, I wouldn't be a real man if I let a woman sleep uncomfortably.”
A soft smile sits on your face as you crawl into bed, waiting for Arthur to join you. And once he does, you unconsciously scoot a little closer to him. His warmth and scent immediately puts you to sleep.
The sun peeking from the blinds and shining straight into your eyes, was what woke you up. You reach out to feel for Arthur, but he wasn’t there. This really woke you up. 
You couldn't help but let your mind wander to the previous night where he had confessed his feelings. You knew he had mistaken you for Mary Linton. God, you hated yourself for agreeing to sleep in the same bed as him. Tears pool your eyes as you feel the embarrassment fill your blood. As you were getting up from the bed, the door opened and there stood Arthur with breakfast in his hands. The warm look he had on his face dropped once he noticed the tears in your eyes.
“What's wrong?” He asked and put the breakfast he had found and placed it onto the table.
Before you could get a word in, he was next to you in a flash. “Why’er crying?”
Arthur gave you a puzzled look when he heard you laugh and wipe your eyes. “I just had thought you really left.”
You could see him visibly sigh from relief, he was so worried that he had done something wrong. “Is it a bad time to say that I love you?” he grins and reaches out for a plate of food and placing it into your lap, eagerly awaiting for the answer you promised him.
Your lips curl as you lean in and press your lips against his. “Does that tell you?” 
“I don't know, you might have to tell me.” He grins and takes the plate of food off your lap and places it to the side. This time he was to kiss you, his fingers curl against your hips as he pushed you flat down on the bed. 
“I love you too, Arthur Morgan.” You tell him in between kisses. 
A soft squeal escapes your lips as you feel the scruff of his beard tickle your cheek as he whispers into your ear, “I had a hunch you'd say that.
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