#what happened to 'you need yo know how to do this even if you don't want to'

[demaparbat-hp]

Hiya!! 👋🏼😄 How's it going? Your fashion taste for Zuko in a Modern AU seems to be artsy, or maybe "formal" is the word. That shirt he wore when he gave Sokka romantic song advice looked Versace🧐. Anyway, I was wondering how you came up with it, he always struck me more as the type that didn´t care much about fashion, so I'm curious about other´s opinions and heacanons about it. And do you have any other fashion headcanons for the rest of the GAang? Also, their music tastes. How did you come up with them? Especially Katara's! 😍

Hello! As it happens, I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings™ about this, so I'm leaving these over here, and the rest of my ramblings down below the cut!

Let us begin with the Gaang, shall we?

SUKI always struck me as that Pretty Girl from the Gym. She is so incredibly fit it isn't even funny. She could kick anyone's ass, and we'd all thank her. She has this casual gym style that somehow always looks glorious on her, as it should! Comfy yet fashionable clothes for a nice workout or a day in town.

Her music tastes are basically any and all power songs from the eighties and nineties. (Eye of the Tiger, anyone?) She also enjoys metal via Toph, and bands like BSB, NSYNC, or Boyz II Men with Katara. My girl has a very eclectic Playlist and we all love her for it.

SOKKA is That Guy™. Loose T-shirts and shorts everywhere he goes, no matter the weather. He's stupidly into fashion but it doesn't show! At all! And everyone teases him about it. His closet is about 90% Cactus Juice merchandise, hence the "it's the quenchiest!" shirt.

His fashion and music tastes are pretty much the same. He loves poetry but isn't really into lyrics. He'll misinterpret just about anything you place in front of him. His Playlist is mostly vibes and tiktok songs he kind of enjoys. He isn't really into music...at least not as much as his sister.

AANG owns exactly one hoodie, one pair of shorts, and one beanie (THE beanie). Oh, and the crocs—don't forget the crocs. Somehow, he's always wearing the exact same outfit. Every. Single. Day. Ancient Gaang lore suggests that the day Aang goes out without his beanie, it's the end of the world.

His Playlist is the poppiest, most bizarre thing ever. Every single song is Happy by Pharrell Williams levels of happy. Yet sometimes, among the bouncy dance-to songs, you'll find the strangest of things... (He does know what Good Day by Twenty One Pilots is about. That's the reason he likes it so much, actually. And it's so weird.)

KATARA is all about sundresses and loose pants. The epitome of comfortable loveliness. Light fabrics in blue shades, careful embroidery, delicate shoes, and little to no accessories—hers is a simple, yet quite adorable, style. She just needs to add more colors to her usual palette...

She is, first and foremost, a Florence + The Machine girl. It's the Dark Goddess of the Sea vibes, to be honest. Florence Welch is her idol and yes, she will fight you about lyrics interpretation, and win. It may not seem like it, but her music tastes are also very varied.

She draws a little from each member of the Gaang, so you'll hear her humming along to Gorillaz (where did you even find out about them, Aang?), The Weeknd (I...don't think this song means what you think it means, Sokka...), and Hozier (Zuko why did you dedicate Talk to me, Zuko WHAT DID YOU MEAN BY THAT).

TOPH...ah, lovely girl. I'll summarise everything about Toph’s fashion sense in two words: comfort and rebellion. Stuffy dresses forced on her by billionaire parents? No thank you! Give her tank tops with loose shirts and short pants. Bandaids shared with Aang, bracelets from Katara, and even piercings she got in tandem with Sokka. Shoes? What even is that?

Something I love about this fandom is our collective agreement that Toph is into the dirtiest, heaviest, most ear-splitting and soul-crushing death metal of all times. Her Playlist is full of the most obscure names to ever exist, and she can and will blast through your walls with the sheer volume of her speaker.

Zuko. ZUKO.

Even in a modern AU my boy must suffer. That being said, I envision Tales from the Couch as—well, exactly what it is: an ATLA modern AU. While there is not a war to fight, and a lot of plot lines are discarded or expanded upon, much about the core story remains the same.

This is my way of saying that Zuko still goes trough his redemption arc, and it reflects on his fashion choices.

The way you described it works perfectly because of one single reason: in this AU, Zuko is an artist. He had to suppress his love for writing and drawing because of his background and the expectations Ozai had for him (taking over the family company), and a very large part of his redemption arc directly affects his relationship with art.

In the Couch equivalent of S1, Zuko has fallen out of Ozai's graces, and is desperate to protect his place in the company and the Kasai household. He's pretending to be someone he isn't and trying to live up to his Father's image of a perfect heir while still being somewhat cut-off financially, and it shows.

He's all about imposing long coats and a semi-formal style, imitating what he knows Azula and Father would respect. He's striking and sharp and dark. But no matter how he dresses or carries himself (that air of cold superiority and arrogance)—it won't help him when he needs it the most.

In S2, Zuko has hit his lowest point. He's officially disinherited and tossed away by his father, and would be out in the streets if it wasn't for Uncle Iroh. He goes from sharp, high-tailored outfits to old second-hand clothes that hang loosely on his frame. He starts smoking and cuts his hair off, forgoing the undercut for the first time in years.

But then...Father accepts him back. When Zuko returns home, it's with respect to his name and a very high position in his father's company. He's finally the perfect Kasai heir, dressed in overly expensive suits and finery, even at home... But Father forbids him from wearing Lu Ten's earring, and Zuko can no longer recognize himself without the familiar glint of gold dancing on his peripheral vision.

When Zuko leaves the Kasai name behind him and goes back to living with Uncle Iroh...he's finally at peace with who he is, and what he wants in this life. The sharp edges aren't gone (they'll always be a part of him, after all), but now they're dulled by looser clothes and softer hairstyles.

He's an artist, and for once in his life, he is determined to pursue his own ambitions. Zuko's outfits may not be designer-made anymore, but he takes what he has and makes himself look like he wants to look, like the person he wants to be.

He doesn't read fashion magazines or keeps up to the latest trends like Azula does. He's just...Zuko. And his newfound confidence makes everything he wears look like it belongs on him.

As for music...well, Ursa raised a literature boy.

He loves lyric-heavy music and natural voices, be they soothing or powerful. Dissecting song meanings and possible interpretations with Katara is one of his favorite parts of the day. They're both very passionate and strong-minded individuals, so it stands to reason that their debates can get quite...heated.

Zuko's Playlist is both incredibly eclectic and somehow very...him. There's a common thread that binds together every song and artist he likes, and he's hilariously unaware of this. To take a look into his Playlist is a higher honor reserved only for those closest to him.

In the wide spectrum of things, it is no wonder that Zuko is, first and foremost, a Hozier man. But though Andrew is his God in all aspects of this life, there's someone else that has had a huge impact on him...

Two someones, actually.

Zuko refuses to tell anyone how he got into Twenty One Pilots, but it's kind of a moot point when the beginning of his obsession is nothing compared to everything that came after. They have just about the right amount of everything that makes Zuko...well, Zuko. The poetic lyrics, the soothing or raging music, the heavy, intensely resonant themes...

Up there, in the second artwork, I placed an album cover behind each period of Zuko's life. The election of these records is intentional, as I feel like their general themes work incredibly well with Zuko's arc and growth.

Blurryface in S1. For the demons within us. For giving a name to our fears and shame.

Trench in S2. For escaping the confined walls of a depression city, and fighting to understand the depths of the map of your mind.

Scaled and Icy in the first half of S3. For returning to places you had left behind. For convincing yourself and everyone around you that you're fine, that you're perfect, even though everything is crumbling inside...

Clancy in S3. For recognizing that you can backslide, that you can have fears and shame and pain—but you're shaping yourself with each step you take. For knowing that seeking help from others is okay. Nobody learns to walk on their own.

(And, in the end, you'll always be better than the person you were yesterday. If only because you're still here. You're still alive. You're still yourself.)

.

Overall, I rambled a bit too much, don't you think?

If you made it all the way down here—thank you so much for reaching out and being interested in this crazy AU! I hope you enjoy these ideas and tell me some of your own ❤️

[oh-meow-swirls]

i think this was funnier in my head.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Benny: Thanks for not giving up on me, brother.

Dean: Don't give me a reason to.

(im going to throw up)

[rubys-domain]

holy jesus christ...

fontaine's act 4 is by far the most stressful act of any archon quest ever

[loverboybrightsideghost]

forever fucking pissed at my parents for not trying to teach me how to drive. yeah i'm an adult now but fuck's sake why do i have to be the one always telling you to take me to practice driving. fuck off.

[huh-i-guess]

Fever

(Task force 141 x F!reader)

Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.

“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.

“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.

“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab. 

“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret. 

“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.

“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling. 

“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.

“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended. 

“Listen I-” 

You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.” 

“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order. 

“Lass I don-”

“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab. 

You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind.  I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can. 

Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.

“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”. 

“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”

“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.

“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”

“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared. 

“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.

“Got the documents and drives, sir.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”

“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?

“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time. 

A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know. 

Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state. 

As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings. 

Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.

“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.

“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then. 

“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”

“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped. 

The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.

“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground. 

“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.

“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house. 

---

“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.

“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.

“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.

“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned. 

“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said. 

“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected. 

“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes. 

“Oh shit.”

“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.

“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change. 

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.

“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth. 

“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said. 

---

When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you. 

“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear.  Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit. 

“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed.  When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment. 

You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”

“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles.  You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more. 

You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you  pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.  

---

“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team. 

“Did you lad?” Price probed. 

“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”

“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth. 

“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly. 

“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has. 

“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied. 

“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.

“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.

“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality. 

---

You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.  

“Jesus, Simon.” 

“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs. 

“Simon, please.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”

“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”

“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face. 

“I mean it. Please help me.”

“Just my fingers darling.” 

“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants.  Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he’d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit. 

“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely. 

“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal. 

“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers. 

“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing. 

“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”

You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.

“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.

[yuujispinkhair]

Yakuza King!Sukuna lives a dangerous life. That's why he only wants you to leave his penthouse with your bodyguard. But what if you crave a treat from your favorite shop just down the street and go on your own?

Based on this lovely ask I received from @subarusuguru. Thank you so much for sharing it with me!! ♥️

Pairing: Yakuza!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 900 Warnings: 18+, smut, spanking + pussy spanking, edging, fingering, dirty talk, use of the pet name daddy. It isn't explicitly stated in this story, but Sukuna and Reader are in an established relationship and have a safe word, etc. Everything happens with mutual consent. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

Yakuza!Sukuna loves you. He loves you so much. You are his whole world, and he needs to protect you, especially when he has so many enemies because of his line of work.

Usually, Sukuna enjoys a little disobedience when it comes from you. He loves to tease you about being a brat and enjoys playfully putting you back in your place. But things are different when he is actually worried about you like he is tonight after finding out you went to a shop all alone, without one of Sukuna's drivers, and even worse, without your bodyguard.

Sukuna knows that he is to blame, too, because he didn't want to scare you and, therefore, didn't tell you how grave the threat is at the moment. But he still can't stop himself from spiraling when he hears you so foolishly went out on your own. 

"This has to stop. If I tell you not to leave the house on your own, you will be a good girl and stay inside. And if you really need to leave, you will call Nobara. Do you understand that?"

He can see you gulp hard when you hear how stern he sounds. His maroon eyes, which are usually so warm when they look at you, are cold and hard right now. Tonight, the man sitting across from you isn't just your charming and loving husband. Tonight, you are talking to the King of Tokyo's Underworld, and he will do what he has to do to ensure you stay safe.

That's why Sukuna pats his lap and points an elegant tattooed finger to his fine black suit pants.

"Come here. I will make sure you remember to do as I tell you from now on."

You squeal when he grabs you and bends you over his lap, lifting your skirt and pulling your pretty lace panties down. And you squeal even louder when Sukuna's large hand connects firmly with your juicy ass cheek.

You make a cute sound, a mix between a hiss and a moan, when Sukuna spanks you again, several times in a row, before he uses his other hand to spread your pussy lips and watch the glistening wetness gathering there, your arousal so evident. You are breathing heavily when Sukuna runs a teasing fingertip over your creamy folds before he pinches your wet little clit, eliciting a loud gasp from you.

"I am doing this for you, darling. Don't you understand that I need to protect you? The Zenins are out there, trying to take everything from me. What do you think will happen if you run into them?"

You whimper softly, and Sukuna kneads the plump flesh of your naked ass cheek before he pulls his hand away and adds in a low, stern voice, emphasizing every word,

"That's why," his palm connects firmly with your naked ass again, "you have to," another firm spank, "learn how to obey me."

Sukuna wishes he didn't have to do this. He doesn't want to bend you over his knees like this and spank you like some naughty brat.

He doesn't want to tease you for hours like this, torturing you with pleasure and pain. Rubbing your swollen clit, and occasionally pushing a finger into your tight wet cunt, pumping it in and out of your obscenely squelching wetness, only to pull away again anytime he feels you beginning to tighten around him.

He doesn't want to punish you, making you whine loudly when he lets his large palm connect firmly with your spread pussy.

Sukuna doesn't want to spank and edge you until you are a crying, needy mess who promises him over and over again that you won't leave the penthouse on your own again.

"Please, Sukuna! Please...I... please... I won't go out on my own again! Please, please let me cum, Daddy! I'll be your good girl!"

Sukuna hates having to use his power and strength like that. But he also knows that pain is a good way to ensure a lesson is learned. And at least this is a pleasurable pain, judging by the way you mewl when he pushes two long fingers deep into your soaking wet cunt and fucks you hard and deep with them, torturing your g-spot unrelentingly while his other hand spanks your sensitive flesh.

Your whole body shakes as you cum all over his long fingers that are stuffing your cunt while Sukuna's other hand connects hard with your ass again, spanking and fingering you to an orgasm that makes you cry out loudly.

Sukuna lets out a long breath. The hand that spanked you is brushing gently over your abused skin now, caressing it lovingly, while he slowly fucks you through your orgasm. His voice is low, sensual, and full of love,

"Yes, just like that, sweetheart. You can be so good for me when you want. And I hate having to act like such an asshole. I love you, darling. I just want you to be safe. Do you understand that?"

He smiles when you answer him with a voice thick with tears but also filled with that sweet euphoria you always get after Sukuna made you cum.

"Hmm, yes, I know. I'm sorry for being so reckless, Kuna. I love you too."

You scramble to get up, and Sukuna quickly helps you, wrapping his strong arms safely around you and pulling you up so you straddle his lap, your wet cunt soaking his fine suit pants.

You smile at him and wrap your arms around his neck,

"But, next time, just tell me the whole truth, so I know how dangerous things are at the moment. You shouldn't keep these things from me, baby. I can take it, you know?"

Sukuna's lips lift in an amused smirk, his large hands sprawling over your naked ass, pulling you closer, his lips ghosting over your neck. He presses a tender kiss to your pulse point while lifting his hips to let you feel the large, hard bulge in his pants, his throbbing cock pressing against your hot wet cunt, only separated by the soaked-through fabric of his suit pants and boxer briefs.

"First, show me how you can take Daddy's cock, and then I will tell you everything."

FUCKKK I NEED HIM!!!! Yakuza!Sukuna still manages to make my head spin, and I am so happy I could indulge in this!! Thank you so much for the prompt!! And thank you so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ♥️♥️

You can find more Yakuza King!Sukuna stories here

[synqiri]

WHO GOT YOU SMILING LIKE THAT?

or, who else is his smile directed at but you ?

PAIRING: sunday, dan heng x gn!reader

WARNINGS: none

WORDCOUNT: 1K || CONTENT: fluff, reader is from the express, sunday's wings, danheng's vidyadhara form

NOTES: THEMMM!!!!

“brother,�� robin asks, “has something good happened recently?”

SUNDAY chuckles, shaking his head. “nothing in particular, dear sister. why do you ask?”

she knows it is a lie, yet she does not wish to press, for she has never seen her brother this happy in years. his gaze softer too, his smile more at ease. even now, his eyes dart about the golden hour occasionally, almost hopefully, searching for something — or someone. 

“no reason,” she replies instead. “you simply seem well. i'm glad.”

before he can say much else, robin watches as his attention is drawn away from her, to somewhere behind her back. swiftly, he adjusts his suit and tie (though she knows he despises having to do so in public), and straightens his already impeccable posture.

terribly curious, she turns to look, and finds that it is you.

you are of the astral express, and though she may not know much, she knows you are cherished.

“sunday! robin!” you greet them, a grin on your face, cheerful and bright. “i didn't expect to see you two. must be my lucky day!”

nearly imperceptibly, sunday's wings flutter, and robin can tell he is delighted. she wonders if he himself has noticed — that the moment he had laid his eyes on you, he simply melted.

her brother has always carried himself with a tense, elegant formality, his words and actions as dignified as the head of the oak family should be. but the sight before her eyes is a side of him she has never seen; soft eyes and a fond smile, barely there yet present all the same. 

you chatter, and he lets you, as if he were soaking in your every word, tension alleviating with your mere attention. 

“let's catch up another time, brother,” she tells him, smiling just a tad apologetically. still, it is obvious her presence is no longer needed. “i have another appointment i must attend to.”

he nods, bidding her a farewell, and you huff softly, slightly put out. 

“aw,” you say. “i was hoping we’d have longer to talk. you're almost harder to reach than sunday.”

she laughs. “i was just thinking the same. how about another day?”

excitedly, you agree, offering her your pinky to swear. she accepts easily. she is certain that even if the express has left, if everything happens as it should, it wouldn't be the last she’d see of you.

sunday would make sure of that.

just before she leaves, she catches how her brother draws your attention back onto him, with a childish sort of pettiness she thought he had rid of long ago. 

“i wasn't aware you were such a big fan of my sister's,” he says. “if you wish, i can provide you front row tickets to her next concert.”

you shake your head, giggling, but by then, she is too far away to hear your response. still, whatever you had said to sunday flusters him. his wings flutter once more, positively elated.

he smiles.

recently, DAN HENG has changed.

march has noticed it long ago, and she's sure caelus has too. not only that, she's positive it has something to do with you.

you’re the newest addition to the astral express crew, and she likes you lots. everyone does, really. you're wonderful and brilliant and bright, even if you don't see it yourself. she watches as you make your way into the archives, though she doesn't do the same. she peeks into the tiny window by the door instead.

there it is. she almost squeals. it's utterly adorable, that's what.

dan heng hates company when he's working, a fact march knows all too well. aeons know how many times she got herself kicked out. except, he doesn't seem to hate company all that much when it's you.

“it's me,” you announce as you enter, and he barely spares you a second glance, as if it was there you were always meant to be.

he shifts aside, letting you grab a chair and taking a seat next to him, even allowing you as close as shoulder to shoulder. he's in his true form today. his tail curls around the base of your feet — it doesn't touch you, but it's a damn near thing.

she wonders how exactly you managed such a feat. dan heng is reserved and guarded and whilst he considers the crew his family, she knows there is no one he fully trusts with all his secrets. she can't blame him, but it is the truth. 

yet within months, you have quickly become his closest confidante.

“what are you working on today?” you ask, flipping through the scattered books and documents on his desk. 

he glances over to you, and even from where she stands, march can tell his gaze is impossibly warm.

“penacony,” he says. “there is much i have to cover.”

you nod, though when your attention strays and you meet his eye, you wince. 

“aeons,” you murmur, brows drawn slightly. “did you even sleep last night?”

march watches with a dawning sense of awe when you bring your hands to cradle his face, and he doesn't flinch away. no, on the contrary, his eyes flutter shut, and he leans into the touch subtly. his tail has curled itself around your leg now, snaking all the way up to your waist.

“i… i may have lost track of time last night,” he admits softly.

you huff, squishing his cheeks. “you can't do that. you'll ruin your pretty face.”

for a brief moment, march contemplates snapping a picture of the scene. she decides against it. even she knows this is something much too private to be watching. still, she's a busybody through and through.

he doesn't retort, nor does he do any of the things he usually does.

instead, dan heng chuckles, soft and contented and everything good in the world. he's so utterly smitten it's almost sickening.

march slips away, her next destination caelus's room. that loser owes her a thousand credits.

[florestalio]

THE PERFECT COPY — yang jungwon

SYNOPSIS: finding a job in the current state of the world was a hassle, but given your skills, it wasn't hard to find a decently paying job as a doorman. your job is to distinguish the doppelgangers from the real humans. simple enough, right? right?

GENRE: that's not my neighbour au, dystopian au, doppelganger au

WARNINGS: (6.9k words) MDNI, noncon/dubcon, mentions of killing, blood, guns, unprotected sex (please don't), big huge dick!won, monster fucking, meandom!won, implied munch!won, nicknames (slut, doll, princess, etc.), dacryphilia, fingering, manhandling, bondage, lot of slick (an almost concerning amount), marking (hickeys), cum eating (not oral), missionary, mating press, bulge kink, degradation, praise, possessive!won, let me know if I missed any!

NOTE: i'm well aware that a similar fic has already been published by a different author, but mine was almost completely inspired by this video, so it's extremely different from the fic that had already been posted.

In a world which is slowly, but steadily getting overtaken by doppelgangers, finding a job is one of the hardest tasks — even if a lot of new jobs have been created for this purpose.

‘Doorman’, a post that was one of the more frowned upon jobs with a very low salary, had now become one of the most high paying jobs — since it was their skills and abilities that would determine whether the people in an apartment or complex lived or not. The job sounded fairly simple — figure out if the person wanting to enter is a human or a convincing doppelganger. Let only the humans in, get rid of the doppelgangers with the help of the D.D.D — another job created for the purpose of eradication of the doppelgangers from the world.

While the job of doormen did sound simple, it obviously wasn't that easy. Doppelgangers could be very convincing, their morphing abilities weren't a matter of joke. But, no matter how human they seemed, at the end of the day, they weren't human.

While detecting them could be very hard, doppelgangers… aren't the smartest tool in the shed. They always have some kind of imperfections, no matter how minor, in their appearances, in the way they behave — and many more. This is where doormen step in. They are skilled people with extremely sharp observation skills, which they use to figure out these imposters, and thus save the lives of a lot more people than they think they do.

You were one of these people with sharp observation skills that got chosen as a doorman of an apartment complex, situated near the suburbs. While you weren't getting a salary as high as the skies, it was still pretty high, considering that people from remote locations were impersonated a lot more than people from the cities, as these people are easier targets than them.

According to your job description, the old doorman was taking a long, well-deserved vacation. You were supposed to replace him for as long as he was on vacation, after which, you had no idea what would happen. Would your job be gone? Were you going to keep your job? Would you work alongside the old doorman? So many questions, yet they all remained unanswered.

You shook off those thoughts, focusing on the present. You looked around your new office, trying to make yourself familiar with your surroundings. Everything you needed as a doorman seemed to be exactly where you needed it; a telephone, checklists to grant entries, an entry list, records of all the people that lived in the building, their phone numbers, the D.D.D phone number, and whatnot. There was even an emergency button on the wall, which was attached with a metal partition that covered the window in front of the desk when activated.

The presence of all these faculties just made your work a lot easier. You took a seat, right in front of the desk. As soon as you sat down, the phone rang. You picked it up, only to hear a recorded message from the previous doorman. Turns out, his name was Sunghoon, and he had recorded it for you to listen to, since he didn’t wish for any mishaps to happen to you. As thoughtful as he was, he was also extremely repetitive. After several ‘do not let them in’-s, did the recording finally end, making you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Now comes the tough part. Doing your job.

It was a quarter to midnight. After a hard day’s work of letting in the actual residents and calling the D.D.D upon the impersonators, the entry list had only two more people left. Namely, a businessman by the name of ‘Park Jongseong’ who lived alone in the third room on the first floor, and ‘Yang Jungwon’, the milkman who lived alone in the second room of the third floor.

Over the course of the day, you had seen doppelgangers of all kinds, some a lot better at impersonating than the other. There were several times when you had almost missed a sudden flash of an extra pair of arms, or different eye colors — as impressed as you were, you had immediately called the D.D.D on them.

Sometimes the doppelgangers looked completely, utterly, perfect copies of the person they were impersonating. Had it not been for a slight difference in their ID’s or entry requests, you would have probably let them in.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps alerted you. As you looked up, you were met with the face of Jongseong, Jay for short. He gave you a half smile. “Sorry for bothering you this late, a client of mine was giving me a lot of trouble. Honestly, how is it my fault that the delivery was being delayed? Do they not realize that in the present situation, it is hard to navigate through the innumerous doppelgangers that are just waiting to pounce at any given moment of the day? It's truly very inconsiderate of–”

You interrupted his rambling. “Sir I require your ID in order to let you in. As you mentioned, it is already extremely late, so please, let’s not delay this any further.” You felt a little guilty for how you were acting towards him, but his rambling was taking up too much of your precious time.

His eyes immediately widened, before he started rummaging in his pockets. “Right — I'm really sorry, I'm not sure why I started to rant to you — here's my ID–”

You took a close look at the ID, trying to find any kind of faults in it. You heard him start to rant again. “—and honestly it was such a lovely day too, but this stupidly inconsiderate client had to ruin it.” You looked up at him, watching him continue to rant about the most random topics, which… didn’t really make any sense. “—so many ice cream trucks, but all of them had crashed into each other. The amount of people going up to those and stealing ice creams from them was actually insane–”

Suddenly you noticed something amiss on his face, protruding from his hat. Without missing a beat, you asked him. “Sir, what's that on your face?”

Jay immediately stopped his rambling. “My face? Wh– What’s wrong with it? It– It's just a normal face!–”

Your hand started to creep towards the emergency button. “There are tiny hands on your face.”

Jay panicked, watching you reach towards the emergency button. “Wait!– I have an explanation for this — see I was talking to this little girl called Jiah right? So I called out to her ‘Hey Jiah! Can you give me a hand with this?’ and she came and put her hands on my face! No wait don't–”

It was too late. You had already pushed the emergency button, watching the metal partition fall into place, blocking your view of him. You could hear the doppelganger wailing about how it was ‘a perfect disguise’. You quickly contacted the D.D.D, letting them know of the situation. Within five minutes you heard them arrive, screams of ‘get away from the door you filthy animal!’ and ‘but I don't wanna’ filled up the air, along with the sounds of guns going off, before it all went silent.

The partition suddenly went up again, a bloodied yellow hazmat suit with the D.D.D logo coming into your view. The person in the suit spoke. “Cleaning protocol has been completed. Please feel free to carry on with your job.”

You whispered a small thanks, watching them leave. It was almost midnight now, and you still had to let in two more of the apartment’s residents. It almost annoyed you, but this was in your job description when you had applied for it, so you had to suck it up.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, along with a voice. “God, I'm so sorry for coming this late, Sunghoon, I swear I'll come earlier next time–” The voice stopped short, and so did your breath.

Good fucking gracious. You did look at the profiles of all the residents in the building, but none of them looked as good as Jungwon did up close.

Jungwon, a milkman by profession, was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Even with his tired eyes and exhausted appearance in general, he looked so fucking… ravishing.

He cleared his throat. “I'm so sorry, it's usually Sunghoon who sits here — are you new?”

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “Yeah I am… Sunghoon went for a vacation, a long one apparently, so I'm here to replace him for the time being.”

He nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Good thing he went for a vacation, god knows he needed one. We all need one, given the state of the world at present — how are you liking it at the new job? Is it giving you too much trouble?”

You shook your head. “Oh no, not at all — there were a lot of posers, but I handled them just fine. I think I'll be alright.”

“That's good. Oh, I remember my first experience with a doppelganger — it was almost terrifying. See, there was this — this woman, who lived here and… it was a very convincing disguise. The only thing wrong with her was that… there was a mole on her right cheek, except that it was supposed to be on the left side. When the D.D.D was called on her, she… kept screaming and screaming — all that just… it takes a toll on you. Not being able to recognise them, that is.”

You gulped, barely hearing what he was saying, too focused on the movement of his lips. “Yea… that's — yea, it's scary.”

He offered you a half smile. “It is. But what you're doing is important. You're saving a lot of lives this way, and that is all that matters. That's what is important.”

“Thank you — I appreciate that, I truly do.”

“You're welcome. I may not know you personally yet, but I can tell that you're an honest person. People like you… they tend to overthink these things. So always remember that… what you're doing is great. These doppelgangers are evil, and they deserve what they are getting.”

You gave him a grateful smile, once again thanking him for his kind words. He gave you one back. “Not a big deal… princess. Here's my ID… and my entry request.”

As you took his ID and his entry request, you froze, suddenly aware of the nickname that he used to refer to you. “P-Princess?–”

Jungwon had a tiny smirk on his face this time. “Yea? Do you not like the nickname? I can stop–”

You were quick to deny it. “No I didn't mean — uhm — I do like it…”

An amused glint was present in his eye. “I see. So… are my documents in order, princess?”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up on your cheeks. “Yep, all good.” A sudden idea struck you. “Actually wait… there is something wrong.”

His smile vanished. “What?– Something's wrong?”

You nodded. “Yea… with your face.”

He raised a shaky hand to touch his face, something you missed. “M– My face? What's wrong with it?”

You smiled at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement. With as much cheesiness as you could muster in your voice, you replied. “Yea, it's called ‘handsomeness’.” You immediately cringed at yourself. What kind of a pathetic attempt at flirting was that?

However, it seemed to sway Jungwon. He immediately blinked, before letting out a relieved grin, a faint blush coating his cheeks. “Oh?– You got me there. Thank you — you're extremely gorgeous too.”

Now it was your turn to feel shy. Your cheeks were aflame, heat creeping up your neck. Were you seriously flirting instead of doing your job? This late at night?

You shyly smiled at him, thanking him. He gave you another smile back, this one seeming a lot more cocky than the last. “Can I go now, pretty girl? Or do you have more tricks up your sleeve?”

You giggled a little, pressing the green button to let him in. “Nope! Go right in.”

He gave you a small smirk, tipping his hat towards you in the same manner a cowboy would, before disappearing through the door.

Around three minutes after Jungwon went in, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, only this time, it wasn’t exactly the sound of a person walking. It sounded like someone was running. Fast.

You heard the sound of panting, before… Jungwon came into view. Only this time, he had blood all over him.

This was obviously a doppelganger, but before you could reach for the emergency button, the fake Jungwon spoke. “Oh my fucking god — hey I’m guessing you’re new? Listen, this is really important. Did you see… me earlier?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. This was a new strategy. No doppelganger had used a strategy quite like this one earlier today. “Uh-huh.”

He banged on the glass partition with his fist, making you flinch. His eyes looked crazier than before. “I’m not playing around here. Did you or did you not see me earlier?”

Your hand quickly went to the emergency button. Noticing that, he started panicking. “No no no — don’t press that, just listen to me. I was knocked out — he stole my keys! — everything, he stole everything… even my face! Please tell me you didn’t let him in.”

Your hand hovered over the button, his words making you hesitate from pushing it. “I did let him in…”

His eyes widened. “Oh fuck — this is bad, this is bad, this is bad — listen, you have to call the D.D.D — right now. Do it! Call them right now!”

You gazed at him, conflicted. He sounded so… convincing. But so did the first Jungwon. Which one of them was telling the truth?

You almost wanted to scoff at yourself. You were supposed to have some top tier observation skills to be able to figure out who is a doppelganger and who is not. So why was it so hard for you to tell in this case?

You didn’t even realize when your hand fell on the button, pressing it by accident. As the alarm bells sounded and the metal barrier began to fall, several shouts of ‘No!’ could be heard from the outside. You sat there rigidly, not even aware of when the door to your office opened, the person on the other side of the door slipping inside. It wasn’t until he put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch, when you realized that Jungwon, the first one, was inside.

You relaxed for a moment, before he bent down, whispering in your ear, causing you to freeze. “You did a good job princess. Such a good job. Now continue to be a good girl and sit here quietly like a good fucking girl would, yea?”

As he spoke, the realization dawned upon you, the cold dread that came with it washing over you like a bucket of ice. The second Jungwon was the real one.

As you sat there frozen, Jungwon — or rather, the doppelganger — called up the D.D.D, informing them of a ‘doppelganger’ situation. Within five minutes, they had arrived, screams and sounds of gunshots once again filling up the air. Once they stopped, the metal partition opened, once again revealing a yellow hazmat suit stained with blood.

The D.D.D agent recited the same words that it did everytime, before walking away. As soon as the D.D.D had evacuated the building, ‘Jungwon’ clicked the emergency button again, quickly pressing another button to deactivate the alarm bells, so that only the metal partition fell down. He gripped the handles of your chair, spinning it to make you face him. You gulped as you faced him, the sinister smirk on his face filled you up with a fear so intense, that it gripped you in an almost vice-like grip. It was terrifying — he was terrifying.

His eyes raked over you, drinking in your fearful expression. The shaking of your body, the pleading in your eyes, the nervous gulping — all of it filled him up with a foreign emotion — an emotion that made him want to devour you whole.

He lifted up a hand to your face, holding your chin between his fingers, leaning your face upwards. He himself leaned down, stopping just a breath away from your lips, causing your own breath to hitch. Whether it was from fear, or anticipation, he didn't know — not that it would change anything.

He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, maintaining eye contact with you. “Are you surprised? That I'm not who you thought I was?”

You gulped, too afraid to speak. Although the shaking of your eyes told him what he wanted to know.

He smirked lightly. “Does it make you feel angry? To know that you have been finally bested by a — what do you humans call us again? Ah, a ‘doppelganger’.”

‘Anger’ was the last thing you felt. Fear was all you felt — fear for both yourself, and everyone else whose life you had endangered. You were absolutely terrified, dreading your fate.

You had seen pictures of the real form of the doppelgangers — albeit just drawings; derivations from people who somehow lived to tell the tale. They were described to be completely monstrous, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth, greenish skin and huge claws that could easily rip anyone to shreds. It was only natural for you to feel terrified of your fate. Were you going to be torn to shreds by him? Or was he going to eat you? Do doppelgangers actually eat humans?

Turns out, he did plan on eating you. Devouring you actually. Just… not in the way you thought.

He traced his lip with his tongue, practically undressing you with his eyes. He was going to fucking ruin you.

He traced your lip with his thumb, forcing your mouth open. He pressed his thumb down on your tongue, watching the tears gather at your waterline and the saliva on your tongue. You were already so much fun to play with.

You wanted to cry, scream — anything to get out of this situation. You weren't trained for something like this — all the instructors just said “Catch them, or they catch you. If you're caught, consider yourself dead.” None of them ever prepared you for a situation like this.

You needed to use your own tactics, and you needed to use them fast. You stared at his eyes, trying to make sure your facial expressions didn't give away your thoughts, when suddenly, a brilliant — okay, not brilliant, but still better than nothing — idea struck you.

Your eyes suddenly fell on the door, your eyes widening slightly with a glimmer of hope. He frowned at your expression, looking backwards at the door as well, taking the bait.

You immediately pushed him off you, catching him off-guard, before quickly running to the door. But just as you were about to reach for the handle, you felt him grab your shoulder from behind, pulling you backwards in a not-so-gentle manner. He shoved you to the floor unceremoniously, causing you to scream from the impact — not that anyone would hear you, since the walls were soundproof as long as the metal partition was pulled down, and you had no way to reach the button to deactivate it.

You tried to get up, but were immediately shoved back down to the ground, with him climbing up on top of you, pinning your arms above your head. If looks could kill, you would have already been six feet under by now.

For a moment he just glared down at you, your lips quivering, your eyes shaking with unshed tears. Your chest was rising up and down erratically, downright terrified with what he was planning on doing to you. Was he going to strangle you to death? Tear you apart by hand? Break your neck? Or was he going to–

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by him. His voice was cold with a sinister undertone. “You know princess, I was going to be nice to you — go nice and slow, appreciate everything about you, take my time with you, make it memorable for you. But after this little stunt that you just pulled? I don't think you deserve kindness. If you want to be a fucking brat, acting like you weren't ready to spread your legs open for me just ten minutes ago, then I'm going to fucking treat you like one.”

Your blood ran cold. He was going to what?

You couldn't even understand where he was coming from. You were ‘acting like a brat’? Was trying to run in order to save your life a crime now? You were getting ready to ‘spread your legs for him just ten minutes ago’? First of all, it was some harmless flirting with a nice guy who you thought was human, not a fucking monster. So what the fuck was he even trying to say?

None of it mattered now — not now, when he was sliding the belt that was just there for design purposes through the hoops in your skirt. It didn't matter now, when he started to tie the belt around your wrists, ignorant to your struggles to break free. Not now, when he was grabbing the ends of your shirt, roughly shoving it up.

He couldn't shove it off you, since your hands were tied, so he proceeded to tear it off with his hands. It was an expensive shirt, but there wasn't any time to mourn the loss of your shirt — not when his hands had already moved to your skirt. He didn't even bother trying to get it off this time, simply ripping it apart like paper.

The tears finally broke free. This was it. This was your fate. You were going to get used like some pathetic doll by some monster and then tossed away once you were useless. Even death would have been a kinder fate than this.

You screwed your eyes shut when you felt him touch you over your panties, disgusted by yourself when you realized that you were, in fact, wet. You heard him let out a menacing chuckle, causing more tears to fall from your shut eyes. You felt his finger just barely trace over your covered cunt, making you squirm. He was quick to hold your legs down, before shoving a finger through your panties, causing it to stick inside your wet folds, drenching it further. You felt him leaning down towards your core, a whimper of utter despair leaving you.

He ignored you, taking a whiff of your scent. As soon as it hit him, he let out a loud groan, a quiet ‘fuck’ accompanying it. He definitely needed to eat you out, but first, he needed to stretch you out.

He gripped the waistband of your panties tightly, before ripping it off. The sound of the cotton material tearing brought a fresh batch of tears to your eyes. “P-Please — don’t do this, please–”

He quickly interrupted you by grabbing your throat, applying just enough pressure to cut off your oxygen. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to decide what I’ll do or not do. I gave you a chance, didn’t I? I was nice to you initially, wasn’t I? You clearly took advantage of that and tried to run, so why the fuck would I listen to you? If you don’t want to make matters worse for yourself, take what I give you like a good little slut would.”

That ruined whatever tiny hope you had of avoiding this fate. More tears fell from your eyes, causing you to bite down on your lip to conceal your sobs. For some reason, the sight of you biting your lip, paired with your tears, turned him on a lot more than it should have, causing him to grab your chin tightly.

Your eyes flew open in shock, releasing your lip from the abuse from your teeth. His eyes landed on your swollen lips, his pants growing tighter and tighter by the second. Before you could register what was happening, he smashed his lips on yours, swallowing your surprised gasp. He kissed you harshly, his movements sloppy. Saliva dripped past your mouths, smearing onto your chins, but he could care less.

He bit down on your lip, pulling it slightly with his teeth, causing a whimper to leave you involuntarily. He let out a quiet groan at the sound, before diving back inside your mouth, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He hungrily explored your wet cavern, his hands moving to take his shirt off, the heat radiating off the two of you becoming unbearable. He grabbed your jaw tightly, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, his legs planted on either side of you.

Even if you didn’t want to enjoy it, any of it, your body couldn’t hide its true reaction. You kept letting out whimpers and moans, squirming under him. He gladly swallowed each and every sound of yours, little grunts and groans of his own leaving him. He badly wanted to grind down on you, but he had enough self control to not do that. Instead, he slid a hand down, collected the slick that kept gushing out on his fingers, before shoving his middle finger inside.

Your reaction was immediate. You let out a sharp gasp into his mouth, your hips bucking up into his. He bit down your lip at your reaction, breaking the skin and drawing out blood. He plunged his finger in deeper, feeling even more slick gushing out of you. He sucked the blood off your lip, licking the cut, moaning at the taste. Your blood ignited a fire inside him, the heat spreading to every part of him, the need to completely, utterly, ruin you for everyone else spreading to his finger tips, taking over his brain. He thrust his finger impossibly deeper, before pulling it out, causing you to let out a desperate whine into his mouth, one that was quickly replaced by a shocked moan when he plunged in two fingers at once.

You could feel your cunt stretching to accommodate his fingers, which were long and slender, allowing him to reach parts of you that no one ever did. His fingers dragged across your walls, allowing you to feel every inch of them. His fingers hit every ridge and bump perfectly, making you clench around them tightly.

He felt your pussy walls hugging his fingers, causing him to fasten up the pace of both his fingers and his mouth, swallowing up your whimpers, listening to the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt.

He curled up his fingers, feeling your entire body shake under him. He let out a victorious smirk against your lips, having finally found your spot. He increased the pace of his fingers, making sure to curl up his fingers every time, hitting that spongy part in your walls every time with ease.

Your breathing sped up, your whimpers increasing, your wrists becoming red from how much you were struggling to get out of the tight grip of your belt wrapped around them. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter, yet being so far from the edge. Something was missing, something that you desperately needed to finally teeter off the edge.

Even if you couldn’t understand what exactly you needed, ‘Jungwon’ sure did. He broke the kiss, taking in the sight of your bruised and swollen lips, before shifting his attention to your neck, immediately latching his lips on your pulse point, sucking on it harshly. He pumped his fingers into your pussy faster, his thumb moving to rub at your clit harshly. You almost screamed at the added pleasure, your walls clamping down on his fingers in a vice-like grip.

Within seconds your pussy started to convulse around his fingers. Your release gushed out of you in huge amounts, coating his fingers in a creamy white. He helped you ride out your high, shallowly pumping his fingers in you. He stopped sucking on your neck, looking at the newly formed purplish hickey on it proudly. Once you came down from your high, he slipped his fingers out with a wet ‘pop’, watching your walls flutter around nothing.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, slipping them inside, tasting your release. You watched him with hooded eyes, your chest rising up and down slowly as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes screwed shut when the taste hit him, a deep groan leaving him, one that traveled straight to your core, despite having just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

He opened his eyes, his gaze darker than before, making you gulp. He leaned down again, maintaining eye contact with you. He ran a hand through your hair, before gripping it tightly, ripping a whimper out of you. He bit his lips, whispering “God, you drive me fucking crazy” before smashing his lips onto yours. He shoved his tongue inside your mouth almost immediately, making you taste yourself.

Fuck, he would be lying if he said he wasn't dying to eat you out, but the problem in his pants would probably kill him before he had his fill of you — which was why he was furiously trying to get his stupid belt off, something which proved to be quite a challenge for no apparent reason.

When he finally managed to get it off, he threw it away somewhere in the room, out of reach. His shirt was sticking to his skin uncomfortably from how much he was sweating, so obviously that had to go too. Once it was off, he quickly shimmied out of his pants, his boxers quickly following them.

As soon as his boxers were off, his bare cock slapped on his stomach, standing tall and proud. His mushroom tip was an angry shade of red, leaking a generous amount of precum. He was both long and girthy, almost ridiculously so, making you a little concerned about the stretch — or if it would at all fit.

Of course you were anticipating it — how could you not? Yes, he was taking you without consent, but did that really matter anymore? Your morals were thrown out of the window the moment he shoved his pretty fingers into your hole. You couldn't help how much you were leaking for him then, and you certainly can't help it now. You were practically gushing down there, a puddle of your sweet slick starting to form in between your thighs. God, it was a miracle that he hadn't started eating you out like a starved man eating his first meal in days. But then again, he also couldn't wait to finally sink into your wet heat, and fuck you till all you could think about was his dick.

So that's what he did. He spread your legs further apart with his knees, settling down between them. He aligned himself with your entrance, but instead of directly pushing in, he decided to toy with you a little. After all, you were just a toy for him, weren't you? The perfect little toy — a doll if you will — for him to use, break, destroy and dispose of as he wishes.

A little whine from you caught his ears. He looked at your face, almost taken aback by your expression. Your eyes were hooded, lips swollen and glistening from your sweat — possibly a result of you biting down on them. Were you… enjoying this? Did you want this?

It was hot, so undeniably hot of you to like this — not just your body, but you. There was no fucking way he was ever going to let go of you now — no, you were too perfect to lose.

He swallowed thickly, trying his best to subdue his desire of immediately plunging inside you and railing you into your next life. No, he had to be patient, in order to make it fun for him.

He tapped the head of his cock on your clit, watching even more slick pour out of you, joining the puddle on the floor. It was truly magnificent how much your body craved this — how much you craved it — almost as much as he did.

He rubbed his tip over your slit, gathering the slick from it, ripping out pitiful whimpers from you. He almost caved in to your sinful sounds — almost — before continuing to gather your slick on his mushroom tip.

He watched as your slick and his precum mixed together, forming a beautiful white mixture, something that looked almost delicious — of course he had to taste it, and make you taste it as well. You would like it anyways.

He gathered some of the mixture on his fingers, before popping them in his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the sinful taste. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see how much the taste affected his body, even more precum having dribbled out of his tip, falling into the puddle of your slick.

He swirled his finger in the mixture, before bringing it to your own mouth. He watched as you eagerly wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking the mixture of your wants greedily. He let out a groan, wondering if you would suck his cock the same way. But he had plenty of time to find that out later.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’, ignoring your whine. He pushed his hand into the puddle of your slick, before wrapping the same hand around his ridiculously large dick, slowly pumping it. His eyes were dark as he maintained eye contact with you, taking in the way you gulped slowly. It was so cute, the way you wanted it as much as he did, and yet were afraid of it actually happening.

If he stared at your cute little lips or your pretty little eyes that were filled with both hesitation and desperation, he would definitely cum even before he had the chance to be inside your — by the looks of it, extremely tight walls.

He grabbed your legs again, spreading them even further apart, before slowly starting to push into you. He was immediately met with a lot of resistance from you, loud gasps and whimpers falling from your lips in a beautiful melody, your pussy walls clamping down tightly on his tip alone. He hissed at the pressure, gripping your hips tightly as he slowly started to push in.

The sounds of your whimpers and choked gasps increased two-fold, your walls stretching to an alarming extent as they tried to fit him. You were well aware that the ‘Jungwon’ that was fucking you wasn't the real one, that he was a monster — but you didn't realise that doppelgangers were this hung. He was big, huge even — way bigger than the average dick size. It felt like he was splitting apart your insides, but you couldn't deny the enormous amount of pleasure that accompanied the pain.

He had to suck in a breath when he had finally buried himself to the hilt inside you, your walls clamping down on him painfully. It almost felt like he willingly buried himself into a dick guillotine, that’s how tight you felt around him. It wasn’t like he could blame you either — he wasn’t human, even if he was impersonating one, all of his physical features were obviously not perfect. As for him, his imperfection happened to be his dick, which was way larger than the average human dick, almost monstrously so — not that he was complaining… and he knew you wouldn’t be either in a while, once you got used to his size.

His grip on your hips was tight enough to bruise, as he slowly pulled out almost completely, leaving only his tip inside, making you let out a sigh of relief. But that relief was short lived, because he almost immediately slammed himself back in, knocking the air out of you. It felt as if he somehow managed to fit another non-existent inch inside of you.

The squelching sound from the slide however, encouraged him to continue. You were liking it, he knew you were. That’s why you were getting even wetter than before, weren’t you? Yep, that was it. That was why your walls were clamping down on him so tightly. Your body didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop.

He pulled out almost completely again, before ruthlessly slamming right back in, ripping a scream out of you. But the slick that kept pouring out of you, past his cock, told him all that he needed to know. He thrusted into you mercilessly, without caring about how you felt — he knew you liked it, he was sure of it–

Your loud whimpers of pain broke him out of his daze. “P– Please, it h– hurts so much–”

His hand grabbed your neck, squeezing down on it as a warning. “Don’t fucking lie to me — you’re leaking past my cock, and you expect me to believe that you aren’t enjoying this? Stupid, fucking slut, lying to me to my face? Absolutely pathetic.”

He grabbed both of your thighs, pushing them up to your chest, before starting to thrust into you again, the ruthless pace of his hips almost bruising your thighs. The new angle allowed him to hit even deeper, your cries of pain only increasing in volume. He ignored them, focusing on how his hips snapped into yours with every thrust. “Fucking take it — you know you like this, you fucking painslut. It hurts, does it? How adorable, you fucking love it, you know you do.”

He continued to ram his hips into yours, uncaring of your discomfort — unbeknownst to you, your cries only caused him to grow harder, his cock bulging through your stomach. The bulge on your stomach appearing and disappearing inside you caught his attention, causing him to groan. He fisted your hair tightly in his hand, pulling you up. “Look at that, princess, look at it — look at how I keep disappearing inside you. Fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, continuing to slam his hips into yours. He let go of your hair, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach instead. The added pressure caused him to groan, his pace increasing. Your slick made it easy for him to pound into you, your cries having started to turn into loud moans. He found it almost cute, your switch up.

He pushed your thighs up higher against your chest, his hips snapping painfully into yours, balls slapping on your ass with every thrust. It felt so fucking wrong, but even you couldn’t deny how good it felt. “I’m gonna fill you up, till my cum is dripping past your legs — gonna make you walk around like that. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Walking around with my cum dripping down your legs like a fucking slut?”

If the way you clenched around him at his words wasn’t a dead giveaway to whether you liked what he was doing or not, then he didn’t know what else could possibly be it. He increased his pace. “Yea? You like that? You want that? You’re my precious little cumslut, aren’t you? My sweet little doll, so eager to be filled up to the brim.”

He brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing it harshly. The added pleasure sent shockwaves to your brain, your back arching, eyes rolling back. You could feel the coil in your stomach continue to tighten, the harsh pace of his assault on your clit only making the coil tighter and tighter.

He suddenly pinched your clit harshly, the sudden sensation causing you to let out a choked gasp. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, causing you to gush around him. He groaned at the feeling, your walls clamping around him, triggering his own release. He buried himself deep inside you, spurts of cum sprouting from him, slowly filling her up to the brim. He gripped your hips tightly. “Take it, take all of it, fucking take it — you’re mine to fuck, mine to breed, no matter when I see fit. So fucking take it–”

He kept on and on cumming, your walls clamping around him, milking him dry. He hissed, pulling out his softening length. It was so hot, the way his cum dripped out of your hole. It was the perfect time to eat you out, but that had to wait.

He grabbed your hands, finally undoing the belt on them. As soon as you were free from the restraints, you tried to flex your wrists, to fix the blood flow. He smirked at your antics. He grabbed your chin tightly, making you face him. “Listen up sweetheart — from now onwards, you do what I say. If I tell you to stay, you will stay. If I tell you to sit and look pretty, you will sit and look pretty. Got it?”

You gulped thickly. You were absolutely terrified of him. Why shouldn’t you be? Given what he had done to you, you would have no other choice but to obey him.

So you nodded. Albeit hesitantly.

He wrapped his arms around her “Good girl — my good girl”

[bunnys-kisses]

ugly guys

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, teammates au, driver!reader, doggy style, (non-con) filming/recording, jealousy, (semi)dark fic, mad!max, long fic,

a/n: happy, happy, happy birthday to yooooou!!

max could usually keep his expressions to himself. he knew how to play a good poker face for the media, but when he saw your ugly boyfriend on the track, he could barely keep it to himself.

you were the first female formula one driver in decades and you picked the ugliest guy to date. not that max was the image of a greek god, but you could do better. it didn't help that when he went to shake max's hand, his palms were painfully sweaty and the guy looked like he was going to have a panic attack when he saw max.

"to each their own." max tried to say to himself. as if he hadn't been harbouring feelings for you for what felt like a lifetime.

so imagine max's complete shock when he found out this ugly guy fumbled you so badly that you ended up in max's hotel room the next night with tears in your eyes.

max handed you another tissue as he sat on the other end of the couch. he then rested against the arm of the couch and asked, "so what exactly happened? all i heard was that you two weren't together anymore and you didn't want to be alone."

you sniffed, "i didn't know who else to call. all my friends are back home or in monaco." you wiped your eyes, earlier you took all your make-up off by evidence of the wipes all over the bathroom counter.

max shrugged, "well, glad i could help." in all fairness, he was glad that your boyfriend (not ex-boyfriend) was out of the picture. hated the guy and not because he looked like the personification of a dumpster. he was getting in max's way.

you leaned against the couch and pouted at him, your arms crossed. you ordered pizza for the both of you, not caring about the diet you were both on. you wanted something greasy and filling and a salad wasn't going to cut that. you explained a little calmer, "he... he called me annoying, he said that when we talked i changed the subject too many times. he said the 'vibes' were off." you gave air quotations, "i tried to forgive him last month when my friend found him on tinder." you sighed, "but... i guess i wasn't good enough. feels like i'm never good enough."

max replied, "i think it's because you give these guys a false sense of confidence. you give these greasy losers an ego boost because they gets to be with you and they go off and think that they're all that. what did this guy do for a living anyway."

"he worked at the gift shop at the circuits of america..." you looked away.

he knew you refused to go on apps like raya, even if it would be easier for you. max thought you liked scrapping the bottom of the barrel and expecting gold.

he pinched the bridge of his nose, "you were flying out and fucking a guy who worked at a gift shop!" he sighed, "i know you want a real, nice guy. but, you're inflating their egos!"

you looked down, "he seemed nice at first."

max couldn't be mad at you. he really couldn't. it wasn't your fault. these guys always put on a show for you, and then when you got too close, the trap came down and you always limped back to max with tears in your eyes. he reached over and sighed as he wiped your tears with his thumbs, "you need standards."

you slumped your shoulders, "i have standards."

"what are they?"

you made a face, "nice. considerate."

"you know you can train a dog to be nice. it's not a very high bar. you are the third ranked driver in the world and all you want is nice. considerate." without thinking he added, "maybe i should date you and show you how to be properly treated."

you stilled for a moment, your eyes wide at max. you said, "don't say things you don't mean." from your expression he could tell you were getting heated in the face.

oh... oh.

he let go of you to move the pizza box out of the way, he was soon crowded in your space with your back against the arm of the couch. "does someone like me?" he watched you swallowed. you had been max's teammate for two years now, after perez retired.

"i never said that." you looked away, but max took you by the face to look at him. something in his blue eyes should've alarmed you, but instead you melted a little into his touch.

"you didn't need to say anything. i could see it in your face." he smiled, "did you date all those greasy-haired, directionless losers to make me jealous?" if he were a worse man, that would've been an ego boost.

"i did like them."

"but you liked me more."

there was a beat of silence between you two before you sighed. you admitted, "yes... i tried to date guys who weren't you, so i'd forget about my... feelings for you." you swallowed.

max found it endearing. if he had known sooner, he would've easily swept you off your feet and made sure no other man got in his way. so without much of a second thought, he kissed you. it was passionate and the result of over two years of wanting you. needing you. the kisses continued until the pizza was long forgotten and you were on max's hotel bed.

you bounced a little when he pushed you onto it. some of your belongings were in his room as you were going to stay the night. his hands under your shirt.

"i've thought about this often." he said, "i wonder if any of those guys ever made you feel good. or were you wishing it was me." he whispered in your ear, "did you think about me when they failed to make you cum?"

you swallowed, "the last guy..." you admitted, "his cock was really small and he didn't know where the clit was." and blushed more when max looked at you in shock.

he laughed, "and he's going on tinder and acting like a prick! cheating on you and calling you annoying! he broke things off with you and you were suffering with piss-poor sex. c'mon. you need standards." he pushed your shirt off of you, "you need me."

call max verstappen a possessive man. he'd chalk it up to his childhood and the constant feeling of inadequacy. being knocked around a few times in the head probably scarred him. but, he was happy that he could finally lay claim on you.

he got you undressed and did the same to himself. you both had seen each other naked a few times. it was the price of being in close proximity for most of the year. walking into driver's rooms without knocking, that time you asked him if this bra looked alright, the other time you had to hold his hand while he got that small tattoo on his hip (that not even the other drivers knew about). you two knew each other more intimately than most, if not everyone.

so it only made sense that max felt you up while you laid under him. with promises on his tongue as he kissed your collarbones, "i'm gonna make you feel good. i promise." he his cock was sticky and heavy. he needed you asap.

you got on your hands and knees with your hips arched to the perfect angle for him. in the bright lights of the bedroom, he could see your wetness cling to your pussy lips. this was what your ex-boyfriend left? this! max assumed the man needed his head checked, but now he was certain he needed to be locked up somewhere.

only an idiot would mess up their chances with you.

he rubbed his hard cock against your click cunt. he said, "might be a bit of a stretch. i'm guessing i'm about double the size of him."

"he was three inches." you replied, "i measured after he lied to me and said he was five." you felt embarrassed, "i can't believe i gave this guy a chance! more than one chance!"

max tried not to laugh, he didn't want you thinking he was insulting you. but max was close to seven inches, well beyond double what your ex-boyfriend was packing. and maybe it was rude of him to think so, but it made his confidence a little higher.

when he sank his cock into you, you buried your face into the pillows and arched your back. your nails dug into the fabric. the whole floor didn't need to know you two were fucking.

not that max cared, let them hear. let them know.

the idea only came to him when he started to thrust up against you. he watched your ass shake with every hard thrust of his hips. he soon had you bouncing on his length. his size buried in your just right, at least he knew where your clit was. and the thought of it against his tongue later left him more excited.

there was so much for him to try on you. missionary would be rarely on the table. max wanted to devour you like a fine meal. but you'd always get your fair share of orgasms. can't have his girl go without.

however the thought crossed his mind and as he thrusted into you. he grabbed his phone and started to record. he changed his pace a little, harder thrusts that were a little slower. really get his cock comfortable inside of you.

he pressed against areas that had you moaning louder. all picked up on the camera. he asked, "do you like that, baby? do you like how it all feels?"

you whimpered. you weren't aware he was filming, instead just doing dirty talk to make you pant and whine. you replied, "it feels good, max. ah!"

max smiled, as the camera caught the sight of his cock going in and out of you. his cock sticky with your wetness. even a ring of milky white around the base from how good he made you feel. he wanted to speak directly to your asshole of an ex-boyfriend. he wanted to know that he'd always be less than. less than max verstappen.

"better than with anyone else." he couldn't give away that he was filming you. even with the camera directed at your pussy taking all of him so nicely.

you nodded.

"use your words, i want to hear you." he said with a bit of cockiness in his tone, "i want to know how to make you feel." c'mon, tell your dickhead of an ex how good your own teammate made you feel. tell max everything.

"shit, max. please. no one has ever fucked me like this before." you held onto the pillow a little tighter. the rush was to your head, you couldn't believe it. it was even a little better than when you pleasured yourself.

"a girl like you deserves a good fuck. how big was he again?" now max was just taunting the man. maybe it was a step beyond, but the greasy-haired prick should've known better than to get in max's way.

"three."

"yeah, yeah. didn't know how to use it either. but that's alright, schat. i'll make sure to give you all the orgasms he failed to give you. right?"

you nodded, "right, max, right." you arched your back a little more. the pleasure was flooding your brain. almost overwhelming as he fucked you with such force that it moved the bed up against the wall. the expensive headboard knocked against the wall a little harder.

no more worrying about idiot men for you, not while max was still upright and breathing. you were his. even if max had to raise your standards himself in any capacity. he would make you see that the two of you were a better fit. and to not give these low-lifes any chances. you were above them.

far too beautiful, far too funny, far too charming. if they couldn't handle a woman who liked to ramble then they were weak. max had already been listening to your rambling and ranting for years. the only difference was now he could keep you quiet with about seven inches in your mouth.

"who's going to make you cum?"

"you are!" you said a little louder. your voice a little tighter.

"who?"

"you are!" you yelped as your back arched further and eventually you came around max's cock. the noises you made were angel choirs in max's perverted mind. there, that should get the message across to this other dickhead.

he ended the video and tossed the phone on the bed before he gripped you by the middle and pressed his chest against your back. he fucked you with a heavy pace. it made you see stars and feel the throb of need in your core.

already overstimulated, your body craved for more. now you certainty weren't going to find another man. with a few ore heavy thrusts, you came once more and almost punched the pillow from the intensity. it was soon followed by max who pushed himself all the way inside of you and finished.

"shit." he croaked.

you laid under him as he slowed to a stop and dropped your hips when he pulled out. you laid there, finding comfort in the pillow under your head as you felt on cloud nine.

while max would've loved to eat you out right after. he could tell that you had already had enough for tonight. he laid down next to you and you rolled to your side to face him. your expression was blissed out and sleepy.

so, like any good boyfriend. he held you. and soon you drifted off to sleep. the rush of chemicals to your brain made you sleepy. and soon you were curled up under the covers with max.

"good girl." he said softly as you laid on his chest in a post-orgasm bliss. it wasn't until you were fully asleep that max got to work.

as you laid asleep beside him, he had your phone in his hand. he knew your pass code because it was the same as his. his number (33) and your number. it was a cute thing you wanted to do as teammates. so it wasn't easy to send the video and photos of him fucking you to your ex-boyfriend.

you shifted a little in your sleep from the feeling of the bright light of a phone nearby. you made a noise and almost woke up.

"shh, shh." he said as he kissed the top of your head, "just checking emails, go back to sleep." he was quick to send the video from his phone to your phone then to your ex-boyfriend. you simply snuggled closer and relaxed more. unaware.

max attached a message to the video, the one of him completely taking your pussy, "thought you were dumb, now i think you're completely stupid. don't text or call this number. congratulations of fumbling someone way out of your league. but don't worry, she's better off with me now.- mv." then blocked the number before he put the phone down.

it was his loss honestly, not that max cared. the guy could live forever or die tomorrow. forever irrelevant because now max had you. and as you snuggled up closer to him, a sleepy smile across your face.

you could've gone through a hundred guys, but that didn't matter. because you'd always find your way back to max. <3

[stellarsagittarius]

⏳️🪐 12th House and How Your Mental Anguish Affects You 🪐⏳️

Exchange readings: Open: You (Tarot) x Me (Astrology)

12H ruler in 1H

Imma give you a hug first, okay. What you have gone through, like the experiences that you have had with the world at large, all that you have seen in your life, you internalized it all. You have sort of taken it upon you to be the witness of the suffering around you. Because you feel it all so personally. The person you have become, the thoughts and beliefs you carry are the way they are because of the absurdity of life that you have felt so deeply. It has shaped you, a lot. Next time, try to detach. It is not about you, it was never about you, it about them. You are observing, not absorbing.

12H ruler in 2H

When you are at that lowest point, second guessing everything, it really does affect your ability to manage your resources. And more often than not it can make you feel like you are not worth-it, or that you simply do not deserve to be happy. Especially if you have Chiron in the 2H too, it can feel suffocating because you keep on doing thing, trying to make it work, but you never feel like you did enough. Affirm to yourself about your successes, keep a gratitude journal and remind yourself that your need/wants are all valid.

12H ruler in 3H

You can completely obsess over finding out the reasoning behind why certain things happen the way it did. It's like you want to understand, you want to make actual sense out of it, why your problems are causing you the things that are happening. This can lead to a detachment from actually allowing yourself to feel things out and like emotionally get in a better shape first. You can get stressed out about the facts, a lot of the times. Perhpas communication is something you truly struggle with. Talk it out with someone, understand your feelings first and then a lot of the facts will start to make sense too.

12H ruler in 4H

A lot of your turbulent thoughts and experiences affect you very deeply, like the depth which can make you question your entire existence. Now, I gotta be honest with this one, you are clearing up a lot of karma from your family lineage. You are going to the very root of the issues. Because these mental anguishes aren't surface level for you, they are seated very deeply within your psyche. You have to face these deep seated demons, otherwise you can keep them shoving them down, till it becomes completely unbearable to face yourself. On the positive note, learn to be vulnerable with yourself, learn to be more accepting of what you are going through.

12H ruler in 5H

When you are at the low point in your life, you start to put a great distance between enjoying yourself and becoming completely oblivious to your childlike nature. You need to embrace your inner child. Do what you want, but do not do it because you feel like you can't do anything else with your life. There needs to be like a balance here, between enjoying yourself and knowing when it can get destructive. Too much of anything never did good. You can struggle with finding that simplistic joy in life. So try and spend time alone for a while, maybe get a coloring book or just try and bake cookies. You don't have to be good at something to enjoy it. Even if it's loving yourself.

12H ruler in 6H

You can neglect your health like nobody's business. These thoughts, stress and anguish can manifest directly in your body. That's what it is. When you are not in a good energy, you know you need to reconnect with your body. This may come initially as a bit challenging to truly get yourself to do, but, once you build that habit over time, you will realise how much you have mastered yourself. Focus on your physical well-being. This placement is very simple. You don't need to spend time spaced out and in another world. Get down and strengthen your body, you will notice that you will start to feel much more better in your mind.

12H ruler in 7H

When you get to a low point in life, the point where you are confronted with your old habits, fears and challenging emotions, it highly reflects in your relationships (more so the romantic kind). You can easily slip into unhealthy patterns with your partners, like seeing them with rose colored glasses or not having a proper sense of boundary with them. And you may even fear that true vulnerability with them. So when that happens, seek to be honest by being polite. You are not for everyone, and the ones that are for you will always understand this. Relationship can either make you or break you, choose the people wisely.

12H ruler in 8H

At the lowest points in your life, the people who aren't by your side intentionally, remember them because they are not supposed to be a part of your life. A healthy bond is where both people are there for each other, and that's exactly what life keeps teaching you over and over again. Your biggest anguishes are be caused because of the way certain people treat you and use you for their own benefit. When that happens, remember your biggest enemy is what you do not choose to see within those who take advantage of your kind nature. Yes, we can witness everybody's suffering, but at the end of the day everybody is responsible for themselves.

12H ruler in 9H

When you are at that low point in your life, you can question your faith a lot. There is a feeling where trusting your morals can become really hard. It's like when you know you truly love something, but the mere beliefs that everybody has instilled within you from birth hold you back. And you may even be the type who rebels often because of this thing. Create your own beliefs. That will require you to question what you have always been taught, don't be afraid to question it. You need let yourself see thing. At your lowest you can really see in black and white. Take a step back and observe. Read and learn.

12H ruler in 10H

Many of your mental anguishes come from you struggling with what kind of image you want to uphold between other people. You may struggle a lot with showing up between people or excessively thinking of what other people may think of you when you are at the low points in your life. You can often feel like other people look so deep within you, within the things you want to hide from everybody. When that happens, remember that what others think of you is absolutely none of your business. As long as you know that you are on the right track, you don't need anyone to tell you otherwise.

12H ruler in 11H

You are learning to trust in your dream and not hold yourself back from achievement. You know when you are at those low points in your life, there could be a deep seated fear of missing out on opportunities. You can start to second guess your own hopes, uncertain if you even deserve to have what you want or not. There could also be this sense of feeling like there is no hope left for you, like there is nothing anymore you want to have. When that happens, try to remain grateful, look at all the cool things you have achieved till now, appriciate yourself, open yourself up to something new.

12H ruler in 12H

When you hit rock bottom, it's like plunging into the deepest recesses of your mind, where you confront your fears and doubts about existence. It's a heavy burden, carrying the weight of your own struggles and the suffering of the world within you. At times, it feels suffocating, like you're lost in a maze of your own thoughts, trying to make sense of it all. But amidst the darkness, there is also potential for a lot of spiritual growth. Your journey through the depths of your psyche can lead to a greater understanding of yourself and the universe. Meditate often, and write your thoughts, talk to someone like-minded. Do not isolate yourself either.

______♡______

That's all! Thanks for reading!

[literaryavenger]

Obsessed

Summary: Your crush on Bucky may be getting out of control.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Dramatic Reader. Language. Angst. Fluff. My poor attempts at being Funny.

Word Count: 1.4K I'm physically incapable of making anything short.

A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours and I don't even know what this is, just... Yeah.

Masterlist

This is terrible.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. It's just the most horrible, dreadful, awful thing that could’ve ever happen to yo-

“Would you stop staring at him for fuck's sakes!” Natasha's hissed words make your eyes snap to her and finally away from the metal armed Supersoldier lifting weights. Shirtless.

You don't know when Bucky stopped feeling self-conscious enough to allow him to workout in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, but it has become literal torture for you.

Needless to say, Bucky's current level of undress is making it impossible for you to concentrate on the stretching you're supposed to be doing before your sparring match with Natasha.

But your very thoughtful and not at all exasperated friend makes sure to keep your attention on her during the entirety of our match by thoroughly kicking your ass.

What a lovely best friend you have.

Anyways.

Your entire mood shifts with one not intentionally overheard conversation. Steve enters the gym and goes straight to Bucky, who was putting his weight set down.

“She’s here!” Is all the blonde says to his friend and your heart stops at the way Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, not needing any more information before following Steve out of the gym.

She’s here? Who the fuck is she? Does Bucky have a girlfriend? And most importantly, she’s here? In the Compound?

Natasha can almost see the gears turning in your brain as you make no attempts to move from the mat after she knocked you on your ass for the hundredth time today. You didn’t even seem to notice her hand offering you help to get up, your eyes still looking where Bucky was just a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular while your brain drowns in your overthinking.

Natasha sighs and decides to end the match here, kneeling down in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently to snap you out of it.

“Don’t overthink this.” She tells you when she’s sure she has your attention. “It’s probably just a friend visiting.” She tries to comfort you, but you both know that’s highly unlikely. 

Bucky has no other friends outside the team. He doesn’t know how to talk to civilians anymore after everything he’s been through, and gave up trying to after the hundredth time he saw fear in a person’s eyes just by recognizing him. So his friend circle now includes the team and the agents of SHIELD that are not intimidated by him. Point is, every friend he has already lives in the Compound.

So who the fuck is here just to see him? 

Natasha can see that this is a lost battle, your eyes barely concentrating on her as you start drowning in your mind again. All she can do when you’re like this is try to distract you and keep you out of your head. So she takes your hand and helps you up, leading the way to the common room to watch one of your beloved romcoms together, because that’s how much she loves you.

Big mistake.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The excited high-pitched voice came just seconds after you set foot in the common room. And that’s about the only warning you got before the excited 5-year-old jumped on you, your reflexes thankfully quick enough to catch her.

“Hi, Maguna!” You say while chuckling as the little girl hugs you. “You seem excited today. Did you get into the sugar cabinet again?”

Morgan giggles at your joke and shakes her hand before taking your face in her little hands and dramatically saying, “No! A princess came to visit uncle Bucky! A real princess.”

You frown, confused at what she’s talking about, before you look around the room and finally notice everyone else in it. Pepper and Tony are on the couch, looking at you lovingly as you interact with their daughter.

You love Morgan, she’s like a little sister. You never miss an opportunity to babysit her and you spend as much time with her as you can. She also loves you, out of all the Avengers you’re her favorite, much to everyone’s dismay. She calls them all ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but you’re just Y/N. You’re her big sister, you don’t need a title. Which is why you're the only one other than Tony allowed to call her 'Maguna'.

Then you notice the other people in the room: Steve, Bucky and… Shuri. The fucking Princess of Wakanda, standing in the common room of the Avengers Compound and just smiling at you as you carry Morgan.

You’ve never met Shuri, but you know she played an important part in deprogramming the Winter Soldier out of Bucky, and you’re grateful to her for it. She’s important to Bucky, and you can’t believe you forgot Bucky has Wakandan friends.

You put Morgan down on the ground again and the little girl takes your hand and aggressively steers you towards where Steve, Bucky and Shuri are standing, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of a real life princess.

“Hi, I’m Shuri.” She offers you her hand when you get close enough and you shake it with your free hand while introducing yourself.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause and you’re about to say the first thing that pops into your head when Morgan thankfully saves you by pulling on your hand, making you look at her. She tells you to come close and, chuckling, you kneel beside her so she can whisper conspiratorially in your ear.

“She’s a princess and she’s really pretty, but I still like you better.” She whispers and you can’t help but laugh.

God, you love this little girl.

You smile brightly at her and launch a tickle attack, her adorable giggles filling the room as everyone looks at you two with warm smiles.

Your attention is solely on Morgan, until you unintentionally hear the whispered conversation between Shuri and Bucky.

“So, this is the girl, huh? She’s pretty.” Shuri says and your heart skips a beat. 

You glance at them as discreetly as you can while still tickling Morgan, only to find Bucky looking at someone behind you. You turn around less carefully and see Sharon just entered the room, and she's also looking at Bucky with a smirk. You quickly return your attention to Morgan, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

Of course he’d like someone more like Sharon. She’s pretty, she’s talented, she’s a total badass and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.

She’s not a mass of anxiety in the shape of a woman that overthinks everything and becomes a flustered mess every time she’s even near Bucky.

It’s time to admit it to yourself: Bucky just doesn’t see you like that and you need to move on. 

Natasha is right, your obsession with Bucky needs to end.

What you don’t see is Bucky almost glaring at Sharon because he knows damn well why she’s smirking. She came in just before Shuri whispered to Bucky, when he was very intent on looking at you with heart eyes as you played with Morgan.

Just before you looked at him, Bucky noticed Sharon and he had to hold in a groan at her because he knows that she’s never gonna let him live this down.

Both Sharon and Steve have tried really hard to convince Bucky that you like him back and he should make a move on you. But Bucky, being as stubborn as they come, never believes them.

He obviously makes you uncomfortable, you’re always stuttering when he’s around and you avoid eye contact whenever possible. He’s just glad that you can stand his presence enough for the two of you to work together when necessary and to hang out with the rest of the team without problems.

So he just enjoys looking at you from a distance. He loves watching you play with Morgan and his thoughts always run wild with images of you playing like that with kids that are yours and his.

But he knows that’s never going to happen. Why would you like a damaged, PTSD ridden soldier that can’t even make it through the night without waking up from a nightmare? No, that’s definitely not your type.

Bucky accepts the truth: He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t see him like that anyways. 

It doesn’t matter that Sam thinks he’s obsessed, that won’t stop him from looking at you whenever he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of his little ray of sunshine.

Requested taglist: @vicmc624 @matchat3a @nerd-without-a-cause @sapphirebarnes @cjand10 @mostlymarvelgirl @julvrs @blackhawkfanatic @lillianacristina @armystay89 @imdoingbetternow @spookyparadisesheep @elizalexwil @aceofhearts25 @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog @justab-eautifulmess @buggy14 @thedonswife13

[bucks-babe]

Friends Don't Lie

Paring: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Wanting to know if your crush likes you, you go to Bucky for help, the only problem is, Bucky is your crush

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, Smut (oral f receiving, p in v), unprotected sex (don’t do that), friends to lovers, crying, praise kink, soft!Bucky is a warning, Roommate!Bucky, Bucky calls reader kid just to piss her off for a bit but not when they’re doing the thang thang, no actual age gap though, no use of Y/N

Word count: Over 5k Idk what happened

A/N: This is my first ever fic so please go easy on me. If I missed any warnings, please let me know. Any and all mistakes are my own

Sighing, you walk into the apartment you share with Bucky. He’s sitting on the couch sporting his signature grumpy frown. Your heart beats that much faster when you lay your eyes on him. Honestly, you don’t know how he looks that hot with just a black t-shirt and jeans on. 

“Hey, what’s got your panties in a twist, Buck,” you chime as you plop down onto the couch next to him, now noticing the bottle of whiskey in his hands. He only glances at you before taking another swig of his whiskey.

“My panties aren’t in a twist, kid,” he huffs.

You cringe at the nickname he gave you. In all reality, you were only 3 years younger than him, but he knows how much you hate being called kid. In true Bucky fashion, he calls you kid all the time, just to get under your skin. “Really, then why are you drinking at,” you check your phone for the time before cocking your eyebrow, “2 o’clock in the afternoon?”

He completely ignores your question so you press on. “Well since you aren’t doing anything, I need your help.”

This seems to catch his attention just a little, “With what?”

“Well…” you trail off only to continue when you catch his eye, “I need some relationship advice and I can’t go to Sam about it because he is the worst.”

“I’m supposed to be good at relationship advice? I’m not the right person to come to, kid.” He replies, seemingly even more annoyed than he was before you walked into the apartment, and takes another swig out of his bottle.

You snatch the bottle out of his hand (ignoring Bucky’s Hey! That’s mine!) and take a swallow, “You know how much I hate being called kid, Buck. But yes, I need relationship advice”

“Why can’t you go to Sam about this; he seems to think that he is an expert at everything?” he practically whines as he rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch, spreading his legs and giving you a great view of his thick thighs in those jeans.

“Because, Buck, Sam will just make fun of me, and I know for a fact he cant help me with this.” To be fair to Sam, he would probably give you good advice, but he would make fun of you for your crush on Bucky.

“And I won’t?” Bucky scoffs before taking the bottle back from your hands. 

“Well, you would make fun of me, but Sam would never let me live it down, okay,” you can already feel your cheeks starting to heat up and regret seeping into your pores for talking to the very person you want to be in a relationship with about relationship advice.

“I think I already know who you need the advice about, don’t I,” Bucky turns his head toward you and cocks an eyebrow.

“What!” It feels like ice is coursing throughout your entire body. There is no way that he knows you're talking about him. “Uh… wh-who do you think I’m talking about?” Nice save, dipshit. You are mentally punching yourself in the face.

He takes one final gulp of his whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm, and sets the bottle on the coffee table, “I’m pretty sure I know who you have feelings for. The question is, do you really think you have a chance?” Oh my God - he knows and this is his fucking warning to walk away. Pretend like this never happened and leave - now

“Who-who do you think I’m talking about.” Wow, nice save. Always repeat the question, it never makes you look more suspicious. If he wasn’t onto you already, he sure as hell knows now.

“It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?” God you hope not, “Let me guess, Rogers?”Huh? an amused, little smirk appears on his face, blue eyes waiting for your reaction.

“St-Steve?!” Okay, not where you thought this was going but at least he doesn’t know you like him.

“You’re blushing,” he puts an arm over the back of the couch and crosses one leg over the other, “and stuttering. Seems like I was right, huh?” that stupid, gorgeous smirk is still on his lips.

“No! I do not have a crush on Steve Rogers! Ew, no. Why would you even think that, Buck?” Maybe you shouldn’t have had such a visceral reaction to him thinking you liked Steve, but you’ve never seen Steve as anything other than a great friend; however, once you started talking, you couldn’t stop. “I do like someone, Buck, but the thing is… well I don’t know how to tell if they like me back. I mean, every relationship I’ve been in has been so…so superficial. I would like them, but I don’t think they ever liked me, you know? It was always about the sex and what I could give them.” Shut up Shut up “This is why I need your help. I’ve never had someone like me for me and I don’t know how to tell if what I feel for this guy, who is most definitely not Steve, is reciprocated.” Why are you still talking?!

“Calm down, kid,” Bucky’s hands on your shoulders cut you off from your rant. The smirk is gone from his face, replaced with a look that is slightly less grumpy looking than his normal face. “It’s only me, remember? I’m sure whoever this guy is, he likes you for who you are, kid.” He once again leans back against the couch.

Your scoff brings the smirk back to his face, which is now more annoying than pretty.

“You know what, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” As you go to get up from the couch, Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you back next to him, much closer than you were before.

“Who is it, kid? I can help you, only if you tell me who it is.” It feels like he is staring into your soul, like he can see right through you and you hate it. Fear bubbles up inside of you.

“Why do you need to know who the guy is, huh? I need advice and you said you would help me.” He’s getting too close to the truth; if he keeps pressing the matter, he’s going to find out that it's him you like, and that will not end well. You can feel the heat coming off of his body just like his stare is heating your cheeks.

“Kid, just tell me who it is you like and I can help.” He leans forward in his seat and you can tell that he is getting pissed off. Maybe you're reading too much into the situation, but Bucky might be getting mad because he likes you? Impossible.

“Help how? Do you know who likes me?” Smooth 

“I can tell you if this guy, who isn’t Steve, likes you, I just need a name first, kid.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, making it very clear that he is not happy with how the conversation is going.

“Wait! You do know if someone likes me!” You’re desperately clutching at straws to keep his attention off of who you like, knowing that it’s fruitless.

“Yeah, I do. But right now I don’t care because you still won’t tell me who you like.” Bastard! That stupid, pretty smirk is back and he knows he won.

“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me who already likes me, and I’ll tell you who I like.” 

“Deal.” Rolling his eyes, Bucky finally leans back and it feels like you can catch your breath again. “It’s Sam, he likes you, kid.” Bucky knows that he is lying through his teeth, but he is a great liar and this will get you to tell him who your crush is.

“Sam?” You can’t help the way your face falls or the disappointment in your voice. You knew it was a long shot, Bucky liking you that is, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash when telling you that Sam of all people liked you.

“Yep,” he pops the p. “Sammy boy likes you. Now, who do you like?” He can’t even pretend to care about throwing Sam under the bus or who he will now hate for the rest of time for taking his girl from him before he could make you his.

“Uh… it’s Sam. Yep…Sam. I like Sam, so this actually works out really great… thanks, Buck.” It sounds like a lie even to your own ears, let alone to Bucky’s.

“Come on, kid. Spit it out.” Somehow Bucky’s final braincells piece together your reaction. You like him. That is the only explanation as to why you won’t tell him who you like. “Kid, do you like me?”

You start to choke on your own spit and if you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. “Wh-wh-what? You? No!”

Bucky’s eyes light up just a fraction and his right hand cups your chin. “You like me, kid.” It’s not framed as a question, but rather a statement. Maybe it was the whiskey finally taking effect, but he tilts your head so you are looking directly at him and your breath hitches in your throat. “I like you, too.” It’s a whisper, but it pulls you out of your stupor.

You wheel back and jerk out of his grasp. “That’s not funny, asshole. Who said that I liked you?”

“Me.” Was his only response. “Didn’t you hear what I said, kid? I like you, too,” a chuckle left his lips.

“That is not funny, Buck. Don’t play with my feelings like that.” You don’t know why, but you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes. For a second, you thought that Bucky liked you back, but this was all some cruel joke. Of course Bucky was just messing with you.

“Hey, kid, look at me. Don’t cry.” The smirk on his face is gone, leaving only concern; this is worse, those pretty eyes looking at you with pity. “I wasn’t joking. I actually like you back, okay.” Guilt bubbles up in his chest when he sees tears fall down your cheeks. “Aw, sweets, you’re too pretty to cry.” He coos, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“What did you just call me?” The pet name seems to bring you back to the moment. You’ve never heard him call anyone sweets, and the name made you feel special inside.

“Huh?” Now it is Bucky’s turn to be confused.

“You called me sweets, not kid.” You tilted your head, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Well, it would be a little weird if I called you kid when I do this.” His face was only centimeters away; you could feel his breath on your lips. He was waiting for you to give the all clear, a sign that this was okay. You were the first one to make a move, closing the gap between you two. 

When your lips connected, you let out an involuntary moan; you’ve dreamed about kissing him and what he would taste like but nothing could compare to the real thing. He tasted of the whiskey he was sipping on and something distinctly Bucky that you couldn’t put your name on, but frankly you didn’t care when he was kissing you so good.

With his hands still on your jaw, he tilts your head to where he wants it, making you gasp. His tongue enters your mouth and now it’s his turn to moan. One of his hands falls down to your thigh and he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

You were the first one to pull away, regrettingly, but you needed oxygen and as much as you wish you could breathe him in, it wasn’t possible to sustain life. You wrap your arms around his middle and bury yourself into his neck, and the arm around your thigh travels up to your waist, while his other hand goes to the back of your head.

“Hey, easy, sweets. I can barely breathe.” You can feel more than hear Bucky’s chuckle, but you only bury yourself deeper into his shoulder, feeling a sudden rush of emotions. Never in a million years did you think that Bucky would kiss you, or that you would be on his lap. “Are you okay, sweets? Come on, talk to me.” Bucky can feel how tense you are on top of him, and it makes him worry.

Once again, there are tears in your eyes. At this point, you don’t know if they ever went away, “I just never thought that you would like me, you know?” The hand on your head doesn’t try to pull you away, but rather massages where it lays.

“Well, I do, sweets, so you’re gonna have to get used to me. How about that?” You just nod into his shoulder and wiggle deeper into his embrace. Bucky lets out a low groan and the hand on your back drops down to your hip, holding you in place. “You’re gonna have to stop moving, sweets.” You can feel the hard bulge in his pants from you moving around, causing a giggle to leave your lips, the tears once again subsiding.

“Oh, you think this is funny, huh, kid?” He brings back the nickname just to tease you and you know it.

“Hey! I’m sitting on your dick right now, please don’t call me kid, Buck.” Bucky throws his head back and the most beautiful laugh leaves his mouth. He’s laughing so hard that you are slightly bouncing on his lap and your core hits the raised zipper of his pants. A whine leaves your lips while his laughter turns into a choked groan.

“Fuck, sweets, come here.” He pulls you back in for another kiss while he leans back into the couch. Involuntarily, your hips grind against his and he is swallowing your moans in his mouth.

You sit up a little and pull him up with you. Tugging at the bottom of his shirt causes him to break your kiss, “You want my shirt off, sweets?” You can only whine in response and tug on it again, but Bucky isn’t helping you take his shirt off until you speak.

“Please, Buck.” God you’re already out of breath and he’s only kissed you.

“That’s a good girl. See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Oh fuck. A high pitched moan leaves your throat at his praise. Bucky chuckles, he’s found your praise kink and he’s not going to let it go now.

He takes pity on you and takes his shirt off, but doesn’t give you time to ogle at his shirtless body before his hands are underneath your hoodie, warm palms running up and down your naked skin. “Can I take this off, pretty girl? Can I see my pretty baby, huh?” You nod your head so fast you make yourself slightly dizzy, but he makes no move to actually remove your top, waiting for you to speak.

“Yes, Bucky. I want you to take it off please.” A hum of approval leaves him as he takes your hoodie off.

“Fuck,” it comes out under his breath when he sees you in just your bra and pants. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You know that? You know how pretty you are?” Fuck, you can’t do this. He’s saying the things you always wanted him to say to you, but now you don’t know how to handle it. He lays you down on the couch and you can feel the outline of his hard cock through both of your pants.

When his hand goes up you back to your bra, your brain goes into overdrive. “This isn’t just sex, right?” You need this to mean something to him too. It can’t just be sex; you can’t do just sex. It would break your heart.

Bucky chuckles a little before giving you a chaste kiss, clearly missing your desperation for it meaning something more. “Let me show you how much you mean to me, sweets? Let me make you feel good.” His hands are on your leggings, fingers in the waistband. 

“You won’t leave me after, right? You’ll stay with me?” God, are you crying again? This might be your only chance to be with him and you’re blowing it! The crack in your voice gets his attention and his hands leave your bottoms to cup your face once again, thumbs wiping your tears.

“Hey, sweets, look at me?” You meet his eyes; they are filled with a softness you’ve never seen from him before. “Of course I won’t leave you. I just got you, and now you’re going to be stuck with me for a very long time, okay, sweet girl? You’re mine and I’m yours.” He rests his forehead on yours after kissing all of your tears away.

“You’re mine?” 

“All yours, okay?” After you nod, he pulls you back up so you're sitting on his lap and holds you close to his chest. “How about we just calm down for a little bit, okay? I didn’t mean to push you too far, sweets.” He’s so perfect. How did you get him?

“No. I’m okay, it’s just that…well I don’t want you to leave me after you get what you want, Buck.” This is so unsexy; there is no way he is going to want to sleep with you now

“Look at me, sweets.” You look at him, “Good girl.” Fuck. “I want you. Not just your body. I want to take you out on dates and annoy all of our friends with how cute we look together. I want it all.” He’s looking into your eyes with such sincerity that it feels like you could break and all of your doubts leave your mind.

You grind your hips against his still hard cock, “Will you make love to me, Buck?” 

He groans lowly before gaining his composure again, “Are you sure, sweet girl? We don’t have to do anything, you know that?” But you want to, so bad.

“I know and I’m sure I want you.” He’s looking into your soul; he never wants to hurt you. “Please?” It’s the doe eyes that break him and he picks you up and carries you to his room like you weigh nothing.

“I’m gonna make love to you, sweet girl. If you want me to stop, just say the word, okay? But I promise it won’t change how I feel about you.” He is looking into the depths of your soul, making sure this is what you want; there is nothing you want more in this moment than Bucky finally loving you.

Instead of a verbal response, you wrap both your arms and legs around him so his whole body is on top of yours on his bed and you kiss him again. You are surrounded by everything Bucky; his room smells so good that you want to spend forever in it with him. 

Calloused palms slide up your back to meet the clasp on your bra and Bucky breaks the kiss, staring at your swollen lips before catching your eye, “Can I take this off, sweets?” Taking your bra off swiftly after he hears your breathly ‘yes,’ his hands find purchase on your ribs.

“Fuck,” his groan makes you attempt to close your legs to find some release, but his waist stops your legs from moving even an inch. “Your tits are absolutely gorgeous, you know that? God, sweets, do you feel how hard you make me? This is all for you.”

You arch your back, pushing your breasts further into his field of view, gasping when his right hand cups your breast, tweaking your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Please, touch me, Buck!” You already sound cock drunk and he hasn’t even done anything to you, but you can’t find it in you to care. 

Cocking his head to the side and chuckling, he whispers in your ear, “I am touching you, sweets.” That son of a bitch! “Where do you want me to touch you, huh?”

You grab his unoccupied hand and lead it down to your pants but he doesn’t budge, refusing to touch your clothed pussy. “Touch you where, sweet girl? I need words or I can’t please you.” 

Cheeks heating up, you finally give up, just wanting him to touch you, pleasure you, anything. “My pussy, Bucky! Touch my pussy!”

“Atta girl. I knew you could do it.” How does he know all the right things to say?

He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck, to your chest, down your belly, until he reaches the hem of your leggings; looking up at you, waiting for your permission, “Take my pants off, please.”

Another wave of slick goes straight to your core when he whispers, “Such a good girl, using her words,” as he takes your pants off, leaving your panties on your core. Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my life.

Bucky’s thumb goes up and down over your pussy, slightly pushing down over your entrance, making your panties that much wetter, then sliding his thumb up to your clit. Your thighs unconsciously tighten around his head and hips jerk up when he does it again, and again, and again.

Breathy moans and gasps leave your lips before he gently pushes your thighs back with a small chuckle, and pushes your panties to the side, getting his first glance at the pussy he has been dreaming about. 

“Such a pretty pussy to match the prettiest girl in the world, don’t you think?” He doesn’t wait for a response this time, instead his mouth latches onto your clit and the moan that leaves his mouth is almost louder than your own. 

He can’t bring himself to pull away for a single moment, rather speaking into your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your entire core. A small huff leaves his lips when your thighs wrap around his head again; he’s going to make sure you stay put right where you are so he can keep licking your pussy until he is satisfied. He laces both of his hands with yours when you reach down toward him, because you need to be able to ground yourself.

So lost in your own pleasure, you almost don’t notice that Bucky is grinding against the bed, desperate for any type of friction, dick being the hardest that it has ever been. He’s sure that he could blow his load at any moment, but he wants this to be good for you, needs it to be good for you, so he is holding back with all his might, but fuck if he can’t stop moving his hips he won’t make it inside of you. And the sounds that are coming out of your mouth are making it almost impossible for him to do that.

Your thighs clamp around his head somehow even harder when you feel your orgasm approaching, effectively suffocating Bucky. He doesn’t care; he can breathe when you come on his tongue. You don’t even have time to announce that you’re going to cum before the strongest orgasm of your life rips through you. Bucky’s muffled moans are even more distant over the blood rushing through your ears, eyes finding purchase in the back of your head, you don’t know if you went silent because the orgasm knocked all the wind out of your, or if you are going to get a knock on the door from the police because they think you’ve been murdered.

When Bucky comes back up for air, the whole of his lower face is covered with your slick, and that gorgeous smirk is back on his face. “Thank you, sweet girl. That was amazing.” Did he cum, too? Please don’t tell me I missed seeing his face when he cums.

Seeing your dilemma, Bucky chuckles, “Don’t worry, sweets, my cock is still rock hard for you. Although, I did almost cum watching you. You have no idea how pretty you look when you cum.” You’re too fucked out to even be embarassed at how easily he can read you, or his knowledge of how much you want his cock.

While you're still coming down, Bucky finishes taking off your panties and the rest of his clothes. The moment he pulls his jeans and boxers down and his cock springs up, you gasp. You’ve never seen a prettier cock in all of your life: thick and long with a vein that you want to spend hours licking goes from base to tip, flush head partially covered by his foreskin, heavy and full balls that you know wouldn’t even be able to fit in your mouth rest at his base.

Your eyes never leave his cock as he climbs back into bed, salivating at the way it bobs as he walks and the precum dripping from his tip. “Can I suck your cock, Bucky, please?” Damn, you’ve never begged to suck a cock in your life.

Moaning at the way it twitches at your begging, you reach out for it but Bucky stops you.

“Next time, sweet girl, promise. I need to be inside of you right now and I won’t last if I let you do that, okay, sweets?” You whine in disappointment but nod nonetheless. You groan and wiggle your hips when he is finally on top of you again and you feel his cock slide up and down your pussy.

“Can I have it, Bucky? Can I have your cock?” Bucky looks like he is about to blow a fuse as he grips the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming.

“Sweet girl, you’re gonna have to stop saying things like that if you want this to last.” He is lining up with your entrance and you immediately shut your mouth. There will be another time to be a brat and tease him, but right now you need his dick.

“I’m ready, Bucky, I want it.” Your breath catches in your throat when his tip slides in, for all the staring you did a few minutes ago, you vastly underestimated how fucking big his dick was and now it feels like you’re being spilt in two - in the best way.

“Shit! Sweets, you’re so -fuck- you’re so tight. Choking my dick so good, baby fuck. Best pussy I’ve ever had and I’m only halfway in.” He’s mouthing at your neck while you're grabbing onto anything you can.

“Please, Bucky, more! Fuck, I want it.” You feel like you could cum again just at the sheer stretch of his cock inside of you, his deep groans spurring you on. 

As he bottoms out inside of you, you feel the heavy weight of his balls against your ass, twitching wildly as he tries to stave off his own orgasm. “Oh god, you’re so fucking warm. Fuck, feels like I’m gonna blow before I even move. Shit!” Bucky is so pussy drunk he can’t even think straight, but fuck if you don’t love it. 

“Please move, Bucky, please, I need you to fuck me, please!” You weren’t fairing much better, cock drunk out of your mind.

Bucky is scrambling against the sheets, trying to be closer to you somehow, as if having his impossibly thick length inside of you wasn’t enough, he wraps your legs around his waist as he starts to rut into you.

He is barely pulling out of you, not that you would let him go very far anyway with how tightly your legs are wrapped around him. “Pussy is so fucking good! I just wanna stay here forever, sweets. You want that to, fuck, huh? You want me to stay in this little pussy?”

Clawing at his back, you were a babbling mess, crying out for him, never having been in so much pleasure before. “Yes, Bucky, I want that so bad, yes.” Tears were welling up in your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure that you were receiving from Bucky. 

Rutting into you faster, his hand slid between your bodies and thumb rubbing your clit in fast circles, Bucky’s calm demeanor was gone, now he was begging for you to cum with him.

“Come on, sweets. I need -fuck- I need you to cum for me. I need to feel your little pussy cum on my cock.” His balls were slapping against your ass, making a vulgar sound, as they were covered in your slick that had trailed out of your pussy.

“Can feel you clenching around me, pretty girl.”

“Need you to cum first, please.”

“Want you to soak my cock.”

“Be my good girl and cum.”

Maybe it was the good girl, but the second orgasm that tore through your body was even better than the first and the clenching of your pussy sent Bucky over the end, into his own orgasm.

“Fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna cum for you. I got so much fucking cum and it’s all for you. Shit, I’m cumming!” You felt his cock twitch once, twice, and balls pull up before his cum was coating the inside of your pussy.

After you both came down from your highs, Bucky slowly pulled out, catching the wince that left you at the emptiness of your cunt. “Sweet girl, I’m going to get a cloth to clean you with and some water, but I’ll be right back, okay?” Bucky wanted to make sure that you knew that he was coming back, that he wasn’t like all of those other assholes who didn’t treat you right.

Your faint ‘okay’ was the green light for Bucky to dash to the bathroom to clean himself up, get a rag for you, and then head to the kitchen to get a glass of water for you. He paid special attention when wiping you clean, not wanting to overstimulate you after having multiple orgasms.

He helped you sip your water before covering you both up and holding you close to his chest. Never in your life had you felt so safe and loved than you did at this moment, wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, confident that he would stay with you even after having sex with you. 

“You know that I love you, right, sweet girl? And I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered into your hair.

“I do now. And I love you, too, Buck.”

After a little while, you raise yourself on his chest a little so you can look into his eyes, “Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah, sweets?” No one has ever looked at me with so much love.

“Does Sam actually have a crush on me?” Bucky throws his head back into the pillows with an exaggerated groan while you try to muffle your giggles. For once, you actually have what you’ve always wanted.

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your ex boyfriend childe recently found out that you've been seeing another guy lately. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. jealous! childe, rough & needy, exes missing each other but not admitting it, hinted at a previous toxic relationship between you two, fem! reader ♡

"did he touch you like this?" childe mumbles against your ear as his hand slowly slid over your curves, touching your body.

the impact this brazen question had on you made your body shudder in embarrassment, not only that but you could feel your own blood being forced to frenziedly race through your shape with every new drag of his cock dashing ripples of glee into you.

he knows what he's doing, he's planned this.

the harbinger knows everything apparently, or perhaps he's actually made up an entire different story to what he thought happened on your date.

he cups your cheek and runs his thumb across your bottom lip reverently, "or was he rougher?" slower?" he taunts, and there's an instant jolt of pride up the harbinger's spine when he notices how you're embarrassingly averting his satisfied gaze.

he hasn't lost his grip on you yet, he's sure of it, and he welcomed that you're so easy to read, to the point where you'd choke on a cry consistently, more so when he rushed through that one spot he would never forget to stimulate.

"w-why does it matter?" your words come out quicker than your mind could've properly processed them as you whimper out wetly to him.

you quirk up a brow, feeling a tender hold of confidence aid your frame, "aah— it's not like we're dating anymore or anything,"

that breathy, almost belittling laugh that tumbled over your parted mouth reached his heart, fracturing his vitality.

"we're broken up, ajax, please," you shuffle your arms around his neck before abruptly pulling him towards you, so your lips could brush against his ear shell as you whisper seductively;

"i can fuck whoever i want,"

tilting his head, instead of falling for it, childe confidently cocks a brow before planting a wet kiss on your cheek, "huh? archons, what a mouth you got on yourself," as he spreads, burns and dominates your glistening walls until he's certain you're where he needed you to be— vulnerable to him, perhaps even admitting the truth and stopping your bratty mouth to spill anymore wrongs.

"come on, will you? come on," he laughs manically, his hips jerking hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs as your breasts bounce in tandem with his ruthless thrust, "don't pretend like he'll ever catch up to me, fuck— baby..." he grinds deeper, watching how a nasty ring of white covers the majority of his base.

you roll your eyes but know he's right— because no one could ever unlock the love you've had for ajax before you two had broken up. those rough hands of his were your everything, in comparison to how he used them against his enemies, towards you, he wielded them lightly.

you squeeze and squeeze him, practically telling him that yes, you've missed him so much but no, you're not willing to ever get in a relationship with him again. for that, you've put in too much work already to forget about ajax, the man you loved so unconditionally.

"doesn't matter," your voice echos like a soft whimper as you hug him, desperately wanting to feel how all his inches were painfully throbbing while squeezed by your walls, "we. don't. work." concurrently to his sultry rolls, you pant out a crushing reality.

childe didn't want to hear that, not now, not ever again.

he pushes inside and groans out hot against your ear, before forcing himself to move his hips slower, despite the expanded lust inside of him wanting to slam right into you, fuck— the harbinger was aggravated, frustrated and saddened at the same time. not because of you, yet due to the fact that primarily, it was his fault that things ended on how they did.

a candid confession should never find its way inside of a situation this unrepeatable, "i love you," he whines, his cock plunging with passion as if to emphasize his spelled out words.

your mouth opens instantly for a rebuttal as he swiftly runs a hand down your breasts, pinching your nipples, desperate to swallow up your mewls and keep them stored within him.

foreheads pressed against each other, no words said out loud.

childe regrets everything right now, because you are just his everything, his all.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[noearchives]

one piece boys + first kiss headcanons

pairings: portgas d. ace x gn!reader, trafalgar d. water law x gn!reader, sanji x gn! reader, roronoa zoro x gn! reader

a.n.: a sweet little something. :)

cw: none, a trace amount of suggestive content in sanji's and ace's part if you squint really hard...

portgas d. ace

- happens when both of you are a bit tipsy after a drink or two during a party on the moby dick.

- has kissed a few people here and there (nothing too serious), so he has a bit of experience.

- is good with his tongue, this boy.

- very impatient too.

- that's why after one or two close-mouthed kisses, he’s already slipped his tongue inside your mouth.

- like oh okay! didn't know we were going this fast!

- despite the quick pace, it’s not difficult to pick up. you kiss him like you’ve done it thousands of times before already, and you don't really need to think about what you're doing when you kiss because it just comes to you Naturally.

- it feels like it’s burning, to the point where you suspect ace has unintentionally activated his devil fruit to melt your tongues together.

- is so into it to the point where he didn't even notice when his hat fell off.

- you'd have to pat him on the back twice to make him let go of you because he will Not notice how you're already out of breath.

- leaves you dizzy and breathless. in a way that makes you want more.

- "let's take this to my room, yeah?"

trafalgar d. water law

- you waited for ages for the right timing for him to kiss you first, but it never seemed to come.

- see, the captain of the heart pirates never had the time nor mood for things like this.

- so when you asked if you could kiss him, he panicked a little. just a little.

- he tries to play it cool, but when you’re 1cm away from his lips, it’s like you're holding a gun to his head, frozen in place with his eyes squeezed shut.

- for the first two seconds of the kiss, he’s a little grossed out by the flesh-to-flesh feeling and the thought of the bacteria that’s being exchanged between the both of you is making his head spin a little.

- but as your lips part and connect with his again, he slowly melts into the kiss, copying your movements as you continue.

- it’s not a super passionate kiss or anything, but it leaves his whole body buzzing with his heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

- this feeling is so foreign to him- but somehow, he wants more of it, and he wants to know everything about it.

- "can we do that again?”

sanji

- it happened during one of those moments where it’s late at night and all his emotions bubble up to the back of his throat.

- you were the one who initiated the kiss because he kept rambling, going on and on about how much he loves you and how he doesn't deserve you, how a filthy man like him shouldn't be with a beauty like you, eventually spiralling into self-hate.

- it gets to the point where you had to shut him up with a kiss, to prove that yes, you actually want him, and no, he is not a filthy, unlovable man.

- god, your lips are so soft. he might just start crying.

- he doesn't, of course, so he won’t ruin the moment.

- the kiss is soft and tender, but he soon becomes desperate for more and it escalates into something further, the sentimental moment taking a one hundred-and-eighty degree turn.

- it’s strange, because he was just sulking over himself, and now his hands are all over you, fingers hiking up your shirt as the kiss grows deeper.

- the moment your lips are parted, you give him a light-hearted scold.

- “apologies, my love. you're just a little too irresistible.”

roronoa zoro

- catches you absolutely off guard. surprisingly, he’s the one who kisses you first rather than the other way around.

- it happened so casually- you were hanging out with the strawhats, a drink in your hands as zoro bent down to kiss you as he was passing by.

- he didn't say a word. just a swift kiss that lingers on your lips, leaving your ears and cheeks burning.

- it was bold of him to kiss you out of nowhere- in front of everyone too, telling everyone that you're his, and his only.

- (probably to also piss sanji off while doing so.)

- when you ask the swordsman about it a while later when the two of you are alone, he just answers with a longer, deeper kiss.

- “no more questions,” he mumbles against your lips. “do you want the kiss or not?”

- of course, you reply with your lips on his. actions speak louder than words, afterall.

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish.  You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears. 

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous—you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou