#with a project like this and going to do the solo but EVEN then he made the solo with george in mind and tried to emulate his style whether

[skimmingmilk]

i've just found out your tumblr has even MORe picket fence writing and im over the moon?? But also my heart was shattered with the back in time wip 😭😭😭 how does sonic find the strength to leave baby tails behind, how does he react when he sees tails again in his own timeline after having met sick abandoned baby tails??

Heheheh, yeah, there are some little fics or scenes I've written that I hesitate to put on AO3 sometimes (or just aren't complete enough to be a story on their own), so I like to throw them at Tumblr from time to time. Glad you found them! :D

Ohh, the back in time WIP... Not sure how much I can give away because of the chance that it's going to end up part of a bigger fic... but it'll still be a long while until I get around to posting that xD Maybe people will forget lol.

Potential future spoilers under the cut?

So! The way I see it playing out is that Sonic is going to find it in him to leave baby Tails behind because he knows they'll cross paths one day, the way they're supposed to and everything will play out from there. He knows he can't stay in the past and he can't take baby Tails to his present. Plus, Silver's with him and it probably wouldn't go over well to try and explain why it'd be a good idea to take baby Tails with him when it would negate pretty much everything Sonic and Tails experienced together since meeting on West Side Island or cause a split in the timeline where now there's a universe where Sonic never got to meet Tails because he wasn't there and now Sonic's time with have two Tailses. He knows that it can't happen.

But... Sonic still can't stop wondering about the little guy. Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he lonely? Hurt? All the things he's not letting himself think about when it comes to his Tails (the 10 year old who's on his first solo adventure and basically gone as close to no contact as possible in order to "prove himself"). He projects all that onto the baby version of him because he knows Tails can handle himself (and that's not why he's worried about him, what he's uncomfortable with is the motive behind the journey). So he gets his hands on two Chaos Emeralds and goes back to check on baby Tails by himself. Just this once.

Except it doesn't end up being just once. Because there is this disconnect and distance between Sonic and Tails of the present, doubts that have arisen in the wake of Forces, Frontiers, and now Tails's absence, Sonic's drawn more and more to the past. Baby Tails smiles and laughs and he doesn't pull away from him and he likes to play and explore and he still needs him. It's just so easy for Sonic to make him feel better. Just by being there.

Also, because this is after Frontiers, going through cyberspace and the cyber corruption has opened the gates to Sonic's memories a bit and they're kind of leaking into his thoughts more and more. He's falling into the habit of ruminating, reliving moments and questioning choices he made, things he might've done wrong, could've done better. So that maybe Tails wouldn't feel like he needs to become a completely different person.

Present Tails won't listen to him, but baby Tails hangs onto every word. So maybe by being there... Tails might remember being loved and maybe the 10 year old won't only see the worst parts of himself when he looks in the mirror if Sonic can try again and show the younger version that he's worth something just as he is.

I think Sonic crosses paths with present Tails twice during all of this. The first conversation goes okay, but there's an awkwardness to it. But Sonic does try to make an effort to be more open with Tails in the hopes that maybe it will set a better example. And Tails is surprisingly receptive to it. So Sonic resolves to not go back to the past, because Tails seems to be doing okay after all. And he's reminded that he loves who his little brother is now. The good and the bad made him who he is, and would he really want to change that? Of course not!

Unfortunately, the second conversation doesn't go nearly as well...

So Sonic goes back to see baby Tails in the wake of it - not because he needs it, but because Tails clearly does - but when he arrives, the forest is burning and he can't find Tails anywhere...

[whatudottu]

Regarding your cerebrocrustacean headcanons mentioned in the previous ask: they very well could be somewhat canon given how, when asked if Albedo and Dr. Psychobos would be willing to work together, Derrick J. Wyatt responded with "Psychobos seems like a total team up slut, he'll team up with any villain any time" (his words, not mine).

Which he likely meant in the sense of "Psychobos is so power-hungry he'll team up with anyone in order to get ahead", but with your headcanons and the fact he never talks much about his personal life in mind, you could alternatively interpret it as "Psychobos is so desperately lonely he'll accept anyone he has even the slightest similarity with into his clique, even members of a species he's violently xenophobic towards" (probably to cope with/serve as a rebound for his mancrush Azmuth friendzoning him /lh /hj).

Now all of this is making me realize that it was a massive missed opportunity in Omniverse to not have Psychobos' demeanor do a complete 180 around the people he works with compared to everyone else (whether sincere or a thinly-veiled manipulation tactic) if not solely for a few jokes. Especially him acting like an affectionate father figure towards Malware (whether he likes it or not) solely so he can rub it in Azmuth's face that "I'm a FAR more attentive and caring parental figure towards your creation than YOU ever were, and I use the term loosely".

WHAT DO YOU MEAN DJW SAID 'TEAM UP SLUT' HAHAH WHAT!? dear god it's true it's on the wiki what the fuck what the fuck assdfjhghsdlfkgfkl-!

I mean, look at his already canon group; Khyber, allegedly the greatest huntsman in the galaxy, teaming up with Dr Psychobos to make a little watch that can sample (specifically predatory) animals; and Malware, a technology absorbing mutant mechamorph, working with the cybernetically enhanced (also listed as a mutant???) cerebrocrustacean in order to make said watch- if liking the concept of animals and incorporating machines as part of oneself is enough to get into Dr Psychobos' clique well, he's certainly stretched what that means far enough to at least snag two others into his initial team up. Same can't be said for Attea and the incurseans which seems to be more of a sponsor type relationship, and Maltruant commissioned him to repair his body but violated the trade agreement so whether or not Psychobos would do business with the incurseans again, he's already squarely sequestered Maltruant in the outest of out-groups :P

Hah, the 'Dr Psychobos adopting Malware specifically to stick it to Azmuth' bit reminded me of a signing-the-adoption-papers version of the 'I throw my used car batteries in the ocean' thing- something along the lines of; [psychobos voice] "You are the most calamitous individual I have had the pleasure of meeting, and I use the term loosely." [malware voice, threateningly] "I have devoured and absorbed the specs of the Omnitrix." [psychobos signing adoption papers] [malware, experiencing the affects of cerebrocrustacean in-grouping and having no frame of reference on how to deal with it] "What the fuck is happening-"

[mystical-one]

WARNING IM GOING TO BE HONEST AND EARNEST HERE. i really unironically unconditionally liked now and then

[paperlovesadness]

We're barely keeping up with these TLSP aknowledgements from Miles & Domino Records

What is this alternate universe. Why now. Why not every other year??? 🧐 Hmmm???? 🧐🧐

[magentagalaxies]

update if you're anxiously awaiting the follow-up to my post from last night: i went to the open mic and performed one of my aubrey monologues!! tbh this performance was the best any of my aubrey performances have gone so far (tho to be fair that's a bit of a low bar. i don't mean to be self-deprecatting or discredit the people who have seen my performances so far and liked them, i'm mostly judging from how it feels to be performing which doesn't always line up with outside perceptions etc.)

idk if it's at a level yet where i'd want to post the video bc there were two main spots where i know my pacing could have been better, and also the audience barely laughed (which was fine bc there was barely anyone in the audience and they were spread out throughout the room and people tend to not laugh as frequently when they're by themselves) but that might make the audio seem weird

but as for positives: most of the people at the open mic had their notebooks/papers/phones/etc. with them bc they were trying out new material and had to check it as they went, which is a fine and normal thing to do, but it really made me stand out that i had my monologue completely memorized (which was very cool bc like. yes i've done the uncle reg monologue more than any other but i have revised some pieces so they were new, and i didn't even practice the monologue at all during the day leading up to the open mic! it's just in me!)

i still need to work on my physicality a bit more but wow this stage made such a difference. for one thing it's the first actual deliberate performance venue i've done aubrey at (i had three shitty classroom performances and one at a coffee shop which even tho it technically had a stage in the corner it clearly wasn't the main purpose of the room). and even more important it's a stage i've performed on so many times in a different context (with my improv troupe) that i felt more comfortable walking around and using the full space rather than standing still

interestingly even tho i was definitely an outlier in many ways compared to the other comedians (youngest performer, only performer who's not a cis man, potentially the only queer performer tho i can't be certain of that since i don't know some of the other comedians on that level) i actually really loved that contrast bc it brought more energy to my piece (and i have a high tolerance level for cishet men, especially in comedy. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i am who i am).

surprisingly i was not the only "extra" comedian (as in, a comedian that requires things other than the bare essentials to perform their set) but that's just bc my favorite improv scene partner was also performing tonight and he did a whole bit that involved a candle, two lighters, and a tarp, which made my character-schtick seem average in comparison lmao

i'll probably do another one when i can (they're the first thursday of every month, i might be in toronto for july's show but i'll probably be around for august)

[hanakihan]

actually considering how much indirect impact Jin Chul had on Jin Woo’s overall living as a hunter experience starting right off

Solo Leveling but Jin Chul is a main protagonist-narrator on sidelines simply because he knows but can’t do anything. He’s aware of everything in their world yet can’t do anything because beside his knowledge/clairvoyance he’s pretty much an ordinary government worker who simply kinda won powers lottery to stand on top of A rank.

Because of that he knows the deal with Jin Woo and while he doesn’t want him to go through such experience and feels bad because he does kinda use him, they still need him to save humanity from certain doom.

Jin Chul knows about this world, how it works and what will happen with it, yet he literally can’t do anything himself with that knowledge. He just wonders why he was the one to receive such gift/curse because knowing that there is a future where Hunter Sung succeeded among millions of fail endings starts to drive him insane, because he’s pretty much the one orchestrating events course and one wrong decision or move on his side will unavoidably hard lock them all to a bad end.

The way it literally ends up as ‘I’m a side character in story that knows the plot so I must take care of overpowered main character to avoid certain doom!’ type of novel and Jin Chul just having almost full on breakdown hysteria from stress and absurdity of it all, because truly, his life is a trashy novel plot for a quick read if you think about it

[mariasont]

Spoiled - A.H

a/n: felt feral writing this hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did

think im ovulating or something YALL IDK

anyhow happy reading let me know what yall think 🤭

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

warnings: 18+ MDNI, phone sex!, sex toy!, fem solo masturbation, penelope being a little instigator lmao, dirty talk, soft dom!hotch, established relationship, honestly a little bit of angst whoops, reader is slightly dramatic like hotch has been gone for prob 5 hours STAND UP!

wc: 3.3k

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her comment earned her the full government name, igniting a burst of laughter that you attempt to smother behind your hand. Sinking deeper into the couch, you dismiss the absurdity with a shake of your head. You even find yourself glancing over your shoulder even though you know no one is home.

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but trust me, that's the least of our worries in this relationship."

"Look, whatever floats your love boat or rocks your bed frame is strictly your business," she comments as if that were the most casual thing to say.

You giggle, a warmth spreading through you as you tread across the kitchen tiles, the phone pressed against your ear. 

"Oh my god, Pen," you let out a laugh, feeling a soft crimson spread across your cheeks, while your thighs swell with the thoughts of your doting boyfriend. "No, no, like I said we're more than okay in that department. It just gets, well, lonely when he's away."

Your hand curls around the neck of your favorite bottle of red, easing the cork free with a satisfying pop. The liquid swirls into the glass, a little more than probably necessary, as the gentle hiss of water beginning to simmer breaks through the kitchen. 

"You, my dear, are a saint among mortals."

"Well, he makes it easy," you shrug, pouring the rice into the bubbling pot, a cloud of steam rising to paint the windows.

"Honestly, I don't know how you manage. I'd be itching for it, especially if it's as good as you say," Penelope admits with a dramatic sigh.

You laugh, propping the phone against the backsplash, its speaker projecting the conversation into the room. Aaron stands just out of sight, unnoticed, taking in your every syllable.

"When he gets back, trust me, every second apart seems like a small price to pay."

"Ever thought about getting yourself a toy? You know, for those long nights?" Penelope hints not (at all) so slyly. 

The wine almost sprays from your mouth as you stifle a surprised splutter. Aaron, still unseen, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no, I haven't really considered... a toy," you murmur, cheeks burning. You clear your throat, pretending to be engrossed in the simmering pot. "Aaron might have an opinion on that, I guess."

Your attempt at nonchalance was failing, you definitely knew that.

Aaron rested casually against the door frame, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of your bashful laughter. He'd always had a soft spot for the way your cheeks bloom with color--a sight he wasn't afraid to go great lengths to witness. The idea of a toy seemed to pique his curiosity, drawing a pensive frown as his attention stayed fixed on you for a moment longer.

He slips away silently, his steps carrying him to the front door as you continue your conversation with Penelope.

The call disconnects with a soft click, and you're left in the quiet of the kitchen, unwittingly promising to keep Penelope updated. Turning back to the stove, you stir the sauce with a distracted hand, your lips downturned. Aaron should have been home by now.

The dining table is set, candles flickering, their glow falling on the chair he's yet to fill. You let out a sigh, stealing another look at the ticking clock. The food is ready, but with each passing minute, it grows cooler, just the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment settling in your chest. 

The audible twist of the key catches your attention, and you can't help but glance over your shoulder. Aaron walks in, his lips curving into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hi, my gorgeous girl," he greets, his voice a familiar sound that kindles a familiar flutter into your heart.

He places his briefcase down, the sound muted, and as he approaches, his lips brush a tender kiss against your temple. The annoyance that had been bubbling inside you melts away with his touch. Damn him.

You turn to him, a sheepish "Hi" fluttering out, your cheeks tinged with heat. It's a feeling that's always fresh, the way he still makes you feel like you're back in high school, hearts doodled in the margins of your notebook.

Aaron settles into his chair, the soft scrape of wood against the tile following his movements.

"Sorry 'M late," he offers, his tone warm, appreciative. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. Thank you."

His fingers gently sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his smile softening you, disarming you. He's so beautiful.

"You're welcome," you reply, your cheeks growing warmer with each word. "And, um, I hope it's okay. It might be a bit cold. I thought...I guess I assumed you'd be home sooner."

You voice trails off, leaving behind a trail of embarrassed concern, wondering if perhaps you'd somehow overstepped. 

Aaron looks at you, his eyes turning kind as he discerns the unease on your face.

"I'm sorry, baby, got held up with a little errand." He bites into the food, and a gratified hum indicates his approval. "This is delicious."

You find yourself beaming at the praise. He had a talent for that--praising you, almost as if he'd made it his life mission. This was a first for you in a relationship, and it's exactly why the late nights and time spent alone didn't weigh so heavily. 

After dinner, you're rinsing off the plates when Aaron's hands draw you close, his hands claiming your waist, the heat of his palms radiating through the fabric of your shirt. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Let me help with that. You're spoiling me," he insists, his words spoken into your damp skin.

You lean back into his embrace, his chest flush against your back.

"I like taking care of you," you admit, heart skipping a beat under the weight of his gaze, the softness in his eyes dissolving your concentration on the task at hand. 

A deep, affectionate groan escapes Aaron as he pulls you even closer. But all good things come to an end, and the ringing of his phone seems like an icy intrusion, like a sudden draft into the kitchen.

"Hotchner," he answers, and even though the word leaves his lips, his fingers gently sketch patterns across your hip. 

You feel your heart sink. When he hangs up, his eyes lock with yours, brimming with an apology he doesn't voice. It's unnecessary, you already know.

"A case?" You hate how small your voice sounds, dipped in an understanding you wish you didn't have.

He nods, a simple stupid gesture that sends a lump of disappointment soaring up your throat, which you desperately try to swallow down. 

"Okay... just, be careful, okay? I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, angel. Be good for me."

There's a hollowness in the house that follows you through each room. You were well aware of Aaron's demanding job when you started dating--the unpredictable schedule, the sudden departures, the cases that required his immediate attention. Still, this awareness did nothing to soften to sting of his absence. At all. 

You found yourself wandering aimlessly, picking up a book only to set it down unread, starting a movie but not really watching. Eventually, you ended up in the bedroom, his bedroom, where the subtle scent of his cologne lingers. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching. God, you felt like you were being so dramatic.

You climb into the bed, the sheets cool against your skin, too big and empty without him. Your eyes darts to the phone resting on the nightstand. You've always been careful not to disturb him while he's working, but tonight felt different.

With a trembling hand, you pick up the phone, your thumb hovering indecisively over the screen. Reluctantly, you returned it to its place. There was no point in bothering him.

A sudden draft sent a shiver up your spine, reminding you of the blanket Hotch had bought for you a couple months ago. You sighed, rising from the bed and moving to the closet.

But your eyes skipped over the blanket, instead fixating on a shiny pink bag tucked away in a secluded corner. Compelled by a spike of curiosity, you grabbed the bag and pulled it open. Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a sudden flush as you placed it on the bed. How long had this been hiding here? And the timing--just after your conversation with Penelope--felt almost too uncanny. 

You went back to your phone.

Hi

The message was simple. You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated--Aaron's name illuminated the screen. You answer, and his voice was there, infused with immediate concern.

"Hi honey. You okay?" His question was straightforward, cutting through the noise.

You nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see you. Shifting on the bed, you said softly, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to bother you. Is it a bad time?"

His response is quick. "You could never bother me."

A blush flares on your cheeks, and a smile instinctively forms. You fidget on the bed, the sheets sighing with your movements, sounds that don't escape Aaron's attentive detection.

"Can't seem to find the right spot without me there, huh?"

"I can't seem to do a lot of things without you here," you grumble under your breath, intended more for yourself than for him. The bed emits a soft creak as you turn again, your breath hitching in a pout that he can almost see through the phone. "Aaron, I found something in the closet..."

You lost your words, fingertips tracing the toy's edge, as you fumbled with the strings of your shorts.

"Hmm? Care to enlighten me."

"You know."

You weren't in the mood for his teasing, because you knew he knew. You could sense his smugness, his voice dripping into that familiar, velvety register that prompted your lips to purse.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Once again, you found yourself stirring against the linen, nibbling on your lip as a wave of exasperation washed over you, your eyes rolling into their sockets.

"Where are you?"

"Just got to my hotel room." You could hear the subtle movements in the background, accompanied by the soft groans of the mattress under his weight. "What did you find in the closet that was so urgent you needed to text me in the middle of my case?"

Your face was warm. "You said it wasn't a bother."

"And I meant it, now spell it out for me."

Your hands cautiously pushed over the toy, examining its buttons and sides. Subconsciously, your tongue swept over your top teeth. You lowered your voice as though someone else might overhear.

"The toy...is it for me? I mean, I would hope so. If not, well, we'd have a rather awkward issue."

"Yes, it's for you, baby."

You stifled a grin. How could he have known? That profiling business was really no joke.

"Why?"

His muffled chuckle filtered through, and you could almost see the flash of his pearly whites. You really missed him, so much so that you were conjuring vision of his mouth of his on places that should not be said aloud. 

"I just want to make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not home." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You were deep in your fantasy now, your free hand sliding down your shorts as you envisioned him propped against the headboard of his hotel bed, tie hanging loosely, hair tousled just so.

"I'm always taken care of by you, Aaron," you said quietly.

You didn't know how to go about this, whatever this even was. You were treading into unknown territory; never having had phone sex with Aaron--or anyone for that matter.  It was a far cry from the occasional suggestive text.

"That's right." His voice flowed like honey in your ear, causing a shiver as your finger skimmed over your underwear, your breathing momentarily faltering. "You're going to be well taken care of for the rest of your life, yeah?"

"Yeah."

You could hardly breathe, squirming against your own touch, glancing over at the toy that sat beside your hip.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience. You're a good girl, honey. Far too good for me." You weren't. It was the other way around; you didn't deserve him. You told yourself that every day. "I know you get lonely, and I know it's something you'd never admit to."

"Aaron..."

He didn't let you finish. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing right now?"

Your actions came to an abrupt standstill, thumb suspended above your clothed clit. You entertained the thought that this FBI gig might have been a front for a psychic, maybe one of those fortune teller types.

You were mumbling into your sleeve, a private conversation with the threads. "Just...um, well it's hardly worth mentioning, honestly."

Wow you're sure you fooled him.

"I'm not fond of dishonesty." The low rumble of his voice sent a tremor through your core. "I'm giving you a final chance. Tell me what you're doing, sweetheart."

A hard swallow passed your throat, your thumb rubbing idle circles into the band of flesh on your hip. 

"Well, I, uh, was touching myself." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, an internal wince accompanying each syllable at how unsexy you were speaking.

"Where, sweetheart?"

You exhaled sharply at the question, heavy with exasperation at his insistence on drawing this out. But the slickness between your legs was undeniable. Your hand slid back to the delicate skin between your thighs.

"Aaron, please," you breathed out so faintly it was almost inaudible.

He was playing a cruel game, and he knew it. You hardly cussed let alone talk about your lady parts so openly.

"I hope I've never given you a reason to feel judged, honey." There was a sweetness in his voice that masked his darker intentions. "Just tell me where. I want to help."

Your tongue flicked nervously across your lip, your finger dipping into the valley of your folds as you mulled over his offer. You were wet, far more than you had anticipated, practically coating your thighs in the process.

"No, 'course not," you said softly, biting back a sigh as your thumb worked slowly against your inflamed clit. "It's just, you're so far, Aaron."

"Why do you think I got you that toy?" Your gaze darted to the pink thing, resting against your hip. "I want you to use it. I'll walk you through it, just like I would in person."

You could melt. You could liquefy into nothingness on the spot. Your fingers pressed more urgently against yourself, a deep-seated wish for him to be here surfacing, knowing all the while it was a baseless hope.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"There you go, that's my girl."

You couldn't hold back the whimper that fell from your lips as you arched against the bed, fingers diving into your cunt.

"My needy girl," he repeated, his laughter resonating with a patronizing tone that oddly egged you on. "Alright, can you pick up the toy for me?"

You wedged the phone snugly between your shoulder and ear, your hand closing around the pink, curved object, scrutinizing its every detail with careful eyes.

"Okay."

It was big, not as big as Aaron, but its dimensions were nonetheless imposing. You felt your chest heave in anticipation, waiting for his instructions.

His silence was stretching your patience thin. You turned it on, and it came to life, watching as it vibrated, the soft buzz permeating the space. You let it trail over your stomach, fabric gathering as your shirt rode up. Nearing your clit, you braced, taking in a quick breath.

But that breath was released in a strangled moan as you pushed the toy firmly into your sopping hole, legs spreading expansively as a taut sensation gripped your center.

"Did I say you could use it already?" he questioned, his tongue clicking in disapproval as you strained against the device, the second prong vibrations coursing against your nub, your whole-body jerking in response.

"N-No, 'M sorry," you panted, your focus narrowing as you pushed to toy in and out, your lips rounding into an 'o'. "It feels really good, Aar."

"I'm sure it does, baby," he teased, his voice carrying a certainty that your own lacked. "Let me hear you fuck yourself with it.

You loved hearing him curse, it was rare, and usually reserved for intimate moments like this. It fueled your actions, your wrist quickening, driving the device deeper, your stomach twisting in tight knots, a loud moan escaping unrestrained, suddenly you were thankful for the distance between Aaron's house and the next.

It felt so good, and yet somehow still not comparable to how it was with Aaron. Weren't you spoiled?

"Miss you so much," you slurred, your movements stuttering as the device worked your body in ways you didn't know were possible.

"Miss you too, angel. You're doing so good."

"Can you, ah, come home, p-please?"

You weren't even sure of what you were saying, all your thoughts on chasing your high and pretending the toy was Aaron's cock. Thinking about how he'd fill you up right now, how he'd press you to the mattress, how his body would cover yours.

"Your present isn't enough?" His tone was taunting, your eyes welling with tears, clouding your vision as your hips bucked against the toy. "That's a shame, sweetheart, think maybe you've been a little spoiled. You can't have my cock all the time."

You were completely dazed, his sentences barely making their way through the fog as you'd like them to. You were crying, you think, hot and relentless tears carving a path down your face as you fucked yourself harder against the toy.

The noises coming from your pussy were obscene, soaked and squishing as you tried to respond to Aaron, but nothing but small hiccups were escaping your mouth.

"It's okay, baby, I know. You're doing so good for me. I can hear it."

Your cheeks and ears flared with a heat that spelled out your shame, but it was the least of your concerns. Your walls tightened against the device, the pressure on your clit suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. Gasping for air, your breaths came out in uneven bursts. When you tried to call out Aaron's name, it emerged as nothing more than a choked sob.

"C-Can I? Please, need to so bad." You weren't entirely convinced you were speaking English, but Aaron understood. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

That was all you needed. Your cunt contracted again before vaulting over the edge, nearly losing consciousness in the process, a string of moans and half-said words pouring out of your lips.

You could hear the sound of his voice, but the words were just out of reach, not fully making sense. You felt your body twitch, and you blinked deliberately, once, twice, three times, in an effort to reconnect your body to your mind.

"You're so good, baby. So good. Miss you so much."

You pulled the toy, now soaked, from yourself, cringing at the lewd sound as you laid it beside you, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. Although if Aaron had his way that wouldn't happen.

"I miss you." You hated the way your voice betrayed ever emotion you had.

"Need you to go pee for me, sweetheart."

He sounded so soft and tired, but somehow still present. You let out a soft snicker as you curled onto your side. 

"Can't move my legs," you mumbled, the sound muffled by the way your cheek was squished into the pillow. "Need you to come carry me."

His laugh was something you wished you could bottle up. "Spoiled."

"And who's to blame for that?" You were ready for his witty retort, but it was cut short by the sudden flash of your phone. You squinted at the caller ID. "Sorry, Penelope is calling me, can I call you back in a second?"

"Course, honey. Thank her for the idea, yeah?" Your mouth fell open as you scrambled for the right words. Of course he had heard. "Also, I plan on spending a few solid hours fucking you when I get home, so I suggest you get some rest."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 1)

A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.

Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar. 

And that person is music producer, Y/N. 

The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved. 

Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again. 

Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.

“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”

Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.

It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.

She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.

“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.

But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief. 

He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.

Return what he was getting. 

Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.

And going against each other became their thing. 

They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.

“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.

Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say. 

She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.

Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him. 

Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery. 

“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.

“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it. 

He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what. 

His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension. 

An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because  he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face. 

Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.

“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”

Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…

Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him. 

“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack. 

When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…

“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.

“You weren’t here when I went out.”

“But you knew I was coming.”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.

It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.

It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.

He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading. 

That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.

Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry. 

Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.

“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.

She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin. 

He has to fight the urge to touch her.

Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.

Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.

Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.

“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him. 

“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence. 

“Hey. Long time no see.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind. 

Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?

“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind. 

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.

“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout. 

He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best. 

Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go. 

The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.

Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had. 

He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people  while enjoying how under the radar he is currently. 

The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her. 

Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him. 

From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.

Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her. 

She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.

As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance. 

“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him. 

They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.

“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.

“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.

“Have you tried to put it down fully?”

“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way. 

“What?”

“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”

“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”

She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.

It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms. 

“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.

“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”

“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”

“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time. 

“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”

She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.

But then it all changes.

If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already. 

Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body. 

He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing. 

Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it. 

It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle. 

The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes. 

They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.

“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.

He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.

“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”

Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”

“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall. 

This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.

A stupid, giant one. 

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and��buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[coconutdays]

study week!

s. your boyfriend deserves some special treatment after working so hard and you think you know the best way to treat him, you think

w.c. 4.9k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: this was halfway written in my drafts and I know I haven't posted him in a while, so I thought id treat my girlies for what they fell for me for in the first place and finish it

it's midterms week and as difficult as it's been for your dear boyfriend suguru, you can't stop yourself from being a bit of an obstacle for him yourself.

he's waiting for you outside of your french studies lecture in the morning when you can see his slightly tired eyes rake across the cleavage bared by your low-cut blouse. then to the short mini-skirt and pantyhose lining your legs. and your lips, you're wearing his favorite lipgloss, the one that always has him pushing you onto your knees and sucking him dry.

"hey baby." he smiles a little, taking the almost too large water bottle from your hands and reaching down to hold one of your hands while you walked, "you look beautiful."

"hi," you snuggle into his arm, hoping he didn't see the slight quirk of your lips at his obvious stare just a few seconds ago, "did you study as much as you wanted this morning?"

suguru nods, thumb caressing your hand as he sighs, "yes, although I do wish I could've finished earlier and had more time to get ahead on that project."

that project. the one that had been taking up most of the time for the past two weeks, more so this one right before his exam and presentation came up for his Japanese architecture class.

it had been only last semester the two of you started dating after the close to masterful planning of satoru gojo that led to your hookup with the charming brunette on halloween night. you had no other classes together when the spring semester came around and you both obviously missed it at times like these, when the added ninety minutes of just getting to even be together in lecture and spare time of studying the class material together could've more easily satiated the want of each other's presence

this semester he had Japanese architecture and although the class was fairly easy, he had to work on a hefty group presentation that took up over thirty percent of his grade, and he being the ever meticulous student, was doing everything in his power to make sure he would get his A+, which meant being taken prisoner by his assigned group in the library to piece together the presentation most days. and when he wasn't, he was studying for his other classes and making the most of any interaction he could with you, be it by texting, FaceTime, or getting a quick dessert at the cafe near the school campus with you.

but not sex.

"'m sorry. that sucks," you pout for him, peering up at him through your eyelashes purposefully, "wish I could make it a solo project, so you wouldn't have to rely on other people for your grade."

suguru spares you a small glance before tiredly looking you and shining his warm smile down at you, "well it's already too late for the professor to change his mind, so I'll bear it through."

suguru tears his gaze away from you so he can guide the both of you across the street to the previously mentioned cafe. when you make it across the street and continue walking to the ever growing close cafe, your boyfriend strikes another topic.

"how was class though? did you get the material?"

you nod your head eagerly and upon realizing he can't see you do it because of his guiding, you voice, "yea! it was relatively easy, shouldn't take me more than an hour or two to brush up on what I need for the test."

"good." he hums, opening the door for you to the cafe, never letting go of your hand, "and your other classes?"

and there came the reason as to why you felt so free to mess around with him in the first place. you barely even had midterms, luckily enough this time around. you only had your French midterm and the studying barely even counted as something to be stressed about when it was just like overlooking the normal homework being assigned in the class. and your other classes...well it was pure luck that your professors didn't care to give one and if they did, they instead spread them around to conveniently happen before and after midterms like any other normal test. god knows you're happy they didn't pile up into one week like they did for your boyfriend, his poor poor soul. a poor soul so restricted by his other responsibilities during this short time span that you just wanted to tease him for all he's got.

"I already started my study review for my international business relations class yesterday, so I'll be fine when the test comes around next month." you beam proudly, grateful that the university gods had been kind to you and to yourself for staying on track to your planner.

"good girl" suguru's eyes crease when he gets in line to order with you and brings your hand to his mouth to kiss it. the action is mindless, just like his response, it was natural for him to praise you. and considering his avoidance of your sex life ever since those cruel cruel cruel classmates of his started dragging him into the study rooms of the library as of last week, it was purely innocent, with no intention of riling you up.

but it did.

and you can't help but think of the last time you and suguru had sex, the exact morning of the day he had received the news from his professor that he would have to group up with other people for a good grade.

he had eaten you out for close to an hour because he felt like it. it was slow and sensual the entire time, he never listened to your pleas to go faster, telling you to take it like he knows his good girl would, and although it wasn't the cruel speed you begged for most of the time, it still brought you over the edge in a many pleasing and toe curling way.

the thought had you blushing at the fact the person you held those memories with was right next you, being domestic, and leading you to an empty booth while he carried your desserts in a bag.

craving the touch of your boyfriend, you refuse to sit across from him, and squeeze yourself next to him in the booth, the action makes him caress your thigh warmly before he sets out napkins and puts each of your preferred sweets on their respective places.

you're halfway through your dessert when you push yourself onto suguru and pout, "I miss you sugu."

he places a firm yet soft hand on top of your head to caress it, "I miss you too. I'll be all yours tomorrow."

"what?" he wasn't supposed to be free until three days time

"my group decided they wanted to turn in the project today to get it over with, which I'm up for by all means. and my calculus professor felt merciful last night. he gave passes for the midterms to the students with no late assignments and As."

you try your best to hide the devious excitement in your eyes and instead smile endearingly, "that's so good! we can go eat at that viet restaurant I dmed you."

suguru takes your non pastry sticky hand and brings it onto his lap as he gazes into your eyes, "I'd rather cook for you tomorrow."

your curiosity overtakes your predatory instinct and you bat your lashes at him when you ask, "what are you thinking of making?"

"risotto,"he hums, before he leans forward a bit and kisses the corner of your mouth. when he pulls back he smirks a little at the flustered look on your face.

"you had some strawberry filling." he points out before placing another kiss at the top of your head, rubbing a tentative hand at the back of your head in doing so, "let's finish the pastries so I can buy you a matcha latte before my class."

and just like that, he had made your resolve weaken, yet again, like always, your intent on seducing him forgotten for the meantime due to his proficiency at making your mind a puddle.

you find yourself in the library, hours later in the afternoon, studying with your friend at the same time suguru is meeting with his group.

and...soooooo conveniently sitting at a desk right in front of the glass door of one of the library's large group session cubicles, that just so happens to be hosting your boyfriend and his classmates.

your luck worked out perfectly and you thanked whatever mightier being there was when you saw suguru seated at the far end of the table with no one in front of him, allowing him the perfect view of you from across those few feet and glass door.

you see his eyes light up as he tries to listen to whatever one of his groupmates is saying while sharing a loving look with you.

perfect.

suguru

are you going to study pretty?

by the time you see the message from him, he has his arms folded over each other as he speaks to the other people in the room. god you wish you could hear him speaking right now. he was 100% giving some sort of smart nerd dialect input and you did everything in your power not to remember the time he tutored you in a class he had already taken last semester, using that same voice.

that time,

you had asked for a prize if you got all his questions correct

and he had been more than happy to give when you did

the specifics of which you didn't let yourself fret on more when you typed away to answer him

y/n

mhm I need to practice a speech for french.

and you left your phone on the desk with the screen facing down as you continued to your studies, conniving your next plan of action as you typed away at your computer.

about thirty minutes had passed when suguru was finally allowed a moment of peace, a moment of tranquility from having to explain a million times why comic sans was not the most ideal font to use.

and he was going to reach for his phone, to see what you had answered–he felt the buzz in his pocket–but couldn't look due to his previous debate with his classmates, when he spotted a quite inviting sight.

where you had been sitting basically face to face with suguru, with your friend next you, now you had your back to him as you practiced your speech in front of your friend.

it wasn't really useful, she didn't understand, it was more so to have someone to make eye contact with.

well more so,

an excuse to stand up and bend over a little every once a while so your skirt rode up just the right amount.

you bent over when you hand your phone to your friend to time you, you bent over to get a quick look at your computer, your speech written on it. you bent over to type something quick, a meaningless note, but a meaningful excuse for you.

you're not flashing him outright, of course, there was still a possibility of any one of his group mates accidentally getting a glance of whatever you rescinded to your boyfriend in these minutes; but you are teasing him. he loves these skirts on you. he's especially a bigger fan of the pantyhose, considering this was the only surviving pair you could find. so you know that he's letting his memory and imagination undress the sight before him as well as entice him.

you're glad you didn't unlock your phone when you gave it to your friend to time you, choosing to slide up for the clock on the lock screen, when after an hour of perfecting the speech you didn't need until two weeks time, she says, "geto texted you by the way, a couple minutes ago."

you take your phone from her as you go to sit down, facing suguru again for the first time in an hour, and you don't know if he's resorted to playing your mind games too, but the sight is knee buckling.

he's got his hair in that half up, half down combo that never fails to make you ravenous. and he's biting his cheek as he listens yet again to whoever and looks down at his computer screen every once in a while.

why did he always look so unaffected by everything, god.

you force yourself to look at the messages he sent you earlier

suguru

try your speech on me when you get the chance, okay?

how long are you going to be here? do you want me to take you home after we finish the project?

y/n

I'll make it my first priority! and I'm about to leave :/ I still have to do a quiz at home with my camera on in about two hours, wanna get it done before the hour mark.

you get up seconds after sending the text to suguru to put your belongings away. the task was easy considering you didn’t take much out of your bag. and when you started to close it, you felt a firm and soft hand tugging you towards them. 

suguru was in front of you now, sitting at the edge of your desk, tugging you close to him so you stood between his legs, which were unavoidably manspreading for you.

“five at my place tomorrow?” he’s softly quirking an eyebrow at you in question, holding both of your hands close to him

“I’ll be there,” you nod

he smiles at you in response, then juts his chin a little in the direction of your friend behind you–mindlessly scrolling through her phone as she waits for your conversation with your boyfriend to end–and asks, “are you getting a ride? I don’t like the idea of you walking by yourself, especially when it’s so close to sundown.”

you have to resist the way his protectiveness of you makes your skin crawl and want to jump onto him and force yourself to nod, “yea. she’s dropping me off after this. i need to give her one of the books we read for lit last semester anyways, she needs it for a class.”

“alright then.” suguru pulls both of your hands to his lips and gives a kiss to each one before getting up. he stands tall before you like he always does. “text me when you get home.”

“I will,” you say as he raises his hands to hold both sides of your face to pull you into a kiss. he keeps it calm and fluttering, so the most you can manage to retrieve out of him is a slight sharp inhale when your tongue softly grazes his lower lip. 

he still has his hands on your face when he places a small kiss at the top of your forehead and mutters, “i love you.”

“I love you too.” you say back, basking in his touch, knowing it’ll be close to a full day before you can see him like this again.

y/n 

Im homeeeeeeee!

finished the quiz too, wasn’t as hard as i thought it would be

suguru

nice job baby

have you eaten yet?

y/n 

im making a fruit salad :p have a sweet tooth right now

are you done with the project???

suguru

thankfully, yes. It was getting very difficult to see everyone use comic sans by default today. all i have to do is study for the test now, i can do that on my own without worrying about them. 

ill make a peach cobbler for you tomorrow, for your sweet tooth

y/n

aw for lil ol me??

suguru

yes for lil ol you miss coy

ill text you in a bit, im going home

your conversation continued when suguru got home, minimally if any, knowing youd talk on the phone before one of you headed to bed later that night. he did have to study after and so did you. which was why you saved your seductive attempts for until then.

“I liked your outfit today baby. It was cute,” you could hear your boyfriend repeatedly tossing a small stress ball up into his ceiling faintly. he was in bed already just as you were.

the comment made your ears perk up, “you did?”

“yeah, i didn’t know there was still a pair of pantyhose left.” 

“I didn’t either,” you sheepishly admitted, “i found it in the back of my drawer on saturday and thought id wear it.”

“wear them tomorrow, “ suguru added casually

“okay, ill–”

“don’t wear panties either.” 

your eyes widened a little, “but your bike–”

“what about my bike?”

he was picking you up tomorrow on his bike, like he always did. and you had to sit on his bike, on that leather seat with the incoming wind, your skirt, the pantyhose, no underwear…

“I thought we were having dinner.”

“we are, im making the risotto and peach cobbler for us,” he still sounds like he’s discussing any casual dinner arrangement, “don’t wear panties under the pantyhose.”

“why are you making those demands anyway,” you try to poke at him, as if you didn’t want to do that for him, to see if you could rile him up like you still wanted to these last two weeks, “you haven’t been horny for two weeks.”

“did i tell you i wasn’t?”

the authoritative question had you rubbing your thighs against each other, “no…but you weren’t acting that way either.”

“like you?” 

even on the phone it was hard to escape him, and he made it oh so delicious, even if it did always intimidate you.

“Is it so wrong to want you,” the pout in your voice clear

“no,” suguru comforts, “not at all.”

then, just as he knows he has you on an intense precipice in the conversation, he begins to end the call.

“sleep well pretty,” you can hear the love for you he has through it, as if he wasn’t just backing you into a corner seconds ago, “we’ve had a long day, and i need to get up a bit earlier than usual to get some groceries before i head to the gym.”

“sleep well too,” you huff and you can hear suguru’s laugh

“I love you beautiful."

“I love you too.”

suguru acts like a saint when he picks you up, like he's completely unaware to the fact that you're wearing pantyhose with no panties under your skirt, even though he asked for it.

"hey beautiful," he smiles when he leans down to peck your lips, "you ready to go?"

"yeah," you breathe, genuinely excited to spend time with your boyfriend for the first time in two weeks, uninterrupted

you arrived to your boyfriend's apartment with the most drenched pantyhose known to man. and you were too scared to see if any of your slick left a trail on his motorcycle. and although there was a certain buildup...down there...this had to be considered some sort of psychological torture.

because suguru had not made a sexual move on you the entire dinner, even through dessert.

nothing.

so here you were, stuck making casual conversation with your boyfriend, pussy basically exposed, and paranoid about his next move.

"satoru should not be eating that many macaroons a day. I know he loves them, but that's got to be some sort of crime." you discuss while taking a sip of your wine, "there has to be some economic surplus and deficit issue going on there."

"babe, you've had macaroon mukkbangs with him in front of me."

you pucker your lips in response to your boyfriend's unwavering ability to bring the facts right to your face.

"okay, but he does it way more often than me. consider that. I have to train for a whole month to do that. satoru does it back to back."

"there is that," suguru agrees, eyes flickering to the plate that had just been served with a slice of peach cobbler minutes ago, "and I take it you liked the peach cobbler."

"yes!" you nod eagerly, planting an excited fist on the dining table, "I love that my boyfriend is such a good chef."

"and I love that my girlfriend eats well," suguru responds warmly as he gets up and picks up both of your plates, placing them in the dishwasher before saying, "I'm glad you liked it though. I love watching you enjoy what I make."

suguru then takes your hand, while you're seated, and places a fleeting kiss on the back of it.

"let's go to the bedroom."

god, he just says that and you're ruining the pantyhose even more now.

"okay," you nod, getting up and letting him lead the way to his room.

he doesn't say much during the quick few steps until he opens the door and shuts it behind him.

"you're not wearing panties, right, sweet girl?"

you turn around to look at him, shaking your head earnestly, "no sir."

he walks up to you and takes your head in his palm affectionally, brushing a careful thumb across your cheek while he looks at you lovingly, "good."

"get on your knees then baby."

immediately you're sinking onto the ground and suguru is unbuckling his belt for you, already pulling out his rock hard cock.

on instinct, you open your mouth and suguru takes the invitation without hesitation, popping the tip of his dick against the inside of your cheek again and again.

"those pantyhose must be ruined beyond repair right now, aren't they?"

"mhm" you nod as best you can considering what he's using your mouth for.

"god, I can't wait to rip a hole in them." he hisses while he starts to slide his shaft up and down in your mouth.

its your queue to start sucking him off like you know how to. you hollow your cheeks and let all the spit build up in your mouth, even if it does start to run down your mouth and onto your chest and the floor. every time he nearly pulls out, you swirl your tongue around the underside of his swollen head, and you love the way his hips jut up just a bit at the action.

suguru's let you take the reigns now, instead placing a loving hand on the side of your head and making sure your hair doesn't get in your face.

"missed this pretty face getting messy for my cock." he breathes, grip growing by just a smidge on your hair, "missed it so much. couldn't even fuck your face to get my stress out baby."

he sees the excitement simmer in your eyes and suguru leans over a bit, "what do you say sweet girl, want me to fuck your little throat?"

you nod feverishly, suckling on his tip to show enthusiasm.

suguru gives you a small smile in return while he pinches your cheek affectionately.

"good girl."

he starts to move your head up and down his length at a leisurely place, something not too drastic, where you can feel and taste him coherently

until he suddenly speeds up the pace unforgivingly

"there, there, "he groans almost, staring at your face, "fuck, you're such a filthy girl. what'd I do to get such a pretty slut like you?"

the vulgar praise makes you moan, and the vibrations from your throat make him react the same way

"if I weren't saving my cum for my pussy right now baby, I'd fill your mouth again and again until you're practically spilling." he utters, still jack hammering into your mouth and you're doing everything you can to not let yourself gag,

"you like helping me destress beautiful?" he says desperately, cheeks growing a tinge red as he locks eyes with you

suguru's hips give a warning stutter when you nod, and he suddenly pulls out, and brings you up by an arm, turning you around so he can yank your skirt down.

"fuck." is all that leaves his lips darkly before he helps you take your shirt off and pushes you towards the bed.

"all fours baby, near the edge, wanna get a good fucking view of that pussy."

"o-okay," you say, already ruined by his previous indulgence and in anticipation of what was to come.

you get on all fours immediately and without a moment's waste, suguru's already running a greedy hand up your soaked folds, practically stuck to the pantyhose

"fuck, you're going to kill me. thought I was gonna go insane yesterday."

slap!

suguru lands a painful strike on your pussy

"it's not nice to tease your boyfriend when he's working so hard for you sweetheart. almost lost my mind trying not to think about all the things I wanted to do to you on that library table."

then there's a loud tear, and suguru runs his tongue flat against your exposed folds without hesitation

he starts to literally makeout with your pussy, treating it the way he wants. as if your lips down there could respond to his own. it's all for his own pleasure, none of yours, and you don't mind, turned on way more by the fact that he's using your body in such a depraved way.

and so, because you figure tonight is all about him taking out his stress on you, suguru suddenly stops, and you can feel him sit down on the bed, dragging you to stand in front of him.

"sit on my dick baby," he says, turning you around to face your back towards him, hands gripping your waist.

"wait!" you start to whine for the first time tonight, "I can't do this one, it's too hard for me."

just as suguru was needy, you were needy too.

you wanted the easy relief of him pounding you from behind, with you on all fours. when you rode him him like this, bouncing up and down, it was such a trek. he was so big, even sitting on it was a great feat. and he poked your cervix so painfully every time you went back down like this.

"yeah you can," suguru praises, reaching a hand down to swipe his tip against your folds messily, using the other on your waist to bring you down a little, "you always end up loving how I fill you up when we do it like this sweet girl."

upset, but still eager to have him inside of you, you start to sink down onto him with a pout, unable to stop your mouth from dropping open at the delicious stretch he always gives you

"so fucking big." you whine when he's bottomed out and you feel like you can't breathe from how full he makes you feel

and maybe he was right, because when you pick your ass back up, the feeling of his dick passing through and massaging your pussy from the inside has you keening for more and you could care less about your cervix.

so now you're bouncing against him sporadically, having missed the feeling of him inside you for so long

"missed your dick so much sugu!" you whine, stabilizing your arms on his thighs, ignoring the burning in your legs

"oh my fucking god," he groans, landing a stinging spank on your ass, "I missed this wet little pussy so much too princess. fuck. keep going, dirty fucking girl. gonna buy a butt plug for you so you can wear it with this same little get up. look so fucking cute with a little bunny tail sticking out with this-fuck."

"mhm mhm."

"gonna be my bunny? since you're always looking for my dick? god, if I could keep you in bed all day just for me to fuck you I'd keep that pussy full to the brim."

"sug-sugu!"

"I know baby, I know," he groans, both hands now gripping your ass and pushing you back down again and again, "cum for me, I'll cum with you."

you feel your leg start to kick a little as a reaction to what's about to happen and suguru notices the small paralyzation overtaking your body as a result to the nearing bliss. so he sits up straight and hugs you tight, pummeling you from underneath

"ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod sugu sugu, im cumming im cumming!"

"cum for me baby," suguru says through each quick stroke, "oh my god I'm gonna fuck my load into this slutty fucking pussy. greedy fucking girl's milking it out of me."

and you feel suguru's cock spill inside of you in hard thrusts, giving you what you feel is one of the biggest loads ever, considering this is the first time the both of you have gone without sex with each other for more than two days.

suguru's still inside you when he pulls you onto the bed with him and reaches a hand down to massage your boob

"babe, you did cum a lot." you comment, feeling his load pool inside of you

"good," he breathes, "it'll look hot coming out of you with the pantyhose"

"...are you going to take a picture for your album"

"maybe"

[whosblackcat]

mini thread abt how to help riize & seunghan + info 🩷🫧

note & warning: please don’t engage with ANY content of riize, for example don’t comment in their tiktoks saying “riize is 7” even if your intention is good, it breaks the purpose of the boycott!!

sm will pull fake scandals to distract our attention from the matter, for example as they did with sungchan yesterday! don’t believe anything, exols warned us

tweet the trending tags on twitter!! big official fan accounts always share which ones we have to use

don't buy or watch anything related to riize & sm, we’re boycotting

don’t interact with any post of sm and riize even if it’s to use the tags or supporting the boys, we’re boycotting

all the info of what did one of the persons who sent the death wreaths

ot6 are complaining to the police & government abt the displays and flowers for seunghan in front of the sm building, and according to this person now it's not possible to put them in commercial facilities

sm is buying followers and likes due to the impact of the boycott

ot6 are monitoring every movement and project in every language and reporting them. @/RIIZEUSACENTRE kofi was reported because of them while raising trucks money

seunghan's leaked photo with his girlfriend was leaked by hybe

riize is seven movement schedule. day 1 october 28th

mass review 1 star to all sm facilities on google maps (note: they’re deleting the bad reviews but we have to keep going)

hybes’s ceo lee jae sang issues apology letter for the ‘music industry report’ document (a sorry is not enough after destroying hsh life & career)

seunghan town will be removed due to ot6 reports and company that they reported the project, causing making hard getting the needed permits

pineapple manager passed in front of the protest today, he def saw the protest

manager passed in front of the protest again, they know what’s going on

manager passed in front of the protest for the third time, and tomorrow is the meeting

riize is seven movement schedule november 6th

there’s a very popular lawyer who has won a case against sm before that right now is representing fans

riize doesn't have any schedule, comeback or tour for the first quarter of 2025. the boycott is working, keep going!

riize lost 400k monthly listeners on spotify

clarifications on rumors regarding hsh. the thread linked below explains it really well, so please read carefully and repost it on X!

sm announced that seunghan will debut as a solo artist in the second half of 2025… they even created him a profile on ig. sm is trying to calm us down. is their final act of desperation to tame the situation. this doesn’t protect him from toxic fans, pls keep boycotting, this doesn’t end here (we protested to have him back in riize where he belongs, not to debut as solo artist is this a joke what are they doing💀💀)

Jaehyeon Choe, a TikToker with over 174k followers (@/watchwithsamjaychoe), who has worked with different kpop groups, some of them being SM ones, knows things we don't know and is telling us to DON'T STOP THE BOYCOTT

MAMA's violations against fans, the mistreatment and disrespect experienced by the fans cannot be ignored. some fans were denied entry due to their clothing and some others had their stuff (which they paid for) thrown away even if it wasn’t against the rules they settled. dm @/RIIZEUSACENTRE on X if something like this happened to you

this is all the info i found and i wanted to spread it here too, so thanks and credits to all the ppl on twitter!! if i find more relevant info i’ll keep updating this post. please share it 🫶🏻 (note: english isn't my first language, sorry for any mistakes in my grammar)

little motivation and some twitter accounts that organize projects/give info below the cut! 🩷

— some good info twitter accs:

@/RIIZEUSACENTRE @/SEVENRIIZE @/RIIZE_EUROPE @/PROTECT_RIIZE @/Seunghan_USA

— little motivation:

kbriize are holding face to face protests and fanbases hired an attorney. boycott properly if you don't want all the effort to be wasted! remember, boycotting takes time

"The group nearly disbanded in September of 2001, after Park Joon-hyung was discovered to be in a relationship. Their management announced, without informing him or the members, that he was to leave the group and they'd continue as 4, but it was met with strong objection from fans, who repeatedly signed petitions and threatened to boycott concerts and the company. Danny, Kyesang, Hoyoung and Taewoo held their own press conference, without the knowledge of their management, to show their support for Joon. After two months of disagreements, their company eventually backed down and allowed Joon to be in the group." if joon returned to the group after two months of protests, complains and boycott, we can bring back seunghan!! the key is persistence. please don't give up and keep fighting for his rights and justice!!

[charcoallbaby]

the chase

smutty asf. 18+

wrote this last night while i was half asleep enjoy!

matt sturniolo was the biggest slut ever. if he wasn’t too busy with college work or being the hockey teams captain, a girl was definitely getting dicked down by him.

i was a sophomore, he was a junior so we never crossed paths until my best friend started to date one of his brothers nick. my best friend, sam was head over heelings for nick, it was annoying to be around but i was happy for him, he seemed to be really happy.

his brother matt sturniolo could never get his eyes off me when i was around him, it made me pissed off. i knew what his thoughts were, even if he was a cool guy, which he is. he’s nice and pretty and would never dare try to do something with me since sam and nick warned him that im off limits. but i think matt liked the chase, he liked the fact that he couldn’t have me. so all he did was eye fuck me across the room with a solo cup in his hand talking to some blonde who was practically begging for him. he could smile and girls would be throwing themselves at him.

i sighed before making my way over to sam and nick. “can we go?” “im getting tired,” i exhaled. “girllllll, come on!!!!” “the party is just getting started!” sam cheered. i rolled my eyes at him. nick touched my arm, “matt’s going home soon, he has a project to work on, i’m sure he’ll have no problem dropping you off.” “yeah-um sure, i’ll ask him.”

my eyes darted over to where matt was. no where to be found.

3 months later.

“it’s so fucking hot god!” i groaned. “don’t worry y/n, it’s because im here.” matt joked. i angrily rolled my eyes. “matt, what?” nick cringed. “it’s too hot in this car and i’m gonna die if we don’t get there soon.” i whined. “stop whining and be happy!” sam patted my head like a dog. “wait is there a pool or hot tub there?” chris asked nick. “hot tub chris, it’s a cabin in the middle of the woods!” “but we can just get the hot tub in while it’s cold.”

the second matt parked the car in the garage, i grabbed my bag, hopped out and ran towards the door inside. i needed to get into minimal clothing, i was wearing sweats for some reason.

“here she is!” “here she is!” sam sang out. a smile formed onto my face.

i wore a baby blue bikini set. it made my girls look amazing which rarely happens while having a heavy chest, bikini cup sizes always do me dirty.

i pulled myself up onto one of the kitchen island stools. “care to make me one?” i asked matt who was on the opposite side of the island cutting himself limes to put into his bottles of corona. “yeah sure,” he flashed me a small smile. he could be really sweet sometimes, it didn’t suit his slutty alter ego that he had. he had no shirt on. he looked really fucking good. small beads of sweat were around his neck, i wish i could lick them off. what. no. y/n stop. my eyes shifted down to his tattoos covering his right arm, it made him more attractive if that was even possible. i shook myself out of the heart-eyeing gaze i was in and turn my stool around to sam, chris and nick playing mario kart.

something cold touched my back making me jerk away from it and turn around. “here.” matt nodded his head. “thanks,” i took the bottle off him, our hands quickly touching. he had nice hands. matt made his way over to the boys in the open-planned living room joining them on the couch. “i’m just gonna go tanning!” i called out to the boys. “okay!”

i placed my headphones into my ears, pressing shuffle onto my playlist. the first song playing was “we are the people.” by empire of the sun.

i opened my eyes, something was blocking the sun. all the 4 boys standing in front of me. i ripped my headphones out of my ears. “excuse me?” i pull my sunglasses down from my head to cover my eyes. “we’re going to the store do you need anything?” sam asked. “oh-em,” “get me more tanning oil i’m out,” i propped myself up with my elbows. “girl, we meant food,” nick sighed. “oh, im good.” i smiled before laying back down. “can i have the keys?” sam asked. “oh yeah here,” i hear matt’s keys jingle. “wait,” i sat up. “who’s going?” i asked. “just me, nick and chris why?” sam pushing his hair out of his eyes. “oh no, just wondering.”

great. i’m gonna be here alone with matt.

the boys walked back inside. i picked my headphones up to put them back in my ear until i hear the door re-open. “thought i’d join you,” matt’s voice became louder.

i mentally groaned. i moved my head to my left and looked at him. “i’m not going to be doing a lot of talking, i’m tanning as you can see you,” i looked back up at the sky. a husky chuckle left matt’s mouth. “i was gonna turn on the hot tub and make the water cold for us,” i sat up for the 3rd time in the space of 2 minutes and looked at him. “nice glasses.” he teased. “thanks.” i gave him a fake smile.

i couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not they were the iconic simple black raybans.

i walked over to the hot tub, taking off the covering. “do your job.” i crossed my arms. matt laughed. “such a pretty attitude.” he walked past me and turn the hot tub on. i rolled my eyes and looked out at the view infront of us while matt did his job.

“should be good to get in.” matt picked up his bottle of beer, taking a gulp. “alright.” i dipped my foot in.

“ohhhhhhh fuck,” i moaned putting my head back in pleasure. the cold water hitting my skin felt so good against my boiling body. matt followed in after me. “so,” i clicked my tongue. matt looked at me while licking his teeth. his teeth and lips were so perfect fuck. “what’s your body count so far?” i crossed my arms. he shot me a glare.“i’m not as bad as you think i am y/n, i just like to feel good,” he put a wet hand through his dry hair. “yeah sure matt, does that mean by being inside every girl that you make eye contact with?” i tilted my head and smirked. “i’d bet you’d love it.” he raised his eyebrows and shot me a smile. “yeah, no thank you.”

i layed down on the couch in my bikini scrolling through different social media’s on my phone.

matt drained me in the hot tub. all he did was try to flirt with me and try to get me to accept to let him fuck me, so i left. it was way cooler inside from the blaring AC.

“we’re backkkkk!” nick sang while walking upstairs from the garage. i put my phone down and sat up. “did you get bottled water?” “i’m dying,” i followed nick into the kitchen. “yeah, sam and chris are bringing the groceries up now, i didn’t want to carry anything!” he chimed. i let out a small laugh before nick asked, “where’s matt?” “he’s in the hot tub,” i looked outside at him. “oooooo, i wanna get in the hot tub, “please tell me he’s not a psychopath and it’s cold?” “it’s freezing don’t worry.”

it was around 9pm. everyone was tired from the sun. all of us were in the living room, me laying on the cold floor, nick and sam sharing a arm chair, chris and matt both sprawled out on the big couch. my arm draped over my eyes while we talked while chris’ playlist while lowly playing on the tv.

“we’re off!” nick yawned. i pulled myself to sit up. “don’t go to bed too late y/n!” sam called out.

“i won’t thanks mom!” i called back.

after awhile of chris yapping to me and matt, i decided to head upstairs and going to bed.

it was 4am, i went to use my bathroom until i noticed there was no toilet paper. i groaned and made my way to my bed to grab a t-shirt to put on.

i threw on a baggy t-shirt before opening my door and making my to the bathroom. i rubbed my eyes and pushed open the half-closed door infront of me.

"fuckkkkk,” i heard a deep groan. i rubbed my eyes again. matt standing in the shower touching himself. he didn’t notice me. i quickly turned around before i heard him moan my name. no. no. no. i needed to leave. i quietly shut the door and ran back to my room.

i anxiously sat on the side of my bed biting my acrylic nails. that fucker was thinking of me while jerking off. i sighed before waiting until i could hear matt’s footsteps.

i walked out of my room to matt with a towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair and water droplets all over his body. i gulped. “showering at 4am?” i questioned. “i like night showers y/n,” he stopped. “oh yeah, i bet you do matt,” i jokingly winked. “wha-” i cut him off. “it’s okay matt, you get off to me,” i crossed my arms. “n-no, no i don’t how would you know?” his face was covered with confusion. “i have ears, anyway im going to use the bathroom,” i walked past him. he quickly grabbed my arm. “no, no,” “y/n tell me what you heard?” he quirked his eye brows up. “matt i’m going piss myself.” “i’ll see you in the morning then.”

i made way back into my room. i jumped seeing matt sitting on my bed with shorts on. his phone screen lighting up his face. “what the fuck are you doing in my room matt!” i whisper-yelled.

he smirked. “i think we should recreate what you suppose heard in the shower,” i rolled my eyes. “matt,” i sighed. “go please, i’m tired and i don’t want to fuck you sorry if that bruises your massive ego, but your probably a walking form of chlamydia,” i made my way to the opposite of my bed.

he turned and looked at me. “come on baby, i’m clean i get tested im not stupid,” he layed down on my bed, resting his hands behind his head. i layed down beside him. “i’m going asleep matthew,” i placed my head down onto the pillow behind me. “mhm,” he mumbled. he leaned down to me his lips hovering over mine, they looked so kissable. “you don’t know how bad i want to fuck you, you make it so hard when all i want to do is bury myself inbetween those thighs y/n,” he groaned. i clenched my thighs together which made his eyes shift down. a smirk now planted onto his face. “i bet your panties are soaked, can i check?” his fingers trailed down my under my shirt. i nodded my head. god what am i doing. 2 minutes ago i didn’t want him anywhere near me, now i want him everywhere.

he pulled my underwear down slowly making me impatient. i groaned and leaned my forehead against his bicep.

matt slid his fingers down my soaking pussy that was begging for his touch. “oh my fuck, “your soaking,” he groaned before slipping two fingers into me. a low moan left my mouth. “look at me,” he spoke. i quickly pulled my head up and looked at him. he picked the pace up hitting my g-spot making me moan loudly. “there it is,” matt whispered. all he did was hit my g-spot making me on the verge of my orgasm. “come on sweetheart, finish on my fingers.” his thumb met my clit making my orgasm come quicker. i clenched around his fingers and shivered while coming down from my high.

matt’s fingers were in his mouth tasting me. “you taste so sweet,” his lips finally meeting mine. i hungrily kissed him, i didn’t know i had this much energy from just coming down from my high. his right hand met my waist slowly pulling my shirt up. “take it off,” he mumbled. i quickly took my shirt off before placing my lips back onto his. his hands met my nipples. he pulled his lips away from me before placing his warm mouth onto my nipple slowing sucking it. “matt,” i moaned eyes rolling back from the pleasure. he pulled away from me. “that’s all i wanted to hear from the moment, i met you.” he grunted. “fuck me, please.” “as you wish.”

he was massive. i didn’t know if he would be able to fit inside of me.

he lined himself up with my entrance. “ready?” his chain hanging over me. i nodded my head. his head slowly entered me before pushing his whole self into me. “ohhhhh,” i let slip out. “you ready baby?” he asked again before kissing me. “mhm.” i mumbled.

matt was pounding into me roughly and i wouldn’t want it any other way. god he felt so good inside of me. i have been missing out.

he slowly pulled out of me finishing all over my stomach. his load tripping down my hips. i quickly picked it up with my fingers and placing my fingers into my mouth. the salty-sweet taste entering my mouth. “i think you were made for me y/n, you feel way too good.” matt mumbled into my neck.

[giddyfatherchris]

massage | bang chan, han, felix, seungmin

summary. you're sore and stressed but luckily your boy is there to help. collab with @httpdwaekki <3

type. requested <3

warnings. fem!reader, use of terms like "missy", "pretty girl", mentions of wearing a bra

words. 1000 / blurb

a/n. here she is!!! these were so hard to make lmao but once inspiration struck it went like a charm :3 im so excited about this little project because it’s a collab with one of my favorite human in the worldddddddd @httpdwaekki <3 thank you sm for doing these with me :3 for minho, changbin, hyunjin and jeongin’s part go on her profile!

part 2

bang chan

As a choreographer, you have to work physically for hours on end. Your day-to-day life consists of a never-ending workout. With the years, you've become accustomed to it. Your body is now a well-oiled machine. But even you could push yourself a little too hard occasionally.

Working in the same building as your boyfriend often had its advantages, like shared meals and quick kisses between breaks. But it also had the disadvantage of exposing yourself to his watchful eyes whenever you pushed yourself too much. Between meetings, Chan often came for a surprise visit.

Just now you could see from the corner of your eyes, his lean and muscular shape enter the room. His gaze warm and joyful at first, then suspicious when he noticed you were hobbling around the studio. You had been working really hard to choreograph a new solo and in your creative trance, might have forgotten to pace yourself a little. You did allow yourself a quick break to hug him, hearing him whisper in your ear a quick "Be careful," in between kisses.

When you finally couldn’t take it anymore and decided to head home, you hesitated in front of the studio door. It was your habit to give Chan a quick goodbye kiss before going home but you didn’t think you could do that without him noticing how much your legs trembled. Not up for a lecture on top of your exhaustion, you swiftly left the building, deciding on a quick text instead.

When you got home, you jumped in the shower, the warm water almost making you moan as it soothed your abused muscles. You changed into comfortable clothes before you got started on a quick dinner.

When Chan finally came home it was late, you were sprawled on the couch looking extenuated. He couldn't stop a slow smile from spreading on his lips as he stared at you. Your hair was still slightly wet, you were wearing his favorite pajamas and clutching a plushie on your chest. You usually liked to play on your phone while you watched a show, but you must have been really spent out because your phone was nowhere to be seen and your empty gaze was fixed on the TV.

"Hi sweetheart," he said in a soothing voice as he crouched to kiss the top of your head. You grumbled in return, gaze still hypnotized by the documentary series you'd been watching. You heard him forage in the fridge in search of something to eat. "I made chicken, rice, and a salad. There's some left over for you on the stove," You heard his little 'Ooooh' of happiness and couldn't keep a smile in. He quickly grabbed a plate and came back to eat next to you. Of course, not before giving you a quick peck and saying thank you for the meal. Once done, he laid down on the couch, focused on answering some messages on his phone. After a while, you beard him sigh and close his phone, "Ready to go to bed?"

You nodded yes but when he got up, made no move to follow. He looked at you with his eyebrows lifted. "You're not coming?"

You sighed, took a long look at your legs, then back at him, and answered shamefully. "I will be honest with you. I don't think I can." He looked at you with that tight lip, furrowed brows expression he always had when he was confused about something. He looked at your legs, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with them until he realized you hadn't moved since he came home. "So you did you push yourself too hard you little liar." You knew from his tone that he was unhappy with you and felt a bit dumb for thinking you could have ever hid this from him. You grumbled a 'might have', he didn’t miss. He exhaled with a disbelieving smile before sitting down next to you. "Can I do anything to help?" You played nervously with your fingers, uncomfortable to request what you really needed. He searched for your gaze, but you wouldn't look at him, keeping a precise focus on your twisted fingers. "couldyoumassagemylegs."

"What?", he laughed.

"couldyoumassagemylegs."

His eyes light up when he finally made sense of your mumbled request. "Massage your legs? Of course, why do you look so shy, angel?" He had that cute taunting smile on his lips. There was no way in hell he wouldn't help you, but still, he loved to taunt you especially when you got shy like this.

"I always feel kinda awkward asking for massages."

"You shouldn't, you work hard. You deserve all the massages you want." He moved down to sit closer to your extended legs, and calmly laid his warm hands on them before he started moving in circular motions. You couldn't help a few whimpers at first, it hurt like a bitch. He apologized profusely, encouraging you to weather it, knowing it would get better soon. "I know baby. I'm sorry."

Slowly, as the blood started circulating in your muscles, a relaxing feeling spread in your body. You were limp like a noodle, completely abandoned to Chan's strong hands massaging the pain away. He lifted his head after a few minutes of diligent massaging and giggled as he looked at you, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, about to doze off. He stopped, earning a groan of protest from you, "You're about to fall asleep, I promise I'll continue, but in our bed."

You opened lazy eyes, deciding idea wasn't half as bad. He approached you, arms opened to carry you upstairs. "Come here, girl." He groaned a little when he picked you up, mostly out of habit than because of real strenuous effort. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, nuzzling in his warm skin. He giggled at the touch but kissed the side of your head with a smile as he carried you, bridal style to your room, wantqing you to be able to fall asleep comfortably in bed as he massaged the ache away.

han

"Jesus reese peanut butter cup, that hurt," you mumbled as you clutched your hand to your chest. "Y/n, you okay?" you heard Minho call out from upstairs. "Yeah, I'm fine," you quickly answered, not wanting him to come downstairs and find out you had, in fact, dropped a heavy piece of furniture and strained your hand and shoulder as you tried catching it. Han's head poked around the corner of the stairs, his fluffy hair falling around his cheeks. "You sure you okay, babe? We heard a loud noise." You nodded with a tight smile, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. The thing is, maybe you should have told someone because as time went on the pain only kept getting worse. But you were almost done moving Minho into his new apartment, so you decided to take on yourself and not say anything.

You did your best to hide your discomfort, but apparently, you weren't doing an excellent job of it. You could feel your boyfriend's worried glance every now and then. Each time you tried smiling or acted as if you didn't notice it, even when he confronted you.

After a quick dinner, Han suggested you join him in the shower, an adorable grin on his lips. You nodded with a smile and waited for him to leave the room before you tried lifting off your shirt. You managed to do it with lots of whimpering and cries of pain. Thankfully, with the shower running, he didn't hear, but once you got in, it got harder to hide the state you were in.

"You ready to tell me what was going on now? You acted really weird today."

You gave him a feeble smile, "I was just really tired. It was a big day." He nodded, not looking very convinced, and tried to put his hand on your shoulder to comfort you. Even the slight weight of his hand made pain course through your nerves and you backed in the corner like a wounded animal. His brown eyes rounded with worry. "What's going on?"

"I dropped something earlier and when I tried catching it, I strained my arm. It's been hurting more ever since."

The emotions on his face immediately swapped for a seriousness you had rarely seen before. He took a moment to look at the way you let your arm rest limp on the side of your body before he ushered you to come closer.

"Come here baby, I promise I'll be careful."

You stepped towards him and watched as he took a rag and some soap and started gently washing your body, making sure to be extra careful around your hand and shoulder. Once done with the washing, he asked you to wait as he exited the shower. He came back with a towel wrapped around his hips and another open in his arms, ready to welcome you. If you weren't hurting so much, you would have swooned at the sight in front of your eyes but the relentless zap of pain coursing through your upper left side wouldn't allow it.

He dried you delicately and helped you put on one of his oversized t-shirts. The fabric hung on your skin and his comforting smell filled your nose. "I'm okay Ji, I just need to rest. You don't have to do all this."

He was swiftly getting dressed but stopped to look at you with furrowed brows. "This is not okay, you're hurt." He approached to grab your face in his hands, his brown eyes set on yours, his wet hair hanging on his forehead in soft curls. "I will take care of you. Go sit on the bed, I'll be right there, okay?"

He kissed the tip of your nose and gently nudged you towards your bedroom. You heard him rummaging in your small kitchen before he came back with a small towel and ice pack in his hands.

"Ice is good for sore muscles. It slows your blood flow, so it helps with inflammation and pain." He quickly explained as he sat next to you.

You winced when he wrapped your shoulder with the towel and ice despite his delicate manoeuvers. But he was right because just a few minutes in, you laid back in bed relishing in the break you were finally getting from the constant ache.

"Does that feel better, love?" You nodded with your eyes closed. You heard your boyfriend giggle and felt his hand softly grab your hurt one and start carefully massaging it. He pulled on each of your fingers softly and asked you to do a few movements, monitoring closely your reactions.

Once done, he sighed with relief. "Well, I'm glad to announce nothing is broken. It's a really bad sprain, but you should get better soon."

You opened your eyes to meet his focused gaze. "How do you know so much about this?"

His hands kept moving in circular motions as he answered with a small smile. "I was a trainee for years, practicing for hours. I've also been an idol for seven years now. Believe me, sprains are a daily occurrence in our field. We've all learned to treat and assess them pretty quickly."

You stayed silent for a beat, "As much as I think it sucks that you have to deal with these injuries because of the intense pace of work you've been thrown into since a young age, I must say I'm pretty glad you have this knowledge tonight." You smiled and softly stroked the side of his face with your good hand. "I also admit, I like seeing you like this. The whole 'nurse jisung' knowing all about my injury, able to assess and care for it, is pretty hot."

At the subtle meaning behind your words and tone, he lifted his head swiftly, a spark of interest illuminating his dark eyes. "Do you, now?"

You bit your lower lip as you slowly nodded, your eyes fixed on his plush lips. You tried leaning forward to kiss him but even the small movement made you whimper in pain. Immediately Jisung pulled back, "Okay, okay, relax Casanova. Keep your flirting for when you're able to move without sounding like an old grandma, okay?"

He laughed at the pout on your lips before leaning down to give you a quick peck. "Better than nothing, right?"

felix

Working as a marketing manager could be definitely more stressful than you imagined. Still, you wouldn't exchange your career for anything else. You loved the creativity your work allowed you to unleash. Even when it meant spending entire days sitting in front of a computer or crouched on a model for a presentation, like today. You tried massaging your sore neck as best you could on the bus ride home. Your day had been packed and your shoulders, neck, and back were killing you. You were about to select a podcast to listen to when you noticed a text you had received a few minutes ago.

You closed your phone with a giddy smile. It wasn't often that your boyfriend got home before you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of having some one-on-one time with your busy partner.

When you got home, you didn't even call out his name. You knew where he would be. You dropped your bag and coat in the entryway and headed quietly for his gaming room. As predicted, you found him sitting in his chair, an empty bottle of water next to him. He looked breathtaking and adorable at the same time. He didn't hear you coming in with his headphones. His dark eyes focused on the screen, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip from time to time. You knew better than to disturb him before his game ended so you waited for the screen to go back to the main menu before you pounced. Felix let out a high-pitched scream and grabbed his chest as if trying to keep his heart inside. Once he realized who held him, he wrapped his arms as well as he could from his position around you. "Hey, ladybug."

"Hey sunshine," you answered with a kiss on his cheek. "What do you think of dino chicken nuggets for dinner tonight?" you asked with a little smile, your lips still pressed against his skin.

"Is that even a question?" he answered with a mischievous grin.

You ended up eating on the couch with a bottle of ketchup nearby. After your high-quality meal, you decided to settle down with a fun show you had started together some time ago. Quickly, Felix laid his head on your lap, asking you with the cutest puppy eyes if you could play with his hair. Without hesitation you started drifting your hands in the silky smooth strands of his hair, using from time to time your nails to delicately scratch his scalp, eliciting deep sounds of satisfaction from him.

A while in, you started moving around, trying to find a position where your back wasn't uncomfortable and your neck didn't feel strained. You tried not to bother him, but Felix was quick to notice your wiggling.

"Are you alright baby? Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No, it's just my neck and back are killing me." You finally admitted. He lifted himself up on his elbows to look at you with questioning eyes. "I've been working on this model for the past few days and I think all the crouching and bad posture is finally catching up to me."

He pouted before sitting up to drop a pillow on the ground between his legs. He backed up on the couch, making more room for you to sit. "Come on, sit down. I'll give you a massage."

You stared at him, flushed and unsure. "But, you asked me to play in your hair. I didn't say this to stop I was just-"

He cut you off with a stern look, "C'mon angel."

Begrudgingly, you slid down the couch to sit in between his legs. By the time his hands started professionally massaging your sore muscles, you were basically purring like a kitten. "Do you like that?" He giggled, loving to see you so happy and relaxed. You sighed with pleasure. Your brain felt so deliciously relaxed, that it was hard to even find words. "I admit you're really good at this, but you could do anything and I'd love it."

"Really? But you never ask for them!" You're always giving him massages whether it's after a particularly intense practice or to help him relax. On the other hand, Felix can barely count the number of times you asked him.

"You work so hard, it feels wrong to ask you to give me a massage after you've already spent the day using your body so much. I don't want to be an added task to your day."

He crouched to position his chin in the crook of your neck, his hands gently wrapping around your middle. "Are you telling me it feels like a task when I ask you to massage me?" he taunted, but you could hear the slight smile in his deep voice. "Well…" you started off, implying it was, but started to squeal when his fingers tickled your skin. "Okay! OKAY! I'M JOKING! FELIX!!"

With a laugh, he stopped and kissed your cheek lovingly. "It's the same for me. Helping you feel good when you've been working hard or just because you need to cool down is in my job description as your boyfriend, okay? Plus, you know I love giving massages. So no more feeling shy or guilty, understood?" His lips on your ear sent tingles down your body as you nodded. "Or else, I might have to tickle you again…" You opened your eyes wide at the threat in his words. "I promise, I promise! You can massage me as much as you want!"

seungmin

Today, like every other lately, was an unbearable pain in the ass. Work was stressful, and Seungmin had been stressed with his and the boys’ upcoming comeback. Making it so that your day-to-day constantly looked like one big anxious mess. You felt so pressured and under tension that unknowingly, your body had started to reflect your state of mind. Your shoulders were constantly tensed, scrunched up by your ears and you had to constantly remind yourself to take a deep breath, loosen your shoulders, and the tightening of your jaw.

You headed to Seungmin's apartment after work feeling tired as ever. You’re only consolation being that it was finally friday and you’d get the whole weekend to chill out and rest. When you entered and called out his name and were only met with silence, it confirmed what you thought, he wasn't home.

You stared for a second more at his texts, he seemed so tired it made your heart ache. Dropped at your feet, you looked at your bag and coat, then at your sweatpants hanging by the laundry basket. Your whole body screamed at you to take off your bra, change in comfy clothes and play cozy video games in the couch. But you couldn’t stop thinking about your hardworking boyfriend. Seungmin would never ask for it, but you knew he needed help. He was stressed, and barely had time to do things outside the company building. Dishes accumulated in the sink, dust covered almost every inch of the furniture, and mountains of clothes were displayed near the washing machine. Plus, you knew it had been at least a week since he had the time to eat a decent meal. So despite the fatigue and your own needs, you rolled up your sleeves, tied your hair up, chose your best playlist, and got to work.

When he finally came home, you were even more tired, but you felt satisfied knowing you might have helped remove some of his burden. He came home looking happy and relaxed for the first time in a week. You were relieved to notice that the tensed position of his shoulders seemed long gone. He hung his coat and looked at the pristine state of his apartment with a surprised expression. "What happened here?" he looked around, finding everything neatly organized, cleaned and put away. There were even two plates set out on the table and a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. "Why did you do all of this?" he questioned while walking over to you sprawled on the couch like a slug.

"I wanted to help. I know you've been really stressed with your comeback and didn't have the time to do this stuff, so I took care of it."

He kept staring at you with his piercing gaze. "You look tired," he stated while analyzing your posture.

"Work was intense today, but I'm fine." With a muffled grunt, you got up and reached your hand out for him. "I'm okay Min I promise. Come on, let's eat!"

At no later than 8:30pm you were tucked in bed while he changed. He noticed the neatly folded pieces of clothing in his wardrobe and poked his head out, a few rebel strands hanging over his eyes. "You even did the laundry and folded this chaos?"

You hummed in answer, not lifting your eyes from your phone. You couldn't see it, but you felt his gaze on you, studying. You refused to cross his eyes, not wanting him to know how much it had cost you to do all this. You still didn't regret it, but you didn't think you could get up for the rest of the night. The mattress dipped where he sat next to you, draping his arm over your covered legs. "Why?"

"Why what?" He picked up your phone from your hands to reclaim your full attention. His eyes shone with a determined light; he wouldn't give this up. With a sigh, you took your glasses off and wiped your face with your hands. "I wanted to help you, I know how stressed you've been with everything and I wanted you to be happy."

"So you keep saying. I really appreciate it but you didn't have to do that. I feel much better. I think we're finally ready for our comeback. I promise I'll be back to my neat freak behavior." You chuckled lazily, glad to hear he was finally feeling a bit more confident. "I'm sorry I didn't notice how much this whole thing affected you. I'm ashamed to realize I haven't been really present for you lately. How are you? How has work been?"

You grabbed his hand, feeling thankful for his sweet consideration, and admitted how exhausted you really were. "I just want to feel relaxed for once. It feels like I haven't been able to in weeks."

Your puppy-eyed boyfriend looked at you with a pensive gaze before suddenly asking you to turn on your belly. You did so with little question, and soon felt his expert hands massaging your abused back.

"Seungmin! What are you doing?" You squealed and tried to wiggle out from his grip. He softly, but firmly pushed down on your shoulders blades to keep you from moving. "Stop," he grumbled.

"You don't have to do that. You had a big week. I’m sure there’s a thousand things you’d rather do than give me a massage."

"That’s where you’re wrong. Taking care of my partner is important and a priority to me." He shushed you, "Why is it so hard to convince you to let me take care of you?"

You stayed silent for a few seconds before explaining how you always felt you needed to care for others. "It's not like I don't like it, but I don't really know how to let people take care of me."

You waited for an answer in silence, worried he might give you a lecture (he was good at that) but were surprised when you felt him bend down with his mouth by your ear. You felt a soft kiss on your temple before he whispered, "Then I'll teach you."

[remlionheart]

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[moonriverrise]

Steve has a secret, well “secret” may not be the correct way to describe it. He has something for himself, thats what. Ever since he stopped playing basketball and doing swim competitions once he graduated he's had way more free time, which at first he filled with shifts at Family Video, or bothering Robin.

Then, when she started school he started doing art more. Which, may come a surprise to many, as he never really talked about his interest in paintings and old art.

Greek sculptures that are able to show life in a still ethereal way, while still being able to twist it at their will. Renaissance oil paintings, capturing tragedy yet still being able to portray it as beautiful, in their own terrible twisted ways.

He likes sketching on paper, painting on canvas. His paintings aren't usually too different from the things he sees around him. Honestly thats the only things he paints, people, his friends, places he goes, things he sees that stick with him, dreams, moments that play on repeat in his head.

Around his Junior year, after the Demogorgon, Steve had turned the sad basement in his sad empty house, into his own space. A place where he can go and do his art, hang it, play music on his walkman, or using the record player he got from a pawn shop a few months prior. Somehow the basement is the only space that actually feels like his in his house, not even his bedroom.

Steve’s art was not very consistent to be honest, mostly the kids and Robin, landscapes that he liked, the Demogorgon/dogs, the Mindflayer (he needs some way of getting those out of his head, and somehow drawing them down feels freeing.) He does have a few paintings of Nancy from when they were together, she’s become less of a model for his work after everything though.

The last time he painted her in a painting alone, was one of that bathroom in a girl he barely knows’ house, a spilled drink on Nancy’s dress, and red solo cups littering the counter.

Steve’s art shifts though, after a moment that will never leave his mind. He knows who Eddie Munson is, obviously. How could he not? Honestly Steve isn't that surprised Henderson and the others befriended the guy, he does run a DnD club.

But then, Henderson needs a ride home after their club meetings because his mom is working late, and then Lucas and Mike’s parents are also asking Steve to pick them up too. Babysitting duty, as per usual.

Steve arrives a bit earlier than he planned. He didn't have any project to consume himself into, hitting an art block begrudgingly. But then, Steve sees Eddie Munson, sitting on a fake throne, watching the kids and other club members argue, he has his chin rested on his fist, and he's wearing a white tank top, showing off his shoulders, given the fact it’s still September.

The lighting of the small theater room captures Steve’s interest like a moth to the flame, and he is regretting having left his sketchbook at home, even though he never draws around the kids or anyone he knows.

Eddie Munson’s face and curly locks fill up the pages of Steve’s journal and some canvases for months after, and Steve rarely genuinely complains about coming to pick the kids up.

Afterwords, months later from that day. Chrissy Cunningham dies, and Eddie Munson almost goes with her. God, or whatever deity that was looking down upon him, was on Steve’s side in that moment, when he was able to revive Eddie and then drag him out of the Upside Down.

Steve gets closer with Eddie after that, they become actual friends. Steve was so used to witnessing his muse from afar, it was so…exciting, to see Eddie in all his glory, just a few feet away, and his smile being directed at him.

“Do you even have any hobbies, Harrington?” Steve blinks. Him, Eddie, Robin, Nancy, and the party, are all hanging out by the pool. Steve is lounging on one of the chairs, sunglasses over his eyes as Eddie talks beside him.

“What?” Steve responds.

“I mean…I like barely ever see you do anything besides sort Movies at Family Video, or boss around the kids. Like, what do you do when we're not all together?” Eddie asks, moving his hand a little as he talks. Steve thinks for a moment.

“Funny,” Steve answers instead. Eddie scoffs.

“I'm being serious, man! What do you do?” Eddie laughs a little, most likely at the ridiculousness of it all. What would Steve know, Eddie is like a puzzle, and Steve has to take every minute slowly, deciphering everything he lays out for him, via tongue or action.

“I don't know, what do you do?” Steve says, almost carefully.

“Band stuff, DnD, Writing,” Eddie lists. “And I guess saving the world now, but thats a bit of a side hussle.” Steve scoffs.

“Whatever, man.” And thats that, they don't talk about it again. But it sticks with Steve, because his friends really do think he doesn't do anything with his life. It's not like he has college classes to study for, so what does he do?

Later, maybe two or three weeks after, Steve decides he wants to show Eddie his space. The two of them are alone, Robin is in Nevada, visiting her grandparents, so the trio’s usual movie night is cut down to a duo’s movie night.

Although Steve finds himself mostly focusing on Eddie and his beautiful hair sitting next to him, than watching ET. The little alien scares him a bit anyway. Eddie notices him staring though, his eyes flickering to meet Steves, then a smirk spreading across his lips.

“We are watching a movie, lover boy.” Eddie says. Steve goes red, his gaze shifting to his lap. Steve furrows his eyebrows then stands and shuts the TV off. “Woah! Hey!”

“I want to show you something.” Steve says, it's a bit quieter than he meant it to be, but his tone indicates something to Eddie, which has him staring at Steve, starstruck.

Steve walks out the room and hears Eddie follow him. He gets to the basement door and opens it, flicks on the stair light.

“Basement- woah- okay, guess I'm getting murdered. Thought I’d go out in a more metal way than this.” Eddie says as they walk down. Steve laughs a little and shakes his head.

“I just think you should see this.” Steve says. “Nothing life threatening, I promise.”

“Alright, I trust you, Stevie.”

“Good.”

Steve turns and flicks on the light as they step onto the concrete. The lights flicker on, revealing the paintings on the walls and art supplies on the tables and counters.

“Woah-” Eddie says. “Is this, all your stuff?” Steve sighs, he folds his arms and faces Eddie. He looks shellshocked.

“Yeah.” Steve says. “You said I don't have any hobbies, I do, actually.” Eddie looks around, walking slowly.

“Is that Henderson? Why is he wearing yellow gloves?” Eddie asks. Steve walks over to a painting of Dustin from Steve’s angle while they were walking on the train tracks, a bucket of raw meat is in one hand and he's wearing the headphones for his radio.

“D’Art,” Steve says. “That was when we were leading him away. I made that one after everything happened. I was trying not to think about the Demogorgon stuff and everything, so I just drew him. I have one of Max from that day I never finished painting in a stack I think too.” Eddie doesn't say anything for a minute after Steve is done explaining.

“You can paint.” Eddie says, though not like a question. “These are beautiful…” Eddie looks around and walks to another one he sees. It's one of the Byers and Hopper’s, all hugging while laughing. El looks the happiest. Steve had painted that after they had all gotten together after everything. “Why…didn't you tell anyone?”

“About what?” Steve asks, folding his arms as Eddie brings up a hand to touch the painting.

“This- Steve, you're amazing at this. These are…” Eddie trails off as something catches his eye, he slowly starts to walk towards a big painting propped up behind one of the tables laid out in the middle of the room. Steve walks to him to see which one he's looking at.

An angel, knelt over a puddle, crying as it stares at his reflection, which is blurred and dark. He stands in a forest, his wings are long and huge, sprawling out above him.

It’s one of Steve’s bigger ones, the inspiration came from a dream he had after they had read about Icarus in his english class back in Highschool.

“It’s… magnificent.” Eddie whispers. Steve smiles gently at Eddie’s reaction. Eddie backs up a bit and looks away from the painting. “Is that me?” Steve follows his eye, to the painting. Eddie walks towards it, Steve stays behind him. It’s the first one Steve ever made of Eddie, the one of him on the throne.

“Yeah, it is.” Steve says. “I made that the first night I came to pick up the kids.” He says. “The first time I met you, actually met you.” They share a look.

“You are incredible, Steve Harrington.”

[bucksangel]

temptation

pairing: softdark!stalker!bucky x reader

word count: 12.5k (I PROMISE IT’S WORTH IT)

summary: “I found some land in upstate New York, it’s a quiet, woodsy area, with no neighbors for at least three miles. And when I saw her I knew I needed to go through with it. So I bought the property and I’ve been building the cabin myself, I just need a few more weeks to finish it and then I can bring her there with me.” or - bucky’s trying to get his life back in order, but everything changes when he sees you. He’s going to make you his, whether you like it or not.

warnings: 18+ only, kidnapping, stalking, bucky is weird and obsessed and full on delulu but not violent, implied abuse/threatening abuse (from steve), stockholm syndrome, solo masturbation, panty sniffing, mental manipulation, bucky’s trauma is brought up, steve makes an appearance and is weird and Not Nice At All, brief mention of arson for like one sentence, don’t read if any of these warnings trigger you

masterlist | tip jar | ao3 | part 2

a/n: this is for @jessybarnes writing challenge! my prompts were angst #6 "don't you dare leave me!" and fluff #6 "kiss me again"

also thank you to my lovely @vase-of-lilies for helping me plan this out and @fandoms-writings for helping beta 🤍🤍 i might do a part 2 with smut if anyone is interested!

Tucked away in a reading nook at the back of the library, your legs are curled into your body with a blanket thrown over your lap. You’re faced toward the window, occasionally looking up from your book to stare out into the empty street, watching as the rain pours and splatters against the window. By now you’re three-quarters of the way through your book, having spent the last several hours reading quietly, the lack of other people around also helps keep the serenity of the moment.

You come to the library every Thursday and Saturday and have been for years. It’s one of your safe spaces, one of the only places in the city where you can relax from the usual everyday chaos. It’s your home away from home, the books surrounding you acting as your friends that keep you company. Surely if you had enough room in your tiny studio apartment, you’d have your own library.

Although lately something’s been… off. You can’t escape the feeling of being watched, followed. There’s no proof, only an instinct, one that makes you scan your surroundings every so often no matter where you are and what you’re doing. It’s been setting you on edge for weeks, doing double-takes when walking along the sidewalk thinking you saw someone staring, constantly checking your rear-view mirror because you swore this car has been trailing behind you for several miles.

And the worst part is that no one believes you. You’d tried telling your friends, all of whom said you were being paranoid, you’re just exaggerating, projecting. You asked the security guards at your apartment building if they’d seen anything weird and they rolled their eyes at you. It makes you frustrated, especially since it’s been getting worse, and going to the police isn’t an option. If your friends don’t believe you, why would they?

It’s happening now, you realize, your head snapping up and your gaze leaning to the right. But nothing is there, just like always. Nothing is ever there, only the voice in the back of your head yelling at you that you’re not safe. It takes a few moments for you to shake the feeling away, but it only lasts for maybe ten minutes. Eventually, you decide to give up on reading for the day, packing up your things as quickly and quietly as possible to get out without being seen.

It’s only when you’re at the front door that you realize you didn’t bring your umbrella. You’d gotten to the library before it started raining and had foregone watching the news this morning so you didn’t even know it would rain. But you still have that lingering anxiety, so it only takes a few seconds before you decide to brave the rain and make the two-minute walk to your apartment.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you quickly dash out the front door, speed walking to your place with your head hung low. And, luckily, it doesn’t take long to get to the building, being quick to rush up the stairs and unlock your door to get out of your soaking wet clothes. 

 ____________

It’s wrong, so wrong. Logically, Bucky knows that, knows that his actions aren’t normal. Some people would call him toxic, a creep, a stalker. And they’re all right, Bucky is very cognizant of his actions and thoughts.

He knows, he just doesn’t care.

You see, Bucky Barnes has been through a lot, has endured pure and utter pain for decades, has lost everything and everyone that matters to him. Bucky has never had anything to call his own, has never had anything that’s solely for him and no one else. Even now as he’s in recovery, as he’s finally gotten full control of his mind, as he’s seeing a therapist once a week, none of it fills that void.

Sure, he has a decent-sized apartment, though he has to admit that it’s pretty bare. He has one chair in his living room, one set of cutlery, a few select shirts, and the other bare necessities to live. He doesn’t really know how to decorate, doesn’t feel the need to considering it’s just him.

Bucky’s learning, though. He has a corkboard on his bedroom wall with pictures of different room layouts and complimenting wall colors pinned to it. He got a new computer, three to be exact, standing on a desk underneath said board. He even has a forty-inch tv mounted on the wall across from his bed. 

Bucky’s at his desk now, sitting in his chair as he transfers all the photos he took today from his camera to the computer. It took him quite a while to figure out how to do that, and it took even longer to learn how to use photoshop. But, like the decorating, he’s learning.

But as soon as the last picture is uploaded, his phone rings with a special tone, one that alerts him whenever your front door is opened.

Bucky sits up straight, grabs his phone, and races to the bed where he quickly grabs his remote from his bedside table. Settling in, he rests his back against the headboard and lets his legs splay out in front of him. He then turns on his TV, switching from regular cable to the screen that shows all angles of the cameras he placed in your apartment.

It’s almost as though he’s a dog hearing Ivan Pavlov ringing the bell with how his cock involuntarily twitches to life upon seeing you, clothes soaked and acting as a second skin. You’re wearing a dark blue shirt though, so he can’t see through it enough to get a glimpse of what’s underneath, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen it before.

He’s seen all of you.

And right now he sees you rushing into your room and to your dresser as you peel off your shirt, dropping it to the ground. You open your drawers and pull out a new set of clothes; skimpy shorts and his favorite tank top that leaves little to the imagination.

Bucky’s cock twitches again when you start pulling down your jeans, pre-cum already starting to form as you wiggle your hips in an attempt to peel the soaked denim off of your legs. When you finally manage to take them off, you throw those on the ground as well, and Bucky would be upset with how messy you are if there weren’t more important matters at hand.

Quickly, he switches to the camera in your bathroom, all forty inches of his TV showing him an extremely clear view of you taking off your bra and panties, panties that he’s aching to steal, to smell, to really soak in your essence. But, since he doesn’t have them, he uses his next best option: the panties in the top drawer of his bedside table that he snatched from your hamper a few days ago.

Bucky lifts them to his nose and, thankfully, they still smell of you, they smell of heaven, and Bucky makes quick work of shoving his sweatpants down far enough to get his dick out, already fully hard at the sight of you stepping into the shower. Bucky then switches to the camera he placed in your shower head.

And there you are, naked and utterly beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking, like the only thing Bucky wants to look at for the rest of eternity. He’s been awestruck by your beauty since he first met you. Well, met is a strong word, it’s more like he saw you sitting and reading in the window of the library you always go to as he was passing by. For all Bucky knows you hadn’t even seen him.

Still, he’d known you were the one for him from the first time his gaze landed on you.

Bucky can hear your relieved sigh over the spray of the water, his hand holding your panties wrap around his cock as you close your eyes and tilt your head back, giving him a very good view of the water cascading down your breasts. Bucky’s tongue peeks out and swipes along his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, letting out a low groan and pumping his cock faster. This specific pair is smooth satin, making it for an easy glide up and down, a twist of his wrist every so often.

It doesn’t take long for his stomach to start tightening, his breathing to become faster and his thighs to tense as he tries to hold back his orgasm. It never takes long when it comes to you. Before you, he thought he liked sex enough, it was as pleasurable as most people say it is. Now, though, he hasn’t even had you and he’s already addicted.

Bucky lets out a low groan, a soft “fuck” falling from his lips as you start running your soapy loofa across your chest and arms. More pre-cum builds and spills over the tip of his cock as he strokes it faster, squeezing at the base of it several times to try and ward off his impending orgasm. The cold metal of Bucky’s left-hand travels down his stomach, fingers creeping under his cock and taking hold of his balls. In unison, Bucky tugs at his cock as he rolls and squeezes his sac, his breaths coming out even faster when you move the loofa to your legs, running it on the insides of your thighs.

“Oh, my angel…” Bucky whines softly, eyes honing in on the way you rub your skin in small circles, every nerve in his being lighting on fire as he focuses on really feeling how soft your panties are around his dick. He wishes it were your pussy, and is imagining it is now as he gets closer and closer to coming. His mind floods with visions of you; laying on your back and naked in his bed ready to take him, or your face pressed into the pillows and ass high in the air with your fingers clenching the sheets. His favorite one, the one that can make him cum just by thinking about it; you, round and swollen with his baby - babies. Because Bucky isn’t going to stop at one, oh no. He’s going to give you baby after baby until your shared house never knows even a second of silence.

And as the image of your naked and pregnant body lying on his bed flashes through his mind, Bucky’s thighs tense, his teeth dig into his lower lip, and he continues stroking his cock at an inhuman speed as cum spurts out from the tip of his dick. And, dear god, he can’t help how much cum there is, always so much - just for you. His eyes roll to the back of his head, only taking his hand away when his dick starts getting a little too sensitive.

Bucky comes to a few moments later, and when his eyes wander back to the TV he sees you washing your hair, eyes closed, and head tipped back. As Bucky’s breathing evens out, his mind goes a little hazy, eyes unable to tear themselves away from you for the rest of your shower - and after, when you’re drying off and changing into clean clothes.

His mind doesn’t snap out of its trance until you turn your lights off and get into bed. When you do, he grabs the remote and switches the camera to the one he placed in the stuffed bear you keep on your bed, making sure to turn on the night vision mode.

Bucky then gets ready for bed, which merely consists of him stripping his clothes and washing his hands, then folding your underwear and placing them back in his dresser.

And when he falls asleep, he does so with the TV on, the way the camera is angled allows him to see you as his mind falls into slumber. He clutches a heated body pillow with your perfume sprayed on it and puts headphones that are connected to the audio sensor in the camera in the teddy bear in his ears. And it lets him imagine that you’re actually in bed with him, lets him pretend he’s holding you and can hear your soft snores in person.

He sleeps peacefully through the night.

____________

It’s another ordinary Saturday, the Brooklyn sky clear of clouds and showcasing the sun at full capacity. It’s unseasonably warm considering it’s well into fall, so you decide to wear a simple sweater and shorts to the market. Even though your outfit may be simple, your makeup is done perfectly and your hair pulled back from your face, and the perfume you sprayed is no doubt going to reel your date in.

Because you’re going on a date today. Johnathan was a friend of a coworker, you’d met him when he came into your cafê and started chatting mindlessly with Sara. You thought he was handsome, and apparently he found you attractive as well - because, according to Sara, he asked if you were single when you left the counter to go help a customer.

She’d given him your number that day and you’ve been talking with him every day ever since. Finally, after a week and a half of texting and calling, your schedules aligned perfectly so he could take you to the farmer’s market just a little bit outside of the city.

He offered to pick you up, but completely understood when you said you’d rather meet him there, the unspoken “just in case because I don’t know if you’re a murderer” hanging in the air. But, again, he hadn’t minded.

On your way to the date you began to develop a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, once again feeling like you’re being watched. You look in your rearview mirror, but find nothing, of course you don’t. You never do.

But it’s when you actually get to the market that legitimate anxiety settles in. Getting out of your car, you look around to find Johnathan - but also to see if you can find anybody suspicious. You’re gazing to the left, eyes frantically roaming the crowd, and jump nearly five feet in the air when someone taps your arms.

You have to physically refrain from screaming, only to sigh in relief when you see it’s Johnathan, a huge smile on his face and a wicker basket in his hand.

“Sorry for startling you,” He laughs, causing you to laugh as well, desperately trying to shake off the feelings of being watched.

“N-No, it’s fine.” You smile back at him, then nod to the empty basket. “What’s that for?”

“Well,” He starts, his smile turning sheepish. “You said you needed more fruits and spices for your thanksgiving pies and I figured this market would be good to get them at.”

After a second of silence, Johnathan speaks again. “And don’t worry about buying them yourself, I’m here to treat you. Just pick what you want and it’s yours.”

You can’t help the wide smile that plasters itself across your face because, genuinely, you don’t even know if a single potential partner has been this kind, especially so early on into the first date.

So, with a small ‘thank you’, you take his outstretched hand and let him lead you toward the entrance.

And it’s probably the best first date you’ve ever had, and not just because Johnathan has insisted on buying everything, not even letting the thought of paying yourself cross your mind. It’s fun, walking up and down the stalls, and even going to the pumpkin patch at the back to pick miniature pumpkins to decorate your apartment with.

It should’ve been the most fun you’ve had in months, but it’s hard to fully focus and stay in the moment when the feeling of someone’s eyes on you grows higher and higher as the day turns into night and it’s time to leave.

Johnathan holds your hand the entire day, or wraps his arm around you every once in a while to keep you close when you’re walking through a crowd. He’s holding your hand as he walks you back to your car, and the entire time you can’t help but search the parking lot for any signs of danger, becoming more cognizant of your surroundings as the sky grows darker.

“Today was fun,” Johnathan says, pulling you away from your thoughts. You both stop next to your car, turning to face each other.

“It was,” You say, dropping your date’s hand so you can fiddle with your fingers nervously. “Could we, um…”

“Yeah?” He asks, prompting you to continue when you pause.

“Could we do this again?” That question brings out a bright smile on the man’s face, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, yeah I’d love to!” Then, he coughs, clearing his throat and cooling himself. “I-I mean, yeah. That’d be nice.” His response makes you giggle, and you nod along in agreement.

You both go silent, though it’s not an awkward one. But after a moment of quiet, Johnathan speaks up again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes!” And you don’t have time to be embarrassed about how enthusiastic your response was because the man is immediately leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, one you deepen while your hands come up to grasp his biceps to steady yourself. It takes a good minute for you two to break apart, both of you giggling. 

“I guess I should get home,” you say regretfully, and Johnathan also looks kind of sad when he nods.

“Text me when you get there?”

You nod, then whisper back, “you too,” before he kisses your cheek. With a final smile and nod of his head, heads to his car.

And Johnathan’s absence is quickly filled with anxiety, your head snapping to the right at hearing footsteps approaching you. But, just like every other time, there’s nothing except a family passing by. It takes no time at all for you to get into your car and speed out of the parking lot, not wanting to waste anymore time out in the dark.

And when you do get home and send your ‘got home safe <3’ text, you get ready for bed. All the while periodically checking to see if he texted back.

You’d gotten back to your apartment around nine, but by the time you’re turning in for the night around eleven he still hasn’t texted back. So, you resign yourself to waiting until tomorrow morning to see if he texts because he could have just got caught in traffic.

The next morning comes with still no text.

____________

It’s about a week later when Bucky wasn’t able to follow you around for the day, he ended up having to go to the tower for some work on his arm. But he’d checked the cameras before he left, watching as you changed into your outfit and left before he got ready to leave as well.

But Bucky gets back to his apartment around noon. And even though the only thing on his mind is getting to his room so he can get back to online shopping for things he needs for his cabin he notices something is wrong right away. There’s no noise, but the light in his kitchen is on when he’s positive he turned it off before he left. Plus, his hyper-sensitive ears pick up a heartbeat, and not his own.

Bucky is immediately on high alert, and he quickly and quietly grabs the knife he keeps tucked in his pants as he follows the heartbeat to his room. And when he opens the door, he lets out a soft curse and tucks the blade away.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Steve?” Bucky snaps at him, and he knows his harsh tone isn’t warranted, but Bucky hasn’t invited Steve to his apartment since he fell in love with you, and for good reason.

Steve turns to Bucky, though he stays standing by his corkboard, a concerned look on the blonde man’s face.

“Bucky…” Steve pauses, glancing at his friend and then back to the wall next to him. “What is all this?” He reaches forward tentatively, only stopping when Bucky damn near shouts at him.

“Don’t!” And Steve can tell Bucky already feels guilty for raising his voice, because he adds “please,” in a softer tone. So, Steve pulls his hand away, though his eyes continue to roam around the entire room, staring at what must be at least seventy pictures of you pinned to Bucky’s walls, nearly fully covering them.

“Steve, what are you doing here?” Bucky asks again, eyes cast downward as soon as his friend looks at him so he doesn’t have to see the no doubt concerned look on Steve’s face.

“You’ve been off, Buck. We’ve been best friends our whole lives, I know all of your tells. In the past four months we’ve hung out maybe five times, not including when we see each other at the tower every once in a while. You’re always canceling plans, making excuses for why you can’t go out, or why I can’t come over,” Steve pauses, his gaze traveling to the desk to look at a large framed and very poorly photoshopped picture of you and Bucky.

“Now I see why.”

Bucky sighs, then trudges forward to sit on the edge of his bed next to his bedside table. He looks over at another framed photo of you that he took from your Instagram - a close-up of your face, eyes scrunched close, and mouth split in a wide grin, and it’s clear that you’re laughing - happy. The sun in the background adds a beautiful solar flare effect, bringing out the absolute beauty you hold.

“Steve, you have to understand…” Bucky sighs again, looking up at his friend with desperate, pleading eyes. “You know better than anyone about what I’ve been through, all the pain I’ve suffered. I don’t have clear memories from… before. All I can remember is pain, and having no control over my own mind, let alone my life. I love you Stevie, I really do. But, even though you found me, even though I’m no longer him, I haven’t found true happiness. In anything. Marissa, my therapist, suggested I needed to go out and dabble in different hobbies until I could find something that would give me even a little bit of joy. I like hanging out with you and Natasha, sometimes Sam, but it just wasn’t enough.”

Bucky looks back over at the picture, delicately picking it up and focusing on your joyful expression - one he so desperately wants to be the cause of.

“But then I saw her. It was about four months ago; I’d actually been walking back from your place and saw her sitting in the window of the library a few blocks over. She’d been curled up with a book in her lap and was drinking out of a mug, not wearing anything fancy, but I remember thinking she was the most beautiful person I had ever and would ever meet. I remember stopping, being frozen in place as I just watched her read. I remember thinking about Marissa telling me to find something purely for me, something I could call my own, something that would make me happy.”

Steve hums, walking from the desk to stand a few feet in front of Bucky with his arms folded across his chest, something Bucky sees when he looks back up at his friend.

“She’s my happiness, Steve. I haven’t actually talked to her, but she’s the one for me, I just know it.”

Both men are quiet for a long, tense moment, with Steve mulling over Bucky’s words while the latter is worried beyond belief his friend will somehow keep him from pursuing you. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like that will happen.

“Buck…” Steve trails off, sighing. “I mean, you’re right, I can’t deny that you’ve been through hell, that you deserve happiness and love. But, don’t you think this is a little… creepy? Like, why can’t you just go talk to her?”

Bucky immediately shakes his head, his heartbeat picking up slightly at the mere thought of actually talking to you. He doesn’t think he’s ready to make a complete fool of himself by trying to talk to an angel like you.

“I-I can’t, Stevie. It’s not that simple. I can’t just… I can’t just approach the woman I’m in love with. I’d just be awkward and shy and I probably wouldn’t even be able to say more than a few words to her. No one wants someone who can’t even be out in public for more than a few hours at a time, let alone someone who can’t even talk.”

Steve makes a small, pained noise, his eyebrows furrowed. But when Bucky doesn’t continue, the blonde man moves forward and sits precariously on the edge of the bed next to his friend. Steve then slowly lifts his hand, palm up, to the picture Bucky is holding, glancing at him for permission to take the frame. When Bucky nods, Steve takes it. It’s quiet for a moment as Steve ponders, then hums softly.

“She’s pretty.”

And Bucky knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, doesn’t have any want or intention to take you from him, but he can’t help but get jealous. Though he tries to hide it by forcing a smile.

“She really is.” Another pause, a deep breath. “I have a… plan, though.”

Steve hums again, looking up from the picture and handing it back. “Which is?”

“You see, even before I met her I was looking to move out of the city, there’s too much noise, it’s too busy, just too much. I found some land in upstate New York, it’s a quiet, woodsy area, with no neighbors for at least three miles. And when I saw her I knew I needed to go through with it. So I bought the property and I’ve been building the cabin myself, I just need a few more weeks to finish it and then I can bring her there with me.”

With another longing gaze at the picture, he blinks rapidly to get rid of the moisture in his eyes, joy filling his entire body at the thought of you finally being his and his alone. “It’ll just be us,” he whispers. 

“Okay,” Steve starts, chewing on his lip for a moment. “So, if you can’t even talk to her, how are you going to convince her to move into a house in the middle of the woods with you?”

“I’m not…” Bucky trails off nervously, his left leg now bouncing with anxiety.

“Buck, please don’t tell me you plan on kidna-”

Bucky cuts him off by standing up abruptly.

“It’s not kidnapping if she’s supposed to be with me anyway! She’s mine, Steve. Mine! She might not like it at first, but - but she will eventually. She’ll love me like I deserve, and we’ll be happy together.” It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than Steve, something Steve picks up on.

“Bucky, I don’t know about this.”

Bucky’s damn near close to shouting, a sudden undeserved anger coursing through his veins at his mind jumping to conclusions by assuming his friend is trying to stop him. But Bucky is determined, and he has no problem cutting off ties if anyone stands in the way of the life he craves.

“Please, Steve, you have to understand! She’s the only thing I’m certain of in life, I… I need her.”

“Okay,” Steve says after a few very tense minutes, nodding along to Bucky’s words. Because, truthfully, Steve would rather this be the problem than Bucky slipping back into a major depressive state. Bucky does deserve happiness and love and anything else his heart could ever desire. And if he wants you, then goddamnit Steve isn’t going to stand in the way.

“Okay?” Bucky asks nervously, fiddling with his fingers.

“Yeah, Buck. I don’t really… agree with all of this, but if this is what you think you need, then okay. You’re my best friend, I’d do anything for you. So if this is what you want then I’ll help in any way I can.”

A wide smile plasters itself across Bucky’s face, his eyes lighting up. If Steve is offering his help, who is Bucky to deny him?

“Thanks, Stevie.”

____________

One month later everything has seemingly gone downhill.

Things would go missing in your apartment one by one, something you actually hadn’t noticed until one day you were cleaning and found several articles of clothing gone. Chalking it up to getting them lost in transit to the several trips to the laundry room in the basement of the apartment complex, you try to shrug it off.

It doesn’t totally work.

Then, the feeling of being watched only got worse. You’ll be walking down the street to the café you work at and feel the instinct to walk faster, but it doesn’t stop there. Some days you have to restrain yourself from staring out of the window in a vain attempt to catch the stranger you’re absolutely positive is following you.

You’d also asked Sara if Johnathan was okay, to which she responded with a sympathetic smile as she told you he decided he wasn’t interested anymore and decided to go back to Pennsylvania to spend an indeterminate amount of time with his family.

To make it even worse, a few days ago you’d gone to meet with a therapist for the first time, hoping they could ease your anxieties. He, in fact, made them worse by accusing you of overreacting, of being another stereotypical woman freaking out over nothing. ‘It’s probably just your hormones acting up’ is what he said, utterly pissing you off, and it took everything in you to not scream at him for being, rather bluntly, sexist. You didn’t want to give him a reason to prove his point. 

Well, it got even worse today. You’d woken up around ten in the morning, giving you about an hour and a half to slowly get ready and get to work. Except, it looks like you don’t have a job for the time being, because when you checked your phone right after you woke up you saw a text from your boss.

There was a fire last night, the building burnt to the ground. Everyone is safe, but we can’t work until it’s fixed.

Well, fuck. It’s nearly impossible to find another job right now, let alone quickly, so tears immediately spring to your eyes. What the fuck are you going to do?

Cry, first of all. You can’t help it, so much has happened these last five or so months and all of your negative emotions come pouring out as you lay back in bed and turn so you’re in a fetal position clutching a pillow. And your crying doesn’t cease for an indeterminate amount of time.

As your crying tapers off to short whimpers you hear your bedroom door creak. You want to disregard the sound, figuring - hoping - it was because the air conditioning just kicked on. Though you know you’re foolish for thinking so, something deep in your bones knowing that something is seriously wrong.

With your heartbeat quickly picking up and your anxiety spiking it’s nearly impossible to hear the door creak again, but you hear it nonetheless. But by the time you decide to turn around and see what it is, something - someone - falls on top of you, a piece of cloth soaked in some kind of chemical is pressed against your mouth and nose, and you’re forced over to lay on your front as the stranger straddles your hips to keep you pinned to the bed.

It doesn’t take long for your world to fade to black.

____________

A door slamming shut wakes you from your slumber, your eyes flying open and your body sitting upright as you enter fight-or-flight mode, preparing for whoever is coming. You curl in on yourself, pressing yourself into the metal bed frame your wrists are chained to.

You’ve been here for two weeks, maybe. Actually, you’re not too sure, you haven’t seen the sun in a while, nor have you seen your captor. Once a day the door at the top of the stairs of this dingy basement will open and someone will come down to give you food, but not before turning off the light so you can’t see who it is.

The lights stay on this time. And the person is walking down the stairs with abnormally heavy footsteps, letting you know that they want you to know they’re coming. When the person does finally come downstairs, you gasp, your eyes furrowing in confusion.

It’s the therapist you met with a few weeks ago, the one who told you that you were being irrational for thinking you were being followed. The wicked smirk underneath his beard mixed with the dark look in his eyes reek of malice, of no good intentions. His blond hair is pushed back, only a few strands framing his face.

“You… You’re-”

“Your therapist? Yeah,” He stalks forward, stopping at the end of your small bed. “Technically, though, I’m not a therapist. I’m not a doctor of any kind.”

His smirk widens as he says, “I’m Steve Rogers.”

Your eyes widen comically, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. Because this is impossible, just absolutely impossible that Captain America himself has kidnapped you. This… It just doesn’t make sense, especially since the man in question doesn’t seem super concerned with you, clearly. This is the first time - well, technically second - that you’ve ever seen him yet his demeanor screams indifference.

“Wh-where am I?” You ask frantically, tugging on your restraints in a vain attempt to break free, though you know full well you won’t be able to get out of them considering you’ve been trying ever since you got here. “What am I doing here?”

Steve laughs, bending down and squatting so he’s eye-level with you.

“Where you are is of no concern to you, sweetheart.” He says the name condescendingly, teasing you for your confusion. “As to why you’re here… Well, that’s a story for later. Right now we’re going to go upstairs so you can shower.”

Your body tenses when he pulls a key from his pocket and leans over you. Though, surprisingly, he doesn’t harm you, he only unlocks the chains and drops them to the side of the bed. However, he grips both of your wrists in one of his large hands and holds them in place as he leans back and looks you in the eye. Holding up a large knife in his other hand, he gently taps the tip of the blade against your temple.

“If you try anything, anything, I have no problem teaching you a lesson.”

Your stomach drops, and though every fiber of your being is screaming at you to fight back, to kick and punch him with all your might, to grab the knife and stab him, the logical part of your brain knows you wouldn’t win. He’s a super-soldier, could literally break your neck with one of his hands, and his threat makes your anxiety spike, so you slowly nod. Fear rises in your body when Steve raises his eyebrows, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Clearly, he’s waiting for a verbal response.

“O-okay,” You whisper, trying to maintain eye contact, but you can’t help but look away due to how intense his gaze is.

Steve nods with finality, yanking on your arms and causing you to trip over the thin blanket as you’re pulled from your bed. Since you haven’t walked in several days - other than shuffling to the toilet just a few feet from your bed - your legs are a little numb and sore, almost fumbling around like a baby deer.

It’s a chore walking up the stairs, but when you do get to the bathroom, Steve’s laid out clean clothes for you on the bathroom counter - clothes that look surprisingly familiar to some that you own, and a towel is right outside the shower. You’re extremely uneasy as Steve instructs you to undress and get in the shower, though he turns around so he’s unable to see. You feel like crying, everything you feared was right, you were right all along, and you can’t help but feel ire towards everyone who downplayed it.

“Hurry up,” Steve demands when he realizes you’re simply standing under the spray, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth in annoyance.

So, instead of crying, you decide to speed through showering, turning off the water after five minutes. It’s very awkward when you get out, always keeping your eyes on him to make sure he doesn’t turn around as you dry off and get changed.

“O-okay, I’m done.”

Steve hums, turning and grabbing your arm so he can pull you down a hallway, the whole way he’s carrying his knife in a very visible manner. When you turn a corner, it’s into a room with very little furniture, only a large TV and a simple wooden chair right in front of it with a small coffee table in between the two.

“What is this?”

“Will you fucking stop asking questions?” He snaps, yanking you further into the room. He takes you over to the chair, pushes you down into it, and quickly straps your forearms to the arms of the chair. He does the same to your ankles - securing them to the legs of the chair.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You retort, somehow mustering up a confidence you’re sure is about to dissipate with whatever is about to happen. “I guess I’ll just go along with you kidnapping me.”

You can’t see him but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, and your sudden confidence causes you to wiggle frantically in the chair, tugging at your straps in an attempt to break them, though the straps only seem to dig into your skin. Steve huffs then turns on the TV, pulling a chair out from the side of the room and setting it next to yours. As he sits, he places folders on the table, staring into your eyes with an unsettling gaze.

“Listen, I’m not the one that wants you, I’m merely here to get you… prepared for who I’m gifting you to.” Steve smirks as he says it, picking up a folder and opening it before placing it in your lap.

In the folder is a picture of a man with shoulder-length brown hair, beautifully piercing blue eyes, and stubble covering his jaw, the upper part of his body that’s visible shows you that he’s wearing a tight red henley with just the faintest hint of some sort of black metal where his left arm would be. In any other circumstance you might have found him attractive, he might have been someone you’d pursue. But knowing that he’s probably the one who had you taken just makes you want to meet him so you can stab him.

“That’s Bucky,” Steve says, interrupting your thoughts. “He’s my best friend, has been for my whole life. We’ve always had each other's backs, I’d do anything for him, I’d give him anything he wants or needs.” He speaks fondly of this ‘Bucky’ person, and your eyebrows furrow because you’ve heard that name before. You’re not sure where, but you know it.

“And what he wants,” He continues, pulling out the knife and tapping the pointed tip of it against your knee. “Is you.”

“Fuck you,” You hiss, immediately tensing when the knife digs into your skin. It’s not hard enough to pierce it but it gives you just enough pain to get you to stop talking.

Steve ignores your cursing, simply taking the file from your lap and placing it on the coffee table. He starts pulling more pictures out of other folders, spreading them out until the entire table is covered in pictures of this man.

Your stomach drops immediately, some pictures are of him in an army uniform when he was younger, and some are of him and Steve, though it’s cropped to show mainly this ‘Bucky’ person. But what makes you tense is several pictures of the man strapped to a chair with what looks like metal securing his arms to the arms of the chair, some contraption around his head. He has something in his mouth, and his face and neck are tense to suggest he’s trying to scream - presumably from pain.

“Wh-What is this?”

Steve sighs, nearly unable to look at the pictures himself.

“This is Bucky, but you may know him as the Winter Soldier.”

Gasping, your eyes widen in fear. You’ve read the articles, you’ve heard the stories, you’ve just never seen his actual face. Even though the government pardoned him, the general public doesn’t have the most positive view of him. You, yourself, didn’t really have an opinion of him, if the government said he was better then you took them at their word.

Clearly, you were wrong.

“You see, I wasn’t initially on board with this whole thing, I thought it was a little obsessive and toxic. But, he loves you, I can see it every time he talks about you, I see his eyes light up whenever he even looks at a picture of you. And, quite frankly, the longer this went on I knew he needed to have you. And I’d go to the ends of the earth for him.”

Steve seems to think for a moment before he speaks again. “He’s been watching you for a while, knows your routine, knows how to break into your apartment unseen. However, he’s been assigned to an extended mission, so he’s tasked me with watching you and updating him on everything you do. He doesn’t know I’ve already taken you, I’ve been lying to him these past couple of weeks, but it’s for the greater good.”

He pauses, smirking when he notices you’re frozen, trying to take all of this in.

“As you can see,” Steve continues, picking up one of the more gruesome pictures, “He’s been through a lot. He’s endured pain and torture no man should ever go through, he’s never been in control of anything. His life, his actions, his own mind. And now, through therapy and time, he’s finally gotten to the point where he’s ready to take his life back. And it starts with you.”

With that, Steve sets the picture down and stands, grabbing a remote next to the TV and turning it on.

“No. Fuck no, fuck you,” You suddenly snap at him, anger rising, but it doesn’t seem to outweigh the fear coursing through your veins. You’re trying to fight the dread, though.

Steve rolls his eyes, then pulls a cloth out of his back pocket as he walks over to you.

“Since you don’t know how to shut up, maybe this will work.” With a smirk, he grabs your face and forces your mouth open, quickly shoving the towel in to stifle your noises.

Then he turns back to the TV, blocking your view of what he’s doing. After a few moments, he moves to stand behind you, placing both of his large hands on your shoulders.

“We have about two months before he comes back, which is when I’ll… gift you to him. So, in an attempt to get you on board with this whole thing before that, I think it’s best if I show you these tapes so you can truly understand what he’s been through. And maybe this will help you see that he does deserve happiness and love, and that you will be that for him.”

With that, he clicks a button on the remote, and the large screen displays Bucky, once again strapped to a chair in the middle of what looks like a glorified warehouse. Then, Steve puts noise-canceling headphones over your ears, fiddling with the sound so it’s just loud enough that it’s impossible to even think about anything, but not so loud as to damage your eardrums.

You don’t notice Steve leaving the room, all you know is that as the door closes Bucky’s screams start echoing through the headphones. Your eyes squeeze shut, desperately trying to tune it out, the truly agonizing sounds he’s making are shaking you to your core and causing you to want to vomit.

But it’s no use, you can’t hear anything but the people around him saying words in what you assume is Russian and Bucky’s pained groans. And as you listen, only one thought passes through your mind.

Why me?

____________

This goes on for weeks. Twice a week you’re allowed to go upstairs to shower, though Steve stays in the bathroom with you to ensure you don’t try anything. Then he’ll take you to that room, strap you down, and force you to listen to Bucky’s cries, force you to read the files on him during his time as the Soldier, force you to sit still and endure this for hours at a time with tears constantly streaming down your face.

At first, you felt anger and ire towards the man holding you captive. And while you want to fight him with all your might, you know you wouldn’t win, especially since he’s shown you his quite extensive collection of weaponry. It terrifies you, rightfully so considering Steve has been nothing but awful to you.

And at this point, despite every fiber of your being screaming at you to do something to at least try and escape, you really can’t help but feel sympathy for Bucky. He’s a victim, you’ve come to realize—a victim of horrendous crimes at the hands of some of the most depraved people to ever exist.

It’s confusing and frustrating beyond belief. Yes, you’ve concluded that he does deserve a good life, but that doesn’t mean you want to be a part of it. However, a small part of you does feel inclined to believe Steve when he talks about how wonderful his friend is, how caring he is, and how much he loves you.

Of course, the ‘love’ part of that statement isn’t actually correct, it’s fallen beyond that into obsession, delusion, and downright insanity. Steve doesn’t seem to care about that though. In fact, at this point, he seems to encourage it. The perfect hero the outside world sees is all a facade, because the longer you’ve been here the more you’ve seen of his true nature, one he doesn’t even seem to know the extent of.

You’re allowed upstairs today, Steve is unusually quiet as he drags you up to the bathroom. But when you’re done showering, instead of making you get dressed he turns slightly so he can hand you a razor while still looking away from your naked body. With a shaky hand, you slowly reach out and take it, your eyebrows furrowing.

“What’s this for?”

“To shave.” Even though you can’t see his face, you’re pretty sure Steve’s rolling his eyes. When he hears that you don’t move, Steve reaches into his pocket to pull out a knife, not too big but just big enough to scare you into getting with the program. “Hurry up.”

“O-Okay,” You mumble, getting back into the shower. You’re confused as to where he’s expecting you to shave, so you start with the basics; your underarms and legs. Through the fogged glass of the shower door, you see Steve lazily twirling the knife, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

You’re extremely confused as to why you’re being made to do this, though a small part of you has a suspicion. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been here, it feels like months, though that may be caused by the fact that you’re seldom allowed out of that deadly quiet and dark basement unless it’s to shower or watch those videos. Most of the time you’re left to yourself, simply waiting in the dark.

You’re careful to not cut yourself but the anxiety of what Steve would do if you weren’t quick forced you to rush.

As though Steve can tell you’re done, he makes sure to add, “Everywhere.”

Oh God, you think with tears in your eyes. I am meeting him today.

It’s awkward, extremely so, and you try your hardest to forget that Steve is in the room while you shave the rest of your body. That takes a few tedious minutes, something Steve seems to be aware of because he’s not rushing you through that part.

After finishing, it takes a few moments of deep breathing before you gain the courage to step out of the shower and take the towel next to it. And, as usual, it doesn’t take long for you to dry off, though you notice the lack of clothes on the counter.

What you do see is what looks like a light pink teddy-style lingerie set. The body is a see-through fabric yet the lace-covered cups, thankfully, cover your breasts. Very small panties rest next to it, so small you wonder how they can even be called underwear.

When Steve turns to look at you, you quickly wrap the towel around your body, vibrating with anxiety and dread. He nods to the set, then says, “I’ll be on the other side of this door, if you don’t come out in two minutes I’ll come and get you myself.” However, his dark tone and evil smirk let you know that he actually means he’ll forcefully drag you out.

As soon as the door closes and you’re alone, you pick up the thin underwear and slowly slide it up your legs, then you pull the teddy over your head and adjust it so the cups cover your breasts and the rest flows around your body, thankfully covering the underwear by just a few inches. It’s still see-through, so there is very little that’s left to the imagination.

And as you’re standing in the bathroom, you finally look at yourself in the mirror, but you don’t see your reflection. Someone else is staring back, someone with sunken eyes, no life to them at all. This body is thinner than you remember, though lack of proper food will do that to a person.

The person you’re staring at isn’t you, it may resemble you, but it’s not you. Although, who are you anymore? You’ve been alone with this man for months with no connection to the outside world, you haven’t had any positive human contact in what feels like forever, and your withered physical state seeps into your mental state.

You’re so tired. Sleep never comes easily, but even without that everything is just too much and overwhelming and all you want to do is curl into a ball on the floor and sob and try to forget that you’re being held captive, that you’ll probably never see your friends and family again.

A harsh knock on the door snaps you out of your daze. With one final look in the mirror, you turn and go to the door so you can open it and see Steve standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. You have the strong urge to cross your own arms to try and hide from his piercing gaze, but you don’t want to upset him any further by doing so. Quickly, Steve pulls out a blindfold from his pocket, his stare is a silent command to not move.

You’re shaking now, trying hard to stay still as he adjusts the blindfold over your head. Next, you feel a soft fabric wrap around your shoulders, and Steve moves your arms so he can slip what you assume to be a robe around your body. This, at least, you’re grateful for.

With that, Steve takes your arm in his grasp, pulling you along, though mindful of the fact that you can’t see.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

____________

‘Come to the cabin’

That’s the text Steve sent that Bucky received right as he stepped off the quinjet. Curiosity rises, and his eyebrows furrow, and he types out a quick response as he walks towards Tony’s lab.

‘Why?’

‘Just do it’

Bucky huffs, texting back that he will after he gets his arm checked out. And now, knowing that Steve probably has something waiting for him back at the cabin he built, it seems to take forever for Tony to quit tinkering with the wires in his arm. His leg was bouncing the entire time, simply glaring at Tony any time he asked “What’s wrong tin-man?” But, finally, the work is done about an hour later and Bucky is quick to grab his bag and head down to his motorcycle.

It’s a couple hours drive from the tower to get to the cabin, and after he drives through the entrance of the land he purchased the roads get a little rockier, and Bucky curses softly every time his motorcycle wobbles slightly. It takes entirely too long for him to actually reach the house, and the entire ride over had him on edge, his natural anxiety peaking with every unanswered text he sends Steve.

Finally, finally, he gets there, parking his bike next to Steve’s car and taking note of its emptiness. Something seems off, and Bucky has to fight the urge to take out his gun, Steve’s here after all, nothing is going to happen.

Still, something is going on.

Bucky enters the cabin cautiously, silent footsteps traveling down the front hall to the living room where Steve stands, tall and proud and smiling wide.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says, the joy in his voice clear as day.

“Hey, Steve. What’s going on?” Bucky sets his bag down on the couch, looking around to see if anything is out of place. He’d finished decorating before he left for the mission, planning on taking you soon after he came back. But when his friend doesn’t answer, Bucky’s heart starts speeding up with anxiety.

“Steve?”

“Just…” Steve stops, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Just come with me.”

With that, Steve starts towards the hall, ignoring Bucky’s questioning gaze. With no other choice, Bucky follows down the hall to his bedroom, where his friend stands in front of the closed door.

“I have a… welcome home present for you.”

Once again, Bucky’s eyebrows furrow because Steve has never given him a random gift before. Well, he likes to get Bucky little trinkets if he’s off on missions, but he’s never been this excited for a gift.

“Okay…” Bucky draws out the last syllable, walking forward with slow and cautious steps until he can step past his friend. With a deep breath and a questioning look to Steve, Bucky opens the door, his eyes automatically drawn to his bed.

“Steve…” Tears fill his eyes immediately, and if he wasn’t a super-soldier he’d think he was having a heart attack with how fast his heart is beating, how borderline painful the tightness in his chest is.

“Do you like it?”

Bucky ignores the question, simply walking forward until he reaches the side of the bed, sitting on the edge precariously. His hand reaches out, scared that this is a dream and he’ll wake up soon. He couldn’t take it if this was a dream, it’s too real to be a dream.

Because you’re finally here. Lying on his bed in a beautiful silk robe wrapped around your body, each of your arms and legs tied to the bedposts of the canopy bed. Bucky feels like fainting, like collapsing to the ground in tears.

“Steve,” Bucky chokes out, looking back at his friend who also has happy tears in his eyes. “How?”

“After you left for the mission, I just knew this was the perfect time. I lied to you about where she was, and I’m sorry for that, but I wanted to make sure I had time to get her ready.” Steve steps forward, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I told you I’d do anything for you, Buck.”

Bucky starts actually crying then. Oh how lucky he is to be surrounded by love, by his girl and his best friend who wants him to be happy. Steve squeezes his shoulder, letting Bucky lean into his stomach and cry for a minute. When the crying tapers off, Bucky manages to lean back so he can look Steve in the eyes.

“Thank you, Stevie. I mean it,” Bucky hiccups, wiping away his tears before looking back at you. You’re blindfolded with a cloth in your mouth, preventing you from seeing what’s going on, and unable to protest this whole thing.

“I’ll go now. You go enjoy your present.”

With that, Steve turns and leaves, giving his friend one last smile before it’s just you and Bucky.

“Angel,” Bucky whispers softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your cheekbone, staring intensely yet lovingly at your quivering form. Slowly, he brings both of his hands up so he can untie the blindfold and throw it to the side. Your eyes blink open, immediately squinting at the harsh light. Something which Bucky seems to notice.

It’s scary, almost, how Bucky can seem to read your emotions because he rushes over to the light switch and dims them, letting your eyes adjust properly. He walks back over to the bed, deciding to lay down on his side next to your body, propping himself on his elbow so he can run his other hand over your covered stomach.

A muffled whine causes him to stop, his eyes looking up at you with a concerned gaze.

“What’s wrong, angel?” But then his eyes widen, seeming to realize that you can’t speak. He does something surprising, at least to you. He actually takes the gag out of your mouth, throwing it to the side as well. “Is that better?”

He asks so softly, so warmly, that it confuses you greatly. You’d heard about how much Bucky ‘loves’ you, but you didn’t realize exactly how far it went until now that you’re witnessing it for yourself. For a moment you’re not quite sure what to do. Do you beg him to let you go? Do you lash out at him? Do you cry?

You want to do all three, but you can’t. Your voice is caught in the back of your throat, you’ve gone mute, not even a whimper escaping your lips. There’s really nothing you’re able to do other than stare directly into Bucky’s eyes, still filled with tears of what must be joy.

“My angel?” He asks with a concerned tone, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

Again, confusion. But you haven’t spent more than a few minutes with him so you’re not quite sure how he’ll physically react if you do anything like you did with Steve. You decide to play it safe.

“My… My wrists hurt.” Your voice comes out smaller than intended, and you have to force yourself to keep eye contact with Bucky as his eyes widen again.

“Oh, shit,” Buckyy curses to himself, quickly shuffling onto his knees. “Don’t worry, baby.” Another surprise comes when he willingly and without much thought starts untying the rope binding your arms. And though your wrists are now freed, your ankles are still tied. On instinct, you shift your right leg, slightly tugging on the rope.

Bucky sees this too, though he hesitates for a second. Should he untie your legs? Bucky likes to think you wouldn’t run, but, realistically, he knows this is all new for you. Ultimately he decides to only free one ankle. Once he does so he starts rubbing and massaging the slight burn the rope left on your foot.

Bucky’s frowning now.

Leaning down, he presses a delicate kiss to the area, then he straightens up again. Bucky resumes his position next to you, though, this time, he rearranges you both so you’re lying in between his legs with your back pressed to his chest. For a moment, everything seems frighteningly normal, with Bucky pressing kisses to your temple and cheek as he starts soothing your wrists.

Your heartbeat is speeding up, and you’re so frozen with fear and confusion that you can’t do much else but let this all happen. Until, eventually, you’re able to find your voice.

“Um. I - Wha-”

“Oh, angel,” Bucky cuts you off with a coo. “I know you must be so confused, and I’ll explain everything, I promise.”

With care, Bucky moves your arms so he can hold both of your wrists in one of his hands. With his free hand he leans over to grab the picture frame on his nightstand, and brings it up so you can see it. And it brings tears to your eyes, one of concern for not just your physical safety but Bucky’s mental state.

Because it’s a picture of the two of you, horribly photoshopped to make it look like it would be a normal picture a couple in love would take. And this serves as a reminder of all the trauma he’s been through, and that maybe this is his way of coping.

A sick and twisted way of coping.

“I’m not too good with technology, as you can see,” Bucky huffs out a little laugh, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “But we don’t have any pictures together yet, so, until we could take some, this is the best I could do.”

Still unable to really say anything, you let out a cautious hum and let him continue.

“Looking at this picture, at all of the pictures I’ve taken over the last several months… it’s what helps me get through the day. Looking at you, knowing that one day you’d be mine, it’s that that keeps me sane. Knowing that I’ll get to love you for the rest of our lives is what makes all the pain I’ve endured worth it.”

“Why me?” It’s the first thought that crosses your mind at the moment, one you need to know the answer to.

“Oh, my angel,” Bucky coos again, placing the picture back down on the table so he can wrap both of his arms around your body, cuddling you close to his chest. “Why not you? You’re so beautiful, so kind, so innocent and sweet. I knew it from the moment I first saw you in that little library, curled up on that couch with a book in your hands. You were so focused on reading that you didn’t even realize I’d been staring at you for several minutes.”

Bucky chuckles again, squeezing you tighter to his chest until you let out a noise of pain. He immediately loosens his hold, murmuring an apology with his lips pressed against your temple. After a moment of tense silence, Bucky speaks again.

“Are you hungry?” That question receives a ‘yes’ in the form of your stomach grumbling. The man behind you laughs, then shuffles out from under you.

“Okay, darling, I’ll go get some food. You just lay here and look beautiful,” Bucky leans over you, gazing down at you with such intense devotion. “Beautiful,” he mutters to himself, almost as if he’s unaware he’s even speaking. With no warning, he leans his head down, and you’re narrowly able to dodge his kiss by turning your head.

Bucky sighs dejectedly, clearly not happy with that decision. You can feel the bedsheet next to you twist as he grips the sheets in frustration, and your heart rate spikes again in fear of what he might do.

He doesn’t do anything, merely moves off of your body and gives you one final longing look before heading off to fetch food.

As soon as he’s out of the room you’re sitting upright, hands immediately going to the rope and trying desperately to untie it. But it’s no use, of course it’s not, because Steve’s too smart to make the binds loose enough to even wiggle your foot out of the loop.

It takes no more than five minutes for Bucky to come back, returning with a bowl of soup and a glass you’re hoping is just water. Upon hearing his arrival, you resume your original position, hoping that Bucky won’t notice the fact that you were desperately tearing at the ropes.

He doesn’t seem to because he just moves you both into position - your back to his chest. When you try to take a sip of the water, Bucky gently swats your hand away, taking charge by being the one to hold the glass to your lips, the one who feeds you your soup, the one that holds you tight to his chest as though this is all normal.

And as you’re eating, so many emotions are running through your body. Fear and confusion are the more prominent ones. Though, you’re so exhausted that part of you doesn’t appear to care.

So, for the time being, you let this happen, let yourself be held and hand-fed by the man holding you captive.

____________

Six months. Or has it been seven? Hell, a year? You’re not too sure. Due to your… situation, you haven’t been allowed outside, nor are you allowed to watch the news. The only true concept of time you have are the clocks littered throughout the house.

There’s nothing good about any of this, but at least Bucky has been nothing but kind to you. He treats you with care, gives you soft kisses in the morning, and leaves you little love notes in random places he knows you’ll see. He’s infuriatingly perfect, and you so desperately want to forget that you didn’t come here of your own free will, that you’ve been forced away from your family and friends and normal life. Because if you’d met him naturally you’re sure you would have loved him, you would have cherished the way he dotes over and so clearly adores you. It’s the life you’ve always wished for.

That wish was granted in the form of being held captive by a man who is so clearly in mental distress. His obsession with you almost makes you feel sick, like if anything happened to you he’d mentally break, and that scares you. It’s frightening because you don’t want anything to happen to him. Sure, you’re not in love with him and you’re still on slightly guard, but you know what he’s been through. You know all the pain he’s endured, all the torture and torment.

He deserves happiness, and you’re getting kind of scared of what will happen to him if anything happens to you.

Fuck, you think, what’s happening to me?

You’re not too sure exactly what day it is, but Bucky has been giddy ever since you both woke up. He let you sleep in, cuddling you close for a good thirty minutes and giving you absentminded kisses every once in a while before he decided to get up and make breakfast.

When he leaves the sane part of you forces you to quickly glance around the room in an attempt to find a way out. You know you won’t though, all the doors in the house are locked and there’s only one window in this room that’s made of bulletproof glass that’s bolted shut - something you found out when you desperately tried opening it when you first got here.

You’d been here for about two weeks, walking on eggshells around Bucky in an effort to not upset him. Sure, he seems to be the opposite of Steve in his actions, but you’re still unsure of how he’d truly be if you acted out - his metal arm is a major factor in that anxiety.

At the time Bucky was in the kitchen setting things up for your first ‘date’ and had been researching different recipes for the last week to make this meal perfect. He placed candles on the table and had glasses of your favorite wine set up, red rose petals littering the cloth-covered table.

He went back to the room when he heard loud thumps, and when he did get there he saw you banging on the window - rather aggressively. Tears filled your eyes as you whimpered sadly, unable to break the glass.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks with a confused tone.

You whip around, eyes widened in fear because surely this would get you into major trouble. Now the tears in your eyes aren’t out of despair, they’re out of fear. What is he going to do to you? Hopefully nothing worse than Steve’s already done, but there’s no way for you to know.

“Are you… trying to leave?” What’s weird is that he sounds sad, heartbroken really. Like he can’t believe that you’d want to leave when he’s shown that he can provide for you.

You’re unable to find your words, so you simply back up until your back hits a wall, and your arms come up to your chest as you cower away from him. Your eyes betray you by glancing back to the window. 

“No, you - you can’t leave me!” Bucky’s voice raises, now almost angry - though you’re not too sure if it’s directed completely at you.

But then your eyes glance past Bucky toward the door, assessing the situation and making a quick determination on whether you could push past him and run out of the room.

“No. No, don’t you dare leave me!” He begs loudly, taking three large steps forward until he’s right in front of your shivering form. “Not like this, I - I just… I just got you.” One of his hands comes up to gently hold one of your wrists, his other hand moving to caress your cheek, though you can’t help but flinch when his hand gets closer.

“I-I’m sorry,” You whimper, clenching your eyes shut to avoid looking at the absolute despair evident on Bucky’s face. “I - I didn’t… I was just… I-” You can’t find many words, you’re just hoping your begging will prevent this from escalating.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Bucky sniffles, causing you to peek an eye open. And Bucky, well, he looks concerned, confused, hurt. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, bringing your wrist up so he can place a kiss on your palm. “I would never hurt you. I don’t… I don’t know what Steve said or did but I - I promise! I won’t hurt you, ever. Just…”

At your wide eyes and worried gaze Bucky falls to his knees, placing his forehead against your stomach and wrapping both of his arms around your waist to prevent you from moving.

“Just don’t leave me.”

You felt so guilty that you hadn’t tried again since.

You sighed, rolling over and laying on your back. Looking to your right, your gaze lands on a framed photo of you sleeping on Bucky’s chest from a few months ago. While there are plenty of pictures of you and him scattered throughout the cabin, this one is Bucky’s favorite. Because this was on your supposed three-month anniversary.

Bucky had woken up early that morning, fully intending to start the special day by making you breakfast. However, he knew from the moment his eyes opened that it would be nearly impossible to physically move for a while. Your body was almost completely lying on top of his, pinning him to the bed with your face tucked into his neck. Of course, he could easily move you without even waking you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave his version of paradise.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a soft whistle, the noise getting louder the closer Bucky gets to your room. Sitting up, you look to the door and see him entering with a tray filled with coffee, orange juice, pancakes, and your favorite assortment of fruits. The single red rose in a small vase is the cherry on top.

Fuck him for being perfect.

Bucky sets the tray down on the table next to his side of the bed then crawls under the covers again, pulling you to sit sideways on his lap.

“Good morning, my angel,” He mumbles as he presses small kisses to your cheek. You force a smile, though you can’t deny that part of it is real. It feels good to be loved and cherished, and you’re trying so hard to remind yourself that this isn’t that, this isn’t where you’re meant to be.

But Bucky is good at making you forget that part.

“Um, what’s all this for?” You ask timidly, your eyes glancing from the food to Bucky, whose eyes soften with sympathy.

“You didn’t know? It’s our anniversary!” His smile brightens, his arms tightening his hold around your body to hug you closer to his chest. “Six months ago, Steve gave me the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Six months? Time sure flies when you have no perception of it.

“Oh,” You whisper, fiddling with your fingers. “I-I’m sorry, I must have forgotten.”

Bucky shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he says, “It’s okay, darling.”

“But I didn’t get you a gift,” You say remorsefully, glancing around the room as though you’ll find anything.

“Oh, no. No baby, you don’t have to get me anything. You being here is more than enough for me.” Bucky’s smile widens, placing a hand on the back of your neck so he can angle your head in just the right position that he can lean down and press his lips against yours. It’s soft, gentle, just like how Bucky treats you.

When he leans back he rests his forehead on yours, letting your lips brush against each other.

“I love you, angel,” He murmurs, not wanting to ruin the serenity of the moment.

And you have to try so hard not to tense, because those words always make you remember that you’ve been kidnapped and taken to some house in the middle of nowhere. It reminds you that this man is deeply disturbed, that he needs more help than he probably thinks if he thinks that this is true love.

But you smile anyway, trying to not let it waver when you reply with, “I love you too, Bucky.” And Bucky looks like he’s about to cry, just like every other time you tell him you love him.

There’s a few moments of silence, tears of joy in Bucky’s eyes while yours are filled with tears of exhaustion. You’re tired. So fucking tired of pretending. But for the time being, you’re just going to let yourself be held, you’re just going to let go of all of your negative emotions and melt into the moment.

“Angel?” When Bucky pauses, you hum in curiosity.

“Can you kiss me again?”

[hannieehaee]

Hey hey, just wanted to lyk, your writings are so good😭

Oh yes I've a request, something like them doing something out of their character

Thankyou<3

them doing something out of character for their s/o

content: established relationship implied, pure fluff, etc.

wc: 641

a/n: thank u so much!! hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he'll let himself be taken care of instead of the other way around. he knows you worry about him sometimes, so he'll try to put his stubbornness aside and follow your every instruction to let you take care of him.

jeonghan -

he always lets you win any games you play together or strategically makes bets with you that he knows you'll end up winning. he's very ingenious about it too, so you never realize it's actually all orchestrated by him.

joshua -

he's such a gym rat, but he doesnt mind skipping if you happen to be free at that time. it'd shock the guys when he suddenly disappears, opting to be with you rather than following his usually strict workout schedule.

jun -

he can be a little shy sometimes, but he'd become the ultimate extrovert for you. if you happen to be introverted or are just low in your social battery, he'll take charge and do all the talking necessary, being the one to order when you go on a date or dealing with any strangers.

soonyoung -

this sounds so silly, but he'd push the tiger agenda aside for you. not completely, of course! but if you wanted to decorate your shared home, he'd let the decisions fall onto you. want a vintage carpet instead of the old tiger print one he had at his dorm? he doesnt mind as long as he gets to share a home with you.

wonwoo -

he's super competitive when he plays video games but he'll always be teaching you how to play and letting you win when you agree to play with him. he's always merciless when he plays with his friends, but you make him break away from that.

jihoon -

he'll go out and explore the city with you. he's such a homebody and generally just prefers to stay home, but if you ask him, he'll never even consider denying you. it's far more enjoyable with you anyways.

seokmin -

he'll put aside the silliness sometimes. not because you'd ask (bc you'd never want him to be any different than he is) but because he wants to let himself enjoy you without any distractions. he'd want to shut his brain down and just be in love with you in the moment.

mingyu -

he's absolutely terrified of heights, but is willing to step out of his comfort zone for you. it'd be so out of character for him to go to amusement parks, hikes in very tall mountains, parachuting, but he'd just want to experience every little thing life has offer with you, he'd push that aside just for the unique experience with you.

minghao -

he prefers quiet atmospheres, always enjoying organization and tidiness in his surroundings. however, he'll provide you with the opposite any time you want. want to go to the pit of a loud concert? he's right there with you. a tall roller coaster where you'll be screaming into his ear? sure, as long as you're happy.

seungkwan -

despite always being the life of the party, if your social battery is ever low, he'll purposely try to match your energy. instead of going around and talking to friends, he'll stay in a little corner with you, preferring the quiet for once.

vernon -

he'll do all the talking. he's not one to talk too much, but if you're ever quieter than usual, he knows it's time for him to take charge and lead the conversation, understanding you'd rather just listen for now, as he usually does in return.

chan -

he's an insanely diligent worker. nothing ever comes before work for him. he'll sometimes be doing a solo project while working on two separate comebacks for the group. but as far as you're involved, he'll take a day off in between of the chaos if it means spending an extra five minutes with you.