#though we did have to roll back the save because of it

[hedwig221b]

I recently realized that I’ve literally never read a teen wolf ff despite being a huge fan of the show and sterek. So now I’m on the hunt for a rlly good one to start with but I’m having a bit of trouble finding one that not only fits what I’m looking for but actually has good writing (no offense to the authors I just want my first one to be a good one that hooks me like Crimson Rivers hooked me into the marauders fandom😅)

so could you recommend me some that aren’t aus, not necessarily canon but canon is okay, werewolf or human stiles, with sterek (I do love a slow burn but doesn’t have to be), maybe some of your favorites?

What an honor to introduce you to sterek fanfiction omg! Here is a list of what I consider sterek classics (the canon kind), my beloved 💖

Hide Of A Life War by Etharei

“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning...” The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows by owlpostagain

“Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void. It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

Home by TheTypewriterGirl

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death. The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was. So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

I Know Where Babies Come From, Derek by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles finds a baby on the porch. It looks exactly like him. Well, this is awkward.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

stuck in reverse by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf. Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks. Still, nobody deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody. And it’s about time somebody told him that.

Pale Horses by Jana_C 

Being bitten had never been on his to-do list, but he could deal with that. Helping Derek Hale become a competent Alpha, though, that was so not in his job description.

Truth and Consequences by KouriArashi

“The place you give the Bite has meaning," Derek says. "Biting someone on the side is to make them your beta. It makes them your subordinate, but it also invites them into the pack with the full protection of the alpha. Biting someone on the legs indicates that you’re turning them to an omega. And biting someone on the arm, particularly the wrist, turns someone as your equal. It’s a mating ritual.” Stiles nearly chokes on a mouthful of granola. “A what?”

A Similar String by snarkatthemoon 

Strong bonds made for a strong pack, and he needed a strong pack. They spent a long time in silence, Derek thinking hard about how he was going to cement the bonds. It needed to be done, and not just because they had the threat of the witch hanging over them, but for the good of the pack. It felt like hours had passed by the time he came around; he had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Stiles moving around on the couch so that his head was resting on Derek’s thigh, his long legs hanging over the arm on the far end. He wasn’t sleeping, but his eyes were closed and his heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it usually was, as if he was just on the edge of sleep. It should have felt weird, having Stiles in such close contact, but Derek found that it really didn’t feel weird at all. His head was a comforting weight in Derek’s lap, another anchor tethering him and keeping him calm and in control. . Or, the one where Derek meets a witch, gets his betas back, and seemingly develops a sense of humour. Also, Stiles is totally magic, manages to accidentally join a werewolf pack, and asks too many goddamn questions. What could possibly go wrong?

The One You Choose by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

Hold Me Close (I'm Falling Apart) by ajeepandleather

“Wolves without an emissary are naturally turbulent because their instincts are wild. Subconsciously, you’ve been balancing them, but you aren’t tied to the pack so you aren’t getting a balance in return.” “So, they’re bleeding me dry. Always knew they were parasites.” Stiles smiled dryly. “You’ll need to attach yourself to an alpha soon. There are risks for an unbalanced druid.” “Like?” “Well, a disruption in balance may show itself in several ways. It’s a disruption in nature, so nature will twist and alter in an attempt to right itself.” “What does that mean?” Stiles was getting anxious. The vet was avoiding giving direct answers and that never meant anything good. “You’re magic is heavily entwined with your will, and your will is parallel to your mind.” “I’ll go insane.”

Not Your Disney Romance by Wrennefer (Wrenegadeone)

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

spiderweb of lies by pineneedlepants

Derek gets a chance to gain his alpha powers back. The only one throwing a wrench in those plans is Scott.

Sparks and shadows by Nival_Vixen 

Stiles has to figure out a way to maintain a balance between his spark and the darkness inside of him.

The Roads Not Followed by SylvieW

Scott decides to leave Beacon HIlls with Allison and her father. Stiles is left alone to deal with the supernatural troubles of his home town, so he turns to Derek. Years later, Scott’s new pack is threatened, and the only ones who can help them are the Hale pack and Derek’s powerful mate.

It’s Not Pretend When It’s Real by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“At least we got this far,” Stiles argued. “Could’ve been worse. For now, they know he’s taken by someone in the pack.” “Mm hm,” Lydia said, giving him a look. “You realize that you are now going to have to pretend to date Derek, right?” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what a hardship. That sucks, boo hoo.” He motioned Derek emphatically. “He’s like, my best friend.” “Hey!” Scott insisted. “He’s like, my second best friend,” Stiles amended. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out. Right?” He turned to grin at Derek, who was scowling at him.

Running Up That Hill by maypoison

“Even before the pack joined together, Scott was trying to protect you. And he still is trying to protect you, even if it means leaving you out of all this.” Stiles does roll his eyes at that. “Yeah, but it didn’t work did it. I was still involved, and so was my Dad. We were nearly killed by Matt, and then Gerard.” “My point is, people change. Relationships aren’t always perfect. Scott's tried to kill me before." Stiles raises an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying that someone trying to kill you is just a small flaw in a relationship?" “We’re werewolves.” Derek answers with a shrug, as if that was a perfectly good explanation.

It Was a Wednesday by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?” Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping. Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death. “Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least. “Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?” “Yes.” “Why?” “How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Protect and Serve by MoonlitMemories

Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles?

The More That I Know You (the more I want to) by LadySlytherin

When death, in the form of hunters, comes for a family of Kelpies seeking refuge in the Preserve - in Hale territory - the Hale Pack is too late to save them. Before he dies, the male Kelpie presses a precious bundle into Stiles’ arms and begs the Emissary to take responsibility for it, which an initially reluctant Stiles does. When he agreed, Stiles had no idea what the sight of him with a baby would do to his esteemed Alpha, Derek. If he’d known, he might not have been so reluctant to agree.

Wolf Cub by moodwriter

A strange wolf is not supposed to touch another pack’s cub and that’s why, on a rescue mission, it’s Stiles’ job to take care of the wolf cub who’s curious about everything and everyone. Stiles is not used to werewolf children, and the pack is not used to Stiles taking care of a child. Their Alpha gets very confused about this, too.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist. Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope. He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles. “I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

I know you mentioned no aus, but it would be a crime for me not to mention these absolute treasures that are staples in sterek fanfiction experience. The characters are on point, and the writing is magnificent

Don't Savage The Messenger by exclamation

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange. Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters' stories would have him believe.

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.” That was a bad word. Not found. Have. Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment. One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. “What?! What was that sound?!” “You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. “Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” “Mike,” she argued. “Who’s Mike?” Scott asked. “Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

My, What Big Shoulders You Have (The Better to Help You Carry the Weight) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) 

“Talia was just telling me an interesting story,” his dad informed him. Stiles didn’t have the nerve to glance over at him, because he knew no matter how much he argued, the proof was all there. The wolves had found him, Parrish had picked him up on the side of the road, he had a fucking picture on his phone. He was screwed. No point in arguing, all it’d do is piss his father off even more. “You don’t say,” Stiles offered slowly. “What uh—you know, I like stories. Is it a uh, good one?” “It seems to be a matter of opinion,” Talia said with another kind smile. “I hear you had quite the night last night.” Okay, time to cut his losses. He was already fucked, all he could do was apologize and hope she didn’t press for him to get fined and arrested. Given he was her husband’s friend’s son, he had high hopes. “I’m really sorry,” Stiles blurted out. “It was stupid and-and irresponsible and just—I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have crossed into your territory. I should’ve known better, I do know better! It was a complete lapse in judgement and I am just—I am so sorry.”

Cloaked in Gold by kaistrex (weishen)

Stiles' world tilts, the bed dipping as a weight settles over him, caging him in. Growling. His eyes flutter open in distant confusion as hot air sweeps over his throat and he stares up at twin beams of gold shining inches from his face. Werewolf. Stiles does the only thing he can. “DAD!” The werewolf jumps at the sudden shout, blanketing him tighter, and it’s only seconds until his dad is in his bedroom doorway with Melissa close behind, flicking on the light. Stiles' mouth drops open as he stares up at the thick eyebrows, sharp nose and perfectly groomed stubble of a golden-eyed and fanged Derek Hale. - When son of the Alpha, Derek Hale, ends up in his bed in heat, Stiles decides to use it to his advantage and secure the Bite for his sick stepbrother. As he and his family are welcomed into the Hale pack, Stiles grows closer to Derek than he'd ever dreamed he'd get, but with the fanged Soulbite of a born wolf on Derek's neck, he knows he's just setting himself up for heartbreak. Derek has a Soulmate out there, and it definitely isn't Stiles.

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth. “Not too close, he bites.” Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting. “He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton. The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.” “Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek. He looked extremely displeased.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis)

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

[masterlist link]

[anon-188]

on anon because I'm feeling shy, but — aj teaching her something she needs to know for a job, but with cockwarming involved. bonus points if she ends up teaching him something in return. 😌

pairing: AJ x f!reader | genre: smut | wc: 1.6k

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), cockwarming (obvi), unprotected sex, dom!AJ, power dynamics, brat!reader, strong language.

a/n: i hope this is close to what you meant!! thank you for requesting! <3 hope you like it :)

It was yet another late night. AJ had come over to your place this time, settling in as you both got back to work. Blueprints were spread across the dining room table, creased at the corners from how often you’d been poring over them the past few nights.

You were getting better at it—better than when you first started—but not quite where you needed to be for the next job.

Normally, AJ was the one calling the shots when it came to planning, but this time Gordon had insisted on having two people manage the layout. He wanted to double down on logistics, make sure nothing was missed.

And surprisingly, Gordon had vouched for you. Said you had a good head for angles. That your insight had saved their asses more than once, even if he didn’t always say it out loud.

But then came the issue of you not being able to fully read the blueprints. The layers, the symbols—it all blurred together if you looked too long.

Gordon had asked if you thought you could get it sorted in two weeks, close the gap, and you said yes, fully thinking you’d just play catch-up on your own.

The second AJ found out you needed help—like the gentleman he swore he was—he offered.

Only problem?

AJ’s version of help usually ended with you bent over some surface, breathless, moaning his name while the plans sat forgotten in a pile beside you.

You’d been hooking up with him on the low for a few months now. Everyone thought you just worked well together—which was true. They just didn’t know how well.

Tonight, it was supposed to be business.

AJ sat to your right, forearms braced on the table, sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. His watch glinted as he pointed to a section of the blueprint—something about structural tension—and you tried to focus, you really did. 

But now you were over it.

Not because it was too hard—you were getting there—but because AJ had been teasing you nonstop.

His hand stayed on your thigh, inching higher every so often, close to slipping under your skirt. He kept leaning in when he didn’t need to, talking in that low voice of his that always sounded like a setup. And every time you looked up, that stupid smirk was waiting—cocky, amused, and dangerously inviting.

You let out a breath, folding your arms.

“What’s wrong?” AJ asked, all confidence and charm.

You didn’t answer. Kept your eyes on the table, pretending to study the blueprint like you were still trying to make sense of it. But you weren’t. You were already thinking. Plotting.

And then you got an idea.

Without a word, you moved onto AJ’s lap, settling yourself with just enough ease to make it seem casual. He raised a brow, slightly surprised, but the smile tugging at his mouth said he wasn’t complaining. 

When he asked what you were doing, you played it off with a shrug, eyes on the table. “Trying to get a better view of the blueprints.”

He didn’t push it. Just leaned back, still watching you like he already knew what you were up to.

Not even a minute later, you shifted your hips.

AJ let out a low hum, followed by a soft chuckle. “So that’s what this is about.”

You didn’t answer. You just rolled your hips again, slower this time. His hands slid over the tops of your thighs, then up your sides as he exhaled, the sound rougher now, deeper.

“We still need to get through these,” he said, though he made no effort to move you. Instead, his hands found your hips again, thumbs pressing into your skin like he was considering something.

Then he shifted beneath you—slow, intentional—just enough for you to feel the full length of him under you, hard and heavy through his pants. He let you feel it. Let you sit with it.

“You want it that bad?” he asked, his hands firm against your inner thigh, holding you in place.

“Then you’re gonna sit right here. No grinding. No whining. You take all of me—and if you can keep still…” His voice dropped again, slower now. “I’ll make it worth it.”

You knew exactly what he meant.

He’d done this before—kept you full, still, aching while he made you wait. He was always so damn nonchalant about it. But you? You never lasted long.

AJ leaned you forward slightly, one hand at the small of your back. The other went to his belt, the sound of the buckle sharp in the quiet room. You heard the drag of the zipper next, then the faint shift of fabric.

As soon as he freed himself, he gripped his cock and started working it in slow strokes. His breath turned heavier, dirtier, like he was already imagining how good you’d feel around him.

He pushed your skirt higher, fingers grazing your skin as he bared just enough.

Then— 

“Come here,” he murmured, the gravel in his voice saying more than the words did.

You repositioned, pushing your underwear aside as his hands slid back to your hips and guided you into place.

The moment you sank down on him, your head tipped back followed by a sharp moan before you could stop it. Your body clenched at the stretch, just as AJ’s hands gripped harder, holding you flush against him. 

He didn’t move—not yet. Just let you feel him.

And fuck, you felt everything.

Even after groaning from the contact himself, AJ still had that cocky grin in his voice. 

“You probably won’t last ten minutes like this,” he muttered against your skin. “You’re never patient.”

Was he right? Sure.

Every other time, yeah, you cracked. But not tonight. Not after the teasing, not after the bullshit earlier that had you pressing your thighs together just to keep from reacting.

So you didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at him. Just exhaled slow, steeling yourself, and reached for the blueprint again.

You’d prove him wrong, even if it killed you.

He was thick and hot inside you, pulsing gently with every small clench of your body. The stretch was maddening—not from movement, but from the absence of it.

The stillness made it worse. Made it better. Your body ached for friction, for rhythm, but you forced your eyes to stay on the paper in front of you.

You were full, so full it was impossible not to feel every inch of him. Every subtle twitch. Every small shift of his thigh beneath yours that pushed him in just a little deeper—just enough to remind you who was in control.

Well. Who he thought was in control.

For the next thirty minutes, AJ listened to you ask questions. Over and over.

Now you were leaning in again, dragging your finger across the same damn corner of the blueprint you’d already asked about—twice.

“So this—this feeds into the silent alarm loop, right?”

AJ’s hand flexed beside yours, knuckles going white for half a second before he answered. “Yeah.”

Flat. Dry. Barely controlled.

He kept his eyes on the paper, jaw tight, forcing himself to keep breathing evenly.

This was not how he thought this would go.

He thought you’d fold by now. That you’d get needy. Desperate.

But it was him—he was the one struggling to stay composed.

And then came another fucking question.

“If the silent alarm trips and power reroutes, it defaults to this backup here, doesn’t it? The one tucked behind the vault elevator shaft?”

Your finger landed precisely where it needed to. The way your voice sounded—soft, thoughtful, just a little unsure—could’ve passed for innocent. But AJ knew better.

You had understood the basics last week. You didn’t need to ask.

And now he understood something else. You were playing dumb. Drawing it out on purpose. Testing him.

He didn’t even bother to answer.

You moved in his lap, the motion controlled and unhurried. Then you looked back at him with that sweet little over-the-shoulder glance, hips rolling again—just enough to make sure he really felt it.

And he did. 

His hands landed on your hips, rougher than he meant, fingers tightening like he might lose the last of his patience right there.

Your eyes met his.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, soft and syrup-sweet.

AJ’s jaw tensed. His gaze dropped to where your bodies met—where you were still wrapped around him—then dragged back up to your face, darker now. Focused.

So you made it worse.

“Thought you were the patient one?” you said, then rocked your hips forward as much as you could.

His grip tightened, stilling your movement immediately. Harder this time. Possessive. Final.

Suddenly, he stood—fast and forceful—taking you with him, never slipping free.

You barely had time to react before he bent you over the table, pressing you down until your palms flattened over the blueprints.

His mouth was at your ear, voice low and sharp.

“Patience doesn’t mean I’ll let you off,” he bit out, pinning you to the table.

A pause followed, thick and weighted. Enough to make your body brace.

Then he drove into you.

Brutal. No warning. You cried out his name, loud and raw, the sound chased by a curse you that broke from your chest.

He didn’t slow. Just found a rhythm and stayed in it, each thrust hard and unforgiving, dragging another sound from your throat every time his hips met yours.

“You wanted to win?” he said, voice hoarse. One hand slid up to your shoulder, holding you steady, while the other locked back around your hip.

You tried to say his name again, tried to shape it into a plea, but it came out thin.

He let out a harsh breath through his nose, fingers digging in deeper.

“Don’t tap out now.”

Then came the words, quiet and dangerous.

“Take it like a good girl.”

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[thesassymarquess]

Gleba

What's this? More Gleba content on my blog that's becoming increasingly Factorio focused?

Yes. Today we're focusing on everyone's favorite Gleba intermediary BIOFLUX. I've been working on some new designs for it for my MP game. We're hitting the late game and my previous base with around 90 SPM isn't cutting it anymore. We're routinely having Lime Science as our bottleneck, and it's not helped that every shipment of bioflux out stalls our science production. So I've been looking into creating a new build for producing bioflux in mass, with attention being paid to late-game technologies. So I am designing with consideration for beacons, modules, & stack inserters (though these designs feature none of them. Instead I try to get the basics down, so they can be upgraded with quality, surrounded by beacons, & have stack inserters placed in as well). Since I've gone to the trouble of designing 2/3 of my planned layouts (I had a third layout, which I've decided to abandon in favor of testing the other two).

So with the idea that we want this to be a late game build, we're running with a few constraints and other considerations.

No Quality

Bioflux here is being produced primarily for export. As biter spawners don't benefit from quality bioflux, it's not worth complicating the build for, or trading off the below point.

Maximize freshness

We want to maximize the viable time of the bioflux on Nauvis. Easiest way to do that is to maximize freshness, and have a good spaceship (Which... is a different topic altogether. Perhaps a post for another day).

Space for Beacons

I want there to be space for at least a beacon for every single machine. We're beginning to regularly roll out fairly decent quality modules of the speed/prod variety, and I'm planning on building a much larger Gleba, so using modules is on the board. Plus my current issue with power on Gleba is actually having too much chemical fuel, and not enough usage, as my heating towers are throttled for better efficiency... so I have spoilage backups. Weird problem to say "I have too much power" but I do.

Shoots for the Bioflux ratio of 6 bioflux -> 5 Yumako Mash & 2 Jellynut chambers

The ratio is honestly kinda awkward at first, trying to figure out a good way to lay it all out, but I realized after a bit there were some decent layouts possible.

Fits within a robo-port grid

Fairly self-explanatory goal. I like having my roboports laid out in a perfect square grid. If I can fit the build within that, even better

With that in mind, I'll move to the designs. I'm testing them on a Nauvis sandbox (because the sandbox puts you on Nauvis by default

The first module. I found it has some of the worst space efficiency, I can't evenly put beacons around most of it in a tilable manner, and then I realized I'd have to braid belts in for the yumako, bioflux, & spoilage unless I wanted to have a 5-item belt monstrosity... So it's either a triple-braid, a rotting sushi-belt, or the design gets canned. Admittedly, a triple braid is manageable, and could be worked in such a way to hit the machines in the right order I believe, but... the final nail in the coffin here is a weird one... I don't want to belt jelly if I can avoid it. So those things altogether made me decide the design was best stopped here. I chose to share it, as it's the only design that most of it can be used with an 8-8 beacon array. It might be a good starting point for a different design for someone else.

Despite the name indicating this is the B module, this was the third module designed. It got its name from its placement between module A and C during my initial designs, while I was searching for a placement method I could use to place the biochambers such that every chamber was adjacent to the biochambers needed in the production line. I'm using infinity chests to test that all chambers fire up correctly with no downtime while running, and then run the bioflux through a steel chest before into another infinity chest to delete them. That lets me get a look at the freshness of the outgoing bioflux, and I can get a rough idea of which design is "fresher". Now earlier I mentioned that beacons are a priority for these designs, and I didn't abandon that principle. Instead, what I realized would work best would be to run pairs of beacons in the center of the yumakos, on either side of the central inserter. There should be enough space to fit a single beacon (Unfortunately I can only fit one beacon in there, there's no way for a second beacon to reach the center chamber). Another note on this design, is that it's tileable, so it can be connected front or back. It's main pitfalls are the belt-braiding (I tried a mixed belt, it didn't work well), and the low number of beacons that can affect the center. Finally, I'll give the freshness rating, which came in at a nice 96% freshness (We use fresh fruit spawned in infinity chests, they don't begin rotting until the inserters pick them up and put them on the entry belts. I ran this while the other I worked on the other designs before adding the freshness counters. So the system was already "Hot")

I also flushed the design by stopping fruit coming in, and then later restarting it, to see if it could clean itself out, and recover from a stall. I think this is the better design, even though it doesn't have nutrient production, as nutrients are fine to be wasted in my eyes, are easy to mass-produce, and a base without flowing nutrients has bigger problems generally. I originally wanted it to be nutrient independent, and capable of restarting itself, but I'll likely just have to make the nutrient production contain a nutrient-rebooter. And... considering this is for biter eggs, it's not impossible I might decide to start shipping eggs over for overgrowth production, and using them as a primary nutrient source...

Finally is module C. So this module uses a jelly belt again, but it's a lot tighter in build than Module A. Also due to the positioning of the biochambers, it's possible to use a 4-4 beacon setup with it as well. However... I've decided that if this module ends up in my base, it's either going to be for nutrient rebooting. If you look at the top row, the belts are placed at distances where yellow would work, but I found that they both require red-belt levels of throughput to keep up with the jelly & bioflux productions. In fact, the Jelly production needs at least a blue-belt, and I think actually needs a green belt to *actually* work right. That's because each biochamber outputs 12 jelly per second, and together that 24 overwhelms the 22.5 items per second of a single express belt by just a small bit. Scaled up with a 4-4 beacon setup with legendary modules, beacons, & biochambers, I think it might overwhelm the throughput of a stacked turbo belt. I didn't move to test these in legendary form admittedly, because once I got both designs working, I watched them run and waited to see if flaws began to show up. And for this build, they did. I had to rearrange the spoilage out a few times, noticed the last two bioflux chambers weren't running, which again have stalled, this time due to no Yumako. They've been routinely having problems getting sufficient yumako mash or jelly. And then they had an output issue. Ultimately I came to the conclusion if the build was struggling at common quality with no beacons, it'd perform worse with beacons & modules & quality, and there's a chance stack inserters would not be enough to save it. Finally, there's the freshness results. This build had a lot more variability in it. It stabalized around 95% freshness, but had drops down to 80% which is likely due to the input starved machines.

[willowpains]

we listen and we don’t judge

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

Drew was not a fan of social media.

Unlike you.

Chronically online was a term that was gaining fame to describe someone who spent quite some time on the internet, and who knew all the trends going on.

You weren’t exactly proud to be a part of that community.

But it kept you entertained.

And that’s how you ended up setting your phone up, ready to record Drew and you filming a new trend on TikTok.

How did you convince him to do it? You don’t even remember.

And after what felt like an eternity of explaining the dynamic to Drew, you both were finally ready to begin.

Both of you sitting next to each other on your couch, you looked at him with a mischievous smirk while he stared at you suspiciously.

“We listen and we don’t judge” you both said at the same time, Drew smirking at you.

“I’ll start” you said, looking from your phone screen to your boyfriend. “Sometimes, when I don’t really wanna cook, I get all dramatic and lie about us not having all the ingredients for the dish I was supposed to make, so you can offer to make something instead with what we do have” you say, giving him an embarrassed smile.

He chuckled at your words.

“I knew that love” he lets out a laugh. “You’re not good at lying to me”.

Your mouth opens up in shock.

“We listen and we don’t judge”.

Drew pauses for a moment, smiling at you.

"When you're showering, i close the door of our room so the sound of your music gets as muffled as possible" he admits.

You giggle as you nod at his words, you did like to shower with loud music.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You look at him through the screen.

“I thought you hated me when we first met, so I would intentionally try to stay out of your way our first couple of working days together”.

Drew gives you a puzzled expression trying his best not to judge.

“We listen and we don’t judge”.

He clears his throat before speaking.

“I often fake coming home super tired and stressed so that you take pity on me and cuddle me while playing with my hair” he says giving you a cute smile.

You giggle at his words.

“That’s cute” you admit leaning to peck his lips.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You take a couple of seconds before speaking, trying to be dramatic.

“I have a lot of edits of you saved on my favorites folder on TikTok” you look at him.

Drew covers his eyes while letting out a chuckle.

“We listen and we don’t judge”.

He looks at you mischievously.

“I get jealous of the guys in your books” he admits seriously.

You let out a laugh as you throw your head back.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You giggle softly before confessing the next one.

“Whenever I feel sick in the middle of the night, I wiggle a lot in bed or move your body so you’ll accidentally wake up and ask me what’s wrong”.

He opens his mouth surprised at your words.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

Drew thinks a little before speaking.

“Ever since we met I’ve always been skeptical of your at home remedies for illnesses, even though they work every time” he admits.

You slowly nod while giving him a defeated look, knowing that already.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You give him a playful look before speaking.

“When we’re cuddling, sometimes I have the urge to stand up abruptly because I get too hot and I feel like I can’t breathe because you’re too big” you say, barely getting out the words without laughing.

Drew looks at you with big eyes, moving his brows up and down at the double meaning of your last words.

You roll your eyes at him.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

He thinks for a moment before speaking.

“When I’m showering, sometimes I’ll use your shampoo rather than mine” he pauses as he looks at your baffled face. “It leaves my hair softer! And smells like you”.

Of course, there were a few confessions you had to cut from the video because your PR managers would hunt you down if they made it out into the internet.

“We listen and we don’t judge” you both say smiling at each other.

You smirk playfully at him before speaking.

“I cannot stand one of your friends and past coworkers” you admit, making a serious face.

Drew immediately throws his head back and lets out a chuckle, knowing exactly who you’re referring to.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

He clears his throat before looking at you.

“I don’t like watching F1 since you told me about that driver that slid into your dm’s” he lets out cockily.

You burst out laughing looking at him while he joins you.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You make a thinking face looking at him.

“I wish you sent me more shirtless photos” you say giving him puppy eyes. “Or like, you took more of those with my phone, so I could look at them”.

He snorted out a laugh.

“That can be fixed baby” he says as he looks at you mischievously.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

He gives you a smile.

“When I travel for work and you’re not coming with me, I take a pair of your panties and stuff them in my suitcase” he says laughing.

You scrunch up your nose at him.

“Drewwwwww” you say covering your face, now knowing where those missing undies went.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You avoid his eyes for the next one.

“Sometimes when I’m cold, I throw on one of your dirty hoodies that you used while working out, cause they’re sweaty and smell like you” you say, trying not to burst out laughing.

He gives you a grossed out look.

“We listen and we don’t judge”

You look at him waiting for him to speak.

“You know those sleeping shorts Brooke sent you cause she accidentally bought too many?” He says, making quotation marks with his fingers while saying sent and accidentally.

You nod at his words.

“I actually bought them for you because I love how your ass looks in them”.

Your mouth opens at his confession while you hit him playfully in the chest.

Drew laughs at your reaction.

“Oh my god baby, this is definitely not making it to the video” you say as you stand up from your position while laughing at him, walking to your phone to stop recording, while he stands back watching your movements with a smile.

Noticing that in fact, you were wearing a pair of those shorts.

“We don’t judge remember?” he said cheekily.

*

inspired by @valstranquility lando blurb<3

I love this trend on TikTok and I just couldn’t help myself

they’re just too cute I can’t

this was short n sweet hope you like it, if you have any other concepts you’d like to read let me know!

[cathnospam]

Bakugo always talk a big game during sex, but you believe it’s only because he’s too pussy drunk to realize exactly what he’s saying.

A good example is when he sneaks into your dorm to have sex while the rest of the class is down in the common room completely awake and alert, just one loud moan or yell and most of them will come rushing to your room to see what’s wrong.

“You have to be quiet, Y/N unless you do wanna give them a show huh?”

Bakugo’s breathy groans transitioning to a chuckle that makes your skin grow goosebumps, it was so attractive you subconsciously clenched down on him, a strained moan of your name slips out, “Of course you fucking do—shit.”

You held your lips tightly, only soft whimpers and whines was all you could let out with every stretch of his dick that hit your sweet spot so perfectly. Bakugo was already in a dizzy state of mind when he pulled away from your hickey filled neck to get a good look at your fucked out face, your labored wheezing of trying to be quiet while also still milking him for everything he’s got only made his hips move faster.

The covers got too hot under there so he tossed them off, his pupils growing bigger seeing your body completely being pounded from below, he did more damage to your skin than he thought.

He kept whispering in your ear such dirty comments about your body, how your tits uncontrollably moved with every thrust he did, how cute your tongue looked almost slipping out of your mouth, your eyes rolling back when he forces you to look him in the eyes.

But he kept talking about getting caught, you swore up and down he had some kind of hidden kink about it, but that was until you both finally did.

“Y-Y/N, Sato made some cookies and I knew you’d want some so I—-“

Deku has never screamed as loud as he has before in his entire life.

“Shit! DEKU!”

You swore all the reddish color in Bakugo’s face turned completely white, Bakugo hovered over you and grabbed a pillow to throw at Deku, you could’ve sworn from how hard he threw it it had rocks it in because it slapped his forehead so hard you could hear a smack.

“I-I-I’m sorry! I- didn’t! I didn’t hear you— and I—“

“JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Even though it was embarrassing to see Deku cover his face, and place the plate of cookies on your desk to then stumble out of your room, Bakugo looked more freaked out than you. Maybe you were comfortable with them both, but honestly having Izuku walk in on you wasn’t as bad as you thought.

Your boyfriend however would disagree.

“Fucking—-stupid ass—“ He sat on his knees rubbing his hair, before quickly getting up to walk towards the bedroom door, “I thought you locked it.”

“I did, but Zuzu has a key.”

“Of course he fucking does. Next time we’re going to MY room. Dumbass is probably ganna tell everybody.”

“He won’t…” Your demeanor was way too calm for his liking, he glared at you completely confused as to why you are so nonchalant about this. “ It’s Izuku okay he probably is going to bleach his eyes right now.”

You get up to look at the pretty cookies Deku manages to save for you with your blanket still wrapped around you and shrug, “What? You the one always talking about how we’ll get caught…and we did. Don’t like it do ya.”

Bakugo just scoffed, he wasn’t finished, but he sure as fuck didn’t need any more distractions so he locked the door, grabbing one of your chairs and putting it in front of it, “Go lay back down.”

[kingkaisen]

“WELL, WE SHOULD PROBABLY FUCK, RIGHT?”

♡ — SUMMARY; you & gojo are both sealed away in the prison realm. with nothing else to do, you might as well start fucking, right?

♡ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), missionary, degrading nickname, best friends to friends with benefits, bickering, slightly jealous gojo, you & gojo are both the strongest sorcerers in the world.

♡ — A/N; based on this drabble (: I love this man sm, I’d do his taxes for him btw // also, pls don’t repost my gif!

♡ — WC; 3k

“This is all your fault, Satoru.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, so I was distracted,” Gojo kicked up his feet, placing his black boots across a pile of dusty skeleton heads as if he was at home, relaxing on his plush couch, and not trapped inside of the prison realm. “If I remember correctly – and I do remember correctly because it happened thirty seconds ago – you were distracted too. Who knew that seeing your dead classmate would throw you off?”

“Throw me off?” You frowned, moving around a pile of bones to sit down somewhat comfortably. “You nearly passed out. I saw it with my own eyes, Satoru.”

“Oh,” Giving a small chuckle, Gojo tilted his head a bit as he smirked. “So you could see that, but you couldn’t see the weird guy with the two short ponytails almost obliterate you?”

“I don’t remember that. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See this?” Gojo lifted a skull pressing against his right leg, and he dangled it in front of you. “This would’ve been you if it wasn’t for me.”

“You dumbass,” you paused, rolling your eyes, “because of you, we’re both gonna end up exactly like that skeleton. You do realize we’re trapped in here, right? No way out?”

“Calm down. Someone will save us. I have faith, don’t you?”

“Hell no,” a small sigh fell from between your lips, “and you know what? I hope we don’t get saved. The fact that we let ourselves get captured like this is embarrassing. I absolutely cannot leave this stupid box and look another sorcerer in the eye after this. I’d rather die.”

“You’re pretty dramatic,” Gojo sighed. “I hear you, though. We really screwed this up. We should’ve picked different careers. I could’ve been a really nice basketball coach.”

“I would’ve been a coffee shop owner.” Distracted by your own what-if daydreams, you mistakenly leaned back on a pile of skeletons, nearly jumping out of your skin once you remembered that you were indeed lying on a pile of skeletons. “Shit! I gotta get outta here, I can’t do this.”

“Just calm down, it isn’t so bad.” As Gojo adjusted himself, he grunted. “Remember when you dressed up as a skeleton for Halloween? You manifested this.”

“I should’ve never taught you that word,” frowning, you stood up, glancing around the dark inner workings of the prison realm. “How can you relax in a place like this? Aren’t you uncomfortable? Or at least a little bit scared?”

“Hmm, no.” Gojo grinned.

“I shouldn’t have asked. You’re too stupid to know when to be scared.”

“Ouch,” Gojo said dramatically, a hint of amusement coating his words. “Ya know, I’m glad you’re not a coffee shop owner. You’d probably toss random shit in someone’s coffee, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, please shut up.”

“You shut up,” Gojo retorted childishly.

Deep breathing exercises had certainly come in handy during moments such as this one.

Although years upon years had passed since you and Gojo were kids, running around in Halloween costumes and splitting popsicles, it felt as if no time had passed at all whenever you two held a conversation.

Even so, how exactly did it come to this?

Gojo never truly had an ordinary childhood — you were the only normal thing in his life at the time — but you grew up rather unextraordinary.

A normal girl, one who went to school and did her classwork before sneaking off to a secluded lake in the late afternoons with Gojo, skipping rocks and eating sandwiches together.

It was a beautifully plain life. One that was ripped away from you by curses and sorcery.

The only silver lining that truly existed was your old classmates; the dear friends you made once you attended Jujutsu High all those years ago, and in particular, a dark-haired, mellow guy.

“Must’ve been really hard for you,” Gojo suddenly mumbled, “seeing Suguru again. You two had gotten pretty close, right? Up until he . . . left?”

“What’s up with the mumbling? Now isn’t the time for you to get jealous.”

“I’m not,” Gojo mumbled once again, turning his head away from you. “It’s not like that was the real Suguru anyway. Our Suguru is gone for good.”

“Yeah.” The sad tone of your voice is what grabbed Gojo’s attention. One thing that was stronger than his jealousy over you and Geto’s old fondness for one another was his deep concern for you.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gojo smiled softly, facing you once again.

“Huh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I said come here.”

Hesitantly, you walked over to where Gojo was stretched out among the bones, sitting down on the ground beside him as best as you could with all the skeletons around. As you looked at him, it was rather impossible to understand how he could relax so comfortably.

“Come closer,” he held his arm out, waving you over.

“Why? What for?”

“‘Cause I wanna hold you, so just come here.” Suddenly, Gojo leaned up a bit, grabbing ahold of your wrist before pulling you on top of him.

With his other hand, he gripped the back of your thigh, moving your leg over his hips as he leaned back. He sighed with contentment once you were fully on top of him. Releasing your wrist, the white-haired man touched the side of your face, slowly guiding your head to his chest. “See? Isn’t this better than laying on those skeletons?”

“I guess so,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Why are you so tense?” Gojo guided his hand across one of your shoulders, and he started to rub it.

“Hard to relax when you’re trapped in the prison realm,” you paused. “Not to mention I’m literally laying on top of you.”

“So? We hug and stuff all the time.”

“This is more than hugging, and we’ve barely done that,” you smiled softly. “Kinda nice, though. You’re pretty warm.”

“You’re pretty warm too. And really soft.” With his other hand — the one that never left your thigh — Gojo slowly stroked you, gliding his hand up and down, but not daring to touch your ass just yet.

But he wanted to. Desperately.

Suddenly, Gojo shifted his body, squirming just a bit.

“You okay?” You questioned, lifting your head off of his chest to look at his blindfolded face. “Want me to get off?”

“No, not at all, everything’s fine,” Gojo lied.

Truth be told, his dick was starting to harden in his pants, and he could barely stand it.

“Oh, okay,” laying your head back down on Gojo’s chest, you spoke once again. “Satoru? What are we supposed to do until someone saves us? Just sit here and wait?”

“No, that’s a bad idea,” Gojo said.

“Then what should we do?”

Before he answered, Gojo placed his finger underneath his blindfold, pulling at it playfully.

“Well, we should probably fuck, right?”

It took a moment for Gojo’s sinful words to fully sink in. Upon realizing that you had heard him correctly, your head snapped up, your eyes widening with utter shock.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart,” Gojo smirked. “No need to make such a big deal out of it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but . . .” You paused, darting your eyes across the vast, skeleton-filled, dark space. “Here? Of all places?”

Gojo shifted once again. He gripped his pants, but he truthfully wanted to grip his cock instead.

“I’d fuck you anywhere,” Gojo said lowly. “I just think it’s time we finally fuck each other, don’t you?”

Suddenly, his large hand gripped the back of your head, and your best friend shoved his lips against yours.

“Hmm,” Gojo moaned softly, kissing you passionately with those sweet, feathery lips of his. Kissing you — finally, after so many years of dreaming about it — was a magical experience. Before, he never believed in soulmates or seeing fireworks when kissing someone — until now.

“Shit, you’re so . . .” His words trailed off as he pulled away, his warm breath patting against your pretty face.

“Satoru,” you mumbled against his lips, “I didn’t know you thought of me this way. I didn’t think that I’d be someone you’d wanna sleep with.”

“Really? Why’s that?” As Gojo spoke, he took off his blindfold, staring at you — then your lips — with those vibrant, ocean-blue eyes of his.

“We’ve barely even hugged,” when you frowned, just a little bit, Gojo wanted to kiss your pouty lips over and over again until his mouth was sore.

God, he wanted you in ways he couldn’t even begin to vocalize.

But he’d certainly try.

“And I thought I was being obvious this entire time,” Gojo paused. “Whenever we would fight together, side by side, do you know how hard it was to concentrate? All I could ever focus on in the middle of battle was trying not to let myself get distracted by you. Hearing you grunt and groan, just watching the way you’d move. I’ve always wanted to take you home with me once the fight ended, toss you on my bed, and find out all the noises you can make; see how loud you can get. I just gotta hear you moan for me, baby. I have to.”

Running his thumb over your soft mouth, he slightly pulled down on your bottom lip, all before he leaned in again, moving his thumb away and replacing it with his lips.

This time, when he kissed you, he didn’t hold back. That sweet tongue of his entered your mouth as if it was on a mission, and he swirled his tongue around yours, enjoying every little surprised noise you made just as much as he enjoyed tasting your delicious mouth. He’d kiss you forever if he could.

A small part of him hoped that the two of you would never get released, and he could spend eternity with his tongue sloppily flicking against yours.

A pair of large hands suddenly gripped your ass. When you gasped, pulling away from Gojo’s lips, he smiled. You were just too cute.

Who knew that the prison realm would actually turn out to be heaven?

“You’re so tense,” Gojo said with a hint of a teasing tone. “Has no one ever touched you like this before?”

“People have — I mean, I’ve done stuff before, it’s just . . .”

When you failed to finish your sentence, Gojo took it upon himself to finish it for you.

“It’s just that no one’s ever made you feel good before,” his sly grin only grew. “Right?”

“I-” you stammered, “that’s none of your business.”

“Lay down.”

“Why?” You asked, your curiosity at its peak.

“I wanna eat you out, sweet girl. Now lay down.” Gojo’s hands moved from your ass to your hips, and he lifted you off of his lap and laid you down next to him.

He then flipped over on top of you, giving you another kiss — a little, quick one — before he started to impatiently unbutton your pants.

“What kinda best friend would I be if I just let you keep living your life without having had a proper orgasm?” He said, shrugging off your bottoms. “Told you not to waste any time with all those shitty guys. You should’ve been with me from the start.”

“Yeah, yeah,” rolling your eyes, you sat up on your elbows, looking down at the sorcerer between your thighs, who slowly pulled down your underwear and held your legs open. “You’re not the first guy who has said a bunch of hot things to me, but then failed to deliver-”

You were interrupted by your own unexpected gasp, as it was elicited from your throat thanks to Gojo’s skillful tongue, which had swiped right across your clit.

He was such a tease; that tongue of his could work wonders. And it did. He flicked at your clit rapidly, and during every quick stroke, his eyes never glanced away from your face.

You started to squirm, but he held onto your thighs, convinced that absolutely nothing in this world could make him want to stop eating your pussy. Not when it tasted so undeniably good.

“Had no idea this pretty pussy was so damn delicious,” he pulled away, mumbling against your wet folds. “Should’ve done this a long time ago, baby.”

When he dived back into your pussy, he licked and sucked, sucked and licked. Good god, you tasted amazing. So, so amazing. He couldn’t help but moan as he made a mess of your pussy; your juices and his spit decorating his face.

“Oh my god, Satoru,” you moaned, “I’m close-”

Once again, your words were cut off by your own uncontrollable moans. That sweet orgasm was brewing right in the pit of your stomach.

You expected him to pull away once you warned him about your approaching orgasm, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed his calloused fingertips into your plush thighs even harder, and he ate your pussy as messily as possible. Licked at it more rapidly. Sucked on your clit more hungrily.

“Cum in my mouth,” he moaned out in between licks. “Don’t hold back; I want it all. Cum in my mouth right now.”

“Gojo!” You called out. Last warning.

Instead of pulling away, he reached forward, grabbing ahold of your soft tits. With his fingers, he flicked at your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

And with that, you arched your back off of the hard ground, moaning his name over and over again like a sinner praying for forgiveness.

Gojo lapped up your juices as if he was dying of thirst. He’ll be damned if he missed even a single drop of it.

“Damn it,” he said as he detached his lips from your swollen clit. “I wanna eat you out over and over again, but I gotta fuck you. I just gotta know what it’s like to be inside of you.”

Gojo sat up on his knees. He unbuttoned his pants. When he pulled them down, along with his boxers, his hard dick flung out.

You couldn’t help but stare at the mesmerizing large dick. The tip of it was red and swollen, precum dripping from his aching hole. Two long, thick veins ran along his member.

“You’re so big,” you stated, darting your eyes between his hard cock and handsome face.

“It’s okay,” Positioning himself in between your legs, he said, “I’ll make it fit, baby.”

When he pressed the tip of his dick against your awaiting hole, it felt like he was stepping through the gates of heaven.

One hand was placed next to your head, holding himself up, while his other hand gripped your hip.

His dick slid inside of your soaking wet pussy as if it belonged there; pieces of a puzzle coming together. The sinful moan that fell from between his lips was beautiful.

He couldn’t help it.

Not when your pussy was so tight, wet, and warm.

“Hmm, hey baby?” Gojo whispered, his warm breath patting against your ear, soft white hair tickling the side of your face. “You called me Gojo instead of Satoru earlier when I was eating your pussy. I want you to moan it again for me, over and over again. Can you do that?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Such a sweet girl,” he gave the shell of your ear a quick little lick. “So, so sweet.”

He didn’t wait too long to start thrusting in and out of you once your pussy had adjusted to his size. He simply couldn’t. Not when you felt so utterly amazing.

With his lips still close to your ear as he fucked you, the chatty man whispered all sorts of dirty things. And it only made you moan even louder.

“I could fuck you just like this forever. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grunted, slamming himself inside of you at a quicker pace. “Sorry if I’m being too rough. I can’t help it, baby. Your pussy’s driving me crazy, just like I knew it would. I knew my best friend would feel this good. Who else other than me would know what to do with a pussy like this? Hm?”

“Gojo,” you called out, gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Gojo, I can’t- I’m gonna cum again!”

“Already?” He smirked, pulling away from your ear, his face only a few inches away from yours. “Gonna cum all over my dick? Make a mess?”

You didn’t respond — you couldn’t respond — not when he rhythmically fucked you like a doll, the tip of his dick reaching all the right spots inside of you.

“Shit,” Gojo suddenly groaned. “Think I’m gonna cum too, baby. I can’t hold it . . . Can’t fucking hold it much longer. I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff that pretty pussy with my cum. No one else will get to.”

“Please do it,” you stammered out with a whine, struggling to speak from the way your body was being pounded into. “P-Please!”

Suddenly, Gojo felt your pussy tighten around his cock. A wave of pure bliss washed over you, making your toes curl as you moaned his name in broken syllables.

The prettiest tears started to fall from your eyes. Gojo kissed them away.

His own orgasm was approaching quickly, building up in his lower stomach, dick, balls, and even his thighs.

“I’m so close — I’m right there, baby. I’m right there. Shit — I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum right inside of you, baby — there’s so much of it. I’m cumming-”

Feeling your cum coat his cock as your pussy milked him pushed him right over the edge. He moaned so loudly, it would have been entirely unsurprising if someone could have heard it from outside of the box.

He shot ropes upon ropes of warm, thick, pearly cum inside of you. His dick throbbed with every pulse, spilling every last drop of his semen into your stuffed hole.

“Baby,” Gojo whined lowly, attempting to catch his breath. “I didn’t think I’d ever stop cumming. You drive me crazy.”

“Can we go again?” Looking into his eyes with a pleading glance, you said, “I need more, Gojo, make me cum again. Please?”

“Did I just turn my best friend into my little slut?” Smirking, Gojo leaned down, kissing your lips once again. It was his favorite thing to do. “I’ll make you cum as many times as you want, sweetheart. We might be here for a while, so why not?”

Suddenly, Gojo lifted you, switching your positions until you were sitting right on top of him, his dick still inside of you.

“The prison realm doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you grinned.

Gripping your hips, Gojo’s eyes scanned over your beautiful body, admiring the perfect view as you started to ride him.

Perhaps, he would have to thank Kenjaku someday.

🏷: @allofffmypeaches @manjiroswifo @yourusernames @armani78 @darkphoenix3432 @komonika

[helaintoloki]

Hey there! I’ve got a little request for you.

What about a fic where the reader has to go back in time to the 40s (perhaps for an infinity stone? Work it however you want). It’s supposed to be a quick mission. Until they run into a young Bucky.

a/n: hi anon! i hope you don’t mind but i made some tweaks to the request to fit the story i came up with. however, the original idea of reader going to the 40s is still there!

warnings/notes: angst, fluff, sort of an enemies to lovers piece

summary: after accidentally sending yourself back in time, you run into a younger version of the man you loathe only to find yourself questioning your feelings for him

“You’re such a jerk!”

“Oh, so saving your ass makes me a jerk now?” Bucky retorts in annoyed disbelief at your insult. The two of you haven’t exactly been getting along as of late, so it wasn’t a surprise to either of you that your first assignment together was proving to be disastrous.

“Saving me?” You repeat incredulously, halting in your steps to whirl around and angrily point a finger against his chest. The firmness of his muscles has you faltering for a split second, but you’re adamant not to let your stupid little school girl crush on the man stop you from tearing into him.

Sometimes you’re not even sure why you have feelings for someone who constantly pushes your buttons and tests your patience, but it’s hard not to fall for his good looks and charm, especially during the rare moments of pleasantness you experience when he’s not getting on your nerves. You and Bucky rarely see eye-to-eye, and though for the most part you can tolerate each other, your camaraderie doesn’t last long.

“Shoving me out of the way when I had a clear shot isn’t saving me! I had it covered before you decided to play hero and treat me like some damsel in distress!”

“You had a clear shot and so did the sniper sitting on that rooftop,” Bucky points out with an irritated tick of his jaw. “You couldn’t have gotten the hit with a bullet hole in your head.”

You falter momentarily at being presented with your error, face beginning to heat with embarrassment at being in the wrong. However, your stubborn nature takes over and causes you to double down on your anger instead of admitting fault.

“I don’t need your help. In fact, because of your little stunt my inhibitor is broken,” you state indignantly while lifting your wrist to show the damaged metal band, “so now I have no way to safely get us home.”

Bucky blanches at the realization, and now it’s his turn to feel hot with embarrassment and guilt for his mistake. You’re one of the enhanced members on the team, an Avenger with the power to teleport not only from place to place but also through time, but your ability isn’t always the most reliable. It can be unstable when used too often or without proper concentration, which is why Tony had crafted your inhibitor bracelet to ensure you didn’t accidentally teleport yourself or your teammates to the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust yourself to make the jump back to the compound without it, and now the two of you were stranded.

He curses under his breath and runs an anxious hand through his hair before saying, “We’ll have to call for someone to come get us.”

“No shit,” you retort only to earn an eye roll from him in response. “But that’s going to take hours, and if we stay here we’re dead.”

“Look,” Bucky sighs depreciatively, “we need to figure this out together, so I’d appreciate a little less sarcasm and a little more-“

The sound of gunfire interrupts Bucky’s rant and sends you both ducking for cover. Your arguing had allowed enough time for the enemy to counterattack with an ambush, and now you were cornered with nowhere to go. You find yourself pressed against a metal crate, making yourself as small as possible while trying to form some sort of an exit plan. Your attackers were closing in, and you felt the anxiety beginning to rise in your chest at the fact that you had nowhere left to run.

Bucky calls your name frantically, breaking you out of your panicked daze quickly enough for you to register the woman approaching you with her gun raised. Your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights, and when she pulls the trigger you feel your powers activate on instinct as you’re teleported out of the line of fire.

You land on the ground with a groan.

Tingles run down your body from the use of your powers, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the new surroundings you find yourself in. The packing warehouse you’d been dodging gunfire fire in is long gone, and instead you find yourself in an alleyway nestled between two apartment buildings. Your mind is frantic as you try to scramble back up onto your feet only to crumple down in pain from your fall. You think you’ve twisted your ankle, and you don’t know where you are or how to get back home.

You attempt to use your powers to jump back to the warehouse to help Bucky, but without the inhibitor bracelet your teleportation has become shoddy. You let your head fall back with a frustrated groan at being completely helpless and try to clear your mind to figure out your next move.

“Excuse me,” an oddly familiar voice calls from the other end of the alleyway, “are you alright, miss?”

You lift your head at the sound of approaching footsteps and are met with a set of kind blue eyes that have your breath catching in your throat. His face is so much younger and full of life, not yet tainted by the trauma he’d endured after the events of the war. He’s beautiful, and you find your heart nearly leaping out of your chest when he makes his way towards you. He reaches out to you with his left hand, and you stare down with uncertainty at the warm flesh that replaces metal.

You’d accidentally sent yourself back in time, and now you found yourself face to face with a Bucky who had yet to become the Winter Soldier.

“I… I’m fine,” you finally manage to get out after willing away your initial shock. You hesitantly accept his hand and are unnerved by the unusual warmth his palm emits against your own. He helps you back onto your feet only for you to stumble as a result of your bad ankle. His strong arms catch you in an instant, holding you upright while you brace yourself against his firm chest.

“Looks like you had quite the fall,” Bucky says with a lighthearted smile while meeting your gaze. You see something shift in his features when he looks into your eyes, an awestruck sense of admiration washing over him as he takes in your disheveled appearance. You begin to fear that he has you figured out, that somehow he knows who you are and that you don’t belong, but instead he merely wipes away a smudge of dirt from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re a knockout,” he compliments before letting out a sheepish laugh at his own boldness. Your stomach flips at his confession, and you have to stop and remind yourself that this is a completely different Bucky from the one you know. The Bucky you have back at home would sooner call you a pain in his ass than ever call you beautiful.

“Thank you,” you breathe out nervously, flashing him a meek smile while subtly trying to free yourself from his hold. You have no idea what repercussions will come from you interacting with him, and you still need to figure out a way to get back to your own time now that it’s been made clear you sent yourself to the past. You attempt to walk only to wince again at the ache in your leg, something Bucky notices immediately.

“You’re hurt. Let me take you home with me, my Ma can fix you right up and get you something to eat,” he offers only for you to quickly shake your head.

“I couldn’t impose. I’ll be fine, really,” you try to assure him, but your obvious discomfort isn’t very convincing.

“Nonsense. What kind of a man would I be if I left you here in this dingy alleyway to fend for yourself? My mother raised me better than that.”

You can’t help the soft smile that forms on your lips at his kindness. Steve had often mentioned how charming Bucky was in his younger days, how he had swept countless girls off their feet with his chivalrous nature and good looks. Bucky would always grumble about his friend’s need to exaggerate on the details of the past, but you were now seeing firsthand the truth to the Captain’s stories.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from finally relenting to Bucky’s request. How can you deny him when he flashes you such an endearing grin and looks upon you with eyes full of tenderness? You expect him to take your hand or give you his arm to steady yourself for the walk home, but he instead surprises you by literally sweeping you off of your feet and carrying you in his arms. You gasp, fingers anxiously clutching at the fabric of his dress shirt while you look to him with wide eyes; his strength is unwavering, and his lips sport a proud grin as he whisks you away to his apartment.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got you.”

Your inner turmoil is almost unbearable as you struggle to comprehend the sweetness of this Bucky in comparison to the brooding nature of your own Bucky. You’re not used to such acts of chivalry or flirtatious remarks, and it certainly doesn’t help alleviate the crush you harbor on your teammate. If anything, you’re even more confused now than you’ve ever been when it comes to your feelings for the Winter Soldier. You’re adamant about not falling into the fantasy, about staying focused on the task at hand, but it’s hard to do so when Bucky is so obviously sweet on you.

“I’ve just realized I don’t know your name,” he notes thoughtfully. “Most guys usually know the name of the girl they plan to bring home to their mother.”

“Y/n,” you reply gently despite the heat that spreads across your face at his jest, not even sure if giving your real name is the right move.

“Y/n,” he repeats sweetly, devoid of the usual tone of annoyance or irritation you’re used to. “I think that suits a pretty girl like you. My name is James, but most people just call me Bucky.”

“I like James,” you admit truthfully while avoiding his burning gaze. “I think it suits a gentleman like you.”

“A gentleman, huh? Mom will proud to hear that.”

You find yourself subtly sneaking a glance at his face while he speaks, unable to resist drinking in the details of a younger, innocent Bucky who has yet to endure the horrors his future has in store for him. He exuded confidence and light, and you could see why girls would throw themselves at his feet just to see his smile. This Bucky was full of hope, and your chest ached at having to keep what you knew about him hidden. You couldn’t risk stirring up trouble in the past by telling him what would take place after being shipped off to England and meddling with a future that had already been set in stone, and you knew he might not even believe you anyway. You had no choice but to keep your mouth shut and maintain your composure until you managed to get back to the present.

You eventually make it to his apartment and find your stomach twisting with nerves as Bucky carefully sets you down so he can unlock the door. You’re not sure how you’re going to handle meeting his mother or setting foot into his childhood home, and the entire situation feels much too intimate for you to bear. You’re an intruder in his life, the one he kept close to his chest away from everyone but Steve, and you wonder how much he’ll hate you for this when you finally get back.

“Let’s get you inside,” James urges, gently guiding you through the doorway while being mindful of your bad leg. He lets you hold onto his arm while escorting you towards the couch. The living room is quaintly decorated with photos and antique furniture, and the floral patterned wallpaper reminds you of the one your grandmother had kept in her home. The smell of a freshly cooked meal wafts through the apartment, and from the distance you can hear the quiet crackle of the kitchen radio playing a tune.

“Wait right here,” he says with a wink before disappearing down the hallway and leaving you to your own devices. You debate making your escape while he’s gone in order to avoid delving deeper into Bucky’s past life, but you know you won’t get far with a twisted ankle. Instead, you choose to quickly comb your fingers through your hair and dust yourself off to make yourself somewhat presentable in the presence of his mother.

“I’m telling you, Ma,” Bucky’s voice echoes through the hallway as he makes his return to the living room, “she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat at his flattery and try to appear as inconspicuous as possible despite your nerves. You can’t help but wonder how you’re supposed to go back to normal after all of this is over, and a part of you is starting to dread returning home.

Bucky walks into the room with an older woman on his arm. She has beautifully curled hair that’s been pinned back neatly to frame her weathered face. Despite the wrinkles under her eyes, they are bright with joy when she gazes upon her son, and her ruby red smile flashes pearly whites your way when she finally rests her attention on your awkward form.

“Mom, this is y/n,” Bucky introduces proudly, “I promised her you could fix her right up.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” his mother croons as she seats herself beside you. “James told me all about your nasty fall, but I don’t want you to worry. You’re in good hands here with me.”

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Miss,” you express earnestly as you look into her striking blue eyes she shares with her son. “I promise I won’t be in your way long.”

“Nonsense,” she dismisses you with a wave of her hand. “Any friend of my James is welcome in this home. And please, call me Winnifred.”

“Thank you, Winnifred,” you repeat with a grateful smile, the woman’s kindness having alleviated some of your stress. You watch as she begins to scan over your features for any other possible injuries while taking in your disheveled form; her brows furrow slightly when she takes note of your attire.

“What peculiar clothing,” she murmurs while running her fingers along the rip in your tactical suit. You blanch slightly at the realization that you aren’t exactly dressed for the time period you’re in and scramble to come up with a lie.

“It’s my factory uniform,” you quickly fib, grateful for the fact you’d paid attention in your high school history class. “I make munitions for our boys overseas.”

“I love a woman in uniform,” Bucky notes with an innocent smile despite the flirtatious tone of his words.

“How admirable of you! But surely it must not be very comfortable. Why don’t you get cleaned up and changed out of that uniform before I wrap your ankle? I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“I’ll show you to the bathroom,” Bucky offers before assisting you back onto your feet. You wrap an arm around his midsection to keep yourself propped upright while lamely limping down the hallway with his help. “Mom really seemed to like you, not that I’m surprised.”

“I can see where you get your charm,” you tease gently, almost melting at the boyish grin that forms on his lips in response. Would it be wrong of you to wish you could have such an easy rapport with your own Bucky as you do with this one?

You make it to bathroom where James shows you how to work the shower before giving you your privacy. The water pressure isn’t as strong as what you’re used to back at the compound, but it does the job. You’re grateful to finally scrub off the grime and dried blood that had accumulated from the mission, and you feel like you’re in a much clearer headspace now to start planning your next move.

A simple dress is laid out on the dresser for you when you finish your shower, and once you’re decent Winnifred sits you down and wraps your ankle. She insists you keep off your foot and rest for the remainder of the evening in her daughter’s bed seeing as she’s off at a sleepover. You know better than to object to the woman’s demands, and so you find yourself seated on the cushiony mattress with a dinner tray on your lap. You’re absolutely starving, and you’re grateful to finally have the chance to eat considering you need your strength in order to attempt teleporting without the help of your inhibitor.

A gentle knock on the doorway interrupts your ruminative dinner, and you watch curiously as Bucky slowly peeks his head into the door.

“Mind if I keep you company?”

“Of course not,” you hum gently, heart thrumming in your chest when he seats himself on the edge of the bed beside you. The scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk drowns your senses, causing a longing ache to settle in the pit of your stomach as you’re reminded of the fact that you must leave him behind when this is all over.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Your mom says the swelling should go down in a day or two as long as I keep off of it.”

“Does that mean you’ll be sticking around here a bit longer?” Bucky asks with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. You smile faintly, but it isn’t very convincing.

“I can’t,” you relent gently, guilt consuming your entire being at the way his features falter in result. “I have to get back home.”

“You have someone waiting for you?” He prompts softly, absently fidgeting with a loose thread from the comforter.

“I do,” you confess quietly. You watch his gaze drop down to hide his disappointment, head shaking slightly as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“I should have known a girl like you would already be spoken for. Is he handsome?”

“Very,” you nod sheepishly, your face growing hot at having to confess such thoughts to the younger version of the man you picture in your head. “His eyes are blue like yours, but his hair’s a bit longer. He doesn’t smile much, but when he does it lights up an entire room.”

“Does he treat you the way you deserve?”

“He can be cold and closed off at times, but I know deep down he cares. He just isn’t very good at showing it, and I certainly don’t make it easy for him. I can be a handful, and we fight a lot, but I think I love him anyway.”

Sighing, Bucky runs his fingers through his perfectly combed hair before meeting your gaze. You watch as he reaches out to gently take hold of your hand in his left one. You can’t remove your eyes from the flesh no matter how hard you try, and you don’t think you’ll ever get over the feeling of being able to touch the arm that has yet to be tainted by Hydra’s touch. You almost want to tell him, but you’re able to bite your tongue.

“There isn’t anything I can do to change your mind?” He asks while giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes are full of hope and admiration for the woman that had spontaneously fallen into his life, and though he’d only known you for a short period of time he knew that something about you was special. You were unlike any woman he’d ever met, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life getting to know you.

“I don’t think so, James,” you comfort softly. You feel so bold as to rest a hand gently upon his cheek, and you’re rewarded by the feeling of him leaning into your touch as he melts into your palm. “You’re a wonderful man, and I have a feeling this won’t be the last time our paths cross.”

Smiling faintly, Bucky cheekily turns his head to press a chaste kiss to your palm. Your breath catches in your throat at the act while your stomach flutters with nervous butterflies, but you don’t make a move to pull your hand away.

“I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart. I’d be a fool to let a girl like you out of my life,” he says with a wink before reluctantly beginning to pull away from you. Before you can stop yourself or think it through, you frantically shoot your hand out to keep him in place.

“Wait!” You exclaim desperately, catching both Bucky and yourself off guard. You know better than to bring the future to the past, and you know in the end that altering the course of his life won’t change the events of your present time, but you owe it to the man who had shown you such kindness to warn him about his fate.

“What is it, y/n?”

“I…,” you begin to say, faltering as you struggle to get the words out. He looks to you patiently for you to finish your sentence, and despite the guilt that consumes you for changing your mind, you continue, “I want you to promise me you’ll be careful in the future. I couldn’t stand anything happening to you, and I just want you to be safe.”

“Oh,” Bucky breathes as if he hadn’t been expecting such a serious profession. After processing your words, the man simply gives you an affirming nod and replies, “of course I will, doll. Anything you ask.”

The turmoil within you at keeping the truth to yourself persists, but you’re unable to say nothing more as Bucky rises from his seat on the bed and takes your empty tray from your lap. “I’ll get this out of your way.”

He leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead before excusing himself from the room, shutting the door behind him to give you your privacy. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and blink back the tears that threaten to spill. You cherish the time you’ve spent with him here in his own time, but you also miss the Bucky you have back at home. You’ve never hated him, you just never understood him or the walls he insisted putting between you, but you can see now just how much Hydra had taken from him. He hadn’t always been the grumpy soldier you knew him as, and your stubborn nature certainly didn’t help him come out of his shell.

You needed to make things right, not only with the Bucky from your timeline but also with the one who had just spent his entire day looking after a complete stranger.

Despite the painful throbbing of your ankle, you will yourself out of bed and desperately rush towards the door. You know that exposing his true fate will not alter the course of your timeline, but perhaps there’s a possibility it can give him the chance to create a new timeline where he never gets the chance to become the Winter Soldier.

“Bucky!” You call out in hopes he’ll come rushing back down the hall. You’re so desperate to reach him that you don’t notice the soft glow of your inhibitor bracelet, and your frantic state of mind creates a lack of control over your teleportation ability.

You reach the doorknob just as your powers activate, and when you step through the doorway you are no longer in the apartment of James Barnes but instead in your own bedroom back at the compound.

You stagger forward in a daze, mind reeling from the use of your powers as you struggle to adjust to your new surroundings. Your heart drops to your chest when you finally come to the realization that you’re back where you belong, and you slowly sink down to your knees in tears over the fact that you’d been too late. Bucky would return to an empty bedroom, and he would go on to live the life that fate had chosen for him.

You couldn’t protect him- you’d failed.

You begin to sob as the amalgamation of emotions from your experience overtakes you, and you’re so consumed in your grief that you fail to hear the sound of your door sliding open behind you.

“Y/n? It’s been three days, where the hell have you been?” A startled voice sounds, causing you to jump in surprise. You turn to find Bucky standing in your doorway, his irritated features morphing into confusion at the sight of your distraught state. Tears steadily stream down your cheeks in time with the trembling of your shoulders, and he slowly makes his approach towards your figure on the floor. “Y/n?”

Bucky cautiously sinks to his knees beside you and places a careful hand on your back. The coolness of his metal arm has you shivering, a stark contract to the warmth you’d felt when he’d held your hand in his Brooklyn apartment. “Are you alright? What happened?”

You don’t think before throwing yourself into his arms and holding tightly onto his frame. Bucky nearly topples over from the impact but is quick to regain his balance so he can hold you both upright. Initially he isn’t sure how to react considering this is the first time you’ve ever willingly gotten this close to him let alone hugged him, but he’s eventually able to reciprocate the act by wrapping his arms around your trembling figure and holding you close to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, fingers tightly clutching at the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. “I’m sorry for always giving you such a hard time, for being so stubborn. You don’t deserve that, and I should have tried to be a better teammate.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky shushes gently, his tone unusually gentle as he carefully pulls away to look you in the face. “I know I’m not exactly the most pleasant person to be around sometimes, and I haven’t always been the nicest to you either. I’m sorry for that.”

“You mean you’re not going to yell at me for disappearing on you? You don’t hate me?” You snivel, prompting his lips to quirk up into a rare smile.

“I’m not going to yell at you for something you can’t control. And I never hated you. I just… never really knew how to be around you. Steve always speaks so highly of you, you’re everyone’s favorite, and I never felt like I had the right to know you so intimately the way they do. I figured keeping my distance would be easier, and I thought you preferred it that way considering our track record.”

“I don’t want you to keep your distance anymore,” you plead softly. “I want to be around you, I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“That can be arranged,” Bucky notes with a faint smile while carefully brushing away the last of your tears, “but can I ask you what brought this on?”

“It’s a long story,” you admit while guiltily avoiding eye contact with the man. You’re not sure if you should tell him the truth about your venture just yet, but you don’t have it in you to lie to him. You know you’ll have to tell him one day, but for now it can wait. “Being gone these past few days just gave me time to get a new perspective on things.”

“Well, whatever happened, I’m glad it did,” he says truthfully. “Now let’s get you cleaned up so you can let the rest of the team know you made it back safe.”

You allow him to help you up off the ground just as he had in that alleyway, and when he looks down at you with his soft blue eyes you’re able to see his younger self once more. The charming, chivalrous James Barnes who had taken such good care of you still existed within Bucky, it would just take time for him to come out of his shell and open himself up to you the way his past self had done so.

And you would wait all the time in the world for him.

[lologoinsolo]

A continuation of this post! Tw: the word Daddy is mentioned but not in a sexual way!

Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 3

A week passed since that guy came in. You hope that the kitten's okay, the guy seems much better than you thought him to be. You did wonder if that was blood on the bills he gave when your manager had counted the register for the night. It looked a lil too red for your taste. But everyone has their secrets and you’re not about to ask that tank of a man if he killed someone or just happened to prick his finger. Still though you hope Bailey is faring much better with him than in the could and… you hope he comes back.

Sunday’s the worst but you managed to persuade your coworker to take over your register. Truck had just came in with so many things for the store and your managers are scrambling to get it all on the sales floor.

Humming along to the song from your earphones. The perks about stocking is that you hardly get bothered by your coworkers. No one likes to restock the numerous bedding and litter and pet clothing so you jumped at the chance to do it. Gives you some peace and quiet save for when the customers will tap at your shoulder. You’ll plaster a smile and use your “customer voice” to point them to where they need a certain item and then get back to stocking. You really should find a way to just work with animals. Maybe you can talk to your manager to see if you can try grooming instead of—

“Girl!”

You jerk and nearly ruin the stack of dog cans you had just put up when someone grabs your arm. “Jesus, Jess,” glaring at your manager when you give her a scathing glare. Coincidentally this one’s the grooming manager. “What’s the matter?” Normally she wouldn’t be out of the grooming salon but the stores been short staffed and cutting corners. She’s been running around having to manage the store floor and hers.

“What’s the matter,” she scoffs, “the matter is your boyfriend is asking for you.” Boyfriend? “He’s a real asshole, ya know. We paged you twice over the intercom. Did you not— are you wearing headphones?” You wince when her voice gets screechy. You pull on your earphones and sigh, it’s an unspoken rule to not wear earphones but that literally never stops her groomers from wearing them.

“Jess, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Rolling your eyes as you give her a once over. Her hands land on her hips and you inwardly sigh. “What does he even look like? Did he say my name?” A little hopeful and also very worried because why is there a man claiming to be your boyfriend and why did your manager come get you for this? “I’m sure he’s one of the customers that’s been bitching lately. The fish tanks aren’t on sale anymore maybe he—“

“He’s not here for fish.” Cutting you off, “he asked for you. I thought he was your boyfriend cause he knew you were working right now.” The alarms start going off in your head. “Look, just go see what he wants.”

“Jess, I don’t know who this man is. Why didn’t you tell him I was like— I don’t know, not working?!”

“Because he’s refusing to fucking leave and he looks like he’s apart of the goddamn mafia!” She yells and you blink at her. Your anger boils to a simmer when she mentions what he looks like.

“Wait, wait… is he wearing a black mask? The ones people wore during COVID?” She nods and you pinch your nose hard. This motherfucker, “okay… I know him. He found a kitten a week ago. I told him to come find me. I didn’t think he’d remember my name because my name tag is so small.” Sighing loudly and stepping around her. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Good, he’s given us all a fright and I really don’t need this right now. Bella bit the shit out of Felix and now I’m down a groomer.”

“Okay,” nodding as she tells you her woes. It’s been hard all around cause there’s not many workers but you’ll take a mask wearing customer over a shih tzu that’s known to bite. Fixing your shirt and putting on a smile when the figure that’s haunting the grooming salon takes one look at you and starts walking to you— quickly. “Evening, good to see you again. How can I—“

“She’s not eating any of the shit you told me to buy.” He cuts you off and you wonder if you’re actually just made of paper with how everyone cuts you off. There’s a black scarf he’s wearing and you notice a little bit of movement. This guy seems to favor black considering the matching jacket and pants color scheme.

You pull a face and turn to your side when he steps right in front of you. Jesus, he’s tall. Craning your neck to look up at him. “Sir, you have a weeks worth of three different foods?” Is she refusing to eat all of them? “It’s only been a week. Are you sure she’s—“

“Gave her a different one each day and she ain’t eating.” He tilts his head down, “why?” You swallow a bit when he glares at you. You wonder if whoever pisses him off gets to see this last before they get knocked the fuck out.

“You?” Shriveling up slightly, “wait,” once it runs through what he says it starts to click in your head. “You gave her a different one each day. You’re not supposed to do that.” Now it’s your turn to glare at him, “you’re supposed to ease her out into a new one before letting her try it suddenly.” You gave him the kitten version of chicken, beef, and salmon. You had a feeling that she was probably eating literal garbage and wanted her to try the chicken first. It’s your usual go to for new kittens.

“News to me,” he crosses his heavy arms over his chest. “Should’ve told me that.”

“I did tell you…” you start to trail off when you realize that you in fact did NOT tell him that. You just assumed he would know that. Goddamnit. “Okay,” he cocks an expectant brow, “maybe I forgot to mention but you didn’t ask. I thought you knew.” A measly form of an apology and taht doesn’t seem to settle him

“I told you I need things for the little shit. You made me buy those things,” he takes a step forward, “expensive things and now she’s waking me up all hours of the damn night because she’s hungry.” Your throat must be very dry from how hard you swallow. “What you didn’t tell was how to feed her.” His hands ball and flex.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you realize that maybe you are more in the wrong than your pride wishes to admit. “Look I,” taking a breath, “I’m sorry. It’s on me, I should’ve told you. I would’ve given you one of those first time pamphlets but we ran out.” Feeling like how a bug feels under a boot with how you tremble out an apology. “Was there one that she seemed interested in the most? Some cats like the chicken more while others prefer the salmon.” Maybe you can give him some wet cans to entice his little pet. A small thing like her shouldn’t be without food and you start to feel worse.

“She sniffed more at the salmon.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Perking up and you turn on your heel. “Come on, I’ll buy you some wet cans.” Before he can even protest you cut him off finally. “Look, I feel horrible, it’s the least I can do. Plus I get discounts.” Giving him a wink and he doesn’t give you anything other than a curt nod. You grab the salmon wet cans, the kitten ones, and you pray to the gods that Bailey will eat it so her dad won’t kill you. “Try the wet cans, see if that’ll work. If not then you’ll have to try for a different one. There’s a brand here that sells rabbit and turkey, a bit expensive.” You laugh shortly, “but cats have sensitive stomachs. They don’t mean to be picky.”

“Might not be picky but she sure as hell like to run my money.”

You huff a small laugh at his expense, “you should see the bills I’ve seen that get racked up here.” You skip the line to head to your register. Ringing it up and usually you’re not supposed to use your own discount for others but you’re not willing to risk mafia guy’s anger. Bagging it and passing it to him for him but he doesn’t grab it right away “Is there… is there something else you need?” You ask and he takes the bag from you finally.

He mulls over your words for a second and then says. “Need a collar,” he tilts his head to the side and out pokes Bailey’s itty bitty head from his scarf. You nearly scream when you see her but manage to bite your tongue on time. “Here,” he pulls her out and she lets out a disgruntled meow. He plops her down in your waiting arms. “Scratched up my neck.” He grumbles under his breath when he fixes his scarf back up. The kitten simply purrs in your arms when you coo and run from her nose to head. A glutton for love and you readily give it to her. “Find something for her.” He waves offhandedly once his scarf looks decent around his neck once more.

“Do have a specific—“ you trail off again when his eyes squint down at you. Right… he doesn’t really care. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” He grunts an acknowledgment and you walk off with the cutest little baby. She keeps pulling at your chest, seems eager to get to your shoulders and you wonder if she does that to her dad all the time. “Hmmmm,” looking from all the collars that the store sells. “You’re too tiny,” you hold her up like the monkey did the lion cub, a little sad that there’s not much that’ll fit her. “But,” noticing a small blue collar that shines slightly, “this could fit. It’ll give you enough room to grow into as well.” It’s a cat collar designed to unclasp if it gets snagged hard onto something. And knowing this curios kitten, she’ll need it.

Bailey doesn’t seem to mind when you let her sniff at it till the collar comes on and then she’s desperate to figure out what’s around her neck. Her back legs kicking at the edge of the collar and you cup her so she won’t tug it off. “Your daddy wants you wearing that so you gotta get used to it.” He could train her to walk on a harness later but that does take a good amount of training and

“Daddy, huh?”

You jolt from your thoughts and squeeze a little too tight around Bailey. She lets out a little hiss and you blubber an apology. “I didn’t— that’s not what I—“ the ‘daddy’ in question seems far too amused with how you stutter. “I uh… I thought you were at the front?” Coughing to push past your embarrassment. Petting Bailey as an apology on her sides and under her chin. She doesn’t forgive easily as she gives you a well deserved nips. You murmur a sorry to her and she squints up at you.

“Thought you got lost.” He comes around and pulls his kitten from your hands, he took a little longer to get her out but maybe you’re thinking too hard. You were taking a bit down the aisle but you wanted her to have a nice collar that fit her well. The heat from his fingers though makes your own cheeks warm slightly. When did he get that close and also why didn’t you hear him walking up? “Looks good,” he holds Bailey up and moves her around like she’s a little jewel. “Blue suits her.” He pushes her back inside his scarf and you can faintly hear her little purrs. A slight movement of the fabric before she settles right up against his neck.

Clearing your throat slightly, some strands of hair falls a bit forward but you’re still a bit squirmy to fix it. “I knew she would look good in blue. It matches her, I can buy it for you as well. I don’t min—“ your eyes widen when he moves his hand to tuck those loose strands back behind your ear. You stare up wide at him and he stares down at you. Nothing in his eyes give away an ounce of an emotion despite how you look. To his credit, he may have not meant to do that with how quickly he puts his hand down. “Uh… I— sir?” You manage to squeak out and his mask twitches slightly.

He flexes his hand that touched you and leaves you standing there bewildered, confused and your cheeks burning up so much that you might consider it to be a fever. You don’t follow him when he took off without giving an answer but you do touch your ear. The phantom feeling of his fingers makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. “What the fuck?” You murmur under your breath.

…

The next day you manage to get to work with little sleep from how you tossed and turned. You sorta waited more around your register to see if the man would come back but to your disappointment… he doesn’t. You take it in stride and continue about your day. Just as you’re about to clock out a man with a charming smile and model worthy appearance comes in holding a kitten in his hands and says, “I was told by my friend to ask you for help with cats. Can you help me, love?”

[docrobinavitch]

penance

dr. robby x f!attending!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, ANGST, sexually explicit content, swearing, mentions of family trauma, complicated mother/daughter dynamic, sibling death, grief, age gap words: 5.6K synopsis: reader has worked too many goddamn shifts on the opposite shift as robby and they both take out their frustrations on one another. this takes place in the same universe as sacraments of healing, roughly a year and a half later. i think they can be read separately for the most part, you just might miss out on the full context of the fucked up family dynamics going on in the background here. a/n: well!! this was quite literally requested but for some reason i still get the feeling nobody wants to read this. kdfhgkdjhg perhaps because sacraments and now this one the reader is soooo much like me it feels like self harm at times when i write her ksdfhgkjdfg anyway i hope you guys like it!! i don't think i'll be writing anything else for these two but i am really so so grateful for all the love you've given sacraments. it is still a shock to me. as always thank you for reading.

Your eyelid was twitching. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept for more than three hours uninterrupted. You had worked seven night shifts back to back with a double thrown in the middle and you swore you could still hear the beep of the heart monitors even when you were at home. It was keeping you awake. It was also keeping you awake that you and Robby were on opposite schedules. You never slept well if he wasn’t in bed with you.

Your neck ached and you stretched it to one side as you held your phone a couple of inches away from your ear. Your back was pressed against the wall in the ambulance bay and your mother was shouting at you through the phone.

“If they repossess his car he’ll have no way to get to work and he’ll lose his job and he’ll be back at square one.”

“Well, Tommy should’ve thought of that before he financed a car when he had only had his new job a fuckin’ week.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I mean, Christ, does he ever think things through for more than five seconds?”

“We can’t all be perfect like you, Ace.”

“That’s not what I said—“

“Both our credit scores will be in the fucking toilet if they repossess, is that what you want?”

You paused and then scoffed, “You cosigned the loan?”

“He’s my baby and he needed help, of course I did,” You rolled your eyes, “I would do the same for you if you asked!”

“Well he shouldn’t have fucking asked is the point! He’s a grown man!” You sighed heavily, “How much does he need?”

Your mom’s quiet for a moment, “Fifteen thousand.”

You banged the back of your head into the brick wall behind you, squeezing your eyes shut tight. The throbbing in your neck had extended to your head. You were so fucking tired. “I can’t do this right now, I’m at work. I’ll call you back.”

“I know they pay you well at that hospital—“

“Do you have any idea how much debt I’m still in from medical school? You’re asking for the entirety of my emergency fund. Everything I’ve fucking saved.”

“He’s your baby brother. You would’ve done it for Benji.“

You balked, the back of your head bouncing off the wall. She could be so fucking cruel sometimes in an effort to get what she wanted, it still managed to shock you, to steal the air from your lungs. 

Just then, Robby walked through the ambulance bay doors, backpack slung over his shoulder. He was heading home, sunglasses perched on his head to compete with the sun that was setting low in the sky.

Ever since he had come home with you that Christmas, he had become like a watchdog of sorts. His hackles would always raise whenever he heard you on the phone with someone in your family or you said you were going to see your parents. Despite it all, you still went every now and then, though you had taken to meeting them only in public where you could guarantee they wouldn’t make a scene.

The last thing you needed right now was for Robby to hear any of this conversation. He’d probably take the phone from you and tell your mom exactly where she could shove it.

You cleared your throat, swallowed down the bile of her words. “I really have to go, I’m at work. I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up without waiting for her reply, knowing you would get hell for that later.

“Hey,” Robby smiled at you, trapping you between himself and the wall, “Who was that?”

You sighed, “My mother.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Do I want to know?”

“No.” You rested your forehead against his, “You really, really don’t.”

“I miss you,” He whispered and caught your lips with his own. 

You both loved Robby a criminal amount and missed him terribly considering you had been on opposite schedules for almost two weeks now, but with the call from your mom, the lack of sleep, and impending headache when you were just starting your shift, you couldn’t handle being touched right now. You felt like you were one inconvenience away from crawling out of your skin.

You pulled away, leaning your head back against the wall, “Sorry, I can’t right now.”

Robby shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from you. It was clear to you he was trying to cover up his hurt and frustration at your rejection. It wasn’t the first time. You had been overwhelmed and overstimulated for days on end. The few times you’d run into each other you could barely tolerate a kiss on the cheek.

“Have you been sleeping?” He asked.

“Not really. Have you?”

He shrugged, “Enough. But going out of my goddamn mind from not being able to touch you for something like three weeks now.”

“Well then maybe you should tell Gloria to get me off the fucking night shift, like I asked you to three days ago.” You snapped. 

He laughed shortly and ran a hand over his beard, “You know it’s not that simple. They were short an attending, you were asked to pick up the slack—“

“I wasn’t asked, I was told.”

“Fucking semantics. You get a week off after today, okay? Could you just be a team player?”

You laughed, “Have I not worked 80+ hours this week without complaint, including a fucking double? Or is this just because I won’t get on my knees and suck you off right now? Is that the kind of team player you’re looking for?”

“Wow,” He stared at you, shaking his head, “That was mean even by your standards. What did your mom say to you to provoke such vitriol, hm?”

You scoffed, “I’m fucking out of my mind with exhaustion, Robby, alright? Not everything is about her.”

“What did she say?” He repeated.

The ambulance bay doors slid open again and Abbot called out your name, “Incoming OD in five, we need you.”

You turned back to Robby, “Fuck off,” You said firmly and pushed yourself off the wall, skirting around him to get back inside.

“See you in the morning!” Robby called after you, anger lodged in every word, “Enjoy your shift!”

You raised your middle finger over your head as you walked back into the ED.

“Something going on with you and Robby?” Abbot asked. Immediately, you turned to scowl at him, “What? I can’t be concerned about my friends? You’re both tense as fuck lately, it’s killing the vibe.”

You raised your eyebrows, “The ‘vibe’?”

He stared at you, “Do you not know what it means? Because I can get Sarah to explain it to you, she’s like, fuckin’, fresh out of nursing school or something—“

“I know what it means, Jack, thank you.” Your eyelid was twitching again and you kneaded a finger against it as if you would find a reset button there, “Robby and I are fine, okay? Nothing to worry about.”

Ellis appeared behind the two of them, “She’s lying, they haven’t fucked in weeks.” Ellis hissed to Jack.

“Parker!” You whirled on her, “What the hell, I told you that in confidence!”

Jack was laughing, “It’s fine, I already knew. Robby told me.”

You scoffed and felt your face redden, “Oh, that’s fantastic, so the whole ER knows I’m going through a dry spell?”

Jack shrugged, a smirk on his face, “You know, if you want to get him back here I can make sure no one goes in the on call room—“

You raised a finger to quiet him, “Not another word.” You sighed and stretched your neck again, “Bunch of animals, all of you. I hate the night shift.”

“The night shift doesn’t like you either,” Ellis said, “You’re harshing the vibe.”

You and Jack made eye contact, and though you shook your head in exasperation, you were finally, mercifully, smiling.

***

Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. It was past midnight and she was still hounding you. Text after text after missed call after voicemail.

If he doesn’t pay the 15k within 24 hours the car will get repo’d

if it was you, we’d all help you, Ace

But that was just it, wasn’t it. It would never be you because you had learned to be so fucking Type A from an early age so as not to be a burden. So you wouldn’t have to need anyone. You only ever needed Benji, and he was gone. And you loved Tommy, truly, but everything had always been handed to him. No one had ever told him no. It was why they were in this situation to begin with. He took and took and took and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. You had given him money more times than you could count, even when you really didn’t have it to give. And always, you’d regret it when he never suddenly became more responsible.

“Dr. Y/N?” It was Ellis in front of you when you looked up from your phone.

“Hi, sorry.” You shook the thoughts from your head, “What d’you need?”

Her eyes narrowed, tracing a path from your face to your phone and back again, “You good?”

You smiled, “Just tired.” You nodded to the iPad in her hand, “Is that South 17’s labs?”

“Yeah.” She handed you the iPad and you listened to her as she reported the results and her recommended course of treatment. 

You nodded, “That all sounds good. Great work, Dr. Ellis.”

Ellis took the iPad back from you, but then looking over your shoulder, she paused, “Dr. Robby?”

You turned, and Robby was standing there in sweats and a hoodie. Immediately, your head went in a million different places at once as you rushed over to him, “What are you doing here, baby?” You looked him over, panic beginning to set in, “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, it’s ‘baby’ now, is it?” He looked tired as he looked down at you, “After the way you spoke to me earlier?”

You opened and closed your mouth, then sighed, “I’m—I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m so tired.” Tears pin pricked the backs of your eyes.

He nodded, “Can we talk for a minute?”

You followed him out to the ambulance bay, your anxiety a living thing in your chest. He was upset. He showed up at work in the middle of the night. This was it, wasn’t it? He’d finally had enough. He was leaving. You were always too much, always too much of a burden. You both needed too much and too little. There had always been an expiration date on the two of you, but somehow you’d thought maybe you could extend it further and further.

Robby turned to you and put his hands together in front of his mouth, looking down towards the ground, “I want to preface this by saying I did not go snooping looking for this information. Your iPad would not stop fucking dinging and I couldn’t sleep.”

You frowned, completely thrown off by this turn in the conversation, “My iPad? What about my iPad?”

“It kept ringing whenever you got a call or text from your mother. I went to go turn it off, but I saw the texts.”

You sighed, “Oh…” Then you shook your head, “I’m sorry, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“You’re not going to give Tommy fifteen grand, are you?”

Oh. He was here because he was worried about you. Not leaving. He wasn’t leaving. Suddenly, his protective behavior seemed like a relief. You felt the bizarre urge to laugh, then. But he was still looking at you, “Um, I—I don’t know.” You said finally.

He sighed, “Honey, I know you don’t have that kind of money. I’ve seen what you pay monthly for student loans.”

“I have fifteen thousand in my savings account.”

“That’s for emergencies.”

You huffed impatiently, “Can’t this wait until I get home? You should be sleeping.”

“No, because I need to know that you understand you don’t owe them anything.” He said fiercely.

“Robby—“

“No, don’t tell me it’s none of my business or, or I don’t understand. Every time you talk to them I watch them knock you down a peg. Make you believe you don’t deserve what you have or that you owe them for it. And still, you give and give and give, and it’s breaking my heart. You tear yourself open again and again hoping this time they’ll love you like you deserve,” He shook his head, “You don’t need them to. Baby, I promise, you don’t need them to.”

You shook your head marginally, eyes filling with tears. It was both frustrating and incredibly soothing to be known so well. “There’s still six hours left of my shift, I really don’t want to do this right now.”

“Too bad. I’ll tell Jack you’re leaving early.”

It was the wrong thing to say. You could tell he was genuinely concerned for you and that was all well and good, but you weren’t a child to be ordered around at his whim. Besides which, you had begged him to get you off the night shift days ago and he had simply shrugged his shoulders and said it was out of his hands. But now, suddenly, you could go home, when it suited him. Now he would do something about it with just six hours left.

Any progress he may have just made quickly evaporated and you carefully padlocked him out.

You shook your head at him, “I don’t need daddy to intervene on my behalf, I’m a big girl—“

“That’s not what I meant—“

“—Go home, Robby. We’ll talk later.”

You walked back inside without waiting for his reply.

What you didn’t notice was five minutes later when he followed you back inside. You were busy with a head injury on a two year old who had tried to climb out of his crib and hit his head on a dresser on his way down. You didn’t see him follow Abbot and pull him into an empty patient room.

Afterwards, you grabbed a Snickers bar from the break room and headed to the hub to see how bad of a mess the board was looking. As you tore a bite from the candy bar, Abbot walked up to you.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

You frowned and turned to look at him. He was regarding you with a soft intensity you had only seen him look at his residents with. The underdogs who needed a bit more encouragement to gain their footing. He was assessing you, you realized.

You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and looked back up at the board, “M’fine. Stop looking at me like that, it’s giving me hives.”

He sighed next to you, “Why don’t you go home? Get some sleep? You’ve worked eight days straight, you must be exhausted.”

Your jaw paused mid chew and you turned back to him before swallowing, “Where is he?”

“Hm?”

Your eyes flitted around the emergency room, “Don’t play dumb, Abbot. Robby, where is he? He told you to send me home? After I asked him not to?”

Jack sighed, “He’s worried about you.”

You laughed, “Right. And do you think if I came in during one of his shifts and said he should go home early because I was worried about him that he’d listen?”

He tilted his head to force you to look at him, “Come on, kid. You don’t wanna be here anyway, I can tell. Don’t be stubborn.”

You shook your head and scoffed, “The two of you are fucking insufferable.”

“Oh, don’t be like that—“

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” You said, walking off towards the lockers.

When you got to the lockers, you stopped and scowled when you saw Robby leaning against them. He pocketed his phone and eyed you as you opened your locker and grabbed your things.

You slammed your locker shut and started walking without waiting to see if he followed.

***

Of course, he followed. Long and even strides just behind your furious and frantic gate.

And it made you angrier that he was so calm, no doubt relishing in the fact that he had won.

Once inside your apartment, you dropped your backpack and kicked off your sneakers with an attitude so adolescent like, Robby had to fight a smirk.

You headed to the fridge, grabbed an IPA and cracked the can open before taking a long drink. Robby followed as you made your way to the bathroom, beginning to strip. Still ignoring him.

“You’re not going to invite me to share your shower beer?” He asked, leaning in the doorway. 

The truth was, you were nearly buzzing with anxiety and frustration. With him, with your family, with Abbot. The feeling of failure at not being able to finish your shift. The exhaustion that infected you to your very bones. The thought that if you didn’t come through for Tommy he would lose his job and your mother’s credit would be fucked. You thought if he touched you then you might start yelling, or worse, sobbing.

You said nothing, turned on the shower and faced away from him as you waited for the water to warm. You tapped your fingers erratically against your beer can and stretched your still aching neck. 

“Your neck bothering you again?” You continued to ignore him, but stopped stretching. You heard him sigh behind you, “I could give you a massage in the shower. If you agree to a truce. You were really mean earlier. I was overbearing and controlling just now. What d’you say we call it even?”

Your neck really did hurt and it had spread to your shoulders and upper back as well as causing a throbbing headache. And the last time Robby had gently kneaded at the knots there, the relief had been almost instant.

“Fine.” You said softly and climbed into the shower, perching your beer precariously in the shower caddy that hung from the shower head. 

You heard him undress and then the sound of the curtain rustling as he climbed in behind you.

He rested his hands on your hips first, leaning his head down to kiss your shoulders. His touch was soft and tender and everything today and this week had not been. You had to remind yourself to breathe so you wouldn’t cry.

“Too much?” He murmured against your skin.

You were afraid to speak, so you pushed yourself back into him instead. He twined his arms fully around your waist, your back flush to his chest. You felt his chest heave with a sigh of contentment and suddenly you felt guilty of depriving him of your touch for so long. 

In silent apology, you passed the beer can to him and kissed the palm of the hand he wasn’t using.

“I thought you were breaking up with me. When you showed up at the ER.” You said softly.

You felt him tense behind you, “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know. I was mean earlier.”

He’s quiet a moment, trying to find the right words to say, how to reassure you that it had never even crossed his mind, “We can both be… difficult at times. You worked too much this week, you should’ve never even been working that shift today. I was dismissive. You were exhausted. I know you didn’t mean it. That you wouldn’t have said it under any other circumstances. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

After passing the beer back to you, he raised his hands to the back of your neck, kneading gentle circles with his thumbs deep into your muscles. It took only a few moments of this before you were whimpering. You swore you heard Robby chuckle behind you at the sounds.

He moved his hands lower, to your shoulders, and hissed as he felt the knots beneath your skin, “Fuck, sweetheart, how did you get so tense?” He pressed a kiss to your hair, “Am I not taking good enough care of you?”

You turned in his arms so you could see his face, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks, “If anything you take too good care of me.” You said softly, eyes searching him. He closed his eyes at your touch, inhaling deeply. “C’mere.” You wrapped your arms around him, pulling until his head rested on your shoulder as you lightly scratched his back. “I’m sorry.”

Under the warm spray of the shower and the beer starting to hit, the frantic energy was beginning to leave you.

“I’m sorry too.” He pulled away slightly to bend your foreheads together, “I still don’t think you should hand off your emergency fund to your brother, though.”

You ran your hands up and down his chest, eyes snagging on the chain around his neck. It had, tragically, been a long time since you had seen him shirtless. With the anxiety beginning to drain from you, the sight of him naked in front of you like this had your blood beginning to pound, “Can we talk about that in the morning, please?”

He must’ve heard the hitch in your voice because you saw the beginnings of a smirk on his face, “Was there something else you wanted to do tonight?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, watched as his eyes traced the bob of your throat, “Perhaps.”

His eyes darted back up to yours and he brushed a thumb across your lower lip, “It’s okay?” He asked, breathless, and it sent a pang through you. That he was worried maybe you didn’t want him.

You nodded eagerly and then his mouth was on yours. It was deep and imploring the way he kissed you. Slow and patient, even though he had been waiting, begging, to taste you like this for weeks. But Robby had never been a frantic lover, he always longed for deep and slow so he could really feel you, commit every touch and taste to memory to be dissected later when you weren’t around. When all he had to satisfy himself was the thought of you.

He was capable of doing it fast and rough, if that was what you needed, but he would choose this every time. Still kissing you, he reached behind you to turn off the shower.

“No shower sex?” You teased.

“Absolutely not,” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it as much as he could around both of you, drying quickly, “Not with the way I need to have you right now.” 

Your stomach flipped as he guided you back to the bedroom, lips never leaving yours. When the backs of your legs hit the bed, you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“You first,” You said, gesturing to the bed.

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more as he sat on the edge of the bed. You stood between his thighs, hand still pressed to his chest. Robby put his hand over yours, face tilted up just a bit so he could watch you.

You pushed gently until he was flat on the bed crawling over him until you were perched above him. Teasingly, you ground down, rubbing your folds against his erection and watched with satisfaction as his eyes rolled back.

“Fuck,” He swore, and then reached a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you back down so he could muffle his desperate whines with your mouth. 

You kept grinding as you kissed him, sucking on his tongue as you slid against him, almost, almost allowing him to slip inside, but not quite. Over and over and over until he felt delirious and a little insane.

“This is fucking cruel,” He panted desperately after a few minutes of your teasing, “If I knew you were going to do this I never would have let you get on top.”

“Oh?” You smirked, “I thought you liked it slow?”

Again, you teased his tip with your entrance, and he made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh when you slipped away again, “Oh, sweetheart, if you don’t ride me right fucking now, I will make you regret how much of a brat you’re being.”

As enticing as that sounded to you, you decided to put him out of his misery. Pushing a hand between the two of you, you guided him to your entrance before fully taking him. Your head instantly fell to his shoulder, gasping as he stretched you out.

“That’s it,” He sighed, his hips bucking into you. As you adjusted to the stretch of him, whining into his neck, he gripped your hips with his fingers and started rolling them himself, “Come on, sweetheart, this is what you wanted, right? Push that pretty head of yours up, wanna see your eyes on me when you ride me.”

You did as you were told. Pushed yourself up with your hands flat to his chest, he hit a different spot now and it had you gasping, how deep he hit. 

“You can take it,” He encouraged, rolling your hips again with his hands. For a moment, the feel of him inside you was so intense, spots clouded your vision, “That’s it,” He said when he felt you begin to bounce on him without his assistance, “Good girl. Keep your eyes on me.”

He reached a hand to the apex of your thighs, circling your clit, and you very nearly folded in half at the sensation, but Robby caught you with his other hand, “Keep moving those hips or I’ll stop.”

It was supposed to be you who was in control, but as soon as he had filled you up, all ability to think had left you. The effect he had on you was all consuming. It was unfair, really. Whimpering, you continued rolling your hips, the two of you moaning in sync as you did.

Eventually, Robby sat up, his hands coming to your back to keep you in his lap, “I think it’s time I take over, hm?” He asked softly and kissed you when you nodded, breathless.

You lifted off of him, both of you hissing at the loss and then Robby directed you to lie flat on your stomach. “Up just a little?” He murmured, using a hand to pull your hips up just slightly at an angle, “There you go, good girl.”

Fisting his cock, he leaned down so he could taste you, licking long stripes from your clit to the ends of your folds and you moaned, fisting the bed sheets. 

Your breathing caught when he pushed a finger into you and you heard him sigh from behind you. “Fuck me,” He murmured more to himself than to you.

Finally, he pushed himself into you and then leaned over you, pushing you both flat against the mattress. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, not to choke, but the suggestion that he could was there and your stomach tightened.

“I want you to come first,” He whispered in your ear as he started to rock back and forth, effortlessly hitting that spot that made you dizzy with pleasure. The movement created friction from the bed sheets to your clit and you moaned, “Think you can do that for me, angel?”

You hummed in response, “Already close.” You managed.

He quickened his pace only slightly, but enough that the rhythm had every one of your muscles tightening, coiling for release, “Oh, I can feel how close you are,” He groaned, your walls tightening around him, “Come on, sweetheart, just a little more.”

You rutted your hips further into the mattress as he rocked into you, creating as much friction as possible, and then you were coming undone. Robby’s arms tightened around you as if to anchor you as your muscles contracted repeatedly and he whispered how good you are, how pretty, all the while still rocking his hips into you.

As you came down from your orgasm, he quickened his thrusts, pushing into you harder and faster until he was quickly pulling out of you, ropes of cum releasing on your ass and back.

He collapsed to the side of you, both of you breathing hard as you turned to look at each other. You smiled softly at him, eyes drooping with exhaustion now that the rush of your climax had begun to fade.

He threaded a hand through the hair at the nape of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing you tenderly, “Don’t move.”

Once he had cleaned you up, he guided you back to the shower. Back under the water, he silently turned you so he could resume massaging your shoulders and neck.

“Gonna put me to sleep,” You said after a few minutes under the gentle assault of his fingers.

“That’s the idea.”

You whined, “But it’s been so long, don’t you want a round two?”

He chuckled behind you, “You need to sleep first, you’re running on fumes and spite.”

You smirked, “I have enough of both to make you come again.”

“Tempting,” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “But no.” He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel to wrap around you, “Bed. Now.”

“Buzzkill.” You teased as you dried yourself off, slipping into a clean t-shirt and panties before sliding between the sheets. 

Robby joined you shortly after and the two of you faced each other in bed. Your eyes were closed and you listened to the sound of his breathing, he took a deep inhale before speaking again, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I have a feeling your phone’s gonna start ringing very early tomorrow. I don’t want you talking to them before we’ve had a chance to talk.”

You sighed and blinked your eyes open again. The room was dark, but you could make out the shape of him, the soft glint of his eyes as they watched you. His hand rested on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles at the bare skin between your panties and t-shirt.

“What would you have me do?” You asked softly, “Tell them to get fucked?”

“You should tell them you don’t have the money.”

“But I do have the money.”

“When was the last time you gave Tommy money, hm?”

You sighed, “Last year.”

“How much?”

“Three grand.”

“And what did he do with it?” You were quiet, so he answered for you, “He gambled it all away in two weeks, if I remember correctly.”

“This is different, it’s for a solid, tangible item that he needs—“

“Yeah, a car he fucking needs and that he hasn’t been taking care of. He has no fucking reason to because he knows you’ll swoop in to save him whenever he needs it.”

Your chin wobbled and you were thankful the darkness must have covered the hurt look on your face, “You do realize,” You said slowly, focusing on making sure your voice didn’t shake, “That this is all I have? That I have no worth to them if I can’t… If I can’t be the one to fix things?”

“Baby, what I’m trying to tell you is that you’ll never win them that way.” He said gently, “You’ve been cleaning up their messes for, what? Twenty years now? Have you gotten what you want yet? Do they respect you? Love you? Are they gentle with you or do they keep trying to see how many pieces they can break you into?”

You flinched, “That’s a fucked up thing to say to me.” You said quietly.

You heard him sigh and he pulled you closer to him, a silent apology. He didn’t want to hurt you, but it was frankly exhausting watching the way your family continued to take advantage of you.

“What was it your therapist said? About your mom? About your brother?”

You took a shaky inhale, “That they’ve been like this their whole lives and have never tried to change. So my continued efforts to help them change are not only in vein they just end up damaging me instead.” 

Robby said nothing, but rubbed your back as he waited. Waited for you to hear what you’d just said, what your therapist had been saying, what he had been saying all day. You deserved better than this from them, God knew, but you would never get it. And it would destroy you the more you kept trying.

You bit your lip, “Fuck.” He heard the tears in the back of your throat as you said it. The realization hitting you all at once, the one you knew but had been trying your best to avoid confronting 

He kissed your hair, “Don’t give him that money,” He murmured, “Take care of yourself for once.”

You pushed your face into his neck and sighed, “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to them if you need me to.”

“No,” You said quickly, “No, I can do it.”

He tenderly kissed all over your face, and then finally, kissed your lips, long and slow and he hoped full of as much love as he felt, “You’re very brave, you know?” He said softly.

You smiled, “Thank you.”

Robby pressed one last kiss to your mouth before tucking you under his chin, “Now, get some sleep, sweetheart.”

[torncwpid]

Rewrite the First Time

Summary: Gaz finding out that reader's ex absolutely half-assed her first time, and deciding to make it up for her when they finally have sex

Cw: sexually explicit content (mdni), mentions of bad past relationship, fluffy smut, fem!reader

Word count: 1.9k

I still feel a little awkward writing explicit smut but I figured writing out this thought would be a good idea to exercise that

You didn’t mean to tell him. It was just another late night conversation with your friend, and you were way too comfortable near him. Comfortable enough to feel like it wouldn't be a big deal to mention it, you both wrapped in blankets and watching some half-forgotten show rerun on your couch, his shoulder heavy beside yours.

Kyle had asked you how your last relationship ended. A simple thing friends usually know about each other. You felt like you should have had a simple answer, but the truth is that there were so many reasons for the breakup, all tangled into one big and complicated knot, and you rarely really mentioned all those reasons, settling for a short and socially acceptable “We weren't what each other needed, so I didn't want to be wasting our time and broke up”.

But something about the way he asked it gave you the space to actually answer honestly. Not the autopilot script you gave everyone else. Not the polished version that skipped over the shame and the ache, so you told him about the guy you dated before. He’d gotten under your skin with charm, flattered you until you said yes, and settled on bare minimum from then on. You told Kyle how he made everything feel like a transaction — even sex. Especially sex.

The first time you’d ever been with anyone, it had been with him. You told Kyle how he hadn’t even looked at you when it was over, how he just rolled away. Didn’t kiss you, praise you, ask if you needed anything… just turned his back and went to sleep like your body was a hotel bed he didn’t want to pay for.

You laughed as you said it, and you meant it. It did hurt that he didn't bother to make it special when you had told him more than once how important it was to you, but after so long, you just learned how to live with it since you knew you couldn't change that. What was done was done. But it still stung you deep down — the knowledge that you didn't have a good first experience and couldn't do anything to change it.

Kyle didn’t laugh, though. He didn’t even speak for a long few seconds. His jaw clenched slightly, a muscle ticking like he was chewing through words and discarding each one.

“I’m sorry,” you’d said too quickly, like you’d broken some invisible rule. “I shouldn’t have— That was too much.”

“No, luv, you’re allowed to talk about shit that hurt you.”

You blinked, surprised at how that pet name sounded from his mouth — easy, natural, like it just rolled off. Not romantic, not then. But warm.

He stayed a little longer that night. Watched you out of the corner of his eye as you laughed too hard at some dumb joke on the TV, like he was memorizing the sound.

He never forgot.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later — after flirty texts turned into late-night calls and the tension between you built up every time he brushed your hand or said your name just a bit too softly — that you realized Kyle hadn’t forgotten what you told him.

Because when his hands finally touched your skin like he wanted you, not just because you were available and a woman, but because you were you, it was with a care that had no business being so gentle.

It started slow, like it always did with Kyle. He wasn’t pushy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intense. He kissed you like the taste of your mouth might save him. His hands ran over your sides, your hips, your jaw, slow and steady like he wanted to memorize every millimetre of your body, like he had all night to.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

He leaned back slightly, warm eyes searching yours. “Say it.”

“I want you,” you said, voice smaller than you intended.

He smiled, a crooked, soft smile that would have looked boyish if it wasn't for the fire behind his eyes.

And when he touched you… God.

It felt like he was trying to erase the memory of your first time with every stroke of his fingers, every kiss he left against your thighs, your stomach, your breasts. Like he could dig into your bones and pull out that leftover ache and replace it with something that felt like reverence.

“You know,” he murmured, mouth against your skin, “you deserve better than what he gave you.”

It took you a while to remember what he was talking about — who “he” was.

“I know” you whispered.

He looked up at you, face deadly serious. “You should’ve known it then too. He should’ve shown you.”

You swallowed hard, not sure what to say. The weight of being wanted like this wasn’t something you were used to. Not like this. Not when there was no rush. No demand. Just… him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you like it’s routine,” he said softly. “You’re not a goddamn checkbox, love.”

And somehow, that made your breath catch more than anything else he’d said or done.

You weren’t a checkbox.

Not to him.

Not ever.

His mouth found yours again before you could say anything else, stealing whatever breath you had left.

This kiss wasn’t the slow burn from earlier. This one was heat and want and teeth. A low groan rumbled in his chest when you pulled him closer, your fingers sliding under his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath. He let you explore for a minute, then pulled back just enough to strip himself of the fabric before reaching for the hem of yours.

“Can I?” he murmured.

You nodded, and he peeled it over your head with care, like he was unwrapping something sacred. His eyes darkened as they dragged down your body, and he swore softly under his breath.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he said, and the way he said it — low, guttural, full of awe — made your cheeks burn.

He kissed down your neck, slow and unhurried, until he reached your chest, taking his time there too, like every part of you deserved his full attention. You arched into his mouth as he suckled and teased, and the way he responded — his hand cradling your side, murmuring something sweet you couldn’t quite catch — made your whole body light up.

You’d had someone touch you before, but it never felt like this, even when he was hornier than usual. Kyle didn’t just want you; he worshipped you. Every touch felt like he was craving you, not sex.

When his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, you gasped, your hips lifting instinctively. He hummed against your skin.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispered. “Gonna take my time with you.”

He pushed the fabric down and off, kissing your thighs as they trembled under his mouth. His breath ghosted over your cunt before he looked up, checking, he was always checking.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Please”

He groaned again, deeper this time, and then his mouth was on you. He didn’t rush, didn’t force, he listened to every moan, every stuttered breath, every twitch of your hips. His hands pinned you down just enough to make you feel safe.

When you came on his tongue, it wasn’t quiet. Wasn’t graceful. It was raw and shaking, and he held you through every second of it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Only then did he kiss his way back up your body, lips swollen, chin wet.

You pulled him into another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, and when you felt him hard against your thigh, you reached down to help him out of the rest of his clothes, and you gasped for a second at the feeling of how big he was.

Still, even now, he paused.

“You sure?” he asked again, voice hoarse.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you said under a chuckle.

He lined himself up, and just before he pushed in, he cupped your cheek, kissing you one more time, like he needed it. Like you grounded him.

The stretch was slow, more careful than anything you’d felt before. Your breath caught, and he stilled immediately, holding you like glass.

“You okay?” he whispered, forehead resting against yours.

Your response was a frantic nod. “I just feel so full.”

He smiled gently. “That’s good, love. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He moved in shallow thrusts at first, letting you adjust, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t believe he was finally inside you. The sound of skin against skin built up slowly, your moans mixing with his, the heat between you unbearable but just perfect.

And then he really started moving. Now it was deeper, harder, and your nails dug into his back.

“Kyle—”

“Fuck, say it again,” he barked, the softness from just minutes ago almost completely gone, the only way you could feel it now was in how he was observing you, looking out for any sign of pain or regret.

“Kyle,” you whimpered.

“God, you feel good— So fuckin’ good around me. So fuckin' tight and wet and all mine— All. Fucking. Mine.”

You cried out, pleasure climbing up your spine like fire. He kept whispering praises disguised as humiliation at you, until you were close again. And he could tell you were there before you even realized. Could feel how much tighter you got.

“I’ve got you, love. Let go for me. Wanna feel you cum all over me.”

And you followed his command like the good girl you are. Feeling you clench around him, he thanked God that you were on birth control, because there was no way he could pull out when you felt so good, dragging him over the edge with you as he buried himself deep with a groan.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just held you and thrusted lazily into you while you both caught your breath.

He pressed kisses to your hair and shoulder before moving the both of you so he could lay down and tuck you into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you like he never wanted to let go.

Later, when your body was limp with satisfaction and laziness, when he was tracing idle lines on your hipbone, you’d turned your head and asked the question that had been curling in your chest like smoke.

“Why d’you care so much?”

He hadn’t looked at you right away. Just dragged his fingers down your thigh and kissed your shoulder.

“Because,” he said eventually, “if I’d been your first, I’d have made sure you never forgot it, for the right reasons.”

His voice was rough, and you could tell that he hated that it hadn't been him.

You rolled to face him, your heart pulling tight

“You kind of just did,” you whispered.

The look he gave you then was pure fire and tenderness all at once. Possessive. Dangerous.

Yours.

And he didn’t say it, at least not out loud, but you could feel it in the way his hand curled protectively around your waist and tugged you closer like he needed you against him to survive.

This is how it should’ve been the first time.

And this is how it’ll be every time.

[aeyumicore]

exclusive tutorial

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 7.6k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, pure pure filth, public sex, fingering with gloves, sex on a pool table, unprotected sex, creampie, cervix fucking, cum as lube, choking, rough sex, dom!zayne, kinda power play? not really zayne is just a daddy, teasing with a cue stick idk, lots and lots of dirty talking, just filth idk what else

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hiiii guys <3 this is my continuation on the new ‘exclusive’ tutorial memory with my fav zayneeee. i hope you guys enjoy, i miss feeding y’all with delulu thoughts. i wouldn’t say i’m back though, i haven’t wanted to write as of late, it was honestly hard to push myself to finish this one. i feel like because i write in such detail, it starts to feel really repetitive, like i’m just writing the same things from my other fics over and over.

i’ll try to write when i have inspiration! i love u guys pls enjoy <3

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

The sound of billiard balls colliding with one another pierces the brisk air of the empty billiard hall, save for you and the dashing surgeon eyeing you from across the table. You do your best to watch the colored balls scatter, and not the way Zayne’s gloved hands grip his cue stick, or how his muscles ripple under the blue tie he wears so devilishly handsomely. 

You were a bit tipsy from the small bits of wine you’d drank at his alumni get-together, mostly to take the edge off from being in a room full of surgeons and doctors, all who knew Zayne in some capacity. It wasn’t surprising how well-liked, respected, and admired Zayne was amongst his peers, but it was a bit intimidating. Though Zayne never made you feel like it, sometimes it was hard not to feel small in his presence, and the presence of all his peers. 

But he always took it upon himself to make sure you never felt out of place amongst all his med school friends and acquaintances, introducing you to everyone who approached him looking for a morsel of his time.

And there were a lot of people looking to be graced with even a second of Zayne’s time. 

Even so, Zayne always made you feel like the center of his world. Always side glancing at you with a small, almost imperceptible, quirk to the corner of his lips when he spoke to his colleagues. Or his broad palm, ghosting the small of your lower back as he nodded along to their ramblings of surgeries you couldn’t fathom understanding. Sometimes, even taking it a step further, whispering huskily against your ear amongst the commotion of the reserved club, letting his breath tickle your exposed neck, as he tucked your hair behind your ear. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure if he’d been purposely teasing you all night. But either way, combined with the wine, you were feeling tipsy, bold, and pent up.

And what better way to relieve that tension than a friendly game of pool?

At his silent observation of you and the scattered balls, you tease, "Did I do something wrong, sir?” You purposely drawl out the last word, knowing how much it affects him when you let him take a position of authority and power over you. It was the perfect opportunity to tease him back, if even just a little. 

If Zayne is affected by your words, he doesn’t let it show, much to your dismay. "You have more than enough strength. If you adjust your posture you’ll see better results.” You almost want to roll your eyes at how professional and proper he’s being, even in the emptiness of the billiards room. 

Feeling emboldened at his attempts at stoicness, you only grin at him, "I need you to help me identify my weak spots via "Hands-on” learning, sir.” You giggle as Zayne clears his throat, rubbing the exposed side of his wrist in his billiard gloves. 

"We’ll work on your posture, then.” He makes it over to your side, leaning over the edge of the table to show you how it’s done. "Like this. Place your right foot back…” even in his demonstration, he looks so handsome and graceful in his black suit vest and dark blue tie. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to remind yourself that you’re the one teasing him. Attempting to, anyways. 

You shake your head, doing your best to focus on the task at hand. You try to emulate his pose, but even without seeing yourself you can tell it’s not right. 

Suddenly, his deep voice is right by your ear, "Relax. You’re too tense.” You force yourself not to yelp as the feel of his warm breath tickles the area under your ear. You don’t turn to face him, but you can tell he’s smirking faintly. You flinch when his fingers tap your lower back twice. Your body responds immediately, your back arching instinctively, almost provocatively. 

Zayne’s grateful your back is turned to him, because his ears tinge at the sight of you bent over before him, your perfect back arching so sweetly. He holds back a groan at the sight, "Now you’re too relaxed.”

You’re acutely aware of his cool hand still resting on your waist, “...It tickles.” You try to deflect from the irritating way your body responds to even his most gentle and innocent touches. 

"Relax your left arm. Allow it to bend naturally,” he uses his knuckle to tap your forearm, "Your head, right arm, and the cue stick should form a straight line.” You follow his instructions, tilting your head to the left to align your posture. 

"How is it?”

"It…hurts a little.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, "That means it's correct.”

You turn your head so you can see him, giving him a questioning pout, "You’re so harsh, sir.”

Zayne looks undeniably amused, "Don’t tilt your head, you messed up your posture again.” 

You sigh in defeat, "Is there an easier way? Like something I can do without much trouble?”

Zayne smiles smugly at you, "Yes. But are you sure you want to do it?” You fight the shiver that threatens to overtake you. You honestly wonder where the professional and stoic Zayne went, as the undertone of his words fills you with an anxious anticipation. 

But you steel your voice, hoping you won’t regret your next words, "Bring it on.”

"Don’t move for now,” Zayne’s voice is husky as he repositions himself right behind you against the edge of the felt table, his hand coming down to cup yours. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, as he presses his hard chest into your back, skin exposed by the backless dress you wore for the occasion. Your breath hitches as Zayne once again regains the upper hand against your attempts at teasing him.

His breath is on your ear again, "Your rhythm with the cue stick isn’t quite there yet. You need more "Hands-on” training.” This time you actually shiver, as the double meaning of his words dawns on you. His crotch is pressed right up against your rear, his body fitting against yours like a puzzle. You’re sure Zayne is doing this on purpose, as he uses your joined hands to thrust the cue back and forth.

"Move the cue stick three or four times, then stop at the point closest to the ball.” You have a difficult time following his instructions as his gruff voice caresses your ear, his pelvis firm against your rear. Really, you can only concentrate on not folding completely underneath him, otherwise you might notice the hard bulge pressed snugly against you. 

His gentle lips ghosting a kiss against the shell of your ear snaps you out of your reverie, "Did you get that, sweetheart?”

“...yeah,” you whisper underneath him, doing your best to imitate the thrusting motion with your hands. But as Zayne shifts slightly, you finally feel his erection behind you, and your mind goes blank.

"Snap out of it. Are you even listening to me?” You can hear the smug amusement in his voice.

"Um, yes…pull back the stick…”

"Very good,” his voice is smooth, almost a purr, above you, "Just like that. Now strike.” Your body trembles, basking in his praise, but you pull back your cue stick and let it fly. The clinking of balls colliding sounds as you watch the striped red ball sink into one of the pockets.

"It’s in!” You cheer, forgetting briefly about the compromising position Zayne had put you in as you both straighten up, "Did you see that? It was a great shot! I’m so cool.”

"I did. Your pool skills aren’t so much about technique, but rather, passion,” he teases, finding your excitement utterly adorable. He leans against the pool table, turning to face you, "All you need for pool is… a steady hand, precision, and a calm attitude.”

His hand reaches for your face, fingers grazing your reddening cheeks as he moves to tuck the hair that had fallen into your face when you were concentrating on the balls, tucking it neatly behind your ear and holding your jaw in his practiced fingers. The material of his gloves is smooth but deliciously rough against your burning skin, "Once you’ve locked onto your target, don’t let go.”

You quiver at his words, and can’t help but wonder if he’s possibly talking about something else. Your gaze wanders south when Zayne briefly glances away, and you eye the bulge that is barely noticeable through the dark fabric of his dress pants. Mischief and lust simultaneously overtake you.

"If a student does a good job, shouldn’t they get a reward?” You purr, gently batting your eyelashes as fiddle with the sleek wood of your cue stick. 

You don’t miss the way Zayne’s adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, "And what exactly does my student want?”

You grin up at him, gently tapping the tip of your stick against his broad chest, "It might be difficult to hit this next ball. Help me.”

Zayne seems almost taken aback, but chuckles as he raises his eyebrows doubtfully at you, "Is that all?”

You take a step closer, only your arms wrapped around your cue stick separating your bodies, "What’s wrong, dr. Zayne? Are you scared?” You giggle internally watching Zayne scramble to maintain his careful composure.

"Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

You bite back your scoff, wanting to see him lose the slightest grasp on his calculated control. You walk to the other side of the table, where the white cue ball awaits, "Then come here.”

Zayne follows you cautiously, until he stands a foot to your right. You turn to him expectantly, reaching out to brush your fingertips along the exposed skin of his left hand, still clad in his leather billiard gloves, "Closer. Or else I can’t reach it.”

Despite Zayne’s sigh, you can see the way his green eyes gleam with amusement as his adoring smile reaches up towards them. He inches closer to you, "What exactly…” you use that moment to gently push Zayne backwards onto the billiards table. He catches himself easily, but allows you to push him backwards, until his back is practically resting on the felt table top. You step forward until you’re resting in between his thighs, standing over his hard body. He sits up, using his elbows to prop himself up against the table. 

"Look, the ball’s so far away. I think it’s time to use a cue rest,” you giggle, bringing up your cue stick to playfully tap them on either side of his shoulder, making a dramatic show of deciding which of his shoulders to use as a rest.

Zayne’s voice is husky as he chuckles, "Using a cue rest would be overkill.” He sits up against your stick to stare at you with hooded eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a faint smirk. You smile innocently back, tracing the stick down to the middle of his chest, hooking it under his blue silk tie and pulling upwards, loosening it.

The man beneath you clears his throat, "And this is inappropriate.” But his words don’t quite match the timbre of his voice, eyes still twinkling with amusement under the dim fluorescent lights of the bar. 

"But I think…you’re enjoying it, too,” you murmur softly, leaning forward until your body is flush against his crotch, your heat pressed right against his. You can feel him twitch underneath the restraint of his slacks, which subsequently causes your core to throb with an all-too familiar dampness.

Zayne chuckles, a rich and deep sound that rings in your ears, averting his heated gaze, "I shouldn’t have taught you so much.” You only grin at him, setting down your stick against the table, pressing your hands against his hard abdomen. You can feel his muscles flex under the material of his suit vest as he tries to sit up further. But you only push him down more firmly, with your hand on his naval right above where his erection sat, proud and wanting to be let out. 

You glance up to be met with the rare sight of an absolutely flustered and reddened Zayne. His lips are parted, slightly damp as he pants against your touch, a noticeable blush painting his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. His breath is bated, eyes dark and hooded as they track your hands carefully. You reach up to grab his tie, tugging, but not hard enough to undo the soft knot. You use it to pull him towards him, shifting in between his legs and letting your body rub tortuously against his erection.

Zayne looks almost pained as he grunts out, "Who taught you to use your teacher as a cue rest?” His eyes are locked onto yours, dark, hazy, and demanding. 

"Well, this cue rest’s heartbeat is going to affect my accuracy,” you tease matter-of-factly. Zayne arches his eyebrow.

"Is it my heartbeat that’s affecting your accuracy or yours?” You ignore him, slightly embarrassed that he knows your heart is pounding wildly, choosing to inch your hand down further in retaliation. It doesn’t take long for your fingers to reach Zayne’s erection, as its length stands incredibly tall against his abs. 

Zayne sucks in his breath when your fingers wrap around him through his pants, "If you actually want to learn, I can teach you another way…” he trails off as he leans in closer to you, his breath fanning across your lips. As he closes the distance between your lips, you use your left palm to push him back by his shoulders, using all the willpower you have to deny his kiss.

Grinning cheekily at his dissatisfied grimace, "Sir, this…seems to be lacking ‘professionalism’.”

Zayne chuckles, "This is lacking professionalism?” He shifts, his dick twitching in your hands, as if reminding you who exactly was the unprofessional one between the two of you. It’s then Zayne decides he’s given you enough time to delude yourself into believing you have the upperhand. Before you can even blink, his gloved hand wraps possessively around your waist, pulling you down on top of him. Your feet dangle in the air as he holds you securely against his body. You yelp as your dress rides up and Zayne grips your bare thigh with his forceful fingers.

He chuckles huskily in your ear, your body resting atop his, "It’s a bit too late to back out now.” With that, he deftly flips both of you so that you find your bare back pressed against the soft felt of the billiards table, your knees propped up with Zayne standing smugly between them.

He smirks triumphantly, "Why don’t you let me show you?” He picks up his cue stick that had long been forgotten on the side of the table, expertly twirling it in his fingers so that it grazes your chest as he brings it up to rest against your exposed shoulder. You’re rendered a blushing speechless mess at the sight of him between your legs, towering imposingly above you. 

His hand brushes against your bare thigh as he pulls back his hand to steady the end of the stick, "Watch closely. I’m only going to do it once.” You shiver as he bends down, so that your chests press together, his jaw clenched as he trains his eyes on the white cue ball. Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch his handsome face concentrate, pull back the stick, and unleash his move. 

You crane your neck awkwardly to see that he easily sunk two solid balls, leaving him just the black eight-ball and one other solid left. He smiles smugly at your dumbfounded expression, but remains between your parted thighs. 

"No fair,” you whine, "You’re a surgeon so both your hands are sturdier.”

His eyebrows raise in amusement, "Do you really think I need both hands?” Something about the way he asks you makes you tremble in anticipation. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer before shifting his cue stick, trailing it down your shoulder to your chest, skillfully grazing your nipples that had hardened in all of Zayne’s relentless teasing. The stick trails down to the hem of your dress, and then up your bare inner thighs.

You shiver uncontrollably at the foreign stimulation, "Z-Zayne, what are you – we shouldn’t…”

"Hah…all of a sudden you care about what we should and shouldn’t be doing?” He chuckles. "Besides, no one will interrupt us,” he murmurs as he finally ceases stroking your thighs with his cue stick, leaving behind a trail of blue powder residue. But before you can breathe a sigh of relief, his gloved hand snakes under your dress, gripping your thigh with his large outstretched fingers. The leather feels amazing against the sensitive plush of your inner legs, almost making you forget how very in public you were. 

"Wh-what do you mean? How do you know?” You whimper almost pathetically as his cold fingers play with the lining of your panties, threatening to slip under and touch you where you want him most. You’re sitting up on your elbows, unable to shake his heated stare as he teases your body painfully slowly. 

"I reserved this entire hall, in case you were feeling overwhelmed with meeting all my old classmates and you needed some time alone,” he murmurs, reaching his fingers under the flimsy material of your panties. Your heart swells at his thoughtfulness, always looking out for your well being, even when you yourself don’t think to. You’re snapped out of your adoration for the man before you when his fingers get dangerously closer to the wet mess you’ve been trying to ignore. 

"But still, we shouldn’t – not on this table…” but your body betrays your words as you can’t stop from bucking into his fingers when they graze your weeping slit, eager to be filled by him, again and again. He’s careful to only touch you with the fingers not fitted into his gloves — just his thumb, pinky, and ring finger grazing your sensitive region. Even though you want more, Zayne wields his limited digits adeptly, already bringing you pleasure that you couldn’t even fathom. And with just 3 fingers, none of them even inside you. 

"Why are you saying one thing, when she–” he dips his lengthy ring finger into your swollen lips, ghosting along your throbbing hole as his thumb presses at your clit. The sound of your arousal squelching against his hand is loud as it cuts through the thick sexual tension in the air. "Clearly wants something else?”

Your moans are unabashed as he expertly toys with you, but never quite entering you. Even so, you can feel Zayne’s fingers working magic on your clit, having you seeing stars as he rubs inexplicable shapes around it, thumb lubed from your copious slick. You find yourself desperate to be filled by him, spurred on by the excitement that just down the hall are dozens of people just waiting for your boyfriend’s return. 

"Z-Zayne…” you plead, grinding yourself against the length of his finger.

"What is it, my love?” His alluring voice teases as his fingers continue on their tortuous journey, "Do you need something from your teacher?”

"You know what I w-want!” You whine like a brat, trying to angle your pelvis so his finger slips in. He only halts his movements, instead bringing down one of his gloved fingers to squeeze your clit against his thumb. You yelp at the feel of the foreign fabric against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the feeling of it a conflicting mix of pleasure and hypersensitivity, bordering on pain. You could feel yourself quickly becoming addicted to the feel of his gloves against your more sensitive regions. 

"A good student should be able to tell her teacher,” he muses, the mischief and arousal evident in his own features. He’s hell bent on focussing his teasing on you, ignoring his thick erection that is still pressed into you, painfully restraining against his slacks and desperate to be inside you. Zayne bends down to ghost a kiss along the shell of your ear, "You’re a good student right baby?”

You shiver at the filthy implications of his words, hooking your arms around his neck as he breathes against your sensitive ear. Doing your best to form coherent thoughts in your brain, you mumble, "Y-yes I'm a g-good student. I’m a good girl.”

Unbeknownst to you, Zayne bites his cheek at your words, his erection twitching eagerly at them. You most certainly were a good girl, his good girl. You knew that fact to be true, he knew it, and his cock definitely knew it. 

"Yes, you are,” he affirms huskily into your ear, his warm breath making you shiver, "Let me show you that I only need one hand to get the job done.” The confidence in his voice turns you on unbelievably more as you attempt to piece together the meaning of his words. As he reaches to grab his cue stick again, his bare ring finger simultaneously slips into you, and you realize he was not only referring to the fact that he only needed one hand to play pool, but one hand for you.

You whine out at the welcomed intrusion, bucking against his leather clad hand between your trembling thighs. You fall back gently at the sudden ecstasy, back arching deeply as it rests on the table top with your legs settled against Zayne’s body. 

He hisses at the feel of your walls sucking his finger in at every pump, in awe of the way your body begs for him, "She’s so eager for me, look at her sucking me in. Does it feel good with just one finger angel?”

The slight condescension in his teasing words only turns you on more, your back arching deeper into his hand, "Zaaayne,” you pant, hands clawing at the felt, "Feels s-so good.” You’re hiccuping between your words, wanting more from him.

As always, Zayne knows your body even better than you do, because he slips his pinky in alongside his ring finger. His eyes never leave yours as he continues to pump himself into you. The stretch makes your eyes roll back, his thumb still pawing at your throbbing clit, threatening to burst from his expert touch. The sounds of his hands thudding against your wet skin cut lewdly into the limited space between you. 

Zayne deftly twirls the cue stick in his one hand so that he rests it on your breast, perfectly aimed at the white cue ball. His fingers inside you pumps in and out in perfect rhythm, the length of them able to stroke your spongy g-spot at every thrust. Your eyes are screwed shut, your body trying to accommodate the pleasure, arousal spurred on from the risk of anyone bursting through the billiard hall doors. 

You feel the tip of the stick tapping against your nipples, erect against the rough fabric of your cocktail dress. Your eyes fly open to find Zayne smirking down expectantly at you, his voice a deep seductive huff, "You need to keep your eyes on your teacher if you want to learn anything, Y/N.” 

You force your eyes to stay and focus on his, though you can feel your eyelids droop as your brain fights to focus on anything other than the ecstasy Zayne is imposing on your trembling body.

"That’s it, my love,” he coos at you, speeding up his fingers in the process. Your head falls back as you moan shamelessly, feeling your gut tighten in response to his movements. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, and you silently pray that it doesn’t drip onto the pool table.

Suddenly, Zayne’s thumb presses harshly onto your clit. Your squeal filling the air as you sit up sharply, the sensitive ache bleeding into the immeasurable pleasure, only serving to intensify it further.  

"What did I say?” He growls, "Eyes on me.” You nod obediently, desperate to please him. But you’re unsure if you’ll even be physically capable of following his demands. You watch the sharp jawed surgeon hovering over you, as he continues his assault on your core. 

He positions his cue stick over your shoulder again, his thrusts increasing in intensity as he concentrates on the balls behind you. The sight of him, so precise in the way he pleasures you without a single care to whose prying eyes could possibly see, while simultaneously so handsome in the way he handles his cue stick makes the coil in your gut tighten quicker than normal. 

"M-more, please,” you beg, feeling your release approaching and needing him to thrust you over the edge. 

"I can feel you tightening, love. Are you close already?” Zayne murmurs, still lining up his stick meticulously. You’re careful to keep your eyes on him as you nod fervently.

Zayne smirks, "So quick, huh baby?” You ignore his teasing, grinding into his hand, desperate to release. He only chuckles in response, but curls his fingers inside you as he relentlessly strokes your clit. You can vaguely see him aiming his stick at the white cue ball, somewhere on the table by your head. 

"Z-Zayne, m’so close,” you warn him, the friction between his hand and your core far too much for you to hold out any longer, "Gonna cum, gonna cummmm.” Your fingernails dig into his covered biceps as you grip his arms, aching to feel his skin under yours. 

"Yeah?” He briefly glances at you, shifting his gaze from the billiard balls, his pace on your cunt never faltering, "You gonna make a mess for me, all over the table, like a good girl?” Without warning, Zayne brings his leather clad index finger down to pinch your clit between it and his thumb. Almost immediately you come undone over his hand, your moans and cries for him filling the billiard hall. You can vaguely hear the sound of pool balls colliding, the satisfying clack briefly entering your ecstasy clouded mind as you gush all over Zayne’s gloves.

Zayne talks you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing but not stopping, "That’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, ruining my gloves, huh?” You can only whimper in response, your clit trembling in his careful grasp. "So beautiful on this table for me.”

You’re a wailing mess, tears streaming down your face from the hypersensitivity of your orgasm. Zayne watches your face contort in pleasure, in complete awe of how beautiful and unbelievably sexy you looked beneath him. His cock stirs uncomfortably, almost threatening to burst through the zipper of his pants. You don’t see the way his eyes light up in complete adoration of the woman he loves below him, making a mess all over his fingers, still inside you. He hadn’t planned to take you fully here. But the sight of you underneath him, in all your fucked out glory, slick dripping down your plush thighs, whimpering for him, he couldn’t hold himself back.

"I need to be inside you. You can take me right, my love?” 

Before you realize what’s happening, Zayne’s strong arms are wrapped around your waist, flipping you effortlessly so that your stomach is pressed into the table, your ass molded perfectly into his crotch, his leaking cock pressed right into you.

"Z-Zayne?” You yelp in surprise, wincing slightly at the way your spend smears against your inner thighs and cunt. When Zayne doesn’t respond, you crane your torso backwards to see him bringing up his gloved hand to his mouth, shiny with your slick presumably coating them. Using his teeth, he brings his middle finger to his teeth and yanks them off his pale and scarred hand. All the while his heated gaze captivates your own, hooded with a need so dangerous your core ignites with excitement. The sight before you makes your knees weak, buckling in anticipation.

The sound of Zayne’s zipper being undone snaps you out of your shameless thoughts, and you watch as he undoes his pants just enough to pull his cock out from them. You gulp, licking your lips at the sight of him before you. His veins bulge, almost pulsing with the need to be nestled inside of your cunt, as his swollen angry head leaks copious amounts of clear pre cum, enough that it almost looked like he’d finished inside his slacks when he got you off with his fingers. 

Zayne loosens his blue tie, tugging at it until you can see the gentle bobbing of his neck as his hungry eyes drink you in. You squeak when he taps his angry tip against your exposed pussy, smearing his slick against your own, the warm liquid making you shiver as it mixes.

You croak, using your last waning bit of rational thought, "W-what if someone comes looking for you?” You moan deeply when you feel Zayne move your wet panties to the side, exposing your dripping slit to his hungry eyes and the air conditioned draft of the billiard hall. 

He presses his bare tip against your soaked lips, and your knees buckle under the sensitivity of your fading orgasm. Luckily Zayne holds you steady, his large hand wrapped securely around your waist as he teases his engorged tip up and down your exposed cunt.

"Well then we’ll just have to be quick, can you do that for me love?” He lines up with your throbbing hole but waits for your consent before digging himself into you. The feel of his burning cock nestled in your core is enough to make you throw all inhibitions out the window, and instead of responding verbally, you grind yourself back onto him, trying to fucking yourself onto him. 

You revel in Zayne’s deep throaty moan, his voice hoarse with desire, "You drive me absolutely insane Y/N.” And with that, he presses his swollen tip into your waiting cunt. Your eyes screw shut and your fingers grip the wooden edges of the table top as your cunt does its best to accommodate his never ending girth. Your teeth bite down on your lips to try and keep your moans at bay, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. 

"Good girl,” Zayne grunts out, his large hands massaging your hips soothingly, "Perfect little pussy is sucking me in so well.” You flutter around him excitedly at his praises, to which Zayne hisses, digging his fingers into the fat of your hips.

"Not so tight, please,” he grits, stilling his descent into your warm cunt, "Let me in, my love.” He twitches inside you, wanting nothing more than to be buried to the hilt.

"M’trying,” you pant, looking back to see his cock stuffed halfway inside of you, "M’trying Zayne.” Keeping one hand on your hip, grip so deliciously tight there’ll surely be hand shaped bruises the next day, he shifts his other hand to your front. His fingers snake up and under your dress, pushing your panties further to the side to flick against your clit.

You gasp out, the tension in your gut being forced to release. You feel the rest of Zayne’s cock sink into you, brushing against your g spot as he gently hits your cervix. The delicious curve of his manhood causes his heavy cockhead to drag against all your sweetest spots as he begins to slowly move in and out of you. Your cervix is no stranger to the feel of his tip brushing right up against it, your body growing to love the feeling of his bruising pace against your deepest parts.

"Gripping me so tight,” he seethes, his hands weaving into your hair and pushing your face into the table, the smooth felt material rubbing against your cheek as he pounded you into the table. "You like it that much? Like the idea of someone walking in and seeing this beautiful little pussy wrapped around my cock?”

Your moans brokenly at his words, his pace intensifying. The threat of being caught coupled with the overwhelming way Zayne absolutely takes your quivering body is almost too much for you, definitely too much for you to form a response to his words. Your pussy can only tremble in response, as if not wanting to let him go each time he pulls out.

Zayne’s fingers grip your hair harder, but still gentle enough that it makes your eyes roll back at the addicting sensation, "Tell me baby.” His voice is low and demanding, making you want to please him at all costs.

"Want someone to see you fuckin’ me,” you whine, cheeks heating up in embarrassment, "See that m’all yours.”

Zayne groans at your words, driving himself harder and deeper into your womb, "They’d be disappointed to find out that this pussy already belongs to me, huh?” His fingers at your scalp grip your head as the intensity of his thrusts have your eyes leaking tears of utter fucked out pleasure. "Made only for me.” His words hold such a possessive tone, making your stomach stir with butterflies. 

"S-so big Zayne,” you ramble, your voice coming out as a mere whimper.

"Just take it f’me, yeah?” His voice is low, his hand inching down from your scalp to your bare back, pressing your arched spine further into the table. "Feels so fucking good when you wrap around me like this.”

You’re a moaning mess as he drills himself into you relentlessly, held up only by Zayne’s firm hand pressed against your clit. Your mind is consumed with only thoughts of him and the ecstasy he rains down upon your body.

Zayne’s groans are vaguely audible over the deafening sounds of your ass rippling against his exposed pelvis, "Can never get enough of you, my perfect girl.”

"Should see how well she takes me, love. Sucking me in like she can’t get enough,” he rasps, hand leaving your back to press on your tummy. "Feel me here, princess?”

"Y-yes!” You gasp, "Feel you s’deep, need m-more Zayne.”

Zayne chuckles, his laugh so beautifully rich against the erotic sounds of his skin against yours, "You really think you can handle more, angel?”

"I can! I can!” You chant hazily, wanting nothing more than to please him as he drives into you intensely, his cockhead dragging against your g spot repeatedly. Your eyes have a hard time staying open as Zayne pushes you closer to your second orgasm of the evening.

His vigor increases impossibly, his hand leaving your stomach to gently grasp your neck, pulling you up towards his hard abdomen. You gasp when your arched spine hits his chest, as he effortlessly manhandles you into his body.

"Will never get enough of you. Of this perfect little cunt,” he groans into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. His hand presses down on your throat, holding you securely against him like you might disappear at any moment. The smooth material of his suit vest soothes the singed skin of your back, absolutely zero space between the two of your bodies. Molded perfectly together into one. 

"She was made for me, huh? Made for me to stretch every fucking night,” Zayne grunts desperately as he thrusts up into you, your mind going numb from the pleasure of Zayne’s massive girth rearranging your guts, leaving you once again unable to form words. His hand against your throat tightens against your neck when you don’t respond, the fingers at your clit squeezing demandingly, "Answer me Y/N.” The leather brushing against your nerves forces your mind to clear. 

"Yes!” You gasp out, doing best to see through the fog of intense ecstasy and form coherent words, "M’all yours Z-Zayne, p-please don’t stop.”

"Good fucking girl,” Zayne pants, softly digging his teeth into your neck, lips latching on and sucking for dear life. Your broken moans of pleasure fill the room when his teeth sink into your sensitive pulse point, and then his tongue lapping soothingly at the tender skin. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours are so obscenely loud and erotic, serving to push you closer to your impending climax. 

"I would spend my entire life buried inside you,” Zayne grits against your neck, absolutely drunk off you. "You can handle it right, my love? For me?”

His words drive you closer and closer to your release. His fingers are still wrapped deliciously against your neck, applying just enough pressure that you have to gasp for your breaths, "Y-yes! Yes!”

"Tell me what you want love,” Zayne demands in between sucking at your neck, leaving behind a string of hickeys and saliva. He glances down briefly to see the shiny slick pooling around the base of his length disappearing and reappearing inside your fluttering cunt. The sight of it makes him moan, gasping huskily into your ear. The sound of his desperation makes you clench around him, tip-toeing closer and closer to your release.

"Z-Zaayne,” you drawl, "M’so close. W-want to cum for you. Please let me cum f’you.” Zayne swears under his breath, grip releasing on your neck to hook around your waist. Zayne lifts you off his length and spins you around. You yelp, legs instinctively wrapping around his hard abdomen as he orients you to face him, ass resting on the edge of the pool table. Your elbows straighten behind you as your prop yourself up with your palms flat on the felt top. 

"Need to see your beautiful face,” Zayne demands, his fingers reaching up to grip your chin, craning your face to meet his and bringing your lips to his. His lips are delightfully demanding against yours, tongue forcing its way in to claim your entire being. 

To your dismay, he rips away, a string of saliva connecting your panting breaths. Zayne’s eyes pierce yours intensely, "Tell me how much you want it.” Your thighs clutch around him as his hand snakes down where your bodies are joined to rub at your clit again. 

"S-sooo much Zayne,” you cry pathetically, tears forming in the corner of your eyes, "Please let me cum for you, m’a good girl, d-deserve to cum.”

Your begging drives him insane, the vigor of his thrusts reaching an all time high. The way Zayne thrusts up into your body makes you drool, feeling like his personal pocket pussy, and you love it. His hot throbbing length reaches all the deepest parts of your cunt, making your eyes roll back, your hands wrapping around his neck as his strong hands hold your thighs up against him, leaving finger shaped bruises. The undoubtedly expensive pool table underneath you shakes under the intensity of Zayne’s thrusts, slightly scraping and sliding against the linoleum floor.

"Okay my love, anything for you,” he muses, leaning in to kiss down your collarbone, "Not too loud okay? Can you do that for me?”

You nod fervently, though you’re not sure if you can keep your promise. His lips on your chest definitely make those words seem far fetched. 

"I-I have to cum,” you pant, unable to keep your orgasm at bay any longer, "M’cumming Zayne, p-please don’t stop.”

Zayne’s lips abandon your neck, using the hand not on your thigh to cup your chin once more.

"I’m not gonna last much longer with you squeezing me like that,” he groans, "You gonna take it baby?” You do your best to nod, but that’s not enough for Zayne.

"Answer me, sweet girl,” he purrs, "Or do I have to teach you another lesson?”

"Y-yes, m’gonna take it all. Please Zayne,” you plead, needing to feel him fill you as you cum for him. 

Zayne smirks, so devilishly handsome as beads of sweat form on his temple, "So damn gorgeous when you beg for my cock.” His lips capture yours again, tongue tasting every inch of you. You kiss him back feverishly, wanting to be filled with nothing but him.

He pulls away, instead kissing the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, "Who does this pussy belong to, Y/N?”

"Y-you! Belongs to you Zayne!”

"Good fucking girl. Now cum for me.” 

The command in his words sends you toppling into the abyss as you cum all over him. Except this time it’s so much more moist than the orgasm you had when his fingers rearranged your guts. You can vaguely feel the gush of liquid against his expensive slacks as your mind goes blank, only able to accommodate the pleasure and no other senses.

Zayne’s eyes trail down to where your bodies connect, watching in awe as you squirt all over him. The feeling of your cunt pulsating so snugly around his length, almost too tight if not for your fluids coating every inch of him, drives him to his own orgasm. His cock trembles violently as he buries himself to the hilt, emptying inside of you, endless streams of cum coating your throbbing walls.  

Once the last of his essence has been absolutely drained from him, Zayne languidly thrusts up into you, obsessed with the feeling of your collective spend against his softening erection. You whimper at the feeling, gently tapping against this chest, "N-no more. S’too sensitive.”

Zayne chuckles, slowing in his movements and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, "Sorry love. Just wanted to make sure I got it as deep as possible.”

You sigh contently, tightening your arms across the back of his neck and burying your face into him, inhaling the sweet scent of him. The two of you bask in the moment, with him still nestled inside of you.

"We should head back to everyone else Zayne. They’ll be wondering where you are,” you mumble into his shoulder, fingers stroking his soft raven hair. "There’s always a bright eyed doctor looking for you, wanting to sing your praises,” you tease.

"And yet the only person I want looking for me, is you,” he smiles faintly, rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, his large hands never leaving your body for even a second.

You blush at his words, trying to deflect, "You’re a flatterer.” And yet there is a sincerity behind his words that makes your heart thrum erratically. He only smiles warmly at you, nothing but adoration, happiness, and utter satisfaction clouding his hazel irises. 

"For you, I'll be anything,” and with his glimmering eyes on yours, Zayne carries you off the table, gently setting you back on the floor after making sure you’re able to stand by yourself. 

He chuckles as your knees wobble, "Do you need me to carry you for the rest of the night?”

"Now, what would your colleagues think if they saw the esteemed dr. Zayne carrying his female companion around in such a formal setting?” You tease him, wincing as your panties settles onto your soaked cunt, absolutely dripping and spent.

"I don’t think anyone would question me carrying you, if they saw the state you’re currently in,” he grinned, smoothing some of your undoubtedly disheveled hair behind your ears.

You teasingly smack his shoulder, to which he heartily laughs, holding your waist with his outstretched hands "Is it that bad?” You whisper worriedly, doing your best to smooth out your dress. However, there was nothing you could do about the slick dripping down your thighs until you found a restroom.

"It just means I did my job right,” he smirks at you, eyeing the plethora of hickeys littered against your soft skin. There’s a thoroughly ravished glow about you that he doubted anyone would not be able to notice. Above all, the smell of him and sex is so deeply etched into your scent, there’s absolutely no way people wouldn’t know where you two had disappeared off to. The thought of that fills Zayne with a deep sense of satisfaction and arousal. 

You give him an unamused look in response. He chuckles lowly, holding his arm out for you to grab, ever the gentleman. It slightly irks you how annoyingly debonair, dashing, and collected he looks, not a hair out of place, even after your vigorous activities. 

"Ready to go?”

You latch onto his outstretched arm, feeling exhausted but unbelievably happy to be here with Zayne. Hand in hand, the two of you head out of the billiard hall you were sure you’d never forget.

"Wait! We have to finish our game!” You exclaim, halting and dragging him back towards your table, where your cue sticks still sat.

Zayne only raises his eyebrow at you, letting himself be dragged along by you, "We already finished. I won.”

"What do you mean–” it’s then you notice all his solid colored balls are gone, along with the black eight ball.

"Wh-when did you do that!? I call foul play!” You whine, "I want a rematch.”

"Though i’d be more than happy to teach you another lesson,” his eyes shine with amusement, clearly referring to something else, "We need to make a reappearence before someone finds us in here. We look quite incriminating in here.”

You pout, knowing he’s right. Despite your best efforts, there’s no doubt you look like you’ve just been dragged through a wind tunnel. But you were so incredibly competitive. And an even sorer loser. 

Zayne chuckles at your adorable grimace, your arms crossed over your chest. He gently pries your arms apart and holds your hands in his, "I’d be happy to take you home and give you a rematch of tonight. How does that sound?”

"Fine…” you sigh reluctantly, letting him guide you back to the main hall of the club, "Since when did you have a pool table at home?”

Zayne doesn’t turn to you, but you can see a slight upturn in the corner of his lip, "I don’t.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

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Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[fushiguruuzzzz]

know my name, know my face.

megumi is sick and tired of you being so formal. he is silent in his feelings until one day, when something as simple as a little shop and your eagerness about a keychain tips him over.

just a really silly fluffy fic. canon verse. was supposed to be a drabble but I yapped too much so I formatted. megumi yearns and longs and broods and- you get it. a mix between a drabble and a short fic kill me. no beta we die like everyone in the jjkverse. word count of 1046.

masterlist . join the gen taglist

although he loathe to admit how deeply he is being affected by this whole situation, the truth is that megumi is getting fed up with you.

not you, per se, but the way you seem to view him. he feels more distant to you than the others; you seem more personal with them, more friendly. even though you choose to spend more time with him than anyone else and speak to him more fondly and overall express more affection for him, he feels out of place. when you call upon the other first years, his name rolls off your tongue differently. it leaves your lips akin to that of a stranger.

you see, there is yuji and nobara and then there is fushiguro.

(he recalls the early days of your friendship with the group. your voice had been so sugary, lined with honey as you asked “is it okay if I call you yuji?” and, “you don’t mind nobara, right?” …you had not even asked him. he had looked straight ahead and pretended to feel less invisible.)

it meets his ears and makes him wince internally every time. it is soft and sweet as it always is, but that does not change the facts. you refer to him as a classmate rather than a companion. he wants to grab you by your shoulders and make you repeat the syllables of his first name until it is engraved in your mind and vocals alike — his ears too. maybe, if he were feeling really desperate, he would fall to his knees. however, he does neither. he simply gives a nod and lets the sound ring through him, lets the echo of it beat against his insides and leave welts big enough to have him crumpling to the ground. he greets you back like he is neutral, keeps his knees steady. he calls you by your last name also.

perhaps he is being dramatic. perhaps he is irked by it more than he should be, but he cannot help himself. what is it about him that is so alien? he had always been different from other people, but jeez.

he is silent in his brooding, quiet in his troubled inquiries. they fester in his mind and do not pollute the air. until one day, his mouth betrays him.

your feet have the gravel crunching beneath you as you bound up to him, a smile on your face. the others were not in sight—the three of you had gone off into another part of the shop whilst he lingered in a different isle. you had returned to him alone. it made him feel seen, even as he schooled his expression to indifference.

you hold a keychain out to him. “look, fushiguro! isn’t this cute?”

the warmth in him flickers, fading into a dull ember. he gives a short nod, hoping you would not notice the way the corner of his lips tugged downward. a long, silent exhale leaves his nose, eyes focused a little too intently on the trinket than necessary.

you pause, because you noticed, as you always did. you saw him. but unfortunately, you only saw fushiguro.

“fushiguro?” you questioned tentatively.

that was the final straw; the words escaping him before he could will them away, “why do you do that?”

a pause. the meaning of the cryptic statement is somewhat lost on you, he quickly realized. the tips of his ears heat up as he continues, “speak to everyone so personally except for me. we aren’t strangers, you know.”

tilting your head, your brows furrow, not because you are still confused but because it was so ironic. not one person at jujutsu high called him by his first name save for gojo, who was met with the meanest scowl every single time. you would much rather be left out of his wrath, therefore did not bother pushing him for it. your eyes flicker oddly for a moment and he is left to drown in the silence.

“everyone calls you fushiguro.”

he averts his eyes completely. the tips of his ears are turning pink, but you can only see if you look very closely. “what makes you think you’re just a part of everyone?”

“well, when we met. you stared at me deadpan and introduced yourself with it’s fushiguro, point blank.”

his cheeks warm further. he scowls, both because of your horrible impression of him and because of the recollection. he did do that, but… that was different. that was a long time ago. that was before you had become so close to his heart that you could touch it, feel it beat against your palm and speak his first name in morse code for you. now is now.

“that was different.”

“so… you want me to call you megumi?”

the sound of his first name hits him like a punch to the gut. his heart speeds up, fingers twitching at his sides. finally, he thinks. after multiple months and a bit of mild mortification, you had done it. his soul eases and sinks contently back into his bones. he shrugs, though, despite his entire conscious screaming yes. “do whatever you want. I was just asking.”

you chuckle. he is a bit of a terrible liar when it comes to these things, you have learned. you choose to humour him. “okay. i’ll call you megumi, then.”

he nods. silence falls again, but it is different this time. easy. transparent. it does not settle thickly and add to the weight on his shoulders, instead lifting it, if even a little. then, “I don’t sound like that, by the way.” his voice is a low grumble.

“you totally do, don’t lie.”

“shut up.”

“okay, whatever, megumi.”

despite himself, he smiles. he would let you torment him so long as you eased the sting with the soothing balm that was his name on your lips. hell, you could curse his entire existence and he would forgive you if it was followed by the gentle whisper of megumi against the shell of his ear. it is a scary thought, but he accepts it with surprising ease.

as long as you called out to him like he was a little more than a stranger, he was anything to you. he was yours.

tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @fiannee @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @xianji @cinnamxnangel @sickpatientt @megapteraurelia @scoutings @anotherwriternamedclara @spookypeacesandwich @titititititixo @wizzzierr @jadeyaps @whoevenisjessica @nishislcve @rustymind @grndz3r000

[writeriguess]

Hiii neema

I was wondering If you could make a bakugo x fem reader where their making out in the hallways of ua in the nightime because they thought it was saf, but present mic, midnight and aizawa caught them because they were doing a check in the dorm hallways to check if all students were asleep

Thank you!

Caught in the Act

The halls of U.A. were dead silent, save for the occasional hum of the security system and the distant rustling of the wind outside. The soft glow of the emergency exit signs barely illuminated the dim corridor, casting long shadows along the walls. It was well past curfew—dangerous territory for any student caught outside their dorms.

But right now, that was the last thing on your mind.

Your back pressed against the cool wall, fingers gripping the hem of Bakugo’s uniform shirt as his lips moved hungrily against yours. His hands, warm and a little rough from years of combat training, framed your face before slipping down to your waist, pulling you closer. His breathing was ragged, matching yours, and when he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, a quiet, needy sound escaped you before you could stop it.

“Shh,” Bakugo murmured, though there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t wanna get caught, do we?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t have time to retort before he kissed you again, pressing you further into the wall. He was always so intense, so full of heat—it was overwhelming, addictive. You melted into him, fingers curling into his shirt, and he groaned softly into your mouth.

“Oi, you’re gettin’ too into this,” he teased, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“Says the guy who—”

“—WHO IS BREAKING CURFEW.”

The sudden, deafening voice nearly made you jump out of your skin. Bakugo, for all his confidence, stiffened immediately, his head snapping toward the source of the interruption.

A slow, sinking feeling settled in your stomach as you turned to face three very different but equally terrifying figures standing at the end of the hallway.

Present Mic, arms crossed, looking way too smug about catching you.

Midnight, hand on her hip, staring at the two of you like she’d walked in on something particularly juicy.

And worst of all—Aizawa, eyes half-lidded, expression completely unreadable, but the overwhelming aura of disappointment radiating off of him was suffocating.

Silence stretched between the five of you.

“…Well,” Midnight finally spoke, tapping her chin. “I suppose we should have expected this from young love.”

Present Mic grinned. “Gotta admit, you two picked a terrible spot for this.”

You could feel your entire body heat up, mortified beyond belief. “W-We weren’t—”

“We weren’t doin’ shit,” Bakugo growled, arms crossed defensively, though the tips of his ears were betraying him by turning pink.

Aizawa let out a slow, tired sigh, rubbing his temples. “I don’t even have the energy to deal with this.”

“Oh, come on, Aizawa,” Midnight purred, “this is adorable. I mean, young romance, sneaking out past curfew—so reckless, so rebellious.” She grinned at you. “Did you know Bakugo could be such a romantic?”

You wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

“I ain’t romantic,” Bakugo snapped, glaring at her.

“You were just sucking face two seconds ago,” Present Mic pointed out with a laugh.

“SHUT UP!”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Both of you. In my office. Now.”

Bakugo groaned. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

“You were caught red-handed,” Aizawa deadpanned. “Be grateful this isn’t worse.”

You exchanged a glance with Bakugo, who was seething, jaw clenched. The two of you had really screwed up.

Midnight gave you a playful wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your punishment isn’t too harsh.”

“NO ONE IS GETTING A SPECIAL PUNISHMENT, MIDNIGHT,” Aizawa said through gritted teeth.

You sighed, slumping against the wall as the three teachers turned to lead the way. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Bakugo scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Tch. Worth it.”

Your face burned as you nudged him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

But as much as you wanted to be angry, you couldn't help but agree.

[itzpookiepooh]

hiii pookie hope you're doing well💖

something really funny happened to me rn😭 i was changing my tshirt and didn't close the curtains (thought it'd be a quick change) but i accidentally ended up flashing a WINDOW CLEANER😭😭😭😭 thankfully i was wearing a bra

anyways it got me thinking how the lads men would react if you end up flashing someone accidentlly and tell them

YOU WHAT?????? Omg…friend 😭😭😭😭

FLASH!

“You what?” Xavier asked blinking in disbelief. You didn’t say that. Of course you didn’t he’s hearing things.

“I flashed Charlie. I didn’t know—“ Xavier stood up abruptly making you pause as he walked to the window.

“What are you doing?” You ask a bit scared of your flurry of light.

“He won’t remember by tomorrow.” His voice cold and deep. You jump up grabbing his waist.

“Xavier wait!” It took you almost ten minutes to talk him off the edge. Poor Charlie was saved by your heroic act.

“So you flashed the neighbor?” He questions in confusion. You nod frantically.

“I was half sleep and thought I had my pajama shorts on.” You groan in embarrassment. The neighbor was polite enough to cover his eyes though!

“I’ll handle it Pips.” He caresses your head before you hear his gun cock.

“Caleb—“ He walks to the door with you hot on his heels.

“I just wanna talk to him.” He casually spoke as he opened the door. “Caleb relax—“

“I just wanna talk to him.” As he walks onto the lawn with the gun raised. You try to catch up with him.

“Caleb don’t.” You try to sound authoritative but it doesn’t work.

“I’m just gonna shoot him.” He calmly says aiming for his front door. Long story short the guy begs for Caleb’s forgiveness as you scold him for scaring the guy.

“It was an accident! I’ll have to be more careful next time.” You explain embarrassed. You didn’t know Rafayel had to change the curtains because they got paint of them.

“There won’t be a next time.” He says confident as he starts whispering in Lumerian. You quickly cover his mouth with a glare.

“No curses.” You say sternly making him roll his eyes. You walk away only for him to continue. You fly in the air to tackle him.

“I said no curses!”

Sylus does not play about you and you know it. As soon as you tell him he makes whoever it was disappear and with the snap of his fingers. You were shocked by his dramatic reaction.

“Was that necessary?” You snap at him. You just wanted to forget you embarrassed yourself.

“Yes because this’ll make him forget.” He shrugs before walking away.

“Where did he go?” You ask following behind the tall man.

“I’ll return him before sundown.” He pats your head making sure you don’t worry. We all know Sylus wasn’t going to bring him back by sundown.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He asks you to explain again how you got yourself into this situation. It wasn’t your fault the currents were open! They’re on a timer they open themselves! Zayne asks who saw you as you panicked.

“The neighborhood dog!” You cover your mouth as he stood there. He took a deep breath before he spoke, “The dog?”

“Yes! What if he’s traumatized?” You panic grabbing your hair. Zayne grabs your hands softly taking them out of your hair.

“My love. He’s a dog…he cannot speak.” You froze at his words. Your brain registers what he said.

“Oh.” You say before nodding. “Did you forget?” He asks genuinely concerned.

“Psh no!” You wave him off still thinking about it.

“You forgot.” He murmured standing up straight. Your jaw slacks as you stare at him. “I did not!”

As you can see I didn’t know how I wanted to display Zayne’s situation 🤫

[bloomseishiro]

in which rin listens to your voice texts whenever he misses you ₊˚ෆ⊹.ᐟ

As much as he struggles to admit it, Rin misses you quite a lot when he’s out of the country for a game.

It grows exceedingly harder when he has multiple away games back-to-back, making it near impossible to coordinate even a simple video call that lasts longer than two minutes when he’s gone. The only way he survives is by listening to your voice memos over and over again.

He makes sure to save each one you send, no matter how silly or trivial the topic at hand is (which, in all honesty, most of them were).

Like yesterday, you were telling him about how you made eggs for breakfast and one yolk was darker than the other. Completely useless and mundane information, but when it comes from your mouth, Rin treats it like it’s a lecture from Socrates. Groundbreaking and reverent.

Even just hearing your laugh makes his bad days brighter. The only thing that could make it even better is if he heard it in person. But seeing as you’re halfway across the globe, it doesn’t seem like that’s much of an option. 

Rin sighs. Only three more days until he returns to Japan and gets to see you, but for now, he has to throw his focus into soccer. 

It’s in the early afternoon when he receives a call from you—meaning it’s well past midnight over in Kamakura. 

Confused and slightly concerned that you’re awake at these hours, Rin pauses the video footage he’s currently reviewing before his one-on-one meeting and answers your call. 

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hey, Rinnie! I miss you sooo much,” you whine, and he can only picture the little pout on your face. 

Rin takes a sip of water to hide his smile. “I miss you, too. Why are you still awake?”

You exhale a deep breath. “Well, after analyzing your schedule and carefully noting what times you usually text me,” Rin snorts at your admission, “I’ve come to a conclusion that this is probably the best time to catch you. So I stayed awake.”

A chuckle escapes him at your antics. “Thoughtful.”

“I know,” you chirp. “I just wanted to hear your voice on a call for longer than one minute.”

Rin nods though you can’t see him. “It’s been hard to coordinate. Still, you should prioritize your rest.”

“I’ll sleep after we talk!” 

“Okay,” he says softly. Because as selfish as it is, he’s missed you too. And if this is the only time you can catch each other, he’s glad you’re awake to do it. “I have a meeting in—”

“Twenty minutes,” you finished knowingly.

He blinks.

“Told you I analyzed your schedule,” you say proudly. 

“You realize that’d be insanely weird. If it weren’t you.”

“Yeah.”

Rin rolls his eyes at your unapologetic tone, smiling despite himself. “I was saying my meeting’s soon, but until then, I’m all yours.”

He silently glances at the paused footage he really should be studying, but he pushes the thought away. If you could sacrifice some sleep, he’s willing to put up with getting an earful from his manager. 

“Tell me about your day,” you say. “I miss hearing your voice.” 

“There’s not much to say since you already know my entire routine anyway,” he says dryly.

You laugh in surprise and Rin feels lighter at the simple sound.

“Tell me about yours instead. Did you have eggs for breakfast again? Was another yolk darker?”

“My yolks were the same color this time,” you giggle. “Breakfast was great. Work, however… Horrible. It was really stressful this week. I just wish you were here right now to give me a hug.”

Rin frowns, upset that he can’t be there when you need him. “What if you take the rest of the week off and come here for the weekend?”

You hum to yourself, deep in thought. “You make a tempting proposal,” you praise. “I do need a break after everything that happened. And I do want to see your game this weekend…”

“Then come. I’ll book your flight.” 

“What will I tell my work?”

“You’re sick and have a fever and a migraine?”

You laugh at his suggestion, but Rin really is serious. Half-serious, at least. You deserve time off to relax and destress. Plus, it’s not like you have to worry about staying at work for money with him around.

Only a minute passes by before you relent. “I guess a few days won’t hurt,” you relent. “When’s the soonest flight?”

“I’ll set one up for tomorrow,” he says. Then, further clarifies, “As in, ten hours or so from now. So you can have time to get enough sleep and pack.”

“How thoughtful,” you playfully swoon. “So I can hug you in person tomorrow?”

“Yes,” he says. And that means Rin no longer has to re-listen to all your voice memos tomorrow. Instead, he can hear your voice in person. His favorite thing.

A loud yawn draws him away from his thoughts and his brows furrow in concern.

“You should sleep now.” 

“But you have five more minutes until your meeting,” you murmur, voice muffled from tiredness.

“Stalker,” he mocks gently. 

You’re too tired to even protest.

“Sleep,” he says once more. “I’ll see you soon enough.” 

“Mhm,” you mumble. Rin hears shuffling and static from your line. Likely you burying yourself in your blankets. He smiles to himself, wishing he could join. “Goodnight, baby. ’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

And Rin has to say, getting grilled by his manager is definitely worth the call with you.