#I couldn’t find a house or apartment to approve me

[sukirichi]

sweet lies (m.)

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. oral (f receiving), fingering, slight body worship, public sex, multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praising, titty sucking, nsfw, toxic megumi, fwb, slight angst, the traditional unedited fic

note. choose your fighter, megumi or sukuna 😈 and thank you to besties nie and ellie for editing this STOP SHOWING YOUR ANKLES CHIRREN

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

Megumi slides your shirt down your shoulder to press kisses on the bare skin. Your head tilted to the side to give him easier access. You hate that you feel so weak around him, your hands gripping his thigh you’re currently straddling, already so breathless from his teasing ministrations. 

“You should move back closer to campus,” he mutters at the juncture of your neck, pulling another soft gasp from you the moment his fingers dip inside your damp underwear. You feel him smile at your skin, using his deft fingers to push two of them inside your sopping hole. He pumps them in slowly, teasingly slow, coaxing your arousal to coat his fingers while you grind against his palm, eyes shut tight from the pulling knot in your stomach.

“It’s hard to fuck you when you’re a half-hour drive away.”

You scoff against him and roll your eyes. “I wonder why I got kicked out from the dorms in the first place.” Exactly two weeks ago, Megumi snuck in drunk and horny into your dorms, shaking you awake to get rid of his boner. 

It was a sloppy quickie, mostly because he’s eaten brownies and got fuck drunk before stumbling beside your bed. The insensitive idiot left his rum bottle under your bed just as he wobbles back to his frat house, and as if things couldn’t get worse, there was a surprise dorm inspection the next day. Not only did they find cum stains all over your sheets, but your bed also reeked of weed and alcohol, resulting in a quick expulsion from the dorms.

If it weren’t for the help of one of your professors, Gojo-sensei, you wouldn’t have been able to find a decent, cheap apartment. It came with the price of rooming with one of his old acquaintances, a muscular, heavily tattooed guy who seemed to be a few years older than you.

He really wasn’t a bad roommate. Other than the fact he seemed really intimidating, the dude mostly kept to himself, either locked in his room or away for work that you don’t really get to see him that much. His place was decent too, your room bigger than the last, so it was a good deal, but as Megumi said, it’s really hard to fuck around when you’re so far away.

“Not my fault, you’re so weak for me, baby,” he taunts as you tighten around him, his pace increasing with his lips sucking love marks on your skin. You can’t help but snicker at his actions; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was jealous. 

But this was Megumi you were talking about – everyone knew he never got jealous. 

“I don’t like you here.”

“Aw, sucks for you.”

“I’m serious,” he grips your waist tighter, drawing a drawled-out moan from you. Megumi rubs your clit with his thumb and swallows your moans through open-mouthed kisses, your fists balled into his hoodie. Fuck this, you’re completely aware he’ll never like you the way you like him, but it’s so hard to feel sad about that when he’s knuckle deep inside you and playing you like a violin. As much as you hated him and his pretty face, you have to admit his fingers were fucking magical.  

Megumi nips at your lower lip before thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a numbing pace, not taking long until you’re creaming all over his hands. You pant at the orgasm, head falling back into his shoulder. 

He brushes your hair away from your eyes and kisses the side of your head, the gesture way too sweet for someone who insisted on a ‘no-strings attached’ sexual relationship. But you don’t complain – this is like a dream come true for you – allowing him to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw instead, his wet hands squeezing your thighs in a possessive grip.

“You should just live with me. I’m not comfortable with the fact you live with a man.”

There’s a trace of jealousy behind his voice that you’d normally swoon at, but he’s pushing you to the edge and fucking around with your feelings so much that you can’t even enjoy the rare moment. You push yourself off him and reach for your discarded shorts on the floor, sliding the material over your legs while Megumi shamelessly stares at your ass behind you, his head resting on his hands.

“Megs, I barely even talk to the guy; he’s always away at work. You’ve really got nothing to worry about,” you tell him, making quick work of tidying your school packets just to ignore his heated gaze. “Besides, you and I aren’t even dating. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You never hold back with your words, huh?”

You shot him a look, an angry glare that should be threatening, but the glint in his eyes just tells you he’s enjoying every second of it. “You like it.”

“Hmm, maybe I do,” Megumi tugs you back to the bed, effortlessly, as he flips you under him. In this position, he’s situated right between your bodies, hands clasped against one another. He’s absolutely stunning, bathed in the sliver of the moonlight, in your bed, no less. You’re a flurry of emotions – stuck between wanting to fuck him and kissing him, and then scream at him to let him know he should stop playing with your heart. 

Megumi’s eyes darken as he traces over your silhouette, watching the way your chest falls heavily at his touches. He uses one hand to trace the tip of his finger from your breast down to your clothed core, a smirk painting his lips when you buck your hips up at the contact. 

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. 

“Just promise me you’re not letting others see your pretty pussy okay?” he tugs your shorts to the side, tongue darting out to lick at his lips at the sight of your glistening folds. You’ve lost count of the times he’s made you cum tonight with just his fingers; the raging hard-on hidden behind his sweatpants is proof that he’s quite different today by letting you get fuck-drunk on him first. Perhaps it’s his way of keeping you so helplessly wrapped around his finger, fucking you good enough that no one else comes second to him, and he knows this. He sees this from the desire pooled in your eyes. 

Megumi scoots down lower to stare at your pussy, which is already embarrassing since you’re so wet down there. He simply sighs at your bare cunt before him, using two fingers to pull the lips apart, followed by a groan at the apparent slick. “This is all mine.”

In your lust-filled haze, you scrunch your eyebrows and sneer, “How about you mind your own business?”

“The fuck did you just say?” he chuckled, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. “You’re mine, babe. Haven’t I fucked you enough to drill in that in your pretty little head?” Megumi doesn’t waste his time diving straight to your eager, awaiting core. Your hands fly down to tug at his hair as you grind your hips to his face, legs weak from his lips wrapped tightly around your clit. “You know I’ll get mad if you touch anyone else.”

“Fuck off, Megumi,” you spat out, “We’ve been fooling around for a year, and you still refuse to date me every time I ask you out officially. Listen, I understand you’re not ready for that kind of relationship, so you could at least respect that you don’t get the exclusivity of keeping me all to yourself.” Truly, this rebellion is so uncalled for and unexpected. The moment you had your eyes on him and made it your life’s mission to win him over, not once had you complained that he never wanted to take things a step further. But it’s been too long, too fucking long, and too many no baby’s already – your pride was beyond crushed. It was about time you set the boundaries this time, and you quiver around his skillful tongue, strong and firm as you rasp, “I’ll fuck whoever I want.”

“You’re lying.”

“What?”

“You love me,” Megumi pulls away from your clit with an audible pop, his face glistening from the smeared juices all over his cheeks. However, his eyes are narrowed, almost as if he’s scrutinizing you. You can’t focus on the fact he denied you of your orgasm because he’s looking at you so seriously, only to tilt his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

“Maybe I do, but are you deserving of it?” you push his head away and ignore the aching in your chest. Megumi shuffles close to you, pulling you in for another cuddling session before you hide under the sheets, making it clear you were not to be touched anymore. “Go home, Megs. I’m tired.”

In all honesty, you want him to stay. You want him to fight harder to win your approval back. He’s not a big cuddler, more of the type to pass out beside you after he’s gotten his own orgasm, but you’ve been so sure that maybe he might be different today. Under the sheets, your lip trembles in anticipation, eyes blinking wide at the dark silhouette outside your metaphorical shield. But as Megumi playfully slaps your ass, his warmth leaving the bed, you’re not really surprised. 

He never stayed the night before – why would he do that now? 

Silly girl, you chastised yourself. 

“Fine. But I’ll be back tomorrow,” you hear him scuffle for his shoes outside, a smile evident in his voice as his words float around the silence of your apartment. “Wear my favourite set like a good girl for me?”

“Go away!”

Megumi’s laughter echoes all the way to where you curl yourself into a ball. You hate that his laughter alone makes your heart skip a beat, even if it doesn’t carry any affection behind then. “See you then, baby,” is all he says before the door slams shut, leaving you alone to your thoughts and insecurities all over again.

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

You’ve really hit rock bottom; that’s the only explanation for your actions. Megumi was coming over in a few hours, unsurprising that he chooses 3 AM of all times. Not only did it mean his frat brothers would be asleep, but it also meant that his other side bitches would assume he’s doing the same. You know, of course, you fucking know you’re not the only one, but it didn’t hurt any less.

The pain just keeps getting worse every time you think of him, said thoughts always comprised with your shirt trapped between your teeth and your hands down your pants. There’s no denying you’re addicted to him, though being addicted to a never-ending heartbreak was a different story. 

A story which you’re not ready to find out yet, so you dress up in your sexiest dress and take the nearest cab, heading to a place where you definitely shouldn’t be.

Two more hours before Megumi arrives. Two more hours before you fall into that endless cycle of fucking and him leaving you alone, promising he’ll be back tomorrow, before it all repeats and traces back to square one. He’s not going to stop, and neither are you, so where was any of this supposed to go now? He doesn’t want you, not in that way, that very much is clear – so why was it so hard to let go of him?

Deep down at the back of your mind, you know your answer. It’s because, like the lovesick fool you are, you’re still hoping that maybe someday he’ll look at you the way you look at him.

Fuck it, is all you think of as you flash the bouncer your ID, not missing the way his eyes fall down your tits that are so close to popping out of your dress a minute longer than welcomed. Snatching your card away from him, you push against the crowd, immediately regretting coming here as the loud thumping of music and stench of sex and alcohol washes over your senses. 

You make a beeline for the empty bar, save for the bartender who had his back turned to you as he wipes the glasses over.

You clear your throat to make your presence known. The first thing you see is a broad back, thick lines of dark tattoos outlined even in his white button-up shirt. He places the glasses down and moves expertly before you, sliding shot glasses next to others before procuring a drink out of nowhere, a greeting about to leave his lips when you both make eye contact.

The drink stays still on his hands, blinking for a moment at your equally stupefied face before he says, “It’s you.”

“S-Sukuna,” you greet back, smiling at your roommate. You’ve barely seen the guy the past few weeks other than sleepy good morning’s, and I’ll take the trash out tonight before both of you disappeared into your own worlds. 

Sukuna is...well, you don’t know, exactly. It’s not like he’s around much for you to make a proper judgment of, but he’s a pretty nice roommate, filling up the fridge whenever you guys run out of beer. There were times he nods at you as a greeting before leaving for work, too, leaving you alone at the house from midnight all the way to the morning. Other than thinking your roommate is pretty unique from his face tattoos and roguish handsomeness that contrasts his rather frequent sleepy mumbles, you’ve failed to realize he could actually be like a normal human. Seeing him stand before you, his forearms lined with veins and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, taut waist emphasized by a black vest, you swallow audibly.

He’s entirely different from the guy you often see passed out on the couch, but it’s a welcomed sight, nonetheless.

Sukuna’s actually...pretty hot.

Hiding the thumping of your heart – whether out of nervousness or it’s just trying to match the beat of the music – you beam up at him,  eyes glossed over with curiosity as he reciprocates with a more mischievous grin. 

If he’s easily read your mind that you are indeed attracted to him, he makes no comment about it, focusing on hearing your voice over the music instead. 

He leans over to you, not pulling away even as your lips faintly graze his ear. Fuck, he’s got piercings too. You greedily drink in his masculine scent, thankful that the music thumping is so loud he won’t hear the frenzy mess inside your ribcage. 

“I didn’t know you worked here. Heck, I didn’t know you were a bartender, but I guess the irregular sleep patterns make sense somehow.”

“What did you think I was, sweetheart?”

His deep voice reverberates all the way down to your toes, his throaty chuckle hoarse. “I-I don’t know,” you pull away nervously, blinking up at him way too innocently. “A gangster, to be honest,” you blurted out. Sukuna tilts his head to the side, and you immediately raise your hands beside your head as you mull over how offensive your words might’ve been. “I don’t mean anything offensive by it, I swear! It was just my first impression!”

“First impressions are usually false. Anyway. It’s fine,” he shrugs, resuming his task of wiping over the glasses. 

His hands were so big, his fingers long and slender...your attention is drawn to the adept manner of how he wipes the cloth using the tip of his finger, reaching behind him to get another glass, all without keeping his eyes off of yours. It leaves much room to muse about what else he could do with those hands, and you squirm at your seat, opting to look at his face instead since that would be more polite than eye-fucking his hands.

Sukuna smirks, that cunning twinkle in his eyes matching the dim lights of the bar. Somehow, you suddenly feel so lightheaded. 

“If it makes you feel better, I thought you were a shy girl at first, but your boy toy brings a different side of you every time he comes around.”

You squeak in embarrassment, “You’re home by then?!”

“Only sometimes,” he reassures with a laugh. “But I’ve heard enough,” Right. He’s older and definitely more experienced than your sexual escapades with Megumi – this must be nothing new to him by now, and yet, your skin flushes heated. “Don’t look too flustered, sweetheart. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of that,” he nods at you, “You don’t look very happy with him, though.”

“Tch, now you’re assessing my relationship status?”

“I don’t have to,” he shrugs, the gesture so damn reassured. Chuckling at your apparent frown, Sukuna shakes his head to himself. “It’s written all over your face you’re not satisfied with something. You wouldn’t be here if you were feeling good in the first place.”

“How much have you heard?”

“Oh, I don’t care about how you scream his name. That’s none of my business,” he grumbles under his breath rather bitterly – but that could just be the music messing with you. Sukuna holds your gaze as he sets the final glass down before you, his elbows languidly resting on the counter that separates you both. You’re left staring at him in wonder, watching the way he pours the drink right in front of you, the movement of his lips so intoxicating and even erotic you nearly didn’t hear him say, “But as your roommate, I wish you’d stop inviting him around and just kick him out already. He doesn’t like you, you know.”

He doesn’t like you. Megumi doesn’t like you – you know that already.

Glare deepening at your surprisingly nosy roommate, you take the glass from him and down it in one go. Sukuna’s brows shot up in awe, arms crossed against his puffed-out chest as you slam the glass down. 

You were fuming. 

“You don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”

“That’s right, I don’t,” he answers without skipping a beat, “But we men, we understand each other,” You open your mouth to retort, silenced by Sukuna’s finger pressing against your lips. You freeze at the contact, and Sukuna makes use of your state, continuing right where he left from. 

“Listen, take it from me as free advice. I’ll even put your drink on the house.”

Really, nothing is stopping you from biting off this guy’s finger, but he looks like he knows something you don’t that you just choose to keep your mouth shut.

Satisfied at your decision, Sukuna smiles sweetly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. The gesture puts you under his spell, and he lingers there a little longer, massaging the lobes of your ears before he pulls back just as fast, almost as if he never touched you in the first place.

You fight back the urge to huff. 

Why were men so complicated? One moment, they were hot, then cold the next. You would just never get it.

“That guy you’ve been mooning over for who knows how long? He doesn’t give a fuck about you. You’re just someone who warms his cock every now and then, but I guarantee he’s thinking about someone else in his head when he’s with you,” he announces straightforwardly, not giving you the time to recover before he shrugs like his words didn’t just slap you in the face. “Just call quits on him, sweetheart. There’s really no need to waste such a pretty face. Ever heard of the saying – there’s plenty of fish in the sea?” he pushes another drink to you, “Drink up and loosen a little. With a face and body like that, you’ll find someone better soon.”

“I highly doubt I can find someone better when all everyone sees is my appearance.”

“I don’t,” he hinted with dark eyes, “But I assure you it might be what people see first. You do have a face of an angel; men are into that shit.”

Taking the drink from him with a loud sigh, you feel yourself weaken. You bury your head in your hands, replaying all the memories you’ve had with Megumi. It’s foreseeable that almost all of them consisted of you two fucking, nothing but a faint memory of two where Megumi actually cared enough to perform aftercare. The thought makes you wince; he really is an ass, but you’re also so hopelessly infatuated with him that you refuse to acknowledge the truth.

“Megs and I...we’re just complicated, okay?”

“Sure.”

“I swear!” your defenses are hopelessSukuna’s knowing smirk, the man holding back a snigger from your silent rage. “Besides, maybe his disinterested nature is what made me attracted to him in the first place. I like the mystery. It’s not bad for a girl to enjoy searching for answers every now and then.”

“Except he’s already given you a concrete no, and you’re the only one still hanging onto him,” he reminds you. At your dropped jaw, Sukuna has the audacity to wink. That motherfucker –“Pressed a button, kitten?” he pats your head, leaving you to be even more riled up. “Don’t be sad. It’s not like he’s the only guy who can make you feel good.” As if a light bulb went up in his head, Sukuna hid his smile by turning his back to you, pretending to be engrossed in the drinks all laid out in front of him. But even with his face obscured from your view, his words rang thick and clear: “In fact, I bet you your cute ass someone else can change your former perspective on what pleasure really is.”

“Yeah, like who?” you snorted sarcastically, “You?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he faces you, absolutely shameless as he eyes your cleavage. Sukuna clenches his jaw at the tempting view before him, sliding his gaze back to yours to look for the answers in your face. “If you want a demonstration, that is.”

Sukuna hasn’t really touched you or even spoke explicitly, but you’re breathing hard anyways, subconsciously clawing the countertop. 

You don’t know if it’s your voice or his that’s ringing your ears, the words what’s holding you back? the last thing you hear before grabbing him by the collar, leaning over the counter to taste his lips. Sukuna smiles at the kiss, his large hands cupping your face in them. His thumb traces circles over your jaw as you greedily suck on his lip, uncaring that you’re making out with your roommate in a public place.

As if remembering that he’s still at work, Sukuna pulls away for a moment, diving in for one last peck that has you giggling adorably. Sukuna’s grin grows wider at your flushed cheeks, snapping his fingers at someone from a distance. “Geto, break!” 

The guy who must be Geto popped his head out of the backroom, frowning at Sukuna’s words when his gaze lands on you and the not-so-subtle needy grip you have on Sukuna’s collar. His mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape before he gives a thumb up, disappearing afterward. 

That’s all Sukuna needs before he’s leaving the counter, breathing in your panicked squeals as he picks you up, your legs flailing to wrap around his.

You’re giggling and laughing all the way to the back of the club, your hands tugging at his undercut and his own squeezing at your ass. Sukuna kicks the door of the restroom open, which is thankfully clean (you made the right choice choosing a luxurious club), settles you down before him, and locking the stall.

His lips are on yours in an instant, his hands tugging off your dress and scowling at it as if it’s offensive. “Calm down,” you tease him, “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“They were a fucking tease the whole night,” he glares at the lacy cups of your bra, his breathing laboured as he cups them. You throw your head back until it thumps at the door, teeth muffling the moans that threaten to erupt. Sukuna unclasps the material in one swift movement, surprising with just how many times he’s done this before. “Fucking gorgeous tits – why the fuck does your boy toy not want to keep you to himself?”

“He’s – oh fuck,” you scrape Sukuna’s scalp, his tongue wrapping around the swollen bud. He caresses the other one not to leave it unattended, and he’s grinding you against the door so hard, his dick poking at your dress leaving very little to the imagination. 

Sukuna chuckles at your broken response, rutting his hips in such a sensual manner you didn’t think he was capable of. “You were saying?”

You glare at him from under your chin, but he can’t take you seriously while he’s sucking at your tit like a child. This man is brave enough to nip it with his teeth, the sting making you hiss and buck against him. “He’s possessive,” you breathe through your mouth, a little in disbelief you’re casually thinking about him while Sukuna gets down on his knees. “He wants me to be exclusive with him, but he’s free to fuck who he pleases.”

Sukuna rubs both palms in front of his face as if preparing to devour a meal, which he’ll do so soon enough. He pushes your dress and bunches it at your waist, tugging your underwear to the side before he groans. The sound is so deep and masculine, so utterly frustrated for some reason you can’t understand.

“Now that’s unfair,” he mumbles absentmindedly, peppering your pelvis with kisses. The feverish touch of his warm lips on your already burning skin has you clutching at the door, feeling your legs weaken.

His eagerness and distrait acts of body worship drive you crazy. Megumi is good at making you feel desired and fuckable – that much you know from his habits of pushing his pants down at pretty much anywhere as long as you were around, claiming you’re a walking ‘boner trigger.’ Sukuna, on the other hand, was a lot more patient and attentive to his movements, taking the time to make you feel you were more than just a body and a hole. It’s odd, hella fucking odd, because this man is older than you and a friend of your professors, but did you care? No. Did you want him to fuck your brains out in a public restroom? Fuck yes.

A wanton moan paints the wall as Sukuna slides your thong off just above your knee, his eyes closed as he buries his cheek in it. You look down with wide eyes, hands grabbing at nothing and everything at the same time. From the looks of it, he’s sniffing your sex, the sight so outright erotic that you only moan louder.

How was it possible to be this much turned on?

By the time he’s opened his eyes, his entire demeanour’s shifted. Gone was the enthusiastic and sly bartender, now replaced with a much more animalistic entity residing beside it. 

Before you could make yourself comfortable, Sukuna hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, the tip of your heel grazed against the tight walls of the stall. He licks a flat stripe from your hole that clenches around nothing, moving upwards in such a passionate, languid manner he’s making you forget you’re literally in a fucking restroom. Your breasts heave up and down from how you’re struggling to breathe, his tongue pushing past through the tight ring of resistance until he’s plunged through your core. You wobble above him, remaining upright only by his arm pushing your back flat on your under boob.

Sukuna slurps at your cunt yearningly, the hums he gives every now and then, making your core vibrate. You grind your pussy on his face, the black marks lined on his face glistening.

He moves to suck at your clit, transitioning after each beat to slurping the swollen bud and kissing your lips as if he was making out with it. You’re sure you’re making a mess on his face, but he doesn’t give you time to feel embarrassed about it. He spreads your legs further until your muscles ache from the stretch, the pain accompanied by your stomach tightening.

“S-Sukuna, oh, oh yeah,” you bang your fist on the door, his smug chuckles sending you over the edge. Your pupils blow wide as you feel the impending orgasm weigh down on you heavily, about to send you into overdrive by his tongue swiping at your lips, teasing you to give it to him more, give it to him harder. Turning your head down to warn him you’re coming, the words die on your throat because he’s already looking at you, his cheeks and nose smothered with your shining slick, and the brat is smirking. “Shit, you’re a little—” Sukuna cuts you off by generously sucking your clit one more time, pulling the muscle taut just to show you that it’s rolling between his lips. It looks fucking insane and filthy that you come right there and then. 

Your orgasm is so strong that you actually slip from your heels. A scream from you is knocked back into you just as fast, Sukuna moving quick and graceful in one fluid movement. He catches your leg and shoves you against the door, gripping at your hips until you’re bending forward, ass perked, and wiggling just for him.

For a split second, you’re sure you hear the unbuckling of a belt, but it all fades in your clouded mind.

Sukuna enters you in one thrust, the sensation of being filled up so soon rendering you speechless. Literally absolutely silent, palms flat on the door and tongue lolled out, all the burning in your body focused on your centre.

He releases a grunt at finally being inside your plush, warm walls. Sukuna allows you to get used to his length for a solid minute, both of you catching your breath in the meantime. Your tits are sprawled out, and you’re a shaky mess, feeling nothing less of dirty yet so aroused that you can’t do anything about it. Sukuna thrusts in slowly at first, and that’s when you feel the size difference between him and Megumi. Megs was definitely blessed in the dick department, and he’s always been so cocky about it, but goddamn, Sukuna was beyond huge.

You think you could cum again just from him filling you up. He was stretching you out so well that he leaves behind a faint burn, making you feel as if it’s your first time all over again – all for the good reasons.

He soon begins to set his pace, one of his hands tugging at your ponytail so he could see your glossy eyes and mouth hanging open. Sukuna scoffs at your fucked out state, too cock-hungry even to form coherent sentences. His length is slipping past your folds in such a tantalizing, delicious state, the prominent veins of his cock kissing the bumpy ridges of your walls. He was right – you’re definitely changing your perspective on pleasure because you don’t think you’ve felt this good in your life. 

With Megumi, it was mostly always about his own release. With Sukuna, he’s making sure you get to feel inch by luscious inch slipping out of you before he slides them back in, his deep moans the dirtiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, kissing you sideways sloppily. Sukuna reaches the edges of your lips but licks at your skin anyway. His canines revealed to graze at your skin. It’s so animalistic, so carnal, and he’s fucking you with such primal need that you forget everything you once knew about sex. “Your pretty pussy is drooling for cock, sweetheart. Such a dirty little thing, taking me like this.”

Now, this was lust as its purest form, the rhythm of his hips so sinful you’ve lost faith in everything but how he’s making you feel. 

The walls are pounding with the bass boosting outside, but soon even the loud volume of the synthesized music is drowned by your whimpers. Sukuna lets go of your hair to place his hands on your hips. If he was dominant before, he only encourages you to scream his name louder, realizing that he was still being nice seconds ago, but now he’s the one controlling you. 

He pounds roughly into you until you’re crying, your drool dribbling from your lips and small patches dropping to the floor. It’s the same with your cunt. You’re so wet that you can feel squirts of cum staining his pants and your legs. Sukuna doesn’t stop praising you on how you’re so perfect, how your cunt is the tightest he’s ever fucked, and now he gets why your boy toy could never really let you go. In the middle of it all, he manages to slip in a comment that maybe Megumi’s dick isn’t big enough to stretch you out because you’re wrapped around him like a vice, to which you respond that he’s just massive.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he agrees cockily, eyes narrowed at where his length kept being swallowed by your pussy. “I’m fucking destroying you, sweetheart. You’ll be broken by the end of this, fuck.”

His words are like ambrosia you’re getting drunk on, the filthiness of his mouth fuelling your desire. Your body heats up at the same time that familiar tingling tightens in your stomach, and you blindly stretch your arm out behind him. Sukuna easily reads your mind and takes your hand, looping his fingers with yours. His palm is right above your knuckle, and the angle hurts your arm so bad you cry harder.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him and snap your hips back to meet his dick thrust by thrust, “I’m so fucking close, please—”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he leans down for a quick peck at your hand, increasing his pace as he twitches inside you. Sukuna is thrown off rhythm by the way you grip down on his dick harder, his breath stuttering as a result. You wrap your fingers around him as your second orgasm that night crashes down onto you in waves, his cock on the brink of being spent from how you’re milking him. 

He pounds deep and slow into you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt that he’s losing his mind, basically in the same state as you are now. You’re panting and sweating, cursing at each thrust, and he stills for a moment, pulling out so fast that you wince at the emptiness. Sukuna pumps his dick with his free hand and shoots his load onto your back, his moans guttural and hoarse. You grimace at the warm cum now coating your back because there’s no way you’re using your dress to wipe that away. 

Sukuna chuckles at your silence, probably noting in the way you frown at him. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair, his cock growing hard despite releasing a huge load. “Next time, I’ll cum in your mouth. I want to see you swallow me like a good girl.”

“Next time?” 

You think you’re so sly by scoffing at him, but Sukuna isn’t stupid. He sees the way you light up at his implications, and he walks closer to you, a hand wrapped around your throat before you pull you flush against his chest. You gasp at the lack of air, blindly patting behind you, but your hand only grazes at his cock, which twitches excitedly at the contact.

“Yeah, next time,” he affirms with a low growl, licking from your jaw down to your neck. It’s so hot, he’s so hot, and you’ve never felt this sexy in your life that you soon become on par with him, pussy clenching around nothing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’re not leaving unless I’ve changed your mind,” he teases the base of your throat to squeeze it tighter, the swift movement of him filling you once more escalating to a tenfold. Your struggle to breathe causes you to clamp down on him hard and Sukuna’s chuckles falter into a quick inhale that’s so satisfying to witness. “What do you think? Still need more demonstrations?”

“Yes,” you choke out. Sukuna’s victorious and award-winning smile is hidden at the sweaty column of your neck where he leaves little kisses in its wake, ones that soon turn into something of a harsh bite. “Yes, please, show me more. Need you, need you so bad, you fuck me better than he does.”

Sukuna does more than show you that night. He makes you feel a thousand more nerves set on fire until you’re nothing but a moaning mess. After all, what better way to change someone’s mind than to mess with it on the inside?

In the end, when it comes down to it, your lies were way too sweet – and he was too addicted to make you stop.

[ally-holmes]

Nancy’s Wedding | Steve Harrington x Reader (ch.5)

Series Masterlist

Chapter Four – Chapter Six.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader.

Word count: 6413

Nancy's Wedding | Chapter Five.

The air was thick and dense around her, weird snowflakes floated like gravity was nothing to them, and the sky had the darkest clouds she'd ever seen. Her bare feet sunk into the dirt, and she didn't feel anything. A small child covered in dirt and dried blood appeared before her eyes; the girl had big bags under her eyes that were injected in blood with exhaustion. She seemed cold and hungry, her lips blue and her body shaking; there was no fear in her eyes, not anymore.

Some sound made both jump, the little girl and the woman. The last one opened her eyes, finding herself in a very cozy bed with an alarm ringing on the nightstand, her breathing was fast as if she'd been running a marathon, her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

A dream. It was a dream. Oddly enough, the girl in the dream seemed familiar. The place in the dream seemed familiar.

Turning off the alarm, Y/N got out of bed in the same pajamas she wore in Steve and Robin's apartment. As she opened the door to go to the bathroom, she found Steve doing the same. His whole hair was a disaster like he had some kind of fight with the bed and lost. She couldn't help it, she laughed hysterically.

"This is gold. Shit, where's my camera? I need to take a picture of you, Steve. This hair… Oh, yeah, this hair is the best thing I've seen in my life."

Instead of shying away, Steve moved his hand as if a hand-puppet was talking and walked towards the bathroom at the end of the corridor. She kept laughing, and the moment Steve reappeared without having brushed or retouched his hair, she gave him the sweetest smile.

"Seeing that you like it so much, I think I can humor you for breakfast."

"How kind of you, Your Grace."

He winked at her and disappeared. If his ears were bright red she wouldn't have mentioned it.

Once she got into the kitchen, Steve was seated on top of the counter with a mug of coffee between his hands. She made her own coffee leaning against the counter, just by his side but without touching him.

"That's all you're going to have for breakfast? It's the most important meal of the day!" Maggie scold them. She had just awoken, her hair was a bit messy and there were still marks on her cheek from the blankets. Steve had never seen her in such a state in front of guests.

"We have a brunch with the others in a couple of hours. We'll eat then, Maggie. Do you want something for breakfast? I do the best toast in Chicago."

"No, Y/N, please, this is my house, I'm the one who should be doing the cooking."

"Nonsense. I'll make you my special breakfast if you're up to it. The last time I spent the night at Steve and Robin's apartment they didn't let me cook."

Reluctantly, Maggie accepted the offer and she had the best breakfast she'd had in a long time. Steve knew his mother wasn't used to just sitting there and being taken care of; when they were all home she woke up earlier than any of them and got breakfast ready, always. The only time she didn't have to cook was when she was at hotels following her husband. Y/N wasn't just kissing his mom's ass to get her approval, she was being properly nice; she understood that as far as she was a guest under Mrs. Harrington's roof, she wouldn't be a burden.

As she asked for the details of last night, Steve and Y/N explained every tiny bit to her. Sometimes lingering in the outfits of the other guests, sometimes describing the food with precision, and, of course, pointing out Mrs. Wheeler's behavior.

"I can't say I blame her. Nancy has always been her baby, she had these big expectations for her, and all mothers dream about their babies finding happiness. A wedding is just a way to celebrate it. I'm sure Karen wants Nancy's wedding to be as big and spectacular as she wished her own wedding was."

For the brunch, Y/N had decided to wear something more comfortable; that's why she had some high-waisted jeans on with her boots, and an ochre wool vest on top of a dressing shirt. Her makeup was toned down in comparison to the prior night, but she kept painting her lips with brown lipstick. Steve was wearing a dark yellow sweatshirt that looked amazing on him, his looks as casual as hers, almost as if they had arranged their outfits to match.

"This is more like the you I know," Steve complimented.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Just a statement. I thought I knew you pretty well–"

"Hardly. Although I'll say that in the last few weeks we've got to know each other pretty well, the only thing I was hiding was my fashion sense. And, of course, my total refusal on buying new clothes until I had to come to Hawkins and do a charade."

"I'm glad I helped."

Inside the car, Y/N waited patiently for Steve's patience to burn down. She'd been looking at him since they got in, and was determined to not tear her eyes away until he broke the silence. Surprisingly enough, he held it pretty well; it wasn't until they were outside Robin's house waiting for her to get out that he stared back at Y/N.

"What?" Steve sounded so desperate that it was very hard not to laugh.

"I miss the golden hair."

"What are you– Oh… Why all that mocking on my hair?"

"Because you love it way too much, Steve."

"Don't I look good now?"

"Sure. It's funnier when it's all messy, though."

As she was saying that, she reached her hand to Steve's hair slowly, giving him time to back away if he wanted to. He stayed, holding his breath, waiting for her action. She ran her hand through his hair, just from the temple to the nape of his neck caressing the outside of his ear, pretending not to notice the shudder that overcame his body.

"I like your hair, although I don't think it's your best feature, as you say."

Steve was too shocked to speak. She leaned in and kissed his cheek and that seemed to wake him up. "What's my best feature, then?"

"You have pretty eyes." She shrugged as if it was nothing.

Robin entered the back seat like lightning, apologizing in a quick rambling for her delay.

The brunch was taking place in Ronnie's, a new establishment that worked in the remodeled Benny Hammond's business, Benny's Burgers. Although Jane Hopper wasn't too happy about the place of choice, as her frown was telling, she kept herself close to Max and Mike. When they saw the trio coming through the door, Dustin did one of his bubbling sounds and Mike pulled a face as Nancy was trying very hard not to laugh.

"What?" Steve was genuinely confused.

Y/N showed her best impression of innocence taking a seat at the same time Robin noticed the brown lipstick mark on Steve's cheek and gasped pointing at him. Blushing furiously, Steve cleaned the mark with the napkin Vickie offered him. Now that she thought about it, she had never seen Steve blush so many times as she had seen him do now that they were in this weird scenario.

The brunch was for the younger and closer friends of the groom and bride, no parents involved. A lot of pancakes, waffles, french toasts, scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice, coffee, tea, fruit, and some mimosas, of course. Robin drank mimosas like water, and by the end of the brunch, she was all flushed and dizzy with an easy laugh.

"Yeah, that's how I got a story published in The New York Times just a couple of months ago. I wished I worked for a bigger newspaper, but working in Indianapolis isn't so bad and I still can send my stories to other papers. Investigation and research are the things I love to do the most," Nancy was explaining to Y/N, who was listening and asking questions politely. "Times had been trying to scout Jonathan as a photographer. I keep telling him that it's a great opportunity and I don't care to move, but he insisted on waiting after the wedding."

"I just think that if I had gotten the job we would have to postpone the whole thing and your mom– I mean… I love you, you know that, don't you?"

"I'm going to let it pass that you were about to say a bad thing about my mother, Jonathan, just because I want to say it as well."

A waitress approached their big-ass table, "Excuse me, there's a phone call for Steve Harrington. It's Chief Hopper."

"Yeah! Thank you. I'll go get it, don't tell my girlfriend embarrassing things about me, please."

"Like the outfit you wore at Scoops Ahoy?" Mike asked.

"What kind of outfit he wore at Scoops Ahoy?" Y/N sounded too intrigued for Steve's own good.

Hopper wanted to meet him in an hour, he sounded excited about the things he had found and refused to talk about it over the phone. Steve promised that he would be there, at a bar next to the bank, after dropping Robin and Y/N off.

*

Steve pulled the bar's door open and was pushed to blink several times to get his eyes used sooner to the change of light. Inside the bar, the light was dim, and as deep he went in, as darker it was. In a booth, he found Hopper and Doctor Owens. He sat down next to Owens, in front of Hopper.

"So, what have you found?"

"What do you know about Y/N's life?" Hopper asked.

"Um… Well, she says her dad abandoned her and her mother before she was born. Her mom developed schizophrenic paranoia and made them move around the country all the time, she barely slept and developed a drug addiction that hit so hard that she started selling everything they owned until she died of an overdose when Y/N was seventeen. At the time, she was living in Chicago and started working at The Silver. She barely remembers anything from when she was little and doesn't have pictures or anything; the only thing she keeps are a bunch of drawings. Drawings from 1979 with a demogorgon in them."

"Let's start for the beginning, shall we?" Owens produced a file from under the table placing it before Steve as Hopper spoke. "I did some research and found a missing person report on Y/N in April of 1979. Mr. L/N and Y/N went missing. Mr. L/N worked at Hawkins Lab," he pointed to the file Steve had already opened.

"As you may guess, he worked for the government. I hate to admit that when the first gate opened was a shock, but Brenner knew how to contain it until it went out of hand in November 1983, Jane left and the gate became uncontrollable."

"When did the gate open?"

"We're not sure. Jane can't remember how old she was; until she met us her knowledge about time and years was scarce," Hopper explained. "We guess it must've been in 1979. Is our best guess now that we have Y/N's record. The point is that Mr. L/N and Y/N were just doing some excursion in the woods, as Mrs. L/N explained in her declaration. That's when it happened…"

"Three months," Owens stated. "They were missing for three months, and suddenly she reappears. Alone. Brenner called me and– Well, he kept Y/N inside the lab as it was some hospital facility just to make sure she didn't remember anything. From a very young age, Y/N had shown to have an eidetic memory and Brenner thought it could be useful. Mr. L/N wasn't pleased with Brenner's interest in his daughter, as you can guess. Anyway, Brenner wanted to know what she had seen on the other side, what had happened, and if she was a loose end for his business. I had to evaluate her and treat her.

"She was with us for nine months and, of course, her mother was there too. Y/N showed no sign of recalling what had happened, she couldn't even remember what had happened to her dad. Goddamit, we showed her a picture of him and she didn't know who he was. I stated that the trauma she'd experienced was so intense that she wouldn't be able to remember anything.

"That didn't please Brenner that suggested we– He suggested we should make her come back to the other side, and if that didn't work… electroshock. I was against it, so I helped Mrs. L/N to run away with Y/N."

"If they kept running and Y/N's mom was so paranoid it wasn't because of some mental illness, it was because they were being hunted down. I moved some strings and talked to the coroner that did the autopsy. The drugs Y/N's mom took were mostly stimulants to keep her awake and in a hyperawareness state." Hopper explained lighting his third cigarette. "With her mom gone, Y/N stopped running and the government found her."

"They didn't want to do much noise, not after all that happened until then. Not after the California fiasco of hunting down Jane and all the Vecna business. That's why they evaluated her secretly and decided that she didn't remember anything and that she wasn't a threat or a possible asset.

"It's amazing to know that she's able to recall and draw every detail of the monsters and places she saw when she was a child. That means that her eidetic memory is intact, but the trauma had become a big wall that makes it impossible for her to actually remember anything, although now that she had gained that drawing skill, she can express and unlock those memories. It's fantastic!"

Steve swallowed a thick lump in his throat. "How– How did she survive for three months in the Upside Down? There's no food, no water, no shelter…"

"We don't know. We think her dad had something to do with her survival, and I don't know what kind of things she had to do to be alive down there… Her trauma might be linked with the monsters, the place, or– Well… We think her dad died helping her to get out by opening a gate."

"Was she found in my house?" The older man shared a look at his question.

"Yes. Your babysitter found her next to your pool and called the police. Your parents weren't home at the moment."

If she showed up there, she must've come through a gate in the woods by his backyard, just as the demogorgon took Barbara and scared Nancy. Three months… Just the idea of being inside the Upside Down for three months made his skin crawl. The scars on his abdomen, his back, and his upper arms started to itch like a compulsion. Flipping pages of the file he found old photos of Y/N; from before going missing there was the photo they used in the pamphlets, and then, just behind it, there were a couple of photos of the nine-year-old girl covered in dirt and dried blood, her hair and clothes a mess, her lips purple from cold, her eyes injected with blood in exhaustion, photos from when they found her.

*

Steve hid the file in the trunk of his car. He knew he had to tell Y/N everything, and he somehow felt good and bad about it at the same time. On one hand, Y/N was now the only woman he could share his true story with, the only woman there was no need for him to lie to. On the other hand, knowing that she got inside an interdimensional gate to a dark place full of monsters, that she survived there for three months, that most certainly her father died trying to give you an out, and then nine months of being locked up like a prisoner… yeah, it wouldn't matter how thick and tall her trauma wall was, knowing the truth could make it collapse and then she would remember everything and it would be his fault and she would not want to see him again and– He was spiraling.

Quietly, although he didn't intend to, Steve got inside the house that was, for the very first time, filled with laughs. Understanding that either his mother not Y/N had noticed his presence, he approached the living room door where the two ladies were sharing a sofa, giving him their backs.

"When was this one?" Y/N asked with interest.

"Oh, this was the Halloween of 1977. Steve wanted to be a cowboy so I sew his costume myself. I used to do that a lot. Look at him with his cowboy boots and his cowboy hat." The love and affection in his mother's voice sound oldy familiar, yet strange.

"He was adorable as a little boy."

Of course, they were looking through the photo albums! Of fucking course!

"Oh my God! Steve looks so cute in this one. Look at that smile! Ow!"

"This was on Christmas. His tooth fell just on Christmas Eve and my husband told him that the tooth fairy didn't work on Christmas and Santa would not change a tooth for money. Steve was heartbroken that night because the tooth fairy was not going to take his tooth, so I changed it anyway. Instead of money, I put a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie and a little note, very tiny, that said 'Thank you for the Christmas present, Steve. Here you have a little thing for you too. With love, the Tooth Fairy'. I still remember it because I spent hours trying to come up with something, and then more time trying to figure out some calligraphy that didn't look like mine at all. Steve would have noticed, you know? He's very attentive. There's no need in saying that my husband thought it was a waste of time because he wanted to tell Steve that all that was fake but look at his face. He was so happy…"

"I wish I could have a copy."

"Said and done, honey. I'll make you a copy and send it to you."

"Oh, no, Maggie, there's no need."

"Nonsense. Tell me if there's any other one that you like and I'll make you a copy. Uh! Look at this one. This album is from high school. He was the captain of the swimming team and the basketball team. My Steve was always amazing at sports. Look, this one was his first game, he played since the beginning, no bench for Steve. Oh, and this is his graduation. I have to say that this is my very favorite."

"Jesus Christ! What's he wearing?"

"A sailor's outfit. It was the uniform at Scoops Ahoy. His very first job. He felt so humiliated when he saw the uniform, my poor thing. But, you know, you have to start somewhere, right? Plus, that job allowed him to meet Robin and to get something on his resume for when he applied to Family Video. My husband was very mad at him because he wanted Steve to follow his steps, but I understood the need to get to know himself better and then take a decision.

"Robin sent me these. Steve doesn't take that many photos anymore, or at least he doesn't share them with me. Robin is kind enough to send me photos of my baby when he gets another job or changes his hairstyle… This, this is from when he went to Saint Louis. He worked there in another video renting store. Then they moved to Kansas City, see? Steve worked at a grocery store here; he looks very handsome, doesn't he? This is from when he started working at a dinner in Denver. Then, all of a sudden, Robin sent me this photo of him behind a bar in Chicago. Look closely, you're there."

The photo showed a very bright Steve due to the flash, drying some glasses as Y/N was a few feet away, covered by the shadows but still recognizable, pouring alcohol. If someone looked closely, they could still see the swollen bump on Steve's cheek. It is evident that Robin couldn't send Maggie a picture of her son all beaten up.

"I'm very proud of him, you know? He's strong and brave and he doesn't hesitate to take on new challenges and change cities and just fight his way up. He has principles, which is the most important thing, and he's good. Y/N, Steve has such a big wonderful heart so full of love… He deserves so much better. So much better…"

"May I ask you something, Maggie?"

"Of course!"

"You don't have to answer. This is going to be very personal, but– Why are you still married? You don't seem very happy with your husband."

There was a moment of silence in which Maggie Harrington admired the photos of her son right before her eyes. "I was like him. I was just like Steve. I grew up in a very small town and I was the first one in my family to go to college. I studied law. I wanted to be an attorney. I had these big plans for the future… Things were different back there, you know? I met my husband in my last year and he seemed to understand my wish to be an associate in a law firm. We were in love. I was so blind with love that when he asked me to marry him I said yes, believing that it wouldn't change a thing.

"Turns out that my husband was more worried about what people might think than what I would. As a man, back in the day, and still nowadays, if your wife has a better job than you and makes more money than you then you've failed as a man. That's what a lot of men thought and still think. He had his business, which made good money but I was making more. And when people asked about our jobs, when he said that he was a businessman they just took it for granted, and when I said that I was a lawyer they always gasped and complimented me. I don't think it was because I was a woman, it was more of the fact that my job had more competition than his. In the end, his business was the only one of its kind.

"When I got pregnant I still had this idea that I could be a mother and work at the same time. I wanted to do it, although my mother was against it. She said I was thinking like a lesbian, just to make you understand the minds from the past. Anyway, my husband and I got into a huge argument because he felt that I was making fun of him, that I wasn't taking him seriously, and that I didn't love him anymore. So– So, I left my job. We moved into Hawkins and I gave birth to Steve. I became a housewife. Why? Because I was so in love with my husband and I thought that he was under such an amount of pressure just for being a man that– Look, I know, now I remember things and it's just stupid.

"That's why I understand when Steve gets angry at his father, you know? My husband only talks to him when he wants to tell him that at his age he was already a husband and a father and had a big business and a lot of stupid things. Our time wasn't the same as your time is, and your time wouldn't be the same in twenty years. We evolve… We change…

"Steve was ten when I found out that my husband cheated on me. I guess he'd been doing so for a long time before that, but it was the first time I faced him about it. He started to make some incredible excuses about the male needs or something, I don't know, but I just made myself very clear. Since then, every time he was out of town for a congress or a meeting or something I was going to be with him. That's when we started to leave Steve alone.

"Why don't I get a divorce? I'm not financially stable, that's for start; I also don't have any experience to put on my resume and I'm too old right now to find a new job. There's also the fact that I still love him. Why? I don't know. And when I'm not around him, when I don't have his shadow over me I feel so free and happy and strong…

"That's why I'm so proud of Steve. He never allowed his father to cut his wings, cage his soul, to make him his puppet. No. Steve is free and independent and every time he shows it to him I feel prouder and prouder. I don't know why I'm opening my heart so easily to you; maybe it's because you're the only one who actually asked me anything. Let me tell you something, I might regret a lot of decisions in my life, decisions that I made due to insecurity and blindness, but the only thing I don't regret is my son. My son, my baby, is the best thing I've ever done."

Too caught up in his feelings, Steve went outside as quietly as he had gotten inside. He needed a few more minutes before coming in again pretending he hadn't listened to any of that. Steve always thought he had been neglected because he had, but he never stopped to think that his mother had been neglected as well.

For the next time he got inside, he made sure to make some noise. The laughing was present again and when he made his entrance into the living room, the two women were standing up with their hands behind their backs and very suspicious smiles.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing," both of them asked at the same time.

"Are those the photo albums? Mom!" He decided to wine like a child just to humor his mother, who went to him patting his back promising there were no compromising photos.

"What do you think I showed her? And also, it wouldn't matter if I've shown her the pictures of you in the bathtub using the soap foam to make a cool hairstyle, I'm pretty sure she'd seen all that's about to see about you all grown up."

"MOM!!"

"I wasn't born yesterday! Are you going to tell me you two have been dating and haven't had sex? Please! Do you think I'm stupid?"

"He also does the hairstyles with foam in the shower now," Y/N lied with a grin not knowing how true that really was.

"The death of me. You are going to be the death of me!"

"Such a drama queen."

*

The brush caressed her eyelids putting a bit of color on them with a pinch of glitter. The mascara was last, carefully applied after curling the eyelashes. She took a look at herself and she was certainly pleased with her reflection; she decided that because the Saturday party was going to be at the high school gym, there was no need for her to look fancy, therefore she wore a short sequin black dress with a mini-skirt and long sleeves, and for the shoes, she wore some fashionable closed shoes with thick heels and a strap on the ankles.

As might be expected, Steve's reaction was priceless. Someone must've thought that he would be ready to find her wearing something amazing, but he was not. In fact, he thought she couldn't look any better, and then, there she was, walking down the stairs and looking incredible.

Hawkins High School had been very pleased to do Karen Wheeler a favor, maybe because not many old students wanted to celebrate something in that building unless it was the ten-year reunion, for which not many people waited with passion. There was no theme to the party, at least not one that could be seen at first sight. As Robin, Steve, Dustin, and Y/N entered the place, they immediately saw a buffet kind of space for people to get the food they wanted, round tables they could use to eat, and a long table the main function was to be the bar. The dance floor was already full with the parents and older guests of the wedding enjoying themselves way too much. Ted Wheeler wasn't much of a dancer, but he didn't mind standing there sipping on his drink as his wife, Karen, did all the job.

Y/N held Steve's hand pulling him towards the dance floor. He followed pretending to be reluctant, although once on the dance floor he gave it all. Steve did stupid faces or movements knowing Y/N would laugh and follow his lead. They were having so much fun. Vickie asked Robin for a dance, and she was enjoying her moment as well.

With the offer of Y/N in mind, Steve started drinking. Not too much, not too strong. He was sipping on his drink, nibbling on his food, and seated at a table while Y/N was dancing to what was supposed to be her last song before eating with Dustin and Jane. Nancy sat next to him following his eyes to see what he was watching so intently.

"I'm very happy for you, Steve."

"Huh?"

"She's the one. I can see it. You too fit so perfectly that it seems impossible, you know?" A pang of guilt made him swallow his drink like a shot. "I'm going, to be honest with you, I was afraid that you could feel uncomfortable with the wedding. I know, it's silly, but– I don't know. I'm just happy that you have gone so far."

"What do you mean with gone so far?"

"Well, when we met your friends were Carol and Tommy. You did stupid things and, most importantly, you didn't have a personality of your own. With time, you left them behind, you left your King Steve era behind. Dustin did good for you, and then Robin. And now, her. You're surrounding yourself with good people because you are a good person, Steve, and you deserve to be loved."

"Do you think she loves me?"

"Yes! It's so obvious that you love each other. I–"

"Nancy! Nancy, darling, go dance with your dad."

"Sorry, Steve. We'll talk later."

He did a gesture with his hands and got up to get himself a proper drink properly alcoholic.

The moment she sat down with Dustin after grabbing something from the buffet. They engaged in a conversation about the X-Files with such passion that they didn't notice Steve drinking too much too fast.

Y/N excused herself to go to the bathroom. She was having so much fun with Steve's friends and with Steve. As she looked at her reflection in the washroom mirror she decided that tomorrow night she would tell Steve how she felt, because maybe he felt the same way, and that possibility was stronger and stronger as time went by. She didn't want to say anything at the moment because rejection was also a possibility and she'd rather not make things uncomfortable and awkward for both of them when the wedding was just a few hours away.

While she was gone, Dustin talked highly of her to Steve. He was very happy and proud for Steve to be with someone like her, and he liked her very much, he felt like they were friends forever. Steve couldn't say anything, just drink trying to fill the black hole that was growing inside of him, consuming him.

As Y/N went out of the washroom she found Robin way too drunk. Her face was flushed and her blinking was uncoordinated. She helped her walk to the table where Steve and Dustin were talking.

"Steve, I think Robin is too drunk. We should call it a night and go home."

"Sounds good to me," Dustin smiled.

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"This is bullshit," Steve dragged out the words with a sleepy tongue. He was drunk as hell. "This– This relationship is bullshit. It's fake. We're not even fri– friends. We're not. Never been. It's bullshit. You– You are bullshit. Bullshit. I'm bullshit too. We are all bullshit. But you too. Bullshit. It's all bullshit. All fake. Because these are not your friends. They are my friends. They will never be your friends because you're bullshit."

"Steve, buddy, come on." Dustin tried to make him shut up. Steve had talked so loudly that people were looking at them. Y/N only smiled, she knew that the worse thing she could do at the moment was to show how much she cared.

"Steve, shut up!" Robin cried, also drunk.

"No. No. You– You don't belong here. You shoul– shouldn't be in Hawkins. Leave. Go away. I don't want to see you. Ever. Tomorrow. I don't want to. Leave. Go!!"

"Alright, Harrington. I'll leave. But first, let's get you and your friends home. You cannot drive now, can you? Come on."

"But you leave."

"I'll leave."

"You're bullshit."

"Sure, Steve."

She helped him walk towards the parking lot feeling the stares of the other guests stabbing her, hearing their whispers and speculations. Steve was right, though, it was all fake, all bullshit. Dustin and her seated the drunk people in the back. Steve kept muttering the word bullshit with his eyes closed, more asleep than awake, while Robin sobbed begging for Y/N to not leave and forgive Steve.

"I'm so glad one of us has a license," Dustin claimed.

"I don't have a license," Y/N answered turning the engine on.

"You what? Why does Steve let you drive his car?"

"I told him I know how to drive a car, I didn't tell him I had a license."

"He's going to be so pissed."

"What makes you think I care about that, Dustin?"

"Good point. Shit, where did you learn how to drive?"

"My mom taught me. Sometimes we had to move driving for several days and it was faster if we took turns."

"Steve tried to teach me. I crashed his car. Since then I'm not allowed to touch the steering wheel until I have a license, but I'm too busy to get one and public transportation is more efficient where I live now."

"Makes sense."

They dropped Robin off at her house. She was soberer now, and before getting out of the car she asked Y/N to not leave and give her a call in the morning. She just smiled at the other woman.

Stopping the car in Dustin's entryway after following his directions, Y/N expected the young man to get out, but he started scribbling on a piece of paper he took out of the glove compartment. He gave the paper to her.

"This is my number and address. I'm going to do a doctorate in physics, so I'm still going to be there studying. Please call me or send me a letter, will you? We can talk about the X-Files!"

"Dustin…"

"You're cool, Y/N, and I want to be your friend. Don't pay too much attention to Steve's words tonight. Steve's not the kind of guy to hurts people, really. I'm certain that he was trying to hurt himself more than anything else. Look, he'd been talking about you for three years. About your beautiful eyes. About how you antagonize him. About how stupid he felt when he wasn't able to perform just like you explained him to. He likes you very much. I'm sure he will apologize in the morning and I know that tonight was–"

"Humiliating?" She supplied his lack of words.

"Yeah… Humiliating. But I assure you that he would do a great gesture tomorrow night to redeem himself. Really."

"Dustin… Do you really think I can just show up tomorrow? After everyone knew that my relationship with Steve is fake and that we're not even friends? Yeah, no way."

"Okay. Okay, that's fair. I– just give him a chance to explain himself. I'm not saying you should forgive him and accept it but just listen to him. I think something is happening inside his head and he– he needs time and a chance."

"Alright."

"You're not leaving then?"

"Oh, no. I'm leaving. If he needs time to figure out whatever is going on, I think he would also need space. And, in full honestly, man, I don't want to see his face right now. So– I'll go home. I'll listen to his excuse and then I'll see. Because, right now, what I want to do is punch him."

"He has a very punchable face." Dustin hugged her and went out of the car, but his head stuck inside before closing the door. "I'm happy we got to know each other, Y/N. Whatever the situation with Steve ends up being, call me and write me. We are now friends and I'm not going to let you ghost me, understood?"

She smiled, honestly for the first time since Steve's outburst, and nodded.

Maggie Harrington was deep asleep when she showed up with Steve leaning on her, too dizzy to walk straight. She took care of him helping him to get into his bed, taking his shoes and jacket off, she made him take ibuprofen with a huge glass of water.

"Leave," Steve muttered.

"I'm leaving, Steve."

"It's all fake. All fake."

"I know, Steve. I know… I'm putting this can here; use it if you want to throw up."

"Leave."

With the door to her room closed, she saw her reflection in the mirror that was on top of a small dresser. The same mirror that showed her a very powerful woman a few hours ago, was now showing her a laughing stock.

To be continued… 

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[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

A Sister's Love

Pairing: Platonic Damian Wayne x Al Ghul!Reader

Warnings: Injuries and blood. Drugging, Trafficking and sexual assult but these are not the main themes.

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: You realize you have a lot to learn about yourself outside of your little brother, Damian's, shadow.

A/N: Was originally gonna make this a Dick Grayson x Reader but realized it would be weird cuz of mixed families and stuff. And I don't wanna be pushing the boundaries of incest.

Growing up in the League of Assassins meant a lot of things for you. It meant that you were raised to be powerful and commanding. It meant you knew how to kill a man in 47 different ways and counting. It meant that you were raised to rightfully think that you were the best.

Although for every good thing there was always cons. Your schedule was rigid and your peers were unfeeling. Your mother most of all, but that didn't stop you from trying to win her affection. It was the reason why when your little brother was born you felt threatened.

That was until you met little Damian. Your mother had handed him to you with a smile of pride that she never showed you and you hated him. But then you saw his precious little face, a nose tinier than a button and adorable lips that were curled into a pout. He was so beautiful.

Since then, you put any differences you might have had with your mother behind you. According to Ra’s it would have been a mistake to show Damian such tenderness, to teach him about loyalty to your heart, instead of without it.

But Talia couldn't ignore the tug she felt in her heart seeing you and Damian together. You still worked hard, harder than she had ever seen before, now determined not to show that you were weak and have them take your brother from you. Damian followed your example, training to her approval, however taxing it was for him.

And more importantly, Damian loved you. You were the first woman he had ever loved and he was smart enough to know that would never be a mistake. You were his shelter in a storm, his fire in the cold. You were the best sibling that anyone could ever even dream of.

But then you had to part. At age 10, Damian went to live with his father, Bruce Wayne. You had never met the man when he was with your mother and you assumed you wouldn't need to, he wasn't your father.

Both you and Damian didn't want to leave each other. You'd miss your little brother and you'd miss the feeling in your chest whenever you'd look at him. Damian would miss home; he would miss your presence and he would miss the familiarity. But he couldn't stay.

That's something you learnt at the League. Damian couldn't stay, with you. He was meant for bigger things than you.

Another thing you learnt was that you didn't have to stay either. You wanted to see the world, see what everything else had in store for you. And your mother, bless her, gave you her blessing.

Of all the things the league taught you, there were things they missed out on. And a part of you was thankful for that. Because you enjoyed the feeling of wide-eyed wonderment when you stepped into a train station for the first time ever.

You had never tasted a chocolate muffin before, you realized as you stuffed your face at a local bakery. Coffee and chocolate muffins went well together. You liked sweet things better than spicy things, you noted when you didn't enjoy the tteokbokki you bought at a Korean food stall.

People were kind, not foolish. They smiled at you when you came in and genuinely asked you where you were headed. Like the woman you met on the tram who was heading to Washington DC. Even through the short ride, the two of you had bonded and she had left you with her phone number and a promise that if you were ever in DC, you would ring her up. Diana was trusting, too trusting. You could have assumed it was because she was stupid, but you wanted to believe it was because she was smarter than even you.

Some people were kind like her but of course, some were impolite and pig-headed. You of course didn't waste any time putting them in their place. Maybe that was why you shouldn't have any faith in humanity.

But isn't humanity just the thing you should be putting faith in?

It was fun at first, discovering new things, seeing how people really lived outside of books and things taught to you back at the League. You knew everything, you weren't naive enough to be oblivious but reading about something was miles apart from actually experiencing it.

After a while however, you got lonely, it was a huge world with people constantly moving and you've come to realize that unless you're with somebody, you can't really move from your place. Instead, you'd be stuck watching all of them. So, you sought after your brother.

It was easy enough to track Bruce Wayne, he lived in a house large enough to be seen from outer space. Getting to Gotham took longer than you expected. Time passed so easily when you didn't have a purpose but now that you had somewhere you needed to be, the train couldn't go any slower.

Gotham City was less gloomy than people made it out to be. The sun was shining and the city was bustling. In some ways, it seemed a little homey. Maybe that was because you didn't have to worry about someone hurting you. If anything, they should pray that they don't choose you as their next victim.

Of course, you could've gone to Wayne Manor and introduced yourself civilly but you wanted to see Damian more than anything and didn't want to delay it any longer. And more than that, you wanted to see Damian is his cute little school uniform.

That's what led you to wait outside of the well-reputed Gotham University, waiting patiently for the bell to ring and students to file out of it. You already knew that they wouldn't come out singing like in the movies but a very small fraction of you still hoped.

Your heartrate increased with every passing minute, excited to meet your brother after nearly a year of being apart. Eventually, the bell did ring and students began trickling out of the doors, looking like bumble bees, excitedly zipping around and talking to their friends.

'Would this have been my life if I was never born in the League?' You wondered, looking at a girl who was animatedly chatting with her friend, arms interlocked as they moved towards the parking lot where their parents were waiting.

When you finally saw Damian, you suddenly felt out of place. Like an outsider watching someone else's brother when you saw his eyes lock onto someone in the commons. Even though you weren't on the school campus, you could still recognize who it was.

Richard Grayson, oldest son of Bruce Wayne, waiting to pick up your little brother on a motor cycle.

And for the first time in your life, you experienced insecurity, watching them greet each other like brothers. The feeling was sour and you wondered if it was a mistake coming here, thinking that you still had a place here.

It was true, people didn't move from their place unless they had someone to go with. You hadn't felt fulfilled like that since your brother stopped being at your side. He was everything you knew. It was just your mistake for thinking that in the year apart your brother wouldn't have found anyone either.

***

"Drake, pull up the security cameras from today at my school parking lot." Damian ordered, stepping into the Batcave.

"No 'Hello', no 'How you doing?', it's always 'Tim, do this' 'Drake, do that'," Tim commented sarcastically but still pulled up whatever he needed, "And then as soon as I give you what I want, you're going to forget me again. And not even visit the kids."

Dick spared him a laugh at his dramatic scene, ruffling his hair as greeting and then turned his attention to the screen. The footage was played at double the speed until Damian's eyes locked onto just what he wanted to find.

It was just for a second, when Dick's motorcycle had zoomed past but that was all he needed. Damian had seen your face and it wasn't any mistake, he'd know you even if he was blind. Even though he was so sure it had been you, he still couldn't hide the way his body froze, eyes wide when he saw your face.

It was the same face he'd see every night before he went to bed and the very first person he wanted to see every time he woke up. Your image was what came into his mind when he thought of being nurtured, when he thought of being safe.

There was a time when he was younger, too young, there was a thunder storm. He doesn't remember much from the night, just hiding his face against your chest and you wrapping a blanket around him. His mother trained him even harder the next day, until he almost dropped but he'd never forget curling up to your warmth. Not even now, when he knew that thunder storms were the least of his fears.

It was as simple as that. With his father and brothers, he didn't have to worry about looking weak, he didn't think of love as a weakness, rather he considered it as the fuel behind strength. Yes, his father taught him well. And now he would show you just how much he's grown. So, you can be proud of him.

"We need to find her."

"Why? Who is she?"

"My sister."

***

Of all the things you wanted to experience, visiting a bar was one of them. Was the air really enough to intoxicate you? Were you really going to lose all sense when you stepped into it? Would be able to drink your troubles away?

You were sorely disappointed. The alcohol didn't taste good, it burned when you swallowed it and made your tongue feel fuzzy. The music was so loud that your brain began throbbing against your skull to the beat of the song.

Men were picking fights and women were having fun but even then, you couldn't find it in yourself to get up and actually have fun. I mean, how were you supposed to? How was cosying up against a drunk man supposed to make you feel better? How was getting lost in throngs of sweaty people who didn't know what personal space was meant to improve your mood?

If anything, it just reminded you of just how pathetic your life was.

You were realizing you had no purpose. Damian was all you had known for years now, knowing only to protect him with your life and love him with your heart. Who were you without him? What did you like? What made you happy outside from your duty at the league?

A man knocking into you brought you out of your thoughts, which had been happening all night. Except this man stopped in front of you and gave you a smile that turned your stomach upside down.

"Sorry about that pretty lady, let me buy you a drink to make up for it." He spoke with a voice that was trying to be smooth but instead sounded like metal scraping over each other.

"No, thank you." You said sharply, not yet done with your Manhattan anyway. You were barely enjoying your time here as it was and you were sure another drink wouldn't change your mind.

"Not a fan?"

You shook your head at him, choosing to humour the man.

"Then let me buy you another one, if you don't like it then you have nothing to lose."

You pretended to giggle at him and he swelled with pride. Did he think he was winning?

"One Boulevardier." He told the bartender who nodded and began preparing the drink. Until it was ready, you indulged the man in front of you who reeked of cigarettes and alcohol.

He placed the drink in front of you and if you hadn't known that it would burn going down and turn you into a shell of yourself, you might have been curious to what it tasted like.

"You see that dude over there?" He nodded to a man standing in the other corner of the bar and you turned to look at him. Another man, covered in tattoos who didn't look any different than the one standing behind you.

"He's my pal, owns the bar. Ask him and he'll hook you up with free drinks tonight. For a price, of course."

You turned back around to face the man and out of the corner of your eye saw something dissolve into your drink. It was only for a second but you saw the last remaining grains turn invisible and you definitely noticed the way the once steady drink was now swirling into a vortex in the middle.

"Drink up, princess."

You smirked. Tonight, might be fun after all.

***

This was boring.

You had been pretending to be unconscious for about 40 minutes while these men drove you to some undisclosed location. Their conversations were unbelievably dry and it's not like you had anyone else to talk to. Everyone else who might have been even mildly interesting were knocked unconscious.

Eventually they pulled up to some sort of holding facility and if your assumptions were correct then this would be a midpoint before they sold all the girls here to some sort of pimp.

Once they lugged you off the truck and threw you into a room with so many other people, you could hear their breathing did you open your eyes. It seemed like this was some sort of abandoned butcher or meat factory, judging by the ominous hooks hanging above your head and the metal walls. The door had been bolted shut, the only way to look through it was a small glass window.

Only after you finished taking in your surroundings did you even look at the other women who had been trapped in the room along with you. Your stomach turned.

There were so many unsuspecting faces who looked like they didn't sign up for this. Half of them looked under the influence of something, sweating profusely even in their sleep, faces scrunched up in pain. The other looked like they were forcibly taken, bruises covering their skin, hair and clothes in disarray and more than half of them had either a black eye or a swollen lip.

Maybe it was their fault for not being trained, that's what someone at the league would've said. But isn't it their captors’ fault for misusing their training, their strength, for something as vile as this?

You decided to wait, you couldn't assume that this small group of girls was the only one in the confines of the building. How many more were here?

You weren't feeling overwhelmed, not at all, not with the weapons that were littering you. A kunai hidden is either of your boots, throwing stars in your pockets hidden underneath your vest and a war fan in your pocket. You could handle these clowns without even looking up.

But it wasn't your life you were concerned about. It was the lives of these underaged, vulnerable girls who had fallen prey to these monsters.

While you were waiting a couple of the girls started to wake up. Some were still heavily drugged, still groggy when their eyes fluttered open and unable to focus onto anything. Others shot up straight as an arrow and began crying, screaming, begging for them to let them out.

They were ignored, by both their captors and you. Why try and reassure then when you weren't sure what was going to happen. More importantly, why throw off the monsters lurking outside the door that there was one woman who hadn't been phased.

Instead, you just stared blankly, trying to get comfortable and hear anything through the walls. Eventually, you heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the room. You covered the lower half of your face with a scarf, making sure that anyone who left here alive today, wouldn't be able to remember your face. Whether it be as a saviour or their punisher.

The girls whimpered and curled into one another, crying quietly and you felt sympathy. There was no way they'd be able to move forward from this without having fear stab at their heart with every step they took. You could only hope they had something in their life that would make them feel safe.

For tonight, you'd be that for them.

A few men opened the door with a cruel smile, stepping inside for a second before bolting it shut. They flaunted guns and other weapons to the girls, finding pleasure where there should be compassion and worry. You were disgusted watching their smirks twist maniacally when the girls cried harder seeing them brandish their weapons.

One of the men stepped forward and grabbed the girl closest to him who begged and cried to spare her. His disgusting hand might as well be made of acid because you almost felt the sick burn when it snaked between her legs and copped a feel while she sobbed and screamed, trying to fight him off.

You grabbed one of your weapons and returned their sick grins with one of your own.

It was going to be hard to cop a feel when he can't feel anything.

You were going to break each and every bone in his hand to ensure that.

***

"Can I borrow your phone please?" You asked the bloody and broken man by your feet. He glared at you and spat blood on your boots, unable to do anything else. You sighed and faked a pout.

"Is it here?" You wondered, holding the dirtied boot over his ribs and his eyes widened, catching drift of what you were about to do. You rammed your foot into his broken ribs, courtesy of yourself, and he screamed bloody murder. Music to your ears.

"Apparently not. Want me to check your pants?" You asked, raising a brow and he frantically shook his head, using whatever strength left to pull out his phone from his pocket and you smiled, thanking him quietly.

"Now, let's hope that one blow is enough to put you out of my misery." You sang, punching him right in the face and he passed out. Lightweight.

You took a look around the place, seeing bodies littered over the place like confetti. Blood was scattered on the ground and you're sure if people looked hard enough, they'd find someone's teeth. You on the other hand looked fine.

You sat on the floor, crossing your legs comfortably, tired after the fight and dialled a number onto the phone.

"Hello, police?"

"Yes, how can we help you?"

"Well, there's a sex trafficking scam going on at my location. Quite shoddy but they have a number of women trapped here and it would be nice if you could send backup to have them escorted home safely."

"A sex trafficking scam?"

"Well, it could be just a regular trafficking scam but I'm not too sure."

"All right, I'll have someone check it out."

"Good, and I realize you might get a lot of calls like this but please don't talk to me like I'm an idiot. Tell your people to send a couple of ambulances as well, you'll need them."

"Of course."

You could only hope the person on the other end of the line would eat their words when it was on the front of the newspaper. For now, your work was done.

In the meantime, how were you going to get anywhere from here? Where even were you? Was there anyone even conscious here who could give you directions? Or would you have to call the police again to find out where to go?

Not that you'd wait long enough for them actually arrive here. You'd return to the bar way before that for another drink. Maybe now you'd actually be able to enjoy one.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard a creak coming from the other end of the warehouse. It echoed through the halls and you leapt to your feet, soundless moving to hide in the shadows and pulling out a kunai.

The footsteps that followed it were light and airy, barely even touching the ground. They were trained, whoever they were. You kept your ears open in order to hear something.

"Whoever was here was trained." You heard someone comment.

"Are you really that stupid, Nightwing? It's obvious that my sister was the one who took out this ring and reported it." Came the snappy reply back and your breath caught in your chest. Make no mistake, that was your brother's voice.

"We must find her."

He was actually looking for you? He knows you're here? You're not entirely surprised, you haven't exactly been careful or stealthy when it came to concealing your face around Gotham. A mistake on your part but you couldn't have been more relieved.

You still remained quiet, not wanting to disturb the flow, not wanting to interrupt. You had the mind of a soldier but when there was no one to follow you seemed more like a sheep. It made you feel slight shame, that you were unable to stick up for yourself despite being so many things.

Maybe, the league wasn't the best thing for you.

Immediately you scraped the thought from your mind, berating yourself for even thinking that. The league had given you everything, everything you were today was because of them. You were strong and calculating, the leagues proud soldier.

You were proud of your roots, thankful that you grew up to be the person you were. They had given you everything, and your brother was just one of the gifts that you had been blessed with in your life.

"Damian." You spoke softly, stepping out of the shadows. His head snapped towards you, eyes widening when he took in your form. It really was you. His sister.

Damian wasted no time in bounding towards you and you knelt down to meet his eye level, catching him with open arms. A part of your heart sang when you realized he was still small enough to fit in your arms. He still held you close. He still loved you.

"I've missed you, Ya Amar." You spoke softly, cradling his head that was buried in the junction of your neck.

"I as well, Okhti."

***

Damian was ecstatic that you were in Gotham. Of course, it didn't look like it to anyone but everyone who knew him well could tell that he was happy that his sister was home with him. He didn't wait for even two seconds when you got to the Batcave (much to Bruce's surprise) to show you all his pets.

The next few days would be considered the best of his life.

Damian wanted to be as close to you as possible, sitting near you during meals, training with you, talking with you, even going as far to sneak into your temporary bedroom at night for cuddles. He certainly got more comfortable showing affection since the last time you were around.

He showed you his hobbies like painting and sketching and you were impressed. He had the skills to be doing something like this? Damian had picked up many new talents and many new stories since you last saw him and he was eager to share them all with you.

The next few days would be considered the worst of your life.

You had found Damian now, so why didn't you still feel fulfilled? Why did you feel like something was missing? Like this wasn't meant for you? Why weren't you satisfied?

Why did you feel envious that Damian got to experience so many things? Why did you feel resentment against him when you realized you never got the same things he has?

Your life felt like it amounted to nothing.

You loved your brother but so far you had just been living for him. And now that you realized there were parts of the world that you wanted to see. There were thoughts in your mind that were of your own and desires that you didn't have to explain to anyone. As long as it made sense to yourself.

And you realize one thing with an aching heart.

You couldn't stay here in Gotham.

"Does Damian know?" Bruce asked you one day when you had asked him a favour. Bruce so far had been a little cold and unfeeling ever since you had met him in the Batcave uninvited. His feelings towards you got more negative when you gave an offhanded comment about how you thought he was taller. But he was the only one you could ask for a favour. He was the father to your beloved brother and you could only hope he would offer you the same consideration.

You had asked him for a flight to Washington, to see if Diana really meant what she said. To take a leap of faith for the first time in your life.

You shook your head no, "Not yet. I'm hoping he will take the news well. It's not like I'm leaving forever. I just—I need to—" You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Bruce nodded, "I understand. Just tell him before you go. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."

"It makes me feel worse." You admitted, feeling a little guilty. How could you not feel happy at your brother’s happiness?

"You need some time to figure out that your world is yours. No one else should determine how you feel about yourself."

"You are very wise," You said softly, "Thank you."

***

"I love you dearly, Damian." You tried to coerce him from his room where he had locked himself in only 5 minutes ago. No doubt he was sulking since he found out that you would be leaving for DC in two days’ time.

"If you did, you wouldn't be leaving!" His voice was muffled, as if his face was buried in his pillow or even Titus. You had been trying to coax him into open the door for 20 minutes now and had multiple offers from Grayson, which you turned down.

"Oh, for the love of—Damian Wayne, you open this door right now!" It was silent for a moment before you heard the lock click open and took that as the indication from him to step into his room.

It was large and from the moment you stepped in, it was easy to tell the space was his. There were swords mounted on the wall, paintings on the wall adjacent to it. His desk was tidy and in the corner of his room, there were multiple easels and sketch pads.

Damian was sulking on his bed and you sighed, feeling guilty. You sat beside him and ran your fingers through his hair. Even though he was upset with you, he still sank into your touch, feeling comforted by mere contact.

"It's not forever, Damian. Wherever I'm going, I'm going to come back. I just need some time to myself." You tried to explain.

"But why!"

"The league taught me well, Damian. But it taught me to live like a soldier, but not as a person. There are so many things that I don't know about myself. What do I like? What do I want to do with my life? And I need to figure it out for myself."

"Why can't you do that here?"

You gave him a pained look and realization dawned on him, "Because of me."

"Damian, in the time we spent apart you learnt so many things about yourself. That you like animals, that you like art. There are so many blanks in my life and I need the distance to figure it out. I need to understand myself." You explained wistfully.

It was true, there were so many blanks in your life. You didn't even know what food you liked better, what hobbies you enjoyed. You wanted to experience new things, without the influence of Damian, without relying on him. And more importantly, you were scared you would put Damian above yourself time and time again.

It was all you knew. Damian was worth more than your life, worth more than your heart. But if that was true, you wanted to know at least what your heart was worth to you. If you didn't hold any value to yourself, it would be foolish to think you would to anyone else.

You needed the distance. You needed something new. You wanted to dive into uncharted waters and figure out the magic for yourself, without anyone to help you.

"It's not forever," You reminded gently, "I'm going to come back, I can promise you that."

Damian began leaning until his head was settled in your lap and you chuckled, gently scratching his scalp and he nestled into your belly. Hard to believe this was the same boy who left only a year ago. You wondered if you would change as much as he did or if you were stuck in your ways now.

"Okay," He said, voice muffled and you smiled, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you for your blessing, Ya Amar. It means the world to me. I love you; you know that."

"I do." He said, now wrapping his arms around your waist, "I love you too."

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

Helping- Howard Wolowitz (3)

Pairing: Howard Wolowitz x Reader

Characters: Howard Wolowitz, Leonard Hofstadter, Penny

Warnings: N/A

Request: Anon: “Hi!! Please could I request a Howard Wolowitz x Hofstadter! Reader where Y/N and Howard have been dating in secret for nearly 3 years because Leonard wouldn’t approve of them. Then everyone finds out. Thanks.”

Word Count: 624

Author: Hannah

After dropping the bombshell on Leonard that you and one of his best friends had been dating for three years, you then told him that you were moving in together.

“You’re what?!” he all but shouted. “I’m going to kill him.”

Leonard got up and stormed out of the room, you were quick behind him. “You only said you’d kill him if he got me pregnant!” you yelled as you ran behind him. “He hasn’t done that!”

“I haven’t done that!” Howard yelled in confirmation as Leonard stood with his arms crossed, staring Howard down.

Howard looked at you in confusion. “I told him about the house,” you relented, walking over to him to stand by his side.

“And the whole pregnant thing?” he whispered in your ear as Leonard continued to stare him down. “Not yet right?”

You laughed, smiling at him but shrugged, leaving a confused expression on his face.

Leonard cleared his throat. “So, you’re going to live together huh?”

The two of you nodded like children getting told off by their parents. “Howard’s mum suggested it, she didn’t want the house to be empty.”

“Oh, so his mum knew?” Leonard questioned, but you could tell from his tone he wasn’t angry.

“Like we could’ve kept it from her,” you joked. “That woman is as nosey as anything.”

Howard laughed, nodding in agreement with you. “That she is, I think she loves Y/N more than me at this point.”

Everyone else laughed but Leonard eventually relented, moving to make a drink but Howard followed him, so the girls came to swarm you, wanting to know everything.

“Hey man,” Howard approached Leonard slightly cautiously, but breathed a sigh of relief when Leonard offered him a beer. “I know she’s probably apologised already, but I need to apologise to you myself.”

Leonard nodded, taking a sip of his own beer to let Howard continue.

“I didn’t want to keep it from you man, I wanted to come clean, but you’d warned us off her and I didn’t know how you’d react,” Howard paused to sip his own beer. “Look, we wouldn’t have been together this long if it didn’t work, I wouldn’t have asked her to move in with me if I didn’t love her, and honestly I wouldn’t be living with her if I didn’t think she was the one.”

Howard checked briefly to see if you’d heard him, but you were chatting away with Amy and Penny, so he knew his secret was safe for now.

Leonard smiled at his best friend before bringing him into a quick hug. “She’s happy with you,” he told Howard once they were standing apart again. “She’s happier than I’ve ever seen her, and you’re happy, why wouldn’t I want that?”

Howard smiled and the tension left his body. “Not killed him yet then?” you quizzed, walking up to place your hand on Howard’s back.

Howard put his arm around your shoulder and Leonard rolled his eyes. “That’s going to take some getting used to,” Leonard commented with a smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes. “Wait till we’re living in the same house,” you joked.

Leonard grimaced, going over to Penny to bury his head in her shoulder which made her laugh.

Howard sighed in contentment, as did you when he pulled you into his side.

“So, you know how we said not yet?” he quizzed, a small smile on his face when you looked up at him. “How long until it stops being not yet?”

You shrugged, a similar smile on your face. “I couldn’t drop three bombs on Leonard in one day,” you confessed as you pulled a little white stick out of your back pocket. “It’s stopped being not yet.”

[lokisransom]

More Sleepless Nights With Loki (drabble 2: electric boogaloo)

Loki cant sleep so he goes to you for help

a/n: this seems to be a repeating occurrence, however I still plan on writing more of Loki’s sleepless cuddly adventures, also this was written at 2am so you get to suffer though my thoughts with me :)

word count: 929

warnings: none, but as always if there's something I missed please let me know  

sleep had evaded him once again, it’s the one thing he simply could not overwhelm. he could bring an army to another world and cause the beginning of the team of the worlds greatest hero's but he couldn’t just close his eyes and rest. the alarm clock next to him blinked 2:54am in Florissant red, this wasn't the first time this had happened and he suspected it wont be the last, he had yet to find a solution. this hadn't been an issue before he was forced to accept Midgard as his new home. he had cures for bad dreams, good dreams, weird dreams, or no dreams at all but he hadn't accounted for the possibility of not being able to get to sleep, it was the one thing he wasn't prepared for. he’d tried all of Midgard's remedies and none had even touched the wakefulness he’d felt at the most inopportune hours. 

he wasn't alone in the house, one of the conditions of Loki moving out of stark tower was having a government approved roommate. when stark approached you about the job you hadn't hesitated, I mean he was paying you a pretty penny to live in a half decent apartment rent free and the only catch was that you had to live with an anti social god. Loki wasn't at all bad to live with, he cleaned up after himself, did the dishes if there were any to be done, he even got groceries when he was asked, over all a pretty good roommate. 

you had seemed to develop a small crush on him over time, you hadn't been shocked but you wished you didn't have to live with him, especially when he was nice to you. it was unexpected that he’d been nice to you, if he was making food he’d make something for you, if he was stopping at a store he’d get you something, if you were going out with your friends for drinks he’d make you call him to pick you up to make sure you were safe.

you’d even notice him being protective of you, which only got worse once he saw how bad the men of Midgard could be, you explained that comments and cat calling were normal once you got home and he was entirely amazed and disgusted. he almost wanted to tell you about how he felt that night on the small chance you liked him too, that way he could protect you from all the foolish mortals of this realm.

so here he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, contemplating going to your room and waking you up, usually he could handle things on his own but the lack of sleep was really getting to him, he was constantly dizzy, had a headache and everything felt overwhelming. he’d tried everything and he had no clue where to go from here. he was fairly sure you wouldn't judge him but there was still the little voice in the back of his had telling him to just suffer alone, to just leave you alone because you needed your rest and he could just bother you in the morning over breakfast.

he knew that if he didn't go to you now then he wouldn't go to anyone ever because in the morning you were busy getting ready for work and you’d probably be running late as always, you wouldn’t have time for him and he’d never blame you for that. he shook his head and stood. walking to your door he hesitated, it was rare for him to do things he wasn't entirely sure of but this was something he needed.

he knocked on your and waited for the gentle groan he knew would come and then walked in, he approached your bed and kneeled next to the bed. he thought you looked stunning even now with your hair all over the place and a sleepy smile on your face to greet him 

“I cant sleep” he surprised himself with how small and whiney he sounded. he reminded himself of his sleepless nights as a child before he learned magic, he always used to run to his mother who would then climb out of bed and follow him back to his room for the night as to not wake Odin.

“I see that” you giggle, you reach out to pet his hair and he leans into your touch which wasn't uncommon, you’d thought to yourself on several occasions that he must be touch starved “why cant you sleep?” 

he just shrugged in response, he wasn't even entirely sure himself. he’d been giving you the puppy dog eyes, he wasn’t sure why or what he wanted other than you. you were pretty much the only thing he was sure of tonight.

“would cuddling help?” you ask quietly, you almost can’t believe you asked him but based on the look he was giving you that was what he really needed, once again he decided to forgo words in place of nodding. 

he got up and moved to the other side of your bed, got under the covers and dragged you to him, he laid you on his chest and wrapped his arms around you. your weight on his chest made him feel like he could breathe again, he didn't think you would make that much of a difference to him but that was clearly disproved when the two of you fell asleep less then five minutes afterward, probably helped along by you playing with his hair and him rubbing your back. 

[yourheartonfire]

By the time everything was done - the survivors found and the crowds dispersed and the press satiated and the authorities satisfied - the hero was so tired they almost smashed into their own window like a disoriented swallow. Still, somehow they got their fingernails into the gap they'd left open and half fell into their apartment.

Only to be slapped in the face with the smell of tomatoes and garlic cooking, and the sight of the villain leaning against their kitchen counter, glaring at them.

"There you are. Honestly, you're a terrible host."

The hero staggered up to their feet, fists raised. The villain smacked their hands down.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You couldn't take on a bunny, honey, not in this state. And I'm not here to fight. You forget our bet?"

The hero stared. Dimly they remembered but the last burst of adrenaline was gone and their brain felt like mush.

The villain gestured with a flourish to a pot burbling away on the hero's stove. "Whoever takes down Supervillain, the other one buys dinner? You won, idiot. Here's your damn food. Now go shower. You aren't touching my food covered in blood."

The villain planted their hands on hips and waited. The hero looked from them to the pot, swaying gently on their feet, hands still half-extended.

After a long pause the villain sighed heavily. "At least I get paid in scintillating banter," they grumbled. But their arm around the hero's waist was firm and their footsteps patient as they guided the hero towards the bathroom.

Later the hero only had vague memories of the villain cranking on the shower, pushing them in fully clothed and ducking out as the water heated. The first really clear memory was the visceral pleasure of pulling their oldest hoodie over their aching limbs, the pilled cotton lining scratching pleasantly against their freshly clean skin, the feel of collapsing into their ancient sofa, the sagging springs cushioned in layers of cheap fleece blankets from the dollar store.

Another tantalizing waft of food smells, and the villain was dishing up bowls at the kitchen table.

"It's almost 4 in the morning," the hero said.

"Hey, there's that world class superpower: telling the time." The villain tucked a pair of colorful napkins under the spoons. "Glad to see that's still with you. After the ninth or twelfth blow to your head I was getting worried."

"[Supervillain] didn't hit me that many times."

"I was including the times your head hit the pavement, the walls, at least one car."

"It was a van," the hero muttered.

The villain pursed their lips, eyed the hero's loose limbed sprawl. "Love how you say that like that's supposed to be better."

The hero was too tired to feel more than a twinge of alarm as the villain came stalking up. They let themselves be loomed over, their head lolling back under the villain's hand cupping their face.

"You're burning up," said the villain, a new edge of worry in their voice. "Why are you burning up?"

"Superhealing in overdrive," the hero said. Suddenly they felt dreadfully hollow, even as they could feel their body churning away beneath the bruised skin. They closed their eyes.

"Nuh uh!" The hero hissed as something hot pressed into their hand. A bowl of chili. The villain dipped in the spoon and grinned viciously. "Open up."

"I can feed my - mmph!"

The spoon slid into hero's mouth and they bit down. It was barely spicy at all, closer to a stew than a chili. And it had kidney beans, the undisputed Worst Bean.

But it was delicious. Salt, fat, sweet, spice, starch. The hero chewed and swallowed and their body roared its approval, clamored for more. Just the one bite and they were recovered enough to grab the spoon away from the villain.

The villains grin only widened. "Good, huh?"

"Cheapskate," the hero muttered and shoveled another mouthful in. "Was gonna make you buy me dinner somewhere nice, not break into my house and get my dishes dirty."

"Shoulda specified that in the bet, honey." The villain sat down next to them, slung an arm around their shoulders. The hero was too caught up in the direct application of calories to do anything about that, not even as the villain's hand casually came around to brush across their forehead again. It was nice to have something to rest their heavy skull against as they gulped bite after bite.

As their spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, the villain's hand moved across their cheekbone. "You're crying," they said, carefully neutral.

The hero wiped their eyes. They were. "That's embarrassing. This is barely even spicy."

"More than you can handle, apparently."

"I handled it," the hero snapped with more heat than they meant. "I handled it myself."

The villain breathed in and out slowly, pulled their arm away. "You almost died," they said to the still-half-open window. "I knew you were a glutton for punishment, but I didn't think you'd actually try to live out your martyr complex on live TV."

"What else was I supposed to do?" the hero said, throwing up their hands and almost knocking over the almost-empty bowl in their lap.

The villain rescued it at the last moment. "Yeah, good question," they snapped. "What could you ever possibly do except throw yourself all alone at every life threatening situation you find?"

The villain put the bowl on the floor with an angry thunk and clatter of silverware against ceramic and slumped back against the couch, arms crossed. The hero closed their eyes and tried not to miss the feel of the villain's arm around them. They were so tired. Their body craved sleep and they didn't have the words to tell the villain... Oh hell, they didn't even know what they wanted to tell the villain, let alone how to say it.

After another long silence the villain sighed. "Right," they said, moving to stand. "Our bet didn't say anything about doing dishes either, so I'm out of here."

The hero didn't think. They grabbed the villain's arm and pulled it back around their shoulders, burrowed their face into the villain's shirt, breathing in the cooking smells that still clung to them.

The villain went stiff in surprise. "Um," they said. "What is this?"

This is what my body wants, the hero meant to say. After a fight, my body gets what it wants - food, rest, comfort - and it wants you. 

What actually came out was something more like, "Mm buddy wazza... wanna... hmmm."

"[Hero]?" said villain but the hero was gone, sinking into the sound of the villain's safe, steady heartbeat under their ear.

When they woke hours later, the villain was gone and the dishes sat drying in the rack next to the sink.

[teasty]

hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● warnings: chan acts like a dick but he really isn't | illegal gambling/street racing | established relationship | angry sex | (of course) car sex | hair pulling | degradation + praise | dom!chan, sub!reader | fighting :( | semi - public sex | profanity | suggestive dialogue | reader slaps chan once :( | unprotected sex (please be safe!) | choking | kind of a quickie???? | super happy ending because i'm sappy like that

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

[angelasscribbles]

Fate: A TRR One-Shot

Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam contemplates who he'd like to chose at the end of the social season, but he is there a reason he can't follow his heart?

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: none

Word Count: 948

My other stuff: Master List.

When Maxwell told me they were bringing back a surprise from New York, he was right. I couldn’t have been more surprised.

I was expecting some type of souvenir, a trinket, possibly even live fowl, knowing Max. What I wasn’t expecting was a woman. A whole human being. But that’s exactly what he’d meant. Max and Drake showed back up in Cordonian with a woman.

And what a woman she is. She’s amazing, the most amazing one I’ve ever met. And I’m not talking about her looks, though she is stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful. Gorgeous, ravishing, exquisite. She’s pure perfection. She’s a work of art, is what she is. Every curve of her face, every soft line of her body, sublime. Her eyes a deep emerald green like Ireland in the spring. I could get lost in those eyes and never come up for air. I could drown there, die there, happily, blissfully.

But I digress.

She’s smart, far too smart to waste her life waitressing in some hole in the wall in New York. And funny. Her sense of humor is unparalleled. No one has ever made me laugh the way she does. And she gets me, she really gets me.

I feel like a normal person when I’m with her. Not the crown prince, not a Rys with all the baggage and detritus that implies. All the damage, all the commiserate responsibilities and expectations to fill. She sees none of that when she looks at me. She sees me, just me, just Liam.

She makes me feel like the man I want to be, the boy I used to be and the king I hope to be all at the same time. It’s an incredible gift and I don’t know how she does it. She makes me feel alive in all the best ways. And I know that I’m hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her. Though I shouldn’t be.

I’ve tried to fight it but I’m helpless, soft, weak for her. When I’m with her, I see my future. I know it sounds cliche, it sounds ridiculous, it sounds impossible but when I look in her eyes, I see my unborn children.

She’s perfect. If she has a flaw, I haven’t found it. And I’ve looked. Lord knows I’ve looked. I’ve done everything in my power to fight this feeling, this hold she has over me, this all consuming desire, this borderline obsession. Because I can’t do this, I can’t.

She’s absolutely off limits to me. I’m about to be king, I have duties to fulfill, obligations to meet. One of those obligations is to marry an appropriate, council approved lady from a high ranking house and produce heirs to secure the Rys family bloodline. And that can’t be her.

It can’t be her and it’s breaking my heart. It’s tearing me apart. How can fate be this cruel?

All my life I’ve done the right thing, the expected thing. I was the good son, obedient, responsible, loyal. I’d like to think I’ve been a good prince, fulfilled my duties with honor and integrity. I’ve been a good brother, a good friend. So you’d think I’d have earned a little karma, right? You’d think there’d come a time when it was my turn to be happy.

When Leo abdicated, I spiraled for a few weeks. Panicked. I wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared for this burden, this responsibility. But I am now. Leo was right, I was born for this role. I have an almost sixth sense about how to say and do just the right thing in diplomatic situations. I have my country’s best interests at heart and I’m much more confident in my abilities now than I was back then. I’m ready.

I’m ready to lead, to rule, to take my rightful place on the world stage. And I’m ready to do that with the right person by my side. I’ve never been the type to do casual when it comes to relationships, to sex. I know a lot of men my age are still sowing their wild oats, but not me. I’m ready for it all. Marriage, children, growing old together. I’m ready.

So what's the problem? The problem is I have to choose a wife in a matter of days, and no matter how much I may want to, I can't choose her. And everyone else pales in comparison. I’m a young man, the rest of my life is a lot of years and I’m forced by regulations and directives out of my control to spend those years in a loveless, empty shell of a marriage when all I want to do is choose her. But I can’t.

Can't, because she's not an option and she never was. She didn't come here for me, she’s not a suitor in the social season.

If only I hadn’t gone back to the hotel that night, wanting sleep because I had to leave earlier than everyone else the next day. Maybe if I’d met her first. Maybe if I’d been in that bar with the guys that night, maybe then things would be different.

But I wasn’t there, she didn’t meet me that night. She didn’t meet me until after she arrived in Cordonian, on the arm of her new boyfriend, the one who swept her off her feet in one fateful night. The one who looked at her with such love and adoration that I knew I’d never be able to pry her away from him. And I feel like the worst person in the world for wanting to, because Drake Walker is my best friend.

But I do want to. I’ve never wanted anything more.

[itsallyscorner]

Teaming Up with Sam and Bucky ft Zemo

Pairing: FEM!Reader; Bucky Barnes x reader, Sam Wilson x reader; platonic(?), let’s throw in some Zemo x reader

Summary: What it would be like to team up with our favorite duo. Takes place during TFATWS.

Warnings: none, TFATWS SPOILERS. Lowkey a mess :D

A/n: Ever since TFATWS came out I’ve been reminded of how much I love Bucky and Sam. Also I have a new found love for Zemo. I’ve just been so obsessed with this series and I’ve been reading so many fics about it, so I decided to finally write my own :) Enjoy my loves❤️

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

You’re basically working with a bunch of children.

The children mostly being Sam and Bucky, though Zemo does have his moments once he joins you three.

You’ve known dumb and dumber for a few years now, being part of the Avengers, you’ve worked with Sam on multiple missions. The friendship blooming somewhere in between.

You were also close friends with Steve; when he first came out the ice, you were assigned to help him adjust to the modern world by Fury. He would tell you a bunch of stories of him and Bucky running into trouble or Bucky always saving his ass whenever he was getting beaten up.

Eventually, you finally got to meet Bucky, though he wasn’t Bucky, he was the Winter Soldier. Your introduction to each other was quite memorable to say the least.

He choked you with that metal arm of his and for a split second you swore you might’ve found it attractive—till he threw your body against a car.

You sided with Cap during the accords and helped him protect Bucky. When that whole mess was over, Steve asked you to stay with Bucky in Wakanda to make sure he would be safe.

You were the first person to have some kind of bond with Bucky. Before and after he was freed from Hydra’s hold on him, you were always someone he knew he could trust.

When Steve told you what he was going to do while retuning the stones he told you to watch over them.

“Promise me you’ll keep an eye on Buck and Sam?” He asked you, sitting on the edge of your bed. He had snuck into your room late at night, knowing you were wide awake.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, a lazy smile on your lips, “They don’t need me, I’m sure they’re capable of surviving on their own.” Steve breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, “You’d be surprised.”

“But seriously, (y/n), they need you. You know how they get when they’re together. You’re the only person in the world who knows how to deal with the both of them at the same time.” Steve reasons, his baby blues sparkling in the darkness of the guest room of Tony’s lake house.

“Make sure they’re not on the verge of killing each other or running into too much trouble?” You tiredly nod, sleep slowly consuming your body. “I promise, they’re gonna be alright, Steve.”

Sometimes you found yourself looking up at the sky, cursing at it—or Steve—for leaving you with two of the most childish and stubborn men you’ve ever known in your life.

You were like the mother of the group; breaking up fights, making sure they skipped no meals, patching up their boo-boos, etc.

“Will you stop staring at me?” Sam snapped, tossing his goggles onto the seat beside him to glare at Bucky.

“I’m not staring at you.” Bucky remarked from across Sam. His flesh and metal arm crossing with each other as he stared at Sam challengingly.

“Yes, you are. Your eyes are connecting with mine. You’re literally staring at me right now!” Sam pointed out, to which Bucky rolled his eyes at.

“Because I’m talking to you, genius. I wasn’t staring at you.” Bucky quipped.

“Yes you were!”

“No I wasn’t!”

This continued till they were sick of bickering with each other, finally yelling out your name for help.

The arguments were straight up petty. Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he was the pettiest.

Exhibit 1: “LoOKiNG StrONg jOHn!”

Like seriously? Bucky’s the pettiest bitch, nobody can tell me otherwise.

You and Sam would definitely find it amusing how Bucky doesn’t trust Redwing.

Obviously, you all despise John Walker. Just the thought of him left a bad taste in your mouth.

He was like a fly that you all couldn’t get rid of. But because you were all painfully patient people—mostly you and Sam—you had to deal with his bullshit despite the way he annoyed you all.

Totally loosing your shit when Bucky helps Zemo break himself out of prison.

“Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” You groaned, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose together.

Bucky looks at you with feign innocence; his mouth agape and puppy eyes. “I—didn’t do...anything(?).”

“You helped Zemo break out of prison didn’t you?” You crossed your arms at him, hip jutting out. As if on cue, Sokovian sugar daddy walks into the abandoned garage you were all in.

Before you can explode on him, Bucky tried to calm you down, “Wait, I technically didn’t do anything though! It was his plan!”

Zemo definitely lives up to being the ✨Sokovian Sugar Daddy✨ of your dysfunctional group.

I think you’d all be surprised at how rich he was. The amount of connections he had wasn’t that big of a shocker.

No like seriously, homie was pulling all sorts of shit out his ass; cars, private planes, houses in different countries, etc.

You all had a love hate relationship with Zemo. On days when he was actually helpful, you all got a long. On the days when things got horribly messy, Zemo couldn’t even let a word out since Sam would tell him to “shut up”.

Though that still doesn’t excuse the fact that he got the Avengers to spilt up and go against each other.

When you guys are all hiding out in one of Zemo’s apartments or homes, you would probably cook breakfast, lunch, or dinner for everyone.

They actually loved it when you cooked because it made the atmosphere feel a bit homey and calm compared to the current situation you were all in.

You were the person they can all go to. You were easy to talk to, making it easier for them to open up to you.

You always checked in on them mentally and physically. For example, you knew Sam felt guilty about giving up the shield, but Bucky never made him forget about his choice. You were there to reassure him that he thought he was doing the right thing and didn’t know the hidden agenda of the government.

You were like their on the go therapist, babysitter, and partner.

Sometimes Bucky and Sam would even argue for your attention.

“Can you stop hogging (y/n) please? Her ears might fall off from hearing you yap all day.” Bucky said as he gently took your arm and dragged you away from Sam.

“You literally spent the whole day with her yesterday, you’re the one who needs to stop hogging (y/n).” Sam argued, grabbing onto your other arm.

“I didn’t get to spend time with (y/n).” Zemo mentioned from his seat in the kitchen, a glass of whisky in his hand. Bucky simply turned to him and pointed, “NO!”

Honestly what’s a friendship with Bucky and Sam without some harmless flirting. They weren’t gonna lie, you were gorgeous, the most attractive one out of the group.

When you guys had to go undercover at Madripoor, both times with Zemo and Sharon, you had to wear dresses that were a bit revealing. Maybe your chest was a bit shown, but the dress definitely showed off your legs.

“So what do you guys think?” You stopped at the bottom of the stairs of Sharon’s apartment, doing a little spin to show off your outfit.

Both Bucky and Sam’s jaws drop, Zemo probably nodding in approval in the corner.

You can’t forget about the nicknames: maybe doll, sweetheart, or darlin’ from Bucky and the typical Louisiana Cher from Sammy.

While fighting against the Flag Smashers or anyone in general, you guys always had each other’s back.

You could directly be fighting someone, but you’ll naturally have an eye on Sam and Bucky to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them.

It’s a given that you all patch each other up after some fight.

You were all very protective of each other. If there’s one thing Sam and Bucky can agree on, it’s their instinct to protect you.

Like how you kept an eye on them, they also kept their eyes on you. Even though they knew you could hold your own.

“Could you walk?” Sam asked you as you laid on the concrete floor. You were double teamed by a couple of Flag Smashers. Two super soldiers against a normal person, you totally got your ass handed to you.

You pushed yourself up to rest on your elbows, “I’m fine, just got dropped kicked twice, but I’ll be fine.”

Sam smiled at you, “That’s my girl.”

Though the two can be a handful and argue almost every minute, you loved the both of them tremendously. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[reidsnose]

buggin

overview: reader enlists the help of her neighbor (who shes never met) to get rid of a gnarly bug in her apartment

genre: fluff

a/n: thought of this today after i moved the shower curtain, saw a centipede crawl out, and screamed for my dad to come help me. anywayyyss i thought its be cute so as always lmk what you guys think :)

masterlist

-

you walked into your bedroom, fumbling frantically with the buttons on your shirt as you raced to leave your house on time. hair brush hair brush hair brush. where was your hair brush? you knocked over countless items trying to find it but with no luck. bathroom! you quickly made your way to the bathroom, opening the door so fast that wind blew through your hair.

and then you saw it.

a gnarly, long, nasty, creepy crawly centipede.

you let out a loud shriek and promptly shut the door. if you didn't get to the interview one time, it would surely be a bad first impression. but then again so would showing up with a bird's nest of hair on your head. you tried who knows how many times to go back in and kill it or catch it in a cup but each time you saw its countless, spindly legs you backed out. you checked your watch, 10 minutes until you had to leave.

you walked out into the hallway of the apartment building, and in a frenzy, you bumped into a tall, handsome man leaving the apartment across from yours.

he chuckled an apology before looking to meet your eye, breath hitching in his throat as he did. you were arguably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen (despite a very questionable hairdo). and when a surge of desperation ran through your body you rambled an explanation to the stranger, telling him about your job interview and time crunch then promptly begging him to come inside and get rid of the centipede for you.

and something inside him couldn't say no. he wanted to, i mean when an objectively crazy looking person lures you into their home to catch a bug, generally one says no and goes on with their day. however, maybe it was his complete an immediate infatuation with you or maybe his empathy for your situation, he decided to quickly help you and then try and get to work as fast as he can.

he couldn't help but subtly and subconsciously profile you based on your home as soon as he stepped inside. he liked it. your decorations, the small mess that makes it feel lived in, the general 'vibe' as morgan would say was incredible.

you gave him a sheet of paper and a cup, per his request, and led him to the dreaded bug bathroom. you couldn't help but watch in awe as he walked in with no fear, explaining to you in great detail how this was only a house centipede and it only had 15 pairs of legs which kind of counters the name. and how it isn't poisonous to humans and infact eats other bugs. you loved his facts so much and you followed him all the way to the window where he let the bug out, listening intently to what he had to say and swatting away the apology that came after the ramble, insisting that you genuinely enjoyed it.

"thank you so much,.." you trailed off, not knowing his name.

"Spencer." he filled in, offering a tight lipped smile.

"Spencer! wonderful. well again thank you so much and i owe you once I'm back from this job interview!" you smiled as you both walked to the door.

"oh you don't have to-" he began.

"no i insist! just knock on my door when you can and ill take you out." you stated, causing his eyes to widen, " not with a gun! i meant like ill buy you coffee or something!"

"i didn't think you meant with a gun?!" he laughed, handing you the hairbrush this whole ordeal was about. you laughed along as you closed and locked your apartment.

"I'm sorry i'm like completely fazzled right now! i have to go or else i'm never gonna get this job ill just brush my hair in the car! ok bye Spencer!" you called as you jogged down the stairs.

"wait i don't know your name?" he called after you.

"ill tell you when i buy you a coffee!" your giggle echoed through the building followed by the loud shut of the downstairs door.

he smiled to himself, wondering if he should tell the team about his funky morning encounter. he smiled the whole train ride to work, and then the walk from the stop to the building and then the elevator trip up. he just couldn't stop smiling. he thought about you brushing your hair while you drove and even giggled to himself on the train causing a few strangers to toss him some concerned looks.

how could he be living next to such a beautiful stranger?

when he walked into the bullpen, he saw the. whole team huddled around a desk, staring quite obviously at hotch's office. a new curiosity piqued his interest though his thoughts of you continued to be front and center in his mind.

"whats going on?" he asked, joining the group and craning his neck to try and see into the office.

"new agent interview." jj whispered.

"really? since whe-"

"shh!" Garcia shushed.

"you cant even hear them!" Reid defended.

"quiet helps us read their lips." prentiss whispered.

Spencer continued to crane his neck, moving around yet only being able to see hotch, who was throwing his head back in laughter. hotch laughing? wow this new agent must be pretty cool!

"oh my god! i've never seen him laugh like that before!" Garcia squeaked.

"she has to get the job now," morgan added.

"ah we have to wait for the handshake, thats when we see if he really approves," Rossi countered, "if he double hands the shake then its a done deal."

they all watched excitedly, waiting impatiently for the end of the interview. after a few minutes they saw hotch stand up and shake the possible new agent's hand with his right, firmly clasping his left over the handshake.

"was that the double handed handshake?" Garcia asked excitedly.

"yup." Rossi replied, popping the p.

as soon as the door began to open, the team tried ever so gracelessly to disperse, bumping into one another and murmuring fake excuses. a familiar outfit caught Spencer's eye as the new agent left hotch's office and he dared sneak a glance.

no way. his mind raced, thoughts of this morning flooding it a mile a minute. could it really be the girl from this morning? he watched as you excitedly left the building, beaming far to much to notice any other people as you left.

"bug?!" was all he could muster. not even loud enough for you to hear. unfortunately, loud enough for the people around him to.

"theres a bug? where?" morgan asked, looking around.

"no um...bug-she..is bug- um. nothing." he stammered.

"did you nickname the new agent bug?" jj laughed.

"what? no! do not say that in front of her!!" Spencer stammered.

after a couple teasing remarks, to Spencer's relief, they seemed to have let it go. the day was case-less and flew by quickly, the most exciting part was the morning interview and hotch's announcement that there would be a new agent starting tomorrow.

you sat at home, beyond excited about your successful interview, all thanks to handsome neighbor Spencer. you couldn't help but feel extra indebted to him. you feared you may have scared him off when you offered to take him out but it was the best way you could think to say thank you. but your nerves had transferred mainly to the upcoming first day of work.

as he got hone he debated knocking on your door but decided against it, knowing you were probably busy preparing for tomorrow.

when you arrived tomorrow a series of seemingly unfamiliar faces sat in the conference room, awaiting you and hotch.

when you stepped inside your eyes scanned over each of them, all looking very excited to meet you.

and then you saw him.

handsome neighbor Spencer was sitting RIGHT THERE. the stars have aligned and finally life is in your favor. after a brief introduction the meeting began and you took the only seat open which happened to be next to Spencer.

you gave each other polite smiles though both of your cheeks glowing red told a different story than two people who had just met.

"wheels up in 20." hotch concluded.

you all walked out together, the team making sure you felt included.

"so hows the first day feeling, y/n? or should i be like my friend Dr. Reid here and call you bug?" morgan asked slightly amused.

"oh my god you told?!" you laughed, looking wide eyed at Spencer.

after a high pitched denial from Reid and tears of laughter from the team as you told them of the events of that morning, you already felt like you were a part of the team.

as you boarded the jet, you decided to sit next to Spencer.

"you know, i still owe you a coffee," you mentioned nonchalantly as you pulled a book from your go bag, trying as hard as you possibly could to not blush.

he smiled slyly, picking up his own book to hide the rouge that fell upon his cheeks, "and ill hold you to that, bug."

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @hey-there-angels @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic @b-a-utiful @aperrywilliams @eevee0722

[fanfic-wonderland]

For the tom x assassin can u do after they kill his dad they have sex and she’s the son and toms the sub virgin

😏 Although I do read smut, I'm not used to writing it, so I hope this isn't too cringy. 😂 You can read the first part here, if you haven't already.

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Assassin!Reader

Warnings: Language, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), sub!Tom Riddle

_____________________________________

Killing off Tom’s father was easy, but disposing of the body and the evidence was much easier. It came with the advantages of being a wizard.

Tom set the body on fire until there was only a mere pile of ashes left, which he quickly got rid of with a single wave of his wand. You did the same thing with the blankets covered in blood, which was now dry, and replaced them with fresh new ones. You turned to Tom once he re-entered the room after finishing with his task, a proud smile on your face. "You're quite the learner, aren’t you?"

His lips curled into a smirk. "I guess so."

"Come," you sat down on the neatly made bed and patted the empty spot next you. "sit with me for a bit."

He wasted no time in making his way towards you, sitting much closer than you had expected. However, just because it surprised you didn't mean that you minded it.

His eyes stared down at your face, and his musky scent hit your nostrils immediately. You both had taken a shower almost half an hour ago, and it was getting hard for you to ignore the small details that you were just starting to notice about him. Like how his hair was still wet (and yet it still looked stylish, somehow), or how the gray t-shirt and black shorts that he was now wearing made him look ten times cuter, if that was even possible. "You must be exhausted."

"Are you?" He questioned.

You leaned closer and you saw how his eyes dropped to your lips, the proximity between you two becoming dangerously close. "Not at all."

That was the last thing you remembered saying before you guys were already kissing, hungrily reaching out for each other as if you wanted to touch each other in every way possible, all at the same time. Your hands took a hold of his wet curls, tangling them around your fingers while his hands went down to your waist, and you didn't have to think twice before climbing onto his lap to gain better access to him. All of him.

Your tongue coaxed his as the kiss deepened, neither of you daring to be the first to break apart. You've kissed your fair share of people before, but this one was the most intense so far. There was just something in the way that Tom responded to your actions that made you go weak in the knees.

Once you felt his hard-on through his shorts, that was when you had to pull away in order to take off the random, oversized shirt that you had found around the house. Throwing it aside, you watched Tom’s blank gaze move down to your bare breasts, his upper body going stiff. You suddenly realized why. "Tom," you grabbed his face, in order to force him to look back up at you. "have you ever done this before?"

He stared at you for a few seconds. "No. Never."

"Is that so?" A smug smile crept onto your face as you softly pushed him backwards, so that now his back was pressed against the mattress. "So I'm the very first person to witness you like this?"

You noticed how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Witness me how?" He whispered.

You bit your lip, your hands beginning to wander around his clothed torso. "So... bare. So vulnerable. It's fascinating."

He chuckled, his hands landing on your hips, the friction between you and his pants becoming almost unbearable -even more so when you began to slowly grind against him-, but he had no intentions in showing you how much it affected him. "You find me fascinating?"

"Very." Was your answer as you leaned down, so that your faces were only inches apart.

Instead of kissing him again, you went lower and pressed your lips against the soft skin of his neck. When he felt your tongue slithering against it, and then your teeth nipping at a certain spot, he couldn't help but let out a sigh. Clearly, he wasn't someone who let people take charge that easily, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn't enjoying the way you were making him feel at that moment. You, of all people, he never would have guessed.

You helped him take off his shirt -fucking finally- and it probably landed somewhere alongside your own, but you did not care as you kissed down from his chest and then tracing down to his stomach, where you disposed of his shorts, quickly followed by his boxers. His length was now in full view and you couldn't help but look up at him, almost like you were asking for permission to touch him. He didn't look nervous, nor did he want you to stop, so when he gave you a small nod of approval you began to stroke him. You didn't miss the way his breath hitched as soon as you touched him, and it made you smile in satisfaction. You looked back up at him to see his reaction; his head was thrown back and his eyes were now closed shut. It was probably the hottest thing you had ever seen, the fact that Tom was usually so collected but now you had him wrapped around your finger.

"Should I keep going?" You asked him. Your hand did not stop its movements.

"Yes." He breathed.

"As you wish." You didn't want to make him wait any longer; you ran your tongue through his length, slowly licking all around it and then lightly sucking on the tip.

"Fuck." He muttered quietly. His hand tugged on your hair; you weren't sure if he was aware of how hard he was pulling, but you did not stop. You took him in fully, your head bobbing up and down as you sucked him off; one hand was still stroking him, while the other one was holding onto his thigh. Small grunts of pleasure escaped his mouth every now and then, and it made you smile against him. "Fuck, I think I’m going to-"

When you were sure that he was close, you unwrapped your lips from him, but increased the speed on your hand movement. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, and soon enough warm drops of his cum fell flat on your tongue. Even when he was finished you licked around him a few more times, just to make sure that you got everything.

He finally fluttered his eyes open when you were crawling back up, leaving yet another trail of kisses behind, until you found his lips again. He grabbed your chin, holding you in place as he kissed you roughly, tasting himself on your mouth, and maybe that was the hottest thing ever. "Did you like that?" You asked him against his lips.

"It was amazing." He replied, kissing you shortly. His hands were running up and down your back as you continued to grind against him. "You're amazing."

"I'm not done, yet." You let him know as you took off your underwear, the only thing separating you from being skin against skin completely. Before he could say anything else, you aligned yourself against his tip, and then you took him in, all in one swift movement.

You moved against him, his length hitting every inch of your inner walls perfectly, and you let out a few moans that could not really be kept in even if you tried. He lifted himself up a bit in order to capture your lips once more in yet another sloppy kiss. His hands got much more curious, cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples almost subconsciously, and it only made your moans duplicate. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you both stared at each other for a moment, his lips parted open while your foreheads pressed together. You felt your release building up at the pit of your stomach, which only made you go faster, harder. His facial expression told you that he was close, too, and he wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer to him. He needed as much from you as possible.

Although the pleasure was out of this world as soon as you finally finished, your favorite part was watching him come undone for the second time that night. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to calm down and process what just happened. Tom buried his head in the crook of your neck while his chest was still heaving up and down, your bodies still tangled with each other because neither of you wanted to let go. It was too nice of a feeling to have his warmth embracing you whole. "How was it?" You asked him once you could speak again.

You felt him kissing your neck. "It might have felt just as good as killing off my father."

You laughed as he looked up at you, again, while a toothless smile decorated his lips. You combed his hair with your fingers. "Good to know."

[redphlox]

I'm not sure on the theory that shoto will save Dabi and his family, it seems to me that Dabi is going to suicide point to get his revenge. What do you think about this? How would Shoto approach Dabi?

sorry for my bad english

Hello!

So, I don't think Dabi will die, either by his own hand or by someone else's. Not at all. Nothing in the story foreshadows this. It actually does the opposite:

The Todoroki family plot revolves around reuniting as a family. The family literally broke apart when Touya died because Rei's mental health spiraled even worse to the point she couldn't see Shouto until 10 years later. It's not a coincidence we see her out of the hospital for the first time ever after she finds out Touya is alive. I talked about it here, but basically, the final straw for Rei was her children becoming physically harmed because of her: Shouto directly, Touya indirectly because of her neglect. Shouto is back in her life now and she's so much better. It's as if those events that sent her spiraling are "coming undone" in a way - she hurt her son Shouto, and although she doesn't believe she deserves it, he has forgiven her and still calls her "mom". Now she probably believes she can still do something for the other son she lost: Touya.

Rei and Touya are parallels. They were both ran out of the house by Endeavor in some capacity. Rei was forced out by Endeavor, and although we have yet to see what happened with Touya after Sekoto Peak, he obviously burned up because of the emotional toll his father's neglect took on him. Endeavor hurt each of his family members deeply. However, they're healing now - Rei is even about to be, or is already, discharged and ready to join her children again. Following this pattern regarding Rei, Touya will follow suit.

Touya doesn't believe in heroes at all. No true heroes exist in his eyes. However, the story has reiterated time and time again that Shouto IS a true hero - even Stain approves of him. Shouto will be the one to save his brother because that's in line with his narrative: being a true hero despite the false hero blood he was born from, which is what his mother told him when he was five. According to this setup, if Shouto doesn't save his brother, he's not a true hero... And that doesn't fit his story at all.

Shouto and Dabi are parallels, too. Shouto even recognizes that Dabi is him from before the sports festival. If Shouto could process his hatred and trauma and work on healing, then so will Touya.

BNHA is an optimistic story. This isn't Banana Fish or Attack on Titan. Having Touya die for real after establishing that the family broke after he died, that Natsuo still misses him, and that the family finally understands how they hurt him would be too tragic for the good-feely, high school, slice of life vibes of BNHA. It wouldn't fit. The Todoroki family could never be happy again and they won't be able to be a complete family for the first time ever with him missing.

As for HOW Shouto will reach his brother - I'm not too sure. I speculated about it here. I always joke with mutuals that he'll talk shit their dad during a confrontation, which will make Dabi realize the family isn't as forgiving of Endeavor as he thinks. I also do think Touya may see Natsu-kun and Fuyumi-chan for the first time in ten years and feel something too.

Either way, it won't be easy saving Touya and bringing him back home... but that's all part of storytelling. The story wouldn't be compelling or interesting if there wasn't a challenge.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Absentee

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Y/N fell in love with Jason Todd, she didn’t realize the normalcy she lost would become such a problem in their relationship. And she didn’t know how much pain it would cause to hide her boyfriend’s secrets. 

Word Count: 4,600 – One Shot

A/N: This is probably a really personal story. And you all might hate it or not relate to it. But oh well...

Y/N had her music playing in her headphones just quietly enough so she could hear them announce when her plane was boarding.

Between corporate holidays and what was left of her vacation days for the year, she was able to go home for a week and a half.

Only, she was hoping that this year she wouldn’t be going home alone.

But when Jason got sucked into a case two weeks before their flight back to her hometown, she knew there was no way he’d be accompanying her.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just–“ Jason had tried to tell her when she realized they weren’t going to be spending the holidays together.

“You don’t have to apologize. There are more important things right now than meeting my crazy family,” Y/N laughed lightly. “But they’ll be bummed.”

Jason still looked so down guiltily. He knew that Y/N had been downplaying how excited she was for her family to meet him.

Yeah, Y/N was upset, but her family was even more upset. Being in a different part of the country and them never putting in the effort to visit her, they had yet to meet Jason. Even when the two of them had been dating for 10 months.

Y/N had met all of Jason’s brothers, along with Bruce and Alfred. It had all been against his will, his family strategically running into them or invading his apartment when they knew Y/N would be there. Jason acted annoyed by it, but Y/N knew he was happy for her to meet them and without him having to act like he cared.

But Jason had only ever waved on FaceTime to her family or sometimes answered calls from them when Y/N left her phone next to him and went to another room.

It wasn’t like Y/N needed her family’s approval. She knew what she wanted and what was best for her. Their opinions didn’t hold as much weight with her as they thought.

But Y/N also had never introduced her family to a boyfriend before. Things either fizzled out before then or the relationship was so casual that the thought of even mentioning a boy-toy’s name in passing to her family made her want to jump out a window.

———

“So Jason couldn’t get out of work last minute?” Y/N’s older sister, Kate, asked as they drove to her house after picking her up from arrivals.

And so it began.

“No,” Y/N answered. “His boss is sort of an asshole. He’s a workaholic and can’t fathom why anyone else would ever be anything different.”

The truth was that Jason didn’t really have a job. When it came to income, Jason was resourceful. He was still a hitman for hire. But once the killing part of that job stopped – which was long before Y/N ever met him – it didn’t rake in as much money. Most of his money was either stolen from criminals or he would work odd jobs here and there.

However, the lie Jason and Y/N had agreed on was that he was a mechanic. And Jason did know absolutely everything there was to know about cars and motorcycles. He’d even promised Y/N that if she ever decided she wanted him to drop the vigilante life, he would do just that and start his own mechanic shop. But Y/N knew better than to ever ask that of him.

“Cars don’t stop breaking – even around the holidays,” Y/N joked darkly.

“Mhmm,” her sister answered.

Y/N already knew what her family thought of her boyfriend’s “job”: it wasn’t good enough for them.

The only reason they let it slide was because they knew Bruce Wayne was his adoptive father. Therefore they interpreted Jason’s ‘lack of ambition’ as his personal rebellion against his privilege and upbringing.

“Mom said he sent flowers and a bottle of wine to the house today and apologized for not being able to make it,” Kate added.

Y/N quickly looked at her in surprise.

“So I’m guessing from your reaction that it wasn’t your idea,” Kate teased.

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “He didn’t even tell me he did that.”

That was a Bruce Wayne move for sure. It didn’t matter that Jason had a rocky relationship with him, the Wayne charm and manners were deceivingly contagious.

————

Later that night, when everyone was in bed and Y/N decided to finally unpack. And she was surprised to find two of Jason’s t-shirts hidden in her bag. They were her favorites of his, always stealing them. Mostly she wore them to lounge around the apartment or to wear to bed. But her favoritism was in no way hidden.

Jason must’ve snuck them in her bag while she wasn’t looking.

Y/N smiled as she grabbed one of the shirts and raised it to her nose. It still smelled like him.

It was enough to make her feel guilty for not having called him yet. She’d texted him that she landed, but other than that, she’d been pretty silent.

She grabbed her cell and dialed.

“Hey, you.”

He always answered her calls as if they made his day, even if she’d called him multiple times that day already. His reaction to her calls never failed to make Y/N smile.

“I didn’t really expect you to pick up,” Y/N admitted.

“Always got time for you,” he answered lightly.

But then she heard background noise: wind blowing, distant sirens, people shouting at each other nearby.

Jason was on patrol. Or maybe he was doing some recon. 

But Y/N knew not to ask. 

“I see some of your clothes made the trip,” Y/N commented through a smile. Jason could hear the smile in her voice. “Those t-shirts have a mind of their own…”

“And my mom thought the flowers and card were sweet,” she added.

“I might not have met her yet, but I know that’s not gonna be enough to win her over,” Jason answered darkly.

Y/N didn’t say anything, because they both knew he was right.

“Flight was fine?” Jason asked, changing the subject.

“Mhmm.”

“I miss you.”

Y/N shook her head and laughed. “No, you don’t. I’ve been gone for like 12 hours.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always the romantic.”

More sirens could be heard. They sounded closer this time. “Are you being careful?” All playfulness had disappeared from her voice.

“Of course.”

Y/N sighed. “Jason, I’m serious. Please, be safe.”

“I know. I know. Don’t worry about me.”

“You know that’s not gonna happen, J.”

He ignored her comment. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

————————

To say Y/N’s time at home was rough…was an understatement.

If Y/N wasn’t being asked a million questions about Jason, she was being interrogated for why he wasn’t there. And if Jason wasn’t the subject of the conversation, people acted like she was single – some even talking about setting her up.

Y/N realized she preferred the former.

Every year, her family threw a giant party.

And for the past five years, Y/N had always been the only one that was single. All of her siblings, all of her cousins, all of their family friends, all of their neighbors…every single one of them had a significant other during those years. 

Everyone...except her. Now, this year, all of them had kids or were expecting.

It was exhausting. 

Sometimes Y/N felt like they were all robots programmed to do the exact same things at the exact same time –  no original thought to be had.

Y/N would be lying if she didn’t spend most of the party wishing Jason was at her side. He would make fun of awkward situations with her. And he would stick up for her when her family teased her a little too much.

The other thing Y/N wasn’t prepared for was unintentionally studying  her family’s boyfriends or husbands. She felt like she was watching everyone’s relationships through a different lens now that she herself had her own. And to put it as kindly as possible…she was not impressed.

Y/N noticed how none of the men offered to help in the kitchen, instead deciding to sit on the couch and watch football and scream at the television. Or how when her cousin handed her son to her husband, and he acted like he didn’t even know how to hold the one year old. And later, when his diaper needed to be changed, he handed him back to his wife as if he had no idea how to do it himself.

Yet her family was stuck on Jason not being able to visit or that he was a mechanic.

What did someone’s job matter if they treated her like she was their world and he the best thing to ever happen to her?

If Jason were here, he would be in the kitchen cooking. And if they had a kid, it would be a 50/50 job – not a burden only Y/N had to bare. He would try to get to know everyone because he would want to know the people who raised the woman he loved. He’d make sure to check in on Y/N every once in awhile, making sure she didn’t need anything. 

Thinking about it all made Y/N miss Jason even more.

Needing to get some air, she decided to go outside and let the winter chill refresh her. It had been getting too hot in the house.

Y/N pulled her phone out of her back pocket and tapped Jason’s name.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi,” she sighed.

Just hearing his voice made her feel a bit better and tension left her body.

“What’s wrong?” Jason quickly asked.

“Nothing. Just…wanted to check in.”

For a second, she was going to explain that she had the sudden realization that all the men connected to her family were trash. And witnessing it was making her miss him more. But she didn’t really want to waste her breath and she figured she’d just come off dramatic more than sincere.

“Are you at your apartment?” She asked quickly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna leave for patrol in a bit…”

Then Y/N’s mind suddenly thought, ‘Fuck it.’

“Jason?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“If you were here…” She began softly.

“Mhmm,” he encouraged.

“What would you be doing?”

Jason was a bit confused by the question for a second. But he slowly got what she was asking.

“Well,” he took in a shallow breath. “I would’ve stolen Alfred’s famous chocolate chip cookie recipe and whipped up those bad boys to bring over. And I’d pretend to care about football with your dad.”

That made Y/N laugh.

“I’d help your mom in the kitchen, even when she pretended not to want it.”

“Really laying it on thick, huh?”

But Y/N knew he was right. Jason was the cook between the two of them – and a good one, too. He also was a helper. He couldn’t sit back and watch someone do something while he did nothing. No matter how big or small.

“Shhh,” Jason reprimanded and then continued. “But most importantly, I’d try to get as many embarrassing stories about you as I possibly could.”

“Well, thank goodness you’re not here then,” she teased with a roll of her eyes.

Jason was quiet a second before he asked, “Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“All my family’s boyfriends and husbands are losers. And I guess I’m just now realizing it.”

“Ahh,” Jason noted.

Now he really knew why she’d asked her question.

“It’s snowing here,” he told her as he looked out the window. “It’s almost making Gotham look pretty.”

“Are you going to the manor for Christmas?”

“Probably not,” Jason answered.

“Jason,” she grumbled. “What are you going to do instead? Sit in your apartment alone?”

“I’m gonna patrol. Crime doesn’t take holidays, Y/N.”

“Cheesy,” she pointed out. “Please be with your family, Jason. I don’t want you to be alone. OK?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Y/N knew that was as good as it was going to get.

Then she felt something on her cheek and she looked up. “Hey, it just started snowing here, too…” She told him with her head tilted back.

“I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you, too. Be careful tonight, Jason.”

Y/N gave herself a few more moments outside before returning to the party.

When she walked back inside, she immediately heard her name. But no one was calling to her. 

She was being talked about. 

She recognized her mom and sister’s voices, and then a couple of her aunts. They were talking around the corner, completely unaware that Y/N was in hearing distance.

So Y/N couldn’t help but linger.

“She says he works a lot. Every time I facetime her, he’s never there,” her sister Kate told the women. “I wouldn’t even really know what he looked like if it weren’t for her photos that she’s sent me. He doesn’t have any social media.”

“I just can’t believe he couldn’t get work off. Around the holidays?” Her mom added in utter disbelief. “Sounds like it won’t be surprising when she finds out he’s been unfaithful,” one her aunts commented.

The group hummed in agreement, but also disappointment. 

“He doesn’t even live in Metropolis. He lives in Gotham,” her mother supplied, only further backing the idea that Jason wasn’t committed. “God knows why. But I hate that Y/N is constantly going there. No good news comes from that city.”

Y/N clenched her teeth in anger.

If only they knew the truth about Jason. 

He was a hero and risked his life every night for an entire city – a city that had done nothing but hurt him. And he was 20 times the man than any of the men in their family.

She just wanted to scream at them for being so judgmental about a person they’d never even met.

But she couldn’t.

So Y/N stormed up to her childhood bedroom and decided she had enough of the party.

She shouldn’t have come home for the holidays. She would’ve rather waited for Jason to get back from his Red Hood work than listen to her family misjudge the first man she ever truly loved and wanted to share with them.

————————

Y/N was so tired when she got off the plane.

She felt like a zombie as she walked to baggage claim to grab her duffle.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find her boyfriend waiting for her in arrivals.

Y/N had told him she would just get a car.

But Jason seemed to have other ideas.

Y/N’s entire face brightened at the sight of him.

She practically ran to him and jumped into his arms.

Jason chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her words muffled by his body.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Jason said through a smile before he kissed her head.

Y/N didn’t respond, just held him tightly.

“Come on. Let’s get your bag and head home,” he finally told her.

—

“So, how was it?” Jason asked once they got into his car. Y/N shrugged, “It was fine.”

Her lack of details and curt response was enough warning for Jason to realize things were not totally fine between them.

He didn’t bother asking for more details during the car ride home. Instead, he answered all her questions about what he had been up to, how the case was going, if his family was alright.

Once they got back to Y/N’s apartment in Metropolis, the grace period seemed to be over.

Y/N had grown quiet as she moved around her apartment, unpacking and putting all her things away.

Jason walked into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed as she folded clean clothes. “This might be a shot in the dark. But I can’t help but feel that you’re not happy with me,” he finally pointed out.

She didn’t answer or look at him, just kept folding.

“Did something happen while you were at home?” Jason pushed.

She still didn’t answer. So Jason reached for her hands, holding them gently.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just didn’t expect how hard it was going to be…” she finally whispered with a bowed head.

“What would be?”

“Just going home without you,” she explained.

“Did something happening?”

“I mean, kinda? Not really. They just…” she hesitated. Did she really want to confess all of this to him? She knew it would only hurt him. "They think you’re a bad boyfriend.”

Jason just nodded slowly.

He should’ve seen this coming. Of course her family didn’t think he was good enough. How could they think anything different?

“I’m just…fucking frustrated,” Y/n groaned. “I knew what I was getting into when you told me about your other life and who you really were. I was willing to keep your secret and protect it. I just never thought about how hard it would be keeping it from my family.”

She shook her head. “They think you’re not committed or something. And that…that you’re probably cheating on me.”

The idea of him ever doing that her made Jason sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jason mumbled.

“What?” Y/N gasped. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I have,” he argued. “I put you in this position.”

“No, I did. I did when I fell in love with you,” she clarified.

“But I don’t want you lying to the people you love.”

“I’m not telling you this because I’m mad at you or blame you, Jason. I’m trying to tell you why I’m frustrated.”

She rubbed her face. “I just want them to know what an amazing person you are...and how brave and selfless. How you take care of me and love me and…and protect me.” Her eyes began to water. “They’re never gonna know the real you…even when they do meet you. And I fucking hate it.”

“So what if you told them?” Jason offered.

Her eyes widened at that. “Jason…”

“I’m serious. What if you told them?”

She thought about it. But she already knew the answer.

“It wouldn’t do any good. If I told them, then they’d be worried about me. Worried that your other life was putting me in danger. Worried that I would get pulled into it.”

Jason knew she was right.

Her family probably preferred an absentee boyfriend over a vigilante.

“But I see how the shitty men that have joined my family are. And you’re nothing like them. You’re so much better. And they’ll never even know.”

“Come here,” Jason muttered before he pulled her to him.

He let her body sink into his as he held her.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I always wondered what it would be like to finally been in a relationship – to just have someone on my team no matter what. I went to all those family gatherings thinking I’d never have it. And once I did, once I found you…” Her thoughts died out. “I just never expected it to be this way.”

“Do you regret it?” Jason asked as he pulled away to look in her eyes.

Her brow furrowed. “Regret what?”

“Being with me. Falling in love with me.”

Her heart broke at the question. “Oh, Jason. Of course not. Never.”

“What if I stopped?” He asked.

“No. I would never ask that of you,” she quickly shot down.

“I’d do it for you,” he tried to argue.

“I know you would. But I’m not asking. Because I know what it would do to you. Every time you’d see something in the news, you’d hate yourself. Because you would convince yourself that you could’ve stopped it. And maybe you would be right.” She took in a deep breath. “Red Hood isn’t just something you do. He’s a part of you. And even though I worry about you constantly, I’m never gonna tell you to stop.”

Jason took his time in reading her face.

“OK?” She pushed.

He nodded.

Then he embraced her once again.

“I’m sorry you have to keep my secrets,” he breathed into her hair.

————————————

Y/N walked into Jason’s apartment.

It was a Friday night and they agreed to have her come to his place this weekend.

Jason was always weary of her coming to Gotham, preferring her to stay in the safety of Metropolis.

He knew they couldn’t do the distance forever, and eventually they’d move into together. But he wasn’t ready to leave Gotham yet. And he didn’t want Y/N to lowering herself to such a city.

“J!” Y/N called when she walked in.

He had given her keys to his apartment quite early in their relationship, and told her she was welcome at his place any time. However, he wasn’t a fan of her getting there after dark. Gotham was Gotham, and he didn’t like her wandering around the city by herself just in order to give him a surprise visit.

An envelope on Jason’s kitchen counter caught her attention.

She nosily looked at it and saw that they were plane tickets to her hometown with both of their names on each of them.  

She heard Jason walk up behind her. “What’s this?”

“A surprise,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean?” She laughed.

“We’re gonna visit your family,” he explained casually. “I called your mom and sister to find a weekend that worked.”

Y/N was shocked to silence.

“I know I fucked up when I couldn’t go with you during the holidays. I know this isn’t gonna solve everything. But I figured…it’s start.” Before he could say more, Y/N threw her arms around him.

————

Jason Todd knew how to throw on the charm. And no matter how thick he laid it on, it always felt sincere.

Y/N smiled as she watched her boyfriend interacting with her family.

He knew so much about each of them already, that he knew exactly what to talk about with every one of them.

For their long-weekend visit, they had decided to stay with her sister.

Jason knew she would be the hardest to win over and was the most protective over Y/N. He made it his personal mission to befriend her and show her how much he loved her little sister.

Y/N never said so, but Jason knew how important it was to her that Kate approved of him.

However, Jason hadn’t been able to have a conversation alone with her all weekend.

Until their last morning there.

Y/N was still sleeping when Jason had made his way to the kitchen.

He figured he could make Kate and her husband breakfast after housing them for a long weekend. And he made sure to start a pot of coffee while he was at it.

Halfway through making his specialty waffles, Kate walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted, clearly surprised to find Jason cooking in her kitchen.

“Morning,” Jason greeted.

“This is a surprise,” she said as she looked around the kitchen.

“There’s coffee if you want some.”

“T-Thanks…” she managed to mutter. “Do you need some help?”

“Nope. I got it. You just relax.”

Kate seemed to be unsure of how to behave when she was alone with her little sister’s boyfriend, and eventually sat on the kitchen stool with her coffee.

“Do you cook a lot?” She finally broke the silence with her question.

“I enjoy it,” he answered with a shrug. “I figured it’s the least I can do for you guys putting us up.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Jason.”

He continued cooking.

Kate figured this was her opportunity to get to know Jason – and not just through Y/N’s eyes. So, she started asking him question after question, and he seemed happy to answer them. Kate was surprised to find out about Jason’s traumatic childhood, making him realize that Y/N must’ve only shared his relation to Bruce Wayne and nothing more about his life before becoming an adopted Wayne.

Jason wasn’t surprised Y/N kept that part of his life to herself. She was protective of him that way. She always felt like his past was his story to tell, not hers.

“I know missing the holidays didn’t leave the best impression,” Jason told her after they’d been talking for awhile.

“You really mean a lot to Y/N. And your opinion matters more to her than you might think,” he added as he crossed his arms.

Kate seemed a little taken aback by how unafraid he was of confrontation.

He seemed more mature for his age – maybe for hers, even.

“I know I’m not going to win any of you over from just a single trip,” Jason continued. “But I’m going to work my ass off to make sure I get there.”

Kate smiled at that.

“I love her,” he told her quietly, but with determination. “She’s…Well, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Then he smirked. “And I’m not dumb enough to do anything to fuck things up with her.”

He took in a shallow breath. “I just…I just needed you to know that.”

Kate’s heart swelled from hearing her little sister’s boyfriend confessing his love for Y/N.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she whispered, trying to stop herself from crying. “I worry about her. And I hate that she’s so far away sometimes. I miss her.”

“She misses you, too,” Jason assured her.

“Thank you for taking care of her. I’m suddenly realizing you’re the only reason she’s eating anything that’s not out of a takeout container.”

Jason laughed. “I plead the fifth.”

Before any more could be said, Y/N walked into the kitchen as if she was sleep walking.

“Well, look who it is…” Jason teased.

Y/N walked to him silently, clearly wanting cuddles.

Jason chuckled at her, but gave her what she wanted. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. He had kept the PDA at an absolute minimum while he had been around Y/N’s family. But he couldn’t help it when Y/N was her sleepy and adorable self.

“You sleep OK?” He tried to whisper to her.

But Kate still heard it and pretended to look down at her phone.

Y/N nodded into his neck, making him chuckle at her more.

This was new for Kate, seeing her sister being loved and loving someone. Her instinct was to say it made her uncomfortable. But it was just something she wasn’t used to.

Soon Kate’s husband woke up and they all ate breakfast together.

And a few hours later, Y/N and Jason were packed and their was a Lyft was waiting outside to take them to the airport.

Jason hugged Kate and her husband and thanked them for hosting them. Then he grabbed Y/N’s bags and gave her a moment alone with her sister as he took their stuff to the car.

“I think I owe the two of you an apology…” Kate told her little sister.

“You do?”

“I think I judged him a bit too much before really giving him a chance.”

Y/N winced, but nodded. “Yeah, you did, actually.”

“He really loves you.”

Y/N smiled. “He does.”

“I just want you to be happy, you know that right?”

“I know. But sometimes you think that what makes you happy is what would make me happy. Our lives are different. And we want different things. Just because my relationship looks different than yours doesn’t mean it’s worse in some way.”

Kate nodded sadly, knowing her sister was right. “I get that now.”

-----------

A/N: I was inspired to write this when I thought about how my own family would react to me having a boyfriend like Jason Todd: a man who was secretly a vigilante and had a past too hard for anyone to ever imagine. Hopefully, other people can relate to this and it wasn’t too personal. 😬

Let me know what you thought!!!

[violettelueur]

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI || HAND GESTURES

| featuring : fushiguro megumi from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, but other than that n/a

| form : imagine

| word count : 1427

| published : 22 december

| synopsis : just you and fushiguro in his dorm room before you ask him to teach you his hand gestures that he uses to summon his shikigamis - because why not?

| barista’s notes : hey hey hey~ i hope you all are okay? today it’s fushiguro megumi’s aka my husband’s birthday today!＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／so i had to give you guys something that was i was planning to write for another time, but i realise that this was the best time to post this little imagine that i had planned ʕᴥ·　ʔ i hope you all enjoy this cup of classic black coffee that i had made for you all guys ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ don’t worry, it’s on the house ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

Staring down upon his reading book, Fushiguro couldn’t help but hear the small but noticeable sound of shuffling coming from the lower end of his bed that was to some degree distracting him from his reading session. Drifting his emerald eyes from the page on to the person that was sitting on the floor right beside his bed, Fushiguro found you cutely concentrating down on your hands trying to do some gestures that he didn’t seem to understand until you suddenly and casually place your right hand on top of your left between the gap of your thumb and index finger before moving your right thumb ever so slightly towards the direction of your body.

“Mimi, it’s like this right?” you then quickly asked your boyfriend, as you swiftly turned your body to face towards him with your hands staying in the position to where he would summon his divine dogs. Smiling gently down at you, Fushiguro placed his book upside down on the bed before steadily reaching over to your hands to carefully separate the fingers from your left hand - as if you were made out of glass that he could easily break - to create the ‘mouth’ of the dog before nodding at you.

“Nearly there,” Fushiguro stated, as he looked down at you with the most gentle expression on his face - contrasting his usual stern and irritated face when he was outside his dorm room especially on missions when both of you were with Gojo, Itadori and Kugisaki. “Can you teach me the rest of them?” you curiously asked causing Fushiguro to give you a surprised expression before you quickly explained, “I think it’s really cool how you are able to summon your Shikigamis without the use of a charm and instead use shadows,” to which then you looked down upon your hands and randomly place your hands together as if that was going to do anything.

“Don’t you think your curse technique is also amazing though?” Fushiguro asked, as he leisurely moved from his seat on the bed to sit on the space next to you on the floor before leading back onto the framing. “You’re able to cast many advanced level spells with your curse energy without the use of an incantation and you can also create your own and manipulate any right? Shouldn’t you be more amazed at your own technique? You are the first shaman to have that sort of technique, it even surprised Gojo since there is no history to it,”.

“Yeah, but you have cute companions by your side, Mimi,” you quickly countered Fushiguro before continuing whining with, “like who wouldn’t want a cute dog at their beckoning call?” leading to Fushiguro giving you a weird-out look before quickly stating, “you know, my divine dogs are not pets right?”

Letting out a light giggle, you quickly nodded before asking once again if he would teach you all his hand gestures to which Fushiguro couldn’t refuse you the second he heard your laugh - it was like a sweet melody to his ears - as well as the endearing smiling you were presenting him at this moment in time. Slowly turning his body to face you directly while crossing his legs, you did the same before Fushiguro tenderly took your hands in his and moved them into the next position that he wanted to teach you.

After interlocking your thumbs, Fushiguro then moved his hands away - taking his warmth with him, that nearly caused you to whimper from the loss of it as well as his touch - before observing if he had placed your hands in the correct position. “This one is for Nue,” Fushiguro expressed, causing you to lift your hands up to see the gesture yourself. “That make’s a lot of sense since they do show wings, but it could also mean a butterfly,” you comedically suggested, before playfully bending your fingers on both hands to make it seem like they were flapping wings leading to your boyfriend to look at you once again with a weird face before a smile slowly appeared on his face. 

Fushiguro couldn’t help but find the sight of you learning his hand gestures for his curse technique really adorable, it was as if you were like a child copying the movement of their parent to learn something new, yet you also looked like someone that had done something amazing and was excited to show their achievements to someone. You looked extremely happy that he was teaching this to you, it was as if you wanted to be more connected with him somehow.

“Teach me the next one Mimi!” you cutely demanded as you lean closer to him, causing the green-eyed shaman’s face to slowly have a light rose hues being painted on his cheeks before he grabbed your hands once again to show you the next hand position he was going to teach you next.

During this little lesson time, you wouldn’t help but quickly notice the feeling of your boyfriend’s hands. Of course, you have held them before and many times before this, but you couldn’t help but notice how smooth they felt upon your skin, yet so rough due to some of the calluses that were stubbornly on his hand no matter how many times you could moisturise them with your hand cream. Apart from that, one thing you always noticed was how warm his hands were no matter where he was. Wherever it was in rain or the snow, Fushiguro’s hands were somehow always warm allowing you to steal some of that heat whenever you were freezing or just needed to be reminded of the sense of home, his warmth was something that you loved so much.

“And that’s the last one,” Fushiguro mentioned in a soft tone, somewhat sad that this little session came to an end, as he watched you look down at your hands with sparkles in your eyes before you raised your hands and kindly asked him, “is this Gama, Mimi?” since you remembered him using this gesture one time during a mission to summon the toad that you strangely adored so much to which Fushiguro nodded before noticing you had widened your eyes as if you had realised something - to which you had.

“Ah! So when you combine Nue and Gama, you get the technique that you used on Todo that day right?” you excitedly question, before doing both the hand gestures in order to show Fushiguro what you were talking about to which then you were looking at your boyfriend with shiny eyes as you waited for his approval, causing the linger rose hues on his face to become redder at the adorable sight of you.

“Yeah that’s right, you're a quick learner, ain’t you Y/N?” Fushiguro asked, only for you to smile brightly at him before saying, “well, I am learning from the best,” leading Fushiguro to somehow maintain his composure to not break down in pride down in front of you after you had just complimented him. 

“Can I teach you something?” you asked the shikigami user leading him to nod before it was your turn to take his hands into yours, surprising him somewhat, but allowed you to do what you wanted since he was relishing the warmth that you were now providing him. Fushiguro felt both his thumb and index finger being placed together before you angled them slightly to then showcase what you did. It was a finger heart to which then you then curved your fingers with your thumb at the bottom before placing them together to make a heart.

“Thank you for teaching me and I love you, Mimi,” you said with a bright smile, causing the green-eyed shaman to look at you with complete shock painted on his face before he quickly leaned forward and buried his face on the crook of your neck to hide his extremely red tomato face from you, causing you to laugh before placing your hands on the back on his neck as well as around his back before using your fingers to lightly run them along his back while gently playing with his long strands on the back of his head to help him calm down lightly.

“I love you too Y/N,” Fushiguro quietly replied, before burying his face even further if he could, causing his erratic hair to lightly graze itself upon your cheek, tickling you slightly.

You had him there, he couldn’t lie.

The heart was the best hand gesture you had shown him in today’s lesson.

[irrelevantwriter]

Embracing Misery

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, funny Rio (he got jokes), secret feelings (bc I love to torture my characters)

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Part 3. Rio returns and you decide to take some initiative. 

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on these Rio fics! It truly means so much and I am so glad you’re enjoying them. I now bring you part three of a saga that was not at all planned, but has somehow happened anyway. I blame the Rio haze I’m still very much in and my zero chill tendencies. If you guys haven't read parts one and two, then I recommend doing so, for plot purposes. I have some more things planned for this duo so we’ll see what my muse brings. Until then, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

It was early.

The house was blessedly quiet while your children stayed at their father’s house for the weekend. You soaked up the stillness of the early morning sun rays and crisp, cool air. They washed over you, as if cleansing what the previous night’s sleep hadn’t. You missed your kids like crazy while they were away, but the mornings alone were priceless. It was a time for you to prepare for the day. A luxury you hadn’t been afforded since before the kids were born. But now...now you got to take it all in. Enjoy the serenity.

Or so you thought.

You tied the sash of your robe as you opened the front door, preparing to grab the morning paper, but as soon as you turned the knob you knew what would be waiting on the other side. Something told you he was there. You didn’t need to look out onto the street to see the familiar sleekness of a dark tinted luxury car. You could feel him. Feel his eyes on you as you bent down to get the paper and turned, leaving the front door wide open.

Rio had been gone for nearly two months. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the man in that long. Not even a text message, though the thought had crossed your mind on more than one occasion. You had no idea where he’d been or what he’d been doing while he was away, but you’d had no choice but to conduct business as usual. Mick had been your contact, times and places for drop-offs exactly as Rio had set them up. It was as if he was still running things from wherever he was. As if he could somehow see you without actually seeing you.

During his time away you’d done nothing but think of when he’d return. You teetered on the edge of worry and longing as your thoughts raced between concern for your boss slash lover to outright arousal. You’d spent more than one night thinking about his hands on your body while yours tried desperately to replicate his touch. It would get the job done, but it was nothing compared to that gentle slide of hand or gravelly voice that sent literal shivers up your spine. Your body had missed him. And you had come to the realization that you did too.

You walked into your kitchen, hearing the click of the front door as he passed through the threshold. You went straight for the humming coffee pot, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Coffee?” You asked over your shoulder, not at all surprised to hear the shakiness in your voice.

“Sure.”

Your entire body thrummed to life at that solitary sound. You hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet and already your thighs were clenching together. Your nipples hardened against the thin fabric of your tank top, your black robe barely concealing the reaction. You poured the coffee with unsteady hands, preparing yourself to face him once again.

When you turned around, you were greeted with a familiar smirk and a magnificent throat tattoo. A tattoo that you’d missed. He looked exactly the same. Same dark button-up. Same dark jeans. Same intense eyes. Same addictive swagger. It all came together to seduce you into a trance. A trance you’d fallen victim to in the past. It was a fog of uncertainty and lust. It was powerful. Merciless. And you couldn’t stop it from taking you hostage if you tried. So...you embraced it.

You slid the mug of coffee across the kitchen island towards him, a gesture that had you experiencing déjà vu. He accepted it and the sugar you offered. You watched as he dressed his beverage. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No milk or cream. He stirred it and then sipped, nodding in approval at the taste. The entire display was odd...domestic even.

His eyes trailed over your body before coming to rest on your face.

“Did you miss me, mama?” He asked cheekily, white teeth on display. They bit sensually into his bottom lip, the action making warmth seep deep into your bones.

You laughed. You’d missed the banter. Missed his blatant want for you. It was a cruel punishment to take away someone’s drug of choice. Rio just so happened to be yours. And you’d been experiencing withdrawals for the last two months. You desperately needed a hit. Needed something to take the edge off.

“Hardly.” You quipped, smiling so that he could see the lie clearly written on your face.

He only stared back. The action was still unnerving.

You turned to pour your own cup of coffee, feeling his gaze ghost across your back. You busied yourself with adding cream and sugar, the clang of the spoon against ceramic the only sound reverberating throughout the house. You took a few cursory sips, testing the temperature of the liquid. It was hot. Too hot. But you drank it anyway.

Turning around to face Rio once again, you were surprised to find the spot across the island empty. Your eyes darted around the immediate area, catching a glimpse of him lounging on your sofa. The same sofa he’d fucked you against. Along with the kitchen island.

You left your drink behind, bare feet walking with a purpose across the cold wood floors. You rounded the sofa and took him in. One leg was crossed over the other, his mug resting against his knee as he steadied it with one hand. His free arm extended along the back of the couch, taking up a fair amount of space on the piece of furniture.

He was a picture of comfort and ease. Looking as if he belonged there. You supposed in that moment, he did.

You observed him for a long time. Long enough for his face to grow serious as he stared up at you. A myriad of emotions swirled within you. All of them seemed to be conflicting. They pushed and pulled in various directions, telling you what you should do while others persuaded you to do what you wanted to do. In the end none of it mattered. You’d already sold your soul to the devil long before you got into bed with him. It was time to accept that.

You wordlessly reached for his drink, moving the mug onto the coffee table. He let you, uncrossing his legs and watching you with a sharp eye. You grasped for the knot that held your robe together and pulled the two ends apart, feeling the material start to give way. It fell open to reveal the tank top and shorts you wore underneath. It was a far cry from lingerie, but it sent the same message. You wore no bra, an obvious fact as his eyes hungrily took you in. Your shorts were cut high, practically underwear and exposing more leg than you would’ve normally felt comfortable with. The robe fell from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You swallowed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to take flight. You focused on him. You focused on the way he looked at you. And how he made you feel. You let that be your guide as you pulled your top up and over your head. The garment joined the robe on the floor as you moved on to your shorts, pulling them down and letting them slide along your thighs. You were left in your demure cotton panties. You were only slightly embarrassed by their modesty, but Rio showed no inclination that he was put off. In fact, his mouth twitched, his lower half shifting against the couch.

You looped your fingers into the waistband of the cotton and pushed them down, baring yourself completely. He’d never seen you naked. Your previous trysts had been rushed with clothes shifted aside and out of the way in frenzied yearning. It’d never been thought out before. And now, here you were standing naked in your own living room, seducing the man you were sure wanted to kill you about as much as he wanted to fuck you.

It was exhilarating.

“What’re you doing?” Rio rasped, gaze locked with yours. His voice was low and tinged with desire. He looked equal parts amused and perplexed, and the thought of him trying to be a gentleman in your current state of undress only made your need for him strengthen.

“Sshh...” You soothed, stepping between his spread legs and straddling his lap.

His hands immediately gripped around your waist, the touch of his bare flesh against yours sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You kissed him, hands sliding up his chest and resting on the buttons of his shirt. He reciprocated your eagerness, lips moving with yours. Your tongue reached out to taste him and he accepted, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass in approval. Your lower body writhed in his lap, feeling the firm muscle resting beyond his zipper.

You longed to feel his skin against yours. To feel the proof of life beat against your own chest. To feel close to him in a way you hadn’t thus far. Your fingers moved swiftly to grant you the sensation you craved. You unfastened each button, pulling his shirt apart and gliding your palms over the smooth muscle of his chest. His hips thrust up into yours restlessly as you explored his upper body. Your lips had yet to detach from each other, completely lost in reuniting. Your nails lightly grazed down his chest and abdomen, feeling him reciprocate the action by nibbling your lip.

His touch scorched your skin, roaming freely. He cupped your heaving breasts, mouth moving to your neck as he attacked your skin with kisses. You threw your head back in blessed relief and pleasure, finally feeling as if you could breathe again. You maneuvered your hands between your bodies, aiming for his belt buckle. You were impatient. Unable to wait for him to fill you. You’d waited long enough. The abundance of slickness that slid from your walls could attest to that.

“Mmmm...” He growled against your neck when you finally pulled him free, your palm easily smoothing over the hard length. His hips rutted into your touch, his own impatience showing.

You moaned when his lips attached to a nipple and sucked. He tortured you with sensations, bouncing between gentle and unyielding. His mouth was hot and wet against your flesh, encouraging your arousal to new heights. You craved more.

Again you took the initiative and lifted your hips, angling his length to fit against your weeping slit. He pulled away from your chest and took you in, watching as you slowly impaled yourself on his cock. Your lips parted as you engulfed him, your breathing accelerating with every inch he filled you. It’d been too long and your body was taut, clenching around him in such a way that let him know just how much you’d missed his touch.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you finally bottomed out, your thighs flush with his. His fingers gripped your hips, his body completely still and waiting for you to move. His brow was furrowed, his lips pouted as he took in measured breaths. He almost looked in pain as you sat unmoving atop him. The notion pleased you.

You moaned when he shifted, his cock nudging your womb. You couldn’t prolong the torture anymore and began to swirl your hips, your palms flat against his chest. It was a new dynamic for you both. Being able to control the moment with him was not something you were used to. His demanding nature was something you secretly loved, but having him at your mercy like this was so much better. You could see every pass of ecstasy on his face. Feel it in the way he twitched inside you. It was addicting.

His calloused hands massaged your breasts as you rode him, his dark eyes glazed over with lust but still holding you captive. He slid along your walls, stretching and filling you to capacity. You only got wetter at the feel of him, the slickness so overwhelming that he almost fell from your tight clutches. You used his shoulders for leverage as you moved, your pace increasing, desperate to come undone with him.

“Damn...yeah, just like that.” Rio exhaled, hands encouraging your hips to keep their speed.

He licked his lips as you bounced, flesh slapping as you fucked yourself. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then attached it to your clit, rubbing the swollen flesh in sensual circles. You arched your back and whimpered, feeling the tendrils of climax begin to latch on.

“I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, feeling your skin slicken with perspiration. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on your clit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans at bay.

“Do it, mama.” He throatily demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“C-cum...with me.” You pleaded between breaths. He nipped at the underside of your chin and you swore you could feel his smirk against your flesh.

He didn’t waste another second.

You held on as Rio’s hips met yours, his cock hitting your cervix with a brutality that had you seeing stars. Your muscles spasmed from the inside out, your limbs locking as you came. Your walls clamped around him in stuttering patterns, giving him no other option but to feel it all. You held him to you as you shook, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs and his length. He continued to fuck you through it, his control now waning. He buried his face into your chest and neck, holding you just as tightly as he repeatedly thrust up into you.

“Inside me...please.” You found yourself begging, exhausted from your own euphoria but still wanting to feel him release deep within you. It was a sensation you thrived on. It meant he was real. That he wasn’t a figure in the night or a lone man with a gun. He’d been inside you. Painted your walls in him. Claimed you. And you wanted to feel that for as long as you could.

“You want it?” He grunted against your neck, hands digging so hard into your ass that the area would surely be sore afterwards. It was welcomed after his prolonged absence. Just another clue that he’d been there.

“Please…” You whimpered, uncaring that you sounded so desperate.

He said nothing in return. Only thrust harder as he finally came. He held you still against him, ensuring not a drop of his cum left your joined bodies. You reveled in the warmth that suddenly filled you, spreading your thighs wider across his lap. His teeth dragged along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver from you.

It was quiet for a moment, your labored breathing slowly steadying with the beating of your heart. You were pressed against his bare chest, his hands now smoothing across your flesh rather than gripping it. The sensation nearly put you to sleep.

“So you missed me then?” Rio teased, his voice raspier than normal.

You sat up straight, looking down into his eyes that were glinting back at you with boyish arrogance. You cracked a smile and shook your head.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You didn’t have to, darling.” He whispered, face growing serious as he tenderly shifted the few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

Laughter bubbled in your throat suddenly, effectively cutting through the moment. His fingers drifted to your lips, tracing them as you broke into a smile.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His own lips quirked up at the sound of your tired giggles, your body shaking above him.

“We haven’t made it to a bed yet.” You said between laughs, pulling his hand from your mouth and resting it on your cheek instead. You held onto his forearm, the sinewy muscle feeling sturdy under your touch.

“There’s still time.” He retorted with a sly smile, his eyes taking in your face in a careful study. The intensity of it was almost enough to make you feel bashful.

You were lost in the moment, ready to let him take you again when a knock at the front door sounded. You scrambled up, hearing a key in the knob.

“Fucking Paul.” You cursed as you grabbed your discarded robe and hastily tied the sash. “Get dressed.” You ordered Rio, that smug smirk still planted firmly on his lips.

You moved past him and through the dining room to the front door, seeing your ex shuffle through the door with a baseball bag thrown over his shoulder. Your son’s bag. He must’ve forgotten something for his game today.

“You mind?” You snapped at him, throwing a quick glance behind you to ensure he couldn’t see Rio through the entryway.

“Well, I called but you didn’t answer. Figured you were still asleep.” Paul supplied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t wait until I actually answered the door instead of using a key? A key I was sure I got back from you.”

He rolled his eyes, not making any move to return the item.

Bastard.

“What’re you doing here, Paul?”

“Anthony forgot his mitt. Needs it for the game today.”

You inwardly rolled your eyes, both at your ex and your son. They were mirror images of each other and that extended to their forgetfulness.

You walked to the entryway bench and lifted the pillow, knowing it would be stuck there because that’s where Anthony always left his gear after a game.

“Here.” You said shortly, thrusting the glove over to him. The sooner he got it, the sooner he’d be gone.

The universe was a cruel bitch though.

A shuffling from behind you pulled both yours and Paul’s attention. You tensed as Rio rounded the corner, clothes neatly tucked back into place. He eyed your ex for a long moment, making both you and Paul uncomfortable.

“I-uh...this-,” You stumbled over your words, at a loss for how to proceed. “He was just checking on some things around the house.” You lamely offered.

“What things?” Paul threw back with a raised brow, obviously not buying your answer.

“Just taking a look at her pipes.” Rio quipped, making you cough.

The air was awkward and tense as the two men sized each other up. You could see the suspicion in Paul’s eyes as he took in Rio’s very notable tattoo. Paul’s gaze flicked to yours, attempting to read your face. You opened your mouth to cut through the silence, but Rio beat you to it.

“I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He said, facing you and biting his lip. The action was purposeful. A signal of sorts.

You nodded and crossed your arms, watching with bated breath as he walked past Paul. He stared at the man as if he was a nuisance, giving him a quick once over before chuckling and exiting out the door. You released a sigh of relief once the door latched, your shoulders easing now that he’d left. A wave of disappointment followed. You were hoping to spend more time with him before he ultimately disappeared again. You were sure you’d see him at your next drop off now that he was back, but that was still days away. And you’d be damned if you reached out to the man for anything other than business-related topics.

You’d just have to wait.

“Friend of yours?” Paul interrupted your thoughts, face twisted in disapproval.

“He was here to check the pipes. They were making a weird noise. Wanted to make sure they didn’t freeze over.” You explained, your attitude back in full force.

“Sure.” He replied flatly, eyes belatedly taking in your state of undress. “You should put some decent clothes on when you have strange men in the house.”

The chastising tone of his voice made you see red. It was one of the reasons you’d divorced him. Along with the infidelity. And his tendency to be an egotistical piece of shit. Your reaction was a completely different reaction to Rio’s reprimands. Rio made you feel alive...desired. Paul’s goal was to always control and make you feel less than. He’d lost that fight throughout your marriage, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to do so long after it’d ended.

“You need to go.” You demanded between clenched teeth, opening the door for him and gesturing him out.

He took the hint and walked outside to the porch, shaking his head as he did.

“The kids wanted all of us to go out to dinner. Including Erica.” He said as he turned to face you, hand held to the door that you were ready to slam in his face.

You fought the urge to scoff at the mention of his fiancé and instead nodded, a pleasant smile on your lips and pure hate in your heart.

“Sure. Text me details. I’ve gotta go before this cum running down my leg stains the carpet.”

Paul’s face was priceless. And you had the pleasure of slamming the door in it. You smiled victoriously to yourself. The unexpected visit wasn’t so bad after all.

Your two worlds were getting harder to keep separated. That was apparent after the debacle that just took place. Rio was a significant presence in your life. And it was in more than just a working relationship way. That was obvious now. But were you really ready to let that happen? To let him in? The answer was still no. It would always be no. But sleeping with your boss had to have some benefits. And you were willing to find out exactly what those were. Misery and all.