#If you wanna read that series as well on ao3

[lieutenantfloyd]

Pizza Hut and Silent Observation (Also Known as Stalking) - Deadpool x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Through a series of strange but undeniably on-brand events, Wade Wilson has found his opposite—and falls in love with them along the way. But as they both reckon with their feelings, reader pulls away, though this only hurts them both.

Warnings: fluff, opposites attract, attempts at humor, violence, Wade had ADHD, mercenary! Reader, language, mutual pining and a bit of mutual stalking, gentle tapping of the fourth wall, and Wade being Wade.

Authors Note: As much as I love all the Poolverine x Reader stuff, I’m craving some solo Wade x Reader! So consider this to be me being the change I wanna see in the world lol

Read on AO3

A series of strange but undeniably on-brand events had led to Wade Wilson finding his polar opposite—The soft, quiet, and sweet to his rough, loud, and explicit.

For reasons unknown even to himself, Deadpool swears to keep his distance. Yet the more he tries to avoid you, the more you seem to cross paths. Keeping out of each other's way when you wind up trailing the same target quickly morphs into shared glances across bars and grocery store aisles. Wade is all too aware of the universe's fucked up sense of humor, and when he quite literally runs into you for a third day in a row, he swears that the sweet, melodic laughter that graces his is coming from the universe itself.

Despite the stolen kills and strange lack of conversation, Wade quickly grows fascinated by you. As you approach your sixth month of stilted interactions, the last remaining bits of optimism he has leave him wondering if this could potentially be the slowest slow burn of all time, only for those dreams to be crushed by the weight of everything that lies beneath his fancy spandex suit.

Nonetheless, his feelings about you—and how you operate in the field—grow into something far more than a simple curiosity. It becomes a wide-eyed admiration with an increasingly lewd undercurrent. You're everything he’s not. Clean and efficient with a one-track mind that never strays from the mission at hand.

Or at least that's what he tells himself.

-

It took exactly three meetings with the spandex clad mercenary to realize he might be the single most obnoxious person on the planet, and another five before you were willing to admit that he was also the single hottest.

You had always been someone who built their walls high and kept their defenses higher. It's why you found it so strange that the first crack in your emotional fortress was brought on by a mouthy mercenary taking a bullet for you without a second thought and making a joke about pegging with what should have been his dying breath.

His strange effect on you was something you used to justify your actions over the past several months. Frequenting his favorite bars and choosing to pursue the targets you knew he'd go after was simply just reconnaissance. You needed to know the why and how of what he made you feel, and getting close to him—while swearing it was for professional reasons only—felt like the best course of action. Sure, your heart raced every time you spotted him across the room, but that was only because you were satisfied by getting the timing of your meeting right. Maybe you let your eyes wander a little when he sunk his baby knife into the neck of your target, but you kept your thoughts of what else he kept hidden in that suit of his to yourself like any other well respecting person.

You weren't a stalker.

This wasn't stalking.

A grey area? Maybe. But definitely not stalking.

Or at least that's what you told yourself.

-

It was during your eighth month of silent observation that Wade realized that wherever he went, you were his sweet little shadow that kept him distracted. You had spoken to him barely a handful of times, yet you were always there to listen. You didn't care that he couldn't sit still or that he quite literally never shut up. No, you—his silent but darling angel—laughed at his jokes and brought him fidget toys. Alternatively, he never pressured you to speak up or forced you (too far) outside of your comfort zone.

The mutual respect between you grew larger and more profound until you were practically attached at the hip, becoming an unofficial duo both in the field and not. He'd always feel like he didn't deserve you, but at this rate, you were practically all he had left.

Logic—along with everyone in your lives—said that you should hate each other's guts. Yet from the first moment you met, You both just made complete sense to each other. You didn't ask to see what he hid underneath his mask and he didn't ask why you bought your groceries at the shop by His and Blind Al's apartment even though it was 45 minutes away from your own place. Things were simple. Good, even. But they still weren't enough for either of you.

-

He thinks about you constantly.

Thinks about you so much that he finds himself googling 'Can a person be a hyperfixation?' and 'signs you've found your soulmate' at 3am. Yet as much as his feelings for you have grown, whatever you had felt in return seemed to have disappeared along with your presence in his life.

Now what little focus he had was slipping. All because you had pulled away.

He'd taken more than a few knives to the skull over his last several missions, but the target he'd been tracking all year had finally made a home of an unmarked grave. He should feel excited—or at least somewhat satisfied—but he just felt numb. It'd been weeks since he'd last heard from you, but that didn't stop him from feeling phantom buzzes from his phone or searching crowds for your lovely, angelic face.

He'd even stopped by your place a few times. He forced himself to knock before picking the locks and entering your home. His genuine feelings of concern and abandonment were replaced by a gnawing pit in his stomach when he realized that your cozy apartment had become sterilized and vacant. He stayed there, frozen in place, for far longer than he would ever care to admit.

Deep down he'd always known this would happen. He was a depraved fuck up at best, and nothing good ever stuck around for him. But he thought—no, he knew—you were different. Only then did Wade admit that he was obsessed, if not teetering on the edge of stalkerish. He knew this was a glaring sign that he should back off, but Deadpool is anything, he is a man of maximum effort.

So he started waiting. Hoping that maybe you'll miss his unending self-deprecation and come back for him.

-

You promised to keep your distance. Wade was a good, albeit complicated, man who deserved something better. Someone who completed him. Who matched his energy and didn't forge a friendship based on an act of failed reconnaissance.

You'd been clean and clear of anything regarding him for over a month and were finally feeling good enough to head back to your old apartment and turn in your keys.

If you hadn't stopped in the hallway to reread the text from your landlord stating to leave the keys on the kitchen counter, you would have never noticed the shiny metallic scratches around the lock. Your line of work ensured that you knew instantly that it'd been picked, but you still moved in closer for a better look.

Whoever had broken in was either too inexperienced to know how to cover their tracks or brazen enough not to care. Given that the apartment was tucked away on the sixth floor with a freshly posted 'for rent' sign on the door, you couldn't see why this would be a random attack. You'd kept to yourself while living here, and you didn't have any valuables your more shady friends could be searching for. These were the facts you told yourself as you slipped the keys back into your pocket and ignored how only the latter, more reckless possibility had your heart racing.

Your typical evening plans were pushed aside in favor of pulling the security camera footage and settling in for an unconventional movie night.

Most of the tape was mind-numbingly boring, but your eyes were glued to the screen nonetheless. Searching for any piece of evidence to confirm your suspicions. Just as tiredness began to seep its way into your shoulders, you spot him. Even if he wasn't wearing the suit, you'd recognize him just by the way he dances into frame and gives a sarcastic wave at the camera. Seeing Wade again—even just in video format—fills you with so much affection that how you managed to leave him alone this long feels like a damn miracle.

-

The day of your return was unnotable in every way.

The sky is blue, the weather is mild, and you'd been tailing your target since before sunrise.

The job you were currently working requires fast, efficient work with no loose ends left behind. It was perfect for you, but the payout was enough to catch the eye of every mercenary in the local area and beyond. This was something you were banking on—the perfect way to say "I'm sorry" and "let's start over" to Wade without showing up cryptically on his doorstep.

The target pulls into a parking garage, and you know instantly that this is the other opportunity you've been hoping for. You follow them inside and park a few spaces away. You wait for them to walk in view of your rear view mirror before exiting the car. Their pace is relaxed and unalert as you fall in step with them—exactly how you prefer it—which giving you the green light to move in.

Your footfalls are silent as you close the small distance between you, weapon in hand. Hyperfocused and only a step behind them, you nearly run square into their back when they suddenly freeze and gasp.

"I'm on a tight schedule and you know what you did, so let's just cut to the chase, K?"

A second later, a blade lodges through their chest. As it retreats, their body falls limply to the ground, leaving your position completely exposed. Wade's eyes land on you instantly, and the way the whites of his mask widen has something in your chest growing tight.

"Hey," you stutter, thrown off guard by his sudden appearance. Though with everything you know about him, a part of you honestly should have prepared better for this.

"For what it's worth, I've been super busy since you decided to up and abandon me. So busy that I've only had time to cry twice in the last twelve hours," he says, slipping his katana back into place with precision.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're gonna have to do better than that to get back into my good graces, sugar plum."

His humor remains as unwavering as always, but the edge to his usually carefree voice betrays a glimpse of his inner workings. If it hadn't been obvious before, you know now, without any doubt, that your attempt to protect his feelings had only done the opposite.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Wade."

"Well, you failed spectacularly!" He deadpans.

You breathe in sharply and take a cautious step closer to him as his hands rise to rest on his hips. "I like you, you know. Which for me is…a lot."

You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he speaks. As if he's holding back his true feelings for once.

"It took me far too long to admit it to myself, but I like you too, Wade." He's shockingly quiet as you speak, and the silence drags on for several seconds afterward.

"Do you maybe… like like me?" He asks in a soft voice that has you gearing up for his inevitable teasing. You sigh, and he takes up a pose that says he's the picture of innocence. Yeah right.

"Against my better judgment, yes."

His hands fly to his face, and he gasps so loud you wonder if your sliced-and-diced target had suddenly come back to life.

"You're telling me—mouthy merc Wade Winston Wilson—that I created such a stirring in that-" his eyes flash downwards before rising back to yours "great chest of yours that the only way you knew how to deal with it was to ghost me like fucking Casper?!"

Your half baked plan honestly sounds stupid when you hear it out loud, but he's undoubtedly right.

You nod in a mix of amusement and defeat, which sends his fists flying into the air.

"YES!" He screams "I'm finally getting my third-act-confession-in-a-hallmark-channel-romance-movie moment! Take that you ableist studio execs!"

You roll your eyes, refusing to believe you're letting his weird quips charm you once again.

"I'm sorry Wade, truly," you say.

Guilt sets in then. While you'll probably always think he deserves better—or at least something different—than what you can give him, you've realized that breaking his heart by leaving hurt you both more than whatever may or may not happen if you let your feelings be known.

You awkwardly poke the stiffening body of your target with the toe of your boot before you take a page out of Wade's book and finally bite the bullet.

"You stole my kill, and that means you owe me dinner," You say with a surprisingly playful air.

Wade shrugs, not missing a beat as he counters you.

"I mean, 'stole' doesn't really apply when it was full on open season for this hit, and you just happened to be too slow."

"Wade, do you want to take me out or not?" You bite back.

"Hold your horses there Dr. House, yes I do!"

"Good." You nod.

"Good?" He questions with mock offense. "That's all you have to say when a handsome man such as I is about to take you out for a candle lit date at the third finest Pizza Hut in the city? I even offered to pay with the dirty money from my most recent kill!" He exclaims, eying the increasingly pale body between of you.

"I should stayed away," you mutter half jokingly under your breath as you turn to leave, knowing that he'd follow.

"What was that, pookie?" He asks, using his gloved hand to cup his ear dramatically as he crosses the distance between you with flourish.

You roll your eyes as he falls in step with you, though it doesn't go unnoticed by the usually unobservant mercenary.

"I saw that, sugarplum," he croons. You snort out an exasperated laugh and nearly repeat your previous eye roll just to stir the pot a little more.

"I know you're probably not as well versed in this whole enemies to lovers, will-they-won't-they dating thing, but I've read enough fanfiction to know that this whole dark and brooding thing you've got going on is supposed to be reserved for others, not you're darling love interest."

"I'm glad that you admit that I'm the main character," You laugh. Wade's eyes widen as he realizes the mistake he's made. Yet instead of pressing the issue, he slips his phone out of his spandex suit—where it's kept is something you don't care to think about—and calls in the kill.

You continue on walking, heading nowhere in particular. You’re just happy to have Wade by your side once again. The call comes to an end quickly, the phone disappears once more, and he loops one of his strong arms around your shoulders.

"So, pookie, about that dinner date…"

You raise your eyebrows instantly, recognizing that his tone of voice as the one he uses right before dropping bombshells.

"The money is on a thirty six hour hold—a surprisingly formal rule given our shady choice of gig—so would you mind paying? I'd tell you I'd pay you back but we both know I won't." He smiles innocently.

You scoff, only for a soft smile to bloom on your own face.

"You better sweep me off my feet," you tease, wrapping your own arm around him as you both make your way through the busy city streets. Cars race by and neon lights flicker overhead, reflecting in the puddles left by the afternoon rain.

He shoots you a sideways grin from beneath his mask, "Sweep you off your feet? That sounds like soooo much work. I'll just stick to charming you with my usual irresistible appeal instead."

You snort sarcastically. "irresistible appeal? You mean being an insufferable pain who always leaves me behind to clean up your messes?"

You turn the corner, arriving at the restaurant Wade had promised. You'd been here together before, though usually after a job gone wrong, and it had become your go-to hideout whenever your paths crossed.

Sliding into your usual booth, you lean back against the cracking vinyl and cross your arms, almost amused by the situation.

"You stuck me with the bill, so you better order something cheap," you joke as he eyes the menu.

Wade leans forward, his elbows resting on the table beside his now discarded red and black mask.

"Best I can do is treat you to dessert if you behave," He smirks, very much not talking about baked goods or confectionery.

You narrow your eyes at him, though he sees the playful spark swimming beneath them.

"Behave? That's rich coming from you. I'll be lucky if you don't have a knife buried in your head by the time the food comes out." He grins, a flash of mischief dancing across his eyes.

"What can I say? I like to make life exciting. Besides, we can't all be dark and brooding on the sidelines, now can we?"

You roll your eyes before looking back at the menu, an action that causes his smile to grow bigger.

The familiar heavy but playful energy between you has returned as if the past weeks had never happened. Things are comfortable, if not easy. It's the kind of rhythm you and Wade always fall into, no matter how long you spent apart.

From across the booth you see Wade's head fall to the side, his eyes examining you closely.

"What?" You ask, your eyes staying on the menu but not really looking at it.

"You seem…excited. Well, as excited as you can get, really." He says in a surprisingly soft tone.

"Me? Excited? Never."

"Perhaps then you just missed this sexy face? You wouldn't be the first…" he smirks as he looks at you with annoyingly innocent eyes.

"Or perhaps I'm waiting on the other shoe to drop. It seems like every time we're together, one of us is getting shot at or double-crossed. I wouldn't call that particularly exciting." You counter, though you know he's got you pinned.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning back in his seat. "Come on, Wednesday Adams, admit it—You. Missed. Me."

You glance up at him, meeting his gaze. There was something disarming about the way he looked at you, like you weren't just two messed up mercenaries thrown into the same mess over and over again. Like there was something more to be had than all your teasing and banter. And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You had missed him.

"I missed this place, not you," you deflect, though your smile betrays you.

"You missed this shithole?" he replies, eyes twinkling. "I knew your standards were low—I mean you are on a date with me after all—but holy fuck."

You shake your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles up. "Hey! This isn't a date!"

He leaned in, his voice dropping lower as it fills with that infuriating charm he's known for. "Oh, don't you worry pookie. This is just the first step in my plan to date the hell outta you."

For a moment you sit there, the noise of the restaurant fading as your eyes lock with his wild ones. A truth hangs between you—no matter how many times you tried to downplay it, there was an undeniable electricity that always sparked between you. Something crazy and unpredictable, not unlike your daily lives.

You shake your head. "If it's a date, then you're paying," you say, finally breaking the tension with a happy smirk.

"Fine," he says with a huff, drawing out the last syllable as he leans back in his seat. "But next time, you're buying the drinks."

"Next time?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

"Oh, you know there's always going to be a next time," His eyes gleam as you let out a soft laugh, glancing at him with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"You're maddening, you know that?" You say, though there's no bite behind your words.

He gasps dramatically once more. "Is this the part of the movie where you say I drive you crazy before we go back to my place and have a heated makeout session?!"

For a moment you just watch him, eyebrows furrowed but a lazy smile hanging on your lips. The noise of the restaurant and the city beyond it fades into the background. It was almost funny how you and Wade always ended up back here, side by side, cracking jokes and deflecting feelings you both refused to admit you had.

Yet as his hand drops onto the table it brushes softly against yours, and you can't imagine a world in which you pull away. He's incessant, annoying, exasperating, along with a million other words, but he's here with you despite everything. A gesture that proves that maybe a bit of humor is exactly what you are missing from your life.

[astarionancuntnin]

Dancing on the Edge of a Knife

summary: ever since his ascension, Malva was convinced that Astarion was the only person who could understand her every twisted desire. well, almost. there are some things she still keeps to herself, he simply wouldn't understand this part of her, the one who dances on the very edge of her knife.

or Ascended Astarion learns how real punishments work

rating: E

word count: 2.8k

pairing: ascended astarion x consort malva (oc, evil!sorcerer!tav)

cw: 18+. KNIFE PLAY (big warning cause the whole fic will turn around this specific one), smut, post-game setting a few years later, mention of violence/murder, mentions of and actual self-harm, slight voyeurism, shared sensations, blood play, bdsm relationship (Master/Pet, punishment), teasing, overstimulation, orgasm denial. full list on ao3

a/n: i just dont pick where the inspo comes from but malva lives rent free in my head

a/n2: decided to make the stories about malva and astarion into a series, they can be read independently but if you wanna read the first one featuring lotsa spanking, here it is (they also get to cum in that one)

read on ao3

or keep reading down below~

It was just another day of bloody business for Malva and her Master. 

Another party used as distraction; another life to take; another bloodshed.

Another reason to dive her pretty blade into the chest of yet another unfortunate soul.

She remembers back when Orin had mentioned her potential to join the ranks of the bhaalists, and of course, she would’ve; Malva’s talent to murder people came as naturally to her as her powers had, but the mere idea of being attached to any godly entity made Malva retch.

And Bhaal out of all of them? The same one who sent his minions to do his dirty work? Really, what was the point in becoming a God if you didn’t use that power for yourself?

No, Malva acted sinfully within her own code based on her own goals; no Gods or voices guiding her blade, only her inner bloodthirst and the knowledge that she was mightier than any other mortal crossing her path. Compared to other species, she was already considered immortal, but now, as a vampire? A spawn of the Vampire Ascendant, out of all of them? She might be even greater than the Gods themselves.

Even then, killing was just a job, something that needed to be done nevertheless, and knowing how much she had to do, she just decided to take pleasure in it. After all, the line between pleasure and pain had been blurry ever since Malva could remember, even at a young age.

Ever since her mentor had shown her how to master her powers.

“You will need to use your powers for the greater good,” he had said. “They come with responsibilities. Wield them to perfection so they serve you on every occasion. Those powers are a part of you.”

Obviously, she remembers thinking, they're what makes me better than the others.

“But you need to know that, as much good they can do, they can also harm, and to fully understand this, you'll need to feel them yourself.” 

She recalls how he had grabbed her arm and inflicted a benign version of a lighting spell on her, just to show her how it would feel to receive it — the impact of it, even on a smaller scale.

“Now, every time you inflict this pain on someone, you'll carry the weight of it as if you felt it yourself.”

He couldn't have been as right and wrong at the same time.

Yes — the spark lighting up her skin had burned, and she had flinched and pulled her arm back the second the shock hit her. 

But what a delectable sensation it had been.

How the burn had tingled and resonated through her entire body, lingering long after, introducing her to a new world of possibilities, one she hadn't even considered.

She had spent the rest of her life chasing that feeling.

Using her powers on herself as she was still learning them, gradually increasing the intensity as she became numb to the minor pain to still feel the hurt but relishing the burn of the wound, that sweet tingle rippling on her skin.

Venturing into taverns as she grew older, looking for easy strangers with whom to spend the night to easily discard them once morning came, until one night led to her first kill, and instead of fear she had felt a thrill. The same one as her self-inflicted burns.

Picking up dangerous bounties only to use her powers on others without holding back, see the light leave their eyes as she felt the blood from her own wounds drip from her body, smearing her pale skin.

A knife held at her throat, her life hanging by a thread — the burn of the blade penetrating her skin even better than any cock could ever feel.

The rush of heightened pleasure that clouded her mind for those brief moments was better than any sketchy potion on the market, and yet, the conclusion always turned out the same.

This rush was short-lived. 

Every kill was done with the next one already in mind.

Pain was her pleasure, and no one had understood that about her in the past. She even led herself to believe that Astarion didn't understand how far her limits went. Believing he couldn't satisfy all of her needs — and he would go far; spank her hard, choke her, bite her — all things she adored, but there was still something… missing. 

Something she would just need to take care of by herself.

So that night, a night that felt as meaningless as the others — or that should’ve been — she let her mind wander after disposing of this nuisance of a man. With her spirit  clouded with lust from the blood now warming her veins, she eyed her dagger in her hand with a different intention.

Her dark, yet see-through long dress didn’t allow for under clothing — like most of her other dresses, she had noticed — and the skirt, which split in the middle only to be covered by a thin layer of fabric, made it easy for her to pull the slit of her skirt aside and slide the blade of her knife along her plump thigh.

The tip just ghosted over her skin at first, teasing herself with the weapon that had taken so many lives already. A shiver ran down her back at the promise of what was to come — finally, feeling somewhat alive once again — getting wet from the mere memories of the last time she had touched herself like so.

The blood of her previous victim still coating the blade as she pushed it deeper, breaking into her skin — just enough to draw blood and for her breathing to turn into whimpers.

Just enough to feel that same burn, that pain that turned into pleasure so quickly for her.

She had thought she had been subtle, that her time away wouldn't cause Astarion to come looking for her. Afterall, the kill had taken her mere seconds, she still had plenty of time to take care of herself and go back to her Master. She could always use the excuse that he had been a difficult target — either way, she’d come up with something.

Little did she know, he had felt it. 

Their connection was greater than with his regular spawns; he was able to feel any sensation she felt as well as accessing her mind at any time — not that she knew about the former — and the second that knife slid across her skin, Astarion had known.

The pain in the inside of her thigh, this familiar burn; one he recognized instantly.

Oh, and he ran to find her, expecting the worst, only to find her with her legs spread open, leaning against the wall of the hallway with a body at her feet, and the hilt of her knife sliding across her wet slit, with sinful moans escaping her luscious lips.

He couldn’t say he was surprised at the sight, this was Malva after all, the woman who took a malicious pleasure in the murders she committed — ones she never questioned. The same woman who smiled as she took each and every of his punishments.

And yet, that was the last thing he expected to see when he ran for her.

So here he stood, watching as she pleasured herself with the soiled weapon she had visibly used on the corpse lying nearby, her other hand holding back the fabric of her dress as leaned back against the wall, her chest heaving as her pleasure overtook her.

Worry aside, he was now fixated on her every move. Watching, learning, so he could use it on her later. This was just one more thing to add to his library of possibilities when it came to her.

What was unacceptable was how she took those liberties without involving him, how she so easily broke those chains, and dismissed his authority.

Not only that, but she had been cutting herself — cutting him. 

He only had himself to blame, after all he had never made her aware of this part of their connection, but now the consequences of his actions had caught up to him. The same cuts he remembered suffering, that made him bleed out to near unconsciousness years ago, and all because of their connection, he was reliving these moments all over again. 

No, no, this time was different — this time he was in control, he had a say in how this would go. If his consort wanted to play, he would play along.

He leaned back and away from her eyesight, a flicker of malice flashed in his ruby eyes as he opened his mind to reach out to hers.

“Enjoying yourself, pet?”

He smirked when he heard the clink of her dagger as it fell to the floor.

“Master?” She answered back through their connection. “I was just finishing up with this—”

“Oh no, dearest, you are far from done.” He cut her off. “Pick that dagger up, and cut through your other thigh, the same way you did the other.”

She briefly remained silent as she collected her thoughts, “How did you…”

“The dagger, pet.”

“Y– Yes, sir.”

He felt the ghost of the blade over his own thigh at the same time he heard her breathy moans echo in the hallway. 

He didn’t expect the vivid flashes of his past coming back to him, the burn of the scars in his back searing through his skin. He was all powerful now, this was long in the past, why was he still affected?

“Enough, pet.”

He needed to change his approach, no matter what, Malva was going to inflict this pain onto herself. He just needed to control it — make it feel good — for both of them.

He closed his eyes, banishing the remaining memories of his past to conjure the image of his consort instead.

“Take the hilt of your dagger and smear it with your blood.”

He imagined her in her long-sleeved black dress — the one he had picked for the night, with the embroidered red dragons partly covering her chest, matching his own ensemble — legs apart and cunt exposed with her dark blood slowly dripping from her thighs getting smeared over her skin as she ran the hilt of her weapon across it, coating it in her crimson.

“Now, guide it towards your slit, but don’t push it into you.” he paused, giving her time to follow his instructions, “And up to your clit. There, good girl. You’re gonna be rubbing yourself with it until I tell you to stop.”

He sensed a hint of doubt from her when she remained unmoving, “Do you not trust me, pet?”

“I… I simply didn't expect this from you.”

“Are you not glad I’m making the effort to keep your days exciting?”She bit her lip, remembering her dread of the previous dull days, “Yes, Sir.’

“Good, then close your eyes, and start rubbing that dagger over yourself.”

He heard her loud sigh before she finally let the bloody weapon touch her sensitive spot, allowing himself to feel her pleasure in his groin as she made it twirl and slide over it.

He let his head fall back against the wall as the sensation took place between his legs, only taking in the feeling temporarily before he shot his eyes open, ready to take the matter in his hands.

With her eyes still closed, Malva didn’t see Astarion approach her. She didn't feel the weight of his gaze as he stared her down like prey. But she did hear the pounding of his heartbeat against his chest as he grew closer, and her throat bobbed in anticipation between two raspy breaths, the movement between her legs relentlessly accelerating, her juices mixing with her blood as she neared her collapse.

“Tell me,” he purred down their connection. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Really good.”

“Don’t shy away from details now, I want to know exactly how you feel, dear.”

“The cuts… they burn deliciously, Sir. I’ve— missed this feeling, ah—” She became increasingly sensitive as she rubbed her swollen bud ceaselessly. “How… my wounds feel as the blood rises to the surface. When the burn spreads through my thighs and between my legs, fuck—”

Her breath accelerated and her mind blanked out as she focused on the growing ache between her legs.

“I’m— I’m close,” she panted.

Astarion might have to learn more about his dark consort after tonight, but if there was one thing he knew without a doubt, it was the clear signs of her collapse. With her head thrown back, her body messily leaning against the wall as her legs quivered from the excessive stimulation, and her pace getting sloppier as she was reaching her climax, he knew exactly how long until she reached the edge. Some time, right about…

Now.

“Stop,” he finally spoke up as he stood in front of her.

“What?!” She exclaimed, shooting her eyes open as she lifted her head back up, staring right into his eyes.

“Drop the knife, now.”

Reluctantly, Malva plunged her blade into the luxurious carpet, grunting as she did so. 

“Still feeling good, my dear?”

She shot him a frowning glare, chest heaving and lips parted as she panted.

“What do you think?!” She shouted. “I was so damned close– fuck!”

He snickered, stepping forward to meet her stare, “So you truly believe you deserve this? That you deserve more than what I've already allowed you, when you’ve been touching yourself behind my back?”

She lifted her head and without breaking eye contact, retorted with a growl, “You wouldn’t grasp how to please me, even if I showed you precisely how.”

He wouldn’t usually accept this behaviour from her, but this time around, he wanted to see how far he could take it.

“Is that so?” He smiled as he closed the gap between them, his stance hovering over her. “In all the years we've spent together, have I not proved you wrong already?” 

She backed into the wall as he pushed her against it, one hand caging her beneath him, while the other reached for his waist to pull out his signature dagger, bringing it up and pushing Malva's head upwards as he pressed the tip right under her chin.

“Do I need to prove my point again?” 

Her frown softened, “You seem to have underestimated me, my Lord.” 

Their lips were but a whisper apart, the threat of the blade restraining Malva in this position, leaving Astarion in complete control once again. All his consort could do in this position was talk back, something she was annoyingly well versed into.

“I'll have you know that it'll take me more than a few spankings to be truly satiated.”

He chuckled, “My beautiful, dark consort. I should've known you grew from the thorniest vines.”

His vision dropped from her eyes to her lips, trailing the tip of his dagger along her jaw and down her neck, stopping right at the valley between her breasts.

“Is this what you want?” He leaned his head above the crook of her neck, whispering roughly in her ear. “For me to slice you open and bleed you out, right here, in the middle of this hallway with our guests still waiting in the main room?” 

As he slid the blade down, partly slicing open the front of her dress, a faint line of blood appeared in its wake. The knife travelled down her chest, just past her navel, where it paused, leaving the dress only partially cut through.

He brought the blade back up with the same agonising pace, resting it right over her breast, barely pushing against her to pierce the skin, “Answer me, pet.”

Malva was already lost in the feeling of the blade hovering right above her heart, the word barely slipping between her lips as she held in her breath, one she kept forgetting wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Yes.”

He pressed deeper into her, just enough for the blade to penetrate her supple skin, pushing a deeper moan out of her, “And do you think you deserve it?”

“Y– Yes, Master.”

“Mmh…” He let his knife slide back down where her pleasure had accumulated, pressing its flat side against her glistening cunt, just enough for her to believe in the promise of what would come… 

Only to remove it completely right after, licking her blood and juices off from his weapon before pushing himself off the wall.

Malva blinked as her breathing came back to her, watching as her Master walked away from her, leaving her in an even messier state than he found her in.

“Maybe next time I’ll believe you.” He made sure to pick up the blade she had thrown down earlier as well, “You'll have to use your powers to carry out your tasks from now on, I’m sure you’ll manage though. After all, I can't trust you to carry around a blade if you risk to hurt yourself, can I? It would be unwise on my part, I’m sure you understand.”

Without knowing it, his consort had opened up a whole world of possibilities for him, and it all started with her first, real, punishment.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated, I love reading your feedback! <3 (tag list will be in the comments moving forward!)

[occudo]

An incomplete list of TMA fics I adore

-beacuse of this ask

(If you liked the fics I previously recommended/made fanart for, I think you'll gonna like these as well, but you know, read the tags, know what you are going into)

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey @cirrus-grey

Time Travel Fix-it! Slow burn! So good! So much sass from future!Jon- I doubt I have to introduce anyone this amazing author, but if you somehow missed them till now, this is your time! I highly recommend all of their other fics as well, for example one of a more recent one, The Stranger I Know Best is also a lovely read.

enthralling by Prim_the_Amazing @primtheamazing

Vampire!Martin!! I have no words of how much I love this concept, this story, everything about this. I think I'm going to repeat myself through this list, but I also recommend everything else they've written!

to fill... my heart with music? by godshaper @godshaper so their Martin and Jon design are different from mine, also they made a way better art for this- but still, I wanted to include this really good fic in this list.

Do It All Anew by inkfingers_mcgee or @crit20art

You know the feeling when you read a book that makes you cry, and after that you recommend it to your friend? Well- there is no reason I mentioned this, I'm just so normal about this fic. Or any other fic from inkfingers_mcgee... like Strange Manner of what I made another fanart way back. Also, check out their art!

Anyway, here is Aamal- she is not going to cause emotional damage.

And they were sidekicks (oh my god, they were sidekicks) by arthureameslove @arthureameslove

A lighthearted series where Jon and Martin are sidekicks of supervillains- it's just a really fun fic, also recommend everyting from this author - I previously draw fanart here for an other fic of theirs Like a Lighthouse, Call Me Home

neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well by saintbleeding @saintbleeding

To quote the aurthour: "Post-divorce Jon and Martin in a wedding-based romcom" It's such a comfort read, also has a Tim/Sasha wedding, and lots of cameos! I realised most of these authors I made fanarts for before- like this one for some kind of miraculous bind, this one is oneshot and a bit more serious in tone.

Give Me the Words by rakel @rakel-on-ao3

"Jon and Martin try to make the most of a bad situation in the Scottish Highlands. The situation is worse than they realised." You know that one post about wanting to write PWP, but it keeps turning into character study? Well, this one comes to my mind each time I see that.

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy @transgenderboobs

So what would have happened if instead of the cot (tm), Jon offered Martin his own flat to stay? There is no way it's going to change their relationship, right? Such a good read, if you want some fluff, I highly recommend it!

Lucky Stars by magnetarmadda @magnetarmadda

Martin has a lovely family (except his mother) but still, he needs a fake boyfriend, and Jon comes to the rescue. It's one of the first fics I remember reading after I finished the series. It is such a comfort read of mine~

(+enjoy a rare tall Jon from me)

There are so many more fics that also deserve the spotlight, these are just the ones I read multiple times and/or didn't made fanarts for before. If you find something here you like, give them some love! Kudos and comments! They deserve it. (Also, just an extra disclamier some of these are PWP or rated T- just mind the tags)

I tried to link and tag everything, I hope it works.

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[moonchild1]

jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬  DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it? 

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and  you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you. 

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury. 

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money. 

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need. 

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man. 

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

 ↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

aaron hotchner x jacks nanny/babysitter

she’s got a crazy ex that stalked and threatened her so she moved far away to live a simple, under the radar life and started working for hotch. he knows her situation and does his best to look out for her, maybe she’s like a live in nanny ? neither of them is bold enough to make a move first until her ex finds her and hotch and the team race to save her. ends with love confessions and all the sappy stuff

could be a one shot or a short lil series i’m sure whatever you write will be amazing !

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨-𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size babysitter!reader

— summary: your new life as a live-in nanny was wonderful, and with your dark past behind you, there was nothing that could ruin this. but as they say, what goes around comes around.

— warnings: heavily detailed violence BEWARE, surprisingly light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, physical hurt/comfort, mutual pining, abusive ex's :[, guns, and a horribly written action/fight scene (forgive me).

— wc: 1965

⋆ a/n: okay this is a heavy fic so beware once more, but aside from that this takes a fully turn! i don't really have anything else to say besides enjoy!

masterlist | AO3

“Backpack? Check. Lunchbox? Check. Shoes are tied? Check.” 

You placed your hands on your hips triumphantly, a proud smile on your face as you examined the little boy. 

Being a live-in nanny came with being organizational and making sure that Jack was ready for school everyday without fail. It wasn’t like Aaron was super strict on you; he understands when you have your days where things are a bit out of place, but honestly it was a personal preference, and totally not because you have a big fat crush on the FBI agent.

You had been very skeptical about your babysitting position at first because of your ex who was absolutely bat shit crazy. It was a situation you had barely escaped from, and it had taken almost everything in you to get where you were now, so you were a little afraid of men in general. But Aaron was kind, and welcoming, and fatherly, someone that you felt safe with.

And then, you fell in love.

It had scared the shit out of you of course, but now it was a feeling that you welcomed with open arms, even if you couldn’t act on it. 

Your phone began to ring as you searched for the car keys, the contact name read ‘Aaron <3’.

“Morning!” You greeted with a smile as you picked up. “Good morning. How are you guys?” The older man asked. “We're doing just fine, as always,” You successfully found the keys. “How are things?” You knew better than to ask how he was, because if you had the kind of job that he did, there was no way you could answer positively. 

“We pretty much have everything we need, so we’ll probably be able to wrap this case up early.” 

“Oh Aaron, that's great!” You cheer happily and make your way back to where Jack was waiting for you. “You ready to go, little man?” Jack looks up at you from his toys. “Is that daddy on the phone?”

“Yeah buddy, you wanna say hi?” 

“Yes!” Jack’s answer was full of excitement, and you can’t help but smile. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, it looks like I’m handing you over.” You swear you could hear Aaron chuckle.

Yeah, this was a life that you could get used to.

Having the house to yourself was weird.

With Jack away at his aunt’s for the weekend, it was strangely quiet due to the emptiness of the child’s presence. You suppose you’re grateful for the break even though taking care of Jack really isn’t as tiring as one might think. 

Despite Aaron rarely being home, he’s managed to raise the boy well when he could, and it’s honestly very admirable. It’s one of the many things that made you fall in love with him. You gaze down into the wine glass at the thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ugh, why does love make you such a loser?

Your bashful train of thought was stopped by a suspicious thump coming from the back of the house. Your smile dropped and a feeling of anxiety and worry twisted in your gut as you grabbed your phone that was lying on the kitchen counter.

You’re quick to dial Aaron’s number and your fingernail finds itself in your mouth as you chew on it anxiously. It’s an old habit, one that you had picked up back in your old relationship.

“Hello?” Rasped Aaron. 

You knew he had just recently flown in from wherever he was because you could hear the foot traffic of everyone grabbing their luggage from the plane’s storage.

“Hey,” Your greeting was nervous and it was something that Aaron easily picked up on. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asks with a furrowed brow. “Yeah, just um - I’m just hearing some weird things so I just wanted to know when you think you might be getting home.” I miss you.

“Honey what type of weird things?” Before you were able to answer, there was a loud crashing sound. You instantly dropped to the floor to hide behind the counter; you cradled the phone to your ear, “Okay uh - change of claim,” You attempted to joke. “Someone is most definitely in the house.”

Aaron tries not to panic at the way his insides turn cold, “You remember what to do, right?” He asks with a hardened voice. You gulp, stretching slightly to peer over the marble. You stare out into the darkness and a frightened shiver shoots up your spine. 

“Get to your room and enter the safe.” You reiterated what he had told you almost a year ago when you had first moved in. You’ve never shot a gun before but tonight might be the night where you learn how too.

“That’s right, and do you remember the code?” 

As you went to answer him, you were snatched up by your hair and a scream rang out and into the phone. Even though you weren’t on speaker the others that were currently standing outside with Aaron could hear it.

Aaron desperately calls out your name, and with your silence he takes off without any explanation, but his team knows to follow close behind.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing since you tried to leave me?!”

You cried out as another blow was delivered to your gut but a heavy boot. Your lungs burned and there were tears streaming down your face. He had pulled you so hard over the counter that it made your scalp burn, a blistering headache beginning to form at the base of your skull.

“Fuck you!” You spat as you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

There was a fine line between anger and fear, and this was one of those moments where they blend together. If you ended up dying tonight, at least you didn’t go down in vain.

This time he punched you in the face before snatching you up by your arms. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, a bruise already developing near your eye. “Why’d you leave me, huh?! We had a good thing going and you just… you just ruined it!”

“I didn’t ruin shit asshole!” You screamed and pushed at him but it was no use. “We were gonna get married but you… but you wanted to play house with an old man, really?!”

“You’ve been watching me.” You said in disbelief. It made your stomach twist in nausea and horror at the thought of him watching Jack, what he could’ve done to him. You had actively put the man you loved kid in danger and it devastated you.

“I had no choice!”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Put your hands where I can see them.” Aaron’s voice rang out throughout the house.

Before you knew it you were spun around with a gun to your head, his arm locked against your neck, faintly strangling you.

“Aaron!” You called out in relief, but it turned into a grunt as you tugged further into your ex’s chest.

Aaron’s gun was raised steadily, his eyes focused on your attacker, but he doesn’t hesitate to cast you a reassuring look. When he sees your bloody and bruised face his jaw tightens, the vein in his neck popping and visible through his skin.

“Boyfriend to the rescue, huh?” Your ex sneers into your cheek. You shudder. 

“Put the gun down.” Aaron continues to coax, and out the corner of your eye you can see Morgan approaching through the darkness. 

“Why do you want to save this slut? Don’t tell me you’ve already -” A shot rings out into the fair followed by a scream of pain.

Your ex collapses to the ground, cradling the gunshot wound in his knee as blood spills through his fingers. Aaron was the one that pulled the trigger and Morgan is already in the kitchen by the time he’s tugging you away and into his arms.

“Oh God.” You finally cried. “You came, you came…” His arms are wound tightly around you, purposefully tucking your face into his chest. “I’m here, I’m here.” He shushes and rocks you side to side in order to try and lull you.

Aaron – softly – orders you to sit down while he cleans up the blood when the rest of the team has already left.

You can’t help but watch him from where you’re sitting on the couch with his sleeves of his white button up rolled up and his hands gloved. “I’m sorry.” You decide to say, because you really were. “I’m sorry for everything.” There was so much more you wanted to say, but you felt your throat tighten with unshed tears.

“No, don’t apologize.” He says softly, abandoning the rag that he was using to scrub up said blood. “No Aaron you don’t understand. I put you and Jack in danger because of my bullshit and I thought that I had put it all behind me and I don’t -” 

“Stop.” It’s a bit firmer this time. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I offered you to live with me and my son. Nothing that has occurred tonight has swayed my trust or opinion about you, you know that, right?”

“Right.” His hand holds your cheek and strokes the soft skin of it. “Good.”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips before peering back into his eyes, “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I promise this isn’t like a trauma bond thing. I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve worked for you and I didn’t want to tell you because I have nowhere else to go if you say no. Plus,” You sigh, “I just don’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable for you.”

“You could never do that, feelings reciprocated or not.” He reassures.

“Well are they?”

He grins at your question, “I’d be an idiot not to feel the same way.” You laugh and he leans forward to join your lips together.

A warm feeling spreads in your gut and you knew that this is what love was supposed to feel like.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[sytoran]

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒 || mdg pt. 5

timelines and lifelines have torn you and natasha apart, but the two of you are bound by the child you have created. though subjected to earth, loki, god of mischief, dangles the possibility of a future with natasha by making you a god.

pairing: goddess!natasha x mortal!reader (not for long)

note: this is the 5th installment to the goddess!nat universe, as per the 4k celebration! please read the other parts first if you haven't already. this part contains depictions of violence. this series is 18+ only.

word count: 1.8k

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

Previously…

Your relationship with the Goddess of Lust, Natasha Romanoff, comes to a screeching halt. Torn apart by timelines and lifelines, you’re not coping well, and neither is Natasha — especially when she finds out she’s pregnant with your child.

On the other side of the universe, Loki, God of Mischief, breaks into your apartment to offer you a deal. Worse still, he eats your leftover pizza.

Now…

When you come back to consciousness, you feel like you’re floating. Not in the whimsical, psychedelic cocaine-induced way, but in the Help-I’m-Physically-Suspended-In-The-Air way. 

And it is true, much to your demise, because despite the fruitful hours of work spent in the gym, your arms and back can’t quite handle the excruciating pain of being strung taut like a rope.

Against the will of every screaming cell in your existence for you to fall the fuck back asleep, you forcefully sit up and open your eyes.

It takes about two seconds for the headache-worthy hangover to sink in, and three seconds for you to regret every godforsaken decision you had made the night prior.

Last night- oh, fuck. Last Friday night. 

(No, this isn’t going to entail a radio pop song with a curly black-haired Katy Perry, because the only curly black-haired one in this story is the God of Mischief himself. Both equally as sassy, but expounding on that would fracture the entirety of the space-time continuum.)

“Oh, you’re awake.” 

Speaking of the devil (quite literally), Loki forces you to bring your blurry gaze up to the cocky expression painting his angular face.

“Fuck you,” you spit, dry and hoarse, memories surging through your teetering consciousness. All you were aware of was the mother of your problems was the man himself.

Now, you were suspended like a puppet in your very own living room, strings of golden magic encircling your body, keeping you stretched to the edge of insurmountable agony.

“Funny,” Loki says dryly, eyes raking over your pathetic form. “That’s exactly what you said last night that put you in this position.”

You would’ve laughed, truly, if not for the ache in your ribs and your back and your– you get the point. “You offered me a proposition,” you comment, licking your cracked lips with distaste. 

“And you said ‘fuck you’ and threw up three bottles worth of alcohol on my ridiculously expensive snake-scaled shoes before promptly passing out from your hissy fit of a heartbreak.”

“Deserved.”

“I will hang you upside down.”

You roll your eyes – however much you can roll them in this position. “You gave me an offer. That means that I had a say in this, and I certainly did not consent to take part in this BDSM-worthy fantasy of yours.”

Loki scoffs at this, shifting in his seat. Your seat, actually, his black robes draped over your armchair like it belonged to him. 

“My sex life is none of your business, and more than often entails men,” Loki begins, putting a finger up. “The only reason I’m taking interest in a hopelessly lovesick woman-lover is because you have something that I want.”

You exhale roughly, lungs and ribs screaming in protest. You weren’t of a godly status by any means, but based on his identity and the fact that a God was lurking around Earth, you were competent enough to figure out what he wanted.

“You wanna get back to the land of the Gods,” you state, eyes narrowing in seriousness. “Like me, you’ve done some shit that made SHIELD put a target on your back. Except it’s ten times worse, considering you’re a God. That’s why you’re here. What you want is connections, because I have – I had – a relationship with Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha.

It pains you, to even put it in the past tense, that what you had with Natasha would only ever be history.

“Oh wow,” Loki responds, acting shocked. “There’s actually more to you than this himbo attitude you exude.”

You don’t give him the pleasure of a response to his provoking, despite your incessant need to sucker-punch that face of his. But uncovering his plan has that layer of composure slipping, for a second, and you delight in it for what it’s worth.

"Put me down first," you say instead through gritted teeth, looking up with a ferocious glint in your eyes.

"Say yes first," Loki answers promptly, folding his arms over his chest with a self-satisfied grin.

"Put me down and or I won't consider your absurd request," you try again, a wracking cough making your stomach lurch in pain.

"Funny you think you're in a position of power," the arrogant god taunts. "Who's to say I won't torture you to the brink of death until I get what I want?"

"...Who's to say I'd eventually break?" you say finally, narrowing your gaze. You sure as hell were scared as fuck, but you had to survive. "Threats only work on people who've got something to lose. I'm forbidden from ever seeing the love of my life again – I've got nothing to lose, y'know? No amount of torture will get you what you want."

Your little speech of sorts, delivered with an unwavering tone despite the pain coursing through your body, plays out perfectly. Loki's gaze is unreadable as he contemplates upon your counter-proposition.

Unceremoniously, you're dropped to the ground, hitting reality with a grunt of pain. “Shit,” you wheeze, clutching at your ribs with sore wrists. “Warn a girl, man.”

Loki waves you off dismissively. “The pain won’t matter anymore.”

“Wait,” you struggle to say, reaching out to nothingness as the man closes his eyes and raises his hands to the lands you once roamed.

It’s only then that you realise you’re surrounded by candles, so many candles. You’re in the center of some kind of ritual board, and what you assume are ‘offerings’ circle you.

From skulls to black flames, you know something is wrong. Very wrong. Loki is muttering incantations under his breath, a language beyond your human tongue, and the pressure in your room rises to an extent that forces you downwards.

“What,” you ask, exhaling roughly against your cracked ribs. “What kind of God am I going to become?”

Your question goes unanswered, lost in the swirling black flames that surround you. Loki’s eyes open again, and this time they are completely black. He begins a chant, crafted from an inhuman tongue, a language you’d never heard before.

That’s when the pain starts.

You scream, brain waves throbbing, a loud ringing sound echoing in your ears. Psychedelia takes over your conscience, producing images all around you, dark and distorted and everything you thought you’d buried.

“ибяѓюгэю юдякиэҁ, эиѫч ҩ рэд.”

Unbridled darkness, enemy of peace.

Natasha’s face is at the forefront of your mind, unblemished and happy and everything you’d ever wanted. You reach out, spluttering and breathless, trying to grasp that wistful memory like it’d materialize in front of you, like she could ever be yours.

“бцэт юҩщи ҩцядрҩи дю ғдг ҩця ҩиэҁ.”

Put down your weapons and fall to your knees.

Her face gets shattered into smithereens, scattered throughout the dark swirls of your mind, overtaken by shadows. Horrifying screams and flashes of a graveyard overwhelm you, and you yell through the misery for the love of your life.

“тҩ фэн тнэ юэҁѓяэ ҩғ џэиəэдисэ lə'”

To quench the desires of vengeance and rage.

Fury slugs through you, as you crawl away from cold hands that pull you back. “No!” You yell, but your voice is not yours anymore. The only thing to describe what you feel is chaos, darkness creeping in from the shadows, a slithering worm into your ear, a rotting carcass and the stench of carrion.

“ҩҁэ бҩиэҁ сдҁт ҩғ ҁсчнэҁ дию бдюэҁ.”

To see bones cast of scythes and blades.

The world snaps from reality, and you get flung into a different dimension. This place you’re trapped in is unfamiliar. You’re standing on a pile of dead human bodies, and there are ghouls and demons cheering your name. Blackness seeps through your veins, infiltrating your mindwires. 

“Revenge,” you spit, a devilish noise, and the cheers rise again.

You scream, as black wings tear through your back, ripping your collared shirt and spreading towards the sky. You launch from the depths of whatever hellhole that may have been, an inhuman screech echoing around the void, soaring towards the heavens in search of the one you’d lost.

“ҩѫэҩя, гдск-щѓəэю юэџѓг, эт ндҁ иғцяг”

Come forth, black-winged devil, let chaos unfurl

Upon descending on holy ground, unfamiliar faces intrude into your mind, prominent and unmistaken. Backlogged information begs its worth — God of Thunder. Goddess of Magic. God of Science. God of Justice. 

Then one word rings above all, high and mighty, and the darkness of your mind clears to reveal the people that had taken your Natasha away.

SHIELD.

“энҩгю яҩѫ нэг, ҩю ҩғнэ Циюэящҩягю.”

Behold from hell, Ruler of the Underworld.

Reality drives into your side like a thousand semi-trucks, bright and flashing, and then you’re back in your living room. You stay on the ground, all-fours, spluttering and gasping for air. 

Natasha.

Black wings flap behind you, resplendent and marvelous. Those had been real.

Arising from the ground, gone is the fear in your eyes. No more shreds of hope. No more sense of justice. Your blackened eyes burn red, searching for Loki. He stands in the corner of the room, and he seems so much smaller now, compared to you and your bloodlust.

“She was mine,” you growl, dangerously, fearsome and inhuman.

“She is yours,” The God of Mischief answers, marveling at his creation, for there was nothing that could stop you now.

***

“Rockabye baby on the treetop,” Natasha sings softly, a hand gently caressing the swell of her stomach. Colours sweep into galaxies as nightfall arrives, cloaking her land in gentle beauty.

“When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.” As if on cue, the wind gets a little chillier. Worry clouds Natasha’s face, edging in on her safe haven.

“When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall.” A holographic image of The God of Justice materializes before her eyes. It meant that it was an urgent message, from one God to the next.

“The SHIELD base is being attacked by an unknown force. We’re in grave danger,” Steve says, urgent and frantic. Screams and chaos can be heard in the background, and the God barely ducks a crashing marble pillar.

Natasha almost scoffs and switches off the image. The Gods had ignored her very existence ever since they had banished you, which was convenient in hiding her pregnancy, but at the same time rather annoying, now that they were begging for help.

That is, until Steve persisted further. “Natasha. This perpetrator has power beyond measure, dark power. It could even exceed Loki’s.”

“......What does this harbinger of hell want?” Natasha asks, steely eyes surveying her homeland.

“Natasha,” Steve repeats, weary eyes hooded with anxiety. “They’re looking for you.”

Down will come baby, cradle and fall.

so that happened.... any thoughts about our new and improved y/n, ruler of the underworld?? loki rlly stirred up a lot of shit huh

reblog or no y/n x natasha reunion

series m.list | main m.list | AO3

[alchemistc]

So about that deleted scene:

(shovel) talks - read on ao3

"So how many shovel talks should I be expecting?" Tommy asks, once the cake is mostly gone and Eddie and Christopher have wandered off. He tilts his voice low, so as not to draw the attention of Eddie's aunt, who has been eyeing him closely since he came back without any cake for Evan.

"Shovel what?" Evan's eyeing the cake.

"You could just have a bite," Tommy tempts, letting his grin go a little teasing, waving his fork a bit for emphasis, and Evan sighs. Pats his stomach, which Tommy is intimately familiar with, and very fond of, even if Evan wants to be a bit more cut.

"You're trying to deflect. Who gave you a shovel talk?"

"So far?" There's no reason to keep it going, really, except when Evan gets exasperated he huffs and puffs about it and Tommy - he doesn't not like his little attempts at dramatics.

Evan rolls his whole head in an effort to emphasize how much he's not in the mood, but his smile gives him away. It always does.

"Well, Hen and Karen just accosted me. Christopher's already promised anatomically improbable harm."

Evan, if anything, looks a little chuffed about that. Considering some of the things he's gleaned about his home life growing up, it's not all that strange.

Still, it doesn't hurt to ask. "They do know you're an adult, right?"

"Y-yeah, of course they know. It's - you know, that whole family thing you were so jealous of sometimes includes them being a little overbearing."

"Personally, I think they were just looking for some gossip."

Evan's face goes red. "Uh - that might be - that might be my fault. I'm... usually an over sharer."

"Is there something wrong with what I'm doing that you don't feel like over sharing?" It's a dirty ploy, but he's already over invested in this, in them. He wants to weasel a bit of praise out of Evan, even though he hasn't exactly been shy about it to this point at all.

Evan's face does something - a series of tiny expressions he'd have been hard pressed to catch if he weren't staring so closely - before he kicks at Tommy's foot under the table. "You're teasing me again."

Tommy doesn't hide his grin, even as he shovels his fork around the plate to get the last of the frosting off. "Can you blame me?"

Evan's blush is deep deep pink, but he still bites his tongue, tilts his head, tips his foot so that he can slide his toes around Tommy's ankle. He really, really wasn't kidding when he joked that he was trying his best to keep up.

He taps two knuckles against the table, looking like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for Tommy's hand. "It's - it's not like I don't talk about you. I just - some of it I wanna keep for myself."

Tommy fields fifty questions a day at work about the man who has him smiling to himself randomly, checking his phone and losing track of conversations because something ticks at a newly made memory of Evan Buckley. He understands the urge to keep some of those memories for himself.

"So what have you told them?"

He's picking at the thread, trying to unravel it, and he doesn't know why. He's more than satisfied with the state of things as they are now. Things are... different than he's used to, this early in. He's never been with someone so intent on getting to know him, spending time with him, so ready to share himself. It's intoxicating, really, and Tommy's never had a great handle on when to cut himself off.

Evan's expression is overly fond, and Tommy feels the thrill of it down to his toes.

"I told them about our date at the aquarium," he says, eyes sparkling a little. It had been a spur of the moment thing, Evan texting him for three days straight about hammerhead sharks, Frederickson mentioning his son-in-laws obsession with manta rays and the glass-side dinner they offered Saturday's and Sunday's. Evan's eyes drifting to the creatures in the water only half-as-often as they drifted to Tommy, and the air expanding in Tommy's lungs every time that smile landed on him.

Tommy hums.

"I told them a... very abridged version of you trying to teach me Muay Thai."

Evan, gleaming and wide eyed, pinned beneath Tommy, his hands giving up any pretense of doing anything but bracketing Tommy's hips, the gentling kiss Tommy'd placed to the birthmark over his eye before Evan whined and Tommy decided he was done playing games.

"Well, now Hen thinks I lied to her." Tommy jokes, and Evan's brow jumps quizzically. Tommy can't quite help it. Even with Gerrard here, even with eyes around them, even though they'd both decided together to keep the contact to a minimum, this being a work event and all - he reaches out and taps his finger to Evan's nose just to see his face crinkle in confusion. It'll have to do, with friends and family and colleagues all around them, but he can feel the urge to drag him in, to give Evan a taste of the frosting still on his lips, to press their bodies together and feel Evan's heart beat beneath his. The desire is there, crawling beneath his skin, and Evan watches him lean back in his chair like he knows every spare thought rattling around in Tommy's head.

"I told them you make me stupid happy," Evan says, all bright and sincere, something softening around the edges of his eyes, and the cage around his heart strains under the pressure of the muscle pressing for freedom.

Tommy darts a look around the room. Things are winding down, families with children drifting off early to enjoy having the day off, members of the 118 returning to their duties now that they've been thrown back on the dispatch register, higher ups huddled off in groups whispering to themselves about how they all would have been fired if Chief Simpson wasn't gunning for a promotion. Evan tips forward, chin dropping to the bridge of his hands with a grin.

"What do you tell the Harbor people about me?"

"Oh, absolutely nothing," Tommy says, standing, tilting a hip sideways so that he can hide the thumb the presses to the divot of Evan's chin. "If I did they'd think you'd bewitched me."

Evan's smile curls over his cheeks with the dopey expression Tommy's grown to adore.

"Let's get out of here before we get recruited for cleanup."

Evan looks like he's thinking about staying, anyway, so Tommy sweetens the deal. "I told Hen and Karen you were setting the pace. Are you gonna make a liar out of me again?"

Evan barely waits until they're out of sight before he's got two hands bracketing Tommy's hips from behind. Tommy knows he's staring at his ass - can't quite blame him. He works hard on making it look good in dress blues.

They manage to make it to the far side of Tommy's truck before Evan spins him, presses him to the passenger door before Tommy can get it open for him. "When we get home," he starts, too busy pressing his tongue to Tommy's pulse point to notice Tommy's quiet inhale at the phrasing. "I'm gonna take this uniform off of you, piece by piece, and then I'm gonna blow you so good you see stars."

"We should both wear our hats," Tommy negotiates, hoping to keep it light enough that he won't hone in on 'home'.

"The medals can stay too," Evan says, and sucks a bruise into the side of Tommy's neck when Tommy tilts his head back to laugh.

[firewasabeast]

The Aftermath

Part 2 of my Meeting the Parents series. Each part can be read individually, but it's better together. Here's part one, you can read part two here or on ao3.

Summary:

After Tommy's dinner with the Buckley's goes surprisingly well, Buck's issues with jealously causes his and Tommy's first big fight.

“So,” Buck began nosily as Tommy drove them toward the loft, “what were you guys talking about?”

“Oh, you know, they were telling me all about baby Evan. How much you loved running around the house naked, stuff like that.”

“Okay, that was only for like six months and I wasn't even two and-”

Tommy laughed, reaching over and taking Buck's hand. “I'm kidding, Evan. I didn't even know that was a thing you did. However, now that I do, I will be using it against you in the future.”

“Ugh,” Buck whined. “Come on, Tommy. What'd you guys talk about?”

“Not a whole lot, really. Your mom asked if I actually went by Thomas, and when I said no she started calling me Tommy. Then, she told me I could call her Margaret.”

“Seriously?” Buck eyed him, unimpressed. “That's it?”

“Actually,” Tommy spared a glance in Evan's direction, “she told me a little more than that.”

“Yeah? Like?”

“Like, that I- I'd probably be calling her mom soon anyway.”

Buck was glad he wasn't the one driving, because if he had been, he probably would have swerved right off the road and into a ditch. “R- Really? She said that?”

“Mhm. That's what she said right before you came out. She was sweet about it, seemed happy. May have been the wine though.”

“No, she... I'm sure she meant it.” Buck turned his head to stare out the window, hoping Tommy didn't notice the fact his hand was getting a little sweaty.

“Hey,” Tommy squeezed his hand, “it's not like she's planning our wedding or anything. She was being nice. Probably wanted to make me feel more comfortable with calling them by their first names.”

Buck managed a quick smile in Tommy's direction before returning his gaze to the highway. “Yeah. Yeah, probably.”

*****

Tommy entered the loft behind Buck, letting the door swing closed behind him. “You okay?” he asked, resting a hand against one of Buck's dining room chairs. “You were quiet most of the way home.”

“I'm fine,” Buck lied, plastering on a smile. “Just tired. Family time can get kinda exhausting for me sometimes.”

"Mm." Tommy set the keys on the table and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I gotta make a reminder to reserve a chopper in December. Phillip and I are gonna go to a Lakers game in Vegas.”

“Y- You made plans with my dad?”

“Mhm. Your parents are coming back in town in a couple months and your dad said he'd get tickets if I flew us there.” Tommy shrugged, “Seemed like a pretty good deal to me.”

“Mm, yeah. Yeah, it is. Sounds fun.”

Tommy looked up at Evan from his phone, noting the expression on his face. “I'm sure he'll get extra tickets if you wanna go? Maybe Howie could come along too. I just figured since basketball isn't really your thing...”

“No, no. I- You're right. I wouldn't wanna go. You two should go together. Bond,” he replied, before muttering out loud enough for Tommy to hear, “Since you'll be calling him dad soon anyway.”

Tommy sighed, putting his phone away. “I knew something was wrong. Come on, Evan, hit me with it. What'd I do?”

Buck headed to the fridge to grab a beer. “You didn't do anything.”

“Obviously, I did. You're clearly pissed at me.”

Buck shrugged. “I just think it's weird, okay? It's weird that my dad wants you to fly him around to basketball games. It's weird you were talking to my mom about marrying me when we don't even live together. Hell, we've never even talked about marriage.”

Tommy shook his head. “God, Evan, it's not like I'm dragging you down the aisle right now.” The words came out harsher than he intended. “And we didn't talk about marriage. It was something she said in passing. Sorry for being happy she thinks we'll last.”

“Forget I said anything, okay?”

“No, I'm not gonna do that. This is a really weird thing for you to be mad at me about.”

Buck slammed the bottle down on the counter so hard it caused a loud clang. “I told you I'm not mad at you!”

Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “So you yell for fun now?”

"I'm not yelling!" he yelled. He took a breath, collecting himself before he continued. "I just don't wanna talk about it right now."

"Well that's too bad, because I do wanna talk about it. You can't get angry with me for things I didn't even say and then not explain why you're mad. That's not how this works."

Leaving the beer behind, Buck headed for the living room. “You wouldn't understand,” he said, waving Tommy off.

“Yeah, that's what I'm trying to do.” Tommy followed behind him until Buck grumpily turned back to him. “Gotta be honest, did not think you'd hate the fact that I got along with your parents. You were the one making a presentation on how to interact with them. Would you have preferred if I acted like an ass? Stepped on their toes? Made them uncomfortable?”

“I don't know, maybe.”

“You cannot be serious.”

"Well, it would've been better than you sucking up to them. Basically kissing the ground they walk on."

"Maybe you're right. We shouldn't be having this conversation right now." Now it was Tommy's turn to walk away and Buck's turn to follow. They made it to the dining room table before Tommy swirled back around to him. “You know, you are acting like such a child, Evan. Maybe I should call Howie and set up a playdate for you and Jee.”

“They're just trying to replace Daniel with you!” The accusation escaped him before his brain caught up with his mouth. The way Tommy stared in shock should have been enough to stop him, but it didn't. “That's all this is, so, you know, enjoy it while it lasts! As soon as they realize you're not what they imagined him to be, you'll be left behind.”

He'd gone too far. He'd probably gone too far a few minutes ago, if he were being honest, but now he'd definitely gone too far.

Tommy's face fell. Buck wasn't sure he'd ever seen him so visibly shaken before. “Wow. Okay. Uh, I don't... I think I'm gonna go home for tonight, Evan.” He picked his keys up from the table and headed for the door.

Half of Buck wanted to beg for him to stay. The other half wanted to yell and tell him that's fine, he wanted to be alone anyway!

He settled on not saying anything at all.

He kept his mouth sealed shut as Tommy left. He didn't even slam the door behind him. Buck wished he would have.

*****

It took three series of knocks before Tommy answered the door. He was wearing a sleeveless tank and a pair of boxers, his hair wildly free of product. There were dark circles under his eyes as he stared at Buck indignantly. “It's three in the morning.”

“I know.”

“Why are you here at three in the morning?”

“Can I come in?”

There was a pause, then Tommy moved out of the way so Buck could come inside. Tommy closed the door behind him, but stayed in the entryway. If this was going to turn into round two, he wasn't sure how long Evan would be welcome to stay. “Did you forget you have a key?” he asked.

“Yeah, sneak into the forty year old army vets house in the middle of the night,” Buck answered with a nervous smile. “I'd give you a heart attack... or get shot one.” He was trying to lighten the mood, but Tommy couldn't quite find the humor in the moment.

“Why are you here?” he reiterated.

Buck sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “Couldn't sleep,” he admitted. “Could... Were you asleep?”

Tommy knew what the question really meant. Were you able to get rest after what happened earlier? Were you able to let this go?

“No, I wasn't asleep.”

“Oh, okay, um. Good. I mean, not good. But, good that I didn't wake you, I guess. Even though-”

“Evan, where's this going?”

“Can we,” Buck motioned toward the living room. “Can we sit? Talk for a minute?”

“Sure,” Tommy breathed out. “Of course.”

They moved to the living room, sitting stiffly on opposite ends of the sofa. There was an awkward minute of silence before Buck turned toward Tommy and began to ramble, “I'm sorry I acted like an idiot. I didn't mean the things I said, I swear. I think I got so jealous that you got along so easily with my parents that it made me feel, I don't know, insecure. Then I took it out on you, which wasn't fair. I was such a dick after a perfect night-”

“Evan.”

“-and you didn't deserve that. I know I screwed up. I- I know I did. I practically maimed you with my words the same way I maimed Eddie when I was jealous of him, and I-”

“Evan!”

Buck stopped. He looked up to see Tommy had turned toward him, watching him closely.

“What?” he asked.

“I forgive you.”

If things weren't so serious, Tommy might've laughed at the shocked expression on Evan's face. “Yo- You do?”

Tommy nodded. “I do.” He let out a sigh, scooting closer to Evan, “And I'm sorry, too. I just- I didn't think. I wanted to make a good impression, and I was so happy everything went well. I didn't think about what it would all mean to you. I'm sorry.”

“Oh God,” Buck dropped his head down. “I may actually be the worst person in the world. Tommy, I- I'm not mad they like you.”

“Evan.”

“No, really. I promise, I'm not mad. I'm,” he let out a laugh, “I'm thrilled. They have never really shown an interest in my life, not until the last few years. Even then, I never thought to introduce anyone to them. The fact they get along with you, it... it's incredible. See, it- like I said before, it's my jealousy. It's the fact it doesn't come that easily for me. I acted stupid, and immature, but I'm not mad at you. I'm not even mad at them. I'm just... sad, that it's not that way with me. And I took it out on you. You have no reason to be sorry. I'm sorry.”

“You told me about all the crap they put you through growing up, and I hate that they did that. It's not fair to you or Maddie. But you said they were trying to be better,” Tommy explained, “and they seemed so nice tonight. They liked me, or at least I think they did, and I was happy. It felt good, and I got caught up in that.”

“They did like you,” Buck assured him. “They do like you. A lot. And that's a good thing. I swear to you, Tommy, it's me. It was so easy for you to fit right in. I mean, I'm their kid and they had to go to therapy with me just to accept that. It... I don't know, seeing you guys getting along, I- it was a me problem, not you. Not them.” He moved himself closer to Tommy now, so they were both nearly in the center of the couch.

“I don't have to go with your dad,” Tommy said. “Really, I don't mind. And I know I probably freaked you out with the stuff your mom said, but I really think she was trying to be polite-”

“Tommy, no, I-” he reached out for Tommy's hands, who folded them into Evan's easily, “I want you to go with my dad. I want you guys to get along and have a good time. And the stuff my mom said, it... it didn't scare me.” He looked away, blushing a bit. “I like the thought of that. A lot.”

Tommy squeezed Buck's hand to get his attention back, a crinkly smile growing on his face. “Oh yeah?”

Buck nodded, grinning. “Yeah.”

They both leaned in at the same time, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

“You tired?” Tommy asked when he pulled back just enough to speak. “We can go to bed.”

Buck brought his hands up until they were curled around the nape of his neck. “Bed sounds nice.” He kissed him again, less gentle this time. He licked across Tommy's lips with his tongue until Tommy, without a seconds hesitation, opened his mouth to let him in. Tommy rested his hands on Buck's waist, gripping at his shirt.

“You're not tired, are you?” Tommy mumbled between kisses.

“Nope.” Buck ran his hands down Tommy's shoulders, over his chest, letting his nails drag over Tommy's clothed nipples. “You know, this is our first big fight,” he informed Tommy, lifting his shirt just enough to get his hands under the hem, feeling how Tommy sucked in a breath at something so simple as Evan touching his skin.

Tommy moaned, dropping his head to Buck's shoulder. “Make-up sex?”

Buck nodded. "Make-up sex," he agreed, taking Tommy's hand and they stood to head for the bedroom.

[randomshyperson]

I Wanna Be Yours - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: Once again separated, Wanda calls and brings news that changes everything, whether for better or for worse, it's still too early to say.

Warnings: (+18), making out, shapeshifting smut, intimate and unprotected s*x, creampie, fingering (both), slightly power dynamics, fluff and mild angst, avengers fighting like a family, brief mention of violence and injuries, some humor. | Words: 7.087k

A/N-> Am I getting too addicted to writing Shapeshifter Reader? Maybe. What can I do, it's so fun. Also, this is kinda late 'cause I spend the whole weekend watching Orphan Black (it's amazing). I hope you all like this, it took me some time, good reading!

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Limping and bleeding, you kept moving. The suspenders of your uniform were unbuttoned and hanging around your waist, and you grunted in pain as you leaned against the wall of the secure apartment, needing a moment to overcome your fatigue to open the door.

Cleaning the wound in silence was the worst part; your powers were messed up by the whole thing, and even though you tried to change, the blood kept coming out and you were forced to find a sewing kit and solve the problem.

Half an hour later, on the living room carpet still trying to stop shaking, your cell phone rang.

You thought it was Valentina, wanting to know if the whole thing had worked out. You almost cursed under your breath, this checking habit of hers always irritated you; the jobs always worked out, especially if the payment was made in advance. You were a professional, and the attitude carried an insinuation that you would fail, and if Valentina continued with it, perhaps it would be better for her to find someone else for the job. 

But in a way, you knew that all this lack of patience had other reasons: with every stray bullet, every insult, and more difficult fight, you wondered what was the point of it all. You remembered Wanda Maximoff smiling at you, kissing you, and started to wonder if taking all that risk was worth anything, especially when crime made it so difficult to have moments with that witch who wouldn't leave your thoughts.

And as if guessing, it was Wanda calling. You smiled immediately, feeling a little excited for the first time that morning.

It had been so long since you heard her voice. After everything that unfolded with the Avengers splitting up and being chased, and this latest intense mission which, despite being very well paid, made it practically impossible for you to visit her. At last, Wanda was calling.

"Little witch." You greeted as soon as you picked up, only to hear a heavy sigh on the other end that made you frown in confusion. "Wanda?"

She sniffled, and you ignored the pain in your body to sit up straight. "I have to tell you something."

"Is everything all right? Are you hurt? Are you with your friends?"

"Detka, please." She interrupts you. "Just listen, okay?"

"Wanda, you're scaring me."

"I'm all right." She assures you straight away. "I'm safe, I promise. But I have... to tell you something. And I need you not to freak out, because I'm scared and if you get scared too, I don't think I can manage."

You sigh uncertainly, but end up agreeing. "I'm listening."

It takes Wanda a whole moment where the only sound is her breathing on the line. Until finally; "I think I'm pregnant." Your immediate reaction is to frown in a mixture of confusion and surprise. You don't say anything because you don't know what to say, and your silence makes Wanda sniffle again. "You have to say something."

You open your mouth, only to let out a short, nervous laugh. "I know, I just... I don't know what."

Wanda sighs, looking like she's trying to control her emotions. "Okay, I didn't expect, well I don't know what I expected. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, we, I can take care of this and then-"

"Wait, what?" you interrupt. "Wanda, take a deep breath, okay? Just give me a second to think." You struggle to get to your feet, and with the injury, let out an involuntary grunt of pain. 

Wanda grips the phone tightly. "Where are you? Are you hurt?"

You chuckle weakly. "It's nothing, I've taken care of it." 

"Detka..."

"No, that's kind of funny actually." You continue, stumbling around the apartment after your suitcase. "And I don't say this to worry you, love, but I've barely made it out of this mission. I'm losing my touch, I guess, or maybe I just don't want this anymore. And when I was shot, I just had this really sad thought that if I died on that island, no one would care. The shooter would probably be very glad, and my boss would be annoyed at losing money but would surely find someone else for the job. What I'm trying to say is that I had no reason to get up, but then I thought, if I die here, my little witch will see my picture in the news and I don't want to go without saying goodbye. Wanda deserves at least a goodbye. So I got up, shot a few more assholes, and managed to escape to this dingy apartment and sewed myself back together, all the while wondering if this is what I really want to do with my life. The answer is no, Wanda. I don't want to have hundreds of people targeting me and risk my safety for a handful of jewels or whatever other shit I have to steal from narcissistic billionaires scattered around the world. I just want to lie next to you, and watch you laugh at some joke on TV, or have meals next to you and kiss you, you know? And now you call me, to give me the best news in the world over the goddam phone. That's not how it should be." You zipper up a suitcase with a few changes of clothes safely inside. "My only purpose is to be with you, Wanda Maximoff. I don't want to have this conversation miles away from you, so just hold on. I’ll come to you.”

This time, you know she's crying with happiness. She laughs tearfully as she says, "I'll be waiting, detka. Don't be long."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Not surprisingly, the hardest part was getting to Wanda. Being a fugitive in the majority of nations has its disadvantages. It took almost two whole weeks for you to finally arrive at the address Wanda texted you, and unfortunately, you were late.

Only a very angry black widow was there to welcome you.

"I'm going to kill that girl." Nat declared as soon as she laid eyes on you. You tried to wave but ended up jumping in fright when a man's hand touched your shoulder. 

Steve Rogers and his nomad beard chuckled at your reaction. "You shouldn't be here, kid."

Recovering from the shock, you grimaced and pushed his hand away with a pat. "Don't kid me, Mr. America. And this is a free country, I can be wherever I want."

Nat chuckled, a hologram coming out from her watch reflecting brightly in the dimly lit room. The Avengers needed better safe houses, not even in your first years of crime did you stay in such a crappy loft. 

"That's a great one coming from an Interpol fugitive." He sneers back, but you lift your chin proudly.

"And what's it like being in this position? Have you come down off the moral high ground or do you still think you're better than the rest of us, Rogers?" You challenge, and although you sigh, Steve surprises you. 

He chuckles, shaking his head. "She's just like Wanda." He says to Nat from across the room, who clicks her tongue. 

"Yep, same punk-ass attitude." Grumbles the widow, but despite the grimace, it sounds more like a compliment than a curse. "I can't believe Wanda thought it was acceptable for her to share the location with anyone."

You snort incredulously. "I'm not 'anyone', Romanoff! I'm her…girlfriend!"

Nat rolls her eyes, ignoring your protest and Steve steps out of the doorway to approach his friend. "So Nat, is the place clean?"

The widow forces a smile. "Apart from the shapeshifter intruder, yes. We've left no clues behind. And considering the agent's new agenda, we're going to have a peaceful few weeks for the time being. Wilson and Maximoff can stop moving for a while."

"Good news at last." Steve commented, but you cleared your throat.

"Any chance of me catching a ride to the place Wanda won't have to flee from?" You ask, and their expression doesn't give you any more confidence. "Okay, I'll wait for her to give me the address and I'll go by myself."

Nat chuckles incredulously, taking a step forward. "It's astonishing how irresponsible you two are." She says. "I know it must be hard for you to think of anyone but yourself, but you need to stop putting her at risk."

You snort. "The only astonishing thing here is your judgment, Romanoff. Acting like you were born a hero. Have you forgotten everything you did before the Avengers or Shield?" You retort. "You're no better than me."

But Nat snorts, nodding. "The difference is that I never had a choice. I was trained from birth for it, I didn't know any other life until Barton and Fury gave me a chance. You revel in chaos."

You don't lose posture, even as emotion begins to rise in your chest. "You know nothing about me."

"But we know about Wanda." Steve interrupts the conversation, as accusatory as the widow. "After everything that happened in Sokovia, she's our responsibility. Our family. It's not something anyone who isn't an Avenger can understand. And I know that she was vulnerable with the loss of her brother and that you took advantage of it."

You take a step forward, shocked by such a low accusation. "Take that back! I would never-"

"Oh, cut it out." Steve insists. "We all know about the kind of work you do, manipulation and lies are your specialties. Your signature is to deceive." He accuses, and for the first time, Nat flinches. Because the whole conversation could easily be handed back to her, and perhaps already has been by other people. "What's all this about? What do you want from Wanda?"

"Not everything is about work. Maybe I just fucking love her!"

Steve laughs incredulously. "Oh please-" But Nat interrupts the whole thing with an annoyed snort.

"That's enough, both of you."

The captain looks at her with some surprise. "Come on Natasha, you don't really believe she's serious." He is careful to lower his tone, like a private conversation between the two of them, an almost silent agreement about letting you go or not. Still, in that empty place, it's easy to hear what they're saying. "Weren't you the one who always says that love is for children?"

The joke is not well received. Natasha takes on a hard expression as she faces Steve. "Do you really want to discuss this, Rogers? When we're all risking our necks over your feelings for Barnes?"

Steve steps away dumbfounded. "It's not like that! We're freeing someone innocent! The right thing-"

"Would be to bring him to justice." Natasha interrupts without losing her tone. "The morally and legally right thing would be to bring the person responsible for 100 years of crimes to justice. There's no other answer, no other way around it. But he's family, and you're family. And that's why I'm here, and all the others who will stand by your side and go against the law and risk their necks, jobs, and safety. Things aren't as black and white as this right and wrong discourse and by now I'd hoped you'd be able to recognize that better, Steve."

He looks away, embarrassed and thoughtful. Nat sighs and takes the opportunity to approach you again.

"I can give you a ride. Just don't make me regret it, okay?"

For the moment, that's all Natasha offers in solidarity with you. It's the kindest thing an Avenger - excluding Wanda of course - has ever given you. It instantly makes Nat your favorite.

Steve doesn't accompany you two to the safe place. He says he needs time to think, and from the looks he exchanges with Nat, it's not hard to deduce that he's going after the Winter Soldier. You don't know where Sergeant Barnes is, but you have the impression that they do. It's not your place to question or monitor Steve Rogers' movements, so you just respond to the polite nod of farewell he gives you.

He takes the stolen airship, which is a shame because you love riding in those - Valentina's vehicles were never that sophisticated, but you've already managed to steal one of those from Shield and the ride was a lot of fun until you had to dispose of the aircraft in the Caribbean. 

Natasha gets a truck, which makes you assume that the location can't be that far away. It's an incorrect conclusion because she comments on buying train tickets.

You fall asleep in your seat. That must win you some points with Nat, who is surprised that you trust her enough to sleep because when you wake up from a very nice dream with Wanda, she starts small talk.

Accords, favorite crimes, and the morally superior attitude of some agents. Natasha giggles at one of your stories - about getting compromising items from government leaders - and you consider it a personal victory. She herself has stories about missions from her time as Black Widow which, if you don't consider the horror of her childhood, were kind of amusing. It's probably that you're the only person Nat can tell these things to without any kind of judgment. Equal to equal.

She's almost at the nearest station when, at the signal, she surprises you completely.

"I know about the baby."

You blink at her surprised eyes. "Did she tell you?"

But Nat denies it, without taking her gaze off the road now that the two of you are reaching a busier area. Even with the different appearance, the blonde hair being something to get used to, she has to be careful.

"They ran tests before admitting her to the raft. With all of us that they managed to capture at the airport, in fact." says the widow. "It was to categorize skills, check for injuries, but they ended up finding something else."

You sigh, also paying attention to the surroundings and any curious civilians who risk looking inside the vehicle. Everyone seems busy with their own problems, but you also check the streetlights for surveillance cameras.

"She must have been so scared." You whisper, and the guilt surprises Nat. You swallow dry before adding: "I should have been with her."

"What happened, happened. It wasn't really an outsider's fault."

You smile sadly, it's not exactly reassuring, Natasha doesn't seem to be very good at these things, but she's kind enough. She means that the Avengers' fight was something between them and that it wouldn't make sense for you to blame yourself for Wanda's imprisonment. Even so, you feel you could have prevented it if you'd convinced her to run away with you. But again, how different would the life you could offer her would be?

"When I heard about the Raft, she was already gone." You say. "I guess I should thank you for being so fast in getting her out."

Nat chuckles briefly, turning the steering wheel towards the streets beyond the parking lot. This car will probably be abandoned there.

"It wasn't me who got her out, so no." Retorts the widow. "You must have seen the fight on television, the way we were divided." She waited for you to nod in agreement before continuing. "The team that was left standing, Tony’s side I suppose, helped capture the others. Fighting with Steve. But when the tests were done,  General Ross got very nervous. He was afraid the story would leak, and the image of a young terrorist that the media had planted would turn against him, now that it was a pregnant woman being beaten and handcuffed in front of the cameras. His anxiety alerted the others, and well, Stark may be many things, but as soon as he knew the truth, he got her out of there. Vision confirmed the whole thing, he's got some scanning abilities or something. And I think they come up with some story and Vision was supposed to chase her after the vehicle she was in left the route, but Wanda was never found by Ross again. I know Vision and Tony help her. And then she was the first of us to catch up with Steve."

Natasha parks the car. She almost thinks you're busy absorbing the story when you pull something out of your pocket and hold it out to her.

"It was sent to me while I was in Greece. I guess this is my way of making us even." In your hand is the file of a job you rejected a few weeks ago. To track and recover a package of stolen vials, of a defector last seen in Morocco. Unknown contractor, but payment of half a million dollars in advance. 

"You should have taken it, the money was good." Nat commented as she grabbed the photo of the vials attached to a small one of her face with her hair still red, carrying market bags somewhere in Norway, the place where the last trace and possible suspect was seen.

You gave her a short smile, now that Nat had parked the car, she busied herself flipping through the old file. 

"I missed my chance." You mutter. "What about you, Romanoff? Did you miss yours?"

She mimics your smile, shaking her head. "No. This time, I finished off the bastards." She assures you, nodding. "I didn't get the chance to kill Dreykov myself, but someone who deserved it more did it for me."

You nod, respecting Natasha's choice not to delve deeper into that painful subject. You know just enough about the Red Room, and one of the few things is that General Dreykov was the leader and that Romanoff should have killed him years before. If she did it now, the mission must have been to put an end to the whole thing. 

"I kept monitoring Ross, after everything that happened. I heard you made a fool of him when you ran off alone from the team he set up for you."

She shrugged, a smile hiding the pride of her own abilities. From the car, you took only a backpack that she had prepared, and you weren't surprised to see Natasha take out a lighter and burn the files before throwing them in the nearest garbage can. 

Side by side and with your heads down, you walked to the station.

-&-

Wanda has a bit of a meltdown. It's the hormones, you're sure of it.

She jumps on your neck, expelling a sort of magical wave of excitement that makes you almost too cocky to recognize how happy she is to see you.

Natasha gets worried because the windows rattle and the last thing anyone needs is to draw more attention to themselves. She and Sam exchange a quick nod, and the widow mumbles something about the two of them heading out to restock supplies and you know it's a favor so you and Wanda have time to talk alone. The Falcon is confused by the whole thing, and you hear some distant questions along the lines of "Since when do we call the bad guys to the team" before Natasha closes the door.

Not that Sam Wilson's opinions are worth anything when Wanda pulls your face to hers and kisses you with all the longing she's been feeling.

It's passionate and intense and makes your heart soar. You break into a dopey smile like hers, nearly dizzy with love to the point of not being able to say anything. Wanda, as close as humanly possible, speaks first in a husky tone:

"You took your time."

The teasing makes you smile, and without stopping smiling, you start playing with the loops of her jeans. 

"Sorry, darling, you changed your address too quickly. You're getting good at this fugitive life, aren't you, Maximoff?" Your question almost goes unanswered when you decide to make a path of chaste kisses from her cheeks to jaw and to her neck. Wanda sighs affectedly, trying to keep her eyes open.

One of her hands goes to your hair, and she giggles when she feels it grow a few centimeters between her fingers. You nibble her ear before looking her in the eye and are greeted by dilated, curious pupils. 

"Why have you changed?" she asks quietly, her fingers still assessing the new length of your hair.

You scrunch up your nose, a gesture that has become habitual with the witch snuggled up to you. "I'm just following your friend's safety tips." You explain casually. "All I need is a cap and sunglasses and my Avenger disguise is complete."

Wanda snorts good-naturedly, knowing full well that you're making fun of the bad disguise she was wearing when you two first met. To be fair, Natasha has always believed that the simplest is the most effective, and so far, most Avengers have managed to go unnoticed with just glasses and a cap, no matter how ridiculous it may seem.

"Maybe I should follow her example." Wanda then comments, and although she seems to be focused on what she's saying, you're surprised to realize that her hands have reached down to remove your belt. "What if I get some blue highlights?"

Your laugh is a little hoarse and distracted because Wanda has thrown the belt into some corner of the apartment and is pulling you both backward, probably to where her bedroom should be. 

"I guess you either go big or go home."

She hums thoughtfully, perhaps making some mental note of the matter. You're more focused on the way she slips her hands inside your blouse and scratches your stomach, biting her lip as she feels your muscles twitch. 

Wanda closes the bedroom door with her foot, and you don't put up any resistance to feeling her lips on yours, hungry and impatient this time.

The kisses are too hot for you to think coherently, but you hear the last remnants of reason to hold a half-naked Wanda by the waist.

She, as breathless as you, looks at you with some concern and confusion at the interruption.

"Is something wrong?" Wanda asks hoarsely.

You swallow dry, your hands on her waist. "It's okay, it's just..." And suddenly, you seem very shy. You can feel your cheeks flushing, and maybe you should force your body not to have this kind of reaction, but you never do that with Wanda. You don't have to hide things from her. She looks at you expectantly, her hands caressing your shoulders as a way of reassuring you. "Hm, I was wondering, are we supposed to be doing this when you're...." And you looked down a little, at her belly, until Wanda understood.

She broke into a shy giggle, then looked up at you. "Oh, darling, you're so adorable." She declares, stealing a kiss before tenderly explaining; "It's still early, very early. I imagine it's only going to start being a problem towards the end, and well, I'm going to be a nervous, angry, horny mess by then and I think you'd better not dare deny me that kind of relief!"

You nod foolishly, panting that you will certainly do whatever she wants. Wanda's face takes on a new color, and she bites back a smile, her eyes darkening.

"Whatever I want? I like the sound of that." She retorts, leaning in to break the distance again. The next kiss is almost a shut-up, charged with naughty intentions. She sucks on your tongue and you practically whimper. It's such a submissive sound that it surprises you both for a moment. "Oh, moya lyubov (my love), parenthood has turned you into a whiny mess..."

You groan in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, turning your face away. "And it made you quite mean, apparently." 

She doesn't allow you to be grumpy. She grabs your chin and pulls off your pout with a kiss that's dirtier than the last. You can only moan in response, and when Wanda determinedly gropes her way into your pants, not bothering with foreplay, and is greeted by a dampness so massive it could be embarrassing, it's she who breaks into a moan.

"Fuck, I almost forgot how damn hot you feel on my fingers." You even try to regain some control of the kiss, to get that cocky attitude out of your girlfriend, but there's no way to do it when Wanda sinks two fingers inside you, as deep as the position allows. All that rips through your lips is a throaty moan. Wanda giggles mischievously at your reactions. "I really can't choose, baby. Having you squeezing my fingers or buried inside me. If you can keep up the pace, do you think we could try the second one later?"

It wasn't really a difficult request to comply with - until it was, because Wanda was more insatiable than usual. The first orgasm on the armchair was not even close to being enough for her. Neither for you, to be fair.

Wanda seemed to have discovered something new - a dominant attitude that you both hadn't yet explored. As far as you're concerned, whatever Wanda wishes will work for you. You're there to please her, simple as that.

She seems to have no restrictions on the ways this can happen. With her fingers deep inside you, her tongue swirling across your clit or changing positions, and sitting on your face and coming messily until she's squirming all over the sheets.

She already came four times when you sense a change of attitude, and the connection between you and her is so intimate, that Wanda has barely adjusted herself on the bed and you're already hugging her from behind, your arms around her and your mouth busy marking her neck. She gives you a sleepy smile, looking truly ruined for the first time all night. It suddenly occurs to you that she'll tire more easily now.

You kiss behind her ear and adjust your hips. Wanda sighs as she feels the familiar hardness rubbing up against her ass.

"Don't tell me you don't have some energy saved up for your own challenge?" You tease next to her ear, grinding gently into her. The friction elicits heavy sighs from both of you, and Wanda grabs your hand that rests on her belly before entwining your fingers together.

“Just one more, dorogoy (sweetheart).” She whispers as she guides your hands into her chest. Your free one helps yourself fit into her, and the same moment you grope her naked breast, playing with the hard nipple, you bury your cock inside her. Wanda lets out a sinful moan, her velvet walls welcoming you with a breathtaking heat. You nearly came with the mere state of being inside her - the way she squeezes you takes you off orbit for a moment.

You wanna be gentle, she’s a pregnant lady for god’s sake. But it seems that Wanda expects just the opposite the second you move - She takes the lead of the movements, your hips serving as a lever for her to rock back into your cock. You have to bite her shoulder to keep yourself from coming, and her response is to hold your hand thingly against her breasts, a single request for you to keep stimulating her nipples. 

There’s no way to keep this peace for long - Wanda herself feels her body betraying her a short moment after, the deep strokes of your cock taking her to blinding pleasure now for her to do more than drool into her pillow. You found a sweet spot and she arches her back, a new wave of arousal dripping down her thighs. 

She struggles to catch a breath - trying to tell you she's close. There’s no need, really. You can feel the tightness increasing, and it’s impossible for you to hold it when Wanda finally comes. She cries out your name and her body goes stiff the next second. Your cum stays inside her, just like your cock. 

“That was… fuck…” She tries to form a thought, all tingly, with numb, tingling legs. You kiss her shoulder, slowly rocking your hips only to hear her soft protest. “Too much, babe.”

After so many orgasms, that’s not a surprise. But Wanda feels so tender, it’s so addictive. You move a hand down, to play with her clit between her fingers and she can’t help but whine.

“Who’s the whiny mess, now?” You tease and Wanda's attempt at response turns into a deep groan when you thrust into her powerfully, enough to shake the bed. She chokes into a moan next when you start to catch a rhythm. Your fingers, toying with her neglected clit almost bring her to insanity. 

The next climax comes faster than the last, and it’s harder. You have your face buried in her neck, your bodies entangled together as you move inside her. Wanda presses her face into her pillow when she comes, pleasure tears wetting the bed like her squirt. You groan against her skin when you fill her up this time, balls deep into her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your rusky moans in her ear prolong her climax - she can feel herself squeezing the emptiness when you pull out. A mess of white cum coming out from both of you. It’s such a dirty sexual act to stroke yourself a little longer, to spread out every drop of your pleasure into her skin. 

Everything, every drop, belongs to Wanda. It’s all hers, because of her. 

Suddenly, she wishes she could do the same. Fill you up too, and own every version of your pleasure. This thought is written into her brain and pushed away so she can call your name. Your warm arms are around her before she can miss them.

“I should get you clean up.” You whisper and she holds closer.

“Later.” It’s all she whispers back, being defeated by her exhaustion next. 

You kiss the top of her forehead once she falls asleep, a smile on your lips before you allow yourself to give up on the tiredness as well.

-&-

If it hadn't been for the memories of last night and the sweet scent you knew, your natural reaction would have been to jump away in alarm at the soft caress in her hair. But you knew it was Wanda, and instead of running away, you sank your face against her neck and felt her giggle slightly, her heart racing before settling down.

She adjusted a little a minute later, and with a husky voice in your ear, whispered; "You have to get up, darling. We should talk."

Despite the soft tension that rose in your shoulders, Wanda's request was really just that. As a matter of course, it made you almost displeased that she would hold something like that back so as not to bother you. 

You hummed in agreement and placed a chaste kiss on her neck before pulling away. Wanda watched you expectantly, but you just stretched and pulled the covers off as if nothing important needed to be discussed.

She couldn't contain her own anxiety. "Are we going to talk now?"

You chuckled briefly, glancing at her for a second before looking around the room for your clothes. "I think we need to eat something first."

"Y/N..."

"I'm not avoiding the conversation." You interrupt her sincerely, to reassure the fears she can't hide from her eyes. You offer her a smile, your hands clutching the pants you've just found. "I'm just hungry. And I know you are too. This isn't an unpleasant topic, Wanda, it's just going to be difficult. For obvious reasons." You gesture softly, signaling to the hideaway room, so different from the fancy one she lived in in the tower. By instinct or not, once your pants are on, you also gently stroke the knife scar on your abdomen. Wanda knows exactly what you mean. "I think we're going to need a real plan. But I really don't want to come up with one on an empty stomach."

She nods, trying to smile but almost grimacing. Wanda is so nervous. All the passion of last night and the excitement of meeting you again are now calming down, and reality is coming back to her. You finish dressing and offer one last smile of reassurance before leaving the room in search of something to eat, and Wanda's immediate reaction is to put a hand over her belly.

She gasps softly. Her magic is able to feel life growing there. Her eyes fill with tears. 

Looking around, she spots some mold on the walls. She notices some of Natasha's stolen surveillance equipment tucked away in a corner so they can track the agents and breaks down a sob.

How could she let this happen? How could she be so irresponsible as to think of having children in such a condition? Even before, she no longer had a home. Living with the Avengers was almost a favor, an employment contract. And what kind of mother could she be in a superhero routine anyway?

And on top of everything, her child won't be able to meet her uncle either, buried in a land she once called home.

Wanda only realizes she's in the middle of an anxious thoughts spiral because suddenly a voice is calling her name. Your face comes into focus again, and she realizes that you're trying to help her breathe.

Great, a panic attack was all she needed.

"Hey, baby, it's okay, I'm here with you. Just breathe, okay?" you guided, gesturing for her to imitate your breathing. In a corner of the room, a breakfast tray smelled very good. Wanda tried to follow your lead, naming five objects she could see. She could see eggs, bacon, waffles, and orange juice. She could see a shiny chain with a small ring around your neck.

"Where did you get this?" She asks breathlessly about the item, and you smile pleased to see that she is coming to her senses.

"China, three years ago. I was working at the time, and I had a bad habit of keeping souvenirs." You say, stroking her hair. "It was in my pocket, and I put it back while I was in the kitchen. That's why you didn't get a chance to see it last night. Do you like it?"

She hums in agreement, having to close her eyes for a moment. You wait, wiping away her tears until Wanda has calmed down completely.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." She starts as soon as she can speak without crying. You mumble that it's okay, but Wanda keeps talking. "I just started thinking about how we're going to do this. How are we going to raise a child in this kind of life? We don't even have a home, let alone money. What if I end up in prison again, and they want to take my baby away and-"

"Wanda, calm down, nothing like that is going to happen." You interrupt but she shakes her head.

Just a second later, she breaks into a sob. "I'm so scared." She confesses tearfully.

You look into her eyes.“I’m scared too.” You confess in the same, a relief laugh escaping your lips now that you’re both being honest with each other for good. “I’m nearly petrified, to be fair. But it’s alright, Wanda. It is. Because for the first time in my life, I am not alone. I have you and you have me, and as luck would have it, a bunch of grumpy superheroes as well. We don’t have to be so scared, we got this. I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

She sniffles, getting shy all of a sudden. Her gaze goes to her lap before she finds your eyes again. And then she whispers: “I love you.”

You blink widened eyes at her, caught off guard. Wanda swallows, but then she smiles. She never needed words anyway; Your actions towards each other were always more than enough, not only for her but for the whole world to see exactly how much you cared for one another. 

“You don't have to say anything-”

“I love you too.” You cut her out, a bit out of breath. Wanda can feel her cheeks growing pink and it doesn’t help that yours are doing the same. But you giggle shyly then, letting her go to cover your red face for a moment. “Shit, why does that feel so weird? My chest is so warm…” Your reaction elicits a hearty chuckle from her.

“Perhaps you’re allergic to love confessions.” She teases, receiving a playful warning stare before you bring your arms around her once more, to pull her closer and on your lap. Wanda doesn’t waste time in pressing her lips to yours, smiling into the kiss like yourself.

You break apart to tell her: “Don’t get so cocky, but you’re the first person I said that to.” She hums contently, her fingers playing with the hair on your nape. You stare at her eyes for a moment, just memorizing every aspect of her face as if she would ever leave your mind, until both of you are scrunching up your noses, making funny faces at each other and breaking into shared giggles the next. 

You could marry her, right now at that second. Instead of asking, you just let out a deep breath and hug her again. The atmosphere of the room changed to a comfortable so intimate that for a second, you could believe that dirty hideout room was actually a home.

"We’re gonna be alright, Wanda." You whisper next. “I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you again.”

She sighs, breaking the hug to look at you. Her soft hands caressing your cheeks. “You can’t promise that, and it’s okay. Because I love you and I can do anything with you here.”

You kiss her briefly. “I can promise. I just did, the universe can fuck off, I’ll stand by my girl.” It’s your stubborn response before you break the distance again to kiss her.

For the first time in a long while, Wanda doesn’t feel so scared. She trusts you entirely, even if your promise is impossible and the future holds a nearly dangerous uncertainty. You’ll take care of her and she’ll do the same for you. 

She allows herself to push away real life, at least during breakfast. Sharing food in bed, giggling like two love-stuck teenagers. Making love in her bed all day, whispering sweet nothing to each other.

Until it’s time to get up and face reality.

Despite the evidence of your previous activities - matching set of hickeys and borrowed clothes - none of the Avengers pay any mind to that. Sam is clearly getting used to your presence, but he offers a grin at Wanda’s state before focusing on Natasha’s repeating security tips for him.

The widow is about to ask you and Wanda for a chat, you both can see in her expression that she wants to know how the whole baby thing will work out from now on when her cell phone rings. She steps out for a moment, muttering to whoever is on the other side - Wilson tells Wanda that’s probably Steve wanting to share locations and wondering if everything is alright. But when Natasha comes back to the room, she’s tense and serious.

She takes a deep breath and looks at Wanda.

“Clint decided to make a deal. For his family.” She says. Doesn’t take much explanation for you or Sam to understand that the Feds got him and instead of going back to the raft, he got himself some special conditions considering his service history. Wanda, out of surprise or denial, stares back at Nat with confused eyes. The widow sighs. “He’s not coming back.”

You don’t know everything about the Avengers dynamics, but you know about Wanda. And how much she cared for Clint since the man was some sort of mentor for her. That and well, Pietro gave his life for him so that has to mean something. Clint was supposed to take care of Wanda, not just turn his back on her like that. She didn’t need to join the team or this fight, but she did, at his request, and now he didn’t even bother to look after her, to make sure she was safe and well before taking deals that wouldn’t allow them to see each other for quite some time.

The saddest part is that Wanda understands it. Family comes first, after all. So even though it made her sick to her stomach, she wasn’t his daughter. Not really.

“It’s okay.” She forces a smile, trying to look “okay” for Natasha’s pitiful eyes. “Seriously, Nat. It’s fine. I hope it was a good one. Maybe Sam should try it too, he has family as well.”

Wanda is clearly taking the focus out of her, and because you can see her shaking, you take her hand. She instinctively leans into you, finding some calming comfort in your heat.

Sam scratches behind his head, a little unsure of how he became the center of attention suddenly. “Hm, yeah, but… I should wait a little. I mean, my sister is fine. She has nothing to do with any of this, so I think she can manage to be without my help for a few more weeks.”

Natasha merely shakes her head in knowledge, her attention on the witch pretending everything was fine. “Sure thing Wilson.” She mutters. “Wanda, I know Clint wanted to say goodbye, but he just… needed to make a choice.”

Yep, that definitely didn’t help Wanda feel any better. You offer Nat a look, but the widow is almost too terrible at the whole consolation thing.

“What I mean-”

“He chose his family. I got it the first time, Nat, I didn’t need it to hear it twice.” Wanda cuts off, very harshly. Hurt. “Like I said, it’s fine. I’m not a fucking child, I can understand why he did it. He was three kids and Nathaniel is just a baby.”

You try to ease the tension on Wanda’s shoulders by kissing the exposed skin of her neck. She smiles sweetly, still upset but appreciative of your gesture. The scene seems to make Nat remember something very important.

“Well, speaking of babies…”

Turns out the other Avengers forgot to mention that to Sam. He got very loud and excited.

[mochirimochi]

Somewhere Safe

William Afton X Reader

I wanna smash the pervy dilf in the rabbit suit ok?

-This is now officially part 1 in a series!-

p1 ● p2 ● p3 ● p4

-----

You just need somewhere safe to hide from your abusive ex. Unfortunately for you, you're about to stumble into the arms of something much, much worse.

18+ Minors DNI.

~3700 words, no use of y/n

-----

cws: abusive relationships, degradation kink, breath play if you squint, smut, rough sex, EXTREMELY dubious concent, a sprinkle of spanking

You can also read on ao3 if you prefer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51567985

-----

Your arms shake as you push up the rusted steel door that separates the pizzeria from the outside world. Every clatter and rumble of the metal makes you flinch and sweep your eyes over the abandoned side lot. There shouldn’t be anyone out and about to catch you at this time of night, right? Regardless, your heart pounds as you force the heavy door up, inch by agonizing inch. As soon as you’ve made enough space for your body you toss your bag under and swiftly crouch to follow it. 

Breaking and entering is far from your typical Monday night activity, but circumstances have left you with little choice in the matter. You need somewhere you won’t be found, somewhere no one will think to look for you. A dilapidated former birthday attraction certainly fits the bill, you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned the place to your ex before and if you have he probably won’t remember anyways. 

You give the door a tug to close it behind you, flinching as it slams back down into the concrete, and pick your way through the broken glass of the entryway. The smell of mildew is heavy in the air, clawing at your lungs and making your eyes water. This place used to be so vibrant and full of joy once upon a time. You’ve attended many a birthday in the restaurant that stretches out in front of you, even had a few of your own. This place had always been a favorite of the local parents due to its… generous wine portions and the ability to outsource their children's supervision. As a result it had been a kids paradise, the ability to run wild while mom and dad got lost in the sauce on a Saturday afternoon? Few things could rival that sense of freedom for a kid. Ironic as it was considering what had come later, it had always been a place where you felt safe and happy. Maybe that was why you’d chosen the pizzeria when you needed to hide from your abusive boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend now you suppose. It wasn’t like you had any plans to go back to the man after tonight. 

You give yourself a shake, attempting to bring yourself back to the moment at hand. This isn’t exactly the time to be spacing out after all, you’re technically committing a crime. Actually, there isn’t anything “technical” about it, you’re definitely breaking multiple laws right now. You shoulder your backpack and cast a glance toward the stage, it’s concealed behind a dusty red curtain but you can practically picture the animatronics behind it ready to jolt into song and dance just like they did years ago. You wonder if the owner removed them when he shut the place down. If you pull back the curtain will you find the shabby remains of your childhood heroes? You shiver, maybe it’s best not to find out.

If you remember correctly, the staff always entered and exited through a door next to the prize counter, maybe you’ll find a staff room with a couch through there. It seems like as promising an idea as any so you flick on your flashlight and make your way past the dining area and through the arcade. Sure enough, you’re greeted with a “staff only” sign and an unlocked door to boot. 

The hallway beyond is dark, lacking any of the color of the show floor. Interestingly, flickering yellow bulbs hang from the ceiling sporadically. The emergency power must still be on in this part of the building, you reason as you cautiously move through the hallway. You round a corner and let out a yelp as you collide with something huge, brown, and strangely soft. The impact knocks you off balance and you land rather gracelessly on your ass. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend what you’re looking at as your gaze travels upwards over pudgy brown legs and a round plush stomach.

“Fredbear?!” The exclamation comes out before you really have a chance to think. “How in the world did you get all the way over here?” Your heart, which has been about ready to leap out of your chest, slows as you take in the animatronic. It’s in surprisingly good shape considering the state of the rest of this place. You push yourself to your feet and take a few steps back. “I can’t believe they actually left you guys here, you’d think they’d have moved you. Poor guy, all this time stuck in this dingy old hallway.” 

It’s strange when you really think about it, who would leave him just standing in the bowels of the restaurant? It seems like an awfully strange place to just leave your star animatronic, rushed closure or not. After a moment, a distant memory of the animatronics being wired to wander through the pizzeria comes back to you, in fact now that you think about it you can remember getting a big warm hug or two from the Freddy animatronic. That would explain it, maybe his circuits got damaged over time and had triggered that unique function. 

“Sorry to bug you big guy, I promise I’m not here to cause trouble. I just… needed somewhere safe.” Not for the first time that night you feel tears well in your eyes. “Nope, I am not going to cry over this. Not happening, you didn’t see me cry as a kid and you’re not gonna see it now.” You blink the tears away and the absurdity of your situation finally hits you. Not only are you hiding from your psycho ex and breaking the law for the first time in your life, but you’re also talking to a decrepit old robot like it can actually understand you. You heave a shaking sigh to ground yourself and pull your shoulders back. This might be your lowest moment but you refuse to let yourself wallow in it. With a determined huff you give Fredbear an affectionate pat on the arm before moving further into the building.

Before long you stumble across the staffroom, a long cluttered room with an extended plexi-glass window looking out into the hallway. Maybe at another time the window would serve to make the room feel brighter and bigger but now the dust covered plastic is shot through with a spider's web of cracks that barely allow you to see into the room. The door is unlocked though, and after a few quick shoves the warped wood releases its hold on the frame to allow you entry. Luckily, the room seems fairly well preserved and you spot a few dusty but intact couches pushed up against the wall. Jackpot. The exhaustion you’ve barely been keeping at bay all night hits you like a freight train and you lurch across the room to the couches. You collapse onto the nearest one, sending a fine cloud of dust into the air. You can’t bring yourself to care as you curled into a tight ball, finally letting sleep take you.

–

William watches the security cameras with curiosity as you wind your way through the building. Normally the animatronics would have taken care of any intruders well before they got to this point. This is new, novel even. He leans forward at his desk, squinting at the video feed in an attempt to get a better view. His jaw almost drops when you collapse onto the couch and fall still. Even through the grainy monitor he can tell that you’ve fallen asleep. What in the world is your deal? Who in their right mind would break into an abandoned establishment of dubious repute only to take a nap? He clasps his hands in thought as he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. This calls for a more… hands on investigation.

–

A tickling in your nose rouses you from your slumber and you begin to sneeze yourself awake with surprising force. You check your watch, barely 4 in the morning. You’ve only slept for an hour at most and exhaustion threatens to pull you back into sleep. It might too, if not for the insistent vibration of your phone in your pocket. You flip the cursed thing open without hitting the button to answer, bracing yourself for what you know you’ll see. 

Unsurprisingly, you’ve got 53 unread texts, 20 missed calls and 16 voicemails. You don’t need to check the contact info to know who they’re from. Against your better judgment you navigate to your sms messages and begin to read through the backlog when your phone finally stops buzzing. Some of the texts are pleading, others threatening. A few texts claim to “love you so much” and be “so fucking sorry”, while others rail at you “you fucking bitch” and “how dare you fucking run off like that?”. The messages paint a grim but unsurprising picture, a picture that’s unfortunately all too familiar. You raise your hand to the tender bruising that you know must be beginning to come to the surface on your neck before you navigate to your most recent voicemail. You flick on the speaker before staring into the green light of the screen. 

“Where the fuck are you, you fucking bitch?” You flinch as an angry voice fills the room. “You think you can fucking run away from me? You think you can fucking end shit? You’ve got another thing coming to you, used up fucking slut. The next time I lay eyes on you you’re fucking dead, you hear me? Run the fuck away from me again and see what happens. I’ll-” You don’t give the voicemail a chance to run its course. With a raw, frustrated scream you launch the phone across the room. It hits the wall with a satisfying clatter. The battery and casing skitter across the floor and the voicemail cuts out abruptly. Not satisfied with just cutting the bastard off you stomp across the room, still screaming, and smash your foot into the body of the phone. It gives with a satisfying crunch and you roar as you kick it for good measure, sending the now useless device across the room once again. All the fear and rage of the last few hours overcomes you and you let yourself scream until you run out of breath.

Suddenly a flash of something yellow through the hallway window catches your eye. You push your hair out of your face as you try to catch your breath, attempting to squint through the aged plexi-glass. A hulking, inhuman figure stands on the other side of the window, seeming to peer back at you. For a moment neither of you move, it seems to be taking you in as much as you’re taking it in. The strange standoff breaks when the figure, still indistinct through the dust and cracks in the glass, starts to move slowly and methodically towards the staffroom door.

Finally your brain springs into action. Shit. Whatever that is, it’s not good. You sweep your eyes frantically around the room, weighing your options. Any windows to the outside are boarded up, and the only door in or out is the one the massive yellow figure is making its way towards. The only viable option seems to be to take the defensive. There’s a tiny kitchenette against the wall, and you rush towards it in desperation. Frantically, you yank open the drawers in search of anything you might use to protect yourself. The best you can come up with is a wooden spoon. In another situation that might be laughable, but you can’t take a moment to consider how absurd you look brandishing a wooden spoon like a sword. The rattle of the doorknob tells you that you’re out of time.

Whatever you had expected to be on the other side of that door it certainly wasn’t a massive yellow rabbit suit. It’s huge, so large that it has to duck to get its ears under the door frame. As it tilts its head to take you in, your blood runs cold. You hold your ground as the thing stalks closer, its movements slow and deliberate as it moves towards you. 

In a moment of desperation you launch yourself forward, attempting to dodge around the looming figure and make a dash for freedom. You don’t have a chance. A pair of strong arms wrap roughly around your waist, jerking you back with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. Your makeshift weapon clatters to the floor. A dark chuckle rumbles from the depths of the suit as a hand drags its way from your waist and up your chest to grab your chin.

“What. Have. We. Here?” The voice that comes from the suit is deep, taunting, and undoubtedly mascuine. He punctuates the last word with a rough but controlled yank, pulling your chin up and your head back into his chest. You whimper as it strains your already aching neck. With your head tipped back you can see the yellow rabbit head looming above you and it tilts to the side again as if in curiosity. “I asked you a question.”

“I-I-...” You can barely get your mouth to move and you lick your lips in a desperate attempt to draw words from them. Your obvious fear draws a satisfied hum from the depths of the suit and the hand on your waist tightens noticeably. The hand on your jaw however, disappears. You pull in a shaky gasp and buck your head forward in an attempt to build up enough momentum to break free. The vice-like grip on your waist is unaffected and your captor grunts in amusement. 

A rustling above your head draws your attention and you look up to realize that the hand that had just been holding your jaw captive is running along the neck of the suit. With a single, deft movement the head of the suit comes off and your captors face is revealed. There’s an almost rugged handsomeness to his mature features, graying stubble covering his cheeks and eyes that in another life may have looked almost kind. The expression he’s peering down at you with now is anything but kind or gentle though. There’s a hunger there, and a barely suppressed rage. He places the head on a nearby table and returns his hand to your jaw. With agonizing languidness he leans forward and presses his lips to your ear.

“Who gave you permission to sleep in my restaurant?” 

You gasp as his stubble rasps against your jaw and his hot breath ghosts across your face. 

“I’m sorry. I just needed a place to stay. I’ll leave right now. I’ll-”

He cuts you off. “A place to stay, huh?” His lips are still brushing against your ear and despite yourself you feel a chill run down your spine that has nothing to do with fear. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with that absolute delight of a man on the other side of the phone, would it?”

“He’ll kill me.” As soon as the words come out of your mouth you know they’re true. Honestly, you’re lucky to have survived him this long.

“Oh, little mouse, what makes you think I won’t?” The grip on your jaw releases for a moment and you hear something fall to the floor. When it returns it’s a very warm, very human hand that takes its place. His other hand briefly lets go to do the same and you can feel his nails digging into your flesh as he presses you against him. 

“Please.” It’s barely more than a whimper as the hand at your jaw dips to circle your neck. “I just needed somewhere safe.”

“And you chose here? Bad luck.” He presses his nose to your jaw and draws in a deep, ragged breath. “But you know, we might be able to work something out.” The hand at your waist begins to travel, burrowing its way under the hem of your shirt before splaying wide across your stomach. His long fingers barely brush the underside of your bra but you feel the heat of them as if there’s no fabric to separate you. “I’d hate to see a pretty thing like you put out in the cold.”

“Anything.”

–

William can barely contain himself. The feeling of your trembling body in his arms is oh so delicious and your intoxicating scent floods his nose, every breath sending a thrill through him. You’re so soft, so malleable, so utterly breakable. It’s brilliant. 

Using one hand to keep you pinned against him he uses the other to work his way out of the suit with practiced skill. Initially he’d just wanted to watch you, figure out the enigma that was your survival after breaking into his restaurant. Normally people don’t last for more than a few minutes. But you’d dithered around, chatted up his ace in the hole, and then taken a nap? He couldn’t contain his curiosity.

The phone call had derailed his plan and given him an idea. Sure, he had planned on killing you once he’d solved your mystery but maybe there were other things you could be useful for. There was something captivating about you, and the perfect leverage had just fallen straight into his lap. 

He makes quick work of the suit, and soon he’s reveling in the feeling of your body against his. 

“Anything?” He asks, stroking his thumb gently over your jugular before giving your throat a controlled squeeze. Your startled gasp is almost enough to send him reeling. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, little mouse.”

–

This is wrong. Everything about this situation is wrong.

And yet, your body seems to have some of its wires crossed because it is not getting the message. The only thing you should be feeling right now is fear, and sure, there’s a very healthy dose of that tying your guts in knots but beyond that there’s an underlying current of heat. None of what’s happening should be causing your core to tighten, and the goose bumps forming on your neck should be from terror.

But they’re not.

His hand drifts up even further, pushing your bra up and out of the way to capture the smooth skin of your breast in his hand. You can’t help it, you roll your hips back into his, pushing against the hardness that’s growing there at an almost alarming pace. He growls behind you, pulling you even closer to grind against your ass.

“So that’s how it is?” His voice in your ear is even deeper now, heavy with lust as he gives your breast a hard squeeze. Even you’re surprised when you let out a wanton moan. “Imagine such a dirty fucking slut falling right into my lap.” His words have you clenching around nothing and you don’t even have the presence of mind to feel conflicted about your body's reaction. He releases your breast and his hand burns a trail down to the top of your jeans, he flicks the button open with ease and slowly undoes your zipper. Then he stops, his hand ghosts over the crotch of your jeans before it stills. You let out a needy whimper that you barely recognize as your voice.

“Beg for it, little mouse.”

You groan, canting your hips forward in a desperate search for pressure. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, fuck me.”

His control seems to snap and he spins you around before shoving you across the room and face down into the couch, barely giving you time to yelp in surprise. He pulls your hips into the air before yanking down your jeans and panties in one harsh motion. The animalistic groan that escapes him at the sight of your dripping pussy sends a shock of arousal through you. He grabs a globe of your ass in each hand, digging his fingers in so hard that you gasp. His nails bite in deep enough that you’re sure they’ll draw blood. 

“God, look at you.” He grunts, releasing your ass and stepping back as if to admire the view. You hear the clinking of his belt buckle and wiggle in anticipation. “What a fucking freak you are, so fucking wet and ready for a strange man in an abandoned building.” He lifts his hand and lands a stinging blow on your ass. You flinch and yelp at the unexpected pain and he does it again on the other cheek. “Dirty slut.” The sting brings tears to your eyes, but it also causes your arousal to coil even tighter in your abdomen. 

Suddenly and without warning he grabs your hips and slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion. You scream as he stretches you, your channel burning around his thick cock. “Take it.” He grunts, slamming into you. All you can do is whimper in response as he sets a punishing pace, thrusting into you again and again. The burn eventually melts into a building and rising heat that threatens to sweep you away. 

Your scalp stings as he tangles his fist in your hair and yanks your head back, changing the angle so that he drives impossibly deeper into you with every stroke. Any train of thought you may have been able to carry is lost as he bombards you with pleasure. Your eyes roll back as your hands desperately grip the couch cushions. A few more thrusts and you’re coming undone, screaming out your release. He follows close behind you, letting go of your hair to grab your hips again. His fingers bite into you as he pulls you back against him, trapping you to him as he fills you. 

“Fuck.” He grunts, his voice raw and his hands trembling at your hips. You both still for a moment and your brain finally starts to realize what you’ve just done. But in the throbbing, warm throes of your afterglow you can’t seem to bring yourself to care how truly fucked up this situation is. When he finally releases his vice-like grip on your hips you groan at the loss of contact.

The chuckle that he gives is warmer than any of the others so far, and he gives your ass a final squeeze that you could almost consider affectionate before he steps away.

“Yes, I think we’ve come to a satisfying agreement.”

-----

I don't know what came over me last night, but this was the result. I've never written smut before, but I sure have read a lot so hopefully it's enjoyable.

[happyhauntt]

— april fic recs, brought to you by happyhauntt.

it's that time again! a wee fic rec post for a few of the fics i read in april that altered my brain chemistry!! i've put a lil comment next to each rec because honestly writers don't get praised enough for their work these days and i wanted to show my appreciation for these talented souls!!

criminal minds.

➡ spencer reid.

in every other life by @irndad. notes: adorableness incarnate honestly.

trouble almost all my life series by @januaryembrs. notes: might honestly have to put this on every masterlist til the end of time.

forgiven by @reiding-writing. notes: um HOW DARE YOU i sobbed my way through this

grishaverse.

➡ kaz brekker.

breakfast by @sophierequests. notes: look i'm a simple human i see badass characters and i fall in love

➡ jesper fahey.

i'm your gal by @atlabeth. notes: NOT ENOUGH JESPER FICS and this one is GLORIOUS

star wars.

➡ poe dameron.

the f-word by @the-little-ewok. notes: i reread this constantly pls it's so good

moon knight.

➡ marc spector.

i should've been there by @januaryembrs. notes: not em out here ruining my life and making me sob AGAIN you simply never miss

9-1-1.

➡ evan buckley.

take my hand by @redocity. notes: cute cute cute cute cute

emergency room by redocity. notes: the ANGST i feel well-fed

won't say i'm falling by @borntobewondering. notes: this was DELICIOUS

➡ buck / eddie.

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by @hoediaz / rarakiplin on ao3. notes: i was fully choking back sobs while reading this. i binged this fic in less than 24 hours and it has changed something fundamental inside me. i will never be the same person again. i'm billing you for my therapy.

good luck, babe by @hattalove. notes: i cackled my way through this, potentially the funniest shit ever.

hate to say i spent it all on masquerades by hattalove. notes: i sobbed and sobbed and sobbed while reading this. this fic is everything to me, it should be required reading for all my friends who want to understand me, it is beautiful and magical and i want it tattooed on my face.

don't wanna let you love somebody else but me by @shitouttabuck / fleetinghearts on ao3. notes: sheer adorableness i will well recover from this!!!!

tried and true blue by shitouttabuck / fleetinghearts on ao3. notes: SCREAMING I'M SCREAMING I MAY NEVER STOP SCREAMING

like a dog with a bird at your door by shitouttabuck / fleeting hearts on ao3. notes: iconic. truly iconic. quite possibly one of my fav fics ever written.

let the world have its way with you by shitouttabuck / fleeting hearts on ao3. notes: you don't understand how hard it was not to include every single one of shitouttabuck's fics on this list and there will almost certainly be more in future but i just want them tattooed on my forehead i feel insane

i have dreams where i kiss you and it's pink by shitouttabuck / fleeting hearts on ao3. notes: the cutest and i mean THE CUTEST shit ever

all my shattered oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: i sobbed. i sobbed so hard i think i burst something honestly. everything from this author is immaculate but THIS is the holy fuckin grail and i will truly never be the same again.

let my ink stain your pages by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: castle au CASTLE AU i'm a sucker for a castle au and this is EVERYTHING

even in winter there is eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: i think about this fic daily.

your love is an oil slick by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: this is everything this is EVERYTHING to me i will reread this weekly for the rest of my life

even the darkest night by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: stardust au STARDUST AU aka my favourite movie and my favourite ship combined into a fuckin masterpiece

curl up in my heart and let me keep you by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels on ao3. notes: soft sweet my brain is mushy and i adore this

hoping it gets to you by @bucktommys / hammersmiths on ao3. notes: cute adorable stunning MAGNIFICENT

you're my whole house by @/bucktommys / hammersmiths on ao3. notes: THIS FIC OUT HERE MAKIN ME SQUEAL AND KICK MY LEGS

left unsaid by c_m2 on ao3. notes: this is mcfuckin adorable i'm crying buck deserves everything in the world

say yes to heaven by dylaesthetics on ao3. notes: okay full disclosure this made me cry so much i threw up. also it hit some pretty intense trauma for me. still so glad i read it because it was also kinda healing. and i want everyone else to suffer like i have because fuck i suffered.

if i need to rearrange my particles, i will for you by dylaesthetics on ao3. notes: author you will always be famous bc you're knocking my emotional stability OUTTA THE PARK

honestly, truly, completely by dylaesthetics on ao3. notes: simply fuckin adorable

feels like magic by 42hrb on ao3. notes: there's nothing i adore more than an urban fantasy au and this one is EXQUISITE

fallin' into your ocean eyes by princessfbi on ao3. notes: okay every part of this au is absolutely fuckin perfection i am so deeply in love with it

until now by tearsthissideofheaven on ao3. notes: a reincarnation au??? it's like you know how to ruin my life

if i never hear your voice again by @actualalligator. notes: disability rep!!!! brilliant writing!!!!

life sure can try to put love through it by @capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: ahahaha ruin my life why don't you

sometimes its hard to see what the future holds by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: olympics buddie au??? didn't know i wanted it but now i can't live without it

all good things come to an end (but it's not the end) by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: i will, in fact, devour every buddie!fwb au ever written but this one is especially great

you smiled and it was the most beautiful thing that I'd ever seen by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: coffee shop!buddie have become everything to me wdym

it's funny 'cause i've always dreamed of me and you by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: yes i did sob my heart out reading this and i'll do it again

'cause darling, you're the one by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: icymi i think this author is the best author to ever exist and i want to devour everything they write forever

i don't think that we should have friendly sex, anymore by @/capseycartwright / wafflesofdoom on ao3. notes: !!!!!!! that's it that's the note. brain: faye you can't put this many fics by the same author on one masterlist. faye: bET-

still i call it magic (when i'm next to you) by @clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: urban fantasy is, in fact, my shit.

(this kiss is) something i can't resist by @/clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: NO BC THIS HAD ME CACKLING AND ALSO IT'S BRILLIANT

give me five more minutes, baby (i'm not finished loving you) by @/clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: fake dating or immaculate writing??? both

cuffing season by @/clusterbuck / lecornergirl on ao3. notes: i am still laughing at this and i may never stop

[roseglazedlens]

⦑ 𝐛𝐨𝐛𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⦒✶.*

pairing(s): leon kennedy x gn! reader synopsis: leon tries bubble tea for the first time, much to his reluctance (he likes it!) content: fluff, established relationship, rebecca chambers & chris redfield mentioned. « 1.4 k words┇masterlist┇ao3┇reblogs appreciated! »

“How far is this place?” Leon lets out a heavy grunt, sight unbearable as the sharp sunrays glaring onto the scorching asphalt. Heat so nauseating it permeates through his clothing to form sweat at areas less desirable.

Leon would rather cuddle next to you at home right now, under the lulling breeze of the air conditioning. But you insisted– no matter the heat nor the distance, you must have your hands on this drink in this thickened fog of heat. It’s perplexing how you find space in your belly after such a hearty lunch today.

You loop both arms around his open elbow – propping up just for you to hold – as you flush your front onto his sides. Partial bribery, partial gratitude for joining you on this conquest despite the harsh weather conditions.

Leon lands his gaze on you – your lashes flutter, body fidget closer. There is no way he can deny you now. That you know and took full advantage of every single time. He groans in defeat, tilting his torso back as if to heave the weight of his well-satiated belly.

“What is this bubble tea? And why do you like it so much?” You call it a bubble tea, but he calls this concoction a monstrosity. Leon will never understand how one can make a drink already perfect imperfect?

“Oh, Leon. I’m about to show you a whole new world.” You spin your heels, skipping a little in the firm grip of his arms.

“I’m surprised you still have an appetite.” Leon’s tone sounds faintly like a jab.

“There’s always room for bubble tea.” He suspects you say this motto often with the way the words uttered so instantly.

Leon grumbles Rebecca’s name underneath his breath. Since you discovered it from Rebecca’s introduction, this supposed ‘habit’ soon evolved closer to an obsession. Replacing your usual coffee order with a tall plastic cup of milk tea. With how Rebecca sweetens her coffee, whatever she recommends can’t be good for you.

“I don’t think I want bubbles in my tea.” Leon tightens his lips.

“It’s not real bubbles, Lee.” You chuckle as you run your hands along his arms. “You’ll love it, trust me!”

Hand in hand with yours, Leon follows your footsteps into a slender laneway, shying away from rows of corporate office on the main street. Red lanterns hang high, adorn by banners of words you can’t read. You find familiar merchants chant a series of today’s sales across the street, hubbub of both young and old, nesting the air in this hidden away part of town. Even during a weekday, Chinatown is busy – endearingly so.

You approach a humble corner shop you often frequent. Walking up the front of the counter with one confident stride, only taking a step back at the realisation of your confused boyfriend.

Nudging at Leon’s elbow, you point at the signage that displays their extensive list of flavours, options and customisations. “Get the winter melon milk tea with extra boba.”

“Get your own.” He scoffs at your audacity.

“I want mango. But I also wanna try the winter melon tea.” You cling onto his arm, flushing your body onto his. Puffed cheeks, downturned eyebrows – you know he can’t say no. Leon can’t ever say no to you when you do that face.

“So I’m your experiment.” He sighs underneath his breath, but his countenance softens when he sees your toothy smile as the line moves forward. “What does winter melon taste like, anyway?”

“I dunno. That’s why you’re trying it for me.”

Before he can protest, it’s your turn to order. You face the register, shuffling out your membership card from your bag to beep it in front of the scanner.

“What would you two like to have?”

“One winter melon boba milk tea and one mango green tea...” Leon glances over the size options. “Medium, please.”

“Mini boba or standard boba?” The cashier fiddles with the system before them.

Leon pauses, contemplating out loud. “What does that mean?”

“What size boba do you want?” They repeat once more, gesturing to the list of toppings which puzzles him even more.

“Standard, thanks. Whatever it means.” A prompt nod, buttons are pressed. “Ice and sugar levels?”

“Standard everything.” Leon tries to sound calm, but the words escaped with a snapping edge.

Leon makes his payment, frustrated by the entire experience, but it all the more teases a giggle out of you to see the usual composed Leon fluster over ordering a simple drink. The barista calls out your number. You two occupy an empty table, drinks in hand.

The drink sits before Leon, black beads declining to the bottom, tall cup sealed with a plastic film – Leon has seen you do this a few times. He should know what to do. Leon lines the straw on top of the film, with a small burst, puncture the film through the pointy end. The other hand grips the cup a tad too firm, the impact splashing the tea from the puncture all over his hand.

Your laughter bursts at the sight – chuckling so hard that Leon is asking for napkins from the front counter, hands still a dripping mess. He hates you for it – just a little though – for not warning him.

“That went well.” He grumbles, wiping off the droplets from his fingers with the white napkin.

“It’s okay – I've been there, done that.” You repeat his motions, thrusting your straw in your drink with practiced ease before taking a generous sip. You rummage your phone out of your pocket, pointing the lens directly at him.

“What?” Leon fiddles with the straw, swirling the substance under his fingertips.

“Go on.” You tilt your head in encouragement. “Take a sip.”

“I can’t drink if you’re recording me like this.” He broods on the words slightly.

“Drink!” You demand out of impatience, waving your hands more exaggeratedly.

Leon gazes inside the straw, the thick pipe designed for easier travel of any toppings within. He is hesitant, especially with you watching intently at his every movement and reaction. He hopes you never send this video to Chris; Leon will never recover from the embarrassment if so.

“Here goes nothing.” With a deep breath, Leon sucks the liquid from the straw.

The liquid makes contact first: a blend of tea and sugary syrups complementing each other; the dew of wintermelon arousing a soft sweetness that is easy to consume and just as addictive. Flavourful, but not overwhelming so. Suddenly, something round and slimy enters his mouth through the pipe.

Leon winces, taken aback. Bites on it to find it chewy. Then swallows. Doesn’t taste like anything in particular.

“What are these made of?”

“Those are tapioca, it’s nice and chewy isn’t it?”

Leon nods, taking another sip, savouring the taste of all the flavours combined. With how invested he is sipping his drink, you can’t help but smile as the levels goes down steadily. He notices you staring.

“Do you… want to try?” He takes the straw out of his mouth, passing it over to you.

You light up, moving in so quickly it almost shove him aside. Sorry Leon, you should have known that your love for bubble tea is above your love for him.

“Is this what wintermelon tastes like? I love it!” You take a sip. Leon tries your drink, nodding in approval before moving your cup back to you. But you don’t, instead, with an almost guilty tone, said: “Do you wanna... swap?”

“Nice try – but no. You made your choice, stick with it.” Leon scoffs, removing his drink off your hands, which leads you to pout miserably.

After Leon's signal, you two leave the shop. Leon takes you to all the shops you want to visit – and you find your gaze trailing to his drink that is going down much faster than yours.

“So… what do you think about the tea?” You ask, hoping to get any kind of admittance on how this drink isn’t so bad after all.

“It’s okay… I don’t mind it.” Leon keeps his praise short, feigning playful stubbornness.

You see through him immediately, lighting up, before stealing another sip from his. “Back here again tomorrow?”

Leon’s lips upturned into a smile, but he lets you take another sip – which he will regret later, with how fast you’re consuming. His hand places gently on your head. Shaking his head in disbelief, fully aware that he is powerless against you – and you are likely to make a return trip together. Anything to make you happy.

“Get your self together, sugar addict.”

i was tempted to make reader chinese poc since i'm chinese myself, but didn't to make reader more relatable haha (missed opportunity tho)i'm sorry for making ur bf order at the counter (ordering bubble tea for the first time is so daunting) also! thank you @sporeghost for beta reading this & literally held my hand through a few sentences, especially 2nd last line, it's not mine!! thanks for reading! come check out my other works. ––yours truly, rose. tags: @valsthea @sporeghost @daydreamrot (pm me for tags)© roseglazedlens - please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here!Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #65 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis / Harry -

🌤️Your A-Team, Your Endgame by @silverkiiwii

(E, 70k, reality show au) a Next In Fashion au where Louis and Harry are partnered in the competition but they do not get along when they have to if they want to win. Full of fashion, banter, misunderstanding and a whole lot of making each other blush.

🌤️ Groupie Love by CuckooTrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

(E, 45k, m/f) In other words, Louis is a rock star on a world tour and Harry is a regular attendee. They could never work.

🌤️ But I know you by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(NR, 26k, space) Harry is a journalist, Louis is an astronaut, but it's way more complicated than that

🌤️ You Can't Change The Rolling Tide by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 24k, summer) Louis lives on a tiny island off the coast of England and runs a sailboat touring company. When Niall is sidelined for the summer after his knee surgery, Louis needs a temporary new partner. Who better to fill that role than Harry, recently returned to the island after five years away?

🌤️ At your service, for your usage (series) by @holdingontochaos

(E, 16k, sex work) Louis is a doctor who works so much that he has barely any time to himself for pleasure, let alone to clean his house so he hires Harry as his naked maid and kills two birds with one stone.

🌤️ the past might be painful, but i’m in love with our future by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 10k, part 2 of trans Louis verse) it takes a lot of convincing for louis to let harry take him to his first pride. harry understands his worries and fears. really, he does. he just wants to show his boyfriend that he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

🌤️ never just the tip by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 6k, omegaverse) Harry believes alphas can't control themselves. Louis proves him wrong.

🌤️ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything

(T, 5k, historical) Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college. Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.

🌤️ The Island by @jaerie

(E, 5k, part 2 of The Wilds) Researchers plucked some of them from their secluded island and transplanted them into an enclosure against their will like a bunch of zoo animals. But they weren't animals and they all had a story of how they got here.

🌤️ Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

🌤️ Let the Feeling Last by @allwaswell16

(T, 5k, unhinged pet fic) Omega Harry thinks the alpha at the grocery store buying a cart full of vegetables must be an amazing chef. He doesn't know that Alpha Louis is feeding all those vegetables to his pet pig.

🌤️ Stars over Amsterdam by @hellolovers13

(T, 4k, exes) Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex. Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

🌤️ (on the edge until) you pull me in by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 3k, fantasizing) His dick is not about to fall off, thank you very much, Niall, but it has been a while since he’s had time for a wank. 

🌤️ i'm going out tonight by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 3k, established relationship) Louis hasn’t been appreciating his boyfriend Harry. He only realizes it when Harry takes matters into his own hands.

🌤️ I just wanna be yours (wanna be yours, wanna be yours) by @dreaminrainbows

(E, 3k, pwp) Harry studies his sixteen year old self’s face for a long moment and it's truly pathetic how in fourteen years nothing has really changed.

🌤️ the sign on your heart (it's reserved for me) by moon_rose25 / @darkinfinity

(G, 3k, kid fic) The one where Louis Tomlinson is a single dad and is finally allowing himself to start dating. Insert Harry Styles, a charming coffee shop owner who sweeps him off his feet.

🌤️ HOT TO GO! by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) When Harry does something weird at the barricade, he leaves Louis’ show devastated and hoping he can somehow make things right. Or the accidental pervert fic

🌤️ Gotta Feeling by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k, tour guide Louis) When Harry's life in Manchester isn't turning out the way he thought it would, he decides to visit his best friend in Mexico City. Maybe Niall can convince him to move halfway around the world.

🌤️ Ice, Ice, Baby by cherrylarry / @beelou

(G, 1k, meet cute) Figure skater Harry takes Louis out on the ice for the first time

- Rare Pairs -

🌤️ Like A Force Of Nature by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 30k, Zayn/Liam) the Heartstopper AU no one asked for.

🌤️ The Grundy County Drag Show Incident by @haztobegood

(T, 3k, Zayn/Liam) Holding a wireless mic in her gloved hand, Veronica Stardust owned the stage. She was one of the most vocally talented drag queens in the Midwest. Part 2 of Grundy County Incidents

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 8: TERMINAL PARADISE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He likes to braid your hair while you braid Suguru’s. He thinks of bringing the bed from his room into yours, pushing the two twins together to fit the three of you. Looks at you both with puppy eyes.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, high/drunk sex, dubcon, somnophilia, oral sex, threesome, the boys being........ evil?

ੈ✩ wc: 7.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: what's upppPP i'm a little tipsy rn but. here is chapter eight. title from the adrianne lenker song. anyways this chapter is very self-indulgent but as i read it back it makes me like. sad. i shan't elaborate. it's very stupid olympic sex i'll tell u that. belligerent fucking if u will

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

June, 2009

Heat sticks onto you like a leech. You’ve started to think you’ve become one, what with the dark side of your technique. You walked the halls feeling like a white deer that failed to blend into a thicket.

You latch onto your boys like a leech, too. Fighting for space in the same sky in between the sun and the moon. Suguru likes to tell you you’re the stars in small ways, always a gleam in your eye despite mostly feeling dim. There isn’t much time for moping anymore, Satoru tells you. It’s the summer, after all. 

It’s quiet on Onjuku Beach. Well, quiet enough, save for the occasional splashing and the sound of Satoru’s cackles as he swims underwater and pulls Utahime’s ankle. You hold back laughter, watching her lash out like she usually does, Satoru running away like a little kid.

You take a bite of watermelon, the juice dripping out of the corner of your mouth. When you feel Suguru’s weight on the blanket next to you, you give him a slice. He wipes your mouth with the pad of his finger and tastes it on his tongue. He’d gotten accustomed to grooming you like that. Braiding your hair and sticking petals in it in the spring. Rubbing your shoulders with suntan lotion.

You glance at him afterward, when he’s not looking, grappling with the urge to bite him on the shoulder. You think that maybe Satoru would. You aren’t sure if you have the same privilege.

The afternoon drags on, barely changing the summer sky as the tide stays consistent between you and the moon. Shoko and Utahime had headed back an hour before, leaving Satoru’s head in your lap and Suguru seemingly napping underneath a Murakami novel. 

You’d scrunched your nose up at the sight of it—Norwegian Wood. You’d teased Suguru about it, accusing him of being pretentious with a secret love for hollow female characters. He’d rolled his eyes, tipping back a beer, teasing you for bringing No Longer Human.

“Talk about dysfunctional and sad,” he sneered. 

Satoru’s damp hair isn’t helping the shiver of your thighs, the sheen of your smooth skin now riddled with goosebumps. He’d teased you for taking the time to shave every part of your body before the mission, something you never did. Keeping up your appearance when you didn’t need to for him. Suguru likes a bush, too, you know. 

You flushed when he said that, like your face was on fire.

Being day drunk is fun, you decide. Haziness suits the three of you.

You’re sweltering, to say the least, considering the late afternoon sun is setting in a place that hits you directly. Suguru stirs. You feel his warm breath on the side of your thigh as he rises, rubbing his eyes. 

“You think I tanned unevenly?” he asks, squinting at you.

You shake your head, smiling. He smiles back, yawning just before he snaps the side of your bikini bottom without warning. You wince in surprise, blushing.

“Wanna wake up the prince?”

“But he looks so sweet when he’s asleep,” you sigh. “And so quiet.”

“Real fuckin’ quiet,” Suguru laughs. He pauses as he looks at Satoru, as if skimming his face for something. He flicks his nose with his finger, making Satoru flinch and whine.

“C’mon, Satoru. Up.”

He mumbles something in between a whimper and a slurred mutter, nuzzling his nose into your lap until you feel his hot breath fanning your cunt. He whines even more when you shift, attempting to get to your feet and put on your cover-up when he latches onto your wrists with his hands. 

“We gotta go,” you coo softly. 

He obliges with a pout. Satoru had rented a house with an ocean view for the three of you to stay in, much too luxurious for a mission that would only last a few days. But he had the expendable funds, and he refused to stay in a hostel like you had suggested. 

He continues his petulant attitude, his stride like that of a child on vacation. It did feel like a vacation, if you had to be honest. The curses you’d exorcised the day before were hardly exhausting.

It’s only been three days in Onjuku, but you think that the boys are plotting against you.

It’d started the first day, Thursday, after a few exorcisms and one Special Grade made of tongues that they were able to kill in record time. Satoru had insisted on showing as much skin as possible, citing the heat. He was wearing your favorite shirt of his, unbuttoned to show off his alabaster skin, unblemished by anything at all, not even the hot sun. 

He’d also insisted on dessert for breakfast, pointing out the novelty shops along the coast of the local town with the titillation of a real tourist, as if he hadn’t spent weekends there as a child. That’s how the three of you ended up eating popsicles for breakfast.

He was being annoyingly sly, pinching and prodding at you all morning like a little boy. He’d insisted on mimosas before noon, Suguru oddly going along with his antics at your expense. You’d had popsicles at the beach after. Satoru wouldn’t stop staring at you, blinking through the brain freeze as his mouth went to work on something strawberry-flavored. He was obscene with it, his tongue moving in languid movements, disgusting you but burning your skin at the same time.

His lips were stained bright red for the rest of the afternoon, but it looked so beguiling that it had you distracted for the rest of the day. You knew you could have him — he had never played hard to get — but something would gnaw at you telling you the opposite. Made him like forbidden fruit, deluding you.

For one, he was either missing your signals or feigning oblivion, a game that you willingly became a pawn to. He had always taken up too much space, but now he was tugging at your hair like you were twelve again despite your protests. 

And then, when you were brave enough to sneak a hand on his thigh underneath the dinner table or cuddled a bit closer to him in bed, he did nothing. 

Suguru was less obvious about teasing, which made you feel like you were crazy. 

It started with small grocery runs. Suguru accompanied you after Satoru refused to go on the principle of having enough money to dine out for every meal. It felt domestic to pick vegetables with him. Both times, he’d thrown in a treat or a drink that he knew you would like without asking. He’d praise you after the day’s work in ways that set your guts on fire.

He had also, it seemed, picked up the same habit as Satoru of tugging your hair to get your attention. There had been fleeting touches to your waist, too, when he would simply be passing by you after you were done showering. Absent-mindedly, as light as an apparition. Shifting bodies as casually as two people passing in a crowded bar, yet it felt like a car crash to you.

He’d continue that for the second day. Even yesterday, when you had been using the outdoor shower to rinse off after the beach, Suguru had walked in with a drink to offer. Despite still being in your bathing suit, you had felt scandalized by his gaze alone. 

Now, on Saturday evening, you’re alone with him in the beach house while Satoru attends a meeting in Shinjuku against his will. 

Suguru lays on the couch lazily, his tongue jutting out to lick the side of a joint in between tea-flavored papers. You walk into the living room with a yawn, having just woken up from a short nap after reading on the porch. At twilight, the sky flushes pink and purple above the horizon. 

You think about what to eat for dinner, thinking about the prospect of cooking with Suguru alone, which should come as a wholesome, harmless daydream, but truthfully makes your face warm. There are plenty of restaurants down the street, some that even delivered, you recall from a brochure left on the counter. You were intrigued by a seafood restaurant that Satoru had promised to take you to—

“Want a hit?” Suguru’s voice interrupts your ruminating.

“Oh,” you blink. “Um, sure.”

He chuckles as you join him on the couch as if he can read your mind. “It’s like Shoko’s cigarettes, I promise.”

“I know,” you frown, pouting. “I’ve smoked weed before.”

“Last time we passed a blunt around, you kept talking about how it’s against the law.”

“It is!” you mumble, shrugging.

“Yes,” Suguru grins. “And we’re sorcerers that wield magic and kill monsters.”

You roll your eyes, taking the joint from his fingers. He hands you a Zippo, the very one that you had gifted to Shoko months before. You’d have to remember to pocket it afterward to give back to her. 

Suguru chuckles when you take a hit and inevitably cough. When he takes it back, he huffs and exhales a cloud towards your face, grinning with ivory teeth as his Adam’s apple rolls back. You can’t help but fixate your gaze on it.

He taps your knees in a rhythmic pattern with his fingers when you take the next hit. Already, your vision is vignetted with hazy white, but every movement between the two of you feels incredibly sharp, as if you’re wielding the Six Eyes in a dream. Your mouth feels dry, your lips bitten down by your teeth. 

Suguru had been too lazy to change after the beach, barely in the mood to shower until the dampness of his swim trunks had gotten to him. He’d changed to another pair of shorts, the inseam short enough to allow exposure of his tanned thighs, and not bothering with a shirt because of the humidity. Even this close to him, he still smells like sea salt. His long hair was slightly textured, naturally tousled by the ocean.

You sink into the couch, sighing. You feel as though you're overheating. Despite this, Suguru is next to you, thigh to thigh, the spot in between you burning. 

His lips feel chapped, his tongue dry from cotton mouth. He thinks about sticking it down your throat.

The radio that comes with the house is old as shit, something inexplicably adorable enough to be in a vintage shop but not practical enough to own considering it would buzz every few minutes. The signal is weak, crackling as Tatsuro Yamashita plays at a low volume. 

Suguru throws his legs over your lap as he inhales, passing the joint to you but not releasing it. Instead, he merely holds it to your mouth himself, lighting it with Shoko’s Zippo.

Normally, you’d shake yourself after a session, splash your face with cold water before you would start imagining things. You were addicted to the feeling of his fingertips, the sensation exacerbated by your high. The last time you were like this, you’d pictured Suguru’s mouth on your cunt, the image bombarding your mind throughout the night. You numbed the urge with alcohol, still taking bong rips until you threw up in Shoko’s trash can.

You don’t think you’re hallucinating this time. His fox eyes point at you and descend down your face and jaw. 

“No more,” he says.

“Why not?” you whine.

“Your eyes are glazing over,” Suguru chuckles. “So fucking gone.”

“I'm not,” you sigh, pushing his legs off of you and leaning into his shoulder. 

He welcomes you with open arms, allowing you to lay your head on his chest. He smells like his sunscreen, coconut from his fragrance, salt from his body. His skin is incredibly warm too, but so is your entire body, particularly your chest. You can feel your heart beating. You can feel his palm on your thigh. Scorching.

So touchy with you. You wonder if he’s high on anything else. Maybe that was why he was so affectionate today.

Suguru stretches his legs across the couch, your body like a doll’s in between his thighs. He cracks open the can of beer beside him—when had he gotten up to get one?

It’s more humid at night. Or maybe it was the slick of his skin. Either way, you think your hair must be matted with sweat, a messy braid loosening at the back of your head. Strands spin in between Suguru’s fingers like loose threads of a sweater.

“You’re excited.”

“What?” you squeak out, surprised. His voice interrupts a miasma of inebriated thought loops, dripping desire bombarding the forefront of your mind. 

“Your heart’s beating fast,” he observes. “And you get real horny when you're high.”

"I don't—”

"Don't think Shoko and I don't notice Satoru stealing you away when we smoke," he laughs.

His fingers curl around your jaw, lowering to feel the quickening pulse of the right side of your neck. You’d surely smell like him by the time you shower tonight. Coconut and sea salt and beer.

You shake your head.

Suguru had been at a deficit with you for the past six months. He would dream about your cunt sometimes, the sight of you on New Year’s permanently etched into his brain. He and Satoru still looked at the same magazines they’d collected in adolescence, spilling ropes of white to the same pages that had always gotten him going, but you were still more prominent in his head.

He would think of your mouth parting from the sensation of his fingers pushing through the slick of your pussy. Your tongue exploring the underside of his neck.

Satoru has been overly possessive ever since the school year started. Suguru had started to believe that he would never have you again and that he should accept it. He didn't feel particularly entitled to you. The Six-eyed sorcerer had his claim on you since he was a child, anyway—Suguru would learn to get over it.

But now, here you are, in his lap. Your breath quickens at the feeling of his hand on your thigh. Suguru could bet that you were soaking through your panties, perhaps from the moment you found yourself alone with him.

Lately, Suguru wants you more than he wants Satoru.

He loved Satoru so much, more than he thought he was ever capable of since he’d met him at fifteen, but he constantly dreams of the softness of your skin instead. He liked that you were pliant, desperate. It’d be easy to coax a reaction out of you, letting him in the crux of your thighs with just the tiniest amount of teasing. Suguru knew that you would say yes to him as eagerly as you would to Satoru, your mouth already watering. It made him feel insane.

Your cheeks heat up when you feel his dick hardening beneath you. Prodding at the small of your back, the only thing separating you is a thin piece of nylon. 

“Aw,” he purrs. “You have a freckle right here.”

“Do I?” you breathe, your eyes lowering down to where Suguru’s finger strokes the inside of your thigh, the tip of it caressing a dot of dark brown. So tiny that you hadn’t even noticed it yourself. 

“S’cute,” he whispers. You shiver, then. His hot breath all over your neck is intoxicating. When his fingers skim your collarbone, he notices it’s hot to the touch, your pulse twitching the same as it does when he’d called you princess. 

You swallow thickly, turning to face him in his lap. He says your name with a heaviness that has your heart sinking to your feet.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t answer, merely turning your head to melt into him. High out of your mind.

He’s careful with you. His lips are soft despite being a bit chapped, his aftershave prominent in the air with notes of sandalwood. There’s intent to it, something you didn’t often feel with Satoru over the past few weeks. 

Your hands cup his jaw almost immediately, while his own hands cup the flesh of your thighs. They slide up to squeeze your ass, which forces a mewl out of your mouth. 

He didn’t think his cock could get any harder, wanting to burst from his shorts. It hurt.

“You’re so warm. You got a fever or something?”

“No,” you breathe.

“Your skin is burning. Wanna take this off?” he grins. A shark smile. His fingers skim the hem of your dress.

You do it without him begging. He doesn’t even have to convince you — you’re peeling it off, exhaling at the feeling of the thick air around you. Even with the slip of fabric off, you still feel so fucking warm against him.

You yelp when he grabs your breast, squeezing it along with his tongue on your nipple.

“Suguru—”

Your whine falls flat. You don't remember if you were meaning to scold him or to beg for more. He smiles with his forehead pressed to yours, his hands smoothing up and down the skin of your sides.

“Pretty,” he muses. 

“Pretty,” you repeat. He’s beautiful underneath you. 

A beat passes. You don't know who closes the distance first.

It’s a gnash of limbs, of lips, of teeth. Devouring each other. The weed made you so fucking wet, dripping into his lap through your panties. He doesn’t bother with them, pulling them to the side to fuck into you without a warning. You don’t even recall him taking out his dick.

The feeling of him makes you want to cry.

He groans at the bulge of your lower stomach, his cock carving out the gooey parts of you for him to nest in. The flush of your cheeks makes you look like a flower. Your cunt blooming for him, hot and tight.

You feel like you’re being split apart, like the skin of a mandarin orange unfurling beneath his hands.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighs, gaining control of his voice. Humming instead of growling, like he’s sinking into a warm bath.

You think it would burn if you weren’t so wet, his girth thicker than Satoru’s. 

He holds you by the hips, thrusting into you at a slow pace, breaking you open. Making a mess of your insides. 

“Does Satoru fuck you this good?” he grins.

You’re too breathless to reply. As if you even could, your face feverish at his taunting. You didn’t think you could survive a grip harder than Satoru’s, but despite Suguru’s gentle demeanor, his hands on you are brutish. 

You kiss him, licking up the taste of beer and weed, slightly herbal from the papers. He moans into your mouth when you grip his hair. It’s soft in between your fingers. Like real silk. 

Suguru had dreamt about this for months.

“You look so pretty,” he grunts, teeth bared. “Fuck. Thought about this for so long.”

You whine at his admission. His cock is impossibly deep inside you, coupled with the sensation of your limbs melting like boiled sugar. You roll your hips, cunt spasming around him already. Your nails make crescent-shaped marks on the meat of his broad shoulders, mirroring the same ones that he had made from gripping your waist.

Suguru’s hand holds the crux of your neck, tipping your face upward to look at him dead in the eye. Everything in your body is cloying heat, making it difficult to keep your eyes wide open, but he forces it from you with deeper thrusts. His fingers coax your mouth open for you to suck on, making you whimper, making you choke on his digits. 

There’s a flash in Suguru’s eyes, the smallest gleam that you had recognized in Satoru. Something predatory.

“Knew you’d be a good girl,” he whispers in your ear. “You think about me like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimper.

He pulls back, leaning back on the couch to let you have your rut, your pace eager like a starved puppy. Part of him wanted to mark you up just to piss Satoru off, though he knew the bastard would probably like it anyway. 

“How do you think about me?”

“I—Suguru—”

“Tell me,” he teases, his smile serpentine. He pulls out to flip you over, your tits pressed against the arm of the couch. “Like this? Pulling your hair?”

"I think about your mouth. About your cock inside me," you say. Mindless. Under his spell.

The stretch from behind feels somehow deeper than before. He groans at the way your back arches, your hair in his fist. Your knees are already chafing from the leather beneath you, the back of your thighs burning from slapping against his skin.

“Close,” you choke out.

“Yeah,” he sighs, biting your shoulder. “Cum on my cock, princess.”

You could pass out like this, you think. Your vision is already spotty, air stolen out of your lungs from the brevity of his movements. Your mouth hangs, wide open and slack as a pitchy moan rolls out.

Suguru follows soon after you — he can’t help it when you sound like that. He’s addicted. Desperate to live inside you like this, high in every earthly sense. He has half a mind to pull out before he spills, but he can’t pry himself from you.

Still dizzy, you lay on him while he cleans up the mess in between your thighs, his cum nearly leaking onto the couch. You’re surprised when he grabs the back of your neck to kiss you again. Neither of you keep track of how much time passes as you make out like teenagers. You feel almost faint in his arms.

“Fuck, you’re still high as shit, aren’t you?” Suguru says, squishing your face in between his hands. He slides his dick back into his shorts, light soiled from precum. If he hadn’t put them on again, he probably would’ve been too tempted for another round. Even with your hand palming him while you made out, you were clearly in another dimension.

Looking at him makes you feel raw. Like letting him fuck you was the same as volunteering your heart on a pulpit.

“Dinner.” It feels strange to use your voice. Swapping spit with Suguru wasn’t doing much for hydration.

“Yes,” he chuckles. “Want to go to that restaurant?”

“Mm,” you whine, slinging an arm around his neck. “Let’s do takeout.”

Satoru manages to slip back late at night, long past the time you and Suguru had fallen asleep on the couch with the television on. He smirks at the sight, hovering over the two of you like the Grim Reaper. Suguru would surely snap at him if he was awake, but for now, the Six Eyes examine every contour of each of your bodies fit together like clasped palms. 

The room smells like sex. Or maybe Satoru is projecting, his jaw only now relaxing after keeping his teeth so gritted during that stupid fucking meeting with the higher-ups. He kept thinking about you, distracted by the sight of you at the beach, your bare legs splayed out on the sand. 

Suguru probably got to you first. Of course, he would. It makes Satoru bite his cheek, but it also makes the butterflies in his stomach feel like daggers.

He stills when he hears you hum, mumbling something unintelligible as you bury yourself in Suguru’s chest. It’s so soft, so innocent, yet Satoru has to excuse himself to your shared room so he can wrap his hand around his cock.

He thinks about your mouth when he’s close and decides not to finish. He’d rather feel you against him instead, skin to skin.

The sound of you mewling in your sleep is adorable to him — you do so in his arms as he lifts you bridal style, prying your body from Suguru’s grasp. When he puts you down in the bed, you look angelic.

Satoru rubs your thigh, prying your legs apart gently so he can suck kisses into the skin. You twitch, your breath heavy. Indulging in your dreams while Satoru indulges in his. 

You squirm, stirring when you feel his tongue in your cunt. You’re already so wet for him, pliable and ripe for him even in your sleep. He tastes salt, the aftermath of his best friend’s release, and he laughs.

“Satoru,” you mumble, your voice still in a dream-like haze.

“I’m right here, baby,” he murmurs, licking a stripe from your clit to your belly button. “Missed me?”

“Mm.”

The air is thick with tension as he rises to slot his body behind yours. Satoru pumps his cock once before he slides into you without much warning. Despite being wet, your cunt burns.

“Sator—” He covers your mouth. 

“So fucking tight,” he groans. “Thought Sugu would’ve loosened you up, huh?”

“Hurts,” you whimper. 

“Take it,” he sighs. “Take it for me.”

His teeth on your shoulder make you dizzy. You still feel like you’re dreaming, but the stretch he has in between your walls makes it all too real. Satoru knows he doesn’t deserve you like this, but he’d decided the moment he stepped into the house that he would be selfish tonight. 

He fucks you like he’s starved. 

Even in the wine-dark night, he senses his best friend all over you with his Six Eyes. You’re covered in him. 

You pant into his palm until he descends his hand to your throat, pulling you taut against him so that your back arches. He doesn’t bother with making you cum, mostly circling your clit to get you wetter. Inside you, he feels boneless, washed away of his irritation. 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Oh, fuck. ‘m sorry, baby.”

“Too much,” you whine.

He shoves his fingers into your mouth the same way Suguru had done hours before.

With a mean cant of the hips, you can feel his body slacken after warmth fills up your cunt. Your voice is high and needy on the comedown. You taste blood in your mouth from biting down on your lip too hard, chapped from all the kissing of today. 

“Love you,” he mumbles, his mouth on the nape of your neck.

He falls asleep soon after, leaving you with your thoughts, still half-drunk on him, barely lucid. It makes you sick, the way you want him, the way you let him use you. But you liked it. You liked his violence and possessiveness as if his actions were love letters.

Satoru had you weaned on something so saccharine that you stopped caring about the possibility of it spoiling. You welcomed the rot anyway. You had your own to wield with your bare hands.

August, 2009

You dream about them sometimes. You were shocked that the boys didn’t have any more games to play with you during that weekend, the two of them collectively ignoring the smell of sex in the air and the casual touches. They still touched you in their own ways. Reminding you of yourself. Your role as a toy.

Sometimes, you dream about them together with you as the voyeur. You’d see their broad backs, sweat pooling into a navel. Tongue-kissing. They were both too large to fit on the dorm bed together, you’d imagine. 

Satoru gets clingier. If that was even possible. He sleeps in your room instead of his more often now, leaving his clothes tucked messily in your bottom drawer. It’s almost domestic, the way he starts sweeping the floor like it’s a shared house, the way his toothbrush kisses yours in the chipped mug on the bathroom sink.

Even when he's not physically in your room, his presence always lingers. The amount of belongings left behind that are Satoru's continues to increase. Video games he forces you to play with him. Manga piled up on the corner of your desk.

He likes to braid your hair while you braid Suguru’s. He thinks of bringing the bed from his room into yours, pushing the two twins together to fit the three of you. Looks at you both with puppy eyes.

It’s during this time that you realize how touch-starved Satoru must’ve been as a child. He had clung to you then, too—always playing too rough, always finding a part of you to hold whether it had been your hand or your braids to pull. From an early age, he’d always needed that relief. Something to sink his teeth in fully.

He’s more than willing to wear his heart on his sleeve for you, which you find endlessly amusing. It makes him dopey, almost stupid in his affection for you. You’d consider yourself a girlfriend if either of you would say it out loud. Neither of you do.

Suguru likes to sneak up on you in small ways that evade Satoru’s watchful eyes. Like the times he sleeps in your dorm when Satoru is busy on a mission. Suguru will indulge your interest in movies that are more cerebral—psychological thrillers and slow cinema. Satoru doesn’t have the patience for it, always opting for a slasher horror or an action film. Suguru likes to be quiet with you in these instances. Likes to stroke your hair when you rest your head in his lap. Likes to fall asleep in your tiny bed, his larger body engulfing yours.

You’re being shared between them, though you aren’t sure of the conditions. You don’t have the guts to ask. You don’t even notice a significant change. Being attuned to the boys in physical and emotional ways is almost second nature to you, now.

Between July and August, the three of you are a set. 

A crowded bed. Weed-induced makeouts. Someone’s hand snapping the waistband of your shorts and slinking downwards. Sometimes, you can’t distinguish their touches. You don’t care to.

August is golden light waking you from sweet slumber. August is liquid gold in the sky reflecting on smooth skin. Bare knees hanging from rooftops. 

The summer loosens you up, much to Satoru’s delight. Enough to convince you to be more social, at least.

One night, your dorm is crowded—Shoko supplies the weed and Utahime supplies the alcohol.

Strip poker again. A unanimous decision because the school had poor ventilation and there were too many of you for your single box fan to air out the room. Shoko calls the game off knowingly—Satoru’s making his eyes at you again, drunk and high off his ass while you’re occupied with conversation. Any more clothing items stripped off and the rest of them would be kicked out of the room. 

You all settle on a movie drinking game, then. Something stupid, something American that Yuki picks out. You think it’s funny that she hangs out given her anarchist values on sorcery.

Satoru is, of course, annoyingly clingy and annoyingly cute. Hogging up all your attention the second you lean into Suguru in the slightest bit. You almost want to scold him, maybe spray him with a bottle like he’s a cat.

He doesn’t bother to put his clothes back on—not all of them, at least. He leaves his shorts on, though you think they must be a size too small given the inseam. You’re still clad in shorts and a crop top, giving Satoru any excuse to touch any expanse of skin between your hips and ribcage despite the number of times you complain about being too warm.

The girls get too drunk too fast. Yuki falls asleep in Suguru’s lap while Shoko and Utahime end up making out without caring about who’s looking. 

The minute the three of them are out your door, Satoru’s lips are on yours. Teeth adamant on biting into the flesh of your bottom lip like a predator. He tastes like strawberries this time. You can barely keep up before you register that Suguru is behind you, laughing, cursed energy flickering.

Despite everyone’s departure, the room feels smaller. 

Satoru has never been so eager to show off like this, believe it or not. He usually waits until the two of you are alone, though your reaction time is always too slow and the flippant speed that he takes you the millisecond you get privacy together is always too fast.

Maybe sometimes, Suguru would be asleep nearby while Satoru would tease you to sleep, but he’d never be a part of it. Certainly not in the same room.

So it has you deeply flustered now, just like it had been those many months ago in the late hours of New Year’s Day. Rushed and torrid. Two pairs of snake eyes on you. Getting torn apart by two sets of hands.

It seems that your suspicions on that beach weekend were correct.

Satoru’s been bringing up Suguru when he fucks you lately, asking you if you think his other half is more attractive. If you’re thinking about Suguru while he’s inside of you. 

Of course, you don’t answer—you never do. But Suguru seems to be in on it, given the amount of times he bumps into you, the way he’s started to call you Twigs. He seems to be everywhere, all the time, the exact second Satoru isn’t around. Like a scab that won’t heal. 

He buys you lunch often, likes to treat you after studying the more practical parts of Jujutsu. Plays with your hair absentmindedly just like Satoru does.

He’s doing it now, making your scalp tingle as he presses his mouth gently at the nape of your neck—a stark contrast to Satoru’s tongue in your mouth. 

“You gonna let Suguru watch, baby?” Satoru mumbles against your jaw, his breath hot. “Or d’you want him to join?”

You nod dumbly, barely aware of yourself. It’s how Suguru manages to get your shorts off so swiftly. His hands caress your shoulder blades with palms outstretched underneath your shirt. Your own pair of wings. 

It’s too easy—like picking apart petals off a rose. Rough as the boys are, they don’t need to be. You’d fold over for them without much convincing. You can tell how much they love that about you, how Satoru probably whispers about it to Suguru in between classes when you aren’t watching.

So sensitive every time I touch her. Like it’s her first time all over again.

“Suguru,” you whine. “Kiss me.”

He laughs and looks at you like a shiny new toy. Precious. Suguru is somehow more boyish when he’s high, his cat-like smile as lazy as his slurred movements. He’s always graceful despite the posture problem he shares with Satoru. When he smokes, there’s a lightness within him. Rolls off the shoulders like water falling.

He’s perfect.

Satoru preps your cunt with his mouth. You cry out immediately, feeling the vibration of him beneath you. It was good that they cut you off from the joint considering how many beers you and Utahime were passing back and forth. You’re light enough now to feel every lick and suck so acutely, Satoru’s mouth making a mess of you. 

Suguru works on your neck, then takes your nipple in his mouth. You swallow a moan. Kitten licks from both of them and you’re already convulsing.

“Think you broke a record, princess,” Suguru grins.

“Best girl,” Satoru sighs, biting into the meat of your thigh. 

“C’mere. Let me taste her.”

You expect Satoru to huff in protest or move out of the way, but he doesn’t. He leans over your body and presses his mouth to Suguru’s, licking into it obscenely with a small groan. Your eyes widen with fascination, cheeks blooming.

“How is she?” Satoru smirks.

“Perfect. Just like always.”

You whimper in response. They both smile at you; God and the devil. You swear their faces blur into each other.

“That turn you on, baby?”

“She’s so cute,” Suguru muses. “All fucked out already.”

Something divine awakens in your blood. You want to indulge in them, be their pet. It’s like your brain is melting into a pool of desire, dripping out of you. You blink slowly, feeling a pressure in your stomach that bleeds of desperation.

“Want you both,” you pant. Your lashes flutter when Suguru feels the slippery plushness of your walls with his fingers. “Fuck, want it so bad. Need it.”

“So fucking wet, holy shit,” he groans. “All this for me?”

“You?” Satoru frowns. “I’m the one who made her cum.”

“And I’ll make her cum on my cock.”

“Dude—”

“You need to learn how to share, Satoru,” Suguru chuckles. His fingers are incessantly scissoring into you, yet the two of them bicker as if you aren’t there. “You owe me for getting us in trouble last week.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that we both forgot to put up a veil—”

“Shut him up, will you, sweetheart?” Suguru interjects. “Shit, he’s hard as a rock.”

You whine when Suguru removes his fingers, but he’s quick to fuck into you. It’s whiplash, the stretch of him. Satoru rolls his eyes and leans in to cup your face with his hand, kissing you while his other hand pumps up and down his cock.

“Oh,” you gasp.”S-Suguru…”

“Does it hurt, pretty?”

“N-no. Feels too good.”

“Feels better than Satoru? Yeah?” he sneers.

Satoru glares at him, exhaling a groan in between annoyance and desperation as he palms himself. 

“You know, I was gonna fuck her face but now I think that’s your job.”

“I’ll fuck you after, relax,” Suguru chides. “I wanna kiss her.”

He leans down. His messy bun has fallen out of its scrunchie — it’s one of yours. Even when he has his usual hairstyle, he keeps it around his wrist sometimes. Now, his hair tickles your face as he kisses you, hand to your throat to hold you in place while your hips quiver at the sheer girth of him. 

“Satoru, c’mere,” you whimper.

He kisses you deeply before kneeling in front of you, his cock hovering over your face. You take him in your mouth, the flushed skin of his dick tight and throbbing underneath your tongue. You like the way he groans and pulls your hair, mirroring the way you were just pulling on Suguru’s hair when his face was buried in your neck. 

“Holy fuck,” Satoru moans. His thighs twitch. Suguru’s right – you look fucked out, eyes rolling backward. Must be the drugs. Then again, Suguru’s hitting every sensitive spot inside of you at a relentless pace.

“Such a good mouth, Twigs.”

If you weren’t getting fucked, you would’ve cringed at that. You hate when Satoru calls you that in bed. 

“Good cunt, too,” Suguru rasps. “Perfect cunt. Fuck, do you feel that, baby? Feel me up to your stomach?”

You moan around Satoru’s cock.

Satoru’s eyes are blown wide, a drop of blue expanding against the stark white of his sclera. He used to dream about this. His two favorite people in the world. It had occurred to him just then how much he wanted you both in the back of his mind. Wanted to consume you both in one bite.

He pulls out of your mouth, stroking his cock slowly as he watches. 

You whine something unintelligible. Begging, mumbling. “Faster.”

“Any faster and I’ll cum, baby,” Suguru groans. 

“Don’t cum inside her,” Satoru warns. “I’m still pissed at you for the last time.”

Suguru merely laughs. “Come over here and open your mouth then, pretty boy.”

His thrusts are getting sloppier but rougher. The impact of him is dizzying, the hand he has wrapped around your throat making you lightheaded. You can only stare with a parted mouth, fascinated by the succulent pink of his lips as he focuses on making you cum. You’re too out of breath to even tell him when it happens. 

It turns you inside out. Liquefying your body like treacle.

“You’re so cute when you cum, baby,” Satoru coos, squeezing your breast.

“Fuck, fuck, Satoru, c’mere,” Suguru slurs. He pulls out of you then, pumping himself over Satoru’s tongue until his cum spills onto it. He swallows and scrunches his nose.

“Battery acid.”

Suguru laughs, then looks back at you. “You’ll have to weigh in on who tastes better, princess.”

“My turn,” Satoru grins, his eyes a bit feral. 

You yelp when he manhandles you and gets you into his lap. He starts marking you up. Bites you a little too hard as if he’s trying to wake you up. When he thrusts into your cunt, you gasp, feeling him all the way into your guts. You spasm around him, still sensitive from Suguru.

He holds your hips and fucks into you at a steady pace while Suguru comes to caress your back, licking over your shoulder blades. 

“Satoru, you’re going to make her look like a domestic violence victim with the marks you’re making.”

“She likes it,” Satoru pouts.

“Fuck, ‘m hard again,” Suguru groans. “Lay her down.”

“No, I want her like this.”

“Too fucking bad, I want you like this.” Suguru pulls at you until your back hits the mattress and Satoru rolls his eyes, gripping your hips with bruising force as he drapes your legs over his shoulders. 

Suguru bites Satoru’s neck, peppering it with kisses. Watching them in front of you is tantalizing, makes you clench around Satoru harder. 

“Shit, you like that, baby? You like looking at us?” Satoru moans.

“Y-yes.”

Suguru spits in his hand as he preps Satoru from behind. It’s minimal, given how impatient he is. He reaches over to your bedside table, fumbling with a bottle of lube. It doesn’t take long until his cock fills Satoru to the brim. 

“Jesus.”

“Shut up and take it.”

Satoru feels too hot, too full. The feeling of Suguru’s cock in his ass inadvertently makes him bury himself even deeper into you, and he’s already on the brink. Suguru reaches over Satoru’s body to press a thumb to your aching clit until you cum with a strangled cry. 

The boys try to time their stuttering hips at a similar rhythm, but Satoru feels like he’s losing his mind. Caught up in between both of you, melting, barely lucid. Eyes squeezed shut with his mouth falling open. 

“Tell me you love me.”

You blink at him, wondering who he’s asking. The flush in his cheeks makes him look exhausted, spent. Drunk over the bacchanalian mess of it all.

“Love you, Satoru,” you whimper anyway. “I love you.”

He moans at that. Gasps when he feels the stretch of his hole split open on Suguru’s cock.

You watch with tears in your eyes, overstimulated from your orgasm. Over Satoru’s shoulder, Suguru locks eyes with you and smirks, not letting up eye contact nor the stimulation of your clit with his fingers. He doesn’t care that you’re convulsing underneath them, doesn’t care that hot tears are streaming down your face. He always thought you looked beautiful when you cried. It’s sick of him, maybe, but he wants to be the one to make you do it, even when it’s not his cock inside of you.

“Shit— Sugu—”

Satoru hits his peak, filling you with his cum when Suguru hits the perfect spot inside him. He’s whimpering. His eyes are glassy.

“Fucking shit, you’re tight,” Suguru mutters. “Gonna cum.”

“Not inside,” Satoru whines.

“You’re a fucking brat,” Suguru chuckles. 

Of course, Suguru disobeys, cumming inside Satoru with a guttural groan. Once he pulls out, Satoru collapses on top of your body, face buried in your hair.

You whine. You’re overheated, smothered. Your body feels as though it’s been rearranged multiple times like malleable clay in each of their hands. It’s a miracle that Satoru pulls his dick out of you at all.

“The hell was that?” he asks Suguru, out of breath. Suguru simply smiles, ignoring him.

“Let’s run her a bath. Poor baby looks like she’s gonna pass out.”

He’s right, admittedly. You aren’t even sure if you could get up if you wanted to, which is why Satoru scoops you in his arms. 

“We can’t all fit in the tub,” you mumble.

Satoru laughs. “Yes, we can. But fine, we’ll just shower after you.”

The two of them handle you like glass. The swapping of washcloths and soap bottles makes the ordeal ritualistic. Suguru runs his fingers through your wet hair while Satoru lifts one of your legs to scrub. 

“Little princess,” Suguru says.

“You guys treat me like a pet.”

The two of them exchange a glance. Unreadable. But there’s something of a knowing smile in Satoru’s expression.

“You’re just precious s’all. Perfect girl.”

You sigh, sinking into the water. Something turns over in your stomach, but you’re soothed by the sound of Suguru lightly humming behind you. They’re gentle with you. It’s ironic.’

Suguru kneads your spine and presses kisses to your wet skin. The smell of sex dissipates and the scent of Suguru’s shampoo wafts under your nose instead—he’d left it in your bathroom one weekend when Satoru was out on a mission. You have a suspicion he did it on purpose to get a rise out of Satoru or to make you smell like him. You didn’t mind either way. 

Every touch feels blistering as much as it feels soothing, somehow. White-hot, too noticeable, yet the feeling of their hands lets you exhale. Maybe it was the sex. You couldn’t even really look Satoru in the eye, not really. Something in the face was constantly changing, as if he was slowly transforming whenever you were joined together in ways that were beyond you.

He’d gotten rougher. Meaner in the hips, even if his kisses were meant to cherish. He’d get too eager. He always was, to be fair, but it’s been ferocious from him. Bruising your hips with the force of his hands, handprints adorning your ass. It would be Suguru to pick up the pieces, to soothe you with sweet nothings despite his cock splitting you open. It was only a few times since the beach trip, but it was as if they planned it together.

You realize this now in your post-sex haze. Steam in the air as heavy as your lids. They wanted to take care of you so badly. They just had to ruin you a little beforehand.

[notjustjavierpena]

Reunion - Part II: Clamp

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This started out as a collection of a few requests. Then it became feely instead. Then a second chapter to Reunion. Read the first part here.

Summary: Homemade nipple clamps, toast for breakfast and a sudden confession. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, innocence kink to some extent, homemade nipple clamps, nipple play, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, possessive sex, reader has post-sex feelings, joel does too. 

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892349

Clamp

Joel’s stomach growls loudly underneath you as you are cuddling in bed. He tries to deny it when you start fussing, but the way the noise repeats itself, traveling all the way up to your ear as you rest your head on his chest, makes him capitulate quickly. You get out from underneath the covers.

“Come on, I’m hungry but…” he says with a tinge of the stubbornness of a teenager as if eating is only an inconvenience and not a way of staying alive as well as healthy. He’d go hungry to touch you, and it’s almost sweet but you’d rather feed and hydrate him so he can go again sooner. 

You can feel it as he watches your ass when you move to the dresser in his room. There are a few pieces of clothing sticking out, and you yank at what you correctly assume is a t-shirt. Pulling it over your head, you are encapsulated in the smell of Joel’s fabric softener, a hint of his cologne too that doesn’t seem to want to come out completely. 

“I’m going to make some toast,” you say just as stubbornly, bending over to tie your hair up in a messy bun despite knowing you are not wearing any underwear. Joel groans behind you. 

“Ain’t playin’ fair,” he mutters bitterly, “Look at you. No panties and my shirt? Diabolical.”

You hear shuffling behind you but you actively ignore the footsteps coming up behind you. Instead, you secure a few stray hairs with the hairpins that you took out last night, trying to look busy when hands settle on your hips. 

“Turn around,” he tells you. You smile to yourself. 

With a few seconds delay, he adds a threatening ‘young lady’. You put on a pout and then face him, “Just wanna feed you, Daddy. Look at you. You’re already skin and bone.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he argues.

You shake your head, allow him to kiss you longingly for a little bit, “No, I like your tummy. You’re soft. Like you soft.” 

“Soft,” he repeats with a scoff, “I ain’t soft.”

And then, “And I always get what I want.”

Suddenly, his hands reach up to find the hairpins at the back of your head. He pulls one out, makes you furrow your brows as it tugs a little at the sensitive baby hairs there. 

“Ow, what are you doing?” You ask as he removes the second one. He holds them in his large palm, big enough to hide them completely from view. 

“Do you trust me?” He questions. He looks into your eyes expectantly, waiting for confirmation before he continues. You nod. He doesn’t go on.

“I mean yes,” you quickly add.

“Good girl,” he smiles at how well you are learning. Then he reaches for the bottom of his shirt that you are wearing, pinching the hem with his thumb and forefinger now that he has the pins in his palm. He yanks the shirt up until it rests above your breasts, “Hold this up f’me.”

You do as he says. The fabric skimming over your chest and the anticipation that is hanging in the air has made your nipples hard, standing in peaks and waiting for what is about to happen. You know exactly where this is going yet it still hits you when one of the pins clamp down on your sensitive nipple. 

You half-moan in beautiful pain, half-chuckle in surprise. It stings and pinches, but despite never having done this before, your body reacts a whole lot more by pulsing between your legs than by triggering your fight-or-flight response. 

Joel studies your face but you don’t give him any indication that you want to stop. He tugs a little on the pin to make sure it is secure and elicits a little sound from you. You’ve noticed his boxers are already starting to tent. 

“Next one,” he informs as if performing a mediocre task, his voice having dropped an octave. He sounds breathier, aroused. You don’t jump half as much when your other nipple is painfully pinched too, but the feeling of them burning together is so intense that slick has started to smear your inner thighs. 

“Now,” he yanks your shirt down, makes your arms fall to your sides and your toes curl as a pin nearly catches in the fabric, “Go make me some toast. See if you still think I’m soft then.”

“But…” you try. 

“Go on,” he says and crawls back into bed before you can play dirty and touch him on the front of his underwear. 

*

Making breakfast has never been harder. 

You are in a world of hellish lust as you enter the bedroom again, holding a plate with buttered toast in your hands. There is a slice for you too, but it’ll take a whole lot longer for you to eat your way through it than it will take Joel to wolf down his own two pieces. 

He sits on the bed in silence, chewing quietly and occasionally brushing a few crumbs off the top of his chest. You hope that he doesn’t see the way you try to rock down on the foot you have tucked underneath yourself because he’d laugh straight into your face. 

“Don’t start without me.”

You sit up straight at being called out and the shirt tugs at your tits. You hiss loudly, “Please.”

“In a moment, just gotta get clean first. Sit against the headboard, ‘n take off your shirt,” he leaves the bed to go wash his hands. He is painfully hard at this point. You nearly break the plate when you move to place it on the nightstand. 

“What’re ya doin’?” He calls over the tap running from the master bathroom. 

“Not getting fucked,” you quip. 

“Watch it,” he replies back as if unaffected. God, he is so much better at this than you.

You are completely naked as he reenters the bedroom. You’ve stuffed a pillow behind your back, halfway to lying down with your ass scooted downwards on the bed a little. Your pussy is flushed pink and glistening, presented, and your nipples are a good amount of shades darker from the blood flow having settled there. The burn is exquisite, but it’s the sight of Joel’s eyes going dark that makes you whine.

“Jesus,” he laughs quietly as he crawls between your legs. Even the weight of him on the bed makes a sound slip from your mouth, “Ain’t ya just an obedient little thing?” 

You blink up at him almost teary-eyed. He takes pity on you. 

“Let’s get these off,” he promises, kneeling to free his hands from having to support himself. He removes one homemade clamp, making you whimper in relief at the ceiling. The blood flow makes your heart pound, slamming painfully against your ribs whilst you anticipate the second clamp being removed.

Joel flicks your abused nipple instead. Your head snaps down to his grin, betrayal visible on your face. Your cunt reacts immediately, feeling too empty and fluttering as it tries sucking in something that isn’t there. 

Joel looks down between your legs. He smiles affectionately, creating an obscene contrast to what he is doing to you. He coos softly at your facial expression, it having turned pained and horny, “Shh… I’ll kiss it better, baby.”

He finally removes the second hairpin. There’s a second where he lets you cry weakly at the new sensation, but then he tugs at both of your nipples to the point where you don’t even have the brain power to say a sound. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Good,” he praises, relenting but only to rub the sensitive nubs with his thumbs in clockwise motions, “Don’t think about anything. Just think about this, princess. Feel good?”

It does. You nod. The gentleness behind the touches is soothing you more than you thought it could, the pads of Joel’s fingers bringing your heartbeat down a notch. He traces your areola, breathing a little more erratically at seeing your pussy jump without being touched. 

He tugs again, soothes again until your nipples are red and swollen underneath his fingertips. The clamps have done a number on you because you start to think you might be able to come like this, a growing pressure starting between your legs. 

But Joel isn’t going to let you. He straightens until he is upright again, swallowing thickly as he focuses his attention on your neglected cunt. He runs a warm hand down over your mound, your hips twitching in response to finally being touched. Joel’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares down at his shiny palm, “Why didn’t you say anything? Look at her. She’s weepin’.”

“Just needs you,” your doe-eyes are on full blast. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, lazily running two fingers through your slick folds until you sigh, “You took a lot last night. Think you can handle it?” 

“Want you to keep me sore, Daddy,” you push into his touch again. He swears under his breath, teasingly dipping his digits into your cunt but making no suggestion that he will follow through on what they’re doing. You bat your eyelashes, “Please.”

It does not take much more convincing. He calls you princess again but this time it is with a frustrated sigh. He yanks his boxers down over his hips to let his cock spring free, kicks his underwear all the way off, and lets them fall to the floor of the bedroom in record time. 

He is fully erect. Hard and beautiful. The head of his dick has turned a dark red from having been seeking your attentive touch since he watched you put up your hair. The tip impatiently weeps precome for you. You consider a blowjob for half a second because your mouth waters at the idea of tasting his salt and musk. 

Later, you think, some other time. 

He strokes himself a few times until the bead at the head spills down over the length of him. Your eyes never leave his cock, especially not when he slides it through your glistening folds to coat himself in your arousal. 

“Could come just like this,” you tell him and finally dare to look up into his eyes. He smiles back at you and it tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out to hold his elbows and lift your legs to wrap them around his waist. 

In one smooth motion, he positions himself and rocks into you without stopping until he has bottomed out. The girth of him never ceases to amaze you. It’s the same each time; he stretches your walls painfully until you whimper and tells you that big girls can take it. Ain’t you a big girl? You nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on it to suppress the pathetic little noise that’s bubbling up in your chest. 

It works for a moment but only until Joel tells you to breathe. The noise finally comes out and it becomes wanton when he starts fucking into you. He pounds you like yesterday and you can barely contain yourself anymore, whining and groaning as he gives it to you with the intention of making you sore all over. Your walls are already sensitive, and you hate to think that you haven’t actually been out of your state of arousal since you knocked on his door. It’s embarrassing. It’s infatuation. 

You let out a high-pitched squeak as he bucks up his hips, nudging at the front of your walls and searching for that little spot inside you that belongs to him by now. He finds it expertly, fits inside of you like you were made for each other. 

“There!” You plea whilst arching your back, “Daddy, it’s right—“

“I know where it fuckin’ is,” he leans down to kiss you, breaths coming out through his nose as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. You dig your nails into the back of his arms, making an attempt to move with him and oh God, you kiss him so deeply. 

“Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he growls when he pulls back for a breath that he can barely catch, sweat threatening to drip down from his brow. He has one hand on the headboard, making the bed rattle underneath the both of you, and the other lays over your heart. He applies just the slightest pressure to your chest. 

“You’re— baby, please,” you can barely find the words, gasping out into the room. The only thing you can think of is how important it feels to hold onto him as he drives into your cunt, scared that if you let go you’ll melt into the mattress and never see him again. You never want that to happen. You want to drown in everything he is. 

“Say it,” he gives you a particularly hard thrust, managing to put the hand on the headboard behind your head before you bang it into the wood. You don’t even think you would have noticed it if it had happened since you are so delirious already from being so fucked out. 

“Best— best I’ve ever had,” you stutter out between loud moans, the pleasurable tightening in your belly soon reaching a crescendo, “I’m close, oh f— I’m so close.”

“Careful, princess,” he notes as you almost swear at him, “Don’t make— shit, don’t give me a reason to stop.”

He wouldn’t, you think, he is as lost in you as you are in him. 

“Never,��� you pant, noises climbing in pitch, “I’m gonna be so good for you, Daddy. Gonna come— oh God, please, gonna come on your cock!”

“Yeah,” his thighs flex, your legs squeeze harder around him, “Oh fuuuck, I can feel you— come on my dick, sweetheart. You can do it.” 

The tightening releases into sweet clenches. Your vision blanks for just a moment, your brain unable to focus on any other of your five senses except touch, and Joel touches you deep inside as his hips stutter and your walls milk everything he has to give. 

He fucks you through it, bucks his hips upwards to prod at your g-spot whilst you shiver and moan from the heat of your climax. It may be even more intense than yesterday despite how many highs he pulled from you. 

Everything stills. Time passes while you pant. The windows must be foggy by now. Joel slips out with a soft groan and kisses away the pained moan you let out when emptiness hits.

You are sure you are experiencing heat stroke as you try catching your breath. There are small beads of sweat scattered all over your chest and stomach, some collecting in the dip of your belly button. You feel like you are floating in the Sunday afternoon silence. A bird chirps outside of the window, and you catch yourself wondering why you haven’t heard it until now. He is too important, you think, so important that you filter out anything that isn’t him until he leaves you in this state of clarity. You love him.

Joel is staring down at you and you can see yourself in the reflection of his brown eyes. He glows just like you, filled to the brim with dopamine. His skin burns as you rub his arms where you have been digging your nails into them moments before. You wonder if he feels the same as you; like someone who is seconds from evaporating, bursting, something, unable to move, in love. 

You pull him down into yourself. He sticks to you in a way that would normally have you scrunching up your nose, but you don’t care about it right now because his cheek is pressed to yours. You giggle softly with post-orgasmic excitement. 

But then a thought reluctantly worms its way into your head. Why isn’t he saying something? You know why you aren’t, but why isn’t he? 

“Joel,” you say in confusion as he suddenly starts to break free from your embrace. He moves to sit up next to you, eyes the plate on the nightstand, and practically launches himself up from the bed so he can take it to the kitchen. 

You crawl across the bed without thinking as if you have the speed to catch his wrist before he is out the door, “Joel. Fuck, Joel!”

That catches his attention. Joel turns in the doorway. He sets the plate down on his dresser instead, “You know I fuckin’ hate that.”

“Well shit,” you continue and he visibly flinches. 

“Don’t say anything,” you don’t think you have ever warned him as he repeatedly does with you, “Don’t say anything, just come here.” 

You hold out your hands, still on your knees at the edge of the bed. You grab at the air, and after a brief pause, Joel gives in. He steps forward until you can hold onto his wrists, “Remember that time you wiped away my tears? The first time we… doesn’t matter. Point is I was sad and you were there.”

Joel avoids replying. He swallows thickly, jaw muscles tensing. 

“I just mean that you can talk to me,” you finish your speech which is barely a speech with a beating heart. There are so many butterflies in your stomach that they are making you slightly nauseous. You look at him expectantly, watching his eyes skim over your face, scanning for what you assume is genuineness. You won’t ask why he needs reassurance that you are telling him the truth. 

“I’m falling for you,” he breathes out. 

Of all things, you do not expect this. 

“Ditto,” you say back, eyes widening when you realize that it’s the word you have managed to blurt out. 

“Ditto?” Joel furrows his brow. 

You slap his arm, “Shut it. You know what ditto means.”

But then he bursts out laughing and your heart swells. He leans down over you, naked and vulnerable right there in front of you, and kisses you gently. 

He inhales deeply afterward, then asks the question that you want an answer to as well: “What in the world are we going to do?”

*

It comes out of nowhere a few weeks later when you’re home again. 

“You know Joel?” Your dad asks as if you have never noticed him in the many years he’s been your father’s best friend. You try not to freeze. 

“Yes, I obviously know Mr. Miller, Dad. What about him?” You sip your coffee, eyeing the crossword on the back of the newspaper that your father is holding up in front of himself. 

“Think he’s seein’ some new lady,” he replies but there’s no tone to his voice. 

You tense in your seat, setting down your mug to avoid dropping it if the news is about to break, “Why do you think that?”

“Don’t matter why, but she’s good for him, I can tell,” your father is still oblivious, “Just smiles more.”

“Ah, well good for him,” you pause briefly, “Can I get the crossword puzzle?”

“Sure, honey.”

As he rustles the paper to pull out the page, you stand with the excuse of getting a pen, but when you have your back to your father, you grin to yourself and don’t mind the butterflies that seem to have moved into your body.

Joel is right. 

What in the world are you going to do?

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