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[anticrazed]

"The council will decide your fate" but it's @heres-to-all-that-is-mine, @purple-to-my-tangerine, @warriorend, @warriorend-2, @crystalpine49, @mixedfandomer, @toasters0422, @huevobuevo, @goo-helio-nite, @a-patchofmoss, @lunacornfan2k22, @lookineedsleep, @silverblooded-adventures, @bluisp, @f3ar-prompts, @f3arow, @amethystfox4, @rojaceartandgaming, @the-valiant-valkyrie, @snowingclouds, @lemonjunkie, and @bugtoast

[timidpumpkin]

Little Light (Stucky x reader)

Part 4: Retribution

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: While you're left feeling hopelessly confused, it's clear to Steve and Bucky that you have a lot to learn about being their good little girl.

Warnings for this part: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Forced age regression, DDLG themes, Female reader, Manipulation, Violence against reader, Being tied up, Hints to sexual themes, This one's dark folks, Mean Steve and Bucky, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

As always, lemme know if I missed any!!

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has supported me since I posted Part 1 many many months ago. I love you all and appreciate your support and kind words more than I can express. I'm super nervous to post this one so i'm really hoping everyone likes it. ^.^

Tagging: @ppatricia34me @canyonmooncreations @haleyhunwritess

(lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

P.S. Please feel free to comment/ask questions as they are a million times appreciated as I ALWAYS love to read you guy's thoughts!

(pictures are not my own)

Warm. 

The cozy temperature surrounding you beckons you to sink further into its comfortable drowsy feeling. It feels nice–good. It’s comfortable as you pull at the blanket wrapped around you to cover the cold tip of your nose. 

When you do though, adjusting as you move, adrenaline rushes through you. 

All sense of tranquility leaps out of your body to be replaced by standing hairs and cold blood as you realize you’re not napping in your bed. 

No–you’re napping on your capture’s lap. 

Hazy memories from just a bit ago replay in your mind. The picture they paint is fogged up by an overcast of intense emotion. 

Worry. Fear. Shock.

The panic you felt is now an almost disembodied ghost, content with hiding in the closet as it knows you can’t handle its presence anymore. 

Not right now. 

It would be too much. Your body and mind having already fought till every single cell within you is doused with exhaustion. 

The wispy wave of relief you felt–feel–now molds into another feeling. It rips the comfort your body so desperately clings to at this moment of peril and unkindly reminds you that you shouldn’t have let your guard down. 

But you did. 

You–as you see it–involuntarily allowed the very person, no, the very people who have snatched you, took you from your, albeit, unexcitingly ordinary–but otherwise stable–life, to soothe the very predicament they have forced you in.

As you recall their hushed voices anchoring you, steady hands smoothing your trembling ones, and sweet comfort that you somehow found in their pacifying of you, the one emotion you painfully feel now is…embarrassment. It aligns with disgrace you feel within yourself for giving into…this. 

You stiffen, body frozen in place as you become acutely aware of your situation again. Both the larger reality of being held hostage, and the other–ever so slightly smaller issue–that currently places your head nestled right in your captor’s lap. Bucky’s lap.

This is what you found so comforting in your sleep state? 

Head wedged exactly between his legs, resting heavily against his lower half. Your hands curled up. You stare at them. They lay right in front of your view. Almost too close to your vision where you watch them resting, palms nestled down between his thighs.

But it’s not just your position. It’s his too. One of his arms is resting against you, draped over your side, his hand sprawled just at your navel, adding to the welcoming warmth you felt upon waking up. The other, languidly stroking your head with his thumb. 

It’s an intimate position–close–in more ways than one. It’s not one you should be in, it’s not one you’re in voluntarily–despite what your last memories torturously remind you.

“You get enough sleep there, princess?” Bucky’s voice calls. You haven’t spoken a word but he must be able to tell you’re awake. Whether it’s from how your muscles have tensed, or the way you’ve been holding your breath since, is unknown to you.

You can’t see him. Your eyes are too intensely focused on how your hands rest with faux intimacy at his thighs and the realization of how long you’ve been in this position makes your lungs feel as if they don’t work anymore.

“You really scared Dada you know,” he moves his hand from your navel to caress your arm as he lends forward a bit to get a better view of your face. Still, frozen in place, you don't meet his gaze. Your self-preservation response only knows how to freeze now as you don’t move, but keep looking forward, completely unsure of how to tackle the situation you’re in. 

Waves of memory come back to you. It’s blurry as you remember how scared you were. You remember how Steve calmed you. How his voice led you to placidity. How could that be? It’s what led you to the position you're in now.

Vulnerable. Again. And yet, you let it happen. 

But you didn’t, no–you couldn’t–you don't remember exactly with anxiety fogging up your memory. 

You knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t give in. 

“Not going to ignore Daddy now, are you?” Bucky questions, taking his hand to your chin and facing it upwards so you’re looking up to him. Somehow, it’s still shocking how large he looks. You feel as though you've somehow been shrunk down a third of your size when looking at him. His hand is mostly just ghosting your face, guiding it up as he looms over you, one cheek smooshed against his navel now as his hand remains on the other.

“Hmm?” he questions, his pointer finger tapping methodically on your cheek, prompting you to answer. “Don’t tell me you forgot your manners already now, doll.”

“I-I wanna go home,” You try to sit up, not exactly sure why you said that, as recent events have told you already it’s not what he wants to hear. But you’re just not sure about anything at the moment. He looks at you with a displeased look, face dropping into an unkind frown.

His hold on you tightens; his forearm presses down on your chest lightly, silently reminding you that trying to move would be a bad idea. You don’t fight it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to succeed in getting up even if your life depended on it.

“You are home.” he declares curtly, before swiftly picking you up, dizzying you as he turns you around. You feel as though you’ve barely blinked before you’re in the new position. Your back is to his stomach as he situates you on his lap. His right arm wraps snugly around your waist, firmly securing you against his body. His left hand reaches in front and clasps around your cheeks, the cool metal instantly raising goosebumps on your once warm face as he slowly tilts your head back and forth for you, forcing you to look around the room. 

“You see all this?” he lilts with a scolding undertone. “This is your home. All of it.” he pauses before–somehow–squeezing you closer to him. He brings his head to the side of your ear. His chest flush against your back, engulfing your body, and encapsulating your very being with how he maintains his grip on your face. His breath dances lightly against your ear as he speaks, adding to the chilling feeling overtaking your insides.

“Now what would you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little baby?” He speaks in a low, hushed tone. Not a sweet one–like the hushed subdued one Steve used on you just hours ago–No, Bucky’s tone is polar to that. It’s mocking, and sardonic as you can almost feel the smirk gracing his face without even looking at him. It’s as if he’s asking the most rhetorical question known to man. “Hmm?” 

You feel your own breathing pick up. It becomes evident with how every millimeter your chest moves, your lungs have to fight against the pressure of Bucky’s heavy arms around you. Your mind is blank as fright starts to fill it instead. How were you supposed to answer that? 

When you take too long to respond, Bucky promptly pinches at your side and simultaneously squeezes your cheeks harder, causing a retaliatory yelp out of you. 

“Ah! I-I don’t know!” you squirm around at the pain that certainly doesn’t help you think. 

He promptly covers your mouth with a shush, his sizable metallic hand swallowing up your face as you squeak dully now into his solid palm. 

“No yelling now, doll.” He turns your face towards him so he can look at you as he speaks. He glances quickly at the closed bedroom door before looking back at you. “Answer Daddy’s question.” He directs, “I know you’re a smart girl.” he grins at you, and though–in most contexts–that would sound like a compliment, his tone is decidedly condescending as he continues. “But I’ll repeat my question, just in case my silly little girl forgot.” he smiles snidely at you for a brief moment before continuing. “What do you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little girl?” He says the question more slowly this time, eerily calm but just as patronizing as he goes.

You stare at him with wide eyes as he carefully removes his hand from your mouth. He doesn’t have to speak the words as his eyes alone tell you not to yell again. His fingers remain on your face, retaking their previous position of gripping your chin as he looks at you expectantly.

“...home…” you breathe meekly, voice almost cracking as you do, hoping that was the right answer. 

“Good girl,” he roughly pats at your cheek with a slightly more authentic smile. “that’s exactly right.” he praises. You then hear some movement coming from the bedroom. Bucky glances that way before speaking to you again with a stern glare in his eye. “Now when Dada comes in here, you won't say any of those silly little thoughts, will you?” he asks presumptuously. You shake your head agreeably, and when Bucky’s head tilts with a clench of his jaw, you answer promptly out loud.

“Yes, Daddy” you quiver. He smiles at you, and as if on cue, Steve emerges from the door. There's a towel around his neck and he ruffles it around his hair before spotting you, his face lighting up when he does.

“Hi there angel,” he beams and leans down to you, instantly taking in the sight in front of him. 

Your adorable frame sitting atop his partner's lap. You looked so perfect right there. As if you were the last puzzle piece missing his entire life, now fitting together so seamlessly that it just looks like a painting. A beautiful one. Steve isn’t sure how they went without you before. Your soft face still holds a frayed look. His poor girl. He was hoping a little bit of rest would ease your frazzled little mind.

“You feeling a bit better after your nap?” Steve asks with a loving tone as he carefully picks you up from Bucky’s lap. He situates you so that you are on his hip, one arm supporting your bottom with legs wrapped around his side as he guides your arms around his neck. You fit so nicely around him like this. He almost wishes he could stop time and freeze this moment forever. Being able to hold you like this, he’s never felt so whole, so complete. You feel tense in his arms, but he knows one day…that won’t be the case. You’ll lean fully in, wholly relying on and giving yourself to them both. He’s eager for every moment leading to it and each subsequent instant after. 

Steve’s cold and wet hair tickles your arms. Being so close, you can’t help but notice the crisp comforting aroma that emits from his warm skin. 

For some reason, you look to Bucky as if he holds the answer to Steve’s question. He just glares at you with a slight scowl that dares you to misbehave before standing up after too long of silence on your part. 

“She’s still feeling a bit confused.” Bucky caresses you, palm enveloping the side of your face. “Huh, doll?” 

“Awh…” Steve joins in on stroking your face by soothing the back of your head. “well that’s okay angel. Babies get confused so easily.” he says with that underlying patronizing but sweet tone he uses. “Why don’t you let Dada check you, huh?” he asks while looking you up and down. You then feel all blood draining from your face as your eyes go wide, having no idea what he means by that. 

You look between him and Bucky frantically as Steve gently grabs one of your hands from behind his neck. You instinctively try pulling away but his grip tightens before you’re able to. 

“Now now, don’t be scared,” Steve assures sweetly, a stark contrast to the death grip on your hand. “Dada just needs to look at those pesky little marks we had to leave on you last night,” he explains while unraveling you from him and setting you back down on the couch where he kneels in front of you. Your body trembles in anticipation–for what exactly, doesn’t matter. 

You can’t control it as he diligently peels your socks off and rolls your leggings up to look underneath. He takes his time tracing the deformed marks with his fingertips, lifting up your ankles as he goes before making his way to your arms. He tugs on them gently in front of you and repeats his previous examination as if he’s mapping out every little laceration. “You don’t want any more of these…do you, babygirl?” Steve lilts, an ever so slightly threatening tone lacing his otherwise calm voice as he presses his fingers down, digging just harshly enough into where a bruise must be forming and causing you to jolt at the pain.

“Ah!-n-no!” you yelp pitifully quick at the discomfort.

“No…what?” Steve prods with false grace before pressing harder into your skin.

“N-no Dada!…ah!...please.” you shakily breathe the last word with a plea, pathetically pulling on your arms that don’t move an inch under his hold.

“Good girl,” he praises with a mischievous smile, and unclenches his painful grip, but doesn’t let go completely, instead, keeping a firm hold on you. 

He steadily lifts your wrists up…to his lips. They ghost your skin as he glints at you with a soft smirk before placing slow…slow kisses along the marked-up lines. 

Warm lips meet the welts that are painted all across and up your arms from where you were bound–corporal reminders of what disobeying meant–he trails each one of them, dragging his lips and dousing each inch of burning skin with tender kisses, his grip remaining its powerful hold so you remain immobile. 

When he makes his way to your upper arm, you physically resist from full-on screaming. A quick glance to Bucky with your sorrowful eyes reveals no mercy from him. He just glares at you, a deadpan look on his face but a teasing smirk in his eyes that dares you to make a noise. 

Steve lifts his head up to face you after planting his last kiss on your upper arm, just a hair's breadth from your face. Your head has already pushed itself back as far as it’ll go as the rest of your body is ensnared by his that hovers atop yours. Thick air surrounds you as your trembles turn to full-on shaking, watching him as his eyes don’t even meet yours. His blown pupils are intensively fixated on your lips now.

They look so soft.

Time itself seems frozen, all except a slow-motion icy droplet that falls from the tips of his hair. It lands atop soft cotton, dampening the fabric on your chest that ripples chills throughout you. He follows it, dark eyes lowering to where sensitive skin is hidden by the dainty onesie Bucky dressed you in earlier. You feel heat taking over the arctic sensation within you as he looks at your body with what you can only prescribe as desire–want.

But to your–very minuscule–relief he looks back up to your eyes, and gives you a quick smile, before leaning back on his knees again in front of you with a satisfied smile adorning his face.

“Might take a while for those to heal up,” he remarks, “but don’t worry, Daddy and I will give them lots of kisses to help them heal.” he smiles at you. 

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky speaks up, crossing his arms. 

A confused and worried look that causes your eyebrows to furrow comes over your face, unsure of what he wants when you’ve barely gotten your heart to stop pounding from the previous predicament.

Bucky decides–for now–he’ll key you in. Mostly because he doesn’t like seeing his Stevie all upset when you don’t do as you were told. 

He mouths a “thank you” with a cock of his head motioning towards Steve below him. 

“Th-thank you…D-dada” you squeak, voice uncontrollably shaky. 

“Oh, such a good girl. My good little girl,” Steve beams at you before standing up. “Oh…poor thing,” he remarks while looking down at your trembling form. “You must be freezing,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dada will go get you a sweater. Stay right here,” he instructs before trailing off. 

When he comes back, there's more than just an extra garment in his hand. 

“Now later you can play upstairs all you want, but right now,” he speaks while setting down a few colorful-looking books and a box of crayons on the coffee table. “Daddy and I need to watch you and make sure you stay safe,” He then motions for you to move your arms up so he can put the sweatshirt he brought for you on. He carefully moves your arms and head through the holes and then leads you to the coffee table. “You can color as long as you like, angel, just make sure to tell us if you need anything, like water…or juice, okay?”

You nod your head complacently at him while he holds your hand looking down at you.

“Okay-I mean-I-yes…Dada” you fumble before kneeling down on the carpet yourself in front of the variety of coloring books. 

You don’t want to color. But–genuinely–what choice do you have? You could protest, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere beneficial. 

You scan the playful books in front of you, trying to find some solace in the fact that maybe focusing on this would at least mean less nerve-wracking interactions with…them. 

It shouldn't matter–which picture you settle on–with your brain still rattled from before, only you can’t help but feel choosy about the drawing you pick. You flip through the books, dog-earing the ones that pique your interest before settling on a foresty scene that depicts two large sleeping wolves and a little rabbit nestled right in the middle. 

For some perplexing reason, the crayon box decides it doesn’t want to be opened by your frail fingers. Steve quickly notices your frustrated struggle with it and instructs you to hand it to him so he can open it for you. You groan at the box and mutter something about how you ‘got it.’ 

You don’t see his eye squint and eyebrow raise as he watches you fumble with it for a moment longer, but you do feel him taking the box from your hands. 

“I don’t want you hurting those precious little fingers of yours now,” He smoothly opens the box and hands it back to you with a pet to your head. 

At some point, Bucky notices your tired posture and offers you a pillow to sit on before moving the coffee table closer to the couch so you can rest your back on the cushiony sofa. He moves it effortlessly as if the table wouldn’t break your back if you tried to move it. 

You mumble an assenting “thank you daddy” to which Bucky responds. “You’re welcome, sweet girl” with a wink and you withhold from sticking your tongue out at him.

Either one or both of them remain in the room with you for the rest of the evening, checking on you every so often. You attempt to keep your attention on remaining within the lines when you color, but you can’t help the way your unnerved hands still shake, causing you–to your annoyance–to occasionally strike outside the lines. 

By the time the sun has long set, and the only thing illuminating the paper in front of you is warm artificial light, you find yourself yawning with your head sideways on the table as you color. Whiffs of savory smells dance through your nose as Bucky has been in the kitchen for the last little bit preparing dinner.

“Getting sleepy babygirl?” Steve asks, peering down at you and your drawings. You shrug your shoulders, unsure of which answer would allow you the most leniency. 

“Oh, that one is just perfect,” he remarks while bending over and picking up the forest scene you colored first. It was hidden amongst other drawings that you had shuffled to the side. He holds it up and takes a good look at it. “You did such a good job,” he compliments. “I think this one deserves a place on the fridge” he boasts.

You turn your head back and watch in curiosity as he really does make his way to the kitchen and secures it with a little magnet. He stands back and smiles in satisfaction while you go back to coloring, feigning that you never even noticed the proud expression radiating off his body, and positively pretending that your insides didn’t go soft for a brief moment watching him. 

Steve and Bucky chatter while setting the table. You try to tunnel in on their voices but you can’t exactly make out what they’re saying as they speak quite lowly to each other. 

Steve makes his way to you and takes your hand to guide you to the table. He sets you in the seat furthest away from the door as they both sit rather closely to you–practically trapping you in. You poke at your otherwise appetizing plate as you have little desire to eat with your stomach still turned in tangled knots. 

They both encourage you to eat throughout, but you only manage to get a few bites down. Neither of them look particularly happy with you and your full plate. Nevertheless, they stop pushing after a bit and share a knowing look that you can’t make out the meaning of. 

You huff a quiet sigh of relief when they take your plate and start cleaning the kitchen, silently feeling as though you won this trivial round of control.

Bucky catches you from the corner of his eye as you take it upon yourself to get out of your chair. He tenses, preparing to snatch you before you can move until he realizes you’re only going to the living room, opposite of where the front door is. He decides to just watch you for a few moments as you go back to coloring with criss-crossed legs.   

Innocent little thing. His naive little doll shading away, having not a clue in your pretty little head of how erroneous it was to make your own decisions like that. It really was much too soon for you to truly understand what consequences will come when trying to think for yourself. He can’t exactly blame you though. His poor little baby had to do it for so long before they found you. It’s probably why you’re benignly coloring away with not an idea in your head of what’s really in store for your life here. Such a sweet, sweet little girl they had. All to themselves. Forever now.

He observes how you ferociously analyze and juxtapose the colors before you, even testing them on other miscellaneous paper before choosing the right one for the job. 

He already knows you better than you can even comprehend. He knows you’ve likely already thought you’ve gotten away with it.

“What do you think you’re doing little girl?” Bucky’s scolding voice startles you, causing you to jump a little in your spot. After just a second, he roughly yanks you up by your arm, spinning you around to face him as he holds you. “Did Daddy tell you you could leave the table? Hmm? Did Dada?” he fumes, the sudden escalation in action and tone making you want to just cry. 

“I-I-” you fumble, squirming uncomfortably below him. “I thought-”

“Oh I don’t think you were thinking anything in that silly little head of yours,” he chastises while pinching one of your cheeks harshly with his free hand. “And did you really think you could get away with not eating?”

“Ah!-” you fight, struggling against him, confused and disoriented on why he’s suddenly being so harsh when you thought you were off the hook. 

“Hey-hey, it’s okay,” you hear Steve speaking up behind him. “Let me talk to her Buck,” he says, allowing Bucky to let go of your arm and cheek. You tearfully rub at your hurt cheek while Steve kneels down to your level. “Sweet girl…remember yesterday when daddy gave you apple juice?” he asks, circling his hand behind your ear and gently cupping the cheek that Bucky previously inflicted harshly. You nod smally, glancing away around the room as you recall the unfond memory of being bottle-fed against your will. “Good, then you should know that little girls need their nutrients. And that means no skipping dinner,” he explains with a kind voice that makes you feel as if he's quite literally talking to a child.

“I-okay…Dada” you add, grateful for Steve at least being gracious enough as to not yell at and pinch you like Bucky just was. 

“Good girl,” he smiles at you before telling you to sit tight on the couch while he goes to get your dinner. You sit there, a bit perplexed on how he planned on giving you a meal when you’re pretty sure you saw Bucky scrape the remnants of your food into the trashcan. 

Steve returns with no plate in hand and sits a bit away from you, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion until you see it. 

You watch in horror as he reveals a milky white bottle that he shakes in his hand while speaking to you.

“Come here,” he beckons, patting his spacious thigh. You grimace at the granule liquid that swirls around in the bottle, not unlike the one Bucky used on you yesterday. If you didn't know better–which you don’t–you’d say it quite literally looks like baby formula.

“Uhm…I just…” you trail off, trying to come up with a reason, any reason not to be literally bottle-fed like you were yesterday. “I’m-I’m really not hungry-my-my stomach hurts,” you reason clumsily, but truthfully as well since the only thing filling your stomach right now is queasiness. Most of it coming from your situation, but the grainy texture swirling around in the bottle certainly doesn’t help your appetite either. “And-and I can just eat the other stuff,” you add frantically while looking back to the kitchen and wringing your hands.

“Now this is going to help my sweet girl feel a lot better and sleep real tight,” Steve remarks, completely ignoring your words and requests. 

“I-I said I'm not hungry.” you say a bit louder, but with a mild tone as to not sound too combative. 

“And I said this will help you sleep,” he asserts while dabbing the tip of the bottle on his wrist. “Now come sit on Dada’s lap,” he demands while patting his thigh again. You shake your head while subtly scooting away from him. 

“Mmm-mmm” you hum a no while sliding back even further. “Please, I don’t wan-”

“Did Dada ask what you wanted?” he cuts you off with a cock to his head at you. “No,” he shakes his head, answering his own question patronizingly. “I didn’t. You don’t get to decide what’s good for you. Only Daddy and I know that. Now I won’t ask again. Come here. Now.” he insists sternly. You debate quickly in your head, weighing out your limited options. When you still sit there not moving an inch, Steve sighs and reaches for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“No!” you say in response to the action. He’s not necessarily yanking or being particularly rough, but without thinking, you push back at him, your free hand overshooting and accidentally hitting his shoulder. Of course, it’s like you’ve hit a brick wall, the small action hurting your wrist much more than it likely hurt him at all. But something about it felt…cathartic. And something inside you just…snaps. 

You had played nice all day, letting them hold you, touch you, kiss you. Hell–you even sat on the floor for hours and colored while wearing a onesie. And now he wanted to bottle feed you actual formula. You had to draw the line. 

You couldn’t give in. The silent promise you made to yourself earlier rings in your head. You weren’t going to drink this stupid bottle.

Steve still has you in his grasp and is pulling you closer to him so that you can be in his lap. Only, you take this opportunity to fight. Hard. 

With all the strength you have, you wrench yourself back. Steve quickly encapsulates both your hands, making you feel as though you’ll sooner break your own wrists before you ever successfully free yourself from his grip. You take it upon yourself to switch strategies, maneuvering yourself into a position where you just start kicking at him feverishly. It felt childish. It looked childish. But you didn’t care right now. You weren’t going to play along any longer. 

You realize halfway through your nonsensical thrashing fit that Steve is likely just letting you play this out before he decides he’s had enough. He decisively stands up, dragging your combative form with him as he roughly swings you up to throw you over his shoulder. You still fight him, your flailing is joined with nonsensical shrieks as you lash out on him physically and verbally. Steve holds you down atop him firmly while hauling you upstairs. Before you realize it, you’re roughly tossed down into a mattress. The otherwise compliant spread hurts you on impact from the height you fall from. Your swirling vision from being upside down and lack of oxygen in your lungs from screaming leaves you disoriented until your dazed eyes focus on structured parallel bars. 

Steve’s thrown you into the very crib he showed you just hours ago. 

“That’s just for when you’re feeling extra little,”

You instantly try to stand up only for Steve to effortlessly push you back down, sending you to roughly bounce on your bottom. You clumsily try to regain your balance and breath while Steve reaches for something besides the crib. Before you know it, Steve’s grabbed both your hands and starts heatedly tying them together. Tightly. He ensnares your fingers together and weaves the rope around every inch of your digits up to the middle of your forearm, completely restraining the hands that fought him. 

You try getting up again only to find it’s surprisingly hard to move with your hands bound in front of you. 

He mutters to you something about ‘not moving’ while making his way to the end of the crib. He abrasively yanks both of your legs down to the edge of the caged mattress and begins tying those together too. You flail hopelessly, hurling unkind words at him while he secures your ankles to the bars, completely immobilizing the legs that were just unabashedly kicking at him.

When you finally catch a glimpse of Steve’s face, his expression is unforgiving. Furrowed eyebrows highlight his intense dark focus as veined arms secure you to the crib.

Steve straightens himself up and towers over you from beside the crib. He just watches you until you decide to give up on fighting, realizing you can’t free yourself from your binds. Your anger slowly turns to just pure sorrow, as you find yourself crying hot tears into your already burning face. You murmur pointless cries asking over and over again to just be let go…

“Angel…” Steve says softly, his features appearing less angered now, but still unhappy nonetheless. “I’m going to give you one more chance,” he kneels down, leveling himself with you from outside your confines. He reaches through the bars and caresses your rope-covered hands. “If you do what Dada says, then I might go easy on your punishment,” he slides his hands up, open-palmed, slowly inching his way to your face. He lingers on your throat for a moment too long before laying his hand across your cheek. “But that’s only if you stop being a bad girl…is that what you want?” he asks patronizingly, with a cock to his head, faux sympathy lining his tone. “You want Dada to treat you like a bad girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, heavy tears pitifully falling as Steve watches you. He doesn’t catch them as he awaits your answer that doesn’t come. 

He then tries to give you the bottle from before again but you only resist. Shaking your head and crying profusely while mumbling sorrowful nonsense.

Steve sighs, and hangs his head. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He wants to hear you laugh. The same laugh he heard over anything else the first night he found you. He wants to see you smile. The same way you beamed at him that night he helped you find your way back. He wants to draw you close when you fall asleep next to him. The same way he’s watched you fall asleep all by yourself for months. He wants to replace the teeny little thumb you always stick in your mouth when you think no one is watching with his. He knows you want this. He knows you need this. 

But it’s obvious his poor girl just doesn’t understand that yet. 

Steve knows babies have a hard time listening when throwing tantrums anyway...  

For now, if you won’t listen, he’ll just have to show you. 

“My sweet girl…” Steve grabs your face, turning it towards him. “You just won’t learn unless Dada shows you, huh?” he releases your face dismissively and stands up. 

“If you want to act out…” he speaks while reaching across the crib above you, 

“and think you’re a big girl…” he lifts something weighty that’s attached to the top of the crib, 

“that’s fine,” parallel bars intrude your vision of Steve from above you, 

“But this is what happens when you act like a bad girl.” Steve’s voice turns more ireful with every word he speaks, as he works his way around the crib, latching multiple locks together that you hadn't noticed before with increasingly aggressive force. 

“You get treated like one. Bad girls get left all alone by themselves without Dada. If you really want Dada to let you go. Fine. You’ll stay right here until you understand what it means to listen.” he slams the last latch shut.

You barely have time to process his words while your wobbly vision interprets what’s happening above you. By the time you comprehend that there’s a top to this ‘crib’ that Steve has locked you in, he’s already left the room, truly isolating you.

Anguished sobs that were falling on deaf ears during Steve’s spiel to you now meet the equally deaf silence of the room itself. 

The only sound that accompanies you now is your own cries, echoing back pitifully to you from the horizontal bars above…

[tastefulstars]

Higher and Higher

Steve and Eddie want Billy’s girl, it’s a good thing Billy knows how to share.

Request fill for @10a123456789 - who asked for praise kink, over-stimulation, dirty talk, r seducing billy in front of steve and eddie.

billy hargove x eddie munson x f!reader x steve harrington

a/n: i’ve done my best to keep it close to what you wanted but i changed it a lil because i’m all about consent with including other’s in your kinks!! i hope you like it! I hope i have done my get in line foursome justice :’)

this is just 4.1k words of filth :))

warnings: 18+ only. mdni. fxmxmxm, switch!billy, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected sex, cream pies, exhibition/voyeurism, dirty talk, degradation, multiple orgasms, praise, over-stimulation, tag teaming, lmk if any missed

masterlist

You enjoy the feeling of Billy’s big hand gripping tight on your ass as he leads you into the party. He wasn’t possessive per say, more happy to make sure everyone knew you were his.

You spent the night dancing, his hands on your hips, mouth on yours. Billy pulls you down onto the couch and you spill over his lap, cheek resting on his shoulder as he talks to someone behind you. You’re content, people watching and listening to his voice.

Your eyes flick up and that’s when you notice them, Eddie and Steve, watching you. A small thrill shoots through you from your scalp right down to your toes. You bite your lip, their eyes drop down to your mouth. Well, why not put on a show for them?

You shift, gracefully sliding across Billy’s lap until you’re straddling him and his hands are automatically coming to rest on your ass. You focus on them from the corner of your eye as you tangle your fingers into Billy’s hair and pull, he looks up at you and you just slam your lips onto his.

The kiss is absolutely filthy, having you panting and moaning into his mouth within minutes. Billy trails sloppy kisses up your jaw until he reaches that little spot under your ear, you sigh and roll your head towards Eddie and Steve, watching them watch you through hooded eyes.

Eddie is fixated, eyes darting all over you. Steve’s got his arms crossed over his body like he’s not interested, but you can see his hands clenched tightly in fists at his sides, can see the way he swallows hard.

You flash them a flirty smile and roll your hips, grinding down on Billy’s lap and you absolutely don’t miss the way their mouths drop open at that. You’re tingling all over from the thrill of doing something dirty, and aching for something.

Billy is shifting, lifting you up with his hands under your ass, and standing. You’re wrapped around him and he presses a final kiss on your lips, whispering against you ‘let’s go’.

The idea doesn’t leave you.

Constant thoughts of Eddie and Steve watching as Billy fucks you, maybe even joining in, spinning around your head. You’re not sure how to bring it up to Billy, not sure how he’d take it, but it’s taken root in your mind and you know you won’t be able to let it go until you try.

Billy knows something is up when you keep slipping into your own head, eyes glazed over and biting your lip. He confronts you when he’s buried inside your cunt.

“Wanna share what’s got you so distracted, sweet girl?” He’s rolling his hips lazily, in no rush.

“I- I, Billy. Please” You feel your cheeks burn and just want him to fuck you, to make you ache tomorrow. Somehow he rolls his hips even slower, barely fucking you at all.

“Not ‘til you share, babe” He’s teasing, knowing that you’ll crack and tell him why you’ve been so spaced out the slower he goes - and then he’ll snap his hips down and fuck you through the mattress.

“Oh, ah” You gasp, trying to rock your hips and feel some friction, “I- fuck! It’s embarrassing!”

He just waits, moving achingly slow and pressing soft kisses to your neck. You shudder around him and cry out in frustration.

“I. I want you to fuck me in front of Steve and Eddie” You finally whine, “Want them to see and want them to join in”

You’ve covered your face with your hands, hiding and muffling your words. He stills.

“Yeah?” He asks, pulling out of your gushing cunt and slamming home and you scream, “you wanna be put on display huh? Want them to know how perfect this pussy is?”

You didn’t think he would indulge your fantasy let alone take the idea and run with it.

“You want me to fuck your pretty pussy while you suck on their cocks?”

You’re whining, you can’t stop whining because yes - you wanted.

“Please! Billy, oh fuck!” You’re crying out with every thrust and you just wanted to come, “Please, wanna- wanna come!”

“No - tell me what else you want them to do” He growls, thrusting his cock into you like his life depended on it.

“Want to sit on Eddie’s- ahh fuck!, Oh god- on his face and want Steve to use my mouth!”

“God you’re such a needy slut” He grunts, shifting his weight and pressing his fingers against your clit, “You gonna come all over my cock like the little slut you are?”

You really don’t need much more permission, crying out loudly and moaning his name. Billy fucks you through it and then roughly pulls out, kneeling over you and fisting his cock. He groans as he comes, warm seed covering your stomach and tits.

--

Billy seems to find any reason to invite Eddie and Steve over after that, the first time after your confession when you walk out of the bedroom and see them, you feel your face heat and quickly spin around and disappear back into the room.

You corner Billy in the kitchen as he’s reaching for beers in the fridge.

“What are you doing?” You hiss out quietly, not wanting them to hear. Billy just smiles sweetly at you, one that says ‘not quite sure what you’re talking about’ and presses a kiss on your head.

“Hangin’ with my friends”

“You know what I mean!” You scowl at him and he just smiles at you, enjoying your predicament.

“Why don’t you just ask them? I’m sure they’ll be into it”

You groan and follow him back to the living room, positive he wanted you to combust. You curl up against his side, Billy pulling one of your legs onto his lap and gently rubbing your calf.

You hide your gaze under your lashes and look - look at Steve and Eddie as they talk with Billy, and your heart flutters as you see their gazes raking over you, the flash of desire and want behind their eyes. Heat blooms under your skin, simmering and making you squirm.

You bite your lip and after a few deep breaths for courage, slide onto Billy’s lap. His hands rest on your hips but he carries on his conversation. He was right, you were needy and slutty and you almost whined when he doesn’t shift his attention to you.

You press soft kisses onto the side of his throat, burying your fingers in his hair. His voice trails off and you feel him melt a little at your touch, you whisper in his ear ‘want you’ and press kisses onto his cheek.

“We have company” He says, pulling back and looking at you, smirking.

“Steve and Eddie don’t mind - do you?” You ask, turning your head and looking at them over your shoulder. They’re flushed, lips parted and wide eyed. “You two would like to watch, wouldn’t you?”

You look at them, cunt aching, as their cheeks get redder and as you press your hips down in an attempt to make some friction, their eyes drop to your ass. Billy is just licking at your neck, biting softly.

“Steve? Eddie?” You call, their eyes snap back up to yours, “You gotta tell me - use your words and tell me. I’ll stop if you don’t want to watch, to join us”

They look like they panic a little bit at your words, Eddie is shaking his head and bringing his fingers up to cover his mouth, biting at his thumb.

“Jesus- um” Steve stammers, “We, are- can- um. Are you- can we?”

Billy wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your harder against him.

“Wouldn’t let her-” He murmurs into your neck, “Wouldn’t be willing to let you watch if we didn’t want you to”

You’re rocking, grinding down on Billy’s lap and whining softly - the whole situation had you soaked already and you were going to die if someone didn’t touch you soon.

“Words boys” You moan, tilting your head back and rocking on Billy’s lap.

“Oh my god” Eddie all but wheezes out, “Fuck- yes, fucking hell, please”

You catch Steve nodding furiously out of the corner of your eye, he takes a shuddering breath in and lets it out with a soft woosh.

“If- if you’re both okay with it. And you’re offering- I, I want to”

That's all it takes for you, for you to slide your fingers under Billy's shirt, to press a desperate kiss against his lips.

You almost forget they're there, almost, as you loose yourself in the kiss. You lean back, gasping for air and frantically pulling at Billy's shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it. You waste no time pulling your own shirt off, shuddering at the cool air on your tits.

"Fuck" You hear Steve murmur behind you. Billy is putty in your hands, letting you take the lead. You push him and encourage him to lean back against the couch.

He's looking up at you with a soft look in his eyes, loving it when you get like this - all desperate and needy, when you just climb on top of him and take.

"You gonna let me ride you?" You ask, voice low and seductive, "gonna let me use you to get off in front of your friends?"

He bites his lip, hesitant to let you take charge completely in front of Steve and Eddie, but he trusts them, trusts them to not use this against him - he trusts you. He nods, holding your hips.

"Good boy" His eyes slip closed at your words and you kiss your way down his chest. Pausing at his nipples and gently nipping at them.

You throw a glance over your shoulder and ohh, Steve and Eddie are staring at you, panting - faces blank, mouths hung open, eyes wide and dark. They both look painfully hard in their jeans and you see them squirming, shifting and trying to relieve some of the ache.

Knowing that it was you - you who's reduced them to this has a prideful high singing through you. You slide off Billy's lap and push your pants off your hips, letting them fall at your feet.

“Holy shit” Eddie breathes, “You-”

“Gorgeous” Steve finishes.

You look at them, biting your lip and flushing. Loving the rapt attention the three were paying you. You reach over and push at Billy, shifting him until his back was against the armrest, one foot resting along the length of the couch and the other pressed firmly against the floor.

You slide his shorts down, Billy lifting his hips slightly to aid you, and climb back onto his lap. Your leg is trapped between his and the back of the couch but you don’t mind, this angle lets you watch Billy and Steve and Eddie as you fuck yourself on Billy’s cock.

You dart your eyes between their faces as you lower yourself, sinking down on Billy’s flushed cock. Billy's hands grip your hips tightly and he throws his head back, groaning.

Eddie’s pressing his palm firmly against the front of his jeans, biting his lip hard. Steve’s shifting restlessly in his seat, leaning forward and you don’t think he’s even blinking.

“What’s she feel like?” Steve murmurs, eyes dark and flashing desire. You moan, lifting your hips and rolling, working Billy's cock deeper. 

“Ah-” Billy grunts, rocking up to meet you, “So fuckin’ good - she’s so wet and tight and warm. You've never had pussy like hers.”

You're gasping and moaning above him, rocking harder and faster, cunt squelching.

"She's so needy" Billy continues, grunting out each word, "Always needing to be fucked, always wanting to be stuffed full of come"

You whine, your eyelids felt too heavy but you cracked them open. Eyes finding Steve and Eddie and the sight of them, palming their cocks through their jeans and unashamedly staring at you, sends electricity through your bones - you're so close, you needed to come so badly it was almost painful.

Their eyes flicker over your body, watching your tits bounce, watching as your cunt sinks down onto Billy's cock. You're begging, whispering and whining at them.

"Please- fuck, oh my god" your head tilts back, loud moans spilling from your lips as you shake with the effort, "Oh! Ahh! Please"

"What do you want?" Billy murmurs, raising a hand to finger at your nipple, the other dropping to your cunt.

"Wanna come" You cry out, nails digging into his chest.

"The come for us - let Stevie and Eds watch you"

You lower your head, eyes locking onto them and you explode. Crying out loud and shaking, your whole body twitches with the pleasure coursing under your skin.

Billy grunts, thrusting up into you until he's spilling, filling you up and coating the inside of your cunt. You breathe heavily for a few moments as Billy goes limp under you.

A soft noise has you opening your eyes and looking and Steve and Eddie. They're slack jawed and wide eyed and look so damn turned on and you want, want them to use you.

"Come here" You breathe and they're all but tripping over themselves to get to you. You're raising yourself on wobbly legs, sighing as you feel Billy's cock slip out of you, as you feel wet, sticky mess drip down your legs.

You stand in front of them, hooking your fingers into the waistband of Steve's jeans and pulling Eddie into a sloppy kiss. He's breathing heavy when you pull away, pupils blown so wide you can't see the brown of his eyes.

"Wanna sit on your pretty mouth, Eddie" You whisper, lips brushing "want you to eat my cunt while Stevie feeds me his big cock"

Eddie whines, Steve shudders and Billy snorts from where he's splayed out on the couch, content with watching for now.

"Told you she was needy" He mutters, "never satisfied are you, babe?"

"No" You breathe, "think Stevie and Eddie can help though"

Your tugging at their clothes, encouraging them to strip for you which they do - undressing in record time.

You lean into Steve, licking into his mouth and wrap your fingers around Eddie's leaking cock. He gasps and his hips jerk into your touch.

"Fuck, oh god" He's moaning, hand clinging to your shoulder. You're leaking slick and aching and wanting and you pull away, pushing at Eddie's shoulders.

He goes down hard, kneeling in front of you and staring up at you, and you push him back gently. You twist, straddling his head and facing the length of his body - you hover just above his mouth, teasing. He makes a desperate noise and his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down and attaching his mouth to your cunt.

"Oh fuck" You whine, Eddie makes little noises as he buries himself in your wet pussy and they go straight to your core. "Oh fuck- I knew. I knew you'd be good at this"

Your words encourage him and you pant as he devours you.

"Knew your pretty mouth would eat cunt like you were made for it" Words spill from your lips and you rock on his face gently, "Don't you fucking dare stop"

You're reaching for Steve and he moves closer, cock hovering just out of your reach. You look up at Steve from under your lashes and he moans softly, griping the base of his cock and cupping the side of your head.

He's pressing the tip of his cock against your lips and you shake, opening your mouth and taking him as far as you can manage. One of your hands grip his hip tightly while other snakes its way down Eddie's stomach.

You shift, lean forward slightly, Steve's cock slips further down your throat and you grip Eddie's cock in your hand. Eddie's moans are muffled by your cunt and the vibrations of it shoot right through you.

"Oh. Fuckin' perfect mouth" Steve's panting and rocking his hips, "Fuck- I- ahh"

"She sucks cock like she's dying for it, doesn't she?" Billy's voice breaks through the wet noises, the panting, the moaning.

"You said she was good" Steve groans, "You never said she was this good"

Eddie's bucking up into your hand and moans loudly, pushing his tongue into your wet heat and curling it in a way that has you trembling, gagging down Steve's cock and whimpering.

You feel another orgasm building, tightening in the walls of your lower stomach and a few more desperate rocks of your hips and Eddie's tongue on your clit has you falling apart around Steve's cock.

Steve's hand holds you, keeping his cock in your mouth and he rocks his hips, fucking your mouth until he cries out and his seed floods your mouth. You swallow every drop he gives you and pull away, pulling off Eddie and crawling down his body to rest in between his legs. You take him into your mouth without hesitation.

Eddie shouts 'fuck' as your head sinks down, sucking and licking at his cock.

"Look at her- so fuckin' needy for cock" Billy is saying, Steve's thrown himself on the other end of the couch and they're both watching you. Billy's lazily jerking his dick and Steve cock is already filling out, getting hard again.

Eddie's fingers wind their way into your hair and you feel them twitching. You pull off him and a trail of saliva connects from your lips to his dick.

"You can fuck my mouth, Eddie" Your voice is rough but no less sweet, "I really like it"

"She really does" Billy agrees.

You take him back into your mouth and Eddie's gripping your hair tightly, bucking up into your mouth and groaning. It doesn't take long until he's shaking and coming undone, not once you've got a hand wrapped firmly around his shaft and the other playing with his balls. You ease him through it much like you did with Steve, gently sucking and licking.

You shift, kneeling next to Eddie as he pants hard and keen quietly. Feeling sticky and wet and needing more, wanting more. You crawl towards Steve, kneeling between his legs and pout softly.

“Fuckin’ needy” Billy laughs softly.

“Wanna-” You whine, pleading. “Want you to fuck me Stevie, then when you fill me up with your come I want Eddie to fuck me”

Steve’s eyes drift to Billy, who just shrugs.

“I can share my toys, Steve” You bite your lip at the degrading term, being referred to as nothing more than something to be used, to be fucked, made your cunt clench and ache - you were so aroused, so desperate to be filled, it hurt.

“Please, Stevie?” You’re voice is sugar sweet as you plead, “Need your cock inside me”

You don’t even notice him move, finding yourself pinned down on the ground and he’s bucking into you. You clench down as a loud moan tears from your lips. You’re clinging onto Steve - fingers buried in his hair, nails digging into the flesh of his back, legs wrapped tight around his waist.

Steve’s fucking you roughly, hips slapping against yours. Your cunt sucks him in and you flutter around him, making him groan. You can’t stop the moans from leaving your lips, little ‘ah’s’ escaping on each breath.

“God- fuck! You’re fuckin’ perfect” Steve’s groaning, panting. “Perfect pussy”

“Isn’t it the best cunt you’ve ever had?”

“God. It is- it’s so fuckin’ tight” Steve moans, “Oh- ah fuck”

His hips are stuttering, bucking wildly, and your clit is brushing against his lower stomach and you’re crying out, eyes rolling back and feeling your body go limp. You moan as Steve keeps fucking you until he’s gasping and grunting, hips falling still. His head hangs and he pants.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ” He pants.

You lay, splayed out on the floor of your living room, muscles twitching and cunt pulsing. You’re starting to feel a bit sensitive but you’re not satisfied, not yet, not even close. You whine softly as Eddie slips between your legs, pressing on your knees and almost folding you in half.

He rocks into you, you whine and moan his name and he snaps his hips harder. You roll your head, eyes finding Billy. He’s watching you with dark eyes, hand working his cock. Steve’s still breathing hard, sitting on the floor and leaning back on the couch, watching. 

“You’re loving this aren’t you?” Billy asks, you whine and nod.

“She’s perfect, Billy” Steve comments, “Absolutely perfect”

“Our perfect little pussy”

“Make her come, Eds - feels so good”

Eddie shifts your legs, holding them above your torso with one hand and uses his other to finger at your clit. You twitch and shudder and it’s almost too much, almost too sensitive but you know you can come for Eddie, can make him feel good.

The angle Eddie has you in, has you shaking on each thrust - his hard cock brushing against your sensitive spot inside you. You let out a broken cry as you spasm, weakly shuddering and clenching around Eddie’s cock. He stills, groaning as he spills inside your already drenched cunt. He slips out of you, dropping your legs onto the ground.

“Good, huh?”

“Yeah” Eddie breathes.

“Satisfied yet, babe?” Billy asks, eyes flickering over you and you whine, he laughs, “I’ll take that as a no, then”

You’re limp and feeling like you’re floating, drifting in your pleasure and not quite sated yet.

“What do you need?”

You roll your head, eyeing up Billy, Eddie and Steve and bite your lip.

“Wanna be fucked by you three until I don’t even remember my name” You murmur. Your eyes slip closed and Billy’s there between your legs, cock pressing inside your swollen, puffy cunt. Your breath shudders as you stretch around him.

“Play with her tits” He’s saying and there’s hands cupping them, fingers pinching and tweaking your nipples. They’re rough with you and you quake at their treatment. Your body feeling oversensitive and your mind numb.

Billy isn’t too rough, fucking you deeply but gently. Your cunt is squelching, leaking and a sloppy mess. You’re desperate to come again, wanting to feel the fireworks of pleasure again, wanting to loose yourself.

“Where you want me to come, baby?’ Billy’s voice softly pierces through the haze of pleasure.

“My tits” You gasp, “Please”

He thrusts into you a few more times before he shifts, pulling out and kneeling over you as he jerks his cock until he’s spurting all over your chest.

“Can I fuck her again?” Eddie asks, sounding like the only think he can think about is sinking back into your pussy. There’s a muffled conversation and your chest is being lifted and gently placed back down on Billy’s lap. He strokes your cheek lovingly.

Eddie’s strong hands are clinging onto your thighs and he’s burying his cock into you, you feel him all the way up to your lungs and you’re not sure how much more you can take - your cunt is aching and it won’t be long until you’re too sore, too sensitive.

You’re not even sure what’s happening anymore, all you can focus on is breathing and the delicious stretch of your pussy as Eddie’s cock slides in and out of you. You don’t even know what you’re saying, the noises you’re making - mindless and fucked into a state of pure bliss.

You whine as you feel Eddie pull out, there’s a soft shushing noise and he’s being replaced - Steve sliding into your cunt and you can’t stop your body from shaking, from the tremors plaguing your limbs. Billy’s still stroking your cheek and you feel another set of hands on you, stroking your sides.

You sob when Steve’s cock leaves your cunt. You’re being moved, lifted and they’re laying you down on your side on the ground gently. Billy’s pushing your leg up, twisting you until your cunt is exposed and he gently pushes his cock inside you.

You’re too sensitive now, cunt aching with the pain of the constant push pull of their cocks. Tears are leaking out of your closed eyes and cries tear from your throat. Kisses are being pressed against your cheeks, lips, forehead and soft words pressed into your skin.

“You’re amazing honey”

“You’re taking us so well”

“Good girl, good girl. All for us”

“We’ve got you sweet girl”

Billy shakes and spills inside you and then he’s picking you up, carrying you to the bedroom and the three of them climb in - cuddling you and whispering how much they adore you, stroking your skin and letting you rest.

[yourfatherlucifer]

Bounce, Bounce (JWY)

san's manager!wooyoung x male!reader

summary: deciding to finally check out the underground boxing ring, you find that one man cannot keep his eyes off of you.

warnings: MDNI, sub!wooyoung, top/switch!reader, mxm, mentions of male breeding (its not possible), creampie, whining, crying, slightly bratty woo, getting caught by san, locker room sex, short fic (sorry), big cock reader.

genre: smut

AU: Bouncy

WC: 994

Rated: R

tags: @mjyungi @k-hotchoisan @choism @piratequeen-queenofgames @shycreationdreamland @aygotnobitches @hecateslittlewitchling @sanspuppet @yunho-mp3

nets: @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @kflixnet @pirateeznet @k-labels @wonderlandnet

I finally got around to it omg, I hope people like this. Short but sweet. PLEASE REBLOG

"I'm telling you, M/N, it's gonna be fun." Your friend had slapped your back in enthusiasm.

"It's illegal, is it what it is." You muttered.

"There's gonna be hot guys? Well, at least sometimes there is. Look, I know, it isn't ideal, not with those damn drones everywhere. Its life now. Dystopian world or not, we gotta make our life interesting somehow." Your friend has crossed her arms.

You cringed at her, making a face of disgust, "Since when did you get all philosophical? It's gross. Just stop."

As you walked away from her, she threw her head back in a silent laugh, not wanting anyone to hear her joy.

When she gathered her bearings and ran back up to your side, "When is the last time you got your dick wet? You've been so grumpy. Do I need to help you find a nice girl?"

"Oh my god, F/N, I'm gay! How many times do I have to remind you. I am not into girls."

"Right, forgot. Sorry. Anyway, back to my question-"

"Why is it any of your concern?"

"Because, I miss seeing you happy, dude."

You shoved her arms off your waist in a playful manner, "Alright, alright, I'll go, stop hugging me."

"Ain't my fault you have such a nice waist, Y/N." She giggled.

F/N grabbed your hand, "Come on, lets just go there already, I don't wanna miss the fight, I hear Choi San is fighting today!" her heart eyes didn't go unnoticed, "And he's the hottest fighter!"

"We have two different tastes, I doubt it."

-

The crowd soon began to fill up, men and women alike surrounded both you and your friend to watch the fight. F/N was right, the fighter Choi San was definitely hot, but you didn't have eyes on him. You weren't interested. With his looks you were sure he's a ladies man, which meant he wouldn't want you. You have a dick after all.

The fight was boring, seeing two grown men punch each other was no fun at all to you. You rolled your eyes, ready to leave until you noticed a man staring at you, his doe-like eyes trained on you. He was beautiful.

That’s it. You changed your mind, you’re staying. F/N paid no mind to you, she was too engrossed in the fight. She didn’t even notice when you left her side to go stand by the beautiful stranger.

“Hi.” You tapped his shoulder, “I’m Y/N.”

He stared you up and down, his eyes staring at the bulge in your pants, he was wondering if you were big. Maybe you could get in his tight hole. He wanted you inside of him bad.

He turned around to face you, a smile on his face, “Wooyoung. I’m Wooyoung.”

Even his name was cute.

That’s when he grinned, “Say..wanna come with me to the back?”

You nod and take his hand. He leads you to a room of lockers and showers, as you guessed, it’s the locker room.

Wooyoung shut the door and pushed you against some lockers, his lips attacking your neck. You bared your neck to him, hands gripping his waist, his slim and tiny waist.

“Wooyoung.” you growled, picking him up and wrapping his legs around your own waist, spinning the both of you around and pushing his back into the lockers this time. Your cock ground into his through your loose pants.

Wooyoung let out whiny moans, his arms scrambling to your back, pulling at your shirt. He could feel exactly just how big you were. You’re so much bigger than him, he couldn’t wait to feel your cock against his walls.

“Please~” he cried out, hips bucking into yours.

You grinned, removing one of your hands from him to pull your cock out of your pants and yanking off his trousers. You pushed him back against the lockers once more and slammed your cock into his tight and puckered hole.

His eyes blown out as he threw his head back in pure pleasure.

When he recovered, he stared you in the eyes with a smirk, “Come on, Y/N, fuck me like you mean it.”

You growled, “I’m gonna fuck the brat out of you.” You pulled your large cock out of him just to push it back in roughly.

The lockers rocked back and forth from your rough rhythm while Wooyoung’s moans filled the room. When you felt it wasn’t safe to keep fucking against the lockers, you moved the two of you two a bench, without pulling out of him.

The second his back touched the cold metal bench, he cried out, “Please, harder!”

Your lips attached to his perked nipple and thrusted your cock into his hole in a circle motion, slipping your hand between the two of you to pump his own neglected cock.

His tears flooded down his face as you twisted your hand around his weeping dick. You kissed away the tears then planted your lips to his neck, latching onto the skin, leaving marks for people to find. To show how dirty of a man he is.

When his lips found yours, the two of you made out in a feverish haze, “I’m gonna fill you so full of my cum, fucking hell wish I could breed you.” You whispered into his ear.

Wooyoung cried out once again, “please! I’m gonna cum!”

You snapped your hips against his, “Yeah, me too, pretty boy. Come on, take it all. Take all of my seed like the good boy you are.”

His arms flew to your neck, as his cum spurt over the both of you, making a mess. While your cum filled his walls like a wave of the ocean.

You laid on top of him, placing a kiss to the top of his head, “You should call me, we need to do this again.”

He giggled, “Total-“

“Damn, Woo, didn’t know you liked to take it up the ass..”

“San!”

[just-some-guy-joust]

Just Some Guy OC Tourney - Side A: Round 1

Rules:

do NOT be mean to anyone or any characters in these polls. you MUST clarify if you are joking/teasing or you will be blocked. if you are someone who entered an oc into this and you are mean to other contestants you will be disqualified

do NOT claim a character doesn't deserve to be here. yes including your own. be nice

if you are posting propaganda you have to tag us, including if your propaganda is in the reblogs. it is difficult to tell when something is or isn't propaganda. anything not tagging us will likely be missed

please don't hesitate to let me know if i messed something up!

have fun, hype each other up <3 thank you

Evergreen | She/her | @insertsona

shes just kind of chilling tbh . she's technically unemployed (didn't feel like it) and spends most of her time vibing . her ex recently returned to the city after randomly disappearing for years and she was just kind of oh hey glad youre back . her most interesting trait is that she takes part in a fighting tournament once a year and wins it usually . and shes transgender

Promos: evergreen is a character in my oc universe teunia! shes a side character in the main story the tourney and a slightly more main character in the unnamed prequel that i think abt very often (but have yet to develop . bc im too busy thinking abt my dr oc constantly)

teunia's folder -> https://toyhou.se/InsertSona/characters/folder:3849690

~

Zephyr Fey | He/him | @lord-plague

An averagely built guy who somehow managed to join the military force of his fortress city without a birth certificate, ID, and with dyed hair. Nobody knows where he came from, nobody knows why he is here but there he is. No magic or superhuman abilities or prodigal skills but my god does he make great goo bowls with greater personalities (nobody wants the goo bowls and he does not know why). That one friend that keeps trying to alleviate awkward situations with jokes and random laughter.

~

Full images and descriptions under the cut!

EVERGREEN IS LITERALLY SO JUST SOME GUY. despite being a repeat champion for the tourney she lives in a shitty studio apartment . she had a girlfriend that was also her rival and then they broke up and she was just oh ok! her hobbies include vibing, hanging out, etc. shes like those old guys you see watching planes take off or construction occur . nobody knows where she gets her money from . her ex's new partner is a friend of hers. she doesn't even bear any relevance to the first main plotline because she's too busy doing other stuff she just happens to also be in the city while the horrors occur . sometimes shell go to the local coffee shop and just not order anything . i wanna be her friend . i havent actually posted her on tumblr . shes so some guy that most of the facts abt her character i can think abt are so mundane i never even bothered to write them down

[no extra description provided]

[ghouljams]

Crybaby Rating: Mature (for horror not smut) Word Count: 7440 Tags: psychological horror, gaslighting, manipulation, monsters, body horror, gore, murder, blood, OC x OC (Threat x Crybaby), bad end, dead dove do not eat, please let me know if I missed anything but please heed the tages Summary: A few weeks ago you met someone at a bar and offered them a couch to crash on. You don't know why you did that, but you can't take it back now.

 "Then what did you do?" You ask, hugging a pillow to your chest. You're sitting cross legged on the couch having what your couch surfer has dubbed "slut talk." It's your favorite part of the morning. Somehow despite the late nights your half-invited guest is always awake when you are. You hardly turn the coffee pot off when they wander into the kitchen with messy hair and a yawn.

They hum, "Grabbed a bite and left, same as always." It's a disappointing end to all their stories, you sort of wish there was something exciting to end their nights with. Instead of the usual fuck, eat, leave.

"Do you think people notice when you raid their fridge?" You lean to grab your mug off the coffee table.

"You don't notice when I raid your fridge," they shrug. You roll your eyes.

"Ok, well, you're allowed to raid the fridge, you're sort of living here." You tell them. They shake their head with a smile, lean against the arm of the couch to kick their feet up onto your lap.

"A fact I greatly appreciate and plan on repaying." You nearly choke on your coffee, and wave your hands to dismiss the thought entirely.

"Oh, no, no it's fun having you around. I just wish I had a better bed to offer you."

"I don't mind the couch, but if you wanna cuddle I'm all for it." They wiggle their brows, it's enough to tell you they're only teasing you.

"Funny," you grin, "you're funny." 

You check your phone, and unceremoniously shove their feet off you. You've gotta get going if you want to shower before work. It's fun having a couch surfer living with you, but it's definitely tightening your schedule talking to them so much.

-

You feel eyes on your back as you walk across campus to the metal studio. There’s a new missing poster tacked to the board outside the art building.

-

This is your least favorite part of your art hobby. Gathering material. You usually only do it once or twice a month, and even that feels too often. If your flat had any sort of garden or nearby trees you could manage, but no you wanted to live in the city. Really it wouldn’t be such a bad trip if the forest didn’t whisper to you, didn’t seem to sink deeper and darker when you stared into it.

You crouch at the edge of the forest picking up pine cones and helicopter seeds. You carefully place them in the appropriate bags to keep them separated while you look for the twigs you like. Thin, but not too thin, with good knotting. You hum quietly to yourself, mostly for the noise of it, and pluck a few of the freshly fallen leaves off the ground. Everything is inspected and saved, or discarded, as you move. It’s a good day for the woods.

They’re quiet. The usual woodland critters sing their song, but otherwise? No voices, no shifting shadows, no spooky shit. You can almost ignore the watched feeling, the tug to go deeper into the trees’ embrace. There’s nothing good in the woods. You’ve known that since you were a child. Wandering too far off your path has always made your stomach squirm. 

Which is fine. You’re not adventurous, you have no desire to get lost in the forest. Just like you have no desire to jump out windows or sleep with someone new every night. You wince a little at your own mental tone. You shouldn’t think of your couch surfer like that, they’re perfectly nice and you can’t judge other people’s lifestyles when your own is so sheltered.

You shiver, bunch your shoulders up close to your ears. You can feel eyes on you, but you know better than to look for them. Looking for them just makes the whispers start. 

You finish your collection quickly and start back towards civilization. 

-

"You smell good," their voice is in your ear. You nearly jump out of your chair, you hadn't heard them come in. Maybe you'd been too focused on your work, sueding twigs to wax and vice versa. You push your needlepoint glasses up to look at your guest.

"What?"

"You smell good," they repeat. You learned early on in their stay that your guest is a little off. Not just in their sexual escapades but in every way: the way you never see them eat, the way they never seem to sleep, and especially in how they don't seem to have any shame in their compliments.

"I smell like pine cones, I was out in the woods today." You flip your glasses down and go back to your wax work.

"That makes sense," they pick through the other wax figures you've made, shuffling them to the side as they search. "Where's the deer-fly?"

"What deer-fly?" You ask, because you don't want to admit you might believe in monsters to your not-roommate who --despite all signs against it-- seems pretty together mentally.

"You had a cute little deer with helicopter seed wings, I remember you working on it," they pick through your figures again.

"Oh, uh, I cast it." You lie.

"Oh," that's the other thing about your guest, "Ok," they believe you when you lie.

-

You fidget with your guest’s rings, twisting the gold around their fingers as they lay on their side next to you. You like how intricate they are. You trace your fingers over the thick band around their middle finger. The gnarled gold, like roots, is warm from their skin and dotted with red chip rubies. Their eyes rest on your hands, their cheek resting against their closed fist. You’re not really sure how you both ended up on your bed, but it’s comfortable.

“You sure you don’t wanna come out with me? You’d be good bait.” You snort, and roll your eyes.

“Clubs aren’t really my scene.” You move on to the interlocking rings on their pointer finger. You twist them off and watch the thin bands fall apart. It’s easier to talk when you don’t have to look at people, when you can keep your hands busy. “Besides, I’m horrible bait. People don’t talk to me.”

“I talk to you,” You can hear the smile in their voice. You shrug, twisting one of the bands onto another and pinching it to keep it together as you work on the rest.

“You don’t count.” They hum.

“Yeah, suppose I don’t really.” They take the ring from you as you struggle fitting the pieces together, their long fingers elegantly turning each piece with practiced motions. It’s strange watching them do it one handed, each finger working nimbly in a way you’re not used to, before the ring slides back onto their finger. “Person is a loose word. We’re not looking for people, we’re looking for meat.” They settle their hand back in yours and you tip your head to look at them. They raise their brows.

“Would love it if you could say dick like a normal person,” You tell them. They laugh and tug their hand from your grip to flick your forehead. Something warm pools in you, and you smile. “I really like having you around.”

“I like being around,” Their voice is a little softer, fingers brushing stray hairs from your face. “I should’ve gotten a roommate ages ago,” You sigh looking back at the ceiling. Their fingers stall, just a fraction of a second before they continue their sweep. “I’ve never been good with empty houses. Makes me a little-” You grimace, trying to think of a word other than paranoid, spooked, or crazy. Your crash-roommate pats your cheek and pushes themselves to sit up.

“Well, you got me around now. I’m way worse than any ghost could be.” You grin at your empty ceiling and sit up to watch them shrug their jacket on.

“Because you’re so scary,” You laugh at them.

“You know me,” They flash you a smile with all their teeth, “I always have to be the biggest threat in a room.” It’s a trick of the light that they look sharp for the briefest moment. Your fingers shake, your smile falling a little. They’re gone by the time you can get your nerves under control.

-

You carefully pen your letter, a short single sentence. You only do this when your sort-of-not-really-roommate is gone. They’d make fun of you, they already notice when your statues are missing. You fold the tea dyed paper carefully. The sides in, the bottom two thirds folded up, top folded down to slide the bottom in and close it. You run your fingers over your army of wax and pluck one of the fairies from the middle. 

One for the window, and the rest to cast.

You tug the window open in your craft room and tug your crucible free from its fire safe home.

-

You scrub at your arm with your hand, it feels like you just walked through a spiderweb. You hope not. You always worry that means the spider is on you now, a rather unpleasant thought. The flat  is dark, well, dim. There’s a blue glow from the living room, a gentle static of televised voices, as you make your way from your room to the bathroom. You think it’s maybe three in the morning? You didn’t check.

The TV is still talking when you finish your business, your couch surfer must be home. You’ll get a glass of water from the kitchen and make sure they’re not sleeping with the TV on. You’re less jumpy with someone else living in the house. The shadows don’t scare you the same way, still, there’s a growing sense of unease as you make your way down the dark hall to your living room. You don’t like being awake at this time. Three am is when horror movie bullshit happens. 

You squeeze your hands into fists, feel your nails dig into your palms. It grounds you enough to keep you walking as you actually get into the open living room. It’s empty. On the television an infomercial is walking through all the great deals you could be getting on a 15 piece cookware set. You power through the living room to the kitchen.

Light from the streetlamps slants across your floor from your street facing window. The scattered letters and your half closed laptop on the kitchen table under it, just barely illuminated. It’s enough to keep you from bumping into the chairs. You know your kitchen well enough to navigate it in the dark. You repeat your “I’m not scared, definitely not scared, monsters aren’t real and the dark is safe” mantra as you fish a glass out of the cupboard next to the sink.

The tap squeaks as you twist the cold water on and hold the glass under it. This is totally fine. You’ll turn off the TV after you get your water, and go right back to bed. You’re so proud of yourself for braving the safety of your empty flat. Real powerful stuff.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a full body shiver goes through you. You turn from watching your glass fill up to look towards the living room. Your guest, or something with a similar shape, stands in the shifting technicolor light of your old television. The long night shadows of the room and the moving light make them hard to discern, make you think you can see long jointed limbs protruding from their back. Their hands hang by their sides, fingers long and sharp, dripping with a viscous fluid you think shines red as it falls on your floor. They stand unnaturally still, waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to blink.

You can’t even breathe.

One of the long limbs behind them moves, directs itself towards the ceiling, the rest of them following. Your guest pulls themselves like a spider back towards the shadows as your breath starts again just in time for you to start hyperventilating. You can hear the rapid insectoid clicking over the rush of water from the sink.

Water pours over your hand and your attention is sucked back to your overflowing glass. You swear and turn the tap off quickly, setting your glass in the sink to grab a towel for your hand. The front door of your flat rattles, the lock turning. You can hear your guest humming as they open the door to come in. You turn to look at them quickly. They look the same as always, a little more disheveled than when they left you suppose, but otherwise perfectly normal. You try to calm down your heartbeat as they toe their shoes off. It was just your imagination, your paranoia working overtime at this late hour.

“Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Your guest whispers. You shake your head, swallow and go back to your cup. You pour some of the water off and decide you should start keeping a water bottle in your room. 

“No, uh, just- just had a bad dream, I guess,” You tell them, sticking close to the wall as you make your way out of the kitchen towards your room. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious you’re avoiding something. “Did you turn on the TV before you left?”

“I thought you’d appreciate the noise,” They half follow you, going over to the couch and grabbing the remote, “It didn’t freak you out, did it?”

“Nope,” You lie. 

“Good,” They smile, “Wouldn’t wanna scare ya’.”

-

You chalk up your late night scare to being half asleep and an overactive imagination. Nothing to be worried about. You scroll through your local paranormal site and update them on your recently disappearing statues. You chew your nails as you watch the comments pop up on your post, the message board discussing whether it's human or monstrous intervention. You sigh and close your phone. Maybe your therapist was right and you are giving in to your delusions to an unhealthy degree. It seems crazy to think that some unseen monster is following you just because you're an artist, more so that the little statues you've been leaving out on your windowsill aren't just being taken by some random human.

You haven't been looking over your shoulder as often since they started disappearing but that could very well be a placebo effect. None of the folks in your class have been missing either, a few have even come back. There’s nothing to be worried about. Nothing waiting to eat you alive for… what? The sin of being creative? 

You stare at your bedroom ceiling. You should get some work done today, finish casting some statues. You push yourself up and out of bed, grabbing a sweater and your slippers to get some coffee before you shower. Maybe you should leave the house, it’s been a while since you went anywhere that wasn’t your workshop or class.

The lump on your couch hardly stirs when you wander past, their shoulders rising and falling with their breaths. You try not to stare, try not to slot your guest into last night’s nightmare. You do a pretty good job. You make yourself busy in the kitchen getting grounds in the coffee maker and rummaging through your pantry for something to eat. 

You can feel dread creeping just at the edges of your mind, stiffening your spine, eating at the end of your sanity. You thought when you finally lost your mind it would be a sudden thing, not this slow descent. You itch at your arm, at the invisible spider thread feeling, and grab a granola bar. 

“You’re so cute in the morning,” Your not-roommate says behind you. You just about jump out of your skin, turning to face them with your heart hammering in your chest. “So jumpy,” They smile over their coffee cup, bounce their shoulders to mimic your fright. 

“You’re up,” Look at you pointing out the obvious, they raise their brows, duh. You don’t know how to explain your unease around them this morning. You can’t reasonably tell them you had a weird semi-lucid nightmare hallucination and now their smile makes you think of their head spinning like the exorcist. 

“Call the media,” They joke, grabbing your mug and holding it out to you. You force yourself forward through the anxiety to take your coffee. It’s easy. Their hands are both occupied, and there’s no reason to think they’d hurt you. Still, you approach the gesture with the tremor of a bomb defusal technician rapidly running out of fingers. 

They transfer the mug to your hands without a second thought, dropping their hand to their side as soon as it’s done supporting the coffee’s weight. You feel the tightness in your chest unspool, your shoulders drop, the tension leaves you like it was never there in the first place. “Seriously what’s with you this morning, look like you saw a ghost.” Their voice is almost concerned. Not quite, it’s a play at concern, a child acting out what they think it should sound like. It twists your stomach into knots.

“Guess I’m still thinking about that dream,” You breathe.

“Nightmares are a bitch, huh.” Their concern drips with amusement. You knew it would be silly to bring up. They’re never concerned by the things that scare you. You don’t think your guest is scared of anything, least of all bad dreams. You brush past them to go sit on the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest as you click the TV on. 

“-recent string of deaths has been linked to a potential black market organ ring-” the television buzzes in the background, your guest falls hard on the couch next to you.

“You wanna do slut talk, or…?” You shake your head, they shrug. “Whatever, mind if we watch something else?” You offer them the remote silently, you don’t like watching the news anyway. Too much bad is happening in the world, you don’t need the added anxiety.

“-say citizens should be on the lookout for-” Your guest punches in a new channel number and the anchors are replaced by a pair of far too large men discussing statistics of some sort. The camera cuts to a caged octagon. Oh, fighting. You tune it out and try to start hyping yourself up to leave the house.

-

“Have you been taking your medication?” Your therapist asks. You pick at her couch, fingernails scratching at the felt balls that pop up on well worn knits. You don’t like that way she says it, like you’re crazy for bringing up an issue she asked about. Then again anyone would think you were crazy talking about the- the thing you saw in your house. Or didn’t see. Thought you saw.

“Every day,” You assure her, “it doesn’t feel like they’re helping anymore.”

Your therapist thinks for a minute. You like her, she’s kind, and most days helpful. She lets you talk without making you feel like you’re losing your mind, at least.

“Your sculptures, are they still disappearing?” She starts, and you desperately want to know where she’s going with it. You nod, and she nods as well. “How’s the ventilation in your craft room?”

You wince. “Not great, but I open the windows when I’m die casting.” She nods again, slower, heavier.

“Do you think you might be exposed to any toxic fumes that could be interfering with your meds? Hallucinations, memory gaps, lost items, it could be caused by that.” You hate to think she’s right, but the alternative is you being right. You suppose a carbon monoxide or noxious fume issue is more plausible than monsters being real(and out to get you). Your therapist takes your silence as agreement and pushes on. “Maybe you should try a less… fume-y hobby for a while, see if that clears up any of the symptoms.”

“And if it doesn’t?” You ask.

She sighs, leans back in her chair, “Then we might need to start entertaining the possibility that this isn’t just anxiety.”

“I’ll figure something out.” Whatever tests she’s thinking of, you’d like to avoid for the moment. It’s probably the fumes. It has to be the fumes. 

“Find a stopping point for your sculptures, and let me know next week what you want to try.” Your therapist scribbles something on their notepad. You suppose it’s good they know you well enough to know you won’t quit your art just for your health.

You’ll use up the rest of your supplies and find something easy to do.

-

You’re almost completely over the nightmare incident by the end of the week. Your guest is as friendly as ever, unbothered by any of the anxieties that plague you. You leave your offering for whatever is taking your sculptures, ask it to stay out of your house while it’s kept away. You figure that must be what it was. If it was anything at all.

You shove laundry into your washer, dropping in clothes from your hamper as you scroll on your phone. You should grab some of your guest’s washing too, that’s the nice thing to do, and they’ve been staying with you long enough. You grab your empty hamper to go snag their pile from the living room.

Come to think of it, how long have they been staying with you? You feel like it’s been a while now. You can’t really put your finger on when you offered them your couch. You think a month? Maybe? But, that doesn’t feel right. The thought rubs against your brain the wrong way. You shove their spare shirts into your basket. You’re not great with dates but you know you’re better than this. Forgetful but not enough to forget when you opened your home to a stranger. Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary? Why does it feel like they’ve moved in?

You wince, feeling the sharp stab of a stress headache forming. You try to keep your focus on the clothes you feed to the washer, stopping to check the tag on one of their flannels. You check the little symbols against your cheat sheet on the wall and stop. 

You rub your finger over the hard crust on the collar of their shirt. It makes your lip curl in disgust, it doesn’t feel like dirt. You glance down to see if you need to pre-treat the stain, scratch at one of the brown droplets. It looks like a nasty stain, already soaked into the fibers of the shirt. You frown, it looks like blood. But on their collar like this you would’ve seen a cut on their face by now. Besides this was at the bottom of their pile, and you haven’t seen them wear it in a few days. Plenty of time to notice a new bandage or scar. Which makes you think it isn’t their blood.

You dig your nail into the stain, feel it crush under your finger. There isn’t any reason to think it’s blood. No reason to think it isn’t your friend’s blood. Really this whole blood stain business is a bad faith line of thinking. Except you know blood when you see it.

With shaking hands you set the flannel on the table and go to grab the lemon juice. At least you can clean it up. You can get the blood out of your house and then it won’t be blood anymore. No more blood in your house. You swallow your fear, set the lemon juice next to the shirt. You think of the red that had dripped off your nightmare’s hands as they stood in your living room.

You leave the laundry and go to the living room. You’re going to convince yourself that this is silly. You’re being ridiculous. You settle on your knees in front of the TV, and inspect the floor. Your flat isn’t exactly the most up to date, your wood floors have seen better days. If there was blood -there wasn’t- then there should still be some between the floorboards. You run your fingers over the dips between the wood, looking for any disturbance in the lacquer. 

There’s nothing, not even a speck of dirt.

You exhale, shaky, and stand again. Good. Good, you knew there wouldn’t be anything. You clean up well. 

You go back to the kitchen to finish getting your friend’s mystery stain out of their shirt. 

-

You drum your fingers against your work table, staring down your army of silver statues. Their delicately sculpted features don’t help you make up your mind. In fact they almost coax you away from your prescribed course of action. You’re good at this. You don’t want to be bad at something new.

Either way you need supplies.

You grab your usual bag and grip the canvas tight. It’ll be fine. You can be bad at something. You just can’t keep living like this. You lock your front door tightly behind you and start down the street towards your favorite craft store.

The streets are cold. The wind at your back makes you shiver, and the watched feeling... Fumes, you tell yourself. You’d rushed to get everything cast and now you’re paying the price. You hook a right towards the tube station and make your way down the steps. People walk past you on the other side, swipe their card after you, wait around you for the train. It’s normal. It’s suffocating. You squeeze your hands around the straps of your bag, nails digging into your palms. It’s only one stop, but you rush to get off the train and back up into fresh air. You bump into someone and give a hasty “excuse me.”

Halfway down the street someone grabs your arm. You tense and they drop their grip immediately.

“Yer bag’s leakin’.” A low voice informs you. You tug your bag to check it and groan. There’s a tear on the corner that a pound is nearly tumbling out of. You feel your shoulders drop, that’s just fabulous. You suppose the canvas has taken a beating over the years, it must have caught on something when you were leaving the house. “Aw, dinnae cry bonnie, s’alrigh’.” You glance up at the man, he holds up a handful of pencils and coins, “I caught yer trail.”

You find yourself sitting on a bench sniffling while a stranger sews the hole in your bag closed. His stitches are neat, clinically precise. He doesn’t take long, just like he promised, and knots the dark thread with careful fingers when he’s finished. You wipe your eyes, cursing your bad luck and anything else you can think of. Your life feels like it’s been falling apart recently. First you lose your mind, now you’re losing your favorite tote.

“Good as new,” the man gives the mended corner a tug and starts grabbing your supplies to drop back into it. He hums, the tune is familiar but you can’t put your finger on it. “Ya done with yer tears yet, bon?” He settles your tote between the two of you, an illusion of space. You nod, even though he reaches to scrub a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

You give a half annoyed hum, and feel the rays of his smile. You glance at him, and realize you hadn’t actually looked at him until now. It feels rude to not even have spared him a glance. Except that he feels completely overwhelming as soon as you look at him. His eyes are so blue they burn, every piece of him slotting uncomfortably close to human. You flinch as pain strikes through your head.

His brows draw together, and he tips his head forward, leaning closer to get a better look at you. He mumbles something and reaches to press his fingers against your forehead. His skin is so warm it’s almost alien. His nails scratch bluntly at your skin before catching on something.

It’s like he’s pulling a nail from your skull, the pressure gone as soon as he rolls his fingers together to dust off the hair. You blink, your head feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Better?” He asks. You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, thanks, um-”

“Soap,” He supplies, pushing off the bench to stand.

“Soap,” You smile, it’s silly but you suppose you’ve heard worse. He offers you a hand to pull you to your feet. His fingers wrap around yours, warm, calloused, big. You try not to focus on them too much as they tug you up. He leans around you to grab your bag and hold it out to you.

“Where’re ya off ta?” Soap asks.

“Craft store, I’m-” You sigh, you shouldn’t tell a stranger your therapist is mandating a hobby change, “I’m looking for a new hobby.”

Soap tips his head to the side, thinking --you think. He rattles off a few potential options, paper crafts, fiber arts, clay sculpting, good old fashioned pencils on paper. You hardly hear a word he says, too busy feeling your heart jump into your throat. From this angle you’d almost swear he had a second set of teeth.

-

You press against your front door when you get home, fingers shaky as you click the deadbolt into place. Soap had been perfectly polite and cordial to you, and yet you felt unnerved. You were seeing things you couldn’t get out of your brain and it was making it hard to focus on pretending you’re normal. He’d even walked you home, his eyes lingering on your window. You have unfounded suspicions.

“Wow you’re home late,” Your guest calls from the kitchen. They wander into the living room and stop dead when they spot you. Their nose wrinkles when they frown. 

You run a hand over your hair, close your eyes and try to focus on the time. Your stomach rumbles. You hadn’t grabbed dinner, despite Soap’s offer. You’ll eat leftovers, or throw something together. It's no problem.

“You ok?” You jerk back against the door. Your friend hovers too close. Their eyes are wide and searching, darting over you with a strange intensity you’ve never seen before. 

“Fine, I just had a long day.” You tell them, brushing past to head for the fridge. They follow close behind, almost clingy.

“You sure? Maybe I should stay home tonight, take care of you.” They offer. You sigh and tug the fridge door open, leaning to check what you have. Your not-roommate’s hands pluck at your sweater, reach around you to grab food when your eyes settle on it too long.

“Don’t let me ruin your fun,” You let them tug you away from the fridge, and you hop up to sit on the counter. Pasta is dumped into a bowl and shoved in the microwave. 

“I can skip going out,” They stare down the microwave timer, fingers tapping the counter.

“I’m really-”

“Did you meet anyone interesting while you were out?” They cut you off. You blink. That’s a weird question. You don’t know how to respond. Their gaze is so sharp you almost don’t want to tell them the truth. You swallow.

“What?”

“Do you think you’re getting sick?” They repeat, “It’s getting colder out, you might’ve caught something you shouldn’t have.” There’s a ringing in your ears, you shake your head to dislodge it. Maybe you are coming down with something.

“Just more reasons for you to go out, I don’t wanna get you sick.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead, you should find your thermometer. Your guest hums in annoyance.

“Alright, but think about staying home this week.” You nod, you weren’t planning on heading out again except for groceries, but you can always order in. “Don’t wait up,” They tell you, reaching to flick your forehead as soon as you drop your hand.

-

“I thought you were going out tonight?” You freeze in the hallway, staring at your still home roommate. They look up from the couch, a beer dangling from their fingers.

“Decided to stay in,” They tip their head back to finish the can. You don’t watch the bob of their throat as they swallow. You do rub your eyes in the glare of the television. “Hey, you mind if I sneak in with you tonight?” They ask. The question slides over you like water.

You hum, and nod before you can actually think about what they asked. You turn back down the hall and pad to the bathroom. You hear the TV click off and figure they’re heading to your room. Which is weird. 

When you head back to bed your roommate has already made themselves comfortable. They have one of your stuffed animals on their chest, their hands flopping the bunny ears back and forth while they wait for you. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Having them in here makes you- but you can’t-

You climb into bed on the other side of them and click the light off.

-

You jerk awake. Something physically pulls you awake.

You stare, frozen, into the darkness. The darkness is otherwise occupied, it’s spindling limbs cracking and clicking as they reach with odd angles for your ceiling. They lodge themselves in the corners of your room, eating the shadows cast by the streetlights outside your window. You’re powerless to stop it as it drags threads from your cracked chest. The strings throb, glowing an angry red as the dark monstrous mass that’s haunted your shadow for weeks drags clawed fingers over them. The light catches on the silver of spiderwebs. Lace draped all over your room like a nest. You wish you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the air of the room on your lungs. You wish it felt wetter, not this horrible wash of dryness.

Long delicate claws piece out your threads, nudge your lungs to the side and you feel your muscles tense. Your fingers retract, clawing at the sheets, gouging into the soft cotton. Fingers slip against your heart, drawing it from your chest in a mess of veins and tethers. Your stomach rolls, watching the shadows inspect the organ. You’ve never felt your pulse in such a sick way, never been so conscious of your blood or the ways it’s distributed through your body. The wetness of your heart drips onto your lungs.

It’s a short nightmare that seems to last forever before your heart is settled neatly back into place. Your ribs are pressed back into place, skin knit together like it never was moved to begin with. Then the claws reach for your face, palm pressing tight over your eyes and pushing you down deep into sleep.

-

It’s strange how well you sleep with your guest sharing your bed. You always wake up cuddled close, their arms around you as they snore softly. You’re used to being the first one awake. Even without them going out, you find they’re slow to wake up. It’s sort of cute. People seem much less cool and untouchable when their face is smushed in a pillow and their hair is all over the place.

You brush your teeth and wince. You must’ve slept wrong. Your neck is killing you.

Your eyes slide off the mirror, unable or unwilling to hold onto your reflection. You grab some painkillers and make your way to the kitchen to start on coffee.

-

You gasp, coming to on your couch like you’ve pulled yourself out of the sea. 

The news drones on about a festival happening this weekend. Weekend? What day is it? You can’t remember. You frown, check your phone. It’s dead, despite being plugged into its charger. You tug at the cord and it pulls up into your hand without resistance, unplugged from its little cube. Ok, so no sense checking that. You plug the cord back in and watch the little light turn on before getting up.

You can check your craft room. You have a general idea of timing on your projects, you just need to check how far you’ve gotten on- on- 

What are you working on right now?

You stop in the doorway, staring down your neat work desk. Someone cleaned up in here(was it you?) and you haven’t had time to dirty it up yet. There are no scraps of fabric, no balls of yarn, no picked apart pine cones or snapped twigs. You move towards a pile of freshly folded fleece, picking at the soft fabric. You almost remember buying this, that must’ve been at least a week ago. Last weekend, maybe. 

You pick it up to check you didn’t set it on top of any ongoing projects and spot the orange flipper of your duck buried deep in the basket. With a frown you tug it free, the cool fabric making your frown deepen.

When’s the last time you left an offering on your windowsill?

You glance out the window, it looks just past sunset. The house is quiet. Your roommate must have gone out already. You take the duck with you back to the couch and grab the remote. You’ll find something interesting to watch while you wait for your phone to charge.

“-of local nightclubs,” The newscaster drones, their even tone hardly relaying the gravity of their report, “you may be in danger. New police reports indicate that these bars may be the hunting grounds for the trafficking ring that police now believe may be a single disturbed individual-”

You lower the remote, sitting forward to listen with growing unease as the newscaster describes murders you should have heard about by now. Murders that have been going on for weeks. Missing organs. They recount the investigation’s process. The first instinct towards organ trafficking, and the growing evidence towards one organized individual and not an organization. Eye witnesses that can’t remember who the victims left with. Precise injuries and surgical precision, their throats torn out like an animal had attacked them.

There’s something itching at your brain, something familiar. Something you can’t touch. You’re not supposed to touch. You stroke your fingers over the handmade plush in your arms, something warm and stick clinging to them as you self soothe. It dislodges your nerves, shakes them free, snakes through the fog over your brain. 

You tug the blanket off the back of the couch and drag it over your lap. You press yourself back into the corner of the couch, small and safe. It’s your paranoia.

Have you been taking your medicine?

-

You wake up to the front door closing. You must have turned the TV off at some point. You rub your eyes and go to check on your guest.

You flick on the kitchen light and see your roommate roll their shoulders back with a click. They tip their head one way then the other, stretching with an unnatural length to their movements. The shadow they cast skewers the corners of the room. When they turn to look over their shoulder at you, their eyes are almost black, all four of them blink. You press yourself back against the wall. When you blink they’ve turned towards you.

Blood drips down their chest, stains their lips and traces down their throat. Their hands hang by their sides, nails stained with grit. Their tongue darts out and along their lips, cleaning some of the red off.

“You’re-’ You don’t know what to say, feel frozen by your own fear.

“I thought we’d settled this,” They sigh, wipe their throat with their hand and inspect the blood. The level of casualty they display strikes you more than words ever could. 

“Blood, that’s blood,” You stammer out. They shrug sucking on their fingers.

“O negative if you wanna be specific,” Their voice is thick as they swallow, “Organ donor too, since you were so picky about that last time.”

Last time? What are they talking about?

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart pounding so loud you can hardly hear them over the noise. Your hands shake, tug at your shirt. Suddenly you can feel the cloth against your skin, can feel your muscles sliding against your bones, a nauseating sensation you can’t seem to get rid of. The way they talk about this, like it’s something you’ve discussed, something you could be OK with if you just had guidelines set up. You can’t imagine ever being alright with whatever is happening.

Something clicks into place in your mind. The string of murders on the news, missing organs, strange lacerations, drained of blood. Was it them? Your guest holds their chin, cracking their neck as you try not to hyperventilate.

“You’re the one from the news,” You whisper. They hum, and smile at you.

“Fun right? I’ve never been famous before,” They laugh like this is some sort of game. You feel your stomach roll.

“You’re killing people.”

You watch as their usual gentle smile falls, as their entire face seems to fall away into a blank unfeeling parody of the person who's been crashing on your couch.

"So we’re doing this again." The start, picking one of your kitchen knives out of the block on your counter, "What’s the line? I'm not killing people, I'm killing men? Although," They laugh, it’s a hollow cold thing, “I’m really not that picky with my prey.”

Your eyes dart towards the door, you take a half step back. "Don't run," they warn you, condescending as you've never heard them before, "I won't be able to help myself if you run." You don't know what else you could possibly do in this situation. You can't stay, there's no way they let you live now that you know they're a murderer. You have to run.

With a burst of energy you bolt from the kitchen for your front door. You hear a snarl behind you, a “you always do this,” as you flip the deadbolt and rip the door open. You nearly tumble down your front step, but it hardly slows you down. You know better than to look back when you can hear the crashing, feel the strike of claws through the air behind you. How do you combat a murderer? You can feel tears starting to blur your vision, and for once in your life you hope they fall just to clear your eyes. 

How many times have you run to the local police station? The monster behind you had said you’d done this before? Would they think you were crying wolf? Would they put you back in the house with this person? Would you forget again?

You’re caught around the middle and lifted. You scream and kick, push at your captor’s face and claw at their arms. You hardly seem to make a dent in them, all hard muscle and low grunts of pain.

“Calm down lass,” Soap orders, voice dropping with your panic. You dig your nails into his arms, sob and scream for him to help you. He grabs your chin and tips your head to the side. “Christ, bonnie, what happened to ya?” He grits, his fingers skating over your neck. You jerk away from the pain that his touch rolls through you.

You freeze, your breath heaving as you stare down your unwanted guest. They haunt the end of the street like a nightmare, their sticky shadows dripping in the midnight moonlight, streaking to cling to the walls and fall to the cobblestone street. Soap hums behind you. No. Humming is too human a description. He growls. The sound low and vibrating, like a dog warning of its impending bite.

You’re struck by another bout of blind panic. For whatever reason your guest has kept you alive, but Soap is a different story. You can’t be a party to this man’s murder. You renew your desperation as you push at his hold.

“We have to go,” You tell him desperately, watching your guest stalk closer, “they’ll kill us, we have to go.”

“That’s mine,” Your guest growls, the sound whispering through the shadows and making your head pound. You squeeze your eyes shut, press back into Soap’s relative safety.

“That’s too bad,” Soap growls, amusement clear where you’d expect fear, “been feeding me for weeks.”

Your eyes snap open, glancing up at your newest monster. He smiles down at you with too many teeth.

“What-”

“Somethin’ much worse than your little spider,” He tells you, holding up a finger, “boop.” He taps your forehead and everything goes black.

[hwavsg4ch4n]

Men I Trust || L.F

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, bestie!Felix, soft dom!Felix, college au, Cheating, mentions of alcohol, penetration (F receiving), cursing, foreplay, public teasing, slight degradation

Note: omg haiii, I haven’t posted in so long wowwww. It feels good to be back tbh. I wanted to give you guys a good length worth of plot and smut as an apology for disappearing for so damn long. I have a lot of Ideas brewing, might end up looking like an unofficial KINKTOBER lol. Maybe next year I’ll do an official one haha.

Description: Felix wants to support you in anyway he can, even if it means bending his morals ever so gently

this is a work of fiction, not real… yeah

It was like a frown was permanently etched onto your features. “Girl…” you looked up from your textbook with tired eyes, being met with your friends' lively ones. You hummed in response, “Where is your boyfriend? Wasn’t he supposed to pick you up like 2 hours ago?” your lips parted as you flipped over your phone, thinking you missed tons of phone calls, secretly you were hoping you did miss calls; it would help the anxious thoughts. 

At last, nothing. Not a text, not a voicemail, not a missed call, nothing. You sighed, “maybe he got caught up with something.” while offering your friend a tightlipped smile that she didn’t buy, you tried calling your boyfriend. Your already fake grin faltering as it went straight to voicemail. While being focused on your phone, you didn’t even realize another friend of yours reaching your table. “Hey girls!” You didn’t register his voice, too busy trying to figure out where your boyfriend was; did he turn his location off?

You called again, and again, all while looking down at the lacquered wooden table, scratching at the waxy surface too embarrassed to look up and face your friends. “Anthony!” you chimed as he answered after the second to last ring. “Y/n i’m busy.” You frowned, your heart racing as you heard laughter and music in the background. “Oh, I thought you would be picking me up. Did you forget again? Anthony, you- where even are you?” 

Felix raised his brows in question, looking to your mutual friend that sat next to him in disappointment. He knew about the problems between your current boyfriend, he once had to call him for you on his phone; you were too scared and didn’t want to be perceived as pushy or clingy. However, it’s common sense to know a person can only be pushed but so far.

“Y/n please, not this again. I don’t have time for this, you can find a ride home baby. Maybe ask Felix? Lauren?” You scoffed as he sounded annoyed, “Find a fucking ride home? Are you serious? I’ve been waiting in this damn library for you, for more than 2 hours. Now I need to find a ride home?” Your friends watched as tears of frustration welled up into your eyes. “How about I make it up to you later, hm? You know where my spare key is.” You knew what he was suggesting, and somehow it made you even more upset. First he bails, and then tells you to wait up to 3 more hours at his empty apartment just to have the worst sex of your life, as an apology. Nevertheless, you said okay tiredly, mostly to just hang up.

You put your phone down with a heavy sigh, finally looking up to see who joined your table. Even Though it was subtle, a smile spread across your face. “Hey, Lix.” He smiled back in an attempt to hide his worry. “Hey, wanna share what that was about?” he let out a little chuckle. You huffed, “I told Anthony that me and Lauren would be studying so he offered to pick me up at 4pm, obviously he ditched me… again. I should’ve fucking known,” at this point you were ranting, your friends didn’t mind. “He’s never been on time before so why now, right?” You let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Also, can you believe that he tries to make it up to me with sex every fucking time? Sex, that’s not even good? I bet he can’t even spell the word clit!” your friends' mouths were parted at your outburst, Felix chuckling as he held back a blush. You apologized, “I’m sorry it’s just… I’m stressed. He stresses me in every which way.” Your hands rubbed at your neck in an attempt to soothe.

“Wanna go to the club?” Felix suggested. You looked at him straight faced, trying to figure out if you heard him correctly. “The club? really?” Felix shrugged, “why not? You guys study almost every night. That’s enough stress already y/n, you need to let loose, have a few drinks.” He shot a smile at you. You looked at Lauren who was nodding along. “Why not, girl? You have too much on your plate. Maybe you’ll meet someone better tonight. I know I will.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. You rolled your eyes, looking at the time. 5:30pm.

You looked down at your textbook and notes. Sighing, you muttered a “Sure.”,  giving in quicker than usual. Felix clapped excitedly, ushering the nearby librarian to pay him with a hurried “shush”.

-

You fit into your cutest outfit. A black mini skirt paired with a black lace lingerie bodysuit snug against your figure. You felt serene as your music hummed in your room. Singing along to your favorite songs as you put on makeup. Dolling yourself up almost felt like meditation. You took in deep breaths every time you applied something to your skin, exhaling when you blended it out. It felt good… you felt good. At least until your phone dinged, and you found yourself hoping it would be Anthony begging and pleading for forgiveness, asking why you’re not at his place. Nonetheless, the dings were just YouTube notifications with the occasional email and period tracker app making it known you’re ovulating.

You were applying your deep brown lip liner when you heard a knock on your cracked door. You hummed as a signal to let the person come in. In the reflection of your vanity mirror you saw Felix with a completely different outfit from earlier.

A black t-shirt, a bit shorter than usual, if he raised his arms you could see one of the reasons why he’s so popular with the opposite sex. His oversized cargo pants fit him like a dream. His fingers clad with his favorite rings.

“You look pretty.” he complimented. You smiled at him through your reflection in gratitude while reaching for your lip gloss. “I bought you that ring didn’t I?” Felix gave you a bright smile, nodding as he plopped himself on your bean bag chair. “You did.” He muttered. He watched you as you applied your lipgloss, deep in thought. “Y/n,” he says, you hum back urging him to continue. “You deserve better, you know that right? I don’t think I need to tell you that but… I figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell you.” You turned to look at him, “Sometimes Felix, I feel like I have a huge stamp on my forehead that reads garbage.” You chuckled. “But I’ll get over it.” You shrug, carefully putting on your favorite gold hoop earrings.

He shook his head, sitting up straighter. “Absolutely not, no. Some men are just … dickheads. It’s not your fault, it never will be I promise. You’re amaz-” you let out a hearty laugh as he rambled at a lower octave, watching you turn around and douse your face in one more layer of settling spray. “Lixie,” he looked at you wide eyed to show he’s all ears. “Save the pep talks for tomorrow and just help me get drunk and have fun tonight, okay?” Felix raised his hands up In defense, nodding. “Deal.”

You smiled, getting up and walking to your closet, “Now help me pick out some heels, please and thank you.”

-

The music blared as two of your closest friends pulled you straight to the bar. 

Lauren urged you all to take shots before the lot of you left, telling you that some of her friends are there, that shes plans on leaving with them. Felix complained and you took two tequila shots, no biggie. But now she’s yelling at the bartender to open her tab and give you each 4 shots of 818t. You didn’t protest, just giggling at Felix’s look of bewilderment as the 4 shots were placed in front of him.

The two of you watched Lauren down her first two. “Ever heard of pace yourself?” Felix yelled over the blaring music. The crowd cheered as the smoke machine turned on, becoming one with the strobe lights. 

You turned to Felix after Lauren told him to shut up. “Fuck it!” You giggled, downing all your shots. Felix laughed along, downing his as well. 

“Here babe,” Lauren passed you two more, justifying her reasoning by saying “it’s for good luck!” Before she got lost in the crowd of movement to find her friends. You tilted your head back. It hit you, all the shots you took hit you like a truck. Teetering the thin line between tipsy and drunk, you grabbed Felix’s hand. “Dance with me Lix!” You smiled sweetly at him, hoping off your barstool and tugging him behind you.

After finding a comfortable spot within the crowd of moving bodies, your arms made their way around Felix’s neck. You smiled up at him excitedly, he looked down at you smiling, chuckling as he tried to keep you steady. “You drunk yet?” Felix winced as you yelled a bit too loud, forgetting that he’s closer than you think. 

“I’m trying to fight off the drunk, but I think I’m falling.” His words were slightly slurred, his freckled cheeks were tinged pink. You laughed, “I can tell, your cheeks are redder than the lights.” Felix shook his head as you tapped his cheeks, using whatever sobriety he had left in his being to keep you from bumping into too many strangers.

“No more talking, I’m dancing!” Before Felix could respond you turned around, your back pressing against his front, in an acceptable proximity Felix didn’t think twice about. But then his brain froze when you took his hands and placed them on your mid section. The cool temperature of his silver rings chilled your skin mildly as you felt it through your lace top. You sighed at the contrasting feeling, the rest of your body felt on fire and the alcohol warms you. Unbeknownst to you, your head fell to his shoulder slowly while your eyes closed in euphoria. You needed this, an escape with your friends. You sighed, relaxing into Felix as the music controlled your movements.

“Oh.” He muttered in surprise. His body heated, the tequila making him more aware than he should be. Felix gulped, licking his lips as he looked down. Taking In your skin, he witnessed you putting on body glitter when you all left the house. He didn’t let it soak in before, but now his vision is slightly blurred and the glitter was extra shiny. The strobe lights, blue and red, were hitting the highest points of your body that was exposed to him. We’re you fucking glowing? His breathing started to labor as you pressed against him harder, moving your hips with his at a pace that had him questioning if this moment was real. 

“Y/n…?” He muttered, “Yeah?” You sighed out, sounding almost breathless. “W-what are you doing?” He breathed into your neck, blinking slowly as he observed your closed eyes and sly smirk. “I’m dancing, idiot. What else?” You raised one of your hands and pulled him down by the back of his neck so your lips grazed his ear. “You need to keep up, Lix.” You say playfully.

His breath hitched, his hold on your midsection tightening slightly without his control. He was warm, he felt really warm, almost on the brink of breaking a sweat.

You swayed, grinded, giggled and tightened your grip on the back of his neck ever so slightly as your other hand stroked his forearm. It felt heavily to be touched this way, you didn’t know the last time you had been. Your foggy drunk mind didn’t care that the touches were from one of your closest friends, if anything you felt safer. The only thing you could think about was the smell of his cologne, the music and the heat radiating off him. It felt overwhelming in the best way possible, you hummed while following the rhythm. Feeling his grip on your torso tightening, you bit your bottom lip. Heat pooling to the place that has craved proper attention for months.

Felix cleared his throat, trying to slow down his heartbeat. And then he felt it, you slightly brushing off him only to deliver a deep grind against his center. He huffed, “Y-Y/n.” You shushed him. “Just feel the music, have fun.” His breath labored as he felt you grind against him harder, swiveling your hips, bending your knees slightly, your mostly exposed back brushing against his chest, he was sure your perfume would be embedded in his shirt.

“Shit” he thought, the heat, all the flustered heat that he felt was now migrating to one place. He tried his best to fight it, he really did. But when you smell like this, when you look like this, when you feel like this, Felix couldn’t help it. The tent in his pants formed and took shape against your bottom. Your movements started to focus only in that area; you knew. Of course you knew, you’re not dumb, it was painfully obvious that you didn’t care either.

Felix fought for a steady breath as you moved against him. He cleared his throat now and then trying to remain sane, trying not to fuck up whatever was going on. And then it dawned on him where you two were. “Y/n, we’re uhm, we’re in public.” His words came out gruff and breathless.

You didn’t stop moving as you responded, “What are you suggesting?” You smirked, slow turning around to meet his eyes. When Felix met your eyes in the blaring lights, his member pulsed. “Cat got your tongue Lixie?” His lips parted only to close when your thumb traced his Adam's apple gently. “Jesus.” He whispered, you couldn’t hear.

“Can I kiss you here?” You ask slightly slurred. “Uhm, w-what about Antho-” you frowned, shaking your head. “Don’t fucking worry about him, he’s not as much man as you are.” You knew how to stroke his ego perfectly. Felix nodded, “Only if you’re sure.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s only a silly peck.”

It wasn't just a peck, it was a parted lip, heated, wet kiss planted on his adams apple. Followed by a sensual lick that trailed to the side of his neck. You sucked gently and carefully, all the while planting kisses and small bites. Felix was lost in the feeling of you, sighing, whimpering as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer. “Fuck it.” He whispers, you heard that.

 His hand that was adorned with rings grips your jaw with soft urgency, guiding your parted lips to his. He kissed you deeply, taking your breath away as he tilted his head so his tongue could reach every inch of your mouth. You breathed in from your nose as your hands braced themselves on his chest. His lips were soft, so soft as you tasted your cherry lip gloss transferring onto his lips. 

It felt as if the blaring music faded away as the two of you made out in between dancing bodies that were too drunk to even notice you. You gasped a proper breath as Felix detached you from him by your jaw. “My place or yours?” You answered with a dazed, “Huh?” He chuckled, his other hands moving down your back to softly pat your ass as an attempt to snap you back to reality. “I said, my place or yours darling?” 

-

The door to Felix’s apartment barely closed before you grabbed Felix by the neck and pulled him in for another kiss that would’ve been a bit too raunchy for a night club. You kicked off your heels as Felix did his shoes, never thinking of breaking the kiss. He grabbed your waist and turned on his dim warm kitchen light. He guided you to lean on his dark marble counter, “How you feeling?” He asked, pulling away slightly, unbuttoning his pants slowly as he waited for your response.

You looked down between your bodies, watching as his fingers pulled down his fly, exposing his black Calvin boxers. He took two fingers to fix your gaze back to his “I asked you a question.” His eyes were almost as dark as his voice while he looked at you. “I want you.” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice. You could remember the last time you sounded so needy, being in a situation that made you this way didn’t cross your mind. If you were sober you’d be entirely embarrassed.

Felix grinned, reaching behind your back to unzip your skirt, pushing it down your legs gently. “That’s not what I asked you.” He reminded. You racked your brain, trying with all your might to think of the question that seemed so simple. Then his lips met your neck and your mind went blank. “Answer me, y/n.” He rumbled. “Can you- can you repeat the question?” You stammered. He smirked against your skin, giving your hip a squeeze. “I asked how you’re feeling, are you tired? You need a break?” You shook your head in disapproval. “No, no I’m okay. Keep going, I’m okay, please.”

Felix nodded, stepping back to look at your lace bodysuit that now acted as lingerie. He tsked, biting his lips while his finger traced the intricate detail on your hip bone. “You’re beautiful, so beautiful.” You looked up at him, flustered. “Any smart man would keep you to himself, if he knew what was good for him that is.” You shook your head in embarrassment and he smirked. “Feel what you did to me, y/n.” He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it before guiding you into the warmth of his pants. His member hard and pulsating, warm as you hold him. 

“Felix...” He grins, “Oh I know, I’m taking too long, hm?”. He takes your hand out of his pants, pushing you deeper into the counter. His lips find yours again. He gropes at your flesh, and bites your bottom lip all before he rips a hole in the lace he adored so much; right where you need him the most. You gasp but he only takes that opportunity to kiss you deeper. His fingers slip past your folds to feel the wetness that accumulated throughout the night. He hums, gathering your moisture to rub your bundle of nerves sweetly. You moan pathetically into his mouth, you needed this more than you thought.

Felix breaks away from your lips only to pull down your top, exposing your hard nipples. He sucks and licks on them with a small nip to keep you from melting into pleasure completely. “Ohh, Lix there, there, god.” You breathed out, guiding his hand to where your clit loves it the most. Your head falls back as your other hand grips his hair. “Not yet,” he mutters against you. His fingers slide down your slit with ease, plunging into your leaking hole with a squelch. You bite your lip and close your eyes, flustered by the noises your body is capable of making due to your close friend's hand.

He pumps his fingers into you, earning a few groans as you look down. “It feels better with you.” You groan, he’s elated, his bulge twitched against your thigh. “Oh baby, I bet. I fucking bet.” He rewards you with the curl of his fingers, stimulating the most delicate part of you. You lurch forward, one hand shooting to your unoccupied mound for support as the other pulls his mouth off your now puffy bud. You press your foreheads together, “I wanna cum for you,” you breathe out, Felix parts his lips, fingers not halting. “I want you to feel how hard I can clench around you, think about my pussy milking you that way, want you to feel it Lixie.” You never spoke like this, the words flowed from your dirty lips like a river, Felix grew close to overwhelmed.

“Fuck, do you hear yourself baby? Such a fucking slut for me aren’t you?” You nodded quickly, your brows furrowing as you felt the knot you longed for tangle in your tummy. “Close lix close please, I need it.” He pecked your nose, quickly switching to stimulating your clit right where you placed him last. Your head fell back again, letting out a groan as Felix attached his swollen lips to your neck. “Fucking creaming on my fingers baby,” you let out hushed and quick yes’s. He hummed while grinning, “Cum, y/n. Give it to me.” And you did. You went silent as your mouth gapped, your chest heaving and your knees buckled as he rode you threw it. Pressing kisses to your chest and soothing the purple bruises he littered across your neck.

You fought to catch your breath as Felix ripped the hole in your lace wider, “Sorry darling, I’m not done, if that’s okay with you.” Instead of verbal confirmation, you turned around on shaky legs and leaned forward, nipples pressing against the cold marble. You propped one leg on his barstool and arched your back, exposing your sopping heat and puffy clit. 

You whined, wiggling your bottom, signaling you wanted more from him. Felix was astonished, almost prideful, he didn’t even bother pulling his pants down. He pulled his member out, hissing as his tip came in contact with your heat. Then it was like a lightbulb came on, “I’ll go get a condom.” You huffed in protest, “Raw, fuck me raw. I’m on the pill lix, I’m clean. I always made him use a condom. Raw please.” You tripped over your words, grinding on his length in an attempt to push him in yourself.  His cock jumped at your pleas, “You want me that bad?” You nodded in response, flinching as his tip brushed your clit.

Felix groaned, pushing himself in. Your mouth gaped, your eyes shutting in untter bliss; you were full to your heart’s content. “Perfect.” You moaned, pushing yourself back on his dick. He let you do your thing for a while, watching as your past orgasm made itself known on his shaft. A white ring coating him as your walls squeezed him with warmth. 

“You feel so good,” he growls. He takes your hips, meeting you in the middle as he thrusts into you. You cried out his name, your palms flat on his table when you felt him spread your ass cheeks apart, pushing into you with fast deep thrusts. All you could let out was huffs of air and strangled profanities as he hit places you thought were myths. 

“Taking me so well, y/n. So fucking good.” He muttered, placing his hand at the base of your back for more leverage. “You’re creaming me darling, you hear that?” The sloshing sound of your cunt was almost as loud as the slap Felix delivered to your ass.

His hand rubbed at your puffy clit, you had no choice but to tear up. “Oh my god.” You sobbed. “I need you to cum baby, I need you to cum so I can hm? Be nice to your Lixie.” You bit your lip, the intensity of your nearing climax being felt in the tip of your fingers as your thighs shook. “Fuck!” You groaned loudly, hearing the sound of your pussy gushing and juice’s hitting the floor was the least of your worries as you saw stars. You swore at that moment you reached nirvana. 

Your body had a mind of its own as you pulled your cunt off his member and got down on your knees before him. “Record me, record how you cum on me.” You muttered while looking up at your closest friend. Felix had to act quick, the sight of your mascara running and tear stained cheeks, your eyes low and tongue out waiting to take whatever he would give was now embedded in his mind as a core memory. 

He reached for his phone in his back pocket, swiping to his camera and hitting record with flash as he stroked himself quickly. You looked filthy, your pussy was dripping, your body was glistening and your hair was messy. You didn’t seem to care as your manicured nails that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend pity paid for, excitedly gripped Felix’s cargo clad thighs in anticipation.

“Shit shit.” He came, on your tits, on your nose and of course on your tongue. He groaned as you suckled on his twitching tip, kissing and licking. Felix looked at you through his camera, his free hand caressing your face, wiping your tears and hair away. Thumb lingered down to your soft swollen lips, pushing passed as you sucked gently. You smiled up at him just as he stopped recording. 

“Thank you Lixie.” You whispered, fucked out and hazy. He smiled sweetly at you, “No baby, thank you.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Bath time y/n. Come on.” He pulled you up gently.

-

Your hands drew circles on his chest as he stroked your naked back.

“Y/n?” You hummed in response, breathing in his body wash.

“What should I do with that video?” You looked up at Felix, with a small smile. “Send it to him and brag for the both of us, only if you want to.” You laid back down sighing in content. Felix played with your hair and chuckled. He knew you were groggy and not confident in your words. He settled for a simple screenshot, one where anyone could barely tell it was you. His ring clad thumb in your mouth as you sucked. 

The picture is attached with a short but sweet message.

“Sorry bro.”

[exoahgasebby]

It’s Been A Long Time Coming

- Kinktober Day 1 : Virginity Loss

pairing : jean kirstein x female!reader

summary : days before the raid on Liberio, your boyfriend Jean plans a date night with you. when the night is ending with him doing paperwork, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

cw : fingering, virginity loss, angst, porn with emotions, semi-public sex, chair sex, lil bit of breeding if you look closely, did i mention angst?

wc : 2.2k

tags : @satorussunset @insomniacscripts

← masterlist

“Are you going to pay attention to me at all tonight, or do I just need to leave?”

His eyes go wide at your question. Of all the things he had expected you to say, that was not one of them.

Tonight was planned to be a small date night, just something for the two of you before the raid on Liberio in the next couple of days. Somehow, the night led into the two of you back at headquarters with Jean filling out paperwork.

“I - what?” he asks, his hands letting go of the pencil he was using.

“You heard me,” you say. “I have barely seen you in weeks. I know the raid is happening soon, but we haven’t had any time together in awhile - and the one night we do we end it doing paperwork?”

You stand up from your chair, walking around his desk as his eyes watch your figure the entire way.

“Do you truly think I wore the tiniest dress in all of Paradis for just a regular date night?” you tease, your hands putting all of his paperwork neatly to the side of his desk.

“I did n-notice it was pretty small,” he stammers, watching as you push his chair out of the way so you can climb onto his desk.

“If you would’ve been paying attention to your girlfriend, Commanding Officer Kirstein, you would’ve noticed the lack of underwear as well.”

You spread your legs wide as his eyes trail down, seeing your pussy on display in front of him.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he mutters as his hands grip the arms of his chair tightly.

“C’mon, handsome,” you say, reaching one of your hands down to touch yourself. “Take a break and have some fun with me.”

A quiet “yes ma’am,” falls from his mouth as he pushes himself onto his knees in front of you. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them apart as his tongue starts licking your clit. Your head falls back as a loud moan escapes your throat, causing his arms to hold you tighter at the sound.

The two of you would never do something like this in his office for fear that another ranking officer could hear or walk in at any moment, but you had been too needy to care right now.

“I missed you,” you whimper, feeling one of his arms release your leg.

“Oh, baby,” he groans as his hand starts to rub your clit. “I’ve missed you and this pussy so fucking much.”

Your upper body lies down as his tongue works itself through your folds, collecting your juices on it while your back arches at the feeling. It’s only seconds before you feel that knot in your stomach threatening to burst.

“Jean, I’m gonna -“

“Fuck, YN,” he moans as his tongue and fingers switch places.

His fingers fill you instantly. Your hips buck to meet his pace, only causing curse words to leave his mouth at the sight. Your cunt tightens around them as you feel yourself reaching your peak.

“You gonna cum, princess?”

Your head nods furiously as your orgasm hits you. You normally would’ve waited for him to tell you to let go, but it has been too long and you couldn’t hold it back.

His fingers continue to pump into you through your orgasm as his tongue begins to lick around them, not missing a single drop of it. A mixture of moans and panting fills the room at the sensation his tongue causes.

“Taste so fucking good,” he breathes, his cock straining underneath his pants uncomfortably.

“Jean,” you moan at the overstimulation as his fingers slowly pump into you after your orgasm. “Need more. Please.”

“Use your words, love,” he says, his mouth leaving your cunt as he raises his head to look at you.

“N-Need your cock,” you stutter. “W-wanna cum on your cock.”

His movements stop at your words. The two of you had agreed long ago to not cross that line, worried that if you did then something bad would happen immediately after. After the first taste of you, Jean knew he was ready to take things further, but you were the hesitant one.

He was completely understanding of your feelings. Hell, you could have told him to leave you alone and he would have. He had been in love with you for far too long to ever disagree with anything you told him to do.

“Baby,” he says softly, taking his fingers out of you.

He stands up quickly, his hands helping you sit up on his desk so that you’re face to face with him. Your eyes meet his, and you can’t help but smile as you see the sparkle in them.

“Are you sure?” he asks, moving the baby hairs from your face. “I’m okay with waiting until everything is over. I told you I would do anything for you -“

“Then fuck me, Jean,” you cut him off.

“I just, I just want to make sure you’re completely sure about this.”

“I’m tired of waiting for all of this to be over,” you whisper. “We don’t have any clue when it’s going to be over, and I’m tired of putting this off. I love you and you love me, and that’s all that matters.”

Your hands work at the buttons of your dress as you talk, Jean’s eyes following as each button is released. He swallows a lump in his throat as you undo the last button, your dress opening completely to reveal your naked body. His hands carefully pull your straps off of your shoulders, making the dress completely fall away from your body.

“Please, Jean,” you whisper, your hands undoing his belt slowly. “We need this. Please.”

You were right, you both needed this more than anything right now. Tensions had been too high the last few weeks, and you both felt each other slipping through the cracks the longer it dragged on.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he breathes out, his hands softly caressing your sides as you slowly pull his pants off of his waist.

“I know you have,” you say quietly, feeling tears threaten to fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry it took me so long to be ready for you.”

His pants hit the floor with a quiet thud. He works his feet out of them and takes a step back. Your eyes follow his movements as his hands reach down to the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down until they sit on the floor in the pile with his pants.

“C’mere, baby,” he says softly, his hand reaching out for yours as he sits back in his chair.

Your soft hands interlace with his rough ones as he slowly pulls you closer to him, placing you in between his legs. Jean watches as you lean over him to slowly unbutton his shirt, your chest rising and falling with every deep breath as you work through them.

You were a nervous mess. He could sense it.

“Breathe, love,” he murmurs as you pull his shirt off of his shoulders.

The two of you take a moment to stare at each other’s naked bodies. You take in the sight of his muscular chest, his body peppered with tiny scars from years of training and fighting.

He watches as you take in the sight of his cock, sitting up against his stomach as a drop of pre-cum drips from the tip. Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip and Jean has to fight back a moan at the action.

You take a deep breath as you step closer to him, lifting your legs one at a time until you’re straddling his lap. His cock rests against your clit, causing you to hiss quietly at the friction.

“Babygirl,” he struggles to say, his hand softly lifting your chin. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jean,” you whisper, bringing your lips to his.

His plump lips move softly against yours. Your heart raced beneath your chest at the feeling, something you felt every single time Jean kissed you. He always gave the type of kisses that made the world around you disappear, making you completely forget about the danger you both were in daily.

A gasp leaves your mouth as you feel his hands grasp your ass, pushing your cunt along the length of his cock. His tongue takes the opportunity and works its way inside your mouth, his mouth swallowing your quiet moans as your hands work themselves into his hair.

Loud grunts escape his throat as you pull lightly on his hair, only making his hands grab your ass harder. Your hips begin to move on their own as you feel that knot reappearing in the pit of your stomach.

“Jean, I -“

“You ready, baby?” he grunts, placing his forehead on yours.

You nod softly as you lift yourself up. A moan escapes him as your soft hand wraps around his cock, lining it up with your entrance.

“Easy, love,” he croaks as you slowly sink onto him, your eyes filling with tears at the sudden fullness. “Breathe, beautiful. Just breathe.”

You feel the tears running down your cheeks, but your mind only focuses on Jean’s thick cock filling you to the hilt. Your hips try to move but his hands stop them.

“Relax, YN. Take it slow, baby.”

His eyes find yours, reaching one of his hands up to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Talk to me, love. What’s going through that beautiful mind?”

“I’m scared,” you whisper with a shaky voice.

“Scared of what,” he asks, noticing you lifting your hips up slowly and pausing just before the tip is out of you.

“Losing you.”

Your head falls onto his shoulder as he thrusts back into you quickly, causing a loud moan to leave you. Both of his hands grab your hips roughly, working you along his length as he roughly breathes into your ear.

“You’re not losing me,” he groans in between thrusts, your cunt tightening around him. “You’ll never lose me.”

You try to think of a response, but your brain can’t compute words as you feel your orgasm approaching. Your walls flutter around his cock as the sensation rocks over you. A chorus of curses and moans falls from your lips as your legs shake on top of him, only making it harder for him to maintain his composure.

“That’s it, princess,” he moans in your ear. “Cum all over my cock. Such a fucking good girl.”

Your cunt tightens at the praise from him, only causing his head to fall back at the feeling.

“Fuck, you like that? Me calling you my good girl?”

“Yes,” you whimper, your cunt suddenly feeling over sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

One of his arms wraps around your hips, holding you steady as he quickens his thrusts into you. He hisses as your teeth bite into his shoulder when his other hands fingers start playing with your clit, working you quickly into another orgasm.

“Too much,” you whine at the overstimulation.

“You can take it, baby,” he grunts, his thrusts falling out of rhythm as he feels you tighten around him. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

“Fuck, Jean,” you moan breathlessly. “Wanna feel you cum.”

“Shit,” he hisses, feeling your walls clamp down on him. “Your pussy gonna milk my cock? Fuck, baby.”

Your third orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave as his cock pulses inside of you. A slight taste of iron tinged your tongue as you bite harder into his shoulder, your teeth puncturing his skin. The mixture of the pain from his shoulder and your pussy gripping onto him sends him over the edge, spilling himself inside of you.

He fucks you through both of your orgasms, your fingers clawing at his arms because of the overstimulation. Your legs give out completely as he fills you up, your name leaving his mouth like a chant the whole time.

His arms wrap around your back as your body slacks against him.

“You did so good, baby girl,” he whispers into your ear, his fingers lightly tracing shapes along your lower back with his cock nestled inside of you.

His eyes shoot open, taking in the scenery around him. The sun beats down on the grass he’s laying on, beautiful tiny blue flowers scattered around him. He sits back up, shaking his head in disbelief that he actually fell asleep.

He stands up quickly, his hands making quick work of discarding the tiny blades of grass from his uniform. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes at the memory in his dreams, but he fights them back. He refuses to let anyone back at headquarters see him like this.

His eyes fall to the stone in front of him, the only damned thing he has left of you besides a ring you gave him almost four months ago. He kneels down in front of it, placing his hand on top.

“I may have lost you,” he says softly, fighting back emotions that he had been holding in since they left Liberio. “But you still haven’t lost me, baby. You never will, I promise.”

He wipes the few tears from his eyes as he stands back up, turning his back on your grave stone as he makes his way back to headquarters.

[ackermonie]

like a hot dad

content: nsfw, long haired levi, breeding kink, daddy/mommy kink if u squint, dilf levi, post war canon

warnings: +18 content, mild manga spoilers, f!bodied reader.

wc: 1.5k~

tags: @motherfckerrr bc they commented ehe

a/n: i genuinely had no idea where this was going i just kept writing and somehow ended up with being h word for dilf long haired levi and idk how to take it back tysm

also pls reblog if u can!! i’m tryna gain back my old followers from my previous blog due to shadowban, so spreading the word could def help!! tysm either way<3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

do you think levi would grow his hair out post-war?

idk mahn but the vision of him with a short wolf-ish is really getting to me.

i feel like maybe he’d let it grow accidentally. with the healing process for his knee and the rest of his wounds i feel like he wouldn’t really care about his hair, and you’re totally in for it.

it’s a huge change. for years, you’re used to levi’s neat hair and infamous undercut, and you were 100% into it. but now as he finally lets you cut his hair for him instead of doing it himself, you kinda slowly fix it in a wolf cut and let it grow gradually.

you’d come up with excuses every time he asks you to cut his hair.

“i have so much to do around the house today, my love. maybe tomorrow?”

“oh, i’m on my period today. i can barely stand up.”

“oh! i forgot i have to go get stuff from the market! i’ll be meeting gabi and falco, i can’t be late, can i?”

once he gets frustrated with you, the raven silk was already down to his nape. it shaped his face beautifully, and once you caught him with a pair of scissors in the bathroom, your soul left your body.

“WAIT!” you dash to him, holding down the armed left hand. “you’re not left handed! you wanna ruin your hair??”

“shut up,” he rolls his eyes at you. “you’ve been putting me off for months. look how long it’s gotten!” he gestures with a hand to the mirror in front of you two. “i look hideous.”

you slip the scissors from his hands, and levi catches the little sly smile that slips on your face as you squeeze yourself between his body and the sink.

you watch the realization fall on his face while your hands slip in his hair.

“is this what i get for letting my guard down around you?”

“you look beautiful,” you tell him, love struck as you are, never missing the pink dust that rushes to his cheeks “everyone compliments you for it. you still wanna cut it off again?”

“i don’t give a shit about anyone else.” he grumbles and looks down between you both, leaning on his cane. “i don’t look representable.”

“you don’t have to look representable,” your tone lowers in sincerity. a thumb grazes the scar on the right side of his face. “you’re not a captain anymore, my love. you’re free to do whatever your heart pleases.”

he looks up at you, features blank, but you know well how your words are tossing and turning in his brain.

“besides,” your smile returns back to your face, and you pull him a little closer. “you look extremely hot.” a hand trails down to the hem of his shirt, your eyes following the movement, then you return your gaze back up to him. “like a hot dad.”

his eyebrows shoot up, playfulness making an appearance on the previous stoic features. “like a hot dad?”

“mmhm,” you affirm with a mock-nonchalant nod, and you slip away from him jjjuuust when he was about to pull you in. you look at him over your shoulder, mischief pure in your gaze. “i’ll go check on dinner for the guests coming tonight. feel free to join.”

only except that ten minutes later, the kitchen is completely empty and you two didn’t manage to make it past the living room. he was seated on the sofa, head throw back with his fucking hair framing his delicious expression like that, you swear you could cum untouched in your position between his legs as you get to work.

“like a hot dad, huh?” he mumbles, all breathless and shit once you were seated in his lap, his length stretching you perfectly. a hand reaches up to wipe away the remaining of his previous climax on the corner of your lips. you throw your head in the crook of his neck, the pleasure of your hips rolling skillfully against his hitting you bad. “you could’ve just asked, lovely. wanna make me a daddy?”

you manage a shaky nod when he begins to meet your hips halfway.

a hand trails up from your waist to garb your neck, squeezing deliciously as he pulls you away from his neck to take a good look at you. “words, my love.”

“yes,” you nod, eyes closed in bliss. one of your hands grab the wrist of the hand around your neck. “wan’ make y-you a…hhah… daddy.”

“fffuuck…” he groans out when you squeeze around him, letting himself gather enough strength before he throws you off of him and onto the sofa. when your thighs are squeezed together at the painful loss of contact, a palm falls on one of them, leaving a flushed mark in its wake.

“open wide, baby.” he grabs a hold of his cock while he holds the back of your opening thigh to keep the pair apart. the years upon years in the survey corps leave you as flexible as you can be, so when he presses your thigh back, your joints bend easily at his will. pumping himself a few times as he gazes at your glistening folds, another groan breaks out from deep in his chest.

“god, look at you.” he rolls his hips in, and you feel him slip through so pleasurably that you can’t hold back the loud whimper that escapes you.

because damn, how could you not from this view? this is a face of a determined, pussy-drunk man. sweat broke on his forehead, a few strands sticking to the skin while the rest of his hair falls around his face perfectly. you see a ting of pain on his features, and you scatter to try to change your position for a more comfortable one for him, but he is quickly pushing you back down to the couch, a hand falling to your lower abdomen.

the pressure he puts there makes you forget your own name, and it shows on the way your body shivers with bliss. his thrusts increase in velocity, the maddening roll of his hips against yours throwing you in a whole other dimension.

a hand reaches out to grab yours, and through the dizzying pleasure, you realize that levi is pressing your own hand to your abdomen underneath his.

“look how deep inside am i,” he grumbles, leaning down to press a kiss on your bouncing tits. you feel his length stroke in and out of you the more levi puts pressure on your hand. “taking me so well. always so well, baby.”

he takes control of your hand once more, feeling you squeeze familiarly around him, and he pushes your fingers through his hair. you yank on the strands immediately, pulling out a fucking growl out of the man as he leans down until your chests were touching, putting a bit of his body weight on you for support.

you latch onto him like a koala, the burn of your core muscles stretching as he pushes you in a mating press mixes well with your pleasure-high brain. levi kisses, licks, bites down on your neck to leave marks you’ll have trouble hiding later, but you don’t give a shit. you arch your neck more, letting out a long moan when he nips at a certain spot, the bliss turning you mad.

levi is breathless. his puffs of air fan your face when he brings his face on top of yours. a whimper escapes past his lips, his features twisted with pleasure uncontrollably, and you drown in the sounds he makes.

“wann’ make you a mommy too,” he mumbles, open lips landing on the corner of your lips. “wanna…hhah… fill you up. over,” he pauses, delivering an especially harsh thrust that you feel at your cervix. “and over again.”

“levi, i’m so—,”

your body begins to curl into him, eyes closing uncontrollably, and the poor man barely has any chance to ready himself for the way you tighten impossibly around him as you give him your first climax.

your body shivers and quivers, shaking as he overstimulates you chasing after his own pleasure. he leans back up, hands harshly grabbing your lips as he manages to pull you even deeper, and you tightness milk him.

it isn’t the first time he cums inside you, but this one sure hits different. after a few more thrusts that manage to abuse your cervix, levi stills stiffly with a strong groan, and you feel his warmth coat your walls .

he gives you a few more deep strokes as he leans down to kiss you deeply, making sure he fucks all his load deep enough.

his hips still once more, but you keep devouring his lips. weak moans are erupted from both of you as you two calm down gradually, before levi throws sway your attempts of calming down your still-raging arousal when he pulls away, leans up, and slowly pulls out of you.

and he watches the mixture of both your orgasams begin to pool out of you, and you watch as he takes two fingers to push everything back in. you shamelessly roll your hips against bis digits once more.

he looks up at you, fingers still engulfed, snd a smirk takes over his handsome features.

“one more time for good measures?”

[chuuyasheaven]

WILL YOU EVER DO AN AMAB READER PSLPLSPLS like a sub amab reader with one of the bsd boys (im gay)

“—I wanna be yours, so bad. Please, tell me you’re mine. . No, show me I’m yours.”

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara / amab! Reader, making out, slight praise kink, hand job, established relationship, fluffy smut ig?, neck kisses, really short?, teasing, pet names, might contain grammar errors, pure boredom, ooc!, cringe, rushed, etc.

Notes: I don’t know why, (actually I do), but I really want to make y’all satisfied, and since I promised to write for an amab! Reader soon, I thought I’ll leave this here!! This my first time so if I wrote anything wrong pls correct me so anyways enjoy!??

It’s been two days since Chuuya had to leave for a mission, it really sucked but you managed to survive by calling. When he finally came back home, you hugged him immediately. You kissed him on his lips after it and Chuuya didn’t back out, no, not after missing you this much. It was obvious you both missed eachother badly, even though only one of you would admit it, that person being you. You kept on kissing and walking backwards, until you both fell onto the couch behind you. With the Chuuya on top of you, you quickly wrapped your arm around his neck while exposing yours. This explained why Chuuya had the sudden urge to kiss your neck too. From the chin to your collarbone, just soft kisses on your soft skin.

Just as soft as his kisses you let your soft moans be heard, which he loved, very. When he was finished, he looked at you, with an soft but yet teasing smile. “You wanna keep going, baby?”, you nodded with flushed cheeks. At first, he kept on kissing you until you noticed his knee slightly rub against your crotch. You could feel Chuuya smile through that kiss, still you deepened the kiss even more. That’s when he stood up again, leaving you hanging from that kiss. You looked at him with rose pink cheeks with slight confusion. “I want you to sit for me, alright?”, so you sat up, waiting for his next move.

Sitting on the couch, legs still on it, Chuuya kneeled to somehow hoover over you again. You felt Chuuya undoing your pants and boxers, but he wanted you to focus on his eyes right now. “Darlin’, I need you to keep looking into my eyes, can you do that for me?”, you nodded, only to notice him take of his one glove and already getting past your boxers already, holding your half–erect dick in his hand. He started to gently rub his thumb over your tip, really slow circling motions to slightly tease you for his amusement. Your face got hotter, but you still tried to look into his eyes. “Such a good boy,”, he praised you. After Chuuya was done teasing your tip, he let his whole hand slide down your cock.

You let out a small gasp of feeling his slide, when seeing this, Chuuya kept on sliding his hand on your dick. This feeling was incredible, to add onto it Chuuya leaned forward your ear to talk dirty to you. “Hm, you’re doin’ good, sweetheart. Are you enjoying it? Am I makin’ you feel good?”, you nodded quickly. “Y–yes.”, you answered after. This only got Chuuya to smirk. Chuuya was slowly picking up the speed, which made you throw your head back in pleasure. As you exposed your neck, again, he saw another opportunity to kiss your neck. “Ch–chuuya, ‘m close. .”, you moaned lost in pleasure, “Then cum f’me,”, Chuuya slurred against your collarbone, making you reach your climax faster. As the sweet release washed over you and you coated Chuuya’s hand in your cum.

“—That’s my pretty boy, always makin’ a mess.”

If you think this is alright, then it probably is

[laundrybiscuits]

(young man what do you wanna be tag)

“I’m pretty sure Steve is trying to kill me,” says Eddie.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not,” says Jonathan. 

“He’s always, like…lurking.” Eddie gestures, fingers fluttering to indicate the shadowy depths of villainy to which Steve Harrington has now sunk. 

Jonathan shrugs. “I think he might just be trying to date you, man.”

“Ehh.” Eddie gives this an appropriate amount of consideration, which is to say none whatsoever. “I’m just saying, last time we had a movie night, he followed me into the kitchen. Just to hang out. You can’t tell me that’s not suspicious.”

“I mean…do you want him to stop? Because I think he’d stop if you said something.” 

Obviously Eddie does not want Steve to stop. Obviously Eddie would very much like Steve to continue being close enough to touch forever, please and thank you. It’s just—Steve keeps saying stuff, completely random shit, like you look really, uh, metal today and tell me about that song you’re working on. It always leaves Eddie off-balance, which he loves and hates with every ounce of his shriveled soul. 

“I can talk to Steve,” Jonathan offers. “Get him to back off.”

“That’s, um. You don’t have to do that,” says Eddie weakly.

“No, man, come on. I told you we’re in your corner, right? For everything, not just the big stuff.” 

Eddie groans. “Okay, Byers, I get it. Jesus, I’m gonna get hives from all this sincerity. Thanks, I love you too or whatever, shut up. And please don’t—um. Please don’t talk to Steve.”

“What, like, ever?” says Argyle, which makes Eddie jump a little; he’d been pretty sure Argyle had been dozing quietly with his head on Jonathan’s lap for the last twenty minutes. 

“Actually, yes,” says Eddie, prodding at Jonathan’s foot. “Please never talk to Steve again for the rest of your natural life. Do this for me, to demonstrate your sincere commitment to supporting the gays.”

“Sorry.” Jonathan kicks back at Eddie, somehow managing not to dislodge Argyle. “If those are my options, I guess I’m homophobic now. You have to be the one to tell Will, though.”

———

“Hey, can I talk to you?” 

“Jonathan’s not actually homophobic,” Eddie blurts out.

Will blinks. “Okay. I mean…good? Wait, did he not know about you?”

“What, no, he knew before any of you little shits did.”

“That definitely isn’t true,” says Will dryly. He sounds a lot like Jonathan right now. “But this isn’t—I just had a question about gay stuff. Sort of.”

“Ask away,” says Eddie graciously, trying to sound wise and benevolent like an ancient gay wizard with all the gay secrets of the gay universe at his disposal.

“It’s just…” Will sighs, looking down. “You’re really, uh, loud. About everything, I mean. And I don’t get why you’re not trying to be…quieter. It just seems like asking for trouble.”

“Here’s the thing about trouble and safety, my young friend,” says Eddie. “There’s nothing we can do to make ourselves easier to swallow. They’ll lie about it and say they’ll put up with us if we just cut off the parts they hate the most, but they hate all of us, so you’re just gonna keep cutting until there’s nothing left. There’s no magical border between the friendly forest full of fluffy bunnies and the deep dark woods full of monsters, because it’s all the same thing.”

Eddie pauses. As gently as he can, he says, “You already know this, Zombie Boy.” He doesn’t miss the way Will flinches. 

“But,” says Will. “Isn’t it, like, a little bit safer?”

“Maybe. Sometimes.” Eddie mulls over his next words, feeling the weight and sharp edges of them in a way he might not have, a year or two ago. Finally, he says, “I think—you gotta decide for yourself what that’s worth. And you also have to know there’s no such thing as completely one hundred percent safe. You can end up making a bunch of little choices that feel like you’re not giving up that much, and end up trapped in a life you hate, just waiting to die. There’s not gonna be one right way to do this, there’s just gonna be ways you can live with yourself and ways you can’t.”

The part he’s not saying to Will is that he’s also loud so other people don’t have to be. 

When he was a freshman, so many years ago now, there’d been this girl—a real bull dyke, you know? Buzzed hair and men’s shirts and work boots. Her locker had had filth shoved in it and written on it pretty much every day, and one time—well, one time, some bad stuff had happened. Almost happened. A teacher had come along just in time, from what Eddie had heard. She’d walked into school the very next day wearing a leather jacket draped over her stocky frame, gorgeously defiant. 

To Eddie, she’d been a beacon of survival. A walking, talking proof that if you’re willing to pay the price, you can be yourself without compromise. 

She’d seemed so mature and worldly to him back in 1980, but now Will’s almost as old as she’d been at the time. Eddie would burn the fucking world down before he let anyone try that shit with Will, and he knows Jonathan and Argyle would too, but they can’t follow him around like guard dogs for the rest of his life. 

So instead, he can just be the thing he’s shaped himself to be, and draw fire. Better to be a lightning rod, standing tall, than to let some other poor sucker get dragged into the spotlight before they’re ready. Nobody’s gonna fuck with Eddie too bad, probably. He’s already got a reputation. He’s Eddie fucking Munson, he’s a cockroach, he survived the worst the underworld could muster and he’s got the scars to prove it. He can take whatever shit they want to throw at him. Wants it, even, because it means something to be the guy they hate. There’s power in that: in walking back into the lion’s den wearing a leather jacket, head held high. 

He doesn’t think Will’s going to learn to relish it the way Eddie does. They’re too different, at their cores. But they’re similar enough that Will’s nodding slowly like it makes sense to him; like he gets what Eddie’s trying so clumsily to say. 

“You don’t have to be the way I am,” Eddie says. “But whatever you decide to be, do it on purpose, and do the hell out of it. Don’t fucking settle for some halfway kind of life. Think you can manage that, Byers?”

“Probably not,” says Will. “But—I’ll try. Thanks, I guess.”

This mentor shit is easy, Eddie thinks victoriously. No big thing at all.

[hellsbarnes]

୨ 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (2)₊˚ପ⊹ 𝙟. 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙣 ୧

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x civilian!fem!reader

summary: after sleeping with jake one too many times and getting nowhere, you decide to give up, not knowing how he truly feels.  

warnings: nsfw themes, 18+, minors do not interact, lots of angst with happy ending, unrequited love, mentions of sex, p in v sex, creampie, friends with benefits to lovers, mentions of casual sex (please do not read if you’re uncomfortable)

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: thank you so, so much for reading easy lover part 1! this is part 2 and the final part, i really appreciate the love for this two-parter and i hope you enjoy it! please remember to reblog, thank you!

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (1) 

“You alright?” you turned at the sound of Maverick’s voice from the bar, the pilot had a pair of aviators hooked on his shirt collar, sporting the usual navy jacket, a kind smile on his face as he brings his bottle of beer to his lips, the metal of his dog tags glinting under the dim lights of the bar. 

“Yeah,” you find yourself replying even though the correct answer was far from the one you were dishing out, word had spread about you and Jake’s argument a few days ago, and you had received sympathetic looks from the rest of the dagger squad. You had over the days realised how the squad was missing a certain aviator, whenever they dropped by for drinks and perhaps a game of pool or darts, Coyote was here and he wasn’t, you tried to push it off as him being busy, sweeping any other thoughts away. 

You hated how you had a lump in your throat whenever they tried to ask the obvious question, “are you okay?” and you had as always said yes, or of course with a smile that you forced, you didn’t know where you got the strength from to continue with your shifts especially after the tears you had shed after you got home last Friday, choking on your sobs as you tried to tell yourself that it was over, that whatever you and Jake had was really over. 

You couldn’t, no you wouldn’t be the woman that he could push aside once he was done screwing you. You had cried, knees pressed to your chest as you struggled to breathe, your bottom lip trembling as you begged whatever god that existed to please, please stop the pain that you were going through. 

You knew it was the right thing to do, yes leaving was what you should have done months ago, in fact you should have never started this entire chapter with Jake, but then again, you’ve never felt so damn empty, your heart ached and your body cried for a chance to feel his arms wrapped around you just once more, to feel his lips press against your skin just for the final time. 

Then again, that was what you said every time he somehow landed in your home, “this is the last time Jake”, you two would screw as though it was him getting deployed the next day, hands roaming each other’s bodies, your legs tangled with his as he presses kiss after kiss on your neck, his hips thrusting at an even pace as he brings you to orgasm. 

You felt as though you were in heaven, euphoria filling your veins as you come undone beneath him, but being with Jake was like having a drug you couldn’t kick, you were pulled down back to earth, back to reality once you both come down from your highs, and he would as usual, say goodbye, a beer of a coffee, or even you could never get him to stay, and he’d leave, the feeling of emptiness filling your chest as you watched him walk out, the door clicking shut behind him as he did. 

“About Hangman-”

“Mav, please, with all due respect, I don’t wanna know what you gotta say about Seresin.” you replied, lifting his beer as you wiped the bar table with a damp rag, sighing when he stops you, holding your rag, stopping you from getting distracted with what he was going to say. “One minute, please” he asked and you sigh, you nod, “okay, what is it” you answered. 

“Whatever happened between the both of you, (Y/N), it’s affecting him-” “Mav, h-he doesn’t care about me” “What I’m saying is that something’s off with Hangman, he’s not flying properly, ignoring safety concerns, getting shot down during training, hell, he got the entire squad doing push-ups for two days” Maverick said.

You find yourself beginning to worry and you hated it, you hated the feeling that washed over you, the concern that you felt for him, the panic that filled you when Mav continues with how Jake almost went into G-loc after ignoring everything that the instructor had said, jeopardising his own life as he attempted to achieve 10Gs, not impossible but risky as hell. 

“Hangman’s egoistic and all but he’d never do this, he’s being handed his ass to (Y/N), and I’m covering for him the best I can.” “Pete, look I-” “What I’m saying is if this continues, he’s gonna be asked to leave,” “What?” you motioned, shocked as Maverick nodded, “the admiral’s not happy with his performance and especially him not being focused during training.” 

“I’m not asking you to continue whatever you got there with him, but, maybe end it right, so both of you can get back to your lives” “Both of us?” “Pen said you are out of sorts lately” Maverick adds and you reminded yourself that they stayed together and they would talk, obviously. 

“Right,” you reply and he shoots you a reassuring smile as he gets up. 

Maverick’s words hung in your head as you started closing up for the day, it was nearing twelve at night and you had just finished stacking all the chairs up, Penny had left with Maverick a while ago for a date that they had planned, and you had urged her to go, telling her that you would close up. 

You sigh as you put the last blueberry muffin into a paper bag, it was your favourite muffin out of all the flavours, and Penny had always asked you to take it home after knowing you often left your house without breakfast, she was probably the kindest boss you’d ever met. 

You were about to plug your earphones in, preparing to leave the bar when the bell dinged, the door squeaking open, signalling a customer. “I’m sorry we’re closed, you could come-” you turned as you spoke, stopping in your tracks when you saw him, your gaze met his green eyes, the same green eyes you had cried over. “We’re closed” you re emphasised, and you were about to pick up your bag when Jake steps forward, stopping you. 

“Jake, I need to leave,” you said as he grasps your hand,  “wait please,” he starts and you shake your head, “Seresin, stop, we’re done” “(Y/n) don’t walk away, please” Jake continues and you reply, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat when he leans closer, “i can’t play your games anymore jake, i-it’s too much, we have to stop, you have to stop.”.

“Just listen to me, before you choose to leave, listen to me, and after all i’ve said you can make a decision,” 

“If I still choose to walk away?” you questioned and he nods, “then I won’t stop you, I’ll leave you be,” he responds, calm as he awaited your answer, your eyes met his emerald ones, and you could see a flicker of sincerity swimming in his irises and you caved, “okay, tell me”. 

“You said i spin your world off its axis, well you, you drive me crazy, i can never get you out of my head-“ 

“Jake-“ 

“No, i’m not done” Jake cuts you off before you could stop him, “I’ve tried so fucking hard to not think about you, but i can’t, and now i don’t think i want to stop, because, not being with you drives me nuts and being with you also drives me nuts. Your smile, your scent, (y/n) you have no idea how much i want to be a part of your world” he says, and you swallowed at his words, still not sure if you should believe him despite the waves of genuinity he professed, you licked your lips, and questioned, “Then why didn’t you do something about it previously, Jake it’s too late,” 

“Don’t say that, don’t, please, i always thought emotions made me weak, but since being with you ; knowing you has changed me, if anything i feel at ease knowing you’re with me, so please (y/n)” Jake pleads and you felt tears well up in your eyes, your bottom lip quivered as you try to stop the dam from breaking.

“I loved you Jake, i loved you so much, every time you’d leave, god, you had no idea what that did to me.” you reply, your thoughts screaming at you to walk away, to leave him, buy your feet refusing to move, your heart remains rooted with the man that stood before you. 

“Loved?” Jake asks softly, hurt flashing across his face.

“What?” 

“You said you loved me, as in past tense?” 

“I-i, don’t know,” you stumbled on your words as you try to steady your thoughts. 

“(Y/N)” Jake breathes and you reply, “I can’t stop loving you Jake, I’m trying and-”

“Then don’t.” he answers and you shook your head, “don’t do this to me, please Jake I-”

“Please, just one chance” he says, lips barely inches away from yours and the walls you built up to fence him out crumble, “one chance” you whisper, heart thundering in your chest as he crashes his lips on yours, the kiss was feverish, his lips moulding onto yours perfectly almost as though it was always meant to be, his large hands cup your face gently, holding you close to him as you kiss him just as passionately, your fingers gripped his uniformed collar tightly as you feel him deepen the kiss, slowly backing you against the bar table.

It felt different compared to the tens of times you had kisses Jake, this was full of emotion, gentle yet so intense that you were sure the moment would forever be burned into your memories of him. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly, attempting to pull away when you stop him, ‘don’t” you whisper, with that he presses his lips back on yours, his fingers working on the button of your jeans, popping it open easily as he pushes it down your thighs, the denim pooling at your feet, his hand brushing against your soft skin, moans spilled from your lips as he presses open mouthed kisses down your neck, you felt heat pooling at your core, your body shivering under his touch that you had so shamelessly been craving. 

“Jump” he mumbles against your skin and when you do, he ever so easily hooks his arms under your thighs, your feet automatically wrapping around his waist as he places you on the bar table before his lips find yours once more, your tongues intertwine with each others’, you threw all caution into the wind, giving all of you to Jake. 

His fingers finds your covered clit, groaning when he finds the slick of your arousal brushing against the pad of his digits, “so wet” he mumbled as your chest heaved, he pulls his pants down, the outline of his cock obvious against his black boxers, “I-I don’t have a condom” he starts and you shake your head, eyes hazy with lust as you look up at him, “don’t need one”. 

“(Y/N) you-” 

“I wanna feel you, please” you replied,  your thoughts were clear, and you knew what you wanted, Jake’s restrain breaks, your eyes, blown wide with lust, and the way you bite your lip, not knowing just how much control you had over him broke the reins he had, you had him right where you wanted and Jake loved it. He pushes your panties aside, pressing his cockhead against your swollen folds, your little mewls of pleasure as he pushes into was angelic. 

You whimper, your fingers digging into his shoulders as Jake fills you up the hilt, stretching you so deliciously, “so fucking tight” Jake groans as he bottoms out, giving you a few seconds to adjust to his thick length before he started moving, your hands gripping onto the edge of the table as his hips snap, his fingers digging into your waist, you were sure it would leave marks that would last for days, but you didn’t care, too buried in the pleasures that he gave you.

Your heels digging into his back, you were a moaning mess, trying your best to hang on for the ride as Jake thrusts grew erratic, your name falling from his lips, “gonna cum, Jake” you cry out, “Just let go, I got you baby”. He urges, and you knew he wasn’t far, “cum inside me” you mumbled, looking at him through your thick lashes and he groans at your request, his cock twitching, “sweets-”

“Please, I need it” you whimper, your fingers carding through his hair as you bring his head down, crashing your lips onto his, your walls clenching around him as waves of pleasure washes over you, stars clouding your vision as you come undone, your pussy pulsating around Jake.

‘ffuck, I-I’m gonna cum” he groans, pushing into you, burying his face in your neck, holding you close as he spills his seed in you, filling you to the brim as he presses gentle butterfly kisses on your neck, he pulls away, eyes meeting yours, “I love you so damn much” he says, voice gentle, soft, a comfort that you never felt before, his words full of sincerity and the look in eyes genuine, “i love you too” you reply, leaning your head against his chest, the both you spending a few moments, his arms holding you close as he presses a kiss your head, in his arms, you felt safer than you’ve ever been. 

Jake cleans you up, his fingers interlocking with yours as he picks up your bag, shaking his head playfully when you say that you could carry your own things.

 “That’s my job now sweets, don’t argue” he says, with a loving smile on his face as he leads you to his car. “Penny’s gonna kill me if she ever finds out.” you said and Jake shrugs, “no one said she had to angel, it’s our little secret” he replies, shooting you a mischievous wink. 

“You're insufferable,” you say jokingly as Jake starts the car.  

“That’s why you love me baby” 

note: that’s the end of easy lover, i truly hope you enjoyed this two-parter, please remember to reblog, thank you so much! 

jake seresin taglist: @klmpun @malindacath​ @alexxavicry​ @meghannnnnn​ @sunnysofia​ @fangirling-galore​ (tags are open! fill in my taglist form if you’d like to be tagged)

easy lover taglist: @klmpun @malindacath @sunnysofia​ (tags are closed, due to this being the last part, thank you for reading!)

[oldfashionedmorphine]

hi friends!! i’m super excited to share Will’s perspective from the scene in the basement all the way back in chapter 4 of i’m a wreck (without you here)!!!

i highly recommend reading chapter 17 first!!! 😉

(it’s 2.7k words! oh and psa for anyone who has read my story so far—especially if you haven’t read this chapter in a while: i have gone back and fixed some things i didn’t like cause as much as i loved this chapter, i published it before i was 100% satisfied with it…but it works better now! also idk why but i kinda like Will’s pov more 👀)

🎵🎶 and look!! i even picked out songs!!! :D

tagging my fans: @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @greenfiend @rebellius @booksandpaperss @castelobyers @total-serene560 @wheelersboy @sparks-olivarpente @hazmatazz @suzieburself @unrepentant-byler-shipper @quarter-pasteleven

Enjoy!

Cause It’s the Only Thing I Wanna Do

June 22, 2004 11:47 pm

“—I really wanna know how you’ve actually been, you know, from you.”

“Well, uh...” Mike starts to say, but then he pauses, eyebrows lifting, eyes wide—it looked as though he were trying to figure out where to start first. And then Will watches Mike pour himself another shot, slamming it down fast, and sucking his teeth before he continues, “Well...I live in an apartment, it’s not terrible. Rent is a little expensive where I’m at, so I have a roommate—he’s a law student and I rarely ever see him—but anyway, I had a lot of financial mishaps over the years, so I never quite got out of the cycle of renting to own anything...or heck, even live alone. But it doesn’t really bother me though—I have a cat, her name’s Josephine—that was her name at the shelter and I thought it was cute so I kept it—and uh...definitely no girlfriend…”

Definitely no girlfriend?

The way he had said it raised a tiny little flag in Will’s mind. And then there was a pause between Mike’s words—Will almost found the nerve to ask him to elaborate, but then Mike shakes his head slightly and he’s back to speaking, “And the weather is pretty dreary. Both Nancy and Holly were convinced I have depression. They’re probably right. They said the weather only makes it worse. It does get lonely sometimes too—my relationships—well, nothing ever sticks. Honestly, it's mostly sucked, but I can’t bring myself to leave.”

Will pulls his knees to his chest, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to hear, but hearing Mike talk about feeling lonely and how his sisters were convinced he had depression didn’t sit well with him. Once upon a time, back during the darker days of being so incredibly furious because Mike had left him behind, there were times when Will had hoped he was miserable, but eventually he grew out of that mindset after his heart hurt less, and over the past couple years, whenever he thought of Mike, he liked to imagine he was happy somehow, even if it was without him. And all the things he knew from afar—the things Nancy had told him—were all positive because she had never once mentioned anything about depression, she only informed him of the highlights. Simple stuff like Mike getting a new job or how he had sent gifts for the kids, and he knew about the cat, just not her name, but of course each time Nancy would also add a little something to the effect of ‘You know, I think he misses you, you should try talking to him—I have his number if you want it’, but of course, he couldn’t do it. He wanted to call, but too much time had passed…and it wasn’t like Mike ever tried to reach out either—Nancy had his number too, so she probably offered it to Mike at some point as well. Ultimately, it felt like the damage was too severe to ever recover from. And it was also very hard to believe that Nancy was really telling the truth—that Mike actually missed him—and not just meddling to make family gatherings less awkward. Maybe she had hoped that if the two of them were friends again, then her brother would be more inclined to visit. Perhaps a selfish motive, but if that was the truth, then he could understand why she would try and make the effort. In the end, Will thought it was best to leave it alone, because there would be less chance of getting hurt again that way…

And when Will realizes Mike had left him a short window to speak, he takes it—he wants Mike to know he's listening. “Why not? If it sucks, why not move somewhere else? What’s stopping you? It’s not like you haven’t done a big move before. Just go somewhere more affordable,” but Mike’s face was still sour, so Will makes a small attempt to provoke a smile with a teasing tone, “and with better weather.”

“I dunno. It’s stupid when I think about it now, but I pissed everyone off back when I first moved—and then you wouldn’t talk to me anymore—I guess I just felt like it all had to mean something.”

Will quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Mike keeps his eyes cast down at his hands, fidgeting with an empty shot glass. “I mean, that me living there, in Seattle, couldn’t be all for nothing. And I only realize now that I was being so fucking stubborn about it. It’s just that...half the time—half the time I was embarrassed that I didn’t live up to my parents expectations. I could have been more—or something. Something more. I had really hoped being somewhere else would have helped, like when people talk about a ‘fresh start’, but I just feel like—I dunno, like I’m going through the motions.” He scoffs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but...if twelve year old me could see me now I’m sure he’d be pretty disappointed. I let myself get knocked down because of a couple dumbass choices—any normal person would have dusted themselves off and tried again. But not me.”

“Oh…” Will murmurs. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Not me...or I dunno, maybe I was just punishing myself.”

Again he watches Mike pour himself another shot of vodka, filling it to the very brim this time, almost to the point it spills over, and as he brings the shot to his mouth, some of the liquor drips onto his shirt and the floor. It was clear Mike’s coordination was wavering with each additional shot. And then Mike offers to pour Will another, but he shakes his head, refusing—Will knew his limits. Three shots of vodka was more than enough, possibly too much, because he was definitely feeling it. If he drank any more he’d regret it in the morning. Not to mention he wasn’t a big fan of getting drunk to begin with. He always feared he’d end up like his deadbeat dad if he wasn’t careful about pacing himself when it came to alcohol.

Mike sets the bottle back on the coffee table. “You probably know this, but I was also holding a major…major grudge against my dad for the longest fucking time because of his—well, cause of all those things he said.” He chuckles, which Will found to be a bit unsettling considering what Mike was saying. “At one point my mom even said that he was ‘sorry for everything’ and that he wanted to try to ‘make amends’…part of me thought she was just saying it to force me to apologize first, but I still couldn’t face him even if it was the damn truth. Like, I just couldn’t trust that he really felt differently after everything—well ‘cause, all those horrible things he said—the things he implied…even about you, they might as well have been…about me. Y’know? I mean, they were…they are, he just didn’t know it. And I really didn’t think he’d still be sorry if he knew about that.”

Wait—what? Did he just—

Will was stunned, though he wasn’t sure he heard him right. Because it wasn’t like he had said the words outright, yet it sounded a hell of a lot like he was implying that—

And now Mike was looking over at him, full of panic, with the kind of expression you’d expect from someone who just revealed a truth they never meant to share. His eyes remain locked on Mike, but the longer he stares at him the more confused it makes him, so Will drops his gaze to the floor and tightens his arms around his legs. No matter how Mike’s face seemed, it wasn’t confirmation of what he thought he heard—hopes he heard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will sees Mike reaching for the vodka again, this time drinking straight from the bottle. Part of him wanted to snatch the bottle away from Mike—I think you’ve had enough, mister, you’ll regret another drop—except he can’t seem to move a damn muscle for some reason.

And after a moment Mike sighs, setting the bottle down. “Of course, I don’t exactly know how he would’ve handled the news—I mean, obviously I never told him—or anyone from back then—”

But what else would have upset his father so much? What could it possibly have been that he never told him…or anyone else? Drugs? No, because he said it had something to do with me too, so that can’t be it, not to mention the way he emphasized—

Mike hiccups. “As I say this now, you’re the first I’ve—”

Okay, but I’m the first what? I need you to say it!

“—and of course I never let it go with him...but then...it was too late. The option to even think about—well, about finally forgiving him...and telling him the truth about me—”

The truth about—okay, yeah, that has to be it—Ted must’ve said a bunch of homophobic shit to Mike and I was roped into the mix somehow, because Mike said his dad ‘implied horrible things’ that involved me, yet all of it also applied to Mike? So then he must’ve meant that he’s gay…or maybe he’s bisexual? What else would make Ted Wheeler lose his shit? What else would he want to conceal for so long? And that still had to do with me somehow—cause it sure as shit wouldn’t have been over video games…plus…no one—not Nancy, Holly, Karen, El, or any one else—has ever once mentioned anything to me about Mike having a girlfriend since…high school…

“—cut all the bullshit, but...it didn’t. And I didn’t even go—didn’t even go to his funeral. I didn’t deserve to. It’s stupid—or I’m stupid. And now with Nancy—I didn’t—fuck—I didn’t even...consider...that I had so little time left with her. And...my options were taken away...again. I could have—I could have...seen her more. I know we weren’t always...the closest, but she—she definitely made more effort than me—if I had just...been less of a dipshit and forced myself to visit...but now—well, I can’t do that anymore. She’s gone, Will. She’s really...” Mike pauses, then he whispers, “gone.”

And then Will looks back over at Mike—he was using his sleeves to dry his eyes, but his tears were relentless, continuing to spill over, and with snot also dripping from his nose. The mere sight of Mike in this state elicits tears of his own, as well as an overwhelming urge to comfort him, to offer him a shoulder, but when Will starts to inch closer to him, he hesitates. There was a time they used to hug, but what if Mike didn’t want to be touched?

Fuck it—he can push me away if he needs to.

Will must have caught him by surprise with his sudden impulse, because now Mike’s looking at him with glossy bloodshot eyes as a shuddered gasp escapes his pale lips. And then Mike starts to tremble as though he were on the cusp of shattering into a million pieces. But for a single selfish second, as Mike was falling apart right before his eyes, Will can’t help but marvel at the sheer impossibility of the situation. At how close he was to Mike. Their knees were now pressed together and the scent of his shampoo was so prominent—citrus and mint—mixed with a hint of alcohol coming from his breath. But the moment passes and then the instinct to wrap an arm around him kicks in, to draw him even closer. Mike’s head immediately falls onto Will’s shoulder and his sobs grow louder.

And between sobs and sniffles Mike starts stuttering, “I’m n-never gonna see her again—ever. Never hear her voice—see her s-smile. Never—and I missed out—the pictures—her! Never, n-never—I’m so stupid—stupid—” Without any warning, Mike moves to throw his arms around Will, seeming desperate as he grabs onto his shirt, pulling at the fabric so intensely that threads begin to snap, threatening to rip the seams apart entirely—hey, I like this shirt—except Will couldn't find it in him to make Mike stop. All he can do is try and hold him and hope that it helps. And when Mike starts to beg softly into his ear, the words tug even more at his heartstrings, “Please, please—don’t go. Please, you can’t go. Please, please s-stay—ple-please don’t go. I don’t want—I don’t want—don’t leave me again. Please, please don’t—don’t—don’t—” then Mike tucks his face into the crook of Will’s neck, his pleading words becoming too muffled to comprehend.

Will tries to ignore the small part inside of him that feels betrayed for allowing himself to get this close to Mike and risk his heart all over again. And he briefly thinks back to when he held that number in his hand, debating with himself for hours before he pushed a single button—before he ever left that voicemail—because he knew exactly what would happen. It was a slippery slope and the stakes were high. But of course, a larger part of him wanted Mike back more than anything, so he had set aside his fear and from the very second he dialed his number, he was all in—heart unsheathed and vulnerable. And now here he was, sitting on the floor of an old familiar basement, more than a little tipsy, with Michael Wheeler drunk and trembling in his arms, begging for him to never leave him again.

But tomorrow Mike would wake up and not remember any of this. And if Will were to ask him about it, he’d reply that he didn’t mean anything he said. That it was all a mistake. That it was only extreme grief and copious amounts of vodka that made him utter such words, but Will tries to ignore every invading thought. Thoughts driven only by fear—a defense mechanism designed to shield his heart by preparing him for some hypothetical worst case scenario like last time. Because something inside him was fully aware that he had slipped over that edge and he was falling once again for the idea of spending the rest of their lives together. And that maybe he wouldn’t survive this time if it all went wrong.

But it won’t. Not this time. This time it’ll be different—no more hiding.

“Hey, hey...it’s gonna be okay. I’m here...” Will whispers to him as he brings a hand up to stroke the back of Mike’s head, his hair the slightest bit damp to the touch, and then slowly his shaking begins to subside. “I know it hurts. But it’s gonna be okay... maybe not right now, but someday.”

Mike’s sobs taper off until the only sound filling the space in the room was REO Speedwagon’s Keep On Loving You;

“…When I said that I love you, I meant that I love you forever…”

Will rocks him gently side to side, humming the song as if it were a lullaby. Eventually Mike grows heavier in his arms and Will realizes it would be better for Mike to sleep in a bed, so he tries to rouse him. “Mike?”

No answer, so he tries again, giving him a little shake. “Mike…Mike?”

“Hmm.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed—”

He groans at the suggestion.

“You can’t sleep like this, come on…”

Mike mumbles—it sounds like he was asking him to stay.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He finally manages to help him up, but they only get as far as the sofa bed right behind them. At first they both stay sitting at the very edge, with Mike still trying to hold onto Will, but in the end, Will gently eases him towards the pillow and he goes out like a light.

Will tilts his head as he leans over him, then reaches a hand out—at first it was to simply push back the hair from Mike’s eyes, but right after, he caresses his cheek with the back of his hand. Even with puffy eyes and tear-soaked skin with splotches of red, he was beautiful. Maybe more so now than ever before.

And Will felt guilty for wanting to capture Mike in such a dark moment. But that feeling didn’t stop him from picking up his sketchbook off the floor and opening it to an empty page…

[sugar-omi]

Is it ok to make a request after the last one? Like everything about the eloping was just a dream in this one. And Mc is still married to Cove but after getting that nightmare they get all guilty over something that didn't happen and fear if they'd actually do something that would hurt everyone, especially Cove that badly. So they decided to isolate themselves somewhere no one would find them for a while with little explanation to Cove when they leave. Any location really like a cabin in the woods idk. They were supposed to be only there for a week then a woopsie happens and now they get stranded for more than a week. You're choice on how it ends and whether they tell Cove or not about the dream.

Seeing Cove suffer hurts me so I wanna see the MC suffer (more) :)

HAHA I LOVE IT, YESSS LET MC SUFFER !!!! also ik i wrote it as a "y/n" post but i was like imagining jamie as MC/"y/n" and inserting myself in cove's happy ending <3 lmaooo no one said "y/n" couldn't be someone else 😋 i imagine a lotta ppl read y/n fanfics with their oc's or the default name though too but yes tysm for this ask bc this heals my heart, this is smth i would do!!! one time i read 2 separate fics with character A died and in the other fic character B died n i was like "oh okay theyre happy together now<333" ITS SILLY BUT IT MADE MY HEART FEEL BETTER

[read the post mentioned above: "leaving cove for baxter"]

tags : Hurt/(No) Comfort, step 4/wedding dlc, nightmare about cheating, running away, keeping secrets, arguing <3 (cove snaps abt you leaving)

synopsis : you have a nightmare about leaving cove, so you run away to calm down. maybe you should've taken a different approach...

you wake up in a cold sweat that night.

you're shaking and trying not to wake up cove because his arms are wrapped tightly around you but you can't help the tears running down your face.

somehow you shake yourself from your husbands hold and go to the bathroom to cry...

that morning you're very distant, and since cove has to leave for work as he's been away for awhile for your wedding and honeymoon, he just kisses you and tells you that you will talk later.

when he comes home you sit him down and tell him that you've just going through a bit of depression and burn out, and that you're going to go visit lee for a week and come back.

cove frowns up, of course he understands what you're going through and he understands that things are hard but do you really need to go away?

"y/n, please. i understand you're going through something but, can't you stay? isn't there anything i can do for you?"

you shake your head, "i'm sorry, it's just 5 days and then i'm coming back. i just.. i just need some time."

cove feels a bit angry now, you just got married and everything was fine, you were happy yesterday and now you've done a total 180 overnight and won't let him help you!

"y/n you can't just leave, i really don't understand what's going on."

you shake your head, standing up and releasing your intertwined hands. "i just need a little break, i promise i'll be back soon."

you do go visit lee like you said, but after the 2nd day she leaving town for a show.

"i'm gonna miss you!" lee squeezes you in her arms, not wanting to let you go. "you just showed up, its gonna be forever before we see each other~" lee whines.

you laugh, patting her back. "its okay lee, we'll get together soon."

she pulls away, needing to leave soon if she doesn't want to miss the train. "okay.. i'll call you everyday! have fun on the rest of your trip, okay?" a worried look comes on lee's face, taking your hand in a soothing manner. "i hope you can work through that burn out."

you nod. yeah, burn out...

lee sticks her hand out the window, waving the whole way (thank god someone else is driving) until you can't see each other.

you sigh, walking to your car and make your way to the hotel you booked for the rest of the week...

the beach reminds you of your honeymoon... you aren't sure why you're torturing yourself like this.

you sigh, thinking about the dream. well, nightmare to be correct.

there was nothing inherently scary. but since it was from a first-person point of view, your mouth moving out of tune with your thoughts and everything happening so vividly, it was scary enough.

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you think about everyone's reaction.

would your ma really tell you to stay away from the house like that? and lee.. you can't imagine not talking to her.

fuck, you're crying... just thinking about everyone's disappointment and the scorn on everyone's face is enough to send chills down your spine.

you cringe, thinking about cliff and krya, their messages and how cliff looked so distraught when he saw you when he came for the last of cove's things on your nightmare.

you couldn't bare your in-laws hating you. cliff has always been someone important to you, and now he's your father-in-law. he's a sensitive soul as well, and he loves cove so much. of what had happened was real... oh man, the simple idea of how much regret cliff would have makes your body shake with sobs.

and even though you try not to think about cove's reaction to you leaving, its so prominent in your mind.

you start wiping at your tears, even though there's no one around since this is a little edge of beach off the edge of a hiking trail near your hotel, you feel so ridiculous for crying over this.

you sniffle and go to stand up.

it's getting dark, you've off the trail, and you have an early day tomorrow.

the only problem is... you're a bit lost.

you didn't realize how far you were. you're back on the trail but do you go left or right? does it matter if it all leads back to the hotel?

you swallow, you're so fucked.

everything is just going wrong.

first, you get lost on the shitty trail and don't find your way back until daybreak, and now your car isn't starting up, and the mechanic said it'll be a few days before they get it up and running.

you sigh loudly and fall back into the bed. thankfully, the hotel let you extend your stay so at least you have that going for you...

you startle from the sound of your phone ringing... it's cove.

you hesitate to pick up, you still feel sensitive, but you miss cove, and you've already texted him about the situation for the most part..

"hey, cove.."

"y/n! are you okay?" cove's worried voice crackles over the phone.

"yeah, i'm alright, uh.. listen, cove."

you trace the stitch pattern of the quilt on your bed. "apparently, it'll be a few days before the car is up and running. something about a busted something, i don't know what he said. i wasn't, uh, paying attention very well..."

cove sighs. "y/n... I'll come get you or something, and then we can talk about this, okay?"

you feel your heart pick up. "no! th-theres no need for all that, you just hold down the fort, tell the fish I said hi." you laugh shakily.

you can practically hear the frown in his voice. "y/n. why did you go on this trip, seriously. what are you hiding from me?"

cove's voice is rising and cracking with tears at the same time.

it breaks your heart. you can't answer him and it just makes cove more upset.

"do you regret marrying me or something? is that why-!"

"no!" you exclaim. suddenly regretting your outburst but you can't help but deny it since that's not it and you don't want cove to think that...

"then fucking tell me!" cove is obviously crying at this point. "all I know is my spouse left for a 'break' and is now telling me they don't want me to pick them up? be fucking serious y/n!"

you exhale shakily, wiping your own tears.

"i'm sorry..." you whisper, burying your face in your hand.

"sorry for what, y/n? leaving me after we just got married? lying to me? shutting me out?"

cove's voice is deep and his words have an edge.

he's right though, what are you apologizing for? you're acting out and letting your problem consume you...

there's silence, and then cove mutters over the phone.

"... do you not love me anymore?"

you snap up, sliding off the edge of the bed as you snatch up the phone. "no! it's not that! don't say that!" you cry, "I love you so much, cove! don't even think otherwise!"

cove is silent. since you can't see his face you can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"you know what i... i can't take this right now. I'll call you later."

the phone clicks.

now all you're left with is silence and your own thoughts...

when you finally come home it's 11:47 at night.

cove should be asleep but instead he greets you from the door.

you swallow, psyching yourself up to go to him.

something about the way he watches you from the moment you came into view on the street, to watching you pull your bags out the trunk and then maintaining eye contact (more like boring holes into you since you can't look him in the eye.) as you creep up the pathway to the door of your marital home.

he's silent. just watching. no "hi" or "I love you" or "I missed you, I barely survived while you were gone", just.. silence...

you finally look at him. his eyes are hooded with lack of sleep if the eye bags are any tellers, and yet he stands in front of the illuminated doorway like an unmoveable wall.

your heart skips and clenched. what if he doesn't want to let you back in?

you go to speak and he talks over you.

"was it worth it?"

you gape at him, frowning at his question.

"of course you can't say anything. what did I expect..." cove pinches his temples between his thumb and forefinger.

you gather up some words, uselessly trying to grasp for forgiveness.

"i.. i thought it'd be better if i worked things out on my own... i'm sorry.." you fiddle with the keychain on your luggage. "i shouldn't have done that and uh.. I'll deal with my problems without running away.."

cove watches you blankly. he can't believe you're serious.

"you're not gonna tell me, are you?"

you don't nod or shake your head. you just look at the ground and pray he forgives you.

he stands in front of the door for awhile longer, before he takes your luggage, a little more like snatching it since he grabs it by the side of the handle and tugs it out of your hands, pulling you forward.

"come inside. did you eat?"

you gape a bit, wondering how cove can care for you in a time like this but it reminds you more of a mother who's making sure her naughty child doesn't need anything else before they receive their punishment..

you shake your head. "i'm not hungry right now.."

cove doesn't nod or insist you eat like he normally would. "shower and go to bed then. I'll join you later."

you nod, letting cove's orders sink in.

the bath water is getting cold. and the sound of the echoed sound of water clapping against the edge of the tub makes you self-conscious.

you stand up, letting the water run off of you and robotically dry yourself with a towel before slipping into the clothes cove threw on top of the sink for you.

when you slip out of your bathroom, the bedroom is dark except for the moonlight coming through the window.

you tenderly tuck yourself into bed and close your eyes. waiting for something. anything. maybe for everything to become undone or for time to move past this.

just while you start to get deep into your thoughts, tears pooling in your eyes, cove's footsteps thump against the floor, and you halt your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

the bed dips on his side. you don't feel him leaning over you or getting into bed and so you turn around, looking at the broad expanse of his back and waiting.

"you're not gonna tell me, are you?"

you say nothing.

"not what's wrong? what happened? how can I help?" cove's desperate at this point. "nothing?"

you pause, fingers twitching because you want to reach out to him but if you did he'll just shrink away from you for sure.

"I don't know.." you finally mumble.

cove hangs his head, fiddling with something in his hand and he lays down without looking at you, flipping over once he's gotten under the covers.

you're both awake, there's no way he isn't and you touch his back.

he doesn't flinch like you thought, nor shake or tell you to fuck off.

so you creep closer. maybe that's a bad idea, wrapping your arms around him as the worst he can do is reject you but you missed him. and everything is eating you up that you just want his comfort..

he let's you, surprisingly.

you rest your forehead between his shoulder blades, curving your body against his.

you reach for his hands, finding them clenched weakly around something.

you wanna shake and cry when you realize it's his wedding band...

he let's you take it from him, and he holds onto your other hand that's tucked under his body.

you shakily slip the ring back on his finger.

maybe, maybe one day you'll tell him.

but when the next morning comes, and cove greets you with a bright smile and "good morning" that only has half his usual cheer, and he continues it for weeks until months have passed since then and it's as if nothing happened, you aren't sure you ever will.

[nekoannie-chan]

Huge mistake

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Avenger!Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 1187 words.

Summary: Steve realized the mistake he did, he returned hoping you forgive him.

Warnings: Stupid Steve, fix fic, angst.

A/N: This my entry to @natashxromanovf​ 1K Followers Writing Challenge with angst prompt #3:

"This is not how family is supposed to feel."

You can read it on Wattpad and AO3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie​

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

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1951

 Steve looked at the calendar; it was only a few weeks until his second wedding anniversary with Peggy; however, a strange feeling had come over him.

There was none of the laughter, none of the fun, and none of what he had experienced with you and your children.

He was even beginning to notice the strange Peggy behavior had had last weeks.

He saw the picture of you, Sarah, James, and himself; the picture was from when Sarah had just been born, and he was beginning to miss you.

Maybe he made the wrong decision.

"This is not how family is supposed to feel," was what Steve thought.

He was afraid too; if he went back... if he stayed... no, he had to go back; he made a mistake... would you forgive him?

Now his fear was losing what he had had if he hadn't already lost it, if so, he hoped somehow he could get them back.

2023

 The last few days had been complicated; a few hours before Steve left, they had argued, but fortunately, the kids didn't hear anything. Overcoming the pain you felt was difficult, but you forced yourself to do it because what mattered most to you were your children.

To keep them distracted, you decided to make pancakes for breakfast.

"Mommy, is Daddy going to be long before he gets back?" James asked as he put more whipping cream on his pancake.

"Dad's on a mission, you know how it is, and I don't know when he'll be back," you replied, taking the whipped cream jar from him. You knew your son was capable of emptying the whole jar into one pancake. "Or if he's ever coming back," you thought.

"Strawberries, daddy," Sarah said.

"What? "You turned in confusion to look at the girl.

"Sarah asked if Daddy was going to bring her strawberries when he comes back from the mission," her brother explained.

"Well... "I don't know, you'd better hurry up and eat your breakfast, or we'll be late," you said, ending the conversation.

You had not dared to tell your children that maybe their father would never come back and that he preferred not to be with his family.

You hoped that maybe Sarah, being so young, wouldn't remember him, although the only problem would be in a few years when James would keep asking questions about Steve.

What hurt and worried you the most was how they would take the news when they were older and found out what had really happened.

Sarah was four, while James was six; How long would it be before they found out the truth?

1951

 Steve realized the grave mistake he had made. He had to go back. He saw the capsule with the Pym particles; he would use them to go back.

He would take nothing as a souvenir of his return. He would start over again, but with his real family.

"This is not how family is supposed to feel like" was the last thing Steve said to Peggy before he left.

2023

 They had finally defeated Thanos; it seemed to have worked, but they weren't sure what the consequences would be.

"We have to go home... If Sarah or James...

"Steve, I'm sure they're fine, but first you have to get those wounds healed.” You don't want them to see you like this; they're going to freak out.” We also need to get cleaned up; we look terrible."

Now it was Steve who practically ran into the house. The two children were playing peacefully, oblivious to what had happened a few hours earlier.

You thanked Clarice for hiding when everything was back to normal; she didn't want to scare the kids either, and realizing how long it had been, she thought maybe James wouldn't remember her, although she didn't know the other girl either.

2018

 You saw Steve, and you couldn't understand what had just happened before your eyes, but immediately terror came over you, Clarice had been left looking after your son and the idea that the same thing had happened to her...

You saw Steve; he was scared too. If something had happened to your little James—if he had suffered the consequences—you couldn't bear it.

You burst open the house; the only thing you cared about was...

You held your breath when on the floor you saw the dust, you approached carefully... it was Clarice who had disappeared, James was still asleep.

A few seconds later, he woke up, and you hugged him as tight as you could because you needed to confirm that your son was still there.

2023

 You had finished reading a story to your children and tucked them in. Now that they were sleeping soundly, you went down to the living room. That afternoon, Bucky went to visit them to tell you that the rest of the team wanted to talk to you the next day. You knew what it was about, or rather, who they would talk about.

Around ten o'clock at night, the doorbell rang, it seemed strange to you, you opened the door and your anger increased when you saw who it was.

"What are you doing here?" you said, annoyed.

"May I come in?" Steve asked, and you could see the bag with gifts he was trying to hide.

"No," you answered sharply, and you tried to close the door, but he stopped you.

"Y/N, please, we have to talk." I have made a terrible mistake. I need you to forgive me. You have no idea how much I regret it. "I will do anything to earn your forgiveness."

When you realized, he was on his knees still begging for forgiveness and how sorry he was while hugging your legs.

He seemed honest, you caressed his cheek, maybe you should give him a chance, you could tell his regret was real. You let him pass, but not before demanding that he tell you everything that had happened.

"You can't stay here tonight; the children would ask too many questions and be angry because I didn't wake them up when you arrived," he said when he finished explaining.

"Could you forgive me?" he repeated again, and you nodded. "I understand. It's okay. You need time. I understand. I'll do whatever it takes. "I just want us to go back to being the happy family we've always been."

"I... I told them you were on a mission and I didn't know when you would be back; I didn't dare tell them the truth, Steve," you replied.

"I can come back tomorrow morning and tell them I was on a mission on the moon."

"Strawberries," you said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"Sarah asked me if you would bring strawberries when you got back, so bring them tomorrow," you asked.

"Are there strawberries on the moon?" Steve asked in confusion.

"No, but she thinks there are, so bring them; they won't even notice what happened."

He nodded; he wouldn't just bring strawberries; he would bring more things, whatever it took to make up for his mistake.

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 4 - Mistakes▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ Honestly, what the fuck were you thinking?

All alarms are going off in your useless excuse of a brain and you started feeling an immense amount of dread seeping into your bones. ◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five

Chapter 4 - Mistakes

It was ninety-three MILLION fucking miles away and somehow the sun still manages to shine through the blinds and right in your fucking face.

You squint at your phone.

150 missed messages from the Comp-Sci project group chat and another eight from Taylor.

The past one and a half weeks were pretty uneventful. You slept, climbed ranks in the holy trinity of Riot Games, worked part time and showed up to your classes—if only half of the time.

You were particularly prone to dodging your computer science class, telling yourself it wasn’t for any reason in particular.

In short, you were doing fine. The ‘free’ time you had felt boring and seemingly peaceful. Luckily boring was exactly what you needed—especially when most of your life was anything but. That being said, it was hard to ignore your ape brain that was craving the instability and the stress you got used to growing up. Having academic goals and working hard towards them helped that aspect of yourself quite a bit, but it still felt like something was missing. Something only years of therapy and healthy relationships with people would change.

As the deadline was quickly approaching, it was finally time to check what the project was about and do your part before your presentation on Wednesday. The phone numbers of three other people you’ve never heard or cared enough to learn the name of were displayed on top of the chat.

You scroll down and notice they’re freaking out about two of the members—one of them being you—not sending their part yet, despite the deadline only being about two and a half days away.

Yui(I think?) – What do we do about the others, Ojiro…? :( Guys pls, I don’t wanna do everything alone. [Sent 9:13 AM]

Mashirao(jock blondie) – I will call them later today, and if they don’t reply then, we’re on our own I guess. We’ll have to let the professor know. They should know better by now, honestly. Can’t believe one of them is an ‘honors student’, what a damn joke. [Sent 9:17 AM]

Yui(I think?)– Ahh! Stop! They can read this too!! [Sent 9:25 AM]

Mashirao(jock blondie)– Let them. They need to feel ashamed for making us do all the work. [Sent 9:17 AM]

You roll your eyes at their childish hostility.

Wow, firstly, they had absolutely no faith in you, you think. Secondly, are they three years old? They are openly discussing fucking you over in a group chat that you’re literally part of. At least do that shit in your DMs, not in the open where everyone can see them.

If you really thought about it, it was sort of fair. You probably are the world’s laziest, biggest procrastinator, but what they didn’t understand is that you’re not bad at farming credits. Two days of work is more than enough for you to do your part and then some.

You’re horrible in almost all aspects of life, but your high achiever brain will always power up when you need it to. If anything, you never understood how other students needed so much time to figure out their shit, the material is always pretty straight forward unless the professor botched it themselves, but it wasn’t the case here.

Yui(I think?) – Yeah so… I finally added my part to the shared doc! If by some miracle the other two see this, you guys have access to it too. Please please send yours in time, I don’t want to almost fail CS again this year maaan ;_; [Sent 10:30 AM]

You – ill get everything done before the deadline, don’t get your panties in a twist. also pro tip, if you tap the back button on the chat window, look for someone’s phone number and then open it, you can actually write all your shitty comments privately ;) ttyl [Sent 2:14 PM]

Before you close the chat window, you see two rows of angry dot animations ready to cuss you out.

Too bad you couldn’t be bothered.

And so you stand up, take a shower—for the first time in a couple of days—and mentally prepare yourself for two weeks worth of work squeezed into a one all-nighter and a half.

After all, in stress, you thrive.

─────────

Thud –

Dropping your bag next to your desk, you slide in your seat.

Your favorite neighbor’s white haired head is buried in his arms, laying against his desk and possibly taking a goddamn nap. This motherfucker.

The two week creep-detox did nothing for you, as you noticed your disdain for him was still as fresh as it was the night at the convenience store—if not even stronger.

Not only did he not fucking reply to your group in time—as if you did—but he also didn’t contribute to your project whatso-fucking-ever. In fact, he’s never read any of the group chat’s messages.

You were beyond fucking annoyed at him, because—to your group’s surprise, not only did you do your part, but you also covered for his and fixed everyone else’s. Incompetent fuckers.

It was stupid to let yourself get walked all over, but at least it shut both of the idiots up and that was enough motivation for you to get the job done. That, and the scholarship you fought to keep rolling every year.

There’s two interesting things that you found out during this group project. The first one was that the asshole’s name was Shigaraki fucking Tomura.

The Shigaraki Tomura.

You’d heard about his infamy over the years—never being able to put a face to the name—but nothing came even close to the stories Taylor began telling you about him.

‘Like girl, do you live under a fucking rock?!’ is what your friend asked extremely dramatically before setting off on spilling the ‘tea’ for ‘your uncultured ass’—whatever the fuck that meant.

It looks like the mystery slacker wasn’t just a random incel loser who got off on paying for stranger’s energy drinks and cup noodles, but also seemed to be a serious anti-social, borderline criminal individual.

According to the stories, he’s now been in court more times than you can count, charged with various offenses that ranged from physical violence, assault, theft, vandalism, drug-related charges, to more minor ones such as trespassing and public disturbances—either of them involving either students or straight up gang members.

Aside from that, he’s friends with a bunch of other convicted criminal misfits, seemed to have spent a few months in juvie and multiple people apparently promised he’s not all talk when he threatens to beat the shit out of you, never discriminating between guys or girls. You’re pretty sure that this wasn’t what women fought for when they said feminism.

That alone begged the question if he was gonna make good on the promise to fuck you up last time you so much spoke to him. Thinking about it left your mouth dry.

There was also a reason as to why he’d managed to get out of trouble every goddamn time. That reason came in the shape of his adoptive daddy’s wealth and connections, which was a convenient ‘get out of jail free’ card and something normal people (you) couldn’t afford. A true show of society’s totally unbiased conduct towards the mighty upper class.

All of this useless information that now occupies your brain, only proved to you how much of a massive piece of shit the guy was.

It doesn’t matter what his past was like, you quickly decided. It also doesn’t matter if you can relate to the shitty overblown rumors that were circulating around him. Or that you shared similarities.

What really matters right now, is that he’s actively trying to jeopardize your perfect score sheet—and by extension, your scholarship—by not stepping up and contributing to the project.

He continued resting on his desk, scratching the top of his head and yawning while not paying you any mind.

You bit the skin off your lip anxiously, unable to wait and teach this entitled little asshole a fucking lesson for messing with you.

─────────

It was finally your group’s turn and all of you gathered in front of the lecture hall.

Well, all of you, save for Mr. Creep in the back corner of the room, who was still hunched over and scrolling on his phone indifferently.

If the rare upturned corners of your lips was something to go by, you were in for some serious mischief today.

The professor opens up with a brief introduction to your project, and your group finally starts presenting. It all goes well, except for the fact that despite your age, you have this incredible stage fright making you stutter pretty fucking badly for most of your speaking turn.

It gets worse the moment you realize that somewhere along the presentation, a pair of piercing red eyes began studying you incessantly. His sudden attention to you made your body sweat about three times the amount everyone else’s would combined. It was extremely jarring, in the worst sense.

You scoffed at thinking that he might as well have pinned you to the wall. Like he knew you were up to some bullshit. Like he could smell it.

Realistically you know there’s no way he could have possibly known, but the tiny guilty part of your lizard brain wasn't able to comprehend that right now.

That’s when you steeled your flimsy resolve and you tried to recover your composure as much as you could, doing your best to make-believe you were at his funeral instead and get to the end of your stupid speaking part.

You could tell you embarrassed your group mates with your awful public speaking skills, as their parts are much more animated, smoother and confident in comparison. But it didn’t particularly bother you aside from a slight hit to your ego, because you knew that the professor would read the documentation and ultimately see the amount of work you put into the written part of the project.

Your shitty teammates could glare at you all they wanted, but you did more than half the fucking project on your own and that would lead to one thing only—a great fucking score.

Who needed social skills—not that you were proud of any—when your future job will probably only require you to sit behind a screen most of the day—something that you’re already really fucking good at, to a detrimental point. It was a miracle that you made it so far in life without your vision getting much worse than it was.

“Very good,” the professor says.

He begins praising the sturdiness of the project, mentioning your name—making you cringe—and unfortunately pointing out the bumpy part—your bumpy part—of the presentation.

Overall, he was quite impressed with the quality and execution, and promised to email everyone their scores, once he’s done correcting them.

“However,” you heard him talk again, his following sentence filling you with extreme giddiness. “I seem to notice you’re missing a member of your group?” the professor trailed off with a furrowed brow as he stared at his notes. “I’m positive I’ve assigned everyone four people, but your project only mentions you three. Why is that?” he flips through his papers and checks his laptop as well for something akin to an error on his part.

“No, you’re correct, sir,” you chime in mischievously. “Mr. Shigaraki over there,” your speak up and your eyes meet his unexpectedly focused ones. His expression seemed to become almost intrigued at the prospect of your little scheme. He was sitting a little straighter than before. Listening.

As if this class finally became interesting to him, opposed to almost falling asleep in his chair earlier.

You clear your throat after feeling it contract with a pang of anxiety and continue, “—decided that we weren’t worth his precious time, and sadly did not contribute to our project whatsoever.” you end your sentence with a pout. “In fact, he dumped all of the work on us and didn’t even communicate. I—um, we thought it was for the best that he doesn’t free load on all of our weeks of hard work, sir.” you slip up, but promptly recover and you notice how the other two NPCs in your group stared at you in horror.

Despite lumping them in with you so you wouldn’t get in trouble, they did in fact not know or had any say in your decision to leave Shigaraki out—not that you cared to ask for their worthless opinion anyway. After all, they should be happy for the free full marks that you’re confident they wouldn’t have gotten without your help.

You wore a sly smile on your face.

Fuck him, his stupid face and his shitty attitude.

Checkmate, Shigaraki, you muse to yourself, smirking and gauging the reaction of the professor who seemed to be deep in thought for a moment.

When you looked back at Shigaraki to check how he’s faring, knowing you set him up—

You felt literal chills running down your spine.

He was simply smiling at you.

A wide, creepy and weirdly calculating smile.

A smile that told you, you’re in trouble.

Like a bucket of ice dropping over your head, you just grasped the mistake you’ve made. The reason why your classmates stared at you in disbelief. The reason while the whole room stared at you in disbelief.

He is a rich trust fund kid, whose background consists of only unpunished violence and nothing to lose. You, a lower class student, fucked with him knowing the horrible stories that circled around him. So why was it again that you didn’t believe he was capable of retaliating, even when you heard how most of the students avoided him like the plague? Did you think he would be as pathetic and powerless as you were?

Honestly, what the fuck were you thinking?

All alarms are going off in your useless excuse of a brain and you started feeling an immense amount of dread seeping into your bones.

You needed to take this back right fucking now or who knows what he’s going to—

“Alright. I see how it is,” the professor interrupts your train of thought, scratching his chin, “To be blunt with you, I’m considering disqualifying your group’s entire project, for the fact that the bunch of you made such a hasty decision and did not think of consulting with me first to solve the problem.” you hear the professor say, feeling your gut twist and your two classmates glaring at you.

“I will however opt to only cut your score by twenty percent, because it really is an outstanding project, but I expect this to serve as a reminder that I do not tolerate insubordination and this instance is not to be repeated by any of you.” The professor looked at you, then at Shigaraki himself. “Have I made myself understood?”

You felt shame burn in your cheek as you nodded at him, but the boy wasn’t listening anymore.

It was as if the rest of the world—save for the two of you—ceased to exist at that moment.