#and my eyes are not good for reading a screen

[redwing4life]

Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

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[milksnake-tea]

✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : When Sunday wakes up, the last thing he expects is to be in the middle of the Stellaron Hunters' infirmary.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 2.3k

✩ TAGLIST : @dr-felitas, @vxnuslogy, @https-mika

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : guys idk what im doing imma be so fr. BUT HEY !! we are here <33 also sunday has ocd and religious trauma so uh. be on the lookout for that lol. not beta read we die like sunday's mom

series masterlist || next chapter >>

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Incessantly, it drones on, matching the repetitive beat of his heart. With his eyelids too heavy to lift, it’s all he can listen to - the whirring of a fan, the lub-dub in his chest, and, of course, the high-pitched beeping of the machine next to him. It’s maddening.

A pained grunt leaves him as he tries to move. His abdomen screams in anguish, the flesh feeling as though it’s about to be ripped apart by the seams. His lower wings are no better - cramped and crushed, they crumple against his body, cracks and pops sounding as he shifts.

It takes almost all his strength to squint his eyes open. His vision is blurry, disorientated, but he thinks he can see tiles.

Somewhere next to him, he hears wheels roll against clean floor tiles, and then the shuffling of cloth. Suddenly, a blinding light shines into his eyes. He immediately recoils, an unbecoming hiss escaping him.

“Reaction looks good, no cloudiness… You awake in there, birdie?”

Sunday squints out a glare, or well, he glares the best he can while having the sun in his face.

“Feisty. That’s good,” his company observes, but decides to take mercy on him anyway. Dark spots litter his vision as he blinks into reality, his eyes readjusting. 

The ceiling isn’t that outstanding, just the standard white tiles of any other hospital. There’s a curtain hanger in the corner of his eye, and other than that, he can’t see much else.

He tries to sit up again, but his arms, weakened by the fall, fail him. An arm catches and steadies him.

“Careful there. You’re still recovering from the fall.”

Sunday wearily looks over at who caught him. An unfamiliar face stares back. He’s mildly surprised - he knows every worker on Penacony by name, so to find someone he hadn’t met yet…

“How are you feeling?” they ask, helping him to sit up. “Dizzy? Pained? Ready to take another nap?”

He tries to focus on them, but can’t as his gaze wanders to the rest of the room. 

His earlier assessment proves to be accurate, or at least, he got the general idea right. It’s smaller than he originally thought, and it isn’t as neat and organized as the hospitals back on Penacony.

A doctor’s desk stands in one corner, covered in first-aid kits, notebooks, and holographic screens. Standing besides it is a mini-fridge and a microwave, and a cabinet looms overhead - likely containing more medical devices. There’s another bed other than his. It looks like it hasn't been used in months.

His gaze lands on the one thing that’s painfully out of place in this room - a rifle, dark, long and equipped with a bayonet, lying in a display case alongside many other firearms.

Figures. A wanted criminal of his magnitude wouldn’t be held in an esteemed hospital. He’s lucky he isn’t in a prison cell.

“I don’t…” Sunday shakes his head. “Where am I?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Indignation sparks. “I’m… sorry?”

His captor caretaker sits back on their office chair. They look to be around Robin’s age, but their attire… To put it bluntly, it wasn’t anything a respectable healthcare worker would be caught wearing on duty.

“It’s best if you don’t ask too many questions right now,” they advise. “You can stress out later. Now, look at my finger.”

“I-” Reluctantly, Sunday does as he’s told, following their finger with his gaze as they move it around. “May I at least have your name?”

“Mm…” They quickly type something down. “Not right now.”

“But-”

“Eat this.” Sunday nearly chokes as something’s shoved into his mouth mid-sentence. Spluttering, he eventually manages to chew, but it’s not without another heated (or at least, he hopes it’s heated) glare at the so-called doctor.

They raise a brow. “Don’t like sweets? That’s weird, could’ve sworn he said you did.”

He? Sunday pauses in his chewing. 

The person pokes his cheek, earning a squeak from the Halovian. “I can see your thoughts on your face, Birdie. You’ll meet him soon enough, just keep chewing.”

Weakly, Sunday’s wing bats at their finger. They chuckle lightly at that.

“You look like a kicked puppy.” They lean forward, resting their chin in their palm. “Does it still hurt?”

Sunday shifts to sit straighter. To his surprise, instead of sharp pain like before, there is only a dub ebb before it fades away entirely. He shakes his head, swallowing the rest of the medicine. Whatever it was left a distinct taste of pastries, like the ones he’d steal off Robin’s plate as a child.

Robin… The thought of his sister tears at his heart. The more coherent he becomes, the more he remembers, and the guiltier he feels. The last he’d seen of his sister was her wings as she embraced him for the first time in years, right before they’d plummeted to the ground.

“My sister,” he manages to croak out, wincing at his own hoarseness. “Is she alright?”

He searches the other’s face for any indication that she isn’t. Just the wrong twitch of the brow could send him rushing out of the bed and to wherever Robin was.

But he doesn’t find anything in that eerily calm smile.

“The pop star?” They cross their legs leisurely. “Should be. Kafka said she saw nurses when she picked you up.”

“Kafka,” Sunday repeats. Horror slowly dawns on him as he realizes where he’d heard the name. But it doesn’t last long before he forces on a smile once more. “You don’t mean Kafka, the Stellaron Hunter? The woman with a 10 billion credit bounty on her head?”

“11 billion actually, if you round it up.”

“...yes, thank you.” Sunday’s smile strains painfully against his face. He’s never wanted to throttle someone so badly, not even that despicable Aventurine of the IPC. But knowing just who sat in front of him, it’s a battle he can’t win.

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself.

He almost wants to laugh. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The esteemed Oak Family Head, fallen from grace and saved from eternal damnation by one of the most infamous criminals the galaxies have ever known. If his younger self could see him now, he’d surely kill himself from the shock.

Sunday blinks tiredly. Maybe he should just kill himself now, and get it over with.

“Hey.” A pen tilts his chin up. The Stellaron Hunter offers him a reassuring grin that does little to ease his nerves. “Chin up. Think of it this way. If we wanted to hurt you, we would’ve. But we fixed you up instead. My services don’t exactly come for cheap, you know.”

“Then what do you people want?” Sunday chuckles depressingly, almost self-deprecatingly. “My position as Oak Family Head is no more, and the Harmony has surely turned their back on me. Unless you wish to trade me into the IPC for a bounty, I’m afraid I have very little use to you.”

Logically, he knows he needs to keep his mouth shut - his life lies in the hands of these criminals, and the last thing he needs is them thinking that he’s useless. But he can hardly bring himself to care anymore.

“Look, I don’t question Elio.” His wings twitch at the name of the infamous slave to destiny. “But he’s never been wrong before. He brought you here for a reason.”

Sunday looks up. Given the expression on your face, he must look pathetic. You reach over and pat him lightly on the head like a parent would their child.

“Like I said, don’t question too many things right now.” You stand up, quickly checking your wristwatch. “Elio will be here in a few minutes. As for me, I have something to attend to, so I’ll see you around.”

Sunday’s hands freeze. A few minutes?

That’s not nearly enough time.

His hands find his cuffs, and he readjusts them, over and over and over again until the metal link gleams just right and there are no wrinkles left in sight. He pats down his suit hurriedly, straightening out his lapel and brushing off his shoulders again and again before they’re finally weightless. His gloves are pulled tight against his fingers. The medallion that hangs off of his shoulder, he positions it once more to be sure. Then, just when he thinks he’s done, his gloved hand brushes against a lock of grey hair, and he remembers-

He’d just woken up. He must look disheveled, messy, dirty and unsightly and nothing like the Sunday of the Oak Family that he was supposed to be, and if he wasn’t what they expected, they’d surely kill him, or dispose of him, or-

He looks up. You’re seconds away from the door.

“Wait!” he calls out hurriedly, inwardly cursing himself for his haste, but he needs to make sure he is perfect. His voice evens as you turn. “My apologies. Do you happen to have a mirror around here? And… a hairbrush, if you don’t mind.”

You blink. Sunday’s heart pounds as he awaits your answer. Subconsciously, his fingers begin to fidget and dig into his palms. Was that too much of a request? Had he overstepped?

“So that’s why he told me to bring them,” you comment offhandedly, as if remembering a past conversation that had made no sense until this moment. “Yeah, just a sec.”

You open one of the drawers by the desk and rummage around a bit before taking out a handheld mirror and a hairbrush. Your shoes clicked against the floor tiles as you made your way back to Sunday’s side.

Sunday has to fight demons just to stop himself from snatching the hairbrush from you. Small tremors shake his hand as he takes it from your palm. He moves to take the mirror.

“Let me do it,” you interrupt, sitting down and holding the mirror up so that he can see himself. Sunday stills, before he smiles in appreciation.

“Thank you,” he whispers, although he’s not sure why. 

Seeing his reflection, admittedly, he doesn’t look as bad as he’d originally thought. But still, his hair is messier than normal, and that’s all it takes for the voices to scream imperfect and unsightly.

His eyes flick to you. You only watch him with mild interest at best, but it feels as though your eyes are piercing into his soul, scrutinizing and judging every bit of him. 

He digs his fingers into his palms, the mild pain grounding him. Then, he begins to brush.

The silence is deafening, but Sunday forces himself to ignore it. Meticulous and steadily controlled strokes and brushes gradually bring his hair back to the casual, yet elegant and put-together style it was usually in, and Sunday feels a weight lift from his chest.

“Did they give you any medication back on Penacony?” you ask suddenly. Sunday freezes.

“I’m… sorry?”

You tilt your head. “I’m just asking as a precaution, because sometimes we get Hunters who need these medications and can’t access them due to well...”

Ah. Sunday relaxes. Right, of course. You were just doing your job. You didn’t actually think there was anything wrong with him, that he was ailed.

“No, they did not,” he says pleasantly, finishing the final (excessive) touches to his hair. “Although I do appreciate the concern, there would be no need even if I did require such assistance. I have no intention of joining you all.”

You squint a bit at his answer, but don’t press. “You’re pretty prideful, aren’t you.”

“As is everyone.” Sunday sets down the hairbrush, pleased at last with his appearance. “Believe me, no matter how far you think me to have fallen, I will never stoop as low as to accept charity from the likes of you.”

A snort tests his patience, his eye twitching at the sound. You lower the mirror with a smile he can only describe as both infuriating and unnerving, as if he were a naive, overconfident child.

“That’s a lot of talk for someone who’s just become the Family’s number one enemy,” you snicker. “Where else are you turning to? The IPC? Pfft, good luck with that.”

“Where else but Penacony?” The corners of his eyes crinkle as he leers bitterly at you. “I am but a sinner, and as such I must face my punishment, whether it be eternal imprisonment or death.”

“That’s it?” You scoff. “You’re just going to accept your fate, just like that?”

Sunday closes his eyes. “Better to face a rightful punishment than to live as a criminal.”

He anticipates a scathing reply, but your conversation is interrupted by a creak of the door.

Meow.

A cat? His eyes snap open. 

Standing in the now-opened doorway was a lithe black cat with yellow-green eyes that glow like fireflies. It licks its paw innocently, rubbing its head before it settles its gaze on you and Sunday.

A chill goes down Sunday’s back as they lock eyes. Under that cat’s eyes, he feels raw and exposed, as if someone had ripped him and all of his secrets wide open for the world to see. Instinctively his wings flare in a feeble attempt to defend himself.

“Well, that’s my cue.” The wheels on your chair roll as you stood up once more. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

“Do not call me that,” Sunday snarls. You laugh lightly.

“Don’t like it? I think it fits you pretty well.” You reach down, scratching the cat’s chin before respectfully moving out of the way. “Oh, and one more thing before I go.”

You turn around to give him one more lookover.

“Do try and stretch those wings more. Keep them cramped up like that any longer, and you’ll never fly again.”

With that, you shut the door, leaving Sunday alone with the cat and the eerie echo of your words.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[inevitablypazzi]

because i adore pazzi to the bone and have them on my mind 24/7/365 i shall present my pazzi roman empire list

pazzi state fair tradition

azzi's mom liking a post about pazzi and paige

azzi greeting jon a hbd ft. paige

azzi saying paige has a great heart

paige lockdown defense aka hugging azzi

pazzi reserved 💗 for each other compilation

azzi calling out for paige

pazzi horseback riding

paige being touchy to azzi while playing with kids

azzi's lock screen that is allegedly paige (other angle)

the ornament

drake concert

paige is a fudd confirmed

azzi's amazing nap with paige

pazzi bench getty images

paige being azzi's number one fan and the president of azzi fudd fan club

infamous ice live ft. pazzi

europe air

pazzi touchy moment near the bench

matching for halloween (video clip)

paige calling azzi bighead

paige's crush

down bad in europe

paige being a menace while azzi studies

azzi annoying paige after their cool handshake

paige watching azzi with a baby

taking the fair to paige

matching/borrowing of necklace pt. 1

azzi throwing it back in front of paige

allegedly jealous azzi

iconic 'wife' clip

paige one sided staring contest with azzi

the goddamn sza concert wherein paige allegedly looked at azzi in the lyric 'i don't wanna see you with anyone but me'

team paige or team azzi

team doing a tiktok and paige allegedly pointing at azzi and looking at her during the lyric 'i'm saying that i love you everyday'

lifting clip

totally unnecessary holding of hands

sharing of clothes pt. 1

europe boat together

ice suspiciously smiling when paige mentions azzi

no one can stop them from teasing each other

matching shorts

together before mavs vs celtics game 2

paige staring at azzi hard

azzi saying it's good that paige isn't scared of the dark cause she is

compilation of interactions for team usa u17 part 1 part 2 part 3

paige sleeping in azzi's bed

cruise clip

moments during 2018 girl's capital classic all-star game at st john's

lowkey flexing each other

paige fixing whatever was on azzi's outfit during the wnba draft

taking photos of each other

them in each other's ig comments

THE pazzi hug

crazy eye contact in sue bird's show

matching pants

young azzi slapping paige's forehead

azzi staring lovingly at paige

azzi wearing pazzi slam shirt and covering paige's face with a sticker

paige hovering over azzi while she works out

sleeping on the couch

her partner in crime

paige in azzi's tiktok comments

azzi's relationship with paige's family (another one)

azzi spanking paige

paige's eyes are glued to azzi

paige favorite a semi-pazzi edit

young pazzi enjoying a party together

matching/borrowing of necklace pt. 2

azzi hugging paige's mom

reading in front of kids

airport fetus pictures

camping

princess was rizzed

borrowing/matching clothes pt. 2

paige grabbing azzi for a hug

factimes

azzi trolling paige's reading ability

matching outfit

a bueckers bantering with a fudd

gentlewoman paige

soft pat pats

borrowing/matching clothes pt. 3

story of the olaf lego

a/n: submissions of worthy pazzi roman empire moments will be accepted and shall be continuously added to this list. 🫶🏼

[azzifudd]

Idk if u take requests but if you do could u write something about the recent live that azzi made an appearance in either them not being on live and everyone hanging out in Paige’s room and azzi comes in bc she’s stressed and Paige comforts her or Paige comforting azzi after the live ends

crumbs

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

730 words

Paige watches as Ayanna re-enter her room, holding out a plastic knife. And then behind her, a familiar figure, whose appearance causes Paige’s heart, as always, to beat a little faster. She shoots a quick look over to KK’s phone, where Azzi isn’t yet visible, and tries to mouth to her that they’re on live. 

She’s too late, and Azzi steps into view, glancing at the camera. 

All Paige can do is point to the camera and shoot her what she hopes is an apologetic smile. 

“It’s Azzi Fudd!” KK shrieks and they all laugh. 

Azzi groans, with her head to her hands, leaning to the side until she flops onto the bed. Paige laughs, looking at the screen and watching the viewers go wild, comments flying down the screen.

She fights her natural instinct to go over and wrap her arms around Azzi, her body leaning forward until she’s almost standing up. But then she remembers the camera, and the live, and the nearly ten thousand people watching. 

So she stays perched against the dresser even as Azzi buries her head in the sheets, clearly upset, and her body tense.

KK asks her, “You wanna try a cookie?” 

And when Azzi refuses, turning onto her back, Paige frowns. 

“What happened?” She questions gruffly, worry quickly building inside her, and anger toward whatever was causing that pout on her girl’s face. 

But when she finds out that it’s just the stress of a difficult class, Paige relaxes even as KK throws out the wild idea of asking people watching the live to DM her or Azzi with help. 

When Azzi wanders over to try the cookies, Paige knows that, like always, she won't be able to keep her eyes off her. No matter how their relationship has changed over the years: from strangers to friends to more, and everything in between, she has never been able to keep her eyes off Azzi. 

It doesn’t help that Azzi gazes back at her, eyes smoldering as she bites down on a piece of peanut butter cookie. It’s not fair, Paige thinks, breath hitching, that she looks so damn good eating a cookie, and that Paige is on camera while Azzi is barely an arm’s reach away. 

Paige distracts herself by reading comments and showing off her iPad case when KK leaves the room to look for fries that Azzi has asked for. And then they move into the living room so Paige can show off her much improved cartwheel. 

Eventually, Azzi wanders into the room, asking KK if anyone has DM’d her with accounting help.

“She’s still on live.” Paige says. Out of the view of the camera, Azzi can finally approach her, and she opens her arms so Azzi can step into her embrace. 

“You didn’t warn me you guys were on live.” Azzi whispers, arms going around Paige’s waist, hands slipping under her shirt to rub along her lower back. 

Paige relaxes into the contact, arms coming up to wrap around Azzi’s upper back as she leans her jaw against Azzi’s head. 

“I thought you were gonna be working on your homework. I was gonna come down when we were done.” 

In the background, she can hear KK complaining about the live lagging and then finally cutting off, but she pays it no mind.

Paige leans back until she can look Azzi in the eyes. 

“You still hungry?” She asks. “I can run out and grab you something if you want.”

“It’s okay.” Azzi replies, pressing her face into Paige’s chest as she holds onto her. “My accounting homework was just being a bitch, and I just wanted a break and a hug.” 

Paige squeezes her back tightly and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

They stand there holding each other for a little longer, until the sound of their teammates’ bickering breaks Paige out of her Azzi induced stupor. 

“You wanna go back to your room?” 

Azzi nods against her chest.

“Aight, Azzi and I are gonna head back to her place. Don’t leave a mess in my room.” She points at KK and Jana as she says this. 

“What? Girl boo!” KK says from the couch, where she’s still working on her Lego build. “You said you were gonna do that Tiktok with me.”

“Maybe tomorrow, dude, Azzi needs some peace and quiet.” Paige smiles softly as Azzi presses a kiss to her cheek. 

The other girls shoot each other knowing looks. Paige is always soft like this when it comes to Azzi, and there’s no talking her out of it. 

They leave the apartment, hand in hand. 

[starlostseungmin]

he's giving poodle 🥹💔 now imagine a self-care night sleepover with him (punches wall)

self-care night sleepover with seungmin.

✰ notes: i know it should be a drabble and i was supposed to just yap about this but i can’t help it!! i wrote this as a headcanon instead since my brain doesn’t want to work. anyway i hope you’ll get fed well with this seungmin 🙏🏻 i hope you like it cielle!! not proofread and not edited. ps. for anyone who reads this, pls don’t send in requests i only wrote this for a moot. thank you <33

✰ wc: 0.9k.　genre: fluff, derived from bedtime bingo hell skzcode eps. 55-56.　warnings: mentions of food, tasting skincare serum.

ꔛ

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin consists of the list of things he wrote on a paper for you to do before getting into bed; wear matching pajamas, cook dinner your favorite meals, set the mattress on the floor, watch a movie or two, eat, drink hot choco (since it is raining outside), do each other’s skincare routine, and cuddle to sleep. 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin wasn’t planned in the first place but an idea rose into his mind when you mentioned about having to relax on a rainy night after his exhausting day at work. Seungmin promptly agreed and dashed towards the bathroom to wash up. “We should wear matching pajamas tonight since it’s a sleepover!” He beamed excitedly after picking the most comfortable ones. 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin having you cook your favorite meals on a rainy night made your bonding time warm and cozy. The taste of the food sent joy from your mouth to your stomach as you both stood by the counter instead of taking a seat. Sitting together didn’t come to mind when Seungmin whined about how hungry he was so you fed him as he made a tiny happy dance like a 5-year-old kid. He volunteered to wash the dishes afterwards. 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin made you set aside the couch in the living room of your shared apartment just to make room for the king-sized mattress a meter away from the smart television. You sat together while sipping hot chocolate on your favorite Sanrio characters’ designed mug as Seungmin navigated the screen to choose what to watch.

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin involves eating snacks while being entertained by those stupid characters and their problems. “She could’ve picked the other guy,” He said while munching popcorn. “I pity her for having poor decisions in life that’s why her life’s miserable.” You could only laugh and agree with his judgments. 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin had him ask you to help washing his hair before going to the next one on your to-do list. He ducked above the sink in the bathroom as you pulled out the shower head to wet his hair. It helped him feel at ease and the gentle scent of shampoo being massaged all over his scalp made him a bit drowsy. “Why are you doing it so good? I think I’ll be having a good sleep soon.” He said. “You’re welcome!” 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin made you the one drying his hair with a dryer making his locks look like a poodle’s fur but black. His eyes were closed but it painted a smile on his face as he sat in front of the vanity and felt like a puppy getting taken care of with love. Which he isーwith a sleeping mask with the words “Let me sleep” on his forehead and messy poodle hair, he looked so adorable with it. 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin is required to know how each other’s day went. “How was your day?” You asked him as you brushed his hair. “It was chaotic, Minho hyung almost hit me with a limbo stick, I almost lost a game, and they were giving me a hard time for not deciding who’s going to do the game first, I just passed out in stress,” He frowned making you giggle in return. “They’re insane, babe.” “I know baby, but you love them.” You answered as he sighed in return. “I do. How’s your day, love?” “It was fine, I was busy with work, like usual.”  

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin is sitting next to each other by the vanity and doing your skincare routine while gossiping. He tried out yours and loved the textures, even used your tools to make the cream and serum blend smoothly into his skin. “I’m stealing these.” “No, get your own!” “Can you rub them to my cheeks?” “It is an opportunity for me to pinch them.” “Do the honors but don’t kiss them, it’s disgusting.” “The serum tastes so bad.” “You ate them Y/N?!” 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin is having to lay side by side after letting the skincare products sit on your face and cuddle while pulling the covers over your bodies. It is a must in this relationship and your boyfriend loves them. You can’t complain. “What should we do tomorrow?” He asked as you scooted closer and lay your head on his chest while his arm wrapped around your shoulder, slowly leaving a kiss on your forehead. 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin needs to plan something for the next day because it is his day off or so you thought. It’s a lazy night as it rains outside. “We can go to the park or shop?” You answered, hugging him tightly. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, we should sleep.” He said, pulling you closer to his body as he closed his eyes feeling your warmth. “Good night, my love.” “Good night, Minnie, sleep well.” 

Self-care night sleepover with Seungmin is sleeping in each other’s arms as you listen to his gentle heartbeat and breathing in his scent that you always love while he rests his head above yours, spooning you like his favorite plushie. You can’t wait to spend time with him and do this all over again. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[wholoveseggs]

Rules {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Tonight is the night of the dinner party and tensions are running high. Caught between the love for your family and your own desires, things take a dramatic turn when you make a choice you can't take back.

♡♡ I finally get to write about my #1 favorite TVD moment! The Dinner Partyyy! {the campyiness, the tension, the dramaaaa... Its peak TVD} Hope you enjoy! PS: there will be a part five ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: salvatore!sibling reader, no smut, lots and lots of drama, so much angst, Elijah being the sexiest middle-part menace he can be, secret affair, forbidden romance, Damon being over-protective, finally adding some proper Stefan moments to the plot, Elena being Elena, my sweet angel ♡ ANDIE STARRR ♡ , vervain, tension, violence, john gilbert & chocolate mousse...

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top!

If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming @criminallminds @rosemarypotion @spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse @sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury @sekaishell @ziayamikaelson @amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28 @loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123

You sat in front of your vanity, outlining your lips with a deep shade of red, finishing off the look with a dab of gloss.

Damon didn't tell you any details of what he was planning, beyond having a weapon that could kill an Original, which would have seemed absurd if it wasn't your brother. You knew what he was capable of. 

Damon had left not too long ago, telling you he was going to lunch with his girlfriend Andie, and would be back later.

All you knew was that there would be a dinner party tonight and if Elijah showed up, Damon was going to kill him. 

Your phone rang and you glanced over to see Stefan's name on the screen, your pressed speaker, and went back to applying your lipstick.

"Hey," You said, pressing your lips together and checking the color.

"Hello," Stefan replied, sounding a bit tense.

"How's your trip with Elena going?" You asked, grabbing a tube of mascara.

"Well as it can be," he said vaguely.

"I guess you know about the deal then? Elena is willing to die for you, that's very sweet," you said casually, applying the mascara to your eyelashes.

"When did you get so callous? She isn't a martyr, she's just naive," he sighed.

You felt a pang of guilt for teasing him. He was right, Elena was kind and gentle, and both of your brothers loved her.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I know how you feel about her," You said, trying to sound comforting. "It's just that she possesses an unfortunate face,"

Stefan let out a humorless chuckle, and sighed. "Katherine's face,"

"Yeahhhh," you laughed.

"Funny you should mention her, Elena has been reading some old journals written by Johnathan Gilbert," Stefan explained. "It's brought up a lot of memories,"

"Didn't you eat him?" You asked, screwing the cap onto the mascara.

His silence was an answer in and of itself.

"Are you afraid that if Elena learns about your lovely alter-ego she won't love you anymore?" You teased.

"This is serious," he sighed.

"Ok, ok, sorry," You said, standing up and smoothing out your dress. "Always so uptight,"

"Not everyone has it so easy, sister," he grumbled.

"What does that mean?" You asked, your tone slightly offended.

"It's nothing," he sighed.

"No, no. Please, speak your mind," You said, rolling your eyes.

"You've always just been good at it," He began, you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"At what?" You snapped, pacing around your room.

"Being a vampire," He said bluntly. "You claim to loathe Katherine, yet you aren't that different,"

You didn't know what to say, his words cut you. How dare he compare you to the woman who destroyed your life, turned you and your brothers into monsters. Kept them under her toxic spell while you watched them suffer.

"That's not fair, Stefan," You said softly, feeling hurt and defensive.

"Isn't it?" He asked.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say, you just stared out the window, the sun shining brightly outside.

"Anyway, I don't have time to debate your morals," Stefan continued. "I'm just calling to tell you to watch out for Damon, killing Elijah won't be easy, he will need your help,"

"And here I thought you didn't trust me," You said, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

"I trust you more than anyone," he said softly.

You wanted to tell him everything, how guilty and ashamed you felt. You didn't even know why you were feeling these things, Elijah was nothing to you, but you couldn't stop thinking about him, the pain in his eyes, the coldness in his voice, it haunted you.

And now you were going to kill him, Stefan was right... You weren't so different from Katherine.

"Then, trust me when I say, I'll handle it," You said, keeping your tone casual.

"Ok," he said, though his voice sounded hesitant. "Please be careful,"

"I will," you said softly, before ending the call.

You sat down on your bed and pulled on a pair of black velvet pumps. They were tall, and made your legs look amazing. You checked your lipstick and smoothed out your dress, and headed downstairs.

Damon was just arriving home, with Andie in tow. They were carrying bags of groceries, and setting them down in the kitchen.

"Hi, Andie," You smiled.

"Hello darlin," she said, her voice cheery, like always. "Don't tell me that your brother roped you into this mess,"

"Mess?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, giving Damon a questioning look.

"Andie doesn't believe in my abilities to cook," Damon rolled his eyes.

"Damon has a tendency to go overboard with things," she laughed.

Neither of them were actually talking about the cooking. Damon had obviously told her about his plans for the night.

"What are we serving tonight, then?" You asked, giving him a warning look.

"A nice rack of lamb, roasted vegetables, some salad..." Damon trailed off, looking around the kitchen. "Annnd... A dessert that will be sure to knock our guest's socks off,"

You and Andie made eye contact and she smiled, trying not to laugh.

"Sounds lovely, brother," You smiled, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder. "How can I help?"

Damon gave Andie a pointed look and she nodded and left the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone to chat.

"So," he began, as he pulled out a box of matches and lit the burner on the stove. "Change of plans,"

"Change?" You asked, leaning against the counter, crossing your arms.

"I need you to stay upstairs, away from the party," He said, avoiding your eyes.

"What?!" You said, glaring at him. "Why?"

"Because Jenna is coming, and she thinks you are Elena's age... I can't have her asking too many questions," Damon explained.

"That's such bullshit!" You growled, pushing off the counter. "You can't do this on your own,"

"Yes I can," he scoffed.

"So, what? I'm just supposed to stay hidden away in my room, twiddling my thumbs while you try and kill Elijah?" You asked, getting more irritated by the second.

"Yeah, pretty much," He said, his tone casual. "And when it's done you can help me dispose of the body,"

"Are you being fucking serious?" You spat.

"Relax," he chuckled.

"How am I supposed to relax when I know you are going to get yourself killed?!" You asked, throwing your hands in the air.

Damon put down the pan he was holding and turned around, walking over to you and getting in your face, his eyes wild and bright.

"Despite you being a ravenous little killer, you are still my baby sister," he said, his voice soft, but his eyes were still angry. "I was wrong to ask you for help, it's my job to protect you, not put you in harm's way,"

You didn't like this one bit, Damon was stubborn and headstrong, and once his mind was made up, there was no changing it. It infuriated you, the way he saw you as this helpless damsel. Yet, you weren't surprised, he had a tendency to go overboard with things and forget logic. The fact that you were a vampire and could handle yourself was something he often forgot.

You felt humiliated and helpless, and that made you angry, so fucking angry.

"Fuck you," You snapped, turning on your heel, storming out of the kitchen, Damon called after you, but you ignored him, slamming the door to your room shut.

You stood in the middle of the room, feeling a wave of emotion hit you. This wasn't like you, you never let yourself feel like this, so out of control. The last time you felt anything like this was years ago, when you were human.

You hated that feeling, the way your stomach would twist, and your heart would ache. But it wasn't because of Damon... It was because of Elijah.

The sound of the guests arriving floated up to your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, a glass of wine in hand. You had been drinking all evening, trying to numb the anger, the sadness, and the regret.

The plan was already in motion, there was no stopping it now. Elijah was going to die, and you were told to stay put and let it happen.

You picked up the voices of several familiar people, Alaric, Jenna, Andie, even Elena's estranged father John. All chatting happily, blissfully unaware of your presence upstairs. 

You looked down into your glass, you could see your vague reflection in the dark liquid. You couldn't stand the sight of yourself, the guilt, the shame… it was eating away at you, no longer could you sit there and wallow in it. 

Fuck it, you thought. You finished the glass off with one large gulp and got up, walking over to the full-length mirror.

Your hair was down, the curls flowing down past your breasts, and your makeup was perfect, smoky eyes and deep red lips. All dressed up and nowhere to go, nobody to see.

You headed down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible, peeking through the railing on the stairs to see if anyone was there.

Then you heard Elijah's voice, it was hushed and cold, and the words were unintelligible, but it was him, and your heart skipped a beat.

You inched closer, straining your ears, desperate to hear more.

"Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider."

His tone was dark and threatening, and you knew Damon would be on the receiving end.

"No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just getting to know you," Damon replied, and you could picture his cocky smile.

"Hmm. Well, that's good," Elijah sounded skeptical, and you could hear him walking inside and closing the door.

"Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal, if you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house. Are we clear?" Elijah's tone was firm and unwavering, and you could sense the tension.

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves, and walked down the stairs. Your feet a bit wobbly in your heels, the wine was catching up with you.

Everyone was looking at you by the time you got to the bottom, and you were sure your face was flushed, your cheeks pink. But all you could see was Elijah. His dark eyes watching you, and your heart was racing. Surely he wouldn't kill you in front of all these people.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us," Damon chuckled nervously, walking up to you and putting his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you forcefully. "This isn't a party for teenagers, sweet sister,"

The tension was thick, and it was clear that Damon didn't want you there.

"I just wanted to come say hello, I was getting bored upstairs," You said casually, pulling away from him.

"Oh, c'mon Damon, it's alright. She can stay for the food," said Jenna, giving you a warm smile. She was so kind, you didn't want to see her get hurt.

"No, really. She should be going, right sis?" Damon said, glaring at you.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay, I was promised dinner, after all," You replied, meeting his eyes, defiance shining in them.

Elijah cleared his throat, stepping towards you and Damon, his face neutral. "Nice to meet you Miss Salvatore," he took your hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Damon was looking at Elijah like he wanted to rip his throat out, and you had to resist the urge to smirk.

"And you, Mr. Smith," You replied, trying to hide your amusement.

Elijah gave you a knowing look, and a small smile formed on his lips.

"Call me Elijah," He replied, still holding your hand.

"Elijah, then," You nodded, a shiver running down your spine as his thumb traced your wrist.

You had no idea why he was acting so casual, he had to know this was a trap, and he was just standing there, touching you.

"Ok, now that everyone knows each other, let's eat," Andie cut in, leading everyone to the dining room.

Before you could follow, Damon grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, his expression one of pure rage.

"What are you doing?" Damon growled.

"Having dinner," You said, pushing him off and brushing past him, walking into the dining room.

The only empty seat available was next to Elijah, who grew stiff when you approached him.

"Is this ok?" You asked, smiling sweetly.

He nodded, pulling the chair out for you, and pushing it back in once you were seated, always the gentleman.

Everyone was seated, and the dinner party was in full swing. Jenna and Andie asked Elijah all about the local history of Mystic Falls, and he bullshitted his way through, telling them stories of the old families that founded the town, local folklore tales, and other nonsense.

Elijah seemed to relax a bit, although he was purposely avoiding looking or speaking to you, his gaze focused elsewhere. But every once in a while you could feel his hand brush yours under the table, making your skin tingle.

You were drinking wine like it was water, and you could feel the effect it was having on you. The world was fuzzy, and everything was so funny. You would giggle or let out an inappropriate snort whenever Elijah would talk, and your face was flush and hot.

"Not to be a party pooper but aren't you a little young to be drinking?" John Gilbert said, looking at you, his eyes narrowing.

You glared at him, raising an eyebrow, he knew that you were a vampire, four times his age no less. But you weren't about to argue in front of sweet and innocent Jenna, who had no clue about the existence of the monsters she was surrounded by.

"She can have a glass, as her guardian I allow it," Damon said casually, not bothering to look up from his plate.

"Ahh, I see, I suppose the rules are a bit more lax when you have Damon as a parent," John added, his expression bitter and cold.

"I think she's had more than a glass," Andie said softly, her tone was concerned as she looked you over.

You felt Elijah's hand come to rest on your thigh under the table, it made your heart skip a beat and Damon look up from his plate.

"She's fine," Damon said, his tone final.

The other guests exchanged awkward glances, Alaric cleared his throat uncomfortably and Jenna and Andie both had worried expressions on their faces.

Elijah's hand was moving higher up your thigh, and it was making your face flush, and you were starting to get wet.

You had no idea why he was touching you, considering he wanted to kill you. But you supposed there is a fine line between lust and loathing.

As soon as everyone finished their meal, Andie got up and Damon gave her a pointed look, whatever he had planned had just begun.

"The gentlemen should take their drinks in the study," she said, giving everyone a smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"I have to say the food was almost as wonderful as the company," Elijah said, smiling at her, and standing up.

"I like you," Andie said softly, returning his smile.

You watched as the men left, Damon looked back at you before he followed them, giving you a wink, and closing the door.

You were fuming, the wine making you angrier than usual, you went to follow but Andie intercepted you, handing you a pile of plates.

Sighing, you reluctantly carried them to the kitchen and started loading the dishwasher, not wanting to draw too much attention.

"Here, let me help," Jenna smiled, taking the glasses from your hands.

"It's fine," You said, forcing a smile.

"Come, drink some water, your face is flushed," Andie said, handing you a glass.

"No more for you," John added, pouring the leftover wine down the drain.

You scowled at all three of them, lecturing you like you were a child. They had no idea what you were capable of, the things you've done. They wouldn't treat you like this if they did.

You took the water, glaring at them, and chugged it, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary.

Alaric came rushing into the kitchen with a wild look in his eye. He made eye contact with you, and he was out of breath.

"We forgot dessert!" He said, sounding panicked.

"What?" Andie asked, confused.

"Dessert!" Alaric repeated, his body practically vibrating with fear.

Whatever was going on, it definitely wasn't about dessert.

"I can make a chocolate mousse...?" Jenna began, trailing off, looking at Alaric with confusion.

"Perfect! Let's go tell Damon and Elijah," Alaric said in a rush, motioning to Andie who gave him a questioning look but followed him out.

"What is going on?" Jenna asked, turning to you, her eyes wide.

"No idea," You lied, shrugging, hoping to sound convincing.

As soon as Jenna had her back turned, you slipped out of the kitchen and headed for the dining room.

Everyone had already returned, and the tension was palpable. Alaric looked stressed and Damon was smirking, which was a sure sign of a disaster.

Damon and John were seated on opposite ends of the table, glaring at each other, while Elijah sat in center. Andie and Alaric were behind him, rummaging through her bag for some reason.

"What I'd like to know, Elijah, is how do you intend on killing Klaus?" John said sharply, looking over his wine glass at him.

It seemed that the dinner party discussions had finally turned to the real business at hand, you inched into the room quietly, trying not to draw any attention.

"Gentlemen, there's a few things we should probably get clear right now. I allow you to live solely to keep an eye on Elena. I allow Elena to remain in her house living her life with her friends as she does as a courtesy. If you become a liability, I'll take her away from you and you'll never see her again." Elijah's eyes flickered to you, but only for a second.

Before Damon or John had a chance to respond, Andie returned with her notebook in hand, sitting down across from Elijah, ready to interview him, "Okay. My first question is when you got here to Mystic..."

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down, you watched Alaric approach Elijah from behind, an ornate looking dagger in his hand, ready to stab him in the back.

You moved without thinking, lunging at Alaric, wrapping your hand around his wrist and snapping it with ease, causing the dagger to fall to the floor with a clatter.

Alaric crumbled to the floor in pain, looking up at you in shock.

The room suddenly exploded into action, dark veins spread beneath Elijah's eyes, and he lunged at Damon, knocking him over the table and onto the ground, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him into the air, his eyes ablaze.

John grabbed Andie, pulling her out of the way, while Alaric crawled along the floor, cradling his wrist.

You grabbed Elijah's arm, trying to pry him off of Damon.

"Don't! Let him go!" You shouted, struggling against him, his muscles were tensed, and his grip was tight, he wasn't budging.

Elijah looked over his shoulder at you, his dark eyes cold and angry. You gave him a pleading look, trying to convey how important it was that he listened.

"Please, he's my brother, please don't hurt him," You said, your voice breaking as your tears began to flow.

He dropped Damon, who fell to the floor with a thud, coughing and sputtering.

Elijah looked around the room at all the frightened faces, then to the floor where the dagger was lying and picked it up, examining it.

"Clever boy," Elijah looked at Alaric, shaking his head and tsking. "I haven't seen one of these in quite some time,"

He moved to attack Alaric but you jumped in front of him, shielding him with your body.

"Please don't kill him," You pleaded, putting your hands on his chest, trying to push him back.

He was immovable, but his gaze softened when his eyes met yours and he put the dagger in his jacket pocket. His eyes went back to Damon, who was still on the floor, glaring at him.

"Please, don't hurt anyone," You repeated, your hand moving to his hair, running your fingers through it.

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, his shoulders sagging, the tension leaving his body.

"Get away from my sister," Damon snarled, his voice rough from being choked.

Elijah looked at Damon, giving him a wicked smile and wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him, your face pressed against his chest.

"Oh, she doesn't mind," Elijah smirked, looking at Damon with smug satisfaction.

Damon looked from you to Elijah, his expression a mixture of disbelief and pure rage. His brain couldn't quite compute what he was seeing.

"What did I say?" Elijah began, pausing to pretend he was pondering, "Oh yes! If you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house,"

Your hands curled into his shirt, tugging on it, looking at him pleadingly. His dark eyes went to yours, and his gaze softened, he kissed you on the cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

"Fortunately for you, your lovely sister has been most gracious in her hospitality," He said, looking over your head at Damon.

You were visibly shaken up, looking at your brother with tear filled eyes, your hands trembling against Elijah's chest. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him instead of your devastated looking brother.

"So much for rule one," he said quietly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

Damon was seething, his fists clenched, and he was practically shaking with anger.

"Now, I hate to cut this evening short, but it seems I've overstayed my welcome," Elijah sighed, pulling away from you, his tone neutral.

"And as for you. Let me be perfectly clear, if you, or anyone else, attempt something like this again, I will kill you. No mercy. Understood?" Elijah asked, looking directly at Damon.

"Yes," Damon said, his voice dripping with venom.

"Wonderful. Now, I think it's time for me to take my leave," Elijah turned and began to walk out, "I'll be in touch," he called over his shoulder.

As soon as Elijah left, all eyes were on you. Damon's angry glare made you squirm, and the disgusted expressions from Andie, Alaric and John made you feel deep shame. You needed to get out of there.

But before you could , Damon grabbed you, the speed blowing your hair back. His hand went to your neck and he threw you against the wall, his fingers crushing your windpipe.

"Are you crazy? You’re fucking Elijah? ELIJAH?" He yelled right in your face, his rage so uncontrolled he lashed out and hit the wall beside your head, causing the plaster to crack and break.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He continued, his eyes wild, spit flying from his mouth.

"Damon," Andie said softly, stepping forward to calm him. John held her back, helping Alaric to his feet and pulling them both out of the room. John knew better than to get between Damon and his wrath.

"How did this happen? How did he get to you?" He shook you harder, causing the plaster dust to rain down. "Did he compel you? I told you to drink vervain every day!"

You kneed him in the stomach, forcing him to drop you, and you gasped for air.

"No! He didn't compel me, he would never," You snapped, rubbing your neck. "I...I care for him,"

Damon stared at you, his breathing ragged, and his expression completely blank. Then he started to laugh, it was devoid of any warmth, it was all bitterness and mockery.

"Care for him? What is he, your boyfriend? Did he ask you to go steady in-between planning Elena's murder?" Damon sneered.

"That's not fair," You said, scowling, folding your arms. 

"So he's the reason you've been so distant? The reason you've been acting so weird? What, he's using you to get to Elena, isn't he?" Damon was pacing back and forth, his hands in his hair.

"No... We never discus-" You tried to explain.

"This is unbelievable," He groaned, cutting you off, and walking over to the liquor cart, pouring himself a drink, then he froze.

"Please tell me you didn't fuck him in this house," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Not exactly...," You trailed off, averting your gaze, biting your lip.

Damon downed his drink and smashed the glass against the wall, "Fuck, Y/N, do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I had a plan! Everything just spiraled out of control," You said, your voice shaking, feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. "I tried... I tried to steal the moonstone, for you! For us! He caught me and... and I was stupid. I'm sorry.”

"So you thought you could pull a honeypot on an original?" Damon looked completely dumbfounded, and a little impressed. "Are you insane? Or just dumb?"

His words cut you deeply, mostly because they were the same things you had said to yourself, a million times.

"I thought it would work," You shrugged, your arms dropping, you were feeling defeated.

"And I suppose letting him fuck you was an added bonus, huh?" Damon shot back.

"Yes!" You screamed, frustrated, throwing your hands up. "I like him, Damon! He's interesting and attractive and he treats me like an equal!"

Damon snorted, "Because he thinks you're a slut."

That stung, he had never called you that before and tears sprang to your eyes. You glared at him, as they began to spill down your cheeks. You were done arguing with him, and you were done listening to him. He didn't understand, and you had nothing more to say.

Without another word, you pulled the dagger out of your bra, you had managed to remove it from Elijah's pocket without anyone noticing. You threw it at the floor at Damon's feet and stormed off.

Damon looked at the dagger, his brow furrowed, then back up at the spot you had just occupied, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had made you cry.

You ran to your room and crawled under the covers, letting all your pent up emotions flow out of you, coming out in gasps and hiccups. You had no idea what to do, you didn't want to choose between your family and Elijah. You didn't want to be forced to pick a side. 

You didn't want to have to give up what you felt when you were around him.

You didn't know how.

It had been a few hours since the disastrous dinner party. You were still laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events over and over again in your mind.

You heard Damon leave not long after your argument. You had no idea where he ran off too. Knowing him, he went to find more trouble. Part of you regretted the fight, the other part of you wanted to strangle him.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally. It was like every single part of your being was weighed down.

Just then you heard a loud commotion downstairs, the voices of your brothers and Elena floated up to you. There was a strange scraping sound, like they were dragging something heavy across the floor.

You quickly got up to investigate, hopping down the stairs, stopping suddenly in front of a very nervous looking Elena.

"What happened?" You asked, trying to look past her to your brothers.

"Damon told me what happened," She said softly, reaching out to touch you. But you spotted a pair of legs being dragged away towards the stairs leading to the basement.

Your eyes went wide as you figured out whose legs they were. Panic swept over you, and you pushed past Elena and rushed to the basement after them.

Stefan and Damon were throwing Elijah's body into the cell, he looked gray and cold, the dagger sticking out of his chest.

"Elijah! No, no, no," You cried, screaming and trying to get past your brothers. But they were too strong for you, holding you back, and quickly closing the gates.

"Let me go!" You punched at Damon's chest, desperate to get inside the cell, tears streaming down your face.

Damon just held you, refusing to release you, your screams filling the small basement.

Stefan locked the door, following you and Damon upstairs. You were kicking and fighting like a crazy woman, begging them to let you see him.

Once you made it upstairs, Stefan grabbed you and held you in his arms, still you fought and cried for him, despite his pleas for you to stop.

"Please calm down," Stefan begged, holding onto you tightly.

"He came to take Elena, we had no choice," Damon said, his voice sounding tired, like this had been an exhausting evening for him.

"He promised me he wouldn't," You said, your voice cracking, your throat raw.

"He lied, Y/N, that's what he does," Damon replied, sounding exasperated.

"Shut up!" You screamed, jerking out of Stefan's arms and rushing at Damon, your fist connecting with the side of his face. "You did this! He wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't provoked him!"

You managed to hit him twice, splitting his lip, before Stefan grabbed you again, pulling you back.

"Knock it off!" Stefan said sharply, giving you a firm shake. You stopped struggling for a moment, panting.

Elena came and stood next to Damon, looking more sad than angry. She wasn't sure what to say, or what to do in this situation.

"I love him Stefan, please," you begged, sniffling. It was the first time you could admit it out loud, to anyone, to yourself and you wished it was Elijah you could have told first. "You have to let me see him, even if he's dead...I just have to see him."

Your words cut through Stefan's heart. Trembling in his arms, he had never seen you so distraught and in pain. He looked over your head at Damon and Elena, silently asking for permission.

"Fine, I'll take you, but only because you'll probably burn the house down if I don't," Damon said, rolling his eyes.

Stefan let you go and you immediately ran down the stairs, your feet skidding slightly on the concrete floor. You rushed into the cell and fell to your knees beside Elijah's body.

"lijah," you said softly, trying to coax him out of sleep.

He was gray, covered in dark veins, his skin felt cold. Your fingers trembled as you touched his face, your fingers running through his hair.

You laid down next to him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the lack of heartbeat. You lay there for a few minutes, crying to yourself.

You could feel Damon watching you, and it pissed you off.

"Please leave me alone," You said softly, your voice breaking, not bothering to turn and look at him.

Damon was standing there, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, and he looked at you thoughtfully.

"He's dangerous, and he's using you," Damon replied.

"He never learned anything from me!" You snapped, glaring at him, the anger boiling over. "We had an agreement, an understanding! It wasn't like that!"

Damon shook his head, and looked away from you.

"You can't be in love with him. You barely know him." Damon was trying his hardest to get you to see sense.

"Maybe, maybe I'm not," You lied, sniffling, "I just feel like there's something there, something real and I've never felt this way before,"

Damon let out an exasperated sigh, and closed his eyes.

"This will end badly, I'm not going to try and convince you anymore. You're too damn stubborn," He said, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

"Can you bring me a blanket and pillow?" You asked, changing the subject.

"No," Damon said, turning on his heel and leaving the basement.

"Asshole," You muttered, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

A few minutes later, Stefan came down the stairs, carrying a blanket and a pillow, and a bottle of bourbon.

"Thanks," You smiled weakly, taking the blanket and covering yourself with it. You took the pillow and gently lifted Elijah's head, placing the pillow underneath him.

"Is he really dead?" You asked quietly, not looking at Stefan, staring at Elijah's face.

Stefan let out a long sigh, he hated seeing you like this, the sight of you curled up next to a corpse was not a normal one.

I'm not entirely sure," he knelt down, crossing his legs and he sat on the floor next to you. "but he isn't alive either, he's frozen, asleep,"

He reached out and touched your shoulder, turning you to look at him.

"Damon wants to keep him on ice, he doesn't trust Elijah and... neither do I," he tried to say it gently, wanting you to know the truth. "if you wake him up, he will kill us for what we've done... Elena tricked him... He will not be happy,"

"Maybe he will forgive us," you said, looking at him with hopeful eyes, "what if he can feel everything? He must be so scared and lonely,"

"Do you really think he can feel fear?" Stefan asked, raising an eyebrow. "My impression of him is that he isn't the type,"

"He has a big heart, under all that arrogance," you smiled softly, touching his face, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Kinda like someone we know,"

"You've got it bad," Stefan shook his head, a little bit in awe of your feelings. "I've never seen you like this, not with any other guy."

You looked over at him, his expression was a mix of worry and sadness.

"Do you hate me? For loving him?" You asked, a knot forming in your stomach.

"No, never," he said, pulling you into his arms. "I'm worried, and scared... But I could never hate you. Ever."

"I can convince him Stefan, I can get him on our side, I know I can," you said, feeling the tears come back.

"And if you can't?" He asked, rubbing your back.

"Then... Then... I don't know..." You said, a sob choking you, unable to speak.

Stefan hated himself for what he had to do next, but it was the only way he could think to keep everyone safe.

While you were still in his arms, he pulled out a syringe and jabbed it in your neck, pushing the liquid vervain in. It was a large dose and it took about three seconds before you passed out.

He caught you before you slumped to the ground, lifting your sleeping body and carrying you upstairs.

Damon and Elena were waiting anxiously, eager to hear that Stefan had been able to talk you down from freeing Elijah.

"Is she ok?" Elena moved forward, "Did she try anything?"

"She had a bit of a melt down," Stefan said honestly, he placed you on the couch, ensuring you were tucked in and comfortable.

"What can we do to make sure she doesn't help him?" Damon asked, leaning on the doorway, unable to come closer to you. The sight of you like this broke his heart. "she's been completely brainwashed by the guy,"

"She loves him Damon," Elena said softly, walking over to him, laying her hand on his arm.

"Don't say that," he groaned, covering his face. "That makes it worse. She has to get over it."

"I don't think it works that way," Elena said gently, squeezing his arm.

"We have to keep her away from him," Damon explained, his hands dropping, he was looking at Elena now. "It's too risky."

"That will be impossible," Stefan said, shaking his head, "she's more stubborn than you, she won't give up until she has her way."

"So what do we do?" Elena asked, glancing between them.

"The only way I can think of is to keep her sedated, until I find a way to kill him for good," Damon said, his tone matter-of-fact.

"No, Damon.. that's not right," Elena protested, looking to Stefan to back her up.

Stefan couldn't meet her gaze, instead he turned away, "We don't have any other options."

"So we are just going to knock her out? That's cruel!" Elena said, feeling very disappointed.

"Got any better ideas?" Damon snapped, kneeling down in front of you. He placed his hand on your forehead, "I can't let her wake him up, he will kill us all,"

Elena sighed, shaking her head.

"She will hate us for doing this," Stefan said, not liking the idea one bit, but it was the best they had.

"Yeah, well, I can handle that," Damon shrugged, and picked you up in his arms.

He carried you to your room, gently placing you on the bed, pulling the covers up over your body. He sat next to you, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"You'll understand, eventually," He said softly, stroking your hair, before standing up and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly.

You were trapped in some sort of nightmare, everything around you was completely dark. You couldn't even see your hand in front of your face. You had no idea where you were, what was up or what was down.

You were calling out for help, your voice echoing back to you, but no one else was there.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you, it was warm, familiar and safe. You were drawn to it and you reached out, trying to find the source of it.

You heard the sound of a man laughing, it was a wild, maniacal laugh.

You started running, your feet hitting the ground hard, you couldn't breathe, but you didn't stop. The laughter kept coming, getting louder and louder.

Then the sound of a woman screaming nearly knocked you off your feet, but you kept going until you ran into something solid.

It was the edge of a coffin, made of wood etched with an ornate symbol on the top, a crest of some sort. Your fingers traced over it, feeling the deep grooves. It was the letter 'M', carved into a shield.

Finally, your hands found the lid, and you pushed, straining to open it. What was inside was three rings of fire, you could feel the heat on your face, the smoke making it hard to breathe.

The rings were getting closer, or you were falling into them, you couldn't tell. The screams became deafening. You were overwhelmed with intense anxiety, unable to move as you stared into the flames.

Then everything stopped.

And you woke up.

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}

[biolumien]

If you write for narumi from Kaiju No8 could you do him and reader gaming just some sweet fluffy evening

notes: thank you for your request! this is my first time writing gen properly, so i hope it's okay... it's a bit on the shorter side.

gaming night

gen narumi x gn!reader i used this as an excuse to talk about elden ring wc: 519

on your off nights, you were lucky to spend time with gen when he gamed. for all the mess in his room, he kept his gaming setup spick and span and very tidy, with RGB lighting that was less tacky and cooler in shades of blues and purples surrounding a very nice LED screen TV with the latest gaming trappings. gen looked more like a burrito than a human, wrapped in his hoodie. 

“what do you want to play tonight?” you ask gen, who was currently sprawled back on his couch, flicking through games on his ps5. 

“umm…” gen blinks hard, pushing his bangs up to observe the screen. “i was thinking like… a bit of elden ring, i think. i wanna beat malenia. it was… not great. last night.”

“i remember.” you frown ominously, remembering the fact that he’d nearly used his future-seeing eyes just to read her attacks. he lamented the fact that his reaction time still wasn’t fast enough to clear the final boss–despite the fact he could read the movements of infinitely deadlier kaiju.

(“i’m convinced miyazaki made her to fucking haunt me,” he complained, and you’d laughed–only for him to stay up till 5 AM trying to figure out how to beat her, until his combos and dodges became so sloppy that he’d die within the first few seconds of fighting her.)  “you sure you can beat her this time?” 

“i don’t need a hater who doesn’t believe in me,” gen says. “i don’t care if you don’t think i can’t beat her–i’m gonna.” he pouts in that telltale way where you can tell he cares maybe a little too much. you laugh, sitting down next to him, dramatically cuddling him, and pressing your cheek to his. his skin feels a bit clammy, but you’re used to it from him. you’ve always teased him about how cold he gets when he plays video games–and he’s defensively always retorted.

“oh, i’m sorry gen,” you say dramatically. “you’re the best gamer ever, and i bet you’ll beat elden ring this time–maybe you’ll even beat unalloyed malenia–”

“now that’s pushing it.” gen’s pink eyes stare at you for a moment, curving upwards with a small smile. he kisses your cheek, reaching out his hand to pull you closer. “i’m not a dog. i don’t need your praise to beat her.”

he says it, but he seems more spirited than before, and he starts up the game.

you cuddle yourself close to his side, content to just watch.

“you know her lore, right?” gen asks, peeking at you in his periphery as his character rolls into the boss chamber.

“yeah,” you say. “because you keep telling me.”

“well, because elden ring’s a good fucking game,” gen retorts.

“i know,” you reply.

“mm.” you adore the way gen has something approaching a triumphant little smile on his face, the way it opens up and lightens his face. 

(he doesn’t beat malenia that night either, but he doesn’t get to sulk for long, because you end up kissing him again, and he seems to relax, leaning hungrily into your touch.) 

[crabberman]

Espresso (Atsumu x Reader)

“Now he’s thinking ‘bout me every night oh isn’t that sweet? I guess so.”

Atsumu had a problem. He groans and rolls over in his bed, glancing at the clock by his head. 3:02 it reads, causing Atsumu to groan again. His mind hadn’t stopped racing all day. The mind once so filled with volleyball now had another thing taking up space; you, Atsumu’s classmate. He throws an arm over his face, moving around in his bed again and earning a shout from his twin.

“Stop movin’ asshole, I’m tryin’ ta sleep” Osamu grumbles and kicks at the mattress above his head. He’s had to listen to Atsumu’s whining for hours now. Finally fed up, he begrudgingly asks Atsumu why he's been like this. “I’m tired of listenin' yer bitchin’, the fucks wrong?”

Atsumu groans once more, sitting up in his bed. “Ya know y/n from my class?”

“Yeah, what about em?”

“I can’t stop thinking about em.” Atsumu mumbles out, earning a laugh below from Osamu. 

“The oh so great Atsumu, humbled by some guy from his class.” Osamu snickers. "Thought you didn't care 'bout what people thought?" Atsumu huffs at the teasing remarks and throws a pillow underneath himself at his twin who manages to dodge it. “Fuck off, why don’y you text em or somethin’” Osamu tosses the pillow back up, hitting Atsumu.

Atsumu stops for a moment before reaching towards the window sill for his phone. He turns it on and searches through his messages until he finds who he was looking for. He takes a deep breath in before clicking on your contact typing out a message. He passes the phone to Osamu on the bottom bunk before he sends it. “This good enough?” His voice has an out of character uncertainty to it. 

Osamu grumbles and grabs the phone, reading the unsent message out loud. “Hey you up?” He rolls his eyes. “Are ya fuckin' serious Tsumu? Ya sound like some playboy” Osamu continues his scolding as he types out a new message, passing the phone back up to Atsumu. “There. That sounds a little better and like you wrote it.” Atsumu flips his brother off before he reads the new message. His eyes lit up and he immediately pressed ‘send’. “Thanks Samu! I owe ya!” Atsumu’s unease seems to have dissipated.

“I know yer not gonna repay me.” Osamu rolls over in his bed, pulling his blankets up. “Now be quiet, some people don’t wanna be tired an' hear ‘bout it from the captain.” With that Osamu pushes his pillow to cover his ears, getting a head start on blocking Atsumu out for the rest of the night.

Atsumu stays put, watching his phone desperately. He feels almost stupid, he’s never once cared about what another person thought about him, so what does he care now? As soon as these thoughts enter Atsumu’s mind he sees the three dots appear at the bottom of his screen. You were texting back. He watches excitedly as the message pops up, almost stealing his breath away.

Atsumu: Hey I can't sleep. If you’re awake do you wanna ft? You: Sure :) 

Atsumu feels a wide grin take over his face as he hearts your message. He feels giddy on the inside. Maybe caring about what this one person thought wasn’t so bad.

[suosgirl]

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 2644

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), blood, broken bones, harassment, misunderstandings, violence, fighting, grief, loss of a loved one, swearing, ptsd – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Hi! Ah – my first work! Ever since watching and reading Wind Breaker, I can’t stop imagining the idea of them running to stop a fight – only to find out it’s a strong, tough girl who’s ready for all the smoke (incredibly self-indulgent, as you can see). I plan to create 4 parts to this, so this is currently in the works!

Were you … okay with getting beat up by this gang? You considered it — genuinely. Perhaps, to love is to feel pain? For every punch they get in, you could take that chance to stare into their eyes. Every throw could be interpreted as a passionate hug. Every kick an extreme game of footsie.

“Looks like even pretty girls like you need to be taught a lesson,” his gruff voice spits out. He does his best to look intimidating, but all it garners from you is a low chuckle and a roll of your eyes. You throw your hair in a bun – tight and secure, before gently removing your jewelry.

You can feel the worried eyes of onlookers staring straight at you as you drop your bag on the ground - the soft thud causing the tension in the air to thicken. Pushing the sleeves of your sweater up to your bicep, you assess his frame. He’s 5’5, which would be useful for him if he knew how to use that to his advantage – but you highly doubted that his mind was as calculating as yours.

Although he seemed to have a good idea of how to position himself for a fight, you could see the uneasiness behind his actions. He kept glancing down at his hands as if deciding whether or not they were placed correctly. His legs were subtly swaying as he tried to ground his weight. It was clear – he was an amateur.

“I’d really love to see you try,” you say, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face – if this wasn’t an invitation, you don’t know what is. 

And you were hoping that he would take you up on that offer.

You’d been trailing him since you caught him trying to take an up-skirt photo of you a couple of stores down the street. Idiot, you thought bitterly, the safety shorts underneath proved to have been a smart choice when you dressed for the day. But… the fact that you had to even prepare for situations like this by dressing “appropriately” made the annoyance you felt bloom into anger. 

When you noticed his actions, you immediately grabbed his wrist in a tight hold – your manicured nails digging into the soft skin. 

Although the store wasn’t packed, you didn’t want to bring attention to the situation. This wasn’t your first time experiencing a degenerate like this, and you weren’t sure if it would even garner a response from anyone around you.

You were used to dealing with this on your own. This time would be no different.

“I was just in here to buy some pens -you perv,” you muttered as your eyes flashed dangerously into his. You could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

Pathetic. Did he really think you wouldn’t notice his constant presence behind your back, or the fact that the brightness of his screen allowed for a clear view of the camera app he was on?

As a result of your grip, he had dropped his phone. You grabbed it before standing up, making sure to scan his camera roll for any other indecent pictures and permanently deleting them before shoving it back into his chest - a firm grip still holding him close to you. 

You pulled him even closer, forcing him to bend down a bit so that you could speak in his ear.

“Cut that shit out,” you said softly, but the warning was still there. The grip on his wrist was tightened even more - and you were sure that if you were to look down, you’d see small spots of red forming underneath your nails. 

Once released, he simply scoffed as if you had inconvenienced him, and stormed out of the store. 

You had thought that was the end of it and continued on with your shopping. But, as you made your way down the street, you saw him in another store doing the same thing to another unsuspecting victim. 

Sighing, you waited until he left the store to confront him - but he was fast and efficient as he weaved his way through the foot traffic on the street. 

Eventually, you were able to catch up to him - with a firm kick to the back of his knees.

That all leads to the present — you’re surprised by how quickly the once bustling street has cleared out. But, you notice warily that you’re not alone. The people of the town are watching you, and you’re not sure why.

You can faintly hear the whisper of someone on the phone, and you’re just able to make out “…come here now…” before the street falls silent. 

“I’d better get started before those Bofurin punks get over here,” the man sneers, and you cock your head to the side in confusion. 

You knew that moving to a new town would require some adjustment, but it was your first time hearing the name — Bofurin. Were they another gang? You’d heard about the rumors of the violence that occurred in the town of Makochi and their dislike for outsiders, so you were always careful to keep your head down and your responses to a minimum when you were outside of your apartment.

“Bo-who?” you try to ask, but the man has already started charging towards you, his right arm raised above his head and his hand in a tight fist.

You take in his fast approach and easily sidestep him. 

“Oh… you’ve never been in a fight, have you?” you taunt, faux concern on your face as he stumbles to a stop and whips back around to face you in confusion.

“Lucky break,” he huffs out, spitting on the ground next to him before raising his fists again.

You nod in agreement, though your eyes tell a different story. They’re narrowed and icy, observing every little move he makes. 

“You’re probably right… why don’t you try again?”

That gets a reaction out of him - he charges again, somehow even faster than before, but this time you race to meet him halfway. He goes to punch for your head, but you’re faster — immediately ducking under his arm and instead getting a good hold underneath his armpit and shoulder as you swing your body onto his back. You use the momentum of your run to raise your legs up and around his neck, crossing them at the ankles behind his head.

He stumbles under the sudden weight and desperately tries to grab at your back to get you off. 

Lucky break my ass, you think bitterly.

With your legs tight around his neck, you let go of the grip in your hands, bracing your core and swinging yourself around again before ultimately using that same momentum to flip him over and throw him to the ground on his back.

You’re not dumb — this definitely won’t be enough to render him unconscious. But, with so many witnesses, you’re afraid to do any serious damage. You didn’t want to get driven out of another town again because of your violent streak, and while it was simple to fight one-on-one with a weak opponent, you weren’t keen on pushing your luck with a whole gang. 

So, ultimately, you decide that this is a good enough scare for the poor guy — because you were capable of doing so much worse. You leisurely walk up to his gasping form, all the air in his lungs effectively pushed out when he landed flat on his back.

Looking down, you can see the fear in his eyes and the pain on his face. You note the way his body tenses and the way his fingers shake once you crouch down closer to him — as if he was willing for his body to move but simply didn’t have the strength to do so. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” you ask — but this time you drop the facade. No smiles, no taunting — your question is direct and your face is devoid of emotion. 

You were giving him an out — any fool could see that. But this guy just simply couldn’t take the blow to his ego, and you felt exasperated when he answered with, “What lesson, bitch?”

Figures.

You tutted your tongue as you stood up. Fine, to hell with the people and the town and the Bofurin gang. You could move towns — you’d done it once, you could do it again. But this guy — he needed a rude awakening and you were more than happy to serve it to him on a silver platter. It’s what your brother would’ve done anyway– that thought reassures you.

“I see,” you sneer, “In that case, I’d love to do a crash course with you, motherfuc-“

“Oi — what’s going on here?”

Damnit. You were really looking forward to beating this guy down — but now you have to admit defeat and retreat because no way are you taking on a whole gang by yourself. 

“Do you … need some help?” the voice presses on, and you feel your body heat up at the mere question.

No way – did this guy have backup? Perverts stick together, you suppose.

When you turn to face the unknown voice, you’re surprised it’s only a group of 5 guys. 

Right away, you note that this group couldn’t possibly be with the man currently gasping by your feet – if the way he’s trying to inch away is anything to go by.

Still … you warily take in their appearance and note the matching uniforms that they have on. Do gangs in Makochi wear uniforms? Is that, like — a thing? Also — why are they so … good looking?

For a split second, your brain fizzles out. You are, after all, just a girl.

Were you … okay with getting beat up by this gang? You considered it — genuinely. Perhaps, to love is to feel pain? For every punch they get in, you could take that chance to stare into their eyes. Every throw could be interpreted as a passionate hug. Every kick an extreme game of footsie.

You size them up again, this time not as threats but instead as potential love interests. 

They’re all fairly taller than you — perfect. 

Muscular and strong? Seemingly so.

Great personalities? Um.

You would have to put a pin on that one.

Your eyes are immediately drawn first to the one with pink hair and a brightly patterned shirt. The piercings on his face make you blush – they look so good on him that it quite literally takes your breath away. The way his hair is clipped back makes you wonder what other hairstyles he’s capable of doing – and, as an afterthought, you wonder if his hair smells as good as he looks.

The next one is tall, with his orange hair secured by a white fabric headband. You note his wrist wraps and the kneepad on his leg, as well as the slippers he has on. What kind of fighting does this guy do? His face, though, strikes you as good-natured – and now you’re confused because what is a guy like this doing in a gang? 

You breeze over this minor question and move on to the next. This guy — whoa. Black and white hair split down the middle, with heterochromia eyes. This guy is so cool. But his face is all — pink? Maybe it’s a skin condition? And he’s in a gang too? You begin to worry about his health – unaware of the exasperated looks he’s throwing at you.

He says something to you. Was this the guy who spoke up earlier? You’re way too deep in your thoughts to register anything he said. You do notice, however, that his eyes are still on yours. 

Is it — is it you? Is there something on your face? For a split second, you worry about your complexion — completely forgetting the fact that you have the body of a wheezing man laid out on the ground next to you.

Slightly behind him, you notice a guy with blonde hair and worried eyes. Like a golden retriever — cute. Weird though, this one seems more frantic than the others. Maybe he’s just joined their gang? You ponder on this as your eyes flit to the next person in line and — 

Oh. Oh.

Who is he? One eye is covered by an eye patch — the visible one, though, is warm brown in color and painted with curiosity. Your gaze follows down his long tassel earrings to his calm smile, and you’re pretty sure that your eyes have glazed over.

The lights are on but nobody’s home.

Him — I want to be pummeled by him. 

“What’s your problem? Hello? Helloooo?”

“Maybe she’s not talking … on purpose? Is it a strategy?”

“... I don’t think that’s it, Nire-kun.”

The cherry blossoms surrounding your vision and the romantic tune playing in the back of your mind come to a screeching stop. 

Monologue = stopped. 

Dreams = shattered. 

You flush at the realization that you’d probably been staring at them for a good minute or two — in complete silence. If the ground were to swallow you up at that moment, you’d gladly let it happen. No way in a thousand years did you ever think that you’d stop mid-fight to daydream about your opponents. 

You can almost feel the flick against your forehead that your brother undoubtedly would’ve done – along with his nagging about not being focused and present during a fight.

God, what is this town doing to you?

You blink your eyes back into focus and your lips part as you draw in a quick breath to quip back, ”I’m BUSY right now — I can’t FIGHT you until I educate this guy firs-“

“BEHIND YOU, HE-,“ the blonde one yells out frantically, finger-pointing at the shadow that just breached your peripheral vision.

Damn.

You’re immediately pulled into a chokehold, one of his arms wrapped tight around your neck, and the other holding your head in place. 

From the close proximity, the man is just barely able to hear you muttering under your breath.

“What was that darling? You askin' for forgiveness?” he laughs out, his hold tightening even more and his spit hitting the back of your ear.

You can see that the Bo-something guys are moving towards you, but that infuriates you. How dare they join forces with this pervert to attack one single girl? No way were you letting that happen — not on your life. 

You would rather die than let a man get the satisfaction of beating you. 

You reach your arms up, locking your fingers behind his neck. Just for shits and giggles, you dig your nails hard into the soft skin, leaving red-dotted crescent marks in your wake.

“I said I wasn’t done TALKING!” you yell, before swinging your legs up and bringing them down fast to plant your feet square on the ground. The momentum causes him to stumble and loosen his grip around your neck and head, and with the strength in your thighs and your arms and good ol’ gravity, you flip him again.

He lands flat on his back once more, and you take that chance to finish him off — by slamming your foot down onto his hand. The same hand that started this whole ordeal. The hand that, at that moment, you decided would serve as his lifetime reminder of the consequences of his actions. 

You hear his yowls of pain before you feel the give in his wrist. 27 bones are in the human hand — you had to have broken at least one. You release your foot, and he immediately curls into a fetal position — his hand limp and hanging from his wrist as he cradles it into his chest.

Correction — you definitely broke more than one.

You glance up and see that all 5 guys have stopped in their tracks, varying levels of shock displayed on their faces.

No more games and no more daydreaming – it was time to get serious.

You drop into a fighting stance, your arms raised and your hands in fists. You crack your neck and roll back your shoulders, a dangerous smile on your lips.

“Who’s next?”

[toutvatoujoursbien]

midnight thoughts (i hope i don't regret this)

Let me preface this by saying that these are just (very, very long) ramblings I’ve had in my head over the past few days and are MY opinions. I never post to Tumblr, but my level of emotional unhinged-ness right now needs an outlet so that I can process everything and feel, well, less unhinged.

I have never been this enamored with any celebrity or promo for a show like I have for this season of Bridgerton. Admittedly, I am a fan of the books and Penelope & Colin are my favorite couple. I’m going to age myself by saying that I read the series almost 20-ish years ago; past me could have never imagined I would actually get to see a Regency romance on my screen. Romances are for the girlies, and what the girlies like tends to be mocked, ridiculed, and not taken seriously - I’ve seen this time and time again across many different fandoms. I also really enjoy the tv series for being its own creative adaptation. I’ve liked many (though not all) of the changes they’ve made to the show; and I’ve liked all the little nods to the books that have been sprinkled in. Are the books or show perfect? Of course not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love them for bringing me some entertainment and joy and escapism. I think that’s the beauty of it, I get to have the best of both worlds, so to speak. And for me personally, it’s been so fun to watch the press coverage over the past six or so months. As a fandom, I think we’ve been EXTREMELY well fed. 

Having Nicola and Luke as the leads has been a true blessing; I think/hope folks can tell how much they clearly love and understand their characters/roles. I know everyone has been talking nonstop about their chemistry and their close friendship, which I think is beautiful, truly unique and special. How can you not enjoy watching two people, who seem to genuinely like one other, talk endlessly about a project that they love and have poured so much into? And the way they have supported one another, not only during promo, but during their years of friendship? Astonishing, really. So while I am old enough to know better than to ship real people, I would’t blame anyone (myself included) if they got caught up in the whirlwind excitement and couldn’t help but wonder a sincere “What if?” (At least that was the case for me.) Isn’t that the beauty of hope and possibility and potential? Like, I knew rationally and intellectually that the likelihood of them being together was low, but damn if I didn’t feel giddy seeing their interviews, reading articles, and watching video after video.

“Oh, but it’s all PR!” they cry. Maybe, but like most of life, I don’t think it’s so simple or clear. I think there’s been a lot of nuance and perhaps some blurring of the lines during this promo tour. As long as we are respectful about it and realize that at the end of the day, the only opinions that matter in regards to their relationship are N & L’s, I don’t think some lighthearted dreaming is unheard of. We have to remember, though, that what we’re shown is only a fraction of their true selves, carefully and deliberately curated to accommodate their status as actors/celebrities/those in the public eye. 

(And yes, I know this is the internet and therefore everyone has an opinion - again, myself included. But I struggle to understand why some people think that their opinions should be deemed THE most important to the discussion or would have an impact on any type of outcome, especially in this particular scenario… I hope it’s obvious I’m referring to the very vocal people that chose to expend their energy in hateful, negative ways. Aren’t you exhausted?

However, as a longtime lurker, I have to admit it’s been absolutely fascinating reading all the different perspectives and takes on this too. I think reading other POVs and seeing people articulate points that challenge me and make me think is a good thing - again, as long as it’s all in a respectful manner. 

Also I have spent literal years curating and cultivating a social media bubble that doesn’t make me want to cry or give up on life. I don’t seek out negativity and hate - constructive criticism for a thing is a different matter. It may be “putting blinders up,” but honestly, real life can be a shitty enough place that I would like to spend my limited time online looking at cute things and learning or reading about stuff that makes me feel less alone in the world.)

Last week, I stayed off social media to avoid Bridgerton spoilers until I could watch Part 2. I did open Twitter on Thursday to check on something that was entirely unrelated, saw the absolute meltdown of a shitstorm brewing and quickly NOPED out of it. (I was also reminded of why Twitter scares me at times. And I'm not calling it X because that is stupid.) When I finally caught up over the weekend (both with Bridgerton and… all the other stuff 😅), I felt like I was experiencing mental and emotional whiplash.

Look, ultimately, I don’t know them personally and know even less about their private lives. As an outside observer (even though, yes, I have a vested interest in them), Nicola is fucking amazing and Luke seems to be a nice, sweet guy. I think they are each others support, and it has been mentioned many times that she has helped him deal with the intensity/anxiety of being in the spotlight this season. So here are some potentially hot takes: I just think, when they’re together, it’s like he’s a different, better person. When he soaks up even a little bit of her light (sorry, I had to), I can see all the qualities in him that she is constantly gushing about. But, and again this is my take on it, I also think he has a lot of growing up to do. I don’t know much about his supposed “hot/fuck boy summer,” but it seems to me that he’s perhaps going through his own Colin phase, which he can totally do. I genuinely want to see him and Nic succeed. However, I do think he’s got to get a better handling on his media image now (this whole thing reeks of a PR nightmare, but I need to take off my comms professional hat). The way this has all played out has been, imo, a clusterfuck. There are other issues that I’m also not going to get into at the moment. 

The thing that frustrated me the most is the timing of those “leaked” photos. You’re telling me that N&L went through SIX months of a - literal - worldwide promo tour, building up hype, doing countless interviews and appearances, etc., only to have these pap pictures “captured” on the night of the Pt. 2 London premiere??? And yes, while I’m aware there were rumblings of a gf being at various events/locations, I didn’t pay much attention to it (read: my curated social media bubble, lol). And I think the lack of confirmation up to that point from Luke and his team just mades things even more tricky/messy. So when the inevitable backlash played out online, piled on top of the hate Polin seems to get from many corners of the internet (Is it ship wars? Regular trolls just trolling? Polin and/or Lukola antis? People who, for whatever reason, don’t like the actors themselves or, worse, don’t like the creative choices/decisions made by the higher-ups and therefore deem it okay to spread hate online? All of the above, most likely.), I know I felt like I had been hit by a train.

Here’s my point: I think what should have been a moment of triumph and a joyous occasion for Nic, Luke, and Bridgerton season 3, was sadly overshadowed by the aforementioned shitstorm. And that’s a damn shame. Too many cast and crew put in a lot of time, effort, and blood sweat and tears, to pull this all together. I was happy with Season 3, which perhaps I will deep dive about in another post because this one has already spiraled out of control. Were there things I wished they had included or, rather, things that could have been left out? Yes, of course. But at the end of the day, I think we got a beautiful story led by two actors who love Polin as much as we do. And I cannot wait to see them back for Season 4. Plus, seriously, those viewing numbers alone should have been mostly what people are talking about. I hope all this doesn’t take away from the overall impact of the show and season.

I think it’s okay to be disappointed by all the stuff that has come out over the last few days. I think it’s perfectly human to want/need to process your thoughts and emotions. What is NOT OKAY is sending hate to anyone, period. And I hope you don’t let all that has happened sour your enjoyment of Season 3 and/or Polin.

Lastly, if you take anything away from this long ass post, it’s that Nicola is a GODDAMN QUEEN. Anyone who says otherwise is speaking slander and we do not stand for that in this house. She has carried herself during this time with grace, charm, and poise, consistently and constantly. And she is always ready for a mega fashion moment. She must be exhausted - already on to her next film/job but also perpetually online, and even stepping up to defend her costar. I may have to do a whole separate post just gushing about her and add to all the people already singing her praises. (And as a big fuck you to all the haters.)

Geez Louise, I clearly have a lot of feelings (more than I allowed myself to believe I did…). But I would love to hear what others think! Please, I need friends with whom I can have rational (okay, maybe slightly unhinged), spirited, deep analyses and discussion of this whole thing, or anything else we might have in common!

[dinodaweeb]

Deadly Indifference | one-shot

Deadpool X M!Reader

tw: swearing, mentions of sew a slide thoughts (from both tbh)

Summary: Deadpool wants you to show emotion. (And bugs the crap out of you.)

You sat tied to a chair, remarkably composed despite the circumstances. It’s been your third time getting kidnapped this week and it’s only Tuesday. The man who kidnapped you must’ve died already because a man in red and black walked through the door. He mimed the motion of up and down that you felt too familiar to notice.

“Hey there, buddy,” Deadpool chimed cheerfully, pacing around you. The ropes that tied your wrists to the chair felt surprisingly loose.“You know, most people would be sweating their balls off right about now. But, you’re just chillin’. I like that.”

You glanced up at him with a mild shrug, a gesture that only seemed to fuel Deadpool’s curiosity.

He’s a chatterbox.

“I gotta admit,” Deadpool continued, leaning in close with an exaggerated whisper, his mouth touching your ear. “I’m kinda into this whole ‘I don’t give a crap if Deadpool kills me’ vibe you’ve got going on. It’s refreshing. It’s… kinda hot.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression betraying a hint of amusement. What is he even saying?

“Are we gonna do this or what?” you asked, your voice flat.

Deadpool stepped back, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Wow, straight to the point! I like it. No foreplay, just bam, let’s get this show on the road. Alright, let’s see if I can make you squeal.”

“Good luck with that,” you replied dryly.

“Okay, tough guy,” Deadpool muttered, starting to circle you with exaggerated steps. “You know, most people are all ‘Oh no, Deadpool, please don’t hurt me! I have a family!’” He gave a side eye (somehow?) through the mask. Or they’ll say ‘No, I haven’t closed my tabs and my web browser history isn’t deleted!’ But you, you’re just sitting there like you’re waiting for your Uber Eats.”

“I did order some food before I got kidnapped,” you replied. “It might be waiting outside.”

Deadpool paused, tilting his head. “What did you get?”

“Chimichangas,” you said with a faint hunger in your eyes.

Deadpool’s eyes widened behind his mask. “You’re serious?”

“Yep. Thought I’d try them out.”

Deadpool’s posture relaxed, and he leaned against the back of your chair. Putting his arm on top of your head like you’ve been childhood best friends. “You know, I like you. You’ve got style. Most people don’t appreciate a good chimichanga.”

He said, as if he wasn’t trying to kill you two minutes prior.

“Are we going somewhere with this?” you asked, your tone still indifferent. You brought this question up a second time. Was he still trying to kill you?

“Right, right, getting sidetracked,” Deadpool said, snapping back to the task at hand. “So, here’s the deal: I’m gonna try and scare the crap out of you, and you’re gonna react like a normal human being. Got it?”

“Sure,” you agreed, not sounding convinced.

“Alright!” Deadpool clapped his hands together. “Let’s start with something simple. How about… I cut off a finger?”

You held up your hand, which was still loosely tied. “You gonna untie me first, or do I do it myself?”

Deadpool rolled his eyes. “You’re really killing the vibe here, you know that?”

You shrugged again. “Look, man, it’s been a long week. Just get on with it.”

Deadpool sighed dramatically. “Okay, okay. Plan B.” He suddenly leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “We are going to start an only fans.”

You looked at him, deadpan. “Seriously? No one is going to pay for that shit.”

“Hey, people totally dig the whole “I got kidnapped by a hot anti-hero and now I’m slowly falling for them.” Deadpool retorted, pointing at the screen, hoping whoever reading this did not have a watt pad phase.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered.

“You’re right,” Deadpool said, standing up straight and tossing the a coin aside. “You know what? You’re impossible to scare. So, I’m gonna make you wish you’d never crossed paths with me.”

Without warning, he drew one of his katanas and sliced a shallow cut across your cheek. The cold steel was sharp, precise, and for the first time, you felt a sting of pain.

The burn of cut flesh.

“Finally,” you muttered, almost relieved.

Deadpool noticed the change in your eyes—the hint of happiness, the glimmer of anticipation. He smirked under his mask, raising the blade as if to deliver the final blow.

You closed your eyes, ready to embrace the end. But then, nothing.

You opened your eyes to find Deadpool standing there, the blade poised but unmoving. He tilted his head, studying your reaction.

“Aw, were you actually looking forward to that?” Deadpool asked, his tone mockingly sweet.

Your expression darkened, and anger flared in your eyes. “You…”

Deadpool sheathed his katana, chuckling. “Gotcha. ❤︎ Think I’m going to let you die? Nah, you’re my new piss boy!”

“You are such an ass,” you snapped, genuinely pissed off now.

Deadpool laughed heartily, clearly enjoying your frustration. “Finally! A reaction! See? I knew you had it in you.”

He ruffled your disheveled hair. “Who’s a good boy?”

You glared at him, what a loser. “Actually fucking kill yourself.”

“Not today,” Deadpool said, still chuckling. He untied your ropes with a flourish. “Let’s go get those chimichangas.”

As the two of you headed out of the warehouse, you couldn’t help but shake your head at the absurdity of it all. Were you getting kidnapped again? Did it count if you voluntarily? Would Deadpool ever shut up and just kill you?

“So,” Deadpool said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “How’s your spice tolerance?”

“Depends,” you replied. “Are you paying?”

“You wish.” Deadpool chuckled.

Bitch.

a/n: Lowkey kinda cringed. But eh. Can’t wait for the deadpool and wolverine movie to come out so I can write for the two of them. (making out) feel free to request :)

[aeriaeri]

→ (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) sore loser !! , cg!haechan x little!reader ıllı ✧ nsfw dni , this exact instance happened to me and was like why not.. write it. so i did! can be read as platonic!cg or otherwise, use of a pet names (angel + baby) tag : @swee7dream

you'd never admit it, but you tend to rage a lot when playing competitive games.

whether you're chucking the game controller onto your bed (before worriedly running over to it to make sure you didn't break it), slamming your fists onto the keyboard in front of you, or yelling at the screen in front of you, loudly claiming that the enemy team is cheating, your rage passes as sudden as it came. until it comes back once more.

now when you're regressed, obviously the frustrations are a bit harder to handle. which is why you're not allowed on the pc or xbox alone when little.

however, haechan can't stop you if he's not home, can he?

now he'll surely find out when he does get home to see you on his console, with an empty bag of animal crackers next to you, and you're kicking your feet while mumbling angrily. haechan stands next to the tv with his arms on his hips, peering up at you over his glasses with a "really?" look.

"couldn't wait for me to get home, hm?"

you let out a huff, "got bored, channie.", while mashing buttons, you learn in further as if that'd help you win the game. he rolls his eyes and amusedly watches you play. and inevitably lose.

"channie, they cheated." you whine, hitting the controller on your leg. haechan takes it out of your hand before brushing invisible dust off of it. "of course they did angel. they had to cheat if they wanted to beat you, 'cause you're so good." he chuckles as he rubs your back.

he knows he probably shouldn't feed into your already inflated ego, but he can't help but love the look of pride on your face.

"hey baby, how about you go grab another controller from my room. i'll play with you, yeah?" haechan squishes your cheek before you excitedly run off.

of course he went easy on you and let you win, because he knows how it'd end if he didn't.

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT :/ things have been hectic and i rewrote this SO MANY TIMES i just cant make myself happy w it 😭 i just wanted this out of my drafts already... hope it feeds u guys until i get some longer stuff done! (to the anon who requested aespa, i got u :3)

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 6 part 2/2

Masterpost

‘Ouch,’ Tim thought gleefully as Bruce got his constipated expression. Damian was definitely pretending he thought it was admirable to frighten hapless Justice League niceguys. Damian knew better now. Damian even liked Jon Kent, who was basically like a tiny Captain Marvel.

Bruce really should know that. Tim could see the calculations whirring in his mind, weighing the odds of Damian being genuine.

He knew that Damian was a lot better now. That Damian had promised not to stab anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. That Damian had made friends and was less hostile to outsiders.

Bruce wasn’t confident enough that Damian knew better. He gave in. “I will be careful with my tone around him,” Bruce said sullenly. He stabbed at his breakfast.

‘You just got played by a ten year old.’

“Thank you Daddy,” Cass chirped.

Ah well, that’s it then. Game, set, and match. Bruce lifted his face enough to aim his watery i love my kids eyes at her.

Tim left the table without comment. He quietly thanked Alfred on his way out and gave a nod to Cass. Bruce was still glaring at his eggs. He’d be at it for a while, churning through the current state of his children’s social development and the relative healthiness of his personal relationships with Justice League coworkers.

‘I wonder why Cass cares about Marvel,’ Tim wondered idly. He didn’t have the slightest hint of doubt in her assertion. If Cass said that Bruce was too harsh for Marvel, then it was true. Marvel must be sensitive. But that didn’t mean Cass would interfere to protect a grown man from her dad’s growly temper. Maybe she had a crush? Marvel was pretty good-looking, if you were sick enough to be into hunky men with perfect teeth who were never rude to anyone and appeared to have no dark past. Sort of like crushing on that one cartoon surfer in the juice ads…

It was a minor puzzle piece that Tim tucked away for another time. 

He hung out in his room until it was time to get ready. Then Tim jogged down the stairs to the Batcave, humming under his breath.

Jason of all the people was already there, scowling at the screen. 

“Why are you up?” Tim asked. Didn’t he usually, sleep off half the day after a long patrol? Jason had been on the long shift last night.

Tim got a massively shitty expression from Jason  in return. “Patrol ended hours ago, dipstick. I’ve already slept.”

‘Those under eye circles say otherwise,’ Tim thought judgmentally. But he just shrugged. “Fair enough.” He breezed past to open up his equipment locker. 

“What are you doing?” Jason spun his chair around to watch. “Are you meeting Cass?”

Tim blinked. “No?” He unhooked his undersuit and pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He went to toss it in and then thought better of it. Tim conscientiously folded it so that there were no asshole comments from the peanut gallery. “Why do you ask?”

Jason thumbed at the cameras. “Because she’s leaving. Just got her green jacket from the living room.” He jutted his lower lip out. “I don’t know of anything on her schedule today.”

Huh. Tim stopped mid-motion. “There wasn’t anything on the master calendar,” he said slowly. He gave Jason a sideways look. “What are the odds of you following her?”

Jason looked tempted. “She’ll be mad if she notices me.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. It was just the truth. “But she’ll know you’re doing it because you’re worried about it, so she can’t get too mad. She got electrocuted yesterday. I’m not really sure she should be out unsupervised.”

Jason’s whole face twitched. “Yeah.”

‘Ah,’ Tim realized. ‘He already read her report. That’s probably why he came in.’

“You’re going to Amity.” Jason said it like it was an order, not a question. Tim nodded anyway and shucked his sweatpants. He started pulling on the sweat-wicking undersuit. “Yeah, alright.” Jason stood up with a scrape of the chair. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You’re the best there’s ever been,” Tim lied earnestly. “I really appreciate it. I know that everyone else would say-”

“You’re a dick,” Jason said, and left the batcave quickly before Tim could say anything else nice to him.

Tim felt a lot better about leaving Gotham after that conversation. Jason was a huge angry clucking mother hen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Cass. And Tim could be useful at the source of the problem without his attention split in worrying.

He clicked on his comms and switched to the YJ frequency. “Red Robin is on.”

The line clicked. “Wondergirl is here,” Cassie said happily. “You’re welcome, peons. I’m in the air already.”

“We’ll owe you forever, princess,” Kon snarked. “When can we kiss your boots?”

“You can kiss my a-”

“No chatter on the comms.” Tim typed up the mission start and sent it to the right file, marking that he was taking the jet. “I’ll see you in Amity.”

[samandcolbyownme]

Hey can you make a sam golbach smut and him being REALLY DOMINANT LIKE REALLY ROUGH please

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, dominant!Sam, sub!reader, teasing, flirting, sexting, pet names (cute and dirty - slut, whore, daddy), unprotected sex, fingering in public, rough actions, creampie, choking, hair pulling, oral (both rec), slight anal play, just filth in general,

Word count: Little over 3k | unedited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

As you’re sitting at this celebration dinner for your boyfriend and his friend, you can’t help but notice that to everyone here, Sam was a golden boy.

He had his life cut out for him, not to mention that he built it himself. He was a total sweetheart, a smart and funny kid who had a smile that just lit up every single room he walked into.

You found it funny that everyone has no idea that you see him as a freak who likes to be called daddy while he has his cock buried deep inside of you.

They had no idea what kind of filthy shit rolls off of his tongue while you’re working his cock to fit snugly in your throat.

They had no clue about the nasty texts and pictures sitting in your text thread with Sam.

You feel your phone vibrate in your lap and you can feel Sam’s stare on you, which gives it up right away on why your phone vibrated.

You look down, reading Sam’s texts on your Lock Screen, You looked so good on top of me last night, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.

You glance around before tapping on it to reply, You know what I can’t stop thinking about? How good our clothes would look on either one of our floors.

You hit send, knowing that no matter how cliche it is, it’ll still get Sam going because you’re the one saying it to him.

You get pulled into conversation with the girls sitting next to you. Sharing glances with Sam every now and then, until you feel your phone go off. You can feel your heart skip a beat as you lay your hand over it.

You finally get a chance to look down and you squeeze your thighs together at Sam’s words on the screen, You look so innocent sitting here in your little black dress, and I know for damn sure you’re not and that just gets me so weak, baby.

You lock your phone, needing to take a second to calm yourself down.

Sam wasn’t always like this.

There was a time where you weren’t sending flirty, dirty, and teasing texts all day like you pretty much do now.

There weren’t secret school girl costumes hidden in the bottom drawer of your dresser along with other things that would make people’s jaws drop.

Sam was determined to know your body after the first time you had sex, and boy did he ever.

You could be across the room and he could, a high possibility make you cum with just his words.

He knew you like the back of his hand.

Sam, don’t do this. I don’t want to have to leave early, you reply, taking a sip of your drink. You almost leg out a sigh of frustration when you read over Sam’s text, Who said anything about leaving, baby?

You roll your eyes, glancing up at him and he smirks, knuckles rested against his chin as he gives you a little wave.

You tilt your head, giving him a pouty look.

He slowly reaches down, typing on his phone before you feel yours go off. You look down, I promise it’ll be worthwhile.

You bite down on your lip, What makes you say that?

You watch as he answers you, How wet are you right now?

You flip your phone and give him a concerned, there’s people around, look. He shrugs, mouthing a quick, “So.”

You can’t help but smirk.

You loved that you were the only one who saw this side of him. As you like to say, he’s a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets.

I wish you could find out for yourself, you type back quietly, anxiously awaiting Sam to finish his conversation with Colby and Jake so he can answer.

Your bite down on your lip as you see him reach for his phone. After a minute that felt like a year, I wish I could kiss you where you like it, make you even wetter than you are right now. God damn, y/n. I’m craving you so fucking bad.

You almost whimpered. Out loud.

You compose yourself before answering, You have no idea how bad I need you inside of me right now. I’m craving, you. Sam. Please….

He smirks at your response, shaking his head as he goes to type back, but Colby pulls him into another conversation with yet another friend, so you excuse yourself as you get up to go to the bathroom.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek as you feel your little black dress riding up as you walk away.

To which you pay no mind to and is also quick to catch Sam’s attention.

Fuck, his attention was never off of you, really.

It never is.

“Where ya going, sweetheart?” Sam asks as his arm snakes around your waist. You smirk, glancing over at him, “I have to pee, and.. I want something a little stronger if I’m going to keep putting up with you.”

His jaw drops slightly and he laughs, “Whooaa. You started it.”

“Oh yeah?” You stop, crossing your arms, “How so?”

Sam tugs at your dress, “when you decided to wear this.”

“But you love this dress.” You pout, poking him in the chest. He smirks, “Not when I keep losing my train of thought on my speeches because your boobs are about ready to burst through the top of that dress, fuck. I think they got bigger since the last time you’ve worn it.”

You giggle, “Do you want me to turn around next speech you have to give?”

Sam pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes scan over your face, “Mm. No.” He looks over his shoulder, “Go to the car, I’m telling Colby you’re sick.”

You feel a bolt of excitement shoot down your spine and you grip his shirt, “We’re leaving?”

Sam nods, handing you his keys, “Gettin’ late anyway, plus I don’t know how many more boners I can hide. You’re killin’ me.”

You smirk, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I love you.”

Sam smirks, giving your ass a squeeze, “I love you, now go. And have those panties off by the time I get out there.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nod, making your way towards the front of the venue. You walk over to Sam’s car, unlocking it before you get in.

As soon as the door shuts, your hands are up under your dress, tugging down the partially damp fabric. You kick them down over your feet, and as you go to take off your heels, Sam gets in, “Leave them on.”

You stop unbuckling them and sit back up with a smirk as you look at him, “Yes daddy.”

You feel his hand on your neck followed by his lips on yours. His other hand moves to between your thighs and he groans, “I want you to cum before we get home.”

You whimper, nodding as your lips are still on his.

He pulls away and starts the car, glancing over at you one last time before he starts to drive, “Go ahead, baby.”

You bite your lip, moving around so you can get situated in a position that he can see best in - one leg up on the seat, back shifted towards the door.

“Soaked.” Sam says under his breath. He wanted nothing more than to push his face into your glistening cunt, “I’m filling you completely tonight.”

You whimper at his words, gasping as your fingers come in contact with your own clit, “Please.” You whimper out, “Need you.”

Sam reaches over, laying a hand on the top of your knee, “Yeah? You like the sound of me not pulling out?”

You nod, “Fuck, Sam.” You whimper, bucking your hips as you move down to gently rub the outside of your pussy, “I want you.” You moan out as you slip in your fingers, “All of you.”

Sam bites his lip, glancing back and forth between your occupied cunt and the empty roads, “You like touching yourself for me?” His hand gives your knee a squeeze, “hmm?”

“Yes.” You breath out quickly, moaning as you arch your back off the door.

“Such a slut.” Sam groans out, moving his hand from your knee to the hard cock that’s being restrained in his dress pants.

He couldn’t wait to get them off, have you on your knees.

“listen to that.” Sam gasps quietly, “Fuuuck.”

You moan louder as you thrusts your fingers in and out of your pussy, squelching noises fill the car.

“You’re fucking soaked, huh? What’s got you all worked up, sweetheart?”

“You, daddy.” You breathe out, “Your teasing.”

“My teasing?” He tsks his tongue and shakes his head, “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

You come to stop, waiting for the light to change and Sam reminds you to keep going. A car pulls up besides you and your heart starts racing, but it can’t help but turn you on more.

“Wouldn’t that be something.” Sam looks over, eyes moving from the person in the car next to you down to your finger filled cunt, “If they looked over and seen just how much of a whore Sam Golbach’s girlfriend is.”

“Why?” You tease, a gasp escaping as his thumb presses down to your clit, “You’re just innocent, little Sam.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he focuses on driving, “I’ll show you innocent.” He slides his fingers down in with yours, a louder moan comes from you as you move your hand with his.

“Almost home, and I don’t think you came yet, did you?” He looks over at you and you sigh, “N-no. But I’m close.”

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Sam says softly, “That’s the key to getting you inside faster.”

You moan in response, your other hand moving to rub your clit, urging yourself to give Sam what he wants. You let out a gasp, arching your back against the door as you cum, your walls pushing your fingers into Sam’s.

“Go upstairs, and take off everything.”

Sam’s words make you realize that you’re now home, and the night is just only beginning.

——

Once inside and upstairs, you’re naked in a matter of seconds, lying on the bed as you watch the door, waiting for him to walk through.

Your heart skips a beat as does, your eyes tracking his every movements as he walks across the room, “Get started for me, baby. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You needed him, so you did.

You hand moves to the place between your thighs, rubbing circles as you moan out, “I need you, Sam.”

“Mhm, keep going.”

You sigh, sliding your fingers down, “I need you to make me cum, I need your cock.” You moan as you curl your own fingers, eyes opening to see Sam standing at the end of the bed, “What else, baby?”

His eyes flick from your fingers in your pussy to your eyes, “I wanna hear you tell me what you want me to do to you, baby.”

You whimper at his words, “T-touch me. I need you to touch me.”

“How baby?” Sam sits on the bed, moving your leg open wider, “Fuck, you look so wet.”

“I am.” You whine, “Feel, please.”

“Keep going, maybe I will.”

You sigh, “I need your cock in me, making me feel good. I need to make you feel good.” You gasp, moving your fingers up to rub your clit, “Please, please please Sam! I need you, want all of you.”

You tilt your head back, eyes squeezed shut as you continue doing what he asked, “Daddy, I need you.”

A loud and relieved moan leaves your lips as Sam’s tongue slips through your folds and into your cunt, sending waves of pleasure as he groans against you.

His hands push and hold your thighs back, licking and lapping at your needy cunt while you fill the room with moans and gasps.

“Fuck, fuck.” You reach down, hands on his, “S-so close.”

He pulls away and you whimper as you watch him stand up. Just as you go to ask him, he nods towards you, “Fingers. Pussy. Keep going, baby. Get yourself there.”

You let your head fall back on the bed as you reach down, slipping your fingers into yourself while you use your other hand to pinch and pull at your boobs.

“Shit, that’s it, baby.” Sam says as he unbuttons his shirt, “Being such a good girl for me, tonight.”

You nod, whimpering and moaning out as you move your hand from your boob to your clit, “Please.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, he just undoes his pants and pushes them down, all while keeping his eyes on you, “Come here, baby.” You’re instantly moving to him, putting your body as close to his and his hands go to your hips.

He slides a hand up, his fingers wrapping around your throat as he pulls you in for a kiss, “Knee, baby.” He kisses you again, tightening his grip, “I want to use that pretty little white mouth for a little.”

He guides you down, letting go of your neck as you drop to your knees, hands reaching up to pull his boxers away from his body.

You look up at Sam, lip pulled between your teeth and he nods, “You said you needed to make me feel good.”

You smirk, pulling his cock from his boxers and immediately taking him into your mouth. Sam gasps, a hand flying to the back of your head to tangle your hair around his fingers, “Oh fuck, yes.”

He looks down, watching as you bob your head, squelching and soft moans from his lips fill the room, “Yeah, baby. Just like that.”

You slow down your head moments, tongue lapping the underside of the tip. You look up at him, hallowing out your cheeks and Sam shakes his head, tightening his grip on your hair, “Look at you, pretty little slut sucking me off.”

He holds your head still and he tilts his head, “Open more, babe.” He bites his lip as you open your jaw more, groaning lowly as he starts to slowly thrusts in and out.

“Fuck.” He grunts as he hears you gag, “Fuck, taking me so well, slut. Feels so good.” After a few more thrusts, he lets go of your head and you quickly pick up bobbing your head before he stops you, “Bed.”

You get on the bed, laying the side of your face on the bed and raising your as in the air.

Sam gets behind you, “Look at you all needy and ready for me.” His thumb swipes down over your pussy, flicking over you clit a few times, which earns a gasp and wiggle of your hips from you.

“Please, daddy. I can’t take it anymore please.” You beg, whining out when you feel his thumb rub back over your pussy.

He spits into his hand, coating his cock with it before pushing the tip into you, purposefully slow, “Fuck.” Sam grips your hips tight as he thrusts the rest of himself into you.

You moan loudly, hands balling up the sheets beside your head, “Y-You’re so big.” You whimper out, clenching around his cock, “S-Sam.. move please.” You try to move your hips but his hands keep you still, making you whine out in frustration.

“What baby?” He leans down to pull you up, his chest now pressed to your back, “Can’t take it? Need to stop?” He chuckles at his teasing remarks and you shake your head, “No, I can.”

“You sure about that, baby? Last time I about had you in tears.”

“But I love every second of it.” You turn your head as he slides his hand up to your hair, gripping tight to hold your head still.

Your face twists with pain, and pleasure as he starts to thrusts his cock in and out of you, “You feel so fucking good, baby.” Sam groans, his head resting against yours, “I can’t wait to see my cum leak out of you.”

You moan at his words, your arms shaking as they can’t weight your weight for much longer, “S-Sam.” You whimper out, “F-Fuck.”

He lets go of your hair, reaching around to wrap his arm around your waist, lifting you up so your back is fully against his chest.

He continues to thrusts as his other hand slides up to form that tight grip on your throat once again, causing a squeak to slip out as you try to moan.

Your nails dig into his arm, head falling back onto his shoulder, “You look so pretty like this.” Sam whispers out, a groan following his words, “What are you?”

His grip loosens and you gasp out, “Your slut.”

“That’s right, baby.” He leans back, pushing you back down onto the bed. You moan out loudly, clenching around his cock as you feel a desperate need to cum hit you all at one, “I need to cum.”

Sam drags his fingertips down your spine, “Go ahead, baby.” He drags his thumb down, collecting wetness from your pussy before dragging it back up to your ass.

You moan loudly as you know what he’s about to do, hips wiggling as a signal for him to keep going.

He circles his thumb around as he thrusts his hips, moaning out as he feels you squeeze his cock when he pushes his thumb in, hooking it there as his thrusts quickly turn punishing.

You were a mess, vision going blurry as he roughly fucks you through your orgasm, “Shit.” He groans, “Almost there, baby. Just a little more, okay?”

You moan in response, body starting to shake as Sam finally rolls up on his own release, costing the inside of your walls white before he gives your hip a squeeze.

He pulls out, biting down on his lip as he watches his cum follow, dripping down onto the blanket, “You’re so fucking hot.” Sam moves to kiss up your back, stopping then he gets to your shoulder, “Want to go for a shower?”

“Can I actually shower?” You laugh as you look at him and he nods, “You want to do it before or after?” He smirks as he watches you actually think about it, “Mm. We can do it before.”

“I’ll go get it started.” Sam presses a kiss to your lips and just like that, golden boy Sam returns.

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

This is literally my THIRD time writing this one shot. Please let me know how it is. Sorry if it sucks, but thank you for reading! I love you all so much!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[scekrex]

okay ive been contemplating about this for like a entire week, reader and adam are dating! reader loses his phone and asks adam to call his phone so he could hear his phone ringing and find it, and it turns out that adam has reader's contact name as "future husband" or something cute like that

Okay so the prompt is kinda short n stuff so the fic turned out short as well - it's not much longer than 500 words but it's fluffy n cute so there ya go

Idiots

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you

“Adam,” you yelled from the bedroom, sounding quite frustrated. You pulled the blanket off the bed, lifted up the pillows, you checked under the bed and even under the tiny space underneath the bedside tables. Your phone was gone and for the sake of the all loving and mighty Lord above, you weren’t able to find the device.

You had checked everywhere, every spot, under every piece of furniture in every room but you couldn’t find it and you feared that it was gone for good. Maybe you lost it during your flight home last night? No - you remembered putting it on your bedside table to charge it, so that couldn’t be the case - right? Your frustration simply grew the longer you kept searching for it without any useful results. With a sigh you sat down on the messy bed and pushed your hair out of your face.

Adam leaned against the doorframe, looking at you with an amused smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest, “What’s it, babe?” You looked up at him, annoyance from his amusement was written all over your face and you grumbled something inaudible under your breath before you responded, “Can’t find my phone.”

Adam entered the room properly and came to a halt in front of you, he ruffled through your hair, the amused smirk still curled around his lips as he pulled his own phone out of his pocket, “Easy,” he hummed and called your phone. You heard a sound coming out of the bathroom and before you could even react to it, Adam carelessly tossed his phone onto the bed next to you and headed over to the bathroom to get it for you.

A glance at Adam’s phone screen made you frown a little, the contact name ‘future husband’ was quite unexpected, especially because Adam had made it oh so clear that he would not get married again - not after the Eden accident. So it was obvious that you confronted - well, it was honestly more of a tease - him about it.

The tall brunette came back to the room, your phone in his hand and he seemed even more amused than before, “Babe, it was literally laying on the fucking sink.” He dropped the device into your lap and reached for his own phone but you caught his wrist before he was able to back off again. Now it was Adam’s turn to frown at you. “Future husband, huh?” you hummed, hiding the small grin on your lips was impossible.

The first man rolled his eyes at you as he let go of his phone and pulled you up and right into his arms instead. Your phone dropped to the floor and you were about to complain about it, but Adam didn’t let you. The taller angel pressed your body against his, big, strong arms wrapped around you, “Y’know I’m a fucking simple guy. And you’re really fucking hot, having a hot husband sounds fucking good to me, babes.”

This time you were rolling your eyes, the grin still on your lips as you playfully punched his chest, “Idiot,” you mumbled quietly and watched as the brunette’s smirk only grew wider. “Maybe, but you still fucking love me.” And even though you would’ve loved to, you weren’t really able to argue against that. Maybe the first man truly was an idiot, but he was your idiot and there’s truly no other idiot in Heaven you’d rather have as your boyfriend.

[lexa-griffins]

Human Osteology manuals are like: give us 100€ for a book or buy the ones from the 19th century for 20€ with incorrect info we refuse to edit