#and not as a man who came back and SETTLED

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❛ 𝓑𝐔𝐌𝐏 𝓘𝐍 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓝𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. ❜

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ you live in a world of comic book characters, just pure fiction. however, one night you stumble upon a man dressed in a strange costume who looks exactly like those comic book characters inside your house.

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ fluff, little angst, goofiness, tension, mild suggestiveness (mdni), swearing, pet names, reader’s universe doesn’t have a spiderman, hispanic/latina!reader

( ꯭♡︎ ) ˖ ࣪ . love note ˒˒ randomly thought of this, enjoy! btw this is a repost because i originally posted this at the worst time ever. if you read this before, pretend it’s your first time again lmao.

you heard a light thud.

shutting off the water, you leave the unfinished soap covered dishes in the sink as you step away. drying your hands with a towel before tossing it in the sink as well. anxiety flows through your veins.

what the hell was that?

you live alone, besides your white terrier luna, in this house your parents left behind for you. you rarely invite people over due to work. the only time you do is for holidays, birthdays, or small gatherings with friends. other than that, you’re alone most of the time so hearing noises sorta freak you out.

maybe something dropped like one of your books from the bookshelf in your room. it’s an reoccurring thing. but it sounded so light for a book to drop. what else could possibly fell? was it even an object?

panic settles in your bones. glancing to your left where the living room is, you spot luna peacefully sleeping in her soft, periwinkle dog bed. of course she didn’t hear it, she’s far in doggie dreamland.

very slowly and quietly, you pull a knife out of the drawer and make your way towards the stairs. the noise came from up there. heart pumping out of your chest. blood rushing through your veins. frantic breathing due to the anxiety developing in you.

is it an intruder? a robber?

fuck. this is the last thing you wanted.

you just wanted to wash the dishes in peace before going to bed. why must this happen to you?

very slowly and steadily, you make your make upstairs. gripping onto the knife tightly, palm sweaty. your room is your first destination. as you make it up top, you can hear low grumbles from there.

fuck, there is someone here.

tightening your grip on the knife, you carefully walk towards your room. hiding behind the wall, right beside the doorframe, you turn a little to catch a sneak peek of the intruder. your eyes widen in shock.

a figure clad in a suit of vibrant red and dark blue. the fuck is that? a cosplay or something? you suddenly realize how tall the figure is. way too tall since your white dresser is literally half his size, right below his waistline. this bastard is muscular as fuck. broad back and his suit outlines each back muscle perfectly as if it’s sculpted. his shoulders also broad and thick. insane fucking biceps.

this dude is fucking ripped. he can murder you with his bare hands. probably snap you in half.

there is no way you can take this fucker down.

“este chingaletta…”

oh, he speaks spanish too? pinche cabrón.

the tall figure seems to be fiddling with something on his wrist. perhaps a watch or some sort.

inhaling a deep breath, you gain the courage to confront this intruder motherfucker. whether he’s a giant or not, he needs to get out of your house.

“get the fuck out of my house.”

the man swiftly turns around to see you standing at the door. the knife in your hand pointing at him. you witness the eyes of his odd-looking mask widening.

“hey… i’m not here to hurt you.” his voice is low and a bit musky. he slowly raises his hands in the air, a sign of surrender. “just put the knife down.”

“not a fucking chance.” you snarl with gritted teeth. “get the fuck out of my house or this knife is going straight through your fucking heart.”

a sigh escapes his lips, covered by his mask. “ay mujer… por favor, i’m not gonna hurt you.” his tone a mixture of pleading and frustration.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “hardly believable since you’re in my fucking house.”

he takes one step forward. “please just—“

“don’t!” you yelled.

“i’m not gonna hurt you! i’m not the bad guy here! i just accidentally teleported into your house!” he matches your voice level.

now you’re confused. “teleported? what do you mean teleported?”

another sigh from him, running a run over his masked face. “look, it’s hard to explain but trust me, it wasn’t my intention to barge into your house.”

“barge?!” you say in disbelief. “you’re invading my home! you’re a fucking intruder!”

“i’m not an intruder!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “at least it wasn’t my intention.”

you scoff. “pinches mentiras.” you eye him up and down. “what’s up with costume? this isn’t comic-con.” you gesture at his suit with the knife.

the man stares at you in disbelief but obviously you can’t tell because of his mask. “are you serious? you don’t know who or what i am?”

now the anger is replaced with confusion.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you don’t…” he quickly looks at the watch on his wrist, or what it appears to look like a watch. with a few taps, tiny holographic images pop up from it.

whoa, what the fuck? what kind of watch is that?

“that figures, you don’t have a spiderman in this universe.” he taps away the tiny images from the watch and looks back at you.

your face drops in utter confusion. “spiderman? the marvel character?”

“what? no—“ he sighs frustratingly.

“i’ve seen lots of cosplays but yours is different. cool but different. which spiderman are you supposed to be?” you lower the knife down to your side.

he blinks at you. “that’s not important. and i’m not cosplaying or whatever the hell that is—“

“well, i definitely haven’t seen that version of him. kinda badass, not gonna lie. the costume is cool.”

spiderman groans, on verge of lashing out, rubbing the temples of his forehand with a hand. “for the last time, it’s not a costume.”

you quirk a brow. “right.”

miguel rolls his eyes, growing more frustrated and irritated. “i don’t have time for this.” he grumbles, fiddling with his watch again. “chingado…” the man groans out of frustration. his gizmo isn’t working.

“having issues?” you taunt.

“cállete.” he hissed, still fiddling with his gizmo.

you snort as you walk towards him. “what kind of watch is that?” you tilt your head, staring at it curiously. it’s definitely more advanced.

“not a watch, a gizmo and i made it.”

your eyes perk up. “you made it? ooo lemme see.”

as you go try to touch it, he pulls back. “don’t.”

“oh come on, stop being ridiculous.” you try touching it again but he keeps pulling back.

“don’t touch it.” he scowls.

“sheesh, protective much?”

miguel rolls his eyes and you can definitely tell this time. “don’t you understand the concept of not touching what’s not yours?”

“i’m trying to help you, tonto.”

he scoffs. “you can’t help. you don’t understand how this works, mamona.”

now you roll your eyes this time. “fine, whatever. have fun struggling with your stupid ass watch.” you walk away, leaving the spiderman guy in your room.

━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━

not even 10 minutes, the spiderman guy heads downstairs and joins you in the kitchen. you continue washing the dishes you abandoned earlier. as you stack up the last dish, you head footsteps approaching. turning around while drying your hands with a towel, you see him standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

“couldn’t get it work, huh?” you taunt, smirking.

“cállete.” he scowls.

luna awakes from her slumber, stretching out in her little bed then hopping out of it before she starts barking at spiderman.

“¡ay!” he exclaims, startled by the barking. “can you tell your dog to stop barking?!”

“nope.” you shrug, making him groan. “she barks at people wearing masks so… if you want her to stop, you know what to do.”

he mutters something before deactivating his mask. it disintegrates, revealing his identity. immediately and like mentioned, luna stops barking.

holy shit. he’s handsome as fuck.

chocolate wavy hair. eyes with hues mahogany. the sharpest cheekbones you’ve ever seen on a person, let alone a man. very, very plump lips.

“oh shit, you’re hot.” you blurt out.

miguel stares at you with wide eyes. hints of reddish pink on his cheeks, feeling warm. heart skipping a beat. “uh… thanks…?” he averts your gaze, trying to conceal his bashful face.

“damn, you’re the most attractive spiderman cosplayer i’ve ever seen.”

a groan escapes his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand. “chingado contigo… i’m not a cosplayer, i’m actually spiderman.”

you snort. “right, right.”

“is the gizmo not enough proof for you?! or the fact my mask disintegrated?!”

you ponder for a moment. sure, the watch is heavily advanced. watching his mask disintegrate is definitely a phenomenon. holy shit - is this guy really spiderman? at least a version of him?

“okay, fair points.” you awkwardly clear your throat. “so… you’re actually spiderman?”

“yes.” he shoots you an unimpressed look, clearly fed up with your oblivious attitude.

“which one?”

“2099.”

you raise a brow. “spiderman 2099? as in the year 2099?” you fold your arms over your chest.

“as unbelievable it sounds, yes.” instinctively, his eyes immediately glance down at your chest for a moment. your cleveage sticks out more with your folded arms. the cups of your nightdress hugs it perfectly. fuck, why did he look? yeah he’s a man but miguel feels like a pervert. he hopes you don’t notice.

you did but you don’t care. you don’t sense creepy vibes from him. just a dude who happens to be spiderman from the future or some shit.

“so you’re from the future?”

“technically yes but from a different universe.” miguel watched your eyes pop out in surprise. he groans internally, knowing this was coming soon.

“a different universe? what the fuck is this ‘rick and morty’ shit?” you huff.

his brows furrowed in confusion. “wha— no, listen. yes, a different universe. there are an infinite amount of universes of spider people called the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse.”

you stare at him completely dumbfounded. “that is literally the most nerdiest shit i’ve ever heard.”

miguel frowns. “well, that’s what it’s called.”

“stupid name.”

his expression falls flat. “your opinion is irrelevant.”

“it’s a fact, stupid long ass name. change it when you get back to wherever the hell you’re from.” you turn away, opening the cabinet to grab something.

“you’re annoying.” he sounds irritated.

“i am but i’m truthful.” you grab a container of conchas you recently bought. you set it on the island then head over to the coffee maker near the fridge. “quieres algo? un concha, café?”

he observes you with a dumbfounded expression. “you’re offering coffee and sweets?”

“well, you’re practically stuck here until who knows how long so…” you pour coffee in your favorite mug. “do you want coffee or not?”

miguel remains silent for a moment. taken aback by your generosity. nobody has ever treated him with such kindness or even ask him what he wants. it’s true, it’s uncertain when he’ll return to his universe. he’ll have to remain here for the time being. for some reason, he doesn’t mind staying here, with you.

“uh… si, pro favor.” he said sheepishly.

you grab another mug and pour coffee inside. once both mugs are filled, you turn around and slide his mug across the island.

“gracias.” miguel grabs the mug and brings it up to his lips. a low hum of approval as he tastes the warm, delicious liquid. normally he prefers black coffee for work but this one is acceptable.

you two talk for a while over coffee and sweets. miguel explaining the multiverse. talking about the spider society and its origins. his universe and life. everything seems so fascinating yet bizarre. apparently spiderman, or a shit ton of versions of the comic book character, actually exist. that’s a total mindfuck. part of you believes this could be a dream, hence why you pinched yourself several throughout the conversation. but, it was real. he was real.

“after all this time, you never told me your name.”

he takes a sip of his coffee then carefully placed on the counter. “miguel o’hara.”

you respond with your name, taking a sip of your coffee and a bite of your pink concha.

as the night progresses, you and miguel talk for hours. learning more about each other. miguel still finds it strange how things change drastically. he accidentally transported to a universe that has no spiderman. accidentally transported into a random woman’s house and being accused as an intruder. now having coffee and sweets with the woman he just met, having a genuine conversation.

part of him is still concern about how or when he’ll return to his universe. if his gizmo will ever be fixed and work properly again. but considering the environment he’s in, warm and cozy, miguel isn’t in a rush. in fact, he enjoys your company. it’s been a while since he actually sat down and had a genuine conversation with someone. back in his universe, he doesn’t have anyone. but in this universe, he does.

and he likes that.

maybe being stuck here won’t be so bad.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[dandelions-143]

Do It For Me

Part of the Bad Boy series

Pairing: non idol/rich bad boy Bang Chan x bratty/bitch fem!reader

Warnings: little bit of a daddy kink, face fucking, bit of stripping, dirty talk, dominant Chan, established situationship, a bit of edging, a little rough. MDNI, 18+ ONLY

Summary: You’re bratty, reckless, and you refuse to do what you’re told. You and Chan are always playing games with one another. Fighting only to fuck each other over, literally and figuratively. Chans tired of you coming in and always having the upper hand so he decides to teach you a little lesson for the night.

A/n: there will be more parts to this

For More visit:

Masterlist

Chans Masterlist

Chan was lounging on his couch in his father’s mansion. His parents nowhere to be found but, that’s exactly how he liked it. Jeongin sat just a bit further down the massive leather couch. He was talking it up with a pretty blond who had her hands all over him. Chan wasn’t sure where the others had wondered off to but the party he was throwing was in full swing and he had to admit.. he was kind of regretting it. He would almost rather be alone tonight.

“Hey man, thanks for inviting me.” Seungmin walked up after just arriving. He was new to their group but, he already felt like a little brother. The two greeted one another and Seungmin sat down beside Chan. “So where’s that cute thing I saw tagging along with you the other night at the old hotel?” Chan sipped on his beer and offered one to his new friend. 

Seungmin glanced over at Jeongin who had forgotten all about the blond and had his attention completely on the two men. “Ah, she had to go back to University.” 

The conversation shifted between different topics after that. Chan telling Seungmin of all the fun trouble they would get into now that he was hanging around with them but a smooth voice interrupted him. “Looks like you’ve not changed at all, Christopher.” 

The sound of his English name made his eyes snap up in the direction that familiar voice came from. Red full lips stretched into a smooth pretty smile. Deep red nails holding a beer. His eyes traveled down to the black corset you wore, hugging every curve, pushing those breasts up, leaving nothing to the imagination. 

Tattoos snaked over youre fingers and wound around your right arm up to your slender shoulder. You were sex on legs. How could something so evil look like such an angel. “What the fuck are you doing here, Y/n?” He stood up to face you and it only made your smile slowly fall into a little smirk. 

You two hadn’t seen one another in over two years. You and Chan always at each others throats in every way. Every time you saw one another you fell back into that sexual relationship that is until he fell first and fell hard.. you did too but, he never had to know that. You weren’t the type to be held down, to be told what to do. You were always restless chasing that next high.

“I came back to see my favorite men. Have you seen Hyunjin by any chance? I have something I need to tell him.” You looked around the room then settled your sharp eyes on Chan once again. “Or did he wise up and finally drop your insufferable ass.” That made Chan snort and fane a little laugh, “you’re hilarious. I saw him go towards the pool with some of the others.”

Seungmin looked over at you, his eyes wide and lips parted. You hummed softly at Chans words, those cute little puppy dog eyes of Seungmin catching your attention for a moment. “And who is this? Fresh meat I see.” You leaned down into Seungmins personal space and whispered, “close your mouth love, you’re drooling.” Seungmin closed his mouth quickly and cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed. 

“Can you run along, go find some poor unfortunate soul to torture.” Chan walked around the couch to where you stood making it seem as if he wanted you gone. What you didn’t know is every time he was in a room with you all he wanted to do was grab you, take you somewhere private and fuck you senseless. 

You took a step closer to him, he was at least a head taller than you, “fucking make me.” You watched him closely, a muscle ticked in his jaw and you knew instantly that you had already gotten under his skin. You raised your brows in a silent provocation. Chan rolled his eyes more at himself before he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you over his shoulder.

You gasped as your drink fell to the floor, “put me the fuck down! What are you? Some god damn barbarian!” You yelled as you kicked your legs and beat your hands against his broad back. Chan said nothing as he slapped your ass and carried up the stairs towards his bedroom. 

Everyone within ear shot heard you calling him every dirty name you could think of, most just laughed or looked on in amusement. “Did I just see Y/n?” Hyunjin seemed to have come from the back of the house where the pool was, he was shirtless and partially wet. “Umm yeah” Seungmin pointed towards the stairs. “Chan just took her up there.” 

Hyunjin shook his head and looked over at Jeongin who already had a knowing smile on his lips. “Here we fuckin go again.”

——————————————————————————————————

Up stairs in Chans room he all but threw you on his large bed and when you began to curse at him even more he slammed his bedroom door, “shut the fuck up.” He said harshly. It only made you falter just a bit before you began to get up off the bed so you could yell at him some more. 

Chan grabbed you by your jaw, squishing your cheeks a bit so that your red lips poked out like a cute fish. “I said hush.” His tone was darker and his face was mere inches from yours. You shut your mouth then. After a few silent moments he slowly let you go allowing you to get off the bed completely. 

“How dare you put your hands on me like that.” You spoke much quieter now as you tugged at your clothes, trying to fix them. Chan was watching you with those dark brown eyes. His gaze made you shiver but you felt unbearably hot. “You’re such a fucking prick. No wonder we never worked out. You can’t handle someone like me anyway.” 

You couldn’t help but spit a little venom at him. You hated the way he made you feel. You wanted him always.. even when he was a million miles away from you. Chan was always on your mind. 

“I think it’s time I taught you a lesson.” His voice sounded a bit huskier this time. His words made you look up at him with a questionable cock of your head. “What did you just say?” 

Chan walked over to you and began to circle around you. He grabbed your hands and pulled them behind your back tugging you into him. “You’re going to do what I say and you’re going to fucking like it. I hate that bratty attitude of yours. I’m teaching you a lesson.” 

With no hesitation he yanked at the strings of your corset loosening it instantly. You gasped partly in shock and partly because this man just made you incredibly wet by really doing nothing at all.

Even though you were turned on you were not going to let Chan win. It just wasn’t in your nature. “And if I don’t listen to you, what are you going to do to me? Ground me? Take a way my phone?” You mocked him a little as you held your loose corset up around your chest. “You’re not my father.”

Chans dark brown eyes seemed to get darker and before you could even protest he grabbed you up, sat on the bed, bringing you down to lay over his lap on your stomach and he yanked your pants down along with your panties. This grown man began to spank you, hitting your bare ass with quick hard open palm taps. 

At first you struggled, squealing and trying to get up from his lap, “aren’t you suppose to ask for consent or something before you start doing shit like this!” You spoke over him, doing your best to cover up the fact that you actually liked the way he was hitting you but, Chan didn’t need to know that. 

This seemed to annoy him to know end so he effortlessly moved you to the bed, leaning over you, pinning you down with his own weight. His strong hand wrapped delicately around your throat. “Shhh, now. Daddy is speaking. And we are far past consent, baby.” His eyes bore into yours and the tip of his nose rubbed against yours as he spoke. 

That shut you up fast. He took the opportunity to continue. “You’re going to do as I say tonight. If you disobey, you get punished.” There was a small pause and he asked, his lips brushing against yours as he shifted his hips between your thighs. Pressing his erection into your warm panty clad mound. “Are you alright with that? If not I’ll leave right now.” 

You slowly mumbled a soft “yes.” Against his full lips. A smirk fell over his lips and he got up, you almost whimpered at the loss of body heat and the weight of him. “Get up.” He commanded and you did as he asked. You still held onto your corset but your pants hung around your upper thighs. 

Chan stood back and let his eyes dip low to your exposed body then back up to your face. “Strip for me. Although I recall how beautiful your body is..” he trailed a finger across your lower stomach, just above your panties. “Those memories don’t serve you justice at all.” 

The light touch of his warm fingers on your smooth skin made bumps rise all over your body. You shivered ever so slightly, the hair on your body standing on end and the wetness between your legs growing even more slick. You two had been intimate so many times before. It was a game you two always played and no matter how much you tried to go your own way.. you always got sucked back in.

You decided to do as he said but you wanted to make a show of it. So you moved closer to him, sauntering around his muscular frame, dropping each piece of clothing until all you had on were your black heels. “Is daddy pleased?” You asked in a mocking tone as you came to a stop directly in front of him. 

Chans eyes washed over you so slowly. He was taking his time admiring you and deep down you absolutely loved having his full attention. However your face told another story, you simply looked bored.. maybe even a little annoyed. When Chans eyes flitted up to meet yours his appreciative expression changed into a deep furrow of his brow. 

He obviously didn’t like the sour look on your face. “Get on the bed. Lay on your back and be a good girl, spread those pretty thighs for me.” His voice huskier than ever, dripping with dominance. He wasn’t asking you, he was commanding you. 

Your eyes never left his as you surprisingly did as you were told. You lay on your back, your hands trailing over your breasts and down the middle of your soft stomach to the very slick mound between your thighs. His eyes followed the movements of your hands and you could see the outline of his hard cock in his pants. 

“You like what you see?” You asked softly as your fingers slipped between your folds, moving slow circles over your swollen clit. Your lips parted in a gentle moan at the sensation, imagining his fingers.. his lips where your fingers were. Chans eyes looked heavy with need and his lips mimicked yours in parting when he heard you moan. 

Just as you slipped one finger inside yourself he stepped over to you, kneeling on the bed. Chan moved your hands away, pulled your legs up and smack your ass rather hard. “I never said you could touch yourself. You’re terrible at following directions. Since you can’t seem to be a good girl, I’m going to have to punish you.” He looked at your wide eyes, “just a little. Don’t worry, baby girl.” 

Chans smirk was dark and mischievous. His dimples made him look boyish but, he was far from a boy. You watched as Chan put your hands above your head, crossing them at the wrists. “Don’t fucking move.” He commanded before getting off the bed. He began to undress, his tattooed body looked as good as it always had. You could tell he had a few new tattoos and all you wanted was to trace them with the tip of your tongue.

“What the hell? You really think I’m going to let some man tell me what I can and can’t do in the bedroom?! You’ve lost your mi-“ before you could even finish Chan, still in his boxers crawled over you and put his hand over your mouth. He made a tsk sound like he was very disappointed in you. 

“Y/n..” he began, his face hovering over yours as he settled his hips between your thighs. “You are making this very difficult. Fun but, difficult.” His hips were making agonizingly slow circles against you. Pushing and rubbing his rigid length that was still trapped beneath his boxers against your soaked cunt. 

He kept his hand over your mouth a bit longer as his movements grew a bit more rough and fast. You were now whimpering against his palm, saliva and red lipstick smearing over your lips and his skin as you tried to be as vocal as you wanted. “That feels good doesn’t it, baby. You’re so fucking wet for me. My boxers are soaked through.” 

He spoke in such a gentle tone that didn’t match his actions at all. He felt so good against you, if he kept up that friction between you two.. you would surely cum all over him. 

Chans hard chest was pressed against yours, he would never admit it but, he loved how soft you were, how fucking good you felt against him. You brought your hands up to grip onto his shoulders but he moved them off with his free hand. “No touching unless I tell you to.”

His deep brown eyes bore into yours, Chan kept his movements up as he moved his hand from your lips. “Now, tell me how much you want my cock. Tell me how you want it.” He demanded as his hips bucked into yours, his now free hands gripping your breast and pinching at the taught little nipples. You gasped at the pain but made no move to stop him. 

You watched as his hard muscles moved beneath his pale skin. He was beautiful, like a Greek god chiseled from Granite. You were aching to touch him but you knew he wouldn’t like that. 

“I want your face between my thighs. I-“ you hesitated at first. He was staring at you even as he leaned down to lick and suck at your nipples. “Fuck…” you breathed out. “I want to ride your face, that nose..” you bit your bottom lip at the memories of the things he could do with those big lips of his. 

You reached out and ran your hands over his contracting abs, feeling the muscle move there. You couldn’t help yourself any longer. The friction he was creating between you two was making you crazy, you arched your back on the brink of your first orgasm. “More.. faster please!” You whimpered to Chan as your hips moved to meet his. 

Your orgasm was… right… there.. so…close….

But then he simply stopped. Chan got off the bed, leaving you soaking wet and throbbing for him. He pulled his boxers down, his large cock springing out. Muscular, veiny, and so hard and throbbing his tip was red. You instantly put your fingers to work, you needed the release. If he wasn’t going to get you off then you would do it yourself. 

“No.” Chan said the word as he moved to you. He grabbed your wrists and pulled you up only to make you lay back down but your head hung slightly off the end of the bed. “What are you..” you asked but Chan stepped closer, your head between his thighs and he rested the tip of his leaking cock on your lips. 

You felt and tasted his salty pre-cum being smeared on your lips. “Open up baby girl. Do a good job and I might reward you.” 

You didn’t hesitate, you opened wide for him allowing him to slide his cock between your lips. The remnance of your deep red lipstick transferring onto his length. Chan let out a heavy sigh as he fit what he could of himself in your wet little mouth. “Fuuck y/n” he mumbled as he looked down at you, his hands gripping at your breasts again. 

He moved his hips slowly at first, he couldn’t quite fit his entire cock in your mouth but he was going to try. Chan began to fuck your mouth a bit faster, he watched as the outline of his cock was being pushed down your throat. 

He pulled himself all the way out then fully thrust back into your mouth. Properly fucking your face. Chan was not holding back this time. His moans were loud and needy. Whimpering and groaning between filthy words of how good you looked taking his cock this way.

“That’s it baby, you’re so fucking good for me.” He thrust so hard you gagged roughly around his cock making him moan your name loudly. The room was filled with his panting and needy whimpering for you. “Take it baby.. you do it so good for me.” 

You were completely fucked out, spit all over your lips and cheeks, tears streaming from your eyes and he had yet to touch your pussy. You were almost feral at this point. If he didn’t have his cock deep down your throat you would be crying for him to make you cum. 

Chans stomach was rigid as his abs hardened and his thighs began to tremble just a bit. He was close. “Fucking take it… oh god.” He moaned one last time before you felt hot liquid shooting down your throat. He pulled out of your mouth and streams of hot cum coated your face. 

You had to admit he looked so sexy right now, with his face flushed and sweaty. His eyelids heavy and his face almost looked as if he was in pain but you knew he was feeling nothing but blissful pleasure. When he was finished he stepped back a little and looked at your flushed body. Your face coated in nothing but him. 

“You’re so beautiful like this.” He moved a piece of hair from your forehead before grabbing his shirt and began to clean off your face for you.

You expected him to burry his face in your weeping pussy after he was done but the bastard pulled on his pants, forgetting about his boxers. He leaned down kissing you so passionately it left you breathless and whispered, “You fucking left me two years ago.. now it’s my turn sweetheart.” and then he walked towards the door with no look back.. Chan left you completely alone, slamming the door closed behind him.

You sat up completely shocked. This was not the man you knew.. Chan never used you to just get off.. he never left you..

You sat on that bed fuming. You were so mad you weren’t sure if you could even finish but, your pussy was throbbing and your mind was still full of naked Chan fucking your mouth shamelessly. 

No matter how pissed off you were you slipped your hands between your thighs to finish what Chan had started.. your thoughts consumed by nothing but him.

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + -- mature short content !

Content Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, stalking, manipulation, and violent fantasies. It delves into the unhealthy and dangerous mindset of a stalker obsessed with you. Reader discretion is advised.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

INCLUDES: Stalking, blood kink, obsessive behavior, cunnilingus, fingering, fem reader, choking, mentions of cheating, p in v sex in public, murder, death, he's not a good person, dom yandere?, degradation?, he can be a bit of a gaslighter, gore, and more.

*This is the third fic to this little mini series. Check out the first part, and the second part for a better understanding! He is referred to as "your stalker." The italicized portion is his inner thoughts! This fic is inspired by the show You, and this is purely fictional writing!*

SYNOPSIS: Your stalker's obsession intensifies as he becomes involved with another woman named Daniella Foster, who he views as inferior to you. Despite his disdain for your best friend, he engages in a flirtatious and sexual relationship with her, all the while fantasizing about you.

What's more dangerous than a sick, psychotic, and perverted man?

I ran out of your blood today.

Just four hours ago, I was completely fine. The vial of your period blood was nearly empty, but I was able to stick my finger inside to collect the last of your crimson essence. I sucked a particularly big blood clot off my finger, and I was able to start my day with a huge smile.

Four hours ago, I could claim that I was a normal and functioning man, someone you wouldn’t blink an eye at, and that was all thanks to you.

Four hours ago, I was able to brush my teeth, take a shower, and clean myself up for the day. I had an extra pep in my step, and I felt like I could take on the world with a positive outlook.

Don’t you see how much life you give me? Your blood alone has made me feel like I was on top of the world, like I could float up into space with just your plasma to help me survive.

But now, it was gone.

Your stalker stared blankly at the window as his body was jostled side to side, his hands tightly gripping the handle of his tote bag that rested on his lap. He tried to ignore the obnoxiously sick person near him, who didn’t even bother to cover their coughs. He closed his eyes to avoid staring into the eyes of another person across from him. He was sandwiched between two burly people: one shouted loudly into their phone, clearly having zero spatial awareness, while the other snoozed. The woman's head drooped as she nodded off, and her greasy hair brushed against his cheek.

She had a distinct smell of sweat and wet socks. Your stalker apologized to the man next to him as he slightly leaned his body away from the woman. He was stuck in this position unless someone took pity on him and spoke up.

His car was in the shop. The tire had unexpectedly given out, causing him to swerve into oncoming traffic. The car was old anyway, a gift from his parents when he first got his license in high school. That must have been, what, ten years ago? He didn’t like to think about his age; nothing good ever came from it anyway.

Your stalker rummaged through his bag, his hand searching for the familiar plastic tube he used to steal your period blood. His fingers brushed against a particularly sharp blade he kept for “safety” reasons before they wrapped around the vial. He had really tried to savor it. He would carefully open his mouth and tilt the vial just enough for a single drop of blood to settle onto his tongue. Sometimes he would pour a bit into his coffee, or he would put it into his food. Either way, it made him feel closer to you. It was a comforting notion to think about, that he was the only man and human who had access to you in such an intimate way.

Your stalker sighed as he put the empty tube back into his breast pocket for safe keeping.

He didn’t like taking public transportation. New York was known for having odd things happening on the trains, buses, and subways. He was pretty sure that last week someone had set a rat on fire, a poor woman got robbed in broad daylight, and a group of teens were filming their dumb YouTube prank videos on the elderly.

Your stalker felt a flare of irritation as the woman leaned on his shoulder again. He gently nudged her off and ignored the way she woke up all startled. He glanced down at his phone, counting the number of stops, and saw he had twelve more before he could get off.

He was going to Manhattan for a job. An absolute douchebag had hired him, and his name was Myron Vykolv. He was the type to spend his money on trips and a bedazzled car rather than giving back to charity. Vykolv was an artist's worst nightmare: fickle, a headache to deal with; but surprisingly, he had good taste in art. He had to; he hired your stalker, after all.

He pulled out his phone to scroll on social media, his eyes scanning the copious amount of braindead content, and he paused when he saw a familiar face. He pressed the buttons on the side of his phone, his screen flashing, and the screenshot he took was saved in his photo album. Your stalker zoomed in, and his eyes widened as he saw the perfectly harmonious facial features. The baby tee top had a cute graphic splayed on the chest area, hair slicked and pulled back into a bun, and gold hoops dangling from those nicely formed ears.

It was you.

He glanced down at the caption: "a coffee date with my favorite bff." Posted exactly five minutes ago. It wasn't your account, but it was the closest thing he had to you. Your stalker decided to follow your coffee-manic and bikini-loving friend, and every post and picture she had, you were in it too.

She made it almost easy to stalk. Jesus, what if a deranged man had decided to show up to her place in the Beverly Hills area on the street of— seriously? Did she really just post her full address online?

Daniella Foster. The epitome of a fun and ditzy socialite who spent way too much time at parties and clubs. A trust fund baby if there ever was one, with her daddy being a big shot in the entertainment industry. Despite all that privilege, she never quite made it big herself.

Your stalker snorted as he saw the array of failed projects she had been in. Modeling? Wasn't in the cards for her. Acting? Horrible. A piece of cardboard would've had more personality than her. Originally from Tampa, Florida, then she moved to California, where she had her comically large house, and then… she decided to bless us by coming to New York. Lucky us, right y/n?

Your stalker looked up from his phone and realized the train had come to his stop. He got up from his seat and quickly made his way out. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand and looked down: Daniella requested to follow you. That was fast.

He clicked accept.

She's a shameless flirt, your stalker soon found out, and he’s not the least bit surprised. Daniella slid into his DMs with a picture of her provocatively sucking a lollipop, and her first words to him were: “What do you look like?”

Gee, take a gander, Daniella. My profile picture is a high-definition shot of my handsome and sexy fucking face. But sure, ask me about my looks as if you were actually interested. Your stalker rolled his eyes. He didn’t even want to respond to that message, but he had no other way of seeing you again. You would probably run at the sight of him, and that would be the most sane and correct thing you could do.

So, what does a man say when he’s mediocre, average, and you’re clearly out of his league? “I look like the man of your dreams, sweetheart.”

Your stalker had spent hours sexting and courting this woman who had flooded his inbox. Even when he was painting for a client, he managed to multitask and send a dick pic. He sent her whatever she wanted to keep her hooked, and just by her messages alone, this must have been the only time a man actually matched her level of craziness and horniness.

Days turned into weeks and then soon into months. The moment he woke up, he would see that she had sent him hundreds of messages in one night—she must've been drunk again.

He spent hours reading each message, and he hearted the ones that he felt were the most important. It was actually coming to an end, thank God, but to his surprise, she asked him out on a date.

"So, what do you do? Who are you?" The girl in front of him asked.

He shouldn't have said yes because now he was sitting in a restaurant that he could barely afford or get a reservation to, and he had to be with this woman who wasn't you. She was dressed beautifully - he'd give her that. He liked the dark colors of her red dress, the way he could drink in the curves of her hips and chest, and how it gave him a clear view of her body.

Now, he wondered what you would have worn if you were on a date with him. Would you have put in this much effort and shown this much skin? Would you have laughed at all of his jokes to boost his damn ego, or knocked him down a peg? Would you have ordered something light so you could have sex afterward, or would you have eaten something hearty and called it a day?

He pretended to think for a while, all before he gently touched her hand, and his fingers caressed her soft skin. "Who am I?" He teased, his voice slightly deepened as he gave her a playful once-over. "I'm hurt. After all these months, you still don't know who I am?"

"Why don't you refresh my memory?" She tilted her head.

Your stalker sighed and he looked around briefly. This place was intimate, for high rollers only, and he could just imagine how much of his money was going to go down the drain. The tiny candle on the table, the white clean cloth, and the vase with a single rose was still too romantic for his taste. His thumb traced circles on her hand, and the other grabbed for his steak knife.

“I'm an up-and-coming artist,” He replied with a bit of a shrug.

“An up-and-coming artist, huh?” She echoed, her fingers now interlocked with his. “Do you come often?”

Lord, please have some mercy and shoot me. Do I come often? Wouldn’t you like to know, you slut. Is this the type of person you really want to spend your time with, y/n? Daniella is not you, and she could never be you. She parades herself around for anyone and everyone to ogle at—she is the epitome of what’s wrong with the dating scene. No wonder she doesn’t have a boyfriend. No wonder she’s desperate enough to entertain me—of all people.

I know the type of people you like, Daniella, and it’s not me.

“You know what you’re doing when you ask me that.” he brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it. “I can tell you can make a man come often.“

Daniella giggled and her chest puffed out. She leaned closer to him, and he can practically drown in her scent of vanilla and cake. “I have an art piece that I think you'll appreciate. It's back at my place… wanna see it?”

Fuhhhhhck no. Your stalker slipped the knife into his pocket.

Your stalker smirked and he leaned in closer as well. He could see the makeup on her face, the gloss on her lips, and he could see a glimpse of her ample breasts. “I don’t know… is it one of a kind?”

Underneath the table, her leg started to caress his, and her foot slowly found its way to his crotch. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and he held onto her hand tighter. As much as he hated this, he would have been lying if he had said that the attention wasn’t nice. He felt the pressure around his groin tighten as she pressed her foot onto it, and she gently rubbed it up and down while maintaining eye contact.

“It’s an original piece…something that can’t be replicated. I’m sure you’ll love it.” Daniella said coyly, and she bit down on her plush lips.

She knew when to strike when the iron was hot. A taxi was called, and she made out with him in it. Her body was pressed up against his, and she felt his hand grip on her ass. His hand then slid up her thigh, his fingers ripped her black sheer stockings and two of them found their way to her entrance. He bit down on her bottom lip and his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She's a fun girl. She knew exactly how to inflate a man's ego and pride. He heard her sweet, light moans, and her hips started to grind onto his hand. His thumb played with her clit, and they only pulled away when the cab arrived at her house. He grabbed her hand and tossed a couple of bills at the driver. He slammed the door shut, and before she could unlock the door to her house, he pressed her against his body.

"W-We're in public...!" Daniella's face was flushed and she tried to close her legs, but your stalker was quick to pull them back apart.

He narrowed his eyes and tugged down her panties. "So? Don't tell me you have morals all of a sudden." he snorted.

He wished that she would just shut up. She opened her mouth to rebuttal but he wrapped one hand around her throat to keep her still and quiet, and he shimmied off his pants just enough for his cock to be out. "I didn't come here for you to talk all the damn time. Shut it, before I put that mouth of yours to good use."

Your stalker lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around him. His dick then entered inside her, and he groaned at how wet and ready she felt. It's been awhile since he felt actual warmth, and her walls started to clench around him. His breath is ragged as he fucked her. His eyes were closed and he couldn't help but bite down onto her shoulder. Daniella cried out, and her body was tense as his teeth broke into her skin.

"God... you needed this, didn't you?" He purred as he licked up the puncture wound. Your stalker then looked down to watch his cock disappear into her. "You need someone to fuck your brains out." He sharply thrust into her again, and his hands dug into the plush of her ass to help with the momentum.

Your stalker dragged his tongue across her bleeding shoulder, then pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. With one hand still gripping her body, he used the other to shove his fingers down her throat, silencing her whimpers."You're the prettiest whore I have ever seen. Isn't that right, y/n?"

Your stalker truly believed he was being intimate with you. Daniella, who? All he knew was you. All he ever wanted was to feel you, to taste you, and to be able to hear you mewl around his cock. He wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, to paint your skin with butterfly kisses, and for him to finally come inside you again and again. It actually pissed him off to no end that he had to be stuck here with her.

When he felt himself getting closer to the edge, he unceremoniously pulled out of her, and his white stream of cum dripped down onto the ground. He sighed as his dick softened, and he gently helped her stand on her own legs again. His hand dipped underneath her body, his fingers playing with her wet folds, and he spread them apart to furiously rub at her clit. Daniella gripped onto his arm to keep him firmly there until she felt her leg shake.

Your stalker watched with a bit of fascination as what seemed like an endless amount of juices squirted out of her. He got onto his knees and helped her to sit onto his face. After he cleaned her all up, your stalker suddenly remembered something and his hand patted down his pockets.

"Hey... I think I'm missing my phone." He started his little lie. "Can I borrow yours? I forgot that I had an important call--"

"Bag." She just said and pointed to the one that was tossed to the side.

He muttered a "thanks" before he went over and rummaged through her purse. "What do you think about doing this again?" he kept an eye on her as his hand aimlessly tried to look for her phone. "I had fun tonight, and I'd like to see you one more time."

He could feel the various items in her bag. A packet of cigarettes, two lip products, house keys, a whole perfume bottle, but fuck where was her phone?

He watched as Daniella rolled down her scrunched up dress. The woman then raised her brow and she crossed her arms. "I'm pretty sure you said another woman's name."

"I didn't." He said rather quickly. "You drank a lot of wine--it was almost like you were trying to bankrupt me." He joked, and his hand firmly gripped onto what felt like a smooth case. He pulled it out of her bag and there it was. "What's your password?"

"Trying to change the subject, are we?"

"I'm pretty sure your phone is the subject, unlock it pretty please?"

Daniella pulled back her hair and she stared at him expectantly.

"I said give me your password, not a blowjob." Your stalker frowned.

She gave him an exasperated look. "It's my face dumbass." she then snatched her phone back from him.

"You don't use your thumb? What kind of update is that?"

"God, you're so poor." He heard her mutter.

That was so unwarranted, and sort of hurt.

Though it made him feel a lot better when he finally decided to slit her throat. Now that she was distracted, he discreetly pulled out the steak knife from his pocket before he dropped her bag and roughly yanked her back to him. His hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her screams as he dragged the serrated blade across her neck. The knife sawed through flesh, muscle, and sinew, blood spurting and gushing with each desperate pulse of her heart. It took him a while to sever her head completely, his arm burning with exhaustion as he hacked away, the blade catching on bone and gristle, her life draining away in a torrent of crimson.

Your stalker wiped his bloodied hand on her dress, he grabbed the phone off the ground, and he groaned when he saw that the screen was cracked. He tried his best to work the damn thing, his finger poking at the messaging app multiple times before it decided to open. Daniella had a plentiful amount of unsaved numbers but they had weird emojis next to them. One number was from a different country and had the eggplant emoticon.

Then he found the only saved number: y/n.

You're apparently a good girl and shared your location with your best friend. How adorable, you even share every given moment with her too. You even talked about how you were thinking about going back to your serial cheater of an ex.

Your stalker gasped, his head reeling back in shock. You were about to go back to your ex? Your ex, of all people? You couldn't have, what—moved on like a normal person? You couldn't have gone out and fucked around with someone new? Someone like him? It's like you purposely make the wrong choices just to be saved. Before he could be your little personal super hero... his eyes slowly made its way back to the body on the ground, and then to the keys that were in her bag.

Have you ever heard of cuteness aggression? The rush of impulsive behavior that you get after seeing a cute and defenseless puppy? I get that when I see you. I think you're so adorable that it makes my heart burst. Your stalker stared up into your apartment, and the car windows were rolled down to air out the perfume he dumped into the body bag.

However, there was nothing cute about this ugly pig-like fuck that touched your waist. That man had no redeeming qualities, and boy, did I want him to start squealing in pain. I wanted to pinch his body until he had yellowish-brown bruises all over. I wanted to crush his skull with my bare hands and feel his pulse drop. I wanted to be able to drink the blood shower that would come from their body and bathe in it. I want them to realize that you’re off the market, and that you’re solely mine.

They’re not good for you, love. You have seen that time and time again, and they have disappointed you before without fail; so why do you welcome them with open arms? It hurts to see your legs over their shoulders, and to see a bit of your face contorted in pleasure and ecstasy. Is it the sex? Is it the way they give you a fleeting moment of what could have been if they weren’t constantly cheating on you?

That’s pathetic, and you know it. But it’s okay, I’m willing to look past this little transgression. It’s not completely unforgivable. They must’ve broken you down and made you vulnerable enough to pull your pants down. It’s not your fault. It’s theirs.

Your stalker continued to stake out your house, patiently waiting for your ex to come down to the lobby. The moment he did, your stalker would be ready. He might not have been able to get your blood, but killing your ex and taking his was like killing two birds with one stone.

Allure: This is the first fic I wrote that actually has y/n in it! And it's pretty unedited, so if there is mistakes I will probs fix it later on. This dragged on for waaay longer than it needed and tbh, I am never writing a long fic like this again LMAO

[creamhoodie]

Hunted

synopsis: You're walking home late from work one evening and encounter a stranger..

Tags: yandere, smut, kinda dubcon, non canon characterization, afab reader, satoru gojo

You felt it again, that unmistakable feeling of the fine hair rising behind your neck. 

That feeling had been your loyal companion for the last few months, coming on and off. It came just often enough for you to not forget about it, but not enough to warrant true concern. You chalked it up to getting accustomed to this climate, you had recently moved to the area around the same time you first noticed it. Oh how naive you had been.

As you walked home from work after staying late to put in overtime, that feeling was accompanied by the rustling of footsteps. Soon enough the racing of your heart joined in, creating a daming trio. It was nearly midnight and though the office you worked at was only a few blocks away from your small town home, the route was dimly lit. 

Again the rustling permeated the air.

Pausing now, you turned around.. no one. 

It was only when you turned the corner that you peered over your shoulder and saw a tall male figure walking towards you. 

Instinctively, you picked up the pace but his long stride made it difficult to out pace him. 

“Hey are you okay? You seem shaken,” the male called out. His voice was smooth and confident and when he stepped into the light pole’s beam you understood why. 

This man wasn’t like anyone you had seen before. His skin radiant, free of blemishes, and his hair was a snowy white. Most striking were his eyes, a celeste hue that made it seem as though pieces of the sky fell into his lids. 

“You okay?” He asked again, laughing slightly. You figured he was used to the ogling. Who would suspect that someone who looked like they could be on the runway would live in the shadows? 

“I think so.. I was just walking home from work,” you voice said, still timid. 

“Me too, mind if I walk with you?” He asked. 

“Guess not,” you shrugged. 

He fell into a stride next to you, matching your slower pace. 

“So you’re a workaholic,” he teased. 

“I suppose. It’s only temporary, I need the money to pay my rent. I moved here not that long ago,” you said. 

He let out a tsk.

“You don’t have family to hold you over?” He questioned.

“No, I moved for my career.” 

Silence settled as the townhomes came into view. Why were you letting him walk with you? Why were you telling him personal things? It went against every survival instinct you knew. 

“Well this is me, I'm going to head home now,” you said as the two of you entered the neighborhood. 

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said. 

“Oh you don’t have to-“

“I insist,” he said with enough permanence you knew it wasn’t up for debate. Perhaps he had been raised a gentleman and insisted on making sure you got home safe. 

When you were at your door you turned to thank him and saw he was watching you intently. 

“Thank you,” you said a little dismissively, hoping he’d leave now. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, with no sign of leaving. It was then you noticed how empty handed he was, a detail you had missed earlier due to his striking appearance.

“You don’t have any work equipment with you,” you stated suddenly your laptop bag on your shoulder felt much more heavy.

“Left my stuff at the office,” he replied coolly. 

Your heart began to thud.

The thud reminded you of the trio: the hair rising, the rustling, heart racing.

At the current moment they were all present except one.

One had stopped once this stranger had appeared and only silence had ensued in his presence besides his questions.

“I think I’ll be going inside now,” you said, quickly fumbling with the lock. 

As you opened the door and bolted in, his strong hand stopped it from closing. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asked, smiling, his brilliant white canines like daggers. 

You tried to force the door close but his strength allowed him to open it just enough so he could side step inside. 

You backed away and he closed the door behind you, locking it ominously. 

Even more frightening, your laptop bag fell off your shoulder and onto the floor with a thud so loud it rivaled that of your heart.

“Now we can be alone,” he laughed as if it were an inside joke only he knew. 

“Please leave. Please don’t hurt me,” you began to plead.

He raised a brow.

“Hurt you? I’d never hurt you, unless you ask me to,” he teased. 

His demeanor was a combination of playful and menacing. 

Bridging the space between the two of you, his lips came down roughly on yours before you could even process it. 

Moaning into his mouth from the shock, your head spun as he devoured your tongue with his own. He was a good kisser, his lips moving skillfully. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered once the kiss broke apart. 

“What?” you asked. 

By way of response, his lips moved to your neck, and your body betrayed you by responding, a jolt of heat formulating between your thighs. 

“Mine. All mine,” he said between kisses on your neck. 

“I don’t even know your name,” you stammered. 

He laughed against your skin.

“Satoru,” he replied before continuing to lay kisses on your neck with his soft lips. 

“Satoru…” you repeated more to yourself than to him but you felt his lips curl up in a smile. 

“That’s right, it sounds so much nicer coming from you,” he said. 

His lips came down on yours again, more passionate and hungry than before. Your head began to spin when suddenly he broke away.

“Take me to your bedroom,” he demanded. 

“What?” you asked, voice shaky. 

“You don’t like that idea?” he asked. For a moment his face seemed extremely vulnerable but then it was replaced by a stern look. 

“No it’s not that, it’s just- I don’t know you,” you stammered, hoping he wouldn’t grow angry. On the contrary, your words made him playful again. 

“You don’t need to. I know you, I’ve been studying you,” he said, his hands going to rest at your hips now, “I know you’re lonely, so let me take care of you.” 

You couldn’t even feign offense. You were so deeply lonely. Moving here for your career away from everyone you knew was no easy feat. You had the same routine work, home, and occasionally the store for errands. His hands traveled lower resting right on your thighs, one hand gripped the flesh lightly. You let out a whimper at that. 

“That’s a good girl, I can tell you want me. So it looks like I’m just gonna have to take us to your bed myself.” 

The next thing you knew, he lifted you up with extreme ease, throwing you  over his shoulder with your rear end a little too close to his face. 

“Satoru!” you exclaimed. 

He seemed to move through your small home a little too comfortably, a little too familiar. 

Finding your bedroom at the end of the hall, he threw you down on the bed. 

Your face flushed with embarrassment at all your trinkets on shelves and your plushies on the bed, by all accounts you have never had a man over before. 

Satoru only seemed to have eyes for you, however.

He bent down on his knees before you, parting your legs open. He jeered at the sight of your white panties, easily accessible due to your wearing a skirt. 

You gasped and clamped your legs shut again. 

His eyes narrowed at that. 

“Don’t be rude, let me look,” he said. 

A part of you felt violated while another part of you felt excitement. 

“Satoru, this is all so fast,” you said. 

He raised a brow. 

“Actually it is not going fast enough for me. I’ve waited months for this moment,” he replied. 

It had been several times now he made comments of the sort implying he had been watching you, and it shifted things into perspective. 

The hair rising that had been your one and only companion in this stage of your life was due to him. 

“How long have you been watching me?” you asked. 

“Since you first moved in,” he replied simply as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He inched forward until he was hovering over you on the bed, his hands resting along on the mattress. He kissed you again and you fell further into the cot. You hated how your body seemed to love his touch so much, you were so responsive to him. You even felt your panties begin to dampen with arousal. 

When the kiss broke apart, he rubbed the tip of his nose against yours, an act of unwarranted intimacy for two strangers. 

“I want you and I intend to have you. I won’t take no for an answer,” he said directly. His striking eyes were serious.

“Satoru you’re handsome and I’m not saying no but this is just so sudden,” you said trying to hold on to some shred of dignity. 

“I want you and I know you want me, what more is there that needs to happen?” He asked. 

He slipped back into his prior position in front you before speaking again: “If I have to prove how good I can make you feel, I will do so gladly.” 

His hands effortlessly parted your legs again and when you tried to clamp them shut again he held them in place.

“Stop denying yourself pleasure,” he said. He smiled upon seeing the wet stain on your panties, “look at you all eager for me.” 

His voice grew husky and his eyes were lustful. His fingers intruded their way into your underwear, pushing them aside slightly so he had access to your folds. 

Your breathing hitched as you felt him find your clit, the mere touch inducing a pulsing sensation that was impossible to ignore.

“Satoru.. please..” you said but you didn’t know what you were pleading for anymore. 

Was it for him to stop? Was it for him to keep going? 

“Hmm?” He teased as his fingers gently rubbed little circles on your clit. 

Eyes rolling back in pleasure, you felt your resolve to resist him begin to fade away. 

“That’s a good girl. See you don’t know what you want, you have to be shown,” he said. Suddenly he stopped rubbing. Your expression like you just had cold water thrown on you made him laugh. “Don’t worry, I have something better.” 

He removed your heels, tossing them to the floor, soon afterward your underwear followed as he rolled them over your knees and discarded them. Your skirt remained, but it was thrown over your plush thighs, no longer offering coverage.

“Fuck, so this is your pretty little bud,” he whispered as he parted your legs again. 

You were still pulsating, it grew more fierce as he had stopped before you could reach your climax. 

He leaned forward smirking and suddenly you felt his tongue at your folds. He began to slurp at your arousal causing guttural moans to slip out of your mouth and your back to arch slightly. 

Your hands went to his soft hair as you searched for something to anchor you when every part of you felt like it was setting afloat. 

He was ravenous, his mouth greedily tasting every part of you, and he was nearly abusive to your clit with his rough laps. 

“That’s it… that’s a good girl,” he coaxed as he felt your sweet release coming on. He talked you through it, telling you sweet nothings of how good you looked right now and how he had fantasized about this for so long. 

Three. 

Two. 

One. 

And your breasts raised and fell like setting suns as you caught your breath. 

“Now I want you to do something for me too,” he said as he began to unbuckle his pants. 

“Satoru, wait,” you began to protest again. 

“I told you I won’t take no for an answer. I proved myself and made you feel good,” he said. He took his pants off so he was in his boxers, his shirt soon following after. Calloused hands pulled your skirt off. Your blazer and blouse were soon discarded roughly. 

He hovered over you again going to kiss your lips, salvia intermingling with yours so when he pulled away again a translucent string connected the two of you. Leaning back, he pulled down his boxers revealing his big cock, some slight precum on the angry pink tip. 

“Satoru.. I’m not on anything,” you began. 

He had been right, you were so dreadfully lonely it had been a long time since you had been touched like this.

He smiled as if he suspected no different.

“It’s fine. I’d look after you and the baby,” he said. 

You whine at this.

“Please, be serious,” you chastised. 

“Fine, I’ll pull out. I’ll take care of everything but for now,” he paused as he lined himself up with you, he placed his dick on top of your labia rubbing up and down before he continued, “just let yourself enjoy it.” 

Your body was on fire, every nerve seemed to make itself known and you were embarrassed by just how aroused you really were. 

He was so dreadfully attractive, the perfect predator. Even his scent was intoxicating as it wafted into your nostrils from having him so close.

The truth was you were doomed to lose from the moment he set his sights on you. He was the hunter and you had been the naive and ignorant prey. Everything about him was inviting. In truth that’s why you had let him walk with you, why you had told him personal details. In the end you had been responsible for your own demise but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Now you were going to have sex with your stalker, how fucked up was that? 

“You’re so fucking soaked,” he whispered as you felt him move his cock down and between your folds now. “Ahh.. fuck.. you’re so goddamn tight. How many guys have you let in here? Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to get mad.” 

You moaned as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his impressive and imposing girth. He pushed himself deeper in, using his hands to wrap your legs around his waist so he could go even deeper still, until at last he was bottomed out inside you. 

He seemed delirious now, completely pussy drunk as he began to set a rhythmic pace of fast thrusts. 

“So big,” you whispered, but he heard you all the same, groaning at that. 

“Fuck.. I've wanted this since the moment I saw you.. Had to stop myself from taking you then and there-“ 

Your bed frame had begun to hit the wall with each thrust and you blushed to think of any neighbors who may hear. 

You could feel his pulse beating inside you as if it were your own and the lewd sound of wet skin slapping against skin only aroused you more. 

“Moan my name,” he commanded.

“Satoru..” you moaned. 

He groaned at that and his hands went to grope at your breasts, sensitive nipples spilling over onto his fingers as he continued to thrust into your mercilessly. 

“Such a little minx, you know that? I loved watching you.. following you.. coming into your place at night while you were sleeping.” 

Your eyes widened in fear at that, mortified.

No wonder he had been so familiar with your place. 

“Shh.. did that scare you baby? Don’t worry. I’d just watch you sleep is all. Sometimes I’d stroke myself off when you’d moan in your sleep. Believe me it took everything in me not to ram myself down your throat when you’d do that.. but even I have morals,” he laughed. 

You felt your heart racing in panic now, in fear of the invasion of your privacy but he took the opportunity to fuck you even harder than before. 

“‘Toru.. so rough,” you moaned as your hands went to his muscled back in an effort to stabilize yourself. 

“Fuck- your pussy is gripping me so much tighter. Thought you were scared, but maybe you like the attention.. hm?” 

His strokes became slower now, more deliberate. And for a moment his rough fucking turned into intimate love making as he kissed you, his tongue chasing after yours.

You felt yourself nearly close to your peak, and he felt it too, his lips moving to your neck biting as he returned to his fast speed.

He found your sweet gummy spot and his cock nicked it over and over, practically abusing it to the point of overstimulation that you felt tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks. 

“Satoru… it feels so good,” you moaned. 

“Yeah, I bet it does,” he teased, his own eyes half lied and full of lust.

He himself was enjoying this as well, enjoying how incredibly tight and warm you felt it was like nothing he had ever experienced before and well worth the months of waiting and meticulous studying of you. 

God, how he had enjoyed watching you, had enjoyed following you home from work every night. 

Tonight has been his breaking point, he couldn’t stay away any longer and when you didn’t resist him didn’t tell him to go away and that he could walk home with you.. well you had practically invited him to fuck you, or at least that’s how he saw it. 

“I’m.. I’m so close,” you whimpered underneath him. 

“Shh I know baby me too,” he cooed. 

“Satoru.. remember not inside-“ you tried to remind him, but your face was so flushed, makeup smeared, and voice so breathy, you couldn’t possibly mean that could you? 

Your words didn’t seem to have any effect on him as he continued to thrust into you. 

In truth he was imagining you pregnant, it would be a true testament that you were claimed by him, belonged to him. 

Because as far as he was concerned you did belong to him, he hadn’t invested all this time into you for nothing. 

“Fuck…” he groaned as he felt you gripping him even tighter still. 

Close so close.. 

Then the two of you finished and you screamed out in panic as his hot fluid rushed into you. 

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby,” he coaxed, shutting up your panicked babbles with a tongue filled kiss. You relaxed a little at that, he did have a way of calming you down with his touch, with his out of place intimacy which was far too familiar for what the two of you were to each other. 

He reluctantly pulled out of you and cradled you against his chest, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead. 

In this moment it was easy for you to close your eyes and pretend the two of you were lovers. 

Too bad the truth was much darker.

[mcflymemes]

PHANTOM THREAD (2017) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i cannot begin my day with a confrontation.

i feel as if i've been looking for you for a very long time.

you found me.

i wanted time with you. i wanted to have you to myself.

you are a very hansome man.

why are you not married?

i'm certain i was never meant to marry.

you sound so sure about things.

i think you're only acting strong.

maybe you have no taste.

you have the ideal shape.

don't start crying.

i'm not crying. i'm angry.

whatever you do, do it carefully.

kiss me, my girl, before i'm sick.

i want you flat on your back. helpless, tender, open with only me to help.

i think it's the expectations and assumptions of others that causes heartache.

are you a special agent sent here to ruin my evening and possibly my entire life?

why are you so rude to me?

why are you talking to me like this?

yes, this is your house. of course it's your house.

i'm surrounded on all sides!

you brought me here!

when the hell did this happen?

where's your gun?

stop playing this game.

if it's my life that you're describing, it's entirely up to you whether you choose to share it or not.

why don't you just fuck off to back where you came from?

is there something i'm unaware of?

don't you start using that filthy little word.

there's nothing i can say to get your attention aimed back at me, is there?

a house that doesn't change is a dead house.

if you want to have a staring contest with me, you will lose.

is this an ambush?

then i want you strong again.

i don't understand what you're saying. i can't hear your voice.

you might wish you're going to die. you might wish you're going to die, but you're not going to.

i can predict the future, and everything is settled.

i finally understand you.

right now we're here.

i'm getting hungry.

what a model of politeness you two are.

marriage would make me deceitful, and i don't ever want that.

you need to settle down a little.

you certainly won't come out alive.

i'll go right through you and it'll be you who ends up on the floor.

[name] has made my dreams come true.

it's comforting to think the dead are watching over the living.

i don't find that spooky at all.

are you here? are you always here?

i miss you. i think about you all the time.

i hear your voice say my name when i dream and when i wake up, there are tears streaming down my face.

must be quite a challenge to be with him.

sometimes i jump ahead in our life together, and i see a time near the end.

i just miss you. it's as simple as that.

i want to tell you everything.

don't pick a fight with me.

you are not cursed. you are loved by me.

who is this lovely creature making the house smell so nice?

there is an air of quiet death in this house and i do not like the way it smells.

i don't even know what that word means.

it does concern me. it concerns me very much.

i'm not moaning.

it hurts my feelings.

i don't know what i'm doing here.

i'm just waiting around like an idiot for you.

[littlemissagrafina]

Live, Laugh, Llama

Summary: Bobby looked back over his shoulder, when he heard muffled sounds of protests and the thuds of limbs hitting limbs.

Eddie had a gloved hand shoved over Buck's mouth and Buck was pushing back at Eddie's own chin and face, the two of them scrabbling and batting at each other when Eddie's hand slipped from Buck's face.

“Stop with the llamas!” Eddie grunted, face pushed to the side by Buck's arm as they shoved at each other.

“Stop being a llama hater and I will!”

-

In which Bobby doesn't know whether or not to be concerned or just plain confused, so he settles for both.

Read on AO3

There was an air of tension around Buck and Eddie when they walked through the doors of the station, which, in and of itself, is not unusual. For years, the two men had been followed by the weight of all the moments and feelings left unsaid between them, as they spiraled around each other. They would fall away at times, before being pulled back together as if they were planets gravitating back into orbit.

So tension was not unusual between Buck and Eddie, nor had it dissipated when they finally got together. If anything, the tension had even increased at times, much to the dismay of the A shift, who all now had to deal with adoring looks and blushing grins that didn't end when they caught eyes as they stared. And although they were teased, everyone knew it was from a place of happiness.

It could be seen in the way Hen's smirk would soften to a smile when she caught them sharing a quick kiss as they changed before the start of a shift.

How Chimney would quietly leave a blanket for them when they collapsed on the couch together after a hard call, when all they needed in that moment was a quiet embrace to steady themselves with.

When Ravi stepped aside enough for Eddie to watch him check Buck’s harness, sharing a nod with the older man - an assurance that he would have Buck's back in that moment that Eddie couldn't, rather than taking the opportunity to tease them over their occasional codependency.

It was Bobby, working at the stove in the station's kitchen, who only shook his head with fond exasperation when Buck all but plastered himself to Eddie's side as he stood by the coffee machine, waiting for the fresh pot to finish brewing. Bobby had watched the couple, they all had. How could they not when they had all waited and hoped for Buck and Eddie to finally see what they were to each other. So Bobby had watched, and he'd seen the way they reigned themselves, and each other, in when it came to the affection they shared at the station and on shifts.

They had been remarkably professional, a fact that filled Bobby with pride.

Buck had come far from his fire truck stealing days, and Eddie had softened, allowing himself to be seen by not only his son and his partner but by their found family as well. Their crew and extended families had learned a lot about each other (sometimes more than they would like to at times) which is why it was easy to let them share those small moments when they needed it.

Their whole team had been “compromised” so to speak in any case, had become a family rather than just a team who worked together. They all found and needed moments together at times, after all they had been through.

So, again, tension was not unusual among Buck and Eddie, nor the rest of the team. But what was unusual was the kind of tension.

It wasn't the tension carried over after a long or hard shift, it wasn't even sexual tension, something Bobby loathed that he could even recognise from them. It was Buck, that was like seeing it from May or Harry at this point.

No, the air between the two men as they walked in before their 24h shift, the last of their team to arrive, was almost cold.

Now, the two had been upset at each other before, the argument during the lawsuit was more than enough proof of that. They'd occasionally clashed after Buck had been reckless during a call, or Eddie had tried to pull back and deal with things himself. But that was before they'd made effort through therapy, both separately and together, to have healthy communication and boundaries (as much as possible considering their intertwined work and personal lives)

Considering said efforts in healthy communication, the fact that they were snipping and muttering back and forth (without the usual lighthearted air that their banter came with, that is) as they joined everyone upstairs, was unsettling enough for Bobby to pay closer attention to them. From the corner of his eye, as he turned to watch them, he saw Hen's gaze following them as well.

With a huff, Buck veered towards the coffee machine, and Eddie dropped down into a seat at the table near Hen. Apart from greeting Hen as if everything was normal, Eddie sat quietly, drumming his fingers on the table as he leant back in the chair.

Buck, however, stirred their coffee with slightly more force than was necessary in Bobby's humble opinion. He suppressed a wince when it looked like Buck was going to drop the spoon roughly in the sink when he was done, but all the younger man did was rinse it off before setting it down.

They were good spoons, and it always bugged both Bobby (as well as Buck, Bobby knew) when they were thrown around roughly. It was irrational, they both knew that, but sue them. Or maybe don't, once was enough.

Buck moved over to the table, setting the two mugs down before pulling out the chair across from Eddie and settling into it. He picked one of the mugs up, taking a slow sip as he met Eddie's eyes. He hummed, smacking his lips.

Eddie's eyes narrowed slightly. “You gonna share one of those?”

The other mug was silently pushed across the table. “Of course I'll share. You know how I love making it for you, Sunshine.”

Bobby didn't know what was going on between the two, neither did Hen by her raised eyebrows or Chimney from where he sat on the couch, his phone forgotten in his hand where he'd more than likely been texting Maddie before getting distracted by Buck and Eddie. But what Bobby did know was the tone that Buck used when he was trying to get a reaction from Eddie, and he was using it right then.

Eddie obviously knew, too, because all he did was take the mug, shooting a sickly sweet smile and a “thank you” back at his partner. He and Buck both sat quietly, the strange silence only broken when Eddie set the mug down after draining the last sip of coffee from it, Buck still sipping at his own.

“You wanna know what's great about this blend?” Buck tilted his head, and Bobby watched as his eyes tracked Eddie as he stood, taking his mug to the sink.

Buck continued without waiting for an answer. “It tastes delicious with a bit of llama milk. It's popular in South America, did you know that? To drink llamas milk. Wouldn't you be interested in trying it, Eds?”

Chimney and Hen shared bewildered looks, and Bobby was sure his own expression mirrored theirs. Llamas milk?

Turning around, Eddie leant against the counter with his arms crossed. “As a matter of fact, I did know that. You were actually the one who told me, but thank you for the reminder, Sweetheart. And no, I'm not interested.”

Before Buck could respond and continue the odd back and forth between the two (Bobby wasn't sure if the passive aggressive exchange could be called a conversation) the alarm sounded.

Bobby didn't know whether or not to be grateful for the interruption, but as they piled into the truck he couldn't help but wonder over the interaction.

-

As it turns out, he didn't have to wonder for long because comments and facts about llamas followed them from call to call as Buck somehow found a way to relate a scene they worked at to some factoid or other about llamas.

The call where a homeowner had been attacked by her dog after she'd used the back entrance, citing the excuse of forgetting her key? Turns out, she hadn't been the homeowner and the dog had stood firm in its guard duties.

It was only after the woman's injuries had been seen too and she'd been taken away in the ambulance, police cruiser in tow behind them to deal with the criminal aspect of the call, that Buck spoke up with his first call related llama fact of the day.

“Did you know that llamas have been used as guard animals since the 80's in a lot of areas? Pretty interesting, huh?” He spoke into the headset, catching Bobby's eye and grinning at him as the truck jostled.

“Sure is, Kid.”

Eddie sighed.

-

It continued in that vein for the rest of their shift.

No matter if they were on a call or back at the station, Buck managed to sprout out some new piece of information about llamas, and it was somehow always related to whatever they were doing at the moment.

-

Llamas can live for up to 20 years. This one came after a birthday party gone wrong.

Bobby no longer wanted candles on their birthday cakes. Ever. Again.

-

When one llama is angry at another llama, they'll stick their tongue out to show exactly what they feel to the other.

Bobby wanted it to be known that preschoolers could be absolutely terrifying. He was not afraid to admit that.

Having a whole class of 5 year olds stick their tongues out at them with angry frowns when they were told (gently and very nicely, if Bobby could say so himself! And he did!) that they weren't allowed to ride in the firetruck this time, was a feeling of unnerving fear that was enough to send a shudder down his spine.

(And no, Athena, he wasn't exaggerating! He swore a few of them were looking straight at his soul. No. Athena, Athena, stop laughing. It's not funny!)

-

Llamas communicate in a lot of ways. They'll use their ears, their tails, their whole body posture, to speak to one another. But their most used form of communication was to hum.

Let's just say that things could get pretty messy when someone thinks they've been snubbed out of the lead role in a play they'd worked extremely hard at landing. And also that sequins were not to be underestimated. Ever.

Those tiny little shiny disks were dangerous things.

-

“Hen, Chimney, I want their vitals and status as soon as possible.” Bobby ordered as they all filed into the gym during their latest call.

Apparently, two idiots hyped up on steroids had decided to play at being amateur engineers and made a bench press version of Frankenstein's monster. All in an attempt to see how much weight they could lift together.

Needless to say, their horrifyingly welded weight bar, come bench press, come dumbbell contraption hadn't lasted long. The overloaded and unbalanced weight bar had all but crumbled as soon as they'd tried to lift it from the rack, leaving the two knuckleheads pinned beneath the metal and weights.

“Buck, Eddie,” Bobby continued as the two paramedics set down their med bags and knelt down as close to their respective patients as the weights and other mess of metal and bench allowed. “Get started on moving what you can that isn't currently pressing down on them or the rest of this mess. As soon as you have the all clear from Hen and Chim, I want you to get as much as possible of whatever is left, lifted and removed as safely as you can.”

The duo nodded, marching off to the other side and getting to work.

And look, Bobby had to hand it to them. Whatever it is that had been going on with them all day, with the (almost vicious at times) squabbling and the llamas, they had left behind as they got out the truck with each call they had.

He was impressed by them. But it also didn't make whatever was going on any less disconcerting. As they finished up with the gym-bozos, Buck and Eddie separating the destroyed bits of the franken-creation, and Hen and Chim loading the pair into the ambulance, Bobby secretly hoped that whatever It was, could be left behind at the scene with the scraps of metal.

He loved his team, but sometimes dealing with them was tiring. And today had been a day. He still wasn't sure whether to be outright concerned or amused by the facts and retorts fired between the couple.

Ambling back out to the truck, the ambulance already on the way to a nearby hospital (no urgent care, luckily,) Bobby had to hold back what was either a sigh or a snort. At this point he didn't know which reaction was most commonly brought out around the team, but if he had to base it solely on Buck's involvement it would probably be tied.

And, of course, Buck was the reason for it this time as well because as soon as they settled into the seats and the truck was pulling away from the curb, there came yet another llama fact. Of which there had been plenty already.

“Did you know that llamas can carry up to a third of their body weight. But if you overload them too much, they'll just lay down and refuse to move. They also–”

Bobby looked back over his shoulder, when he heard muffled sounds of protests and the thuds of limbs hitting limbs.

Eddie had a gloved hand shoved over Buck's mouth and Buck was pushing back at Eddie's own chin and face, the two of them scrabbling at each other, batting at each other when Eddie's hand slipped from Buck's face.

“Stop with the llamas!” Eddie grunted, face pushed to the side by Buck's arm as they shoved at each other.

“Stop being a llama hater and I will!”

Bobby whistled, ignoring their wince as the sharpness of the sound left feedback skittering through their headsets that were, miraculously, still balanced over their ears.

“Boys! Enough! Sit back down, leave each other alone, and we'll talk about this back at the station!” He ordered, satisfaction curling in his chest when they immediately did as told.

-

Bobby would like it to be known that he had a lot of patience.

It had been tested a lot in his life. Buck was a favourite for the first place title in that regard.

He could find humor in a lot of situations.

But sitting at the dinner table up in the loft, during a calm lull that they were all hoping would extend for the next half hour until they got off shift, he felt that this particular situation had tested both his patience and his humor.

“So let me get this straight.” He shot a look at Buck when he smirked. The younger man's mouth shut with a click.

“You two have been egging each other on and winding each other up-all shift long, might I add- because of a llama!?”

Buck sat up in his chair next to Eddie, across from Bobby. “Whoa, whoa, it's not just any llama! It's Sunshine!”

Bobby caught sight of Hen and Chim smothering their laughter where the leant against the railing of the loft behind the table and had to close his eyes to force himself not to give into his own urge to laugh at the entire situation.

“Right. Because of Sunshine. Because you want to adopt a llama. Yes, yes, sorry, Sunshine. You want to adopt Sunshine, and Eddie wouldn't let you?” He could feel a migraine starting. He'd been torn between worry and amusement all shift long, and this was the reason!? Maybe he and Athena should have gone on that cruise when they'd had the chance.

Buck huffed, crossing his arms. “Look, the petting zoo doesn't want to keep him anymore because he keeps spitting at the kids–”

Now Eddie leant forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I mean, if I had a bunch of tiny people pulling at my hair, I would too!”

“It's wool, not hair.”

He waved a hand. “Where the hell would we keep a whole ass llama, anyway, Buck!?”

“We could keep him in the yard!”

Eddie threw his head back and groaned, slumping down in his seat. “And when he gets lonely? Llamas are social animals, babe! We work too many shifts to pay him enough attention. Not to mention how much feeding it would cost!”

“Yeah, but he'll either go to some wanna be exotic pet owner, or we could take him and keep him from being mistreated by some idiot who doesn't know the first thing about llamas or how to take care of them! Besides, Chris would love it!”

Buck grinned innocently at Eddie, the grin dropping and his eyes bugging as a voice spoke out from the top of the stairs. This time, Bobby didn't even try to stop his laughter from bubbling up.

“Evan Buckley, I know I told you that you can't have that llama.” Athena arched a brow, coming to stand next to Bobby's chair.

“Thena, c'mon. Wouldn't it be so great–” Buck pleaded, recovering fast.

“No, it would not. The poor animal would not be happy or have enough space, I know you know that from all of the research I've heard that you spewed today. Besides, you, Mr, are too late. Sunshine has already been taken to a farm where he will be happy and cared for as a show llama.”

Buck slumped in his seat, dropping his head down onto Eddie's shoulder with a pout.

“I guess you're right. It would have been cool if we'd had the space and time, though.”

Eddie hummed, and Bobby smiled, feeling his chest warm when the other man lifted a hand to gently pat Buck's head.

“Maybe once Chris is settled into the school year, we can talk about a different pet. One that works for all of our schedules and doesn't need as much maintenance.”

Buck perked up immediately, his hand flying for his phone, already telling them about the different pet options that could work for them.

Bobby shook his head, lifting his gaze when Athena leant into him. He grinned at the fond eye roll from her.

His crew could sometimes drive him crazy, and he would definitely be taking some tylenol later, but he wouldn't change his family for a thing.

[delicatebarness]

bring him home | chapter four

Summary: The beginning of the support groups, and a mission with your sister.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Mentions of Grief. Violence. Car Crash. Guns.

Word Count: 1260

Spotify Playlist

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: It was quite fun to write a mission with Natasha.

Tags: @vampirethingz | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love | @esposadomd | @motylekrozi | @erica2024 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @mega-kittyglitter-1 | @mostlymarvelgirl | @ordelixx

Surrounded by community leaders, counselors, volunteers, and fellow Avengers, you sat at a large wooden table in a conference room filled with tension. The topic of discussion was that of establishing support groups for those still trying to grasp the aftermath of the Snap. 

“So, we all agree that there’s a real need for this,” said the head of the community center. Her voice held a lace of hope, though her eyes were weary. “But we need to decide on a structure, the goals, and how we reach out.” 

You nodded, a weight of responsibility once again settling on your shoulders. “I think the focus should be on creating a safe space, a space where people can share their stories,” you said, your gaze not once lifting from the piece of paper in front of you. “They need to know they’re not alone, there are others who understand.” 

Several others around the table gave verbal acknowledgments. A tall man, who had lost his wife and daughter, spoke up. “We need to provide resources for the ones struggling to find their footing. Assistance with job placement, mental health service, and even social activities… rebuild a sense of community.” 

For another hour, the discussion continued, and ideas flowed freely with contributions of thoughts and suggestions. There was a clear plan of action by the end, in two weeks the first meeting would be held. 

And you would be leading it. 

~

It was supposed to be a routine mission with Natasha, to extract Dr. Ivan Petrov from Iran. The mission was critical, he was a nuclear engineer who contained vital information, and Natasha trusted your skills, yet she insisted on having you by her side, wanting to keep you close. 

As the two of you crossed the Ukraine border, near the outskirts of Odesa, Natasha kept her eyes sharp, scanning the road and surroundings. In the passenger seat, you sat equally alert, with Dr. Petrov in the back. The tension in the car grew as the landscape was barren and quiet. 

Suddenly, a ping echoed through the air, a sharp and metallic ping, causing the car to swerve. The tires under you were shot out. 

“Hold on!” Natasha shouted, gripping the wheel. She used all her strength to control the car as it spun out of control. Skidding, the vehicle careened off the edge of the cliff.

As you plunged downward, time seemed to slow. Unbuckling your seatbelts, you and Natasha used your precise training as you gained speed. Natasha grabbed Dr. Petrov as you kicked open the doors, and you all leaped out before hitting the rocky ground below. 

After tumbling down the slope, Natasha quickly assessed your surroundings. You watched as the smoke rose from the wreckage, the car lying in a twisted heap below. With no sign of your attacker, you all knew you had little time. 

“Get up,” she commanded, steadying you to your feet. “We need to move.” 

Following her lead, you moved around the slope using the sparse trees and boulders to seek cover. Rustling came from behind you, causing your attention to snap as a figure emerged from the shadows. 

He wore a mask, but his arm was unmistakable– Soldat. 

“The Winter Soldier,” Dr. Petrov whispered, his voice tinged with dread. 

A chill ran down your spine as your mind filled with the memories of him. Standing before you, a ghost of the past, the man who made you what you are today. 

Natasha tightened her grip on Dr. Petrov, narrowing her eyes as she assessed the situation. Conflict etched on her face, should she protect, fight, or survive? She was a force to be reckoned with, however, similar to you, she became wary in the presence of this man. 

With her firearm steady in her hand, she positioned herself between you and the Winter Soldier, with a calculated grace and her gaze locking with his. As she prepared to to defend, you sensed her uncertainty, this wasn’t just another target, this was someone she knew… someone she had once trusted around you. 

He stood motionless, his expression hidden behind the mask, yet his eyes pierced at her. You could feel his gaze burning through her as if he could see you hidden behind. 

“Nat, he’s different,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as a rush of adrenaline coursing through you. “It’s Soldat.” 

The air thickened with tension, the impending danger was a feeling you couldn’t shake. He stood before you, silent and imposing. Natasha’s eyes flickered with recognition, her grip tightening ever so slightly on Dr. Petrov. 

But, before you could react, the Winter Soldier moved. He raised his weapon in a fluid motion, aim locked on Natasha. You watched in horror as time slowed. The sound of gunfire echoed, stillness in the air. 

Natasha staggered backward as the shot rang out. Disbelief flashed across her face as his bullet tore through her abdomen. She fought to stay on her feet, stumbling, her grip on Dr. Petrov faltering. 

“No!” you cried out, lunging forward, you reached to catch your sister as she fell. Her body collapsed against yours. 

Her blood began to stain your hands as her breaths filled with desperation. The doctor stood frozen in shock. 

“Soldat, please!” you cried, raw emotions straining your voice. “It’s me! Spiderling!” 

Your desperate plea for recognition hung in the air, yet it seemed no semblance of humanity broke through the facade of the Winter Soldier. His weapon and gaze stayed fixed on Natasha. Blocking her injured body with yours, you prepared for him to deliver another blow. 

It was then he spoke, “Run,” he commanded, “Run and don’t look back.” his tone was devoid of emotion, his gaze unwavering. 

You knew you had no choice, your sister’s life hung in the balance, once again you obeyed his orders. Gathering your strength, you helped Natasha steady herself, leaning her weight against you as you began to retreat.

~

Two weeks later you were stood in front of a packed room, each person carrying their weight of grief and loss. Looking out at their faces, the weight of responsibility carried heavy. 

You took a deep breath as you began the meeting, you tried to keep your voice steady as you addressed the room. “Thank you all for being here today,” you started, as you rifled through papers, “I know that each of us has experienced unimaginable loss in the last year and a half. But, today, we come together not just to mourn, but to support one another in our journey,” you paused, clearing the lump forming in your throat. “Our journey toward healing.” 

A palpable sense of emotion filled the room as you spoke, shared sorrow and pain heavy in the air. But beneath it all, a small glimmer of hope. 

Throughout the meeting, you listened as people shared their stories, trembling with emotion as they recalled memories of loved ones. You tried to offer words of comfort and encouragement. 

You felt a sense of pride wash over you as the meeting started to draw to a close. And, in the weeks and months that followed, the groups offered a lifeline to those struggling to cope. This was exactly where you were meant to be, standing with and for fellow survivors. 

For Bucky, all he wanted was peace, and you knew that seeing you support these people in finding that peace would have brought him a sense of contentment. He may not have been able to be here with you physically, but he was with you in your heart.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[terrainofheartfelt]

okay the real bee in my bonnet about this hart of dixie mayoral race, is that lavon had a really great argument he never used??

ruby says repeatedly that if she loses she's just gonna leave, and as a voter, I say that is some bullshit! oh, so you'll just leave? because you don't actually care about the place the office is supposed to be serving you only care about the title???? ruby! you don't deserve to be a mayor if you give fuck all about the good of the town?

lavon had a top notch rhetorical argument that would have destroyed his opponent's claim for the seat and he just? never said it? except as a romantic hindrance?

and that is why lavon is excellent at governing but horrible at politics

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[fairy-angel222]

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 જ⁀⟡

Something changed in Nanami when he got you pregnant. His protective nature coming out whenever it came to you, his wife. He was so sweet, pampering you and making sure to do everything you needed. Cleaning the house, cooking you food, going out to work, everything. He refused to let his precious sweetheart put any form of stress on herself, scolding you softly when you tried to take over the chores.

He was extremely excited for you two’s baby. Already setting up the extra bedroom for when the lil guy, or girl, was here.

But if there was one thing your husband especially loved about the pregnancy, was you. Loved to see that round stomach of yours, your breasts heavy and full with the perfect amount of firmness.

When you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Nanami was elated. Everything was great. And to make things even better for him, your breasts had gotten even fuller. After the first few weeks, you were both craving each other. Having already put your daughter to sleep when you were laying on your bed, Nanami in between your legs with his head in your neck.

Nanami had always appreciated your body in bed, squeezing and groping at your pretty pair of tits. Latching his mouth onto your nipples with a groan. Now that they were filled with milk, he appreciated them even more.

His thick cock fucking lazily into you, your fingers running through his hair as you moaned, soft whimpers falling past your lip as slow thrusts began grinding against your walls. “Kento..” you mewled, your eyes closed at how gentle Nanami was being with you.

Nanami hummed, his fingers playing with your nipples as he kissed down your neck. Eyes widening when you let out a whine, feeling your nipples letting out a light stream of liquid. Looking down to see the watery white liquid coating his skin.

“Nnh— ‘m sorry, can’t be controlled,” you moaned, watching the man simply stare before he smiled. “It’s more than okay sweetheart, been meaning to try this for a while.”

You let out a cry when your husband’s tongue swirled around your perked nipple, sucking at the sensitive bud with a groan when the warm liquid hit his tongue. His hand moving to squeeze at the other one as he gulped the sweetness.

“Kento, hmm.. oh b-baby—” you mewled, slightly surprised at how passionately he sucked at the soft flesh.

“God sweetheart— who knew this was so sweet, can live on it forever.” he breathed, his hips rolling sensually into yours as you whimpered his name, your grip on his hair tightening as you tugged at his blond strands.

Nanami’s hips rocked your body back and forth into the sheets, your stomach filled with heat at the sensation. “Kento.. so good.” His mouth moving onto your other breast as he pressed into it, once again allowing the taste to settle on his tongue. Suckling softly at the leaking bud.

Nanami grunted, his thrusts sloppy as he felt his cock twitch. “Tastes so good sweetheart, gonna have to do this more often. Whole body’s just so damn perfect.”

“Nngh, ‘m so close Kento,” your breathing speeding up and your toes curled. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me sweetheart?” Lapping at the still flowing substance. Biting down softly and making you let out a cry, your back arching in a string of whiny moans as you clenched down around him.

“Love you so much, pretty mama. Love you so fucking much.” Your husband groaned, holding you tight against him as he continued to fuck into you. Your moans getting louder as your pussy gushed messily around him. “There we go, so good f’ me.”

His thrusts slow and deep before he was stilling inside you, his eyes meeting yours as his abs tensed. Spurts of his warm cum painting your insides.

You whimpered as you were filled up, your breathing steadying as the rising movements of your chest matched his. “Love you so much Kento- oh no” A heavy sigh cut you off as Nami’s high pitched cries echoed through the room. You whined, “gotta go see what she needs.”

Nanami shook his head, placing a kiss to your lips. “Get yourself cleaned up yeah? I’ll go check on our baby girl.” You smiled in response, you really couldn’t ask for a better husband.

[deadsetobsessions]

It’s been months since he’s settled into life at Wayne Manor. It’s hilarious that they don’t think he knows about their obvious nightlife (and that’s coming from someone whose hero name was just their last name spelled differently) but they don’t know anything about his own past as a vigilante. To be fair, a dimensionally displaced Ghost King wasn’t really on the board for reasonable guesses. Danny Fenton blinked innocently at Duke, blue eyes watery and oh-so-trusting of his adopted older brother when Duke claimed that his bruising came from getting caught in Ivy’s attack on the busses today.

(“Oh my god he’s so trusting and pure what the hell?” He heard Steph whisper to Dick, who nodded emphatically.)

“Oh man, you should get some rest. You guys are seriously unlucky, you know? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Danny asked Duke, his core trilling as he allowed himself to fuss over a member of his ‘fraid.

“Nah, man. I’m good. I think I’ll take a nap and sleep it off.”

“Okay. Oh, here!” Danny fumbled for his bag, grabbing his prescribed pain meds- for his chronic pain, but they don’t actually do anything for him since his ectoplasm burns away most of it- and handed it to Duke. “Take one, and only one. Those bruises look nasty.”

And then Danny gave him the puppy dog eyes and Duke folded, because Danny knew that he wasn’t supposed to hand his meds out but these situations were kind of the reason he claimed chronic pain to being with (even if it was true and his hands shook with aftershocks).

“Thanks, Danny. I feel like death warmed over.”

Danny laughed, the opportunity to mess with the family sparking in his head. “Yeah, I’ve died before. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

With that, Danny threw Duke an easy going smile and walked towards his room, bag on his back.

From his peripherals, Danny watched Jason drop his bowl of snacks, Dick’s pale face, and the concerned and shocked look of everyone else. Except Damian, who just kind of scowled thoughtfully. Tim looked like he was going to rip Danny apart like an interesting puzzle, Cass sat up straight (and he made sure every micro expression he caught on others stayed unconcerned on his own body), and Duke froze.

He snickered- well out of regular earshot- as whispers and whispered shouts rung out after he left the room.

He can’t wait to drop the “I know you’re vigilantes” bomb on them. It’ll be hilarious.

[iicarused]

##my wife, my wife, my wife, my wife

y!vox x ex!reader / alastor x reader also because he stole vox’s bitch if you squint

part ii

synopsis: from this ask / reader is vox’s ex and he’s not too keen of the separation — you were supposed to come back to him! not run around with his rival and get rid of his only access of looking after you (removing any/all electronics from your life)

beware: DARK THEMES / heavy yandere aspects, obsession (vox’s end), territorial aspects, manipulation, implications of a toxic relationship / let me know if i missed anything!

he’s been watching you. what, did you think you could just leave? no, that will not do for him! you’re his wife, his lover, his other half that he cannot live without! you brought him fame and so much fortune with just your pretty face.

through the camera of your phone, the security cameras that litter hell, he’s been keeping an eye on you. however, you know that.

after a year of maintaining a relationship with one of hells overlords, you finally snapped and broke it off. the press were eating it right up. “y/n, can you tell us why you and vox are no more?” “y/n, who broke it off first?” “y/n, is there a chance you’ll both get together again?” you laughed at the last question

there was only one place in all of hell to hide — a place where no electronic bothered to exist — hazbin hotel

you came tired. hair a mess and a fluffed robe over your shoulders. “i’m begging of you, please take me in, i prefer learning some shit redemption arc than to deal with a crazy ex.” you cried. of course charlie said yes.

since then, vox has been searching for you:

“i swear to FUCK — !! “ vox heaved. when valentino walked in, the tv host seemed to pause on his theatrics. “she couldn’t have gone far.”

“face it, at this rate she’s done with you.” the moth insisted while getting comfortable on the couch.

but those words didn’t sit right with vox. the multiple screens in front of him flicked through different channels, eager just to find a clue of your whereabouts.

to say vox was pissed when finding out where you were was an understatement. a camera zooming in on the sight of you having some fresh air — right outside that stupid hotel

picking at a daisy, someone else came into the frame. alastor knelt to your side with a cup of tea, or so he assumed, sitting down next to you while basking underneath the stars. vox couldn’t hear any audio since the radio demon seemed to mess up the frequency, but he could see that familiar smile that pulled at your lips

you used to smile at him just like that

in less than a day, vox came straight to the hotel. demanding for you to come out. come on home! you both can work through it! this is just another bump in the road, there’s no need to hide!

from the balcony, your gaze settles on vox down below. you almost feel sorrowful and your heart begins to ache. sometimes you miss him, and sometimes you miss the comfort of his arms. he was a hurricane just as he was a summers day, and that was the man you fell in love with. you knew his love was sick, but that was expected from demons… right? not his though, it was far too gone to be considered a daydream.

“doll, we were meant to be!” vox pleaded, his gaze never leaving yours.

you never answered to his pleas.

“it’s that fucking radio demon, right!?” vox accused. here comes a tantrum.

you turned to face away.

“please, we were going to be overlords — together!” back to broken promises you were unsure if it were true.

a yandere is someone who is in love with you, and that’s a dream come true for anyone who wishes for love. but god, do you wish it wasn’t you.

vox never stopped sending gifts to the hotel after that. nor has he stopped coming by to the building just to try and convince you to leave. his heart is aching, and only you are his medicine.

[sttoru]

toji never celebrates his birthday and thus learned to treat it as any other regular day. well, until you came into the picture and did the unexpected.

☀︎｜tags. dom!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut mixed with fluff & sprinkle of angst. implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji late 20’s /early 30’s) implied size difference, p in v -> unprotected, cowgirl position, toji actually being a soft dom kinda, praise mixed with tiny bit of degradation, slight corruption kink, dirty talk / teasing, biting, creampie, reader gets called ‘princess, little girl \\ pretty, innocent, small'. not beta read. happy bday hubby!

“i told ya — fuck jus’ like that — not to buy or do anythin’ for me on m’birthday.” toji’s head lolls back against the pillow while his rough palms explore every inch of your gorgeous body. the word ‘birthday’ rolls off his tongue in a bitter manner. the assassin never celebrates that dreadful day, as he calls it.

he’s never found it to be worth remembering. his family couldn’t care less about that day when he was a child, so why would he?

but, that changed when you came into his life. toji flinched when he heard a loud ‘pop!’ sound upon opening the front door to his apartment. he was used to those noises being one of danger and thus swiftly reached for the spare weapon in his pocket. . . only to notice you standing behind the door with a party popper and a homemade cake.

the older man froze in place for a good few seconds, though was quick to realise the situation and relax. after the initial shock died down, you excitedly dragged him off to the living room to show him the presents you bought.

toji's first reflex was to scold you for spending money on him. he had never gotten anything for his birthday—it was weird to finally receive something from someone who actually cares for him. it somehow made him feel guilty as well. was he worth spending money on?

toji’s impressed reactions when unwrapping the presents showed you exactly how foreign the moment was to him: he’s never opened any gifts before. that much was even more evident after witnessing his inexperience in peeling off the tape from the boxes.

eventually, after opening around seven gifts, toji got to unwrap his final present. the present which was you.

the way you innocently yet seductively whispered words of affection in his ears made his mind go blank. even if it were simple ‘i love you’s and ‘happy birthday’ wishes. the red dress you had on and how your figure looked in it made everything ten times more sexual to the assassin. anything after that was a complete blur. his body moved on its own and yours followed right after until you finally landed on top of him — riding him.

toji’s half-lidded eyes couldn’t get enough of the sight he's witnessing. maybe his birthday wasn't such a bad day after all; the loving memories you're currently creating would surely outbalance the negative ones.

you shake your head at toji’s earlier sentence and tighten your grip on his shoulders, nails lightly digging into his skin and leaving faint red marks. you almost can’t talk due to the overexertion—your hips continuously rising and falling back down for the sake of your lover, “i- mph, wanted to get you all those things. you deserve them, toji.”

the view of your small body trying its hardest to not give in to its need of an orgasm made the assassin dizzy. his large hands settle on your waist and his eyes watch your every move from behind his black bangs. toji silently hisses as he feels your tight cunt clenching around him, “. . . f-shit. easy there.”

your pretty face is his weakness. especially when your usual innocent look gets replaced by one filled with carnal desire. toji can easily get off to the idea of him having that effect on you—his words, body, looks and actions that corrupted your every being in intimate moments like these.

“such a sweet thing,” the dark-haired man coos, brushing the stray locks of hair away from your face with his index finger. his other hand rubs up and down your inner thigh, each time getting dangerously closer to your clit, though never getting a single touch in. the scarred corner of his lips twitch in an amused grin at your whines, “oh? want me to touch you there, princess? that what ya want?”

you nod without a second thought. you were trying your best to hold out for as long as your body allowed it — desperately wanting to reach your climax at the same time toji was going to — but the idea seems impossible the longer this continued.

your boyfriend grins smugly, raising his eyebrows before entirely removing his hands from your body. his arms rest behind his head as he reverts to simply enjoying the view of you riding him so well. toji can never not be mean to you. your little pouts only drive him to tease you more and more, “hm, well, ya see - i thought you were gonna spoil me today, not the other way around.”

“t-toji! tha's mean. . .” you huff, bottom lip trembling. your arms circle his neck and your upper body leans forward to rest against his chiseled chest. you stop your hip thrusts and instead grind against his pelvis, trying to stimulate your clit on your own.

toji clicks his tongue, but figured it was best to leave you be. he didn't want to be too rough on you today - you had been nothing but sweet to him the entire night. you had blessed him with his first, proper birthday experience as well.

“aww, my little girl ‘s pouting,” the older man snickers and his hands return to their place. he allows you to grind against him, the sensations being amazing for him as well. the tip of his cock almost reaches your cervix from the current angle and your bodily fluids smear all over his thighs and lower abdomen, “shh shh, ‘tis alright.”

your needy whines and moans are music to his ears. toji rubs your lower back and pats your ass every now and then, squeezing the soft flesh gently just to hear another whimper spill from your lips. there was no way you could hold back now. especially when your bodies were rubbing together and you could feel toji’s defined abs and hardened muscles underneath you.

“toji - nngh - can i? wan' — wanna cum.” your small hands tighten their grip around his broad shoulders. you earn a low, breathy chuckle from your lover. the increasing sensations in his lower stomach were an indication to how close he was to his orgasm as well. he wasn’t going to deny you any further.

toji sighs in content and presses a soft kiss to your temple, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. it was a rare occurence to see that vulnerable and affectionate look in his piercing green eyes. the little smile plastered on his face only added to the soft and intimate atmosphere.

. . . well, toji wouldn’t be toji if he wasn’t going to add catch you off guard in any way or form. your eyes widen and your body jolts forward as he suddenly starts putting work in—his hips ramming into yours from below, the skin-to-skin sounds resonating throughout the room once again. it was like the wind got knocked out of you for a good second, “fuck! w-wait, toji! tojitojitoji!”

the older man holds tightly onto you — cradling you in his arms as he lightly lifts your hips to have free reign over the pace and movements of your two bodies — thrusting up into you over and over. he lets out a series of small, silent groans as he feels his climax nearing;

“shit, yeah - ‘m gonna stuff this pussy of y’rs full, princess.” toji's callused fingers curl around your hip bones, using them as leverage to increase the intensity of his thrusts, “think you can take it all?”

you mewl and nod again and again. you’re on the brink of tears when the waves of pleasure reach their peak. your eyes roll back and your body convulses, legs shaking and squirming during those few seconds of pure bliss. your adorable babble in the form of toji’s name was all your lover needed to push him over the edge—

“fuck. ‘m gonna cum,” toji groans and firmly bites your shoulder to hold back any more noises when he finally decided to let go. a choked sob leaves your lips the instant you feel the hot spurts of cum seeping into your senstive cunt. the older man continues to thrust in and out sloppily, riding out his orgasm and fucking his cum deeper into you at the same time, “so good — i love you s’much.”

you smile exhaustedly at the love confession from your boyfriend. toji’s grip on you loosens up after he completely emptied his balls deep inside your cunt, his jaw finally unclenching. he plants a few wet kisses along the bite marks on your shoulder in attempt to soothe the pain.

you catch your breath as you rest on top of toji's body. he didn't put the slightest effort into pulling out of you — even as a tiny puddle of your mixed juices stains his skin.

“i love you too, toji,” you reply and earn another lazy kiss to your forehead. he rubs the back of your head and massages your plush thighs in a tender manner. nothing could make this moment even more perfect, you thought to yourself.

you smile as you pull your head back to look into toji’s eyes. he was already looking at you — admiring your gorgeous looks as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. you capture his lips in a delicate kiss, “happy birthday.”

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope

Based off a world where everyone gets a Destiny they must fulfill. Bakers and Demon Kings (x) and Villagers (X). You? You are a Hero.

----------------

You are a Hero.

Nobody at the orphanage knows. The mark sets during the worst winter in three decades, when the windows have to be barred to prevent snow spirits from ripping them to shreds and the Director takes half the reserves and runs in the middle of the night.

Sarah, the only caregiver left in the rickety building, holds as many of the kids as she can while the snow spirits scream outside. You’d love to be in the circle of her arms, but you’re holding the door shut with as much strength as your eight-year-old arms allow.

She doesn’t tell you to get away from the door.

“It’s alright,” she says, voice trembling. Her brown hair, matted from the months indoors, hides her eyes. She croons to the younger kids like a bird, so softly and gently that you have to strain to hear it over the howling demons and roaring winds. “We’ll be okay. Our land’s Lord will send a Hero, you’ll see. We’ll be okay then.”

Your arms burn as intensely as your eyes. A Hero. Your stomach aches from hunger and your fingers sting from the cold. You aren’t sure how much good you’re doing keeping the door closed, but there’s something deep inside of you that tells you you must do something. The blows from the snow spirits outside vibrate up your arms, nearly throwing you back.

Heroes, you think, only matter if they show up.

Hope is traumatic. Eight-years-old and you’ve been returned from potential families twice. Three days ago, you found the beginnings of greenery in the woods behind the orphanage. When you excitedly raced back to tell the others that winter was ending, it was only to find the Director and most of the caregivers gone with a significant portion of the rations.

Then the storm clouds rolled in.

So that long, dangerous night, you don’t hope. You shut your ears to Sarah’s gentle comforts and the snow spirits’ shrieks. You focus on the burning in your arms, the blisters forming on your heels, the cold nipping at your fingers.

Hope is traumatic but trying is something you can do. You put your small body between all of the horrors outside the door and the other kids. You try to stand firm.

You don’t notice when the burning in your arms hides the arrival of a telling mark on your left bicep.

---------------------.

You are fourteen years old, one year shy of coming into your power, when a couple visits the orphanage intending to adopt.

Sarah is now the Director of the orphanage, awarded the position by the land’s Lord after that terrible winter six years ago. She’s different than she was then. You lost three kids to hunger before spring finally came and she held each one in their last moments.

You and Sarah never develop the close relationship she has with the other kids. But she always makes sure you have more meat in your meals than most and, when you hunt in the woods, you always let her decide how the food will be divided between dinner and winter stores.

“We’re Knights,” the potential adopters tell the Director. They’re a couple, a man and a woman with dark hair and muscular bodies. “Retired. We’re settling just north of here for good and are looking for a suitable child who can follow in our footsteps.”

Director Sarah looks at them coldly, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands over her stomach. If she notices you and two of the younger kids peeking through the crack in the door, she doesn’t say anything. “I apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Bahr, but it seems there’s a misunderstanding. We do not pair children with families based on their Destiny.”

“We’re not saying you do,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her gaze is cutting though her shoulders are relaxed. “Our Lord explained before we came. However, there is no rule against asking the children their Destiny, is there?”

Loophole. You pull away from the crack in the door, letting Hera and Josiah take your spot. You lean against the wall with your eyes closed. Orphanages aren’t allowed to disclose Destinies, but that’s where the protection ends. If someone sees a child’s Destiny or learns of it through some other means, that’s alright.

These people aren’t here to adopt because they want a child. They’re here to adopt for a guarantee. A guarantee of what remains to be seen. An heir like they claim? A prodigy for status? Or a weapon for them to control?

You listen for any other clues behind their motives, but the Bahrs don’t push the issue of Destiny again. They accept Director Sarah’s schedule for meeting the kids, even offering to host a picnic day at their estate as a treat. The couple wants to gain trust, you can tell, and by the end of the meeting it’s working.

Director Sarah sees them off to the door herself.

“We’ll wait for the invitation,” she says. She’s older now, her thin brown hair showing the beginning signs of going grey. But her handshake looks strong when she shakes Mrs. Bahr’s in farewell. “I’m sure the children will be thrilled.”

“I hope so,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her husband nods to the Director gravely, but Mrs. Bahr lingers. “I’m sorry if we came off a little…forward when we mentioned Destinies. Please believe me when I say that my husband and I aren’t so shallow. We are looking for a child – one we can call our own.”

“I see,” Director Sarah says. There’s a hint of warmth in her voice. “As I said, we look forward to your invitation.”

Mrs. Bahr nods and joins her husband in their carriage. They set off down the road without once having asked to meet one of the children on the first day of their introduction.

You can tell Sarah likes them.

“What do you think?” Sarah asks. She doesn’t turn from the road, even though the Bahr’s carriage is out of sight. “Isla?”

You don’t ask how she knows it’s you lurking in the shadows of the orphanage. Director Sarah is a Guardian. Her senses are elevated when it comes to those under her charge.

“I don’t think anything,” you say. You step out from around the corner with a sigh. No use hiding now. “They’re influential people if they were recommended here by the Lord himself. We’re fortunate.”

“You’re the right age for a Knight’s apprenticeship,” Sarah says.

“Hera hasn’t shown me her Destiny, but it’s probably something suitable,” you say. Hera is ten, one of the older kids at the orphanage. Last summer she lifted Josiah, only a year younger than her and already a head taller, out of the well before he could drown. “You should talk to her about what being part of a Knight family could mean.”

Sarah looks at you over her shoulder. The setting sun catches in her eyes, turning the warm brown into an unearthly amber. “I hope you can accept the possibility they might choose you.”

They won’t. “Aren’t I needed here?” you ask.

Sarah’s expression softens. “You are, Isla,” she says. She weighs her next words carefully. “But I am the one who’s responsible for all of you. I can take care of everyone. If the Bahr family is a good fit…”

“Sure,” you say flippantly. You shove your hands in your pockets and slink back into the orphanage. You don’t dare hope. “I’m going to help Josiah.” He’s on dinner duty tonight. He always cuts the onions too roughly. “See you later.”

You feel Sarah’s eyes on your back like a physical warmth.

-----------.

Being a Hero doesn’t change anything about you. You expected it to when you first noticed the mark but, even six years later, nothing’s different.

You aren’t kinder. When Josiah asks for your dessert, you steal a bit of his as punishment for even asking. When Hera asks for a bedtime story, you tell her one so scary that she has to sleep with one of the other girls. When Sarah asks you to fix the fence around the chickens, you whine and complain that you’re the only one who does anything around the orphanage.

“The curse of being the oldest,” Sarah says dryly. She hands you a hammer and a bucketful of nails. “Some posts were dropped off at the end of the lane. Make sure you’re back by sunset.”

Maybe you’re a little stronger than others. You can drag three posts at once and could probably drag more if you wanted. But another curse of being a Hero is that you’re very aware.

It’s not until you’re nailing a third rail to the fence that Mr. Bahr makes his presence known. You don’t turn even when he makes his steps purposefully heavy to avoid scaring you.

“You’re very strong,” Mr. Bahr says.

His shadow is long and thin, just like him. You observe it from your peripherals, unable to speak with the two nails you’re holding between your lips. You take your time pounding them into the wood. He’s arms, a sword at his hip, but his hands are loose at his sides.

“Good thing I am,” you say at last. You stand and turn in the same motion. He waited for you to finish without chastising you for not speaking right away. You perch the hammer on your shoulder. “Otherwise, the chickens would take over.”

Mr. Bahr laughs. Unlike when he was meeting Director Sarah, his face is relaxed and open. His blue eyes sparkle. “We couldn’t have that now, could we? I suppose we all owe you our thanks for preventing the coop’s coup.”

You want to laugh. You don’t. “Director Sarah won’t like you being here uninvited.”

“I just came to drop off an invitation,” Mr. Bahr says. He studies you for a moment and then smiles. “I hope you’ll accept, Isla.”

A chill races down your spine. How does he know your name? You wipe the sweat from your brow with a scowl. “Maybe I don’t want to be adopted.”

To your surprise, Mr. Bahr nods. “I can understand that,” he says. He looks up at the sky. The light is sliding from the sky, catching on the clouds and turning them a brilliant orange. When he looks back at you, he almost looks…sad. “Think of our invitation as a party, hm? No strings attached.”

For some reason your tongue feels heavy. It takes two tries before you can say, “I need to fix this part of the fence before dark.”

“Want some help?” Mr. Bahr asks.

“I couldn’t ask—”

“You didn’t ask, I offered,” Mr. Bahr says. He rolls up his sleeves and nimbly plucks the hammer from your grip. “I may be a Knight, but I’ve done my fair share of carpentry. Let me show you a few tricks.”

You listen quietly as Mr. Bahr shows you how to twist the nails to avoid splitting the wood. What would have taken you an hour to finish, he accomplishes in a quarter of one, talking to you the entire time.

It’s…odd to have an adult’s attention on you for such a long time. He’s careful not to get too close, always offering you the hammer to practice by setting it on the grass between you rather than handing it to you directly. When you manage to replicate his technique on your second try, Mr. Bahr is more excited than you are.

“Wonderful,” he compliments. He glances up at the sky. The first stars are twinkling. “I’ll be going now and you should too. Have a good night, Isla.”

Unlike the first time he said your name, it feels pleasant now. You mutter a goodbye and leave before he does, scurrying towards the orphanage with your bucket of nails clutched to your chest.

He’s gone when you think to check the road for his carriage. Did he walk here? Ride a horse?

You close and lock the orphanage’s doors behind you.

----------------.

The picnic isn’t scheduled until the middle of summer and it’s spring now. Still, it’s all anyone can talk about.

“We have plenty of time to get ready,” Director Sarah tells them. “The Bahrs will be dropping in from time to time until then. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior when they’re here.”

Josiah raises his hand. “I hear they live in a castle!”

“A manor,” Sarah corrects. “Given to them by our Lord for their years of service.”

“The Guard in town says they worked for the King once!” Hera says, wiggling in her seat. “Is that true?”

“You can ask them yourself,” Sarah says. She claps her hands together and starts urging the kids up. “It’s time for chores. Your assignment is posted by the kitchen…”

You stay seated at the breakfast table. You haven’t eaten your third egg or your last slice of toast. Your stomach feels queasy. You keep thinking about Mr. Bahr saying wonderful when you worked on the fence together.

You aren’t supposed to want to be adopted. You’ve had your chance and you ruined it both times. It’s not fair of you to imagine what it would be like learning swordsmanship from Mr. Bahr and what it’d be like to hear him praise you when you got the next move right. One of the other kids deserve that chance.

You can only do what you can do.

---------------.

Mrs. Bahr is alone the next visit.

No one recognizes her at first. She’s wearing a gown like a noble and her hair is gently flowing down her back rather than tightly pinned behind her head.

“I’ve received the Director’s permission to hold a lesson on writing,” she tells the children. She gestures to the bag she’s set on the table. “Come get a slate and a piece of chalk. We will work all together.”

The kids have never had slate and chalk before, not the real ones anyway. Sometimes you find a nice, flat rock they can draw on with charcoal, but it’s not as entertaining as what Mrs. Bahr brings. She watches everyone in amusement as they immediately start drawing instead of starting the lesson, flower and trees and swords.

“Look, Isla,” Hera says, tugging at your sleeve. You’re seated on the spare chair by the wall, away from the table. She twists from her spot to show you she’s drawn a shaky stick figure. “It’s you!”

Your eyes flick up to Mrs. Bahr. She’s not irritated by the distractions yet. You point with your bit of chalk at the drawing. “Which part of it is me?”

Hera points at a blob in the stick figure’s hand. “That’s the horned rabbit you brought home yesterday!”

You snort. The horned rabbit you’d killed yesterday wasn’t half the size of your body. “Are you sure that’s a horned rabbit? Looks like a turtle to me.”

Hera points to the stick figure’s face. “You can also tell it’s you ‘cause you’re frowning.”

“Hey!”

Mrs. Bahr claps her hands together. Instantly, she has the room’s attention. “I’m glad you all like my present. However, it’s time to get started.”

“Present?” Josiah asks.

“If you work hard today, you will be allowed to keep the slate and chalk as a present,” Mrs. Bahr says. She takes care to make eye contact with every kid. “Only those who work hard.”

It’s generous. You watch Mrs. Bahr from under your lashes as she talks everyone through writing the alphabet. It’s too generous not to be genuine. Try as you might, you can’t figure out any ulterior motive to spending so much on the kids. To look good? For who? For Director Sarah?

Director Sarah won’t be swayed by gifts like this even if the kids could be.

Mrs. Bahr stops well away from you, observing your slate from afar. “Very good, Isla. Do you know how to write?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Read?”

“Only a little.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. She doesn’t look disgusted by your stupidity or put off by your clipped tone. Your first family returned you when you told them. Mrs. Bahr’s lips curve. “Your letters are wonderfully steady. I can tell you will be a very good student.”

She turns before she can see you flush.

---------.

Over the next few months, there isn’t a week that goes by without at least one of the Bahrs visiting. They become a regularity around the orphanage to the point that even Director Sarah stops worrying about the state of their rooms with every visit.

“Kids will be kids,” Mrs. Bahr says when you ask her to wait while you tidy the toys in the parlor. “It’s alright, Isla.”

Your head spins. Sometimes, when one of them says something particularly bizarre, you feel like you’re outside your body. There was a time when they didn’t have toys to leave out in the visiting area. Thanks to the Bahrs, every child has a doll, a slate, a new set of shoes, and an abacus. You are still waiting for the strings that come with these presents.

There haven’t been any yet.

The kids love the Bahrs. Hera insists on baking fresh strawberry tarts for them after a day of gathering. Josiah carefully sounds out passages from their new books to show them that he’s still practicing his letters. Annie and a group of the younger kids spend all day weaving a flower crown for Mrs. Bahr that you have to confiscate before they can put it on her head.

“Go wash your hands,” you scold. Despite your tone, your hands are gentle as you push Annie to the schoolhouse. “Don’t touch your eyes.”

Annie blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t know it was poison, lady, I swear.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Bahr says, hand fluttering over her heart. She steps towards Annie. “Dear one—”

You give full body flinch when Mrs. Bahr stoops to hug Annie, but you don’t get between them. The Bahrs have won your trust in this. They won’t hurt the kids.

You sigh to hide your flinch when Mrs. Bahr stands. “Now Mrs. Bahr needs to wash. Poison ivy is no joke.”

“It is not,” Mrs. Bahr agrees. She ruffles Annie’s hair. “Go on, do as Isla says. Wash up.”

“We can go together,” Annie says with her big, blue eyes. She reaches for Mrs. Bahr’s hand and then thinks better of it. She tucks her hands behind her back and kicks at the ground. “If you want.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Mrs. Bahr says, smiling.

Annie nods and races to follow her friends.

“I’m sorry,” you say as soon as Annie is out of ear shot. You busy yourself picking up the fallen flower crown and the various trimmings of poison ivy they’d used for foliage throughout it. You feel flustered. “They really didn’t know any better—”

“I know,” Mrs. Bahr says so gently that you have to look up at her. She’s frowning at your hands. “I’m more concerned about you. Should you be holding onto it like that?’

“I’m immune,” you say. You’re not worried that she’ll guess your Destiny from that. Lots of Villagers are immune to poison ivy, particularly the ones in this region who rely on gathering and hunting. “Since I’m in the woods so much.”

“Knights are immune too,” Mrs. Bahr says. She follows you away from the orphanage and to the tree line. “You’re quite the hunter, aren’t you? I remember Hera saying you slayed a horned rabbit.”

Heat comes to your face. You stomp ahead of her to deposit the flower crown in some denser foliage where the kids won’t be able to get it. “I get lucky.”

“I’d consider it unlucky to run across a horned rabbit,” Mrs. Bahr says. She examines the forest with interest. “A demon is a demon. Even adults have difficulty with horned rabbits.”

It hadn’t been difficult. You’d been armed with a sharpened branch and, when the rabbit leapt for you, you knew right when to stab. You clear your throat. “It was difficult.” Then when Mrs. Bahr doesn’t say anything, you add, “It was frightening.”

She believes you. She lays a gentle hand on your shoulder to get you to look her in the face. “The orphanage budget is enough that you don’t need to hunt, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I know I don’t like the idea of a fourteen-year-old out here alone and unarmed.”

“Almost fifteen,” you say, “and I had a sharp stick.”

“A sharp sti—” Mrs. Bahr cuts herself off with a deep breath. “Regardless of your…aptitude, Isla, it’s dangerous. I’ve spoken to the Director and she agrees with me. You aren’t to go hunting anymore.”

The forest suddenly feels too hot. The leaves overhead rustle, but you can barely hear it over the roaring of your blood. “Excuse me?”

Mrs. Bahr steps closer. “You’re a very strong girl, Isla, but it’s dangerous. If you want to go out with me or Mr. Bahr—”

You shake off her hand. “The Director agreed with you? She said I’m not allowed to go hunting anymore?”

“Out of concern for your safety.” Mrs. Bahr looks like she regrets saying anything. “Once Mr. Bahr and I explained to her what a risk a horned rabbit poses—”

You run away. Mrs. Bahr calls out after you, but you don’t stop. Beyond the sting of Mr. and Mrs. Bahr not thinking you strong enough to hunt, there’s a deeper hurt. The Director agrees. Really? Really?

“Isla? What’s wrong? I thought you were with Mrs. Bahr,” Director Sarah says when you burst into her office. She sets the papers she’d been reading down and frowns. “You look—”

“I’m not supposed to go hunting anymore?” you ask.

Sarah’s face blooms in understanding. “After what Mr. and Mrs. Bahr said about the increase in demons in the area, I agreed—”

“It’s summer,” you interrupt. You stalk up to her desk, your fists balled at your side. “It’s time to hunt.”

“The Bahrs have agreed to accompany you—”

“They only come once a week,” you say. You’re being so incredibly rude to the Director, but you don’t care. “I need to hunt three times that at least. The game has been moving deeper into the forest—”

“Where you are not allowed to go,” Director Sarah says, this time interrupting you. She steeples her hands in front of her. “I should have curtailed this activity long before this point, but I thought you needed it.”

“We need it,” you say. You can’t believe what you are hearing. “We need to store up rations, you know that.”

“Our budget allows us to purchase rations in town.”

“But what if that’s not enough? It’s better to have our own supply—”

“It will be enough.”

“It still doesn’t hurt to have some extra jerky—”

“The store we have will be enough.”

“But what if it’s not?!” You’ve raised your voice without realizing it, fists shaking at your sides. “The other kids are too young to remember o-or too new, but you and I do. That winter, we didn’t have enough. Why are you trying to stop me?” To your horror, your voice cracks. “I thought you understood.”

There’s silence in the room except for your panting breath.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah finally says. The sudden apology is enough to close your mouth against what you might have said. She meets your eyes. “You’ve always been so strong that I…Isla, you were a child. I will always be grateful for what you did that winter and for every winter since. I relied on you, a child, because I didn’t have any other option. We didn’t have another option. But now we do. We’re okay now, Isla. You don’t have to work so hard to protect us.”

“Yes, I do, I’m—” the Hero “—I can do it.” There is something inside of you telling you that that is what you must do. You think that it’s part of being a Hero.

((You’re worried that it’s because you’re scared.))

“My decision is final,” Sarah says. She picks up her documents and straightens them. “You are only to go hunting with an adult from now on. If I find out you went to the woods without one, there will be consequences.”

She’s using the same tone she uses on the other kids when they’re misbehaving. I mean business. You stare at her for a long, breathless moment. You jerkily turn to go.

Mrs. Bahr is hovering in the doorway. She looks guiltily between you and Director Sarah. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…”

You shove past her and run to your room.

-------------.

Somewhat counterintuitively, as an orphan you’re never alone. You throw yourself face down on your bed.

A shocked silence swallows the occupants on the other bed.

“Is she okay?” Josiah asks Hera.

“It’s Isla,” Hera answers. There’s the rustling of bedsheets as Hera climbs out of bed and then the soft sound of socks on hardwood as she comes over. “You okay?”

You are not okay. There’s an intense war of emotions in your chest. Anger that none of the adults seem to think you’re capable. Betrayal that Sarah isn’t on your side. A sick fear at the thought of being unprepared for winter. And, now that you’ve run away so spectacularly, shame. They probably think you’re overreacting, but they’re wrong. They’re the ones who are being naïve. They’re the ones who—

A gentle hand on the back of your head freezes the thought. Hera pets your short, black hairs in an attempt at comfort. “It’s okay, Isla. You can just sleep. Sleep makes everything better.”

That’s what you tell the younger kids. The difference between you and Hera saying it? When Hera falls asleep, you work to fix the problem. If you fall asleep, no one is going to fix the problem for you.

You flip over, dislodging Hera’s hand. You look up at her as if seeing her for the first time. She’s ten, two years older than you were when the winter happened. She was four then. You want to ask her if she remembers, but instead you ask, “Do you think Sarah hates me?”

“What?” Hera’s eyes are wide. “No! What makes you think that?”

“Nothing,” you say. “It’s stupid. Forget I asked.” You turn on your side, your back to them.

“I know she’s worried about you,” Josiah says. He offers the information tentatively. “I overheard her and the Bahrs talking. Did they ban you from the woods?”

You don’t move. “What else did they say?” You’re afraid that he’s going to say they called you weak. Or, worse, a nuisance. “Did they say anything else about me?”

“Not really.”

Nobody hears anything useful around here. You close your eyes. “I just want to be alone for a little while. I—”

There’s a knock on the door. “Isla? It’s me, Marie. Can I come in?”

Marie? Too late you remember that that’s Mrs. Bahr’s name. She’s been trying to get the kids to call her be her first name. So far no one’s taken her up on it and she hasn’t pushed.

Hera opens the door. “Hi, Mrs. Bahr. Isla is being moody.”

You sit up with a squawk. “I am not!”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to talk to Isla for a moment,” Mrs. Bahr says to Josiah and Hera. “Alone.”

“Don’t let her yell at you,” Hera says as she passes Mrs. Bahr. “She never means it.”

You are going to strangle her. “I don’t yell!”

“That’s not an inside voice,” Josiah says. He dodges the pillow you throw at him, pulling the door closed behind him and Hera.

You are suddenly alone in the room with Mrs. Bahr.

You sit up further, pressing your back against the headboard. Mrs. Bahr doesn’t look mad. Her hands are clasped in front of her and she’s looking down at the floor. It almost looks like she’s the nervous one. You hug your pillow to your chest. “You can sit down if you’d like.”

Mrs. Bahr looks up at you. Her lips twitch. “Thank you, Isla.” She sits down on Hera’s bed gingerly as if afraid it wouldn’t be able to take her wait. When she’s settled, she says, “I wanted to apologize to you.”

Your arms tighten around your pillow. “Why?”

“Not for saying you shouldn’t hunt alone,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s not a mind reader but sometimes it seems like she is. “For not understanding what hunting means to you. I would have approached things differently if I’d known.”

“Known what?”

“About what you’ve been through.”

The winter. That’s the only thing Mrs. Bahr could be talking about. She must have heard more of your conversation (argument) with the Director than you thought. “It was a long time ago,” you say. You really don’t want to talk about this with Mrs. Bahr. Not when you can still feel that winter’s desperation in your molars like a memory. “I’m fine.”

Mrs. Bahr is quiet for a moment. She studies you much like Mr. Bahr did all those weeks ago mending the fence. “I was a knight for 30 years, you know. I supposed it’s not weird that a Knight worked as a knight for so long. As soon as I came into my power at 15, I was compelled to hold a sword. To seek out evils and defeat them. To follow my Lord into battle no matter the cause.” She looks up at the ceiling. “I’ve had a lot of adventures and helped many, many people. But there was a time when I wanted to quit.”

You start. “You did?”

“I wanted to work in a flower shop,” Mrs. Bahr says. She leans back on her hands. “What a life it could have been! Waking up before the sun and hiking to the flower fields…I had my new house all picked out. It’d have a koi pond and a row of red rocks from the Harrow River. That’s where I met Ivan.”

Mr. Bahr. He’s been trying to get you to call him by his first name too. Unlike Mrs. Bahr, he’s much pushier about it. “What made you want to quit?”

“Exhaustion,” Mrs. Bahr says. She closes her eyes. “It seemed that there was a new threat to my Lord every day. An assassination attempt from a branch family. A territorial dispute. A new influx of demon beasts. It got to the point that I hardly left my Lord’s side for fear of returning to find him dead. He was the first Lord I swore my loyalty to. I always felt like I was failing those days. So I wanted to quit.”

You’ve felt like that before. Sometimes it seems like you never catch enough while hunting, that you’re never kind enough, that you’re never strong enough. You’ve never thought about working in a flower shop though. “Why didn’t you?”

“I did.” Mrs. Bahr laughs at your shocked expression. “I was in my twenties. They tell you things calm down after your teen years, but that’s not true. I handed in my resignation and fled for the nearest town.” Her smile softens. “Ivan followed me.”

“He was there?”

Mrs. Bahr nods. “We were sworn to the same Lord. He came galloping up with my resignation clutched in his hand. His face was so red!” She laughs. “’What does this mean, Marie? He was crying! You can’t quit! I haven’t beaten you yet!’”

“And that’s what convinced you to stay a knight?” you ask. That doesn’t help you. You don’t have a significant other to come racing after you.

“No,” Mrs. Bahr said. “Ivan didn’t know why I wanted to quit. I can’t do it, I said. I can’t keep the Lord safe. I’m not enough. You know what he said?”

You shake your head.

“He said, Of course, you’re not enough,” Mrs. Bahr says. She’s lowering her voice in imitation of Ivan’s. “You were never going to be enough.” You’re gaping at his harsh words, but Mrs. Bahr looks amused. “That’s why we have a squadron. The job is too big for one person. All you need to do is your part.”

You stare at her, not understanding.

“The world isn’t carried by one person,” Mrs. Bahr says. “I was so convinced that everything was up to me – the Lord’s safety, the next campaign’s success, or defense from monsters – that I buckled under the pressure. What I didn’t see that it wasn’t all my responsibility. I was part of a team. All I had to do was one part.”

You think of the winter night and holding the door shut. There hadn’t been anyone to help you then. Someone needed to comfort the younger kids. Someone needed to try and protect them. “What if there isn’t anyone else?”

“Then we do our best,” Mrs. Bahr says immediately. She meets your eyes. “But are you by yourself now, Isla?”

Yes. You open your mouth to tell her that, but the word won’t come out. Are you? Director Sarah looked so defeated when you accused her of not understanding. But didn’t she understand better than anyone else. You swallow. “No. There’s Director Sarah.”

“What does she do?”

“She takes care of us,” you say. “She makes sure the money we get goes to the right things.”

Mrs. Bahr smiles warmly. “That’s right. Who else?”

“…Hera,” you say. You remember she pulled Josiah from the well before Annie even had the chance to tell you what had happened. “She watches the younger kids.”

“She’s very good with them,” Mrs. Bahr says. “Who else?”

Your mind blanks. Who else? “Josiah. He helps us study.”

“And?”

And? “T-the Lord. He makes sure we have the funds for what we need.”

“Including winter provisions,” Mrs. Bahr agrees.

You frown. You suddenly see where this is going. “The amount of winter provisions he thinks we need.”

Mrs. Bahr hums. “What happens if he’s wrong?”

“That’s why I hunt,” you say. Maybe now she’ll understand. “So that we’ll be okay if he’s wrong.”

“What if you don’t hunt enough?” Mrs. Bahr asks.

Your chest is tight. You rub at your sternum and try to breathe deeply. “We starve,” you say. You wheeze and then clear your throat. “We’d starve, but that’s not going to happen. Because I always hunt enough.” I have to.

“This year,” Mrs. Bahr says, voice gentle and soothing, “say you don’t hunt anymore. The winter is harsher than expected and the orphanage’s stores are depleted. What do you think will happen?”

You laugh and gasp at the same time. “They’d all starve,” you say again. What doesn’t she get about that? “First the little ones then—”

Mrs. Bahr is shaking her head. “No, Isla, that’s not what would happen.”

Your temper flares. “That’s what always—”

“What would happen,” Mrs. Bahr says in her even tone, “is that Mr. Bahr and I would come deliver extra provisions to you.”

All the air is chased from your lungs. You feel eight again, small and vulnerable and cold. You’re shivering as you stare at her. “You would?”

“We would.” Gently, as if afraid she might scare you, Mrs. Bahr moves from Hera’s bed to yours. She puts a warm hand on your knee. “We’re a fortress. The Lord gives us part of the emergency fund in order to keep our stores and grounds ready for refugees. Mr. Bahr keeps fifteen percent more than the most generous estimate out of an abundance of caution. We would come and make sure nobody starved.”

For some reason, that makes you want to cry. You blink against the sudden heat behind your eyes. “Oh.”

“That’s why we don’t want you to go hunting,” Mrs. Bahr says. Her thumb rubs over your knee. “It was worth the risk before. You worked hard to keep everyone here alive. You are incredible, for that, Isla. I can’t tell you how much I admire your strength and your bravery. But things are different now. You don’t need to do as much as you did before. There are other people on your squad.”

But I’m the Hero, you want to say. Heroes are supposed to save the day, aren’t they?

Knights help save the day too.

You let Mrs. Bahr pat your knee for a long time. She seems content to let you think, her energy a pleasant hum next to you. A knot is untying in your chest. If you don’t hunt, it’s not the end of everyone. There will still be the funds from the Lord. Sarah’s always been excellent at stretching those as far as they need to go. And, if they aren’t enough, there’s something different this year. The Bahrs are here.

“You’d help us even if you’re only going to adopt one of us?” you ask.

Mrs. Bahr’s lips thin. She looks sad, but hides it quickly. “We’re Knights,” she says. “Even if we are retired. We’ll be here the moment you need us.”

You don’t hope. Hope is traumatic. But…

You believe her.

--------

(Part 2) (part 3)

--------

Thanks for reading! There will be a new part of Hope and the Hero every Friday!

If you'd like to read the whole story now, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)!

There's also a new story up there, a sequel to my Dandelion villain story (X)

Summary: You are free of mind control for the first time in a year. The only things standing between you and your revenge are the heroes.

[lovelyghst]

thinking about older!bf simon riley with his younger girlfriend <3

older!bf simon riley who would pull you into his lap at any chance he gets. at home while he's on the couch, tugging your passing frame into his to hear your pretty squeal of surprise. at the bar, so he can wrap his big arms around your waist and ensure you don't get lost or messed with. getting you all flustered and sinking into him, tense shoulders relaxing when he kisses your cheek. at any and every available moment of his waking day, he's going to hold you close.

older!bf simon riley who constantly has to have a hand on you. on your hip in passing, cupping your knee or shoulder whenever sat next to each other. holding your hand while out and about in public is an absolute must, as well as on your thigh with your fingers still laced as he's driving. sometimes he'll just put you in a gentle chokehold while you lean back against his chest and aimlessly scroll on your phone, him either watching from over your shoulder for entertainment or on the verge of nodding off 'cause your warmth is so comforting to him.

older!bf simon riley who spoils you beyond what the definition entails. he could never get enough of your parted lips and raised brows whenever he walks in with yet another new piece of expensive jewelry for you, and your pitiful refusals for overly chic clothes and meals that only scream ‘yes, and more’ in his mind.

older!bf simon riley who can't even begin to understand your admiration for your personal belongings such as stuffed animals and the dozens of baby-pink blankets you snuggle up with, but he always admits how much he absolutely adores you for it. he proves that through buying you more rather than allowing for you to settle with what you already have, and agreeing to cuddling under said blankets despite the false look of annoyance plastered on his expression.

older!bf simon riley who will gladly flex for you and your photos or entertainment, even if his face tells you he’s disgruntled. wrapping a big arm around your midsection for a mirror pic, pumping his bicep so you can watch all the veins and muscles become more prominent. he just loves to see a bemused smile on his pretty girl's face.

older!bf simon riley who took a while before he came to terms with just how much influence he has over you, between the simplest of word choices and interactions. frequently makes sure to tell you he’s proud of you, giving you all sorts of praises that remind you who you belong to. would rather die than see a serious frown on your face or have you go a second thinking you’re not doing enough. his crude jokes and unfiltered vocabulary makes it difficult, but he can adjust.

but also older!bf simon riley and his desires for his lovely, little plaything :)

older!bf simon riley who essentially ‘tricks’ you into scandalous positions. sometimes it’s as sweet as dipping his thumb in brownie batter and asking you to clean it off for him but only using your lips and tongue, and other times he’s shamelessly coming up behind you to cage you in against the counter, lazily grind his crotch against your ass, and satiating his morning hard-on as he plays it off as merely hugging his pretty baby good morning.

older!bf simon riley who has you grind on things before he gives you anything more. your pillow, a stuffed animal, even his thigh or boot if he's feeling generous. he likes to have you warmed up for him, and his favorite part is how you ask so, so nicely for his cock afterwards. he knows he's a sick man when the sight of you whining and crying for more than an innocent plushie against your cunt has him harder than ever, especially when he denies you a break and you follow his orders almost always perfectly. if not, it's alright; he doesn't mind teaching his girl a few things, or threatening you with a little punishment.

older!bf simon riley who sparks an oral fixation in you and plays into it incessantly. your head will be perched between his thighs, pretty and drooling mouth cockwarming him as he finishes up a few calls. or, more domestically, he’ll notice you biting at your nails as you study or watch a movie next to him, prompting him to shove his ring and middle fingers in your mouth without uttering a single word.

older!bf simon riley who loves to have you suck on his thumb as he fucks you, sometimes leaving it in your mouth as you sleep soundly.

older!bf simon riley who finds humor in making you ask for what you want, going as far as outright refusing to give any of it to you ‘til you listen. likes making you say some of the most deprived sentences you’d never even think to say yourself, regarding your own body.

“c’mon, darling. tell me how much you want me to stuff my cock in this needy, tight little cunt of yours. fuckin’ soaked for it, y’must want it bad.”

“need it really bad, si, please…want you in me,” you plead.

he shakes his head; “not like that, baby. say it how i did.” and when your face heats up, going all shy on him at the prospect, he urges you on: “go on, it’s alright. just say it.”

“…want you to stuff your cock in my needy, little cunt,” you murmur.

“atta girl,” he smiles, not sure if it’s from the words themselves or how his stupid doll couldn’t even keep a clear voice throughout.

older!bf simon riley who will fuck you hard into the mattress as you cling on to one of your aforementioned plushies. cooing at you to hug it tighter to your chest, making you tell it how good he's making you feel. will only ever use it against you if you try to hide from him behind the plushie, prompting him to rip it from your smaller hands and throw it across the bed. you'll whine and cry but simon doesn't care, as long as he gets to see your pretty, fucked-out expression.

older!bf simon riley who mocks you for how terribly wet you get when he’s manhandling you. pulling away from him cause you know it’ll result in being overpowered and perched over his lap, refusing to meet his eyes so he’s forced to slap your cheek to get you to focus - with no real force behind it, of course - just enough to get through your insubordinate, ill-mannered mood. his favorite is when you’re being snappy at him for no apparent reason so he has an excuse to fuck you back into your place. act like a brat, get treated like one.

older!bf simon riley who gets off on the amount of power he has over you due to his age. how you instantly end your arguing when he reminds you that you don't know the world like he does, and using it as an opportunity to get you on your knees as an apology for thinking you could possibly be right over him. shoving his cock in your mouth to keep anything else so useless from coming out of it, showing you a better purpose for that snappy, inexperienced throat of yours.  

older!bf simon riley who tries to keep his debauched lessons to a minimum, however, as the last thing he wants to do is scare off his sweet, little trophy girl. he spends most nights with his head locked in between your soft thighs for the better part of an hour, sometimes much longer, licking and finger-fucking your pretty cunt til you're lightheaded and overstimulated and ready for his fat cock. 

older!bf simon riley who pulls the, “so proud of you, pretty baby,” while he’s hitting impossibly deep in your pussy 'cause he knows it’s what gets you going the most, what gets you to stop thinking too much. “that’s it, good fuckin’ girl,” and, “takin’ me so well, sweets.” once in a blue moon, “little cunt’s desperate for attention, ain’t she? just beggin’ to be fucked and ruined by a man twice her age, eh?”

honestly i just think that older!bf simon riley is everything a girl needs!!

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 1

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Chapter Summary: You encounter an unexpected visitor in your home.

Chapter Word Count: Over 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, breaking and entering, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, flashback, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Welcome to the Turn It Up AU! Thanks to @starlightcrystalline for helping bringing this unhinged Bucky to life and @targaryenvampireslayer and @tavners for the support. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You yawned as you flipped on the light switch in your apartment and set the keys on the table. It was early, but you were ready to settle in for the night after a busy shift. Maybe you could make a cup of tea and curl up with a book to unwind after dinner. Or maybe even a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine.

If only Addison could hear your thoughts now. She’d tease you for not living it up and enjoying the single life. Nothing new.

Your mouth fell open as you walked into the living room, but no sound came out as you skidded to a stop. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and plummeted to your stomach at the same time as your phone fell from your hand. It was like you couldn't breathe. Because a man was sitting on your sofa.

And you lived alone.

“What…” you exhaled, no louder than a whisper.

The man didn't speak as he stared at you. He didn't even blink. The staring contest gave you a moment to take in his appearance. Intimidating even though he was sitting, his dark suit looked tailored to perfection on his broad frame. Dark brown hair framed his face and matched the stubble on his face, with the exception of a few gray hairs. The dangerous glint in his hard blue eyes did little to put you at ease, but there was something soft there as well.

In any other circumstance, you would've said he was handsome.

You bent down to pick up your phone before he let out a tsk, a subtle warning for you not to try anything. “Who are you? Why are you in my home?” You asked as you straightened up, hoping your tone didn't betray how terrified you were.

Nothing looked out of place. If he was there to rob you, there wasn't much worth taking. While you weren't struggling, you were far from rich.

He smirked and leaned back further into the cushion, his eyes roving over your body. You hadn't noticed right away, but the hand draped on the back of the sofa appeared to be metal. Or was it a glove? He didn't have to stand for you to know he was larger than you. If things got physical, you wouldn't stand a chance.

“Okay…” If he wasn't going to give you any sort of answer or clue as to who he was or why he was there, you’d just leave. You could go to a neighbor’s place or Addison’s to call the cops. But he didn't seem to like it when you took a step back since he pinned you with a glare and crooked his finger, beckoning you to go to him.

Your legs wobbled with the first step, but you righted yourself as you continued to move forward. If he noticed your misstep, he didn't acknowledge it. You swallowed, worried that bile would rise to your throat from how sick you felt when you stopped in front of him. That feeling only grew when he leaned in to grip your waist and roughly pulled you toward him.

A scream escaped this time around, but his hand clamped over your mouth to smother the sound. The cold fear that trickled down your spine would stick with you for days to come as he pulled you onto his lap and shook his head with another tsk. There was no mistaking the evident lust in his gaze as his eyes bore into yours.

What was he going to do to you?

You put your hands on his shoulders to push yourself away, but the hand on your hip held you tighter. You squirmed in his lap before you brushed against the outline of his cock, your body stiffening when he let out a low groan. With wide eyes, you decided moving wasn't a wise decision.

“Keep moving your hips if you want, but don't scream again,” he warned, his deep voice rumbling from his chest as you breathed through your nose. “There’s time for that later.”

Blood rushed to your ears as your heart pounded faster. You wished you could've stopped the tears from filling your eyes, but you weren't that strong. Was he going to hurt you? Kill you? If so, why?

The brunette cooed as a tear slid down your cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? But I will gag you if I remove my hand and you scream again,” he promised, his tone lighter than a moment ago. “Blink once if you promise not to scream.”

You blinked, another tear falling from your eye.

A pleased look crossed his face when he removed his hand and you complied. “Good girl,” he whispered and you ignored the new kind of shiver that rolled down your spine. “I didn't mean to startle you, but I couldn't wait any longer to see you.”

You exhaled as he used his thumb to wipe the tears away, your body still stiff as you focused on trying to stay calm. Couldn't wait to see you? You had never seen this man before in your life. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Bucky Barnes. And don't worry. I already know your name.” He smirked as he rested his hand on your cheek. You managed not to flinch at his calloused touch. “Did you have fun at my club?”

Confusion flickered in your gaze. “What?”

“My club, The 107th. I own it. Did you have fun?” He asked again, looking at you expectantly.

The 107th was the most luxurious and expensive nightclub in the city. Chic and glamorous in design with a friendly staff who waited on people hand and foot, you felt like royalty as you hung out in the VIP section. The upscale venue wasn't one you frequented often. In fact, you had only been once.

For Addison’s bachelorette party.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied, still confused as to what he wanted. “It’s a nice club.”

He hummed, his thumb brushing across your trembling lip. “I’m glad to hear it, but you didn't seem to have as much ‘fun’ as your friends. Did you?”

You nursed your drink as you gazed out at the dancefloor from your seat. The place was packed, the strobe lights flashing over the crowd in various hues as they grinded to the beat. You adjusted the hem of your short black dress as you debated going out to dance. You decided against it since you weren't looking to hook up.

“Come on! Another shot!” Addison yelled, adjusting her tiara on her head. She was lucky the “bride to be” sash was still on straight. “Shot, shot, sh-sh-sh-shot!”

You giggled as she plopped down beside you. “I did a shot. I'm fine,” you hollered back.

Your best friend grumbled something you couldn't make out as she put her head on your shoulder. “But you aren't even driving.”

“I don't want to deal with a hangover tomorrow,” you argued, thanking the server as she brought another bottle.

“Ugh. If you won't drink, at least get laid,” Addison whined a little. “You're wearing a slutty black dress and everything.”

You looked around at the group. Addison was the only one in white since she was the bride. Everyone else wore black. They looked great, but you weren't dressed to get any sort of attention.

“Yeah! Get fucked!” Dana shouted.

“Is that encouragement or an insult?” You teased, glancing at the small blinking light in the corner of the VIP section. You didn't notice it before.

“Raise your hand if you think our girl should get laid!” Addison announced, raising her hand high and spilling some of her drink on the seat. “Whoops.”

The group raised their hands as you attempted to clean up the small mess. “I’m not hooking up with anyone tonight,” you said to their disappointment. “This night isn't about me and my love life.”

“Your love life? Babe, it doesn't exist!” Addison grabbed your left hand and held it up to stare at your bare ring finger. “I don't get it. You're the only one not engaged or married yet. And you're, like, the sweetest one in our group. And you're so pretty! It’s not fair that you don't have a man. You deserve one.”

“And sex!” Dana chimed in. “You deserve lots of sex!”

You gently pulled your hand away and pushed down the sadness that surfaced at the reminder that you were the only single one left of your friends. You didn't know why you hadn't met the right one yet. It wasn't like your standards were too high and you were a good, loyal partner. You wouldn't say you were supermodel gorgeous, but you were pretty. You knew how to have a good time.

Right?

Addison's lip wobbled when she saw the look on your face. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry. I didn't mean anything by it,” she rambled, hugging you from the side. “I just want you to have what Brady and I have. I want someone to love you.”

Guilt crept in before you shook your head and flashed your best smile. You know she wasn't trying to make you feel bad and you didn't want to ruin her night. “And one day, I will. Someone will love me the way Brady loves you and I’ll love him, too,” you assured her, giving the other girls a shrug and wishing they'd stop with the pitying stares. “Shots?”

“Shots!”

Your eyes briefly went back to the blinking light before you put a small smile back on your face. Addison was having fun and that was what mattered. You could worry about yourself and your feelings tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, but did my friends and I do something wrong?” You asked, dodging his question. You booked and paid for the section well in advance. Your group danced around in the area, and behaved overall and kept to yourselves. The server got a nice tip at the end of the night.

So what was the matter?

“Not at all,” he said, tilting his head. “I’m just sorry I couldn't introduce myself to you that night.”

“I don't understand. You broke into my home just so you could introduce yourself to me?” You asked as he traced small circles on your hips, the motion making your head spin a little. “How do you even know where I live?”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before he got serious again. “I have my ways. And I can be a little intense and forward at times, but you’ll get used to it,” he said, your eyes wide again. What was wrong with this man?

“Okay, Bucky,” you said slowly, seeing something wicked flash in his eyes when you said his name. “Being intense and forward doesn't excuse breaking into my home. And since my friends and I didn't do anything wrong at your club and you formally introduced yourself, I think it's time for you to leave.”

A second passed before he shook his head. “No, doll. It’s time for you to get the love life and man you deserve.”

Fingers brushed your throat as you struggled to take your next breath. “What did you say?”

“I'm going to take you out to dinner tomorrow so you can get to know me and you’re going to wear the dress I bought for you,” he explained as if he didn't hear you, nodding toward the hall. “It’s waiting for you in your bedroom and, yes, it’s your size.”

How did this man have the nerve and how long had he been in your place? “You went into my room? You-”

“And I bought you that perfume you recently ran out of. I know how much you love it. I know everything about you,” he continued, running his nose along your neck as your blood ran cold. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

You moved back, desperate to get away as your stomach twisted. He didn't let you get far, easily yanking you close again. How did he know anything about you? How did you catch his eye?

The blinking light in the corner of the VIP section …

“And if I say no?”

Bucky pulled back, his eyes calculating as he studied you. “I’m not going to force you into going out with me. It’s your choice to say yes or no, but I want you to think carefully about that choice.”

Dread pooled in your gut. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I obviously know where you live and I can get in and out undetected,” he pointed out. You wondered now if this was the first time he had been in your place. “I also know where your friend Addison and her fiancé, Brady, live.”

A wounded sound escaped at the thought of anything happening to your friends. “Please, leave them alone.”

“And the shop you work at, I know where it’s located. Those floral arrangements you make are stunning. Your boss even gave you a raise recently. You should be proud,” he smiled.

Your eyes watered again. The man was certifiably insane. Maybe this was a sick joke or a bad dream. Soon you'd wake up in your bed.

But the iron grip on your body reminded you that this was very real.

He waved a hand dismissively. “But we both know you’ll make the right choice because you're a good girl… a smart girl,” he said like he hadn't just threatened your friends or livelihood. “Just take the night to think it over. Have a glass of wine and draw yourself a nice bath while you do.”

He surprised you by moving you from his lap to the sofa. His hands and eyes lingered on you momentarily before he released you and stood up. Towering over you, he gave you a tender smile as he buttoned his jacket.

“I’m going to lock the door behind me when I leave and I’ll be back tomorrow at 7pm so you can give me your answer. And if you try and tell anyone I was here tonight, I’ll know about it,” he said, grasping your chin when you tried to look away. “It’s taking all of my control not to drag you to bed, but I can wait a little longer.”

Fear prickled the back of your neck as you tensed up. “You couldn't just ask me out like a normal person?”

You almost regretted asking when he narrowed his eyes, but he huffed out a laugh. “Where's the fun in that?” He winked as you shrank back in your seat. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won't hurt you. And you know what? I just thought of something. You still need a plus one for the wedding. I’m free. I’ll get a suit to match your bridesmaids’ dress. We’ll look perfect together. And Addison will be so happy that you aren't going alone.”

His tone was light and happy like it was a suggestion and not an order, but the ferocity in his gaze had you trembling. “Why are you doing this?” You asked above a whisper.

“Because I want you and I get what I want,” he said as a matter of fact, releasing your chin. “Like I said, it's time for you to get the love you deserve. And I know you'll give it to me in return.”

It was like your spirit floated out of your body as he bent down to kiss your forehead. You couldn't move or speak. Was this what shock felt like? Or was it complete and utter fear?

You stared ahead as he picked up your phone and unlocked it with your passcode. He knew that, too? “Can’t leave without giving you my phone number,” he smiled, putting his information in before he set the device down. You didn't respond. Once he was gone you could scream and cry. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, 7pm. Get some rest. You'll need it.”

Even as he left you alone and locked the door behind him as promised, you didn't move from your spot as tears streamed down your cheeks. You didn't dare go to your bedroom to see the gifts he left for you, your hand shaking as you wiped at your face. The scent of his cologne lingered, as did his touch. It was like his shadow covered you, leaving you cold and afraid. Your home was no longer safe.

You weren't safe.

With his subtle threat looming over your head, you’d have no choice but to go out with him. Maybe he’d get bored of you quickly and move on. Or maybe not. You had no way of knowing. All you knew was that your average life was upheaved by the owner of The 107th.

And you were going to be his girl whether you liked it or not.

Bucky isn't wasting time. Where is he taking you on your first date? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi