#but like... she's not even getting the money

[roosterforme]

Vintage | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love teasing your husband about his deep and unwavering devotion to his Bronco, but he's insistent that it would come in second place to you every time, and he intends to prove it. While you're away on deployment, he concocts a plan to get you behind the wheel of your very own vintage beauty.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, mentions of smut

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Sometimes I swear you love that thing more than you love me."

Your voice startled Bradley as he ran the wet, soapy sponge along the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco, pulling him from his thoughts. That was something you frequently said to him, jokingly claiming that you were the second love of his life. But you both knew it wasn't true. Especially not tonight.

"Hey, Baby," he whispered, coaxing you closer to him as he tossed the sponge back into the bucket. "Come here."

The setting sun painted your face with orange and gold, and he noticed the sadness in your eyes. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and then held them out to you, and you were in his arms in an instant. "Bradley," you mumbled against his chest as he squeezed you, getting your shirt a little damp in the process. But you didn't seem to mind. "I'm going to miss you."

Detailing and cleaning what used to be his dad's 1973 Bronco had become a way for him to relieve stress. He would get out the soap and turn on the hose when he needed a few minutes to himself. It was easier to be alone in his head, processing his thoughts and worries when he was washing the light blue masterpiece he'd spent so many years and a lot of money preserving. He always found himself in a better headspace to deal with whatever was troubling him when he spent some time with the Bronco. And today was no exception. 

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Sometimes it felt like the nearly five years you and he had been married were just spent alternating deployments. First he would be gone on an aircraft carrier for months on end, and then it would be your turn. You'd be sent abroad with the Navy before returning to him, and then the cycle would begin anew. Everything felt harder when you weren't around, and maybe that's why Bradley was out on the driveway right now instead of helping you pack for your early call time tomorrow morning. 

With your cheek pressed to his sternum, you cried softly. "It's only two months this time. And I'll have access to my phone. And I'll even be home in time for our anniversary. I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional about this."

He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "It's not like it gets any easier. You know that. I know that. It's going to feel like two months of hell on my end."

You sniffed hard then looked up at him with a little smirk. "At least you'll have the Bronco to keep you warm."

Bradley groaned and started to walk you backwards toward the house. "I mean, she's pretty and all, and I've definitely spent a night or two curled up around her gear shift, but I never gave her a diamond ring."

Your lips and your soft laughter against his neck sent a jolt of physical pleasure through his body, but he didn't want to rush this. He needed this to last, to hold him over for two months without your touch. Both of you tripped along to the bedroom where he smiled and whispered, "Let me show you that you're my number one girl. Let me prove you always will be."

Bradley was meticulous. He knew every inch of his Bronco, inside and out, but he knew you better. The sounds you made were prettier. The way you clung to him as he brought you pleasure was unparalleled. Your fingers laced with his as he connected his body with yours in the most intimate way, and it left him breathless.

"I love you."

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

Two days. He'd only been alone for two days, and he was already halfway through binge watching a season of a show that wasn't even that interesting. When he got home from work, he eyed up the couch and TV before ultimately changing into some sweats and heading back out to the driveway. He looked over the Bronco from hood to taillights, making a mental list of what she needed: new wiper blades, two new tires, and an oil change.

When he took his phone out to order the parts from his favorite website, he must have typed something wrong. It rerouted him to a vintage Ford resale page that left him staring at a sage green 1975 Bronco in rough condition. Man, she was still pretty though, with her original chrome and hubcaps. She was just an hour away, and the price wasn't too bad...

He glanced up at the blue gem in front of him. An idea started to take shape. He wondered how you would feel about it. With a smile, he ordered the wiper blades and oil filter that he needed and went inside to make dinner. But he couldn't stop picturing that chipped, green paint, and the vinyl that needed to be patched. 

If he knew he could get you hooked on a Bronco of your very own, he'd make this purchase. Two months to go. Shit, he might have just enough time to pull this off. He could practically picture you cranking the engine to life and waving goodbye as you pulled out of the driveway and took your Bronco for a spin. He wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face, but he'd say it anyway. "You love that thing more than you love me, Baby."

When he was stretched out on your side of the bed later that night, enveloped in your sweet scent that clung to the pillows, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It would be fun to prove to you once and for all where his loyalties lie. Or maybe it could just be a project that would keep him busy, and if you didn't like the idea, he could resell it after you got home. Either way, he drifted to sleep as he thought about you behind the wheel, and he knew it was too perfect to pass up.

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

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said with a smirk as he answered his phone.

"Bradley! I miss you like crazy!"

"I miss you, too," he promised as he looked at the rather beat up, green Bronco before him. He got it for a great price when he offered to pay cash, and the tow truck just dropped it off a few days ago. Half of the engine was taken apart on a tarp at his feet, and it was currently jacked up so he could replace the oil pan. But he thought it was gorgeous. "I have a little surprise for you when you get home."

"A surprise?! Tell me. You know I can't wait that long."

"Nah," he said, kneeling down to check the wiring for the headlights. "I think I'll make you wait this one out."

"Rooster!"

"What?" he laughed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slipped his work gloves on and pulled at the loose wire. "You know, this is what you get for always giving me a hard time about my dad's Bronco. I love you so much, Baby, I'll make you wait for the surprise. It'll be sweeter that way."

"You're the worst," you groaned playfully. "Now I'll be thinking about what it could possibly be the whole time I'm gone. I'll be wondering what you have up your sleeve."

"As long as you're thinking about me, I'm happy," he rasped, and your pretty sigh in response left him a little breathless.

"I'm always thinking about you. Promise me as soon as I get back, we'll go for a long drive? Up along the coast? Late at night?"

He loved that idea. It would just look a little different than you were probably imagining if he could get this thing up and running again in time for your return. "We'll make a night of it," he promised. "I'll pack some blankets, and we can sit in the back and look out at the ocean. Can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands to myself though."

"Mmm. That's what I'm counting on."

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

After about two weeks of watching a lot of YouTube videos posted by professionals, Bradley finally had the engine rebuilt. He was just waiting for some parts to arrive before he could put it back in place. "You're a needy one, aren't you?" he asked the green Bronco. "Nothing like her. She's a saint." He nodded his head toward the blue one before kneeling to replace the taillights. 

He was quickly realizing that the money he saved on the cost of the actual vehicle was being eaten up in the expensive, vintage parts. He was lucky he knew how to do most of this himself, even if it took twice as long. Today he was replacing the brakes and listening to a Motown playlist, and he fully realized that he felt calmest when he was with you or a Bronco. He snorted at how ridiculous that fact was as he scooted under the vehicle, but it was true. And having you tucked away in the back with the tailgate dropped, all wrapped up in a blanket while you turned him on just by existing.... well, that's when he would be happiest of all.

As the weeks wore on and the project progressed, the day finally arrived when it was time to try to start her up and take her for a little drive. Everything smelled like new rubber from the tires he'd just put on. The vinyl seats were still in bad shape, but when he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.

Bradley's head tipped back as he groaned softly. "So fucking pretty. My god." He tapped the accelerator gently with his foot, enjoying the rev of the engine. He smoothed his hands along the steering wheel and the dashboard before he adjusted the rear view mirror to accommodate his height. Then he flicked the chrome switch and turned on the radio which he was surprised still worked.

My Girl by the Temptations poured from the speakers as the station crackled to life, and that felt like a very good sign. "Let's get out of here, Sweetheart," he whispered before shifting into reverse and leaving the driveway and his toolbox behind.

She was smooth and steady and everything he was hoping for. Would it ever fully compete with Goose's Bronco? Probably not. Was it worth the investment anyway? He'd find out next week when you got home. There were just a few things left to do before he dropped it off to be repainted and have the interior patched, and then she'd be good as new.

Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he smiled when he saw it was you. "Hey, Baby."

"Bradley! I miss you so much. I swear, if this thing was longer than two months, I wouldn't make it. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm just out for a little drive."

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

After eight weeks of nothing more than a few scant phone calls, Bradley was more than ready to have you home again. Maybe you and he could take a few days off from work. He'd help you catch up on some sleep after initially keeping you up all night. He already had some blankets ready to go as soon as you said you wanted to drive up to Carlsbad and watch the surfers at sunset before making love in the back of your Bronco.

Your Bronco. His wife's Bronco. It would take some getting used to, but it already made him smile every time he thought about it. With his hands on that familiar steering wheel, he drove toward the Naval base where both of you spent so much of your time. He waited, leaning against the light blue hood until you came running toward him in your uniform with your bags.

"Bradley!" you shrieked as you landed in his arms where you belonged. 

"I missed you," he promised, finally kissing your lips again after so many weeks. He felt your bag hit his foot, and he smiled as he tilted your face up for better access to your mouth.

"I missed you, too," you moaned softly, and he was already making the move to get you back home and remind you what you meant to him. But you dug your feet in outside the passenger door. 

"Where's my surprise?" you asked as you tucked your fingers into the top of his jeans and grinned up at him. "I've been thinking about it nonstop. Is it you?"

"No," he replied with a chuckle as his gaze drifted toward the Bronco. "You'll see soon enough."

You glanced at where he was looking, and you rolled your eyes before kissing his chin. "Did she keep you company while I was gone? She looks pristine, like you spend some time working on her."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "Just get in, Baby," he rasped. "The sooner we get home, the sooner your little surprise will make sense."

He knew the routine by heart now. The short ride home would start out with you holding his right hand and playing with his fingers while he drove. Then your hand would migrate to his thigh when the Bronco was about five blocks away. Then as soon as the tires touched the driveway, you'd unbuckle your seatbelt and make your way over to his lap.

The routine was important to him. He loved it. He loved taking you inside and directly to bed before coming back out much later to get the bags. He thrived on the return to normal life that was triggered by the routine. But today, he knew you weren't going to end up on his lap, and that was more than okay.

When your hand settled on his thigh exactly five blocks away from home, Bradley smiled. Your fingers crept up inch by inch as you leaned closer and whispered in his ear that you had their fifth wedding anniversary all planned out for the following weekend. You were playing with the zipper of his jeans by the time he could see the house, and he just waited for it. He was not disappointed.

"What the fuck is that?" you gasped, both hands going to the dashboard in front of you as you leaned to check out the freshly painted green Bronco as he coasted into the driveway. "Bradley?" you asked, glancing at him with wide eyes as he shifted into park.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss your softly parted lips. "This is your surprise. You're always joking about how much I love my Bronco, but I'll never love anything more than I love you."

You pressed your lips to his once before pulling away, shaking your head slightly. "So you got me one of my own?" you asked, jerking your thumb toward the green one.

He nodded and pulled his key from the ignition before pressing it into your palm. "Yep. She's all yours."

"Wait," you whispered, your brow creasing in confusion as you looked down at your hand. "This is your key."

"No, it's your key. The key to the green one is in the house. That's my key."

You gaped at him as your eyebrows shot upwards. "You're giving me your Bronco?"

"Yep."

"But," you whispered, turning to look out the window, "I can drive the other one."

"No, I bought the green one with myself in mind," he replied, taking your chin gently in his hand so you were looking at him again. "This one's better. She's sweet. Like you. She's yours."

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He was wrong; you did end up in his lap. Right where you belonged. His hands settled at your hips as you kissed every inch of his face while he laughed.

"I want to take her for a spin," you whispered, nudging him out of the driver's seat with your knee. "Go."

He smiled as he walked around to the passenger side of the blue Bronco, and he barely had the door closed before you started the engine and shifted into gear. "Pretty soon you'll love this thing more than you love me, Baby."

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

He gave you his Bronco. The green one was for him. That's how you know he loves you. I hope they do some nasty shit in the green one to break it in. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[kisses4reid]

protect | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get badly injured on a case, and the hospital visit ruins your surprise.

genre - fem!bau!reader x spencer, hurt/comfort, little bit of angst and arguing, fluff, happy ending!! reader can bear children (has female anatomy)

warnings - pregnancy, major injuries, mentions of gross hospital things, r uses she/her pronouns, usual criminal minds violences

w/c - 2.2k

a/n - thank u for the request! loved the idea immediately and this is the first time i’m writing abt pregnancy and stuff so pls do not quote me on anything!!! also this writing isn’t my best, sorry abt that. okay bye have fun reading

request - (@ursuu-la) hihihi idk if you're taking requests, but what if u write something where Spencer and a fem reader are dating and she's pregnant, but she's kinda scared(? or nervous to tell Spencer. And maybe she could tell it to one of the girls of the team to find a way of approaching Reid, but then she gets hurt or something happens to her in a case.

“Oh. My. God.”

You turned your attention from the open manila folder to Garcia’s multiple screens, searching each one for something important, “What?”

“Y/n M/n Reid. You’re pregnant?” Garcia spun in her chair with an angry expression while pointing a ringed finger at the main computer screen. It was your medical history - which you allowed her to search so she could experiment with a new hacking technique - but you had forgotten about your recent discovery.

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you stared in shock and started rambling through your fingers, “Garcia. I swear, nobody knows - I wasn’t keeping this from just you,” you placed your hands on her shoulders when she stood up in disappointment, sending her office chair to collide with the desk, “Spencer doesn’t even know, please Garcia. Don’t tell anyone.”

Your eyes searched hers for a promise or compromise, but instead you got welling tears.

“Garcia?”

“Y/n, your pregnant with a little Reid! This is amazing- How come you haven’t told him? I’ll have a new little nephew or niece! Y/n!” She squealed and took your hands to spin you in a circle in her small office. You immediately felt nauseous and slowed the excited girl, her hair accessories threatening to fall off in her happiness. You held your stomach and whispered,

“No spinning, I’ll throw up.”

She glanced to her computer screens and shut them down immediately, sitting back down and taking a deep breath. “This is great! Right? Please tell me this is great, you’re already 6 weeks pregnant.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “I mean, I think it’s great but..” You lost yourself in thought.

Last year when you and Spencer got married, you had talked about starting a family many times. But every time you both agreed to wait a few more years in order to save up more money and maybe move into a bigger apartment or even a house. This was not what you planned.

Spencer liked having a plan, it was one thing you grew to love. He was organised and, due to his amazing memory, remembered everything, especially everything about you. And though you two had grown so close you were basically one person, this was the only time you had no idea how Spencer would react if he found out your secret.

“I don’t know how to tell Spencer.”

Garcia grinned, but it was quickly wiped away when she noticed a certain figure in the doorway. You spun on your heel, heart attacking your ribs. Luckily, it was not your husband, but your boss. He stood sternly and started, “We’ve got a case, wheels up in 30.”

You nodded and turned back to Garcia, all she did was wave and whisper, “I’ll text you.”

In the plane, you sat next to Spencer in the aisle seat, stomach feeling queasy and phone vibrating non-stop in your back pocket. You pinched the bone between your eyebrows and squinted at the case files that Hotch had quickly gone over. Morgan was spilling some theories, Prentiss backing him up, when Spencer lowered his head and whispered in your ear, “Are you okay? You seem tired.”

You put on a small smile and nodded, the fact that Spencer had noticed something wrong meant that the rest of the team would notice soon too. You raised yourself and squeezed Spencer’s hand that had been in your lap. You murmured a small excuse me to Hotch and excused yourself to the plane’s toilet.

Spencer began to get worried for your health. The past week and a half, you’d been eating less and then more, and then you’d say you felt sick, and then you were full of energy. You cancelled plans, you slept more, and you had started avoiding Spencer. You were getting sick, and distant, and he hated how you wouldn’t let him help you whenever he asked. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, attempting to focus on the profile.

Sat on the toilet, ready to double over into the bathroom sink, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through Garcias texts.

What about a baby onesie with Daddy’s favourite child on it?

What about a candle lit dinner?

What about donuts that spell out ‘I’m Pregnant!’

I’ve seen people purposefully burn bread and wait until their husbands understand, maybe that?

Maybe. But right now, that was not what you wanted to think about. On top of the case and the whole pregnancy situation, your symptoms were becoming harder to conceal.

A whole day of analysis, interrogating, leads and dead ends led you to a one story run down house with broken windows and an overgrown yard. You threw the FBI bullet vest over your shoulders as Spencer approached you with a tight smile. His hair was shorter these days, after he finally let you start cutting it, but nothing could change his attractiveness. His cologne wafted into your senses as he went behind you, tightening your vest and patting your back and waist down to make sure you were at optimal safety.

You could almost imagine he knew you were pregnant.

“Remember, if he’s in there, keep your distance. He’s a big guy but silent, and not all there.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he did a last check over of your vest, belt, and the position of your gun. You smiled and nodded,

“I know, Spence. I’ve been here too.”

He sighed and nodded, placing a small kiss on your cheek as a good luck.

You were married, but there was no guarantee you’d both make it out of any case. Every movement could be your last, and every interaction could be your last together.

Morgan slipped through the door after a man picked the front doors lock, Prentiss behind him and you behind her. After you, followed Hotch and Spencer.

“Clear!” Morgan called from the kitchen. You turned right down a hallway, Prentiss disappearing into a small room on the right and yelling,

“Clear!”

You entered the small bedroom, gun high and steps careful. It was an adults bedroom, maybe a teenager. There was posters of horror movies, a thin mattress on the floor and shelves of books and wooden cupboard holding what you believed to be clothes.

“Clea-“

The wind got knocked out of you, your shoulder colliding with the wall to your left and a sharp handle being jabbed into your side, as you plummeted against the floor and hearing a loud thump and shattering glass beside you. Miniscule, rainbow, dots clouded your vision, the adrenaline and the concussion you were sure you had numbing the pain coursing through your veins. You screamed in pain, Hotch entering almost immediately.

You lifted your right arm to point out the window, the glass shattered from where the unsub had escaped.

Spencer entered the room in a rush, eyes running over the fallen cupboard that would've been taller than the both of you, and then your small body in the corner. You held out your arm for him, and he placed his hands under your armpits, jolting back when you screeched in pain. "Y/n, your..." His eyes widened in shock and fear at the sight of your dislocated shoulder. Your right hand clutched to your left side - no doubt trying to comfort a massive bruise or worse.

He gulped, helping you up and throwing your good arm around his shoulders. The sudden movements blanked your vision for a few moments, a small lump forming on the front left side of your temple, and your legs trembled in the sudden need to hold yourself up. "Y/n, we just need to get you to the ambulance, alright?" Spencer told you reassuringly. He didn't know how much you could understand, your eyes were cloudy and your movements spaghetti-like, but he continued to reassure you anyways.

The paramedics set into action as soon as they saw your near limp body strung across Spencer's taller build. You were placed in the ambulance on a bed and before you knew it, there was a heavy clamp on your finger and two paramedics touching you and saying unexplainable things to each other. A short one with a beard came close to your vision, obvious aware it was still slightly blurred, "Agent Y/n. We need to take your shirt off in order to fix your shoulder okay? We need to pop it back in as quick as we can."

All you could do is nod, Spencer making most of the choices for you as your husband - he wouldn't put you through something he knew you would disagree with. They asked him questions, and while the voices came in and out of focus, the adrenaline was wearing off and suddenly your senses heightened. "Is she pregnant?"

The question rolled off the paramedics tongue like a rehearsed poem, and Spencer shook his head like there was no possible way you were. But as you saw needles being prepared, your heart started pounding so fast it got the attention of the professionals. "Y/n, are you still with us?"

To Spencer, you looked like you had just woken up to a bad dream, but there was something deeper - you were not unconcious, if anything you looked alert.

"I'm pregnant." The paramedics glanced at each other and Spencer's eyes widened. The one with the needle placed it down carefully on a table, and before you knew it, you were being pushed through hallways and into a awfully bright room.

You passed out, fear and exaustion catching up to you. But Spencer couldn't sleep. On top of the fact that his wife had just gotten her shoulder dislocated and then fixed, and a slight rib fracture, she was also pregnant.

Spencer doubted for the first half hour of waiting for you to wake up that you actually were. You were saying nonsense, you were injured and the adrenaline... usually causes people to tell the truth. He paced and went over everything that had been happening. The change in your behaviour, the tiredness, the sickness. It was all coming together like a puzzle, and he wondered why he didn't realise sooner.

"Spence?" A small voice called out, and he approached the hospital bed almost immediately.

"Y/n." Spencer smiled in relief, overjoyed that you were alright and breathing. He knew you'd be fine, but anything can be unpredictable. Anyone can be unpredictable. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"What happened?" You tried to sit up but Spencers soft hands encouraged you to stay laying down.

"The unsub pushed a cabinet at you. You collided with the wall and dislocated your shoulder." He explained softly, the doctors told him that the specific pain killers they gave you may cause some loopiness. "Oh." You whispered, eyes searching his face like you had never seen it before, and you smiled. You were here, and he was here, and you needed nothing more. Other than more pain killers.

Spencer bit his lip, and sighed, not sure if it was the right time to bring the blindside up at that moment.

"Y/n, darling, are you... pregnant?"

The small grin wiped off your face and you took some deep breaths, nodding and avoiding his gaze in fear of rejection. Spencer sighed, and pushed his hair away from his face, a smile rising onto his cheeks. Tears welled in his eyes from happiness. "This is great, this is... wow Y/n, I can't believe.." He gulped, "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner."

Confusing his disbelief for anger, tears started dropping down your cheeks as you sat in silence. Spencer started to worry, "Do you... not want to have a baby with me? Or at all? Do you think I won't be a good father? I know that I've had my problems in the past but I promise I can be a good father-"

"Spencer." You called his name in shock, heart aching over his insecure questions. "I do want a baby, especially one with you. And I don't think you'll be a good father, I know you'll be a great one. I just," you wiped your cheeks and he sat down in a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. "I'm scared. I thought that you wouldn't want to have one right now because of our... plan. This is really early and we didn't get to save- and- I thought you'd be mad-" You had started blubbering now, the heart monitor becoming a ticking time bomb for a full on breakdown, before Spencer took your face in his hands and smashed your lips onto his.

He pulled back, smile wide, eyes full of adoration and sorrowfullness.

"Y/n, I don't care about that plan anymore. And I'm not mad." He searched your eyes with his, "I just wished you told me earlier. Maybe you wouldn't have been injured, because god knows I wouldn't have let you go out into the field."

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." You sniffled, placing your other hand on top of his.

"Oh, darling. You don't have to be sorry. I've made my injured and pregnant wife cry, I should be sorry."

You giggled, and leant forward to kiss him on the nose. "So it's really okay?"

"Of course. You just have to heal quickly, and I'll do all the rest."

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m

[suguann]

SAY YOU'RE MINE—GOJO SATORU.

✎.You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. | wc. 1.4k+

tags. fem!reader, age-gap, very shy reader, exhibitionism, reader wears glasses, a/b/o, 18+ only

masterlist

The big, awful truth nobody tells you about hosting your fortieth birthday is how the shine of the day wears off once you see your friends and acquaintances laughing with their loved ones, talking about their kids, showing off pictures of newborns swaddled in soft linens, and making plans for upcoming holidays. 

Gojo sips his drink, pretending to understand. He’s never given much thought to settling down, to take an omega as a mate and fill his big empty house with the sounds of pealing laughter and little feet racing down the many halls.

Forty years old, and he’s ready to admit that living the life of a bachelor doesn’t hold the same appeal as it once did. That returning from a two-week-long business trip might be better if there were somebody to go home to.

Forty years old.

Instead of cozying up in the living room with a family he longs to have, he’s going to spend the rest of his night picking up plates and champagne flutes after everyone leaves because he forgot to hire a cleaning company—all alone in his big empty house, wondering if his secretary remembered to pick up his dry-cleaning for the week.

An unmated Alpha—the reminder chafes as much as the fact he’s getting older.

He finally understands why his late aunt divorced and got married again twice in the same year, why people buy nice vacation homes on white sandy beaches that make the crow’s feet around their eyes worse, and spend too much money on sports cars even though they stay parked for three-fourths of the year. He gets it now.

It’s more or less an epiphany of a sad, pathetic truth that he swallows down with something cold and bitter.

In the middle of his backyard, standing between his neighbor and his pregnant wife, Gojo wishes he were anywhere else. Inviting everyone he knows within driving distance no longer seems like the well-thought idea he’d presumed it’d been.

He makes a few more rounds around the garden before sneaking inside, escaping another conversation about engagements and wedding dates to hide away in his study.

That’s until he sees you out of the corner of his eye, looking through the bookcases in his living room.

A pretty slip of a girl in your modest cocktail dress and wide-framed glasses slipping down the slope of your nose. An Omega, alone, just like him; your clean, sweet, floral scent sticking to the back of his throat like syrup until it settles in his stomach. Enough to make him dizzy.

You shouldn’t elicit his attention more than any other Omega at the party—he doesn’t remember inviting that many—but he’s wondering how he let you slip by. Not that it really matters because his back straightens, no longer wallowing in self-pity, and he studies you with interest.

After a few moments, you finally glance his way, only for you to hastily return your attention to the book you pulled down from the shelf. Cute.

Gojo adjusts the tie around his neck and feels his lips twitch.

“Sorry,” you say softly, long lashes fluttering against the top of your cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I was only—My friend invited me, and she—”

You are too busy working yourself up over an explanation that you don’t notice when he sidles up next to you and reads over your shoulder. "I have more in my office if you want to take a look.”

“E-excuse me?” You make this breathy, choked sound and peer up at him from under your lashes. This visibly timid type of girl who bashfully looks away at the sight of his smile. For some reason, that makes his mouth go dry—makes his teeth ache. 

It’s rare to be so driven by instinct and rarer to actually listen to that instinct.

“Books,” he says. “Do you want to see them?”

His words take a second to sink in, and he smiles when he sees liquid clarity in your eyes. You blink owlishly, scent spiking, pleased. He stands there patiently, finding how you start rambling endearing, a slight, private grin splitting across his face—silently amused.

He thinks you'd bolt if it weren’t for the fact that he’s probably standing much too close, trapping a mouse by the tail.

“I–I g-guess,” you finally stutter.

It’s too easy: You letting him usher you up the stairs toward his office. 

If Gojo were a better person, a less lonely Alpha—a better man—he might feel bad for how well it works.

It’s no small thing to work the tiny zipper at your back and watch your dress pool around your feet. He barely gets the top three buttons of his shirt undone before you are—delightfully, inexplicably—up on the tips of your toes, timidly pushing your hands through his hair, mewling into the hollow of his throat, close to where his gland sits.

By the time he has you pressed against his office window, you’re this flustered little mess with crooked glasses, fingers streaking the once pristine glass to keep your balance, and breasts sticky and wet with spit.

“Good girl,” he mutters, pulling back to look down at where he’s splitting you open. “Such a good little Omega for me, aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, and he crowds you closer to the window, grasping your chin and tugging your head up until you’re looking at him upside down. He squeezes your cheeks together, your pouty, supple lips pushed out, and kisses your mouth, tasting you—unimaginably sweet.

“Tell me—tell me what a good girl you are,” even though he knows you can’t with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but you try anyway.

“U-uh but—people c-can see.” 

The base of his cock tingles as he catches a line of drool spilling from the corner of your lips. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, soothing, and you steadily melt against him when he slips that same finger underneath the elastic of your underwear, lightly nudging your clit with the tip of his finger until you’re shivering beautifully again.

“That’s it. Don’t worry about them,” he coaxes lightly, but it comes out muffled because he says it with his mouth wrapped around the gland at the base of your neck, teasing himself with something he’s never allowed himself to have. Not yet. “Just you and me, okay?”

Gojo doesn’t let up until your back arches and shoulders tighten, his knot caught inside your cunt until all he can do is grind the tip of his cock against that spot that makes you squirm and whine. 

He smiles to himself when you hide behind your hands after realizing you ruined his pants, and he carefully falls back into his office chair, pulling you with him so you’re both looking out across the garden, where his guests walk around wholly unaware of the breathtaking little Omega who made his birthday worthwhile.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he muses, taking great pleasure in the way you start stuttering again.

On his forty-first birthday, he doesn’t throw his own party but still hides in his office, his pretty wife in his lap, flustered because he never turned the lights off this time. If anyone happened to walk by on this side of the house, they’d be able to see everything—his omega, soft and swollen from a piece of him taking root inside you.

Families are about making traditions, he thinks, and he’d like to start a few traditions of his own; leaving his party to fuck his wife in the quiet of his office being one of them.

[witchywithwhiskey]

tempting fate in the CEO's office

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you visit your boyfriend in his office to show off your new lingerie, and you end up playing a reckless game when he hast to join a conference call—a call that your father will be on.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, dry humping, little bit of come play, light teasing, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, sex with the risk of being caught, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff, established relationship

word count: 6,300ish

a/n: ok! this took me ages because i started writing it before moving and it was difficult to get back into it, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out all things considered. this chapter is set in bucky's office because that was what won the poll i posted. it was fun to write, and i already started writing the next chapter, so i hope y'all enjoy!!

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

You’d done a lot of reckless things in your life—like wearing a dress with nothing underneath it to the park, or starting a secret relationship with your father’s biggest business rival—but walking into the busy lower Manhattan office building of CEO Bucky Barnes wearing nothing but a set of lingerie, a long trenchcoat and heels had to top the list.

Still, you didn’t feel any trepidation. Not even as the bottom hem of your jacket fluttered around your thighs, threatening to give anyone in the lobby a peak at the lacy undergarments you’d worn specifically for Bucky. But, though every step was a potential disaster—because if you did flash someone in the lobby your most intimate bits, it would surely get back to your father—you didn’t falter. 

The points of your heels clicked confidently against the marble floor of the lobby and a fearless smile curled your lips. You were having fun with your reckless behavior. Excitement and desire fizzled in your belly, making you feel like you were walking on air as you crossed the floor to the elevator bank that would take you up to the C-suite offices, where you knew Bucky would be.

While you rode the elevator, you couldn’t help but think about how Bucky would react when you walked into his office wearing only lingerie and a jacket. You could easily picture the way he’d look at you—his brilliant blue eyes darkening and his mouth curling into a smirk. And you couldn’t wait to tell him that he was the one to buy you the matching set. 

He’d given you his black Amex and told you to buy something pretty for yourself, despite the fact that you had plenty of money from your parents. You were your father’s daughter, after all, and he’s given you a generous allowance, even as an adult. But Bucky had insisted you spend his money for a change—so you decided you were going to insist he appreciate the pretty lingerie he’d paid for…while it was on your body.

Your smile deepened as the elevator doors slid open soundlessly and you walked into the lobby of the company’s C-suite, giddy excitement thrumming through your body. You couldn’t wait to see Bucky’s reaction to your outfit, but even more than that, you were excited to see your boyfriend.

It still felt a little strange to think of Bucky as your boyfriend. You’d known him as nothing more than your father’s hot business rival for so long, and your relationship was still so new and covert. Neither of you had told anyone about it yet. Everyone in both your circles of friends knew each other, and they all knew your father, so it was too risky. 

But Bucky was your boyfriend, and that knowledge made your heart beat faster in your chest, your smile widening even further.

You were still wearing your slightly goofy smile when you walked up to the desk where Bucky’s secretary sat. She was an older woman with kind eyes, and when you gave your name, recognition dawned in her expression. Her face creased with delicate crinkles as she offered you a genuine smile and waved you into Bucky’s office. 

As you were walking past, she made a comment that Bucky had given her strict orders to always allow you into his office. Your goofy, happy smile got even goofier and happier at that bit of information, and you pushed through the door into Bucky’s office.

The first thing that struck you about the space was how warm and cozy it felt despite the fact that two full walls were taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York City. The whole of Manhattan sprawled out at Bucky’s feet, and you couldn’t help but understand the city’s desire to do so. In your experience, being at Bucky’s feet was an enjoyable place to be.

You bit back a smirk as you looked around the office, taking in the dark wooden furnishings and gold accents. There were plush rugs beneath a small seating area off to one side and another under Bucky’s big desk, giving the space a homey feel that reminded you of his penthouse apartment. The office was professional, but it managed to feel like Bucky, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

When you turned your attention to the CEO, you found him watching you as you took in his office for the first time. His blue eyes were sparkling and he had a pleased expression on his face.

“Darling,” Bucky rumbled as a greeting, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. 

He looked so handsome, wearing a slate gray suit with a black shirt beneath, the colors contrasting with his golden skin and dark brown beard. His blue eyes were two stars in the sky, and his mouth was a charming curve that made you ache to kiss him. 

When you didn’t respond—because you were too wrapped up in appreciating the attractiveness of your boyfriend—Bucky leaned back in his leather office chair. His eyes stayed fixed on you, his chin tilting up, and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a king lording over his court.

It made you want to kneel.

Instead, you murmured his name with a smile, “Jamie,” and strolled over to his desk, one hand playing with the belt of your jacket that was keeping it cinched around your waist. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” you asked innocently as you walked around his desk and stepped between his spread legs, your sassy smile making it clear you didn’t care if you were.

Bucky only seemed happy to see you, pushing closer in his chair so his hands could slip around the backs of your bare thighs, making you shiver as he murmured, “Never.” 

His head was tilted back a bit to meet your eyes, and his gaze was impossibly soft as he stared at you, making you feel hot and flustered all over—particularly between your thighs. To steady yourself, you slid your arms around his shoulders and ducked down to drop a kiss to his lips, smiling at the slight rasp of his beard. He tasted like coffee.

“Did you have a nice shopping trip?” Bucky asked, his voice quiet and warm in a way that made you want to melt into him. Your fingers idly played with the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck and his smile turned a little mischievous as he asked, “Did you buy yourself something pretty like I asked?” 

Impossibly, you’d forgotten the outfit you’d worn into Bucky’s office, but his question reminded you of the lacy lingerie that was hidden beneath your jacket. You smiled like the cat that got the cream and nodded at your boyfriend, fluttering your lashes at him as you asked a question of your own. 

“Do you want to see, Jamie?” You leaned back and played with the ends of the belt keeping your jacket tied tight around your body, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes dipped curiously down to your hands. 

His gaze heated, a grin spreading across his face as he slid his hands up from your thighs to your belt. He paused before untying it, flicking his eyes up to yours. When you nodded, Bucky slowly undid the knot, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he parted the jacket to see what you’d been hiding.

The sharp breath Bucky sucked in when he saw the pretty lingerie you wore, your curves swathed in lace that he’d paid for, was immensely satisfying. Bucky pushed the trenchcoat off your shoulders and let it fall to pool at your feet while his eyes roved over your body like they couldn’t get enough. 

Then his hands seemed to be everywhere—brushing against the sides of your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your waist, groping your plush hips. He touch you greedily as his eyes seemed to devour your appearance, taking in the way the lingerie clung to your body, the way it framed your breasts and barely covered your mound. 

The blue of his eyes had darkened to the color of the ocean by the time he returned his gaze to yours. All he said was, “Darling,” his voice little more than gravel, as if he was overcome by the sight of you in your new matching set. Your breath caught in your throat at the emotion swirling in Bucky’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” he rasped. 

A pleased heat spread through your chest, warming your cheeks, and you smiled happily at the sincerity in Bucky’s words. “Thank you, Jamie,” you murmured, ducking down to press another quick kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. 

But Bucky caught you around the back of your neck, murmuring, “C’mere,” before reeling you back in and deepening the kiss. He kissed you thoroughly, his hands sliding down your body to the backs of your thighs, and then he was pulling you into his lap, your knees on either side of his legs so you were straddling him in his leather chair.

So much of your bare skin brushed against Bucky’s suit, and though the fabric was soft, it was a reminder of how little clothing you were wearing. You shivered when Bucky’s fingers traced down your spine, pressing you flush to his chest, the lace of your lingerie teasing your nipples deliciously so that you whimpered into his mouth. 

By the time Bucky pulled away, your lips were swollen from his kisses and the wetness gathering between your thighs had dripped into your panties. When you squirmed on Bucky’s lap, rubbing your chest against his and enjoying the electric shocks of pleasure to your nipples, you felt his bulge press against your lace-covered core. You couldn’t help the little whine that escaped when you rubbed against the hot, hard length of him.

“Jamie,” you mewled, rocking against Bucky’s bulge, not caring in the least that his secretary was sitting just outside the office door. All that mattered was the way Bucky’s cock twitched when you whimpered his name.

“Darling,” Bucky groaned, pleasure soaking his tone—but there was a warning in his voice, too. When his hands grabbed your hips, he didn’t urge you on like you expected. He forced you to stop. You whined pitifully, leaning back to catch your boyfriend’s eye and pouting up at him. “I’m due on a call any minute,” he explained, a regretful look on his face.

You knew you should leave him to it. Bucky was a busy man, after all, and he needed to work—especially if he was going to buy you more expensive lingerie—which you hoped he would considering his reaction to seeing you in your new matching set. You knew it was still early in the afternoon and you should be content with the few moments you’d stolen of his time already.

But your reckless impulses were too loud to ignore, so instead of sliding off Bucky’s lap and putting your jacket back on, you pressed closer, your soft tits trapped against his hard chest. Your lips brushed the shell of Bucky’s ear as you leaned in, making him shudder beneath you.

“Why does that mean we have to stop?” you asked in a soft, sultry tone. Rolling your hips slowly, you rocked your lace-covered core against your boyfriend’s hard cock in a decadent drag that had both of you letting out little groans. “I’m all dressed up in the pretty lingerie you bought for me, why don’t you let me sit on your lap during your call.” 

You nipped at Bucky’s ear before pressing a kiss to his neck just beneath it, enjoying the rumble in his chest as he bit back a moan. 

“And since I’m on your lap, why don’t you let me keep your cock warm in my pussy—‘m so warm and wet for you, Jamie, and I promise I’ll be so quiet while you’re on your call.” 

Bucky chuckled, both of you knowing full well that you were lying, but he didn’t call you out on it like you expected. Instead, he went a different route, surprising you. 

“Are you sure, darling?” he purred, pressing a suckling kiss to the side of your neck that had your head tilting to the side to give him more access. You were so consumed by how good his soft mouth and rough beard felt against your skin that you almost missed his next words. “Every major CEO in the city is going to be on this call—including your father.”

You froze on Bucky’s lap, not even his mouth working against your neck distracting you from what he’d said. Despite your good sense—at least, what little was left of it with Bucky’s bulge pressing between your thighs—you knew you shouldn’t be thinking about tempting fate in a CEO’s office while he was on a call with your father and all their colleagues. But… Well, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t enjoy the thrill the the idea gave you.

And it was that side of you that prompted you to purr in your boyfriend’s ear, “I’m sure, Jamie,” as you melted back against his chest. A wicked smirk curled your lips as you issued a challenge to the CEO, “In fact, I’m sure that if one of us is going to give us away to my father, it won’t be me.”  

The chuckle Bucky let out was practically sinister, and your hips squirmed reflexively, grinding your wet slit against his hard cock through your clothes. You managed to hold back the soft moan that wanted to escape, and you were proud of yourself. But then Bucky issued a challenge of his own that had you scurrying.

“Well, then, you’ve got about five minutes to get my cock out, darling,” Bucky said, sounding like he relished giving you a deadline and making you hurry. “Or your sweet moans as I’m stretching out that tight little hole of yours are bound to give you away in an instant.”

Desire flushed hot through your body as you scrambled to reach between your bodies and undo Bucky’s pants. He leaned back in his chair and held your gaze, his blue eyes darkening when you pulled down his zipper, both of you smiling at each other. Reaching into his slacks, you pulled Bucky’s cock free, giving him a quick, appreciative stroke and nearly purring at the velvet-wrapped steel in your hand. 

“Hurry, darling,” Bucky drawled, an unrepentant smirk curling his mouth as his eyes went hooded. “Only a few minutes left before I join this call with your father.”

As you lined yourself up with Bucky’s cock, he reached for the phone on his desk. The robotic musical notes of his fingers dialing felt like a ticking clock and your heart beat faster in your chest. Hooking a finger around the lace covering your dripping slit, you pulled your panties to the side so you could sink down on your boyfriend’s hard length.

A loud, filthy moan squeezed free from your lungs, your head tipping back in bliss as you impaled yourself on Bucky’s perfect cock. It felt as exquisite as it always did, Bucky’s thick girth stretching out your tight little hole as he slid inside you. Your moan turned into a high keening sound as you pushed down further on him, the sound filling his office.

The rumble of Bucky’s laughter teased your ears, but as you lifted yourself up only to slide down further on his stiff length, the sound dissolved into a low groan. Lifting your head, you locked eyes with Bucky while you lowered yourself down on the final few inches of his cock, both of you watching each other as your expressions contorted in pleasure. It felt divine to share the moment with Bucky, and it was made all the sweeter with the impending call dangling over your heads.

Your boyfriend wrapped his hand around the front of your throat and reeled you in for a hot, messy kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth and taking possession of you in a matter of seconds. His lips were demanding, his tongue forceful, and it made all thoughts flee from your mind. You were desire incarnate and you were consumed by the feeling of Bucky inside you, around you, everywhere.

By the time Bucky pulled away, you were panting for more, your hips rocking impatiently on his cock. But Bucky pressed a steadying hand to your lower back, urging you to still, and then he tapped a button on the phone on his desk, his voice drifting past your ear and sounding exactly as he normally did.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bucky rumbled smoothly, sounding every bit like the polished CEO that he was. Meanwhile, you pressed your mouth against Bucky’s neck to muffle the heavy breaths that you were still dragging in, willing your heart to slow down from its excited pace. 

But as you calmed, you were able to take stock of your predicament. You were seated on Bucky’s lap, his cock buried in your cunt while you wore nothing more than lingerie and he was still dressed mostly in his suit. To make matters more complicated, he’d just joined a conference call that your father would also be on. You’d perhaps gone far past tempting fate in the CEO’s office, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that had led you to that moment.

Not when there was some fun to be had with your boyfriend. 

While the men on the call greeted each other and talked about their latest golf games, the state of the new Yankees season, and their families—in that order—you focused entirely on Bucky. Looping your arms tighter around his shoulders, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. Your mouth found the pulse point at the side of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt, and you began sucking softly on the spot that you knew would drive him wild before long.

But then your father’s voice sounded from the speaker on Bucky’s phone—the all too familiar sound of him apologizing for being late—and your entire body clenched tight with surprise and more than a little deviant thrill. When your pussy clutched Bucky’s cock hard, it wrung a strangled sound from the boyfriend your father had no idea you had.

“Y’alright there, Barnes?” your father asked jovially, a tiny hint of the ire he actually felt toward his fellow CEO in his tone. Your father may have hated Bucky, but he knew how to keep up appearances. Mostly.

However, if he ever found out about your relationship with Bucky… You shuddered to think about it.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend responded easily, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back that had you relaxing in his arms. “Just some whiskey down the wrong pipe.”

You bit your lip to suppress the urge to make a snarky remark about taking his cock down your pipe and instead listened as the men on the call all chuckled good-naturedly. Your father’s jocular tone cut through the din as it subsided.

“Hope you’re not getting sick, Barnes,” he said, sounding friendly enough. But there was an undercurrent of malice in his words that made it sound like he was actually hoping for the opposite. Then, as you wondered whether everyone on the call could hear the antagonism in your father’s voice, he dropped all pretenses as he commented, “Though I suppose you don’t have to worry about a girlfriend or wife nagging you to get some rest.” He paused for a moment, like he was relishing his next jab. “You can just call one of your bimbos to take care of you, maybe they’ll take pity on you and give you a discount on their hourly rate.” 

It took every ounce of your self-control not to groan at your father’s comment, but it seemed at least some of the other CEOs on the call didn’t have as tight a grip on their willpower. Frustrated huffs and annoyed groans sounded from the speaker, and you could’ve sworn you hear someone mutter, “Not this again.”

You nearly snorted at the comment, but kept quiet, kissing Bucky’s neck in reassurance that you didn’t take your father’s words to heart. The decision to keep your relationship a secret from your father was one you’d made together, and you knew those kinds of comments were par for the course for Bucky. After all, he was a hot, rich and presumedly single CEO. Of course your father would make an insinuation that he paid for sex. 

But Bucky wasn’t ruffled in the slightest by your father’s dig. If anything, he sank deeper into his plush leather office chair, one of his hands resting possessively against your lower back. Your lips curled and you smirked against Bucky’s neck, nuzzling into him as you felt his cock shift inside you. You squeezed him with your inner walls and he let out a nearly silent snort before responding to your father.

“Don’t worry about me, chief,” he drawled, a little bit of patronizing humor in his tone, especially when he used the nickname to mock your father. “I’m well taken care of.” Bucky’s hand smoothed up and down your spine, making you purr softly in his ear. You could hear the pleased smile in his tone as he went on. “By the way, how’s the family?”

You nearly choked on a laugh, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder through his jacket and shirt to muffle the sound, as your father grumbled and grudgingly muttered, “They’re fine, Barnes, thank you for asking.” His voice was so stiff, and he was so clearly disappointed Bucky hadn’t risen to his bait, that he was clearly trying to save face in front of all the other CEOs. 

You smirked to yourself, leaning up so you could murmur in Bucky’s ear, “Mm, some of us are much better than fine.” Your voice was barely a whisper so you knew the men on the call wouldn’t hear, but Bucky squeezed your hip in warning, which only made you snicker softly. In retaliation, you clenched your pussy around his cock, making your boyfriend grunt quietly.

Bucky’s other hand wrapped around your throat and he gently pushed you back until you were able to see his face. You’d half expected him to be glaring at you for trying to get him to make a noise that would get the attention of the call, but you should’ve known your boyfriend better—he was just as reckless as you. 

Instead of a glare, Bucky’s expression was one of amusement, his blue eyes dancing with mischief and his mouth curved into a smirk that you wanted to lick right off his face. “You’re playing with fire, darling,” Bucky mouthed, but there was no real warning in his words. If anything, it made you want to try harder to get him to make a sound that would get the attention of the other CEOs.

As the business part of the conference call finally began, Bucky made a show of settling back into his chair, reclining his head and giving you a challenging look. An impish smile curled your lips and you rolled your hips. You watched Bucky’s eyes droop in pleasure, his mouth falling open on a silent moan, and a shiver raced down your spine as you began riding his cock. 

You’d intended to torture him by slowly rising up and sinking back down on his hard length, but your boyfriend looked too delicious just sitting there with that smirk on his face. You ducked forward, flicking your tongue against the corner of his mouth, biting back a moan as you tasted him. His beard rasped against your tongue and a burning need flared to life in your chest. You trailed your mouth along his jaw, biting into his beard like you wanted to devour him whole. 

All the while, you rocked your hips as fast as you dared, which wan’t nearly fast enough. Bucky felt good inside you, but your every movement, your every breath was restrained. It made everything hotter, but it also meant you couldn’t truly let yourself give in to the pleasure of him. 

You needed more, you needed Bucky to fuck you. 

Whimpering into Bucky’s beard to muffle the sound, you whined his name in the quietest voice you could manage, “Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hand slipped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides in a way that made you clench around his cock, your lips parting in a silent moan. Pressing his mouth to your ear, he growled, “Hush, darling, or do you want me to make you be quiet?”

It took you the briefest of seconds to answer his question, your hips bouncing on his lap as you chanted, “Make me, sir, make me.”

“Perfect, filthy girl,” Bucky rumbled in your ear moments before he was standing up and laying you down on his desk as soundlessly as possible. 

All the men on the conference call heard were the rustling of papers, which you knew wouldn’t be out of place, and you had to bite your lip to stop from giggling. Your head was close to the speaker phone and you glanced at it before looking back at Bucky, a challenge in the way you narrowed your eyes and smirked at him. 

Your boyfriend grinned and mouthed the words, “Be quiet, darling,” before pressing a finger to his lips. Then he pulled his hips back and slammed forward, burying his cock in your slick cunt so forcefully, you had to slap both your hands over your mouth to stop from moaning. 

Between one breath and the next, Bucky’s hand was around your throat, pinning you to the hard wooden desk beneath you, his fingers squeezing into the sides of your neck and cutting off all any sound that could even think to dare escaping your lips. Your eyes popped open and you stared up at your boyfriend, spreading your legs wide so he could push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock grinding against a spot inside you that made you gush with arousal.

Your face was slack with pleasure, your mouth hanging open as you sucked in tiny, silent breaths, your eyes heavy-lidded as you kept your gaze fixed on Bucky above you. He felt so good inside you, so perfect, his hand around your throat choking you and heightening every sensation in your body.

When you heard Bucky’s name come through the phone, you nearly wailed in protest that someone would try to steal your boyfriend’s attention from you. But Bucky never relented, never stopped fucking you or choking you, slowly pushing you toward your release while he responded to the men on the phone with an even voice. You were too far gone to pay attention to what was being said, but Bucky seemed to know what he was saying, so you left him to it and instead focused on the unrelenting pleasure of his cock.

Eventually, you registered that Bucky was offering his farewells to the CEOs on the other end of the line, and you realized the conference call was coming to an end. If you’d been able to make any sound, you would’ve squeaked happily. Bucky reached across your body and hung up the phone. 

Then your boyfriend was curling over you, his face close to yours, his expression twisting into one of depraved delight as he started pounding into you harder, faster, fucking you ruthlessly on his desk. 

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” he growled, the arousal in his voice making him sound even more gravelly than normal. “Did you enjoy getting fucked on my desk while every CEO in New York City—including your father, who hates me—was on the phone?”

Bucky’s hand around your throat relented enough for you to speak, but you didn’t have any words left in your brain. Not when you could hear the wet sounds of your cunt while he fucked you. All you could do was moan, long and loud, the sound swirling around the two of you and filling the massive space of the luxurious office.

“You’re a temptress, the filthiest fucking girl I’ve ever met,” Bucky rasped, dragging his mouth along your jaw and nipping at your skin as he fucked you harder, grinding against your clit with every thrust. “You’re fucking perfect—you were so good for me, darling, taking my cock so well and staying so quiet for me.”

“Jamie,” you whined, carding your fingers through his soft brown hair and tugging his mouth to yours for a messy kiss. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you babbled into his mouth, sucking on his tongue and driving him to pound into you relentlessly while you whimpered at how good it felt to finally make some noise. 

“I know, I know,” Bucky rumbled in a warm, pleased tone, and you felt him smirk against your cheek. “My cock feels so good in your tight cunt, doesn’t it, darling?” He rocked into you, hitting that spot inside you and grinding against your clit at the same time, making you cry out sharply. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, chuckling huskily in your ear. 

If it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve hit him, but the pleasure coiling tight in your body had you too wound up to care. Thankfully, your boyfriend had no interest in making you wait to come. In fact, he was eager for it as well.

“Mm, you’ve been so good for me,” Bucky rumbled, keeping up that impossibly perfect pace of his thrusts. “Come on my cock, darling, want to feel you milking me with your perfect pussy.”

His words washed over you at the same moment that he thrust deep inside and you were helpless to resist the pleasure. Your release crashed over you, Bucky’s hand squeezing your throat in time to choke off the scream that wanted to be let loose. Instead, your mouth opened wide on the silent sound and your body clenched tight, your back arching up off the desk as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck,” Bucky growled, fucking you through your release, his voice going tight as your cunt clenched down hard on his cock. “Gonna come deep in this perfect pussy, and send you home with my come dripping into your new panties,” he rumbled, his thrusts turning wild as he rutted into your still fluttering core. “You’re gonna wait for me in my penthouse, and when I get home, I’m fucking you again in your pretty new lingerie. Gonna show you how much I love seeing you covered in lace and dripping my come.”

Impossibly, your deeply satisifed body tightened in excitement at your boyfriend’s words, and you suddenly couldn’t wait for what he promised. The fact that you’d never been to his penthouse without him was the furthest thing from your mind in that moment. 

“Jamie,” you cried softly before you pulled him down for another kiss. Your legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs and you held him inside you so he could only grind into your cunt. The sounds your bodies made were lewd and obscene, but they were drowned out by the pleasured moans coming from your mouths as you devoured each other.

A moment later, Bucky wrenched free from your mouth as he came with a loud groan. His cock twitched inside you while he filled you up with his warm, sticky come, and all you could do was smile dazedly. Your bodies writhed together as you eked out as much pleasure from your releases as possible, your mouths finding each other again and kissing to muffle your whimpers and groans. 

Together, you caught your breath, and finally settled. Bucky pulled back to stare down at you, a pleased smirk curling one side of his mouth. Then he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You grabbed his face and held him close, kissing the hell out of him while his cock softened inside you.

As you continued making out on your CEO boyfriend’s desk, you heard Bucky open and close a drawer. But it wasn’t until he pulled away and held up a key that you saw what he’d procured from the drawer. You stared at the little scrap of metal, the magnitude of what it meant making you suddenly uncertain. 

You gave Bucky a questioning look. He smiled affectionately down at you, brushing a kiss to your cheek before explaining. 

“It’s a key to my penthouse,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “I want you to have it.”

Your eyes widened when he confirmed your suspicions, and though you wanted to reach for the key, you held back. “Are you sure, Jamie?” you asked, trying and failing to hide the waver in your voice. You tried to cover it up by barreling on, “We haven’t even told anyone we’re together.” When Bucky just watched you patiently, you tried for a joke. “What about all your bimbos?”

As soon as the words were past your lips, you wanted to take them back, and you slapped a hand over you mouth as if you could actually stuff the question back into your mouth. It shamed you that you’d repeated your father’s dig at Bucky, but before you could apologize, your boyfriend was carefully prying your hand away from your mouth so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You and I both know there never have, and never will be any bimbos in my life,” Bucky murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. He was so close, you had to close your eyes, which was a relief because there were suddenly tears swimming in them. “You also know that we decide how we want our relationship to move forward and when we want to tell our families.” He let out a soft exhale. “If you want to tell them before we take this step, just say the word, darling.”

With your eyes closed and Bucky’s warm skin pressing against yours, his familiar and comforting scent filling your nose, you let yourself think about it. You knew you’d have to tell your father about your relationship with Bucky eventually. After all, every time you pictured your future, he was a part of it. But you weren’t quite ready yet. You were still having too much fun with just you and Bucky knowing about your relationship.

“Not yet,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. 

“OK,” he said before giving you a reassuring kiss. “Will you take the key?”

You gave Bucky’s question the thought it deserved and realized you liked the idea of having a key to his place. There were nights when you couldn’t see him because you’d already gone home to your brownstone in Brooklyn before he’d gotten out of a late meeting. If you had a key to his place—and carte blanche from his secretary to go into his office—then you could see him whenever you wanted.

You liked that idea. You liked that idea a lot. 

But, because you were you, you couldn’t give Bucky a simple answer. So instead, you said, “I don’t really have a lot of pockets in this outfit.” 

Bucky pulled back and you opened your eyes to find your boyfriend grinning down at you, happiness sparkling in his blue eyes. You watched as those eyes darkened while he tucked the key into your bra. When the cool metal brushed against your nipple, you gasped quietly, your body clenching lightly around his half-hard cock. 

“Your new lingerie is pretty and comes in handy, darling,” Bucky commented lightly, bending down to kiss you as he eased himself from your body. He swallowed your groan, then stood up and smoothed your panties back over your pussy. He stared hungrily at the juncture of your thighs and you wondered if your combined releases were already leaving a wet spot. 

Before you could ask, Bucky shook himself and he turned his focus to helping you up from his desk. He made sure the key stayed securely in your bra, tweaking your nipple in the process, then stooped to grab your jacket. He held it open for you to step into, then tied the belt tightly around your waist. Last, he pulled you in for a kiss.

“I’ll be back this evening,” he murmured against your lips. “Make yourself at home, darling.” His words were nearly a purr and you shivered in delight at just how much you enjoyed hearing them. 

You were excited to spent the rest of the afternoon luxuriating in everything Bucky’s penthouse had to offer—maybe you’d even ask the concierge for some ice cream and cones—but when you pulled away from your boyfriend, you suddenly felt bereft. Your heart panged in your chest and you gave Bucky a bittersweet smile.

“It won’t feel like home until you get there,” you said softly, pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “So hurry home, Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hands flexed on your hips, like he was struggling to let you go, but finally you eased away from him and his hands dropped to his sides. Reluctantly, you turned and began walking across Bucky’s office. At the door, you paused and looked back. 

Bucky was still staring at you like he didn’t want to let you leave, but you’d both had enough of tempting fate in the CEO’s office for one afternoon. You gave him one last smile and waved, the key to his penthouse warming against your skin as you slipped out. You comforted yourself with the knowledge that you’d get to see Bucky later. 

As you walked past Bucky’s secretary’s empty desk to the elevator, all you could think was that you had a key to your boyfriend’s apartment. You had a key to your boyfriend’s penthouse apartment—and you couldn’t wait for him to come home to you that night.

Maybe, eventually, he’d come home to you every night.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[pupyuj]

the other nonie request…

now i miss big dick wony too :(

i need to be manhandle by her

remember this monumental day in diveland??? YEAH... WE FORGOT ABOUT THIS TOO QUICKLY, LET'S BRING IT BACK!!

rich bossy wony who likes to toy with you—her witty, annoying roommate who has quite the reputation as jang wonyoung’s personal��� COMO SE DICE… pet! 🤭🤭 no literally bcs she could force you to wear a collar with her initials dangling in the middle for a day and you wouldn’t have a choice but to do it bcs she makes up for it with mind-blowing sex anyway 😵‍💫 she’s almost like a sugar mommy?? except that the only things she wants to spoil you with are lingerie and slutty clothes that she wants you to put on solely so she can rip them off of you 😭 and all you need to do to pay all that back is spread your legs and be a good girl for her :33

she does not gaf about you at all unfortunately! the only thing you’re good for in her eyes is sex and you know what, you’re fine with that bcs you also couldn’t care for her grumpy ass even if you tried! and all this animosity leads to a lot of hate sex 😭 like oh you’re not reciprocating her advances bcs you got shit to do?? nuh uh, that’s not allowed! you got home late and thus made wonyoung wait?? unacceptable! she rarely kisses you already and if you mess up it's all bites and stinging words... but you wouldn't say that you didn't like them of course 😋

probably loves it better if you turn out to have long hair bcs wony can just drag you around that away if she can't get you to wear those cute leashes that she spends her hard-earned money on just for you 🫣 nothing satisfies her ears more than hearing you wince or whine in pain whenever she just casually reaches over and pull your hair, sometimes even mockingly commending you for keeping it so healthy just for her 😣 it was definitely one of her main ways of getting her aggression out... other than fucking you senseless of course! she would see you stumbling about in the apartment drunk as hell at two-thirty in the morning and she wouldn't waste any time yelling profanities and degrading things to your face before dragging you to her bedroom by your hair bcs you couldn't keep your wasted ass mouth shut 😣😣

something better than completely tearing your clothes off of you is ruining them.. but still letting you wear them 😝 wonyoung likes the sight of your pretty little cotton candy pink blouse ripped open and missing a few buttons, your tights moderately ruined and your lingerie just barely pulled down to your knees while she has you bent over her bed taking her cock like the obedient living fleshlight that she molded you to be! 🫢 she enjoys it when you scream and moan her name freely in the air, loves it better when you try to move away from her just get some sense of control in the situation but eventually failing and just letting her use you... and sometimes she might even be successful in getting you to work yourself on her cock, sitting back and watching as you thrust yourself backwards into her..

AND THE MANHANDLING SO TRUEEEE wony might not look like it but she's freakishly strong 😭 most of the time when you're fucking, she really just does everything! even when she puts you in a position where you'd be on top, like cowgirl, she'd be holding your hips tightly and controlling your pace,, watching you fall apart above her brings her more pleasure than shooting her load inside your womb sometimes!

literally pretends that you don't exist on campus but as soon as she closes the door of your apartment she sticks to your side the entire day and you would see it as a thing if she wasn't constantly humiliating you in your ear and leaving reckless marks all over your body while making you cum all fucking night! wonyoung doesn't ever want to admit it but she's so fucking obsessed with you in the most disrespectful way possible 🤭

[onegirlmanytales]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐔𝐬 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Everyone is born unable to see color until they find their soulmate. You never gave much thought to it. You preferred to focus on other things, like your career. But the universe has a way of revealing its plans for you. Of course, humans have always been rather stubborn beings, and they don’t always listen to those kismet interventions.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: soulmate au (with a twist), modern au, angst (hurt/no comfort, the comfort comes in part 2), rejection (not from Eddie, you’ll see), artist!reader, rockstar!eddie, reader wears a skirt, reader uses she/her pronouns, background Ronance, some Cheerscops (Steve x Chrissy)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A/N: This part is more of a setup! Part two will get into Eddie and readers dynamic. This is my first full length since I’ve been back. It feels really good to be writing again. Also as requested, here are your complimentary tissues 🗳️ I hope you enjoy ♥️

There have been many myths throughout the course of human history that tried to explain the concept of soulmates. From Greece to Japan, tales have been told of two humans connected by fate. Either by soul or string, there is a profound bond that cannot be explained. Nobody really knew where soulmates came from or how they were created. You certainly didn’t.

All that was known was until you met your soulmate you wouldn’t see what they called color. You weren’t entirely sure what color was. You’d tried to understand it, you’d tried listening to people who had met their soulmate explain what it was. But their explanations never really made sense. You knew certain “colors” could be found in certain things. Like how apparently the sky was something called blue which supposedly was beautiful.

The world you knew, the world most people knew, was only in shades of black and white. Finding one’s soulmate was a rare occurrence that few had the luxury of experiencing. It was like winning the lottery, although some experts argued you had better luck with the powerball. Because of this you didn’t give your soulmate much thought. As wonderful as the idea sounded, you didn’t want to be one of those people who threw their lives away as soon as they turned 18 in pursuit of something so fantastical. After all, you didn’t need a soulmate to find love. Plenty of people had lived fulfilling lives full of love without ever meeting their soulmate.

No, you refused to get caught up in something so improbable. Instead you put your focus on your work and your friends.

Art was your calling. Most artists, unless they had found their soulmate, stuck to the monochromatic color scheme of black and white. But even though you couldn’t see the colors, you used them. Finding colored paint was not any easy task. With so few people being able to see the differing colors the market for it was almost nonexistent. But so was the audience for your paintings. The soul-matched, as they were called, seemed to flock to your work, always intrigued that as an unmatched you not only used colors, but used them for portraits of the matched.

It had started just as an experiment. Something you wanted to try for your soul-matched friends Robin and Nancy for their anniversary. Eventually word spread to the other matched, and you began creating commissions for them. It wasn’t exactly something you could make a living on with such a niche crowd but you enjoyed it, and you took other commissions in order to actually make money. But those portraits were your favorite to create.

Your best friend and roommate Chrissy was your biggest supporter. Even if she couldn’t understand how someone who wasn’t interested in finding their soulmate worked so hard for the soul-matched.

“Just think of where you could take your art if you could actually see the colors!” She said, sitting across from you at the little table you and your friends frequented at the local cafe. Your other friends Nancy and Robin were with you. Both of them were listening intently as you all enjoyed your usual brunch.

“I don’t think that’s a very good reason to try to find my soulmate. Shouldn’t I look for them for the sake of finding them?” You asked with a raised brow as you took a sip of your coffee, peering over the rim of the mug to her.

Chrissy shook her head with a slight smile, “Well…yeah. But how else am I going to convince you to try?” She retorted, making you chuckle. “Why don’t you want to at least try and find the one person you’re destined to be with?”

“How do you know its destiny?”

“Because it…because it is!” Chrissy huffed.

Ever the hopeless romantic, Chrissy had been looking for her soulmate for as long as you’d known her. She’d tell you in detail what she wanted him to be like. So much so that you wondered if Chrissy had already met him.

“Lay off her Chris,” Robin piped in. “She’s not interested. Besides, you don’t need to find your soulmate to find love. None of our parents were soulmates.”

“Sue me for wanting me and all my friends to find their perfect person!” She laughed.

“I think you can find your perfect person even if they aren’t your soulmate,” Nancy shrugged.

“Easy for you to say,” Chrissy scoffed. “You met yours!”

Robin and Nancy shared a loving glance, their hands entwining from where they laid on the table. Even if you never found your soulmate you always considered yourself lucky to know people who had. Watching Nancy and Robin fall in love had been a beautiful thing to witness. It made sense for anyone who had seen the way Nancy and Robin loved each other to want that same thing. You couldn’t blame Chrissy for craving such a thing. But that kind of love was rare.

“What about that guy you’ve been talking to?” You asked Chrissy. “What are you going to do when you meet him in person and he turns out to not be your soulmate?”

Chrissy froze, her big eyes staring at you. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and the guilt from your words washed over you. “I’m sorry Chris I didn’t–”

“No it’s okay,” she shook her head. “You’re right. He might not be. If he isn’t I’ll…I’ll keep looking.”

You frowned at that, but didn’t say anything. For months Chrissy had been talking to and about Steve. She had “met” him through the dating app Soul Seekers, an app that claimed they could find your perfect soulmate with the help of their soulmate gurus. It always seemed like a scam to you, but you saw how happy Steve made Chrissy. Even if they hadn’t met in person. They stuck to talking on the phone and texting, never video chatting. They’d never seen each other's faces. It was by design, so that when the users of Soul Seekers met their supposed soulmates for the first time they’d get the full experience. But you worried for her. You didn’t want her to be disappointed when it turned out he wasn’t the one.

It had happened before and you wondered how many times it would happen before she gave up on love entirely.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eddie had never believed in any of the soulmate “bullshit.” He thought it was all made up, a fairytale that had been concocted to sell dating apps, regiments to help you attract your soulmate to you, and other various monetizations. He believed that these “colors” weren’t an indicator of fate. They were just a phenomenon that happened to some people.

They happened to him, once.

He’d traveled the country. He’d met thousands of people. Yet the one time he met someone he thought was his soulmate, she rejected him. Insisting that it couldn’t be true. Just as soon as the colors appeared they were gone, and so was she.

He tried not to think about her. He tried not to think about the colors of her. But every once in a while his mind slipped back to that place. To that bar. To that moment where his drink met her dress, their eyes locked, and suddenly the world around him changed. It only lasted for a few minutes. But those measly minutes were the most beautiful he had ever witnessed. Until it was ripped away from him.

So it had to be a lie. Otherwise the colors would have stayed. Otherwise she would have stayed.

He instead chose to focus on his music, his band. Corroded Coffin was finally starting to make a name for themselves. They were on a break from their tour for their newest album for a few months before they started their South American leg. In their downtime they stayed in Chicago. It was only a few hours away from their hometown, giving them a chance to visit their families if they wanted to without having to stay in the hellhole they deemed Hawkins to be.

As soon as they got off the plane, Jeff and Artie’s girlfriends met them both at the gate. The two girls practically lept into their arms. Eddie might have been a cynic when it came to soulmates, but seeing the way his friends lit up when they saw the people they loved most was enough to warm even his usual icy exterior. To him it was just further proof that soulmates were bullshit. Here were two of his best friends, in love and happy with two women that were perfect for them and yet there was still no color.

What truer love could there be?

“Looks like it’s just us Gare Bear,” Eddie said, slinging his arm over Gareth's shoulder.

“Speak for yourself Munson,” a deep voice spoke up from behind them. They both turned to see Gareth’s boyfriend, Paul. Pushing Eddie away, Gareth enveloped his boyfriend in a tight hug. Whispering affections to each other that Eddie couldn’t hear.

As the couples all reunited Eddie stood on the sidelines, watching their tender kisses and squeezing embraces. A front man on the stage but a bystander in life. He was the only member that wanted them to keep going. No stops before the next leg, just straight to the next thing. To the next show, to the next crowd. Forever moving. But his bandmates weren’t like that. They had put down roots in this city. They had found a home there.

Music might have been their life, but it wasn’t what kept them going.

While all the couples went to their respective homes to continue their long awaited reunions Eddie went to see his friend Steve. Having not seen his best friend in months, he was expecting to be welcomed with open arms. Maybe a celebratory beer. But then maybe he should have at least called first.

“Eddie, what are you doing here?” Steve asked when he opened the door to see the metalhead with his sunken tired eyes and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“On break before the next leg,” Eddie replied as if it was obvious as he slinked past Steve into his apartment.

“Why aren’t you at your place?” Steve turned, watching as Eddie threw his bag on his couch and then went to his fridge to scavenge through it. Making himself right at home. As he always did.

“Thought I’d give Gare and Paul some alone time. I love the guy but there are just some things you don’t need to know about your bandmates,” Eddie chuckled as he started his search, looking for anything to eat or drink for his rumbling stomach. But his friend seemed to have a different taste then him, his fridge packed with fresh fruits and veggies. “Do you have any beer? Pizza?”

“Ed,” Steve sighed, exasperated. “I appreciate you stopping by and I’m really happy you’re back but you could have at least called first if you wanted to stay here.”

Eddie paused, pulling his head out the fridge and looked at his friend. “Do you want me to go?”

If there was one thing Steve knew about Eddie Munson it was that he had mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes. His big round eyes were designed for it and his mouth knew how to shape the most subtle yet perfect pout.

“No,” He relented. “You can stay.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A dashing smile.

Big kind eyes.

The face of a man you’d never seen before.

He kept appearing in your dreams. You’d see him amongst a crowd of people, but before you could reach him he would be gone. At first you assumed it didn’t mean anything. But then it just kept happening.

By the third night you needed to know what it meant. Most of the sources you could find online claimed that you must have seen him at some point and you didn’t remember but your subconscious did. But then you found an article from a few years ago from someone who claimed they had seen their soulmate in their dreams before they met them. You weren’t sure whether to believe it or not. There were a lot of things online about people claiming fantastical things about their soulmates, like one person who claimed that they astral projected into their soulmates home but they could never find it, or them, afterwards. So you chose not to dwell on it. Pushing it to the back of your mind where it couldn’t pester you.

A week went by and the dreams persisted.

You kept trying the age old trick of going back to that same dream every time you woke up, but it never worked. You couldn’t get his face off your mind no matter how hard you tried. He consumed your thoughts.

Usually, when you found your thoughts to be too overwhelming you would paint. But that only led you to painting his face. Over and over again. The contours and shape of it were etched into your mind. You struggled to paint or draw any other. Every brush stroke, every scribble, led back to him. You never showed anyone these works. Especially not Chrissy. Your friends would only pester you to go out and find him. It scared you. Putting faith in the universe in this way was not something you did often. You weren’t sure if you could trust it.

One day while you were frantically scribbling another sketch of him there was a knock on your door. You quickly tried to hide it all away, tucking it under other loose papers before you went to answer it.

Your friend Jonathan smiled at you as he stood in your doorway. He gave you a confused look as he took in your disheveled appearance, hair a mess and hands and clothes covered in paint and ink from when you were working on another project before you got distracted by that pestering face.

“Did you forget about lunch?” Jonathan laughed softly. He was very used to you getting lost in your work, often leading you to forget about plans.

“No, no,” you said frantically. “We can go!” You went to grab your shoes when he stopped you by putting a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Do you want to clean up a bit first Picasso?” He asked, gesturing to your paint splattered overalls.

“Right, right. Come in, I'll be quick.”

As you dashed to your bedroom to make yourself presentable, Jonathan meandered around the small room you had turned into your studio. You never minded when he did it before. He often enjoyed seeing what you were working on. As he looked, he spotted something peculiar. Your sketchbook was under a pile of papers. It was usually out, always available in case an idea came to your mind. Assuming you had misplaced it, he plucked it from the pile. It was open to a sketch he hadn’t seen before of a man's face and as he flipped through that same man’s face kept appearing.

You washed up quickly, scrubbing your hands clean and changing your clothes into something that looked less like you had a fight with a bucket of paint and lost. As soon as you were done you went to find Jonathan. When you saw what he had in his hands you rushed over and swiped it from his grasp.

“Who is that?” He asked, jumping at the suddenness of your actions.

“No one it’s–” You sighed, taking a seat on a nearby stool as your fingers traced the drawn jawline. “I think it’s my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? You’ve met him? When–”

“No, no I…I dreamt of him,” You looked up from the sketch to see Jonathan's perplexed face.

“You dreamt…oh. Wow. I didn’t know that was possible,” He shook his head in disbelief, striding over to look over your shoulder at the drawing once more. “He’s handsome.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “But I…what if I’m wrong?”

“Then you’re wrong,” he shrugged. He saw your shoulders slump at his words. “Or you’re right! Can’t be sure until you meet him.”

That was what scared you. This strange man was supposedly your perfect person. The one your soul was matched to. But what if you weren’t what he expected? Your soulmate was the person who was supposed to bring color to your life. But what if your colors were too dull for him?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eddie was only supposed to stay with Steve for a day or two while Gareth and Paul became re-acquainted. But it had been a week since he showed up at his place. Eddie wasn’t sure what would have been worse, going back to his apartment and having to witness Gareth and Paul’s constant canoodling, or staying with Steve and listening to him go on and on about the girl he had met on that stupid scam of a dating app.

He was happy for his friends. He was. Ecstatic for Gareth who coming out was a challenge for, and for Steve who dreamed of meeting his soulmate. But he would be lying if he said their happiness didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

He’d tried dating after her. But no matter how hard he tried he was never able to find anyone that clicked just right. He was still searching for that feeling from when he first saw the colors. That shiver that went up his spine. That thrum in his nerves that made his hair stand to attention, the line of goosebumps that climbed up his arm.

It was the same feeling he got when he performed. That rush was something he craved. Every night for the last few months he never went without it. Being without it now, even for a week, was difficult.

Steve noticed the way Eddie seemed to mope around. Strumming aimlessly at his guitar and staring deadeyed at his phone as he watched old performances online. He needed to get out. To stretch his legs, breathe some fresh air or something.

“Hey Ed?” Steve called out to him from his bedroom.

“Yeah?” Eddie responded, voice monotone as his thumb continued to scroll.

Steve poked his head out of his room, adjusting the collar of his polo as he approached the lounging man. “You want to go out tonight? I have a date tonight with that girl I told you about, I could use some moral support.”

Eddie looked up from his phone then, looking at his friend dressed in a nice shirt and his favorite jeans with his hair purposely tousled just right.

“You’re really meeting her? Tonight?” He asked surprised.

“Yeah, I told you. Remember?”

“Right, right but…shit. Okay yeah I’ll come,” Eddie quickly got up from the couch giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze when he went past him to freshen up in the bathroom.

It wasn’t Eddie’s ideal way to spend a night. But he had seen the way Steve had hurt when these things didn’t work out for him. He didn’t want that for him, so despite his own apprehension he agreed.

What he didn’t see was the way Steve smiled softly to himself in victory, hoping that perhaps Chrissy had a friend for Eddie. Someone who could melt his hardened heart.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Chrissy was freaking out. Her room had succumbed to utter chaos as she practically threw all the clothes she owned onto her bed in search of the perfect outfit. You, Nancy and Robin had tried to calm her. Offering her words of gentle reassurance. But her nerves consumed her. It worried you to see her putting so much pressure on herself. Chrissy was one of the best people you knew and if Steve couldn’t see that then it was his loss, and what a loss that would be.

“Which one?” She asked, holding up two dresses. You were sure you had already seen them, but you didn’t say that.

“Left,” You, Robin and Nancy all said in sync hoping she’d just pick one and be done with it.

“I like the right one,” Jonathan piped in. The three of you quickly turned your heads to glare at him, he stuck his hands up in surrender as he mouthed an apology while Chrissy turned back to her almost empty closet.

Chrissy had invited Nancy over to help her get ready and wherever Nancy went, Robin wasn’t far behind. Then when Jonathan learned the four of you would all be at your apartment, he tagged along claiming that his buddy Argyle was busy so he had no other place to be.

But knowing Jonathan, you knew he just wanted to be included. You were happy to do so. As long as he stopped, unintentionally, foiling your plans to get Chrissy to relax.

“Chris,” Nancy said softly as she stood from where she was perched on Chrissy’s bed. She carefully made her way over to her, putting her hands on her shoulders. “Why don’t I pick something out for you?”

Chrissy sighed in defeat and nodded, sitting beside you on the bed. She laid her head on your shoulder while Nancy looked through her closet.

“He’s gonna love you,” you whispered to her. “It’s impossible not to.” The corners of her lips rose in a slight smile as she hugged you from the side. “Maybe…” She lifted her head to turn and look at you, a hopeful gleam to her eyes. “Maybe you could come with me? Be my get out of jail free card?” She suggested.

“I don’t know…”

“Steve has a friend! He’s a muscian! It can be a double date.”

“I think it’s a little last minute Chris–”

Nancy cut off the conversation as she turned to the group, holding up a sleek off the shoulder dress. “How about this?” She asked.

“That’s pretty!” You nudged Chrissy.

“Yeah…” she said hesitantly. “But will Steve like it?”

“If he doesn’t then he doesn’t have taste,” Robin replied, grabbing the dress from Nancy and tossing it to Chrissy. “Get dressed so Nance can do your hair. You’re not the only one with plans tonight.”

“That’s my cue,” Jonathan rose from the bed and left her room so she could change. “Thanks Jonny!” Chrissy called out to him as he shut the door behind him, waving at her in acknowledgment. As Chrissy dressed, Nancy gathered what she needed to do her hair. You could still feel the nerves vibrating off of Chrissy. You didn’t want her to be disappointed if Steve turned out to not be what she expected. So, being the good friend you were, you caved.

“I’ll go with you,” You sighed.

“Really?” Chrissy asked excitedly, stumbling slightly as she tried to put on a pair of heels. “I’ll text Steve!”

You hoped you wouldn’t regret it. You didn’t understand why but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach about tonight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The bar was crowded, the scent of beer and sweat was heavy in the air. Some cheesy love song played over the speaker, the singer droning on about losing their lover. The two men sat in a booth with Steve facing towards the entrance. His eyes were trained on it as he anxiously waited for his date's arrival.

“Excited?” Eddie said teasingly as he watched his friend's foot tap incessantly.

“What if…what if I’m not what she's expecting?” Steve looked at him, his face twisted in worry.

“Then clearly she has no taste,” Eddie stated matter of factly. “You’re a catch Stevie. If you were into dudes I’d be all over you.”

Steve laughed, his body easing slightly. Eddie smiled at having provided his friend with some comfort.

“What is this girl's name anyway?” He asked.

“I haven’t told you? It’s Chrissy.”

“Wait, Chrissy?”

The bar door opened and Steve’s head whipped in the direction of it, no longer paying any mind to Eddie or what he was saying. Chrissy entered the establishment with you in tow. The skirt Chrissy insisted you wore was tighter than you usually enjoyed and you kept adjusting it, trying to make it more comfortable. You and Chrissy scanned the bar in search of your dates when your eyes suddenly landed on a familiar face and your eyes met.

The man from your dreams was right in front of you and then…

Colors.

Colors as far as the eye could see. Everywhere. They came to the forefront of your vision like ink bleeding into paper.

He smiled widely, both in shock and joy as he waved you over, “Chrissy!” He shouted. Chrissy turned to him and quickly made her way over, embracing him in a tight hug. He looked down at her confused, then back at you for only a moment before he brought his attention back to her. You hesitantly made your way over, your eyes strained on him trying to not get distracted by just how colorful the world had become, and to not give away how it had changed.

Chrissy introduced you to Steve but you couldn’t hear a word she was saying. You felt like you were drowning, her words gargling in your ears as you looked at the man before him. The same freckles and moles you had been drawing incessantly were now within an arm's reach.

But he was looking at Chrissy.

“Your eyes are so…wow,” he breathed. Chrissy blushed, you saw the color rising in her cheeks and you couldn’t help but stare as it did.

“Thank you,” She said softly, her voice syrupy sweet as she looked up at him in adoration.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

Eddie was just as frozen as you were, staring at Chrissy. The girl that had made all the colors disappear. He always wondered if he saw her again if they would return, but they didn’t.

She met his eyes and her body stiffened as recognition swiped across her features.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Steve was grinning so widely you thought his smile would split his face in half.

Chrissy shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it after seeing Eddie’s face again. “I know! It’s so good to finally see your face!” She responded gleefully.

“No I mean…the colors,” He gestured around them, but Chrissy only looked at him in confusion. Then his eyes widened in horror as he realized and he turned to you.

“You,” Eddie pointed at Chrissy. He didn’t want to believe it.

She was here. Right here in front of him, and she was Steve’s girl. The same girl he had been gushing over. The same girl that had brought his friend so much happiness.

Steve looked to Eddie, begging for help with his eyes to his friend. When it clicked for Eddie what was happening he returned that same look of horror.

“I-I don’t understand,” Chrissy frowned.

“The colors,” Steve said. “I-I can see them.” He stared back at you and you felt as though you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

“Colors? What–” Chrissy looked at you then, and it all snapped into place.

“Yeah the colors. You remember those don’t you Chrissy?” Eddie snapped.

“What are you–” Steve started to say but you cut him off.

“Okay everyone just…just stop for a minute please,” You pleaded. You needed to get your thoughts together. It was too much. It was all too much. The three of them all looked at you, as if you had the answers. But you didn’t. You were just as baffled as the rest of them.

“What does he mean you remember the colors?” Steve looked to Chrissy.

Her mouth opened like she was going to say something, but it closed quickly.

“Chrissy and I have met before,” Eddie explained. “Last summer in Miami–”

“Eddie please–” She begged, but he continued on.

“We saw the colors. I thought we were soulmates. But apparently I wasn’t good enough for her, and they disappeared.”

“No that’s not–” Chrissy sighed frustrated. “Yes we met. But we’re not…it was just a fluke. If it wasn't, the colors wouldn’t have disappeared!”

“What is he talking about Chris?” You turned to Chrissy, confusion and pain laced in your words. In all the time you’ve known her she never told you. She was always looking, searching, hoping, to find her soulmate. But she already had.

“Look, remember when I visited my aunt in Miami? Well I met Eddie there and I thought he was it. But it didn’t…it didn’t feel right. Your soulmate is supposed to be your perfect person and he’s not—“ she cut herself off for a moment and as you glanced at Eddie you saw the pain in his eyes as she spoke. “—and then the colors went away so I knew that it wasn’t true.”

As the words left her mouth all Eddie heard was that he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t right. He was too imperfect. Too loud. Too brash. Too opinionated. Too weird. Too much and simultaneously not enough.

Steve looked at you then, “Do you see them?” He asked. You could only nod, not able to meet your best friend's eyes any more.

Chrissy’s face twisted in hurt as she looked between you and Steve. Her best friend and the man she had fallen for. Soulmates.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Eddie asked Chrissy, his voice laced with disdain for her.

“Shut up Eddie!” Steve snarled. He turned back to Chrissy and took her hands in his. “Look I…I don’t care,” he began, his face softening as he looked down at the woman before him. “I don’t care if I don’t see the colors with you. These last few months I…I fell in love with you. I love you. I don’t care what the stupid universe says, I want you.”

They kissed, and it burned you. Like a fire poker straight out of the flames, stabbing through your chest, piercing your very soul. All those years of not even entertaining the idea of finding your soulmate and yet you did, only for him to choose someone else. It was unheard of. Nobody who actually found their soulmates rejected them...right?

You didn’t even know Steve. But having your worst fear come true right before your eyes made your heart snap in two.

Your colors weren’t bright enough for him after all.

You couldn’t stay there. You couldn’t watch them together. So you ran. Chrissy called your name, but you didn’t hear her.

Steve turned to Eddie only to meet his friends stare, icy and cold. “Eddie–” he started to say. But he didn’t want to hear it. So he turned on his heel and left.

Eddie didn’t go home. He wasn’t sure where he could go. Steve’s place was out of the question and the last thing he needed was to be around the lovebirds Gareth and Paul. Instead, he found another bar. He sat in the corner, alone, and drank away. Getting lost in the bottle in hopes of forgetting her face, Steve’s face and even yours.

The pain in it reflected his own and he wanted to erase the memory of it from his mind. He wanted to eradicate all memory of the colors, of that feeling, of the time he believed in soulmates and sought his own out. He was young and naive then. He’d never make that mistake again.

By the morning he would call his manager and ask him to cut the break short. He’d be back on the road and out of this city. Far away from the messy disaster it had all become. Far away from all talk of soulmates and fate and colors. He’d disappear into the music for a few more months.

Only this time he hoped he could stay gone. For good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You had walked for a block with your arms hugged around yourself. Not sure of where you could go, you sat on the curb. Cars whizzed by you, but you paid them no mind as tears poured from your eyes. The pavement was cold and scratchy under your thighs as you hid your face in your hands and cried.

He didn’t want you. You should have expected it. He wasn’t yours, he was Chrissy’s. You didn’t even know him.

So then why did it burn?

As you lifted your head up from your hands and wiped your tears you looked around at the bright night of the city before you. The colors were gone. Just as quickly as they had appeared they were gone again, and your sobs filled the silence of the night.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 →

Thank you for reading! I hope I can keep this writing momentum going. Reblogs and comments are appreciated and cherished! ♥️

Special thanks to my Nibs @paybacksawitch for beta reading this for me, ily thank you for always being so supportive and talking me down whenever I get too in my head about things.

I do not give permission to have my work copied, translated, reposted on any platform, or put into any AI programs.

Dividers by yours truly

Gia’s Gems taglist: @bettyfrommars @ali-r3n @devilinthepalemoonlite @spenciesprincess @belladonnaa-0

@allthingsjoeq @etherealxwitch @siriuslysmoking @thereaderdelilah @steves-babysitter

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Hi taglists!! I missed you guys 🥹

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to Gia’s Gems (all fics), Munson’s Maniacs (Eddie fics), Harrington’s Heathens (Steve fics), or Jonathan’s Jellybeans (jonathan fics, obviously). There is no taglist for this particular series.

[woozihaes]

pairing: sorta s.coups x f!reader, but i'm really just writing this to be funny warnings: hockey!au, but i have no idea what i'm doing or what i'm talking about. notes: inspired by @bfwonu's hockey/figure skater au and the short fic that @97-liners wrote for it.

-

hat trick

-

"a bake sale?" seungcheol, captain of the hockey team, has the audacity to laugh. "are you serious?"

"i don't see you coming up with better ideas," you snap, rolling your eyes and slamming your pen on the table of the reserved study room. "i mean, a beefcake calendar? really?"

seungcheol looks personally offended. "you think they won't sell? have you seen my team?"

you shake your head. you had no idea how it was statistically possible that the entire hockey team were probably almost all of the prettiest boys on the varsity roster, but you weren't about admit it. "i'm vetoing this. the boys on the figure skating team aren't going to do this. it's obviously just to show off and stroke the hockey team's members' egos."

"we need money," seungcheol argues, voice rising. "sex sells!"

"we're in college! we're not supposed to be selling sex!" you shriek, horrified.

"just because you're a bunch of prudes—"

you both jump when someone bangs on the door to your room.

"SHUT UP! we're trying to study out here!" someone screams, and you color. seungcheol, for all his cocky bravado, has the decency to do the same.

"sorry!" you say, loud enough for the person to hear, and then whisper-shout, "bake sale!"

"calendar," seungcheol whisper-shouts back, and you know he does it to be petty.

their heads turn when the door opens, and a miffed-looking guy pokes his head in. his hair is shaggy and you can imagine that his canines would be a cute feature of his if he weren't frowning.

"hey, cap, mind lowering the volume?" he asks. "trying to study out here."

"we're just about done here, actually," cheol announces, getting up and gathering his things. "sorry for the noise, mingyu."

mingyu looks surprised, but then withdraws quickly. "oh, okay. thanks, anyway." he shuts the door behind him.

you whirl on seungcheol. "we're not done!"

"yes, we are," he says firmly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "no bake sale."

you sputter. "then no beefcake calendar!"

"see? done." he's halfway through the door when he winks your way. "let's fight about something else tomorrow."

he's long gone before you muster a response.

-

"this," seungkwan—who seungcheol nominated (threatened?) as event organizer, because of course he'd nominate someone else—declares, "is a terrible idea."

"i think it's wonderful," you chirp merrily. you hold out your hand for the payment the girl next in line seems eager to dump into your hand. "your captain said it himself: sex sells."

"on paper!" seungkwan cries frantically, gesturing to the long, long, long line of ladies awaiting their turn. "this is practically assault!"

your eyes dart to the sign above you. kissing booth. "oh, come off it. it's not that bad. besides, it's not like your captain didn't approve of it."

although it is, you admit, pretty bad. you thought it was a good idea at the time when you kind-of-sort-of predicted a decent turn out (you weren't blind to the hockey team's collective good looks). but at this point, the beefcake calendar would have been a salacious, but ultimately safer, option.

you have no idea what seungcheol was thinking, agreeing to this booth.

"mingyu is missing," seungkwan cries. "he's been gone for half an hour! what if someone kidnapped him?"

you flash him a look. "what are you talking about? he's huge. there's no way they could drag a guy like that off campus."

"my turn!" the girl next in line declared. she didn't even wait for you take the money—she simply dropped it on the table in front of you and whirled on her victim. one of the players—whose name you learned was d.k.—shrieked and sprang into a sprint.

"he should be in track," you comment off-handedly. "see him pump his arms like that? he could easily run the hundred meter without breaking a sweat.

“next!" you call, but find surprise when it's not a girl, but a guy lined up. in fact, it's seungcheol. "um. hi?"

seungkwan blanches. "wait—"

seungcheol rolls his eyes. "calm down, kwan. i'm not in it for the hockey team." he turns to you and raises and eyebrow. "i wanna kiss you."

your jaw drops so fast you're sure you hear a comical, resounding clank. "what?"

seungkwan's jaw does the same.

"come on," cheol says good-naturedly. "if you put my boys through it, i gotta put the figure skating team through it, too."

you sputter, "b-but—"

he rolls is eyes. "seriously, your girls got off scot-free with that bake sale you went behind my back for, by the way," he says with a shake of his head. "have to take my revenge somehow."

you're still not comprehending. "but—!"

he rolls his eyes and pulls out enough bills to cover five times the cost of one kiss. "here. you can't turn me away now."

you swallow. that is a good amount of money... "fine. one kiss."

"i'm paying you," he retorts. "i get to make the rules, no?"

he leans forward and it's so sudden that you jump away. "wait, i'm—"

seungcheol grunts. "oh, for—" and it all happens faster than you can blink.

his hand cups the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. his mouth slants over yours, and the first thing you think is his lips are warm and soft.

it's a nice kiss. it's a good kiss. and you find yourself—

someone clears their throat very loudly, evidently very annoyed. you try not to think that that's maybe because you were kissing the captain of the hockey team for long enough a time to consider it "sucking face."

you jump away from seungcheol, dazed, blinking away your confusion. the girl behind the hockey captain is practically glaring at the two of you, and seungcheol sheepishly moves to the side.

in a haze, you take her money and she slides away to find her victim (based on the trill shriek off in the distance, you're guessing d.k.'s a crowd favorite).

"well," seungcheol coughs. "um. yeah."

"yeah," you croak, and you feel embarrassed that that's all you can muster.

"i think, um, i think seungkwan left," he says, a little too woodenly for it to be natural. "i'll, uh. i'll—i'll look for him."

"sure," you say, equally as wooden. you don't look after him when he leaves.

"i'm literally right here," seungkwan declares, but you barely hear him over the pounding of your heart in your ears.

[brunette-bitch77]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏ ɪꜱ ᴍɪɴᴇ!

╰┈➤ I can't wait to try him... ✮✮✮

Summary: Just a little songfic inspired by The Boy is Mine by Ariana Grande. I figured it was about time that the tables were turned & the reader got to make a mess! However will these boys react? Includes: Toji Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo, Kento Nanami x Yandere!reader CW: murder, weapons, derogatory/degrading language (reader is severely flawed), allusions to sex

☆○o 𝙏𝙤𝙟𝙞 𝙁𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙤 ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

╰┈➤ It's no secret that your man was a man of charm and persuasion. Although his demeanor was considerably unapproachable and intimidating, he still knew his way around a conversation (he had to if he wanted to haggle the local vendors). It's also no secret that he was an adonis. A wide, tapered back that extended outwards to a pair of broad shoulders, biceps bigger than your head, and a face that could make Narcissus himself do a double-take, he was practically walking sex! Not to mention those 9 inches he was packing!

It's not like it was his fault that his body was so built; those muscles were a result of his years of working out! If he wanted to make as much money from his missions as possible, he'd need his strength to be at its peak. It also wasn't his fault that god blessed him with a perfect face with perfect skin (save for the scar) & a perfect bone structure.

If two + two = four, each two standing for the aforementioned attributes, then four meant that there was a lot of unwanted attention thrown his way. Men, women, non-binary folk and everyone in between threw a couple of flirty glances and compliments his way every now and then. It seemed like he raised the pheromones of the places he was in: bars, the grocery store; hell, even on the street there would be a couple of people trying to pick him up!

"Baby, don't even pay 'em a penny of your time," he muttered into your ear after a girl tried to get his number at a bar. "They don't compare to you; not even a little. Fuck would I do without this ass, eh?" he asked with a grin, making you smile a little. "Atta girl." If he wasn't so reserved and committed to his gal, you, then he would've eaten that shit up. But he made a vow to be more responsible and stay loyal to you, and he'd kill himself before he broke that vow. He even bought you a promise ring, for fuck's sake (he also had an engagement ring in mind for when the time was right)! So, to any sane person, things should've been peachy keen...

... if you were sane, that is.

Toji knew all about your mental state. He knew that you had a few issues, but he didn't care; he wasn't a fucking hypocrite for crying out loud. He had a few screws loose himself, so he didn't bat an eye when you told him about how many you had loose. The two of you made an excellent couple anyways, and he wasn't stupid enough to throw away a good thing. So, he brushed over it and decided to move on with life.

If only he knew how many friends he'd lose along the way.

The most recent "departure" was the one friend he'd made in high school (before he was forced to drop out by his family). One of the only female friends he'd made during his life, she was the tomboy-type who had no trouble making friends with guys. She was a total delinquent; she even rocked the long skirt and the mask back in high school, and she also dropped out of high school after he did for setting fires behind the school. Leather jackets, piercings, the whole nine yards. She was like a walking Mötley Crüe song.

But even walking rock-and-roll songs could catch feelings. Unluckily for her, it was high time that she kicked the bucket and made way for you. The only person who deserved Toji's attention was you. You were the one who kept him warm every night; you were the one who took his dick like no other; you were the one with the promise ring on your finger, not that bitch.

Killing her was quite simple. Although she was tough as nails, you were the one who actually had experience with killing people. All you had to do was sneak into her place at night and stab her. Then, you'd write a flimsy little note and make it seem like she fled the country; it was quite plausible for a chick like her.

┆ . "Hello? Who's there?" the chick's voice asked when she heard a few thumps in the other room. She was in the kitchen drinking a beer and listening to the radio (could she not afford a TV? how sad). She had a plate of Korean fried chicken on the counter as well, and the only light illuminating the area was the flimsy lightbulb above her head.

Her head immediately snapped in the direction of the noise she'd heard, and she grabbed a switchblade from the linoleum countertop. She took a few steps forward, the sound of the radio being drowned out by her heartbeat.

Another noise from the opposite direction, this time to her left. "Alright, who the fuck's fuckin' with me? I swear, Toji, if that's you-"

"Don't even say his fucking name, whore." She felt something grab her neck from behind, effectively choking her. The hand then pressed a nerve that stopped her from moving, rendering her frozen in place. She recognized that voice, but she couldn't believe it; was that girl seriously in her home...? She turned her eyes to the best of her ability, trying to catch a glimpse to confirm her suspicions. Her eyes widened when she realized who it was, being met by Toji's girlfriend's pretty face which was now marred by a look of sheer venom and malice.

"P-please, can't we talk this out?-"

"It's too late to beg. You shouldn't have come back into his life; you shouldn't have even met him to begin with." The last thing she saw before she felt something stab her was a sick, twisted grin on her face, widening as the knife sunk further and further into her tattooed skin.

The knife left her side and then sunk back into her neck. A snap was the last thing she heard before her eyes went shut.

It definitely wasn't the last thing you heard, though; the knife sunk back into her neck again, then again, and again, and again, again, again, again, again, all the way until her neck practically ripped in two.

The plan to make a smooth escape was a little behind schedule considering all the blood splatters that needed cleaning on the linoleum flooring, but it was nothing a little bleach couldn't fix.

"Toji did tell me I looked good in red once," you sighed, dragging some blood down your face with a lovesick grin as the finishing touch.

You could rival Elizabeth Bathory with the amount of blood that was on you and the black sweater you chose to wear for the killing. Ah, it's not like that sweater was anything too important or sentimental to you; you always made sure not to wear anything nice when murdering a target of yours.

"Toji, Toji, Toji Toji Tojiiiii," you hummed to yourself, taking your gloves off and throwing them aside. You decided to put on a new pair of disposable gloves in order to clean the crime scene, considering how soaked the others were with the amount of blood that was in them. Making the mess an even bigger mess wasn't on your agenda for the night.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him... let's get intertwined... the stars they've aligned," you hummed to yourself, "the boy... is... mine!"

Just as you'd started to get into the swing of things and dance around the kitchen of your victim, cleaning up the mess in your own sick & twisted way, that little fantasy of yours was broken by the sound of the door opening. Your head snapped in the direction of the sound, your blood running cold at the thought of being caught in such a predicament. You reached out to grab a nearby knife, already making a plan in your head. You'd killed a few other people who walked in on your murders, so it really wasn't anything new to you.

But those people weren't your boyfriend.

"Yoohoo, anybody home?" He asked in that deliciously deep & sarcastic voice of his. "I thought I oughta bring you that shirt you asked for. Y'know, the ACDC one?-"

When he turned his head to the side and saw you, his girlfriend, cleaning up a spilled pool of blood that belonged to his friend, he also froze. The two of you stared at one another, each completely bewildered by the other. Here was his sweet, amazing, practically angelic girlfriend all covered in blood & standing over his now dead friend's body. And at the same time, here was your boyfriend standing in the doorway, looking at you as you cleaned up a particularly messy crime scene.

Oh, right, your boyfriend just walked in on you in the middle of your crime scene.

He was a witness to his friend's murder, as well as your own crimes.

"No... it's- it's..." you stuttered, tears welling up as you backed away from the dead body as if that'd make it any better for you.

One step, two steps, three steps of your boyfriend's boots echoed throughout the kitchen as he walked closer to you.

"D-Don't look at me, don't... don't look at me, Toji! You can't see me like this! I'm a monster-" as your eyes were closed out of fear and shame, you felt two fingers grip your chin surprisingly gently. You opened your eyes slowly, your boyfriend forcing you to look at him.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he murmured with a soothing undercurrent of love. "Geez, look at you... you're all covered in this sticky, disgusting blood. That's no look for a pretty girl like you, is it?"

You stayed silent, and he cocked his head to the side, almost amused by how shy you were being in this scenario. "Fine. If you wanna stay silent, then that's fine with me. But do you really think you oughta be embarrassed right now? Like I'd judge ya for anything... Do you remember when we first met, and I told you that I'd never, ever judge you in any circumstances? I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N). Even if you were covered in the blood of four different people, my love for you's never gonna waver."

You looked at him with more confusion than anything. Was he being serious right now? Weren't you a monster for killing one of his friends? "I'm confused..." you finally started, "are you not... disgusted with me? Aren't I a monster? I just- I just killed one of your friends!" you exclaimed.

Toji's eyebrows merely raised in amusement. "I'm a man who stays true to my word, (Y/N)," he said once more. "I ain't goin' back on it, baby. Besides, it's not like I was friends with anyone other than Shiu to begin with--and he's my manager! She was pissin' me off anyway. She had the audacity to challenge me to a drinking contest and then decided to puke all over the new pants you bought me."

Your eye twitched when he brought up that knowledge.

"Doesn't she know that alcohol doesn't affect a big guy like me?" he asked rhetorically, shaking his head out of amusement. "You did me a favor getting her off my back."

"So, you're really okay with what I did?" you asked once more. Toji shook his head and cupped your cheek gently with his calloused fingers.

"Do I gotta repeat myself thrice?"

"N-No, you don't gotta..." you trailed off.

"Good." He stood up, offering you a hand to help you up as well. "Y'know, I really didn't expect you to be such a little psychopath. I mean, you're all cute n' shit with your little mini skirts and your heels that I still don't know how you walk in. If I'd known you looked so hot covered in other people's blood, I would've taken you along with me on my missions."

You blushed profusely at all his little words and praises, and he cooed (again, out of amusement). "Look at you, all shy over a couple compliments thrown your way. You really are just a sweet thing underneath all that blood, aren't you?"

"Stop it, stop it!" You whined, swatting his hand away when he pinched your cheek.

In response, he put his hands up and chuckled again. "Whatever my girl wants, my girl gets. Now, would you like some help with cleaning this mess up, or would you rather I just bend you over this counter n' eat you out?"

You looked at him again, yet again out of confusion and bewilderment. "You wanna have sex with me... when I'm covered in blood, and in my own crime scene?" You asked, shrinking away from his touch.

"'Course I do; you look fuckin' sexy baby. Shit gets my dick hard seeing you so protective over me... I oughta reward you for havin' my back, anyway."

He reached out again, only for you to shrink away even further from his touch, making him click his tongue and sigh. "I think I'll pass," you muttered, throwing him a side-eye as well.

"The fuck are you side-eyeing me for? You're the one who killed a girl."

*°:⋆ₓₒ 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤 ˱ 𓈒 𓈊 ┈ 𓈒 ˲

╰┈➤ Satoru Gojo was nothing short of a dreamboat, and you knew what you were getting into when you said "yes" to the first date. From the moment he picked you up wearing a crisp light blue button-up, slacks, and his silver-blue porsche, you knew he was gonna be one silver-tongued prince charming.

Not only was he sweet on the first date, but he was also sweet on the second, third, fourth--hell, even on your second anniversary, when he asked you to move in with him in his penthouse located in the heart of Ginza, you swore your knees buckled from underneath you and not because of the blue gown that he'd bought you after seeing it on your computer screen all those nights ago.

He was like a sweet saccharine fantasy, a delicious daydream which you never wanted to wake up from. His soft, snow-white hair; his incredibly vibrant blue eyes which seemed to have specks of every color in the galaxy and then some with flecks of purple, cerulean, indigo, and even a milky way here and there; his towering stature and lean muscles--god, you could go on and on about how dreamy he was! And the sex? Good god, he was a man who knew how to put it down.

The sweet little nicknames he had for you only furthered your infatuation for him: "hey there, sweet cheeks," was one rather childish one that he reserved for you.

"Lookin' good, princess," was probably the most fitting one that he had for you. It was his way of reminding you of how good he'd always treat you, how he'd always put you first above all else. After all, he used that name when he bought you a diamond tennis bracelet for your half-birthday.

While most people would've been worried that he was love-bombing you, you knew deep down that you had absolutely nothing to worry about!

Even his best friend, Suguru Geto, said as such at one of the many parties he threw.

After one of Satoru's weird little groupies made a snide remark about how he gave that treatment to anyone who would open their legs for him, he pulled you aside with one tattooed hand (he has tats IMO) and helped you lighten your mood. "Don't even listen to that chick, (Y/N), you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I haven't seen him look at anyone like that since, well, ever if I'm being honest--and I've known the man since grade school," the sorcerer said.

"You really think so?" You asked, a light smile gracing your features.

"I've been his best friend since we've both become sorcerers, (Y/N). I've seen him go through everything, even that phase when he decided to wear his hair like a Backstreet Boy for a day." now that was a joke that really brought that light back to your face.

"Okay, okay, I don't think I need that image in my head," you replied, waving your hands in front of you. He simply smiled at you and patted your shoulder.

"Trust me, you don't. Now go find your boyfriend before he throws a fit; you know how he gets."

You had nothing to worry about when it came to your relationship--even his vigilant best friend thought so. But that lack of worry only extended to your boyfriend, not the countless groupies that threw themselves at him.

How many had you killed by now? 6? 7? Eh, you lost count by the time it reached double digits.

┆ . At one of his many parties that he threw on his yacht in the harbor, yet another groupie decided to take a chance on the already-taken sorcerer/heir of the Gojo clan, none other than your boyfriend of 3 and a half years, Satoru. By then, you'd disregarded who any of the groupies were, only knowing them by hair color (if they dyed it some stupid color like pink or purple) or did something obscene to your boyfriend.

But that night at his summer party, a purple-haired groupie took it way too far: when you were returning from the bar with Satoru's favorite drink in hand, you saw her accidentally "trip" and fall into your boyfriend's lap. The hand holding your drink-of-choice was gripping your glass so tightly that it shattered in your hand, but the blaring music was loud enough to hide it.

"Whoopsie!" the girl said with fake-sincerity, giggling as she looked at her friends who obviously put her up to this shit.

Satoru, being the amazing boyfriend he was, pushed the girl off of his lap and looked rather annoyed at what she'd done: "hands off the merchandise! This seat's already taken."

The girl threw her hands up and gave him a fake apology, obviously not serious about it: "sorryyy, I tripped on my heels! You know how these things are."

But your brain didn't register it; it merely registered the sounds of the blood rushing through your body and your heartbeat's thumping. Your breathing quickened, and everything in your world was reduced to that stupid bitch and her stupid giggles and her stupid hair color.

Who the fuck does she think she is? She's not the one who's already been living with Satoru for over a year now. Her fake nails, her fake hair--she probably doesn't even want Satoru and instead wants some notoriety for being his groupie.

She shouldn't get to live; stupid whores like her shouldn't be alive to begin with.

She needs to know her place. I wonder how fast I can throw this drink at her head? Maybe it'll kill her if I'm hard enough-

"Yo, (Y/N)!" Satoru's voice said once he saw you a few feet away. "C'mere princess; I got this seat nice and ready for ya!" he said with a grin, patting his lap. You happily obliged, bounding over like a little puppy who was called by their owner for a tasty treat.

"Isn't she the cutest thing?" Shoko Ieiri asked her friend who nodded in agreement.

"Sato, baby, here's the drink you asked for," you said, your voice dripping with adoration like the sweetest ambrosia from the Garden of Eden. "Mine... spilled, sadly, but I can just get another one."

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted that stupid whore trotting off down a hallway, headed to a bathroom by herself. An idea formed inside of your head, and your eyes narrowed and zeroed in on her fake purple hair.

"(Y/N), baby, look at me! This is my party!" Satoru protested, suddenly bringing your attention back to him with a cute little pout on his face.

"You don't mind if I go and use the ladies room? I'll be back before you know it," you asked with the subtlest croon you could muster up without bordering on corny.

"But, baby-"

"It's an emergency. You know how us girls get," you said with a smile, making Satoru relent reluctantly.

"Fine, fine... go on ahead, but don't get too distracted on your way there. Your boyfriend wants some attention," he muttered, placing a small kiss on your neck before letting you go. You gave him a small kiss on the forehead and carded through his snow-like hair, getting right up off his lap and going in the same direction as that groupie.

Your Christian Dior heels tapped on the hardwood floors of the yacht, taking you down one of the hallways that seemed to go on for forever. Coincidentally, this was also the same hallway that led to your spare room; the one you used whenever you were mad at Satoru for whatever reason and felt like sleeping in another bed. You made sure to step as quietly as possible so as to not alert the girl of your presence; however, she made hers known by the sound of her shrill laughter coming from the bathroom.

"The boy is mine... I can't wait to try him," she sang, clearly oblivious of the fear and rage coursing through your body. Was she seriously singing that fucking song right now, acting as if Satoru wasn't in a committed relationship?? Oh, she needed to be reminded of her place.

Like a soundless sabertooth, you stalked up to the door and opened it, acting as though you were merely freshening up in the bathroom. You took your lip gloss out of the bag that your boyfriend bought you on one of your many outings, swiping it over your lips.

"Oh, you're Satoru's girlfriend, right?" the chick asked once she recognized you. She pointed an acrylic at you, drawing your attention. "Hey, don't ignore me! It's not like you're anything special anyway."

"What do you mean?" you asked, deciding to provoke the beast yourself.

"Satoru swipes through relationships like it's nobody's business!"

"Groupies don't count as relationships."

"Just you wait. He's gonna abandon you for someone way hotter and way less annoying than you. I mean, I don't even know what the fuck he sees in you!" she exclaimed. "You're a 3 at best."

The chick continued to ramble on and on about how Satoru could do way better than you, and it was high time that she shut the fuck up already.

You grabbed the martini glass she was holding, wrenching it easily out of her hands, and you broke it on the marble countertop. You then took the sharp, pointy end and drew a deep, jagged cut on her neck with it, the tendons practically ripping in half with the intensity of your cut. She grabbed her neck and put two hands over the gash, gasping and breathing for air, only to have her hands cut by the glass. You stabbed her over and over again, screaming at her to "SHUT UP!" and "DIE ALREADY!!" You pushed her onto the ground and mounted her hips, driving the broken glass further in until her head disconnected from her body.

By the time you were finished with her dead body, she was practically unrecognizable. One of her eyes was open (the other was stabbed out), her head was severed, and the tendons in her neck were exposed. You didn't mean to get so carried away, but you let it happen anyway.

With a swipe to the eyebrow, you let out a "whew," only to realize that you had this huge mess to clean up. It's not every day that you manage to sever a head, after all.

"Nothing a little bleach can't deal with."

You took out the trusty bottle of bleach that you hid underneath the counter (in case of emergencies) and started unscrewing the cap. Just as you did that, though, you heard Satoru's whiny voice from behind the door calling out for you. "(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Normally, you would've entertained him, but right now you were standing over a dead body, your party dress covered in blood with a bottle of bleach in one of your hands and a broken glass in the other. If he were to see you right now, everything you've worked for would've been for nothing. All those dead bodies thrown into dumpsters, all those weapons that you kept hidden--it would've amounted to absolutely nothing! Your perfect life with your perfect boyfriend and your perfect friends would all go to shit, all because you couldn't control yourself around a fucking groupie with too many bad dyejobs for her own good.

"(Y/N), I'm coming in!" he said once more. He managed to yank the door open with his bare hands, and he couldn't have prepared himself for the sight in front of him.

There you were, his pretty little princess, standing over the dead body of one of his partygoers. His six eyes took in everything almost immediately: he noted the bottle of bleach, the sheer amount of blood that was on you, and just how mangled that corpse was. You looked down at the floor and you shut your eyes as tight as you possibly could, desperately hoping that it wasn't him, that it wasn't your amazing boyfriend who did nothing wrong.

"I-I'm sorry, I made a mess," you mumbled, tears flowing down your face and mixing with the metallic blood. He stayed longer than you thought was necessary, and you just braced for the inevitable look of disgust followed by the demand that you leave.

His footsteps echoed on the marble flooring and he crouched down to your level, taking his glasses off and looking at you.

"Just- I'll just get out of your hair after I clean this up-"

"Don't bother, princess. I'll just have one of my maids clean it up. A spoiled little thing like you shouldn't have to inhale all the bleach smell," he said with a chuckle. "My princess shouldn't even have to lift a finger in the first place."

You stopped looking at the floor, your head craning up slowly and looking at your boyfriend out of sheer confusion. "I don't- I don't understand..."

"What's not to understand?" he asked with a cocked head. "My girl's not gonna hold a single mop, not while she's with me."

"But... I just killed someone... aren't you afraid of me? Aren't you disgusted?"

He shrugged, his blue eyes remaining on you. "You think I'm gonna break up with you over some meaningless groupie? Don't be ridiculous, sweet cheeks. Now, if you'd somehow managed to kill someone like Shoko or Suguru, then I'd have a problem, although I am quite impressed that you managed to cut her head off with a martini glass... C'mon, let's get you out of these clothes and into something nicer. We can't have my guests wondering why my date's all red and sticky, hmmm?"

You said nothing, instead following his lead as he snuck you into another room. He slipped your ruined party dress off, then he turned on the faucet and grabbed a hand towel, washing off all the blood that was on your face and your body.

"I still just can't believe that you'd accept this. Aren't you scared of me?" You asked once more, finally speaking up as he washed the blood off your soft skin.

"Hell nah, baby. You forget you're dating the strongest guy in all the land," he said with a sly wink. "Plus, I think it's cute; you're all protective over me. Who would've known that you had bark and bite?"

"You're such a freak, Satoru," you said with comically narrowed eyes. "I bet you find that shit hot, you narcissist."

Satoru merely laughed and shook his head. "You know me too well."

*:..｡o○ 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙉𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞 ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒

╰┈➤ If there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was the widely accepted fact that having a work wife was considered the norm, especially in an office where people spent a good 9 hours a day typing away at their computers and drinking for another extra hour afterwards. Kento Nanami was the exception to the latter, though. You knew you were a lucky girl when your sweet, sweet boyfriend Kento told you on the third date that he was a homebody, and how he'd much rather just lie in bed with his lover than go out for drinks.

"I'm not really the extroverted type, if I'm being honest," the deliciously handsome blonde man said after taking a sip of his wine. "I'd much rather spend the night watching a movie or making dinner for my loved ones. I'm actually quite the cook, if you'd be interested in trying out some of my dishes. I don't even know why I decided to try out dating in the first place; it actually makes me quite nervous."

"I would love to try some of those meals out, but I think that we should try out some of your recipes later. It sounds like a fun date idea regardless! Maybe you could even teach me how to make those amazing meals? Perhaps the ones that you hold close to your heart? And, honestly, I'm not the going out type either. It took me so much to hype myself up for this date, but I'm glad I'm on it."

Kento smiled when you found the idea rather fun. He knew you'd be a great match for him, especially since he loved to make others smile by filling up their bellies with his own creations (double entendre?)

"But you? Nervous? Seriously? You've been nothing but kind to me, suave even. You're punctual, and you held the chair out for me to sit in. You're just my kinda guy, Kento. Those other tinder matches ain't got nothing on you."

He blushed at the usage of his first name, but he couldn't say he didn't like it. A naïveté towards norms, he presumed, but a naïveté he could appreciate.

Yeah, he knew you were a keeper.

You also quickly learned early on just how tight-knitted his schedule was, but what he lacked in time spent with you he made up for with romance and courting. He'd frequently send you flowers to your workplace and to your home; he took you to the finest restaurants and even the opera; and he made sure to text you regularly. The seven months you'd spent with him were some of the best of your life, and you prayed to god that you wouldn't fuck it up in any way. You were both dating for marriage, and he couldn't have found a better future wife.

Well, that's what he thought, at least. He didn't exactly know about your jealous tendencies, the tendencies that made you buy so many cleaning supplies and bottles of bleach, you started to receive discounts for the shit. The local utility store employees even thought you were a maid, given by the amount of disposable gloves that you went through.

"I should hire you as a maid someday, when I can actually pay for one at least," said the cashier of the home improvement store that you frequented (if you couldn't tell, he was low-key making a pass at you).

"A maid? I'm not-" you quickly stopped when you realized that this would give you a possible coverup and alibi if you needed one.

"I'm confused... aren't you a cleaning lady?" He asked once more.

"Oh, yeah! I totally just forgot all about my job!" You exclaimed, passing it off with a laugh and a smile. "I'm sorry, but I'm not taking any more clients. I'll let you know when I am, though," you followed up with a wink.

Oh, how suave you were. You'd always been an expert at lying, and now was no different. In fact, with the amount of bodies you'd racked up, one could say you were the best liar in all of Japan.

And no, not in terms of sexual partners; you were a killer. A killer by textbook definitions, at least.

It's not like you wanted to kill all these girls! It's just that, with the amount of people that so obviously flocked to your boyfriend of seven months, you'd have to make sure that he wasn't getting any ideas.

It started out with the local call-girl that hollered at him when the two of you were walking home from a date. "Hey, suga! You ever thought about spending time with all this?" She hollered from the other side of the road. Nanami kept his cool and ignored her, passing her off as no more than a streetwalker trying to scam him for all his worth.

You made sure she was forgotten about, though; her body was found cut into pieces a few nights later by the garbage people.

Next came that stupidly innocent bakery worker (get the ref?). "Come again soon!" She called out to Kento after he bought a few pastries for the two of you. You came back a few nights later, and you wiped that innocent look off her face and replaced it with a wide cut on either sides of her mouth, along with a giant slash along her torso.

Soon it was girl #3, then #4, #5, and #6. By the time you hit your first anniversary, it was up to 11 people in total. You knew that your man was a desired man, but god, could people really not keep their hands and words to themselves?

#12 seemed to cause quite the nuisance for you, though. It just so happened that Kento had a "work-wife," or at least according to Miss Work-Wife herself when you met her at an office holiday party. After spending so much time together, your sweet Kento brought you to the party, intending to show you off to all of his jealous colleagues who couldn't keep a partner, even if they tried. He intended to have you on his arm, a subtle act of pride and showing off. He always kept to himself, so why not spice things up a little bit? It was his time to be selfish.

He seemed to have two women on his arm, though: you and the stupid work-wife who just couldn't stop butting into every single situation.

"Oh, so you're Kenny's girl? I didn't know that he liked the girly type; I always thought he'd be into the straight-laced, conservative type. But to each their own, I guess!" she remarked.

Oh how much you hated backhanded compliments. Could people really not understand just how bad they were at covering that shit up? She might as well have called you a brainless bimbo who wore heels that were too high to save her own life. As if she wasn't wearing a face full of fucking makeup, you thought to yourself. Glowy foundation is still foundation, regardless of how "low coverage" it was. And those clumpy ass eyelashes--why the fuck would your man associate with such lowly looking wenches? If he were to talk to women, the least he could do was talk to the nice looking ones. At least then you'd have something cute to carve into.

You'd made a vow to stop killing every woman you see, it wasn't fair to kill all of Kento's friends! He hadn't even given you a reason to doubt him. He was still the same suave gentleman from the very first date. It wasn't like those Reddit AITA posts where the men gradually started putting in less and less effort. If you were a sane person, that would be your train of thought.

But you're not sane--whoever said you were? You're crazy, and that's just a part of you. At least Ken had a loving girlfriend to come home to at the end of the night, even if you needed antipsychotics.

So, when you invited the chick over for drinks one late night, you made sure to do it with a certain plan in mind.

You were going to stab that stupid smile off her face, then dump her somewhere inconspicuous.

┆ . It was laughably easy for you to kill her. You swapped out the white carpet in your apartment for a black one that absorbed all the colors that flew into it, and brought out the spare furniture that you'd been meaning to get rid of a while ago. You even covered the walls with spare wall art that was also gonna go into the trash.

"It's so lovely of you to have me over for drinks, (Y/N)! I knew that from the moment I met you, the two of us were going to be friends," she said, stupidly oblivious to what was about to happen to her.

"Oh, well, I try to be as active in Kento's life as possible, and that includes making friends with his friends as well," you said smoothly, lying through your teeth. She wasn't his friend; he didn't even have her number saved. You grabbed a martini glass from your mini-bar and poured her a dirty martini, making extra sure that the poison didn't look too out of place. You even added pineapple juice to hide the slightly white film in the liquid, mixing it up with your drink mixer. "Y'know, I have a thing for mixology. Care to try one of my new concoctions?" You asked, handing her the glass.

"Would I?" she asked excitedly, taking the glass from you. She took a sip and let out an "ahh," looking satisfied with the drink.

"You like it?"

"Oh, you bet I do. I've always had a thing for pineapple juice."

About 10 minutes in, and she only barely started showing signs of fatigue, much to your fucking dismay. Whoever said that this poison was a fast acting agent must've gotten it on Canal St. "Gosh, I'm a little tired. Do you mind if I lie down?" she asked, already lying down on the couch.

"By all means, go ahead," you smiled, though deep down you wanted to peel her grimy face off your pillows with a potato peeler.

She yawned, stretching her hands above her head, only to have them fall back down on her torso and go to her heart. "My c-chest hurts a little," she laughed. "I've always had a problem with... heartburn. It's a genetic thing."

You took a sip of your own martini, already sick and tired of playing the long game. "It's not heartburn you stupid bitch; I poisoned your fucking drink." The obvious change of voice caught her heavily off guard, and she looked at you with bewilderment. "God, I am so sick and tired of hearing you yap, yap and yap about my boyfriend. Don't you know that one day, we're gonna get married? We don't need suck-ups like you to soak up all the attention."

"Wha- what do you mean?" she slurred, freaking out as she felt her chest tightening. "You put poison in my drink?! Are you... crazy?!"

"I am; I even take meds for it," you said nonchalantly, splashing around the martini in your cup. "Here, try some of mine, see if you like it better," you said cruelly, splashing the alcohol in her face and making her eyes burn. "You really should be wary of the people whose homes you walk into; you never know what exactly to expect with strangers. Especially if you're trying to steal their boyfriends."

"I-I'm not trying to-"

"Girl, please, I've poisoned you, I think it's time we cut the bullshit and the niceties, yeah? I've never been one to be nice anyway, at least not behind closed doors." You got up off the chair, walking to the nearby dresser and pulling out a knife. "When I first saw you, I knew I'd have to kill you eventually. Kento's a nice guy, and he shouldn't have whores like you around him. You're all just a bunch of fucking flies, do y'know that?" You asked, wiping the blade of your knife with a cloth. She could no longer speak, her face turning purple as she fumbled off the couch, crawling towards the door. "Don't even bother with that," you sneered, kicking her down and away from the door. She meekly crawled away, only to have her hair pulled back forcefully by you.

"Have you ever had someone try to steal your boyfriend before? Lemme tell you: it's not a fun feeling. The idea that people would be so dumb as to lay their paws on what's yours... I know my Kento's a dreamboat, but there are other eligible bachelors to choose from in this city. Unluckily for you, you picked the wrong one, because that boy is mine."

You grabbed her and hauled her over to where you had a tarp laid out in the kitchen, and you brought the knife to her neck. "Take a long, last look at this filet mignon, because it's what's gonna be the last thing you fucking see." You then cut it across her throat, hard enough to almost rip her head off of her spine. "Maybe in your next life, you won't be such a whore."

She fumbled about, her hands going to her neck, only for you to grab the knife and stab her brain, effectively killing her. "Poison was taking too long, anyway," you muttered.

The murder was quite clean and it went pretty smoothly, although you'd wished it was the poison instead.

"I'll make sure to give it a one star," you muttered, holding the poison.

You stood up, reaching out for a nearby smock to wipe your hands clean of the blood. You thought you were in the clear, your twelfth kill under your leather belt, only for a voice behind you to disturb the serenity: "love? Are you home? I wanted to surprise you-"

You stopped in your tracks, frozen like a deer in headlights. It didn't take a genius, much less his girlfriend of over a year to realize who it was behind you.

Were you really that idiotic? Did you forget to lock the door?

You looked in the reflection of the kitchen window, seeing Kento's puzzled expression on his face. He was even holding pink roses in one of his arms and had chocolates in the other.

"Ken... I didn't mean for you to- you shouldn't have to see this mess-"

You stopped for a second, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. You turned around, nothing but fear written on your typically calm and gorgeous features. "I didn't mean for you to see me like this," you said, your voice cracking slightly.

"I could guess that," he remarked, his voice as soft as ever. He knew that you were quite fragile in this moment, so he was careful to walk closer to you and wrap his strong arms around your frame once he got to his destination.

You stood there in silence, not knowing what to do or say when he hugged you. Wasn't he... afraid? Wasn't he disgusted by you having killed one of his coworkers?

"I meant to surprise you tonight with dinner. I brought you some takeaway from your favorite place, and I even bought you roses."

You looked down at the bouquet of pink roses that were freshly picked and bought from the local florist. Some of the blood on your hands dripped onto a petal, staining it a hauntingly beautiful color, somehow making this whole situation more romantic.

You'd only ever hurt people, so why was this situation so comforting?

"Thank you, Kento... I appreciate it," you muttered, still reeling from the realization that Kento glossed over the fact that you were the person responsible for all those murders in the newspapers. You wondered if he knew that all this time, his wonderful, graceful girlfriend was the one killing and maiming random girls. He took you to the sink and washed all the blood off your hands with some bleach, then scrubbed the bleach clean with a lavender-scented hand soap.

"Careful now, we wouldn't wanna stain your dress, would we? Not when you're already date night ready," he remarked, his deep voice a soothing balm to your ears.

You simply nodded, going along with whatever he said. After washing them off clean, he wrapped up the tarp and made extra sure not to spill any of the bodily fluids anywhere, putting it in a spare closet nearby. You stood there, watching as your boyfriend cleaned up your crime scene in your apartment. You watched his features, and you couldn't tell if he was upset or not.

He guided you back to the dining table where the bag of food was. He set out plates and cutlery for the two of you, not letting you lift a single finger. Once the two of you sat down, he started eating in silence when he saw you looking at him.

"(Y/N), don't let it go cold. Eat up," he instructed softly.

You obliged, picking up your fork and eating the red meat hesitantly. Red meat, how poetic.

"Kento," you started, putting your fork down and looking up at the blonde man. "We're gonna have to talk about it eventually."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just... not over red meat, okay?"

You simply nodded, going back to your food. You ate more comfortably, the knowledge that you no longer had the secret hidden making you rest easier now. Perhaps he did know already, and he just didn't wanna make you any more worried than you already were by bringing it up. Perhaps he was put off by it, but he was willing to gloss over it and act like it didn't matter. Whatever the reason might've been, you could rest easy knowing that your boyfriend wasn't going anywhere.

"Work was quite eventful today. They handed out promotions, and I was one of the lucky few who got one." He looked up at you after swallowing his food, carefully watching your expression and making sure you were alright.

"That's great news, Kento, I'm happy for you." He smiled softly at your acquiescence, happy to finally change the topic.

Blood always seemed to scared him.

I hope this was good enough... 👅

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/10/2024

[makethemmilky]

Mandi giggled as she felt the strong kick against the inside of her belly. Within seconds, dozens of tips came in from the countless followers watching her on her stream. As she gazed back and forth between the constant stream of horny comments in the chat and her own reflection in the bottom corner of her screen, she couldn't help but be turned on by at all. Here she was, 8 months pregnant, and at this point she was pretty much just all belly and tits with a head attached. And what was hotter than that?

It was hard for Mandi to wrap her tiny little mind around just how fortunate she was. A year ago she'd been just another slut starting an OnlyFans to make some extra cash but not getting very far. Yeah, she was hot, but she didn't really have any way of separating herself from the other girls on there. Thankfully that super hot guy had messaged her with that amazing deal!

Not only would he pay her $250,000 to be a surrogate, but he had no problem at all with her continuing to go on cam. And as Mandi quickly discovered, there were a lot of horny dudes on there willing to pay to see a knocked up chick get bigger and bigger. Not only was her bank balance growing right along with belly, but the more preggo Mandi became the more she found herself being turned on. From the way men leered and lavished her, it was hard not to feel like an object. From the neck down the old Mandi had disappeared, her tight little body inflated and swollen into something so round and heavy that it was difficult to do anything other than be fucked.

Mandi knew enough to tell that she wasn't very smart, but it was clear even to her that: getting preggo as a surrogate made her lots of money, being preggo made lots of dudes want to fuck her, and being preggo made her even more horny about being fucked by those dudes. Even a dumb little bimbo like her could tell an amazing gig when she saw it.

[dawnofdeathh]

how to make them blush... (ft the ip3)

Topaz, Aventurine , dr ratio (separate) x gn reader

________________

Topaz

Topaz is a charmer, meaning shes a pro at getting you to blush. whether it be getting you flowers all the time before getting home, or kissing the back of your hand and going up your arm with kisses until her lips reach your shoulders, and when she hugs you from behind and kisses your neck. . .

but one thing that will make her blush is calling her by her real name (Jelena) you could be talking to her about anything, but if you use 'Jelena' instead of Topaz, her cheeks will look all rosey and she'll have a doopy smile on her face, ohhhh i just wanna kiss her . .

Aventurine

Our little gambler loves to spend his money on you, anything you show slight interest in he'll buy it for you immediately (even if you protest he'll still get it for you ☹️☹️♥️) yet while his love language is gift giving, he absolutely loses it when you praise him, anyway at all even just a simple 'good job, Aven' will have his face all red and stuttering, he is pathetic . . . but in a cute way. . . .

Sometimes he'll cry if you praise him too much, poor bby doesnt think he deserves all the love your throwing at him, so hold him while he cries, run your fingers through his hair and press soft kisses on the top of his head while he cries it all out. . . please give this man all the love ever ♥️♥️♥️☹️☹️

Dr Ratio

Professor smarty pants here is hard to please, let alone make him blush, if you try to flirt with him in public or so he'll give you a blank stare and mumble out 'zero points' before going back to his book. bitch. . . .

But hes not clueless at romantic things completely, he'll kiss the back of your hand and rant to you about math equations. . . thats his love language ig.

but as you slowly started breaking down his blank and cold face, he was acutally like a shy little school girl when it came to affection (my autistic fella...) any sort of advancement in affection will have his cheeks flushed, hug him from behind and kiss his cheek, play with his hair while he reads on the floor between your legs, hold his hand and rub your thumb on the back, call him Veritas. . . ouuuuuu he'll be all blushy blushy after that. . . .

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin. With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself. While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages. You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into this situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible. It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group. Kie, Pope, John B…They weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a delicate balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence. You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in a turbulent life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst. It was a burden you bore silently, the weight of protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity. While others your age worried about trivial matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending storm in his eyes. You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream. You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, and for a moment, he looked like he might’ve backed down. But then his expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," he said, his tone condescending. "You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too,” you said, your voice low and steady. "And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

The defiance in your fixed look mirrored his own stubbornness. Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that. For a moment it looked like he might’ve argued. And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing ominously in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, fury and panic mixing in your chest. "Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no response from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing. He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different. Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, its frame sturdy and dependable.

That’s it! You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances. Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building, the ground looming ever closer with each passing moment. 

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, your voice urgent, “It’s important.”

After a moment of hesitation, he relented, quickly scribbling down an address on a piece of paper and thrusting it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him. Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before dashing out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand, a feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline surging in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shout, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a brief moment. You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, his agitation palpable in the confined space of the alley. “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his frustration evident. “You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm, his touch firm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden shifts in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

You only gaped in disbelief. “What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, his tone firm, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at Rafe’s chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe said, nodding in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained steady, unwavering. Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, now? “I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him. You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded, his voice softening slightly as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, the weight of what just transpired settling heavily on your shoulders, as you and Rafe sat in silence, the events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly; his expression unreadable. "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“Hey, look at me,” he said, voice weirdly soft, “We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere. There were more important matters at hand. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream. You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe. The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to constantly surround him.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t. You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you. It was a lot to process, the realization that you had become a part of his nightmares, a constant haunting presence in his thoughts. Rafe’s fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and a rush of memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But as it lingered, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, like a balm soothing an old wound. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up. It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

Once again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions coursing between you. Guilt, fear, desire, all intertwined in a tumultuous dance within your heart.

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you felt deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. And you melted into his embrace, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead. All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. 

But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the beating of your heart.

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch lingering like a promise of things left unsaid.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee. When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead. Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Rafe's hand tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again, “Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him, face twisting into confusion.

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you shifted, turning onto your side to face away from him.

Rafe moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like a shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters. If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

Your pulse quickened, and your skin tingled. An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you shifted again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of his own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with purpose, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head. Rafe's response was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that sent shivers down your spine. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you. The uncertainty, the fear, and the desire all came down together in a chaotic swirl. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted. You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire coursing through your veins.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit. You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss. You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts blurring as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening, each movement driving you closer to the edge. Rafe's breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me cum,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised, his voice a rough whisper. “Want to feel you cum around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your core. Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he gently withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky and all rough against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven. The friction was maddening, each movement sending volumes of satisfaction through you.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he struggled for control. “You feel so good,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much to bear. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in. His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again rapidly. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so close. His hand on your clit moved in time with his hips, each touch sending you spiraling higher.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan in response, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You trying to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix. Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn of desire ignited into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch. You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole. The taste of him filled your mouth, a heady mixture of the cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours. The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Cum for me, pretty,” he urged his voice rough and filled with need. “I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took. With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe and desire, his hands never leaving your body, grounding you through your orgasm. As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips soft and tender. He murmured soothing words, his voice a sexy whisper that sent shivers down your spine. You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own racing pulse, a reminder of the connection between you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the waves subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, "I want to feel you cum inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass, "Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open, dark and intense as he watched your reaction. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel you cum."

The pet name did it. His response was immediate. With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he drove into you with a powerful thrust. His pace was relentless, his movements fueled by a desperate need to reach his release. His face was a mask of intense concentration, his jaw clenched as he pounded into you. The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, creating a symphony of raw passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Cum for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising. And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. your own body still buzzing with the aftermath of your pleasure. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that rendered you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his touch kind and reverent.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips. The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Rafe's lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss a stark contrast to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but the dam broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed his voice a comforting balm to your frayed nerves. "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the gentle strength of his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you didn’t feel so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else. He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up fear and anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in a gesture of reassurance. "I know, Maybank," he whispered, his voice steady and unwavering. "I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?" you asked, almost in disbelief.

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. The comfort of his embrace, his steady presence, was grounding you. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you strength. After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[999h34rt]

MISS 20 SOMETHING | EMILY ENGSTLER

➣ emily engslter x gf!reader

➣ sypnosis: comments are always expected when you're a 20 year old girlfriend of 25 year old WNBA player, but at the annual team dinner, y/n finally breaks.

➣ warnings: 5 year age gap. underage drinking.

➣ a short one

You were fresh 19 when you met your now girlfriend, Emily. There wasn't necessarily a cute story on how you two dated, you just clicked. Met at a local new york bar, which you weren’t supposed to be in but you somehow got into. And to be frank, you did tell Em your real age.

You being a child star, had its perks. Fame (which you didn’t see as a perk) , no money problems,connections and more. But also it had its disadvantages, for one, people always think your young. Which you were, but being with a 24 year old, made it worse.

The 5 year age gap wasn’t that bad, but it was enough of a gap for critics or haters to talk about or give their opinion to. Neither you or Emily cared, it seemed like it was you two against the world.

When you first met Emilys friends, it was 4 months into your relationship. The meet up was fine, all had fun but they’re also comments, jokes, which you laughed off even though some of them bothered you.

If you did tell Emily how you felt, it would make you seem like a child, immature. So you guessed its better to put up with it hoping they would stop at some point.

☆

they didn’t.

This girl just didn’t stop, she was brutal with it too. She was a teammates plaything of the month, you would assume, as you watched the player get annoyed by her.

You sighed after you laughed off another one of her comments, as you turned to your right, you were met with Ems brown eyes, immediately tension eased off your shoulders as she smiled at you. “You okay?” she asked with her eyes.

“Yes” you responded with yours.

Just put up with it, you told yourself, it’s worth it for her.

As you got into a conversation with another spouse, you could feel the bitches eyes on the other side of your face. You didn’t know what her problem is or what you had done to her. but it seemed like she wanted a reaction out of you.

“Emily i seriously don’t know how you do it” She said 10 minutes ago, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Do what?” Em responded confused.

“Babysit every day” She laughed. Only 3 other people laughed, Emily forced out a chuckle and you a smile which didn’t reach your eyes. The whole table didn’t say anything, just watched the scene awkwardly, before you finally broke the silence and opened another conversation.

You thought she was done with that one. but nope.

When the waiter came back to get refill orders a couple minutes after, you had ordered a glass of wine, and as soon as the waiter was out of the room.

“Are you even old enough to drink wine, Miss 20 something?” she asked laughing. Her partner side eyed her, and you heard the conversation stop at the end of the table.

But you just laughed, and continued your conversation with Em. And yes, you were old enough, in a European country yes. And you were literally two weeks away from turning 21 so it didn’t matter.

But after that, you could tell that she wasn’t actually joking, she just wanted something out of you. Even when you first came in, she only shook Ems hand and ignored yours but you just shook it off.

Normally you were used to the comments, they were jokes and sometimes they bothered you but you knew people actually liked you and weren’t disrespecting you. but she was.

you finally had enough when Emily was telling a story.

“… and i was 18 at the time-”

“18? that means y/n was 13 right? woah” she cut off Em. Just as the vibe was good, the whole table filled with tension. You heard Em sigh, and could tell she was sick of it too.

You finally enough.

“Are you done?” You asked her. Her face turned to you surprised but satisfied.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked if you’re done throwing jabs at me”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she said innocently sipping her drink.

“Don’t even-” you scoffed. “You say im a child but you’re the only one here trying to bring drama in my face, and frankly i have had enough”

“What the f-”

“No don’t talk you’ve said enough and embarrassed yourself already” You cut her off. "You think it bothers me what you think, no it doesn't. Because the whole table knows the only child here is you. If you actually thinks it's mature of you to hate on me, Miss 20 something when you're a Miss almost 40 something then that just shows what a child actually is"

You heard gasps and a oop, but you also felt Em put her hand on your thigh. Which meant approval.

"How dare you? I'm 30"

"Well you should start trying botox hun" And with that you ended the conversation and encouraged Em to finish her story. the whole vibe was back to normal.

And at the end of the night when you both returned to your shared appartment, you kicked your heels off and felt brown eyes staring at the back of your head. You turned and saw the same question resting in Ems eyes as earlier, and this time you responded your voice. "I'm fine"

"That’s good baby" She responded and starting walking towards you, you felt her instinct to pick you up and immediately opened your legs wrapping them around her waist, her tattooed hands went lower and to your ass cheeks as she kissed you. Taking you to bed.

☆

➣ miss 21 something ( kinda part 2?)

[an-au-blog]

more zosan reversed tropes bc uni wants me dead and this is my way of coping:

not fake dating, but where everyone is super convinced that they aren't ACTUALLY dating...

One day, Zoro and Sanji call everyone over and announce that they are getting engaged. It comes as a big shock to almost everyone because: 1. they say it too matter-of-factly, with disdain almost; 2. they never told anyone they were dating. Luffy, being Luffy is very happy for them and tells them they can't get married if he doesn't wed them as their captain. They respond that they never expected anything else. Robin and Franky congratulate them, Brook starts getting ready with the music, but Nami and Usopp? Nami and Usopp couldn't believe it. And they refused to let everyone else believe this lie. They decided that both Sanji and Zoro are lying, but why??

They make a makeshift investigation, but it turns out that Luffy and Robin genuinely believe them, Franky and Jinbei think it's none of their business and they can't bring themselves to break it to Chopper and Brook because they were too happy to attend a wedding. Soit was up to Nami and Usopp to prove to everyone else that there was no way they're dating.

At first they start looking at how they interact with each other. It was obvious they were faking it - they never started bickering and fighting and even when they just sat in silence Sanji would throw a ladle in Zoro's direction because he's snoring too loud. Or Zoro would make a biting comment about Sanji and it would start all over again.

But that was how they usually were, so it wouldn't prove much if some of their friends were so willing to accept their announcement at face value knowing they act like this. So Nami takes upon talking to Zoro in private, while Usopp talks to Sanji in private.

At first, Nami starts telling him how she would take money off his debt if he tells her the truth, but then he says the same thing that he said to the crew. That yes, the cook is a pain in the ass, but they love each other and want to get married. She threatens to tax him for lying, but he keeps insisting there's nothing else to say. She meets up with Usopp again, hoping that he did a better job than her, but he just said that Sanji caught onto him from the start saying it's for real and whatever he's scheming will not work.

They change tactics and switch partners, hoping that Nami will have more luck with Sanji, as he can't say no to her, and Usopp can try getting under Zoro's skin.

Usopp starts off by telling Zoro about how a great swordsman should have a nice and powerful partner, mentioning Hiyori, but then the unexpected happens and starts almost defending Sanji as his choice. "Sanji is stronger and nicer than her." "He's a worthy opponent and we already have the same priorities (Luffy)", "He's stubborn and driven, it's great." he says it all with a shrug and Usopp almost feels like he misheard him. "But you always fight?" Usopp says as a last resort. Zoro smiles widely "Yeah, it keeps me on my toes, my blood pumping. I love him so much, Usopp."

The sniper wasn't sure he wanted to prove they weren't a couple anymore. In fact he was starting to believe them. Nami came back with an equally defeated face. Nami tried using her charm, but Sanji kept going "Alas, my dearest Nami, Zoro and I are really getting married, unfortunately it is no joke. Unless you'd like me to take you out on a date!" And in desperation, Nami said "yes", but then Sanji flipped a switch. Saying there's no way, he was just joking and he'd never do that to Zoro. He's done self sabotaging and he really doesn't want to ruin things for them.

Robin overheats then and goes. "Oh, why didn't you ask me. I've seen them sneaking into toilets and private places like teenagers for months now."

And the theory had been debunked.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter is Back! - 8

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Chap 1, Chap 2 , Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7 , Chap 8 , Chap 9 ,-

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Everyone's eyes were on you, likely thinking you didn’t exist. The Celestial Enterprise knew the proper miss and acknowledged by your father, the CEO, as Victoria.

This time was different. They were more invested because of the person walking beside you, Bucky Barnes.

You were nervous, for sure, but Bucky was calming you down. He said, “Calm down, I can hear your teeth chattering.”

“I’m not,” you replied. Was it that obvious? You pinched your thigh to clear your mind with the pain.

Bucky chuckled. It was true your teeth didn’t make a sound, but he could feel your fear, so he tried to bring back your fierce character. “Look at all these people. After tonight, they will remember who you truly are.”

Yes. He was right. Before, you could only dream of this, never taking a step because you knew the bridge would be destroyed by your stepmom first.

But this time was different because you could cross the bridge with Bucky's help.

What kind of luck did you have to have Bucky supporting you?

Flashback Start

After remembering everything, Bucky felt a surge of anger at the people who had kidnapped him. But now, that anger was replaced by gratitude as he recalled how he was saved. It was you and your grandma.

It must be God’s work that brought you and him together again. Bucky knew he had to repay the kindness he received from you both.

He went to his parents' house early in the morning. His parents were already up, enjoying a short walk. His dad was sipping coffee and eating toast while his mom was reading the newspaper.

“Son? What are—?” Juliana began, looking up from her newspaper.

“I remembered,” Bucky interrupted, his voice steady.

Bucky’s dad, Rowan, curious but skeptical, remarked, “You forgot something?”

“Shush,” Juliana said, flicking her husband’s hand lightly. She quickly understood what Bucky meant. “Everything?” she asked, her eyes wide with concern and hope.

Bucky sat down to join his parents, taking a deep breath. “Including the person who saved me,” he said, his voice filled with mixed emotions.

His confession took his parents by surprise. The time when Bucky was kidnapped was the darkest day of their lives, like a living hell. It was then that they realized money could bring security and danger. Their only son had become a hostage.

He was kidnapped for two weeks. It was a miracle when the police from an outlying city called to say they had found him. Actually, it was a woman and her granddaughter who discovered Bucky. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Juliana and Rowan wanted to thank the people who had saved their son, but when they tried to get more information, the police said no one was in the cabin anymore.

At that time, there was no social media or viral news. They wanted to keep searching, but they stopped because of Bucky's trauma. He had lost all memories of his kidnappers and the people who saved him.

Although they stopped searching, the Barnes family never stopped being grateful and wishing the best for the people who saved Bucky.

“Could you describe the people who saved you?” Rowan asked, leaning forward with interest.

“Even better. I met them,” Bucky replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

His parents were even more shocked. Juliana’s hand flew to her mouth in surprise while Bucky’s dad sat back, stunned.

“We have to meet them. As Barnes, we never forget the people who helped us,” Rowan declared, his voice filled with determination.

Bucky nodded, a serious expression on his face. “Before you meet them, I need your help.”

His parents listened intently, their faces a mix of curiosity and readiness.

Juliana reached out, touching Bucky’s arm gently. “Whatever you need, son.”

⚾⚾⚾⚾

The luxurious car parked in the school parking lot, drawing curious glances from students. Bucky stepped out, straightening his jacket, and made his way toward the school entrance. It had been a few days since he last saw you, and he was eager to catch up.

As he approached, he heard loud cheers and shouts from the male students, echoing through the windows. The lively and raucous atmosphere was a stark contrast to the quiet, private school he had attended. Intrigued, he followed the noise and found himself at the field track.

He initially thought it was a running exam, but quickly realized it was something different. A group of students was running, chased by someone wielding a baseball bat.

It was you.

You had taken off the cast from your left arm, and as you ran, you swung the bat with determined precision. The sight made the students you were chasing scatter in fear.

"I'm sorry!" Jimmy, one of the students, yelled as he ran.

"Destroying school property with graffiti is a big no, Jimmy," you called back, your voice steady as you gained on him.

Jimmy, looking over his shoulder in terror, suddenly spotted Bucky standing ahead. He remembered this rich man from his previous visit to the school.

"Bro! Help me out a bit," Jimmy pleaded, darting behind Bucky in desperation, using him as a human shield.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Jimmy with mild amusement. He turned his gaze to you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You stopped when you saw Bucky, your bloodlust evaporating.

"Oh, hi! What are you doing here?" you asked, catching your breath after the chase.

Bucky, looking out of place compared to you, covered in sweat and still holding the bat, smiled. "What lessons are you teaching right now?"

"Attitude," you replied, pointing the bat at Jimmy, cstill hiding behind Bucky. "This lad behind you wants to be Jackson Pollock. He painted the school's clean wall with graffiti."

Bucky glanced at Jimmy and then back at you. "He did wrong. It must be a hassle to clean it."

"Damn right. The principal will make me clean it," you grumbled.

"That's not fair. I will call a carpenter to paint the wall," Bucky said firmly.

"Really?" Both you and Jimmy asked at the same time, surprised.

Bucky nodded. "As payment, I need to steal you for the rest of the day."

"Yes, please. Bro, take her with you," Jimmy said eagerly, pushing Bucky closer to you.

Neither of you expected it, and you were ready to help Bucky if he panicked. Bucky had prepared himself too, but nothing happened, even though his heartbeat was racing.

"You're not...?" you began, your eyes searching his for any sign of distress.

Bucky grabbed your hand. "Let's go. I want you to meet someone."

"Wait," you protested, but Bucky was already leading you away.

Many students watched in astonishment as their fearless teacher held hands with Bucky. After a brief second, they erupted into cheers.

"Get it, teach! Get it!" "Woohoo! Love is in the air!"

You felt the back of your neck grow hot with embarrassment, but you couldn't help but notice that Bucky seemed different. His grip on your hand was firm and steady, his posture confident.

🍷🍷🍷🍷

Bucky takes you to a luxurious hotel restaurant. The hotel manager welcomes you both warmly, guiding you through the elegant lobby. As you walk, you feel a bit out of place in your casual attire, a stark contrast to the opulence around you. It's been a long time since you've set foot in a five-star hotel.

The manager leads you to a private room and opens the door. Inside, two people are already seated at the dining table. You recognize the woman, and suddenly, it clicks—you're meeting Bucky's parents.

"Oh my god," you murmur under your breath, hastily brushing your hair back and fixing the collar of your shirt.

Juliana rises from her seat and approaches you with a warm smile, wrapping you in a hug. Your hands hover awkwardly in the air, unsure of how to respond. How could a wealthy lady like her be so friendly?

Meanwhile, Bucky's father, Rowan, the CEO of a major company, smiles at you with genuine warmth.

"Thank you for saving my son," Juliana says, her gratitude evident.

You blink, confusion written all over your face. "I... I don't understand."

Bucky clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "I haven't talked to her about that yet."

Juliana chuckles softly. "No wonder she looks clueless. Forgive my son. Please, take a seat."

You sit down, feeling all eyes on you. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember years ago, you and your grandma found a boy?” Juliana asks gently.

You think about it for a moment. Your grandma? A boy? The memory is blurry, but you recall a boy that your grandma brought to the cabin.

"The next morning, the boy was gone, and we had to leave. It turned out my father had taken the rights to that small cabin too," you say, piecing it together.

“I was that boy,” Bucky reveals.

“You—? No, I don’t think so. Oh my god, it is you,” you gasp as the realization hits.

Cassandra pats your shoulder reassuringly. “That’s why we wanted to meet you. It’s such a small world.”

“Hahaha… yeah,” you laugh nervously, still processing the revelation.

Rowan leans in, his voice filled with gratitude. “We’re forever grateful to you. You and your grandma saved our son's life.”

You feel a rush of emotions. “It was my grandma who found him,” you say modestly.

Bucky nods. “And that’s why we will give Cassandra the best treatment.”

Your heart leaps at his words. This is such a great gift. “Thank you…” you say, holding back your tears.

Juliana offers you a tissue. “This is just the start, my dear. You deserve so much more.”

Bucky and his dad nod in agreement.

“There are two things that she wants: Velari and her childhood home,” Bucky states firmly.

Rowan and Juliana exchange a look of surprise. “That’s it? You only want to get back Velari and the house?” Rowan asks. Because they could give you so much more.

You clear your throat, gathering your thoughts. “To be honest, my knowledge of business isn’t that good. I only want to get back the business that my mom and grandma put their blood, sweat, and tears into. Looking at the design that both women created for Valerie, the root concept of Velari is gone. It has fallen into consumerism.”

Juliana nods in agreement. The old designs from Velari were classic and timeless. She’s too shy to tell you she’s wearing a Velari shirt, but she appreciates how you admit your limitations. You’re not greedy.

Juliana interjects, “What will your father say?”

“He’s only a father in name. He was never a father to me,” you reply, bitterness creeping into your voice.

The Barnes nod their heads, understanding the situation of your family. They know that your mother died of a heart attack after discovering her husband’s infidelity, and that your father prefers his second wife and younger daughter over you.

You look at their supportive expressions, feeling a mix of sadness and gratitude. It’s painful to realize that strangers are more willing to help you than your own blood relatives.

Juliana claps her hands together, breaking the somber mood. “That would be easy. You will get back what’s yours, dear.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you. “Thank you.”

Flashback Ends

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

That brings both of you to the anniversary of Celestial Enterprise. With the support of the Barnes family, you are no longer scared.

Genevieve and Jonathan approach you both. Genevieve wears her one-million-dollar smile, polite yet the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. Inside, she wants to curse you with the most evil words she knows.

Victoria has resigned herself from the party. It was supposed to be her daughter standing beside Bucky, not you.

You smile at your so-called dad and Genevieve, especially her. Jonathan, who used to turn a blind eye, now sees you as worthy of his time.

Genevieve, who used to look at you as if you were beneath her, is now scared. You feel that karma is catching up with your stepmom and stepsister.

Taglist:

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Three

Chapter three has arrived! And we have some time with Mingi and Hongjoong in the studio!

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader Summary: Studio time with Mingi and Hongjoong, is interesting, plus a surprise appearance from another member of Ateez! wc: 1.7k AU: a/b/o Genre: Fluff/Angst Nets: @newworldnet warnings: Angry Joongie and Mingi, yelling, delusional people, anxiety because of said yelling, Hongjoong isn't having any of it masterlist

They all entered the room, finding Mingi sitting in one of the two chairs pulled up to the desk. He waved at them all as the group walked in, y/n being the last to enter. Hongjoong shut the door after she had entered, blocking the staff member from entering. He moved quickly to sit back down in the other empty chair, looking very closely at every one of, as he called it, the lucky group that managed to make it this far. The reactions varied, a couple of the alphas tried to intimidate him right back, though most understood it was better to have as minimal of a reaction as possible.

“You’re here so we can evaluate your vocal abilities. If you don’t bring your best, don’t think you’ll be getting close to the chance at becoming the ninth member of Ateez.” Hongjoong told them, his voice still gruff and unhappy. It made y/n shrink into herself slightly, though she tried to hide her reaction, not wanting this to be perceived by either alpha.

Hongjoong quickly picked one of the alphas to head into the recording booth, as he had already placed the lyrics sheet for the song they’d all be using to test their abilities inside. Allowing a few minutes for the first alpha to warm up, Hongjoong then launched right into testing their vocal range and abilities. It seemed despite their outward confidence, neither idol was impressed by how the alpha was doing inside the booth. Y/n wasn’t sure if it was them being nervous, or if they truly weren’t able to sustain any of the notes, since their voice cracked multiple times during just one run through of Wonderland. She could see that as they continued to try, the two men just became more and more frustrated with their inability to get through the song without any flaws.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to take a break.” Hongjoong told them, instructing them to come back out of the booth, and sending one of the betas in.

Hongjoong sent the next auditionee inside, hoping that they would be better than the first one. They were better, but they definitely needed more vocal training if they were going to be able to be a part of Ateez. And more stamina, since they seemed to tire easily. He exchanged a glance with Mingi, and could see that the younger man's thoughts were similar to his own.

This was how it went for most of the group, though there were a good few that were amazing vocally, though he wasn’t sure of how they did dance wise, but vocally they would fit the group, and had the ability to hit every single note. That was until they reached one of the last to head in. It was clear from the moment that this alpha walked into the room, that she exuded an air of superiority and arrogance, her confidence was falsely inflated.

She entered the recording booth, and quickly situated herself. “I’m ready.” She told the two men.

Mingi looked over at Hongjoong, but the captain just proceeded to turn on Wonderland, as it was one of the more difficult songs, and after this all not going to plan for the most part, plus his anger at the company being directed in the wrong direction, he wanted to really test out this alpha’s actual skills. He had a hunch that the confidence wasn’t backed by actual skills and not to be stereotypical, but she seemed like a ‘daddy’s money buys everything’ kind of girl.

Hongjoong, as he was most of the time, was correct. She was even worse than the others had been. He was honestly clueless how she even got to this point, other than the thought that daddy dearest paid off whoever was choosing the group that would get to come here. Because while the others had some form of talent, she could barely hold a note, and was almost tone-deaf. He hoped that anyone who had heard her sing was compensated heavily for the damage it caused to their ears. How no one had told her she shouldn’t sing, was beyond him.

“Okay. Stop.” Hongjoong told her, but she continued to sing, intent on finishing the song, and also butchering Jongho’s high note, since that was the next part of the song.

“Stop. It.” He told her again, when she was clearly ignoring him.

“Yah! Hyung told you to stop!” Mingi half shouted into the microphone, shutting off the song so she could no longer hear it.

“I was just about to get to the best part and nail it! Why did you stop!?” She said, and Hongjoong was in disbelief at how she thought she’d nail their maknae’s part when she could barely nail any other part of the song. Though, she clearly was delusional anyways, so it probably was par for the course.

“You have no talent. You would have butchered Jongho’s amazing high note, not nail it.” He was blunt with her, having no patience to sugar coat it. Honestly, did no one actually vet the auditionees before bringing them here? Like the fuck?

She stormed out of the booth, coming chest to chest with Hongjoong as he stood up. Mingi stood up as well, the tall alpha coming to stand behind his pack alpha. He knew his pack alpha was more than capable of defending himself, but he would never hesitate to provide backup.

“You’re obviously wrong, everyone in my life has told me that I am the best singer they’ve heard. You should just get your ears checked.” The female alpha told Hongjoong, and the anger that immediately rolled off of the two idols was felt by everyone else in the room, and y/n who had already been slightly on edge because of Hongjoong’s tone the entire time, was worried that a fight would break out. But she also knew better than to step in to try and break things up. It wouldn’t end well for anyone if she did.

All of the eyes in the room were on the two alphas, and no one dared to speak as they didn’t want two angry alphas at their throat.

“I don’t know who you bribed to get here, or how you are delusional enough to think you are even the slightest bit talented vocally, but you are not. You can leave now. I don’t work with untalented people, and that includes you.”

“Excuse me?” The alpha replied, “Fine. If you don’t want me, then I’ll go to JYP, or SM, or HYBE. They’ll be begging for someone as talented as me to join their companies.” The confidence in her voice was staggering. Y/n couldn’t believe how much she believed in her non-existent talent, but she wished that she could be that delusional. Multiple of the other auditionees had the same thought, they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“I’d love to see that. But somehow, I think daddy would be the one paying your way into the smallest companies possible. Besides, I never wanted a new member, none of us did. So if you think you, any of you, are going to just come in and take the spot of a ninth member, you can think again. I want you all gone.” Hongjoong spat, looking at the rest of them halfway through his words.

“Hongjoong-” “Mingi, shut up. You can’t say you had the same reaction to learning about this yesterday. None of us want any of you here, and honestly, you can all go ahead and leave.” The captain finished, anger clear on his face.

“I think it might be best for you all to leave now. I’ll let the staff know we’re done here for today.” Mingi told all of them, trying to lessen the blow that Hongjoong had just delivered.

Y/n was the first to leave, needing to get out of the environment, and that kicked everyone else into motion as well, leaving the two alphas with the delusional alpha in the room. That was until they watched security enter the room and drag her out. No one said a word as they watched her be dragged out while yelling some phrases that even Draco Malfoy wouldn’t dare to say.

They all stood there in the hallway outside of the studio, waiting to see if any of the staff members would show up. Someone did show up, just not who they expected.

“Why are you all waiting out here? Did Hongjoong not let you in?” Seonghwa questioned, looking concerned.

“We kind of got kicked out.” Aaron spoke up, being the one brave enough to do so.

“Why did he kick you out?” Seonghwa said, looking confused.

“He was unhappy, to put it simply.” Aaron replied, and the others, including y/n confirmed his words with nods.

This was when Seonghwa focused his attention on the others, and quickly realized that there was an omega within the group. He quickly moved to put himself in front of y/n, who shyly looked up at him, intimidated by the older omega.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?” He asked her, to which she responded, introducing herself.

“Oh that’s such a cute name. I think you already know who I am, so it’s a little bit of a waste to introduce myself.” He said, smiling down at her. They weren’t that far apart in height, but he still had to look down at her, just a little bit.

“Oh!” He said, suddenly reminded of something, “You should meet Wooyoung. I’m sure you two are close in age, and that little troublemaker always complains about wanting more omega friends.” He told her.

He reached out and grabbed her hand, shocking y/n though Seonghwa doesn’t think much of it, and pulled her away from the group, back down the hall where he came from. “Come on, we’ll go see him now. Plus I’m sure you’ve had a tiring day, if Hongjoong got upset at all of you. So we can go see Wooyoung and introduce the two of you, and then you can relax while I will go and scold my pack alpha for being so aggressive to you and everyone else.”

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[alottiegoingon]

hc!baby steps

sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: where sam takes care of her pregnant girlfriend

warnings: f!reader but no pronouns used, looots of fluff, established relationship, sam and reader live together, overprotective sam, ghostface!sam hcs at the end, mentions of murders and blood but nothing explicit, not proofread

୨୧ sam could not believe when you told her you were pregnant. for the first five seconds she was worrid about money and not being prepared to be a mom but she couldn't be more excited to start a family with you

୨୧ sam would be so careful to not overwhelm you with her protection and anxiety of keeping you safe all the time. she had learned her lesson with tara

୨୧ so, instead of asking you all the time if you were ok, she would stick to you like glue. it was weird to have an extra shadow following you everywhere but you didn't mind it

୨୧ you and sam decided that moving to a safer apartment in new york would be better for the baby. a better neighbourhood with nice schools around. you thought it would be easy, until sam started being a bit too cautious

୨୧ “this one is perfect. there's plenty of natural light," you look around the fourth apartment you visited in that afternoon, hoping that your girlfriend would approve this one. it was the perfect size too

୨୧ too small, too big, too dark, too smelly, noisy neighbours, too far from work. sam could be pretty demanding

୨୧ “it's great, sure,” judging by her voice, you could tell she had found something new to complain about, “but the windows are too big, it could be dangerous," she nods in disapproval, holding tight to your waist as if you were about to fall from the windows even if they were meters away

୨୧ “the baby is not going to be alone, sam. and we can protect the windows and add some nests or baby proof locks” you suggest but she didn’t seem convinced. she would fight the windows if she could!

୨୧ "right. but what if the baby learns how to open them? or what if the safety net is big enough for our baby to go through it?”

୨୧ "is our baby a genius or the ant-man?" the joke relaxes her just enough so you can see a shy smile growing on her lips. “i’m sorry, i just want us to be safe.”

୨୧ “i know, and i’m very grateful for you,” you hold sam’s face, stroking her cheeks, “but i promise that we are going to be safe. i’m okay, the baby is okay and you’re okay. it’s all good.”

୨୧ “i may be worrying too much again,” she admits, leaning into your touch, finally relaxing

୨୧ “just a little, yeah,” giggling, you draw closer to kiss her

୨୧ sam wouldn’t panic over every single thing that happened, at least not out loud, so it was very easy for her to get anxious about her own feelings

୨୧ trying to not make you anxious as well, she would just swallow all of her worries away and hope for the best but you’d always notice how the look in her eyes changed when she’d get nervous

୨୧ “what’s going on, baby?” you’d often comfort her with reassuring words, tender touches and lots of kisses, making sure that sam knew you were completely fine and always by her side

୨୧ sam would be the perfect partner when shopping for baby itens. she’d be sooo happy to pick some adorable baby clothes or whatever you needed and would even try to find matching clothes for you three

୨୧ no matter how many things you had bought, she’d carry all of it and would beg you to not carry any weight or move an extra muscle

୨୧ “give it to me, love, i’ll do it,” sam grabs the water bottle from your empty hands, fighting for her life to open it and carry all off the at least five bags in her arms while doing so

୨୧ “are you sure? cause you already have a lot of-“

୨୧ “it’s fine. i can do it, don’t worry,” she offers you a comforting smile that lasted about a second before going back to duel with the bottle, cursing it while trying to balance the bags

୨୧ you had the weirdest cravings ever and when going out for dinner once, you asked the waitress if they could bring you tuna and ice cream for dessert and it took a weirded out look coming from the woman for sam to intervene

୨୧ “yes, she asked for ice cream and tuna. do you have any?” and she’s all over her like 😡🙄

୨୧ at the supermarket, you were by the sweets section trying to choose a chocolate you liked for a movie night with sam and you gasped when you found your favorite one for sale

୨୧ you were ready to grab one or two when sam showed up with a different cart so full of it that a few ones were about to fall

୨୧ “oh, god,” you mumble, widen eyes incredulously staring at the mountain of candy

୨୧ “i know right? i’m so glad they have your favorite” 😁😁

୨୧ sam would get some good hours of sleep at first but as the baby’s arrival date was getting closer, she would spend almost the entire night just watching you sleep and making sure you were 100% safe and sound

୨୧ sometimes you’d wake up to sam whispering the most adorable shit ever to your belly and calling herself mommy. you were dying there, trying not to bawl your eyes out, but you pretended to be asleep every time, not wanting to interrupt the moment. eventually you’d fall asleep again to the sound of her voice and gentle touches

if ghostface was out there,

୨୧ sam would be extremely overprotective. no going out alone, no talking to any neighbors, no answering phones or getting too close to windows. doors would always be locked. if she could, she would lock you in a tower just like rapunzel

୨୧ sam had to leave for work but leaving you alone was the worst of her nightmares, so she found a way

୨୧ “don’t you think this is a little too much, sam?” you ask, frowning at your girlfriend as she introduces you to a intimidating strong guy wearing a suit. you could swear that he had a gun hidden in there but wouldn’t be surprised if he actually did, sam protectiveness was no joke

୨୧ that was supposed to be your new bodyguard, who would follow you around everywhere. including the shower you were about to take

୨୧ “don’t worry, gorgeous,” she grins, assuring you. “he’ll stay outside”

if sam was ghostface,

୨୧ she would kill everyone that had been rude to you. literally. even the slightest unusual look or barely rude tone would be a great reason for anyone to make it to her list of names

୨୧ if she was ghostface, that waitress that was surprised by your weird tuna-ice cream order would definitely have a surprise visitor waiting for her at home later

୨୧ while shopping for clothes for yourself, a miracle now that everything was about the baby, a woman refused to let you have the last gorgeous dress of your size, even calling you a bitch when all you did was ask her if you could have it

୨୧ sam was furious and you had to hold her back to avoid the other woman to get beaten up and the police to get called

୨୧ the very next morning, you woke up to the news of the same woman found dead in her apartment, her exact face showing up on your tv

୨୧ "what the…" you immediately get up from the couch as you heard the news, looking back at sam who was at the bathroom taking a shower or something. "sam, come here! i think that woman from yesterday got killed.”

୨୧ "really?” she yells from the bathroom, fingers firmly rubbing the blood out of a small cut she had on her cheek, that would later be covered with makeup.

୨୧ "that's awful,” she quickly walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body, stopping right next to you. “i mean, i wouldn’t be surprised if her attitude was what got her killed" she casually comments, eyes attached to the television

୨୧ "sam!" you slap her shoulder and she groans in response. "the woman was killed, don't say that."

୨୧ "you’re right, im sorry," she smiles, reaching her free hand towards you and holding your chin to turn your face to hers so she could place a kiss on your forehead. "it’s a shame she can’t use that dress anymore.”