#fall in this game is gorgeous and what better time to start than when fall starts righttt

[plus-size-reader]

Should Be

Damon Salvatore x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2897 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Damon’s human partner gets jealous of Katherine when she gets out of the tomb.

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Katherine coming back from the tombs wasn’t ideal for anyone.

There was a reason she’d been locked away for as long as she had and really, you didn’t get why they were letting her out in the first place.

The world was going to keep turning whether or not they let her be a part of it. At least, that was what Damon had assured you when the news broke that she had resurfaced.

You didn’t want to care.

In reality, her coming back to Mystic Falls wasn’t any of your business. You hadn’t ever had anything to do with her, and you wouldn’t, even if she came back.

Still, it would be a lie to say that you weren’t really comfortable with it.

The two of them, Katherine and Damon, they had quite a bit of history and you just couldn’t fit the feeling in the pit of your stomach that it was going to be bad news for you. It just didn’t seem right.

Maybe you were jealous, or insecure, or something like that but it didn’t really matter. All you knew was that you weren’t itching for her to come back into any of your lives.

Damon was different, for the better, than when the two of you met but Katherine had quite the hold on him for a really long time and you were worried how her poking around in your lives would affect him.

It couldn’t be good, even if she was magically on her best behavior, somehow.

You just didn’t see that happening.

You weren’t jealous, of course, you had to keep reminding yourself of that. You and Damon had been together for several years, and you knew that he loved you. It was the sort of connection that you’d never had with another person, having been enthralled with him ever since he saved your life.

As it would turn out, that was quite the bonding exercise.

However, no experience you and Damon had ever shared could compare to all the time he and Katherine had been together.

They had been in love, and whether it was real for her or not, Damon had never really even gotten over her betrayal. He cared about her deeply, and you couldn’t imagine how seeing her again would make him feel.

Until recently, you thought that you trusted Damon more than anything.

You trusted him with your life for God's sake and you were sure that nothing would ever change that, but evidently, Katherine had decided to challenge that notion.

Ever since she’d come back into all your lives, she had made a choice to just inject herself into every situation you were in. Even now, from where you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth, you could hear her talking to him in the adjacent bedroom.

It was nothing more than pathetic small talk about their past together but it was more than enough to make your blood boil.

You knew more than enough about the bond they had shared and the time they spent together, you didn’t need to hear it from her on top of everything else that was on your plate.

She might not have been too much of a real threat to you, because you knew that no matter what she did, there was no undoing what she’d done to him but that didn’t make you like her any better.

Frankly, even knowing that, you’d had enough of Lady Katherine.

Her presence here, where you lived, was like a slap in the face.

Decades had passed since they were even in the same room and even then, she had done nothing more than treat him like dirt.

It seemed like common sense that she was just going to do it again, but he was letting her. Damon was barely even putting up a fight and really, you were finding it hard to believe.

After everything that she had put him through, why would he even entertain her presence in this place.

He didn’t owe her anything, not anymore.

You thought that what you and Damon had was more important to him than anything else, but if her coming back into his life was enough to make him question that, it said a lot.

So, even though you wanted to go tell her to get out, you kept it to yourself.

Not well, but you kept it to yourself.

You may have been brushing your teeth more aggressively than you ever had in your entire life, but you hadn’t said anything yet.

For you, that was a win.

Deep down, you weren’t really worried about losing him to her. If Katherine had actually bothered to get to know him all those years ago, she would know that Damon was one of the most devoted and loving men in the world.

He was now, and you were sure that he had been before all this.

You just had to break down those walls of his first.

It took some time but it was well worth it once you earned his trust. You knew that he would do anything for you, and anyone else he loved, she just didn’t actually care.

Not that it mattered to her what kind of bond you two had.

As far as she was concerned, you were just some temporary fling that Damon would get bored of and feed off of at some point, like he did most of the others. He had never actually kept a girlfriend around for very long.

He wasn’t the kind, and in any case, she was sure that you couldn’t hold a candle to her.

She had a hold on him that had lasted, at least somewhat, for all the time that she’d been locked away and in a matter of days, she was sure she could have the raven-haired male eating out of the palm of her hand.

It was that easy.

All she had to do was prove it, and at this rate, it wasn’t going to take long at all.

Here she was, sitting new to him on your fancy little bedspread with him, practically hanging on her every word while you were tucked away. Before long, she wouldn’t have to put up with you anymore at all.

He was bound to come to his senses at some point, and she had nothing but time.

She could wait it out.

Tonight though, she couldn’t have gotten away from you that easily.

You could only hide away in the bathroom for so long and once that time had run out, you entered the bathroom with a casual sigh leaving Katherine’s lips at the sight of you.

Just when she was starting to bring up all those good memories they shared, here you came to ruin it all.

“Could you please move over?” you asked, only looking at her as much as you absolutely had to, catching the tail end of an eye roll that you would have been okay with missing entirely.

All she did was scoff, clearly inconvenienced.

“Why? Am I hurting you here?” she asked, not bothering to cover up the hatefulness in her tone, not that you or Damon was surprised. Speaking of, the dark haired male was still just sitting there, waiting for someone to lunge at the other.

He wasn’t a huge fan of her being here either, but he was trying to be civil.

There was a chance they would need her and burning that bridge too early could cause problems along the way, or at least that was what Stefan told him.

He’d lived without her for a long time and he’d be fine if she fell off the face of the earth tomorrow. Though, if she kept testing you, she may not make it until tomorrow.

She may have had the upper hand over you as far as vampire strength was concerned but you all knew that if she tried to do anything to you, he would turn her head so far around that she’d be the one really out of place.

He wasn’t going to let her hurt you, not if it really came down to it.

“That’s where I sleep,” you explained, gesturing to where she was, sprawled out on your side of the bed, without a care in the world. It wasn’t the kind of thing that you even thought you had to explain but she was pushing you.

She wanted to start a fight.

To Katherine, this was all a game and she had nothing to lose.

There were no rules and she was betting on the fact that she could break you with very little effort.

However, there was one thing she was forgetting. You and Damon shared something she could never hope to have with him, something she had given up a long time ago.

Love

You respected Damon and you cared about him.

The two of you were together through the good times and the bad, not just when you needed something from him or you were bored. In that way, she couldn’t hope to touch what you shared.

Still, there was one thing that worried you.

Katherine was gorgeous.

Her body was incredible, and she had no problem showing it off which she had made very clear tonight. Where you would have wanted to hide away and never go outside again, she just strolled around in nearly nothing, without a care in the world.

Emotionally, you and Damon couldn’t have been closer but physically, you couldn’t help but feel like she would beat you had there been some kind of competition.

Even you would have chosen her over you in that regard.

When she stood from the bed, dramatically throwing her hair over her shoulder to give Damon one final wink before leaving, you got a good look at her long legs, even further making you rethink yourself.

Why was Damon with you when he could have had her all this time? Sure, he didn’t know she was down there until today but now that he knew, there was nothing keeping him from picking her.

After she’d left, you plopped down on your side of the bed, immediately turning away from Damon and cuddling into your pillow.

You knew it wasn’t his fault you were having these thoughts about yourself, but you didn’t want to be around him right now.

You didn’t want him to be reminded of what he could have had.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, after a few seconds of sitting in the dark, staring at the back of your head without a kiss on his lips. You always kissed him before bed, but tonight, you didn’t even seem to care if he was breathing.

It was unlike you and it worried him, not that he would ever admit it.

You didn’t answer right away, letting his words simmer in the air for a few moments as you thought about what you wanted to say. There weren’t really words that would make any sense to him.

From where he was sitting, you would seem jealous and out of your mind but this wasn’t about Katherine anymore.

For you, this was about how he’d settled with the wrong woman and you couldn’t help but feel like he was lying to you about his feelings.

How could he be attracted to you when you looked like you did?

You had asked him before, on a bad day when you woke up feeling huge and ugly, but this was different. Katherine prancing around here had shown you everything that you could have looked like.

What you should have looked like.

“It’s nothing, let’s just go to bed” you tried, far too physically and mentally exhausted to have this conversation.

For now, you just wanted to get some sleep, you could deal with Katherine and all her business tomorrow.

As for your body, that was just going to have to be tomorrow's problem as well. Physical exhaustion always won out over mental anguish, no matter how much you tried to force your own hand in that regard.

All you could hope was that you felt better in the morning, and maybe then, you could explain all this weird stuff to Damon.

~

You woke up to a cold bed, which was pretty much par for the course when it came to sleeping next to a vampire but when you rolled around and found he was gone, that was when you got a little worried.

That was new.

Damon never got out of bed before you, if he even got out of bed when you did, and you couldn’t help but be concerned about what he could have been doing.

Knowing Damon, it could have literally been anything.

Though, the last thing you expected to find when you turned the corner was the man you loved, trying and failing to make what smelled like chocolate chip pancakes and scrambled eggs.

“Good morning my love, would you care to explain why I went to bed without a goodnight kiss?” he wondered, focusing more on the glass of bourbon in his hands than the breakfast that was surely burning on the stove.

He always tried his best where the more domestic stuff was concerned but it just wasn’t his strong suit. He just wasn’t as much of a wiz in the kitchen as he liked to pretend that he was in moments like this.

“After I put out the grease fire you’re about to start” you sighed, moving the pan from the fire and setting it in the sink.

Damon wasn’t going to let you get off easy after last night, but the most you could do was buy yourself some time before you made an absolute fool out of yourself.

He wasn’t about to just let this go.

He never did.

“I’m serious, you got all squirrely after Katherine left” Damon prodded, his hands falling on your hips, which he used as leverage to turn you toward him, trapped between his body and the sink.

You sighed, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t have to have this conversation but knowing that you would.

It was embarrassing.

Part of you, the mature part, knew that this wasn’t that big of a deal but the other part couldn’t help but hate her. She wasn’t just some beautiful girl, Mystic Falls was full of those, but Katherine was a threat.

This was much more about how she was clearly trying to take Damon from you than actually just trying to be a friend to any of you.

She wasn’t that kind.

“Excuse me if I’m not thrilled to have your psychotic ex girlfriend prancing around in her underwear” you scoffed, not understanding what it really was that he was missing.

You were projecting, of course, but there was no real way around it. As insecure as Katherine made you, her being here was just as much of the problem. You didn’t want her injecting herself into your life.

It wasn’t her place, and the idea that he wanted you to somehow be okay with it was really messing with you.

“Cute”

From Damon, that was little more than a casual huff but he knew you better than to just believe that. It wasn’t like you to act like you did last night, not with him, even where she was concerned.

You were better than that.

You were better than her, that was why he didn’t think anything of her immature little games.

“Now the truth” he prompted, a soft smile on his face as he waited for you to tell him what was really eating at you. This had been dragging out for way too long, and he really just wanted to get it over with.

He wanted to help  you feel better, and he would do anything he could to make that happen, you both knew that.

Damon would have gladly turned her inside out if it would make a difference, but first, you had to tell him what was bothering you. He was good, but he wasn’t that good. You had to give him something to go off of.

“She is what I should be, what you deserve” you muttered, the words barely leaving your lips as you thought about them. You didn’t want to admit it to him, almost as much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

You didn't like that she got under your skin, because she knew that she could. The more you let her, the more she got what she wanted.

...and you hated that.

“I think I’d rather have you” Damon shrugged, not even hesitating in his response. Given the two of you, and the person that Katherine was, there was nothing in the world he would have rather had than you.

He definitely didn’t want her.

Katherine had turned her back on Damon a million and one times, and at the end of the day, she couldn’t have given a damn what happened to him but you weren’t like that. You had the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever known, in several lifetimes.

There was nothing he wouldn’t trade, if it meant that he got to keep you.

At the end of the day, you were his person and he knew a good thing when he had it.

[sophiethewitch1]

Whispers Of You

Chapter One - Torn From Home

Warnings: Mentions of University. Kinda mean Parents. Self-hate. Yandere stuff. And cult themes for future reference.

=

You stare up at the rain behind your red umbrella, watching the drops fall in torrents. It was a cold and wet day, but you still were outside. You liked the rain, after all. It was a deafening sound, one that quietened the rest of the world. The curtain of water drips down past you, obscuring the rest of the world from view.

 A happy bark sounds beside you, and you look down with a smile.

 A giant white samoyed sits beside you, her body bigger than the umbrella's covered area. Her tail wags back and forth, and her giant pink tongue hangs out. She’s half drenched, but she’s still happy as ever. You wish you could be as stupid as her, never having to worry about anything. Her name was Soup, and she was your best (and only) friend.

 You’d bought her a few years ago, on another one of your buying sprees. Seeing as you had literally no friends, you’d thought a pet would be nice. You’d been right, and for the next few years she accompanied you everywhere. Soup was the reason you thought the phrase ‘money can’t buy happiness’ was bullshit. And also manga, anime, video games… the list goes on.

 Your gloved hand moves to ruffle her fur, and her black eyes close in pure bliss. The two of you are sitting on a small bench at the park, near the lake in your town. Living in an upper-middle class area the park was pristine and beautiful. Near you were some gorgeous purple pink hydrangeas, flourishing in the current rainy season.

 You look up at the cloudy sky again, some rain drops hitting the edge of your chin. The rain falls beside your feet, making your shoes wet. You don’t mind, ignoring the feeling. It was worth it. There was nothing better than the rain. 

 Ah well, not everything, you suppose.

 “Haahh… Soup, I wanna go home and play games…”  you say, your voice barely heard over the torrential downpour. 

 “But Mum’s home, and God-” you cut off your mumbling with a shake of your head, choosing to ignore your rampant thoughts. It was like this every Friday when she got home, and it would be like this till you finally moved out. You didn’t hate Mum, or Dad You just… weren’t good enough. You were always tired, and depressed, and stupid. University sucked, and so did everything at home. Always nagging you to do more studying. Like you even wanted a job...

 You wouldn’t be able to go home and play anything, read anything, watch anything… 

 Your eyelids sag slightly, your body growing sleepy. What time was it anyway? You pull out your phone, opening it up to the home page. 12:03. Ah, good morning dear world. Your thumb slides across the opening screen, tapping in your password with one hand as you hold the umbrella precariously. 

 You click on twitter, scrolling through post after post of mind-rotting stupidity. Some people are talking about the new Genshin update, showing off their characters with pride. You frown slightly, thinking back to the ridiculous amount of money you’d spent on said game. You had your own job, and plus the allowance from your parents, you had gotten quite a bit of cash. You just spent it on manga, anime and… the black-hole that is gacha games. And it was likely you’d be spending even more in the future.

 Another reason to disappoint your parents. You should move out.

 You wonder to yourself if you want to play right now, but decide against it, opening up another dumb gacha game on your phone. Anime boys and girls, the true ichor of your life. The hours pass by with your tapping and playing, wishing you were at home and could play on your pc where it was warm. 

 Eventually the screen before you starts to blur, and your hand sinks into your lap. Vaguely you think you shouldn’t fall asleep here, that it wasn’t safe. But it wasn’t like you’d get any sleep at home...

 Your eyelids slide shut without your consent, and you fall asleep with the rain still pattering above you.

 -

 The sun filters in through your shut eyes, and you squeeze them closed tighter. What time was it? Why hadn’t your alarm started, screaming at you to wake up? It was a Saturday though, right? Ah, but you skipped dinner last night to stay at the park. Wait, didn’t-

 Shit.

 You shoot up, head whipping around in shock. When you don’t see the park, or even your bedroom around you, your heart nearly falls out of your chest. You make a panicked whimpering noise and fall off the surface you were on and onto the cold floor beneath you. Black and white marble tiles break your fall, freaking you out even further. Nowhere in your house did you have these tiles.

 You shuffle backwards on your ass, your back eventually hitting a wall. A bookshelf falls down beside you, and you shriek. Your hands immediately slap to your mouth, and you bring up your knees in front of you, hiding in a fetal position.

 “Bark! Bark!” a familiar barking makes your head whip to the side, and you find Soup sitting beside you. You nearly weep in relief when you see her, your arms wrapping around her into a hug.

 You squeeze yourself as close as possible to her, trying to quell your rising panic. It’s hard, and you almost feel it overcome you, but eventually you let out a quiet gasp as you sink into her side, withstanding the panic attack. You listen to her rhythmic panting beside your ear for a bit longer, slowly letting your rampant heart beat settle down. 

 You curl away from Soup’s side, wide eyes staring around at the room. Were you dreaming? Had you been kidnapped? No, why would someone kidnap you and your dog. That’s insane. Plus, Soup barks when there's a bird less than three blocks away, she’d go insane if someone touched you. ...But this doesn’t feel like a dream, does it?

 “Where the fuck are we, Soup…?” her big white face simply smiles up at you in that same dog-like way, and you press your face into her fur. Once again, you desperately wished you had the ability to be as stupid as her.

 Your eyes move up again, taking in the… strange… scenery around you. You seem to be in an old European room. Littered on desks inside the room is… science... equipment? Bottles and scrolls, aligned with concoctions and tinctures that almost remind you of potions. At the back of the room by the window that is letting in the soft morning light, sits a pin-board full of papers and research notes.

 You get up from the tiled floor, letting Soap carefully down. Her paws quietly pad against the marble tiles, and you slowly move away from her. Your feet move over to the window, and you stare out it, squinting at the bright light.

 The first thing you notice is how old this place is. And then that you’d never seen it before.

 A church bell chimes in the distance as you rub your eyes in shock. The sun shines to your left, cresting over the eastern skyline. It’s gorgeous glow setting the small part of the city you see in a faint light. There’s a small mansion, city walls, various red-roofed houses and… a windmill? Something about this view sparks a memory inside you, but-

 The door behind you creaks open, and you whirl around, slamming your back against the window. Your eyes are wide open when they meet the equally shocked eyes of the man in front of you. His blond hair hangs in his face, half up and half down, but you can still see his startlingly bright aqua blue eyes.

 Your mind stutters for a moment, eyes twitching around you for a moment, desperately looking for a weapon. Eventually, you just dart forward onto your knees, hiding behind Soup.

 “She- she bites! Don- Don’t come any- any closer!” you stammer out the words, dragging you and Soup’s huge body behind one of the desks. 

 “Ah- no, wait! There’s no need to be afraid, I won’t hurt you,” the male’s voice calls out to you, and through your panic you feel a pang of recognition, but the sensation falters under your fear. 

 “I- I said stay back dammit!” you respond, hearing his footsteps clacking against the marble floor. He stops at your words, hesitating for a moment. 

 “...Okay, I’ll bring someone else here. You’ll like her I promise, just… please stay here, Your Excellency,” he says, his voice low and soothing, like you were a scared animal. You were. You totally were.

 Wait, ‘Your Excellency’? Was this guy- well, insane, obviously. You wondered what his delusions were exactly. Did he think you were a princess that he’d saved? Or maybe he was part of a cult. Fucking rich people, they had them in spades.

 You realise the mistake in falling asleep at the park. God, if you are out there, please, I’ll be smarter next time-

 “Ah! Ah! Is she here?! Can Klee really go meet her?!” a kid yells out from the doorway, and you curse under your breath. He’s got kids too? Now you couldn’t just escape with you and Soup-

 A head darts out from around your hiding spot, and for a second your world stops.

 A small girl with blond hair in two pigtails, bright red eyes and pointed ears. She wears a red hat along with a matching red dress, a feather sticking out from the right side of her head. Her smile is wide and excited.

 That’s… that’s Klee. From Genshin Impact.

 That- wait, the guy was Albedo! How did you miss that?! And how did- they looked just like you’d expected, did he use plastic surgery?! Their costumes were absolutely perfect too, looking like real leather and high quality cloth and metals. Could cosplaying fanatics turn out… like this? Was he a pervert or something?! You were so screwed…!

 The little girl in front of you gasps, her hands flying to her face.

 “Oh my gawsh! It really is you!” she darts forward, throwing her arms around your neck. This puts her right next to Soup’s face, who immediately moves forwards and starts licking the fake-Klee.

 You just stare forward, too shocked to move. 

 “What the…” brushes past your lips.

 “It’s so good to see you! Klee really missed you, you know?! Ah- we have to go fish-blasting, and treasure hunting and- and-!” the end of her words becomes a high pitched blur, and you still don’t know what’s going on.

 The pervert rounds the corner, and you immediately hug the girl to your chest, doing your best to protect her. Soup instantly notices the shift in your attitude and moves in front of you, standing guard.

 “Klee, you’re overwhelming her. Calm down,” he says, and fake-Klee nods her head, a small pout on her face.

 You stare up at the man, wondering what he wants. A soft smile sits on his face, and when his eyes meet yours, they dart away. One gloved hand moves upwards, rubbing the back of his neck. Your eyes catch on the tattoo on his chest, a golden star symbol.

 This was bad.

 Soup lets out a quiet growl, and fake-Klee whirls around in your arms. She turns to Soup with a pout on her face and says.

 “Mr. Soup! You can’t treat Albedo like that, he’s very nice!”

 You blink.

 How did she know your dog's name? Was this guy stalking you?

 You slowly move to get your feet, staring the man in the eye. He looks stiff under your gaze, uncertain what to do. What? Did the guy think you’d go along with the kidnapping and freakish dress up?

 Hell no!

 “You… are going to let me and-” your eyes dart down to the girl clinging to your arm. She gives you a bright smile, her eyes squeezing shut. She really thought she was Klee, didn’t she?

 “...Her… go. We are going to leave, or-” you start but the girl cries out.

 “What?! But you just got here! Can you please play with me? Please, please, please?!” she shouts, tugging at your arm and bouncing up and down. Your eyes dart to her ears, flopping up and down with the movement. ...Realistic, all of this feels way too realistic. Like a scene that’d happen in the game.

 You gulp down that impossibility, nodding your head slowly. 

 “...Sure, but first, I’d like to go find your parents! Doesn’t that sound nice? And you’ll let us do that, right?” You move your eyes back to the pervert, distrust shining in them. He looks at you for a moment, sighs and shakes his head, and turns.

 He moves over to one of the tables, grabbing a piece of chalk. He holds it in his hand, his cerulean gaze moving back to you for a second, and then falling back to the chalk.

 And then the chalk shifts.

 You stare in horror as the chalk stretches into the shape of a flower, the refined limestone turning into soft, weeping petals. You blink, once, twice. It doesn’t change back. He watches with quiet eyes, moving forward to you.

 Your muscles tense, and he stops for a moment, analyzing the set of your shoulders. After a second, he takes another step forward.

 His hand extends, the impossible chalk sculpture moving towards you.

 “For you, Your Excellency,” he says, and you feel your mouth open to say something. Anything. Anything would be better than the silence.

 “Ahhhh! Albedo! Gimme the flower! I wanna give it to (Y/n)!” the girl beside you whines, and you notice she says your name.

 You look back up to the pervert- Albedo’s eyes, a worried look in them. He gives you a small smile, tilting his head to the side slightly.

 You think you’re going to faint.

Next Chapter

[moemammon]

Can I request the bros reacting to mc running up to them for a surprise hug? Fluff or crack works for me ahaha I hope you have a lovely day!

Think Fast! It's a Surprise Hug!

(Feat. The Demon Bros and GN!MC)

Lucifer

Who in the blazes is running down the hall-

Leaves his office ready to smite someone, when you suddenly crash into his torso and cling to him.

Takes him a minute to realize that you're hugging him on purpose, and not trying to play off running into him on accident

But did you really need to run down the hall for that?? Ngl it kinda strokes his ego to know you came rushing specifically to see him, but he'll never admit it.

"Running around the house just to hug me, MC? I'm flattered, but isn't there a quieter way for you to come to me? If you ask properly next time, I'll be glad to entertain you."

Mammon

You fool... Mammon can sense when you're coming to him!! There's no surprise here except YOUR surprise when he catches you!

He's so smug about it too, spinning you around with a wide grin on his face before he pulls you in.

And when he's done, he'll promptly pull back and fight off that impending feeling of embarrassment that's creeping up on him.

Of course you'd wanna hug THE Great Mammon. Who wouldn't?? Though he can't deny that he was a little surprised when you just leapt at him like that-

"Tryin' to catch me off guard, huh? I saw ya from a mile away, so it's impossible! Who can resist huggin' me?" "....S-So makes it's only ME you're huggin' like that, ya hear?!"

Levi

His lightning fast reflexes are no match for your sheer speed... or rather, his weak gamer body doesn't let him dodge you

Gets mowed down oop-

Can't even be mad at you though because he's so 😳❤️ about you ACTUALLY wanting to hug him

So while he's recovering from his new concussion, he's stammering and fidgeting while he tries to figure out where his hands should go

"M-M-MC!! You can't just come out of nowhere like that, you know?! A-At least give me a chance to prepare my heart!! I don't mind hugging you, s-so warn me next time!"

Satan

You surprise the hell out of him when you come sprinting down the hall and suddenly cling to his back

Was about to kick into fight or flight mode until he realized it was just you. Instantly softens up awwww

You make him laugh though, looking all disheveled and grinning at him triumphantly.

How dare you try to be more mischievous than he is. Don't you know HE'S the king of surprises?? 😤

"Did you really come running just to catch me off guard? I'll admit you surprised me, you cheeky thing. But you'd better watch out, because I plan to get revenge. Why don't we make this into a game?"

Asmo

HOE DONT DO IT

You know DAMN WELL you see he's holding a curling iron wAIT A SECOND PLEASE

But you don't wait, and Asmo has four seconds to quickly put the iron down or he risks burning the both of you.

His cheeks are all red and he's clearly annoyed, but he can't stay angry when you came all this way just to hug him. Who said you could be so cute??

"MC!! What would you have done if I singed my hair, hm?? Or worse, my gorgeous face! That's it... as punishment, you have to spend the entire evening with me! Now sit down, so I can get you ready~"

Beel

Beel hears you take your running start, and internally panics. MC wait pls, his arms are full of so much food plea-

Soft "oof" as he catches you in his arms, watching in dismay as all of his snacks go falling to the floor

When they ask you how you're doing and you have to say that you're fine, but you're not really fine-

Doesn't know if he's happy to be holding you in his arms, or distraught about the food gone to waste. But tbh we all know he's gonna eat it off the floor so-

"Did something good happen? You're pretty excited. If you came to tell me about the 'buy-one-get-one' special at McDevil's, I already know about it. But.. since I dropped it all, why don't we get some together?"

Belphie

Dodges-

Just kidding, Belphie knows there's a coffee table right there and doesn't want you smashing into it, so he's bracing himself for impact.

He doesn't open his arms for you, but lets you cling to him for a little while. Leans into it like the wee baby he is

Can't help but chuckle at you, despite trying his best to look like this is the biggest inconvenience in the world.

"Seriously, how can you always be so full of energy? Just looking at you makes me tired... so I hope you're okay with offering yourself up as my pillow. Don't move, okay?"

[luveline]

brainwashed [Fred Weasley x reader]

tags: fluff, confessions, first kiss, reader-insert

word count: 1.5k

summary: Fred thinks you like George. Technically, you told him so. Though, technically, it’s a lie.

Brainwashed. You must have been brainwashed because you were in love with Fred Weasley.

You must be crazy, or delusional, or imperiused, or perhaps poisoned. He had beguiled himself to you.

You were as opposed to your infatuation as you were opposed to many things - like murder. And torture.

And infatuated you were. Your eyes sought him out everywhere you went. He was lovely, truly, with gorgeous brown eyes and a charming face, a quirky and honest smile. On top of all this, you loved how free he looked. Incredibly free, as though nothing could ever hold him back.

You loved him. He was going to kill you.

You picked at the roast dinner on your plate. Your appetite had dissipated the moment you'd realised you were in love with him and it had yet to return. It'd been 3 weeks.

You sighed mournfully, holding your face in your hand.

"Are you finished? We're going back to the common room," one of your friends asked.

"No, I should probably finish this, you guys go ahead."

Your friends smiled and bid you goodbye. Goodness, you wished you could stomach something, anything at all, but the only thing you'd managed in days was crackers and you'd already eaten the ones your dad had sent via owl.

Oh, how you craved a sleeve of saltines.

You poked again at the roast potatoes and gravy on your plate and frowned. Maybe you'd be better off skipping it for today anyway. Surely throwing up used more energy than what would've been gained.

You looked intensely at the grain of the table. You willed yourself to shake it off, move on with your life.

But you were in love.

Your eyes flitted to him again. He was sitting a few feet away with his brother and your friend, Lee Jordan.

You'd known Lee through your shared passion for gobstones, you'd even paired together for team matches in second and third year. Since then you'd remained friendly, often playing together when no one else was willing. A dangerous game, gobstones.

To your great misfortune, George had noticed your staring. You looked away quickly, the tops of your ears warming red. This was hardly the first time you'd been caught staring at Fred this year. Hell, this week.

You stabbed the tines of your fork into an ugly looking sprout, tempted to eat it just to look as though you couldn't possibly have been spying.

"You don't have to look so sickened, it's only a sprout," he said.

You gazed up at him pleadingly.

Fred gifted you an easy smile, sliding into the seat opposite you. His robes were ragtag and scruffy, his shirt untucked. The only thing straight was his tie, though it seemed a few good shakes from falling off.

You floundered for something to say.

"Not hungry?" he asked kindly. You looked down at your plate.

"Oh - no, not really. I'm actually feeling a bit sick."

"Yes, I'd say so. You're as green as the sprouts."

You laughed. His smile curved wider.

"So, Y/N, Lee has a theory. I've come to see if he's right, and win a few galleons, of course."

"Right," you said nervously.

Fred knocked his hand on the table. His lovely, lovely hand.

"Right," he agreed, "So, the theory. Well, please don't feel disrespected by this, it's purely theoretical, though if you do, that's alright too. I'm sure Georgie will be very flattered, as you're a stunning piece of work, though he's very happily embedded into the sides of Angelina Johnson."

"Okay," you cut him off, confused. "So, the theory?"

"Well, you fancy George, don't you?"

It took you a few seconds to catch up. "Fancy - I fancy George?" you asked, or you thought you asked. It came out flat and strangled.

Fred clicked his fingers and clambered to his feet. "Damn. I owe Lee a few quid after that one! Funny thing, I thought you fancied me. Well, see you around doll."

You were up and out of the hall before you could witness what you'd created.

-

You spent that night crying. It was more of a stress cry than a sad cry, no gasping sobs or heavy breathing, though you felt a bit light-headed when it was over.

The tears started in the shower and never quite stopped. At breakfast, you were careful to bite your lip and look up at the lights whenever you felt it coming on again.

Your eyes were puffy all through classes. Your friends shot you sneaky glances through the day. One of the guys from Hufflepuff in your charms class asked you how you were and offered you a biscuit.

It was a disaster.

You kept waiting for George to come up to you. It could go one of four ways.

1. George approaches you. Tells you that's he's flattered but definitely dating someone.

2. George approaches you. Tells you he finds your attention uncomfortable, and that he hopes you can control yourself.

3. George approaches you. Tells you he loves you too. Angelina murders you in the Gryffindor common room.

4. George approaches you. You cut him off and tell him the truth. He tells his brother. You never leave your room again.

You sighed.

Well, maybe you'd lived a nice life.

You were dismissed from lessons earlier than usual. You gathered your things in a rush and practically flew through the door, trying to turn as many corners as you could before the inevitable panic began.

"Y/L/N!"

Shit. You blanched, spinning on your hell.

"Heeeeeeyyy, George, how are you?

"I'm good. Yourself?"

"Oh, I'm fab, thanks."

"Right... so listen. I just wanted to say, I'm flattered that you fancy me, but I'm deeply in love with my girlfriend, and-"

"It's Fred. I fancy Fred."

George squinted at her, mouth still open mid-word. "But, you told Fred you liked me."

You wrung your hands together. "Yes, well. I was nervous, and I wasn't really expecting him to ask me, and-"

George laughed suddenly and loudly, startling you.

"This is brilliant. Ha! Oh my Godric." He reached forward and patted you on the shoulder. "You could've picked worse. He's very handsome; I'm sure you'll have lovely babies." He wiped a finger under his eye as though catching a falling tear.

Then he turned and began to sprint.

"I- George!" you yelped.

"Sorry!!" he shouted over his shoulder, "Twin code of honesty!"

"Twin code of being a tattletale," you said to yourself. "Twin code of ruining my life. Twin code of being absolute wankers.”

-

You were reading in a secluded section of the library when he finally found you.

"Weasley, I know you aren't of the habit, but please leave me to die shamefully of embarrassment unaccompanied."

Fred sat on the table next to your book, looking down at you.

"You told me you liked George."

"Technically, I didn't."

"You said, 'I like George', what is technical about that?"

You floundered. Closed the book and marked your page and tried not to look at him.

You failed. "Okay," you admitted, "I did say that. But I meant it more like... 'I like George?'. With a question mark. You know."

He didn't reply, though his gaze was intense.

"Like, 'I like George?'" You exaggerated your questioning tone this time.

He still didn't answer, lips pressed together tightly.

"Like-"

"If you tell me you fancy my brother one more time, I'm going to kiss you."

"You are?"

"Y/N."

"I like-"

Fred cut you off, covering your mouth with his hand. You looked up at him dolefully.

"It's almost like you want me to."

"I don't?" you asked against his hand.

"Well, can I?"

"Can you?

"You're impossible."

"Yes, you can kiss me."

He grinned, your face in his hand.

He leaned down. The air was warm between you and warmer when your lips met. He tasted like caramel.

You fed into it, pushing your hands up onto his neck and in his hair. He responded in turn, deepening the kiss with a familiarity you tried not to think of.

You wanted to be so close in that moment you pushed yourself up. The chair you sat on tumbled backwards, startling you both.

Fred only laughed, wiping the wetness from your lips.

He would kill you. You just knew it.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton (lmk if u want to be added/removed :3)

[obsessing-over-fictionn]

pt. four(and final) of things i gathered from reading nora's extra content :

parts one, two, three

[tws: guns, shooting]

- if kevin were ever to make out with any of the foxes, it would be allison because a) she's gorgeous and b) there would be no strings attached

- "(I was super proud of myself for making Kevin like pineapples because I am not a fan of them and I was like YES NORA THINK OUTSIDE THE COMFORT ZONE)" - nora about kevin liking pineapples

- kevin's best memory that isn't exy related is finding kayleigh's letter and discovering who his father is

- seth could sing! he was a tenor

- seth doesn't hit woman unless it's on the court

- aaron has the second-best grades on the team after kevin

- nicky never reconciles with his family after drake

- and rightfully so luther can die

- neil was matt's best man at his wedding :')

- thea and kevin got married and had a child who got along well with 'grandpa wymack'

- as cute as that is, ew bc imo kev and thea are not it

- but anyway

- jean and renee attempted long distance dating but it didn't work out

- definitely because jean and jeremy are meant to be(this is my opinion tho so)

- renee is the only one of the foxes to marry without the other foxes in attendance, but only because she met someone who worked with her and they couldn't take enough time off of their job to have a wedding and the place that they were didn't take well to visitors

- jean was originally going to commit suicide to alert and bring attention to the abuse faced in the nest but it was changed in the last draft

- neil only ever places one bet the entirety of his time at palmetto state

- aaron proposes to katelyn before starting his fifth year, and they marry soon after graduation

- after graduation allison becomes a fashion designer

- allison had two kids, one son and one trans daughter ! she was fiercely supportive and god i love her

- allison's son develops a crush on kevin's kid💀

- matt proposed to dan on the morning of his graduation ceremony

- later on in the pros, andrew would punch their coach after they let an injured neil onto the court for a sub

- between andrew and neil, andrew is better with babies

- the only reason why robin cross, the freshman goalie that is recruited andrew's senior year, was approached was because andrew specifically asked for her

- if you want to know more about robin(her story is actually pretty messed up), here's the link

- when robin is incepted into the cousin's family, she moves into their dorm

- but because there are only four beds, andrew gives her his and shares with neil

- andrew gives robin his and renee's knives when he graduates

- originally, kevin and riko were dating but they broke up because riko cheated on him with jean, though riko and jean went by different names

- in that draft jean actually broke kevin's hand instead

- riko had capital i Issues

- like we already knew that but still

- "Did you know that from day 1 of All for the Game, when it was a shoddy little comic taking place in a Japanese high school, up until the second-to-last draft, they were lovers? The main drama in the first comic was that Riko had cheated on Kevin with Jean, and Kevin stormed off in a heartbroken fit, and Riko was trying to win him back before Kevin & Neil fell in love together." - nora about kevin and riko

- riko broke kevin's hand by stomping on it

- there was a draft where riko shot both neil and kevin, though neil was the only one to survive

- after jean moves to the trojans, kevin tells jeremy that jean can't go anywhere alone due to being so used too the raven's way of living and functioning

- i take this as confirmation that jeremy and jean get really close and they bond and fall in love and-

- when kayleigh and wymack were a thing, they were in an open relationship because kayleigh didn't have time for monogamy

- it's also helped to disguise kevin's parentage

- "Wymack was definitely sweeter on her than she was on him, and it killed him a little that he couldn’t win her over, but he respected her wishes and never pushed her for more than what she wanted to give him. He did a lot of drinking on the nights she was out with her other lovers, though. His head understood why it was better this way–she had dreams, and he had dreams, and they would spend most of their lives apart because of the paths they needed to walk even if they were each other’s one & only–but it took his heart a couple years to catch on." - nora about wymack and kayleigh's relationship

- half of the canon drafts of tfc ended with kevin dying

- nora says that kevin's straight but no he isn't

- nora's aro-ace !!

- say kandreil(kev, neil, and andrew) had still been a thing. if kevin had died, andrew and neil would have had a massive falling out and the resulting events would result in neil leaving abruptly, taking his money and contacts with him and leaving without warning

- the loss of both neil and kevin so close together sent andrew further into a spiral of self-destruction. he was on the edge when neil finally returned, but it took a long, long time for their relationship to be eveb halfway mended

- nora sakavic is actually a pseudonym !

- tfc was born from the most epic of thoughts: 'i want to write a comic about gay athletes'

- abby and wymack never get married but they do move in together during neil's fifth year

- they grow old and are eventually buried together

[aizawaskittenwhore]

𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

≛ 𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴.

≛ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

≛ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1𝘬

≛ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢 /𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘥𝘰𝘮 (𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪), 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 ����𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘥𝘶𝘩.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

i’m gonna be honest

that whole “innocent bby deku🥺” shit is played out. this man will demolish your pussy and will not apologize for it.

izuku has the full capacity to be rough in bed, so don’t let his sweet and demure presence fool you

he’s really into overstim surprisingly enough

watching you stir and keen as you cum again for the third time in a row fills him with a sense of pride

knowing nobody else could make you whine like this, make you sputter and stumble over each word, make you cream all over the dick the way he does

he also adores fucking you to the point where you can’t form a comprehensible sentence

he’ll give you deep, slow strokes while holding a bullet vibe directly to your swollen clit, pine eyes sparkling as he watches you plead for him to stop, yet buck your hips into him, chasing another orgasm.

calls you bunny instead of puppy bc ew

“you’re so insatiable, bunny. you like it when i—ah, fuck!—tease your pussy like this? ‘like it when i take what’s mine?”

the pleasure is overwhelming, insurmountable as he brings you to that prepice over and over again until you’re crying.

he’ll then flip you onto your stomach, hands digging into the dimples and slopes of your hips before absolutely impaling you on his length

he’s thick, and comes in at a solid 6-7 inches, so you’re always sore after a round or two

also

breeding kink. like a major one.

izuku wasn’t always the most confident in his abilities as a boyfriend let alone a lover

so when you started letting him cum inside you it was a huge boost

likes breeding you before work so he can think about the guys that hit on you in the break room smelling the scent of sex all over your body as you walk past them, sticky white fluid creeping down the leg of your pantyhose.

he couldn’t keep other guys from looking at you, but he could damn sure remind you of who you belonged to.

oh, and he’ll slide two fingers in once he’s done and scoop as much of his cum between them as possible before slipping them in your mouth so he can watch you suck it all off

this mf is possessive and nasty.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

facefucking.

that’s it. send tweet

nah but in all seriousness, katsuki loves watching your eyes well up with tears as you squeeze and milk his dick for all it’s worth.

he’s a good 7-7.5 inches

not an insane amount of girth but the length more than compensates for it

most definitely uses it as a punishment

and isn’t afraid to do it while you’re in public either

which brings us to his exhibition kink

he’s very prideful when it comes to his reputation as a hero, so you would think that it would keep him from doing anything scandal worthy

wrong

it only adds to the searing arousal he gets from watching your tongue fondle his sensitive head, knees bruised from being beneath him for so long

it’s a power trip for him, especially if he’s in costume

depending on your behavior, he’ll be generous and let you swallow while praising your performance

or he’ll wrap a hand around the back of your neck, slide your mouth off of his spit-soaked cock, and stroke himself until his cum splatters all over your eyelashes, fully debauching you in the desolate alleyway

he’s made you walk back home with cum all over your face before, after you’d been particularly bratty over the course of a week

“katsuki! i can’t walk back home like this, what if someone notices?!”

“should’ve thought about that before you decided to visit me while you weren’t wearing any fuckin’ panties. nasty little girl...now hurry up and get a move on, and you better not wipe it off either.”

loves the thrill of humiliating you

unrelated, but he’s an ass man through and through, taking such pleasure in watching it jiggle and ripple under each heavy blow he delivers

takes photos of the marks afterwards and has an album for em.

he also loves fucking you on different surfaces around your penthouse (and his agency)

the man is territorial

so what better way to mark his territory than by making his gorgeous girlfriend squirt and cream all over it?

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰:

babe i am so sorry for your neighbors

cause if there’s nothing else shinsou loves it’s to make you scream

he’s got a corruption kink, but not in the way most people do

he doesn’t give a damn if you’re sweet and innocent, or if you’ve got the mouth of a sailor and could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch

what matters to him is making you lose your composure.

one day you’d been anticipating a call back from a job interview you’d gone to a few days prior

and shinsou just so happened to be observing your blissed-out expression as he ground into you from below, your body atop his

when your damned phone started ringing

being the sly little shit that he is, he saw an opportunity

“answer the phone pretty girl...don’t wanna keep them waiting, do you?”

reaching for your buzzing cell, you press the green ‘accept’ button, raising the device to your ear as you jolt forward

“hello, may i speak to y/n?” a chipper voice chimed through the receiver.

“t-this is sh-she. how can i—ah!—help you?” you garble your words, trying to suppress your moans

hitoshi merely takes this as a challenge, opting to drive into you deeper whilst trying to keep the noise down, it’s less fun when it’s obvious what you two are doing

his dick is thick as FUCK. 6 going on 7 inches but honestly you couldn’t give less of a fuck with the way he’s stretching you

surprisingly enough you managed your way through the phone call, telling the white lie of “helping the neighbors move”

but little did you know this was only the beginning of hitoshi’s new favorite pastime

he’s another exhibitionist too

so uh...good luck with that

remote control vibrators on dinner dates, fingers stuffed deep inside your sloppy cunt while he makes small talk with your mom at the dinner table,

even kneeling beneath your desk and sending you to heaven and back while you’re on a video call with your fucking boss.

he’s addicted to watching you fall apart, and is more than willing to apply that pressure.

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

dabi’s dick would fuck anyone stupid.

let’s make that clear.

it’s canon that he’s got a jacob’s ladder, blah blah blah, but let’s discuss how fucking pretty it is

creeping in at a firm eight inches, and about 4 and a half in girth with a drool-worthy mauve tip, his shaft slightly lighter than the rest of his tanned, unscarred skin

it’s dangerous, barbells running up the underside of his shaft or not

definitely into temperature play

and i’m not talking about that soft shit like warming up his fingers whilst they’re plunging in and out of your sweet center

no no no

that fucker will BRAND you and will not apologize

you’re his pretty little cumdump, and he’ll stake his claim upon your body how ever the hell he pleases

degradation is a given.

“—what a fuckin’ whore. tch, you really think you deserve this dick?”

“how about you get on your knees and beg for it then if you’re so damn needy.”

“quit your god damn whining, or i swear i’ll leave you spread out on this fuckin’ bar for shiggy to find. maybe i’ll even get a promotion for giving him such a slutty little bitch to use.”

“what’s wrong? does it hurt sweetheart? can’t take it after you talked all that shit earlier?” you shake your head no, thighs trembling as you struggle to maintain the position dabi’s folded you into. “...good.” he smirks, eyes gleaming with malice before pounding you to filth, cries spilling from your mouth as you beg for release, knowing he won’t give it to you.

making you cry? a specialty of dabi’s. your tears get him harder than anything; to watch your lips quiver as you sniffle, wiping away tears while he palms himself through his sweats

has shown you off to shigaraki, and will not hesitate to tongue your fluids off his digits while carrying on a full conversation with the other man.

after all, when you know your toy’s better than someone else’s, you tend to brag.

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪:

speaking of this mf

he’s the reason gamer boys get the rep of having massive dicks

cause god damn did you not expect this man to be slinging around eight bordering on nine inches of dick. four and a half to five inches of girth. poor you.

he’s also got a penchant for angry sex, so if that’s not enough of an indication that you’re going to have trouble walking afterwards i don’t know what is

but one thing he loves more than taking you apart piece by piece and cumming inside of you with zero remorse?

doing it when he’s in the middle of a game, and he’s online with the party’s voice chat.

“mmm—god, you really will do anything i tell you....swallowing every inch while these guys get to listen, and you’re not even embarrassed, you’re getting off on it!”

“i love little sluts like you, always doing whatever it takes just to have a cock pry them open at all times. that’s what you are, right? my little slut, made for me to do whatever i want to.”

yes, he’s made you whine so sweetly for him, cry as you beg him to touch you, while he plays fucking valorant.

and you can’t count how many times he’s mocked the way you gag and choke on his massive length while he played genshin impact with random guys online.

is a sucker for a good set of nudes, and isn’t afraid to ask for them on a regular basis

plus he just likes taking pictures/videos of you in general, saving them to a private album of his phone for him to use when you’re not there

he may parade you around as though you’re a lifeless fuckdoll, but if nothing else he’s possessive, and would rather relive the pain of losing to all might than let another man see you the way he does

but i’ll be honest, tomura’s not always a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a huge dick.

he’s also a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a thing for being dominated....and a huge dick.

see, it balances out!

it started with a bet that if he lost another round of mortal kombat you got to peg him

it took a lot of convincing, but he agreed to the terms, certain he’d win regardless

and after button smashing like your life depended on it with subzero, you managed to secure the win.

a grin stapled itself to your face after being treated to two hours of tomura’s incessant sobs and wails

“mhm—please...i can’t take it—ah! fuck, fuck, fuck! right there!”

“don’t make me work for it, i promise you’ll never be player two again, just please let me cum—m’ so close..”

game nights are always fun with him, you can count on it.

𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴:

my god my god

i’m gonna say it right now: keigo doesn’t eat pussy for you.

he does it for him.

and that makes all the difference in the fucking world when he’s pulling you to sit on his face

scruff scratching at your inner thighs deliciously as he makes you squirt alllll over aforementioned facial hair, rolling your hypersensitive clit between soft lips and a fluid tongue

he could stay between your thighs for hours and hours on end

will propose to devour you in the most inappropriate of places

and honestly? isn’t the least bit ashamed about it. elevators, in front of large office windows just a few stories above the street where you’re just barely visible to the people below,

on endeavor’s decorative towels after he spread them out on the floor so he could fuck you senseless on top of them, etc.

the flame hero had pissed him off earlier, and he needed to exert some petty rage. this was most sensible use of his energy.

also in case it wasn’t obvious: breeding kink. duh.

no thoughts head empty just hawks begging to breed you during his rut

“come on pretty girl, let me make you a momma....can’t wait to stuff you full of my chicks....”

he blushes so deeply when he’s close to cumming

and boy does he fucking whine

dick is just as pretty as he is, he’s a good 6 inches with a three inch girth; tip flushed and pink

definitely cherishes intimacy during sex

and will certainly go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable/desired

he could have all the money/fame in the world

and it still wouldn’t compare to the feeling of your thighs suffocating him while he slurps at your cunt like it’s his last meal.

[jadeywadeyy22]

Maybe Love Isn't Enough Anymore (Christen Press x Reader)

A/N: This is a bit angsty...

“I can’t do this anymore Chris.” you say in defeat, sinking into the couch with your phone in your hand.

You’ve been arguing over facetime for almost an hour about Christen blowing you off yet again so she could go out with Tobin. This has been happening for weeks. You’d try to get her to come out to Manchester for her day off, but she’d already have plans with Tobin, plans that she apparently couldn’t cancel, especially after Tobin injured her ankle.

You don’t understand why it has to be an argument. You just want to see your girlfriend, especially since she's only about an hour away.

Before she went to Man Utd on loan you had to settle for seeing each other at national camps or when you were on your off season and you were able to go back to the US. Even then, you wouldn’t spend too much time together because she had training and away games.

Now that she's actually in the same country and more or less same city as you, you just wanted to spend more time with her. You weren’t asking for a lot, just some time to be together with your girlfriend, but of course Tobin was more important than you.

It was honestly starting to feel like they’re in a relationship and you’re the third wheel.

It’s not that you think Christen and Tobin would do that to you, you trust Christen 100%, but you feel like you aren’t in a relationship anymore and it’s getting to you.

Seeing them together and spending time with each other just reminded you of what you could be doing with Christen but instead she was doing it with Tobin. It was like watching your relationship play out in front of you but someone else is playing your part.

“What do you mean, you can’t do this anymore?” Christen asks, the previous anger in her voice gone and instead replaced by what sounds like fear.

“This, you and me. It doesn’t even feel like there’s a you and me anymore, it’s more like you and Tobin are together and I’m the bloke trying to break you up.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that there’s nothing going on between me and Tobin. She’s my best friend and we would never do that to you. I would never do that to you.” Christen says earnestly.

“I know there’s nothing going on between the two of you, but she gets to spend so much time with you and I barely see you. It just feels like I’m alone and I can’t handle it anymore. I love you Chris, but I don’t know if love is enough anymore.” you say honestly, tears running down your face now at the realisation that this just might be the end.

“Don’t do this Y/N.” Christen says, her voice thick with the tears that are running down her face too.

She didn’t think it had gotten this bad or that you would even consider breaking up. Yes, she knows you haven’t seen each other in a while because she was going out and exploring with Tobin, but that was because they were both new here and she didn’t want to trouble you. She knew that you were working hard with your team and you probably had your hands full showing Sam, Rose and Abby around.

“I don’t know what else to do Chris. I don’t want to break up…”

“Then don’t. We can work through this and we’ll find a way to make it better baby. I promise you I’ll make time to come and visit you and we can spend time together alone and fix whatever needs to be fixed. Just please don’t break up with me. I love you Y/N and I don’t want to lose you.” Christen begs, tears falling freely down her face.

The image on your phone breaks your heart. You hate seeing Christen cry and you hate the fact that you’re the reason she’s crying. You always wanted to make sure that she was happy and had that beautiful smile on her face as well as that glint of happiness in her gorgeous green eyes, but now she’s crying, and her eyes are filled with nothing but sadness and pain.

You know in that moment that you can’t break up with her. You can’t imagine causing her even more pain. She said you would work on it and she’ll come and see you more often so maybe you should take the chance and see what happens.

“Ok, I’m not gonna break up with you, but Chris, we really need to work on things, please.” you say and Christen nods her head frantically, whispering promises that you let comfort you and chase away any thoughts of leaving Christen.

˳˳˳˳

Promises are meant to broken, that seemed to be the theme of the month after your almost breakup with Christen.

The first few weeks were fine, you spent most of your free time together, Christen even staying over a couple of nights, but then Tobin hurt her knee and it was back to square one. Christen wouldn’t leave anywhere without Tobin and she was more than ready to cancel plans with you to make sure Tobin was okay and didn’t feel too alone.

There were promises to meet for lunch that were forgotten, even promises to facetime were broken. You were tired of the same old cycle and the final nail in the coffin came when Christen told you that Tobin was going back to the US for rehab and that she would join her after the end of the season.

Now that wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the fact that you had planned a small little vacation for the first week of the off season with Christen in The Lake District, which wasn’t too far from Manchester.

After that, you decided that you were done. There was an opportunity for you to go and play for Barcelona for the rest of the season and you needed an escape, so you said yes.

That’s how you find yourself arguing with Christen on a Thursday night while half of your belongings are laying across your room or are already in their respective suitcases.

“How could you decide to leave without even talking to me?” Christen asks, the anger and hurt clear in her voice.

“How could you decide to go back with Tobin without even telling me?” you answer back, your anger clear as well.

“I told you that you could come with. It’s during the off season.” Christen says.

“Well I’m sorry that I planned a small vacation with my girlfriend so I could take her to visit my family. You knew I wanted to take you to my mum’s house while we were at The Lake District, but you want to go back to the US to be with Tobin.”

“I don’t want to be with Tobin, I just want to help her because she’s my best friend. Why can’t you understand that!” Christen asks, her voice rising as she becomes more frustrated.

“Well I want to have some alone time with you! Why can’t you understand that?!” you ask and Christen physically recoils at the loudness of your voice.

“Me going to Barcelona is a great opportunity that I took because I need to get out of Manchester and away from all of this. I could have the chance at winning the Spanish league and possibly the Champions League. It’s a good opportunity and I didn’t want to lose it, especially considering that you’ll be gone in just over a month.” you continue when Christen remains quiet.

“You need to get away from all of this? From me?” Christen asks and the vulnerability in her voice is enough to make your heart ache.

“There’s nothing healthy about our relationship anymore Chris. You barely make time for me and clearly your mind is somewhere else. We need a break to figure shit out and maybe you need to figure out if you really want to be with me because it hasn’t felt like it these past few months.” you confess, trying to keep the tears pricking the corners of your eyes at bay.

Christen can’t hold her tears back when she hears your admission and the pain in your voice. She hadn’t realised that she was neglecting you or your relationship. She was trying to be a good best friend to Tobin, and she forgot that she wasn’t being the greatest girlfriend to you.

“I’m tired of coming second to Tobin, Chris. I can’t do it anymore.” you say, your tears falling no matter how hard you try to stop them.

Christen immediately reaches out to you and tries to wipe your tears away with the pads of her thumbs.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” she whispers, leaning her forehead against yours before pressing her lips softly against your own, trying to convey just how sorry she is.

“I love you.” she whispers when you part and you’re sure that you can actually hear your heart break when she whispers those words.

“I don’t think love is enough anymore.” you say, trying to escape Christen’s hold as the forward sobs when she hears your words.

“I’m sorry Christen.” you say before walking out of your flat and calling Sam and Rose to come and comfort Christen because you know you can’t see her like that, knowing that you’re the cause for the pain in her eyes and the tears staining her beautiful face.

˳˳˳˳

It’s been three months since Christen was left sobbing in your flat in Manchester after what would be the last time the two of you verbally spoke to one another in person. You left three days after that argument and from what little she knew; you were doing great in Barcelona.

She on the other hand, was doing terribly. She came back to help Tobin with rehab after her last game with Man Utd and she’d hoped that helping Tobin would be a distraction to everything that happened with you.

It wasn’t.

She couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the heartache in your eyes after your last argument. She couldn’t help thinking about watching you walk out of your own flat, tears streaming down your face as you closed the door of the flat and your relationship.

She tried not to stalk you on Instagram or google your name too much and it helped, not seeing you or hearing about you. It also reminded her that your relationship was over. It was over and there was nothing she could do about it until she saw you again at the June training camp for the Summer Series.

At least that’s what she thought.

“What do you mean, Y/N’s name isn’t on the roster? She’s one of the best damn players on this team. Why isn’t she on the roster?” Christen asks Vlatko, trying to be calm but her frustration is seeping through. Not just her frustration at the thought of Vlatko not thinking you were good enough to be called up, but frustration because her opportunity to talk to you and make things right is essentially gone.

“I know Y/N is one of the best players on the team…”

“Then why isn’t she here?” Christen asks, cutting off Vlatko, who just remains calm.

“She isn’t here because she’s injured. Don’t you watch her matches?” Abby says, answering for Vlatko.

“What do you mean?” Christen asks Abby.

“She suffered a grade 3 MCL tear in the Copa de la Reina semi-final a few days ago. Nothing has been officially announced yet because all the clubs and US Soccer were waiting for her MRIs and all the other medical tests as well as rehab plans so that we can draft a proper announcement.” this time Vlatko answers.

“Because of this injury Y/N won’t be able to play with us until after the Olympics and that’s why she isn’t on the roster.” he continues.

“She didn’t tell me.” Christen mutters as Tobin guides her to sit next to her. Normally you told Christen everything, you had done it even before you started dating. Any injuries or anything interesting from your matches you would tell Christen.

“She always tells me when she’s hurt.” Christen whispers, already feeling the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Tobin immediately wraps her arms around Christen, pulling the forward into her arms.

Your breakup had been particularly hard on her best friend. Tobin didn’t know how many times she had to comfort Christen when she cried herself to sleep.

Tobin knows that Christen blames herself for the breakup, she had said as much. She also knows how much Christen was looking forward to this training camp so she could finally work things out with you. She can only imagine the heartbreak Christen must is feeling right now with not being able to fix things between the two of you and with you not actively telling her that you suffered a very serious injury.

“How long is she going to be out for?” Alex asks.

“Right now we’re not sure. She’s going into surgery in a few days and the physio at Man City will be working with us to formulate a rehabilitation plan. At the moment it looks like she will be out until September, maybe October.” Vlatko explains.

“Oh my god.” Christen gasps when she hears that you’ll be going into surgery.

“It’s my fault.” she whispers, Tobin and Alex the only ones who hear her.

“No, don’t say that. It isn’t your fault.” Tobin says, sharing a worried glance with Alex.

“It is. I’m the reason she went to Barcelona.” Christen mutters, guilt slowly starting to creep up.

“Hey, stop that. Injuries happen. Y/N will be ok, she’s a fighter.” Alex says, also wrapping her arms around Christen.

“Hey, is she ok?” Emily asks, looking over to where Tobin and Alex are trying to comfort Christen.

“No. She hasn’t been ok since they broke up.” Megan answers.

“They broke up?” Emily asks and everyone around her groans.

˳˳˳˳

As much as Christen wanted to go and see you, she couldn’t. She had to stay in the US to prepare for the Olympics and to stay in the USWNT bubble. But as soon as the Olympics were over, she booked her flight to Manchester straight from Tokyo and now she finds herself staring at your door trying to build up the courage to knock.

After a few deep breaths she brings her hand up and knocks on the door, praying that you won’t slam it into her face when you see her.

When you hear a knocking on your door you groan, wondering who could be at your flat. You grab your crutches and hobble to the door, being careful not to put any strain on your injured leg.

When you open the door your heart drops at the sight of Christen, who is nervously chewing on the corner of her bottom lip.

“Hi.” she says softly, her eyes immediately travelling to the bulky brace on your injured leg.

“Hi.” you say, watching the forward carefully.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating with Tobin and the rest of the team?” you ask, Christen flinching at the slight bite in your words.

“Can I come in? I’m sure you shouldn’t be standing on your leg this long.” she says ignoring your question when she sees visible signs of your discomfort. You reluctantly let her in, knowing that she’s right.

“Why are you here Christen?” you ask after the two of you have settled in your living room.

“I miss you. I miss us. All I could think about in Tokyo was you. You don’t know how many times I wanted to call you because I knew you were the only one who would make me feel better after our bad games. You were the only person I wanted to celebrate my bronze medal with, but I couldn’t, and it killed me because I knew it was all my fault.” Christen says and you listen intently.

“I came here because I want to be with you. I love you Y/N and I can’t continue living without you. You’re my entire world and I know I messed up before, but just give me another chance and I promise you that I will do everything I can to make you feel like the most important person in my life. No more cancelled dates or video calls. I won’t make the same mistakes again Y/N. Please just take me back and we can work this out” Christen says and you’re left speechless.

“Please say something.” Christen says after almost a minute of you just looking at her.

“I’ve heard you make these promises before Christen and every single time I was left hurt and heartbroken. I meant it when I said that maybe love isn’t enough anymore. I need more than love, I need proof, I need you to show me that you actually want to be with me. It’s easy to say something, doing it is the hard part.”

You want to just say yes and have Christen move back to Manchester so you can try again but you’ve heard those words too many times and you can’t risk getting hurt again. As much as you want to get back together with Christen, you need her to show you that she’s as invested in your relationship as you were.

“That’s what I’m trying to do. I just need you to give me another chance so I can show you. I love you Y/N.” Christen says, almost pleading with you.

“I want to Chris. I want to say yes and be with you, but I can’t put myself in the same position as last time. I want to believe you, but you haven’t proven why I should take you back or that you’ll make me a priority. Chris, we’re not even going to be in the same continent and with my injury, I probably won’t be at any US camps for a while. Right now, I don’t see us working.” you say honestly, trying to stay strong when you see the hurt on Christen’s face.

“You’re wrong. We can work Y/N. We’ll figure it out.” Christen says, strong conviction behind her words.

“If you’re so convinced, then show me. Show me why we should try again and then maybe we can, but now, I just can’t.”

Christen takes a deep breath before nodding her head, a determination in her eyes that you only saw on the pitch.

“Ok. Then I’ll show you. I’ll show you why we should try again, and I’ll prove to you that what happened last time won’t happen again. I promise you that Y/N.” Christen says, looking you dead in your eyes before walking out of your flat, leaving you to wonder just how she plans on doing what she said.

˳˳˳˳

It’s been almost two weeks since your talk with Christen, and you haven’t heard anything from the forward. You were curious as to what she had planned, but you were also a little worried that she might’ve decided that you weren’t worth the effort.

“Why do you look so down?” Janine asks from across the table, pulling you away from your thoughts about Christen.

“No reason, just tired. Rehab was a bitch today.” you say.

“Rehab’s always a bitch.” Alex pipes in from her seat next to Janine.

“Have you heard anything from Christen?” Janine asks. She was your best friend, next to Abby, so of course you told them about Christen’s visit to your apartment and the promise she made.

Abby told you to be patient and see what Christen would do because she was absolutely sure that Christen would devise a plan to get you back no matter what. Apparently, you were the only thing the green-eyed forward could talk about during camp and the Olympics.

Janine said almost the same thing, but she threw in a warning for you to be careful with Christen. She was so used to being your shoulder to cry on after something happened between you and Christen, that she’s become very weary of your relationship. She just doesn’t want to see you hurt again.

“Christen? I thought you’re not together anymore?” Alex asks, looking at you.

“We aren’t.” you mutter but Alex’s brows just furrow deeper.

“Then why you waiting to hear something from her?” Alex asks.

“It’s stupid.” you say, shaking your head a bit dejectedly.

“It’s not stupid.” Janine says sternly.

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Alex asks, looking at you and Janine.

“Christen came to see her after the Olympics and told her that she was going to prove that they should be together. Y/N’s waiting to see if she actually meant it.” Janine explains, giving Alex the condensed version.

“Oh god. Do you want her to prove it to you? You know, after everything that’s happened?” Alex asks. She knows quite a bit about your breakup and how you felt about Christen and how she treated you in the last months of your relationship.

“I don’t know.” you answer truthfully. Sure, you want to be with Christen and you want to see how she's going to prove to you that you should be with her, but you're also apprehensive.

As much as you love Christen, you’re scared that she’ll hurt you again and you don’t think you’d come back from another heartbreak at the hands of the woman you’re so hopelessly in love with.

“Well, I think you might want to figure that out pretty quickly.” Janine says, looking up from her phone.

“What do you mean?” you ask, staring pointedly at the Canadian woman.

Instead of saying anything Janine hands you her phone and what you see makes your heart stop for a second before it starts racing. On Janine’s news feed is the headline, ‘Christen Press Shocks Women’s Soccer World By Re-signing With Manchester United Women Instead of Hometown Club Angel City FC’.

“Oh my god.” you gasp, before going into the article and reading it.

Christen apparently said no to a massive deal with Angel City, instead joining Man Utd for another season. You’re confused, you know Christen always wanted to play in LA, in front of her home crowd. Why would she sign with Man Utd, unless…?

You quickly grab your phone, fingers going to a familiar number. You pause and take a breath before pressing the call button. You really hope Christen didn’t do what you think she did, although you’re pretty sure she did.

You take another deep breath, ignoring the concerned looks of Alex and Janine before pressing the call button and waiting for an answer. You have no idea what the time is back in the US, it's afternoon in Manchester, so it has to be early morning in LA, if she is even in LA.

“Hello.” Christen answers the phone, surprise evident in her voice, but you can also hear the rasp in her voice that she gets when she just wakes up.

“Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” you say as Janine and Alex watch you with worried looks.

“What did I do?” Christen asks.

“Give up playing in LA just so you can come back to Manchester, for me.” you clarify. You know it’s a bit presumptuous to assume that she was moving for you, but why else would she be moving? She has no ties in Manchester except for you.

“Oh.” Christen mutters, realising what you're talking about.

“You saw the news?” she asks.

“Yeah. Please tell me you didn’t give up on a lifelong dream just for me.” you say, scared to hear Christen’s answer because you don’t know if you should feel guilty or happy and excited. You know you asked her to prove her love to you, but giving up her lifelong dream for you? That's kind of insane.

“You’re my lifelong dream. So, no I didn’t give up on a lifelong dream just for you, I chose my lifelong dream and if that means that I don’t play in LA then so be it. I told you Y/N, I love you and I’m going to prove it to you, even if it means coming to play in rainy Manchester for the rest of my career. You’re my priority and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure you know that.” Christen says and you’re speechless. You actually have no words.

“Y/N? Are you still there?” Christen asks when she doesn’t hear you on the phone for a few seconds.

“I-I’m here. I just, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodbye Y/N… I love you.” Christen says, hanging up before you can even think of answering.

“What just happened?” Janine asks.

“She’s coming back to Manchester for me.” you say softly, still trying to come to terms with the whole thing.

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (One)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack

Word Count: 10.2k (yikes, I know) (I will try to shorten future chapters, ya girl is sorry)

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, puking, reader is a drunk cry baby, reader is kinda embarrassing, jk is kinda jelaous, mentions of sleeping around, reader and jk are pretty affectionate, jk’s thighs are mentioned—that’s like, a warning in itself right?

Notes: hiiiii, the first part is here! Once again, really nervous about this so please go easy on me but mostly, just enjoy! :) also sorry for any typos!!!!

© taestefully-in-luv

Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun is a magical thing. It lights up and warms the Earth, it enhances your mood, it helps plants grow, it literally provides for life. Without the sun, life on Earth would cease to exist. What the sun also does? The sun also shines down on us and lights up the most beautiful things. The sun today, however, is especially highlighting the most beautiful thing. The way the glittering rays gleam through the windows you can see how todays sun focuses on him.

That’s right, you guessed it. Kim Taehyung. His skin is absolutely glowing in the rays, his eyes sparkle in the light that shines down. Yes, Kim Taehyung is an other-worldly being. The way he just stands there and shimmers you can’t help but stare but also like, shy away because his beauty is so god damn blinding. Wait…was this dramatic? This might be dramatic. You’re too far gone to care though. His boxy grin, the way his hair falls into his eyes, the mole on his—

“I just want you to know, you are fucking drooling.” You hear the scoff of the man across from you, Jeon Jungkook, also known as your best friend.

You lazily shake your head as the two of you sit nice and snug in the booths of your favorite coffee shop. It’s one of the colder spring days, the breeze biting at your skin when you were outside but now, you have Jungkook’s scarf wrapped loosely around your neck and hot coffee in your hands.

“I mean, I get it. He’s gorgeous but do you really have to go this far?”

You bring the white mug full of black coffee to your lips. It’s hot and burns the tip of your tongue, but not anything you’re not use to.

“Yes.” You state plainly. You know exactly to what he is referring to. You don’t usually come here at this time, in fact you are usually a creature of habit and come at the same time on the same days… Tuesday and Thursdays in the evening but its Friday and like 1pm. But you knew Kim Taehyung was going to be here when he snapped a picture of the famous white mug with the shops logo on it and posted on his story. You bring your hand up to your forehead, saluting to the sky, “Thank you Snapchat.” So yes, naturally when you saw he was at this coffee shop you hurried to make sure you were too. Maybe it is fucking desperate. Okay it is. But could you blame a girl? He was one of the hottest guys you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

“This is ridiculous,” Jungkook huffs into his own mug, “You could just talk to him…”

Now it was your turn to scoff.

“As fucking if!”

Jungkook smirks into his mug, taking a sip of the burning hot coffee. “That incapable, hmm?”

“It’s not that I’m incapable JK,” You blow on the drink nonchalantly, “I am simply just not worthy.”

“You are so stupid, I swear.” He huffs into his mug again.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook breathes out slowly, biting his lip as if contemplating what to say.

It’s like, what can he say? He wishes he could tell you a million things that would ease your mind, that could possibly give you the confidence you need or maybe just slap the reality on you that Taehyung doesn’t deserve you. But then he will get asked ‘why’ and he can’t have that.

“What?” you whine into your cup before setting it down.

“You’re really cool and also pretty?” he says quirking a brow in question. Because apparently that’s all he can come up with.

“That’s a question? Also am I dying? You’re complimenting me?” you tease, giving him an exaggerated look of satisfaction.

“I just mean…” Jungkook runs a hand through his messy dark locks, “You have nothing to worry about, ya know?”

Nothing to worry about he says! What does he know? He can literally get any girl—or guy for that matter—that he wants. You dip your head, frowning at the idea.

Jungkook has been your best friend since your freshmen year and there’s nothing you treasure more than his friendship. You bite your lips and tilt your head trying to recall his first presence in your life…oh! That stupid frat party freshmen year…you met at a frat party during your first semester and totally hit it off. Did he try to get into your pants? Okay, yeah maybe. He offered a room just up the stairs that night, but you refused…seemingly too shy. But Jungkook was nothing but understanding. He pat your back and said he knew a better place, and that was the 24 diner down the street. And the rest is history

“Obviously I don’t know and oh my god don’t look but—” You try saying before Jungkook is completely turning his head around to look. Classic Jungkook.

“Oh hey Tae.” Jungkook says in The Kim Taehyungs direction. Taehyung walks up to your table, you thought the sun only highlighted his beauty but up close he is the sun. You knew it was a magical thing.

“Hey guys! “ Taehyung stands there as bright as a fucking light, waving at you and your best friend. Oh yeah, did we forget to mention Jungkook is also friends with said Kim Taehyung? Okay, so maybe talking to Taehyung shouldn’t be that hard, since you share the same fucking friends. And you guys are technically friends too.

“Sup dude.” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly, picking up his coffee mug once again. His long fingers wrapping around the porcelain, warming him up. You watch as Jungkook takes a sip of his beverage with his doe eyes on you, he nods his head towards Taehyung and winks at you as he gulps down the drink. Of course, he’s teasing you.

“Hey y/n!” Taehyungs smile shines so brightly you want to actually kill yourself. What is up with this dude and being so blinding?

“Hey Taehyung…” you gulp your coffee awkwardly, giving him a small wave of the hand.

“y/n I told you to call me Tae!”

“Right…” you chuckle into the coffee creating bubbles of the liquid like the fucking pathetic lil thang you are.

Yeah, talking to The Kim Taehyung is not your specialty. Never was.

2 years ago

Your head is buried in books on the table of your campuses library with Jungkook fast asleep next to you. Statistics shouldn’t be this hard but it fucking is and you are groaning into your book, on the verge of pulling your hair out when a deep voice that rumbles your insides interrupts you—actually fuck it, you don’t feel like getting into a flashback. Just know that you met Taehyung (officially through Jungkook) and he ended up calling you pretty and you’ve thought about it every day since. Because you are pathetic. What’s new?

And that was it, that’s all it took for you to gain a massive crush on the boy.

“What’s up dude?” Jungkook asks again. He is now scrolling through his phone, probably swiping through Tinder, if you have to guess. And you’re right because he’s turning his phone towards you showing you some random girl, his wide eyes asking for your opinion. You roll your eyes and nod your head ‘yes’. As you can guess, this happens quite often.

“Ummm…” Taehyung runs a frustrated hand through his hair, you slowly tilt your head to soak him in when you notice he looks almost…panicked? “I need help with something actually,” but he isn’t looking at Jungkook as he says this, no. He’s looking at you.

“You see that girl at the counter over there? The one with long hair, not the other one.” He nods his head in the general direction while still remaining discreet.

You tilt your head to steal a glance at the counter and yes you do see the girl he is referring to. She’s got long brown hair that reaches her waist and man, she is gorgeous. Big, bright eyes. Full, pouting lips. Long legs and yeah, the works. Taehyung sure knows how to pick them. Did he need help to get her number of something? Like a wing woman? You mean, does he really need the help?

“Yes, I see her.” Is all you say to him and you expect him to ask you to go over there but instead he says,

“Great. I need you to be my girlfriend.”

You blink lazily at him as you process his words while Jungkook chokes on his drink.

“You want her to be your what?” Jungkook is the first to speak.

“My girlfriend.” He says again before his eyes go wide, “Like, like my fake girlfriend.” Taehyung turns a wonderful shade of red before his hand is reaching to scratch the back of his neck, chuckling to himself. “This girl—Anna…she is a bit obsessed? Ya know? Won’t leave me alone type thing and …and I have tried saying I have a girlfriend but she followed me to this coffee shop when she heard I was here. Like, who does that?”

Now it’s your turn to turn red, because you. You would fucking do that.

“That’s horrible Taehy—” you begin to say before Taehyungs large eyes pierce into your own, “Please y/n.”

“Anna???” Jungkook cuts in setting his phone on the table. “Like Anna Anna?” Jungkook squints his eyes at his friend before scoffing. “...She’s not doing it.” his eyes go between Taehyung and this girl Anna. “Don’t involve her in whatever game you—"

“I’ll do it.” You say, even surprising yourself. “I mean, it’s just pretend and for this moment so why not?” you begin to explain yourself. Plus for a few minutes you can pretend you’re really his girlfriend and your delusional mind will thrive off that.

Tae is quick to straighten his back and smile widely before he is ushering you to scoot over in the booth to let him in. “Scoot scoot” he whispers, grinning from ear to ear.

“Tae, you can’t be serious—” Jungkook is quick to say something, anything. His hands scrambling to grab his phone and hands it to Taehyung from across the table. “Here. Call up some other girl to do this. Don’t involve y/n.” Taehyung gives Jungkook a look of panic before Jungkook speaks up again, “Plus, y/n would be the worst fake girlfriend,” And that’s it. That’s all it takes. Jungkook’s constant negativity pisses you off so much that it drives what you say next.

“No need Taehyung.” You snatch Jungkook’s phone and shove it back in his hands. “Why don’t you call up one of your girls yourself and leave us alone?”

Jungkook looks at you shocked, his brows furrowing so deeply you are almost concerned for his face and the wrinkles that might set in.

“y/n…?” his stupid doe eyes look at you with so much confusion.

“I just mean, I can do this Jungkook. Don’t have to be so concerned.”

At that, Taehyung lights up.

“Great!” and his long arm wraps around your waist and when he was sure Anna is looking he leans in to plant a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thanks for doing this…” he whispers in your ear before placing another kiss.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s shocked ones. He looks like he just saw a ghost, all the color drained from his face as he watches you and Taehyung.

“Uh….” You don’t have any words for Taehyung—or Tae as he likes to be called.

You don’t even have the balls to glance his way, you don’t even have the balls to breathe in his direction.

“Look at me?” Taehyung’s finger is on your chin, guiding it towards his face.

“No…” Jungkook spurts out, “I mean, y/n don’t we have to go?” Jungkook looks at you with a look you’ve never really seen before. Maybe it’s desperation but you don’t really care.

“We don’t actually” you respond nonchalantly.

And with that you turn to face Taehyung more properly. His face is so close to yours it’s almost suffocating.

“What is it…Tae?” you try out his nickname for the first time. His cheeks flush and he scoots back just an inch.

“Thank you for doing this but…” his eyes slide to the side, eyeing Jungkook. “I was thinking we could do this for a couple of weeks, at the least. Ya know, to make it believable.”

Surprising you and Taehyung, Jungkook rises from his seat at the booth,

“y/n let’s go.” He simply states, not even looking at you. Taehyung looks panicked as you look between the boys.

“Tae…” you started to say before Jungkook reaches over the table to grab your wrist, “Come oooooooonnnnn” But you are quick to yank it back.

“Stop Jungkook, you’re being childish.”

Taehyung tightens his hold on you, “Yeah Kookie, sit back down…please.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at Taehyung, giving him a look that screams ‘are you serious?!’

“Childish? Okay.” He gives you a look of disappointment before grabbing his phone and his bag and walking away from the table. You watch in disbelief as Jungkook’s figure disappears from your view. What was up with him?

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s going on with him…”

“Right…” Tae responds quietly, his grip on your waist loosening up. “He’s just really protective over you, huh?” Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation, “y/n. I’m serious, let’s do this. I’ll pay for your coffee for the next month if you do this with me. Please, I am quite literally begging you.” He breathes out through his nose in an attempt to laugh. “She won’t leave me alone otherwise.”

You bite your lip in deep thought, your brows pulled together. Taehyung couldn’t help but find you cute.

“For a month? What happened to a few weeks?” you ask, a playful smirk gracing your features.

Taehyung couldn’t help the grin that made its way on his face.

“1 month.” He breathes out. “Unless you fall in love with me during that time and beg for more time….” He pokes his tongue out, his teasing tone going straight to your lady bits. If only he knew.

“Fine, but we should set some ground rules…don’t you think?”

“Okay. Like what?”

“Oh…I don’t—”

Taehyung raises a brow, “Don’t say something stupid like ‘no kissing’…because we want to make it as realistic as possible, don’t we?” he leans in just a bit more. Without Jungkook around Taehyung seems a bit more confident.

“Oh, you want to kiss me then?”

“It’s just for show. We don’t gotta think too hard about it.” His face inches closer and closer.

“Love…” you say, in a complete daze. Too lost in Taehyungs big brown eyes.

“What about it?” he doesn’t blink, just continues to stare into your eyes.

“We…would if one of us catches feelings? Then we should stop it, right?” You choke out.

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as an impossibly cute giggle escapes his lips, “You’re so cute. How many romcoms have you watched to come up with that line?”

“I’m serious.” You push your head back, “This could become hurtful if one of us falls in love…” You say this knowing it’s you. Well, obviously. Just because Taehyung called you pretty 2 years ago doesn’t mean he likes you.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Taehyung gets close again, “I’ll tell you.” And then he leans in, just an inch from your face. His lips hovering over your own and you can see his eyes still on you, like he’s silently asking for permission. You can’t help the nod of your head and you, yourself don’t stop yourself from leaning in.

Taehyungs lips are just as soft as you had always imagined. His lips only peck yours, the kiss is short but sweet. Once he pulls back you see his eyes slide to the counter where that Anna girl stands, and a look of relief washes over his features.

“Thank God, she bought it. She looks pissed,” he laughs loudly, “She saw us and is totally storming out!”

Oh, right. This is all for show.

“Oh, good.”

“Thanks y/n!” Taehyung’s smile is so wide it takes up the entire booth. He goes in for a quick hug, pulling back he smiles again before reaching his hand to pat your head.

“You’re a good girl.” He says and slips out of the booth. Welp, you wish those words didn’t go straight to your vagina.

“Uh, thanks.” You sputter out, not entirely sure what just happened.

“See you later?” he asks then his face lights up, “I’ll bring you a coffee.”

“Well, that is the deal.” You shoot him some pathetic finger guns.

You stare down at your now cold coffee, and look across from you at the now empty booth where Jungkook once sat.

“I’ll text you with more details later!” he shakes his phone in his hand,

“Bye bye…girlfriend.” He finishes off with a wink and skips, yes fucking skips away.

You are left alone at your table, with an empty seat across from you and a cold coffee. And now a fake boyfriend with the guy you have a massive crush on. This couldn’t possibly go all wrong, could it?

~~~

“This is definitely going to go all wrong, you realize that, right? This is a bad idea y/n and you know it.”

Jungkook’s legs are swung over your own as he lays on the couch, his focus on his phone in his hands. He wears his gray puma sweat suit you love so much and smells exactly the same as always—clean laundry and his own musk. You can’t help but eye him over, his dark strands of hair falling into his eyes as he bobbles his head to rid himself of the stray pieces. You aren’t blind, Jungkook is like, crazy hot and sometimes your staring can become a problem.

“Like, ‘we can’t fall in love with each other’” he mocks, “What sort of bullshit? You already in love, aren’t you?” he peeks over his phone to get a look at you waiting for some sort of rejection of his words.

“It’s just a crush, Jungkook.”

“Sure.” His eyes go back to his screen. “You’re pretty dumb for doing this.”

“Did I mention we kissed?”

“Only 100 times now you sicko.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and you can’t help but giggle.

It’s no secret that Jungkook is against this—whatever this is. He always has been…ever since you mentioned it 2 years ago sophomore year.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” you ask in disbelief.

You just confessed your little crush on Taehyung to Jungkook, the two of you sitting across from one another in the library when he rolls his eyes, obviously annoyed.

“Can you not yell? We’re literally in a library. And I don’t feel like getting kicked out this week…again.” He rolls his pen between his fingers as he speaks.

“Okay one: that’s your own fault for getting caught with your hand down some girls pants. And Two: what do you mean ‘no’?”

“Taehyung is off limits for you.” He says, totally unbothered.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means, he’s my friend for one so gross, and also he’s kind of like…emotionally unavailable.”

You chew on your pen, wondering what that could mean. Like, he doesn’t date? He doesn’t ‘do’ relationships? He’s already in love with someone else?

“I’m not telling you.” Jungkook’s pen slides against his paper as he writes, “His life.”

Oh, you asked that out loud.

“Whatever Jungkook, it’s just a crush.”

It feels nice to have a crush on someone other than…

Ding

Your phone goes off and you hurry to check it. What? It could be Taehyung wanting to go over the details of the ‘plan’. But much to your disappointment it was just Jimin.

Jimin 9:42pm

Where are you guys? Party has BEEN started girl

Y/N 9:42pm

We’re about to leave babe, see you soonish

Jimin 9:43pm

You guys fuckin? *smirk face emoji*

Y/N 9:43pm

Did you just…write smirk face emoji instead of putting the emoji itself

Y/N 9:44pm

Also how many times do I have to tell you JK and I aren’t like that

Jimin 9:45pm

Whatevs, see you soon babe xoxo

You set your phone down in your lap, your fingers going to massage Jungkook’s calves as you sneak a glance at him, he closes his eyes in satisfaction as you continue massaging the muscle.

“We gotta get go—also, that’s now what you’re wearing right?”

“Not going tonight. But have fun.” Jungkook sets his phone on his chest, letting out a long breath while folding his arms behind his head. He looks comfortable like, you almost believe him that he’s really staying in.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N why don’t we just stay in tonight?” He whines, he unfolds his arms and reaches for your hand. “Let’s go buy a 12 pack, get fucked up and just ya know, stay in.” Though this doesn’t sound like a bad idea, it also sounds like every Friday night with the two of you and you want to do something different tonight. But it would take some convincing. You interlock your fingers with his and he melts at your touch, his dopey smile growing.

“It’s a good idea, right?” he says, blinking up at you.

You smile back, tilting your head just the slightest before your smile drops altogether.

“No.”

“Ugh!” Jungkook throws his head back on the sofas armrest, “Why are you like this?”

“You still love me.” You chirp swinging his legs off yours and standing to your feet.

“Now get dressed and I promise that I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the weekend and you can bring whatever poor girl back to the apartment.”

Oh yes, your best friend is also your roommate. You’ve been living together for the last year—it just made the most sense. He was always over at yours or vise versa. So it made the most sense to save money and just room together. It worked out almost perfectly—almost. He paid his half of rent on time, he cleaned the dishes, he did laundry. Wait a minute, what the hell did you offer? That’s beside the point, the best of all he was always there when you needed him. The one downfall…the girls he brought over.

It got so bad that you couldn’t even sleep. You get it, your best friend is obviously…gifted. If the girls whines and moans and screams were any indication. So you had to set some rules for your sanity! For one, the other must always warn the other when bring home a person for the night. And two, its best if the other is already like, not home. Jungkook quickly agreed…something about how he doesn’t want to hear you either.

So, offering to be gone all weekend so he can have as much sex in his bed as he wants is probably going to be convincing enough.

You study Jungkook’s features, his brows pinched together almost comically, and his lips formed into the cutest pout.

“All weekend?” he asks, kicking imaginary rocks with his feet. “Like, no interruptions?”

“No interruptions you absolute whore.”

“Fine, deal.” He looks into your eyes and something flashes across them that you cant pinpoint. “I guess I’ll get dressed…but wait, where will you stay?”

“Probably with Jimin.” You shrug.

“Hm, okay.” Jungkook walks towards his room while lifting his sweatshirt over his head and throwing it behind him, the article of clothing landing on the floor. “And you’re doing laundry.”

“Brat.” You say rolling your eyes but you can’t help but smile.

You don’t take long to get ready yourself, you settle for a casual look tonight…okay, semi-casual, meaning you’re wearing jeans but you are wearing a nice, low cut blouse that shows a generous amount of cleavage. It’s your go to titty shirt. You aren’t really looking to get laid tonight or anything but you do want onlookers to wish you were.

You bounce your knee up and down while sitting on the sofa as you not so patiently wait on your bff, you call out for him but he only yells back that you need to like, chill out. After what feels like forever, the creak of his bedroom door opening can be heard and you quickly stand to your feet to face him.

“Woah.” Is all you manage to say as Jungkook walks out of his room, his cologne filling the air around you. “You look…” you can’t even finish your sentence without Jungkook’s stupid smirk already on his face. His pants are skin tight, the material practically melted on to his thick thighs that are deliciously exposed thanks to rips and holes. His plain white tee is accompanied by a fine leather jacket and his hair is split down the middle, the waves adorning his face. He looks damn good. And you both fucking know it.

“I look?” he teases, walking closer to you. His cologne suffocating your nostrils but you aren’t upset about it.

“You look…fine. You look better than before at least.” You choke out. It’s not that Jungkook is capable of making you nervous but sometimes he has this aura about him…no, you don’t even want to get into it. Those are thoughts you’ve trained yourself to push away.

“Whatever.” His eyes skim over your body shamelessly, “You look fine too.” He winks, walking past you.

“Ready to go?” he calls out over his shoulder. You can’t help but watch his tight ass walk away. Did you really say tight ass? Well it is!

“Yeah, lemme grab my purse and uh, uh we can go. You’re driving.”

~~~

“About fucking time, sluts.”

“Hello to you too, Jiminie.” You crack a smile as your friend goes in for a quick but tight hug.

When Jungkook finally introduced you to all his friends the one you hit it off with the most was good ol’ Jimin. He immediately became one of your closest friends.

“Yo Park.” Jungkook’s eyes are all around the place, not even sparing Jimin a glance. No doubt looking for his girl for the night already. What? It’s a safe assumption.

“Jeon.” Jimin rolls his eyes playfully. “You guys took forever, too busy fucking?”

You hit Jimin’s shoulder with your own, giving him a look that says you’ll scold him later.

“She wishes.” Jungkook finally puts his attention on the two of you, a wide smile growing on his face.

“Shut up.”

“What? It’s true! Oh my god Jimin, you should of seen her face when she saw me walk out in this fit.” Jungkook stands tall, hands grabbing onto the material of his leather jacket,

“She was like “oh my god Jungkook you look so go—” You go to hit his stomach with your fist but thanks to his rock hard abs you only end up hurting yourself. “Fuck! Ow! What’s under your shirt?” you yell over the music.

“Oh baby, you can find out. Should we go upstairs? I know a room.” He says with a wink.

The words ring a bell of familiarity in your head, each syllable echoing softly. A small smile forms on your lips and Jungkook gives you the softest smile in return. Did he just say the same line he used on you 3 years ago when you two met?

3 years ago

The music is booming so loudly you can’t even hear yourself think. This isn’t your first frat party and probably won’t be your last but you just can’t get use to it. You let your dormmate drag you to this stupid party only for her to ditch you in the first 10 minutes. Great.

You weave through the crowd trying to locate the kitchen to get your hands on the strongest drink you can find, lord knows you need it.

The kitchen is just as crowded as the rest of the house unfortunately. So many bodies. Bodies doing shots. Bodies doing shots off other bodies. Bodies playing games. Bodies grinding against other bodies. So many fucking bodies. It is honestly overwhelming. You walk towards the punch bowl, reaching for a red solo cup when another hand bumps into yours.

“Whoops sorry, go ahead.” The hand is attached to this boy—or man? Should you say man? He sure looks like one. He eyes you up and down before smiling down at you.

“Freshmen?” he asks.

You slump your shoulders, “Do I really look that outta place?” you pout.

“It’s not that…I just have a way of knowing.” He laughs. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

Namjoon, huh? He is cute that was for sure. “Y/N.” you say placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Pretty!” he smiles, then his eyes look behind you. “Ay! Jungkook! What did I say?! No more Keg stands!!!!” Then Namjoon’s eyes are back on you, “Sorry Y/N gotta go, gotta take care of this brat.” Then walks past you to this mysterious Jungkook person.

Your eyes follow Namjoon as he rushes to whoever this Jungkook guy is. Namjoon pulls him to the side obviously scolding him for apparently doing too many keg stands. Jungkook looks like a small child who is about to get grounded, and you can’t help but giggle. Unfortunately, this caught Jungkook’s attention. He looks straight at you, his eyes narrowing. Wait a minute. You recognize him! He definitely looks like the same guy from your Lit class on Tuesday and Thursdays. Yup, you get one long good look at him and he is definitely the same heartthrob of a dude from your class. All the girls go crazy for this guy, you mean, you guess you get it. He is really hot. He’s got on a black t shirt and some ripped jeans, and tousled hair.

Jungkook looks at you again with furrowed brows then smirks. Fuck, you were staring. And got caught. You see Jungkook pat Namjoon on the shoulder a few times then walk past him, much to Namjoon’s annoyance.

And he’s walking towards….you. FUCK. In a total panic, you twirl around to face the wall, yes the fucking wall when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“’Scuse me?” a voice says from behind you. You’re not going to play dumb, you know who the voice probably belongs to. You stay facing the wall, like a fucking weirdo.

“Wanna turn around?” his voice is light and teasing and you can’t help the long release of breath before turning to face him. Wow. Up close he’s even more handsome….

“Hi?” you sputter out, completely unaware of how lame and shy you sound.

“Hey, like what you see?” he nods his head in the direction he just came from, clearly amused.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Apparently playing dumb is how you decide to go about this. You stare at him with a blank expression, swaying from side to side. Lucky for you it’s in beat with the music so you look kind of cool. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I mean, you kept staring at me so.”

“No, its…it’s not like that”

“Then, what’s it like?”

“I just…I thought I recognized you so…” you wipe your sweaty hands on your black denim skirt. “That’s all.” You finish, still looking at him like you haven’t done anything weird tonight.

“Anderson’s Lit class right?” he asks with a pointed look. “I recognized you too.” His smirk does things to your lower half but you shouldn’t be admitting that right now.

“Oh?” is all you manage to say.

Jungkook studies you for a few moments, his gaze so dark and intimidating and you feel so flushed with his eyes on you. Then he groans with fingers rushing through his messy hair,

“Do you understand this week’s assignment?”

He…he wants to talk about school?

“Yes, I do. Because this assignment is wack as fuck.”

OH. You must of asked that out loud.

“Yes, you did.”

Oh, that too.

“Umm, yeah. What aren’t you understanding?” you finally say something relevant.

“It’s just more like, I think it’s a stupid assignment.” He chuckles, “Oh, you got something—” he reaches his hand forward to your hair, his fingers brushing through your long strands, pulling back with a piece of string. “Got it.” He says with a sly smile.

HOW CHEESY!!!! But like, it still made the heartbeat in your vagina go boom boom.

“Ya know…” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours as he talks. You actually don’t even know what he is talking about but his lips move so quickly you try to follow them. Your eyes on his lips the whole time, you don’t even realize it.

“…and that’s why I think it’s stupid.” He finally finishes with an obnoxious laugh. “Hey—hey are you even listening?” he says, his lips in a pout. You would know because they are all you’ve been staring at.

“Huh?” you blink lazily up at him, “Oh. Yeah. I totally agree.”

Jungkook stares at you seriously for a second before breaking out into a cackle, yes a cackle like he’s some hysterical witch. Which sounds really unattractive but honestly you’re digging it.

“It’s okay, you weren’t listening. I guess I’m not that interesting, huh?”

“No no! You are!” You’re quick to say, your hands waving frantically in front of you.

“Oh? So you do find me interesting?” he smirks, folding his arms across his chest.

You scoff at his words, appreciating his moves on you with a sly smile.

“Are you always this smooth?” you ask, a light teasing tone laced in your voice.

“Oh baby, you can find out. Should we go upstairs? I know a room.” He teases back.

Feeling so at home lost in your memories with Jungkook, you finally break free from the flashback. For some reason that’s a flashback you don’t mind reliving.

“Smooth.” You grin at Jungkook, you can’t help the blush that paints itself on your cheeks.

“For you? Always.” He grins back. You two just stare at one another, basking in the memories of your friendship.

“Okay, enough.” Jimin cuts in, his hands on both yours and Jungkook’s shoulders, “Either actually get a room and finally fuck or get on with your nights.”

You and Jungkook exchange awkward glances before turning towards the living room to join the party. Jimin is left at the houses entrance by the front door, totally dumbfounded. “these two idiots…” he scoffs under his breath, his eyes rolling so far back into his head.

Hours pass and you know what? The party isn’t as lame as you thought it might be. You are lost in the music on the living rooms dance floor with a red solo cup in one hand and your phone in the other.

“y/n!” you hear the call of one of your closest girlfriends.

“Trina!!!” you stumble towards her with a lopsided grin, you reach for her bringing her in for a long hug.

“Woah, someone’s drunk.” She laughs her loud laugh that you love so much. “And damn, the titty shirt is out tonight? Nice.”

“Not drunk” you giggle, and then continue to giggle again for no apparent reason.

“Right…” Trina slaps your back enthusiastically, “Where’s…” she then lowers her voice with a smirk, “lover boy?”

“who? Jungkook?” you ask with the tilt of your head.

Trina’s head pushes back with a confused expression, “What? No! I’m talking about…” she lowers her voice again, “Taehyung!”

OH. Right. You had texted Trina as soon as the whole ordeal with Taehyung unraveled. She knows of your long time crush and totally supports the idea of fake dating because as she puts it:

“Girl! This is your chance! Show him what a great girlfriend you would be, he would totally fall in love with you for real for real.”

And you have to say, you like where her head is at. Complete opposite of what Jungkook is always saying.

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t see him around.” You sway side to side, your lit up phone catching your attention.

Jungkook 1:22am

Don’t come home tonight ;)

You can’t help but roll your eyes. How is he so quick?

Y/N 1:23am

Alreadyasydy tslked 2 Jiminie, staying w hum toniteeee.

Jungkook 1:24am

y/n…you’re not too drunk right?

Jungkook 1:27am

y/n????

You are back to shaking your ass with Trina by your side, the bass of the music thumping so loudly you can feel it vibrate your whole body. Body after body pushes into you, causing you to stumble every few seconds. But your grip on your refilled solo cup doesn’t loosen, not as you chug back your drink.

“Gonna grab another!” you slur, nodding your head towards the kitchen. Trina only gives you a thumbs up as she continues to dance with some random girl.

The walk to the kitchen feels like it’s taking forever, the way the walls swirl around you makes you feel sick. You stagger through the kitchens walk way when you feel two arms wrap around your middle.

“My girlfriend!” You hear the slur of words in your right ear, loud and clear.

You turn in the man’s hold with squinted eyes,

“Oh hi Tae.” You giggle, encasing him in a hug. Drunk y/n is way more confident. For some reason seeing him like this you don’t feel as nervous or awkward. Then you feel it. The weird, uncomfortable pang in your chest. Why is that? You look up at Taehyung when the sensation of guilt begins to surface. You remind yourself of the mission you’re on, completely ignoring the inner truth that tries to bubble over and smile at him.

Taehyung looks down at you with a goofy grin, his fingers digging into your waist to keep you steady.

“Oh, you’re drunk drunk.” He teases.

“Am not!” you shake away your confusing thoughts and giggle some more. “wanna take a shot with me?” you excitedly ask him, nodding in the direction of the liquor bottles.

“Hell yeah girl!” he says, taking your hand and leading you towards the counter.

“Y/N are you okay????” Taehyung voice is laced in concern as he holds you. Yes, the Kim Taehyung is holding you. “Shit, I shouldn’t have let you drink this much….” But like in a totally pathetic way.

“You…” you lean back, hitting his chest with your pointer finger, “Don’t tell me how much I can or can’t drink!” your voice buzzes as you fall forward but Taehyung catches you again.

“Right right…” he chuckles but then he looks concerned again. “We need to get you home…let’s call Jungkook.”

“No! we caaaannnnoottt do that…” your words are all jumbled together, Taehyung has a hard time understanding you.

“Where’s your phone?”

“Back pocket.” You wink. Like a fucking sleaze.

Taehyung looks conflicted, but in the end he reaches around for your phone and turns it on.

“Holy shit y/n… you have 8 missed calls from Jungkook. And whole lotta texts.”

Jungkook 1:30am

Are you okay??

Jungkook 1:40am

y/n…Youre a big girl so ill just assume youre okay.

Jungkook 3:02am

Just talked to jimin and you aren’t with him?? where are u??

Jungkook 3:18am

Answer your fukin phone

Jungkook 3:23am

Are you still at the party?

Jungkook 3:41am

You aren’t with Trina either? y/n where are you?

Jungkook 4:00am

Don’t make me go back there….pls just answer your phone so I know if youre like, idk fucking alive

Jungkook 4:10am

Fine im going to look for you

“Fuck.” Taehyung hisses under his breath. “I gotta call him…I’m gonna call him okay?”

Your eyes go comically wide at Taehyungs words.

“No!”

“too late” he says, the phone to his hear.

“Hey man, no its me…Taehyung, yeah…yeah….she….” Taehyung eyes you carefully as he speaks on the phone, “She’s fine. She just has had maybe too much to dri—” Taehyung drags a hand down his tired face, “No for fucks sake I didn’t do anything to her. Really dude?”

You lean into Taehyungs space, trying to put your ear to the phone as well and Taehyung can’t help but laugh.

“I read all your texts to be honest…if you have a girl over…what? No, I’m saying y/n can just stay with me…”

Stay with Taehyung? That should make your heart race but—

You think all the alcohol is catching up to you at once and the world becomes even more blurred and a spinning mess. You would give anything to be cuddled up in your blankets with Jungkook taking care of you—wait, no. You don’t need Jungkook to take care of you. You have a perfectly good Taehyung who just offered his place to you.

“I swear man, I’ll take care of h—” Taehyung rolls his eyes, “she might be too drunk to talk….okay, I’ll ask her.” Taehyung lowers the phone and faces you.

“y/n.”

“Hm?” you blink lazily, swaying into Taehyungs chest. Oh no. You feel it, you feel the nausea building up in your tummy, making its way up your chest. On a scale of 1 to 10 how dead would you die if you threw up on Taehyung?

“Do you want Jungkook to come pick you up?”

Jungkook? Like, your Jungkook? Unfortunately for you, your eyes gloss over and probably also unfortunate for Taehyung as well as he looks at you with an alarmed expression . You feel sick. You want to go home. You want to sit on your bathroom floor and throw up in the toilet with Jungkook sitting next to you while he hums a soft tune to soothe you.

“Y-Yes.” You murmur shyly, you begin to sniffle and Taehyung begins to panic.

“Okay man yeah come pick her up.”

“want Jungkook…” you say as a few tears spill over. You are trying your hardest to keep the puke down but its threatening to exit your poor drunk body.

“I think she’s gonna be sick so please hurry…” Taehyung rushes to say over the phone before hanging up.

The next few minutes are a blur, you know Taehyung rushes you to the bathroom. He is overly sweet the whole time you see nothing but blurred, spinning images. He holds your hair back as your body threatens to release tonight’s dinner and says comforting words but nothing makes you feel better. The puke won’t make its guest appearance and your whole world is spinning at a inhumane pace. You’re about to give up on life and fall to the bathroom floor of this gross frat house and try to sleep when you hear him.

“Lemme in dude.” It’s Jungkook. You stir from your sleepy state and turn your head towards the door. He barges in, his eyes landing on you and they soften. He immediately falls to the floor to caress the back of your head and you immediately begin to sob. The tears are out of your control as they slide down your cheeks.

“Don’t...don’t...feel good.” You say between wails, gripping desperately onto his shirt.

“I know baby, I know.” He pulls you into his chest, his hand soothingly running up and down your back. “Has she thrown up yet?” Jungkook looks up at Taehyung with expectant eyes. Taehyung is so caught off guard while watching the two of you.

“uh, no.”

“Okay, can you leave us alone for a while?” Jungkook says somewhat harshly then his features soften as he whispers “She will probably be embarrassed later if you saw…”

“Right.” Taehyung says, his worried expression not going unnoticed by Jungkook. Then Taehyung is on his way out, but he turns one last time to get a look at you.

“feel better y/n” then he is out the door, shutting it behind him.

“Okay y/n…remember what you gotta do?”

“finger?” you slur.

“Yup. Put your finger…yes like that,” he says as you begin to push your finger down your throat to get yourself to throw up.

“I promise you’ll feel better.”

You begin gagging on your finger as you finally throw up in the toilet, Jungkook rubbing your back the entire time giving you words of encouragement.

“Good girl, good girl.” He whispers.

Your face is a fucking mess. Your makeup smeared beyond belief. The black streaks from your tears marking your cheeks in the most horrific way. Jungkook watches you as you cry into his lap on the floor, his heart breaking at the sight. He hated when you drank too much and got like this. He should of never left you alone tonight.

“Jungkook?” you choke out, your tears still spilling from your dark eyes.

“Hm?” he responds, his fingers brushing back your hair.

“Did I ruin your night? Or did you still get some?” you chuckle pathetically.

“Don’t worry about that.” He brushes more hair out of your face, he lifts your head up and places it on a towel. He stands to his feet at the sink, reaching for a towelette and running it under warm water.

“Gonna clean your face okay?” he warns softly.

“kay…” you close your eyes when you feel the wet warmth of the towelette on your cheek. Jungkook is careful to clean you delicately, wiping away the makeup and leaving you spotless.

He’s back under you, your head in his lap and his hands back in your hair.

“you told me you were going to be with Jimin tonight yet you were with Taehyung…”

“It just happened like that” you whisper, sleep beginning to take over.

“I was…really worried about you when I didn’t hear from you, stupid.”

You smile at his words, his touch making you melt.

“Ya know, you’re not the only one allowed to get some Jungkook. I can be like you and have sex too if I want.”

“What are you talking about?” his hand stops in your hair.

“Would if I was getting some? That’s why I didn’t answer?”

“Were you?” his voice is low.

“Well, no—”

“Okay good.”

“Why is that good? Hm?” you open your eyes just a little bit, taking in the hazy world. “Wish it was you I was getting it on with?” you say quietly.

“You’re drunk.”

“I wanna go home.”

“take a nap first, okay?” his fingers begin playing in your hair again, “I’ll wake you up in 30 minutes.”

Your eyes are already closed when he says this, sleep already welcoming you in its warm embrace. “Kay” you murmur.

Jungkook plays with your hair as you snooze in his lap, he watches the rise and fall of your chest and wonders what it would be like to lay his head on it and sleep too.

Bbrrrr bbbrrrrr bbrrrr brrrrrr

A phone call. The most horrifying buzzing occurs next to your face as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Wait, how did you get home last night? You remember drinking and dancing the night away, you remember hanging out with Taehyung…oh no, you remember Jungkook coming to the rescue. Oh no...

You try to open your eyes, but the light from the sun is too damn blinding. You squint at what is in view. Right in front of you, you see black locks of hair poking out of the blanket, a dark blue blanket. You recognize this blanket. Jungkook’s blanket. You are in Jungkook’s bed. With Jungkook. This isn’t so surprising, you imagine you had refused to sleep in your own bed last night—

Bbbrrrr bbbrrrr brrrr brrrrr

Right. Your phone.

You fumble the phone trying to pick it up and answer it when Jungkook groans next to you,

“Hurry up and answer it” he says, sliding deeper under the covers.

“Hello?” you croak out, your voice hoarse and honestly? Disgusting.

“Hey y/n!” This voice is way too damn chipper for whatever ungodly hour it is.

“Tae?”

“Good afternoon sleepy head! Did I wake you?” Afternoon? What time is it? You pull the phone away from your face to check the time.

2:06pm

Holy shit, you’ve slept the day away.

“No no,” you lie, “Just in bed…” you say sitting up from where you lay.

“Great! Do you think maybe I could…come over? We can discuss the whole fake dating thing.” He chuckles into the phone. COME OVER? Immediately you begin smoothing down your hair with your free hand and start to peel back the covers to get out of bed.

“Umm, when?” you glance over at sleeping Jungkook, his face mostly hidden behind the blanket.

“Maybe around 6? I could cook you dinner? I know you had a rough night…”

Fucking great. You don’t want to think of last night, you will die of fucking embarrassment.

“yeah…listen, you don’t have to do all that—”

“I want to!” Taehyung is quick to cut you off, “As your boyfriend—fake boyfriend it is my duty to take care of you!” you feel like you can see the boxy smile on his face. It makes you motherfucking swoon.

“Okay then, 6.” You smile into the phone. “Bye tae.”

You bring the phone down into your lap, clicking the end button. Dinner with Taehyung? Like a date? You can’t help but feel internally giddy at the thought. You squeal for a second before Jungkook speaks up.

“What’s at 6?” he peeks from under the covers, his voice husky and groggy.

“Oh… nothing” you sing, a bright smile on your face.

“Something with Tae?” he begins to sit himself up as well.

“We’re just going to have dinner and talk about the whole fake dating thing.” You beam.

“You’re still doing that shit?”

Automatically you go from super excited to annoyed. Only Jungkook can do that to you.

“It’s harmless, Jungkook. Plus…”

“plus what?” he raises a single brow.

“Trina says this is a good opportunity…”

“y/n I have told you not to get too involved with this guy, but you don’t listen to me.” Jungkook crosses his arms over his chest, then bows his head down in defeat.

“But whatever, learn your fucking lessons by yourself.”

You can’t help but feel like Jungkook is once again looking down at you, like you aren’t good enough for Taehyung. Your breaths become unsteady as you just stare at your best friend like he isn’t constantly hurting your feelings on the matter.

“I—I will be fine. I want him, Jungkook. And this is—this is a good opportunity to show him I can be a good enough girlfriend ya know—”

“Just stop.” Jungkook cuts you off in a harsh tone. “I never said you weren’t good enough? You’re just not what he wants.” Jungkook can see how his words break you further. “Fuck. Forget I said that, y/n…”

“Why can’t he want me?”

Jungkook hates just how quietly you ask that…he hates how defeated you sound, how defeated you look…your head hanging low with no attempt to even look at him.

“He’s just…”

“No, it’s fine. Don’t answer that” You stand from the bed and begin walking towards his door. You look down to see you’re wearing nothing but Jungkook’s t shirt and some panties, you groan at your own shamelessness when you hear the rushed ruffling of the comforter behind you and the plop of feet landing on the ground. Jungkook stands behind you, his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Just move on y/n…”

I’m fucking trying to, is what you want to say but instead you opt for a harsh ‘leave me alone’ as you exit his room.

You spend the next couple of hours pampering yourself, you had a rough night and you totally deserve a piece of cake, this bubble bath and face mask. You want to feel relaxed but you can’t get the image of Jungkook out of your head. You hate it when the two of you fight. You mean, to others this would hardly come off as a ‘fight’ but you and Jungkook never really have negative energy. So, yes. It’s a fight. He’s the last person in the world you want to fight with. Yet here you are.

But then the image of Taehyung cooking you dinner enters your mind and somehow you feel a little more at ease. Was this a date? You giggle to yourself, blowing bubbles that reaches your lips as you sink deeper into the tub. You have an hour before Taehyung was to arrive at your apartment…your shared apartment. God, you hope Jungkook takes a hint and goes and hangs out with Jimin or something.

You finally rise from the tub and dry off your now freshly cleansed body. The scent of lavender fills the air and you feel satisfied with how your bath turned out.

You read the clock…5:30pm and you know it’s time to get dressed.

You settle for some high waisted shorts and a white tank top with a purple bralette where the straps are generously shown. Looking into the mirror, you decide to do light makeup and tinted lip balm. You don’t want to try too hard for the boy you’re trying to woo.

And bam. 6pm right on the dot you hear the door being lightly knocked. You begin walking towards the front door but stop to see if Jungkook is in his room or not. He’s not. Relief washes over you as you continue to walk towards the front door. But where did he go? You’re relieved he isn’t home but feel anxious that you don’t know where he could have gone. Maybe to Jimin’s? Maybe to some random girls? Somehow this makes you feel more anxious. You shake away those thoughts and swing the front door open.

“Hey there.” Taehyungs boxy grin is enough to get you pregnant. Like, god damn. He looks amazing. He’s got dress pants and some floral shirt and his hair looks slightly wet. That’s not the only thing slightly wet. You internally cringe at your thought.

“Hey Tae, come on in.” you open the door wider to let the boy through. He walks past you and makes himself comfortable in the kitchen, setting down a bag of what you assume is probably groceries.

“You like spaghetti?” he asks excitedly, almost like a child.

“Who doesn’t?” you smirk walking his way and sitting down at the breakfast table. “Need any help?” you offer.

“Not at all.” Taehyung begins unpacking his things and gets to work in the kitchen. You watch in awe, your head nuzzled in your hands as he does his thing.

“Dinner was amazing Tae.” You go to compliment the chef. It really was. The noodles were long and soft and the sauce was very flavorful. Did you really just compliment the length and softness of fucking noodles? Wow, you are whipped. You almost wish Taehyung was your roommate and not useless in the kitchen Jungkook. Oh. Jungkook. The thought of him enters your mind and it has you hurting. You may be having a blast with your crush but you and your best friend are still in the middle of a fight. About said crush. But this really is your chance. You can get Taehyung to like you, maybe even fall for you. And you need this. You need this. So you can’t give up, no matter what Jungkook says.

“Not as amazing as you” Taehyung winks but then his face drops, “Sorry that was cheesy, wasn’t it?” he drags a hand down his handsome face. “I suck at flirting.”

You look up at him, completely intrigued.

“You’re trying to flirt with me?” you can’t help but to smile slyly.

“Of course I am!” Taehyung laughs loudly then reaches for his backpack in the chair next to his and pulls out a notebook.

“So I wrote some ideas for this whole fake dating thing.” He becomes just a tad more serious as a nervous grin lights up his face.

“Oh really? Should I have a look?” you say reaching for the notebook with grabby hands, “Gimme!”

Taehyung chuckles while pulling the notebook to his chest, “No! Miss Greedy.” He teases. “How about I just read them and we can discuss?”

“fine.” You pout, “Whatever you say.”

“Whatever I say? I like the sound of that.” He smirks then his eyes fall to the paper in front of him. “First, we should go on dates…like all the time. The more time we spend together the more believable it’ll be. Ya know?”

“Okay, makes sense. Makes sense.”

“Second, we should attend all parties together and leave together too.” Then his eyes go wide, “I just mean—like don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get you home.”

You can’t help but giggle, nodding your head to his words.

“Third, we should post each other on social media! For example, I can take a picture of tonight’s date and post it on the gram.”

“Tonight was a date?” you ask, a delighted smile making its way on your face.

“Well, yeah…” he answers shyly.

“anything else?” you question, leaning your head in your hands as you look into his big brown eyes.

“Well….. there is one more thing I wrote down….” He answers awkwardly. His eyes sliding to the side to avert your gaze.

“oh? What is it?” you try to take a peek at the paper, curiosity getting the best of you—as usual.

“I’ll just let you read it…” he then pushes the notebook on the table in your direction, you excitedly pick it up and skim the paper. You look at all the things he wrote down, smiling because he even added his own tips.

Buy her flowers.

Movie dates?

Netflix and chill

Cook her dinner

How cute. He even added little doodles. Your eyes continue to skim the page as your smile grows at how much thought he has put into this. Your heart is beating out of your chest…you know this is all fake and for show but you cannot help how happy its making you feel. You continue to smile and hum as your eyes skim lower and lower until you see the last thing on his list.

No Jungkook.

Huh? Your smile begins to falter. No Jungkook? What does that even mean? You look up to meet Taehyungs eyes. He’s already anxiously staring at you.

“I don’t understand?” you breathe out, “What does that mean?”

“No Jungkook.” He half whispers.

“You—you realize he is my best friend? Why no Jungkook?” you pinch your brows together in confusion.

“It’s just…” Taehyung begins to explain himself, “You two are awfully close. And people already get the wrong idea about you two. Like, all the fucking time. Even I think sometimes…that’s not important. It just means for one month, you’re mine. And I don’t want people to get the wrong idea if you’re always with Jungkook.” He pulls at the hair at his neck. “Is this making sense?” Taehyung looks flustered trying to get out all of his words.

“It would make me look pathetic don’t you think? That my supposed girlfriend is always with some other guy? I mean, y/n it’s just for one month…”

One month without Jungkook? Would you really choose a boy over your best friend? Even if only for a month?

“Tae… I don’t know.” You look down at your hands as your breathing begins to pick up.

“I can’t just abandon my best friend for an entire month…”

“I mean, you guys live together so it’s not like you won’t be seeing him. Just in public…ya know?”

Taehyung has a point, you try to reason. If you have a boyfriend it’s only natural to spend most of your time with them. But it still felt wrong. But… a part of you feels like this is a good idea, actually. You’ve always been meaning to put at least some distance between you and Jungkook, ya know, for your own sake. But this feels wrong. You’re about to decline his request when you hear the front door open and Jungkook’s shuffles in. He has his airpods in and doesn’t even spare you a glance. He walks straight to his bedroom and slams the door shut.

You feel embarrassed in front of your guest that your roommate and also yeah, your best fucking friend didn’t even acknowledge you.

“Uh, he’s in a mood” you try covering for Jungkook. Then you feel the buzz of your phone and you go to check it

Jungkook 8:02pm

Watching you fawn over him is just pathetic, but like, good luck.

All you see is red. Jungkook once again shitting on your love life and raining on your god damn parade. You know what? This is your chance with Taehyung and you aren’t going to let your bratty best friend ruin that for you.

“You know what, Tae?” you say setting your phone on the table.

“Yeah?”

“You’re right. I agree with your list.”

“Wait—you do? Even the Jung—”

“Yup.”

Taehyung tilts his head to the side as a wide grin makes its way across his face, “should we shake on it?” he asks with his hand pushed out in front of you.

You take his hand in yours, squeezing tightly before you pull him in and seal the deal with a quick kiss. Taehyung’s shocked expression makes you giggle, “Thought that would make it more official”

“I like having you as a girlfriend already.”

One month without Jungkook? Bring it on.

[nightowlwriting]

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

[obeiii-mee]

Mammon being greedy and constantly hoarding things away from all the others makes sense. That whole ‘scummy second born’ characteristic he has is what defines him as a demon and as a character. He’s the Embodiment of Greed. He does this shit all the time. The stealing, the lying, the gambling- all of it! Even his brothers seem to be under the impression that he doesn’t care about anyone else but himself. Which is just wrong, to put it in simple terms. Mammon does a lot for his family; they just fail to realise that.

Quite a few of the limited edition figurines and anime DVDs sitting on Levi’s shelf are from him, y’know? He made it seem like it was no big deal, that he found them lying around on the ground and he just happened to stumble across them and, out of the generosity of his own heart, handed them to his brother who was obviously excited to receive this kind of rare equipment. And the third born believed him because that sounds like a Mammon thing to do, since why else would he have such precious possessions within his reach? And give it to him no less, when he could’ve sold them for a lot of money??? In truth, Mammon probably went into debt trying to win these things and proceeded to spend weeks trying to get his hands on at least one so he could give the damn toy to his brother already. As an early birthday gift or something, idk what excuse he had in mind because he still has a reputation to uphold so he can’t be caught being a softie now, ya hear?!

Satan woke up with a cat in his room once. No tag, no owner. He swore that was the happiest day of his life simply because this random baby kitten found its way into his mess of a bedroom and he decided it was fate that such a wonderful thing were to happen. It took a while for Lucifer to agree but eventually he had to give in because Satan was being persistent, so he agreed on the condition that it’s just ONE cat and he better not come home to find a million of them sitting in the living room. Yeah, Mammon brought him that cat. He found it on the streets, in an empty alleyway or something, thought Satan might find it cute and then just…brought it home, I guess. And afterwards, he sneaked it into his brother’s room and pretended to act surprised the next day when its discovery was announced. He was also the one to convince Lucifer to let Satan keep it. Also, turns out the cat DID have an owner and Mammon just stole a pet, without even meaning to.

Asmo knows Mammon buys him make up kits and clothes from time to time. What he doesn’t know is that Mammon buys a lot of his jewellery too. To put it simply, the second eldest gets some really expensive looking-ass necklace, shoves it into a lower demon’s hands and tells him to go on and ‘give it to Asmo over there! He’s gonna love it, no need to thank me. You’re gonna earn some brownie points with the Avatar of Lust, good for you small, insignificant demon. Now just do it already!!’ Essentially, he’s too embarrassed to give these gifts himself but this is a regular occurrence that he forces onto others of lower status lol. Asmo comes home every time, flaunting this new gorgeous pair of earrings a fan of his gifted him and Mammon just goes ‘Whoa, that thing must be worth a fortune! Why dontcha hand it over to me, eh? C’mon, older brother privileges’ and the fifth born yells at him to stop being such a greedy asshole. The whole time he’s putting up a font so he doesn’t get found out because it would hurt his ego immensely if the others knew. Rinse and repeat after a couple of days….

The twins are easy because for Beel, all he needs to do is make him his favourite dish as often as possible and take him out to a few restaurants every once in a while to make him happy, which is good enough for Mammon, even if his wallet is screaming at him by the time they’re done. Belphie wouldn’t even notice this, but half of his pillows have either been ordered by Mammon on Akuzon or stolen from somewhere. I would be too afraid to ask where he stole such high quality pillows and blankets but yeah. Actually, those are two of the many things he does for the twins, the others including:

-Doing quite a bit of schoolwork for Belphie when he misses his classes (though he sometimes jokingly asks for compensation) or for Beel who stained his notes after salivating on them in class

-Sewing a few of Belphie’s pillows that he knows his brother used to like a lot before they ripped and had to be discarded of

-Always lets Beel know where his twin is because Belphie has a habit of falling asleep in random places and he doesn’t want Beel to worry about him when that happens so if he happens to spot him, he always tells Beel first so he can go and get him back to their room

-Etc…

Lucifer is last, mainly because Mammon doesn’t really give him a lot of physical gifts. I mean, some of the pricey alcohol the eldest has displayed in his office is from him but for Lucifer, Mammon was mostly there to provide him with emotional support. Especially after the fall happened and they all transformed into their ‘deformed’ demon forms for the first time, unrecognisable from the beautiful angels they once were before. That’s why Lucifer has so much trust in him-it’s because he knows Mammon is the most reliable demon out there and has always been there for him, quietly supporting him from the sidelines because he knew his brother had too much pride to ask for help from others. If I had to guess, Mammon would’ve had to pull Lucifer out of countless nervous breakdowns and self-pitying lines of thought, even more so after Lilith’s death. Honestly, Lucifer would’ve been totally lost and even more closed off than he is in the game at the moment if Mammon’s hadn’t been there for him. Actually, I guarantee you everyone would’ve fallen apart if Mammon was the one to die the Celestial War instead of their sister just because he’s the glue that’s holding them all together.

This post got really long but the point I’m trying to make is that Mammon loves his brothers and none of them really appreciate it enough because they’ve got this painted image of what they thought he should be like in their heads and therefore take all of his actions, as sincere as they may be, with a grain of salt. Obviously, these are just my HCs but I’m sure there are times where Mammon wonders if his siblings care for him at all or if they really dislike him as much as they let on. I know I would start thinking like that if I grew up in an environment where I’m constantly being insulted for the most minor of mistakes, since negative behaviour affects and sticks with you for a long time.

[h0tchner]

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife​’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

[littlemissnoname13]

hi could you please make a part two to feeling colors, i LOVED your writing in it. no rush :))

Hiii nonnie! 💕 I did end up writing a second part for the fic after all. I hope you like it as much as the first. X

Feeling Colours - Part Two

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Word count: 2500 give or take

Summary: Draco’s feelings for the reader start to grow

Warnings: fluff, excessive drinking, mentions of throwing up, kissing, nothing explicit, Draco being a softie (lmk if this needs more warnings)

Masterlist | Part One 

Your eyes fluttered open to find Draco Malfoy sitting on a chair next to you, breathing quietly like sleep was finally hitting him. Ruffled blond strands of hair fell over his weary eyes and he’d used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. 

Your first instinct was to silently lift up your covers and check if your clothes were still intact and thank Merlin they were. 

“Have a little faith Y/n.” Draco grumbled, startling you in the process as he struggled to lift himself into a more comfortable position. “I would never take advantage of a drunk girl.”

Fragments of the previous night came back to you when you heard him say that. 

The party, the burn of the booze, the dust-filled broom closet, the throwing up, the taste of soup and the strong and sturdy arms of the boy now looking at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

You eased at the sight of his smile. There came a certain type of comfort after someone had seen you throwing your guts up. 

“Thank you for last night Draco.”

“Like I said before Miss raging alcoholic, Don’t make a habit of it.” He let out a small yawn and started to smooth out his hair but much to his dismay, the strands refused to cooperate. 

You couldn't help but laugh at the displeased look on his face. “Here, let me—”

“NO. I absolutely refuse to let you touch my hair.” He protested, grabbing both your wrists before your fingers could make contact with his precious hair. 

“Come on Malfoy.” You pleaded, now fully out of bed and trying to break free from his hands. “I swear I can fix it for you.”

“Nope.” He said firmly as he tried his hardest to maintain a straight face. “Stop it—No please not the sides—no..”

“Please, just a bit more...ah okay….there we go.”

“Haven’t you done enough Hufflepuff?!”

“Oh. that rhymed.” You laughed, still touching his hair when the two of you accidently tumbled onto the chair he was originally sleeping on. 

Draco was agile in cushioning your fall with one of his hands balancing himself on the armrest and one hand wrapped around your waist.

It was only the second time he’d saved you from falling and you were already getting used to it. 

Something inside of you was immediately hoping that Draco would be there to break your fall for a third time too. 

It felt good with him.

It felt safe with him.

~~~

Alone at the school courtyard in the afternoon of the next day, Draco sat down in a far corner to rearrange his cluttered thoughts about you into tidy little compartments in his brain. 

It should have been easy for him. He was a natural occlumens after all.

But for some bizarre reason, he couldn't find a way to erase your name, the sound of your voice and your scent that was slowly dominating all four lobes of his brain and all four chambers of his heart. 

Even with the sun still in the sky, the occasional gust of wind made his hands turn cold so he instinctively shoved his hands into his blazer pocket to warm up. 

It was only then that he realised that he’d completely forgotten to give your locket back to you. 

~~~

A few days had now passed and Draco had gotten several opportunities to give your necklace back to you. 

First it was at the great hall.

He watched you intently from the Slytherin table, waiting for the perfect opportunity to talk to you while you nibbled on a cupcake.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he watched you lick the powdery pink frosting off your Peony lips.

He wasn’t all that fond of those cupcakes you were eating but he’d have done anything for a taste of the frosting from your lips. 

Before he could even manage to walk over to you, you stood up and walked away with your friends.

When you were close to the exit however, you paused and turned towards the Slytherin table to give him a tiny smile.

He quickly reached into his pocket to look at the locket, it was the exact pink shade of the frosting. 

~~~

The second time he tried to return it was at Potions class. 

Theo had so graciously agreed to switch partners with Draco and Snape did not seem to mind as long as the potions were brewed right. 

“Crush the petals as best you can before dropping them into the cauldron.” Snape instructed and you quickly grabbed a fistfull of rose petals. 

Draco watched in awe as you crushed rose petals in your hands, releasing the floral aroma into the atmosphere. The scent caught onto clothes and a flush crept onto his face.

“Well, are you going to help me, Malfoy?”

Draco silently copied your motion and stirred the cauldron till the potion was simmering and ready.

Returning your locket in the middle of Severus’s class did not seem like a smart idea so he decided to come up with a better one. 

“We are having another party in the dungeons on Friday. You should come and bring Abott if you’d like.”  Draco shrugged it off like it was the most casual thing ever. 

“Will there be elf made wine?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he let out a rather loud scoff earning the attention of the sulky potion’s master.

“Malfoy, Y/l/n.” Snape called out, looking as unimpressed as ever. “Detention.Saturday.”

“Incorrigible.” Draco muttered and you nudged him in the rib with your elbow. 

“Two Saturdays.” Snape said, before dismissing the entire class. 

On his way out, Draco discreetly sneaked a peak of the necklace in his pocket because he already knew what colour it was going to be. 

It was the exact same pink of the rose petals you were crushing. 

~~~

Two days had gone by since potions class and Draco was no longer fazed when the necklace emulated the same shades of pink from the bubblegum you were blowing or the fuschia ribbon in your hair. 

Draco also didn’t think it was necessary to make another attempt to return your necklace until Friday.

He already had a lot of things preoccupying his mind like actually planning the party. 

There had been no Slytherin Party planned for Friday before Draco invited you and now, He was getting his friends to help him arrange one. 

Crabbe and Goyle were tasked with getting more liquor,  Blaise and Theo were responsible for music and food while Draco was responsible with the overall logistics like silencing charms and getting the word of the party out. 

“All this for a girl.” Blaise mocked. Theo took this moment to whisper something to Crabbe who then whispered something to Goyle. 

“Care to say it out loud, Nott?” Draco seethed as he watched his friends clutch their stomachs and laugh out loud. 

“Theo called you a simp.” A teary eyed Goyle spluttered. 

“A what now?”

~~~

Friday’s party topped the previous one. 

More people, A wider selection of liquor, wine varietals, good food and music blasting so loud that the floors were vibrating. 

As per usual, Hannah had already disappeared into some dark little corner with her paramour leaving you all alone with a group of Slytherin girls. 

“I love your dress!” Exclaimed a tipsy looking Daphne Greengrass who herself was wearing a gorgeous turquoise number. 

“Thank you.” You replied, giving her your most polite and friendly smile. 

“Come now, let's go and dance already.” Pansy crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at the interaction. Although it wasn’t super obvious, you sensed that Pansy wasn’t too pleased to have you there. 

Daphne intertwined her hands to yours and pulled you into the dancefloor with herself, Pansy Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. 

Daphne’s surprisingly amiable nature took you by surprise but you decided to go with it. It was a party after all. 

When she placed her hands on your shoulders, you mirrored. When she swayed her hips, so did you. 

“He can't stop staring at you now, can he?” Daphne shouted into your ear over the music as you both continued to dance together. 

“I’m sorry who?” You shouted back. 

“Malfoy.” Daphne giggled. “ He’s been watching you all night actually. Why do you think he hosted this party in the first place?”

You stole a quick glance at Draco when no one was looking. He was sipping on a glass of whisky and watching you from a distance.

He had ditched his all black attire for a white button down shirt. The top two buttons were undone and his hair had a sort of laid back look to it

“See?” Daphne shouted again. “Hasn’t even taken his eyes off you once. It's driving Pansy nuts.”

Just to confirm if Daphne was in fact telling the truth, you tilted your head to the side to get a bitter view of him and the minute you did, your eyes met with his.

Heat spread all across your cheeks and he raised his glass to you as an acknowledgement before quickly turning away. 

After that, it was just an intense and tactical little gambit of who caught who staring. 

He covertly watched you sway your hips and you secretly noticed the way he tapped his fingertips on the glass he was holding.

Both of you refused to relent to whatever game this was up until the point where he grabbed a bottle of fire whisky and started to walk away. 

You didn't even need to think twice about where he was headed. 

“Go on.” Daphne nudged encouragingly.

~~~

Draco pulled the closet door open and stepped inside with a smile playing at his lips.

The last time he was there, he was introduced to you, your scent, your smile, your eyes. 

Before that night in the closet, he took colours at their face value. They were nothing more than visual representations of light—what amount, what hue, what saturation.

It was strange how things had changed for him. 

Not only did you make him see colours in a whole new light, you made him feel them, you made him hear them.

As Draco settled down with his drink, he saw the door creak open. 

It was still dark but he could already tell that it was you by the scent of your perfume. Oh, he could never ever forget that aroma even if he tried. 

Lumos. 

Draco held his wand in front of him and allowed himself to turn to his side to get a better view of you. 

Never had he ever seen someone glow the way you did under the lumos charm. The radiance in your eyes, the pearlescence of your skin and the curvature of your lips made him lightheaded.

“I feel like this closet is going to be a recurring thing for us huh?” You beamed at him and he found himself swooning. 

Salazar Slytherin. Nott was right. He was a simp.

“I guess so.” Draco quickly answered, Blaming this dizziness on the lack of ventilation while taking a big sip of his drink. 

“I don’t mind.” You said and twisted open the bottle of wine you’d brought with you. 

“Don’t tell me you brought another bottle of that god awful wine in here.”

 “It’s actually not that bad and it gets you drunk way quicker.” You shrugged. 

“Why do I feel like I might have to walk you to your dorm again?” 

He watched you take a long slow sip of wine and couldn’t help himself from noting that your lips were slowly getting stained red with the fruity nectar. 

“Might?” You shook your head. “Sorry to break it to you, but this wine is going to catch up with me soon.” 

Draco jokingly palmed his face, earning a laugh from you. It seemed like the perfect time to hand you your lost possession back. 

“Atleast, I’ll know when you are going to be sick though.” Draco said as he fished for the locket in his pocket. 

“How come?” 

“Because of this.” He explained, holding the necklace out. “I’m sorry I should have given it back sooner.” 

“That’s okay.” You murmured softly and pushed your hair away from your neck and he instantly took this as a cue to drape the necklace back to where it belonged. 

“Ah…there you go.” He whispered into your ear before shifting back to look at the gem. 

Draco expected it to be pink but to his astonishment, the gem had already turned a vibrant red. 

A new colour.

He could see red in the apples of your cheeks.

He could feel red pumping through his veins and hear red in the way his heart was rapidly beating. 

 “It’s red.” You commented and he slowly nodded. 

Even though he knew what red was for him, he needed to hear your interpretation before making his next move. 

“What does red mean to you y/n?” 

“To me, well…..red represents um..passion, something fiery, something that burns bright, leaves you breathless.” You whispered looking as if you were feeling almost as breathless as him. 

Draco swallowed hard when he noticed just how close your face was to his. 

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?” 

“If I kissed you right now, would you kiss me back?”

He noticed that your breathing was progressively getting shorter. You looked startled at his sudden question but held his gaze nonetheless. 

“I guess you’ll have to see for yourself, Draco.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hoarse chuckle before pressing his forehead to yours. “Is that an invitation hm?” 

You didn’t say a word but the deepening red color of your necklace gave everything away. 

Any remaining doubt in his mind went away when he felt you caress his cheeks with your cold hands. 

He gently let his fingers slip into your hair as he closed the distance between your lips. 

The kiss was reminiscent of the rush of first love. The innocence, the giggles. 

The kiss paid homage that perfumed night in the broom closet that had started it all. 

The kiss was bleeding, seeping, trickling In various shades of red and he was drinking every drop. 

Draco Malfoy could finally tell what the colour red tasted like. 

It tasted like your wine stained lips. 

He backed away and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and you gave him a shy smile in return. 

~~~

The two of you spent the remainder of the party inside the closet. 

Drinking, talking, laughing and more kissing.

So much kissing. 

“Alright y/n, let’s get you to your room now shall we?” Draco sighed when he noticed that you were getting more and more inebriated by the minute. “Come on.” 

You struggled to step out of the closet and almost tripped on your own two drunken feet.

Almost. 

“As if I’m going to let you fall face first.” He mumbled to himself before lifting you up in his arms. 

You let out a small laugh before looking up at him. 

“Draco?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you said to not make a habit of this but unfortunately for you, I already have.” 

FIN. 

~~~

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Join my tag list here .

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Love,

vi

[ramp-it-up]

...And Forever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

AU: MCU A/U, after TFATWS

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk. Alternate MCU facts/timeline, lies, cursing, angst,  oral, (F, M receiving) fingering, spit play rank kink, size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), sex on a pool table, semi-public sex, a special surprise, stalker-ish behavior, almost Dark!Steve? Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N: I am an MCU nerd but not a timeline detail gal. Please forgive me if the timeline is off. This is an alternate universe and a work of fiction. Please have fun with it! This is the second part to Always.  Enjoy!

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

You opened your eyes to see that you were in what looked like a break room. There was a coffee machine, a round table with five chairs, a row of lockers, two Captain Americas, and a Winter Soldier.

There was some strange conversation going on.

“Then who gave me the shield at the lake…?”  

Sam was questioning Steve, but he stopped talking when you started moving around.  You must have still been in the wedding venue, because you saw the name of the historic building on various items in the room. 

You scowled up at Sam, Bucky and Steve.

You moved to sit up and Steve was at your side. “Easy…”

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You squinted at Steve. His hair was shorter and he was clean shaven, but he was still gorgeous. Those blue eyes were full of concern. 

You raised your hand, and he held it, holding it and caressing it as you raised it to his face.

“Is it really you?”

Steve smiled ruefully at you. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You held his cheek and looked at him, bringing your other hand up to the other side of his face. He smiled at you. 

You grabbed him and hugged him hard, and then pulled back again as he held you in his arms. He moved back and pursed those ruby red lips. 

You had this irresistible urge to...slap the shit out of him. And so you did.

The sound reverberated in the room. Steve just stared up at you, with that fucking beautiful face, and then smiled, rubbing his jaw as if it hurt. 

But you knew it didn’t. And you were tired of the bullshit.

Sam and Bucky moved to calm you down, but you were too quick for them, pacing to the other side of the room. 

“All of you can stay the hell away from me. Y’all have some fuckin nerve. Especially you, Steven.”  

Your Houston accent was shining through with your anger.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that was harsh. But I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You pointed at Steve.

“Fuck you.” 

You were seething, especially when he raised his eyebrow at your comment. But he quickly fixed his face when he saw the rage on yours. You looked at Sam, who just looked down, and at Bucky, who looked like he was in pain.  

Fuck thier feelings.

“I deserve your anger. I didn't tell…” Steve tried it. 

“You don’t deserve a got damn thing. Not even my anger.” 

Steve was stone faced at your vitriol. You were shaking, trying to control your emotions and not cry.  You were so hot. You fought to keep your voice steady.

“I thought you were dead.” It came out as a ragged whisper. But you knew everyone heard you.

Your voice was low, even, and scary. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes. Your own were brimming with tears.

“I thought you were dead and that they didn’t want to tell me.” 

You waved your hand at Bucky and Sam. And you waited until Steve looked you in the eyes again. 

“I thought you were in prison, that someone, on some alien star, forced you to play some sick gladiator games. Or that HYDRA was still around and they turned you into an agent for them. Or that you lost your memory in the blip. So many scenarios played in my mind, Steven.”

Steve knew better than to talk. This was his time to listen.

“But I never ever once thought that you chose this. Never thought it was your choice to leave and to stay away.”

“Listen…” Sam started speaking.

“Shut the fuck UP, Samuel.” 

If you had Bucky’s knives, all of them would be seriously injured right now.  

“You knew that he was alive and you didn’t tell me. Despite me begging for any kind of information.”  

Sam just pursed his lips and returned your glare.  You were right.

You went and stood in front of Bucky.

“James…” 

He looked at you, those pained eyes making your stomach flip.  

“How could you?  You knew?”

He just stared at you. Retreating into not speaking.

Steve spoke up.

“Yes, I left. Yes, it was my choice.  I thought I could… Well, let’s just say that hindsight is 20/20 and you can’t ever go back. I swore Sam and Buck to secrecy and I asked them to take care of you.  This all just got out of hand.  Didn’t it Buck?”

You watched Steve in disbelief and you swiveled your head toward Bucky and Sam again.

“You both lied to me. And Sam. Did you tell Steve to come back and ruin my life?”

Sam scoffed, offended. “No. I didn’t. S.H.I.E.L.D gave Steve quarterly updates.  You and Bucky happened so fast…” 

You ignored his explanation.

“But you knew exactly where he’d gone.”

“Yes.” Sam was cornered.

You turned back to Bucky. 

“I asked you a question earlier. Did you know?”

He nodded, imperceptibly.  “Doll… I…”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You knew?” Your heart was breaking even more than it was.

“Yes, but it’s complicated. He didn’t come back, at least not the way he left, and I thought it was a done deal. I thought he found…”

You interrupted him. 

“What. Happiness?” 

You turned back to Steve. “Is that what you were looking for, Steve? Happiness?”

“Sweetheart, you made me happy, I just had the chance to finally settle some unfinished business.”

You nodded.

“So James here took advantage of your little vacation to get with his best friend's girl while you explored your other options. Cool.”

It was not cool.

“Do you remember when you asked me if you could trust me, Steve?”  

He just gave a little smile and came to stand before you, looking down at you in that way of his.  He was trying to shake you. You were unshakeable. You raised your chin and looked right in his eyes.

“What you don’t understand is that you can’t pick and choose the pieces of life that you want, Steven.” 

You moved away from all of them. Steve stepped toward you, but stopped when you held up your hand.

“I’ve lived my life for everyone else, for this country, for as long as I can remember.  I deserve a little piece of life, Sweetheart.”  

Steve really believed what he was saying.

“What about me? Do I get a choice?”

Steve looked around at his two best friends, who were now best friends, and his best girl.

“You’re right. I think you should. You should choose.”

Your mouth hinged open. You spoke at the wall, then looked at Bucky.

“What about you, James? Do I need to choose?”

Bucky walked in front of you

“No Doll. You don’t have to choose.”  

You looked up into his eyes.  Damn, he looked so handsome in his bespoke grey suit that he chose for the wedding. And the tie that you gave him set off his eyes.  

“I just….  I just wanted a piece of happiness too. I knew you were Steve’s girl.”  He took both of your hands in his. 

“I don’t deserve you. When Steve didn’t come back, and you and I connected, I couldn’t help it. I was just going to keep an eye out, but…”

He gave you that cute little side smile of his.  And then he kissed you. It was short and sweet and oh so hot. You looked up at him, shook to the core. And then he ruined it all.

“I love you Doll. It was nice while it lasted.” 

Bucky was giving up. 

You nodded and backed away. Not believing this situation. 

“Ok. I’m making my choice.” 

You raised your chin and looked at Steve and Bucky.

“I’m not some fucking marble that you pass around, play with, and trade with your friend.” 

You took a deep breath.  “I choose me.”

You were gone in a flash, before they could even register it.  And although they ran, they couldn’t catch you before you were out of reach.

-----

Three months later, you walked through the late August soup of Houston heat to the bar, pausing when you thought you heard footfalls behind you. You used your speed to zip along to Willy’s; you were safe there.

You were back sharking with the best of them.  But your training was put to good use.  You never got burned and you never got caught.  You were making a good living.  

There were a jumble of misfit super humans who had gathered there with you.  You were a leader now. And you were doing well on your own. It was a life.

You already knew he was coming, and maybe that’s why you moved to the back room to play.

You were prepared, but when you felt him, you still lost your breath.  But you recovered quickly, straightening your spine, despite the fact that he was standing so close to you.

You looked at the dartboard on the wall across from you and chalked your cue.

“Don’t you have other things to take care of? Other wheres? Other whens maybe?”

You learned more about time travel since you’d left New York, and you understood more of what happened. 

The Avengers had access to time travel.  If only you could go back… but no. You were stronger than those men.  You could live with your decisions. And move forward.

“No. What I need to take care of is right here. Right now.”  

His deep growl stirred something inside you, and you fought your body, which was becoming moist at his proximity.

You bent over the table, super soldier dick poking you in the ass before you drew your pool cue back sharply into his stomach.  Abs of steel met the cue and nearly broke it.  He just stepped aside and shook his head at you.

You turned your head to look into his aqua blue eyes and you fell in love all over again.  Shit.

You gave up and turned around, leaning back against the pool table, because he wasn’t giving an inch, not moving from your space.

You scanned the room and your people were watching, but keeping your distance. They all knew who he was, and your history. They gave you space, but wouldn’t let you be hurt without a fight. You nodded at them and they all went to the front, giving you more privacy.

He nodded in their direction. 

“People fall under your spell fast, I know that all too well. They trust you.”

You lifted your head. “I’ve never done anything to make them not trust me.”

He sighed.  “Point taken.”

“Why did you come here?  I know that you’ve known where I was. Sam must have told you.” 

“I’ve known where you were. How could I not? I didn’t need Sam to tell me. It’s not like you were trying to hide.”  

He cocked his head at you.

“But the reason that I’m here, now, is that I’ve always been slow at math. And I just put two and two together.”

You smirked up at him. “You’re right. This is home. A leopard doesn’t change her stripes.”

He just chuckled at your evasion.

“You wanna play a game?” 

His eyes followed you, undeterred by your challenge.

You walked around to the other side of the table, leaned over and gathered the balls to be racked. 

You held two in one hand and looked at him.  He smiled and the electricity at the small of your back was everything. He slowly walked around to you as you racked them.

He took in your form (including your ample cleavage) as you bent over the table and your mouth as you said the word, “Break.”

“I’m tired of playing games, Doll. I’m just here to win you back.”

You turned around and faced him, looking up at him, now aware of his smell.  You closed your eyes and inhaled leather and metal. You opened them again and his eyes were blazing.

“James.. I”  

Bucky grabbed your face, hands gently cradling your head, and cut you off with a kiss, his lips gentle at first. Then his hands moved to your hips and lifted you onto the table. He slotted himself in between your thighs, your bodies separated by the same brand of black denim. 

His lips and tongue seemed determined to possess you. Bucky kissed and felt your body like he hadn’t in a lifetime. His hands roamed you like they were starved from touching you. 

Your hands were on his neck and in his hair, relishing the feel of him. You’d  missed him so fucking much. You drew apart, and his breath fanned your face as you two panted together, his forehead resting on yours.

“I am never going to let you go again.”

“James…”

“Hold on Doll, I’ve got to say this.” 

He smiled and gave you another quick peck.  You nodded, solemn.

“I said the wrong thing back in Brooklyn. I don’t care that you were with him first. I don’t care if you think that you might want to be with him. When I fell for you, I fell harder than I ever have. Even from the train.”  

He was whispering the words you wanted to hear months ago, causing you to cry.  But a lot of things caused you to cry lately. 

Bucky smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in that adorable way that you loved. You opened your mouth to speak and he kissed you, silencing you again. You responded with a smile. He continued.

“I know that you think that I folded and just gave up on you on our wedding day. I was just thinking that I don’t deserve you. Especially next to Steve.  I mean, you won’t find a better man.  But in the time since, I’ve realized, even though it’s hard. I’m a good man too.”

“You are, James…”

“You helped me come to terms with everything that’s happened. Sam has helped me deal with everything I did...and I’m not perfect, and neither are you, but we can be perfect for each other.”  

You nodded, smiling a little.

“I’m in love with you and I deserve you. You deserve me. We deserve each other.  And I’m not saying this because I think you saved me. But you are the strongest woman I know, enough to be with me when I am weak. I figured out that I can be strong for you too. I have to be now. I am so sorry that I let you walk away. But I’m not going to let you out of my sight now, even if you don’t want to be with me.  But I am asking you, again. Be my family. Make one with me. Choose me.”

You shook your head as tears fell from your eyes.

“James Barnes, there was never ever any choice. It’s you. It will be you. Forever.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief and started kissing you all over your face, down your neck and into your cleavage.

“I was scared shitless, Doll! I love you so much,…”

You kissed him now, your hands under his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders. Next, you went under his shirt, feeling his nipples, playing with them as he shuddered. Then your hands went up to one cold shoulder and one warm, grasping them as he ground his hard jeans covered crotch into yours.

“Too many clothes.”

You ended up helping him pull his shirt over his head. You trailed your hand back down his abs to the button on his jeans.

“I missed you James. My hormones are going crazy, Baby…”  

His eyes got wide as you popped the top button and bit your lip.  Bucky moaned.  He was about to explode just being near you.

“Th-that’s what we need to talk about…”

“Talk later. Fuck. Now.”

Bucky looked over your shoulder to the other room. To his surprise, the door was now closed.

“Wow, they…”

You hopped down from the table and got on your knees in front of him.

“You gonna let me suck your dick or not James?”

He looked down at you smirking up at him and could feel himself leaking in his jeans.  Three months of his hand had been torture, thinking of you.  

It seemed as if he unfastened and pulled himself out without knowing.  For a moment he feared mind control. 

But it was just love and lust.

You grasped him, testing his girth and admiring how your fingers did not meet around his cock.  

“Mmmmmmmm,” you moaned while you thumbed his tip, collecting the pre-cum and lubricating him as you pumped.

He stared at you, slack jawed and sexy as he watched you.  He reached down and put his hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

You commanded him. “Eyes on me, Sergeant.”

Bucky locked eyes with you and watched as you licked your lips, opened your mouth, and spit on his cock.

“Fuck.”

You pumped him a couple of times before you opened wide and took him as deep as you could, relishing the feel of his wide, smooth, hard unit in your mouth.  You pulled off of him with a pop.

“Damn I missed this dick.” 

Then you deep throated him again, making Bucky have to hold on to the side of the pool table as he held your head while you spluttered around him.

“And I missed your pretty little mouth, Doll. Damn.”  He watched as you did it a few more times.

When you looked up and  he saw your ruined face, Bucky went feral.

He pulled you up by your shirt, pulling it over your head and wiping your face with it.  Then he kissed you.

“Fucking love how you do that, Doll.”  

He started kissing down your chest, pulling your breasts out of your bra, pinching and rolling your nipples gently, a little more carefully than usual. He looked at you knowingly as you squirmed in pleasure.

“I’ve been doing my research.”  

Then, he leaned down and suckled them with that mouth until you almost came, writhing in his arms. Bucky unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down, kneeling, and staring up at you as you leaned against the green felt table.

You stepped out of your jeans and panties and watched as his flesh hand glided from your ankle to your ass, palming it and then sliding back down as he lifted your thigh on his shoulder.  You shuddered as you could feel his breath on your cunt.

“I’ve been dreaming of this.”  

His eyes held yours as he leaned in for a kiss, then a long wet lick of your cunt.  You grabbed his brown hair as his blue eyes hypnotized you and as he ate you out. When his metal fingers came up, whirring, you started begging.

“Please, James…please…please…..”

He laughed, mouth still fucking your pussy. He pulled away, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers began pumping inside you, the vibration driving you up the wall.

“Are you begging me to stop, or to continue, Doll? Talk to me.”

“Unnnh, unnnnh, oooohhh shittttt. Don’t ever stop.” 

And then you came all over his face,  Bucky slurping it up happily.  He stood up, taking you with him and maneuvering you so that you could feel his thick tip at your hole before it breached you. 

Bucky’s cock stretched you out and made you see stars as you slid down his thick pole while he was standing up, pumping inside you as he deposited you on the table.

You wrapped around him like a vine as he held you, cock pounding from the feeling of being inside you again. He pulled back to kiss you again.  He was grunting in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Fuck you feel so good...Fair warning, Doll. I’m not going to last. Been too long.”

You let go of him, and leaned back on the felt, arms braced behind you as you replied, “Just fuck me James.”

Bucky took in your body, from where you were connected up your torso to your breasts and the beautiful fucked out look on your face and started moving.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkk.”  You took him, looking down to see the impossible stretch.

“Yeah, look at that. Looks and feels so damn good, doesn’t it, Doll? How the fuck are you so… so… fucking… tight….?”

“Yes, fuck, James, FUCKKKKK.”

All nerves were in your cunt as you went down to your elbows, and then to your back flat on the slate table, pool balls going everywhere.

Bucky pulled your hips off the table and really started digging in, hips snapping at a frenzied pace as his metal hand slid down your body. You could tell that he was almost there.

“Cum with me Doll.” 

When that metal thumb touched your clit, it was over.  You came as soon as you felt his white hot ropes of cum drench your walls. You closed your eyes for just a second, and then opened your eyes wide.

‘Why am I curled up on a pool table after being fucked by my 106 year old fiance? What is life?”

Bucky laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head and helped you off the table. He looked around, going to get you a bottle of water from the vending machine.

“You good?” 

Bucky eyed you as you got your clothes together.  He leaned next to you as he watched you drink the water.

“Baby okay?”

You ducked your head, smiled and grabbed his hand, putting it on your slightly rounded stomach.

“Yeah. I can feel him moving around.  Can you feel that?”  

Bucky just stared at his hand, then at your face.

“Not really… Him?”  He was astounded.

“That’s normal. I’m gonna be able to feel him before you can, And yeah, Him.”  

You turned more fully toward Bucky and he took you in his arms.  

“I had all kinds of tests, to make sure that he was okay.  I wanted to know if… if what they did to me would affect…. “ 

You shook your head, then smiled up at Bucky.

“He’s healthy.  I’m 20 weeks. I figured we’d call him Jamie?”  

Bucky beamed at you and nodded. 

“How did you know?”

“Well, I figured out that you didn’t faint at the wedding just because of Steve. Why didn’t you tell me, Doll?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you really asking me that question?”  

Bucky blanched and you decided not to be salty. 

“Well, At first, I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I was so happy that you asked me and didn’t know.”  You beamed at him. “ But then…” Your smile faded.

“I’m an idiot, Doll. Forgive me.  It’s me and you. And Jamie. Forever.”  

You two shared the kiss you missed at the altar. It was going to be okay.

“Now, let’s go get some food. I know you’re hungry.”

You laughed as you punched his arm. 

“Ass. But you’re right.” 

You two walked down the street to Ninfa’s Restaurant hand in hand. Bucky turned his head and gave an imperceptible nod as you two passed by an alley/

Steve returned the greeting as he stepped out and watched you and Bucky make your way down the street.

“That’s okay Sweetheart,” he whispered. “Buck’s a good man. But I know you’ll choose me. In another time.”

He walked to the quinjet, which was pointed toward New York.

-------

Did Reader make the right choice? What do you think about the surprise?And what the what is Steve thinking? Let me know if you liked it by commenting or reblogging!

Tagging:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou  @donutloverxo @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @pheebsyells @thesecretlifeofdaydreams-bl-blog @douxtille @ximaginexx @fofisstilinski @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain  @anacrcarvalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @fineanddandy @olyvoyl @chaoticsteverogers@txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @ikatieebabyy@nerdymugsharkempath @maroonsunrise83 @curlyhairclub @spookyparadisesheep @keepingitlokiii​ @weaselbeedisneygeek @toofab4utheatrediva

[tommybaholland]

when they’re grumpy but their s/o wants attention [1.5k follower special]

featuring: kuroo, kenma, akaashi, nishinoya, and kageyama

thank you for sharing this fun celebration with me! can’t wait to host more :) enjoy! x 

kuroo

he’s not super temperamental but he can develop a short fuse when he’s stressed or overwhelmed 

you’ll try to get him to take a break but he gets stern really quick 

when he doesn’t give in like usual, you take defeat and leave the room

he immediately feels bad that he snapped at you 

he will hug and kiss you until you accept his ample apology 

“oh. hey, beautiful,” your boyfriend greeted after you wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind.

“what are you doing?” you asked, leaning down to look at the screen. 

“just work again.”

“do you wanna take a break and come cuddle with me?” 

“i wish i could, babe, but i need to get this done.”

“but you’ve been working forever. please, tetsu?” you give him your best pouty, puppy dog eyes that he always falls for. 

“not right now,” he replies shortly. 

you start playing with his hair, something you know he can’t resist. 

“babe, seriously. i’ll come cuddle with you later. now, please, i need to finish this. can you just leave me alone for another half hour?”

“fine.” 

“no, baby. wait--” the door slammed behind you before he could finish his sentence. he swears under his breath, knowing that he hurt your feelings. he quickly exits his work and gets up to go find you. 

you’re sitting on the couch, looking at something on your phone. he saunters over and immediately puts his head in your lap. 

“i’m sorry, kitten. i shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. i’ve been stressed with everything lately but that’s no excuse because you don’t deserve that. i’m sorry.”

you sigh and try to get up but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your hips, pressing his face into your midsection. 

“no, baby, please don’t go. i need you and your cuddles. pleeeeaaasssseee,” he pleads, hugging you tighter. he feels your stomach vibrate against his face and he looks up to see you laughing lightly. 

“what’s so funny?” he chuckles with you. 

“nothing,” you reply, putting a hand in his hair. “you’re just so cute.”

“does this mean you forgive me?” he asks, sitting up. 

“i suppose you can be forgiven.”

“i’ll take it. now, c’mere.” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him to accept the many kisses he places on your cheek. 

kenma

he gets frustrated or irritated kinda easily 

mostly when he can’t complete a stage in one of his games 

he can displace his anger onto you when you want to snuggle up to him 

he doesn’t realize what he did until later when he finds you sitting by yourself

he has a simple apology but he makes up for the lack of attention he’s given you 

you always knew where to find kenma. in his room, playing a game. if it’s new, you probably won’t see him for a while as he tries to spend all his free time trying to complete it so visits to his house were frequent. 

even if you had an outing planned, he would try to get in some gameplay beforehand. 

“hey, ken,” you greeted as you entered his room.

he doesn’t respond for a few seconds as he vigorously mashes buttons to defeat the battle he was on. he lets out a frustrated grunt as the ‘lose’ screen taunts him before turning to you. 

“oh, hey.” 

“are you ready to go?” 

“yeah. um, let me just try one more time to beat this,” he negotiates. 

“okay,” you reply as you sit close next to him. he restarts the stage and you watch him play until you yawn and start to lean your head on his shoulder. 

“y/n, i can’t do this while you’re-- oh, god. no!” 

he loses again, causing him to harshly nudge you off his shoulder. 

“ugh, i was so close just then. why do you have to lean on me like that?”

“i’m sorry. i was just kinda tired.”

“well, maybe you should get more sleep so you don’t make me lose again,” he snaps. he mutters under his breath before picking the controller back up and starting again. 

he barely even notices you’re gone until he completes the stage on the next round. he gets up and goes to look for you. he finds you sitting outside his house, presumably waiting for him. he frowns, feeling guilty about what he said to you and continued playing instead of apologizing to you. you could’ve been sitting out here forever. 

“y/n?” he says softly, getting your attention. “i’m sorry. i was mad at the game, not you. i didn’t mean it like that. i’m ready to go now if you want.” 

you’re not totally convinced which prompts him to sit down next to you. he leans his head on your shoulder just like you had to him earlier. he slowly reaches his hand over to yours, interlocking your fingers. 

“i really like when you lean on me. please don’t listen to anything i say when i’m playing games.”

you sigh. “it’s okay. i forgive you. let’s go.” 

he nods, standing up with his hand still in yours. 

“can i have a hug?” he asks cutely, his other hand reaching for your elbow. 

you grin and nod, letting him pull you into him. he hugs you tightly, his fingers tickling your back as they brush across. he pulls away, his hands moving to hold either side of your head to kiss the tip of your nose. 

“okay, let’s go.” 

he holds your hand the whole way there. 

akaashi

he’s pretty calm and not quick to yell like kuroo but he can let stress take over easily

he’ll try to take a nap to relieve it but you come over as a surprise 

he doesn’t take it too well and ‘snaps’ at you 

you end up leaving his house completely and now he feels like he can’t just nap this one away

hugs and cuddles you as he apologizes 

he had finally felt the sweet embrace of his bed after the longest day ever. he just wanted to sleep it all away, easing his aching muscles. what felt like seconds later, he heard your voice. 

“keiji,” you roused, rubbing a hand over his back. “are you sleepy, babe?”

he groaned, shifting over to face away from you. 

“i’m trying to nap, baby. what are you doing here?”

“i just wanted to surprise you. you seemed like you were having a bad day,” you explained.

“yeah. i was. and you just woke me up.”

“oh, i’m sorry. i can rub your back if you want.”

“i want to take a nap. alone.”

“oh. i, um-- okay,” you stuttered, getting up quickly and leaving the room without another word. 

he couldn’t go back to sleep after that. you wanted to make him feel better and he only pushed you away. he quickly got out of bed, hoping he could catch up with you. you weren’t very far from his house as he rushed down the street. 

“y/n? please, wait!” 

you stop in your tracks but don’t turn around. his heart is hammering against his chest as he stops behind you, trying to catch his breath.

“i’m...sorry.”

“why are you apologizing? i’m the one who ruined your nap,” you reminded him. 

he walks around to stand in front of you, pretty eyes looking down at your wilted figure.

“no, you didn’t, baby. you didn’t do anything wrong. i was being a jerk and didn’t need to say that to you. i think i need you more than i need a nap. although, you and a nap would be nice, too.” 

your lips perked up slightly in a smile, making him lean down to get a better look at your face.

“is that a smile i see? no, don’t hide it. c’mere, beautiful.”

he takes you in his arms, hugging you tightly. he rocks you from side to side as he leans his head on top of yours. 

“i would love for you to join me for some cuddles. but i’ll probably fall asleep.”

you agree, smiling at him before he gives you a sweet kiss. he leads you back to his house where you go back into his room. you get all comfy under the covers with him lying on top of you, his head on your chest. 

he kisses your cheek a few times before laying down. “thank you, baby.” 

nishinoya 

he’s usually a very bright and happy-go-lucky boy but he can get irritated 

he’ll get way too amped up about something and then get frustrated when it doesn’t play out how he thinks 

he does get loud when he lets it all out on you as you’re trying to comfort him 

you try to hide your tears and leave him alone but he cannot believe he just yelled at you 

he will literally get on his hands and knees as he apologizes 

you liked to meet up with him after his practice so that you could walk home together. seeing him in the gym, you decided to surprise him by placing your hands on his shoulder and using him to brace yourself as you jumped into the air, which is something he would often do to you and his teammates. 

“hey, sweetie,” he greeted after turning around, looking kinda solemn.

“you ready to go?”

“yeah. let’s go.”

you followed him out but he didn’t take your hand like he would whenever you walked home. he could never hide his feelings though.

“ugh, i missed almost every dig today. every one! i’m so pissed, i’m going to do so many push-ups-- what are you doing!?”

he snatched his hand away from you when you tried to hold it. you winced at his sudden outburst. 

“um, i just wanted to hold your hand.”

“are you even listening to me? i’m really pissed off right now, babe.”

“i- i’m sorry,” you apologized. his heart broke when he heard the break in your voice and seeing your eyes become glossy. what was worse, he was the cause of it. 

you tried to push the tears back into your eyes. “i’ll walk by myself.” 

he grabbed your wrist quickly to stop you. “no, wait.”

you couldn’t hold it in and started sobbing. your hands coming up to cover your face. 

“don’t cry, beautiful,” he consoled, wrapping his arms around you. “that was stupid of me to yell at you. i love when you want to hold my hand. my emotions just got the best of me.”

“it’s, it’s okay,” you sobbed, wiping your eyes. 

“no, it’s not!” he declares. “what do i have to do to make it okay? please tell me, sweetheart.”

“oh, i know--”

“that’s okay, noya. you don’t have to--”

he was literally on his hands and knees in the middle of the road asking for your forgiveness. 

“oh, my sweet, beautiful, gorgeous, smart, strong s/o! will you please forgive me and my idiot self for being a bad boyfriend?”

“noya, you’re not a bad boyfriend. please get off the ground.”

“not until you forgive me!” he wraps his arms around your middle, pressing his face into your tummy. 

“okay, okay. i forgive you,” you laughed. 

“yay!” he jumps up and into your arms, kissing you many times on the head. “you are my favorite person and i can’t stand to see you cry.” 

“now will you hold my hand?”

“of course. can i kiss you too?” 

kageyama

he’s known to be habitually grumpy 

he enjoys your presence the most so if he starts getting short with you, you know something’s bothering him 

yells like noya but you’ve heard it before so you’re able to leave him to cool off 

he’ll eventually realize he was being dumb and didn’t need to yell at you

but he’s not the smoothest at apologizing  

kageyama did not like school. he’d rather play volleyball for the rest of his life. he was good at it, he memorized all the plays, and he could understand it. but when he actually does study and still gets a bad grade, you’ll never hear the end of it.

“ugh, this is so stupid. i thought i studied enough!” he vented as you two sat in his room together. 

“it’s alright, tobi. we’ll just try something different next time, that’s all,” you consoled, patting him on the shoulder 

“pft. easy for you to say,” he grumbled.

“excuse me?”

“you get good grades all the time without any effort. it doesn’t make sense.”

“i actually try very hard and i want to help you--”

“well, i don’t need your help!” he blurts out, shifting away from your touch.

your lips draw into a hard line “that’s fine. i just don’t want you to get discouraged about school, that’s all. you know i care about you,” you reasoned. you could tell he was already on a short fuse and were currently trying to defuse him. 

“i just think that you should--”

“look, you’re not my mom! can you just shut up about this now? i’m done talking about it.”

you nod quietly before packing up your things and leaving. it was obvious he needed some time to himself and you weren’t about to be on the receiving end of his aggressions. 

later that night, there was a knock on your door. it was none other than your grumpy boyfriend who looked rather remorseful. 

“uh, hi.”

“what’s up?”

“i, i know you probably don’t want me here right now but i just wanted to say that i’m sorry.”

you simply nodded, the silence allowing him to keep talking. 

“i was being a dumb jerk. i know you care about me and i really, really care about you. i feel like i don’t appreciate you enough for everything that you do for me.” he looks down, ashamed of how unfulfilling his love seems compared to yours. 

“that’s not true, tobi,” you negate, reaching to him. “i know you care about me. you just have a different way of showing it. like coming here late at night with a-- is that a bento box?” 

“it’s some snacks my mom helped me make. she said this is good brain food. i was hoping you could help me with some homework.  also,” he looks away from you once more.

“i can’t go to the tournament if i don’t pass japanese lit. could you please help me?”

you look him up and down for a few moments before grinning. “of course i can.”

you let him into the house. you feel a tugging on your shirt and turn around to see him standing there awkwardly. 

“yes?”

“would you-- can you hug me, please?”

you don’t respond except with a smile and simply wrap your arms around his waist. he hugs you tightly, burying his face in your neck. 

“thank you. love you so much.” 

he has lots to learn, but he’ll get there and one day, it’ll be as easy as volleyball. 

the event is over but more coming soon! send a request in the meantime..

[yaomomvs]

— BEING INARIZAKI’S TEAM MANAGER AND A SECRET VOLLEYBALL PLAYER

inarizaki x f!manager

this is part of a hcs series, let me now what team you want next <3

okay so actually you ended being the manager because the girls volleyball team had already closed the application time

so you you were really looking forward to it and omg you were so sad about it

after being rejected, you were just peacefully going through the gym and you heard laughter from a bunch of guys

you recognized kosaku since he was in your class and waved at him.

and so, they were talking about getting a manager since this team is pretty much a lot to handle

and so since kosaku knew you were hard working and that the first idea that popped out oh his head was that if you wanted to try out.

kita respectfully introduced himself and asked if you were willingly try out 🥺🥺🥺 like what a man 🥺🥺

and mostly because the twins having fangirls always made this process kind of difficult, so instead kita and aran wanted to make sure it was someone who at least was trusted by one of them

and not to brag but bestie you are gorgeous

so it was a win win

atsumu refused to this because as the jerk he usually is, he said that he didn’t need any help

that son of a bitch

he was being soooo petty mainly after you said “oh don’t worry kita, idiots are not my type”

osamu fell in love with you ❗️

and aran

and suna

and well the team.

and so, looking at the other court where the girl vbc was training you said that it was something.

every! single! practice! is! chaotic!

but somehow you managed them so well

atsumu is still trying to prove that he doesn’t but oh boy he is the first one to requiere your help

you better believe this guys are your simps and are constantly competing over someone who a year ago could never imagine they had

your attention? the best way to prove each other they were superior

in away games, god bless the idiot that wants to even dares to try to do a move on you

they are lowkey intimidating

not but seriously

specially and surprisingly kita and aran

son como esos niños mamones fresas que de cierto modo les tienes miedo

besides

this team? over the moon for you

and tbh, they were so grateful for you, you did a lot for them that they started to feel some kind of embarrassing how before they wouldn’t know how to do basic stuff like cooking for camps, labeling they jerseys correctly, searching for new equipment like they love you

anyways that however was kinda sus to them

it all started when somehow you learned so quickly, and the technical stuff was not hard to understand as to others

surprisingly the first one to notice was suna

you could have said something but tbh

you still look forward to play volleyball like more seriously even as a hobby

BUT

BUT

you’d rather be dead than telling your team that’s what you wanted because

a) they could think you only joined to learn volleyball and not help them

b) you had your pride, you want to be recognized by your own merits rather than “of course, they are inarizaki’s manager if they weren’t they could have never been this good”

so you still played volleyball but hid from them

there was a gym nearby where constant tournaments were held

you were a ghost because knowing damn well your boys could go there at any moment you decided to take some precautions

like nickname and position was everything they knew about you

your teammates loved you, so they respected your private life, and it was kind of cool

but what you were not expecting is that for some reason, omimi had followed you one day bc you forgot something after practice.

being a friday it meant for some weird reason you always rushed out

“sus” suna says everytime

so he catches you going out to the gym and maybe, he thought, you were just going to workout or see someone

BUT THIS GUYS EYEBALLS ALMOST FALL WHEN HE SEES TOY RUSH AND TAKE OFF YOUR SCHOOL UNIFORM SHIRT AND TIE TO FUCKING REVEAL A JERSEY WUTH A #3 on it

bye you broke him

and so he tries to process it normally

key word: tries

and here we are him being interrogated by the team incredulous to his words.

ay first they interrogated him being overprotective by the fact that he was spending more time with you but when he tells them what he saw god dammit

they loose it when they find out.

and so, tsumu says something that everyone agrees with him for the first time

“let’s go and spy”

“i swear to god if y/n finds out...”

“shut up aran, unless you want to make it obvious and reveal our identity dumbass!”

“tsumu, the disguises are awful”

“come on kita not you too!”

“what if”

“akagi shut up all of you agreed with the idea”

“osamu you suck”

and so there they go. trying to find you in the sea of people at the entrance, not having a clear view yet, they only search for the navy blue and white uniform that omimi described to them when he saw you.

and then almost as if it was the gods plan, they started hearing whispers of people around mentioning the arrival of one of the most popular teams out there.

“come on what the big deal-” suna started saying, however your figure appeared and he instantly turned into a babbling mess.

as well as the rest of inarizaki vbc.

osamu had to double check to assure himself that it indeed was you, beautiful as ever, walking alongside your hot and apparently talented team.

minutes later, they were standing in the bleachers as quiet as they could. they spotted you.

“A SETTER” atsumu jumped of his seat and had to be scolded by aran who was also surprised by the position you were going to be playing.

“wasn’t expecting that” ginjima talks saying what everyone was currently thinking.

behind them was a couple of guys, who apparently did not know how lower their comments.

“the setter is kinda cute” “wow look at that” oml please even aran who was the voice of reason had the urge to punch them in the face.

still they decided to just focus on your game who has now been started. and even tho they wanted to not do it, they couldn’t help analyzing you and your moves in the court. it was natural, well because they were players and very good ones it’s inevitable for them to compare and to study the way you played more than anything.

they were not expecting you to be this good. almost everything in your technique was polished, your tema work was remarkable and god bless your ability to read the blockers.

but there was a moment when they just saw the panoramic view of your skills. atsumu could see your tired expression, the sweat on your body, he just knew you were feeling now the adrenaline of the last moments of the set.

still you yelled a “we will take it” and then, with the others team hope hanging on a thread, the ball came to your libero, which perfectly passed the ball to you.

there was greed in your eyes, so scary that kita for a moment feared for the other team.

and it was when you did the setter dump that your whole team stood up in pure shock.

who were you and why were you hiding?

sadly the boys screamed way too loud which lead to you, after you made the last point and give the history to your tema, lifted up your gaze and saw a bunch of idiots wearing hats and everything in between.

suna and tsumu ran the fastest in the team directly to the gate, and the with a bunch of losers behind them,

because after everything you were there arms crossed and a murderous look in your eyes.

“IM TOO YOUNG TO DIE Y/N” “osamu shut up!”

they, once you made sure to pinch each and everyone’s ears, starred bombarding questions on how did you managed to learned that and why you did ikr tell them

“come on guys, in school i’m already looked down at just because it’s you! so could you imagine me being a inarizaki student trying to move without your name?”

kita forced them to shut up and aran felt a a kind of guilt

as week as everyone else

“don’t worry y/n, we know now what it’s like to not being your own author.”

and so, they just told you how proud they were.

“maybe we are jerks but y/n we are your jerks, and over there or respect to you has just grown up”

suna the says “you’ve been there all of the time for a while now, i guess it out time to return the favor”

and so ever since then they alwaaaaays try to be at your games

like pls once the referee said one of your serves was out and from the bleachers he screaaaaaaamed, he claims that it was definitely in

kita always gives you some food after a game or practice

talking about practice

even if you are there for being a manager they always try to, at least half an hour before ending practice, they have a quick game with you playing alongside them or just including you in their repeats etc

and goooood bless once again anyone who tried to look down at you.

because after being constantly on you games ofc people started recognizing them as the inarizaki power house

if they heard someone relying your talent on them pls make sure they five them the coldest look ever

like ‘nah bro i dare you to say that one more time’

*knive eyes*

and

even some girls attend your games trying to flirt with them

you know what they do?

they brush them off and say “sorry, my type is y/n” suna says and the are 😳

pretty much everyone does this

come on even aran

inarizaki best boys 🥺🥺🥺

[undersero]

addicted

this is my (several days late) piece for @seita's corrupt-a-virgin collab! thanks a bunch for letting me participate!

pairing: toru oikawa x fem reader

contains: unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, swearing, corruption and corruption kink, loss of virginity, very light dacryphilia.

word count: 3036

**this work is intended for 18+ audiences only. minors do not interact. do not repost my work or recommend it on any other platform**

“Oh, it feels good though, doesn’t it?” he chuckles, breath wafting over your face as his fingers press against your crotch through the fabric of your panties.

It does feel good and you think that’s the worst part of it all. Toru’s fingers feel good, they feel so fucking good in fact that you’re embarassed at the memories of your own fingers between your legs like this, desperately trying to get yourself off to no avail.

“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging your noses together gently, making you catch his gaze; his eyes are so dark now that they look like molten dark chocolate. It’s only seconds until you’re lost in them.

“Hm?” you mumble, face horribly warm.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” the response tumbles from your mouth without any prompting from your brain. Toru smiles at you, dazzling and breathtaking as ever.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips. His fingers continue their slow circles against the fabric and it isn’t long before you feel wetness spreading around, making the fabric heavier and sticky.

It feels good, it really does- so good. He knows what he’s doing, that’s clear, but you try to push that thought from your mind with moderate success; he’s here with you now. That’s what matters. Someone as handsome and charming as Toru couldn’t go without pussy, and what was the harm? You’re enjoying it, reaping the benefits of his experience-

“Getting lost in that pretty little head of yours?” he coos, smiling against your cheek. Before you can answer, he’s speaking again. “I need to up my game, then,” he sucks slightly on your earlobe before pulling away. Long, elegant fingers hook underneath the flimsy fabric of your panties and he pulls down, exposing your glistening, aroused cunt to him.

You whimper, gasping slightly as your panties are slid away and the cooler air of the room hits your flushed skin. Out of instinct, you try to close your thighs, to hide your soft pussy from him, but he’s quick to keep your legs parted with his hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides playfully, smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Keep these pretty legs open, baby. Can you do that? Be a good girl for me, now.”

Slowly, his index finger slides up and around your folds, the sensation eliciting a whine from you immediately. Your nerves alight with pleasure, tingling in a way you’ve never been able to feel from your fingers alone. This was better than anything you’d ever tried, and at this point you’re too far gone, too given in to the pleasure, to care if Toru knows that or not.

“Mmmmf,” you whimper, pressing your lips together tightly, and you hear a kind, amused chuckle from your lover.

“Sounds like you’re purring for me,” he tells you, leaning in to steal another kiss from your sweet lips. “Must mean you like this, huh?”

He tilts his head at you, waiting patiently and adorably for an answer. You’re able to nod, mouth suddenly too dry to let him know by speaking. But that seems to be okay with him, in fact, he seems to really enjoy the fact that you can’t speak at the moment.

“So if this feels good,” he continues, talking out loud to himself like you’re not even there, “then this must feel pretty great, huh?”

As he speaks, his fingers part your folds and he circles the pad of his finger against your clit. A loud cry tumbles from your lips immediately, pleasure surging through you at a dizzying pace as Toru plays with the acing, hard bud.

“Well, lookie here,” he says in that slightly mocking sing-song voice, “I’d say you like that, don’t you, baby?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. It feels so good, too good, and your toes are curling, back is arching, wetness spreads through you like you’ve never felt it before.

And then it’s gone. Toru takes his hands off you completely, causing your cunt to throb almost violently with the loss.

“Toru!” you whine, sounding more pathetic than you meant to, and if you weren’t so desperate, you would be embarrassed by how it sounds.

“I asked you a question, little girl,” he tells you, and though his voice is light and playful, there’s an edge underneath it. His eyes are hard. Looking back on this in hindsight, you realize he’s molding you here, shaping you into exactly what he wants.

The next words out of your mouth show him that you’ll allow this.

“It feels good, I like it,” you whimper, lips quivering, suddenly upset at the thought that you may have upset him or disappointed him in some way. Your hips move downward, sliding down the bed toward Toru, seeking out more of that pleasure.

“That’s what I was looking for,” he approves, sliding his hands back between your folds and returning his fingers to their work of circling your clit.

“I expect you to answer me when I ask you questions, princess,” he says, “otherwise I’ll have to punish my sweet girl… and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

You bristle. No. You don’t want that.

“Right,” you whimper, voice shaky and unsturdy with the pleasure he’s giving you, “don’t want that.”

And then he’s his normal self once more, sweet and teasing and mocking you in a sweet voice; completely being the Toru you know and love. This had been an experiment, you’ll realize later, to see what he could make you do, and to see what all he could get from you. You played right into his hand. Like taking candy from a baby...only easier.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on it, ‘kay?”

His next words pull you from your blissed pleasure quickly, like yanking you out of a warm, wet dream.

“Gonna do what?”

He laughs at your slurred words, settling himself on the floor between where your legs have draped over the side of the bed.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on this pretty little pussy,” he repeats, letting his lewd intentions drip off each letter as a triumphant grin spreads over his lips as you become visibly more flushed and shy and turned on than you were before.

“Why would you do that?” you want to know. Your question is met with another chuckle.

“Why don’t you be quiet and let me do it,” he replies, “and then you’ll know the answer to that question.”

You nod, face burning, and he winks at you, long lashes framing beautifully dark eyes, and then he bows his head and all you can see are the chocolate waves of his hair, where your fingers quickly find purchase once he slides his tongue over your folds, licking in one long, sloppy swipe.

It sends shivers up your spine, your mouth falls open, a whimper falling from it before you can register what’s happened. He repeats the action, using his strong hands to pull your thighs up to hook over his shoulders. All you can focus on is his tongue, is the way it feels like magic. It makes you cry out with each stroke over your folds.

His right hand is spread out at the bottom of your belly, beautiful fingers over soft skin, and his thumb starts swiping at your clit intermittently, in time with when he’s sliding his tongue over you. The added stimulation makes you groan and whine, catching your teeth harshly between your lips as you have to close your eyes from pleasured tears welling behind them.

Your back nearly snaps in half when he swirls his tongue around your clit. It sends every nerve alight with pleasure, his soft, wet, delicious tongue working against the sensitive nub is a dream, and the feeling of it makes you damn near lose all your senses.

At that moment, you don’t know your name. You don’t know how old you are or where you’re from, and you don’t even remember what you had for dinner that night. All you know is Toru and his tongue and his long, beautifully expert fingers and how they can make you feel like a goddess and bring you into a world of pure pleasure. Your brain is mushy, unable to string together a thought, let along a sentence, so the only thing falling from your lips as you rake your hands through beautifully styled trusses of Toru’s hair is broken syllables of his name.

It’s not long before you feel a different kind of euphoria creeping around the edges of your pleasure, blurring it, bringing it to zenith, the likes of which you’ve never known before. Your fingers haven’t brought you pleasure like this before, nor did your vibrator; no, this was unparalleled and uncharted territory.

“To-ru!” you cry out, voice hoarse and strained as you tug on his hair. “I’m go-nna,” you try to tell him, words failing you completely. He pays you no mind, continuing to slurp and suck and lick at your cunt and your clit, humming against your skin as though he’s completely unbothered.

One final sob leaves your lips before you cum harder than you ever have before. It washes over you like a wave so powerful that it nearly drowns you. Your vision spots white as tears fall from the corners of your eyes, and somewhere deep inside, you know that you’re addicted now, addicted to Toru and his tongue and what he can do with it. There’s no hope for you to ever escape, but it’s a good thing you don’t want to.

Your entire body, each nerve, sings with pleasure so bright and golden that you feel like you’re glowing, and from Toru’s perspective, you are. You look gorgeous in your bliss, and he’s so lucky, he thinks, to have such a wonderful seat from which to see it.

“Think you’re ready for me to put it in, babe?” Toru asks you, his voice now deeper than it had been. You blink at him, not comprehending, and he grins. The now familiar heat on your cheeks continues to burn as you see his slicked chin, clit throbbing as you know what he did to you to make such a mess of himself.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks , tilting his head with a slight blush on his cheeks, which only makes you heat up more.

“Yeah,” you whine out, causing his lips to pull into a grin. He kisses you again, and you taste your cunt on his mouth, much to your embarrassment and arousal. The slick of his chin slides over yours, but you’re unbothered by it. If anything, it excites you more because it’s messy and it’s sexy and it’s naughty.

“My good girl,” he coos affectionately, smirking at you. His fingers slide down your thighs before he speaks again, “I’m gonna finger you open now, okay?” He asks, concern evident in his tone.

“Yes,” you murmur, feeling the heat of arousal begin to pool again in your stomach as he begins touching your folds with his fingers. Then, he slides his index finger into the warm cavern of your cunt.

It feels weird. Good, but weird. Your body tenses a little bit, and you mewl, but he’s quick to soothe you with soft words.

“It’s okay, babe,” he murmurs, curling his finger gently as he fucks you with it. So slow. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you groan, feeling wetness spread through you once more as his finger continues its slow, thorough path into and out of you. It’s another moment before you relax.

“That’s a good girl,” Toru says proudly, grin pulling at his lips as he slides another finger into you. Quickly, his hand is slick with your arousal, it’s dripping down his fingers and to the back of his hand, staining the sheets below you.

The second finger is easier to take now; it slides in easier and the pressure against your walls is delightful. As he hooks his fingers, you arch your back, feeling the soft pads of his fingers press against soft, spongy spots inside you that you never could have dreamed to reach with your own hand.

Toru’s third finger has your eyes prickling with tears of pleasure. It’s good, so good, to feel so full. Spit is dribbling from the side of your lip, but you’re unable to feel it, unable to realize you’re drooling for this man and his fingers. Arousal rushes from your cunt like a waterfall, the sheets underneath you will have to be changed because you’ve made them so wet. Never in your wildest dreams did you believe there were so many glorious spots within your walls, but now that Toru’s found them, all of them, you can’t imagine not having this again. You’re addicted to this feeling, too, to his fingers just as much as his mouth, and--

His fingers are gone.

It takes you a moment to register the loss, but when you do, you whimper, and it is so amusing that Toru huffs out a laugh through his nose. He’s standing now, pushing your body further up the bed and crawling over you. His cock, which is as pretty as his fingers, is red and throbbing from his own arousal. You’ve done that to him. You’ve made him that hard.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet thing,” he rumbles in a deep voice. His hand fists around his cock and he tugs at it, grunting at the semblance of relief he finds in the action. “‘S it okay if I do that?”

“I think if you don’t fuck me, I’ll lose my mind,” you tell him in a slurred voice that feels disconnected from your body.

And he does. You’re wet enough that his cock splits you open with ease, although the size of it isn’t something you expect. As he hovers over you, his hand slides over your hair, petting it in a soothing gesture. He’s speaking to you softly, but you can’t hear the words because your heart is beating too loudly.

“Sweetheart,” he says, firmly now as his hand slides around your jaw. This brings you out of whatever reverie you’re in, and you’re able to look at him, albeit with a bleary gaze.

“Hm?” you mumble.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you, brow furrowed. You consider for a moment. No, it doesn’t hurt… you don’t want it to stop. It’s just...weird.

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “feels weird.”

His face relaxes and the line between his brows disappears as he smiles at you.

“Can you let me keep going?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Soon, his pelvis is flush against you as his cock is fully inside your cunt. The heat, the stretching, the intimacy of it makes your body and your insides feel hotter than the surface of the sun.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, rubbing his hands over your belly. “Taking my cock so well baby. Fits so nice in that little pussy, doesn’t it?”

“Yuh-yeah,” you whimper, holding onto his arms so tightly that your nails are cutting crescents into his skin, but neither of you can be brought from the moment to care.

“Still feel weird?” he wants to know.

“Al-m-ost good,” you pant out with great effort, cheeks burning with heat.

“You feel so good…” he starts kissing your jawline toward your ear, nibbling along the lobe and the cartilage, tugging gently with his teeth, just enough to make you whimper out, “...gonna start fucking you know, ‘kay pretty girl?”

“‘Kay, Toru.”

His hips move slowly, and it only takes two or three thrusts before almost good starts feeling a little good; and in mere moments, a little good morphs into really good. There’s a slight wet noise coming from where you’re coupled, and if you weren’t so high on your lover you’d be embarrassed by it, but you don’t care and neither does he.

His cock fills you even more perfectly than his fingers. It drags along every inch of you, rubbing, stimulating, enchanting your cunt and entire body with pleasure you’ve never known before.

“Toru,” you groan, hands finally releasing his arms to slide up and brush through his hair.

His face is flushed, a pretty pink color, and his eyes are so dark you don’t see any difference between pupil and iris. Sweat gleams on his forehead, and he’s staring into your eyes with the most intense, loving, needy gaze you’ve ever seen directed at you. His gaze makes you feel known. It makes you feel seen. It scares you and delights you, all at the same time.

“Taking my cock so well, baby,” he praises. “Like a little pro, you were made for this,” his words are cut off by a groan and he presses his face into your shoulder, hips moving slightly faster now as his own orgasm comes closer to his grasp. His balls slap your ass more frequently, the bed frame starts creaking and smacking against the wall, and your wails of pleasure are louder. Toru’s fingers are no longer calm and practiced as they swipe over your clit; now they’re frenzied and shaking.

“Gonna cum,” is the only warning you can say before you cry out, back arching as his cock presses against that particularly wonderful place inside you, as his fingers swipe just right.

You’re cumming, tugging his hair and whimpering out pathetically. Your walls clamp around his cock, milking it, and soon, his hips pause. They press in once more, and he moans, cock spurting ropes of hot cum along your walls.

Both of your breathing is ragged. Your heart is pounding so hard you can almost see it through your chest, and as Toru slumps against your body, you can feel heart battering his ribcage, too.

It’s quiet for a long time, but you don’t know how long it really is. Time moves slower now, it doesn’t make as much sense. All you know is that Toru’s hair smells wonderful. His weight on you is out of this world. His softened cock, his cum, his fingers, all are things you’re addicted to now.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.