#it just seems incredibly cruel now that my body is just. continuing. like the punishment never ended

[hearties-circus]

I!! Hate!! Random!! Hunger spikes!!!

[atieflingtime]

GAME: 1888: Amenti by Mundos Infinitos

DESCRIPTION: “You have run too long from your past. But it is impossible to escape from the desert’s sun. It will test you, you will be judged. ”

ITEMS NEEDED: Dice; 1d4

THOUGHTS: This one took me a bit to get into because of how the page is formatted tbh! But with knowing it was designed to fit on a card, it makes more sense why it was organised partly the way it was. I played off of a PDF on my computer, so it wasn’t the intended form it be played off of.

After getting a little more familiar with the flow of when to roll for what — it was quite fun! I went more in a literal ‘come across the trial’ way, with the actual events of the bulk of the play actually happening inside the character (the beginning and the ending are outside of the character’s head). It was interesting to see how the different animal combinations could interact with the other desolations! Honestly it could benefit from a touch more choices, but it’s still incredibly enjoyable with the four possibilities in the categories. (:

I definitely recommend trying it out if you’re interested in some pocket ttrpgs, as well as a lot of creative freedom in interpreting the prompts/results.

unedited playthru is under the readmore (:

The stiff cloth my uniform was made out of was ill-suited to the oppressive heat and dryness of the desert. The starch felt like it was seeping out of the fabric and into my skin. It wasn’t supposed to be this long to travel. The calling for sandstorms had the majority of my brothers in arms uneasy to even start.

But we had to go. The higher-ups said it was critical for our home’s victory that we continued this mission, though they weren’t able to go themselves. They said our home was depending on it.

And now most of my brothers are lost.

Not even dead — just… lost. Their bodies swallowed by the sands. I hope at least some of them were lucky enough to get out, but I am hesitant to even wish for that hope for longer than a second.

I don’t have much in the way of supplies. My canteen can’t have more than a half-day’s worth of water in it, and even that tastes gritty from the encroaching sand. A compass is useless if I don’t know where I’m supposed to be heading, especially with its accompanying map long lost to the storm. A torn blanket, a piece of short metal making a sorry knife, and this journal.

A sorry state of supplies. We should have been allowed better preparations if this was as important as the higher ups were making it out to be to us. I wonder if they knew this was a Hail Mary of a mission, since none of them volunteered their own feet to take it.

FIRST VISION: Rolled 3; 3; 1; 2 At the Eternal Twilight, you arrive at an Antelope’s Carcass, a Scorpion, tough but ruthless, watches you.

I’ve run out of water. The canteen got a lot more sand into its seal than I originally thought. I tried to drink from it and got a mouthful of sludgy wet sand. Cruel.

I wonder if this is punishment from the gods for fighting amongst ourselves… if this is some way that they want to force us to behave. A cruelty for a cruelty.

The night is so cold.

Twilight didn’t seem to leave this place. Cold and sparkling — deep aubergine and Prussian blue, sand and stars glinting like well polished silver buttons. I feel tension sitting underneath my skin. A taut feeling, like my emotions are simmering just under the lid of a pot.

My feet continue to walk. The sweat in my once-shined boots squelching against my feet like my nightmares of the trenches when I was a younger man. I didn’t think I would ever have to feel that place again. I can almost hear the slosh of the muck in that filled those hellish lines as my feet continue to move forward.

The smell of rot hit my nose, and it took me a moment to realise it was not a memory.

How could there be a rotting antelope’s carcass this far out in these cursed sands? Was it another poor victim of the sandstorms’ cruel games? My eyes slide over the carcass that looks far too wet to for how dead the animal is. Its wide, dead eyes stared into mine, its face split.

I saw my friend’s face in the trench — hit dead by the cheap materials we had been given to reinforce the trench wall bursting into shrapnel we couldn’t have anticipated from an artillery shell. He’d been laughing and joking only a few minutes earlier, and in an instant those bright brown eyes were dull and bloody and wide from the surprise of death. I was covered in my friend. I couldn’t patch him back together. What use was I? What use was my fucking training if I couldn’t even do that? We weren’t old enough to see death like that, no grown man should see death like that, but certainly no teenager.

A small, jewel-green scorpion crawled out from inside of the carcass. Filaments of gold threading through its carapace, looping in constellations. It shone so bright in contrast to my dead friend — cutting through what I saw to show just the carcass of the antelope.

I didn’t notice I was sobbing until that first heaving of air.

The scorpion stared at me. I felt its eyes watching, and its tail twitching and ready.

There was no care for the lost life it was standing on. Squared up to me in a display of terrible survivalism. It lived and my friends died.

Wars like this weren’t for the the betterment of citizens, they were for those that didn’t know the rot of trenchfoot, of the slick inside your jacket that you can’t tell if it’s rain or blood or a festering wound finally weeping. They only thought of how to move chess pieces, they didn’t care if their machinations caused young men to expel their own lungs. They wanted glory without sacrificing anything of their own.

ROLLED 3; passed the Trial. Found water.

My eyes didn’t leave the scorpion until I was well past being able to actually see it. A soldier’s truce on no man’s land.

I thought it was another cruel trick of my eyes when I saw the spritz of grasses and the water. Gods, I was so thirsty. Carefully, my raw throat managed to whisper out a ‘thank you’ to whoever had allowed me to come across this water. My canteen carefully washed and refilled, water cupped in my cracked hands and held to my lips. I drank and I thanked the gods again.

Though I wished I could stay, I knew I had to keep walking.

SECOND VISION: Rolled 1; 1, 1, 3 In the Cold Night, you find The Jackal, cunning but opportunistic, climbing a Dead Tree

The night changed the oppressive heat of the desert to a bone chilled cold. It scared me. I remember the cold and the wet, I could feel it still sticking to my skin even though it was only a memory now. I wrapped the torn blanket tighter around my shoulders.

The gnarled dead tree stood solitary in the mass of flat sand. Bleached white as washed bones. It didn’t seem a place to rest, at least not to me.

Glinting eyes of a fire orange and coal jackal peering down from one of the natural resting spaces in the juts didn’t startle me as much as I expected. It looked unnatural just like the scorpion. My heart is being weighed in their eyes.

It wasn’t forcing the deadwood into a shape of its fancy, it was taking the situation it was given and making it work for it.

The coal colour of its fur spitting out from where I could see it nestled in the tree forced the memory of the soot and screaming machinery. It turned everything dead and grey in its path. Before this war, when I was just a young boy, I thought metal was always cold. It didn’t make sense that metal could be hot and screaming if it wasn’t the molten glow from the blacksmith.

Men and metal don’t mix.

But, I guess, we can only work with the situation we have. Our brothers can’t be lost for nothing, we can end with fewer limbs lost if we can find the right way to do it.

ROLLED 4; passed the Trial. Stars show the way.

Rhythmic blinking of the constellations above me caught my tired eyes — they were dragging my mind to follow them. This must be the way I need to be going. I must follow them.

THIRD VISION: Rolled 2; 4, 4, 4 At the Bright Sunrise, you see two Gerbils, nimble but weak, fighting amidst the a Dry River.

The light hurt my eyes. It was so unrelentingly bright, my eyes felt scorched inside their sockets. The pain stuttered my focus. I tripped into the desiccated river before I ever saw it.

Two small, enraged rodents were fighting each other. Screaming at one another and trying to rend blood from the other.

I felt white-hot anger — hotter than the baking sun and the piercing spit of the sand. Violence seeped to the marrow of my bones. Don’t they know they’re on the same side? Shouldn’t they want to work together to survive in this forsaken place? Why don’t they understand they’ll both die killing each other and the vulture will eat them both the same?

My hand shot out and grabbed one of the screeching things. Enraged and disgusted, they both were going to be ending their fighting, and I’m making them have the same result.

And for that, I am ashamed.

ROLLED 2; failed the Trial; wounds started to fester.

My steps faltered when I was able to pick myself back up from where I’d collapsed. I felt the tear of my skin inside my boots and I knew without checking that my lower legs were festering. The telltale burn was all I needed as a reminder of the fear I’d felt when the murky water in the trench had managed to seep through cheap cardboard soles and cloth and the mix of death and living mess seeped into the bleeding punctures on my legs. Infection wasn’t a gamble of ‘if’, it was one of ‘when’.

I’m not ashamed to say that I wept.

Wet, keening sobs were forced out of my body when I came upon the Horizon’s Monolith and collapsed in front of the slick obsidian. Figures glinted inside of the monolith, and my bloodshot eyes could not look away from them. I couldn’t even force myself to blink as sand whipped into my pained eyes. I could feel the figures inside the obsidian talking but I couldn’t hear them.

I could feel my heart rend from my chest to be weighed, even though it stayed beating fast and heavy inside my ribs.

Was I enough, in the end?

PASSED 2/3 TRIALS: You wake up in your world, having been rescued with a renewed conviction. Describe what you seek to teach people

I startle awake, a guttural scream ripping out of me. In an instant my thrashing body is held down by my brothers, and their familiar voices help me to calm.

Seeing their mottled faces, young men with the weight of horrors they never should have had to shoulder etched into their skin, I scrambled my hands to touch them. They held my hands, they rested their hands on my body where they could reach, giving that reassuring pressure as I clung to them like they were going to disintegrate if I lessened my grip even an ounce.

The fear that grips my heart from those machines will not leave me. I can’t let more be fed to them. I hope my cowardice manages to stop another from being consumed.

I truly hope it will.

[yhwhsdaughter]

Eunuch! Bum x Queen! Reader + King! Sangwoo

word count: 4.1k

tw: sangwoo, noncon, abuse of power, misogyny, murder, cheating, degradation, choking, cursing, minors dni

Ongoing…

[Chapter 2] , [Chapter 3]

Upon sliding the doors open, you were welcomed to blood spraying on your face. Droplets kissed your cheeks and if it was a calmer atmosphere, it would give the illusion of a blush. Reality, however, was much horrifying. Shocked by this, you stopped to assess the scene. Everyone was afraid to move a muscle as the king swung his sword, killing the chief state councilor with a stroke. As his body fell, more blood puddled at your feet, staining your slippers. Once the initial horror faded, you sprang forward, hugging Sangwoo’s midriff. “Your Majesty! Please stop this!” It was a brave or perhaps foolish action, interfering with your ruler. Words falling on deaf ears, he pushed you from him. The closest guard caught your form. Despite his absolute authority, killing nobles without reason, especially high ranking officers, was frowned on.

This is madness.

Your king was beauteous and cruel. A month into his ascension to the throne and he was already crumbling the ideals in which this nation was founded. Stray hairs hung around his chiseled face, tiny beads of sweat mixed with blood giving him a sadistic gleam as he grinned. Looking your way for a moment, he lazily waved at guards, “Take the Queen to her room.” Without a choice, the two of them gently nudged you from the scene. “Your Highness, please follow us.” Though their faces remained unmoving, their tone revealed their true feelings on the matter. Palm pressed against your mouth, you threw one last glance at the massacre before you. Blinking any lingering emotions, you walked away.

—

Pants filled the room as Sangwoo thrusted into you relentlessly. He was angry; even though he’d appointed new council members, he wasn’t sure he could trust them. In his mind, everyone was after his crown. You were angry as well, but for an entirely different reason.

You laid bare before your king, the fine robes that adorned your body pushed aside revealed your soft breasts; legs spread showed the path to your royal cunt. It disgusted you, thinking how many women had been in this bed, in your same position. Though the silk sheets were pristine, it could never truly wash away the sin. He grunted, “Stop overthinking. Just focus on—” he was close “—taking my seed, it’s all that matters.” Uncaring about your pleasure, Sangwoo bent you into an uncomfortable position, one that allowed his member to penetrate your walls at a deeper angle.

You allowed it.

The two of you, mostly you, were under incredible pressure to conceive. Not just a child, but a male heir. The fact that you hadn’t produced a son for the king was worrying to your mother. She wrote, often. It’s all she could talk about in her letters nowadays; there was fear in her that you would suffer as she did. Four miscarriages, three stillbirths, and then you. Highly superstitious, your mother believed that her misfortune was the price for the murder of the heirs by concubines in a fit of jealousy.

“Put a baby in me Sangwoo.”

You nearly begged, if only to end this. Making love wasn’t an option, nor your life a fairytale. No. King Sangwoo only fucked, and in the most inconvenient places too. You’ll never forget the embarrassment endured when you had tea with several noblewomen; your gracious king thought it would be appropriate to do it in a room adjacent to theirs. He bent you over a desk, throwing everything else off it, before sheathing himself inside of you. Emerging twenty minutes later, you couldn’t even look the ladies in the eyes. No one said anything, lest they lose their heads, but they knew.

Spurred by your words, Sangwoo thrusted faster and harder. “Fuuuck.” He stayed attached to you, like a dog, making sure your womb swallowed every last bit of his essence before pulling out. “Get pregnant.” Is all he said to you as he dressed again and exited the chambers. Out of breath and without a care, you laid there on the bed.

—

A life of servitude awaited YoonBum the second he was born. His poverty stricken parents sold him to be a household slave. Doomed to this fate, Bum tried his best to follow through and avoid punishments. Unfortunately, his master was a sadist and everyday, he received a beating.

After running errands, Bum stood in line to receive the bags of rice his master had ordered. It was the last thing on his list before readying to go home and continue working. Being close by, he couldn’t help but overhear several gentlemen talking, “Where is that damned village?!”

The village in question, it seems, was Bum’s hometown. Because it was a tiny place full of peasants and criminals, cartographers didn’t bother putting it on a map. Only those that came from there knew the area. Sangwoo caught him staring. Quickly glancing away, Bum only saw the man motioning to his companions from the corner of his eye. In a matter of seconds, he was facing the man. He was dressed in purple robes and a gat, symbolizing his status. “Do you know where this village is?”

Daring not to look him in the eye, Bum was slow to nod. He’d been out long enough; his master was probably marching towards the market to drag him home. “Show me.” As guessed, a heavy man came barreling in their direction. He was red in the face. “Bum!” Master Yoon screamed obscenities. Coming to a stop, he sneered at the men.

“We need your servant.”

Though the statement seemed like a request, Sangwoo’s tone made it clear that it was an order. The balding man huffed, ready to curse him out and refuse when Sangwoo showed his name tag. It was made of a cool stone, Oh Sangwoo engraved with the royal crest. The fact that was once red turned pale in realization. Meek before his ruler, Mister Yoon had no choice but to relent. “We’ll be taking him then.”

Bum felt his humanity slip away as he was given to another man so easily. With his head bowed down, he followed this strange new path forged by the man in purple robes.

—

The Heavens decided to smile on YoonBum when he saved the king’s life.

It was an accident, really. The guards felt no threat to the approaching figure in the form of a frail, old lady who was an assassin in disguise. YoonBum saw the knife before they did, jumping in front of Sangwoo.

Adrenaline in his system, Bum didn’t realize he was stabbed till he felt warmth seeping through his rags. Looking down, red spread around the area. It hurt. Badly. Bum’s legs felt like noodles; the little energy he had left his body as he collapsed onto the dirt. Even breathing was painful. His intervention set things in motion. One of the bodyguards chased down the assassin, two stood by Sangwoo and another leant down to help him. He must’ve asked something important but Bum couldn’t hear him clearly. It’s like he was submerged underwater. The last thing he saw before his vision turned black, was Sangwoo staring at him with interest.

He woke up in the nicest room he’s ever been.

The king didn’t visit him personally but he was sent a letter. Red overtook his face as he was forced to admit he didn’t know how to read. The servant relayed the contents, stating that when he was recovered, he would serve the king closely. From someone of his birth, it was the best he could get. YoonBum suddenly felt immensely grateful; he would no longer sleep in a shed with the pigs but a real mat! The pain on his side reminded him of the price he’d paid for this position, but he was used to being hurt. At least now it served to help him.

As the moment of glee passed, Bum realized he didn’t quite know the etiquette of serving the king. Joy left his body as he wondered how he would figure it out.

Like him, Sangwoo was plagued by this constant state of unhappiness. After the attempt on his life, he would think his subjects would be glad to see him breathing but instead he got murmurs of concern. What if he’d died? Who would’ve taken the throne since there was no heir? It would’ve thrown the palace into chaos.

Their silent pleas did not go unheard. “Maybe I should have them killed. Them and their entire families—” he paused when he saw you in the gardens, smiling at one of your ladies. His heart twisted. Sangwoo couldn’t explain it, but he always got the urge to inflict pain on you. He could say it stemmed from a place of resentment. How hard was it to get pregnant? If you gave him a son, he wouldn’t be pestered by these old fucks. Not to mention, your face contorting in distress was intoxicating—not even the concubines could compete with that.

Beneath his robes, his cock twitched with excitement. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this. Approaching your unsuspecting figure, he threw a dazzling smile to your courtesans. Sangwoo knew how to use his assets advantageously. Despite the suffering he caused, people were rendered speechless by his charm and good-looks.

He was like a snake, slithering towards his prey, waiting to attack. You did not hear him coming till you saw your ladies-in-waiting bowing. Greeting him appropriately, you expressed your relief. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you unharmed.”

It’d been a while since you last saw him; when he arrived, the rumour about the assassin spread like wildfire. “My Queen, you are truly a vision. These flowers have nothing on your beauty. You are proof that absence makes the heart grow fonder.” His honeyed words felt like prodding the bees’ nest. If you weren’t careful, you would be stung.

The only times he was this affectionate was when he wanted something. He played the same lovestruck role with your father to convince him of marrying you. Sending your ladies off, Sangwoo dropped his smile. His expression was replaced with desperation. Pulling on your wrist, the two of you traversed to your quarters since they were closer. “Ah!” Thrown harshly onto the bed, you hardly had time to compose yourself before he was mounting you. “Let’s put your cursed womb to good use.” A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you without warning. Your hands formed to fists, grabbing onto the sheets for dear life. It hurts, it hurts!

“Your Majesty! Please— aaah! Be more gentle..!”

Without seeing his face, you could already picture his cruel smirk. “You were born a disappointment. The least you could do is serve your purpose as my wife and bear me an heir.” His words angered you. Managing to twist away, you tried to escape his iron grip. This only resulted in you being pushed onto your back. Sangwoo pried your legs open and realigned himself.

Slap!

Sangwoo’s eyes widened with disbelief. The stinging in his cheek somehow made his pulse beat faster. Hands wrapping around your throat, he squeezed. “You should treat your king with more reverence. It would be a shame if the nation lost its queen. Especially one who can be easily replaced.” Having been the youngest war general, Sangwoo had strength to spare. Your hands seemed small as they banged on his form, silently begging to release you.

Having your life in his hands gave him the edge he needed to cum. With a low moan, Sangwoo emptied himself inside you. In turn, you couldn’t even focus on anything else other than breathing, choking as you gasped for air that you’d previously been deprived of. Knowing that he was capable of committing the worst, death seemed better than staying by his side.

“Perhaps I am not the problem, Your Majesty.”

Your voice was raspy but it rang clear across his majesty’s mind. Your words struck deep, like a knife embedded in his brain. It created a wound that would eventually fester. “Shut up.”

As if to disprove your point, he visited every concubine, not leaving until none of them were left untouched. He needed a son, one way or another, and if you wouldn’t give it to him, he would seek it elsewhere.

—

YoonBum was mostly healed; if anything, it appeared he’d been forgotten after a week of rest. The medic was currently tending to his wound, “It's healing nicely. A few more days and you should be out of here.”

The two of them turned at the sound of the door sliding open, immediately bowing at Her Highness’ entrance.

“Your Majesty, how can I be of use?” It was a bit surprising to see you there; your medical checkup wasn’t till another month. He wondered if you were feeling ill. Fabric wrapped around your neck; the weather was tepid, even inside the palace. That’s when he noticed the purple marks that peeked from under the material. Aware of his pointed stare, you moved the scarf upwards to conceal it. “I need you to acquire these medicinal herbs for me.” Taking the list, he read it carefully. How odd. Before he could ask what they were for, you added, “Your discretion would be appreciated.”

“Of course.”

Bum sat there silently, head facing the floor when you acknowledged him. “Are you the man that saved my husband?” Snapping upwards, he sputtered before letting out a quick “Yes!” Finally having a chance to gaze at your face, Bum felt himself turning red. Dressed in the finest silks from head to toe, standing with an air of regalness, was you. Unlike the king, there was warmth in you. Being in the presence of such a being felt unreal.

At first glance, the young man seemed no different than the other servants. However, his pink cheeks reminded you of innocence that one so rarely saw in the palace, which was filled with betrayal and resentment. His disposition was kind of endearing. You hoped he would remain like this, untainted by the world. “Then I must thank you.”

At your words, Bum’s figure lowered, forehead touching the wood. “Y-your Highness is too kind!” This position caused him a stab of discomfort, applying pressure to his wound yet he refused to straighten up. Noticing, you motioned at him, “Don’t force yourself.”

With that brief interaction, you were gone.

Entering your chambers, you signaled for the maid. Unwrapping the silk bandages, you stared at the mirror. Your husband’s marks served as a reminder of who held the power in this union. The young woman kneeled before you, taking a round brush and rolling it in powder. Although her ministrations were gentle, you couldn’t help but hiss when it applied pressure to your tender skin. “Forgive this servant, Your Majesty!”

“Don’t mind it. Continue.”

—

The king was anxious.

It was one thing for you to not get pregnant, but he’d been keeping busy and there was still no news of concubines with child. Reminded and bothered by your words, he summoned the royal physician. Sangwoo believed he wasn’t the problem, he just needed confirmation. What did you know? He wanted an expert to say that he was fulfilling his duties as king and it was everybody else that lacked.

“I’m sorry to say this, Your Highness.. but you’re infertile.”

With great effort, Sangwoo stopped himself from strangulating the doctor. It was impossible. A frown etched itself in Sangwoo’s face, his handsome features twisting into something scary. “You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense; as a healthy male in his prime, Sangwoo shouldn’t have a problem fathering as many children as he could. There were several causes that may have caused his infertility, especially since he was a war general but the fact remained that he could not produce children.

Only an heir of royal blood could be king.

He forced the poor man to do every test available to ensure this. The result was the same. Again. And again. “You must not be doing your job right.” As the guards dragged the pleading man, a piece of paper fell from the medics’ robes during the struggle. Picking it up, Sangwoo recognized your handwriting.

“What’s this?”

There was temporary relief in the man’s face as Sangwoo stopped in front of him. “That.. the Queen requested a few me-medicinal herbs.” It didn’t sit right with Sangwoo. Why on earth would you need this shit? The physician seemed hesitant to answer his question. A rough push finally ushered him to say, “Alone these herbs are fine, but mixed..”

As requested, the herbs were delivered to you by the doctor’s assistant. The timing was perfect too. “Why didn’t your master deliver these himself?” Nervous, the boy stuttered a few excuses before asking for permission to leave. That should’ve raised flags in your head but you wanted the plan to work. You needed it to work.

The king had finally taken time out of his busy schedule to visit you, and not just to copulate. He was kind enough to accept your invitation to have a picnic at the pavilion. It was surrounded by a grand lake and vividly green trees; a true landscape.

Sangwoo arrived with a familiar man at his side. You realized you never asked for his name, though that was easily fixed when Sangwoo made a vague motion towards him. “That’s Bum.” He was dressed in green and Sangwoo in red. In comparison to their bright colors, you wore a soft pastel pink, denoting your sophisticated features.

Sitting down, you signaled the servant to begin pouring the soup. Sangwoo raised a brow, curious, “You’re not going to eat?” Listening to your response, a smile appeared on his face. “I wanted to make a special meal for Your Highness, from the bottom of my heart.” It was unnerving, the way he looked at you. Still, you never lost composure, waiting patiently for him. That is, until he asked Bum to lean down and try it. Obedient, the male did so without question. Eyes widening, you managed to stop Bum from tasting. Your hand held onto his wrist tightly—the spoon hovering centimeters from his lips. A few droplets spilled onto the wooden table. Sangwoo tilted his head to the side, innocent expression in tow. “Something wrong?”

Everything is wrong!

Sangwoo knew. You didn’t know how, but of this, you were sure. Fear is what he wanted and you weren’t going to give it to him. “This meat in this broth was especially prepared for His Royal Highness. It shouldn’t go to waste on someone else.” The tip of Bum’s ears burned from embarrassment. He was under the impression you were a benevolent queen; instead, he was reminded of his lowly status. Of course he couldn’t eat the expensive meat, a peasant like him wouldn’t know how to appreciate the flavor. The hurt on his face was evident but he turned to the king, awaiting further instructions. Sangwoo wasn’t fazed, “Don’t be silly.”

Taking the spoon, Sangwoo offered it to you.

You stared at it, unmoving. Sangwoo poked your lips, “Who else but the Queen would be worthy to try such delicacy?” He was baiting you, daring you to deny or confess. Neither was an option. Grabbing the spoon from him, you slowly opened your mouth and dropped the contents inside. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing. “Swallow.” Damn him to hell. Before you could do such a thing, a guard interrupted. Apparently there were news concerning Yang Seungbae, a traitor to the crown; he was spotted near a town on the outskirts of the forest.

Sangwoo hated him. More than anyone. That bastard was working hard to rally forces that would conspire against him. While things were peaceful at court, Sangwoo had felt a shift ever since the assassination attempt. His eye twitched in annoyance, though you weren’t entirely positive if it was because of Seungbae or the fact that he’d been interrupted. Sitting completely still, you watched as Sangwoo whispered to Bum before leaving. As soon as he was gone, you grabbed a handkerchief and spit out the soup. This action worries a few servants but you waved them off. “It’s cold.” They couldn’t understand as you ordered them to throw it, seeing as it was perfectly edible. Such a waste, disposing of such good meat.

Bum followed you like a lost puppy. The first night Sangwoo bedded him, YoonBum experienced true love. It wasn’t gentle; the king’s touch harbored no hatred but passion. Bum had never felt like that. It made him feel special; the ruler of the country placed his lips and strong hands on his skinny body. He had a queen, concubines, and still, he went to him. Elated couldn’t begin to describe how Bum felt. His feelings for his king were all-consuming. Since then, he’d made a promise to follow every order Sangwoo asked of him. Bum didn’t have anything against you, truly, but his loyalty laid with his king.

On their way back, they encountered Imperial Concubine Min Jieun. The crowd following her greeted you respectfully, and while she did so too, there was a triumphant smirk on her face. Nodding in acknowledgment, you continued walking, enjoying nature. The sun warmed your skin, making you forget about any worries, if only for a moment. Once the group was out of earshot, you glanced at your companion. “What was that about?” It was no secret how spoiled Min Jieun was; she was a woman of noble birth, groomed to perfection. That’s the facade she chose to wear instead of the power hungry bitch she was. Envy burned in every particle of her body. She wanted you out of the picture—she wanted to be queen and mother of Sangwoo’s children. Still, your position commanded respect. Your lady leaned in, whispering, “There’s rumors that she’s with child.”

“Oh.”

Bum watched your composed reaction with intrigue. He could understand if you held a grudge towards her. He did. You would always be first to the king, so he had to accept that. Bum knew it was the way things ran. However, he couldn’t say the same for the other concubines. They had the chance to bear Sangwoo’s child. Bum only wished he could do so too. Alas, this resentment made him feel guilty because the concubines were amicable women—well, except Min Jieun. He didn’t realize that they were shackled to this restrictive lifestyle; that they had no choice but to make the best of the situation.

“Is there something you want to say?”

Almost jumping at the sudden sound of your voice, Bum gazed around to see who you were talking to. Finding your clear eyes on him, he realized you’d seen through him. “Uh.. n-no, Your Majesty..”

“Say it.”

“How.. how does Your Majesty handle it?”

Though the question itself was vague, you got the gist. “Queens are expected to rise above such earthly emotions.” You had a solemn expression and the grip around your fan tightened, “Jealousy is futile.”

Nodding, Bum felt like he’d swallowed vinegar. This revelation left him in deep thought. Perhaps that was the difference between royals and peasants; possessiveness was quick to overtake him while you had to live with the knowledge that your husband would seek the company of others.

Hm, maybe he was right not to envy you.

—

“The Queen has fallen ill.”

It was so sudden; you were so healthy one day and the next, chills racked your body, fever uncontrollable. The court tried to be positive on the matter but it wasn’t looking good. Sangwoo was advised to refrain from visiting you—if he got sick too, it would affect the entire nation. “I will see my wife as I see fit.”

“Open the door and step aside.”

He was like an angel of death, entering with eerie calmness. Even through the soft curtains he could see your weakened form. You looked thinner, unable to eat. The physicians tried to get you to consume anything but it was just regurgitated in minutes.

The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to you.

“Did you eat something bad?” He caressed your face, pushing hairs away that stuck due to the sweat. Fingers tightening on the blankets, you managed to open your mouth. “Congratulations.” Lips pale and cracked, you smiled sardonically. Sangwoo wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve heard news that Concubine Jieun is pregnant.”

A dark look crossed his face. “Is that so?” He stood, “Perhaps I should pay her a visit.” Though his tone was mocking, there was something bothering Sangwoo. Fortunately for the king, you were too woozy to think straight. Leaning down, Sangwoo placed a hand behind your neck, lifting you just a bit, enough to kiss your lips.

“Don’t die.”

[wri0thesley]

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed – yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

[allegra-writes]

"Bright blue ripples"

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, master/sir kink

Just a little blurb cuz I can't get this scene out of my head 💦

"Light of my life, fire of my loins

Be a good baby, do what I want"

Off to the Races - Lana del Rey

"Say it, baby girl" Tom cooed softly against your ear, voice calm and sweet, like he hadn't been torturing you, pushing you to the brink of insanity, blurring the line between pleasure and pain, for almost two hours now. 

As if he wasn't buried balls deep into your tight heat, fucking you raw. 

But no, the bastard wasn't even winded. He was completely under control, as always.

It was unfair.

"Say it, come on" He insisted, "Just three little words, and it'll be over. Just three little words… and master will let you come" 

You dug your fingertips on the sun warmed skin of his shoulders, his back, holding on for dear life as he kept on slamming his hips against yours, railing you into the pool wall. 

You opened your eyes in an effort to clear your mind, to focus on something other than his big cock, thrusting inside you so deep and so hard, that you were sure he was bruising your womb. The bright blue ripples, glistening under the afternoon sun, that he was creating around the both of you with every move, caught your eye. That was exactly the way he was making you feel: wave after wave of pleasure, crashing, growing, amplifying inside you, until you were swept away in the riptide. Until it was hard to breath, useless to fight. You were just too exhausted for that, the only option left was surrendering. 

"I'm sorry, sir" You sobbed, "I'm so sorry"

Tom leaned back, fingers tilting your chin up to look into your hooded eyes and you realized he was only using one arm around your waist to hold you up. It shouldn't amaze you anymore, how strong he was, but it did.

"See, I don't think you are" He tsked, slowing down his movements again, making you whine in complaint, "sorry that you're being punished, maybe. But not sorry for what you did…" 

"No, please, I'm sorry" you begged, "please, sir, let me come"

He chuckled. He loved seeing you like that, his little hellcat, his cold, proud ice queen, reduced to a docile, pleading little kitten. And he was the one to do that to you. No one else but him could tame you, could satiate the hunger within you. 

"I'm not being cruel because I want to, baby girl" Tom explained, thumb brushing away the tears you hadn't realized were falling. "I have to make sure to ingrain the lesson inside that pretty head of yours: Fire is messy, dangerous. I don't want you playing with matches anymore…"

You pouted, petulantly,

"But fire is fun!"

Your boyfriend's face fell, as you realized too late exactly what you had done.

"Did you just "but" me?"

Horrified, you opened your mouth to deny it, to defend yourself, to say anything, but a single stern look from his deep brown eyes was enough to shut you up. His grip around you tightened, as he carried you to the shallow part of the mosaic studded pool. A whine left your mouth as Tom slid out of you and placed you on your feet, the water reaching up to your waist.

"Strip" he ordered, pointing at your white bikini, askew and covering nothing at all already, but you guessed whatever plan he had, he didn't want anything in the way. 

"Lay back, I want you to float on your back" he continued, once your bathing suit was off. You obeyed once again, eyes never leaving his face as he walked around you, disturbing the waters. He seemed to consider for a moment, before grabbing hold of your hip, guiding you closer to the edge of the pool. 

"Hold on" 

Once again, you submissively did as you were told without questioning it, reaching back and grabbing onto the sand colored tile. 

Tom let your hips go, but kept his hands on you, trailing soft caresses from your collarbone, down to your breasts, tearing a moan from your lips when his blunt fingernails catched on your over sensitized nipples. 

"My pretty little girl," he hummed, approvingly, "like it when I play with your pretty tits?"

"Yes, sir"

He cupped his hand under the water, only to later bring it to your chest, watching the droplets fall from his palm to your soft mounds, to the valley between them, catching the sun, glimmering on your skin. 

"My precious girl…" Tom praised, circling you to step back between your legs. He never stopped touching you, massaging your calves, your thighs, stopping a breath away from where you needed him the most.

Your weak sigh made him chuckle,

"Want something, princess? Want me to touch you here?" His index finger finally traced your slit, gathering your wetness, different from the water surrounding you, playing with you, breaching your entrance just a falange, only to withdraw and flick your clit instead. 

"Like it when I play with your pussy too?" He didn't really expect a reply. Luckily, because you didn't think you could have formed words, as he used his index and middle finger to penetrate you at last, wasting no time in searching for that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars. 

"God, look at you… you're so wet, don't even need lube for this. Juicy little cunt" 

He stroke his big, fat cock once, twice, before using the same hand to help guide himself inside you. Without removing the fingers from his other hand. 

You cried out at the feeling, the fullness. He was stretching you to your limit, tearing you in half.

And you fucking loved it.

"You can take it, can't you princess?" It wasn't hard for Tom to realize your cries and sobs were of bliss, "My perfect girl can take everything I give her… Fuck! Taking it so well"

You couldn't have replied even if you had wanted to, you were in ecstasy, weightless, floating, soring. Helpless to the tsunami of sensation as Tom started thrusting again, slow and measured, careful of not hurting you. He was close to bursting himself, but you were his priority, fingertips never stopping rubbing against your g-spot, as your screams grew higher and louder. 

"So fucking tight… my baby needs stretching"

You whimpered. His breathy voice as he talked filth to you was always your undoing.

"So tight… gonna milk me so good…"

He could see the muscles of your entire body starting to lock, "Gonna come for me, baby girl? That's it… you can let go… come for your master" 

You didn't even realize you were holding it until he gave you permission to let go, but when he did, you came immediately, hard, every cell of your body exploding into a million sparks. 

Oxygen deprivation at just the right time could do that to you. 

"Shhhh, you're safe. I got you" Tom's voice was the next thing you were aware of, as he held you close to him with both arms, all of his skin against yours sending you to overdrive as he kept on rocking inside you.

You locked your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, urging him on to go faster and harder. 

"Baby…"

"More" You demanded, "Come inside me… please sir, I want your come"

He growled against your neck, but complied, moving you up and down his shaft, using you to get himself off. 

"Want you to come for me again" He gasped. You shook your head,

"I… I can't"

"You can and you will" His voice broke no arguments as he squeezed you against him tighter, pelvis grinding against your clit. 

"Tom… please, no"

"Oh yeah" he moaned against your ear, "my baby girl has to learn her lesson" 

Your head was too muddled, too confused to decide if you wanted to get closer to the pleasure or further from the pain, but in the end it didn't matter, you were too weak to push him away, anyway. 

"Good girl… isn't it better when you stop fighting? When you just obey?"

You nodded your head minutely, all the answer you could manage, but it seemed to be enough for him. A couple thrusts later, and he was bitting down on your shoulder, releasing deep inside of you, the pulsing of his cock against your overstimulated entrails sending you into climax again.

On shaky legs, he carried you to the steps of the stair of the pool before collapsing on them, with you on his lap.

"God… that was…"

"Amazing" You finished for him, placing a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead. His replying smile was nothing short of ethereal. 

"You were incredible, babe"

"Well, you weren't half bad yourself" Your chuckle died in your throat, as you saw his lips fall. You followed his eyes to the transparent film dressing covering half your right arm, where the gasoline had splashed your jacket and caught fire a few days before, when you had gone against his orders and burnt down the Collucci's place instead of waiting for the boys. 

"I'm sorry" You said, sincerely, "I'll wait for reinforcements next time. I won't act alone again, I promise"

"I know you won't" He deadpaned, "You are off the field for a month" 

"What?? No! Tommy, that's too long!" You complained. He only smirked,

"Don't worry, princess" The mischievous glint in his eyes foretold trouble. For you. "I can keep you entertained until your punishment is over…"

[pen-observing]

I recently finished my fic in which Diavolo cheats on MC so it got me thinking; and someone was speculating which bro MC should move on with. So that is where this came from. You can tell how I started with big brain time but then my one brain cell remained at the end.

How the brothers react/pursue you after Diavolo cheats on you while married:

Lucifer:

He has had internal questions about what his own loyalty meant and represented. After all, he values it the most. He begins to question what it means to have sworn loyalty to the man who could not even be loyal to his spouse- to you.

As a friend he; does not let Diavolo rest and he judges him outwardly, but as a right-hand man; he knows that Diavolo’s ability to rule is unquestionable

Lucifer will not ask for understanding from you but he hopes you have it  

He hopes you know that he can simultaneously judge the man while helping him care for the Devildom

In fact, you both have to be mature about this

Lucifer lets you go through all the emotions in front of him, in the privacy of the house. It is his way of showing you what true pride means. Why should Diavolo or other citizens see you suffering over an unfaithful man?

He tries to make your life as easy as possible. Your room is clean, everything is in order even If in a fit of anger, you leave it differently. You do not have to cook; you don’t really have to do anything besides get better. He would take on your work despite the obligations he has.

If Diavolo comes for business to the House, Lucifer will make sure you are far away and protected

He treats you oh so gently, as gently as he can

And through that gentleness and care- emotions rise and turn into something more

At first, your relationship is built in privacy.  

The love, however, cannot be hidden from his brothers so they are the only ones who know

The Devildom is a cruel place; what would they say about Lucifer and you? Diavolo’s right hand man with Diavolo’s ex-spouse? Must have been an affair. They would claim you were the one who cheated

From that worry it remains private for quite some time.  

However, there comes a point where privacy and secrecy become blurred.  

Knowing that neither of you wanted secrecy just privacy, makes you both realize that there is no reason to hide something which developed so naturally.  

So, when the next ball comes, you don’t shy away from dancing together even as Diavolo and the entire Devildom watches.

Mammon:

In my humble opinion, the best one for this situation, listen listen- I will explain

Why?

Mammon does not shy away from expressing distaste and hate towards Diavolo for you. He has no obligations, he hasn’t sworn loyalty to him, he hasn’t really gotten on his nerves before so he is completely free

As the second brother he can openly tell Diavolo what he thinks (Lucifer makes sure it doesn’t get out of hand) and Diavolo can’t really claim that he hasn’t cheated on you so Mammon has the upper hand in a weird way.  

But here is the biggest reason

Mammon’s loyalty and his feelings for you are something you will never have a chance to doubt

He was your first, he loved you first and he continues to do so

His love washes over you, it never drowns you

He does not leave your side as emotions come washing over you.

He has enough sense to match them as well

Boy practically moves into your room and if sometimes you kick him out so what?  

Belphie definitely did not find him guarding your door nor sleeping next to it to make sure you were okay on a particularly bad day

After you heal it only makes sense to love Mammon; the most loyal by choice. The one who helped you heal and made sure you were whole again

He doesn’t even ask for your love- he earns it.

In fact, you don’t even need to have the ‘Oh Great Mammon, what are we?’ convo anyone dreads because it is as obvious as his love from day one

Leviathan:

His mood oh my God okay listen carefully here

Does he feel disgust towards Diavolo? Does he feel anger towards the man? Yes. A lot of it.

Does he still know Diavolo is stronger? Does he think Diavolo is still the most desirable man considering his position, his power and influence? Also yes

He is envious of Diavolo but at the same time he knows that his faithfulness is 100/10  

At least that is where Levi finds comfort, a sense of pride and confidence

But what overrides all of those emotions is when he sees how broken and sad you are over the whole thing

He even forgets about Diavolo and tries to do everything he can

Sure, his methods are unorthodox. Bringing you Beel’s big bowl of ice-cream at 3am because he saw it in in anime? This is what humans do right?

Who cares? he risked his life and Beel eating his Ruri-chan figurines for you

He goes on a spree to investigate how to help you and surprisingly, his emotions match yours quite well

You need to rant? Come, he will make up insults with you as well! Henry hears them all! The best place to rant is in front of his tank- It is big, bright, reminds you there is still light but the echo?? The acoustics of the place? Amazing for dramatic displays

You want to cry? Levi is awkward with reacting to such a display but he doesn’t run away from it

He never confronts Diavolo head on but a permanent glare is etched onto his face. Everyone knows what Levi is thinking

He subtweets like crazy  

He heard you once say that hitting Diavolo’s face without repercussions would bring immense joy so what does he do? Ta-dah a game where Diavolo is the target and you shoot! Go go!! aim at the fool!

Honestly, Levi does not even think about pursuing you. He does whatever he can to be the Henry, to be the best friend to you.

Your trope is friends to lovers! And the best part is that Levi doesn’t even notice it!

You, absolutely have to be bold and confess to him first

And when you do---good luck trying to keep him from passing out

Satan:

It is a dark and dreadful day when this man finds out what happened.  

Why is everything quiet? Why is everyone avoiding him? Did Devildom suddenly become devoid of life? Undead life, sure, but still life?

Satan is wrath but he is also the most composed of his brothers. It is tricky even to tell him because what if he reacts impulsively? Who would save everything in his path?

The way he finds out is what matters here

He is a gentleman, an analytical being who does not miss your body language but he lets you speak anyway

Approach him carefully but do not be afraid of him, please

Be as composed as you can when you tell him that Diavolo cheated on you

Immediately he will go into his Demon for but his eyes are on you

On you, human so much weaker than him who Is holding their own

So as angry as he is; livid. Furious. Seething. He knows that destruction is not the best option. His eyes hold care and worry directed towards you.  

Satan realizes he has to meet your maturity if he wishes to help you.

And he does but,,,, he remains petty omg

Satan knows he is slick and sly enough to insult Diavolo any chance he gets without fear of repercussions because ‘he just go big brain time and you can’t punish his petty ways.’

Listen carefully, he has never won in chess against Diavolo but now,, he has the biggest desire to for your sake  

On a spur takes you to the human world one day to remind you how resilient humans can be. In a library he starts showing you examples of love stories and how they are relevant to you

‘Satan I really do not think that Cleopatra has anything to do wi-’ ‘Trust me, I will explain it right now.’

In a way, anytime he mentions a human getting over heartbreak he admires you

Does not shy away from expressing it as you gradually move on from Diavolo either

Sometimes, he doesn’t even know how flirty he can be

What? Top 10 love stories in which the main character falls for a charismatic, charming guy after being cheated on? That is pure coincidence

In actuality, Satan makes you blush and feel a connection while you are in the process of moving on

As you heal from Diavolo Satan’s advances get bolder. He is still careful; he wants you to see him as an option but not mix up all of your emotions

Once you are fully over Diavolo, it is impossible not to almost momentarily recognize the feelings Satan has; not to recognize the feelings you have  

He will approach you about it first and even if you are cute in denying them, he really doesn’t give any space for lying about them

Asmodeus:

Let us get something straight,,, Asmodeus is the best at picking up on body language

He has incredible empathy and sympathy for you

He notices all the small details and changes and knows how to help you

He can think of so many ways to get your mind off Diavolo it is impressive

But,,,but!

Asmodeus is not stupid.

Asmodeus is careful and calculating

At first, he lets his other brothers console you.

He gives them tips about it too! If they can’t come up with anything Asmo is a fountain of new ideas

It seems like he is there as a plus one to his brothers, it seems like he is avoiding you while still helping you from the shadows

Why?

Asmo is not dumb, Asmo knows what his sin is and what it represents

He is confident but he questions how you would react and treat him after what happened

If he spent more time and payed attention to Diavolo he could have reacted?

What if you blame him for what happened? What if you blame his sin? It is easy to say you blame the sin not Asmo himself but he can never be separated from it 

Asmodeus worries about it- to everyone's surprise

So, seek him out. Seek out this hero who doesn’t want any credit for his ideas and comfort. It is his strange way of ‘making up to you’

As soon as Asmo sees you coming to him, and worrying about him despite what you are going through- he knows. He knows you do not separate him from his sin. He knows you don’t blame him in the slightest

So, prepare for the best recovery of your life

It is amazing how Asmo does it. His brothers are envious and amazed at his ability to comfort you and bring a smile to your face.

His ideas now have him involved as well! He is the biggest bonus!

Asmodeus in reality, through everything he does- puts self-love first.

He teaches you, outwardly and inwardly, how to have confidence and how to love yourself. He demands that you never doubt your self-worth.

In a way, while Asmo is openly flirtatious and comfortable, you have to bring it up first in a serious manner if you have fallen in love. 

Beelzebub:

Excuse me?  

You said what? Diavolo did what?

What happened?

Beelzebub asks a few times because he honestly finds it so hard to believe that Diavolo is not strong when it comes to self-control

He finds it incredibly hard to believe that Diavolo would be stupid to cheat on you?

He is not sly like Satan, he is not aggressive as Mammon, he is not quiet as Levi but he nonchalantly makes it obvious how he feels about what happened. A disinterested Beel at student council meetings, a sharp glare; some unkind words which just slip out.

Belphie is thrilled to see his brother like this but Beel has enough control to realize what truly matters is bringing you peace. How could he do that If he pays attention to Diavolo? Well.

His very presence brings you peace and comfort

Beelzebub knows how to enjoy life in simple aspects.  

He doesn’t even try to be flashy to make you feel better

His natural charm, gentleness and warmth is all around you

Just staying next to him, in silence, is enough to make you feel better

Pursing you and pursing a relationship with one another, like all things, is very simple with this boy

Just like everything else

He would never hurt you and he became the best security you could ask for

He almost yeeted a piano at Diavolo when he came to visit Lucifer on business but alas, that is a different story

Belphegor:

He knows what happened. As soon as you walk through the door, he manifests there

Arms crossed; an eyebrow raised

‘I told you so.’

It becomes his favourite sentence

Definitely the tough love kind of friend (Same Belphie I felt that)

Because of this he never lets you forget how much Diavolo sucks

‘How could you trust a man who is afraid of pickles?’ ‘I-I don’t think that has anything to do wi-’ ‘It obviously does.’

He already threatened Diavolo before, he made Diavolo go emo. His sarcasm and snide remarks do not rest

Everything is intensified with this boy

You want to rant about Diavolo? The best. He will rant more than you and even tell you embarrassing stories you didn’t know about the guy

‘One time, he heard about weed and made Barbatos bring it to him. Do you know how embarrassing a gold joint it? Anyway- he thought the Devildom turned into a game and followed Lucifer around for 5 days thinking he was a secret spy.’

Belphegor would make sure you sleep and get enough rest because, according to him, that is where healing starts. He will get your consent to use his powers on you first tho.

In reality, Belphegor is not shy with his advances but they would fly over your head most of the time

After a while he will absolutely confess when he is secure enough that you feel the same

Why? If you like the ‘I have fallen in love and didn’t even realize it until his great romantic gesture’ trope- Belphie is your man.

[mmvalentine]

Fifty-Six part 2 | Feysand

Smut-fest continues, if you're enjoying this go say happy birthday to @asteria-of-mars!

Part 1 Part 3

Chapter 2: Chafing a bit?

Rhys was right about one thing- the inner circle were already seated and half way through their breakfast when they got downstairs. At the couple’s arrival, everyone looked up and greeted them warmly. They took their usual seats opposite each other, and Rhys caught Feyre’s ankles between his under the table and winked at her.

Feyre settled in between Cassian and Mor, but when the former leaned his elbow on the table and looked at her with a goofy grin, Rhys’s lips thinned.

Alright there? she asked him.

Fine, was the terse and completely unconvincing reply.

You sure you’re ready to be around other people?

Yeah, he said. I’m fine.

“So,” Cassian said, his eyes sparkling. “Mates, huh?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Okay, I know all of you guys knew before I did.”

“We’re sorry,” Mor blurted. “We never meant to deceive you.”

Feyre softened. “I know,” she said. “It’s okay.” Mor grinned, and heaped muffins onto Feyre’s plate.

“Welcome to the family,” she said, and it was the best thing Feyre had ever heard.

“Congratulations, both of you,” Azriel chimed in, offering her a rare smile. Feyre beamed at him.

“We’re glad to have you,” Amren said quietly, and from her, it meant the world.

The whole time, Rhys kept his eyes on Feyre, and sipped his coffee.

“We missed you guys,” Feyre said affectionately.

“Oh you did not,” Mor smiled.

But Cassian said, “Especially me, right Feyre?” and Rhys snarled.

Everyone at the table stilled, and looked at the High Lord.

“Rhys,” Feyre said. “It’s okay.” Rhys locked eyes with her for a moment, and finally nodded once. Their friends continued eating, but kept flicking wary glances in his direction. Azriel cleared his throat.

“So, since you’re back Rhys, I was hoping to have a moment to discuss Jurian’s movements. My spies in the human realm have been keeping tabs on the human queens and-”

Azriel’s attempt at distraction was interrupted by another snarl, ripping from Rhys’s throat.

“What now?” Cassian hissed at him, dropping his roll to his plate.

“Would you mind keeping your great big ape-arms to yourself?” Rhys spat back at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time you move, you’re in Feyre’s space.”

“Rhys,” Feyre warned. “He’s fine.” It’s just the bond, love, she said in his mind. You’re not jealous of your brothers, remember?

Rhys did not reply. Just stared Cassian down until he shuffled further away from Feyre. Which was not very far, since the table was only so long and he was hitting the outside leg already.

“Uh, so… the human realm…” Azriel tried again.

“What about it?” Rhys asked irritably. Mor shifted in her seat. Feyre wasn’t sure whether to try to soothe or reprimand Rhys, but as Azriel talked he did seem to calm down a little. Even made a few comments on his spymaster’s plans going forward, and Feyre relaxed enough that when Cassian asked her to pass the eggs, she didn’t think too much of it. But then when Cassian took the plate from her, their fingers brushed, and in the next second Rhys was exploding across the table.

Glasses spilled and fruit rolled, and the everyone jumped back as Rhys lunged with clawed fingers and feral eyes. Amren grabbed a hold of Mor and said “Right girlie, that’s our cue to leave.” Mor shot a sympathetic glance at Feyre, then they winnowed. Az took a step forward as if he might get in between his brothers, but then thought better of it and left, too. Cassian, his nose bloodied and with egg splattered over his chest, shoved Rhys off of him with a great heave.

“Alright, alright I’m going. You big bloody baby,” he said, and then stalked out the door.

“Rhys,” Feyre began, and his head whipped round to her, teeth still bared. She held her hands up. “Rhys please calm down,” she said.

“Like hell I will,” Rhys growled, and then he lifted her by the waist and set her on the table, pushing her back among the ruined plates and stray danishes. Feyre thought to protest, but there was still testosterone rolling of Rhys in waves, and although her brain did not exactly approve of what had just happened, her body was fast taking over and by the time his lips crashed against hers, she was wrapping her legs around him and clothes were torn from their bodies in shreds.

Rhys sent apologies round after the breakfast debacle, but also stubbornly refused to admit that the mating bond was getting the better of him.

“It was just too many people at once,” he said to Feyre, after she she had taken him back to their room to wash the jam off his chest. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, while she wiped at him with a washcloth.

“It was too soon,” Feyre argued, looking him over for missed debris.

“Maybe I’ll just have them round one at a time, for now,” Rhys went on. Feyre sighed, and rinsed out the cloth. “Okay your turn,” he said, pulling her down and switching places with her. Feyre handed him the little towel, but Rhys, surveying the mix of breakfast smears and lovebites decorating her torso, decided there were better ways of cleaning her up. He licked her from navel to chin, and there was no further discussion about visitors that day.

But the next day, Feyre answered the door to Azriel while Rhys was in the bath. She was surprised to see him, and Azriel, for his part, actually looked nervous. Feyre wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him nervous.

“High Lady,” the Shadowsinger greeted her, ducking his head.

“Azriel,” she said warmly, and grasped his hand in hers. Azriel’s eyes widened, and peered through the doorway behind her. Feyre laughed.

“Don’t worry, he’s upstairs,” Feyre said. Azriel smiled.

“One can never be too careful with new mating bonds,” he said. “And Rhys… well, Rhys has taken my head off for less. Granted, that was a long time ago, but I’m assuming he’s basically a hormone-addled eighteen-year-old again.”

“That’s probably a safe assumption,” Feyre agreed, and showed him in. "Rhys is expecting you?"

“Yes, he asked me to come. I’ll, ah, wait in the study,” Azriel said, and disappeared round the corner. Feyre headed back up the stairs, where Rhys was walking out of their room towelling his hair off. Still naked and steaming from the bath. Feyre’s eyes followed the contours of his abs.

“See something you like, Feyre darling?” Rhys grinned, disappearing the towel with magic.

“Ah…” Feyre stuttered, forgetting what she was supposed to tell him. Gods, he really was a beautiful male. Rhys’s smile turned feline as he stalked toward her. Feyre stepped back as he approached, still watching the muscles shift under his tattoos. He walked her back out to the landing, and leaned her against the bannister as he bent to circle his arms around her waist.

“Cat got your tongue?” he whispered. He was so incredibly warm around her, and Feyre let her head fall back as he kissed under her ear. She struggled to remember what she came to get Rhys for.

“Oh!” she put her hands on his biceps. “Azriel…”

Rhys’s head snapped up, and his eyes were ablaze.

“Azriel?” he demanded. Before she could explain, Rhys had spun her around so fast her hands caught the bannister as she fell forward. He yanked her hips back and threw the edge of her skirt up. “I don’t want to hear another male’s name on your lips, not now and not ever,” he growled in her ear. And then he smacked her lightly across the ass. “Okay?”

Feyre was going to laugh it off and explain, but then something unfurled in her chest. “Do that again,” she breathed.

“What?” Rhys asked, dangerously low. “This?” He smacked her again, a little harder this time. Feyre’s eyes went wide, and to her surprise, heat gathered between her legs. Rhys saw it all, and a very slow, very wicked grin spread across his face.

“Do you like to be spanked, my love?” he asked. Feyre didn’t know how to answer. Rhys pushed her underwear up to expose her backside, and smoothed his hand over it. And then landed a tight slap on her bare skin.

“Oh,” Feyre gasped, arching her back. Rhys pulled her hips back further, rubbing his now hard cock against her from behind. Feyre gripped the railing more tightly, and completely forgot about the spymaster in the study. “More,” she breathed.

“You want more?” Rhys echoed. He spanked her again, and she moaned. “Is this what you were looking for?” He pushed the rest of her skirt up her back and smacked the other side of her ass. “Is this why you’re being so cruel to me,” spank, “coming to me with another male’s name in your mouth,” spank, “looking for punishment?” He yanked her underwear down so it dropped around her ankles, and landed another three slaps, each harder than the one before. Feyre cried out again and again, and was getting so wet she knew he could smell her.

“Spread your legs, darling,” he instructed her. Feyre stepped out of her underwear and leaned her forearms against the bannister. Rhys spanked her again without warning and her eyes watered.

"Oh!"

“Wider,” he snarled. Feyre obeyed, widening her stance. Rhys rubbed his hands gently over her stinging skin, and then his cock was nudging at her entrance.

“Good girl,” he crooned, and then he spanked her one more time and when she yelled out he threaded his fingers through her hair and plunged inside her.

Rhys fucked her hard, bent over the railing, tugging her head back by the hair while his free hand worked her clit. The now sensitive and reddened skin of her ass bounced against the tops of his thighs, and when her knees started to buckle Rhys let go of her hair to wrap an arm around her waist to hold her up. Every physical sensation seemed heightened unbearably, and Feyre screamed as she came.

“Who’s name, Feyre?” he asked her. “Who’s name belongs in your mouth?”

“Yours,” she gasped between spasms.

“Say it,” Rhys bit out.

“Rhys,” Feyre said. “Rhys, Rhys, oh fuck, Rhys,” and the last one drawn out in a moan. The sound of it had Rhys coming hard as she was, and she didn’t come down until he had emptied himself inside her and his forehead was damp on her back. Feyre tried to move but felt like a new foal. Rhys laughed softly and carried her back to their room in his arms.

He lay her down very gently, and pulled the blanket over her before softly stroking her hair.

“I didn’t know that about you,” he said quietly.

“What?” Feyre asked, luxuriating in his wandering touch. A laughing edge came into his voice.

“That you were such a glutton for punishment.”

Feyre blushed, and Rhys pressed his lips to her forehead. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Half the fun of being wicked is getting to take care of you afterward.” Feyre smiled.

“I like the sound of that,” she said.

“And I quite like teaching you not to talk about other males in front of me.”

Feyre’s eyes flew open. “Oh!” she said, sitting up. “I was supposed to tell you that Azriel is here and waiting for you in the study!”

They stared at each other for a second, and the burst out laughing. Feyre covered her face in her hands, suddenly remembering the wanton sounds she had been making minutes ago and how clearly Azriel must have heard them all. Rhys peppered kisses over her cheek, and jaw, and neck, and then rolled out of bed, pulling trousers on before going downstairs to see if the Shadowsinger had stuck around.

He had not.

****

Liz asked for spanking ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

MASTERLIST

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[serenityseventeen]

♪ The Last Day of Summer With You

Boo Seungkwan: Beach Volley

“Hey! I told you to keep your hands around my waist!” Seungkwan scolded, glancing back at you who was sitting behind him on the bike.

“It's fine, Seungkwan, it's only for a short moment!” You replied, closing your eyes gently. Around your body was a large strapped bag that contained a volleyball signed by Seungkwan's favorite volleyball team.

Seungkwan hated that he had to be so worried as you daringly opened your arms to hug the wind, allowing yourself to lean back slightly. From the moment you two began riding the couple's bicycle to now, you had made Seungkwan like a father who was concerned for their naughty child, even though he was your boyfriend.

Seungkwan's eyebrows arched inwards as he clenched his teeth and shook his head in disagreement. Despite his constant worries for you who was so carefree like a bird, he felt a relieving sensation as he spotted the beach down below creeping closer into view.

The sound of the waves was getting closer too and now, he could understand how you could open your arms so carelessly. He wanted to hug the wind too but Seungkwan knew that he would be way too scared to try.

“You didn't let the bag loose, did you??” Seungkwan asked half-joking and half-serious as he took a small turn, heading towards the bike parking area.

“Of course not! For the last day of summer, you brought your special, lucky ball! If I lost it, you would kill me even if I'm your darling,” You smiled and opened your eyes, finally clasping your hands around his waist and resting your head on his back.

Seungkwan scoffed and got off the bike. You got off too and made sure the bag was still tightly strapped around your body as Seungkwan locked the bike. You felt excitement rising inside your body and then like a child, you excitedly found yourself running toward the beach, away from your guardian.

After Seungkwan locked the bike, he asked, “Okay, take out the-”

He looked at the place that you were standing previously only to find that you blasted off into the distance with your arms wide open. Seungkwan couldn't help but watch you in disbelief. The initial plan of the day was to bike to the beach then play some volleyball before going to eat at a seaside restaurant but he could tell that you were already getting carried away by the thought of having your feet sink in the sand.

Watching as you ran closer to the water, Seungkwan couldn't help but laugh. Seeing you being all smiley like that made his heart flutter and left him in a daze for a few seconds before he realized, “What am I doing, still here? I should catch up with Y/N...”

You took off the black bag and tossed it down on the sand before you crouched down to unzip it. Seungkwan had jogged over to you and came just in time as you were taking out the volleyball. There were two volleyballs, one signed and one not, because Seungkwan claimed that sometimes, children on the beach would want to play with a ball too, so he always brought an extra if he wanted to play beach volleyball.

You smiled while thinking about how kind your boyfriend was. You just felt so glad to be with someone you knew was an angel at heart. You always thought you were lucky to have Seungkwan but he would always come at you with a counterargument, saying that it wasn't luck, but it was his choice to be with you. Seungkwan would also say that you feeling lucky was how he felt too but vice versa.

“Okay okay, let's just do some rally,” You said, picking up the signed ball. Seungkwan always said that that ball gave him luck when it came to games. “If you fail to receive the ball then you have to do what I ask you to do, okay??”

“Okay, fine,” Seungkwan replied, feeling competitive. He cracked his knuckles and began stretching his arms and legs from side to side. “But if you lose, you have to do what I ask. Let's not make it something too embarrassing.”

You nodded with an aware nod. Standing quite a far distance apart, you served the ball to Seungkwan, who quickly returned it to you. The rally continued with the two of you also trying to sabotage each other in shady ways, but even so, it seemed more fun.

The way Seungkwan was acquiescently smiling left you smiling even more blissfully, eventually distracting you from the ball. Before you knew it, all you could focus on was Seungkwan's joy pouring out of his scintillating eyes and ecstatic smile.

There was a small, soft thud as the volleyball hit the quaggy sand. Seungkwan jumped in joy and you, who had belatedly realized that the ball was flying in your direction, had dived for it, only to land on the floor, missing the ball by a strand of hair.

After his little victorious dancing ceremony, Seungkwan waddled over to you who was sulking, sitting with your legs crisscrossed on the sand. He fanned himself with the end of his white t-shirt and while giggling cutely, said, “Now, what should I make this loser do?”

You stood up while holding the volleyball. You wiped the sweat that was trickling down his sideburns. The sun was so bright that even the cool wind that occasionally passed by could not beat the humid air.

“How about... look, I'll go easy on you because I love you, okay? How about just running to the end of the beach and back? I'll wait for you and play with some of the kids on the beach,” Seungkwan said, smiling. The way he was smiling was painfully annoying but you lost and there was no way around it.

Or was there?

You pouted, trying to get him to change the punishment but he had his eyes closed, feeling the fresh air of the beach flow into his lungs. You couldn't understand how Seungkwan could be so cruel but even so, you loved him.

You sighed and said, “Okay, fine.”

You had to admit that if you were the winner, you would have given Seungkwan the same punishment. It was just how things were between you two; you two were like playful kids.

“Okay, go!” Seungkwan said, opening his eyes to see you start your run to the end of the beach and back, but instead of seeing you blast off, his lips were met with yours. He couldn't deny that he was expecting it, but even if he knew you were going to kiss him, he was still flustered by the sudden action.

“A kiss won't get you out of it every time, even if I badly want to change the punishment now, I won't! I'm not going to fall for that anymore!” Seungkwan said, flipping your around to face the other side of the beach that you had to run across.

“Come on, get going.”

“Fine, fine, whatever, but,” You said softly, taking your beloved boyfriend's hand. “Isn't it better to go together?”

Before he could reply, you were dragging him as you ran, with your destination being the end of the beach. You both ran past people who were sunbathing and it wasn't until Seungkwan called out, “Hey! My signed volleyball, we need to go get that!” that you both paused. After catching your breaths, you both made a U-turn and fetched the bag and volleyball, before executing your punishment again.

“Gosh, this isn't fair,” Seungkwan said as he ran with you. You couldn't help but smile.

“Honestly, I find it pretty fair,” You replied, glancing at him who was lagging behind.

“What? How?”

“Because it was because of you that I lost that rally! Don't you know how beautiful your smile is?”

Seungkwan laughed, unable to believe how incredibly sweet your words were, making his already racing heartbeat accelerate.

“Fine, fine, I guess this is fair enough.”

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

© serenityseventeen

a/n: SEVENTEEN IN THE SOOP PREMIERED TODAY!!!! (Spoiler ahead) I loved it so much- jun's hot pot restaurant, shua making a clay tray, wonwoo and jeonghan building legos, and dk and mingyu building the brick oven- plus dino and jeonghan catching tadpoles was so cute... i can already feel that it was such a healing trip for them 🥺🥺

[anotheranimestan]

Kiss Drought

Jealous Aizawa smut + possessiveness

NSFW!! Please note y/n is of age here!!

wc: 3.9k

Since my last Aizawa post is my most successful one (I am happily surprised) it only made sense to make my first smutty post for him 🤤

Perched on a barstool playing with the straw in your drink, you were waiting for your date to show. Being late wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for Shouta Aizawa but you were missing him badly tonight. Impatient since you hadn’t been able to see him for a few days. Somehow you’d convinced him to join you for a night out at this bar. You’d spent hours getting ready out of pure excitement. Putting on your sluttiest dress and lingerie to make it worth his while.

You settled yourself at the end of the bar, secluded where the lights didn’t reach and few people were. Aizawa hated being in the spotlights. Excited to see if you all done up for him had the intended effect, your eyes were glued to the door. Your hopes getting crushed every time another person walked in that wasn’t him.

“Hey.” A voice projecting over the music tore through your concentration. You jumped to find a tall burly guy with spiked hair and an over-confident smile leaning against the bar next to you.

You didn’t respond. Just stared at him in pure confusion. Surely you didn’t look like you wanted anyone to talk to you.

“How’s your night going?” He persisted.

“Fine.” You said curtly.

“That’s good. I saw you hiding back here from across the way there and I told my bud ‘I just have to go say hi to that smoking chick.’”

You grimaced. A master at flattery.

“So what’s your name?” He continued, not picking up on any of your social cues.

You gave him the stupidest fake name you could think of on the spot.

“Ah. Of course a hot girl has a hot name.”

You nodded in agreement. Listening to him was killing your brain cells.

“You look familiar you know....wait. You’re one of those pros from the next town over aren’t you.”

You nodded. Surprised he had the mental capacity to recognize smaller heroes like yourself.

He scoffed, proud of himself. “I knew it. Lady heroes are always hot.” Dear god someone get him away. “You know I could have gone pro myself.”

“Oh yea?” You replied doubtfully.

“Yeaaaa. But you know, I figured better not. Villains would have a hard time against me.” He joked. He raised his bicep and winked at you. Clearly about to show off whatever pitiful power-up quirk he was so proud of.

But his confident smile fell as you stared at him waiting to get his little show over with. His face contorted into horror. Realizing he couldn’t power-up.

“Ah. That’s weird.” He said unable to comprehend what was happening. But you were pretty sure you knew what was up.

“Aw honey it’s okay.” You cooed. “Sometimes alcohol makes it hard for guys to...you know...get things working.” You gave him your best fake smile. Highly amused by his ego shattering.

“Excuse me.” He sputtered and ran to the restrooms in humiliation.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched him nearly crying when he disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Suddenly you sensed a presence looming behind you.

“I figured you were somewhere nearby.”

You turned in your seat to find sleepy midnight eyes focused on you under a few loose strands of silky black hair. He had his hair tied back just the way you liked it and he hadn’t shaved in a few days so the stubble on his chin completed his signature look. He was so fucking handsome. You’d missed him so much.

“Sorry I’m late...” His gravely voice sounded like he just woke up. “but you look amazing.” He said sweetly soaking you in.

Forgiveness wasn’t even necessary. You immediately melted any time he was in the room. It was effortless the way he could snatch you up.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Eraserhead.” You teased with a raised eyebrow. Already succumbing to his gravity that always seemed to pull you in.

He immediately knew you weren’t referring to his tardiness. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He lied with a little smile playing on his lips. Looking down as he felt your finger which was tracing the line down the center of his chest that was deliciously exposed by his partially unbuttoned button-down shirt. It wasn’t fair how he always looked so effortlessly sexy.

“I think he just wanted to be friends. No need to be jealous.” You cooed, knowing it was going to swirl up emotions in him that he was definitely going to deny. A little payback for being late.

He leaned down to your level. You held your lips dangerously close to his. Waiting for him to kiss the honeyed words off your tongue, despite the impatient desire growing in your chest. He always liked to make you wait. It gives him satisfaction knowing you’re stubborn enough to hold out for him to make the first move. Few people are more stubborn than himself. He always found that impressive about you. That and the way you were so good at baiting him.

“I don’t think I need to be jealous about that...situation.” He was willing to bite tonight.

“And why not?” You pretended to pout, tugging on his shirt with your ring finger for him to come closer and close the gap.

He considered his next move. Well aware that you were ready to pounce on any weak response.

“I can tell by the way you’re looking at me right now.” The edge of his lips tilted up. Knowing he had you cornered.

You growled, biting your lip. He came ready tonight. You hated when he smirked like that. Like he’d won. Even if it did make him look incredibly sexy.

“That’s very bold of you.”

“Am I wrong?”

He finally ended his touch drought and caressed your delicate jaw. So distracted by him quenching your thirst you’d forgotten to respond. You just sat there hanging on to his every movement. Entranced by the way he was admiring the color of your mouth.

His thumb grazed the center of your plump bottom lip. Dragging it down to watch the way it cushioned under his pressure.

He chuckled when you stuck your tongue out as he traced. Licking the pad of his thumb and then wrapping your pretty lips around it.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He said with a smug grin.

Somehow you went from being the cat to being his mouse.

“You are cruel.” You pouted. Begging him with your eyes to end this torture and kiss you.

It made him smile, with strange satisfaction knowing you’re too hard-headed to just ask for what you wanted. A sadist at heart. But you were so adorable when you were like this.

He answered your unspoken plea. “How about I buy you a drink first.” Deciding to hold out on you. Not ready to end this game you started quite yet.

You huffed.

“Someone beat you to it. Early bird gets the worm I guess.” You gestured to the glass of dark liquor sitting on a coaster next to you, knowing damn well you’d bought it for yourself. But you weren’t going to let him get away with this treatment.

He gave you a skeptical look.

“What? Does that bother you baby?” You pressed. You’d get him to admit it one day.

He paused. “Again, not that concerned considering you didn’t drink any of it.” You realized you hadn’t even taken your first sip yet.

Fuck. It’s like he was running on a full nights rest or something.

He slid the glass out of your hand. Disposing it just in case someone actually had tried to buy his girl a drink. Waving the bartender down he ordered your favorite, which he’d memorized a long time ago. A move no other man in this bar could attempt to pull.

“Wow. My favorite drink. Are you trying to impress me or something?” You asked with a cocked brow.

He smirked as he handed over his card to open a tab. You knew exactly the kind of power move he was pulling.

This flicker of his competitive side sent a surge of tingles between your legs which were currently spread on either side of Aizawa’s jeans. After a few days without him you were already longing for him. This was making it worse. You found yourself pressing your thighs together, which didn’t go unnoticed.

His voice was so deep and his tongue lazy when he spoke. You could practically feel the vibrations of his vocal chords right now, just like when they moaned into your mouth. The yearning for him was growing deeper in the pit of your stomach. But he was set on stringing you along. Punishment for teasing him about another guy.

“Here.” He placed the lightly a dewed drink in your hands, ice clinking against the glass. His fingers grazing yours sent another wave of frustration through you as you pictured them caressing your skin.

You’d run out of quips and were feeling tongue-tied. Focusing on the growing swirls of sensations that were beginning to dampen your black lace thong, Aizawa’s favorite.

Aizawa took some long draws of his drink while watching you sip in yours. Eyes intent on your lips wrapped around that straw. The tensing of your delicate throat as you swallowed. Picturing your pink tongue lapping the pad of his thumb again.

He finally sat down on the other bar stool. His knees parting to give himself room for the pressure you were stirring between his legs.

You prodded him with some questions about work. But he was being awfully quiet. He only half-heartedly answered your questions.

Getting a fuller view of you now he was too distracted. His body temperature rose at the tightness of your dress against your body. Your exposed neckline hinting at the fullness of your breasts underneath. Your legs looking smooth and long in that dress that stopped only a few inches below your ass.

Irritation flashed through Aizawa’s skin as, over your shoulder, he saw the guy emerge from the bathroom and look directly at him. He had started walking in your direction, like he was coming back for seconds, before he noticed you were with another man. He hadn’t been that bothered when he first arrived but now he felt his rarely-seen temper flaring up at the thought of this guy trying to make a move on you.

You were mid-sentence when you saw Aizawa’s jaw clench. His irritation fueled the fire that was blazing in your lower stomach. He only got that possessive look in his eye over one thing. You.

You had to shift in your chair to try and ease the throbbing under your dress. Desperately trying to distract yourself if you were going to be able to hold out against Aizawa’s punishment drought.

You were going to need a few shots to pull it off. Pulling your dress down, unsuccessfully trying covering your butt, you stood up to wave the bartender down.

Aizawa flinched, the tightness in his pants growing after seeing the curve of your ass peeking out under your dress. His body went up in flames however when he caught muscle man catching a look as well. Temper properly stoked, he was hellbent at letting this guy know he could go fuck himself.

You felt Aizawa snatch your wrist and pull you between his legs. Yelping at the abrupt movement, you stabled yourself from tripping over your heels on his crotch, accidentally, and felt the lump that had formed there.

“What are you doing?” He growled in your ear.

“I’m...ordering another drink?” You said confused.

“I’m the only person who’ll be ordering your drinks for the rest of the night.” He informed you warmly, giving your ass a squeeze before resting his hand over the exposed part. “What do you want babe?” He cooed when the bartender arrived.

He ordered four shots of your favorite tequila.

Your arms draped around his shoulders as he held you in his domain. One arm relaxed on the bar, the other territorially holding you against him.

As you both downed the shots you noticed him glaring at something every few seconds under hooded eyes.

“What are you looking at?” You said leaning forward.

“Nothing important.” He growled through a clenched jaw.

But you’d followed his eye-line to find the man from earlier at the other end. You grinned in satisfaction.

A devious streak surged through you. Excited to see how your man would react to you now.

“I thought you weren’t jealous.”

His dick twitched at your hand brushing over his jeans.

“I’m not.”

“Well it seems like he’s bothering you. Want me to go over there and have a few words with him for you babe?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you want to try something like that.”

“I think I might.”

He downed his last shot, the alcohol starting to buzz in his head. He was struggling to keep his temper under control. You were really testing him, on purpose too which made it worse. But he knew how you worked and how to press your buttons.

“Then go do it.” He urged. Releasing his hold on you. Holding his arms up in the air.

You huffed. Wrapping your arms around him even tighter. You hated when he did that. He knew you wouldn’t go. And you hated even more when he took his hands off you.

“You’re so mean.” You whined.

He chuckled. “I’m sorry baby. But you really think I’d let you win this little teasing game of yours so easily?” You yelped when his hand came down heavy on your ass again. Jutting your hips onto his hardened boner. “Unless you’re trying to tell me I have an actual reason to be jealous.” He dared you, looking you directly in the eyes.

He had you cornered again. His little mouse. You couldn’t even pretend to admit that another man caught your eye. And the throbbing in your panties was unbearable now. You were dying to smash your mouth on his.

You whimpered as he swept your hair from your neck. His lips only grazing your skin as he whispered into your ear. “You can tell me the truth baby.” He cooed.

You were barely holding out against him. Your stubbornness was seconds from giving out. His deep voice in your ear had you dripping. You crossed your legs trying to hold yourself together but Aizawa wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Come here.” He instructed as he lifted your leg over his knee so that you straddled his thigh. The pressure against your throbbing sex eliciting a soft moan.

He gave one more glance at the pathetic guy from earlier who was visibly tense. Having to watch you perched on his lap. Wilting over him in submission.

Suddenly you were very thankful you were tucked away where few people could possibly notice you melting over him, a mess.

“So? Should I be jealous?” He placed his final chess piece.

You whimpered more as his hand guided your hips to grind against him. Your stubbornness snapped.

You shook your head no into the crook of his neck. Your pussy started convulsing, desperately wanting him to touch you.

“Say it.”

“No baby. There’s no one to be jealous about. Nothing.”

You whined into his ear pressing your lips against him.

He groaned in satisfaction at hearing you admit it.

He shifted his leg to stretch out your stance. Your knee hooked over his thigh, exposing you so he had full access. The cold air hitting your drenched underwear made your breath hitch.

His thumb massaged the inside of your thigh, causing your hips to buck in anticipation. It was killing you.

“Please Shouta. Stop teasing me.” You whined.

You licked your lips which were painfully dry from lack of kisses.

The gloss of your saliva on your lips made his mouth water.

“You look so pretty.” He said grazing the outside of your drenched panties with one finger.

You bit back a moan that was surely going to be so loud everyone at the bar was going to hear.

“Fuck. You’re so wet...all this for me?” He said hanging his head back as he fought the urge to throw you onto the bar and ram his dick into you. Right where muscle man could see.

Another soft moan from you brought him back though. You nodded, cheeks flushed with embarrassment that he had you this unraveled in front of everyone. Although surprisingly nobody had noticed yet.

He slipped two fingers past your lips. Your tongue swirling around them. His dick throbbed at the sight of your mouth wrapped around him. Sadly wrapped around the wrong body part.

He removed them slowly. Mouth gaping at the saliva that strung off your tongue as he moved them back under your dress, moving your panties to the side and tracing tracing a wide circle around your clit. Just slow enough to hold you on the edge of pleasure.

“I want to hear you say whose pussy this is.” You cried softly. “Tell me baby.” He said watching your face contort at his touch.

You dipped your lips to his ear. Too abashed to look him directly in the eyes right now as he had you helplessly wrapped around his finger.

“It’s yours.” You squeaked out.

“Say my name.”

You were squirming uncontrollably now. But he was careful not to give you what you were dying for until he heard the words spill off your tongue. “It’s yours Shouta...all yours. Please just fuck me already.” You gushed.

“I love how my name sounds in your mouth.” He cooed as he plunged two fingers into you. Feeling the juices swirl around his fingers as he pumped them slowly in and out.

Your hand latched onto his shoulder, digging in at his touch. Your hips couldn’t stop grinding against his hand as you used his thumb as a rubbing board for your clit.

“Look at me.” The sight of your face flushed with pleasure was turning him on even more. Abusing your clit even faster as he felt your walls pulsing around his fingers. The tightness in his pants growing painful at how much it wanted you sat on top of him.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded one last time.

Finally ending his kiss drought, he attached onto that pouty bottom lip of yours. Sucking it hungrily. It had been just as hard for him to keep himself off you. He’d been dying to taste every inch of your body.

You latched onto his lip hoping you’d never have to let go. Biting hard to release all the frustration he’d built up in you. He flinched in pain. Having to slip his hands out of you to pry you off him.

“Fuck.” He said feeling his lip. You’d bit him so hard a little blood had been drawn.

“I’m sorry.” You said biting your nail.

“I suppose that was my own fault wasn’t it.” He smiled before sucking your juices off his fingers.

The sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your pussy was clenching around nothing. Grasping for his dick. You needed him. Right now.

You broke out of his hold and dragged his weight behind you to the ladies restroom. Thanking the heavens there was no line because you would easily have punched your way through it.

Slamming the door shut and locking it he immediately threw your weight against the wall. Picking you up and wrapping your legs around him. You clung to him like he was life itself and started aggressively sucking hickeys onto his neck.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You whined into his ear.

“I missed you too baby. A lot.” He said kissing your neck as he ripped his jeans and briefs down. He couldn’t wait another second to get inside of you.

His dick was rock hard as he swirled the head around your wet opening. Coating it with your warm juices. He groaned loudly in your ear as he sunk into you for the first time.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

Chills went through you as you felt him stretching out your walls. Wanting him to stuff you with every inch he had.

He pumped into you quickly. You relished at the pain and pleasure of his forceful thrusts. He wanted you so desperately he couldn’t control his power even if he wanted to.

He crashed his mouth against yours to muffle the loud moans that they definitely could hear on the other side of the door.

His mouth started sucking on that pink tongue of yours, mixing with the intense pleasure of him rutting into you. Your hold around his shoulders was going limp. He was fucking the strength right out of you.

“Turn around.” He ordered as he placed you back on the ground. Hiking your dress up to completely expose your ass.

He pressed your chest up against the wall. The cold bricks chilling your skin as he pushed your panties to the side again and inserted his entire shaft from behind. Bottoming out with one forceful thrust and holding it there as he hit your g-spot. Pleasure surged through your body, causing you to moan his name.

The sound of his name pouring off your lips was causing rumbling in his head. He felt himself nearing as he rammed into you faster. Dick throbbing at the way your ass jiggled every time he thrust into you.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter as you started rubbing circles around your clit. He was hitting your g-spot with every stroke. You were seconds away from overflowing with euphoria.

“I’m gonna cum Shouta.” You whined as he kept at you relentlessly. Hands clamped on your hips.

“Cum on me baby.” He encouraged as he felt your legs starting to shake.

Just then the knot snapped. And electricity flooded your body. Your hand clamped around his, pulling him against your back in pure gratitude.

Your walls tightening around him sent him over the edge. His rhythm growing sloppy just as he burst, filling you with warm cum. Groaning as he threw his last few weak pumps in pleasure. Coming down from his intense high.

“Shit y/n. Come here.” He said wrapping around your neck and pulling you up to place a sloppy wet kiss on the mouth that had been calling his name.

You both were breathing heavy as he pulled you into his arms. You nuzzled your face into him. Silently worshiping him for the satisfied humming in your body left over from your chilling orgasm.

“I think I missed you more than I realized.” He cooed into your ear. Gently rubbing your pussy from behind. Reminiscing on how amazing the juices felt around him.

You giggled. Yanking him into one last lingering kiss before pulling your dress back down.

He buckled himself up and patted your hair down that he’d disheveled.

When you opened the door, several stunned faces were staring at you.

Giggling nervously, Aizawa pulled you through the crowd to go close his tab out.

He was holding your hand tight as you clung to his arm. Staring at his side profile with hearts in your eyes as he tipped the bartender.

On your way out you bumped into someone’s back. The muscle man turned around in shock.

Not batting an eye you said “excuse me” and kept walking.

You looked up nervously to see Aizawa’s response to the poorly timed interaction but he was just peering at you out of the corner of his eyes with a satisfied little grin.

He grabbed your jaw and pressed a deep kiss on you. Not breaking his stride once as he led you to the door.

“Let’s hurry up and go home. I’m not finished with you yet.”

~~

First smut post so hopefully it didn’t suck 😩

General tags from masterlist: @edgyb1tch @waywardcowboyllamavoid @ladybeautiful18 @halietigges @frosted-flakes @r0zyp0zy0zy @myherosilhouette @wackichris @chargeandinlarge @dumbbird89 @fullsundear @blisssfoooll @tee2cute @dxddydrea @themajesticunicorn

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[twomoonstwosuns]

zoom [bonus chapter]

back to you [series masterlist]

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: smut (18+), language, fluff

word count: 2.1k

a/n: we can all thank zoom university for this chapter, i hope you like it

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Poe was not prepared to shift his class from in-person to online. 

He had a feeling deep in his gut this could happen. The virus had hit every state in the country and was spreading at an incredibly high rate. Vacations were being refunded, flights canceled…yours and Poe’s annual spring break trip to Kes’ one of them. It sucked, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Everything was closing down - restaurants, retailers, movie theaters…soon it would be the universities. Spending spring break at home gave Poe time to get his classes online so he’d have something to teach his students when classes resumed. 

You were a week and a half into working from home when Poe got the news about a temporary campus shutdown. He was told that classes would be completely online for two weeks following the end of spring break, but the rapid rise in cases and declining hospital capacity made it unsafe and President Organa made the decision that classes would stay online until the end of the semester. The only one who had been truly thrilled about this decision was Beebs. 

To say it was a little bit of struggle for Poe would be an understatement. He hated doing things on the fly; he liked to be prepared. He also loved being in the classroom with his students. Zoom University took that away from him, but at least he still had a job. And for that he was grateful. 

Your job offered a little more leniency, though furlough rumors that were just whispers at the virtual water cooler were becoming more audible each day that passed. With just a couple of meetings a week, both with your creative team and one-on-one with your boss, you were pretty much on your own. That meant you were able to get up and move around while you were working. You rotated through different rooms in your brand new house, but more often than not you ended up across from Poe at the dining room table with your headphones in. 

You’d sometimes crash his classes when you needed a break from work or when you were bored because you were done with work. You’d make faces at him, write something funny on a whiteboard or notebook and hold it up for him to read, or obscenely lick a lollipop or spoon. Even though your college career had come to an end, you were still hot for teacher and when you sat across from him and watched him teach with the enthusiasm you admired, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the dirty thoughts you had about him when you were his student. 

You also wondered just how far you could act on those dirty thoughts and one warm April day fresh into being furloughed gave you the perfect opportunity. 

Walking into the kitchen, your bare legs caught Poe’s attention from the dining room. The hem of his t-shirt reached your upper thigh and you made sure to stretch up on your tiptoes to grab a cup from the very top shelf just so he’d get a flash of your sexy barely there black lace underwear. The complete sentences he’d been talking in were disrupted and he stumbled over his words as the sight of you took over. You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you took a sip and stretching your legs out.

“Babe?” Poe temporarily muted himself, leaning just far enough out of the frame to lick his lips and stare at your legs. “Can I have a glass of water?”

The little sway you put in your hips continued to keep him a little unfocused as you grabbed another glass and filled it with water. You set it down beside his computer and he took a huge gulp of it before looking back at his computer when one of his student’s grabbed his attention. 

“What exactly do you want out of this essay? The question seem a little vague.”

As he started to answer her question, Poe failed to see you slip underneath the table. Your hands tugging on his sweatpants made him gasp and his jaw drop ever so slightly. You shot him a flirty smile and put your finger over your lips. His head snapped back up as he remembered his class was watching him. 

“Sorry, um…m-my dog licked my foot and I didn’t know he was under the table.”

You had to bite back a laugh to keep from revealing his lie as the girls in his class audibly swooned. Beebs was currently on the living room couch taking his early afternoon nap, though he had made an appearance on camera before due to some incessant barking over a couple of squirrels. You bit your lip to keep from making any noise as you dipped your hand under the band of his sweats. Poe visibly gulped as you wrapped your hand around him. 

“The, uh…the prompts are meant to be broad so you can, um…” He let out a breath as you pumped him slowly. “Are you…h-how many of you are having trouble with the prompts?”

A few of his students raised their hands and he swallowed hard. His voice shook as he tried his best to not concentrate at the pleasure he was beginning to feel from your hand. 

“O-Okay…um…” Poe nearly choked on his words at the touch of your tongue on the tip of his cock. Your mouth suddenly enveloped him, head bobbing at a teasing pace. 

“Sorry, um…whatever comes to mind when you think of the question is what I want your essay to show.” He was powering through, focusing completely on the twenty pairs of eyes that were on him. “Send me an email with your ques—“

His breath caught in his throat as his cock slid closer to the back of your throat. He cleared his throat and stuck his hand in your hair, grabbing it in a vice grip and holding your head in place. “—questions. If you want to attach a rough draft, you can and I can give you some feedback. Sound okay?”

His students collectively nodded and you hollowed your cheeks and sucked, making Poe squirm in his seat. 

“Perfect. Alright, um…I-I have to prep for my next class so I-I’ll see you all on Thursday.”

He loosened his grip on your hair and you started moving your head again. Whatever willpower he had left he used to leave the meeting, a loud groan erupting from deep in his chest when he knew he was in the clear. He threw his head back as he touched the back of your throat again, pulling another helpless moan from him. 

“That was—“ He shifted again in his seat and you held his thighs to keep him still, the way your mouth was taking him so deep making him squirm. “Fuck baby, that was cruel.”

You popped off of him and smirked, running your tongue along the length of him. “Was it though?”

Poe chuckled and moaned again as you took him back into your mouth. His hands slipped into your hair and he looked down at you. Your face was half hidden by the table and despite being in your own home, the whole thing felt erotic and a little bit porny. He tensed in his seat and his breathing picked up and it was then that you decided to release him and come out from under the table.

“Why’d you stop?” Poe asked as he pushed his chair back from the table. You eyed the way his cock laid against his lower stomach. 

“You have class in fifteen minutes.”

Smirking, Poe pulled you towards him by the front of your shirt, grabbing your thighs and moving you into his lap. 

“We need to make this quick then.” The dark, lust-blown look in his eyes showed he was serious and he laughed at the look on your face. “Don’t look so surprised, you started this…now I want you to finish it.”

You responded by rubbing your clothed core over his cock. He grabbed your hip and held you still as he pulled your panties to the side. Grabbing his cock and giving him a few more pumps, you lined him up with your entrance and sunk down onto him, seating yourself in his lap and taking him all the way in on the first pass. 

“You are so fucking wet.” He exhaled deeply, the feeling of being inside of you a sensation he’d never get tired of. A smirk crossed your face as you started to grind against him. 

“Its a turn on watching you squirm.”

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him hotly, your tongue sliding into his mouth as you moved up and down in his lap. He swallowed your moans, his hands squeezing your ass before moving up to your hips and guiding you. You tore your lips away from him to moan out a drawn out “fuck!” as he hit that spot that made your toes curl, your head falling back in complete ecstasy. 

“You gotta move faster than that if you want to come, sweetheart.” His words, deep and breathy, were felt across your lips. “We’re finishing this before my class starts whether you come or not.”

“I could just go into the other room and finish myself off.”

He kissed down to your neck, a breathy moan coming from you as he sucked a hickey onto it.

“Not a fucking chance.”

The chair beneath you rocked as you bounced in his lap, the tips of your toes on the carpet giving you leverage. Poe suddenly grabbed your thighs and stood up, ignoring your yelp of surprise and setting you down onto the table. He pushed his laptop away and his glass of water fell to the ground with a quiet thud. Either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care as he snapped his hips against yours at a punishing speed. A cry of pleasure left your lips at the sudden change in ferocity and you nearly jumped when his thumb made contact with your clit. His free hand caught your calf and kept your leg up around his waist, giving himself the perfect angle to drive deeper into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your back arched off of the table as you dug your fingers into his back. His name fell from your lips with each brush of his cock against your g-spot. 

Poe came with a loud moan, his resolve disappearing in hopes that he could get you off first. But you weren’t far behind, his sloppy thrusts and quick movements against your clit enough to send you toppling over the edge. Your body convulsed with pleasure and a gentle bite to your neck made you gasp. Both of you were breathless as his thrusts slowed, eventually coming to a stop. He lifted you once again, his cock staying inside you as he moved back into his chair. 

“How am I supposed to face my class on Thursday?” A soft smile gracing his handsome face as he looked at the mess he made of you, your cheeks flushed with exertion and hair falling into your face. “They’re not stupid, they totally knew what was going on.”

A breathless giggle left your lips as he cupped your cheek. “That’s for you to figure out. It better be good though, because I doubt they bought the Beebs excuse.”

He chuckled as he kissed you gently, the kind that let butterflies loose in your stomach. Your hand covered the one resting on your cheek and you pulled it away to look at the time. “Three minutes.”

“Perfect timing,” he said as you carefully stood up and readjusted your panties. He tucked himself back into his pants and grabbed his computer to log into his next class.

“We’re masters at quickies,” you said as you leaned down and kissed him once more before heading towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. “Have fun in class!”

Chances were very high that Poe would get you back for this sometime in the next week or so. The way you two teased each other, you knew he’d try to hold out as long as possible and catch you completely off guard. It was such a fun and simple way to mix things up in lockdown. After all, you and Poe were practically experts in bunkering down at home, unable to go out in public and having to find ways to entertain yourselves. 

You supposed you could actually thank Hux for that. 

tag list - @ah-callie @tinygaydemonbby @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @millllenniawrites @afootnoteinyourhappiness @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @linibirdimagine @starrykitn @cloud-leader @liadamerondjarin @april-14-blog @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @xremember-me-notx @obiwanownsmyass @princessxkenobi @yourbucky084 @frietiemeloen @softly-sad @xxidontwikeitxx @roserrys @clairesmunchkin @justanotherblonde23 @voidmonny @neaveloren

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 26//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia, @fantasyshadowhunters) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

I hope this chapter finds you all well, please enjoy some fluffy Feysand and baby vibes! ❤️

"He's breathtaking," Rhys said quietly from his place beside me.

After the maelstrom of labor had passed, Sebastian entered the world with a resounding wail—the most heartwarming sound I had ever heard in my life. The minutes after passed in a blur; the midwife placing him on my chest as she and Madja worked on cleaning him off with damp washcloths while Rhys and I stared at our newborn babe. We were both too completely and utterly stunned to speak in those first few minutes but sobbed the second he opened his eyes and were met with remarkable violet-blue.

Every part of him was truly incredible; resembling his father in nearly every feature except for the blue in his eyes and the tiny, perfect, shape of his mouth—even better than my own. I touched the soft, dark tendrils of his black hair as I nodded in agreement with Rhys's sentiment.

"He's amazing," I said, my voice still hoarse from my cries of agony.

But, as our gazes lingered on our son, the overwhelming relief I felt outshined my earlier anguish—any I felt before this moment. All the worry that had grown over the last several months, all the pain I had just endured, now vanished the longer I held my son. As I touched his cheek with a tentative finger, my tattoos a stark contrast against his perfectly unblemished skin, I felt a new bond snap into place.

Rhys must've felt it too, because the kiss he pressed to my temple was tender before he whispered to Sebastian, "Cauldron save you, Mother hold you. I, High Lord of the Night Court, vow to shield you with my body, protect you with my sword," I saw his throat bob as he swallowed before carrying on. "And keep you in my heart. My son."

The tears I had been battling to hold back finally fell as he finished those sacred vows, identical to the words we exchanged when he swore me in as his High Lady. My mate pressed another kiss to my brow but didn't pull back as I met his silver-lined eyes.

"Thank you, Feyre darling," he murmured softly, brushing away my tears with his thumb.

I beamed in return, my throat still thick as I touched his face with my free hand and swept away his own tears. "I couldn't have done it without you, Rhysand," I whispered.

Sebastian mewled quietly from his place on my chest, his wailing having ceased shortly after being placed on my skin, my mate and I returned our attention to him; that all-too familiar gentle and soft glimmer pulsing through the bond that now connected the three of us in the flesh.

XXX

"We call it the Dawn of the North." Rhys began, both of us settled in bed, Sebastian covered in a light blanket and still curled up on my chest for the precious skin-to-skin contact the midwife deemed crucial for the first hour of his life.

In this first hour following the birth, my scent and touch was pivotal in aiding Sebastian's development and especially in triggering his first few instincts—nursing being the most important. It was also a vital part of the new and delicate mother-baby bond between us. So, after the midwife and Madja had cleared away the mess from the delivery and provided me with my own postpartum care; instructing me to rest and recuperate after the undertaking my body had just been through, Rhys joined my side in bed; making sure the warm blankets I had been draped and covered with remained intact. With an arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, he waved a hand, his magic turning the bed in the direction of the window opposite of us. When I met him with a questioning stare, he simply smiled and motioned to the window again; urging me to look for myself.

The sky was painted in delicate, rippling curtains of green and blue light. The stars shimmering as the veils of light transitioned from one color to the next; multiple hues ranging from pale green, to red, to pink, and varying shades of blue shining through as they moved in soft waves across the sky. Set against the mountain, Ramiel, those three stars that only appeared on rare occasions in our court now shone bright while the rest continued glimmering in the patterned light. The look of astonishment on my face caused Rhys to grin as he went on to explain its origin.

"In the ancient texts, it's said that one of the first elements that came into being was night. Nyx, the primordial, and often forgotten, goddess of night was the prelude to the creation of our world-to Prythian itself," Rhys continued, his fingers brushing along my shoulder gently as we stared out at the sky.

"She was rumored to have wings and was powerful enough to be both feared and idolized by the ancient beings of Prythian and the continent. One of the many stories I heard growing up was her love of flying. My mother used to tell me that whenever Nyx would take to the skies, she would rattle the stars just from the mighty flap of her wings as she soared through them. In the early hours of dawn that would follow, the sky would look like this," he went on, his hold around me tightening slightly.

"It could only be seen in the Northern territory of Prythian. When the lords and the courts came to be, the sky would shimmer like this almost every night, but like Starfall, it soon faded over time and became a rare occasion—only appearing the night a new heir to the Night Court was born...as a sign of Nyx's blessing and approval." Rhys finished with a smile, bringing a hand up to wipe at a tear I hadn't realized I shed.

"It's beautiful," I breathed as I turned my head to look at him. "So, it can't be seen in the other courts?" I asked, thinking of the snowfall that had appeared in all of the territories following Eira's birth and how it must have compared to the storm that ravaged the Winter court instead.

Rhys's grin was crooked as he shook his head. "It's exclusive to our court alone, but our allies are being treated to a shower of stars similar to Starfall, minus the spirits" he explained, his eyes returning to Sebastian as the newborn let out a small sigh.

I brushed my fingers along Sebastian's back lightly, afraid that anything more might cause him to disappear, or worse. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys's equal level of apprehensiveness.

"He almost doesn't seem real, does he?" I asked as I continued my feather-light touch along my son's spine.

Rhys shook his head. "I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not dreaming," he said. "That I have a son, here in the flesh, and it's not some cruel trick of illusion crafted by the Cauldron as punishment for my sins…"

My fingers halted before reaching over to grasp my mate's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He's real, Rhysand," I said softly. "Do you remember what I told you all those months ago? How our son, our little Bash, is the culmination of all the best parts of you; of all the good you've done and are?"

The silver lining his eyes returned as he brought his lips down to meet mine with gentle ease in a chaste kiss. "All because of you, Feyre darling," he responded, his voice barely above a whisper before he kissed me again.

I smiled as we pulled apart and turned startled eyes to our son as he let out a tiny grunt. "Do you disapprove of my affection towards your mother, Bash?" Rhys asked softly.

I saw his hand twitch as if he might reach out and touch him, but changed his mind at the last second. You can touch your son, Rhysand, I promise I won't bite.

My mate's chuckle was quiet, but I felt his lingering trepidation. "It's okay," I encouraged.

His throat bobbed as he reached a shaky hand out and placed it gently on the back of Sebastian's head—so tiny and frail in my mate's large hand. Sebastian remained unfazed, eyes still closed and breathing even, as Rhys brushed a thumb along the light wisps of his blue-black hair.

"He is so small," Rhys murmured, voice still thick with unshed tears as he admired our son up close. "His nose, his lips, his eyes...they are the tiniest I have ever seen in my entire existence."

"He's perfect," I echoed before leaning in to press a breath of a kiss to my son's brow.

Sebastian let out another soft sigh at the contact and twisted his head back slightly, prying his eyes open to meet mine and my heart nearly stopped as I stared back at him. Tears immediately sprang back into my eyes as I smiled.

"Hello Sebastian. It's me...it's mommy," I said, near sobbing. "I love you so much…"

Sebastian's eyes slipped back closed, head cradled in Rhys's hand, already spent from our short interaction. Rhys let out a shuddering breath as I turned to look at him, tears of joy still falling.

"I don't know how I'll ever thank you for this, Feyre," he said, shedding a few tears of his own. "For this gift, this life."

You don't ever have to, Rhysand. He is our son, our gift. I said through the bond.

He pulled me closer as he kissed me again, his brow lingering against mine as we relished in this new familial tie between us.

XXX

Once our uninterrupted hour had passed, Madja and the midwife knocked on the bedroom door, causing both of us to tense as I held onto Sebastian more securely and as Rhys sat up in the bed; wings appearing a second later and curling protectively around Sebastian and me. I laughed when I realized just how soon those feral instincts had kicked in for us and touched Rhys's arm gently.

"They aren't a threat, they're just our caregivers," I reminded him.

He nodded, tucking his wings back in as he called the healer and midwife in, but kept a hand on my back as they entered. The two females came to my side, Madja pulling back the blankets I had been covered with in order to survey my recovery—mostly making sure no post-delivery complications were arising as the midwife began instructing me on how to nurse Sebastian. Both Rhysand and I paid close attention to the midwife's direction, taking extra care to the details on how I should position him on my breast and where Rhys could help should the need arise.

It took a bit of maneuvering, including Sebastian's adorably furrowed brow that resembled my mate's own look of frustration and confusion, but he latched on and was suckling in a matter of minutes. The sensation was strange and foreign, but something deep inside of me warmed as I cradled him to my breast, running a finger along his cheek lightly as he nursed. That warmth turned to a deeper understanding of the love I had for my son, and pride in the fact that I was able to nourish him. I was enough—had been enough in order to grow him safely inside of me, and now had the ability to provide him the sustenance he needed to survive outside of my womb.

I was enough.

You have always been more than enough, Feyre darling

I gave my mate an amorous smile, realizing he had been watching me with a level of devotion I hadn't seen before sparkling in his violet eyes. His hand rubbed loving circles into my back as we turned our concentration back to the midwife, who gave us further instruction on the nursing protocol. I briefly recalled seeing Viviane nurse and thought of how easy she made the process look, but as the midwife explained that I needed to switch Sebastian between breasts every so often and make sure he burped in between the feedings that would take place every few hours; all the while taking care of myself during my own convalescence, I couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

As if she could read my thoughts, Madja placed a comforting hand over mine. "It may seem like an impossible task now, my lady, but we will help you get accustomed and make sure all of your health needs are met," she said.

The midwife nodded in agreement, and so did Rhysand as he stroked the length of my shoulder. "You know you have plenty of support, my love," he said, and I knew he didn't just mean himself or the midwives.

We had our friends, a whole family, waiting for us back in Velaris once Sebastian and I were strong enough to go back. I stared at my newborn babe, wondering how they might react when they first laid eyes on him—only to be surprised when just the thought alone made me recoil, a sense of panic rising in me. Rhys chuckled at my plight, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Welcome to my world, Feyre darling," he teased. "Having that irrational, primal urge to keep him away, protected from everyone else, is akin to what I felt when our bond snapped into place."

I blinked; my instincts much further along than I earlier realized. "It's so odd," I mused. "I couldn't wait to introduce him to our family before, but now?"

I looked at Sebastian again as he suckled sleepily and rubbed his cheek gently in order to coax him awake. "I don't think I can let them anywhere near him yet," I admitted.

The midwife offered an empathetic smile while Madja laughed. "That is normal, my Lady, and will go away, to a degree, with time," she reassured.

"We should tell them though," I said to Rhys. "Let them know that he's here, and that we're both safe and healthy."

Rhys gestured to the window, the sky still painted with sparkling veils of pale blues and greens. "They know," he said. "I sent them a message via Az shortly after this appeared in the sky."

I sighed contentedly as I stared at the beauty of it, imagining what color paints I would need to mix in order to achieve those specific hues and what size canvas I would need. Nyx's flight I would call it, in honor of the ancient night goddess and my son's birth.

The midwife and Madja left after Sebastian completed his first successful session of nursing, wherein I reluctantly handed him over to their care for his first wellness examination. The midwife weighed and measured him, tested his reflexes and checked his overall wellbeing, all without much complaint from him as Rhys remained close to his side and talked him through the duration of the exam in soft murmurs. I watched from my place on the bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows after Madja performed her own examination of me and wiped my sweaty body clean with a warm damp towel. The magic of the Cabin presented a new shift at the foot of the bed, and the healer helped me change into that as well before helping me settle back into my semi-sitting position.

My eyes stung as I watched the midwife instruct Rhysand on how to properly place and secure a nappy on our son, before offering to show him how to properly swaddle a newborn babe. I saw my mate's enthusiastic nod, realizing he'd get to hold our son for the first time during the demonstration, and glanced in my direction for approval.

I can't do all the work, now can I? I teased through the bond.

His answering smile was just as warm as mine before he set about his task, the midwife only correcting his technique once before Rhys lifted and cradled the babe in his arms. The bundle that was now Sebastian looked impossibly tiny in my mates muscled arms; the Illyrian warrior, the High Lord of the Night Court, now enveloping his newborn son—the son he never thought he'd have, or deserved. I wiped the tears that spilled over as the older females dismissed themselves, and Rhys crossed back over to my bedside, eyes never leaving Sebastian's face as he stood. My heart squeezed as Rhys brought a hand to touch Sebastian's cheek hesitantly, his eyes growing silver lined as he marveled at our son.

"I don't think I'll ever grow tired of this feeling," Rhys murmured, gaze returning to mine.

"No, I don't think we will," I agreed, resting my head back against a pillow as I watched him.

Rhys paused, realizing. "Do you want him back?" he asked, knowing full-well that my maternal instincts were in full effect.

I shook my head. "I love seeing him in your arms Rhysand," I said. "I don't want you to leave my sight while you have him, but after months of imagining what it might look like to see you hold him...I can't picture anything better."

My mate softened at the sentiment before returning his gaze to Sebastian. "We better enjoy this time together while we still have it Bash, before your mother keeps you all to herself," he joked with a wink at me.

"I hope you warned the others," I quipped, a sleepy smile on my face as I watched Rhys make a small lap around the room, staying in close proximity to the bed.

"Mor and Cassian are already begging to come up here first thing in the morning, but Azriel, Amren and Nesta are keeping them leashed."

My laugh was quiet as I thought of their eagerness, but in reality, they all knew that it would be a while before they could be properly introduced to the newest addition of the inner circle. The midwife explained that the newborn bond was the most intense during the first week, and though I wouldn't be completely healed for another five following, we would at least be able to invite our family to meet Sebastian without the overwhelming need to safeguard him threatening to consume us and bare our teeth at our loved ones.

"They are going to love him," I said as I continued watching him move around the room, eyes growing heavier and heavier with the need to sleep.

Rhys heard the exhaustion in my voice and offered a sympathetic smirk as those adoring violet eyes turned to me. "You should sleep, my love, you've more than earned it after your efforts," he said.

I turned weary eyes to the bundle in his arms and he chuckled. "You can trust I won't leave your side, or even this room."

"I know," I said with a long yawn as he crossed back over to my side, taking a seat on the small space provided on the edge of the bed.

"I'll stay right here while you sleep," Rhys promised. "I think I can placate him until his next feeding."

I grinned languidly. "It can't be too hard if he continues to sleep like this," I said, glancing at Sebastian, who had fallen asleep almost immediately after being secured in his swaddle.

"My thoughts exactly, Feyre darling," he purred.

I was too exhausted to laugh, and instead brushed my fingers along Sebastian's cheek as he remained at peace in his father's arms. My heart squeezing as the full weight of realization hit, that our son was being held by Rhysand—his father.

To the stars who listen,

I brought my hand to his and squeezed it as his words echoed through our bond, both of us sharing a tender smile before admiring the sleeping bundle in his arms once again.

And the dreams that are answered.

[awkward-tension-art]

Put on a Show

So @weebsinstash has an incredible yandere!erasermic x reader series go read everything they write, its fantastic

I wanted to play around with the idea too, so i asked for permission on anon lol.

enjoy this full 2,090 words

Warning: yandere themes, yandere!erasermic, League of Villains, fear, mentions of past torture, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, implied  Spinner x Reader, kissing, Villain origin story, female pronouns used for reader, (if i missed a tag lmk)

You ran. You ran as fast and as far as you could. Your bare feet hit the wet ground, cursing as you stumbled. Your hands hit the mud, but you didn’t stop.

Even when your lungs screamed.

Even when your muscles burned.

You kept going.

With luck, a razor and your own wits you had managed to escape that hell house. You’d managed to escape from the clutches of your obsessed demons. 

At the slight thought of your tormentors, the now healed break in your leg aches all over again. 

Keep going.

Keep going.

KEEP GOING.

The woods betrayed you before, but hopefully, the downpour may erase your footprints. A branch latched onto your shoulder and you screeched. Memories of Aizawa’s cruel grasp flooded your mind. You slipped on the wet ground, tumbling down a slight incline. 

Dazed, confused and hurt, you ignored your pain and kept going. Desperation and adrenaline kept you going.

Do not stop.

Do not stop.

You looked down to avoid losing your eyes to another branch, only to embarrassingly run straight into a tree. Your body fell back, landing harshly on the mud.

You heard a groan.

Trees do not groan.

Fear overran your systems as you slowly, shakily looked up.

In front of you was a man covered in green scales. He looked more like a lizard, than an actual human, but you quickly guessed that was his quirk. But, he wasn’t alone.

A scarred man with piercings. A teenage girl with blond hair. Another man with a mask. And lastly…

You recognized him from the news.

Shigaraki.

The League Of Villains

“What the hell,” The lizard-man hissed, rubbing his head, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

You took your chances.

“Please…” you gasped, looking up at the white haired leader, “Help me.”

It took approximately 3 seconds to be taken from the forest. The scarred man, Dabi you learned, pulled out his phone and called Kurogiri, their method of transport. 

Spinner, surprisingly like a gentleman, helped you stand and introduced himself. 

Not a second later your vision was filled with black and you were out of the rain.

Out of the cold.

Out of the monsters’ clutches.

Instead, you found yourself in a surprisingly comfortable bar scene. It was warm, bright, and quite homey.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you, his red eyes giving away nothing. The blonde however, hovered, as she began to talk. You couldn’t keep up, exhaustion slowing your mind and mental process. All you managed to register is ‘blood’.

A tall woman spoke up first, “oh dear, look at you. You look like a wet rat.” She inspected you before standing straight, “Let me get you something dry.You can call my Big Sis Magne!”

You nodded, managing a small “thank you,” as she rushed out of the room to come back with a dry towel, draping it over you.

‘Huh, it smells nice,’ you thought, wrapping it around your shoulders, taking in the small comfort. Almost like roses and lavender…

The leader finally spoke up, “Who are you?”

That was the question. That one simple question caused the dam to burst. You broke down, telling them everything. The torture, the abuse, the agony, all by the hands of two supposed heroes. You went over every grueling, painful detail, tears pouring down your face. 

They knew of your captors and torture before they even knew your name.

With every word, The league members, especially Dabi, became more and more disgusted and angry. You didn’t even finish when Spinner offered a kind hand for you to hold onto. 

“P-please,” you finally managed, “D-don’t send me back…”

Shigaraki scoffed, “Heroes think they can just do whatever they want huh? Well fuck ‘em. Eraserhead and Present Mic want their precious treasure back? Well too bad. It’s ours now.”

Big Sis Magne let out a happy laugh, “Oh good! Another girl! If you ask me, only having Toga around was getting to be too much.” She took your other free hand, “We’re gonna be such a good team, those nasty heroes won’t know what hit them.”

“I can’t wait to make them pay with their blood,” Toga smiled, her golden eyes shining with excitement. Dabi remained silent, but Spinner gave you a kind smile. “What a show it will be! You, coming face to face with those demons, and having us at your back!” The one with the mask, Mr.Compress, finally spoke, giving a theatrical hand wave.

With every word, you felt your shoulders get lighter. 

“Now,” The leader, your new leader, spoke up, “Tell me all about your quirk, and those pieces of garbage that hurt you.”

When Shouta and Hizashi returned home, they knew something was wrong. The house seemed...cold. You were not in the living room, nor the kitchen. 

They assumed this was one of your bad days. Where you’d sleep until it was late at night, only so you can avoid them.

Quickly, that changed. 

The closer Shouta got to your door, the more he felt his gut twist. The air seemed wet and almost humid.

“Hey, are you awake in there?” He knocked, concerned, “I’m coming in!” 

When he opened the door, the wet air made sense. Your window was open, rain poured in from the storm outside. The carpet and everything else by the window was soaked, giving the hero a clue that you’ve been gone a while. 

“HIZASHI!” The black haired male called out, darting into the room. Desperately he looked around, only to look up when he heard his husband cry out. 

“She’s gone! Our songbird is gone!!” He panicked, aiding Shouta in his desperate search. The couple tore apart the house, hoping this was something else. Hoping you didn’t leave through the window. 

They hoped and prayed, only for their optimism to be dashed when their search turned up empty. 

“We need to go after her!” The blonde hero cried, “s-she could be hurt! She doesn’t know how to take care of herself!!” 

Shouta was already preparing to venture outside. He was at the door when he turned to look at his severely distressed husband, “stay here. In case she comes back, I’ll go look for her.” 

With that, Eraserhead ran out of the front door of the house, hoping to find you in the woods. 

Days became weeks became months. With every passing hour, you felt happier and lighter. Your spirit and soul were healing. It will take time, but you knew you were able to recover. You had escaped, and found a family who would ride or die with you. 

You’d ride or die with them. 

Spinner was especially kind to you. He was a gentleman, always asking before touching. You spent most of your free time with him when he or you weren’t gone collecting information or searching for members. 

You still weren't comfortable going on missions by yourself. Most of the them were with Dabi, Big Sis Magne or Jin, who you’d met shortly after your joining. Despite the short time with them, you felt like you belonged. You helped them, they helped you. You became a part of their family. 

They’d even gone so far as to get your cat Mochi back. Dabi simply dumped the kitty on your lap and walked away without saying anything. You missed your feline friend, and now in the league, he gets all the love the villains could muster. 

They try to keep sudden loud noises to a minimum. Occasionally a surprise yell or sound would happen, but someone was always quick to jump to your defense. 

It was mostly Shigaraki, but he’d apologize begrudgingly.

Even he wasn’t so bad. You had gone with Toga to get him a new controller, and he’s tolerated you ever since (maybe even respect you after you managed to beat him to a quick video game match). 

This was your life. This was your freedom. 

This was what you wanted. 

It’s been hell without you. Shouta and Hizashi were in hell. It’s been months since the eraser hero found your footprints surrounded by others. It’s been months of searching. Months of desperation to rescue you from your kidnappers. That’s the only logical reason for your disappearance. 

You were kidnapped. 

You needed them. You needed your lovers. 

But they couldn’t save you. 

Some nights Shouta would wake up alone. He’d be cold and lonely. Slowly he’d walk to your room, and find his blonde husband asleep, holding your favorite pillow. 

It stopped smelling like you a while ago. 

With every passing day their hope waned. With every passing hour their hearts ached. 

Shouta finally broke down one night. When he woke up alone again he wandered to your room, finding Hizashi in his usual position. Instead of being asleep, the blonde’s shoulders shook with muffled sobs and cries. 

The Eraser hero sat on the bed and held his husband, not bothering to muffle his own weeping. 

This isn’t what they wanted. 

The view from the roof was both beautiful and hilarious. You orchestrated a nomu attack, remaining hidden. Spinner was accompanying you. The others were scattered around the city, taking in the chaos. 

You remembered those roads and streets. You walked them for so long. 

Until those bastards stole you. 

Now, with your life in the league, you could stroll down the sidewalk again. You could see the sky and feel the sun. 

You could punish heroes for abandoning you. For letting you get kidnapped. 

A smile graced your lips. The chaos of the nomu was beautiful. 

There was a flash of black in the corner of your eye, and you turned your head. Slowly, your smile grew at the sight of Eraserhead struggling to take down the brutish monster. 

Only to have your smile fade when Present Mic saves him. 

“Ugh, I hate them.” You growled, “I see them and I hate them.” 

Spinner looked up from his spot on the roof. He swished his tail once before following your gaze to your distant tormentors.  

“You should put on a show,” he put a hand on your shoulder, “drive ‘em even more bat shit.”

You laughed warmly, the idea of breaking their hearts even more gave you infinite joy. 

“Mind if I use you?” You asked, preparing to use your quirk. 

With the villains you have gotten stronger. Your quirk was a weapon. A strong, powerful, useful weapon. 

You’re the opposite of what Shouta and Hizashi said over and over again. 

They can’t tell you that you're weak. Not anymore. 

There was a tipped over bus, and that’s where you planted the illusion. 

You and Spinner, hand in hand. 

Oh this is gonna be good. 

When they dealt with the Nomu, Hizashi looked to the bus, and even from a distance, you could see his eyes widen. 

“S-songbird!” 

You gagged, and Spinner laughed softly beside you.

Shouta looked up, meeting the illusions gaze. 

You feared he’d use his quirk, destroying your fun, but he didn’t, at least not in that instant. 

“G-get away from her!” The black haired male shouted, his black eyes trained on fake-spinner. 

“No,” the illusion spoke, “I think your precious songbird belongs to me.”

The illusion of spinner pulled illusion you closer. The illusion of you looking bashful.

Shouta prepared an attack, jumping up in the air to do so. Hizashi prepared his own quirk, apparently ok with sacrificing your well-being to get you. 

You cause fake-spinner to dip fake-you into a deep kiss. 

That was apparently distracting enough to cause Present Mic to choke on air, and Eraserhead to stumble and miss his attack. 

“Come on my sweet,” fake-you cooed, “let’s go.” 

You created one more illusion, covering the two fakes in smoke, making them disappear. 

As you finished with your quirk, you rubbed your temples. 

Spinner laughed beside you, “m-my sweet! Oh my god you killed me.” 

You gave a faint smile, that only grew when you heard Hizashi’s mournful howling. 

Spinner and you peered over the edge of the roof, and spotted the two of them breaking down. The blonde was wailing. You swear you saw his fat tears from your position. 

Shouta just looked broken. He looked absolutely devastated.

Maybe a long time ago that sight would have hurt you. 

You made eye contact with your partner next to you. 

“My sweet,” you teased, promptly bursting into laughter.

“Let’s go! Before they hear us!” Spinner tried to shush you, failing with his own giggling. 

You nodded and grabbed his hand. 

“Let’s go then,” you winked, “my sweet.”

The both of you fled, making your way to Jin and Toga. 

You smiled at the sight of them, only feeling happier as more of your family of villains got together. 

This is exactly where you wanted to be. 

A villain, to make those heroes suffer.

[meltwonu]

| caffeine |     [chapter 6]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; hair pulling, squirting, forced orgasm, overstimulation, degradation/dumbification, name calling, cockwarming????, face fucking, cum eating, sir kink, minor daddy kink, BUT SOME MINOR AFTERCARE BAYBEEEEEE🤣💕😭 kdjfhks this is more smut than it is plot which is rly the concept of this series but i really did get lost in the sauce on this one, so enjoy!💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - x - x - x - x

“H--Hello?”

“Are you fucking Wonwoo?” Your sleepy eyes try to adjust to the morning sunlight seeping through your bedroom curtains as Mingyu’s eerily calm voice filters through the receiver. “Hello? Can you hear me? I asked you a question??” You can almost register the eye roll that’s surely on his face right about now.

“Wh--what? Wait, I--”

“I’m just asking if you’re fucking Wonwoo, it’s really a yes or no question.” How the fuck did he even know?

“I--I, how--but--” There’s a scoff on the other end as you sit up, checking the clock as it reads 8:51AM. Why was Mingyu even awake?

“I literally live with the guy and for the record, Seokmin’s a fuckin’ chatterbox. You don’t think his big ass mouth wasn’t spillin’ the beans last night? He practically threw himself at me last night after you left to tell me about your little rendezvous in the hallway restroom. Which I had to disinfect, by the way.” Fuckin’ Seokmin. It’s quiet on the other end as you sit and try to wake yourself up a little more before you reply.

“Well?”

“Mingyu, give me a fuckin’ second.” He laughs, a groan heard through the phone before you hear his bedsheets rustling. “Also for the record, I’m not mad or anything. We’re friends and I just want to know what’s going on with you. Wonwoo’s an interesting choice for someone like you though.” Someone like you?

“What does that even mean, Mingyu?”

“Oh, y’know, Wonwoo’s one of the quieter ones around here. He acts like a dad sometimes and keeps everyone in order. I dunno, that never seemed like your type to me. Unless that is your type? But hey, I’m not mad at it. Are you two dating or somethin’?” Haha.

“No.”

Something about your conversation with Mingyu makes you feel a little weird and you can’t shake the feelings even when you step past the doorframe of the campus library. Wonwoo catches your eye at the receptionist table, silently willing you to walk over to him when his eyes meet yours.

“Hi, Wonwoo.” You take in his features, watching as his jaw clenches slightly. He peers around the room, making sure everyone is out of earshot before he whispers over the table.

“Meet me in the empty study room at the end of the long hall. The very last room. 10 minutes.” There’s a blush on your cheeks as you turn away from him, weaving through the various bookshelves as if you were browsing. Something about his demeanor seemed off but you didn’t know what. Maybe he was upset that Seokmin had basically told everyone his business? Regardless, you knew the study room that was at the end of the hall was completely abandoned. The few times he had cornered you were in other study rooms that hadn’t been that far into the library, so you were curious and a little nervous as to why he’d ask you to meet him there in particular.

But you listen, watching other various students pass by as you slowly make your way through the aisles until you’re near the designated room where Wonwoo had asked you to go to; stopping periodically to sift through the books on the shelves, uninterestedly grabbing a few to make it look like you had an actual purpose to be there other than seeing the fox eyed male. Eventually, it draws closer to the 10 minute mark so you look in both directions before you put your hand on the doorknob and twist.

The light flickers on once you enter the said room, setting your things down onto the table that’s seemingly been cleaned prior to you showing up. Wonwoo is still nowhere in sight so you take a seat, getting comfortable as you pop open one of the books you picked off the shelf.

A couple minutes pass in silence before the doorknob rattles behind you; quietly closing the book as you turn in your chair to face the bespectacled male standing in the doorway.

“On your knees.”

Wonwoo is mad, that’s for sure. Or upset? All you knew at this point was that he was surely over his break time by now.

He didn’t really explain anything.

But the way his hands pull on your hair hard enough to make you cry has you theorizing what could’ve happened.

Thankfully he’s kind enough to let you touch yourself; your lower half completely bare as your fingers drag across your wet folds, slowly inserting in a finger. You relax your throat at the same time, letting Wonwoo let out whatever frustrations he’s got by fucking your throat open.

“Fuuuuuck, your mouth feels incredible around me.” There’s a growl at the end of Wonwoo’s words and you can’t deny the way it sends a thrum of arousal through your body as you whimper around him. You try to look up at him through bleary eyes, cheeks already stained with drying tears. “Mmmph?” He chuckles lowly, thrusting his cock into your mouth until your lips meet the base of it. You swallow around him by reflex, fresh hot tears springing to your eyes when he holds you there.

“My dumb little slut wants me to fuck her ‘lil wet pussy, hmm? I can see how wet you are from here, princess.” He pulls you off of his cock; the air flooding your lungs as you sputter. “Get up from the floor, you cumslut. I want you bent over the table.”

You get up on shaky legs, sniffling and wiping at your tears with the back of your hand as you position yourself over the table.

“Let me see how wet you are, princess.” You reach behind you, spreading your folds open to let Wonwoo see how wet your pussy was. “Think your slutty pussy is wet enough for my cock?”

“Yuh--Yes, s-sir…” Wonwoo takes your word, positioning himself at your entrance before he bottoms out in one thrust, a loud moan cutting through the air as you clench around him.

“Ah, W-Won--Wonwoo…”

Your nails dig into the table underneath you as he starts an unrelenting pace, your eyes rolling back when he slams into your g-spot. “Fuh---fuck, s-sir!! Please, right t-there!!” He brings a hand down onto your ass, slapping the skin until it blooms into a pretty red.

“Does my cock feel good inside your tight pussy? Hmm? You dumb little slut, all you know how to do is take my cock.” You can hear his cruel laugh; drool dripping onto the table as your head starts to feel fuzzy.

“C-can I cu--cum, please?”

“No. And if you do, you’ll be sorry.” You whimper, trying to stave off the pleasure building up inside. And when Wonwoo feels you getting tighter around him, he pulls out, letting you catch your breath as he effectively edges you. You can feel a trickle of sweat down the side of your face, thankful that you’d at least stripped off some of your clothes. But you turn your head to the side, noticing Wonwoo’s still mostly dressed except for the stupid sweater vest he decided was too precious to get dirty.

You watch as he strokes his cock, his mouth open slightly as he lets out quiet moans.

“Mm, Won---s-sir, please put your cock i-inside of me…”

“Did you finally calm down?”

“Yes, sir…” The pleasure inside of you is still building when Wonwoo re-enters you, starting his quick pace again. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping, the air feeling thick around you. He edges you 3 more times; pulling out when he feels you about to cum.

And after a few minutes, you can’t help but sob, knowing full well there wasn’t a chance you could stop your orgasm this time; legs shaking as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

There’s a moment where you feel your body go slack, static going through your mind as you cum. You can barely register Wonwoo growling behind you, his thrusts becoming inconsistent as he fucks you through your orgasm. You feel your body twitching, feeling his cum filling up your pussy as you clench around him, milking his cock.

“Fuck, did you just squirt?”

“H-huh?”

“Filthy ‘lil thing, you got my work pants all dirty. How do you think I’m going to explain this one?”

Wonwoo slips his cock from inside of you, his cum trickling down your thighs as you whimper against the table underneath you. “I’m, mmh, s-sorry I--I didn’t r-realize I--”

“Sorry? I don’t think ‘sorry’ is going to cut it, princess. I’m going to have to punish you. But you’ll be good and take it, won’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir…”

Wonwoo slaps your ass once, watching as a drop of cum hits the floor. “Get up on the table and spread your legs.”

“B--But I’m--”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

You find it in your best interest to listen to Wonwoo, urging your tired legs to work as you turn around so you can sit on the table somehow. And your eyes catch the wet droplets all over his work chinos; thankfully not super visible due to them being black.

Once you manage to get your tired body onto the table, you spread your legs wide, holding them open with whatever strength you have left.

Wonwoo drops to his knees in front of you, licking the stripes of cum off of your thighs as a blush grows on your face. Something about him licking his own cum off of you was undeniably… hot. And he continues this, kissing and licking at your skin until it’s clean, his tongue lapping at your folds.

“Push my cum out.”

You whimper, body already exceedingly sensitive as he laps at your pussy, catching the cum that spills out of you on his tongue. And when he’s had enough, he stands, tangling a hand into your hair as he tilts your head up to meet his in a sloppy kiss.

His tongue licks at the seam of your lips, your mouth opening in a moan at the feeling. Wonwoo pushes his cum into your mouth, smirking against your lips after he’s pushed all the sticky substance inside as he silently waits for you to swallow it; only pulling away when he knows you have.

“You’re such a good little slut for me. But we’re not done here yet.” He lets go of your hair, adjusting his glasses a second later before he wraps a hand around his cock. You were surprised he was still hard even after cumming once, but you also couldn’t deny how much you still wanted him to fuck you more.

The two of you were clearly having a bit of an off morning, so you were honestly thankful Wonwoo was in a bit of a mood.

“Ready for my cock again, princess?”

“Y--yes, sir…”

“Spit on my cock then, cumslut.” The angle is a bit awkward but you manage; a glob of spit and remnants of his cum landing on his shaft before he smears it all over his cock. And he doesn’t wait another second, thrusting into you in one swift motion as he bottoms out.

“I want you to be a good little slut and cum on my cock just like this.” Shit. You mewl, wiggling your hips slightly. “But--But…”

“What’s wrong? My dumb ‘lil princess can’t cum unless I’m fucking your cunt? Just having my cock inside you isn’t enough?” You clench your jaw, clenching around his cock. A few minutes pass like that, small whimpers leaving you the entire time Wonwoo watches you.

10 minutes pass, feeling like it’s been 30, when you can’t take it anymore. The head of Wonwoo’s cock is snug against your g-spot and if he just moved a little bit, you were sure you could cum. But he gives you a harsh glare, daring you to disobey him.

“S--sir, can y-you please touch my--my clit?”

“If you wanna cum, you can do it yourself.”

You nod shakily, keeping one hand on your leg and trailing the other towards your swollen nub, drawing circles around it as you cry out. “I---I---Mmh!”

Your thighs tremble as you cum, Wonwoo’s hand batting yours away as he rubs your clit harshly, milking your orgasm as your walls flutter around him.

“See? I knew you could cum just from my cock inside of you, princess.” The cocky lilt in Wonwoo’s voice has you mewling, small cries of his name leaving your mouth as the oversensitivity really sets in. He lets you catch your breath for a second before he pulls all the way out, only keeping the head of his cock inside before he thrusts all the way in, slamming into your cervix.

“Such a greedy little slut. Squirting all over me and cumming three times? I fuckin’ spoil you and your fuckin’ pussy don’t I, princess?”

“Mmh…yuh---yes, daddy...” A smirk graces Wonwoo’s lips, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you towards him. “Daddy, huh?” He scoffs, digging his nails into your skin as he grinds into you.

“D--daddy, I, ngh, I--ca--can’t…”

“You will. Your ‘lil pussy is still so tight around me, princess.” You feel breathless and like your brain has turned to mush. But he wasn’t wrong. Despite how tired you already were, you could already feel another orgasm building up inside of you.

“Da--daddy!”

“C’mon, princess. Cum on my cock. Isn’t that what you know best? Getting daddy’s cock wet?” You nod feverishly, letting your back meet the table as the tiredness takes over. Wonwoo keeps your legs spread open, watching his cock disappearing into your pussy.

“Dumb little cockslut. Letting me fill your slutty ‘lil pussy with my cum. So good for me, princess.”

Hot tears spring to your eyes as you feel your third orgasm come to a head; the tension in your body snapping as your back arches off of the table. Wonwoo fucks you through your orgasm again, unloading his cum inside of you for the second time with a groan.

You momentarily black out, garbled noises leaving your lips and body going weak as Wonwoo slips his cock from your body.

When you come to after a few minutes, Wonwoo’s got you laying down on the floor cleaned and dressed; his book bag underneath your head as a pillow.

“Fuck, I thought I fucked you into a coma.”

“Ugh…”

“Are you okay? Drink some of this water, sweetheart.” He helps you sit up, bringing a water bottle to your mouth. You hadn’t realized how raw and sore your throat was, the cool liquid soothing you almost immediately. “Maybe we should’ve had a safe word.”

You clear half the water bottle, a satisfied sigh on your lips afterwards. “S’okay… I wanted you to be rough with me… But I do have a question?” Wonwoo nods, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Shoot.”

“What got you so… upset? I, um, I mean Mingyu called me this morning to ask about u-us and it kind of put me in a weird mood so…”

“Oh, no, princess I’m not mad about that. They were going to find out eventually, it was only a matter of time.”

“Oh.” He chuckles, sitting on the floor next to you. “Actually, I signed up to go on an excavation trip with one of my archeology professors and I was rejected. He told me before I applied that I was overqualified so I was a sure fire choice to be included and I wasn’t. He didn’t really have an explanation for me either.”

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry…” You place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it in comfort.

“It’s whatever, I’m the one that should be sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. Guess I was angrier about it than I thought.”

“It’s okay… I think we’ve both had a weird day.. Oh my god! Wait, shouldn’t you be working!?” The panic is clear in your voice as you attempt to stand up, shaky legs folding underneath you as your butt hits the carpeted floor.

“I told Joshua I was leaving early, nobody even knows we’re back here.” He adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his silver locks. You settle back down, playing with the hem of your shirt as the two of you settle into silence.

“Um, I’m--I’m glad your pants are dry?” He scoffs jokingly, eyes glancing downward at the now drying material.

“Yeah, you’re lucky I decided to wear my black chinos to work today or else you would’ve really been in some shit.”

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (10)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 7k warnings: physical violence, a moment you’ve been waiting for 🌹series masterlist 🌹

This was not laying low. This was the exact fucking opposite of laying low.

Red powder covered the pavement, faint clouds of pink mist up in the air as Peter stood far away from the fallout, the sleeve of his sweatshirt pressed tight over his nose and mouth as he looked at Bucky with wide, fearful eyes. The cardboard packaging on the ground, a crack in the side from where it had leaked. It sat in the small pool of water inside a rather large pothole, fallen from Peter’s hands.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Peter explained, words stumbling together under the muffle of his sleeve, the panic evident in his voice. He was pacing, glancing back at the powder on the ground, to Bucky, to the box in the puddle. “Brock is going to kill me. Oh God, he’s going to kill me and then Y/n and then probably you for helping and then he’s going to resurrect me and kill me again!”

“He’s not going to do any of that. Calm down, kid,” Bucky hushed, eyes still focused on the powder seeping into the pavement. It had rained just hours ago, the shine of the cement and rocks absorbing Hydra’s most coveted trade; Cerberus.

When Bucky looked up again, he found Peter had stopped pacing, his body completely rigid though his breaths were coming in short and rushed. He was scared.

Shit.

“Hey,” Bucky called carefully, gently putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He flinched under the touch, a jolt snapping through his small frame before his eyes met Bucky’s. With a careful breath, Bucky guided Peter’s sleeve away from his mouth. There was no need for that now. The mist had dissolved.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said sternly as he spotted the redness forming in the whites of Peter’s eyes. He sighed, making his voice softer, relaxing the tension in his own muscles. “You’re going to be okay, Peter. Take a breath for me. Can you do that?”

Peter nodded vigorously, jaw quivering, but he did as Bucky asked. The first breath came in shaken and shallow, like Bucky had seen in you the night your cousin was first dragged into this underworld. Peter tried again, gasping for a breath, though this time he got in more air. Bucky kept his hand on Peter’s shoulder, guiding him, exaggerating his own breaths to allow him to mimic the movement.

“Good,” Bucky soothed, squeezing at Peter’s shoulders until his heart rate started to go down. When his breaths were coming in evenly again, Bucky glanced back down the empty street in both directions. “Now, did anyone see you?”

“W-what?” Peter gaped, a little unfocused.

“Did anyone see you carrying that box?” Bucky asked again, slower this time, as patient as he could manage given the urgency. Peter shook his head. “Okay, that’s good. Where were you heading?”

“Mr. Pierce’s house.”

“What time is the meet up?”

Peter’s eyes widened, his breathing coming in too fast again. He made the mistake of looking at his watch. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“Okay, okay, kid. Hey, what did I tell you? I’m going to take care of this.” Bucky took a step back, but he kept a hand on Peter’s shoulder. The kid needed grounding and Bucky wouldn’t dare take that from him now. He had reason to be scared. Rumlow had ordered Bucky to beat men close to their last breath for far less than this.

This was nearly two bricks in the dirt. He’d bloodied a man for stealing half an ounce just a few months back. Bucky didn’t want to imagine what Rumlow would do to Peter for destroying two kilos of their most prized street drug.  

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” Bucky started to with a deep breath, “you’re going to go home--”

Peter started to shake his head like he might object but Bucky raised a finger at him, silencing him instantly.

“You're going to go home,” Bucky continued, firmer this time, “and you’re going to close all the blinds. Stay out of sight. I don’t care what you have to tell your aunt, but make it look like you’re not home. I’ll find a way to get Pierce his supply. I’ll—I’ll take it from the loading docks.” He was making it up as he went. Bucky never much cared for improvising. “The shipment should be here soon anyway. He’ll get what he needs. Was Pierce expecting you specifically?”

“No, I don’t—I don’t think so,” Peter replied quietly. He was wringing his hands, shifting nervously in his stance. “But, what about the supply you’re taking from the shipment? It’ll be missing.”

“It’s a risk, but I’ll see if I can blame it on a miscount.” Bucky was almost certain it would never work, but he needed to ease Peter’s conscious. The kid was about ten seconds from a panic attack again. “It’ll be fine, but I need you to get out of here, Peter. Let me fix this.”

Peter stood completely still; like ice and stone, firm as a statue.

“Peter,” Bucky urged again, giving a slight shove to the kid’s shoulder, “you need to go. Before anyone sees you. Go.”

Peter nodded, his eyes trailing back to the red powder on the ground dissolving to the pavement. Thousands of dollars’ worth of product. He took one last look at Bucky, the relief no more on his face than when Bucky had arrived. He turned to head back to Queens when he sucked in a sharp gasp, almost like a yelp as he flailed back hard into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky tried to stabilize him but the kid was shaking, scrambling to get his words out but they didn’t come in time.

“What do we have here?”

Adrenaline spiking, instincts taking over, Bucky shoved Peter behind him at the sound of Rumlow’s voice emerging from behind the shadows. He rarely made trips into the neighborhoods. He never should have been here, let alone in this part of town, and yet, there he was; decked in an expensive black suit and dark red Armani tie, accompanied by two of his guards.

Cold, dark eyes fell to the red powder soaking into the pavement. He brushed the toe of his wingtips against the evidence.

“Alexander Pierce has been calling me for the last ten minutes, screaming about his missing product,” Rumlow said casually, incredibly calm given the situation.

Bucky kept an arm behind him, shielding Peter.

Rumlow paced forward, hands clamped behind his back. “Alex is one of my top distributers in D.C., so it is important that he remains satisfied in our business partnership. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I get a call from the man, furious, that he never received his personal supply.”

Bucky remained silent. He felt Peter grip onto the back of his jacket.

“Now, I know you’re not going to make me stand here and look like a fool,” Rumlow taunted, kicking the wet, cardboard box lying in the pothole. It tipped on its side and a flood of damp, red powder seeped into the puddle, turning it pink. “Someone better start talking.”

He was staring right at Peter, tilting his head around to get a better view around Bucky’s shoulder. He had that kind of look on his face, one that Bucky had seen before in the eyes of cruel, malicious men before they committed atrocious acts of violence. Rumlow held no capacity for mercy or forgiveness.

With single wave, Rumlow gestured to his guards to advance on Bucky and Peter. As the tall, blonde guard with unsettling light green eyes stepped forward, Bucky took a step back, dragging Peter along with him. Peter would have fallen straight to the pavement if it wasn’t for his immensely tight grip on Bucky’s arm.

Rumlow raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It was my fault, sir,” Bucky said firmly, desperate to get Rumlow’s stare off of the kid.

Blondie stilled, sharing a look with Rumlow who signaled for him to stand down. Peter’s hand yanked on the back of Bucky’s jacket, desperate pleas, silent questions as to what he was doing, but he ignored it.

“I found Parker while he was on his run to Pierce. Something looked off about the box and I asked to inspect it. A car horn blared and caught me off guard. I dropped it in the water.”

Rumlow pursed his lips, shaking his head with a tsk on his tongue. He didn’t believe a word out of Bucky’s mouth, but Rumlow was not a man who cared for justice. He wanted a punishment doled out, to see vengeance paid. He didn’t care who it was to and Bucky knew that. He just wanted an excuse to channel his anger into a victim.

“So, you’re saying you cost me $25,000 worth of product?” Rumlow challenged, staring Bucky dead in the eye. “Not the kid cowering behind you?”

Bucky nodded slowly, his teeth clenched so tightly it ached in his muscle. “Yes, sir. It was my mistake. Parker had nothing to do with it.”

“Okay then,” Rumlow said with a simple shrug and Peter seemed to relax behind him for a short moment. Bucky knew better than that. Within the same breath, Rumlow yanked a handgun from the back of his waist band, cocked the hammer and aimed it directly at Bucky. Peter gasped into the back of Bucky’s jacket.

“Time to take a fucking drive, Karpov.”

Bucky slowly raised his arms in surrender, stone cold in his expression, even breaths in his chest. He’d been in this position enough times in his years undercover to know what came next, to prepare for it, but Peter was a teenager, one who’d witnessed violence at the hand of a gun once before when his uncle was killed. He clutched onto Bucky’s jacket like it was a lifeline.

“Parker,” Bucky said quietly, not daring to tear his eyes from Rumlow, but Peter wasn’t hearing him. “Parker!”

Peter pulled away, stepping back a pace from Bucky, his eyes darting from the guards to Rumlow, back to his protector. His breaths were picking up again, his lower lip trembling.

“Go home, kid,” Bucky ordered as cold as his voice could manage. He needed him to make a run for it before Rumlow changed his mind, but Peter was staring at Bucky like he was waiting for him to do something, anything, to stop this. He was waiting for him to talk his way around what was about to happen or avoid whatever punishment Rumlow was brewing in his head, but there was nothing he could do. Bucky made his choice, followed through on his promise to the woman he’d give up everything for. He’d deal with the consequences.

But not before he could guarantee Peter was safe.

“Get the fuck out of here, Parker!”

The volume of his voice, the detached nature of it, was enough to shock Peter out of his daze. He blinked a few times, that same fearful look he’d had at Rumlow now directed at Bucky and while he knew it was only a result of the panic, the fear, it twisted deep into Bucky’s chest. Peter glanced over at Rumlow nervously one last time, before Rumlow waved the end of his gun with a roll of his eyes, almost in permission, and Peter took off sprinting. He didn’t look over his shoulder again as he disappeared into the night.

Bucky listened for Peter’s footsteps to fade into the faint accompaniment of crickets and gentle waves before he took in a breath again.

“I know you’re covering for the little shit,” Rumlow snarled once Peter was out of view. “I don’t know why and frankly, I don’t care. If he was anyone else, he’d be permanently off the payroll but I’m sure you know my wife requires a bit more persuasion to hold her tongue as of late, so he gets to live. Lucky him. Unfortunately for you, I’m down $25,000 and I can’t punish Parker for it.”

Rumlow took a step forward, barrel of the gun inches from Bucky’s face. A testament of wills.

“Like I said, sir,” Bucky said slowly, adjusting his position and holding Rumlow’s stare, “it was my mistake.”

“Right.” Rumlow glanced back at his guards. He waved the end of the gun in Bucky’s direction before he let it fall back to his side.

Then, the two guards rushed forward; one yanked Bucky’s hands behind his back to hold him still while the other slammed a closed fist to the side of his face. It stung, heartbeat pulsing hard into his jaw, and he could feel the sharp course of blood on his cheek from where the guard’s ring in the shape of a disembodied skull had broken skin.

Bucky shook his head, shaking away the dizziness, before the second punch landed. Cooper pooled into his mouth and he spit a glob of it to the pavement. It hung down off his chin, warm and sticky, and he barely had the time to wipe it on his shoulder before the next fist collided to his jawline.

He didn’t fight back. He knew better than that.

He took another six hits before they threw him in the back seat of the car. One of the guards, the one with the mean right swing, sat in the back next to Bucky, a hand clutched possessively on Bucky’s shoulder. The other drove while Rumlow took the passenger seat, his eyes constantly flickering to the rearview mirror.

Bucky leaned against the window, blood smearing the glass as he tried to focus on the blur of city lights as they turned to covered trees. A haze of green and brown and the dark black sky fading together until they were nothing at all.

***

He must have blacked out somewhere along the way because the next thing he knew, the car door swung open and he fell out onto the driveway with a heavy thud. The tiny rocks in the pavement embedded into his shoulder and he tried to find his feet, but he wasn’t fast enough for that. Skull Ring yanked Bucky up by his collar, throwing an arm over his shoulders and dragged him the rest of the way.

He might have been able to stumble along himself if they gave him just a moment to focus, but Rumlow was never a patient man.

They shoved Bucky through the front door and into the living room, still draped over Skull Ring’s shoulder. Brock followed in behind and closed the door, shrugging off his jacket casually as if coming home from a long day at the office. Then, he turned to his men and started to give orders, something about a basement, but Bucky couldn’t make sense of most of it, not with the ringing in his ears. It was loud and vicious, so much so that he could hear his own heart pounding through his bloodstream.

But there was one thing that broke through the noise, something that snapped him awake, eyes darting across the room as his heart lodged straight up into his throat.

“Brock?” your voice called quietly, shaken. You were standing in the frame of the kitchen door, holding a steaming mug of hot water in your hands, though they were trembling like you might drop it at any second. “What’s going on?”

Bucky only caught your eye for a second before he hung his head, but it was still enough to see the panic, the fear rushing through you at the sight of him. He didn’t want to imagine what he looked like, hanging off the arm of Rumlow’s lackey, bloodied and beaten. He could still feel your stare even as he looked down at the floorboards, blood dripping from his lips to the hardwoods below, barely able to hold himself up on his own feet.

“Baby, not now.” Rumlow pushed past Skull Ring and Bucky, trying to usher you away from the living room but you planted your feet, surprisingly defiant for the devastation in your veins.

You pulled your arms from his grasp, unwilling to leave. It surprised your husband. You'd always escaped the room at the first sign of trouble; whenever there was even a glimpse of Hydra within these walls, you’d rush to the sanctity of your library.

But not now. Not today.

“Hey, boss?” The other guard, the driver with the large nose and bright blonde hair, gestured to the floor where a pool of blood was gathering, dripping down from Bucky’s nose.

“Shit,” Rumlow cursed, disgusted by the red seeping into the pristine hardwood flooring. “Get him to the basement. I’ll deal with him there.”

“The basement?” you repeated breathily. Bucky knew full well about the basement and the stories you’d told about the screams you’d hear in the dead of night from men who’d wronged your husband. It was a room few men walked out of.

As Rumlow attempted to slide past you to make his way to the basement door, you jumped out in front of him, blocking his path. “Is that necessary? What could he have possibly done, Brock? He’s your—he's your right hand. You need him.”

Rumlow paused, dark eyes flickering from you as you stood in his way, back to Bucky as he struggled to stay on his feet. He smirked, his tongue running over his teeth as an idea formulated in his head. “You know what? Why don’t you come with us? I’ll show you what happens when someone costs me a paycheck.”

Skull Ring dragged Bucky down the stairs before he could wait to hear for your answer. His feet caught on the bannister and he almost tumbled the rest of the way down if Skull Ring wasn’t gripping his arm so tight that he might rip it clean off. He threw Bucky to the center of the floor, cement under his knees and stains of dark maroon littering the ground. He grabbed a tight hold of Bucky’s right wrist. Blondie came up and grabbed his left, keeping him positioned on his knees.

“Damn Karpov,” Rumlow chuckled as he made his way down the stairs. “You look like shit.”

Bucky spat the pool of blood in his mouth to the floor defiantly.

Then, you emerged from behind your husband in cautious, tentative steps as you eyed Bucky. You were trying to keep your distance, trying to control the red in your eyes before you cried at the sight of him; jaw clenched, nails digging into your skin. The worst you’d ever seen of him was the night you’d bandaged his hands and he had been the one to dole out the violence. You’d never seen him as the victim.

“You see, baby,” Rumlow started, rolling up his sleeves, “someone destroyed $25,000 worth of Cerberus this evening. I’m sure you’re aware who was running product for me today, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shot to your husband, wide, and Bucky watched as your lips parted in shock, followed shortly but a wave of paralyzing fear. Your breath hitched, stopped right in your chest. You did not inhale again.

“Relax. Your precious cousin is fine,” Rumlow groaned, brushing you off before you could even ask. He made his way to Bucky and gripped a tight hold of his jaw. “Karpov here is taking the fall. Still don’t know why he’d cover for some little punk ass kid but frankly, I don’t care. I’m down $25,000 and someone is going to pay for it.”

A hard pulsing in the side of his cheek nearly had Bucky collapsing to the ground if it wasn’t for the men on either side of him holding him still. You screamed at the shock of it and as Rumlow threw a second fist to Bucky’s cheekbone, your hands clasped over your mouth to keep silent.

Rumlow took a few steps back, shaking out his hand. “Now, pay close attention, baby. I want things to be crystal clear from now on. Tell your cousin if he fucks up my product again, I’ll beat him a hell of a lot worse than I will Karpov.”

You didn’t respond, but Bucky could practically hear your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest. He sure as hell could hear the frequent, shallow intakes of breath as you nodded rapidly at your husband, stumbling a few paces back until you hit the bannister with a thud.

Bucky tried to catch your eye for a moment, to tell you that he was alright, that he’d been in this position before and survived. He'd come out with a few bruises and cuts, but he’d heal.

It didn’t matter how much of it was true, but he needed you to believe it. The fear on your face was enough to punch him through the gut without a touch from Rumlow or his men.

“Now,” Rumlow snickered, curling his hand into a fist, “let’s teach him a lesson, boys.”

***

Bucky had trained for this. He’d been an army ranger before he was recruited to the FBI. He knew how to take a few hits and withstand pain. He’d once been held prisoner by drug smugglers in Caracas and beaten within an inch of his life, but somehow none of it compared to this.

It wasn’t the pain that did him in or the blood pooling in his mouth he’d started to choke on or open wound breaking further with every hit. It wasn’t the blinding pulsing in his head or bruises sure to form on his wrists from where the guards were holding him down. 

It was your screaming.

Bucky had lost count of the hits but he’d broken through the sirens in his ears long enough to hear you begging for Rumlow to stop. His left eye was half swollen shut and the blood trailing down his forehead dripped into his good eye, making your figure red and blurry in front of him, but he watched as you darted out and grabbed Rumlow’s hand mid-air when he pulled back for another swing.

“Enough!” you yelled, voice cracking. You shoved your husband hard in the chest, forcing him to stumble a few steps. “He’s had enough, Brock! Look at him!”

Rumlow stared at you for a moment, jaw clenched, and Bucky wondered if the standoff between you and your husband might result in something worse than his own broken face, but then, suddenly, Rumlow started to laugh. It was an unpleasant sound, sinister and revolting. He stretched out his hand, his knuckles coated red in Bucky’s blood as he let it fall to his side.

“You’re right, baby,” he agreed, waving shortly at his guards who dropped Bucky’s arms, leaving him to crash down to the concrete in a heap, unable to hold his body weight up. “Sometimes I get a little caught up in the fun of it. Hell, maybe I was just showing off for my girl.”

When Bucky looked up again, Rumlow’s arm was snaked around your waist. You were tense; two hands on his chest like you were trying to push him away but knew better than to do so in front of his men. His fingers dipped into the edges of your hips, seeking lower along the curves of your spine and you sucked in a harsh breath.  

“Think you can have a little talk with Parker for me? Let him know what happens when he fucks with my product?” he cooed, voice low, almost charming if it weren’t for the red stained on his hands. You gritted your teeth, nodding slowly. Rumlow pressed a kiss to your cheek. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care, that your whole body had become rigid as stone. 

“Good girl,” he sneered, praise laced in degradation. 

“What should we do with him, boss?” Blondie asked and Bucky felt the steel toe of a boot prodding at his shoulder as if testing if he were still alive, waiting for a reaction.

“Nothing, you idiot,” Rumlow snapped, stepping away from you enough to give you the opportunity to jolt away from him unnoticed. “Karpov is still my guy. He fucked up but he learned his lesson. Ain’t that right?”

Bucky nodded, though he was sure it came out as little more than a blink.

“He’s been nothing but an asset to this team since we brought him on,” Rumlow continued. “I’m not losing my right-hand man over this bullshit. He knows better than to cover for the kid again, doesn’t he? Problem solved.”

The guards stepped back, hands clasped in front of them. Rumlow kneeled down in front of Bucky, grabbing a firm hold of his chin, forcing him to meet his eye, or whatever he was able to given the swelling. Rumlow started to smile; a big, toothy grin, though it barely touched his eyes. Bucky wondered if it ever did.

“Damn, I really fucked you up, brother,” Rumlow laughed, releasing Bucky’s jaw with a forceful push. “You know what? Consider me impressed. Don’t know why the hell you’d take a beating like this for some snot nosed punk, but it takes balls; balls I guarantee these two morons don’t have.”

Rumlow started to make his way to the stairs, gesturing for his men to follow behind. He paused, his smile fading into something darker as he looked back at Bucky. “Don’t fucking pull that shit again with me, do you understand?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but he didn’t suppose he had to.

You were still standing just a few feet away, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, staring down at Bucky like you might just break in two. He couldn’t quite tell if it was a scream trying to push its way through your chest or a sob or an all-consuming numbness threatening to pull you under, but you held your stance, back to your husband, nails digging into your arms.

“Deal with him,” Rumlow ordered to you. “Seems like the least you can do since it was your worthless shit of a cousin that forced my hand to begin with.”

You nodded, clinging to the faded fabric of your sweatshirt as you took a step closer to the stairs to watch as your husband ascended to the first floor. He was talking of going for Italian food, that he had worked up an appetite, and his guards were laughing, as if none of them has just committed assault and battery, as if they hadn’t just beat a man within several inches of his life.

Bucky realized then, he was struggling to get a breath in from the blood gurgling in his throat. 

The second the door slammed shut, you rushed at him; skidding on your knees as you scrambled along the cement, unbothered by the stains of maroon under you, and your hands darted to the sides of his face. Grasping a hold of him, trying to caught his eye through the swelling and the blood, but he winced, hissing at the sudden sensation and you pulled away quickly, cursing under your breath. Despite the pain, he missed it instantly.

“Oh God, James,” you exhaled, tears in your voice as you gingerly aided him to lean against the wall. He was heavy, heavier than you should be able to lift on your own, but you guided him towards the wall, adjusting his body as gently as you could manage. He was like a rag doll, body barely able to move itself as you tried to keep him steady.

Once he was situated against the wall, your hands began to hover over him, circling at his chest, his shoulders, trembling as you curled them to fists and held them tight to your body; you were afraid to touch him. Your eyes kept coming back to the steady stream of oozing red on his face.

“Y/n...” he mumbled, but not even he could make out the sound of your name on his tongue. A sticky, coppery substance dripped down the corner of his mouth.

“Jesus – fuck,” you cursed, voice shaking. Your fingertips brushed at the blood as it passed his lips, trying to wipe it away but it only smeared down his chin, under your nails. You bit down to stifle a sob as it tore its way through your spine. “I need—I need something for the blood.”

You jumped back to your feet, scrambling around the room. Miscellaneous items fell off the shelves in your search as you frantically searched throughout the room, your panic evident in your murmuring under your breath.

“Where is it? Come on... where is it? Where the fuck is it!?”

Bucky tried to call your name, but nothing came out. He coughed on the blood pooling in the back of his mouth but found a sense of calm in the patter of your bare feet upon the cement, your hushed whispers to yourself.

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the cool surface of the wall. He found relief for a moment as his conscious began to drift, giving into the emptiness of a dark, painless embrace.

***

He didn’t know how long it took before you found whatever it was you were looking for, but the next thing he knew, you were kneeling back at his side again, dabbing his forehead with a soft cloth. It was stained red with tiny untouched white fabric on the corners. He swallowed, finding it a little easier now.

“Thought I lost you for a second,” you whispered. Your voice was shaken and you tried to mask the tremors in your hands as you cleaned the blood from his face, but it was of little use.

Bucky could barely see you, but you were positioned on his right, where he could watch you out of his only good eye. and for that he was thankful. His heart rate stared to draw out in even beats the longer he looked at you.

Your hair was tussled on top of your head in a loose bun, pieces falling out the sides and down by your ears. You were dressed in loose fitting pajama shorts and an old college sweatshirt a few sizes too big for you, the same one he saw you wear on one of his first days on this case as you skirted around your library in search of a book. Face free of makeup and eyes red with tears, reflective streaks dripped along your cheeks; you were nibbling on the ends of your lips.

There was blood stained to the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

“You really scared me,” you confessed, keeping your focus on his wounds, though you were holding back tears. You refolded the cloth to a clean side, though it was still faded in pink. “I’ve never—He’s never made me watch something like that before. I knew that he... I knew he was capable of it but actually watching him... and for it to be you... I just... God, why is there so much blood…”

Bucky reached up and gently wrapped his hand around your wrist, drawing your attention away from the wound on his cheekbone and when you finally looked at him, you broke into tears. 

“M’okay,” Bucky mumbled, his voice raspy and low, but it was audible.

You shook your head, kneeing back on your heels and brushing your hand over your face. Your skin glistened around your eyes, down by your cheeks, too. Your nose was runny and sniffling, and you were still so beautiful. Bucky wondered if it was part of his haze, the delirium kicking in or maybe the shock, but he’d always find ways to admire you.

“This is my fault,” you gasped, pushing the palms of your hands to your eyes and Bucky’s heart lurched.

“Don’t do that.”

He couldn’t get more than a few words out at a time from all the swelling but when he put his hand on your thigh, tracing small, delicate patterns, you let your hands fall away. Eyes trailing down to his hand and you quickly gathered it in your own and brought it to your lips. You pressed warm, gentle kisses to each of his knuckles, to the back of his hand, the inside of his palm, before you rested it on the side of your face, aiding him in cupping your cheek.

“You were covering for Peter, James. I asked you to do that.” Fresh tears brushed over Bucky’s hand.

“I make my own choices,” he insisted, pushing through the rasp in his throat, voice still barely audible above a whisper but it was enough. Your eyes were still focused on the broken skin on his cheekbone. “I can handle it, sweetheart.”

You sighed, carefully setting his hand back against his own thigh as you picked up the cloth again, resuming your work.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

***

Over the next hour, you carefully cleaned and stitched each of the open wounds on Bucky’s face. You handled each one like you’d done it dozens of times before, though he was certain you were only putting on a brave face for him. The tremor in your lower lip masked by the sharp bite of your teeth did not go unnoticed.

The long cut against his cheekbone the worst of it, laying on top of a swollen well of tissue as you weaved the needle through his skin. He was numbed from the hits, so he shouldn’t be able to feel any of it, and yet, all he could focus on was the delicate touch of your fingertips over his nose, his jawline, his lips, keeping your hand steady as you furrowed your brow in concentration.

When you were done, the blood had long been cleared from his face; absorbed into the piles of rags lying beside you. You brushed your thumb over the stitches, ones you’d made him promise to get checked out by someone with a professional degree when morning came, but you’d done well enough. He was in one piece. The only evidence held in the slight swelling and discoloration forming on his face.

“I hate that this happened to you,” you whispered, letting your hand gently caress his cheek. You took a deep breath, chewing on the inside of your lip and trying to hide the tremor there. “I hate that you’ll go back to work for him tomorrow like none of this happened. I hate that he would have done this to Peter if it weren’t for you...”

“I told you, darlin’, I’m alright,” Bucky tried to reassure you, though you had trouble hearing it.

His voice was coming back to him, the strain in his throat going down. He gently brushed away a fallen strand of hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear, and setting his palm to lie against your cheek. He smiled sweetly at you despite the crack in his lip, his thumb brushing in tender strokes under your eyes to wipe away the wetness there.

“He’s a monster,” you said, voice strained like you were holding back tears again and still, laced in venom. “I hate him. I fucking hate him.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand from your cheek, curling it in your own. You kissed his knuckles again and he swore it might be his favorite feeling in the world. He'd memorize it, seer it into his senses. 

In your exhale, the breath was warm against his skin. “I don’t understand why you work for him. You’re a good man, James.”

Bucky flinched at the name.

He thought of all the times he’d lied to you about who he really was, about the deception it took and calculated coincidences in the beginning of your relationship, how he’d manipulated you into giving information on Hydra and your husband, even though you gave it over willingly, you didn't know the consequences of it.

“I’m-- I’m not, sweetheart,” he shook his head, eyes casting down to the floor.

He thought of the times he’d followed Rumlow’s orders; how he’d beaten men into the state he was in now with little evidence for their crimes. It was part of his job, his assignment on this case, to give over pieces of himself – his morality – to the identity he was assigned. It was how they brought down so many criminals without being detected. He’d done it dozens of times before, but things were different now.

Now, he had you.

“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” he continued, not giving you a chance to interject. “I've hurt people, Y/n. Worse than this. I’ve killed, too. I’m... I’m not a good person.”

“Yes, you are,” you insisted, shaking your head. You reached out to cup the sides of his face and this time, it didn’t hurt, not with the wounds cleaned and stitched. You were impossibly gentle with him, like the touch of a feather to burning embers. “I know your heart, James. The rest... it doesn’t matter. I know you.”

“I wish that were true,” he sighed, turning to press a kiss to the palm of your right hand.

“Why do you keep saying things like that?” Your hands slowly fell back to your sides. “You’re not making sense, James.”

Bucky swallowed and it tasted of copper. He reached out to you, hand brushing up against your neck, thumb tracing your jawline.

“Do you trust me?”

You narrowed your eyes, surprised by the question. “Of course, but—”

“Then trust me a little longer.” Bucky licked at the broken skin on his lips, trying to keep himself from spilling the truth to you right then and there; his real name, his history, the case he was building against your husband. It was nearly impossible with the way you were looking at him, with tears fresh in your eyes and this helpless kind of adoration nestled within the shimmer in your irises.

You seemed reluctant, wanting the answers you deserved, but you nodded, trusting him blindly as you did. He wondered if you’d come to regret that later. He tried not to think about it.

“I’ll take care of you, sweetheart, I promise,” he added upon noticing the questions brewing in the back of your mind in the slight bite of your lip. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me. Always.” 

“I know.”

Your voice was just barely a whisper, eyes flickering down to his lips before the returned to ocean blue. Bucky’s heart was pounding terribly in his chest but it was exhilarating. It sprung life into his veins, electricity through even the darkest parts of him, and he pushed himself off the wall, closer to you.

“James, be careful...” you exhaled, your voice made of silk and honey. He could feel your pulse beating under his fingertips; rapid thumps in rhythm with his own. They sang together, composing a symphony in line with your shallow breaths and the drizzle of rain outside against the small windowpane above.

He leaned in closer, his eyes studying yours for reasons to stop, but you gave him none; no excuses to pull away, no hesitancy or reluctance, you waited patiently for him. His nose brushed yours and he paused, eyes closed and reveling in the warmth of your breath in his skin. He’d been here before too many times, so close and never close enough.

With a short inhale and a breath of courage, Bucky leaned forward, capturing your lower lip between his own. Softer than he’d imagined. He felt you sigh against him, relief in the soft vibrations of your lips as you kissed him; a longing you’d shared for another for so long, it was like floodgates breaking open at a single touch.

It would have been rushed, desperate and heated after nearly a year of holding back if it wasn’t for the injuries he’d sustained; the cuts and bruises and swelling on his face. You were tender with him, careful of the cut on his lower lip as you pulled away for breath and began to press sweet, gingered kisses to the tip of his nose, between his eyes, his forehead, his temple, the stitches on his cheekbone, his jaw, healing him, saving him, until he missed you so terribly he pulled you back to his mouth.

You smiled to his lips, a breathy kind of laugh against him, a relief in kissing him like it was where you were always meant to be. You tasted of dried tears and the chocolate peppermint tea you’d been steeping before he was thrown bloodied and broken at your feet. Your lips were like satin and velvet, smooth and tender against the throbbing ache of his cheekbone; sharp contrast in the delicacy of your touch to the violence he endured.

Then, your tongue brushed at the broken middle of his lower lip and Bucky hissed, sucking in a harsh breath at the sting of it.

“Shit— I-I’m sorry,” you gasped, pulling away breathless. There was a flash of concern in your eyes but Bucky started to laugh under his breath, shaking his head and suddenly, you were smiling too, grinning impossibly wide over swollen lips.

Bucky swore in that moment you’d never been more beautiful, not even in the lavender dress. Lips swollen and chest panting. Hair a little messier than before. A glimmer in your eye and the flash of concern breaking through the dizziness touching over your features.

“Don’t apologize for kissing me like that,” Bucky laughed under his breath, playing with the ends of your hair. He tugged you closer to press a final, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” you mumbled, smile brimming on your face as he pulled away.

“Not possible, sweetheart.”

You were staring at him like he might hold the entire universe in his hands. Maybe he did when it was you within his arms. His sun and moon and stars and galaxy.

Your fingers traced down along his jawline, feather light against the black and blue discoloration. It was like you were memorizing him, drawing him, touching tenderly along his edges and grounding yourself to him. 

“What are we gonna do, James?” you asked slowly, smile slowly slipping from your face.

Bucky could feel the heaviness of your question pushing down deep onto his chest. You brushed your thumb over the corner of his lips and he stole a kiss to the tips of your fingers. 

It wasn’t a question he could answer. You knew that. The two of you were already treading in dangerous water and now, the waves were growing higher, the clouds above erupting with thunder under darkened skies. A storm was coming; one neither of you had the power to control.

Bucky started to wonder if either of you would survive it.

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet-chapter 14: wandering

All chapters

chapter 13

I awoke suddenly feeling a cold breeze of air brush my face, I looked around and realized I had fallen asleep outside against the tree, and it was now nighttime. "Crap" I whispered looking down at my watch. It was already 9 o'clock. How had no one questioned where I was? Better yet how had no one seen me? I frowned a bit at the thought no one came to find me. It was freezing too, considering it was Winter, I'm surprised it wasn't snowing yet.

 I stood up and grabbed my bag and began to head back inside the castle to head to my dormitory. I let out a deep breath remembering the realization I had come to before I drifted off. I hated having to deal with this now. Well actually, there really was no way to deal with this. Most people that develop...feelings for someone are actually able to work through and maybe act on them. But not I. I was to be stuck with this for however long it decides to stick around. I don't want to jump to conclusions, it's not like I like the man, I just...fancy him. Yeah, fancy that's the perfect word to describe what I felt for Severus. My potions Professor. Oh merlin y/n what is wrong with you!? He's a teacher for heaven's sake. I need to do everything possible to get rid of this feeling, or redirect it somehow.

I finally made it back into my dormitory and quietly took a shower and got ready for bed. My roommates seemed to be pretty heavy sleepers. I stood in the mirror fresh out of the shower and brushed my hair. Looking at the girl before me, the one who has convinced herself somehow, to fall for this cruel man. But he wasn't cruel was he. Not to me at least. I put my dark green nightgown on and slipped on my panties, exiting the bathroom after washing my face and brushing my teeth. I laid a few pats on Hera and gave her a treat, crawling into bed and looking up at my ceiling. How could this have happened? He was so awful to me when we first met, I mean he's awful to everyone, how did I stem feelings from seeing him a couple extra hours, and pleasing him by passing this test? It all seemed to have happened overnight. I began to realize though it didn't happen overnight, I've felt this way since he saved me from detention with Lockhart. Foolish of me. I closed my eyes waiting to drift asleep, but to no surprise, I couldn't. Typical, the one time I need my thoughts to shut up, they don't, they only hinder me from the peaceful release. I did take a rather long nap earlier, so it makes sense. I got up and slipped on some socks and grabbed my wand. I exited the dormitory and walked out into the dungeons. Holy shit it's cold, I thought to myself. "Lumos" I whispered and began walking down the hall, not in the direction of Snape's class. Last thing I would need right now is to run into a certain brooding man. I crossed my arms over my chest to help with the cold feeling, and continued taking a slow stroll through the castle. I could probably easily get caught and would most definitely get some form of punishment, but I didn't really care. It's not like they'd kick me out or something.

I looked out a window as I passed by it and looked out at the forest. I've heard stories of the Forbidden Forest, but I figured it was forbidden for a reason. I did have some desire to explore it one day though, just not tonight. I continued down the hall and looked at all the portraits as they slept. This school really is wondrous. I do miss Beauxbatons. To think if I hadn't been torn from there I may not be in the predicament I found myself in currently. I decided to head to the kitchens to see if the house elves were still in there, or if they too go and sleep, and maybe i'd be able to get a cup of coffee or something. As I headed that way I heard mumbling voices and turned out my wand and clung to the wall, I looked over the corner to see Professor Flitwick and Professor Lockhart conversing as they walked past and continued monitoring the halls, heading towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. I quietly tiptoed once I saw them out of sight and picked up the pace to the kitchen. As I reached the doors I stood on my toes to look through the windows and saw no one inside. I let myself in and walked over to what I hoped was the coffee machine. Now where's the coffee? I went through each cabinet checking where it could be, it didn't help it was dark, but I didn't wanna risk being seen. I opened and closed each cabinet as quietly as possible still having no luck. I squatted down to the very far end cabinet on the bottom but it was locked, hmm this must be where they keep the coffee so no one drinks it, silly I thought, "Alohomora" I whispered pointing my wand to it and heard it click open. Sure enough to my surprise the coffee was indeed in here, It was a special blend so I was guessing it was one of the teachers in specific, I pulled the jar out and put enough into a filter into the pot to make one cup and then added the water, I pressed the power button and took a few minutes to figure out how to work it. Before I pressed brew I thought for a moment and placed a silencing spell on the room.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality was 5 minutes, the coffee was done and I poured it all into a mug I found on the shelf. I blew on it a bit but it was still very hot. I laid it on the counter and cleaned up the machine. I grabbed the coffee tin and went to place it back in its place, as I squatted down I noticed in the back of this cabinet were a few bottles of firewhiskey and wine. Wow the Professors must have some fun around here. I looked at the brown bottles and thought about it for a moment. No I shouldn't If I get caught with that I would actually be kicked out. I left it alone for now and shut the cabinet, locking it and taking my cup from the counter. I headed out of the kitchen checking to make sure no one was near and took the charm off as I left. I began walking down the quiet and cold halls once more. I then had an idea. I made my way all the way to the stairs that led to the Astronomy tower and headed up in it to sit and enjoy the hot beverage. I stood leaning against the wall looking out over the courtyards and rest of the castle, you could see a lot of the school from here, this was probably my favorite place to come in the whole school. All the stars twinkling above. I took a sip of my cup, the hot liquid running down my throat, a sigh of relief as warmth filled my body. It was very cold up here and I wish I had brought my coat.

I looked up at the sky, and my thoughts began to run, I soon realized the only thing on my mind was My professor. How stupid of me to let this happen. I think the worst part was how I knew I would not be able to confide in anyone about these inappropriate feelings, no one would understand, and who knows they may think I'm dreadful and disgusting. I never confided in my father, and stopped confiding in my mother when I realized anytime I did she would ask me what I did that caused this to happen, it was always my fault no matter how many times I was screwed over. The only one I would ever be able to confide in was my sister. We were very close and she always listened and gave me good advice, she was so understanding, kind, and non judgmental. She was a much better person than I. She would have loved this view too, she would have loved Hogwarts, I just know she would have been in Hufflepuff, she'd fit right in with them. Or maybe Griffyndor, she was so brave when it came down to tough situations. My mother would be a Raven claw no doubt, she's very smart and technical. I don't know what my father would be. "Probably a Slytherin that bastard" I said out loud taking another sip. He attended Durmstrang. I cringed at the thought of him being in my house as well. I was nothing like him. He was horrible and vain, not to mention incredibly sexist and probably everything else you could think of. That asshole was such a phony too. He'd act so chill and nice to people, but it was all a facade to hide his cunty side. I grew frustrated just thinking about him.

I began to feel a hot tear slide down my face, my sister would have tried defending him, she was so sweet, she hated when he and I would fight. Always breaking it up and telling me how he wasnt worth it, and even though he's a jerk he was still our father. I was glad to have left him, hopefully I'd never have to see him again, I'd miss having a dad, but not him. I sniffled and a few more tears came down my face. I sat down on one of the ledges and looked out at the moon, it was so beautiful. I wish I could just live on the moon, carefree, peaceful, and quiet. Numb to everything. I wouldt have to live with these new feelings for this man I would never have. I began to cry more thinking about how dreadful my remaining years here at Hogwarts would be if these feelings did not resolve themselves. I want to blame my after for this, if he didnt leave me so damaged maybe I wouldn't be craving the affection and appreciation from this older man. I wiped my tears as they fell remembering the way he smelt, his smile, his hair, his eyes. They were so dark and held great sadness. I could tell he's been through a lot, but he was good at hiding it. I wiped the tears that still flooded down and looked up to the sky. "What do I do? How do I deal with this?" I asked no one, not expecting a direct response, but some sign at least. "Please. I'm not cut out for this type of thing. Why him? Of all the people here why him? What do I do!" I said as I let my frustration take over and began to cry harder, thinking of this beautiful man that I'd never get to touch and have, that I was growing such strong feelings for.

[shorkbrian]

The game had been rigged from the start.

Prelude- Inspired by that one scene in Pirates Of The Caribbean where those two pirate lumps find Elizabeth hiding in a cupboard lol.

Had this flipping song stuck inside my stupid meme brain while doing this https://youtu.be/k4V3Mo61fJM

Pairing - Bakugou/Fem!Reader/Todoroki

Warnings - Implied NSFW, but no descriptions

Hope you enjoy :) Thank you for reading!

- Brick

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You opened your mouth slightly, trying to calm yourself and ease your breathing. You had heard somewhere that breathing through your mouth made it so there was no noise, and right now you were trying to be as quiet and still as possible. Squished into the blanket storage in the living room, it was hard to see any light through the crack in the door,  but that just made this a better hiding place. It’d be pointless if someone would be able to see you just by giving the living room a quick once-over. You felt like crying, your heart slamming against your chest every time you heard hushed voices, or the sound of doors being opened and then slammed.  It felt like forever since you crawled into the tiny space. You hoped to god they didn’t find you. Even just thinking about the possibility of them finding you sent a vicious shiver through your body, making you aware of the pins and needles forming in your cramped legs. You could handle numbness. It’d be a small price to pay for some respite from the attention of your two captors.

Bakugou had come home in a bad mood, slamming the door and causing you to flinch in surprise. Todoroki had barely looked up from his book, one hand still gently petting your hair. While you were still unused to the blonde’s violatile moods, the man holding you firmly against his side while he read a book was not.

“Should I even ask what set you off this time?”

Bakugou kicked off his shoes, giving such an intense glare in Todoroki’s direction that you would honestly not be surprised if the heterochromatic man didn’t burst into flames.

“Shit doesn’t “set me off”  you fucking peppermint.” Bakugou seethed. He stomped over to the armchair that was closest to the couch you and Todoroki occupied before collapsing into it with a huff.  He crossed his arms over his chest, giving you a once over that had you pressing closer to Todoroki. You hated both of your kidnappers, but (most of the time) Todoroki tried his best to not cause you pain. 

“Had to deal with god-awful Deku again.”  Bakugou continued, “His asshat of an agency wants him and I to team up for some promotional pansy-ass campaign or something. Hell if I know. All I know is I ain’t doin’ shit with that goddamn loser.”

“I see.”

Todoroki wasn’t listening. When it came to Bakugou? You wish you didn’t have to listen either. But when the blonde man gestured for you to come sit on his lap with a curl of his lip and a flick of his hand, you knew better than to ignore him. 

You had learned the hard way that the two (especially Bakugou, the sadistic little cunt.) handed out cruel punishments at the slightest slip up. Even though their system made absolutely no sense. Some days you would be punished for not taking a shower with one of them, even if you had been sleeping, or for looking at the tv if a movie was playing, because you should’ve been focusing on them. Like how being cuddled be a reward one day, and a punishment the next. They were fickle men, always changing their rules and expectations, and expecting you to reach impossible and confusing standards.

Bakugou had held you for a while as he calmed down, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones underneath your oversized tee. You squirmed when they wandered too far, fingering the waistband of your shorts. Bakugou would huff good-naturedly, then return to smoothing the skin above your hipbones.  It was only when he started laying sloppy, open mouthed kisses along your neck, beginning to encroach on your shoulder and collarbone, did you try to wriggle out his grasp. By the steadily-growing bulge pressing against the small of your back, you could tell where this was going.

“Ple-ase don’t Kats-“

“Shut the fuck up. You’ll enjoy this.”

You knew for fact that if you felt any pleasure, it would only be because he would force it out of you.

“Bakugou, I’ve already played with her several times today. She’s probably sore.” You hadn’t been expecting Todoroki to chime in. His duo-colored eyes were fixated on the scene that you and Bakugou made, a slight flush marring his otherwise impeccable appearance. He had been watching Bakugou grope you.

“Fuckin’ ”played with her” eh? Well I’ve been working all damn day and I want a little playtime too.” 

That’s how the arrangement went. They traded off each day, one of them staying home with you while the other went and worked. They were still Pro-Heros.

Your face immediately heated up as Bakugou continued to handle you roughly. Todoroki had indeed, “played with you” and you were very, very sore.  He had made you shower together, then he had bent you over the kitchen counter in the middle of helping you make lunch. The man had even played with you while the two of you watched an incredibly cheesy romance movie, making you cry as his lust seemed insatiable. 

Todoroki set down his book,  crossing his legs gracefully as Bakugou spun you around so you were face-to-face with the muscular blonde. “What if we played a game? Hide and seek?…… if she stays hidden long enough she can go to bed? If we find her we’ll carry on with our…. evening activities.”

Bakugou grunted, his hands slipping underneath your oversized tee to palm roughly at your chest. You tried to keep your hiccuping sobs quiet. When had you started crying?

“Shit, you’d really leave me out to dry like that Half-N-Half?”

Todoroki shrugged.

“I doubt she’d win. In the event that she did, I wouldn’t mind helping you out.” Bakugou’s wandering hands never paused, but you could see the wheels turning in his head while he weighed the pros and cons of the situation. After a second he sighed heavily, before withdrawing his hands and roughly yanking your shirt back into place. 

“Hm, alright. Let’s fucking play a game.”

That’s how you ended up in the blanket cabinet, knees scrunched to your chest, trying to breathe as quietly as you could and hoping that you weren’t found before the kitchen timer rang. You had watched Bakugou set it to 20 minutes, and while it seemed entirely too long, the second you had opened your mouth to protest the blonde had shot you a feral grin, adjusting it so that there was now only 19 minutes. You got the memo and clamped your jaw shut with an audible click.

You could’ve sworn more time than that had passed.

Were you surprised when they found you? Not really. You knew it would happen at some point. You had just thought that the timer would ring before one of them dragged you out of the cupboard. Bakugou had found you, the man crouching as he opened up the door, his red eyes glinting with desire the second they fell on you. You had almost crumpled then, and basically did, except the shock of being suddenly pulled free and then hefted into Bakugou’s strong arms had you reeling and struggling to orient yourself. The fuzzy pain as your legs regained feeling distracted you from Bakugou’s breathless rambling about what the rest of the evening was going to look like. It was probably for the best that you weren’t able to listen.

“Icyhot! Get your ass in here!” Bakugou yelled over his shoulder, setting you down gently on the kitchen counter. A moment later, Todoroki sauntered in, the look in his eyes as they roved over you making your stomach go queasy. Bakugou had a smirk on his face as he reached for your shirt, only getting it halfway off and tangled in your arms before you were whining for him to stop.

“Wait! Wait I- please! Can I- Bakugou wait plea-“

“Holy shit, what now? Me and freedom M&Ms over here won fair ’n square.”

“I was in there for more than twenty minutes, I swear! Please, did the - did the timer go off?? And we didn’t hear it??”  You gestured towards your last hope, the kitchen timer settled on a different countertop. Todoroki picked it up, his nimble fingers dancing around it as he turned it over.

“Huh, funny…….”  He tossed it over his shoulder, barely flinching as it hit the ground with a loud crack. Your brow furrowed in confusion as he stalked towards you, his hands coming to rest on the tops of your thighs. Four predatory hands were on you now, and you shivered as the two men seemed to inch closer, invading every single inch of your personal space.   “I guess I forgot to press start….”  

Bakugou’s smirk turned into a full-on smile, his hands whipping off your shirt faster than you could blink as you cried out. Todoroki started working on your shorts, and you started sobbing and trying to push their hands away, despite knowing that it would do absolutely nothing.

The two men were going to have you.

The game had been rigged from the start.