#the muse is unamused

[stillresolved]

guys i have a dilemma, and when i say i have a dilemma, i mean it's not even close to one but i like validation fjsdlkfsj....but what if i changed mana's rl fc to ver.onica n.go??

[losinqminds]

who : santiago and any @2000sfmextras . where : a downtown dive bar . status : open starter .

scoff  falls  from  his  lips  as  he  feels  their  gaze  burn  onto  his  skin.  his  head  then  cocks,  and  eyes  widen  as  he  takes  them  into  his  line  of  sight.    “  what’s  that  smug  look  for?  ”    he  lets  out  in  protest  as  both  his  hands  land  on  his  hips  in  an  exaggerated  stance  of  confidence.  now  he  may  not  be  a  natural,  but  he  doesn’t  doubt  they  will  also  be  fooled  by  how  easy  it  seems.    “  you  really  think  you  can  do  better  than  that?  ”

[lovebugism]

do something with king steve who secretly likes female/shy/reader

hope u like it xoxo — the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret (shy!fem!r, secret relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Boo!”

You jump when a figure appears suddenly behind the door of your opened locker. They’re wearing bell bottoms and a sparkly clip in their strawberry curls. Carol Perkins giggles when her attempts to scare you work. Tommy Hagan follows just behind her, laughing louder until his freckled face scrunches together.

The only reassuring thing about seeing both of them together is knowing Steve isn’t too far behind. He’s got his tongue in his cheek, and his arms crossed over his chest, visibly unamused.  “What are you guys— three?” he scoffs, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

“Yeah, three inches deep in your mom,” Tommy retorts with a boyish chuckle.

Carol squints her made-up eyes at him. She deadpans, “That’s not the comeback you think it is, Hagan.”

You turn to Steve with a panicked glimmer in your eye. You’re so used to being the butt of all their jokes that being in their proximity now fills you with something close to ice-cold dread. You peer at the boy beside you with pinched-together brows, knowing he’s the only one who cares about you past cheating off your homework.

“What’s going on?” you wonder quietly, for only him to hear.

Steve grins, brows raised and eyes twinkling. “My house is gonna be empty tonight. ‘Cause, you know, my dad’s got a work conference or whatever, so… No parents. Big house—”

“A total recipe for disaster,” Tommy interjects with a laugh.

“You’re throwing a party?” you ask, voice trembling. There’s little more that scares you than crowds — well, crowds and loud music and drunk people. Parties were never your scene. Steve knows that better than anyone.

He corrects you quickly, stammering over himself because he never wants you to feel uncomfortable. “No! No, not a party. It’s gonna be lowkey. Just a— a get-together, you know? Just the four of us.”

“Ooh,” Carol croons from behind you. “So no priss?”

“Shut up, Carol,” Steve snaps.

“I’m just used to you following her around like a lost puppy, that’s all.” Carol and Tommy laugh about it together. ‘Cause that’s all they’re really good at — making stupid jokes and cackling like supervillains.

Steve rolls his eyes with an annoyed huff and turns his attention back to you. You take it from him wholly, every ounce of his focus. 

There was something ethereal in your vagueness — in how softly you spoke and how pretty you looked when you weren’t even trying. You’re quiet and mysterious and hidden. Steve desperately wants to be the one that deciphers you.

“Are you in?” he asks in a low, honeyed tone.

Your gaze falls to the tile. “I don’t know…” you murmur.

“C’mon,” he croons and steps closer to you. His sneakers enter your vision until you look up at him again, peering at him from beneath your lashes. His grin is pink and pretty and lopsided. “Don’t leave me with these assholes all night.”

“Dick,” you hear Tommy scoff from behind you. He sounds much further away than that ‘cause all you can see now is Steve. And his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his stupid pretty smile.

You cave instantly. 

You never really stood a chance, anyway. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble and turn back to your locker. You switch your English textbook for a History one and cradle it in your arms. Steve grins, knowing he’s forgotten his on purpose just so he could sit next to you all period.

“Good,” the boy hums.

“We’re finally wearing Wallflower down,” Carol muses, giggling to herself.

Tommy knocks you too hard on the shoulder. “You’ll be one of us in no time,” he grins.

You grimace as they walk off down the hall. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted. The thought of there being an ounce of similarities between you and them makes your stomach ache.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Steve tells you, smiling quietly when you nod. 

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and passes you a folded-up piece of paper. He doesn’t look back at you when he follows his friends down the corridor. You don’t open it until he’s gone.

West wing chem lab, he’s written in chicken scratch. Come find me. 

—————

The hallway at the west end of the school is dim and empty. The floors are untouched, and the lockers are sparingly opened. The air is thick and noticeably stale. You open the door to the old chemistry room with a high-pitched squeak that sounds like something out of a horror movie.

Steve waits for you in the dark classroom, lit only by the natural sunlight streaming in through translucent curtains. He sits at a table in front of the window and toys with the burner at the end of it. He turns the thin blue flame on and off and on again, silently wishing he’d plucked a cigarette from Tommy before he left.

His honey eyes flit to yours when you walk into the room. He grins at the soft smirk on your bitten lips. “What’s that look for, huh?” he teases, turning off the burner and sliding off the desk.

You shrug. “Nothin’…”

“I missed you.”

You scoff when he wraps his arms around you. His wide palms smooth over your back. “You just saw me.”

“It doesn’t count when I’m with Tommy and Carol. I need you all to myself…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs lowly, ducking down to kiss you. His plush lips lock with yours, tasting of nicotine and chewing gum — a near-lethal concoction. He smiles against your mouth when you melt further into him. He parts from you with a gentle smack.

“They’re starting to like me, I think,” you mumble, smoothing your hands over his chest. “Tommy and Carol.”

“I think so, too.”

“It’s awful.”

“Absolutely disgusting,” he concurs, grinning wide when you giggle.

“But, you know, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide anymore,” you stammer, gaze falling when it becomes too hard to hold his. “If they don’t think I’m, like, the lamest person on the planet.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that’s why you don’t want them to know about us, right? ‘Cause you’re King Steve, and I’m… fish bait,” you conclude with a forced laugh.

“No,” he answers instantly. “What? No. That’s not— That’s not why.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want them to know about us because they’re assholes,” Steve confesses. “I mean, they were awful to Nancy when we were together. ‘Cause they’re miserable, and they hate when other people are actually nice. I just don’t want them to… ruin anything, that’s all…”

You muss with a rogue thread at the neckline of his sweater and smile quietly to yourself. “I thought you were scared because you accidentally fell in love with the Wallflower instead of the Prom Queen.”

Steve scoffs. “I didn’t accidentally fall in love with you, first of all.”

“No?” you murmur, brow quirking in disbelief. 

“No, it was very intentional.”

“I don’t believe that,” you argue with a lighthearted chuckle. You think it’s easier than saying, I don’t believe you because there’s no way you love someone like me because you want to.

Steve’s palms squeeze your sides reassuringly, like he can hear all the mean thoughts swirling in your head. “Well, you didn’t make it any easier on me,” he tells you, a crooked smile tugging at his pink lips. “You started talkin’ all smart in Ms. Click’s class, and I started melting.”

“That’s when you knew you liked me?” you scoff. “After I gave a presentation about geopolitical tensions in China?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, licking his lips with heavy eyelids. “See what I mean? That’s hot.”

“God, you’re such a boy.”

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

[jobean12-blog]

Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

[magicdustsworld]

𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 (𝟐)

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A guide on how to properly date your tattooed, big, bad boyfriend.

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒: Established relationship, slice of life

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐 : 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐌

A/N: Thanking y'all so much for all the love in episode 1, so here episode 2.

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏 (optional)

Both of you stare at the blank TV screen.

Then, from his peripheral he sees your eyes flicker to him.

You chew on your lips, "Well..."

"What?"

"I can't choose!" The exasperate confession follows a mild frown to settle on your brows.  Sukuna slightly turns his face to you as well. You flip the remote—missing the catch before picking it up and passing it to him. "You choose."

He glances at the remote for a second then back at you, raising an eyebrow at your out of the ordinary offer.

"I will watch whatever you choose."

As if. He rolls his eyes, "Both of us know that's not going to happen."

"I am serious," You hold up your left hand. "Whatever you choose, I will watch it.

Of course, he isn't convinced; gracing you with a incredulous scowl. One which incites a Cheshire grin from you as you jerk the remote towards him again.

He sighs heavily, reaching for the object in your hand, "Fine–"

"Except science fiction."

With fingertips only inches away from the device, he halts. Irritation pricks his forehead as he glares looks at you with lips curling into a frown.

"And action," You continue. "And any historical drama and–"

"What happened to whatever I choose?"

You pause, tipping your head up, "Exceptions need to be made." 

What a brat. He grumbles under his breath, careful enough to let you hear him. Yanking the remote away from you, he turns himself to the TV—surfing through all the movies when, all of a sudden a rather devilish idea crops up in his head.

He spares you a partial glance, the very same smirk curled up on his lips which always said trouble. He hums, "We are watching horror."

In an instant, your eyebrows scrunch up, eyes widening and lips parting in disbelief. "Excuse me–"

"You're excused, sweetheart." The mocking nickname rolls off his lips, easily. In an attempt to pass you a grin, he is met with a flying cushion.

Yet, his arm goes up and the material hits the surface before falling down. This time, his grin widens, upper pair of teeth revealed as the fang like canines almost makes him seem like a demon. (Like c'mon, his reflexes are on another level)

You scowl, picking another cushion–warning him that this one wold be thrown as well. A warning to which Sukuna can only snort.

"I hate horror."

"Too bad," He muses, selecting the first film that shows up in the category. "You are watching whatever I choose."

You huff, turning to face the other way while Sukuna starts the movie. The eerie music starts accompanied by the dark background as the disposable characters navigate the terrain.

Same old shit.

Fifteen minutes into the movie and Sukuna hears some rustling on his side.

Sooner than he can comprehend, another figure—you, lean on him. Head resting on his shoulder, knees touching his and when he looks down, you are scowling at him.

"Hold me."

He raises an eyebrow, "Is that an order?"

"Yes."

He snorts under his breath. Despite the mock amusement swirling in his mind, he loops an arm around your waist and pulls you close. You release a breath of contentment, placing your head on his chest and Sukuna lets out a curse for letting the act relax his muscles.

An hour into the film and Sukuna... is unamused.

The plot is so predictable that he can guess it in his dream and the characters are so pathetic that he is tempted to spit out the snide remarks resting on the tip of his tongue. It's the snacks that forces him to stay put for the remainder and well... you.

Its impossible for him to not notice the slight tremors of your body or the soft squeak you'd let out whenever a jumpscare would come up. Shifting his attention on you, he is met with your wide eyed expression as you stare at the screen ahead, the almost empty popcorn bowl in your hand as you fiddle with the contents. So engrossed in the film that you don't even notice that he is staring.

And you were telling him that you hate it. Yet, you didn't profess any annoyance or dislike to it after the film started. Neither making the effort to leave him. Well, in case you did leave– Sukuna finds himself contemplating– In case you did leave, would he have surrendered and chosen something else? Maybe.

He reasons it's the fact that the movie night idea had been initially yours that's why he would. Nothing else. He can't bring himself to sit down and watch some mundane movie all alone. That's it.

While this reverie is playing in his head, a jumpscare comes in the scene and due to your 100% attention on the movie, you let out a light squeal. The bowl jerks in your hand, causing a few popcorn to drop on the couch and only for seconds you cling onto him a bit more.

He snickers. Now this is amusing. He doesn't register how he starts to rub absent minded circles on your back.

The end credits play and Sukuna is about to get up and stretch his limbs until... he doesn't.

Greeted by the sound of snores, Sukuna finds you to be fast asleep. Your head on his chest, one arm over his torso and the empty popcorn bowl initially in your hand, now rests on the rug.

Great. You offer to watch a movie with him, be all focused in the middle and then end up falling asleep on him. That should be vexing. But it isn't. What indeed, annoys him is just how endearing you seem right now. With the slow rise and fall of your chest and your lips parted– he doesn't know why but it infuriates him more than he'd let on.

He doesn't know what comes over him but he is reaching out to you and before he is knows it, he is pinching your cheek.

As a result, you wake up with a jerk and he instantly retracts his hand.

"Excuse me?"

He blinks and you're giving him the look.

He clears his throat, "The movie's over."

"And?"

"You were sleeping."

A scowl plasters itself on your face, "There are better ways to wake me up, you know. What were you trying to do?"

Exactly. What was he trying to do? In his defense, he doesn't know either. You were just looking so adorable and for reasons unknown, he found himself tempted to... he doesn't know what.

You are still scowling at him– waiting for him to reason– one which he doesn't have. Therefore, he only shrugs. "Don't know."

Your lips twist into a pout and you shift in your position before reaching out to him as well. He just needs to be served with the same medicine. Yet, Sukuna's fast and before you can pinch him in return, he has your wrist in his grasp. You try again with the free hand which ends up in his grasp as well.

"Oh no, you don't." He smirks, a reaction which only incites a huff from you and you try to escape from his hold. A try which proves to be futile.

"I hate you." You concede.

"You don't."

Said so, Sukuna releases your wrists but before you have the time to move away, he is sliding one arm under your knees, another behind your back as he scoops you up. You yelp and on instinct to not fall, you latch your arms around his neck.

"I do," You say, not trying to wiggle out as a strange numbness settles in your legs. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

He still has the know-it-all smugness in him as he walks to the bedroom to show you exactly why you don't hate him.

.

Bonus

"Did both of them die in the end?"

"The pathetic excuse of the main guy lived."

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 3

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @o-ikawaii

[vellichxrr6782]

please please please write alhaitham being WHIPPED for his cute short lover

— aiming low, aiming high.

character[s] — alhaitham. theme & genre — alhaitham helps you place a book on the shelf, but not without slipping a few teasing remarks about your height. cw/tw — none. word count — 800+ words. a/n — when im short but i cant write short reader and when i kin alhaitham but i cant write alhaitham 💔💔

alhaitham is a man of great restraint, which all seemingly disappears when it comes to you, his lover. a few months ago, you started dating the scribe, who was the dictionary definition of stoic and unassuming. he didn't quite care for attention from those he wasn't privy to.

but he found himself wanting your attention all the time. it was an odd feeling for him; to be so... dependent. he was used to doing things alone, but then you appeared like some sandstorm, wrecking any level of control he had in his life.

he was sitting at his desk, while you sorted through his books. he'd given you a pattern that he preferred to have his books arranged in, when you'd said something about how messy his office was.

"i don't need it to be clean when i know exactly where everything is." he had told you. "if your desk has books on it, where will i sit?" "on the chair." "..."

alhaitham saw you reach up, holding an ivy book with gold cutouts. it was a heavy book, and you struggled to hold it properly and push it into the slot. due to your small stature, you had to stand on your tip-toes to try and reach it.

a slight smile (yet another thing he couldn't control because of you) made its way onto his lips as he observed you. you were... well, if he had to put it objectively, short.

the height difference between you two was rather prominent. alhaitham was tall to begin with, and he'd never really cared for his height until he met you. he enjoyed being the taller one, more than he'd like to admit. it was amusing to him, to provide absent-minded musings about your short stature, and even more amusing seeing your expected reactions.

he loved it when you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, he loved it when you fit so snugly against his body when you two cuddled at night, and he loved the feeling of towering over you because it made him feel like he was protecting you.

not that you really needed any protecting. you were well capable of dealing with people. they say the smallest people have anger that's more concentrated; and he found it to be true when it came to you. you were vibrant in your expressions, quite different to him.

you were like the sun, and he was the moon. and even the moon sought the sun's light, after all.

you didn't realise when he'd snuck up behind you, both hands wrapping around your waist. he bended down to rest his chin on your shoulder, taking in the scent of your freshly washed clothes. there was a soft warmth in your embrace, what he'd define nostalgically as home.

"need some help, habibti?" he murmured, his voice low, his heated breath hitting your ear in a way that made you shiver.

"i'll be fine," you replied, warding off the butterflies in your stomach, "it's a book."

"this book seems to be greatly troubling my lover," he said, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. "i can't stand to see you in such perplexion. should i deal with it for you?"

you flushed a little at him calling you his lover. he'd said it before, but it felt odd to hear someone like him say the word as if he was saying hello. he didn't wait for your response, his hand grasping yours atop the book, deftly wrestling the book out of your hold and placing it into the slot.

you coughed, once, turning to meet his gaze. you had to look up at him, your eyes narrowing into an unamused expression when you saw that smirk on his lips.

"i'm expecting a comment about my height." you said, crossing your arms.

"i wasn't going to do it." he replied, but you weren't convinced. it was almost like he was holding back laughter. when he saw you stare at him, unconvinced, he slumped his shoulders, snaking his big arms around your small figure.

"i could fit you in my pocket." he spoke, leaning down to rest his head against your shoulder. "like a mini [name]. maybe you could take care of my keys for me, make sure i don't accidentally grab kaveh's."

"and there it is." you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he wanted to pick you up and... well, he didn't think that far. that train of thought crashed the second you pressed your lips against his.

he kissed you back, cupping your cheek. when he pulled away, he didn't really know what expression to make. his mind naturally settled for a smile, his eyes narrowed teasingly.

and here comes the second attack-!

"you're so short. my back hurts from crouching like this to kiss you." he said, feigning a woeful tone. critical hit, no survivors.

"don't make me hit you." came your quick reply. "hit me where?" he chuckled, "my face? you'll need a stool to reach that, habibti." "i can still reach your knees."

posted on 10th july, 2024.

[taeraelicious]

— WHISKEY . . . P.GW

GENRE - smut (18+)

PAIRING - outlaw! gunwook x fem! reader

WORD COUNT - 2,005

SYNOPSIS - you meet a particularly interesting outlaw at your bar who seems more interested in you than his whiskey.

NOTES - unprotected sex, creampie, public sex if you squint, clothed sex, semi-rough sex, gunwook has a massive cock, use of nicknames (doll, baby, etc.)

TAGS - @seoktized @teaxeee @woongiez

© taeraelicious. do not steal, plagiarize, translate or modify any of my works on any platform. reblogs are appreciated!

“What can I get for you?” You asked a man, dressed all in black. You were standing behind the bar, leaning against the counter. This bar was filled to the brim with all sorts of outlaws, you wouldn't be shocked in the slightest if one or more of your customers were a wanted criminal. The man you were serving was young, far too young for the vibes you were getting from him. “Whiskey, neat.” he said in a bland tone, his deep voice initially unamused as he cleaned his revolver. He reloaded his bullets, sliding it back into his holster before he finally looked up at you just in time for you to slide his drink across the counter.

He was honestly expecting an old hag or a slutty barmaid, but you… you were incredibly sexy, clearly strong yet still having a unique elegance to your movements. He studied you for a short moment and couldn’t help but crack a small smile, looking you in the eye as he took his drink. “Thank you, dollface.” He charmed, his tone having a hint of sensuality to it.

You brushed it off, most men and women that come through these parts tend to flirt with you anyways. It wasn't like he meant anything by it. At least that's what you were made to assume.

As the night wore on, tending to customers and scattered glasses, you noticed the same man lingering for longer than the typical bargoer. He had only ordered two drinks and was drinking them slowly. Occasionally you would sense his gaze on you, sometimes you’d catch him staring, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he shamelessly checked you out. Though numerous others did the same thing, something was different… Maybe it was the way the other men usually cat-called you and he didn’t utter a single word. Maybe it was just that he was so mysterious, you didn’t know his name or his story. All you knew was he was fine as hell and he clearly thought the same about you.

It was nearly two in the morning, the moonlight providing a crisp glow to the dim bar. You were trying to close up, most of the customers had already left. Most… except him. The man in question was on his fourth drink since his arrival around eight o’clock that same evening. His glass wasn’t even half empty. “I need to close up.” You said clearly, grabbing a rag to wipe down the tables with. The man simply picked up his glass, putting it to his lips. “Just give me a little to finish my drink, love. I won’t cause you any trouble.” He mused, a chuckle dying on his tongue as he sipped his whiskey, the warmth of the alcohol burning his throat in the most devine way.

As you worked on cleaning the first of many tables you let out a hum. “Fine, but finish it before I finish my cleaning.” your voice came out firm and he didn’t dare question your authority. “Yes ma'am.” He echoed. The next ten minutes were an oddly comfortable silence, your cleaning going uninterrupted. As time ticked on you couldn’t help but begin to feel more intrigued by the man sitting silently at your bar. You finished up your tables, working up the courage to break the silence once more.

Walking across the room you grabbed the broom, beginning to sweep up the sand and other nuisances that kept you busy so late after business.”So what’s your name, outlaw?” You ask, trying to prevent yourself from seeming just as interested as you were.

“Now why would you want to know that, darling?” He remarked, a dry chuckle echoing throughout the bar. “Why ruin such a beautiful mystery? Do you want to turn me in or something, sugar?” His words took a moment to register in your mind, but you couldn’t help but scoff. “Turn you in? Do you have any clue how bad for business that would be? I couldn’t care less about what you’ve done, sugar.” you sniped back, a look of intrigue crossing the man’s face as you finished sweeping the floor.

“The name is Gunwook.” He took a swig of his drink, the glass clunking as he sat it against the counter, a smirk playing against his plump lips. His gloved fingers tapped the counter, something impatient as you moved to the task of wiping down the bartop. You slowly cleaned in his direction, tackling the barstools as you went. As you reached him, you could see a playful grin tug at his features. “Seems I need a bit more time to finish my drink.” He murmured, looking at his drink.

You rolled your eyes. “How much time do you need?” He had probably had that one drink for going on an hour now, Gunwook knew he was testing your patience, you could tell by how he spoke. Through the slight annoyance, you had to assume he had another intention lurking at this bar in the middle of nowhere. “How much time can you give me, baby?” your stomach churned at the nickname, a blush rising up to your ears. Gotcha… Gunwook smirked, gripping your hip with his large hand. He could sense your growing desire and decided to seize the moment, the slight buzz he had acting as excess confidence.

You felt your breath hitch, his firm touch searing into your skin. Your eyes scanned his, lust glimmering behind his deep brown eyes that matched the same desire you could feel growing between your legs. “I suppose there’s a few ways you could… occupy me..” your voice was not but a hushed whisper, Gunwook’s thumb massaging your hip with a sly smile. “I’m sure I can arrange that.” His hand slipped under your shirt and around your waist, his strong arms pulling you closer. His eyes darkened as he looked at your lips, not wasting a single second more before his lips crashed onto yours. His plush lips were intoxicating, his tongue slipping into your mouth seething with silent desperation. The malty flavor of the whiskey he’s been drinking making you feel dizzy.

His lips break the kiss only to move to your neck, muttering against it in between kisses. “Tell me gorgeous, what do you want?” Your breathing was already uneven, your eyes fluttering shut as you relished in his kisses. “You.” you whispered, feeling dazed. He didn’t wait for confirmation, his hands flying to the button on your pants, unfastening it and flipping you around to press you against the counter. You let out a slight whimper, looking over your shoulder. His lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll make you feel good…” He cooed, pushing your pants and underwear down in one swift motion.

Gunwook’s clothed cock presses against your now bare pussy, your slick coating the front of his black pants. “Please.” you writhe, pushing against him. His cock wasn't just a want anymore, but a need. He takes the glove on his right hand, biting the leather at the tip and pulling it off, tossing it onto the counter haphazardly before dipping between your folds with two fingers, spreading your lips, feeling just how wet you were. “God darling, you're dripping.” His words were laced with a tantalizing level of lust. You whined, but were quickly shushed by the sound of his zipper being swiftly yanked down and the sound of fabrics moving as he pulled his dick out.

Within seconds, his tip was sliding against your entrance, teasing you. You could already feel his swollen tip and just how thick it was. “I might just break you, sweetheart.” He mused, one hand on your hip, keeping you bent at the waist over the counter and the other gripping the base of his cock as he slowly pushed in. He was massive, stretching you out seemingly more and more every centimeter he slid in. His lips met your neck, kissing and sucking along the sensitive skin to help distract you from the discomfort. You were relieved he was taking it slow so as to not hurt you. He may not be a good guy, but he wasn't a monster at least.

As he bottomed out, his tip was pressing against your cervix. Gunwook let out a deep groan as he pressed his lips against your shoulder. “You are so fucking tight.” He breathed, halting all movement, giving you both a short minute to adjust before he slowly pulled out. You could feel the veins lining his cock as he moved, a breathy moan falling from your lips as your mouth fell open. When he was almost out he pushed back in quickly, causing you to jolt forwards. “Fuck!” You yelp out, your pussy instinctively clenching around him.

A gravelly and amused chuckle coming from behind you as he started to repeat his action, the yelp slowly morphing into a series of high pitched moans as his hips slowly sped up into a steady pace. His hips were pounding into yours, one hand both pressing your back into an arch, pushing your shirt up out of the way and stabilizing your jostling from his harsh thrusts as his hand reached next to you both on the counter, picking up his whiskey from the counter.

The water ring that had formed under the beverage from condensation clinging to the bottom of the glass as it was lifted, Gunwook placing the glass to his lips sipping it as the cool water dripped onto your lower back. His thrusts didn’t falter as he held the glass, your moans echoing throughout the empty bar as his cock abused your pussy. “G-gunwook,” you mewled, looking over your shoulder at the outlaw, his eyebrows furrowed in focus as he watched his length moving in and out of you. “G-gonna cum!” you warned, the coil in your stomach tightening more and more. Gunwook looked at you, amused. “Already baby?” he taunted, though he had to admit, he wasn't doing any better himself, his balls were already tightening, yearning for release.

He downed the rest of his whiskey, discarding the glass onto the counter before slapping your ass, gripping your hips with both hands. He sped up, fucking you faster, harder, deeper. You were practically seeing stars, strangled moans and curses practically being screamed as he fucks you into your orgasm, you were squirting on his cock, your gummy walls fluttering around him as pure ecstasy washed over you. With a fucked out expression, the additional squeezing around his dick, your angelic moans and the surprise of you squirting causes Gunwook’s hips to stutter, him pushing his length into you as far as it’ll go as his orgasm overtook him suddenly. A guttural moan makes its way out of his throat as he rocks his hips slowly, emptying his load into you. He’s still dazed as he pulls out slowly, his cock still letting out little spurts of his thick cum, his cock slowly softening, beginning to hang heavily between his legs. His cum started to leak out of you, dripping out and onto the floor where the puddle of your own release was.

Gunwook grabbed his handkerchief, using it to wipe his length off before tucking himself back into his pants and gently cleaning you up. You whimpered in overstimulation, to which he shushed you, putting your garments back over your body and giving you a kiss to your shoulder as you stood up on shaky legs. He then dug in his wallet, sitting a good amount of money on the counter. “This should cover the whiskey, no?” He chuckled, gathering his things. “Seems I kept my promise to be finished before you got done cleaning up. Have a good night doll, maybe we will run into each other again sometime.” He winked at you as he left, leaving you to finish tidying up the bar with a bruised cervix and a limp that lasted the rest of the week.

[saltycharacters]

[ID: Digital artwork starring several characters from Mob Psycho 100. The 1st features Tome Kurata, Shigeo "Mob" Kageyama, and Dimple, the two teens frozen in a walking/running position while facing away from each other as Dimple floats above their heads. Tome looks jovial and is pointing upwards, as drawings of aliens and space decorate her side of the page, while Mob looks more neutral, grasping a sunflower in his hand as broccolis and other plants sprout from his side. Next drawing is of Shou Suzuki, posing before a grey background with his red aura in full force around him. His back his facing the audience as he cranes his face for us to see, grinning smugly and somewhat threateningly. Final page is a compilation of some shitposts, including (from left to right): cat Mob, cat Ritsu, and cat Teruki exploring a large cardboard box with the words "GLADIATOR ARENA" framing the image as a twitter post, a two-panel comic with Serizawa muttering, "Are our perceptions of reality distorted by the current zeitgeist??" as Reigen nonchalantly responds, "Don't worry kitten", which leads to the next panel of them happily holding hands as Serizawa says, "Okay <3 Yay <3", Tome looking up at a wasp's nest in a tree as she muses, "I think if I go in with an open heart then this swarm of wasps will listen to reason", and finally Teruki, looking disheveled and angry, states, "I can do whatever the FUCK I want, I can do whatever I want, I can do anything, I'm like mewtwo" as Mob and Dimple stare at him, unamused. End ID]

More Shmops

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Historical Au: Slave!Jinwoo x Noble!Reader ◛⑅˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 036 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Slavery, Violence, Yandere Jinwoo, Familial Abuse, strong language. Please don't read this fic if it is triggering or uncomfortable for you. I do not condone slavery nor do encourage such acts. This is simply a work of fiction ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Cai Bot Link ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Devotion or Obsession? ] ¡! ❞

"A gift for you, my dear child" Your father mused as an 18 year old teenager, tattered and chained, was dragged to the floor and forced to kneel in-front of you Jinwoo looked up at you with expressionless gray eyes, his face was covered in dirt and his shirt was extremely filthy. "Hi." Jinwoo greeted you humbly.

"Father!" You shrieked, flicking the fabrics of your dress as you hurriedly knelt towards the slave and tried to support his limp figure.

He was hardly even concious with his bleary and sleepy eyes, his clothes are covered in grime and dirt as his face was dusted with blood and something else. He looked not much older nor younger than you, and yet all this man was made of was skin and bones.

"Why so upset, my dear?" Your father sneers, humming as he swirls a glass of wine in his his hand. "It's your birthday after all. Daddy thought that should be gifted, no?"

"But I didn't ask for a slave or anything at all!" You protest, only to be met by a domineering glare that instantly made you close your mouth.

"Be grateful, you goddamn pig" He bites, making you feel even more terrified than you older were. "If it weren't for the fact your fucking wench of a mother making a goddamn fuss before dying you wouldn't be here. The least you could do is accept whatever the fact I give you"

He calms down, continuing "That child was only a few silver coins. If you dont want him I could always give him to your sisters or work him to death."

"N-no!" You protest immediately, shivering at the thought of what your father might decide to do. "I-I'll keep him... I'll take care of him."

"There's a good girl," He chuckles, "Start with the imprinting."

You gulp, anxiously looking at Jinwoo who was tired beside you, he looked like he just wanted to to be done with everything.

"Your... Uhm..." His eyes would sweep towards you with an empty grey gaze. "Name?"

"Jinwoo." He says shortly.

"Alright, uhm, Jinwoo..." You hold your palm out. "It'll tickle, I have't done this before s-so—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, stretching his scarred left hand towards yours and pressing it together.

You tremble at the touch, not of disgust— But instead you were nervous. If you screw this up, you might get another beating or worse,... Something might happen to Jinwoo.

So with the little mana you hold; you started pouring energy out as a soft gentle light comes as the brilliant and pretty things somehow turned into pitch black and purple shadows— Twisting and churning before attaching themselves to both of your ring fingers.

Jinwoo seemed unamused, but your father certainly was.

"Now, get out of my sight" Your father simply said after recovering from the spectacle. "Your sisters are about to arrive, you bring a sour expression to their wonderful faces, so leave"

You could only respond with a polite bow as you helped Jinwoo up to his feet and guided him out of the main house.

There wasn't even a carriage prepared for the both of you as you silently walked towards the far west inside a forest and then finally arriving at a crude but somehow decent looking manor.

Jinwoo watched and followed you as you guided him to a dusty bedroom and sat him down before fetching a small chest with ointments and bandages. Though his gaze was still empty, he was looking at you with curiosity, wondering why exactly you're doing this.

"I'm your slave," Jinwoo breaks the silence. "Aren't you supposed to leave this to your servants?"

"Hahah... Sorry." You apologize, making him quirk up an eyebrow. "Your master is pathetic, I have no servant in my name."

He doesn't question that situation, instead asking; "Then why do it yourself? I can patch myself up just fine."

"Maybe... Because I feel guilty?" You fidget, applying ointment on him after wiping his arm. "It's my... Birthday and yet because of it you're here. I'm sorry."

"Don't." He simply said, not meeting your eyes as he looks out to the distant skies. outside your broken window. "It's not your fault. And besides, here is better than just wherever."

The silence ensues, nothing much being said any further as you directed Jinwoo to an empty room. He was given a decent place to sleep in. It was odd, since this bedroom seemed more comfortable compared to yours that was even more shabby and dusty.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It an odd situation, not once did you have ever treat Jinwoo as a slave, you were often on your own in your little garden at the backyard and farming vegetables for both of you to eat.

Jinwoo actively avoided you for quite a while, before deciding that since he lives with you and is technically leeching off of you— He might as well be useful.

And in those days where he helped you, the walls that Jinwoo had built around himself crumbled the more time passed by.

For a while, he was happy, you were happy.

You were both happy.

That was until you had to attend a gathering with your family that had abandoned you.

Of course, you had to dress in your shabby and outdated dress, to which everyone in the ballroom responds with mockery and spite. Jinwoo expected it, sure he's mad, but there's nothing he could do since he is nothing more but a damn slave who cant even defend his own master.

With heads hung low like cowards, the both of you decided to just stay in a corner and be as far away from any and all interactions. It went well for the first hour.

Admiring the brilliant lights and listening to wonderful music around you. Nobility is truly such a beautiful thing, golden plates, silver spoons, brilliant and gleaming jewels stitched into fine fabrics made by highly respectable and sought after tailors.

Jinwoo wanted to admire the scene with you, he truly did.

After all, he spent most of his days being dragged through the mud, his body being flogged over and over just for the fun of a drunk knight, or worse— Hard labour with only a piece of bread you can barely chew on due to how hard it is.

Compared to the grueling days he spent sleeping on the dirt, compared to the devastation he had as he cradled his dearly beloved little sister's corpse when she died of starvation— The sight of these luxurious tiles is mercy upon his pitiful soul.

...

Jinwoo's face drained of it's colours as he watches your elder sister yell at you for simply trying to greet her. A simple greet.

That was all it took for you to be on your knees frantically saying sorry with your voice as humble and as quiet as it can be.

He felt so hopeless, so frozen as he sees your pretty face scrunch in grief at your own actions that isnt even in the wrong in the first place.

So why must you kneel? Why must you humiliate yourself like this?

They stare at you with those sly eyes, as if finding your misery a source of entertainment. Sneers and chuckles would come with each insult being thrown your way.

Was it your fault you were born as the bastard child of the duke when it was your father who willingly went to brothels and slept with multiple women. It wa sonly your mother who stepped up confidently to demand your father to take you in despite the fact that she is currently dying of birth complications. Your mother did all of that just so you could live a comfortable life.

And instead here you were, being punished over something you didn't do.

Isn't family supposed to love eachohter? Jinwoo loved his baby sister so much. So why is he watching another older sibling throw wine at their own blood just for breathing?

Jinwoo felt so... Devastated, his dear companion, his master. His own master— Is being ridiculed right in front of him.

The person he was sold to, the person who took care of him—

"Don't touch him, eonnie!" You scream, throwing yourself right in front of Jinwoo despite the fact you're already soaking wet from the wine splattered all over your pretty face and your already ruined dress. "Please, he's innocent. He's imprinted to me, but he shouldn't receive any punishment. We'll go, eonnie, we'll go. Please don't touch him."

You're protecting him.

That bastard woman would have continued her assault if it werent for her dear father stopping her and saying it's a waste of time dealing with a bunch of lowlifes.

Thus, the two of you were escorted— No, thrown out the main palace.

Jinwoo followed behind you towards the path of your shabby manor, and as the blowing wind caressed your skins,... You broke down.

"Sorry, sorry, Jinwoo." You sob as the man threw his arms around you. "I'm sorry, it was my fault, you shouldn't have seen that. I'm so sorry, Jinwoo. I really am. Please forgive me. Don't be mad at me.

"Why are you asking me those questions?" He asks, his soft voice barely even able to control his trembling voice. "You're my owner, shouldn't I be begging for forgiveness?"

"No, no," You sob even louder.

And Jinwoo couldn't do anything else but comfort you.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo didnt know how, but he managed to put you into sleep right after taking you home. He delivered some spare clothes to you for you to change in. He tucked you in under the shabby blankets and watched over you.

His gaze was stuck on you, contemplating deeply while guilt slowly clawed at his heart.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

"You'll get her killed." A voice suddenly says, and Jinwoo shot up, blocking his arm in front of you as you slept.

"Who—"

"Shut up"

The voice suddenly came from behind him, and when Jinwoo looked back— He could see a pair of purple eyes glaring at him. He can't quite see the face of the man, it was too pitch black and the moon isnt out tonight. He tried grabbing the vase on the sidetable but something had stopped him.

He can't quite tell, but it was as if the air itself is holding him back as those wicked and colr purple eyes glanced at him from the darkness right beside your sleeping form.

"You really think a damn vase can scare off an intruder?" The man scoffs. "You're pathetic."

"Who are you?" Jinwoo asks again, struggling to move as quiet murmurs surrounded him.

"Some guy" He answers.

"You must be one of those—"

"Ssh." The purple eyes gaze up at him again. "You'll wake the princess up with your voice."

Jinwoo shut his mouth, biting down on his lip as once again he felt so utterly hopeless. Not to mention the air around the stranger was absolutely wicked and somehow... Demonic? Otherwordly?

It was a feeling akin to staring at the abyss, the unkown that makes your skin crawl and itch.

That man is dangerous.

Dangerous But Not Hostile.

"That sister of hers," The man starts, his voice a little tense. "Will get her killed in a few years."

"Excuse me?"

"She'll die, and her blood will be on you, Jinwoo" He grits his teeth. "Just like your sister's who died from starvation, just like your mother who died from sickness, just like your father who died in your arms saving you from a bandit— Her blood will be on your hands just like theirs that is already on you."

"....."

"So quiet, now, huh? You're crying?" He sneers, the voice suddenly coming from behind him. "Crying wont do you any good, you fucking idiot."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" Jinwoo yells, struggling as he tried to face the man. "I'm not strong, I'm built like a twig. I'm trying, okay? But I'm just a slave. This house is goddamn shabby, I've been trying to fix everything but it's lacking. I can barely even help in the farm, not to mention it's almost winter soon and if she wont die by that bitch's hands then she'll die because of this house! What the hell do you think I can do? I'm trying here and nothing is working!"

"...."

Of course he doesn't want to be in this situation either. Who does? He already lost his family, his blood, his precious kin— All gone and he couldnt do anything about. It was a hopeless situation. Of course, he tried getting a job in the capital since you let him roam as he pleases. He tried some odd jobs, several of them ranging from ordinary helper jobs to cleaning shoes to seeling newspapers; nothing is working.

He lost his family because of his weakness, and because of that same weakness he'll loose you too.

"Hypothetically, you are given a guide to becoming extremely strong to protect her but in the process you loose your sanity along the way as well as your emotions" The voice says, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room as he walked around Jinwoo like a ghost. "How far are you willing to go?"

"Farther than the limit."

"Even if you lose your limbs along the way?"

"Yes."

"Even if you get mauled by beasts?"

"Yes."

"Even if you go mad by the power you'll soon hold?"

"Yes."

"Even if you must become a murderer?"

"Yes."

"I'll do it."

"I'll do it all for her sake."

"Good" The voice hums, satisfied.

Jinwoo starts feeling dizzy, his legs giving in as he felt himself collapse on something soft.

"Protect her." The stranger's tone becomes gentle. "Where I failed to do so, be better than me. Devote yourself to her. Protect the heart that is more precious than anything in this world. Even if you go through hell, you must protect her. You must love her. Give her all the adoration you can ever give. Because I couldn't protect my princess. So don't make the same mistake."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo had received the system from that night ever since. He had been busy from then on, often going out in the day and coming back in the evenings tired but somehow... A little different.

He'd go on long trips sometimes, which you honestly didn't mind so long as he promises to come home.

Soon enough, that same lanky, 18 year old boy— Is suddenly a head taller than you that you physically have to strain your neck just so you can meet with him eye-to-eye. Jinwoo had become from a lanky boy to a different person in just a blink of an eye in a matter of months.

Each long week he disappears; he comes back even more mature and lax in his demeanour. THe next thing you knew, Jinwoo enrolled himself as a hunter.

You're proud of him, of course you are.

That's your Jinwoo.

Your precious, precious and sweet Jinwoo who always stuck by your side even if you are a noble who had no servant to her name and a manor fit to be deemed as a haunted home.

The wealth would soon come pouring in with each succesful hunt Jinwoo goes through. And the more powerful his bounties were, the more famous he became. The money he accumulated directly went into rebuilding the shabby manor into an opulent home worthy of a duke's daughter. Your filthy, ragged dresses were replaced by finely crafted fabrics. Your neck and ears would be adorned in the meek but captivating jewelry.

Of course, he still had that title of slave over his head but weirdly enough... Jinwoo seemed to carry it as a badge of honor.

Why?

Because he was yours.

What's he is yours.

Naturally, jealous eyes come your way as the your dear hunter is now the most sought after. Who wouldn't want him anyway? Tall, handsome, a hunter— He is the embodiment of what is lusted for with a man.

And yet he never once bat an eye to those arrogant nobles who offered him the finest of fine wealth could ever give.

Love letters from all over the kingdom pine for your precious Jinwoo.

And yet he still chose you.

Those steely grey eyes of him would solely be for you and you only.

He looked a you like you are his precious goddess.

You Jinwoo is so... So Innocent and lovely.

Even as he held your father's severed head on his hand.

Even as a pool of blood puddled beneath his feet. Even as his grey orbs have turned purple. Even as the opulent pearl tiles reflected his maddened figure.

Your Jinwoo is just so... So lovely.

His heart, oh, his heart belonged to you. His innocent, pretty little master who looks up at him with a bewildered but awestruck gaze— He knew you weren't mad.

"I did it all for you, princess" Jinwoo would coo, cupping your face and swiping his thumb affectionately over cheek. "They were trying to make you cry again. We can't have that"

He whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "After all, I am yours. We're already binded by a contract. Even if it didn't exist I'd still choose the same choice I have made now."

He holds up his hand, pressing his palm against yours as the tattooes rings on your ring fingers glowed purple.

"See? Even our mark is like wedding rings" He intertwines your fingers together before bringing it up to his lips and kissing the mark on you. "It's okay. It's okay. This is for your own good."

"This is all for your sake, my precious god."

"This bloodbath is an offering for you."

꒰ A/N: idk what I made nor do I wanna know. The plot is all over the place wheeze. I'm quaking at writer's block. I should not write for Jinwoo until I get the energy back. I'm so mindblocked with him maybe it's because I cant draw fanart of him atm. ahhhhhhhhhh ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[someonexsomeone]

Sweetness

Title: Sweetness

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James Potter x Lily Evans

Summary: The Marauders LOVED to watch you with Remus.

Authors Note: this was actually born from another fic i was writing that i hated scrapped and kept one sentence from lmao

“What are you idiots up to now?” 

There was very little that could rattle Lily Evans. Her sister, Severus Snape, and, as reluctant as she wanted to admit it, James Potter, were just a few people, not to mention the very Gryffindor nature she adopted over the years making her susceptible to reckless actions, but she was getting the hang of it, honest! It was just that stupid Potter that set her on edge without having to do anything, and then he’d bat his pretty eyelashes at her and--

Ugh. Thinking about him made her feel nauseous.

She’d done her best to avoid Potter as much as possible, not that Dumbledore made it any easier assigning them as Head Girl and Boy (despite her many protests), but he seemed adamant on sticking by her side. Or, as Marlene suggested, not that Lily believed it anyway, that Potter was simply going about his day to day life and they just happened to share a few classes together and of course he would sit near her in the Great Hall since it was practically commonplace to sit near your yearmates, and why was she paying so close attention to him anyway?

“Because he’s so annoying it's impossible to ignore. Like a moldy cheese, his stink of annoyance just fills a room.”

“You know, Lily,” Marlene teased, drawing out every word. “Some people think smelly cheese is irresistible.”

She stormed away before she could think that her red face was attributed to anything but anger.

So, imagine her surprise when, the very person she was trying to avoid, was acting more a fool than usual, his butt hanging out of a classroom door with none of the decorum required of a Head Boy. Though, she mused, why did she expect anything different from him, even if he’d been acting more mature this term.

His goofy shocked face caused her heart to flutter, another symptom of her annoyance.

“Lily!” Potter whisper-shouted, somehow being incapable of speaking quietly even when it was so obvious he was trying. Sirius Black, used to his antics, knocked a knobby elbow into his side from his position on the floor, playful glare on his face as he shushed his better half.

“Quiet!” Black hissed, voice just as loud. Potter didn’t seem to notice, sending him a sheeping smile.

“Sorry!” he said, though his voice was only lower in pitch, not volume. Lily rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were studying with Marlene?”

“Stalking me now, Potter?” She was shocked, however, when Potter flushed red instead of his flirty remark.

“I-I would never! You know that, don’t you?” And then, as if he realized how pathetic he sounded, his mouth twitched into a grimace. “Unless, you--…you want me to?”

“Oh Merlin,” Black sighed, shaking his head, voice exasperated. “Marlene told us in case Dorcas finished her meeting with Professor Gropmorph early.”

This time, it was Lily who flushed in embarrassment. Thankfully, Remus took the perfect moment to open the door to the classroom, unamusement clear, even as Potter and Black toppled like dominoes face first onto Remus’s shoes.

“What are you idiots doing now?” Lily felt her chest swell in kinship, even as Remus’s face dropped in shock at spotting her standing there. “Lily?”

“I promise,” she said quickly, “I have nothing to do with this!”

“What…what are you doing here? What are any of you doing here?”

“Well, you see--!” Black scrambled to his feet, knocking James over in his attempt to get up faster. “I was just--...we were just--...”

“Rounds!” James shouted, gracelessly, despite his usual athleticism, using the door frame to pull himself up. Once he was on his feet, he swung an arm around Lily. When she tried to sidestep away from him, he kept his arm firm, and she pretended to hate it. “We were just doing rounds, right, Evans?”

It was a miracle these marauders didn’t get into more trouble if this is what they were like when they were lying. James was staring down at her with his big brown eyes, twinkling with hope. Black was making a subtle motion to play along, though it was in clear view of Remus, who eyed them suspiciously.

Why me?, she thought, miserably.

“...Yeah,” she finally said, though the moment had stretched on for far too long to be convincing. Black face palmed.

“Rounds? But it’s not even dinner yet?”

James cursed under his breath. Lily rolled her eyes. How could he forget his best friend was a prefect?

“It’s those new Head rounds, right?” Black provided. James slumped in relief, immediately nodding along.

“Yep! Yeah, new rounds for Head Girl and Boy. Wouldn’t have taken the job if I knew there was so much to do!” James laughed too loud, then abruptly stopped, whipping his head down to look at Lily. “Not that I’m not responsible! I agreed, so I’ll follow through. Promise!”

“...okay,” Remus agreed, drawing out the sound to fill the sudden awkward silence. He eyes Black, almost looking like he was going to ask what he was doing there, then decided better and kept the question to himself. Lily didn’t blame him. “Well, have fun…?”

“Yes, yes! You as well, whatever mysterious thing you’re doing in there!” Black babbled, practically pushing Remus back into the room, throwing a glare over his shoulder. 

Just before the door shut, Lily swore she saw a familiar silhouette.

With the door now closed, and Black assured that Remus was far enough away, he whipped around, voice exasperated as he said, “Way to go, Prongs.”

“What?” Lily shrugged off Potter’s arm, and he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Oh, sorry. I panicked.”

“I could tell.” She made a show of whipping off her shoulder, but made no move to walk away. “What were you even doing?”

Potter opened his mouth to respond, but Black launched himself, covering his mouth with both hands. Potter's eyes widened, grabbing Black’s arms to push him away.

“Why are you curious? We’re not breaking any rules,” Black said suspiciously, voice trembling as he held his hands still. Lily eyed the two, Potter obviously not putting all his strength into the fight, then looked at the door.

“Remus is allowed to be in there,” she said instead of responding. She turned to Black, crossing her arms and standing her ground. “You, however, are being incredibly rude by spying on him.”

“He’s our friend,” Black argued, as if that justified his actions.

“Friends don’t spy on each other.”

“Friends don’t keep secret lovers.”

Immediately, the two looked at each other in equal shock, eyes widening in unison. Potter used the distraction to finally free his mouth, playfully spitting on the floor.

“Ugh, wash your hands, Pads.”

Lily blinked owlishly at Black, who looked horrified at what he revealed.

“Remus is dating--”

“We don’t know for sure,” James said before she could continue, warily glancing at the closed door. Deciding it would be best to move away, he nodded his head at Black, then gestured Lily down the hall, an illusion of privacy she found she appreciated. Once they were a good ways down, where the door all but disappeared into the lopsided cobbled wall, James continued, “It’s just a hunch we’ve had.”

“A hunch?” 

“Our Moony is very protective of his pack--” Potter coughed pointedly at Black, who just rolled his eyes, “--of friends.”

“What he means,” James cut in, “is that Moony is very selective of who he gets close to. Childhood trauma and all that. He just hasn’t gotten around to introducing us yet.”

Lily thought they were being very nonchalant for discussing childhood trauma, but she shrugged it off, reminding herself these were the boys who thought dungbombs were funny because they smelled like farts.

“And you were…what, trying to find a good time to introduce yourselves?” Potter turned sheepish while Black laughed.

“Not…not exactly.”

“Not that you would know, dear Evans, but our Moony is quite the romantic.”

“Remus? Remus Lupin?” Lily conjured the shy Remus she knew, the one who stuttered the first time they interacted, who she recalled being too quiet to stand up to his friends’ wrongdoings, but helped in every other instance. Remus, who she rarely saw with anyone but his roommates, despite the countless people throwing themselves at his feet for a date.

Black nodded, long hair swinging around his shoulders.

“The most. Would put Calyna Ollapianne to shame.” Although Lily was lost, no doubt one of many pop culture wizards she hadn’t had the time to discover, the way Potter was nodding his head made her inclined to believe it was a good thing. Maybe Mary would know, she wondered to herself, she’s always been into wizarding things.

“And, you see, he’s shy.” To this, Lily nodded. “So, when he does fancy someone, he doesn’t always have the courage to say something.”

“Except!” Black’s mischievous smile made her nervous. “Our dear Moony, who usually runs away tail between his legs when a pretty thing walks by, is currently locked in a room, far from other students or distractions, supposedly tutoring a very pretty thing.”

Lily stopped, her two companions falling in line to look at her, identical smiles on their faces. If she didn’t know Black had been staying with the Potter’s, she might have been weirded out. Instead, she only felt confusion, looking back over her shoulder to the hallway they just abandoned. Black was practically bouncing on his feet as he waited for her response.

“So…”

“Yes?”

“Remus is currently tutoring a fellow classmate and your…disrupting him?” Black sighed dramatically, obviously not what he was expecting to hear from her.

“Come on, Evans. You’re not the littlest bit curious?” He gestured down the hall. “We just let you in on one of our biggest secrets and you can’t even give me a dramatic gasp?”

“One of--?”

“We don’t bother them,” Potter reassured before she could continue, giving her a softer smile, one that relaxed her nerves, as much as she hated to admit it. “We just…want to make sure he’s doing alright. Provide emotional support, or whatever.”

Lily looked, really looked, at James as he stuttered over his words, pointedly avoiding her eyes. Even with his tanned skin, she could see the beginnings of a flush creeping up his neck, painting the tips of his ears rosy. The more she looked, the more he stammered, hands waving wildly, knocking into Black, though neither of them really acknowledged it, too busy studying her or too used to it, she didn’t know. She tucked away the knowledge that her stare made him stumble over her words.

By the time his voice was getting shrill, pathetically forming messy sentences that somehow implicated him and Black in a torrid affair with Remus, a familiar boy rounded the corner.

“Hey! Sorry, am I late?” Pettegrew called, face red and sweaty from no doubt running to meet up with his friends. “I got here as fast as I could.”

Though Remus was by far her favorite Seventh Year boy, Peter Pettigrew was high on her list, thanks to his inability to talk without his friends nearby. Lily hadn’t had many interactions with him, beyond the odd Gryffindor camaraderie at matches and being paired up in class, but there was something about the way he followed along behind his friends, as if he was completely spineless, set her on edge. Pathetic, she hated to admit, was one of the few words she associated with him, and she felt bad enough about it that she often went out of her way to be extra kind to him. Like now, as she gave him a small smile. Pettigrew gave her a toothy one in return when he spotted her.

“Oh, Evans! I didn’t know you liked watching Moony too!”

“Watching…?”

“Yeah!” He laughed, setting Black and Potter on edge. “These two are obsessed with watching Moony get all lovey--”

“You’re such a snitch!” Black yelped before he could continue, locking Pettigrew’s head in the crook of his arm, pushing his fist into the top of his head and rubbing until both of their hair was askew.

“I thought you were there to provide ‘moral support’?” Lily questioned, side eyeing Potter, who started to stutter again. 

It should have been obvious, she mused, that they were lying about being there for his friend. As long as she’s known them, they were always up to something. Niceties hiding deception, innocence hiding trickery. Even if he’d matured in the past term, actually being a good Head Boy despite her reluctance to admit it, old habits die hard.

“We really are! It’s just--...It’s just…” Potter’s stutter, despite usually making her want to roll her eyes, made her feel a little bad. After all, they were a collection of contradictions. Who's to say he couldn't be spying for good and bad reasons? She nearly pinched herself at the thought.

Black, noticing his friend's dilemma, loosened his hold to step closer. Pettigrew used the distraction to pull his head away, surprisingly knocking a leg out to trip Black, sending him tumbling into Potter, and both of them onto the floor.

“They're looney,” Pettegrew rushed out, a mischievous smile on his face. Potter and Black wiggled against each other on the floor, untangling limbs to stop their friend from saying more. “Obsessed with how Moony gets all soft. Did they tell you their favorite thing is when he stands behind to guide wand movement with his whole body? ‘Oh, Prongs, hold me like Moony does!’, ‘Pads, Pads! Do you think they’ll kiss later?’!”

“Snitch!” Potter shouted this time, launching himself across the floor towards Pettigrew’s knees, knocking them down. The two grappled on the floor, Pettigrew laughing while Potter stuttered apologies towards Lily, swearing they weren’t creeps, while Black rose beside her, cackling and cheering them on, an annoying ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ that brought on a migraine she did not need to deal with right now. 

“What are you doing?” All four of them froze, the unexpected stern voice rattling them to their bones. 

Lily was the first to turn, wince pulling her eyebrows to her nose as she watched Remus hurry down the hall, obvious exasperation on his face. She felt even worse as she spotted you trailing behind him. It was obvious they weren’t as quiet as they hoped, pulling you from the tutoring session Remus had gone through the trouble of renting a room for.

“Lily?” You called, evidently more confused to see her than the two locked in a wrestle on the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I was--...I was just--…” She felt foolish stumbling over her words like that. It was a public hallway, she had every right to be here just as the others did, and she wasn’t one of the bubbling fools getting their uniforms dirty while they rolled on the floor. Well, she wasn’t one of the fools, but she had to admit she was very much bumbling.

“Why are you two always on the floor?” Remus said, exasperated. He reached down, hauling Pettigrew to his feet, much to Potter’s dismay, who had to rise on his own, Black still too busy eyeing you up. She could have sworn she saw Remus send a sharp glare in Black’s direction, but the harshness completely vanished as he looked at you again. Instead of the mean look he reserved for his friends, his eyebrows relaxed, face going rosy as he apologized. “I’m sorry, we’re meant to be studying.”

“Yeah, studying…” Black murmured under his breath, much too loud to be a private thought. Lily stomped on his foot not too discreetly in retaliation. “Merlin’s beard--!”

She turned to stick her tongue out at him, a very irresponsible thing to do as Head Girl but there was something about these troublemakers that made her feel like a little kid again, but before she could do more, Potter elbowed her harshly in the side. When she whipped toward him, he had an embarrassed flush on his face, evidently not meaning to hit her so hard, but he gestured quickly back to you. Only curiosity had her pulling her eyes away from him.

“It’s alright, Rem.” Lily watched as Remus all but melted at the nickname, easily dodging around the group to return to your side. His hand hovered over your shoulder, then dropped, either too nervous or too aware of the watching eyes to actually touch you. It didn’t stop his fingers, however, from twitching towards you as you gave him a smile. “It’s getting close to dinner anyway.”

“Sorry about them.” 

Black wiggled his eyebrows at Lily as Remus’s voice dropped to something sickly sweet, lower and smoother than she was used to hearing. However, as he flicked his eyes towards his friends, all in unison the boys whipped their heads away, whistling or otherwise pretending to not be paying attention. Lily flushed, then looked to her feet, disbelieving that she was following along. But, she hated to admit, this was much too good to walk away from.

“They're fun. And, we can always pick up where we left off tomorrow. No big deal.” You seemed to have no qualms touching him, your hand reaching out to squeeze one of his in reassurance. Lily lifted her eyes just in time to watch a scattering of goosebumps litter the back of his neck, just above the collar of his messy button up. “Same time?”

“Yeah, same time.” She could almost hear the sadness in his voice, easily picturing puppy ears sprouting from his head at how downtrodden he was at leaving you. You seemed to agree, laughing, and then reaching out to gently pat his face. “Have fun at dinner.”

“You could always join us, you know!” Black called out when you pulled away, surprising everyone by daring to speak out and break the gentle atmosphere that surrounded you two. Remus whipped his head around to glare, though he failed as his eyes widened in shock, motioning to cut it out. Potter hissed under his breath in tandem with Lily’s pinch to his side, but Black simply let a smooth smirk pull across his lips, ignoring everyone’s not so subtle hints. “Remus always talks about how much he misses you--”

In perfect unison, Lily stepped out of the way, latching onto your arm to pull you away, while James slapped one of his big hands across Black’s mouth, giving you a bright smile.

“--your tutoring lessons!” he gasped out, glancing at Remus quickly before returning his smile to you. “Loves--likes what a good student you are! Best one he’s ever had!”

“Potter was just telling me how good Remus was. Tell me about it?” Lily suggested, piggybacking off Potter’s obvious lie, tugging you down the hallway. You looked at her quizzically, obviously wondering why she suddenly was all buddy-buddy with you when you two hadn’t shared so much as a whole conversation before, but you didn’t press.

“Alright?” She felt giddy as a soft smile stretched across your lips, neck craned awkwardly so you could turn to look back at Remus, waving your hand. “Bye, Remus. Thanks again.”

“Yeah! Yes! Anytime!” Lily giggled to herself at the fumble, his hand waving a bit too frantically to be casual, but it seemed to only endear you more, nearly tripping over your feet so you could continue to look at him.

The two of you barely managed to round the corner before Black’s obnoxious voice rang out, “Way to go, Moony! You sly wolf!”

Yes, it seemed those marauding boys had a hobby of watching your interactions with Remus, somehow managing to do it in the creepiest, most intrusive way possible. But, she thought as you laughed, wistfully looking over your shoulder, she saw the appeal. 

And, if she found herself in this hallway again tomorrow, now, that was surely just a coincidence.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l hogwarts masterlist

[callumsturn]

Longing

Summary: Bucky is feeling down, and you're the only one who can bring him back to himself. Warnings: smut (18+, minors don't interact), fingering. Notes: Let me know if you'd like me to write any specific scenarios or stories :) reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Major John Bucky Egan was devastated. The news of Buck not returning from his last mission spread quickly at the base camp. You saw people try to talk to him and cheer him up in their own way, but Bucky was drenched in alcohol most of the time and with huge dark bags under his eyes. You decided it was your turn to try and bring his hopes up. Couldn't hurt.

You knocked on his door, calling out his name from the outside.

Bucky lifted his head from where he sat at the table, looking up at you with slightly bleary eyes. He cleared his throat as he pulled himself together, trying to sober up in mere seconds. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice gruff. You peered inside his room.

You knew he would brush you off if you asked if he was okay. Instead, you made him believe you needed him. "Do you mind if I come in and stay with you for a little? I can't sleep."

Bucky paused for a moment, seeming just tired enough to fall for your trick. He shifted slightly in his seat, nodding slowly as he sat up. "Yeah. Yeah, come here." he pointed to his bed. "Sit with me."

"Thanks." you spoke as you closed the door behind you and sat next to him.

Bucky watched wordlessly as you sat down next to him, leaning forward and resing his elbows on his knees. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "You said you couldn't sleep?" he questioned, tilting his head slightly so he could look at you.

You nodded. "Yeah... I had coffee, more than one cup."

He chuckled lightly, running a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah, that'll do it to ya. Caffeine's a cruel mistress like that."

"Well, I wanted some. So I had it."

"And now you have to suffer the consequences." he mused along, taking a few moments to look you over. "You look tired." he pointed out, as if it wasn't obvious.

"Thanks." you chuckled.

Bucky smirked ever so slightly, rolling his eyes. "You know what I mean. You look exhausted. When was the last time you got a full night of sleep?"

You looked at him for a second before answering. "It's been a while, actually. The infirmary's been a complete chaos lately."

His expression softened, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "When's the last time you clocked off?" he asked, a hint of protective tone in his voice.

You looked at him for a while. "It's been a couple of weeks, but it's alright, we're short on staff! And it's not like I haven't done it before!"

That answer didn't seem to appease Bucky at all. His lips pressed into a firm, unamused line and he fixe you with a stern look. "Bullshit. It's not alright. You're runnin' yourself into the ground. How many hours did you work this week?" he inquried.

"I'm not exactly counting."

Bucky sighed in frustration, shaking his head. "Of course you're not." He paused for a moment, studying you. You could almost see the gears turning as he thought about what to say next. "When's the last time you ate?" he finally questioned.

"C'mon John, I'm eating alright." you insisted.

The Major shot you a doubtful look, his expression serious. "I'm being serious. You look like you haven't had a proper meal in weeks. When's the last time you ate a full meal?"

"Maybe you can eat lunch with me tomorrow."

"I'm not asking that." he said with a sigh, his voice just barely above a whisper. "I want to know when the last time you ate a full goddamn meal was. Tell me the truth."

You looked at the door. "Yesterday, I think."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your response. "Yesterday?" he repeated. "You think?"

"Bucky, I'm alright. I'm just really tired."

His irritation grew tenfold at this, his patience at an all-time low. "You ain't alright, you're being reckless." he retorted gruffly. "Look at you, you look like a damn zombie. 'I'm just tired' my ass."

You let the room fall silent for a few seconds. "And how are you?" you finally decided to ask.

Bucky almost froze at the question. He was a mess, even he could see that for himself. For a moment, he thought about brushing off your question. Giving the standard, generic answer. But he couldn't. He knew how he was, and you deserved the truth more than anything. "Like garbage." he finally admitted, quietly after a few moments.

"I'm worried about you Bucky." you began. "You barely come by the infirmary anymore."

He lokoed down, docusing his eyes on his hands as you spoke. "I've been busy." he mumbled half heartedly, knowing damn well it was a blatant lie.

"Too busy to visit me?" you simply asked.

Bucky internally winced at that, his heart aching. "No." he said, his voice cracking slightly from guilt. "I- I just... it's hard, y'know?"

You nodded. "I get it. I can go by just fine without your visits." you tried to win him over with humor.

It seemed to work, even just slightly. He lifted his head, looking at you with a tired hino of playful sarcasmo in his eyes. "Is that so?" he questioned, a soft smile on his face.

"Oh I'm sure of it. It's been real peaceful without you pestering me at work."

He huffed, a soft chuckled escaping his lips. "That's rich, coming from you. You're always bugging me." he pointed out, shifting in his seat to get a different angle of you.

"But that you love."

"You're making that up." Bucky denied, though his smirk didn't falter. He tried so hard to ignore the flutter in his heart he got as he looked at you - his gaze almost involuntarily flicking down for a moment to your lips.

"I don't think I am." you smiled at him.

He paused, his heart giving another flutter as he saw you smile. It'd been a while since he'd seen that smile. He chuckled softly, shaling his head and running his hand through his hair. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Your expression of surprise came quickly to your face. After a few seconds in silence you spoke again. "You're drunk." You chuckled at him.

Bucky let out another soft huff at that, but he didn't deny it. "Maybe a little." he admitted, that smirk on his face returning. "And what about it?"

"You're not making sense, that's what."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that, looking at you with an amused expression. "And what about it doesn't make sense?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "I said you drive me crase. You do."

"Bucky..." you started but he interrupted you as he got closer to you, before grabbing your hand gently.

His calloused hand wrapping around yours like it belonged there. He was quiet for a moment, looking at you with a mixture of affection and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. He almost looked a little nervous.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

Another loaded question.

He opened his mouth to answer but stopped himself. His gaze falls from your face down to his hand holding yours. Bucky was quiet for a few more moments, his grip on your hand almost imperceptibly tighter. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, the words stuck in his throat. He took a shaky breath, lifting his gaze back up to your face. "No. " he finally said, shaking his head slightly as he did. "I'm not okay." His expression serious. "But you make it hurt a little less."

Bucky's eyes flicked back and forth, analising your features. He sighed softly, his guard completely down. "Look at me." he softly insisted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You did as he asked, first his eyes and then his lips. God, he was handsome, specially under the dim lights of his room.

"You have no idea," he said, his voice low, "how hard it was to stay away from you the past few weeks."

His hand kept around your own as he spoke. He could be so gentle if he wanted to. Bucky softly tun his thumb in small circles against the back of your hand, trying to focus on that instead of the growing urge within himself. "I missed you so damn much." he murmered, his voice just barely above a whisper.

You cut him off by closing the gap between your lips.

He let out a soft, almost involuntary sound as he returned the kiss, his free hand moving to cup your face. His hand fently tugged you closer, as if he was afraid you'd pull away.

In turn, you grabbed his uniform's shirt tight between your fingers, pulling him closer to you.

Any thoughts of restraint or resistance melted out of Bucky's brain the moment he felt you grab him. His hand moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you into his lap. "God, I missed you." he mumbled against your lips.

You didn't respond, just climbed on his lap and grabbed the nape of his neck with both your hands, never breaking the kiss you two shared.

Bucky let out another soft sound as you did. His hands sliding to your hips, the feeling of your body against his nearly overwhelming. He kissed you passionately, his tongue gently running along your bottom lip as if he was pleading for more.

He broke your kiss only to kiss your neck, your head rolled back as he catched it with one of his hands.

Bucky's kisses gently yet firm, as he moved along your skin. He could hear the sound of your breath catching in yout throat, his brain nearly short-circuiting from yout little sounds of pleasure.

One of his hands found its way under your dhirt, his fingers tracing along the warm skin of your back.

His hands were rough on your back, but you didn't mind it.

Bucky's lips returned to yours, his kisses a bit more desperate now. He wanted to be closer to you, to have your body against his. One of his hands slid up your body, gently resting against your ribcage. His thumb lightly teased against the underside of your breast.

His touch sent shivers through your whole body.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his chest heaving with want. "You're so damn Beautiful." he murmured, his hand gently gripping your hip as he kept you against him.

You moaned quietly at his words, the way he was holding you down on his lap by your hips was making you dizzy.

He noticed your reaction, the soft sounds of your monas driving him wild. He used his grip on your hip to push you down to grind against him slightly, a soft smirk on his face. "You like that?" he asked, his voice gruff.

You nodded out of desperation.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, rolling his hips against you to give you a but more friction. "You can't even speak, huh?" he taunted you lightly.

"I can speak." you managed to say quietly.

"Then try sayin' something." he mumbled against the skin of your neck, continuing to push his hips against you ever so slightly.

"Your hands." you pleaded him.

You heard his groan, his grip on your hips tightening as he took in your request. "What about my hands?" he mumbled, his lips moving down from your neck to your collarbone.

You let go of his neck to grab his right hand and position it near your core.

He could feel the heat practically radiating from you, the thought alone nearly sending him over the edge. His fingers gently traced along the edge of your pants, as if he was silently asking you for permission to continue. You gave it to him.

Bucky wasted no time. He was a man of action after all.

He pushed your pants to the Side, his fingertips ghosting along your soaked core. He let out another soft moan against your skin, the feeling of you driving him crazy. "You're so wet, darling." he mumbled as he started to rub small circles, moving slowly to work you up even more.

Your reactions, the little sounds you were making, the way you were grinding against his hand - it was almost too much for him to handle. His fingers teased at your entrance, occasionally slipping inside to drive you absolutely crazy. "I could listen to you all night." he mumbled, his voice low and rough with want.

"John" you trailed off.

Bucky lifted his head from your neck to look at you, his fingers still working at you. "Yeah?" he breathed out, doing his damned bect to keep some control of himself.

"I need you."

Bucky practically groaned at the sound of your voice, the want in your tone nearly making his head spin with a primal need to bury himself inside you. "Say it again." he told you breathlessly, adding a second finger inside you.

You only managed to moan louder.

"God you sound perfect." his lips just below your car. "I need you so bad it hurts."

"Please" you whined quietly.

"You don't ever have to ask me please." his voice sincere.

He lifted his head to look at you, his breathing ragged. His fingers curling slightly on their own, making you let out another delicious sound.

"Make me come." the words come out of your tired mouth.

He moved his fingers faster, adding a third, knowing exactly what to do based on the sounds you were making. "I'll take care of you. "he assured you. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

And he did. In a matter of seconds, you were coming undone on top of his lap.

Bucky watched intently as you came, his fingers working you through it. He then gently removed his hand, bringin it to his mouth and licking his fingers clean with a low moan.

His free hand moved to gently brush the hair from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek as he looked at you with affection and desire.

You looked down at him after that. "What is it?"

Bucky chuckled, gently lifting your chin for you to look at him. "You look so damn beautiful when you're all flushed like this." he told you, a hino of pride in his voice as he added, "I did that."

"Yes you did." you chuckled quietly.

His smiled returned, his hand moving to cup your cheek ever so gently. He was quiet for a moment, just studying you as he tried to find the right words. "I've been a real idiot, sweetheart." he finally said, his voice soft. "I shoud've come by sooner..."

"Don't worry about that."

"I do worry. You've gotta stop lettin' me be a dumbass, you know that?"

"Me?" you chuckled. "I have nothing to do with that!"

Bucky's grip on you tightened, his expression still serious. "Bullshit." he insisted, shaking his head. "You have everything to do with that. You could set me straight if you wanted to, I'd listen to you in a heartbeat."

You smiled at him. "The I'll be wiser with my choices from now on."

John returned your smile with a smirk, his hand moving to rest against the side of your neck. "Damn right you will be." he told you, tugging you closer to him. "Gotta make up for lost time, sweetheart."

[superblysubpar]

I Think I Only Want You, Under My Mistletoe:

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

3.6k words

summary: Meeting The Harrington's, an office Christmas party, seeing Steve's big, hard d- Desk. Get your mind out of the gutter. // The prompts: [mistletoe] - a playful or romantic kiss under a mistletoe // [BEND OVER] - one muse bends the other over a table/couch/etc. 

warnings: THIS HAS BIG SPOILERS FOR MY SERIES WE’LL CALL IT LOVE ( #a we’ll call it love blurb // we’ll call it love masterlist) - this blurb takes place only a few short weeks after the end of chapter 5: Getting Older, and before the Epilogue. | slight description of reader worrying about her appearance/comparison and anxiety about what people think of it | slight angst with Harrington parent disapproval and judgement | alcohol consumption | SMUT: semi-public (steve's office) teasing, calling Steve Mr. Harrington and sir, illusions to unprotected PIV intercourse

day 1 of 12 days of superbly subpar writing // requested by @palmtreesx3 - thank you for requesting and continuing to encourage WCIL nonsense. Hope you love it babe! 💛

Steve: You found a dress right? You: Nah, I was thinking I’d just show up in my period sweats and that sweatshirt with the stain on it.  Steve: Honey, seriously, I need confirmation.  You: 🙄 You: yes steve. I got a dress. Relax. 

You tossed more popcorn in your mouth, trying to squash the nerves he wasn’t making any better by harassing you for the last week about the dress. 

Like it wasn’t enough to have a boyfriend after swearing off love. The boyfriend you now had after confessing all dramatic and movie-like that you were falling for the guy despite thinking he was engaged. The engagement he called off because of you, much to his parents' fury. The parents you were going to meet at this party. The party at the office he had just put his notice in to quit, again because of you. 

What was there to be nervous about?

The phone next to you lit up and Robin glanced at it, and you caught the name ‘Dingus’ as she  cleared her throat and locked it. Her voice strained to sound nonchalant. 

“Can I see what you’re wearing to the party tomorrow?”

An annoyed huff and strangled cry left your mouth. “That’s it! I’m not going! I’m not!”

You stomped to the kitchen and poured more of the white wine they brought as Nancy failed to cover her smile, coughing over her laugh. 

Robin sat up on her knees, green clay mask beginning to harden on her face, so only her bright blue eyes could convey her feelings. “Just let us see it so we can tell him he has nothing to worry about and he can relax.”

Your head shook, laughing despite being unamused. “Does he think I don’t know how to dress myself? Does he think I’m gonna actually show up in something disgusting? Does he think-”

“You haven’t met the Harrington's.” Robin interrupts, her voice far more serious than you cared for. 

Stomping off to the bathroom, you scrubbed the mask off your face, splashing cold water against your cheeks and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in your stomach. She’s right. You hadn’t met the Harrington's. You’d heard all about them, and you weren’t sure you’d like to meet them under normal circumstances, let alone these complicated, messy ones. 

“Are you-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” You interrupted Robin’s call down the hallway, closing the door to your room and stared at the wine colored fabric with your arms crossed. 

Slipping it on with resentment and nausea fluttering throughout your body, you ran your hands over the velvet material, tilting your head to the side in the mirror as you exhaled. Turning on your heel before you could find all the ways you hated the dress you once were confident about, you stepped out of the room. Nancy and Robin’s mouths dropped in tandem when you stepped into the light of the living room. 

“What?” You squeaked, hands crossing and curling around your waist. “It’s bad? Is the slit okay? I thought…”

Robin started typing on her phone furiously and Nancy held up her hand as you trailed off, “You are so good. Furthest thing from bad. Don’t worry.”

Your shoulders released their tension, but the crease over your brows deepened as Robin smirked down at her phone. “What are you telling him?”

She hummed, “Don’t worry about it. Relax.”

Relax.

Easy for her to say. 

You: steven. You did NOT send a limo.  Steve: 🤷🏻‍♂️ You: you think you’re so cute, huh? Steve: I think *you* think I’m cute.

He clicked at his desktop more, glasses falling down the slope of his nose as he tried to finish work. He felt awful that not only were you nervous, but he was already here, you had to arrive alone, and he still hadn’t seen your dress. His phone vibrated and he looked down to see a picture of you, in the back of the limo, holding up an entire bottle of champagne just for you, and much to his dismay, a coat covering your dress.

You: you know what won’t be cute? When I down this entire bottle of champagne and puke from nerves all over your parents six thousand dollar shoes harrington Steve: they’ll buy new ones You: 🙄

He continued to work on his computer, people calling into his office and asking if he was coming downstairs to which he nodded and said soon to, until the lights started to turn off and it was just him. Hand running through his hair as he flipped back to his conversation with Robin last night.

Robin: DUDE Robin: You’re gonna go into cardiac arrest when you see her Steve: you’re not helping Robin: your mom will love her, you know she will Robin: Well, eventually. I did. Sort of. Steve: Again, NOT helping Robin: honestly your dad is gonna try to sleep with her Steve: you’re sick, you know that? Robin: The way she looks in this dress is sick steve Robin: ILLEGAL Robin: wow. You have wonderful taste in women Steve: YOU HAVE TO STOP 

Despite already having been to Steve’s office, the sight of it tonight still has your jaw going slack. When the limo stops and the door opens for you, the vast and towering skyscraper shimmering with snow swirling around it seems more intimidating than ever. As you push into the warm lobby, the two story Christmas tree steals your breath further. Decorated in golds, silvers, and crimson, two staircases curling on either side of it. 

You make your way up slowly, admiring the decor, hand gliding over the banister and reeling from the noise coming out of the transformed large ballroom. The space was used for a variety of events for the company, anywhere from big convention type conferences, parties, presentations and more. Steve had told you they’d put in a bar, a dance floor and stage, claiming this year’s Christmas party to be the biggest yet. 

Lucky you.

The room overflows out into the hallway with loud chatter, a jazz band playing familiar holiday songs. Boisterous laughter exploding each time the doors open and close, no doubt louder and more easily flowing from the contents inside the glasses you can hear clinking together and the pops of corks. 

You know you’re supposed to text Steve that you’re here, he said he’d come out and walk in with you, that he had been pulled in by his soon to be former boss. The thought of just going in by yourself is somehow easier though. Perhaps no one will even spare you a glance, not when you don’t have him next to you.

The room is even louder once you’re inside. The air smells like leather and cigars, champagne and scotch, stiff and overpowering floral perfume. It drips in luxury - mahogany tables, three Christmas trees, silver and gold candlesticks over burgundy table runners. 

Your feet carry you inside cautiously, and you spot the bar on the other side of the room and head towards it, ignoring the heat of strangers' stares. Feeling like every woman around you is eyeing you from head to toe, their judgment pushing up their chins and noses, rolling their eyes. Their dresses far more expensive and their makeup and hair done professionally. This was worse than the first time you went to Steve’s apartment. 

This was a big, big, massive mistake. 

When you make it to the bar, you order champagne that you can see already being prepped, hoping it’s comped or on the lower end, mentally preparing yourself for Steve insisting he’ll pay for it despite the zeros. The sharp bubbles slip over your tongue as you try to sip it slowly, eyes roaming over the crowd in search of Steve. 

“You look lost,” a deep voice comes from beside you. 

Turning, you find a man in a three piece navy suit that costs more than your rent. His hand holds a glass with three fingers of amber liquid over ice, a silver watch on his wrist that glints. His other is deep in his pocket, his posture nonchalant and lazy yet oozing with the confidence of a man who knows what he wants and how to get it. His jawline is familiar, clean and sharp, leading to soft brown eyes that roam over your face. He has two freckles next to his ear, and dark brown hair that’s just starting to gray. 

Your swallow is louder than the saxophone solo coming from the far end of the room as he removes his hand from his pocket, extends it to you, and says, “John.”

Fuck. 

“Mr. Harrington, it’s so nice to meet you,” your voice is calm, hand shaking his firmly while the inside of you screams, alarms inside your brain going off, shouting abort, abort, abort!

His lips twitch in a far too familiar way and he cocks his head, “Now, how do you know me and I don’t know you?”

You’re certain that everyone in this room knows who John Harrington is, and he knows it too. You squash the nerves inside of you, taking a deep breath. 

“Well, uh, Mr. Harrington-”

“Please, call me John.” He smiles, encouraging, and you nod, plastering on a bigger smile. 

“Right, Jo-John. I’m-”

“Honey, you don’t recognize her?” A softer, sweeter voice comes up behind him and her warm smile makes a little bit of your nerves disappear. That is until she says your name, and then:

“This is Steve’s friend.”

Friend. Friend. Friend. 

“Oh!” He snaps. “I forgot he decided to bring someone after all.”

Your lungs deflate, your stomach churns, you hear the way your heart cracks, chest aching from the pressure. 

Steve’s mom sticks out her hand, “Vivian.”

Introducing yourself far less confident, voice barely a murmur, cracking as you push out, “It’s really nice to meet both of you.”

“So,” John has a cigar in his mouth now, patting at his pockets for a lighter, frowning when Vivian takes it from between his lips, but he continues, “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you take a larger gulp of champagne before finishing, “I’m an assistant right now. But I hope to-”

“I’m sorry, what?” John interrupts you, his brows furrowed. Mrs. Harrington’s hand squeezes his bicep sharply, a smile plastered on her face. But he keeps going, “An assistant? How old are you? Your parents can’t be thrilled with-”

“Dad.” His voice is ice, a protective hand on the small of your back, appearing out of nowhere.  

You’ve heard Steve’s end of phone conversations with his dad, you’ve seen the way the people in this room acted just passing by him in the last few minutes, so you are shocked beyond belief when John Harrington closes his mouth at Steve’s singular warning. 

Vivian’s smile relaxes, her voice warm and syrupy, “Hi honey.” She hugs him and he only returns the gesture with one arm, the other keeping a firm grip on your waist as she pulls away and smiles, “We were just getting to know your friend-”

“Girlfriend,” he corrects quickly, strong, and nods at the bartender. You watch as the man behind the wood bar grabs a bottle from the very top shelf, pours two fingers, neat unlike his father, and Steve grabs the drink he didn’t have to order. Despite the last few moments, the tone and action has your thighs pushing together and you clear your throat as Steve’s thumb swipes over your spine. 

Vivian smiles, quietly correcting, “Right, girlfriend. She was just telling us what she does, right sweetheart?” Vivian pinches John’s arm again and he straightens, forcing a closed-lip smile. “So, an assistant, that’s…exciting?”

“I think we’re gonna go dance actually, we’ll talk to you later.” Steve’s voice leaves no room for argument. 

He starts to pull you away and you call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you.”

Steve pulls you through the crowd, his shoulders tense and the scotch tipped to his lips in one sip. He sets the empty glass on a passing tray, grabbing your champagne flute from your fingers as well. He stops in the shadow of one of the trees, his hands finding both of yours as he turns. 

“Honey, I think we have a real problem.”

Your heart and stomach drop even more, voice frail and small as you ask, “We do?”

He nods, face solemn, though his lips seem to be fighting a smile as sighs, “I’m afraid I can’t let you out of my sight all night in a dress like this.”

Relaxation floods over your veins, soothing your nerves as it feels like you finally exhale a breath you’ve been holding since last night. Still a little frazzled from the interaction, but a smile twitches your lips up slightly, forcing a light tone. 

“It’s okay? Up to the Harrington standards despite the girl inside it failing miserably?”

Steve hums, leaning in close, spice and stinging scotch on his breath as his nose traces yours. “I think the dress and the girl surpass all Harrington standards. They rearrange the meaning of the word babe.”

Your eyes roll, but your shoulders hunch again, hands smoothing over the lapels of his tux. “That’s a nice sentiment Mr. Harrington, but I think your parents would disagree on the matter.”

Steve’s eyes flash at the use of Mr. Harrington and your eyebrows raise, curious if it’s the authority of the name or the potential of you being a missus, but he’s too quick for you to investigate, bold and something in his eyes hungry. “Fuck my parents and their obnoxious standards. Every other person in this room wants to be you or be inside of you.”

“Steve.” Your head ducks at the forward compliment, “God, how much of that scotch have you had already?” 

“First glass.” His lips part, tongue licking over his top lip as he smirks, “I think you liked it though.”

“The comment or the way you ordered the drink?”

Steve, breathes into your lips as you tilt easily for him, mouth parting as he says, “Both.”

His hands press to your spine, a barely there kiss, when his name is called. He sighs, spinning to shake someone’s hand. The rest of the evening is spent with men clapping on his back and saying they’ll miss him. He holds your hand as he introduces you to co-workers he seems to genuinely like, flagging down servers and getting you glasses of champagne before they’re empty. Shushing you and kissing your temple when you ask how much it is. Maybe it’s the bubbles in your system, the pink flush to Steve’s cheeks when he stares at you, your name on his lips when he introduces you as his girlfriend, but the interaction with John and Vivian is long forgotten. 

All you can think about now, is how tonight has shown you a side of Steve you hadn’t seen before, and he looks good. He holds his drink that keeps being refilled without being ordered, slipping bills in waiters hands almost imperceptibly, their quiet ‘thank you Mr. Harrington.’ even more so if you weren’t listening. His suit is tailored to his body nicely, pieces of his hair falling over his forehead when he laughs in a charming and confident way. Steve is also handsy, and has been since he pulled you away from his parents. Squeezing your hip, running up your spine in the keyhole along it, pads of his fingers following the straps that hang off your shoulders back and forth, back and forth. Each touch of his skin to yours sparking like frayed wires. 

You excuse yourself quietly in the middle of a conversation about trading and something or other you can’t be bothered to listen to and Steve grabs your wrist, cocking his head in a silent question. You call out a little too loudly, maybe a little too flirty, “I’ll be right back, Mr. Harrington.”

The men around him smirk into their glasses and Steve watches you walk away, the color long gone from his eyes as his pupils take over. You feel the presence of his stare on your back as you make your way to the bar, only turning around when you have another glass in your hand. 

Steve’s still across the room, and you watch the path his eyes take over your body, heat rising to the surface of your skin in their trail like he’s physically touching you. He tracks you as you make your way to the exit, starting on your ankle, up your calf, then thigh. You’re almost able to feel his fingers sliding over the velvet, tracing the slit that exposes the skin. The cinch of merlot fabric on your hips and the way his hands would pause there and squeeze. You take another sip as they travel over the curve of your sweetheart neckline that shows off maybe a little too much. Tracing the path his lips could take over the straps, up your collarbones and neck, and they finally meet your eyes. 

His jaw is tight, tongue wetting his lips and gulping. His eyes narrow as you smile and you glance up at the familiar green holiday leaves hanging above the door, dropping your head and forming a fake pout. 

It takes Steve less than thirty seconds to cross the room, the now empty glass on a tray as he passes yet again, freeing his hands to grab onto your waist as he leans in. You let your bottom lip slip between the two of his, teasing and innocent. 

Steve groans as you bump the door open with your hip, letting your fingers linger on his chest, sighing, eyes wide, “Oh, I bet the view of the city is so beautiful on the 65th floor. You have a big, fancy office don’t you? Do you think I could see it, sir?”

He’s a man possessed. His mouth and hands haven’t stopped moving since the elevator closed. Clumsy lips and your name leaving him breathlessly as he pushed you into the railing as the floors climbed higher and higher. 

“Look too good, illegal, she was right,” he mouthed at your neck, slipping lower into your cleavage enough to make you laugh. 

“Wh-who was right?” 

He growled something that sounded like Robin’s name which made you laugh harder, stopping only when his mouth found yours. 

Steve shushed your giggles, leading you down the dark floor to the office at the corner, pulling the door closed and clicking the lock. 

A brown leather couch, gold lamps, a bookshelf and a cart full of bottles of fancy liquors and sparkling glasses. A giant, wood desk with a tall leather chair. A name plate that glinted and said Steve Harrington with a pair of wire rimmed glasses. 

You’d seen it before, but not on a night like tonight. Not with all the lights off, snow falling lazily across the skyline. Not with champagne in your system, not with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who had confidence and charm, who commanded respect and attention. Who stood up to his parents for you, for what he wanted.

Steve stood behind you, hands on your hips again as he led you towards the desk. Sucking a bruise under your ear, tongue soothing the way his teeth scraped down your neck. He was wrecked, gone, could cum in his slacks right then and there with the view of you in his office in this dress. Would he miss being in charge at a place like this? Sure. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he was a boss. 

His voice was strong, cinnamon and scotch on his breath as he commanded, “Bend over, baby.”

You laughed, arching over his desk slowly. Looking over your shoulder as you spread your legs and pouted, “Kind of bossy, Steve, not gonna even say please?”

Steve watched under heavy lids as you kept your gaze on his fingers moving over his buckle, the way your chest moved up and down quicker as he freed himself. He knelt behind you, pushing up the fabric of your dress. Kissing up your calves, your thighs, nipping at the curve of your ass and smirking when you yelped. 

He stood, hands landing on the desk on either side of yours, mouth a ghost over your ear, heaving chest pressed along your spine, and his hard erection pressing into your ass. 

“You think you’re cute, huh?”

A shiver ran through you at his tone, the way his breath hit your cheek and fingers overtook yours on the desk. 

You gasped out, parroting your conversation earlier, “I think you think I’m cute, Harrington.”

Steve’s nose skimmed the curve of your ear, tutting, “No more mister already? Where’d your manners go baby?”

He slid his tip against your clit, circles to it until your head fell forward in a gasp, slick coating his cock with barely anything to prompt it. 

Steve finally moved lower, his lips on your neck and his tip nudging at your entrance but pausing as he laughed, smirk pressed to your skin. “You are cute, though, honey. Prettiest,” he kissed your shoulder, “Sexiest,” a kiss below your ear, “Cutest thing here tonight.”

He kept his tip pressed to your entrance, waiting until your hips squirmed, till your fingers twitched below his. Breath warm on your jaw as he kept his voice even, confident, pulling himself back up to your clit and starting all over again as he spoke. 

“Know what’s even cuter though?”

You whimpered, head empty, nerves buzzing, and stomach burning as his lips brushed against your jaw with each word, head circling your clit and tapping again. 

“You’re about to be begging for me.”

[blackbat05]

After Missions

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Plot: Miguel rarely let’s anyone in after missions. But he does make exceptions.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Movie was amazing! I would say more but I’ll stop myself. I see a lot of fics for Miguel but there’s few SFW ones, that needs to changed. Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

“You sure you don’t need to get yourself checked out?”

“I’m fine.”

“I can literally see a gash on your side, Miguel.” Jess deadpans.

“I’m fine.”

“Is that all you know how to say?”

“No-yes-argh! Just leave me alone please.” Miguel widens his stride, entering his private space. Well, almost private space.

“I can call her.” Lyla and her uncanny ability to pop up despite not being called for.

“You will do no such thing.” Miguel winces as he takes a seat. Peeling off his suit, he groans as the gash looks at him with a nasty red smile. This was going to take a while.

Lyla shrugs, “Suit yourself boss.” Her hologram switches off quicker than usual and Miguel knows that she’s up to something. Not that he had the energy to care.

Using his left leg, Miguel pulls out the first aid kit with difficulty. The gash was just all in a day’s work, but that didn’t mean he looked forward to stitching it up after every mission. You always did it much better.

“So, are you even going to sleep tonight?”

Miguel sees you standing at the entrance and curses internally.

“One of these days, I’m going to shut Lyla down.” He mutters, loud enough for you to hear.

“It was Peter actually. Thank god because he knew you would be to stubborn to call for help.” Despite your jab at Miguel, you didn’t seem to bothered at how grumpy he was.

Sitting across him, you take the needle from Miguel’s hands. “You didn’t think of taking some painkillers before I don’t know- you try and sow yourself up?”

“I don’t need it.” Miguel grunts as you prepare to clean the wound. He hisses loudly as the cotton touches the raw skin.

“Sure tough guy, keep telling yourself that.” You chuckle. “Here, take these.” You pass him a couple of painkillers before getting to work.

Silence takes over as you steadily work on his wounds. Pursing your lips in concentration, you finish the last bit, cutting off the excess string.

“Done!” You stand up slowly to stretch your body. You stand beside Miguel who is still sitting down, tossing on a grey sweater. You run your fingers through his curly hair, giving Miguel a head pat.

“What are you doing?” Miguel doesn’t seem annoyed. In fact, he seemed more confused at your actions.

“A head pat. I thought that would be obvious. For a job well done. Usually the people that I stitch up are way more fidgety.” You mused. “Besides, isn’t it nice?”

Miguel’s about to tell you that he isn’t a domesticated animal but your fingers somehow work magic on his scalp. He finds himself automatically leaning into your touch, letting out a soft purr.

“Not a word to anyone about this.”

“As long as you come straight to me after missions.”

“Deal.”

***

Afterword

“Did you guys see that! Miguel just smiled! Oh the world’s going to end soon.” Peter gasps dramatically as he paces up and down the room with a babbling Mayday.

“I knew our boss had some color to him! He’s not just multiverse business and all.” Pavitr grins. “Hobie come on, gimme my 10 bucks.”

“Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this. How was I supposed to know O’Hara had a soft side to him?” Hobie passes him a couple of bills.

“Alright guys, let’s get outta here before Miguel finds out.” Gwen ushers the group towards the exit before all four come to halt to see an unamused Miguel glaring at them.

“Oh shit.”

***

Feel free to explore my other Miguel works here!

[writingmeraki]

gents in dilemma.

a park sunghoon drabble !

pairing : rich!boy!sunghoon x gn!reader, teasing classmates to ???

genre : fluff/humour (?)

warnings : nothing just sunghoon using his privileges as a pretty rich boy lmao also no actual knowledge os spider-man comics im sorry if it's inaccurate <3 !

author's note : wooo! a double update ?!? who is thisss mayhaps very random but i told ya'll ( if u read my recent mingu drabble ) it's been a while since i realeased anything enha :( this was sort of a warm up to get back into writing for them! if you have any ideas pls send them in!! i rlly want to write for them again hehe &lt;3

sp dt to my enha moots ! @blue-jisungs ; @lheebra ; @haknom ; @odxrilove ; @hsgwrld ; @quaissants ; @enluv ; @hannie-dul-set ; @tqmies ; @byuqi ; @urszn ; @flwoie ; @tranquilpetrichor ; @hqrana ; @shuamorollss ; @strxwberry-skiess !! just to let you know i love u guys and think of you when i open this app 💌 !! i am ia a lot but i truly am grateful for you and your works 🩷!

word count : 1.2k

You were stuck there anyways. Your brother wouldn’t come pick you up earlier enough and all your friends left already so you found no point in wanting to leave and sit outside in the hot and humid weather where you’ll probably just end up with mosquito bites and sweaty skin. 

The song played in your earphones as you lazily flipped through the Spider-man comic. It was your newest hyperfixation and you had difficulties getting copies but you were getting there. 

Suddenly an intrusion popped in front of you as you got to the good part, but you paid no mind to whoever it was. 

Besides, who in their right mind would want to make small talk with a stranger in the damned detention room?

The music was dull but you could hear the sound of someone clearing their throat. Sighing, you put down the comic and looked unamused at the boy in front of you. 

Park Sunghoon. Rich, smart, pretty boy who lived up to all the stereotypes that clung to his personality while also hanging out with the same sort of people. Not a stranger you thought. 

You wondered how you missed seeing him and…Park Jonseong? (If you remembered correctly) walk in. Perhaps you indeed were too focused in your daydreams. 

Now amusement flickered in your gaze as you looked up at him. 

He definitely did live to his pretty boy name you mused as you took in the moles on his face, the shade of his pink lips, the messy yet perfectly sitting hair of his. 

He gulped under your calculating gaze, not knowing why he felt nervous all of a sudden when it was his idea to tell you not to say anything to Mr.Kim for when Jay and him would ditch the detention they got that day. He confidently told his friend he would threaten you if you didn’t comply, perhaps maybe bribe you a bit and surely it would do the trick.

But how his words seemed to bite right back at him because suddenly his mouth felt drier and tongue heavier under your gaze. For a brief moment, he wondered how he had never seen you, otherwise, he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget a face like yours. 

“Now now,what ever have I done to have the Park Sunghoon right in front of me?” You grinned teasingly at him and fuck you had dimples. He swore he might have died in that moment and reached heaven.

He felt a shove that snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Uh-yeah um we- wait you know me?” You raised a brow at his words, the amusement only growing as you saw the tip of his ears getting red.

Was he flustered…by you?

“ ‘course I do, it would seem weird if I didn’t at least to you people.” You murmured the last part, darting your eyes to his friend who seemed to roll his eyes.You weren’t sure if it was because of you or because of Sunghoon.

“Can you get to the point idiot-”

“Hey! Shut up, yeah? I’m talking-”

“All I see is you acting like a huge fucking si-”

They whispered to each other, almost making you giggle at the way they both seemed to be arguing over something, you figured you were somehow involved. 

“Well see- the thing is we’re going to ditch this.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head a little as you leaned forward in your chair, placing your head on one hand.

“And? Does that concern me?”

“We don’t want you snitching, that’s what he meant. You can ditch too, Mr.Kim’s known for never coming back to his detentions once he leaves.” 

You shook your head, “I’m fine here, I have to wait anyways, you can-”

Suddenly a thought occurred to you, “Hmm, the snitching on you both part sounds tempting, I might even get brownie points, struggling with his class anyways.” 

No,he was not supposed to find your smirk cute, nor the mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Wha- what’s in it for you?! You can ditch too! Didn’t I say that already-”

“Wait. I might have something.”

Jay stared at Sunghoon in both disbelief and annoyance while you looked at him curiously. He set his bag down and opened it, pulling out something.

“Here.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. The newest edition of the Spider-man series. You’d been trying for ages to get it, but held yourself back when you saw the triple digit price point. 

Of course he’d have this. 

You gasped in disbelief, looking in awe as you grabbed it and flipped through the pages. Sunghoon found it absolutely cute the way your eyes lit up. 

He was concerned about how enduring he already found you in the span of approximately 10 minutes. 

“It’s too expensive, I can’t-”

“Who said I am giving it to you? I’m letting you borrow it so you won’t rat us out.”

It seemed the tables turned and it was your turn to be flustered under his teasing gaze and he did in fact have a cute grin. Shit-eating one but adorable. 

“I’ll take it to my grave.” You hugged the comic to your chest and did a zipping your mouth motion, throwing away the pretend key. He let out a chuckle at your actions and the sound absolutely did not do something to your heart ( You think it might have burst ). 

Jay had been observing the interaction and he knew why exactly Sunghoon did what he was doing. Seems like the supposed ‘ice’ prince was melting at your mere presence. Oh he was so going to spill everything to the rest of his friends and tease him for the life of it. 

Sunghoon’s gaze moved towards your phone, seeing it was still unlocked he took it while you yelped in alarm, “Hey! I said I won’t say anything!”

You had stood up from your chair and now only realised just how much taller he was than you when he began to type something with his hands raised above you. 

“Here. My number and I rang it to have yours. Call me when you’re done reading, I expect to get my comic back soon enough.” He held your hand and plopped your phone in it, while you remained frozen at his bold moves. Even the blonde next to him was surprised at his actions, that probably said a lot to you. 

He swung his arm around Jay who had an amused grin as he shook his head, waving bye to you, pausing for a moment when he realized something as he looked back at you.

“What’s your name?” 

“Uh-oh um,” You were still in a trance at what just happened as you said your name, not as confidently as you wished and you cursed yourself mentally for already being so hung up on his actions. 

He repeated it as if testing it out, “See you soon then,” He grinned at you as you just chose to wave back, thinking you might just say something stupid. 

Looking down at your phone, you saw his number and back at the comic book that laid on the desk, you grinned bashfully, shaking your head as you laughed.

Maybe just maybe, Park Sunghoon wouldn't have to wait until you finished the comic for you to see him. 

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

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[mehiwilldoitlater]

*crawls in through opened window* Hi, hello,you done goofed, and I am back. May I humbly request on behalf of all of us monke simps if we may have a continuation of my previous request? Maybe a little while after our journey with the destined one had started,maybe some blossoming romantic tensions of sorts? 👀👀? Pretty please, oh glorious author?

"~ Came on, Barbie, let's go party!"

"~ah ah ah YEAH!"

"This song is worse than hearing my sisters bickering."

How could someone predict that the recovery of your cellphone, with still all your music insider, could have led to a night of fun and drinks in the Zodiac Village?

It wasn't the first time that you and the Destined One used that place as a place for rest, such as a hiding spot for the fourth spider sister, but that was the first time that the stop became an actual party.

"Aaah, young one, cheer up! The music may not be of your king, but the spirits are high tonight!"

Even Chen mused, taking the chance to relive the cul of the young yaogaui. Despite her unamused looks, just like her new master Yin, too focused on his blacksmith projects to care about your party, she seemed more relaxed than usual. 

At the ending of the song, you finally stopped spinning with Shen, laughing while Xu kept on clapping his pawns together in a thunderous laugh.

"Marvelous, marvelous! Such fun! Oh, how I missed these days, brothers!"

"Here, younger sister! Have another drink! Let's have fun tonight; Destiny can wait!"

"Thank you, Brother Shen!"

You gladly gulped another cup of the new liquor that Shen Monkey was able to distill from some fruits. It was sweet to your tongue—far too much of your king.

"Easy there," your friend monkey said, putting his own cup on the ground. "We don't want you having a hangover tomorrow!" 

"I can handle some alcohol!"

"Let her have some fun! We're with friends! No enemy, no celestial realm, no Yaoguais, only friends, little brother!"

Shen laughed while saying this, putting more wine in the Monkey Cup again. The song slowly faded, then another one started. You recognized in one second, remembering your evergreen era.

"Ooh! This one is a love song from my world! Here here!"

You laughed, grabbing Spider's hand, invincing her for a small dance. She sighed, obliged you in your fun, sure that you'll maybe regret it for your childish behavior in the morning. Without a care, you even started to sing again to this new tune.

"~L is for the way you look at me,

~O is for the only one I see,

~V is very, very extraordinary,

~E is even more than anyone that you adore can!"

During your dance alongside Spider, Shen looked quite pleased. The first time he saw you, you were a trembling mess, always afraid of the new Yaogaui ready to eat you whole, and now you were just part of their world, like if it was always supposed to be this way. He chuckled a little, nodging to the other simian.

"Well, look at that. I believed that the Biàn huà was supposed to be-"

He stopped After his eyes fell on the younger monkey. 

His face was supported by his hand; he sat on the ground, his attention completely on you and your dance. His eyes were filled with such adoration that Shen wondered if even other deities had ever gotten the chance to be looked at that way. The breath of the monkey was deep and slow, like he was holding his breath, such that his attention was only on you. His tail moved slowly, almost mimicking or following you.

That glint in his eyes...Shen smiled a little, taking another sip from his cup./

//////

"And here I thought you could hold your alcohol."

Monkey smiled while covering you with your blanket. The fire that accompanied your little gathering was now long dead; everyone was calling for the night, especially the two of you since this one was just a small stop on your journey. You needed it, he thought, thinking on how much you endured and how much you became strong in the recent weeks.

In your sleep, you grabbed his hand, searching for the security of his own presence. That gesture made his chest warmer, more for the liquor that he ingested before. He caressed, taking your mind at ease. Where was he supposed to go without you, his beloved friend?

He strechet; he still needed to check on his armor with Yin, so he started to take his way out from Chen house, which he gladly decided to share with you two.

"It was a nice party; the view was... amazing too."

Shen was sitting on his usual spot, taking advantage of the still-burning furnace of his friend Xu. Despite the amount of liquor consumed, he still was holding another gourd, his cheeks holding a darker shade of color.

"The view?"

Asked monkey, confused by the forefather statement. Shen rose up, helping himself by holding the younger hand and putting his arm behind his neck. Enough space to talk, not enough to be heard.

"I noticed... That look on you came on; don't be shy with your forefather; tell me everything!"

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

Shen looked at Monkey, between some curiosity and suspicion. Was he really that stupid to haven't noticed something about himself?

"About our lovely friend, lady Y/n... don't tell me your feel nothing!"

"Of course not! I care for her! She's my friend!"

"I mean deeper..."

"Uh.. well, she's... courageous and... kind and... She has shown to have a God heart, and she's funny, and-"

"Okay, okay, so you... like her?"

"Of course I like her; she's my friend!"

Shen looked at him in indisbelief. Then he started to laugh, so high that Monkey feared that he would wake up everyone.

"I can't believe it! Little Brother, you're clearly falling for the lady! A deep fall!"

Monkey held his breath; he couldn't believe what he was hearing! Shen kept on snickering like a child, moving his tail like never before.

"I'm not! We're Just... We Need to... It's inappropriate!"

"Aaaaaw, you're like a cub learning about the beauty of the love season! Ah, love...the worst liquor! Sweet on the tongue, the worst hangover at the end."

He was even making fun of him! The furr of the younger was all Shaggy for the mocking from the eldest! Why he needed to point it out something so embarrassing! Gods, he was lucky that you were deep asleep in front of the alcohol; the idea to be even mortified in front of you was an awful idea!

"I suggest you take your step a little faster! I heard that your precious little Y/N is becoming quite popular."

"UUUGH!...I gave up!"

And so, between the laugh of the elders, Monkey marched to Yin forgery. He wanted nothing more than to avoid the subject! Damn, he preferred to be forced to fight the tiger even instead to think about it!

You and him together?! Absurd! You two were companions, friends! He promised you to get you home, and that was it! Nothing more, nothing less!

But, for some reason, that thought brought him a feeling of... loss. Once it was over, once Sun Wukong revival, you'd be gone. No more adventures, no more parties, no more talk between the two of you.

You'll be back to your normal and mundane life, and he'll be the monkey that helped the resurrection of the Great Sage...

And about the idea of others courting you, he felt uneasy, even angry! But it wasn't nice! Of course you would strike someone; you were amazing! And yet he didn't like it... No, he didn't like the idea of you with someone.

...Oh boy...

He started to run towards the tiger, hoping that a few strikes from him would free his mind from these thoughts. 

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