#they've got to make every second count!

[clonecumber]

The fact it's canon the Nulls (or at least Kom'rk, Jaing, Prudii, and Mereel might be a special case, but his name pops up too) seem to be the go-to crosstrainers for regular Troopers into specops is actually really funny. They've still got shit to do, probably! They were raised by a man who thinks dragging 8-year-olds into active warzones is great basic training! The solution is obvious! Cue Working Single Parent Null energy. Welcome to your first day, class! Today we will all be going on a field trip! Don't worry if you don't understand something; it will all be covered in the reading you will be doing tomorrow while I'm busy committing a financial felony. Don't ask!!! That will be module whenever-I-next-have-a-reason-to-commit-a-financial-felony. Now let's go perform a political assassination!

[thegreatyin]

completely normal roommates bonding over completely normal things like *flips through notes* murdering each other and having complicated opinions on giant alien bats

[sahkuna]

OH, HIM? HE'S SPOKEN FOR — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: one too many women at this wedding think they've got a shot with gojo satoru. but what they fail to realize is none of them are you, the one who holds his unwavering devotion.

content warning(s): non-curse au, plot before the eventual smut so 18+ mdni, afab/fem! reader, mentions reader wearing a dress, established relationship, unprotected sex, gojo's impatient so you guys get it on an empty room upstairs, exhibitionism (sorta kinda?), brief mentions of jealousy, pet names.

word count: 4.6k+ // i lurve weddings.

For the fifth time this evening, Gojo’s teeth catch his inner cheek, biting back a smile that threatens to spread across his lips.

You’ve got a cute habit of toying with pieces of your clothing or whatever object was within your range whenever something’s nagging at your mind. He wonders to himself if this was something you were aware of.

Unconscious of Satoru’s intense gaze on you, you idly gulp down a cold glass of water and breathe a heavy sigh.

As the evening persists, you’re starting to feel your social battery deplete by the second. It’s been almost a whopping 5 hours since the wedding reception began, and with every hour that crept closer to midnight the more you wanted to throw in the towel and go home.

The poor music selection blaring from the speakers stationed around the venue— a collection composed by the newlywed couple, you presume— didn’t aid in your fight to stay here any longer than necessary.

Your index finger mindlessly loops and unloops around the straps of your attire, and Gojo can’t help but softly knock his foot with yours underneath the table to pull you out of your daze.

Rather than blatantly asking what was wrong, Satoru settles for something else. 

“Relax,” he says in an attempt to settle your nerves. Any effort that he’s previously made to stop himself from smiling is ultimately shot down the moment your eyes catch his. “You look nice, quit worryin’.”

Though you did look nice, the word alone wasn’t enough to bring any justice to how you looked tonight. The venue’s warm and orange lighting flattered and illuminated you too well. There’s more he wants to say, and it’s all on the tip of his tongue. 

But Gojo opts to sit back, eyes soft as they make a trail across your bare shoulders, eventually working his gaze up to your face. There, he traces your features slowly, from your eyes down to your cheeks and they finally stop at your lips.

And his eyes just stay there for a few seconds, lingering on your mouth.

He wants to kiss you so badly. 

To him, it didn’t matter if there was a group of old geezers who you two had to share a table with. Gojo would tune them all out if he had to. But knowing him, the moment his lips would press against yours he wouldn’t be able to pull away on his own accord. 

And you’d rip him a new one if you two ever became “that couple” engaging in heavy practices of PDA in front of such critical eyes.

So, picking up the same glass that you drank from, Gojo drinks from it, swallowing down the rest of your water along with the nagging urge to nip and lick his way into your mouth.

Huffing at the fact that he’s chugged down your drink in one go— despite clearly having more than enough in his glass— you wrestle the cup out of Gojo’s grasp and place it far from his reach.

“Thank you for that, Satoru,” you respond, to both his compliment and how he’s done away with all your water.  

Gojo hums in acknowledgement, completely missing the snarky tone your voice carried. “I’m serious though, you look really good.” 

You flash him a small smile at this. However, it’s short-lived because seconds later your lips pull into a soft pout. 

Noticing the drastic change in your mood, Gojo scoots his chair closer to you so he can get a better read on the situation.

He presses his finger to your forehead, tapping once, then twice. “What’s going on up there, hm?” he inquires.

A bit apprehensive, you start with a drawn-out, “Well…”

Throughout the evening as Gojo's plus one to his distant relative’s wedding, you’ve noticed that no matter where you step the guests at this venue seem to have eyes on you. Or more so to speak, who you came with.

It’s no secret that Gojo draws attention to himself wherever he goes, that part doesn’t need much explaining— especially when his appearance sticks out like a ridiculously beautiful, jaw-droppingly gorgeous sore thumb. But today his magnetic charm has pulled much more than you expected.

Like now.

A couple of tables away from where you two sit— perhaps two or three— is where you spot them. There’s a small group of women who hide their blushes and bashful smiles behind their hands, giggling and blatantly ogling at your dashing boyfriend.

You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t bother you.

…Because it did, big time. 

Suppressing the urge to cringe physically, you turn your sights toward Gojo. “Doesn’t it bother you?” you ask, nodding your head toward the table of women who were whispering amongst themselves.

You could count on both hands the number of times you’ve had to pretend not to eavesdrop whenever one of the bridesmaids would muster up their courage and make their way up to Gojo whenever he was away from you— which was rare because despite being the one who invited you to the wedding, Satoru stuck to you as if he knew no one here.

Humming for a bit, Gojo throws an uncaring glance over his shoulder to view the mini fan club he had unknowingly accumulated tonight. A few have the decency to abruptly look away when he does so, not wanting to be caught in the act. But the others? They boldly send him flirtatious smiles and shy waves, accented with blushing cheeks.

None of which he returns, but you still feel a gnawing ache settle in your stomach.

Gross. 

Finally answering your question, Gojo meets your troubled gaze. “Nah, not really,” he replies. “It gets bothersome, sure, but I usually just ignore it all.”

You don’t respond to this and decide to flick your gaze elsewhere. If he isn’t bothered by it, then this isn’t even that big of a deal. Don’t let it get to you. It’s fine! Perfectly fine.

Blue eyes trail along your face, tracing your expression slowly. Gojo’s face softens, and his hand slips under the table and brushes against your knee before he squeezes. “Why?” he asks suddenly. “Does it bother you?” 

Yes. “No,” you respond a bit too quickly.

“‘No’?” he tries again. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to crack.

“Fine. It does a bit,” you hiss bitterly, your poker face falling into shambles completely. Gojo’s smile stretches a little wider. “So can we leave now, please?”

You don’t know if you can withstand another hour in here with all things considered. 

It’s also essential to note how you gradually find yourself nodding off to sleep every ten minutes or so the longer you’re here at this venue. You’re hoping and praying Gojo takes the bait so he would finally shoot Ichiji a text telling him he should be coming to the venue to pick you two up soon. 

Behind his rounded shades, confusion swirls in his gaze and a subtle pout tugs at his lips. “But they haven’t even handed out the cake yet!” 

Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

You want to throw your head back in exasperation at the fact that the sole reason why you guys were staying out so late was over a damn cake. 

Throwing a cautious glance over your shoulder, you spot the culprit. An extravagant-looking tower of vanilla fondant stares back at you, where it’s situated many tables away from you and over to where the bride and groom sit. 

You don’t know why Satoru likes that crap anyway, fondant is known for its notoriously awful flavour because of how it tastes like an extremely sugary, yet stale donut glaze left out for far too long.

“Oh my God,” you wail, but you’re abruptly aware that your volume has garnered a few pairs of curious eyes to land on you and Satoru from various tables around you.

Smiling awkwardly at your tablemates, you’re prompted to lean in close to the stubborn white-haired man and lower your tone so only he’s privy to what you say next. “Can’t you ask Ijichi to grab something sweet for you on our way to your place?”

Unyielding, Gojo shakes his head. “I’ve tried, believe me,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest. “But he's always on about how impractical it is for a sweets shop to be open at this time of night.” 

He can’t be serious right now. You think you’re starting to reach your wits' end. “You’re kidding me.”

Thinking you also find Ijichi’s claims outlandish, Gojo leans back in his seat more comfortably. He’s relieved you’re taking his side. “Right?! I tell him all the time that there’s bound to be—”

“I mean you, Satoru,” you say, flashing him a face of disbelief. Gojo wilts a little at this and pouts. 

Pursing his lips, it seems like he’s seriously giving your question some thought. You don’t fault Gojo for having a sweet tooth, but sometimes you wish you could ween him off it. Especially since they got you into predicaments such as this.

But, there is one more thing that Gojo Satoru loves more than his sweets. 

And that’s you.

“Those women really did a number on you, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you throw an incredulous look Gojo’s way. The abrupt topic change flipped so fast it could’ve given you whiplash. He’s purposefully trying to provoke you. 

But why?

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, “What does that have to do with—”

Gojo pushes his chair away from the fancy table and shoves himself up to his feet. Just where does he think he’s going? “You wanna leave, right?”

Like this, you’re able to drink in just how appealing he looks tonight. It’s no wonder since walking in, everyone seemed to rubber-neck their attention to where you two were seated.

You nod slowly, and your hesitant nature has him practically purring when he says, “So let me take you upstairs then. Show ‘em that I’m spoken for already.” 

And at that very moment, you swear you hear the middle-aged woman whose chair is seated one space away from you choke on her drink— you don’t blame her. 

But there’s no way she could’ve heard everything… let alone understand the connotations of what he’s said, right?

She aims a displeased once over toward you and Satoru’s direction and dramatically shuffles her seat closer toward her unsuspecting husband. “My goodness,” she mutters under her breath.

Okay, so she’s heard everything.

Gojo laughs under his breath at the guest’s over-the-top antics and your blood runs a little hot.

Pushing his frames off the bridge of his nose, Gojo’s hand slides them past his hairline to rest on his head. He offers you his hand. “Come with me.”

And you’re sitting there, staring dumbly at his perfectly glossed lips that are decorated with a wicked smile because he knows. He knows you’ll let him whisk you away upstairs to do what even God wants nothing to know of. 

Carefully, Gojo wraps a hand around your wrist and tugs you to your feet. “Let’s go.” Delicate fingers slide down past your palm and lace themselves with yours. You move with him when he pulls you toward the back of the venue, near the huge wooden double doors and toward the exit. Leaving behind many shocked guests and a dejected party of bridesmaids.

Which reminds you…

Before you both slip out from view entirely, over your right shoulder you childishly poke your tongue out at the group of women right as the door is about to click shut. 

A sense of relief washes over you when you both finally step out of the ballroom and into the vacant grand hallway. There’s no boisterous noise to pound away inside your skull, just the gentle sound of you and Satoru’s footsteps padding down the marble flooring.

There’s a mix of emotions that swirl inside of you with each step that’s taken toward the main staircase and up to whichever room Gojo wishes to… well, fool around with you in. “You stick your tongue out at them?” he asks.

How in the hell would he have been able to guess that? You stare long and hard at the back of his head, half expecting to catch a glimpse of a third eye you didn’t know was there. However, there’s nothing but white tufts of snowy, white hair glaring back at you.

Or maybe you’re just that predictable.

“By accident,” you murmur, not even bothering to think up an explanation for your weak excuse.

Repeating your answer to himself, Satoru grins. “Cute.”

Stopping in front of one of the doors, with your hand still in his, he knocks on the door with his free hand, silently waiting for a response. 

When there are no signs of life on the other side, Satoru twists the knob and carelessly kicks the door wide open with his black leather shoe. The action was so harsh that the metal knob clunks loudly against the wall,— seeing that there was no door stopper— its sound reverberating off the many walls inside the building.

“Satoru!”

Uncaring for the commotion he’s made, Satoru squeezes your hand before he releases his grip and pulls you inside the small room. 

“Relax,” he drawls, before flicking on the light and kicking the door shut behind him— this time with a little more tact. “It’s fine, no one’s here anyway.” 

No longer tethered by your intertwined hands, Satoru plops himself down onto one of the two leather couches and sinks into the seat. 

Exhaling softly, you shake your head and follow your boyfriend to where he’s seated. You’re about to sit down adjacent to him until his hands abruptly shoot out to stop you.

“Y’know…” he starts, and you’re prompted to stand in between his open legs. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders when he glances up at you, cerulean eyes shimmering when he tells you, “It was kinda cute seeing you get all mad down there.”

“I wasn’t mad!” you deny, a half-truth and half-lie. “It just got to be too much is all.”

Pulling your body closer in between his spread legs, you feel something firm press against you. He couldn’t possibly be… “Are you seriously…” You swallow and clear your throat, trying to not let the heady tone of your voice take over. “Are you seriously hard right now?!”

You emit a pathetic squawk when Satoru’s hands brush up against the back of your knees. His palms run higher and higher up your legs, and the fabric of your dress pools around his forearms until they stop right under the swell of your ass.

“What can I say?” he breathes, his eyes burning with intensity the more he stares at your face, searching for something. “I like it when you get jealous over me.”

This man…

“Wasn’t jealous, either,” you say, leaning more into his touch. The more you stay like this without the two of you doing anything to combat the growing sexual tension, the more desperate and needy you become.

“Yeah?”

A heavy heat settles through your entire body when you slide down and sit on Satoru’s lap. “Yeah…”

His breath heaving in his chest, Satoru leans forward and kisses you, sighing blissfully against your mouth the moment they’re pressed together. Eyes closing, the gentle press of Satoru’s lips— soft and warm— has got you smiling against his skin, to which he returns one of his own.

Dragging his mouth away from yours, he presses a trail of searing, lingering kisses from your cheek and down your jaw.

Pressing in closer, a puff of warm air fans out over the curve of your neck. 

“I’ll make you forget aaall about them,” he whispers his promise to you, fingers curling into your waist. “Make you feel so full.”

Growing flustered with how explicit he’s become with his words— a habit of his that seems to materialize only when you two get like this—your face is screwed tight with embarrassment and you faintly nudge his face out from your proximity and bury yours into his neck. 

“You… you talk a lot,” is all you can muster as you pull him tighter into your embrace.

Satoru’s lips curl into a small smile and he squeezes your hips. The deliberately slow trail of his fingertips smoothing their way from your waist down to the bottom hem of your dress had your mind dizzy with anticipation. 

When they slip underneath your attire, you’re not surprised when he starts to get more handsy. Palming at your thighs before ultimately winding up to the lacey material of your underwear. His index fingers hook around them, making an effort to tug them off you, but he can’t seem to do that just yet due to the obstacle of you sitting on his lap. 

Groaning, Satoru jumps his shoulder, prodding you to lift your face from his neck so that you may see what he wants from you. “Help me out, will you?”

You’re more than happy to oblige by a simple lift of your hips off his lap. With the weight of you temporarily gone, Satoru lowers the underwear down your thighs and to your knees.

One leg at a time you step out of them, leaving nothing but the cool, air-conditioned air of the room breeze past your exposed cunt.

Bunching the garment in his hand, Satoru skillfully tosses it across the room… only for it to land unceremoniously atop a fake fern tucked into a corner of the room.

“Hey!”

Breezing past your sudden exclamation, Satoru's hands slide up your bare thighs and his fingertips tease over your skin, eventually grazing your pussy. When your hips inadvertently jerk back the moment they brush over your clit, your boyfriend holds you still against him.

“Sensitive, huh?” he asks, turning his head to press an affectionate kiss onto your warm cheek. “That’s one of the things I like most about you, how reactive you are.”

Not stopping with his ministrations, your boyfriend’s fingers stroke your bud, rubbing excruciating slow circles against you that send you reeling at the palm of his hands. 

Sounds of content are breathed out from his lungs when he starts to feel you grow wetter and wetter the more he toys with you. Your heart’s pounding loud against your chest, and you’re positive that if Satoru were to press his ear against you and listen real close, he’d be able to hear it.

Groaning, you exhale a pathetic string of nonsense into your boyfriend’s clothed shoulder, tugging harshly at his tie when you start to feel that familiar searing heat start to come undone when he slinks a finger inside you— gathering at the slippery arousal pooling around your inner thighs— only to take it back out again, drawing intricate shapes onto your clit.

“Oh my God,” you mewl, riding his hand now, shedding out of the once flustered facade you had moments prior.

Whispering your name, Satoru unwraps his arm from your waist so he may turn your face to look at him with the free hand that isn’t currently hidden underneath your dress. The tips of your noses brush and he watches you silently with unadulterated desire as you practically come undone by his hand. 

“Kiss me,” he demands, his palm pressing against the back of your nape to bring you closer to him, and you do as you’re told. 

Nipping at your bottom lip, your boyfriend presses one wet kiss after the other against your mouth before his tongue slides inside. The kiss is sloppy and fevered, and your whines are consumed by Satoru when his fingers are poking and curling inside you with passion.

You don’t think you can keep up with him if this continues.

Gasping, you pull away from an all too eager Satoru, who chases your lips only to be met with your cheek when you turn away from him. 

Pouting, the white-haired male searches your face for an explanation. “Why?” he whines, and a brief flash of disappointment strikes his features.

“It’s too much,” you murmur. At this, you feel Satoru’s fingers slow down inside your receptive pussy, but there is the subtle wiggle maybe once or twice to let you know he’s still there. “If you keep going like that I’ll—” You fling a lame hand in the air, hoping the unspoken gesture would speak for itself.

Seemingly catching your drift, a boyish and devilish grin is tacked onto his lips. “Want me to put it inside, then?” He bucks his hips up against your core, not caring if you’d make a mess of his lap. “I want you to feel all of me before that happens. Will you let me, sweetheart?”

There’s some sort of strangled scream that’s caught in your throat the moment the precious pet name drips off his tongue.

 You nod dumbly, to which Satoru laughs sweetly in response.

Lifting you off him, he settles you down onto the black leather seat beside you, not before hiking the bottom half of your dress up to your hips, exposing you completely to him. He presses your back down into the cushion and rests his knee between your legs.

Peeling off the black blazer from his shoulders, Gojo lets the article of clothing drop to the floor before his hands unbuckle his ridiculously expensive belt.

He’s taking his sweet ass time and he knows it because there’s an amused glint that swirls in his eyes the more he looks down at you.

“Hurry. Up,” you bite, unsure if you can withstand any more of his teasings. 

“You’re impatient as ever,” he jabs, tone laced with artificial annoyance.  Finally undoing his zipper, Satoru frees himself from the confines of his slacks and boxers before his hand finds the back of your knee, pushing it down toward your chest to get you ready for him. 

Right before the crown of his head can slip past the entrance of your slit, the unmistakable sound of heels clicking down the hallway catches your attention.

Shit, shit, shit!

You make moves to sit up and at least get yourself together, in case the oblivious stranger miraculously chooses your room out of all the others to walk into for God knows what.

However, Gojo has a different agenda. 

The corners of his lips quirk up as the sounds of what you predict to be two people, approach closer and closer down the hallway and toward your door. Satoru pins you back down and offers you a few words of encouragement along the lines of how good of a job you’re doing, before the thick head of his cock slides into you.

You both moan at the intoxicating sensation. However the sound of his runs deeper, like a pained grunt. It was as if he were a man possessed.

Fucking himself sweetly inside your tight, greedy hole, you can’t stop thinking of the fact that with each step you hear, the closer you are to toeing the line of you and Satoru being walked in on.

God, what would even do in such a situation? Keep going? Stop altogether?

“Fuuuck,” Satoru breathes, the vulgar somewhat audible sounds of your bodies grinding and bucking together had you thinking with other body parts rather than your head.

Yeah, no shot were you stopping anytime soon.

“I should’ve known he was taken, Airi!” You hear a voice exclaim from down the hall. “I mean, look at him!”

Yeah, look at him.

A furious pink blush crawls up Satoru’s neck and hues the tips of his ears as his hips drive in and out of you at such a gruelling, slow pace. His mouth is slightly parted open and the harsh sound of his laboured breathing can be heard echoing off the room’s wall with each thrust he sends inside your pussy.

He looks positively debauched right now. 

His tie (if you could even call it that now) barely can hold itself together, and a few buttons of his linen white shirt are now loose— revealing the milky expanse of his chest. He can’t seem to control his facial expressions either because one moment pale, white brows are furiously pinched together as he obscenely stretches your insides, and the next moment pleasure is etched onto those angelic features of his.

A second voice chips in, who you assume to be the woman’s friend. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

You can hear the sulk in the woman’s voice when she mutters, “I guess…” 

You’re half relieved when you hear their footsteps walk past your door entirely, unsuspecting of the pure filth that was going on behind it. 

But deep down in you, tucked somewhere far away is the feeling of excitement, knowing that you and Satoru could’ve been sniffed out at any second had you been a wee bit careless and more loud

With the coast clear, you cry out as Satoru sinks his throbbing hard length deeper inside you. His cock expertly works you open, leaving you twisting and writhing in pleasure as you start to near orgasm.

“Feels good, right?”

“So good,” you choke out, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him impossibly closer to you. 

“Don’t stop. Please, please, please don’t stop, Satoru,” you beg him weakly, you feel like you’re about to explode. It’s too hot. It feels too good and a bundle of nerves in your core is ready to snap.

With one hand secured on your leg, supporting how it rests around his slender yet muscular waist, Satoru’s other hand comes up to palm and kneads at your clothed breast.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he groans, kissing you through your panting breaths. “You take me so well, just hold on…”

Giving into the pleasure, Gojo’s hips now snap faster into you, his big hands gripping and squeezing your ass possessively, pinning your hips to the couch.

Rocking harder and faster now, Satoru’s whimpers reach a whole new octave as he’s forced to pull out of you when his balls start to pulse threateningly, alerting him that he’s nearing his release.

Shuddering, Satoru strokes mindlessly and you gasp when something warm and gooey dribbles down your lower belly and toward your pubic bone.

“Agh! I—” He’s still pumping and there are small beads of cum weeping out the slit of his tip when’s rubbed all that he’s had left to give out. It drools off his dick and drips onto your lips. “I couldn’t help it…” he responds, knowing that he had nothing nearby to wipe you off with.

At least he had the sense not to come on your dress. 

Content with his performance, Satoru gives your butt one last cheeky pinch before tucking himself back into his pants. You close your legs. “We should do this more often.”

Shimmying your dress back to its proper state, you turn to him with a questioning glance. “What— What do you mean?” you ask.

You’re hyper-aware of his cum that’s beginning its slow descent down your leg. You need to take of that and fast.

Gojo points a tired finger between you and him, and then circling it around the room, he adds to this by saying, “Getting it on in public? I like it, it heightens the ‘experience’.”

You push him away from your body and mutter for him to shut up as you prop yourself off your back and into a proper sitting position. 

Throwing an arm across his face with his forearm shielding his eyes, Gojo laughs a little. “So, are we heading back in?” he asks you. “They must’ve cut the cake by now…”

You have the most insufferable boyfriend known to man. After this whole ordeal, he was still thinking about that fucking cake. 

“I can’t stand you, Satoru.”

thank you for reading :)

[parfaitblogs]

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃 

series masterlist

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making. 

Except for you. 

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during. 

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work. 

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears. 

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered. 

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag. 

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more. 

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly. 

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink. 

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in). 

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you. 

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear. 

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready. 

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there. 

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question. 

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not." 

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk. 

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled. 

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him. 

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut. 

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours. 

But you were yet to kiss. 

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable. 

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. 

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you. 

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze. 

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head. 

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down. 

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh. 

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing. 

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead. 

"No. We haven't," he agreed. 

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response. 

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips. 

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him. 

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'. 

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks. 

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again. 

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[prael]

pas de deux - IVE An Yujin (ft. Jang Wonyoung)

Part 1 of folie à deux.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

18+ An Yujin (and Jang Wonyoung) x Male Reader smut

Masterlist Word Count: 7,727

folie à deux - folly (madness) of two pas de deux - a dance for two

It's survival—that's how you mask it.

It's the hard reality you tell yourself to justify being the pseudo-servant to these two girls, just to make the year as easy as possible so you can graduate. Playing their games. Never questioning their words or actions. The house of cards they've built is fragile but they keep it in check.

Somehow, you're one of the cards, one wall of the house. You've only been in the school a month. The fresh-faced transfer who fell into the grasp of the two girls who practically run the place. You can't deny it has its benefits. Like every one of Yujin and Wonyoung's friends, no one ever questions anything and you would never run the risk of falling into the bad books of school bullies.

Oh, and you also get to fuck Wonyoung senseless.

Luckily, the walls of the library are thick, everyone else is in class and the library door is locked. Or someone would have heard the squirming Wonyoung moaning expletives by now.

"Harder." Her nails threaten to pierce the skin. Claws gripped to your forearm. Her words are sharper still, cutting through the air with the same lethality as her looks. "Stop, stop, stop. Hand, there. Circles, remember. And go fucking harder will you?" You position as instructed, how you know she likes it. There's no room for creative freedom here—it's Wonyoung's way or it's no way.

But, god. She knows exactly how to break you—just enough that when she puts you back together, your mismatched pieces slot perfectly into her shape, allowing her to completely mould and manipulate you at her will, at her whim. And oh, does she love when you let her.

"That's it, there. Yes!" Wonyoung presses the heel of her foot into the small of your back, pushing you further in, urging you closer and deeper, drawing a hoarse groan from her throat. She's sprawled flat on the desk, on the second floor of the library. You're looking over the balcony, down at the empty room. It's almost monotonous, it happens at the same time every week. Hidden in the same top corner of the same library, at the same time on the same day. You've got her legs spread and your cock in her cunt.

Your fingers are digging into her thighs, pinning her hips to the desk. You don't falter once, going exactly as fast, exactly as hard, and exactly as deep as she likes it. Her movements are in tune with yours. Familiarity. Wonyoung's perfectly groomed eyebrows are furrowed, heart-shaped lips pursed, eyes scrunched shut.

"You're close, right? I can feel it..." Your words come out ragged and laboured. This isn't supposed to feel good for you, you aren't supposed to have an opinion. It's her own fantasy—an excuse for her to let herself get fucked like a little whore without question or consequence—your body's just along for the ride. You're not an actor in the scene, not a participant. You are the means to an end; a character-prop. Something to be used by the main character. To further her plot.

She responds with a shaky mewl that turns into a string of frantic cries, her slender, legs locking around you.

It ends how it always ends.

She cums. Hard.

You don't. Too messy, she says. You can't cum inside, you can't cum on her and you can't just cum on the library desk. Too risky and unhygienic. It's almost cute watching her try to cover up her gasp and squeal as she rides her high, biting down onto her soft sleeve, probably tearing through a layer of fabric with her pearly whites.

That's just how it is with Wonyoung.

***

"There you are!" Yujin is by your side and snaking her arm around yours, holding you just above the elbow and leaning against you. "Where's Wony?"

"Probably halfway down the highway by now, her boyfriend picked her up fifteen minutes ago," you explain as if it's the most normal thing in the world that Wonyoung hopped off your cock and into her boyfriend's car in the space of ten minutes. But that’s the life she lives—you live.

"You can take me straight home then, let's go." Yujin smiles up at you with her signature grin and those half-moon eyes. If Wonyoung were the definition of danger, Yujin was still just that, but wrapped up in cotton wool and given to a puppy. Her playful expression could melt even the hardest heart, and yet, thanks to her money, she too could get away with just about anything.

At least Yujin made your life easier. There was a little more give and take in your friendship—unlike with Wonyoung.

Still, you wonder exactly how the two of them do it. The whole school around their little fingers. The teachers—they overlook Wonyoung's little indiscretions as soon as the excuses leave her pretty little mouth, so convincing is her act. And then there's Yujin, she—

"You bitch!" In sync, you and Yujin look away from each other and towards the two young ladies holding each other by handfuls of hair. You don't know either of them, but they are blocking the way to your car.

"What's going on here?" asks Yujin, speaking louder than normal to ensure that her voice breaks through the constant bickering. The voices quieten and the hands release their grips, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

The pair turn to you both as they both speak at the same time. "This whore took my earrings!" One points at the other.

"Yeah? These are my earrings. How dense can you be?" one fires back, clearly pissed off, making exaggerated hand gestures for emphasis.

"Bitch, they belong to me! Stop taking things that aren’t yours, you slut! This is you and Jisun’s boyfriend all over again!"

"Ladies, please," Yujin says calmly, in just those two words she captivates attention. "You girls are friends, right?" She doesn’t give time for a response. "Well, if you're really friends, you'll sit and talk about this instead of pulling each other's hair. And if I'm being totally honest, those earrings don't exactly look worth the effort."

They lower their fists slowly, looking a little less angry now and more embarrassed to be told off. You half expect a little, "yes, mother" and an apology from them.

"Great!" Yujin says after some silence. She tugs gently on your arm, strutting between the two girls with you in tow. They stand and watch as you pass by. You only get a step or two past them before Yujin stops.

She turns to face the girls, still staring wide-eyed at the two of you. "Actually, aren't you girls forgetting something? You owe us both an apology."

The two exchange glances, looking surprised by the statement. "Wh-what for?" one asks, eyes darting nervously between you and her friend, who seems equally puzzled.

"For being in our way." The pair look around and suddenly notice the small crowd around you, phones pulled out, cameras glaring. They pale almost immediately. And you can see that they know this only ends one way. Because no one says no to Yujin.

The girls nervously get down on their knees and bow their heads. "I-I'm sorry!"

"We're sorry!"

"Excuse us!"

"Please forgive us!" They're flustered, apologizing to you and Yujin as though their lives depend on it. It feels like forever has passed when Yujin finally laughs and turns away.

"Have a lovely evening, ladies," she says in a tone sweeter than sugar, leaving the girls kneeling and guiding you again towards your car.

For all intents and purposes, these two girls are fucking crazy.

Delusional.

folie à deux

***

"You will stay and eat. I insist." It's ever so clear where she gets it from. Just like his daughter, Yujin's father simply would not take "no" for an answer. You know that really, you have no choice but the lock the car and follow Yujin up the steps into her house.

"Make sure our guest is comfortable." He glances at the maid to signal her. You notice a flinch, though only passing—the girl is nervous. No one can relax when they're in the presence of an Ahn. After his instruction, he walks into the door without another word.

You make the climb Yujin had not two minutes earlier, up the stairs and into the front door of the house, through the door left open, which the maid closes behind you.

The mansion's interior is exactly what you expect—luxurious, opulent and vast. But where you thought there might be a hint of the gaudy and tacky, there is only tasteful, expensive decorating, the finest of furniture, and grandeur befitting the family who owns it. As always, there's not a thing out of place.

Yujin's at the top of the stairs. She has already swapped out her formal blouse for a comfortable t-shirt, but she still wears the pleated skirt she did before, sitting just above the knee. "Couldn't escape father then? I think he likes you."

"He doesn't show it if he does." You shrug.

"He didn't wave you away without a word. That means he likes you." Yujin speaks as she walks down the stairs towards you. Off somewhere to your right, you hear the busywork of the kitchen, preparing the food he insisted you eat. "It's funny because I can't think why..."

She mocks you in the way she always does, with a grin on her face.

"It must be my wit, charm, personality, and incredible looks," you tell her with a wry smile.

"Huh... I didn't know my dad was gay."

"Shame he's not really my type." It's your turn to grin now.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's an understatement. I know your type."

"Maybe you do," you say while climbing the stairs to meet her at the top.

She stares you down for a moment and you wait for her latest quip. She eventually looks over your shoulder, down the stairs to the maid. Yujin informs her, "We will eat in the upstairs lounge."

***

"And Gaeul, did you hear?" Yujin can barely contain her excitement as she slams her chopsticks on the table. The conversation had been flowing for a while now, mostly from Yujin as she fills you in with all the recent gossip on people you barely know.

"Which one is she again?" This one you already know, but you always enjoy the way she describes and introduces her friends. It’s so often so unserious.

"Kim Gaeul, the one in my dance class." Yujin pauses. Her eyes roll. "You know the one. Short hair, even shorter skirt. Cute smile, even cuter ass?"

That would probably narrow it down.

"Okay, but what about her?"

"Well you know that guy she's dating? The German guy?" The love lives of Yujin's friends are a bit of a blur. The more you hear about them, the less sense it all makes. "He proposed!"

"They are that serious?"

"Very! I guess it was love at first sight. Gaeul certainly saw something she liked."

"They're still young. It's a big commitment."

"But, if you want something, you should take it," Yujin affirms.

"Just like a criminal," you joke.

Yujin giggles. Something is charming about Yujin's laughter. There's an innocence and lightheartedness to her that brings you a sense of tranquillity. Suddenly, a weight rests on your shoulder. A chin nestles into the side of your neck. Warm, moist air fills your ear, "Maybe you could learn a thing or two. Life's too short to wait around and hesitate."

The weight and air vanish, and suddenly you feel cold. Yujin's French perfume lingers in your nose. "And it's good for her right, she must be getting fucked a lot." Yujin continues as normal as though the moment never happened. She picks up a piece of meat between her chopsticks, taking care not to get the sauce all over her. She brings it closer to her lips, smiling ever so slyly the whole way.

Yujin takes a drink before she continues, “and so Rei said to her that…”

She continues onto rest of the story and the many more after which you don’t really pay attention to, the moment before still lingering on your mind.

***

"As delicious as always." The two of you had spent at least an hour in the upstairs lounge, eating as you talked, catching up with events, and then talking about nothing in particular.

The maid bows at your compliment before taking away the tray of leftovers and leaving the room.

Yujin lay her arms over her chest as she leans back into the couch. Her eyes roll as her head falls to the side, staring over at the bookcase behind you.

"I hate reading." You can hear her disgust in her tone. "Dull, pointless, useless, boring..."

Yujin stops, eyes fixed upon you. Her eyebrows pull together with curiosity. "But you must love it, right?"

"There are worse hobbies."

She gives a thin-lipped grin, unconvinced. Yujin tilts her head to the other said, hair thrown over her head to settle on the other side, "do you, though? Because you and Wonyoung spend a lot of time in the library."

She knows. Of course she knows.

"Just studying." You smile weakly and give an awkward laugh, running your hand through your hair. 

"Wonyoung doesn't study." She says that flatly, cutting the air. Yujin may well be the only person in the school who dares to question the actions of her best friend. She has no interest in playing along with the lie.

You sit in silence. Any excuse would only be an insult to her intelligence.

"You're lucky really," she muses, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at the frilled edge of her skirt. Yujin makes a conscious effort to cross her long legs, exposing the small expanse of creamy flesh where the skin between the hem and knee socks met.

"Why is that?" you ask, with eyes fixed firmly on the tantalising flesh.

"Every other guy in school would kill for an hour alone with Wonyoung." Yujin purred.

"A bit drastic. They want what any young, single man would want."

"Hmm, those poor things are a second away from cumming in their pants just being in the same room as her."

Yujin gave a delightful, innocent-girl smile, contrasting with her crass language. She wore her angel-like grin with a devil's look. "Not you though. Which is exactly why she wants you."

"Why?" Your eyes flicker to the floor, away from Yujin. The thoughts circle.

"Like I said: they're far too eager for her to respect them, but not you. No." She spoke clearly, firmly. "The way you stare at her, it's almost as if you don't care that much for her."

"Not sure I understand. She is a friend, I care." you admit.

"But you don't beg it like the other boys do. She must find that attractive about you, not being desperate, but still willing." Her legs uncross slowly, tortuously so, pulling her legs apart ever so slightly. She smooths the crease of the pleats over her thighs.

You sense a chance to turn the wind and sail the conversation in Yujin's direction. "What about you? The one boy from art class seems really desperate to get close to you."

The vaguest flash of surprise came across her eyes, as if you'd interrupted her. The shock passes.

"Ah. Him." She rolls her eyes, puffing her cheeks as she does. A disgusted grimace mars her angelic expression.

"He's into you." Who isn't?

"I can tell. Not my type." She waves dismissively, having no need for your words. "I can," she pauses over her words, "take care of myself."

A creeping heat climbs your spine. "Really?" Your question sounds more curious than teasing, though your tone carries more than a hint of amusement.

Her slender shoulders shrug ever so casually. "Of course I can. Everyone needs a little," she purrs the next word, "dissipation."

It is the wording more than anything that draws a pensive mood. Yujin said it casually enough, with her fingers absentmindedly pressing up and down her exposed leg, almost as if the mere thought of it was enough to excite her. Her gaze glazes over at some unseen memory, and she gives a knowing smirk before her thoughts snap back to the real world.

"Yujin, I—"

She cuts you off, "there are so many, too many, horny boys in the world, but so few are dependable." The hand tracing her thigh edges just a centimetre further upwards, folding the pleat under the touch. "it was nice to have you here for dinner, but I have something I need to do."

"Are you expecting me to go so that you can...?"

The smile spreads from ear-to-ear across her face. "I'm not saying anything. But you know where the door is." She rises from her seat, a perfectly poised princess, and moves gracefully towards the door. Her body swaying under her baggy shirt and flowing skirt.

She doesn't give you time for a reply.

You're left alone with only the dying embers of her expensive perfume.

***

Class finished early and you're waiting. As you always did when you finished before the girls.

However, this time is different. You haven’t seen Yujin all day and aren’t sure how to act when you do. Not after what you saw yesterday. You lean back against your locker, streams of people passing by. Most ignore you, or the few that acknowledge you pay only a glance or two before continuing.

"Hey, Gaeul," you call to the one girl you recognise passing by, "have you seen Yujin?"

"Bro, she left already." You don't know when she started calling you bro. Maybe she always had. Could be part of her friendly nature. Gaeul is about as easygoing as they come.

"Is something wrong with her?"

"Nah." A gap appears in the crowd and you move to join her, heading out of the building. "You know how it is. If she wants to leave five minutes early, no one will stop her."

Another student cuts between the two of you, forcing you towards another group that blocks your way. You spin away to avoid them, manoeuvring through like a speeding car on the highway, catching up with the on-rushing Gaeul.

"And she didn't say anything?" you ask when finally back by her side. Gaeul's looking at her phone—probably reading a text from her husband-to-be.

"Hm?" Gaeul throws a glance out of courtesy. "No." she mutters before replying to the text.

"Nothing?"

Gaeul opens the door to the outside and you follow her through. She's striding like a girl with places to be, so you have to half-jog to get back by her side.

"Oh! Yujin did tell me to tell you something, actually. She said, tell him to act like a criminal. Whatever that means."

Act like a criminal.

"Thanks Gaeul," you speak quickly, diverting towards your car.

"Bro! What does it mean?" Gaeul calls after you but you don't wait around to answer.

***

The maid is there to greet you when you knock on the door of Yujin's house. Apparently, Yujin is waiting for you upstairs, and after letting you into the Ahn house for the second time in as many days, the maid disappears again into the background, leaving you to explore.

You see, yesterday ended almost unceremoniously. You stayed for dinner, you ate, talked, laughed. And then you left.

Except, it wasn't actually that simple. After Yujin left the room, you held around for a minute, finishing your drink. The ice-cold one in the fancy tumbler. Taking in the room around, as for all the time you had spent in there, you were more focused on Yujin than the exquisite decor. You admired it for all it's worth and savoured your drink until you decided that you shouldn't overstay your welcome.

It should have been simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

Until you walked down the corridor and found a door ajar with the smallest of gaps. You leant gently against the frame, peering in just enough to give you a view of the bed.

On the bed was the girl you expected to find. On the bed was Ahn Yujin.

The curtains were closed, but enough sunlight managed to peak through. Light bounced off the soft skin. Each breath sent her chest swelling. You followed every rise and fall with hungry eyes.

With the afternoon sun kissing her flesh, highlighting the curve of her shoulder and collarbone, she looked even more heavenly. She wore her short hair wild, swept back and almost messy. And that's all she wore.

Her clothes discarded. A crumpled heap just beside the bed. And yet, there was a strangely intimate beauty in their chaos. As if she had just stumbled out of them in some urgent and carnal heat.

Her entire being had been shaped into perfection, carved from a block of ivory, her delicate fingers, smooth legs, slender shoulders and bare chest roseand fell with the soft inhales of breathing.

It was not the Yujin you knew; there was no hint of her elegance and poise. Here only lustful indulgence. A reckless hedonism that wanted no secrets to be kept or questions to be unanswered. Her body lay free of the bounds that normalcy imposes, inviting you to admire what she kept concealed, every precious curve and secret corner of her immaculate skin, every beautiful mark and blemish, that, in itself, was a testament to the humanity that lies just under the surface of such sublime beauty.

There was no doll, nor porcelain queen. No statue of stone or plaster. Instead, she was living, breathing, moving and feeling. Each touch was electricity. And her eyes said it all.

There was woman—in its rawest form.

And you had stood. You had stared. For as long as you dared. Until you tried to tear yourself away. You could not deny your perverted mind that moment of indulgence. And indulge you did, right up until the fear of being caught overcame you.

It should have been so simple. Walk to your car, get in, and go home.

For the last twenty-four hours, the image plagued your mind. You were consumed with her. With the idea of her. Of what she had done, of what could have been had you dared enter her room. And the guilt alongside it.

And now you're here, a day later, walking back to the scene of your crime. The door is ajar again, a few feet ahead. You push lightly, gently, inch by inch. Your breath held and the anticipation thick, clouding your mind and filling every thought, not of anything other than what you might see behind that door.

And then it comes into view. The bed and the disappointment.

A bed perfectly made, and decidedly empty.

You realise your folly—thinking, hoping, expecting the same sordid sight as before.

"I was wondering if you'd turn up." Her voice comes from behind you and her tone is low, hushed, and seductive. Every word tingles down the spine. Her fragrance arrives a beat ahead of the girl herself. "Did you get my message?"

"Yeah, about being a criminal," you answer as innocently as you can manage, still recovering from the shock.

"Exactly. As criminals, we take, without question, what we desire," Yujin whispers the last few words in your ear, a heavy, breathy tone that takes any resolve left in you and melts it before it's even fully formed. Her scent surrounds you. It overwhelms you.

"Yesterday, what you saw me do," she begins, her fingers reaching for your arm, gliding gently and purposefully, drawing slow patterns with a single nail, "you had the decency to resist temptation, but I don't want that." Her fingers grip your forearm tightly.

"It doesn't matter why you resisted. All I know is that you watched me... touch myself, pleasure myself. Do I turn you on?" She knew damn well the effect she was having.

You answer her question with another question. "Yujin, what are you playing at?"

"You're smart. Don't you know how this goes?" She steps, smooths around the shape of you, and into your field of vision. "Don’t you know why you’re here?" 

She raises her arms slowly, making a show of her body. With all the possible casualness, she smooths her hands up her sides, slowly, passing her stomach and onto her chest, and gently caressing. A shirt clings to her slim frame. The thin fabric is practically see-through, clinging to every delicious curve. The bottom few inches lifting, revealing flesh and the lines of lace trim on her matching her cream panties.

"I can't fight it, Yujin." Your hands find their way to the curves of her waist. She wriggles under the touch, happy to have the reaction she desires.

"Fight what?" She smirks, clearly amused by your confession and how easily you give in to her. Her hands roll gently across her breasts.

"The alarm in my head saying it’s a bad idea."

"Don’t fight it. Because I'm really, really hot," she whispers as pulls her top up her body. It rolls over her head and flops to the floor and you marvel, breathless and hungry, at the expanse of silky skin and feminine curves.

Her hands stroke at your crotch and she laughs softly. "Hard already?"

Her fingers curl and squeeze around the outline. She gives an approving smirk at the way it twitches under her touch, even as she mocks its hardness. "For me, huh?"

You nod, and she smirks. You move your hands up her body, but just as you begin; she twists free and walks towards her bed.

"Go, stand." Yujin points at the centre of her bedroom, towards the foot of her bed.

The carpet beneath you is soft, and you're barefoot. Walking. Watching. Eyes never leaving Yujin. Her bare thighs, defined, slender and soft. The curves, so gentle, and her accentuated hips. Her round, shapely behind, cradled so perfectly in tight-fitting panties. You have barely reached your position when she looks at you from over her shoulder and wiggles her panties slowly down her legs and leaves them on the floor.

She's crawling on the bed. You can't move—you barely manage to breathe. Each breath burns your throat. You're motionless, speechless, hypnotised in awe at Yujin. As requested (perhaps ordered) you remain. Watching from afar. Yujin seats herself on her bed with delicacy, her knees pressed together.

"I have to be honest with you," she confesses. "I'm not going to fuck you. But you can help me. If you're willing, that is."

"Anything" is your reflex response. You're powerless. She has you in the palm of her hand, and the growing ache in your groin, which was eager to be free of the confines of your pants, only affirms your thoughts.

"Are you sure?" Her head tilted to the side, teasing you with naivete. Yujin laid a single, slender finger on her lip and pulled it down suggestively. "If you come over here," Yujin insisted, her free hand parting her knees and patting the bed between her thighs, "then we could help each other."

There's a flurry of activity. You pull off your shirt and leave your trousers behind. Now you're kneeling across from her.

"Watch me. Just watch." Her voice is softer now, sultry, as her fingers ghost down the column of her neck, along her collarbones and then tracing the curve of her breasts, with the lightest grazes against her nipples. Her eyes fall closed as she carries on tracing feathery touches on her torso.

To be here now is all you could have wanted, really. If anything is happening beyond the sound of her shortening breaths and soft hums and her hand snaking between her legs, it's beyond your awareness. Yujin is shifting in front of you, wiggling and squirming; biting at her lip until it reddens and fills; gasping at the gentle caress of fingertips sliding slick against the smooth lips between her legs.

"No touching, just look." As if to drive the point home, her gaze holds on you for a moment, her lips curling into the sweetest smile. As a reward for your patience, her eyes grow warm and welcoming. Her legs spread wider, and Yujin hums. Her touch builds slowly, making small circles. There's no sign of urgency to her actions, none of the frustration that Wonyoung showed when waiting for her release. But Yujin isn't simply touching; it isn't about release. She's revelling.

Her breasts move with her heavy breaths. Her body trembles; her legs shake. She leans back slowly, taking support from her elbow, exposing herself wholly to you, with her head pressing back into her pillow, her hair sprawling in a mess and her pink lips slightly agape as her mouth shapes sounds that die as quickly as they're born.

"Yujin, I..." You lean forward onto your knees, placing an arm by her hip and another by her shoulder. You're hovering over her. Watching the display before you in stunned silence.

She grabs a handful of her tit, squeezing and moaning. "Keep talking," she breathes, her lips still quivering.

"I want you so bad."

She presses harder and slides her finger a little lower, dipping inside her cunt. Her other hand goes to your arm, then strokes over your bicep up to your neck. "You can do better than that." She whispers, wrapping her hand around your nape.

"How could I not want you?" Your knees are between her legs, you lower yourself closer without breaking her rule. You do not touch. "Not when you smell so enticing. Or sound so delightful. Or look so stunning."

Her mouth opens, panting breaths and half-uttered sighs fill the air. "And?"

Strands of hair fall over her face, you bring a hand up and hover it near to them, seeking her approval. Her eyes dart to your hand and consider it for a moment before giving the gentlest of approving nods. Your hand brushes the strands to the side. Her cheeks are bright and rosy, her skin damp, moist with perspiration, though still like silk to touch, you discover as you run a finger down her cheek.

"And when you look at me... with that smile. You have such a cute smile, like right now, that innocent—"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."

You oblige. Yujin rises to meet you. And you take her in a hungry kiss. She falls back against her pillow. You slide a hand around her thigh, gently holding it against yours. The sensation of skin on skin is electric.

"M-more. Give me more." Yujin demands, and you give her thigh a squeeze in agreement. Your hand moves to her ass, giving the swell an approving touch, caressing the skin, and kneading ever so slowly.

You watch her, in the dimness between kisses, studying her delicate expressions and tiny reactions and all the while you enjoy the feeling of her pliant flesh beneath you.

This goes on and on. The kissing. The touching. The moments of separation. When Yujin pauses and lays her head down, catching her breath. A few heartbeats pass, she opens her eyes and watches you. Languidly, she smiles and beckons you to lean closer, to hold her again and taste her sweet lips once more.

The dim, orange sunlight of early evening has long since faded. A soft, blue light envelops her bedroom. As the minutes passed and the two of you enjoyed each other's touch, Yujin never stopped. Never stopped her hand buried between her thighs. And this time your kiss broke by the jolt of her head, thrown back into the pillow. Her neck is at full stretch and her lips agape.

No moans come from her mouth. Instead, her breath hitches and holds. She freezes like this, under the moonlight piercing between the curtains. Reflecting from her skin. An image of pure beauty. Unadulterated pleasure.

Her eyes remain shut, but a beaming smile grows.

Finally, she sighs deeply and lets out her last shuddering, shaky breaths. She rises again and searches your eyes with her half-open ones and smiles once more.

"That was perfect," she murmurs, satisfied, as she lolls back into the pillow and rubs her hand—the hand covered with her cum—over her heaving, sweat-slicked chest.

You can only admire as she rubs her hand over her tits, smearing them with a mixture of cum and sweat. And when she's done, she lets her hand fall beside her head, the other resting on your shoulder.

"What are you thinking?" Her question came slowly, her speech still languid.

"How amazing you are."

Yujin smirks before stretching, arching her back from the bed, thrusting her tits at you. "You've probably thought that a lot." She's hot, and she knows it. "Anything else? With me here like this?"

"Your body is better than I imagined. Perfect."

Yujin brings a hand up to cup her tit, as if offering them up for you. "Glad you think so." The next word was a demand, "Taste."

Her chin tilts down and her gaze lifts. Her eyes watch curiously as your head dives to her chest. The most overpowering thing is the smell. The combination of her rich perfume and the scent of sex.

"That's it. Let me guide you." Yujin reaches round, holds the back of your head, and pushes your lips on her nipple. She giggles as you suck greedily, nibbling at her and lavishing her flesh in sloppy adoration. Yujin's skin glows a hue you'd never seen before. And tastes a taste so sickly sweet that you swear is so addicting that as a second becomes a minute, your tongue would never tire.

"Good." Her voice is soft and doting, but her breath catches for a brief instant as you roll your tongue over the swollen peak, drawing a tighter grip on your head. Her hands bury into your hair, her nails against the scalp. She pulls at you, guiding your tongue across her chest.

Yujin whines. And for all the sounds that you've heard today, there is none so sweet, nor one that cuts so deep as when she pulls you away. "God, I feel so sexy now."

Yujin lets her leg rub up to yours. Gyrating gently and grinding your thigh with hers, she works herself closer. Then her legs curl, capturing you and holding you. Yujin raises up so her face is millimetres away, whispering into your lips, "You don't even know what a turn-on you are right now."

She guides your hand with her own, down between her thighs. And she rubs your fingers up against her slippery opening. "Feel that? That's for you, and I can't wait any longer." Her eyes fall closed and her forehead rests against yours.

"I want to fuck you, Yujin."

"We aren't going to fuck." She punctuates each word separately but speaks without anger. Her tone is honey. It's dripping with lust despite the coldness of the words. "But I am going to let you cum now."

Her hand leaves your own, leaving your fingers pressed against her cunt. Both her hands now. Both against your body, rubbing at your chest and working their way down. Yujin's got a devilish, vapid expression. An insufferable confidence.

"And maybe this is selfish, but," Yujin grins wickedly as her hand takes a fistful of cock. "I'm also going to get off to watching you blow a load."

Her thumb, smeared in her arousal, rolls and drags. It's a wicked gesture that plays you like a marionette. Yujin draws her wet thumb up your length. The pressure and tension are enough to bring your breath hitching.

"It'll be huge." You lean into the feeling and whisper hotly. The heat building between the two of you is dizzying. She wraps her fingers around the base of your cock and squeezes firmly, jerking her hand up to the head.

"Good." The word escapes her parted lips as she takes the first full stroke. And then she doesn't stop. Her fingers tighten and the movement is repeated, finding a quick rhythm that you follow along to.

"Touch me," Yujin orders again. She looks down between your bodies, the tangle of arms, where she strokes your cock rhythmically. Using her other hand on your wrist to push you into her. Two fingers. That's what you give, gently stroking down along her cunt. Two fingers inside and curling up slowly inside her. Your hand pressing against her cunt, palm rocking against her clit. "Keep doing that."

You follow along. Obeying her directions and fulfilling her commands, making short little motions between her legs. You've watched her cum once and know exactly how to bring her there again. You push further, probing deeper, massaging the hot slickness. And you must be doing it right. Her grip on your wrist slackens and her body collapses back into the silk.

Finally, she fully focuses on you. Her hands work your cock. Up, down. Smooth, measured, fluid strokes. Unsurprisingly, she's perfect, each action purposeful, coordinated, and calculated. You know from the tension already winding, growing tighter and tighter, that it's a race you're destined to lose.

Yujin sighs heavily. Her lips remain open but her eyes grow serious. Head propped by the pillow, she's watching her handiwork. Watching the first drops of cum leak out and she palms them, taking them into her grip, making it messier as she continues to pump. Her eyes lift to watch your face as it distorts, and as you let out a groan.

"Are you close yet?" Her hand tightens. Faster. Rougher. Her fingers graze your sensitive cock, your body convulses and the involuntary reaction is a knee-jerk buck of your hips into the warmth of her hand. And her laugh follows. Delightfully warm, innocent, genuine. It fills the room and pierces through any self-conscious embarrassment. "Guess so, huh? Come on, cum. Just for me." Her thumb drags over your cock's head.

Your hands still moving, and Yujin's body beginning to quiver. With her orgasm fast approaching, she's determined to make you finish first. Her other hand has a hold on your balls, encouraging them to let loose.

Your lungs hurt from the shallow gasps and a sick knot forms in the pit of your stomach. A tingling buzzing and a throbbing that overcomes everything, wiping the thoughts from your mind. Only her eyes. Yujin's warm, hazel, angelic eyes are what remains. They stare with determination, urging you on.

She knows. You know. You can't hold it anymore. Your body isn't yours anymore, it responds to Yujin, and when she grins, you have no power. Yujin's in control, the only words in your mind. "Cum. Cum all over."

"Ugh, fuck..." is all the warning that you can manage. Her grin widens into a malicious smile and her hand becomes a vice. You can barely breathe; a dull buzzing rings in your ears. Your vision is a blur. All-consuming pleasure blinds. You buck into her hand and feel the thick ropes of cum leave. Firing onto her toned stomach. On to her tits. Wherever her hand directs you.

"Wow, really came hard," Yujin grins teasingly at her messy hands.

Breathing is easier now, and the rush, though it fades, lingers still in every inch of you. And as feeling comes back, as your mind clears, you realise your own hand never stopped. You're still mindlessly fucking her with your fingers. Still making Yujin writhe and moan. She's so warm. Wet.

"Fu-ck. Ke-eep doing... that." Her legs pull at you, forcing your body on top of hers. You respond in your movements, curling your fingers into her and slamming them harder. Your palm hits her cunt every time with a slap.

She's got a hand on her tit, squeezing the cum-covered mounds, her hand sliding around in the sticky mess. It's spreading—the mess, all over her tits—and she's using it for pleasure. It glistens in the soft blue moonlight, catching your eyes.

"I-m..." Yujin starts, then gasping a sharp intake of breath, then more noises, stunted. This goes on until, finally, she takes one slow, heavy, deep breath, filling her chest and holding it there. Her eyes are glassy as if she's not looking through them. And she's still gripping your sensitive cock, hand covered in cum. You groan softly as her hand rubs the last few drops out.

She cums again. She tried to warn you, but this time she's nothing but moans. Erupting from her. Rough. Deep. Coming from within. She gushes. Wetness coats your fingers. Her cunt overflows and runs out onto your hand. A mess of her cum on you, a mess of your cum on her. You watch her breathing as the final few gasps leave her, slowly returning to a steady, even rhythm.

Yujin is breathless. "W-wow..."

You kiss her cheek gently. Your body finds its place beside hers. "Fuck me, Yujin," you exhale.

Yujin's breathing is slow and even, a smile beaming, radiating that warm glow that is her. She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out again.

"No." There's not an iota of sympathy.

You let out an audible sigh, but Yujin holds her finger up. "No sex tonight," she corrects herself, before pushing on your shoulder, rolling you over until she sits atop you.

Her lithe, cum-covered body presses down upon you. Her hips against your spent dick. She leans back, straightening her torso. She barely weighs a thing. Her body is as light as a feather. Yujin gives an innocent look, smiling but avoiding the eyes, but after a moment her smile turns coy, even teasing. She runs a hand over her body and pulls it away, strings of sticky cum stretching from her fingers to her stomach.

"I need a shower." She runs her eyes over your body. "We need a shower."

"Or we can continue..." you speak as you run a hand up her thigh.

Yujin moans in response, and she closes her eyes at the contact. A tremble wracks her for a moment, until her eyes snap open. "No." She pulls back and pushes off you. "Come. Let's shower."

She's standing beside the bed, and you admire her. "You look gorgeous." The words float in the air, and Yujin lets a soft, barely visible blush form. She takes it well; you would've thought she'd dismiss the words, but she smiles warmly.

"Come on." Her finger beckons you.

You follow and don't take your eyes off her. And why should you? Her body is so enchanting, swaying her hips from side to side in her lustful saunter. Her ass and shoulders roll in sync perfectly.

***

Hot water and steam. One runs down your body and the other fills the air. Not thick enough to block your sight but still veiling everything in a white, blurry mist, just enough to muffle the sound, enough to add something in the background.

"Mm..." Yujin murmurs as you rub her back. A luxurious bar of soap. You lather your hands and work it across her body. Underneath her arms. You guide your slippery hands to her sides, lifting and moving with them as they run along her stomach. You tickle gently above her hip bones, smiling at her small reaction—how her hips roll away instinctively.

"So, what happens now?" you ask. Yujin had been completely quiet during the shower. But you can't help but think that you need to address what just happened, what could happen.

"Well, I could bend over right now, right?" Her voice is bubbly, still in a post-orgasmic high.

You chuckle. "But you won't."

"But I won't," Yujin confirms. "I haven't decided yet."

"That's ominous."

Yujin closes her eyes. "Not like I'm the only girl who you're fooling around with."

"So you want it to be exclusive?"

"No." Yujin takes the soap and turns to face you, rubbing it over your chest.

"You're a hot guy, with a nice cock," Yujin's eyelids fall half-closed and her lips spread to show her tongue running over the corner of her mouth, and with the faintest shrug, and adds: "We both know I could have my way with you anytime I want."

Yujin moves past you towards the jet of running hot water. She bows her head under it and lets it rinse off the foam. The suds flow down her body. The streams turn to rivers. Bouncing, trickling, coursing between her supple breasts, down her narrow waist, over her toned stomach, then along her long legs. She takes a second longer than necessary, basking in the spray and enjoying the sensation, and the visual she knows she creates for you.

She reaches out and pulls you under, body against body. She brings her mouth to your ear. "But no one can find out. That would cause you a lot of problems." Her hands grip you tightly as if to emphasise the seriousness. And while her tone remains jovial, there is an underlying sternness.

"What do you mean? What would happen?"

"The position my dad is in, we can't afford to have this come out. He would have you out of the school and out of my life in an instant." Her voice lowers, almost a growl, but there's amusement in it. Her smile widens as she looks you in the eye. "But that won't happen, will it? We'll make sure of that."

"No, won't happen."

"And while we're on the topic..." Yujin grabs at your crotch, stunning you. "If you're gonna keep fucking Wonyoung, you might want to do a better job of hiding that. It'll end the same way."

"Y-you don't mind if I fuck Wonyoung?"

"Please, I encourage it." Yujin wraps a hand around the nape of your neck and pulls you in closer. You move your arms to hold her back. Skin on skin. Her breaths are hot, and steamy. She whispers the next few words, drawing out every syllable, each sound heavy with meaning.

"I..." You lose what words you want to say, flustered by her open, unexpected, and totally cool, reaction.

"Why would I? It's hot as fuck." Her lips brush over your cheeks, ghosting over the skin with a soft, supple touch. "And I know she won't fuck as good as I will."

NEXT PART HERE

[prismdewdrop]

dangerous territory 

Summary: jason todd may be exhausted after a long night of vigilance, but if you've stayed up late just to talk to him, he's going to make sure he knows exactly why.

or: jason and reader are both idiots and should probably just kiss, but they're idiots, so they do... whatever this is instead.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: mention of jason's death, mention of dead animals (in reference to the plot of john wick)

Tags: roommates in love, late-night conversations, mutual pining, jason is a little bit of an asshole (affectionate), he's not beating the little shit allegations, jason todd loves reader and is soo not normal about it, pov jason todd, everyone is 18+

A/N: long-time jason todd lover, first-time fic writer!

this work was inspired by @notnotacowpoke 's roommatesverse with jason, and they've been absolutely amazing with betaing and just going insane with me over this. you can read their work on ao3 :))

please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or in the tags! thanks for reading <3

edit (a big thank you): omg thank you so much for the response, everyone! i genuinely can't believe my first fic on a sideblog got so much of a reaction, and I'm so, SO grateful. my inbox is open for your thoughts or requests for jason and his roommate reader! i'd love to say hi and explore this au some more!

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"Jay?" 

The sleep-soft call melts the night and the pain away. 

Halting his lonely trek to his room, Jason Todd turns towards your voice. A fresh bruise catches at the quickness of his movement, but he tucks away the wince into the back of his throat.

You're standing at your door, peering into the dark in his direction.

"Yeah, babe?" 

A low hiss makes it out of his throat as the endearment falls from his mouth. He waits to see if you caught it. You sounded exhausted, drowsy with much-needed sleep, and even in your apartment, the city was never quiet. Whether you heard it or not, though, you don't acknowledge it, waiting to hear a confirmation from him.

His heart aches for a split second, recognizing the fatigue in your voice, like the second skin he wears every day, accompanied by the tinge of fear that keeps him alive – and keeps you waiting to hear for sure if it's him.

"It's me. What's up?" he says again, louder this time.

You open the door wider, stepping more clearly into his view, just a little past the doorway. One side of your face and body is splashed in the ever-glistening lights of the city that leaks into your apartment in a haze of light gray.

The patch of light helps, and so does his helmet's night vision.

He can see you now, and like always, a breath catches in his throat–even rumpled with sleep, you look lovely and soft.

To you, he knows that he's just a larger patch of darkness against the dimness of your shared living room.

"You're back earlier than I thought you would be," you say finally.

He can see the concern flit over your face as you do your best to scan him in the darkness, checking in vain for any obvious wounds or hurts. He watches as your concern deepens when you're unable to make out anything in the dark, still reluctant to ask him to step into the light

"Slow night," he shrugs. 

He steps closer to you, not fully into the light but close enough that you can make out more of his form. He sees the relief wash over your face and your shoulders loosen a little as you clock his unaffected stride and note the lack of any visible wounds. He doesn't mention his new bruise. And he won’t, at least not until you tell him what it is that has kept you up so late. 

"I – well, I was waiting for you to come back..." 

A pause. 

You pull your lip between your teeth, eyes darting over his face, shoulders climbing towards your ears with tension. He can practically see your mind whirring, and he can see the exact moment you decide against finishing your sentence. Your eyes drop, and your shoulders with them. 

A sigh. 

Then: a small smile.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Which... you are. Clearly. I think. At least, you look—"

You stop yourself, realising that you were babbling. With a pasted-on sheepish smile and an awkwardly cheery wave, you turn towards the door. 

"Well! You must be tired, get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

The forced cheer cuts through your fatigue for only a few seconds as you rush the words out and turn towards your room, and he sees the corners of your mouth dipping down the moment you think he can't see your face. You're not a bad liar, by any means. It just so happens that most of the time you're together, you're the only thing Jason sees.

"No."

"What?"

Confusion contorts your face as it snaps to look at him again. Your eyebrows knit together, lips pursing and pushing out into a pout. It's cute, and he's quite sure you have no idea you do this.

"I'm going to camp right out here," he gestures at the (incredibly uncomfortable) couch as he looks straight at you, challenge evident in his voice and in the set of his squared shoulders – "And I am not resting until you tell me what you need."

You frown, lips pressed together into a tight line. You're weighing his response, trying to piece together just how serious he is. Jason reaches up to unclasp his helmet, lifting it off and letting you see that there's very little humor in his eyes – just enough to soften you into spitting out what you really wanted to say — but not enough to let this go.

That's enough for you, though, even in the limited light. Only three months of cohabitation and somehow the both of you could read each other just as well as the stacks of books that crowded the apartment – well worn, annotated, so many of them in various states of disarray, torn and stained and bent, nearly all with cracked spines, but still so so beloved.

He can read you a little better, though, what with his years of vigilance and, well. Everything else that followed.

Jason knows you – the same way he knows the locations of all of Bruce's safe houses, or the exact number of times he could call Tim 'the replacement' before something heavy would be launched at his head. That is to say, concerningly well.

There wasn't a twitch of your eyebrow or a blush or a glare or an angry press of your lips against each other, or a quirk of them (he may have studied your lips especially well) that he hadn't committed to memory, that he didn't know by heart. He wonders if you know, and he wonders what you'd think if you did.

Another sigh, your shoulders sag further, and he makes a mental note to take you through some exercises to improve your truly terrible posture.

"Jason, it's really nothing that can't wait till morning, I just –"

"Come on, dude," He scoffs, not unkindly. "I know you wouldn't have stayed up so late if it wasn't important enough to keep you up."

He nods at the dregs of coffee in the mug you'd forgotten on the centre table for emphasis. There's no hiding from the world's third (or maybe fourth?) best detective that it's the special, strong type that you usually reserve for the most daunting of deadlines.

You swallow up the rest of your words and let out a huff. This time, it's more frustrated than tired, and he can see the flash of irritation in your eyes. You glance away from him, arms coming up to clasp your elbows, encircling yourself in a loose hug. Discomfort radiates off of you in waves, and as you sink your teeth into your lips again; he notes the steady rise of your shoulders towards your ears.

A flash of annoyance goes through him. Not at you — never at you — but whatever new inconvenience this city has wrought for you. Whatever it is that has you up and walking around at 3 AM in the morning after a draining day of work and study and worrying about him.

He fights the urge to step closer, to wrap his hands around your shoulders, smoothing the bare skin and loosening the tightness in them. It would be so easy — there's barely four feet between the two of you, in a few steps he could be holding you and —

He stops himself from following that particular train of thought.

Red Hood faces open gunfire head-on almost daily. Sometimes, he even takes an explosion or two to the face. Then there was the time he'd died, followed by all the times he'd almost died. And he still couldn't remember the last time he'd felt true, bone-deep fear.

But this, this was dangerous territory he was terrified of treading. Yet he was unable to deny the existence of the temptation, always tugging on something in his chest like a low undercurrent, occasionally crashing over him in a wave of desire to touch and protect and hold. To slip his fingers through yours, through your hair, over your lips, between them.

He wonders if you know how easily he can read you, see the way your mind is running through excuses and half-truths to throw him off right now, extricate yourself from this uncomfortable situation and put a safe distance between you again. He should let you do it, really. Even you know that this territory is... not for you. Which is why you were now teetering at its edge after taking these few hesitant steps towards it – him.

But still. He can't ignore the tug. He can deny the waves, stop himself with a savage jerk on his mental reins. That low undercurrent, however – he nurses it, lets it guide him. He has to. It hasn't been long since you met, but he already doesn't know what he would do without it guiding him back to you, day after night after day, painful blow after near-death encounter.

And so he narrows his eyes at you, ready to counter anything you say that isn't the truth.

He feels like a dick; he really does – dangling his well-being in front of you to get you to just stand up and say it. He does this sometimes, pushing you and inconveniencing you – borderline bullying you into being honest with him.

But he knows he's right to be doing this. You have enough fire in you to push back when need be, when he crosses a line, and knowing you, you would've stormed back into your room without a backward glance and with a slam of your door, if whatever this was wasn't bothering you so much.

"I..." You paused to glare at him, just to show him that even if you were playing along, you did not appreciate playing his games.

Jason hides his smile and just raises his eyebrows.

Hands clenching into fists, you glare up at the ceiling as you wrestle with your words, as if hoping for divine intervention.

Another sigh, this time an admit of defeat.

"Fine – but I'm warning you – it's stupid –"

"With you, roomie, I doubt it is."

"Jason, can you please stop interrupting me? I'm really trying here."

Jason raises his palms in a silent apology, an acknowledgement of his dickish behavior, saving the real sorries for later.

You nod in acceptance.

"Okay." Deep breath. "I just wanted to... show you something. And spend some time with you. You know, because we haven't been able to catch up lately and I –" You stop, voice strangling around the next words, catching yourself. You take a breath before continuing. "And I could really use your... insights."

Your voice trails off, and he can feel you wince internally as you slip into impersonal corporate speak, an effort to avoid any words that were more intimate than they had the right to be.

Jason knows. Or at least he can make a damn good guess as to what the words you'd struggled to choke off were. He knew, sure as hell, it wasn't ‘insights ’, but acknowledging the unsaid words was very much stepping into the dangerous territory. And like you had when he slipped up and called you babe, he doesn't.

If he felt anything less than what he did feel, he would have joked about it, said something like: "Aww, bestie, I miss you too". Then you would laugh and shake your head and you would slip back into the easy camaraderie that had marked the beginning of your relationship – before Jason had started noticing the precise way in which the hearts that you signed your notes off with varied in size and number depending on the mood you were in, or the way your hand reached for his every time you crossed a road together.

So instead, he says nothing. He just waits.

"I'll be in my room," you say, arms wrapping around yourself again, a blush rising steadily up your neck and onto your cheeks. You nod at his gear. "Whenever you're ready, just come in. I'll be up."

Oh. They were to be alone. In your room. Probably on the bed. No, definitely on the bed. There's no space for a desk or chair in rooms that come with apartments in this part of Gotham, especially the ones affordable for students. No, there's only one place they can sit comfortably together.

Not that they haven't sat on your bed – or his bed – together before. They have, countless times. They've cuddled and huddled, most times with a pile of snacks for company.

On the days they'd given up on any possibility of productivity, they'd marathoned all their comfort movies and franchises before falling asleep, arms around each other, legs tangled, and depending on who'd had the worst week, a head tucked under another's chin, lead gently into slumber by the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat.

They'd binged Lord of the Rings (NOT The Hobbit series; you both agreed that that was a waste of time, though Jason had stronger, angrier feelings towards it than you did), almost all the Austen adaptations (you could never decide which Emma you liked better – the one with Anya Taylor Joy had the beautiful production and a great depiction of the relationship between Emma and Harriet, but the one with Gwyneth Paltrow had a certain charm, and the leads good chemistry); John Wick that one time – he'd adored the way you'd poked him and asked him if he could do/had done some of the particularly impressive stunts (he could, and you'd been thoroughly impressed); Fast and Furious – only till the sixth one though – Jason personally thought Fast Five was where they should have ended their binge, but you were partial to the sixth one (because of the romance, you said), and Jason had grudgingly accepted it's merits. 

That was, what, at least 40 hours of just watching movies? And that didn't even include the time they'd spend just hanging out together, reading silently, or watching something on their own (though one of them would inevitably end up joining the other).

No, he's definitely been in your bed, comfortable with the tugging undercurrents of longing in every laugh you shared, the way you'd sniffled unfailingly at the last march of the Ents, and when his eyes watered at the ride of the Rohirrim, the way you'd both sighed at Darcy's confession, and when you'd turned to Jason as you watched John Wick lay waste to New York's criminal underworld in revenge for his dead dog, and ask: 

"You'd do this for me, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, good. I'd maybe hire someone to do this for you, since you know. I can't kill a man with my bare hands."

You could kill a man with your smile, though, Jason remembered thinking. You killed him a little every day and brought him back just as well, each time just a little bit more whole than the last time he'd been brought back to life.

Sure, he'd been in your bed. But not like this, not when the darkness of the night had melted that thing in his chest – the thing that searched for you the moment he woke up – and brought it out from where it was safe in its cage, to the back of his mouth, the tips of his fingers, the pupils of eyes – poised right on the edge of saying, doing, showing the wrong thing.

Say no, the admittedly miniscule part of his brain that didn't leap to fulfill your every wish insisted. They've given you an out already. Just say you're more tired than you look and talk tomorrow. This isn't just treading - this is running blind and unarmed into dangerous territory. Say no.

But... they miss me, the overwhelmingly persuasive part of him that ached to sweep that particularly unrepentant loose curl into place every day reminds him. They're up and they're worried and they want me to come talk to them because they miss me. I miss them.

His heart twists. He can't say no, never could.

Jason wonders if you know that he would walk into a shootout blindfolded, without armor and with a grin, if that could bring you anything worthwhile. He turns a fond smile your way, his careful expression melting away. 

Your breath catches as the corners of his mouth lift. When Jason smiles like that, his eyes crinkle, they shine at you as if you're all he sees, and it was heartachingly beautiful in it's rarity.

Jason's smile was a golden patch of sun on a cold day; you're powerless in its wake to do anything except curl up in its warmth and bask – always longing for more and more. 

"You know I wouldn't say no to that. I'll be right there,” he says with all the seriousness of a wedding vow.

You fight the urge to linger, to drink in his smile with your eyes and infuse every inch of your body with it's sweetness. You force a small smile of your own and with a wiggle of your fingers, you return to your room, feeling his gaze settle on you until you close the door behind you gently.

He doesn't hear the click of the lock, and so when he heaves his own sigh of defeat, it's in the safety of his own room, between him and the busy silence of the city.

[judebelle]

been thinking ab joao and reader hooking up behind his teammates backs'... like they've been "involved" for a while but sometimes the tension is too much and they have to sneak away iykwim ;)

sneaky - j.f. x reader

a/n : omfg anon ur gonna be the death of meeeeeee!! also i made this kinda long since i havent posted in a while, oops..

pairing : joao felix x fem!reader

word count : 2.3k

summary : joao and u prefer to keep your love life private, secret even, but the the flirty looks and knowing smirks from across the room are becoming unbearable.

cw : smut obv, lil bit of alejandro x reader, sneaky joao and reader, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it ppl), make outs, cursing, me not bothering to accent his name lol sorry

---

you were starting to regret going out to dinner with your friend alejandro and his teammates.

the only reason why being that one of his teammates had become more.

hooking up with joao felix on the down low has been fun, you won't lie. and while you enjoy sneaky quickies and flirty messages, there were times where you wish you could just tear off his clothes and fuck that smug smile right off his face.

you were currently sitting in a restaurant, a private room and table was booked for alejandro, his barcelona teammates, and their plus ones. you and alejandro had become inseparable ever since you met in spain a few years ago, and you had grown increasingly close to his teammates.

very close to a certain mr felix.

the first time you met joao, it wasn't anything magical, you just thought he was fit. alejandro had introduced you to him when he came on loan to barca recently, and you just couldn't get him out of your head.

it seems that the feelings were mutual, as that very same night he followed you on instagram. you, of course, played it cool and took your time following him back (you waited like 10 seconds).

from there, you two messaged often, especially after the team would hang out.

joaofelix79 : u got home safe?

ynsusername : ofc i did

ynsusername : alejandro wouldn't let anything happen to me

joaofelix79 : that's good.

you two started messaging more, sometimes even calling each other late in the night. you couldn't explain why, maybe he was just fun to talk to.

you would complain to him about work, and he would complain about a mistake he made in training.

eventually, you two started hanging out alone.

not anything crazy, of course.

joaofelix79 : hey

joaofelix79 : js noticed im about to drive by ur place

joaofelix79 : wanna get some ice cream? my treat

how could you refuse that?

it wasn't all that shocking to you when a surprise ice cream date turned out into a steamy make out session on a bench in a park in the middle of the night.

"we should stop, someone might see us.." you murmured against the portuguese boy's lips, you yourself making no effort to.

"ok, if that's what you want." he pulled away from you, his fluffy hair disheveled thanks to you.

"5 more minutes" you placed your lips on his again, feeling him smile against them.

from there, weekly hangouts became almost nightly. he would pick you up in his car, and you would drive anywhere. you just needed an excuse to make out. you even put your number in his phone.

eventually, joao grew tired of the make outs that led to nothing, and you did too.

12:03 am - joao : wyd

12:03 am - you : was ab to put some instant noodles in the microwave lol

12:04 am - joao : dont bother

12:04 am - joao : come eat at my place

12:05 am - joao : i ordered uber eats

of course, you went, and you two ate the chinese takeout he bought. you two sat and laughed together at his attempt at using chopsticks.

and then you found yourself perched on his kitchen counter, him in between your legs while he rammed into you mercilessly. you left red marks across his back and biceps.

"my god, you feel amazing, querida." joao's words were muffled as his head was nuzzled into your neck, his lips caressing your hot skin with every word he spoke.

"i'm so fucking close, joao.." you whined and whispered curses while your hands found themselves travelling from his arms to his hair, tugging on the soft brown locks.

"let go, y/n, i'm close too!" he removed his flushed face from your neck and connected your lips together again, breathing heavily into your mouth.

you came undone with a sharp whine, arching into him. his thrusts became sloppy as he let out a long groan against your lips, releasing into the condom.

that was the first time you two had fucked, and it definitely would not be the last.

his house was usually where you two would hook up because it was so big, and you didn't have to worry about anything when you were there.

you two fucked anywhere - on the bed, in the shower, on the couch, even in the laundry room.

you found that it didn't really matter where you were. if either of you were craving the other, it happened right then and there. it was fun. it kept you on your toes, kept things fresh and fun.

but it became a curse when you two were at a team dinner.

---

"si, i told him he could go fuck off if that was what he wanted. that guy needs to learn some manners, for fucks sake!"

the table erupted in laughs as pedro went on about some story that you weren't really paying attention to to be honest. you were sat right beside your good friend, alejandro, who was very intrigued in pedro's story and hadn't spoken to you more than twice this evening.

across from you was joao. he was wearing a black dress shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly along with black dress pants. of course, to make your life more difficult, the top two shirt buttons weren't done up.

one more open button and everyone would've seen the hickey you gave him the other-

"isn't that right, y/n?"

alejandro was speaking to you, and you were too busy staring at joao's biceps to hear him.

"hmm? sorry?"

"i said, it was you who i walked in on dancing silently in the darkness darkness of your room, right?" alejandro smirked at the sight of your cheeks going red, this memory being nothing short of embarrassing to you.

"yup, that- uh- that was me..!" you looked down in humiliation as the table giggled at alejandro's unexpected story about you. he loved embarrassing you, it was his thing. he found it fun because he thought of you like a little sister.

you looked up to see joao, laughing along with everyone else at the table, finding amusement in your misery. you shot him a playful glare.

"i'm only teasing, mi corazón." alejandro chuckled before ruffling your hair. "ale!" you whined, fixing your hair. his friends teased you. they all thought of you as their little sister, especially you being one of the younger ones.

the men continued on with their conversations as you continued looking at joao from your end of the table, only this time, he was looking at you too.

he was taking a slow sip of his water, eyeing you down.

joao wasn't the only one dressed all sexy tonight. you wore a short black satin strapless dress that hugged your figure perfectly. you thought of joao when you picked it out, you thought of him while putting it on, and you thought of him taking it off.

it seems that joao had the same thought. the way he looked at you from under his lashes gave you the impression that your outfit choice was a smart one.

you sent him a quick wink.

he smirked and dropped his eyes to your cleavage, widening them.

you rolled yours before continuing to eat your steak.

---

you couldn't take it anymore.

something the way he laughed with everyone at the table, his hair flowing when he turned his head. he had on a gold rolex and a gold chain, both glistening under the lighting over the table.

it was the way he carried himself with such confidence. he knew he was hot, and he knew you knew it too. that confidence definitely carried over into bed.

finally, you got up from the table, excusing yourself to "make a call".

shooting joao a quick look, he took the hint. his eyes followed you, watching you exit the restaurant and head towards the parking lot. after an agonizing 30 seconds or so, joao told everyone he forgot something in his car, and made a beeline to where he saw you last.

he saw you standing outside his car, waiting for him. he made his way towards you.

"so, who did you have to call?" he teased, his eyes waiting for your reaction. you scoffed and rolled your eyes, "very funny.".

you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you leaned against his car. he smiled down at you before looking over your figure.

"nice dress.."

"just take it off."

---

you two had squeezed into the back of his car, leaving nothing but surrounding street lights as your light source. you straddled his waist, rocking your hips while you smashed your lips against his. you two were breathing heavily, occasionally breaking the kiss to huff and puff before going back at it again.

joao's arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, his right hand occasionally sliding down to cup and smack your ass. his actions made you yelp into the kiss. your arms were everywhere. cupping his face, on his shoulders, in his hair, on his chest, on his abs.

it was like you two hadn't seen each other in years. like you were drowning and the only way to breathe was.. this.

your smooth rocking of the hips created a hard bulge in joao's pants which felt great on your throbbing clit. he groaned into the kiss, breaking it for you to breathe and to leave kisses down your neck.

"so, fucking, horny" he broke each word with a kiss. you moaned above him. "you can't even last one dinner party without my hands all over you?" you wanted him to shut up, so you grabbed his face in your hand and smashed your lips against his.

you started unbuttoning his shirt, but your hands were too shaky to do it quickly. "take this off, god damnit!" you groaned as he laughed and began unbuttoning it himself. you hiked your dress up and helped him with the last few buttons.

you moved his shirt partially off him, leaving it on his arms since you couldn't be bothered. you leaned down to kiss his chest while looking up at him. he was smiling down at you, hands rested behind his head.

he brought you back up to pull the top of your dress down just enough so that your tits would pop out. when they did, he licked his lips. now it was his turn to lean down and suck on them, making you tilt your head back and pant.

"joao, we dont have time for this-"

"shhh, patience princesa. don't worry." he went back to sucking.

"they're going to realize we're gone- joao!"

he couldn't bring himself to leave your tits alone, but when he did, you quickly reached down and undid his belt , not even bothering to pull it off.

"estás mesmo excitado, não é?" (you're really excited, aren't you?)

you nodded and bit your lip.

he unzipped his pants and pulled his hard cock out of his boxers. you raised yourself up on your knees and hovered over his dick. he held it up with one hand, the other resting on your hip.

"are you ready for me?" he teased.

"enough questions." you cut his teasing short as you took his cock in your hands yourself and sunk down on him.

joao hissed at the unexpected pleasure. he looked up at you, gasping for air above him before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"move for me, bebé."

you did as you were told, lifting your hips up until just the tip of him was left in you, before sinking back down on him, agonizingly slow.

he shuddered at the feeling.

you picked up the pace, causing the car to rock. your tits bounced in his face, causing him to twitch inside you.

"fuck, y/n, you're amazing-" you laugh breathlessly above him, your hands resting on his shoulders for stability while his gripped your hips tightly.

after some time, your thighs were burning, and you were getting tired. joao picked this up, taking control. his grip on your hips was put to some use as he moved your hips up and down for you. he lifted and dropped you so easily and made you move so much faster. you felt the air leave your lungs and arched your back to stick your tits in his face.

he grinned as he thrusted his hips up, meeting you in the middle. he tilted your body back, and started to hit the spot inside you that made you see white.

your pants and gasps turned into moans and whines as you felt the bundle of heat in your core.

"joao, i'm close" you warned, your nails digging into his shoudlers.

"i'm right there with you, baby, oh," he groaned and grunted as he watched him drill into you faster and faster. "meu deus, foda-se!" (my god, fuck!) he hissed with gritted teeth as he felt you clench around him.

his pace was too much for you to hold back. you let go with a gasp and moan, your hand slamming and sliding down the steamy car window, leaving a print.

joao was, indeed, right there with you. he pulled your body off of him and set you down on his thighs hastily before stroking his red, throbbing cock, cumming all over your stomach with a string of grunts and pants.

you both sat there in the hot and dark car in disbelief, covered in sweat and panting, after having the most mind blowing sex you've ever had. you leaned your forehead against his and smiled. he chuckled before teasing you once more.

"let's go. we don't want to miss dessert, do we?"

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 10 || The Hallway Incident

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE GENTLE SOUND OF YOUR heel tapping against the ground due to the constant bobbing of your leg as your anxiety builds up inside can be heard beneath the sounds of Nanami and Toji engaging in conversation.

You've been waiting for about six minutes now, having watched every second of the nearby clock tick, and your nerves are all bundled up. In the time that they've been talking, you've mentally rehearsed a plan for yourself.

You're going to ask Toji for private lessons.

And no, not in a naughty kind of way. At least, not yet. But for the purpose of one, having an excuse to attend class with Gojo every Monday to really dedicate yourself to the lie you've given and two, to have one-on-one moments with Toji.

Is any of this going to work? Probably not.

The worst case scenario is that this all goes to shit and Toji rejects any advance you make at him, resulting in Gojo posting those videos of you. Great.

You draw your hand up to your face and begin to chew on your thumbnail as you wait, simply watching the two talk for a few more minutes until Nanami finally leaves.

When he does, you watch him walk away almost in a trance. He's got one hell of a back profile. Similar to Toji, the dress shirt that Nanami had did little to nothing to conceal the toned body that lay underneath.

You never used to undress people with your eyes like this before but then again, you never used to see this many attractive people at once.

The little trance you were in is broken when Toji suddenly snaps his fingers in front of your face, causing you to jump and turn your head to him. You hadn't even realized that he sat back down at his desk.

"S-Sorry Mr. Fushiguro." You apologize as you make eye contact with the man.

"You're fine," He says, his expression void of any real reaction to the way he saw you gawking at his student. "Now," Toji leans back in his chair, a slight creak heard as he does so, "Where were we?"

"Uhh..." You awkwardly straighten up in your seat, "I was telling you about the project I had for my sociology class."

"Right." He nods, "Well, I don't mind you coming to my class for a few weeks for this project of yours, just don't be a disruption."

"I won't sir." You hum.

The gentleness in your tone makes the older man shift in his seat a little. "Good. Anything else?" Toji questions, tipping his head to the side.

"W-Well, I was wondering if I could stay after the lecture as well."

"For?"

"Y'know, like, a more..." You look down at your lap. The eye contact was growing overwhelming. "In-depth lesson?"

The older man falls quiet for a second. Then, startling you, he chuckles at how fidgety and nervous you seem to be about your request. "You're not in any of my classes and yet you want a lesson from me? A private one at that?" He emphasizes.

You swallow hard and look back up at him, "Yes sir."

Toji folds his arms, the large muscles in his arms unintentionally bulging against the fabric of his shirt. "What is there for me to teach ya' privately that you wouldn't learn during the lectures?" He asks.

"Well..." Think, think, think, think, think.... "Students aren't the only people I have to study for this project. As a professor, you'd be a great example to use for how topics, such as economics, affect people in education." You manage.

He scoffs lightly, "So, basically, you want to study me after class?"

You wince a little at his words, "Study isn't really the word I'd use for it. Think of it more like an interview."

"An interview?"

You cross one of your legs over the other, "Yes sir."

He takes a long pause, simply staring at you in thought. Once he comes to a decision, Toji agrees with a nod and a shrug of his broad shoulders. "Alright. Every Monday then, I'll expect to see you during and after class. When's this little project of yours due?"

"Six weeks from now." That should be enough time for you to... seduce him, right?

Toji's eyebrows raise slightly, "Six weeks? Damn, must be some project."

"It's my final project, sir." You clarify.

He clicks his tongue and you watch the corner of his lips raise into a little smirk, "So your final grade will be riding on me then?"

Well technically you riding on him is more of the goal here but, there's no need for you to say that aloud.

You smile, "Yup."

"M'kay, cya next week then," Toji says dismissively. You give him a nod and both of you stand at the same time. He walks you over to his door and adds a simple, "I look forward to workin' with ya', kid."

His last word makes you halt. Slowly, you turn only your head back to him with a graceful smile on your face, "With all due respect, sir, I'm a grown woman. Please don't call me kid." You request.

With your head angled back to him, you notice that he's rather close to you. One of his hands was placed on his classroom door and the other was tucked into the pocket of his pants. His closeness causes whatever, obviously cheap, but rather pleasant-smelling cologne to run through your nose.

Toji tilts his head as he looks down at you, "Yes ma'am. My bad, it's a bit of a habit of mine."

The change in the way he addressed you has your heart feeling a little weird. It has to be that deep voice of his, the damn thing is intoxicating.

"You should get rid of it," You blurt out, referring to that habit of his.

An amused smirk spreads across his face. You didn't know it but, he found this one interaction with you slightly attractive. "I'll work on it." Toji hums casually.

You give him an approving nod and then turn away. His eyes follow you as you enter the mildly busy hallway and after you disappear from his sight, he sighs heavily.

You definitely made a decent first impression on him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As you rush down the hallway, you're lost in your head thinking about how you're going to pull this off for the next few weeks.

Subtly flirting and throwing small hints at him sound like your best options. Being straight up would be dangerous. You'll have to flirt and pretend like you aren't aware you're flirting-- 'innocently' making your way to what lies beneath his clothes.

You hope it works too. And while you're on that thought, you have to ask Gojo how difficult he thinks this will be for you. God, you hate that man. You don't want to talk to him about anything but you're forced to anyway-

You run right into someone in the hallway.

A phone drops and the binders and books you held make contact with the floor. "Shit," You curse, instantly crouching down to pick up the fallen items.

The person you ran into crouches down too, "Sorry," They apologize, even though you both ran into each other.

You go for the phone and motion the device toward the person, raising your head from the fallen items and meeting a new pair of eyes.

Holy fucking shit. It's another one. Another guy from the list.

And this one is... Well, if not for you picking Geto, this guy would've been your next choice.

Deep sangria-colored irises peer into yours, the shade veering more into the brown spectrum, and oddly attractive eyebags circle the male's eyes. There's a dark black tattoo running across the bridge of his nose and his hair is styled up in two messy ponytails.

You think your heart skipped a beat as you made eye contact with him. Hell, maybe it skipped a few beats-- maybe it stopped working for a second.

His face alone was tantalizing. The man was attractive in a way that made you unable to pry your eyes off him.

You think you flinch when he leans closer to you and tilts his head in concern, "You alright?"

Dazed by his caring voice and mesmerizing eyes, you nod your head. "Y-Yeah." You sigh.

You watch as the man looks down at your lips for a second, then right back up to your eyes as if he didn't mean to glance. The two of you grab all of the fallen items and stand up in sync. You extend your hand out, holding his phone and trying to give it back to him.

"Sorry for running into you," He apologizes again while taking his phone from you.

In return, he hands one of the items of yours he picked up back to you. "You're fine, I should've been watching where I was going."

He shrugs it off and his eyes drop down to the floor for a second before he speaks, "Me too. Also, I like your shoes."

You mimic his motion and look down at your feet, almost as if you'd forgotten what you were wearing. "Thank you," You reply as you look back up to the man.

If there's one thing they all have in common aside from being hot, it's the fact that they're all taller than you. It's something you mentally note as this man stands in front of you.

You smile and make a gesture to his face, "Nice tatt." You compliment simply.

His lips curve into a slight smirk, "Thanks, I did it myself."

"Really?" Your brows raise in surprise.

"Yup."

"Fuck, that's cool. Did it hurt?" You ask curiously, unintentionally leaning forward a little to get a closer look.

He shrugs, "Nah, not really."

You examine it for a second, only growing more and more impressed. "It's like, a perfectly straight line. Are you an art major by any chance?"

"Graphic design." He clarifies, "What about you?"

You shrug casually, "Psycology."

The male's head tilts to the side as he peers down at you, you can tell he's impressed. "Shit, psycology?" His head cocks back a little and he smirks, "That's hot."

"Hot?" You blindly repeat, chuckling at him. "It's just the study of behavior and mind, nothing special honestly."

He scoffs, "I'm pretty sure it's much deeper than that."

"It is but, it's more confusing than hot." You argue.

Your conversation with him is oddly seamless. He's now grinning at you, "The fact that it's confusing and you're still choosing to study it makes it hot."

"So, are you calling me or the major itself hot?" You ask teasingly.

He shamelessly looks you up and down and licks his lips before saying, "Both." He hums.

Your face grows a little warm. "Thanks, you too."

"You think I'm hot?"

"No, I think your major's hot." You utter sarcastically.

He laughs, "Yeah? You think graphic design is hot?"

"Mhm." You hum, "I mean, yeah, you're attractive but when you add on the fact that you're an artist? That multiplies it."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"On that note, you wanna see some of my work?" The man offers surprisingly.

"Yes please." You say with excitement in your voice.

Talking with this man in the middle of the hallway was by far the most refreshing thing you'd experienced within the last six days.

He chuckles and his thumb swipes through his phone for a second. When he finds whatever it is he wants to show you, he motions for you to come closer to him and you do.

Standing by his side and leaning over toward his phone, you see beautiful images of dark-colored designs that are nearly impossible to put into one word.

His art looks like... himself? It's almost as though he put his whole aesthetic onto a piece of paper. You catch shades of black, purple, and red ink swirled together in multiple different designs.

"Holy shit," You breathe out.

He chuckles at your reaction, "I've had a bit of art block recently but uh..."

As he trails off, you turn your head to look at him and notice that your faces are closer than you expected. Neither of you move but the eye contact held is almost intimate.

His voice drops lower and his gaze is unwavering, "I think I just found my new muse."

Heat rushes to your face as you grow flustered. By no means was he referring to you, right?

"R-Really?" You stammer.

His gaze dips lower, focusing on the curve of your lips, "Yeah," He hums.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other's presence for a moment. You nearly forgot about... well, everything for a second.

The male was enamored by you. You were just some random girl he ran into and yet he couldn't take his eyes off you. As for you, well, it's simple to say that you were just as infatuated. His face was so close, so flawless, and yet so mysterious.

You clear your throat and both of you snap out of the little trance you'd been in. Then, the two of you turn away from each other, clearly equally flustered by the closeness and lack of words.

"U-Uhm, your art is b-beautiful by the way." You stutter, physically cringing at the way you're tripping over your words.

You haven't been this nervous in a long time. This is worse than Toji, worse than Geto, and even worse than Gojo. Your heart is a pounding mess and you feel like a high school girl with a crush all over again.

"Th-Thanks," The man beside you chokes out.

A sense of comfort washes over you as you realize you're not the only one whose nerves are bundled up.

He suddenly clears his throat, "Well uh, I should uhm, probably get going."

You turn to look at him, "Right. Sorry for running into you again."

"No, don't apologize. I'm actually glad you did." He says, avoiding looking you in the eyes but smiling a little bit.

"Think I can get your name before you go?" You question shyly.

His gaze meets your face, still looking everywhere except for your eyes. "Choso. Kamo Choso, but you can just call me Choso." He tells you.

You stick a hand out for him to shake and give him your name in return. As his hand meets yours, you notice the slight claminess of his palms-- he was sweating... how cute.

Again, he clears his throat. "Since we're exchanging names, can I get your number too? I doubt we'll run into each other much since we have two entirely different majors..." Choso requests.

You're quick to nod and it's in a matter of seconds that the two of you exchange contact information with one another.

"It was nice meeting you, Choso." You voice out softly.

He nods his head, "Yeah, it was nice meeting you too."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Alright, so today was an absolute rollercoaster.

From that morning being all lovey-dovey with Gojo, to hating him all over again, to meeting his stupidly sexy professor, to catching a glimpse of the stoic blond, and all the way to having an airy almost whimsical conversation with Choso.

What a day.

Seriously, what a day. Talking to Choso was so different. It didn't feel like you were talking to a target, it didn't feel forced or uncomfortable. Talking to Choso was the most pleasant thing ever.

As you made your way off-campus, your head was in the clouds-- filled with thoughts of the mysteriously artistic man you just had a conversation with. He was different, you could feel it.

You find yourself smiling at the little still moment the two of you had, how innocent it was, and how comfortable you felt. There's a sudden thump in your heart that makes your thoughts freeze.

Shit, the one thing you're not supposed to be doing. The one unspoken rule you'd set for yourself. You're breaking it already. You hardly know the man and you're breaking the single stipulation you'd put on yourself.

No feelings.

It's a simple rule. A needed rule. You can't go around sleeping with different men and fall for one at the same time. That'll never work out.

Imagine the look of disgust on their face when they find out they were just a name you needed to cross off. Hell no, the last thing you want to do is fuck with anyone's heartstrings-- including your own.

But...

Choso was so-

No. Stop it. You think to yourself. You nearly thought the same things about Gojo and look where that got you? In no way can you come out of this situation happy with any of the men involved.

This is just a one-and-done situation. No special cases.

Your goal is to seduce not swoon.

That's all your purpose consists of-- being a little whore for Gojo Satoru. As annoying as it is to come to terms with, that's exactly what your job is here. Fuck people, get paid. Nothing more, and nothing less.

No one becomes the exception. Under no circumstances do you allow anyone to fall for you; nor do you fall for anyone.

The smiles, the laughs, the ticklish feeling you get in your chest-- it all needs to be fake. Those special and cherishable feelings need to forever remain fake.

The second any of those emotions transfer into something real, everything will go to shit.

No relationships.

No feelings.

No romance.

Just sex.

You need to lock those words into your brain for the remainder of this list. Relationships would ruin things, feelings complicate people, romance will never work out, and sex is the only thing you need to focus on achieving.

You're not Gojo so you don't have plans on manipulating people. You simply want to be freed of the grasp he has on you and the only way to do that is by completing this stupid list.

As you made your way home, you thought long and hard about who you would go for first based on the three new people you met.

Toji would be a slow process since you gave yourself six weeks to figure him out. Nanami is a walking question mark since you have literally nothing to go on. And Choso seems all too sweet for you to think about seducing him just yet.

Based on that, you decide that Toji will be your biggest focus for the time being-- unless you spontaneously run into one of the remaining two unidentified people on the list.

With that being the most unlikely thing to happen given how lucky you got today, you end up organizing the list in a journal of yours at home. You'll put them into your own order and check them off as you go.

Yeah, you'll get through this.

...Right?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[malereadermaniac]

Toxic ~ Nate Jacobs x Male Reader

We all love a little toxic relationship with some dick who bullies you due to his own insecurity Top!Nate x Bottom!Reader word count: 1.6k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

He bullied the shit out of you for being gay

Not regular bullying, but like psychological shit

Nate would make small comments about you to a crowd of people, making you uncomfortable for the rest of the night

Or when the two of you were left alone in a room he would call you a f@g when you try to make conversation

However late at night, your phone would be buzzing with notifications from him snapping you

But you were popular, so he couldn't harass you too much - especially once you became friends with Maddy

You were a regular at parties, so he'd see you there

Every time Nate got drunk, he'd catch his eyes on you more than he'd like

On your body, warm from the heat of everyone dancing and the alcohol in your system

It didn't help that like everyone else, you dressed like a model every time you left the house - but at parties that was tenfold

You wore virtually no clothes, pretty much forcing Nate's eyes to glue to your thighs, your waist, your ass as it peaked out from your shorts

He also liked how you kept your body hairless, just like Maddy

He would be repulsed if you didn't, so when you raise your arms as you dance, he notices your freshly shaved arms and armpits

After Maddy and Nate were finally broken up, more parties happened

And even though girls tried and succeed to get with Nate, he didn't care for them

They were hookups to him, he noticed them once they put themselves out in front of him

But you

Nate noticed you the second you walked into any party

Maybe it was because when you walked in, people rushed to you to say hi and kiss and hug

But he couldn't deny that when he arrived at any party, part of him was scanning the room for you

Nate fucking hated it

He couldn't even admit it to himself that he piqued an interest in you

He reminded himself that he wasn't gay, he wasn't a f@g he would say to himself

Nate was tipsy and couldn't take his eyes off of you

He would try to find things he hated about you, but he just thought of how hot you looked as you danced with your friends, guys all up on you after they've had a couple of drinks

He noticed you were heading to the bathroom, so after taking a quick shot of whatever he could find, he followed you

Once you got into the bathroom of whoever was hosting that night, Nate forced his way in and locked the door behind him

"What the fuck Nate!?" You shout, scared by the current situation

"Shut up.." Nate mumbles as he gets closer to you

His rough hand cups tour cheek

You look up at the muscular Jock, his eyes hazy looking into yours

Nate focused on your lips, then your eyes, then you lips again

His hand was warm on your cheek

He gave in finally and kissed you

It felt warm, definitely wet and definitely very passionate

Like Nate had been waiting a while to do this

A moan slipped out of your mouth into his as the two of you made out

Nate's other hand snaking around your waist

You can feel his muscles against your body as Nate moans into your mouth, his hand on your cheek feeling hot

Nate's tongue toyed with yours as you closed your eyes, his fingers tracing circles on your skin

You felt his hard-on poke you, Nate groaning into your mouth as he pushes his dick against yours

He picks you up, Nate's strong, huge arms holding you up from under your thighs, your arms around his neck as the two of you keep making-out

The sound of lips crashing against one another and muffled moans echo inside the bathroom

Nate grinds his hard dick up against your ass

You feel lightheaded and hot, breaking the kiss and gasping for air, resting your forehead on Nate's built shoulder

"Hey... Help me out here, (y/n)" Nate whispers breathlessly into your ear, making a point of grinding up against you

"Oh yeah? And how should I do that?" You reply, just as breathlessly

More kissing takes place as Nate let's you down from his arms

His hot tongue dancing around yours, Nate's rough, big hands rubbing all over your body

You get on your knees and Nate leans against the sink counter, his body looking godly as you look up at Nate with hooded eyes

He was big, you could feel it through his loose shorts

You remember little from that night, but you definitely remember the sounds that Nate made, he was convinced that was the best head of his life

The two of you became a regular thing, he would bully u less in exchange for late night hookups in his car

He would pull up to your house, text you to come outside and wouldn't say a word to you until he pulled up to your hookup spot

The drive over was always interesting, you'd always wear something Nate liked, you could see his dick hard in his pants and Nate would look over at every chance he got but he would stay silent

He would put your seat down and start kissing you, the windows steaming up as the two of you dry hump each other as you make out

He would start gently with you, but soon Nate would get too horny and fuck you senseless

It was never more than that, you didn't allow yourself to fall for Nate cause he bullied u and was a closeted cunt

He was a dick after the two of you fucked, he would let you both calm down and then tell you to dress back up

He'd drive you home and say "night" and that's all

But Nate was surely falling for you though, after sex he could pretend to fall asleep just to hold you

His big body on top of yours, your cum and his drying on yours and his stomach, sweat making you stick to his seat but tiredness allowing you to fall asleep with him

He liked how big he was compared to you, Nate would get up after you fall asleep and admire you

He hated himself for it, but in the moment he couldn't care less

You looked hot, covered in his spit and sweat and cum, looking peaceful and moonlit as you sleep

Nate eventually invested in baby wipes that he would keep in his car, wiping you down gently as you slept, dressing you up and driving you home, but once you wake up, Nate would continue with his silence and drop you home with a short "night"

But you'd notice... you were wearing his sweatshirt

His massive sweatshirt which smelt like him and felt warm against your skin...

Fuck. You like the cunt that bullied you relentlessly and that is very much closeted

But after that, the two of u became somewhat exclusive (only secretly) Nate really showed how toxic he gets

Cause nobody knew the two of you were a thing, girls would jump on him and he would do nothing about it

Maddy didn't dare talk to him, she was better than that, but other girls definitely tried to get with Nate

He never actually did anything with them, but Nate didn't care that you saw how they all flirted with him, and he really didn't care how that made you feel

Most nights would end in arguments over text on Nate's harem of girls that would flirt with him

He would always play innocent and call you crazy, but you'd never let him gaslight you, so most nights the two of you wouldn't be on talking terms

That is until he goes through the effort of posting an "I'm sorry" card through your letterbox

He won your little game every time he apologised, because you're always sure he means it, that is until he fucks up again the next day

One day you had enough, binned his letter and stopped talking to him

Nate was fuming, he spend 6 hours in the gym that day

You had 23 un-opened snaps and messages from him

It stressed him out you wouldn't talk to him - he did like you, he was also frustrated that you were withholding sex, but most of all he was terrified you would out him

He heard that you had a free house that day and turned up at your house, forcing hid way in when you opened the door - reminiscing of that first night

A lot of shouting ensued

But after that... a LOT of making out followed

You were sat on your bed, grinding against each other, you sat on Nate's lap as you made out for ages

Once Nate started begging to let him fuck you, you stripped down for him

At some point during the night, you though you had broken your bed, from the amount of creaking you two were causing

But the night ended well nonetheless

Nate made you watch as he blocked everyone of the girls that liked him

The two of you made out until you were too tired to keep going

Nate slept over for the first time, he felt comfortable

You body against his, sleeping on his huge chest

For the first time ever, Nate wasn't arguing with himself over his very homo actions

He just let himself feel you and enjoy you as he fell asleep

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

I've just re-read my previous requested fic for tf 141 x reader with high pain tolerance, and I think we could extend this prompt (and as always you can take it or leave it, no pressure a yea 👍🏻)

What if TF 141 almost lost F!Reader again, this time she got caught by enemies and got tortured for crucial/classified information. While being tortured, you can't help but feel a little grateful that you have such an extreme pain tolerance. You finally managed to get out that place by your own (and of course after unaliving your enemies) and got back to your team. Men are worried as hell cause 1) you look like shit, like someone has just crawled out of hell (which in your part it isn't wrong), 2) the fact that you have extreme pain tolerance just make it worse

And when you finally got evaluated by medics, including clothes off, that's when they knew you'd have it worse than what they've imagined. Black-ish bruises almost every where, broken bones, dislocated joints, dried blood etc. It's heartbreaking seeing you like this. Probably some will have self blaming, guilty, rage, and other mixed emotions. Hmm imagine the heavy angst but also the massive comfort after that.

Thankskie 🦈

Summary: high pain tolerance F!Reader get tortured, after you getting rescued, enjoy the FLUFF between you and TF141

cw: very slight gore (interrogation), canon swearing, canon violence

blahaj, FLUFF, TF141*F!Reader

last req about high pain tolerance F!Reader

Oh, This isn’t great. You probably going to die this time.

You licked your chapped lips, the bitterness of iron is obnoxious, making you regret the motion and go back to try to piece together your memories again.

You counted the time when you first got caught, but after endless rounds of interrogations, your mind is too hazy to keep up the measurement.

With your hands bounding tightly on your back, chains and steel bars preventing your legs from moving, all you can do is just prey for your teammates to come.

At least you aren’t afraid, no fear of death, nor fear of pain. It’s always these moments that you feel grateful for having almost no feelings of pain, it makes you keep composed and adamant.

Well, starving kind of sucks though, you guess you’ll even devour those vegetables you hated and shoved into Kyle’s plate if it’s presented to you.

Your mind wanders, from your pudding hiding in the deepest part of the fridge in case someone (Soap) eats it, to how Price will scold your ears off for being too reckless when you’re back, until the footsteps outside the door remind you to concentrate.

Damn, you need to get out alive if you want to listen to your dear Captain recite the rules.

The door creaks open with the broad man stepping in and his dogs tailing after with weapons.

The cool water gets splashed on your face when the man stands still in front of you.

“New toy, yeah?” you spot the machete in the man’s grip

“Glad to see you awake, sergeant?” The man laughs “Seems like the mouth still works pretty well, I hope your mind is clear too so we can cooperate perfectly today.”

“Sober enough to tell you ‘no’, I guess”

Red pours from your shoulder the second after your taunt, and you frown slightly at the little sting.

“Fucking bitch still has a sharp tongue after these wounds...” He eyes down at you with a bit of disbelief.

Even though you can’t see yourself, you know you look like shit either. Burnings from the lighters, slash wounds from various tactical knives, dark bruises forming on your thigh and other parts after countless punches and kicks.

All you need to do is buy time, but even if you barely feel pain, you still will die from blood loss if this keeps going.

The rest of the interrogation is just adding more injuries to your broken body, and your consciousness starts fading.

You really want to take a nap... but will you wake up again? you’re not sure especially when another smash lands on the back of your head.

Just about minutes before you sure will pass out again, you hear the noise. Gunfire, yelling, screaming of a massacre.

They arrived...

“Go check what’s wrong.” The broad man gestures, and one of his subordinates walks out to

“Guess your saviors have come... now” You look straight into the man ’s eyes when he puts the muzzle between your eyes. “No time for playing, one last time, tell me the people gave you the intel.”

The chaos outside is getting louder and closer. Buy time, you tell yourself again, so you whisper

“Okay... Okay... I will tell you, please don’t kill me, please...” You sniff, and start sobbing while your head stays lowered.

“Finally giving up, huh? Tell me, I need their name, who do they belong.” The smirk on the man’s face gets wider, god, you really want to punch his face.

“It’s...” You murmur, and the man leans closer to hear clearly.

“It’s go fuck yourself, you bloody bastard.” You spit the blood on his face and grin like a maniac.

and the door swings open, the gunshot splatters the man’s blood on your face, but you don’t care.

You win.

“Hey, guys, long time no see.” You smile at your teammates after the man collapses beside you.

“You’re fine now, don’t worry, we got you.” Soap rushes to your side “Price is calling the exfil, Ghost and Gaz are outside making sure everything’s clear.”

“Thanks...” You melt into Soap’s arm when he unties the rope and carries you.

“I tell the bastard to go fuck himself, hehe.”

“Stop talking, bonnie, ye need to rest.”

“Did I do great?”

“Yes.” The gravel voice of Soap’s becomes softer as he answers.

“May I rest now?” you blink slowly.

“Of course, lassie.”

Getting the confirmation, The warmth radiating from Soap is too soothing, you want to tell him how much you miss them, but those words are unable to come out as you get dragged into a coma instantly.

“damn...”

Your eyelids flutter open, the familiar white ceiling is the first thing you see.

“Morning, bonnie, how do ye feel?”

“dizzy as fuck.”

“pain?”

“Nah.”

“Sometimes I think you’re not human...” Soap laughs, but he’s worried, or worried can’t describe his mood when he saw your wounds as you were sent into the infirmary.

That day when they back to base, all of them followed you, and didn’t pay any mind about getting their gears off first.

You looked like someone who just found her way out of hell, beautiful face swollen, large bruises spread across your skin like some nasty paintings, and the situation was worse than they expected after the medics cut your clothes off and started their evaluation.

Soap couldn’t forget the rage swallowing him like flames when he saw what you went through in those days, the more wounds they spotted, the more tension in the air became more insufferable.

Gaz and he cursed when they saw the huge burn on your back, skin obviously inflamed, and when the deep cuts that exposed the bones revealed from the cover, he noticed Ghost clenching his fist to suppress anger.

Price stormed out of the infirmary and called Laswell between the medics surmising how many of your bones were broken.

“Wait...” your voice pulls Soap back to reality “blahaj! 4 blahaj! Where do they come from?”

“Price gave them to you, as rewards for your hard work. He said you keep rambling about wanting to have one.”

“awwww” Soap grins as he watches you struggle to hug all of them at one time.

“There ya go.” He helps adjust the plushies so you can get them all in your arms.

“Oh yeah, where’s others?”

“Price’s on op, will be back in a week. Ghost and Gaz will visit you soon.”

“Hmmmm.”

You caress one of the blahaj’s head and turn your face

“Thank you.” you grin “For coming to save me.”

“What are you talking about?” Covering his hand on yours, he looks into your eyes, without those playful glints in his azure ones.

“We’re a team, or more than a team. Ye think we will throw ye there and do nothing?”

The seriousness on his face infatuates you, you meet his gaze without darting, and finally, break into tender giggles.

“yeah, sorry, you’re right.” You chuckle “You know what? In that basement, All I wanted was to get out of there and come back to eat my pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“Yeah, I have one in the fridge.” nodding in excitement, you continue “I should ask the doctor if I can eat it.”

“Wait that’s yours?!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ehhh...” Soap’s smile freezes on his face under panic “I ate it.”

“...”

Soap MacTavish gets kicked out of the room with a new mission: buy 10 puddings.

When Gaz knocks on the door and steps into your ward, you are staring out the window, but turn to him immediately when you hear his arrival.

“Hey, Kyle.” You wave with your better hand.

“Feel better?” The sugar-coated smile he has always provides you with energy, your mood lights up as he takes the seat beside your bed.

“mmhmm, not that dizzy anymore.”

“loves those sharks very much?” He points at the blahajs you squeeze close to you.

“Damn, they’re my new babies now.” You show Gaz each of them.

“This is Pricey, this is Ghostie, this is Gazzy, and this is Soapy.” Proudly introducing them to Gaz, you give the sharkies a few pats.

“Such Innovative names, hm?”

“I don’t think Gaz is some special name too, Kyle.”

You both giggle at the stupid names you granted to the sharks, while Gaz lands his eyes on your arm hanging mid-air, his laughter gradually comes to a halt.

“Hey.” He watches you raise an eyebrow when he calls you “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Just...” His eyes stay on your bruises, traveling along them, and he hates that they lead his gaze to roam your whole figure. “We should be there faster.”

His brown eyes are full of distress when they meet yours again.

“Garrick, come closer.” You beckons, and he follows suit.

“Don’t apologize. When I saw all of you on that goddamn chair, I knew I was safe now.” You cradle his cheek in your palm “You guys are my shelter, my home, and I never thought the chance that my team wouldn’t save me, Soap said it yesterday, and I’m sure you’re the same, yes?”

“Of course.” His eyes soften, and you return him a reassuring smile when

“Time for you to go train the rookies, right?” Shooting a glimpse at the clock, you ask.

“yeah, time to deal with those troubles.” He stands up from the chair and looks down at you “See you, lovie.”

“see ya.”

You watch him walk towards the door, but stop after a few steps.

“Why does Soapy have a huge dent on his head?”

“Oh.” You pout “He ate my pudding, so I punched his shark since I can’t spar with him now.” another punch hit Soapy when you finish speaking.

“Wow...”

Gaz mourns for his brother’s future with his whole heart.

“Still awake?” The gruff yet gentle voice floats into your ear the moment the door slides open.

“Been sleeping the whole day, LT.”

Ghost watches you shift, and lies on your side to face him.

“How’s the day, Ghost?”

“Shit as usual.”

“How about seeing me, feel better?”

“Feels worse.”

“Hey, honesty is a virtue but not here.”

He scoffs at your retort as he observes your face.

“The bruises on your face look smaller.” Ghost indicates.

“Oh yeah, my face! How does it look like?” You point at the hand mirror Gaz brings you, and after Ghost hands it to you, you open the lid.

“Jesus Christ!” you shout when the reflection shows you how shit you look like “I’m so ugly right now!”

“We all know.”

“Damn, if there’s an award for honesty, you will be the winner, Simon.” You throw the mirror back into his grip.

“Will you congratulate me?”

“I will give you an ‘I’m a winner’ sticker for you to paste on your mask.”

He chuckles at your banter, but you can sense his exhaustion, from his limp body to his half-lid eyes.

“You’re tired, Simon. Go back to rest.” You coo softly.

“I’m not leaving until you sleep.”

“but I’m not that sleepy now.”

“Should I sing you a lullaby, sergeant?”

“I’m afraid that my ears don’t have the honor the hear your beautiful singing, Sir.” you feign an ‘oh hell no’ face to him, but your eyes light up when an idea comes to mind.

“Hey, how about you lie on my bed? it can fit 2 people.”

“I don’t know you’re such an active woman.”

“Fuck you, Simon. If you want me to fall asleep then get on the bed right now!”

Sighs in compromise, Ghost rises from the chair and sits on the edge of your bed with a grunt, and you scoot inward to leave him more space to lie down.

“You’re like a bear, Ghost, I’m gonna squash into a pie by you and the blahajs!”

“Then throw those bloody sharks on the floor.”

“No! they’re Tf141 blahaj!” You pet the one in your arms when Ghost gives you a confused face. “This is you, Ghost.”

“The real Ghost is beside you and you choose him over a fake one?”

“I don’t know you’re that active, lieutenant.”

You smirk at him, he’s only wearing a balaclava, so you’re able to see the corner of his eyes crinkle at your words.

But Ghost must have some magic, you grow sleepier under his presence, maybe it’s his steady breath sounds like a lullaby, or it’s because safety he always generously offers to you.

“Sleepy now?” He speaks slowly and quietly as if he’s fear of scaring your sleepiness away.

“a bit...” A big yawn answers the question better than your slurry voice.

“Close your eyes then.”

“mmm.”

You secure the Ghostie blahaj in a tight embrace as you follow Ghost’s command.

you feel light pats on your non-injured part, and you scoot closer to the bulky man, letting him lead you into a peaceful sleep.

Ghost watches you fall asleep, and he moves off the bed as gently as he can.

“Sweet dreams.” He chants in a low voice, and he takes other sharks in his hand, placing them closer to you.

Making sure the sharks are cuddling you, he leaves like a ghost in the serene silence.

You look down at yourself, ankles tied to the chair, blood dripping from the knife that’s barely in your sight.

Aren’t you already out of that basement...?

Is it all a dream? In reality, you’re still getting interrogated?

You try to fixate on the noise outside the door, but you feel the cold metal touching your forehead.

Am I never going to see them again? I want to see them again...

I want to hear Price’s praises, want to hear Soap and Gaz fighting over the last biscuit, want to hear Ghost’s annoyed voices at my frolic.

Tears gather in your eyes when you hear the click from turning off the safety of the gun.

“... geant...sergeant... sergeant.”

“Ahh!” You let out a yell as you snap your eyes open, which are wide with horror.

“Cap-Captain...” You pant whilst you recognize the person pulling you from your nightmare.

“Yes, it’s me, love. You’re safe now, you’re in the base, infirmary, remember?” He caresses your hair to calm you down.

Oh, yes, you aren’t in that basement. You’re back.

You’re with the people you love.

“Why are you here, Captain?” after you breathe steadily again, you notice it’s 1 am, and the aisle outside is silent.

“Just came back from the op, and want to see you.”

“You should have some rest, Price.”

“You mean I leave now even when you just woke up from a nightmare?” He crooks his eyebrows.

“Well...”

“Be selfish, love. I will stay here.”

“You don’t blame me for being too stupid and getting caught by the enemy?”

“Things went south sometimes.” He shakes his head “It’s not your fault.”

“...”

“Say it, luv.” He encourages you when you hesitate.

“I...” “I thought I was not afraid of anything... at least in that basement, pain’s not a big deal for me, starvation is bearable, and death... if that means I won’t lose to those dorks, then it’s nothing to me.”

Price gives you a grunt as acknowledgement, so you continue.

“but... I think I’m still afraid of dying...” You fidget your fingers “I want to see all of you again... I want to come back to you.”

“I don’t want to die...”

You haven’t noticed tears staining your cheeks until Price’s finger — calloused yet warm — wipes the tears away.

“We all know you’re brave, kid.” Price cups your face, hand barely touches your skin, must be avoiding trigger your pain, but you don’t care, nor you can feel the pain, you shove your cheek in it and earn a chuckle from the man.

“Your high pain tolerance makes you look forward to your target without worrying yourself, but keep in mind.”

“Don’t make us worry, you need to come back to us, we can’t lose you, just like you can lose us. Understood?”

“Yes, Capt.”

“You want to go back to sleep?”

“If you tell me a bedtime story, then I will.” the mischievous grin returns to your face.

“Greedy, eh? I thought those sharks could satisfy you.”

“I want your bedtime story too.”

“How about I tell you a story about how to become an attentive soldier?”

“Fuck you, Captain.”

You hit Price with the plushie, which he catches easily, and put it on his lap, letting you give the shark little punches to drain your excessive energy, as he starts telling what happened when he met Soap the first time.

You aren’t afraid of pain, and you become an undaunted person on the battlefield. Yet still, you now keep in mind that there are people who love you, and are worried about you.

You all are a team, a home, and a haven for each other, always by each other’s side, or waiting for others to return safely.

and it’s really nice to be able to come back home.

a/n: thanks for reading! and thank you sharkie for the request, I hope you will like it (or not too disappointed) !! :D

Have a nice day/night, everyone!

[fallingdownhell]

Hey….. soz if this is too much but can you do this https://www.tumblr.com/fallingdownhell/715302705397202944/i-absolutely-love-your-works-can-you-make?source=share

but with tighnari, wanderer and heizou thanks

Always. I always like me some angst with comfort<3 Characters Included: Wanderer; Tighnari; Heizou Summary: you have an argument with the boys, since they've been neglecting you for their work Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; some angst; hurt/comfort; some swears and mean words; Wanderer is referred to as Kuni/Kunikuzushi Word count: 3,6k words Enjoy<3

Wanderer

You love your boyfriend. You truly do.

But between him helping out the Dendro Archon and now having enrolled in the Academiya, it felt like you didn't have a boyfriend at all anymore.

You rarely got to see him, and the times you did, he was so stressed and on high alert that he would probably snap at you if you were to bring up any topic that might put more stress onto him.

So instead, you just put up with his even more grumpy attitude towards you, trying to help him with whatever you could, hoping that it might take the edge off him a bit. But nothing ever seemed to work.

On the contrary, it has only gotten worse. For the past few days, you haven't seen your boyfriend. At all. He didn't come home and he has not been seen wandering the streets of Sumeru City.

You got so worried that you decided to pay Nahida a little visit, asking if she knew of the whereabouts of your dear boyfriend. She apologized to you, informing you that he had tasked him with something important, but that he should be back by today.

And true to her words, Kuni did come back home that night. However, once again, he paid no attention to you at all. He only laid down and fell right asleep, claiming that he was exhausted from his trip to the desert.

That was the point where you couldn't take it anymore. You understand that he has a lot to deal with currently, but that doesn't give him the right to treat you like you didn't exist. So, you decided to confront him in the morning, before he would leave again, hoping that a conversation could help clear things up between the two of you.

So, you made sure to wake up before him, making yourself and him some small breakfast like you like to do. When he comes down to eat with you, you greet him a good morning, which he only answers with a grumpy hum.

"Kuni.. we need to talk.", you decide to start, not wanting to take this attitude from him any longer.

A frustrated groan leaves his lips, rolling his eyes into the air. "Really, (Name)? Now? Can't we do this another time?"

"Yeah, sure. Just let me know when you decide to acknowledge me living here with you again. No, Kuni. We talk now. I'm done being treated like I don't exist."

At that, the Wanderer starts to gets defensive of his actions and soon enough, you two are in the middle of a full blown argument, loudly shouting at each other. Every semblance of a normal conversation has long left and you were now basically spewing insults at each other, none of you willing to acknowledge the others point of view.

"Gods, why do you always have to be so annoying? Maybe, if you weren't so god damn clingy all the time, I'd pay more attention to you!"

The words leave his lips and as soon as they do, he can see a flash of hurt shine in your eyes, which you quickly try to hide. But he's already seen it, and regret slips into his body.

Silence ensues, you're just staring at each other for a few seconds. You wait, hoping that he'll take back what he said, but nothing comes from him. His lips stay sealed as he just stares at you.

"So, it's my fault now? I'm the one at fault for you basically ignoring my entire existence? Making me question if I even have a boyfriend at this point? Because that's what it feels like. I don't get to see you anymore, I have to walk on eggshells around you, and then you go and blame me for it? Do I really mean that little to you?"

Your voice is dangerously calm as you say that, tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes, but you force them to stay down for now.

You see something shine in his eyes, but you can't put a finger on what it is before it's gone again, and he averts his eyes from you. A few more silent seconds pass and you're about to just get up and leave, when you hear him mumble something under his breath.

"...-ong."

"What was that?"

"..You're wrong.", he says, looking back up at you. Now, you can clearly see the conflict in his eyes, shining bright like he's begging you not to make him say this. But you just cross your arms in front of your chest, urging him to go on.

"I... you're wrong. You.. do mean something to me. More than I like to admit. I shouldn't have put the blame for my actions on you. I... I don't want you to leave. And.. I'll try better from now on."

For a moment, you look at him, contemplating his words. This would probably be the closest to an apology you would ever get from him. But when you don't answer him, you can see him starting to get a bit restless, squirming in his seat.

"I.. I'm... sorry..", he mumbles quietly, but you still heared it. Surprised by this, you can't help but let out a low chuckle, which instantly catches his attention.

"I just want to help you, Kuni. If there's anything I can do to help with the stress, let me know. Just, please don't ever treat me like this again."

Hearing you say that, he closes his eyes and nods his head, relieve washing over his body. And for the first time in a few weeks, he decides that it's not too bad if he shows up a bit later, just to make up for the time he missed spending with you.

Tighnari

As head of all the Forest Rangers in Gandharva Ville, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Tighnari to be stressed. It happens quite frequently, actually. And although being stressed regularly isn't a good thing, it helped him come up with ways to handle it and destress again after a long and tiring day. Because the last thing Tighnari ever wants to do is let out his frustrations on his partner.

He's usually very great about communicating when he's particularly stressed, and if his words aren't a dead giveaway, then usually his tail and ears are. When things get too overwhelming for him, his tail hangs a bit looser than it normally would and his ears would also fall a little bit more. It almost makes him look like a soaked puppy. You'd tease him for it if that wouldn't sour his mood even more.

But this time, it was something different.

He wasn't particularly stressed with work or anything. But one one of his patrols through the forest, he ran into an undiscovered species of flowers. All exited about it, it has been all Tighnari has been focused about for the past two weeks.

It's all he's been talking about as of late, if you even get the chance to talk to him in the first place. Most of the time, he's cooped up in his little work place, often forgetting to take meals and breaks because he's so focused on studying the little plant and learning everything there is to know about it.

You bring him meals on a regular basis, but if you really want him to eat them, you'll have to stay with him and nudge him consistantly to take a break and eat, or he'll forget about it.

You tried talking to him about it, but he keeps shutting you down, claiming that it won't last much longer, only until he knows enough about it to figure out if it can be used in some new medicines and such. Though he did promise you to try and focus back on you and Collei a bit more.

That promise lastet for one whole day before he skipped out on dinner plans with you and Collei again. You decided that enough was enough, so the next day after the dinner, you went to him to confront him about his inexcusable behaviour.

He was exactly where he had always been these past days, you were sure he heard you approach him, since you didn't exactly try to sneek up on him, though he did not acknowledge your arrival at all.

"Tighnari, we need to talk.", you begin, walking over so you were now standing next to him, your arms crossed in front of your chest. He didn't even look up when you adressed him.

"Later, (Name). I think I'm onto something here.."

"No, not later. Now!", you stay firm, not wanting to delay this talk any longer.

Hearing your response, Tighnari answered with an annoyed sigh, but he finally placed his tools down and turned to look at you.

"Fine then. What's so important that you just have to interrupt my work here?" He raises an eyebrow, almost like he's challenging you, like nothing could be important enough for you to justify this interruption.

You however stand your ground, holding his gaze firmly. "Your behaviour is what's wrong. You've been so focused on this stupid thing that you forget about the people in your life. Like yesterday. You promised to have dinner with me and Collei. She didn't show it, but I know how sad and dissapointed she was when you didn't show up. Again."

"I'm sure Collei understands perfectly fine just how important my research is, unlike some other people, it seems." Hearing this from him, you couldn't hold back the pent up anger and frustration anymore. You unleashed it all which in turn made Tighnari even more defensive and soon enough, you were in the middle of an heated argument, your shouting to be heard by almost every single person currently within Gandharva Ville.

And though almost everyone was on your side and agreed that Tighnari had been working too much, they also felt a bit bad for him. No one would want to be at the recieving end of your anger.

The argument kept going and going, emotions continuing to boil up inside both of you, until one particular statement went over Tighnari's lips. "You know what? I don't have time to deal with you right now, (Name). I have far more important things to do. I don't need you constantly lingering around and distracting me. Honestly, you're annoying me."

Suddenly, it became almost deafeningly silent and a second later, his words catched up with Tighnari. His eyes went wide and he was about to say something, but you beat him to it.

"So, what? We don't matter to you? Am I just some form to pass time when you have nothing better to do? Is that all our relationship is to you? And what about Collei? Is she also not important to you?"

Tears were brimming at the corners of your eyes and Tighnari wanted to reach out to wipe them away. He hated to see you cry, even more so now because he was the reason for it in the first place.

His hand moved on instinct, but before he came even close to touching you, you turned on the spot and dashed out of his hut, leaving him standing there.

"Wait, (Name)!", he shouted, taking off and running after you. You were fast and had a head start, but he has always been the faster runner between the both of you.

Outside the Village, he caught up to you and caught you at your wrist. You came to a halt, but refuse to turn around and face him. You don't want him to see you crying, though you're both aware that he already knows that you're crying.

"(Name), please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't know why I even said it to begin with. You're not annoying me, never. Our relationship is important to me, very much so. I realize now that I made a mistake by focusing too much on my research and neglecting you. And Collei, too. I promise to do better from now on."

"..You've already promised me that once, and didn't keep it. Why should I believe you now?", you question him, which he couldn't blame you for. Your voice was shaking, you were trying so hard to hold back the tears, his words from before obviously still clinging to you.

"You have every reason not to, but I swear to you, that this time will be different. I swear to you that I won't let this happen, ever again. Please, trust me."

You stay silent for a bit, desperately wanting to believe him. In the end, your heart wins and you slowly turn around to face him. A small nod is noticeable before you're being pulled into his arms, his hand coming up to hold the back of your head against him.

You both stay like this for a bit, just enjoying to be in each others presence again. Only then does Tighnari realize just how long he hasn't had the chance to hold you like that, and he silently curses himself out for his own stupidity..

Heizou

Being a renowned detective comes with many benefits, but also a lot of disadvantages at the same time.

The more cases Heizou solves, the better his reputation gets, but he also makes a lot of enemies, especially in the high society fields. Not everyone always agrees with his view on justice and how he wants to achieve it, but Heizou doesn't care. So long as he follows what he thinks is right, he won't falter.

However, he is thankful to the gods above for a partner like you, who's supportive of his beliefs and decisions. He loves that you don't question him and that you understand how important his work is to him.

He knows that you've already had a lot to sacrifice for him. How he sometimes has to cancel date night because of an important case, but he's always made up for it more than enough.

So yeah, you're aware just how important his job is to Heizou. You truly understand..

But it has never gotten to a point like it has now.

For the past week, you haven't seen your boyfriend. At all.

He doesn't come home anymore, he's either cooped up in his office or out and about searching for clues. Kujo Sara told you that they've gotten a pretty serious case, one that Heizou leaped onto and is determined to solve, no matter what it takes.

Apparently, what it takes is for him to sacrifice all of his time and effort, probably forgetting that he has a life and a relationship outside his work, as well.

You tried to be understanding, even came visiting him in his office a few times with some homecooked meals or snacks. But every time you did that, he barely acknowledged you, barely even touched the meal.

You tried having some small conversations with him, but you either got short, one word answers or nothing at all besides a hum. Eventually, you gave up and just let him be, but it's been a week now since he's taken over the case and there's still no end in sight. And for the past three days, since your last visit to his office, you haven't seen or heard anything of your boyfriend.

So, on the eight day, you decided to try again. You cooked a nice meal for Heizou, packed it up and made your way over to the Tenryou Commission headquarters. Entering the building, you got a few nods as greetings from people who knew you, as you made your way straight to your boyfriends little office.

Arriving there, you took a deep breath before you knocked two times. When no answer came, your heart slowly began to sank. What if he's outside searching for clues again? Still, you decided to peek in regardless, just to be safe.

And sure enough, Heizou was sitting on his desk, multiple files and papers spread out in front of him as he was frantically reading through them.

"Hey babe.", you greeted him with a smile, but there was no reaction. Heizou didn't look at you and he didn't say a word in return. Still, you didn't want to give up just yet.

"I brought you something to eat. Figured you might want a break and something homecooked to eat."

You placed the lunchbox on the furthest outside position on his table that was still free, yet again, the action was not acknowledged by him whatsoever.

Twirling your thumbs, you wait for a few seconds, before you make another attempt at conversing with him. "So.. how's the case going?"

Suddenly, the papers fly to the desk, his hands slamming against the wood and finally, he turns to face you, though his expression looks almost furious. "It would go better if I didn't have such an annoying pest interrupting me all the damn time!"

Shocked at his sudden outburst, you stare at him. "Wow.. you don't have to be so mean about it."

"Apparently I have to, because you just can't take the hint when I don't engage with your stupid attempts at conversation making. Like, can't you see I'm too busy to entertain you right now, (Name)?"

His words stung, like he'd just slapped you in the face with them. Tears began to form, but you refused to show him just how deep his words had hurt you. But you knew that he knew. He saw the hurt in your eyes, and you saw realization flash through him as his words catched up with him.

But you didn't give him time to say anything else. He wanted you gone, so that's what you were giving him. Turning on your heels, you left his office, not bothering to close the door behind you. You could hear the yell of your name coming from Heizou, but you ignored it.

On your way out, you passed Kujo Sara, who gave you a pitying look as you walked past her. You didn't want her pity. You just wanted your boyfriend back, but it seemed like that was out of reach for now.

When you were out on the street again, you didn't know what you should do now. Going home wasn't an option, there were too many things that would remind you of Heizou back there, and you didn't want to think about him right now.

The beach... a while ago, you found a beautiful, kinda secluded spot by the beach. You decided to go there for now, maybe it would help freshen up your mind and how to move on from here on out.

The waters were mesmerizing today. The waves were calm and the sun was reflecting off the surface. You sat down in the sand and just stared out to the horizon, your thoughts beginning to wander.

You were so deep in thought that you didn't notice the time passing, the sun soon beginning to set, dipping the scenery into a serene red that you only rarely get to see. A shiver ran down your spine, but you didn't care, you didn't want to go back home just yet..

"Here you are!", a voice suddenly cuts through the silence and you flip around, recognizing Heizou who's jogging over to you. However, you decided to pay him no further mind, turning around again and staring right at the horizon again.

You take notice of his presence now next to you, but you still don't say anything. No words are spoken between you two as he sits down next to you and does the same as you, blankly staring at the ocean.

There's no indication that tells you how much time passes like this, just you two sitting next to each other in silence, until Heizou speaks up again.

"I'm sorry. About what I said earlier. I shouldn't have done that."

"..Then why'd you do it?", you question him, no emotion in your voice. He hated to hear you like that.

"I... You just came at a really bad time. And I know that that's not an excuse. Not at all. I was so close to the breakthrough in the case and I just... snapped. Again, that's no excuse and I'm really sorry about that. When I realized what I had done, Sara was coming over to me, no doubt about to lecture me. I just threw my files at here, told here the updates and then chased after you. I thought you would be going home, but when I didn't find you there, I began searching all over the place for you. And I found you here, in the end."

He ends his little monologue with a shy smile, scratching the back of his head. Then, Heizou's expression turned serious again.

"I mean it. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. You didn't do anything wrong. You were right, honestly. I kinda forgot about you and invested too much time to that case. I'm sorry and I promise I won't let that happen again, ever."

Hearing those words from him, you can't muster more than a small nod as a response. You didn't want to argue anymore with him, you just wanted to spend time with him and feel close to him again. That's all you wanted and needed right now.

So, you slid closer to him and leaned your body against his, your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around you from behind, his head coming down to rest on your shoulder.

Tomorrow, you could talk about this more with him. Right now, you just wanted to enjoy this moment with him.

[yuri-is-online]

Hi hi so can we have an expansion of middle school Floyd completely being his unfiltered self around yuu (maybe even octotrio going like "Oh please don't believe that merculture is like this" because middle school Floyd is embarrassing them in front of their crush) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Hmmm

So Floyd says morays are cowards right, but my experiences with little kids tell me that they don't always have the best sense of self-preservation. I picture little Floyd as one of those kids on crack. He thinks this human is cute! Especially because they don't have the sense to be afraid of him at all and are calling him cute, that's real funny. What if he just takes a big chomp outta ya, will you still think he's cute? As for the embarrassment, well...

Azul

It comes from how blunt little Floyd is.

He's got even less patience for Azul's plans than big Floyd does, and the complete inability to see the value of waiting for the pay off. He's actively getting angry at him and throwing temper tantrums every time Azul tries to smooth things over with Yuu.

"No you can't get the ability to breathe underwater from kissing a mermaid Floyd is making that up. And no not all merfolk are obsessed with legs that's just a him thing-"

"Nah Azul really likes your legs and pretty much everything you do with them!" Little Floyd is loud enough that other people than just you are looking at him in confusion (Azul is convinced it is overwhelming judgment) because he's choking on a mixture of spit and air because how did he pick up on that already?!? Azul thinks he's so subtle when he admires you, he's got to be so you don't think he's weird.

He can't wait for this to be over, he can handle being made fun of by the twins now since they've got a good rapport and he can give as good as he gets but little Floyd is like a sea otter with a clam, he just won't let this go because he thinks octopus courtship is boring and he's not above saying that. Outloud. In front of you.

Jade

It's from how willing he is to throw Jade under the bus.

Floyd knows Jade pretty well, even if it's a younger version of him so he knows just how down bad stupid Jade is within 15 seconds and he is determined to "help."

Said help is mostly just humming a very specific song while swimming around you in circles and doing little tricks to "set the mood." Or asking you what you think about Jade when he thinks he's out of earshot, something he's never once been since little Floyd got summoned.

He thought this would be fun, Floyd is always so delightfully unpredictable and now there's two of him! But instead of bothering Azul he's decided to torture Jade and ruin his carefully cultivated image instead. He sort of gets why Azul was so determined to get rid of all his childhood photos now, you're never going to look at him the same after this.

When his efforts don't work because Jade is too much of a coward little Floyd starts just telling you a bunch of stuff they got up to as kids in an effort to embarras him. It clearly works from how quick Jade is to shove him to the side but you're polite enough to keep the laughter to a minimum. For the most part

Floyd

It comes from how much of a coward he is.

Floyd is waiting for the right time to speak with you, when he's extra sure that you feel the same as he does. When he knows you'll accept everything he wants to give you and more.

But no. Little him has to say everything that comes into his mind. "Are your legs soft? Why are you leaking seawater? Do all humans really only have ten toes and can I count them-"

If you find this funny, I think it might depress him somewhat. He wants you to see all the ways he's smart and not brush him off as an unserious joke. If you think it's cute, well that's a mix of emotions. He doesn't want you to see him as cute now, but it's ok if you find morays cute, and even nicer if you find baby morays cute. That thought alone perks him up.

Until little Floyd starts telling Yuu he thinks they're cute. Then he gets possessive and starts competing with himself like a looser. Probably by picking Yuu up and carrying them away since his legs are longer and he can get away faster.

[bbyhellfire]

playing the part

eddie munson x reefer rick's ex!fem!reader

[series masterlist] [e.m. masterlist]

➠ summary: eddie gets distracted during a prison call from rick

➠ word count: 1.6k

➠ warnings: 18+ only, smut, outdoor sex, p in v, oral (r receiving), misogynistic/sexist comment from rick, flashbacks in italics

“And those cock sucking COs took it! Y’know how long I spent makin’ that batch?”

Five days. It took Rick five days to ferment his most recent batch of hooch. Two weeks if you include the time spent waiting for the commissary to restock oranges. 

“Five days! Not to mention waitin' for commissary to bring back oranges. Lazy fuckers. Two weeks for some goddamn fruit…”

Eddie mutters a lifeless “That’s fucked up, man”, but Rick is already lamenting about prison contraband. In about two minutes, he'll transition to complaints about his cellmate, a young kid who is horrible at prison poker.

He knows. This isn't the first, second, or even third time they've had this conversation. But once Rick starts, he doesn’t stop. No matter how little time is left, which inmate is yelling at him to stop hogging the phone, or what excuse Eddie has. Nothing works. All he can do is play along until Rick drops the charade.

“I tell ‘im, he’s gotta show me respect. He can't bet my toilet paper 'cos he lost his...”

Running a hand through his hair, Eddie flops back into his chair as his patience ticks away with each passing second.

It's not like they were close before Rick's sentencing. Sure, they were friendly, but they were never friends. They were as close as a drug supplier and their dealer could be, but even that isn’t enough to justify these biweekly calls. Rick claims it's so he remains connected to the outside world, which may be partially true but it's not the complete truth. He doesn't call to shoot the shit, and he doesn't act without an ulterior motive. Eddie has something he wants.

“You have one minute left.”

The automated message has Eddie bolting straight up as if there is a drill sergeant breathing down his neck. Thank fuck, he thinks as he taps his rings against the linoleum table top.

"Well, that’s my cue to go. Good luck with your celly, man.”

“Wait, wait! We got time. How’s my girl? She staying out of trouble?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, slumping back in his seat with an exasperated eye roll. She’s not your girl. That's what he wants to say.

“As far as I can tell.”

“She still working at Benny’s?”

“Yeah, saw her there last week," His eyes flicker towards the kitchen clock, the minute hand creeping past the number 4 as another minute is consumed by Rick's yapping. “Rick, I really–”

“Any customers making a move?”

Now that makes his mind white out, only the memory of his last visit to Benny's Burgers flashes behind his eyes.

“Eddie, I don’t have a lot of time.” Your warning was at odds with your actions. With your skirt shucked up to your waist, you pulled your underwear to the side to expose your puffy pussy.

“Relax, sweetheart,” His words dripped like honey as he tugged down his own pants just enough to get his cock out. “We’ve got ten minutes.”

Fucking in the woods behind Benny’s wasn't ideal, but with his band’s equipment taking up the back of his van, your options were limited. It wasn't ideal, but it would do. The woods offered enough coverage to keep your lewd actions hidden, but close enough to hear Benny calling for you if there was a rush of customers.

“I’ll need to fix my ha–” Your words were interrupted with a rush of breath as he fed you the first inch of his cock. “Hair! Oh, fuck, Eddie.”

“I know. Just let me take care of you, ‘kay?” 

Every nerve in his body thrummed as he pulled back before pushing back into you. While you scrabbled for purchase into the tree in front you, Eddie clung to you like an anchor, both arms wrapped around you as he thrust into you.

It's when you choked on his name that he knew he was dragging against your sensitive spot. He pushed a hand down so his fingers could rub quick circles against your clit.

“There you go, baby.”

The lewd, sweet slaps of his hips against your ass echo through the trees. He’s almost hoping someone hears. It's a perverted show of pride, one that would make him cringe if not for the suffocating cloud of pleasure. But he wants people to know that it's him, the town freak, that is making the pretty waitress feel good.

Another automated warning comes to pull Eddie back to his uncle's trailer. The familiar feeling of lust creeps in his lower abdomen.

“Not that I've seen. She’s keeping to herself.”

“Well, what about at night?” Rick presses. They have less than 30 seconds left and he is intent on using every last one. “Maybe she's got some limp dick keeping 'er warm at night?"

Eddie can't help put raise his eyebrows at that. Well...

He wasn’t planning on spending the night, but the Indiana weather had other plans. A storm rolled in, thundering with such chaos that it knocked out the power and flooded most of the major roads.

Not that he was too upset.

All that was waiting for him back at the trailer was a can of soup and the ten o'clock news. But here, he got to revel in the sight of you laid out on Rick's your living room floor, your pretty legs spread open to invite him in. Tender and inviting, he pressed slow and respectful kisses down to your cunt, acting as if he wasn't the messiest pussy eater in Hawkins.

“That feels nice,” You breathed, watching him with blown out pupils. His stomach twists, and he hopes it's because of him and not the downed power lines.

“I want it to,” He murmured, his messy curls tickling your inner thighs. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

He closed his eyes to feast like you were a delicacy. He took his time, licking and prodding, until another wave of arousal coated his tongue. You mentioned Rick rarely went down on you, and if he did, it wasn't anything extraordinary. Eddie was determined to make up for that.

“Y–yeah?”

“Mhmm. Like candy. Messy too. Think I’m gonna have to stay here a while, make this little hole all drooly. Maybe get your clit to come out and play, too." He trailed the tip of his tongue through the mess you were making, warm and wet, moving up to flick against your clit.

"She loves it when I play with her, doesn't she?" – kiss – "Likes it when I kiss her" – kiss – "love her."

“Oh God,” Your hands covered your face, but your giggles still seeped through your fingers. “I can’t believe you refer to my pussy as its own person.”

“Gotta give her the respect she deserves, sweetheart.”

“Eddie? You there, man?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just a bit…distracted.” He stammers, palming himself through his boxers. No way is he chubbing up while on the phone Reefer fucking Rick. His heartbeat speeds up to a heavy thumping that he hopes can't be heard through the phone. "No, I drove by last night and didn’t see any cars.”

But Rick just can't take no for an answer. "You check inside?"

Now Eddie's patience is running on empty. "Jesus H. Christ, no man. Fuck no! The town already thinks I'm a satanist, don't need to add Peeping Tom to it."

"Yeah, yeah you're right," Rick concedes, although the disappointment is palpable. "I know she's not doin' anythin', she loyal. But you never know with females. It's their hormones, makes 'em stupid. But shit man, you gotta lay off the weed! You're spacin’ out like that, no wonder you’re still in school.”

Yeah, no. Eddie is done. His fingers tighten around the phone, squeezing tight until his knuckles turn white. He shouldn't. He really fucking shouldn't.

“...You know? Repeating senior year isn’t gonna attract the ladies. How you gonna find a good girl like mine if you’re still in school? Gotta be a man and finish. Don’t wanna turn out like your daddy or your uncle–”

“Fifteen second remaining. Please hang up now.”

He should bite his tongue, just grin and bear it, but Eddie isn't exactly known for keeping his head down. Just yesterday Uncle Wayne was joked how he needs a padlock installed on his mouth because right now, his mouth is moving too quickly for his common sense to catch up.

“You know what? You're right. I need to find a good girl. I actually have one in mind. You might know her, really pretty. She works at Ben–"

Click!

"The call has ended. Thank you for using Securus Calling Service."

"Jesus H. Christ," He mutters. It's a surprise the phone isn't ripped off the wall considering how hard he slammed down the receiver. He runs his hands over his face, rubbing hard as if he can scrub away his words.

It was a dumb move, childish impulsivity at its finest.

So why doesn't he care?

A few months ago, he'd be spiraling. Piercing stabs of anxiety poking him all over until his skin felt raw. Chain smoking until there was a mountain of cigarette butts he could bury his head in.

But now.

Now the needles of anxiety are more of an annoying pinch. It's been months since you and Eddie started...whatever this is between you. The strict rules you initially set have relaxed from a mixture of exhaustion and simply not giving a fuck.

Eddie parks his van right out front where anyone driving along Holland Road could see. You're no longer quiet when Eddie is on the phone with Rick. Hell, last time you stood in front of him dressed in only a Hellfire shirt, calling his name like a song and curling your finger towards his room. Rick still thought it was bad reception that abruptly ended the call.

It's stupid dumb how obvious you are. Something straight out of an afternoon sitcom, all that's missing is a laugh track. And, sure, the logical thing might be to re-evaluate the situation and remember that the both of you are playing with fire, but it's too much fun. You're too much fun. And beautiful and funny and clever and kind and —

And if it means Eddie's life is now a tv show, he just hopes it ends with a happily ever after and not tragedy.

banners by @/adornedwithlight

taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@bl00d-puppy @demibats

[phantomspiderr]

Always

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings/tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, look i think Marc would be into Formula 1, is that just because I love F1... maybe?, sleepy!reader, soft!Marc🥰

a/n: 😬… I’m backkkkkkkk. Not that I think anyone noticed I was gone but I started anxiety meds and they've taken some getting used to. But I opened up my drafts the other day and found this and finished it, so essentially I started making it, had a breakdown... bon appetite?

(not my gif)

The other side of the bed’s cold, your hand swipes across the empty space in search of the warmth that is normally there. Your sleep-addled mind pauses to think—had your boyfriend even come to bed? What time was it? Is that noise in your head? Slowly, you pull yourself up from the warm cocoon of the duvet and your hands rub at your face in an attempt to erase the sleep that still clings to you. Blinking a few times you try to adjust your eyes to being open again as your hands fall into your lap. You can just make out some light in between the gaps in the bookshelf that separates the bed from the rest of the room. Your tired eyes look to his side of the bed again, still empty and the alarm clock shines the time a little too brightly, 6:22am. Reluctantly you move your stiff legs, pushing the warm duvet off of them and whining a little as the cold air in the flat hits them. You pull yourself out of the bed, immediately grabbing the blanket from the end of the mattress to wrap around yourself. The noise you’d heard becomes clearer now, it sounds like someone talking but it’s fast and all mushes together in your head. You take steps toward it, rounding the bookshelf to find exactly what you were missing.

“Hey,” Marc’s voice comes out in a whisper and he sits up the second his eyes clock you, his hand reaching for the tv remote immediately. The volume goes down with each push of the button, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You keep taking slow steps towards him, passing in front of the tv and going around the coffee table until you reach the couch.

“Are you okay?” You completely disregard his question in favour of asking your own as you sit next to him, he nods whispering out a yeah and so you move your body to lay down, placing your head in his lap.

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” you look up at him as he speaks. One of his hands comes to rest on top of your head, “plus there’s a race on.” He looks back to the tv and you follow his gaze, twisting until you lie completely on your side.

“What’s a red flag?” Your head turns so you can look at him again briefly, a little smile graces his face and then you go back to staring at the screen, trying to understand why in the middle of a race none of the cars are moving.

“One of the drivers went into the barrier and they have to stop the race to clean it up before they continue. It just means it’s not safe for anyone to be on the track,” Marc explains it so gently, no annoyance or condescension crosses his tone for your lack of knowing.

“Are they okay?” There’s a slight hint of worry and you almost sound like a scared child.

“Yeah sweetheart, look, that's Albon there.” He points towards the screen and you watch as it briefly shows a young-looking guy speaking with someone else, “it was his car that hit the barrier but he got out of it straight away.”

For a minute it’s quiet, you both just watch the screen as it shows different people. Marc had turned the volume up a bit and you could make out what the commentators were saying now they’d slowed down their talking. Without any prompting, Marc starts to quietly tell you who everyone is every time the picture changes to someone new. He shares little pieces of knowledge with every name and you find listening to him soothing. You knew he sometimes watched these races but you’d never really taken the time to sit down and watch one with him. You’re starting to regret never doing it before, you’d been missing out on this beautiful opportunity to get to know his interests better.

Ultimately, though that tiredness still clings to your mind and the way his voice is quietly lulling you makes you think of the times when Steven reads you to sleep. Just as the race starts up again, your eyes begin to feel heavy, the blinks start getting slower and longer. You’re unsure if Marc’s noticed because he keeps calmly explaining what’s happening as it happens. His fingers had absentmindedly started rubbing circles into your scalp which was not helping the way you were quickly slipping back into your sleeping state. The tv eventually disappears, and your eyes are finally sealed shut again but some conscious part of your brain can still make out the race commentary in the background alongside Marc’s soothing voice.

The next thing you know it’s daylight, the sun shines brightly through the uncovered windows. It hurts your eyes when they open and instinctively you turn your body away from it, glad when you’re met with darkness. You comfortably bury your face into the warmth of Marc’s stomach while trying your best to stretch your stiff limbs without really putting much effort into it. You take in a deep breath before just relaxing for a moment. Your mind slowly wakes as you lay there, coherent thoughts begin to form and you start to feel more awake with each passing second. You could’ve sworn you’d only been asleep for a few minutes. The tv is still making quiet noise in the background and you can feel Marc taking slow deep breaths.

Once your brain has managed to come back to some semblance of consciousness, you slowly pull yourself to sit up on the couch. The sight you’re met with makes your heart melt it doesn’t matter how many times you wake up next to him, each time feels like the first. He looks so peaceful, his head propped on his fist that leans on the arm of the couch. Eyes closed, hair sticking around every which way and lips slightly parted. You admire him for a minute before you think about how much his neck is going to hurt after sleeping in this position. As slowly as you can you twist yourself around again and stand, taking a second for your brain to catch up with your body’s movements. Then gently you tuck your hands under his knees, pulling on the deadweight and turning them to rest on the couch. All the movement rouses Marc from his sleep, the top half of his body reluctantly following the bottom with a grumble.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Quietly you shush him as he continues to wiggle around until he’s settled down on the couch where you were just laying. The crease in his eyebrow slowly relaxes as your fingers comb through his hair, you’re crouched next to him trying to push him back into his little slumber. A long sigh comes from deep within his chest and you just know he’s back in dreamland. With a gentle kiss to his temple, you stand again, grabbing the blanket that had fallen to the floor at some point and draping it over his body. Satisfied with how much more comfortable he looks now you go to pull yourself away to shower and maybe start on breakfast—or maybe brunch at this point, but a hand grazes your leg.

“Stay,” the mumble of a plea falls past his lips as his hand blindly searches for yours. Without a second thought, you give in, encouraging him to lift his head so you can slip back onto the couch. Thoughts of how good a shower would be right now or of what to cook to rid the rumble in your stomach disappear completely. Now you sit with Marc’s head in your lap, mirroring the exact position you’d both been in just moments prior. You take a long moment to just watch him, the way he nuzzles his head into your thighs and how relaxed he looks for a change. Then you’re thinking about how happy he makes you. How lucky you feel to be a part of this moment and how you only ever want to be right here with him, always.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 1

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

In the heart of the military training ground, you, a seasoned Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technician, stand poised amidst a group of nervous soldiers. Among them is Private Jameson, a newcomer with trembling hands and apprehensive eyes. With unwavering composure, you take charge, your voice steady as you address the group.

"Today, we're covering the basics of bomb disposal," you begin, your tone reassuring yet firm. Turning to Private Jameson, you offer a patient smile.

"You, Private. What's your name?" Despite his nervousness, Private Jameson responds, and you guide him with a calming presence, instilling confidence as you impart your expertise.

"Jameson, take a deep breath," you instruct softly but firmly. "Remember, focus is key. You've got this." Private Jameson nods, his eyes locked on your reassuring gaze.

As he examines the device, you watch attentively, offering guidance with each movement. When he finishes, you nod approvingly. "Well done, Private. Now, let's move on."

As Private Jameson continues under your guidance, the other soldiers watch with admiration. They've seen you in action before, witnessed your dedication to the mission and your willingness to put yourself in harm's way for the greater good.

"Ma'am, what if the situation calls for immediate action?" Private Reynolds interjects, reflecting the group's curiosity.

You acknowledge the gravity of the question. "In a real-world scenario, there may not be time for thorough examination," you explain calmly. "Trust your instincts and make split-second decisions."

Private Jameson glances at you, newfound respect shining in his eyes. "But you always seem so calm under pressure, ma'am," he remarks admiringly.

You smile humbly, reflecting on the countless moments of uncertainty you've faced. "It's not about being fearless, Private," you reply earnestly. "It's about pushing through fear for those counting on you."

Your words hang in the air, a silent reminder of the sacrifices made by soldiers like you every day. With renewed determination, Private Jameson nods, his resolve strengthened by your example.

As the door of the training facility echoed with a sharp knock, you exchanged a puzzled glance with your comrades. The abrupt interruption stirred a sense of unease within you, a foreboding whisper of uncertainty.

"A lawyer wants to see you," the soldier at the door announced, his voice tinged with urgency.

You furrowed your brow in confusion. "Me?" you repeated, your mind racing to grasp the sudden turn of events. "Hmm, he sounds British," you mused aloud, your instincts sharpened by years of training.

With measured steps, you followed your comrade through the maze of corridors until you reached the visitor's area. There, standing before you, was a figure from your past, a familiar face veiled in the somber cloak of time.

"Miss," the lawyer greeted you with a solemn nod, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him, the memories flooding back like an unstoppable tide. It had been fifteen years since you last saw him, a lifetime of distance and estrangement separating you.

"I assumed something bad happened?" you ventured cautiously, your tone laced with concern and apprehension.

The lawyer, Cedric, nodded gravely, his expression betraying the gravity of the news he bore.

You and Cedric found a quiet place to talk. "Something's wrong?" you inquired, noting the somber expression on Cedric's face as he adjusted his glasses.

Cedric remained silent momentarily, his gaze fixed on the ground before meeting your eyes. "Duke Rupert died two days ago," he finally uttered, his voice laden with gravity.

Your heart clenched at the news. Duke Rupert was your stepfather, and the thought of his passing filled you with a mix of sorrow and apprehension.

Cedric continued, his words weighed down by the weight of the news. "On his will, he wrote that he wants all the family to gather. I came here as soon as I could. And you could attend the funeral too. He probably wants it too."

You nodded, absorbing the information with a heavy heart. The sudden loss of Duke Rupert had thrown your world into disarray, and the prospect of gathering with the family only added to the uncertainty swirling within you.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself, determined to face whatever lay ahead with strength

You nodded in response to Cedric's words, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "I'll gather my things," you said quietly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

As you packed your belongings into your bag, Private Jameson approached you, his curiosity evident in his voice. "So, it turns out you're a noble," he remarked, his tone tinged with surprise.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head in response. "I'm not. It was my step-dad. There's no noble blood in me," you explained, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice.

Jameson furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued. "We've been working together for years, but you never mentioned anything about this," he observed, his tone filled with genuine interest.

You zipped up your bag, pausing momentarily before meeting Jameson's gaze. "It's just family stuff. Nothing interesting," you replied cryptically, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes before you turned away, ready to face the uncertain future that lay ahead.

After a grueling 12-hour flight, you finally arrived back in the UK. As the car pulled up to Evergreen Abbey, your childhood home, a rush of nostalgia washed over you. The manor stood proudly, its historical façade unchanged by the passing years.

Stepping out of the car, you took a moment to absorb the familiar sight before you. The memories of your upbringing flooded back, filling you with a sense of belonging despite the years of absence.

As you entered the manor, you were greeted by the sight of a middle-aged woman wearing a classic black dress adorned with a string of pearls. Her youthful aura belied the years that had passed since you last saw her. It was your mother, Susan.

"You're back," she exclaimed, opening her arms wide to envelop you in a warm embrace. The familiar scent of her perfume brought tears to your eyes as you returned her hug, feeling a sense of comfort and homecoming wash over you.

You nodded as Susan spoke, absorbing the news of Duke Rupert's accident with a heavy heart. The realization that your stepfather had passed away hit you like a wave, stirring emotions you had long buried.

"I'm so sorry. What happened?" you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you reached out to grasp Susan's hand for support.

Susan sighed her expression a mixture of sadness and frustration. "That silly old man's, I told him not to ride a horse, but he insisted and he fell," she explained, her tone tinged with regret. "Rupert always well-prepared, but I don't know why he really insisted on riding a horse that day."

Before you could respond, the sound of another voice broke through the somber atmosphere. "Thank God you're here," the voice exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned to see your stepbrother, Charles, standing before you.

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw him wearing priestly attire. "Charles?" you uttered in disbelief, your eyes widening in surprise.

Charles opened his arms and enveloped you in a warm hug, his presence comforting despite the unexpected change in his appearance. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his handshake firm and sincere as he greeted you.

You were speechless, your mind struggling to process the transformation before you. There was a warmth in Charles's eyes, a genuine kindness that seemed to radiate from within him. He was different from the last time you saw him, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him in his new role.

"Are you wearing a cassock?" you finally managed to ask, your voice filled with curiosity as you glanced at Charles's attire.

Susan gently pinched your arm, her expression amused yet reproachful. "Silly girl, this is why you should reply to my letters, phone calls, and emails," she chided gently. "Charles has become a priest."

"I know you will find it hard to believe. But I went through a miracle that made me fully believed in God." As Charles spoke of his newfound faith, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the memory of Charlie, who once hurled harsh words at you.

Then you heard a familiar voice, cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're here."

It was Charlotte, Charles's twin sister. Her gaze bore into you with the same disdain it always had, unchanged after all these years.

Charlotte was never one to hide her feelings about you. From the moment your mother brought you into their lives, she had seen you as nothing more than an unwanted burden.

Your mother's marriage to the Duke had brought you into a world of privilege and resentment. While your stepfather had become a father figure you'd never had, it came at the cost of your relationship with your own mother. Susan was desperate to fit into her new role as Duchess, and you were often left feeling like an outsider in your own home.

The Duke's children, Charles and Charlotte, had quickly formed a bond with your mother, leaving you feeling like an intruder in your own family. They resented you for stealing their father's attention, and the tension between you had only grown over the years.

Living at Evergreen Abbey had always felt like walking on eggshells. That's why, as soon as you came of age, you left for the United States and joined the army, seeking refuge from the suffocating atmosphere of the manor.

Charlotte's cold gaze was a painful reminder of the resentment that had always simmered beneath the surface. "Let's get this over with, please," she said, her words dripping with disdain.

"What does it mean?" you asked, scanning the room for answers but finding only silence and the weight of years of unresolved conflict hanging heavy in the air.

You couldn't believe your eyes as Charles stood before you, now a priest leading your stepfather's funeral. Rupert's passing seemed surreal, and as they closed the casket, you had a chance to see his face one last time.

His face looked different, smiling unnaturally due to the glue used to preserve it. It starkly contrasted the smile you remembered, and you regretted not seeing Rupert one last time before this moment. Placing a red rose near his casket, you whispered, "I'm going to miss you."

During the burial, your gaze wandered, and you noticed a little boy standing near your mother.

But someone standing alone amidst the gathering of family and guests caught your attention. Who is he?

After the burial concluded, the house filled with guests offering condolences. The strange man also disappeared. Susan and Charles gracefully accepted their sympathies, while Charlotte's whereabouts only God knows.

Amidst the crowd, you heard a gentle voice call your name. "Y/N?"

Turning around, you saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie? How are you?" You greeted him with a side hug, grateful for the familiarity in the midst of the somber occasion.

Eddie hugged you back, offering his condolences as you shared a moment of solace amid the chaos of the gathering.

Eddie's inquiry about your military service brought back memories, including a long-kept secret: you used to have a crush on him. It was partly why you joined the army, sharing a dream of serving alongside him. "Yeah," you answered, still groggy from the day's emotions.

"What about you? Did you join the army too?"

Eddie chuckled. "I did, but I left to pursue a business."

You nodded, finding it fitting for him. "You're looking more like a duke these days."

Taking a sip of water, Eddie revealed a surprising truth. "I am. I became a duke after my father passed."

Your shock was evident. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Eddie's chuckle held a hint of understanding. "Yeah, after you left, you sort of cut contacts with everyone."

You hesitated, recalling the mention of a will by Cedric. "What about your family tradition? Isn't your older brother supposed to be the duke?"

Eddie's expression shifted slightly. "It changed after my father's will."

Your unease grew as thoughts of Rupert's will resurfaced. Eddie noticed your worry and reached out, touching your hand. "Hey, if you need me, just call me."

Grateful for his support, you managed a small smile. "Thanks, Eddie."

########

As everyone sat waiting for the lawyer, a new presence entered the room. A little boy, perhaps around 10 years old, joined the gathering, taking a seat beside Charlotte. He stole occasional glances in your direction, his curiosity evident in his wide-eyed gaze.

Unable to contain your surprise, you turned to Charlotte and asked, "You have a child?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes in response, her annoyance palpable, while Charles chuckled softly at the exchange.

Feeling a familiar pinch on your arm, you turned to see Susan giving you a reproachful look. "This is why you should've answered my calls. He's your brother," she scolded gently.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh?!" you exclaimed, your mind struggling to comprehend the revelation as you glanced back at the little boy sitting beside Charlotte, a newfound sense of connection dawning within you. Now his face and future look similar to yours.

You found yourself at a loss for words, grappling with the sudden revelation of a long-lost sibling. The realization that you had cut off all contact when you joined the army weighed heavily on your conscience, leaving you with a profound sense of regret for the years of missed connections and lost opportunities.

Running a hand through your face, you let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past 15 years bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Will there be another surprise?" you wondered aloud, the question hanging in the air as you braced yourself for whatever other unexpected twists fate had in store for you.

A few minutes later, Cedric, the lawyer, strode into the room with purpose, placing his briefcase on the table before retrieving the file. With a solemn expression, he began to read aloud the contents of Duke Rupert's will.

"Everyone will get a share of his insurance and investments," Cedric announced, his voice measured and professional. "Except Y/N."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of resignation at the news, having expected as much given the strained dynamics within the family. Glancing around the room, you noted the acceptance in your mother's and the twins' expressions, as if they had anticipated this outcome.

But then, Cedric's next words shattered the calm facade that had settled over the room. "For the Evergreen Abbey Manor and the title, I hereby give it to Y/N L/N," he continued, his voice resolute.

Your shock was palpable, the expletive escaping your lips before you could stop it.

'HUH?!'

"What the fuck?" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events as the weight of Duke Rupert's decision settled heavily upon you.

As Charles let out a disbelieving "Hoo," and Charlotte expressed her relief with a curt "Great, not my problem anymore," the tension in the room seemed to escalate.

'Wait. The twins aren't angry?'

Your mother reached out, gently squeezing your hand and offering a reassuring look, her silent support a comforting anchor amidst the chaos unfolding around you.

"Why do I feel like I'm carrying a bomb in my hand?" you muttered, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a heavy burden.

Cedric adjusted his glasses, his expression grave as he spoke. "When you became the Lady of this house... Your grace, pardon me that I have to tell you this," he began carefully. "The former Duke had debts, and he was involved in what we might call 'creative' work."

"You mean drugs, gambling, and the like?" you interjected, your voice laced with disbelief.

Susan shot you a warning glance, her lips forming a silent reprimand. "You shouldn't say that word in front of your brother," she whispered, her tone urgent.

Turning to her younger son, she leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not drugs, but weed," she clarified softly.

"Oh, wow. Now I feel relieved," you replied sarcastically, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you as you struggled to come to terms with the unexpected revelations about Duke Rupert's illicit activities.

You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, the enormity of the situation sinking in. "How much is the debt?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"8 million pounds," Cedricbreplied solemnly, his tone grave.

Charles made the sign of the cross a gesture of disbelief. "Oh Lord," he murmured under his breath.

"And he wants me to repay the debt when I never took a single cent?" you exclaimed, incredulity coloring your words as you struggled to comprehend the injustice of it all.

"Was he high when he wrote the will? Why me?!!"

Sighing heavily, you turned your gaze towards the imposing manor, its grandeur now overshadowed by the weight of Duke Rupert's debts. "Can I just sell this manor?" you wondered aloud, desperation creeping into your voice.

"It will take months or years, Your Grace. And the debt has to be paid by the end of this month," Cedric explained, punctuated by a sense of urgency.

But before you could act on your impulse, Susan's voice cut through the air, her tone laced with urgency and apprehension. "You can't sell the manor," she interjected, her gaze pleading with you to reconsider.

Confusion flickered in your eyes as you turned to face her, a mix of frustration and resignation bubbling up inside you. "Why not?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Susan's response was swift, her words carrying the weight of years of pent-up frustration and resentment. "If you sell the manor, I would lose my title as a duchess," she explained, her voice quavering with emotion.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, stirring up memories of the strained relationship that had defined your interactions with Susan over the years. Her obsession with upholding the image of a perfect duchess had driven a wedge between you, leaving your relationship fraught with tension and resentment.

As you stood there, grappling with the weight of Duke Rupert's debts and the expectations thrust upon you by your title, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness creeping in.

You let out another sigh, resigned to the reality of the situation. "I need a drink," you muttered, the thought of seeking solace in the most potent alcohol near the lake seeming like the only reprieve from the turmoil raging inside you.

As you sat by the lake's tranquil waters, the weight of the situation bearing down on you, regret began to seep into your thoughts like a creeping mist.

Coming back here had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of Duke Rupert's debts and the burden they placed upon you, you couldn't help but wonder if it had been a mistake.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you allowed the warmth of the liquid to wash over you, momentarily easing the turmoil in your mind. But even the soothing embrace of alcohol couldn't dispel the unease gnawing at your insides.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled when a small figure approached, breaking the silence that had settled over the lakeside. You glanced up to see your little stepbrother, Hugo, standing before you with a tentative expression on his face.

"Uh, hi. Hello. I'm your older sister," you greeted awkwardly, the words feeling foreign on your tongue.

Hugo returned your greeting with a shy smile. "Hi, step-bro. Hugo. Ten years old," he introduced himself, his voice soft and uncertain.

An awkward silence hung between you, the gap between your worlds feeling vast and insurmountable. Sensing the tension, you made an effort to bridge the divide.

"You want to walk?" you offered, gesturing towards the path that wound its way around the edge of the lake.

Hugo hesitated for a moment before nodding hesitantly. "Hmm...," he murmured, his eyes brightening with a hint of curiosity as he took a tentative step forward, ready to embark on this uncertain journey with you.

As you and Hugo began to playfully throw stones into the lake, the tension between you gradually dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie born from the simple joy of shared activity.

"So, Hugo, do you know what's happening at the household?" you asked, choosing your words carefully. You had learned in the military that children often possessed an innate honesty that could shed light on complex situations.

Hugo paused in his stone-throwing, considering your question for a moment before responding. "Walls have ears, and the workers always gossip," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with wisdom beyond his years.

Impressed by his insight, you couldn't help but smile. "Wow," you remarked, genuinely impressed by Hugo's observation. "Do you want to share?" you prompted, curious to hear his perspective on the goings-on within the household.

As Hugo shared his insights, you listened intently, surprised by the depth of understanding hidden behind his youthful facade.

"Charlie doesn't want to take the house because of the debt, and he wants to become a pope," Hugo explained matter-of-factly, his words carrying a weight of resignation.

You responded with a puzzled "Huh?"

"And Charlotte doesn't care since she's going to marry a prince. She doesn't want anything related to Dad's 'creative work.' It will ruin her image."

"Her image? She's marrying a prince?" you interjected, your incredulity evident in your tone.

Hugo regarded you with a knowing look. "You're really ignorant, huh?" he remarked bluntly, his words stinging with a hint of playful teasing.

Feeling a pang of embarrassment at being corrected by a child, you cleared your throat awkwardly. "Hey..." you started, but Hugo continued without missing a beat.

"Sis Charlotte has quite millions of followers on social media," he elaborated, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "If her name is connected to weed and family debt—"

"It will ruin her image, and she'll have to pay the penalty," you finished, the implications sinking in as you processed Hugo's words. "Wait, how old are you again?" you asked, feeling a mix of surprise and amusement at the maturity of his observations.

Hugo raised both hands, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Ten," he replied, the innocence of his youth juxtaposed against the weight of the knowledge he carried.

You chuckled softly, taking another sip of your whiskey as you observed Hugo with newfound respect. Children were indeed frighteningly perceptive these days, and you made a mental note to tread carefully around him in the future.

You looked at the lake and sighed again. No wonder Charlie felt relieved upon seeing you. He wouldn't have to worry about these things. If his past caught up with him while pursuing his path to becoming a pope, it would ruin everything for him.

As for Charlotte, nothing ever seems to be enough for her. If her future in-laws from the royal family were to find out about this business, they would likely cancel her marriage.

So it's obvious they were relieved when Rupert chose you as the heir.

As both of you made your way back home, your senses went on high alert as you spotted a black Range Rover parked near the entrance. The sight of the familiar car sent a chill down your spine, and you felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of your stomach.

He's the man who watched Rupert's funeral from afar.

"Hugo, go inside," you instructed quietly, your voice tinged with urgency as you gestured for him to retreat to the safety of the house.

The man who emerged from the car was none other than the same individual you had seen at the funeral. James Barnes, or "Bucky" as he preferred to be called, approached you with a confident stride, his demeanor exuding an air of authority.

"Sorry to disturb your afternoon walk," Bucky began, his voice smooth and polite. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm James Barnes, but you could call me Bucky."

You nodded in acknowledgment, your guard instinctively rising as you braced yourself for whatever news he had come to deliver. "How can I help you, Mr. Barnes?" you inquired, your tone guarded yet polite.

"It's difficult for me to say while you're still grieving," Bucky admitted, his expression sympathetic. "But the former duke owed money to us."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "You see, Mr. Barnes, I just got here two days ago after 15 years," you explained wearily, the weight of Duke Rupert's legacy pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at your revelation, his interest piqued. "Yeah, Rupert mentioned it a couple of times," he remarked casually.

"Did he?" you muttered under your breath, feeling a surge of annoyance at Duke Rupert's apparent penchant for gossip.

"Let's continue this at the office," you suggested tersely, eager to put some distance between yourself and the unsettling presence of James Barnes.

As you stepped into Rupert's office for the first time, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingling with the lingering scent of his cigar and the familiar musk that seemed to permeate the room. It was a scent you had grown accustomed to over the years, a reminder of the man who had once occupied this space.

Pouring another whiskey for yourself and a glass for Bucky, you couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy as you reflected on the memories associated with this room. Duke Rupert's presence seemed to linger in every corner, his larger-than-life persona casting a shadow over the space.

Bucky took a moment to savor the whiskey, his expression one of appreciation. "Your step-dad always did have a good collection of alcohol," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words as he raised his glass in a silent toast.

You nodded in agreement, acknowledging the truth in his words. Despite the complexities of his character, Duke Rupert had always taken pride in his impressive selection of drinks, a testament to his refined taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Taking a sip of your drink, you cleared your throat, breaking the heavy silence in the air. "Do you have business with my step-dad?" you asked, your tone cautious as you eyed Bucky across the desk.

Bucky's admission hung heavy in the air as he spoke, his words carrying a weight of responsibility and obligation.

"I lent him my money and I protected him," he explained, his tone tinged with a sense of duty.

"Why? His weed business didn't work out?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the revelation.

Bucky shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "It was successful. But he had a change of heart and wanted out. And his boss didn't like it. That's where I came in," he elaborated, his expression grave.

"Eight million pounds. Is all because of you?" you queried, the enormity of the debt now beginning to make sense.

Bucky tilted his head, his gaze meeting yours with a solemn intensity. "The price of the damage I got for protecting your step-dad. I gained more enemies," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

Setting down your whiskey glass, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Despite the tangled web of intrigue and deceit surrounding Duke Rupert, at least his involvement in the weed business was not the cause of his debts.

You let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Options seemed limited, and each path forward appeared fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

Glancing at the bank statements and stock reports spread out on the desk before you, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Duke Rupert's financial situation was far from ideal, and the prospect of producing eight million pounds seemed increasingly daunting.

Your mother's reluctance to sell the manor only added to the complexity of the situation. Despite the financial burden it represented, the estate held sentimental value for her, serving as a tangible connection to Duke Rupert and the life they had built together.

The twins' indifference to the predicament only further highlighted the sense of isolation you felt in confronting this dilemma alone. But then your thoughts turned to Hugo, the youngest member of the family, and the realization dawned on you that the manor held a special significance for him as well.

Selling off the artwork and alcohol collection was a possibility, but the process would take time, and the prospect of navigating the complexities of the open market and taxation only added to the uncertainty.

With few options left to consider, you knew that your best course of action was to confront the man himself. Despite your reservations, you couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky held the key to unraveling the mystery of Duke Rupert's debts.

As the desire to return to the U.S. gnawed at you, a sense of urgency washed over you, driving you to seek resolution as quickly as possible. But with time ticking away and the weight of responsibility bearing on your shoulders, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and sacrifices.

You sighed heavily, the weight of the situation settling upon your shoulders. "What options do I have?

Bucky's smile was almost too slick, his finger pointing at you like a loaded gun. "I really like your attitude, Your Grace. Straight to the point," he remarked, his voice smooth as silk.

As he unbuttoned his suit and slid his hands into his pocket pants, a sense of foreboding settled over you like a dark cloud. "I'm also intrigued by your career as an expert in bombs," he continued, his words sending a chill down your spine.

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach as you braced yourself for what was to come. "Go on," you replied tersely, the tension crackling in the air between you.

With a calculated gesture, Bucky brought his hands together, the glint of gold rings catching the light and adding an air of menace to his demeanor. "I will make the debt of 8 million pounds disappear. If you help me," he declared, his tone dripping with promise.

Your heart skipped a beat at the audacity of his offer, the implications of his words sinking in like a lead weight. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering with uncertainty before he finally spoke. "I've got more competition after I helped Rupert. Thinking about it gives me headaches. That's where you come in," he explained cryptically, his words laden with hidden meaning.

Raising an eyebrow, you regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, until Bucky finally broke it with a chilling revelation. "I want you to create an explosion. To get rid of them," he stated bluntly, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.

"Fuck!"

Cursing under your breath, you cast a wary glance at the painting of Rupert hanging on the wall. His eyes seemed to bore into you, judging your every move. As an army EOD technician, the thought of making a bomb for a criminal to pay off a debt filled you with a sense of dread.

Regret gnawed at you like a festering wound as you grappled with the weight of the decision before you. Coming back home had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now, faced with the reality of the situation, you couldn't help but wish you had never returned.

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[justkending]

The Line-up (One-shot)

Summary: Every Avenger has a death glare they've mastered, but a few select someones on the team are the champions of staring into their opponent's souls and making sure they know there is no survival. However, these individuals aren't always intimidating in their day-to-day lives...

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger Reader (Goofy & stubborn relationship)

Word Count: 1700+

A/N: I got the idea for this one-shot from the picture above that I came across on Pinterest and couldn't stop the creative juices from flowing... Please enjoy!!

_______

Lined up in a row were the four most wanted individuals in the Avenger's history. And each one of them had their eyes set on the camera, with a slight head tilted to the side—the death stare of some of the sweetest individuals.

"Who made that?" Natasha said, coming over Peter's shoulder.

"It's just a meme," Peter explained with a nervous laugh.

"What's meme-ing about it?" Natasha quirks her head to the side as she analyzes the pictures, and Peter chuckles at her action- mimicking the ones on the screen.

"Uh, the joke is that it's a lineup of individuals who could end you without a second thought, and they all have a matching head tilt before that plan is executed." Peter watched as Nat kept her head to the side as she tried to understand the joke. He starts to point at the action but decides he likes his finger more.

"That lineup contains some of the biggest softies on the team," Nat scoffed and moved further into the kitchen, continuing her first task in the room. "Have you met Steven Grant? The guy is harmless."

"Doesn't mean they don't have a second side to them," Peter argued politely, watching her have a look of understanding to his comment, and he continued on with his homework. "The world doesn't get to see their domesticated life. They wouldn't find them so intimidating if they saw what happens on this floor of the compound."

"That I can agree with," Nat laughs, putting the kettle on the stove and making a mug of tea before heading to her apartment for the night.

"I swear to God, Barnes. If you don't get off my ass!" Y/N grumbles as she comes around the corner, shrugging her shoulder like someone was tapping on it.

"I'm not touching you," Bucky's voice was heard right after in a teasing tone.

"And presenting Case and his sidekick, Point," Nat sighs, continuing her task and leaning against the counter, watching Dumb and Dumber come in. Peter chuckles under his breath and tunes into the drama as he 'does his homework.'

"I swear to God, you're a child," she huffed, turning around promptly and swatting his hands away from her where they were hovering as if he was planning on pulling her hair. "Get away from me!"

He's laughing as he barely fights her hits and shoves her playfully away from him before going into the kitchen, leaving Y/N sulking in the living space by the kitchen.

"You would think with how many digits his age has, he'd be more mature, but every day I stand corrected," she huffs a breath through her nose with her fist at her sides.

Bucky just laughs and mutters a 'hey' to the others in the room as he moves to the fridge to have his evening bowl of cereal. Why? He liked sweets, and he'd come to enjoy the ritual of a bowl of his favorite sugary cereal on nights he worked out extra hard.

"She's mad because I beat her in a sparing match today. As if I don't do that every day," he taunts with a smirk over his shoulder as he opens the fridge for the milk and moves to get a bowl and spoon.

Peter watches as Y/N stomps promptly into the kitchen and jumps on the counter space, sitting and blocking the cabinet where Bucky's sweet treat is stored.

He hears her get comfortable and turns to see where exactly she sits.

His face grew more serious. Don't get between that man and his sweets. Everyone knew that, and Y/N knew that very well, but fire loved fire.

"Move."  

"You know damn well I can hold my own against you," she points a mean finger at him and crosses her arms as she does it.

He keeps stern eyes on her, but as always, she doesn't budge at the look. "Y/N, move."

"Make me. I'd love to prove my point," she says, standing her ground and buckled down on the counter. Dropping her legs, she leans forward and challenges him.

"You two annoy me," Nat mumbles as the kettle starts to whistle. She moves to the mug, where her tea bag is set up, and starts pouring the boiling water.

"Nat, you know for a fact I can and have taken this man down multiple times," Y/N detests, only moving her gaze from Bucky for a short second to the redhead.

"Yes, Y/N, we all know that. He's just an ass and knows that him never admitting that drives you insane," she replies, dipping her tea bag up and down after putting the kettle down.

"Well, I'm tired of it," she says cutely, frustrated. "I'm not moving until you say it. Say the truth, asshole," she moves to kick him with her foot, but he's just barely an inch too far away.

It was true, though. She had bested Bucky on quite a few occasions, and he would constantly tease her and tell her that he had let her win. She got fed up with it for a while and refused to spar with him since he pushed her buttons, but he was finally able to convince her to spar again... Today... And we're seeing how that went.

It seemed she had won the spar they were bickering about, but Bucky was still not relenting on his endless teasing.

"We talked about this, Barnes. Let her have the damn win so we can move on from your horrible attempt at flirting, and bonus, you can have your cereal and not be a grump tomorrow. Everyone wins," Nat rolls her eyes, lifting her mug to blow on as she kept dipping the bag.

Bucky acts shocked and offended at the same time. "I'm not flirting-"

Nat gives him a look, and he sneers at her before turning to Y/N.

"Y/N, move, or I'll move you myself." Now it was his turn to buckle down, but this time it was because he wanted to prove Nat wrong, at least to his audience, because clearly she saw right through him.

"No. I don't think you will," she says with a smirk on her lips after hearing Nat's comment.

"Y/N," he practically growls, and his hands turn into fists at his side, flexing to gain composure.

"Sorry, Buster. I'm not moving." Her smirk grows more, and she tilts her head with that vicious smile that shows she knows she's won.

"There it is," Peter whispers to Nat in front of him.

"There, what is?" she replies quietly.

He turns the computer around and shows the meme with Y/N, Bucky, Wanda, and Steven lined up, looking at the camera with the look she was sporting now.

She looks at it and back at the two in front of her. Bucky is now mimicking his own stare in that picture towards Y/N. It's like a live-action shot, but the context behind these looks is completely different. Even so, the challenging and deadly personalities seem to be coming out to... Play.

Bucky takes a step forward, and Y/N can tell the fight is about to start. The excitement in her eyes matches what they see on the field, with a hint of intrigue.

"I feel like we should leave because I worry we're in the line of fire for flying glass plates or something," Nat says, walking over to Peter to protect him if that scenario comes up.

"Maybe this was the push they needed," he shrugs, unbothered by the usual banter between the two. "Ha," he lets out a single laugh. "See? No one who sees this meme would know those looks would be directed towards a situation about cereal being the problem here."

"I don't think cereal is the real issue here," Nat says, eyes focused on the two.

"I'll move if you just admit that I can and have beat you on multiple occasions when we spar," she smiles smugly, kicking her legs back and forth.

Peter and Nat watch the interaction carefully and can see Bucky slowly start to give up.

"Say it..." Y/N drags out, seeing the resolve.

"You've beaten me on occasion," Bucky mumbles so lowly under his breath that only anyone with super super hearing can hear him.

"Sorry, a little louder for the people in the back?" Y/N goads him, leaning her head forward with a hand to her ear.

He rolls his eyes and sends her a straight face.

"You've bested me once or twice," he says again, just a touch louder.

"How about the whole truth now?" she leans back, preparing to jump off the counter but waiting for a confession she actually wants.

Bucky throws his hands in the air and looks up at the ceiling.

"Y/N, you have bested me more times than I can count, and I'm an asshole for saying otherwise!" he says and then looks at her. "Can you please move out of the fucking way now?!"

"Since you asked so nicely," she smiles victoriously and jumps off the counter gracefully, walking up to him and looking up at him. "Was that so hard?" she asks with a fake pout and pats his chest.

He blushes but looks away to hide the reddened cheeks, and luckily, she skips away to Nat and Peter.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she sighs as if her banter was the equivalent of a five-hour trial. "He's about to discover I finished off his last box of Captain Crunch, and I'd prefer to keep my ass attached to my body." Bucky lets out a low growl, and without looking, she smiles and moves quickly to the exit. "Pray for me!"

"Y/N!" He shouts, slamming the cabinet and running after her as she turns the corner like a rabbit who's out of time. "You little-!"

"See, it ended up being about cereal," Peter comments once they're out of the room.

"Ended, but didn't start that way," she laughs and brings her drink to her lips.

"Why did Bucky almost run me over in the hall, and why did I hear Y/N cackling like an evil witch turning a sharp corner to the training room?" Wanda asks, her head still turned to the hall from which she had just come.

"I don't ask questions when it comes to idiots that clearly love each other," Nat shakes her head. "What are you doing here? I thought you didn't get back from your mission for a few more hours."

"Left early," she shrugs and comes in, looking at Peter's screen with the picture still on it. "What's that?"

Peter meets her eyes and laughs. "It's a whole thing."

"I have time," she smiles, tilting her head with an interested smile.

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