#though they are getting an iron grip on me pls send help

[glitchyko]

Brain: Hey, you like worms?

Me: What?

Brain: Do you like worms?

Me Why are you asking me if I like-

Brain: *slaps down this boy*

Me: Agh damnit

Brain: But wait! There’s more! *pulling out lamb and Narinder and yellow cat*

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[mxchellesworld]

punk rock princess

spencer reid x reader

synopsis; where spencer’s working on the final paper for his third phd meanwhile you take on the task of making sure he takes a break.

warnings; smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, sub!spence if you squint, nipple piercings;),

a/n; i’m not saying this is my fantasy but .. this is my fantasy,, inspired by this song, y’all know the drill. you don't have to listen while reading but i always love to set the vibe. lastly y/n doesn't have any mentioned features or looks besides piercings/tattoos,, the rest is all up to you:)

pls send in feedback!

***

A shiver crawled down your spine from the first squirt of dye hitting your scalp. The bubblegum pink shade being a change from the firey red which inhabited your head a mere 24 hours prior.

The process was muscle memory at this point. Brushing out your hair then parting and sectioning it off. However that was the only methodical part. The fun was in slapping on the dye, not a single worry about staining your hands or neck.

The sounds of heavy drums and bass guitar bounced off the walls in the bathroom of the small apartment. Even though the door was shut it wasn't enough to stop the sound from flowing into the living room where your boyfriend was working.

Spencer sat at the dining table, flipping through copious amounts of folders and books. His third thesis in the process of being written. The computer screen in front of him looking back with a mocking glow. Since apparently things had to be digital now.

Your feet padding on the wooden floor made him look up from the pages. Humming to the music as you walked into your bedroom. Then back out a few seconds later holding a towel and robe.

A small smile tugged across his face. Ever since you had moved in together he loved to watch your day to day actions. The way you played your music concerningly loud, your skincare routine which included cleaning your facial piercings. What fascinated him the most was that in the 13 months you’d been together he’d seen you dye your hair 7 times.

Not including any touch ups.

He stood from his place at the table, making his way to the bathroom. Two quick rasps on the door to check if you were decent. The action made you giggle.

“Come in!” you called, “I don’t know why you knock weirdo you’ve seen me naked plenty of times.”

A blush spread across his cheeks from both your words and your state of undress. His eyes tried to focus on the splotches of color on the counter, keeping the blood flowing to the head on his shoulders.

But it was hard when the sheer bralette you had on did very little to hide the metal bars in each of your breasts.

“Spence?” you said snapping a fingers in front of him.

He cleared his throat, eyes snapping to your face which held a smirk.

“Are uh those n-new?” he questioned, hand going to scratch the nape of his neck.

The usual silver balls at the end of the bars were now tiny jewell hearts. The color was a little hard to tell due to the material of your bra but from the change in your hair he could almost bet money they were also pink.

With swift hands you unclipped your bra and threw it on the closed toilet seat before turning to face him.

“Got them when I bought the dye yesterday,” you said pushing your boobs up with your hands, “You like?”

Spencer’s eyes were as big as saucers, frantically nodding, “Y-yeah they look nice.”

You dropped your hands to your hips, tugging off the shorts you had on. The wide brown eyes before you couldn’t get any bigger, trailing down your frame stopping to admire the bar in your belly button along with the ink which littered your ribs.

He watched as you got to your knees, turning on the bath faucet. You dipped your head under the water, a stream of pink filling the tub.

The slope of your spine bent over was a sight he'd seen more than enough times. He could pinpoint the beauty marks on your left shoulder, the small sun he sketched which ended up permanently on the back of your neck. But if he let his gaze drift a little further south he could see how deliciously the dark lace looked barley covering up your most intimate parts.

A smack to his calf got his attention.

“Earth to Spencer! Can you hand me the shampoo,” you asked which came out sounding a bit muffled.

He quickly scurried to the tub and reached over to grab the bottle, squeezing a bit of gel onto your open palm.

"I'm gonna go work on my thesis some more," Spencer said slowly shutting the door behind him.

Making his way back to the living room, he pulled a few files and sat down on the couch. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and red pen between his teeth and he stared in concentration.

They were the same words he had read over and over again. The lack of sleep causing a dull ache in his skull.

"You need to take a break love," you said walking over and sitting next to Spencer on the couch.

"I did take one," he argued back flipping through the file.

"Gawking at me before I shower for 2 minutes isn't a break," you said with a giggle, the warmth flooding back to his cheeks, "Cmon 25 minutes at least without a file in your hand. "

When he didn't respond you took matters into your own hands. Ripping the file from his grasp, earning a grumble of disapproval before you straddled his hips. Your arms circled his neck and your hands went straight to the back of his scalp, fingertips running in soothing motions.

"Isn't this so much better baby," you asked whispering in his ear.

He nodded quickly, staying silent as he let his actions speak louder. His large palms went right to your plush hips. Bucking up as he led you to grind yourself on his lap.

Letting his hands explore the material of your satin rope he could feel the lack of undergarments on your frame. Spencer dared to let his hands dip under the black fabric and take each one of your cheeks in the palm of your hand with a gentle squeeze.

You could feel his cock stiffening under you. If you looked down you'd probably be able to see a wet spot on his sweats, most likely a mix of your arousals.

Leaning forward you let your lips attack his neck, placing sloppy kisses sure to leave marks. The process of licking and biting making Spencer hold onto you tighter, almost as if he had his very own vampire to mark him up.

Trailing up to his ear you bit on the lobe before whispering, "Tell me what you need baby."

Lust filled brown orbs met your own as you each continued your steady grind.

"Please fuck me," he pleaded.

If only he knew how wrapped around his finger you were. As pretty as he sounded begging you'd give him anything.

You pulled the metal frames off his face, tossing them to the other side of the couch. He had complained one too many times about foggy glasses during sex. No matter how cute you thought he looked.

Your hands slid down his torso and reached to pull down his sweats. His precum soaked length was heavy in your hands. Pretty pink tip leaky and throbbing already. The first few pumps had whiny moans slipping from his lips, red from biting so hard.

"Unwrap me baby, it's all for you," you said tilting your head down, motioning to the strings holding your robe together.

Quickly he let his slender fingers go to the ends, a swift tug and it was like opening a gift on Christmas. Leaning forward he let his lips wrap around one of your nipples. A strangled moan leaving your mouth from the stimulation.

With a raise of your hips you lined his cock with your opening before sliding down. You both sighed at the same time, the feeling of him stretching you out and your warm walls hugging his length was just too good.

Slowly you rocked your hips testing the waters, soft gasps and curses left your lips. You could feel very vein and inch stuffed inside you.

Spencer on the other hand was having an out of body experience, there wasn't an inch of your skin which was left untouched. Unkissed. After you were settled he raised his hips meeting you halfway with each thrust.

"You're doing so well baby," you cooed down at him, "You love when I ride you hm? Best fucking seat in the house."

His eyes shut closed in pleasure as your pace quickened, "Love it so much. So so pretty," he mumbled out.

His arms pulled you close again. Chest to chest as you continued your movements. Your lips met in a lazy kiss, panting in each others mouths when you ran out of air.

You could feel him pulsating inside you. The iron grip he had on your hips as he helped drive you up and down on his cock was sure to feel sore the next day. His shoulders were sure to have corresponding crescent marks from your nails digging in.

"Touch me Spence m'so close love," you said breathlessly.

One of his hands fell down to the space where you both connected. Skilled fingers rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves in quick circular motions.

Loud moans escaped your lips. Your head fell back to the familiar junction of his neck and shoulder, biting the skin in order to stifle your noises of pleasure.

"Y/n I can't hold it any longer, please cum with me," he whimpered out.

Nodding your head you grabbed onto the back of his neck, "Right behind you baby. Let go for me, I got you."

With a few more upward thrusts you felt him pull you down onto his cock, warmth spreading in your tummy. The feeling of his seed filling you up and his euphoric groans sent you over the edge.

You both rode out your orgasms, swiveling hips and satisfactory sighs of release leaving your lips.

After a few minutes of content silence listening to the music still flowing through the hall you moved to get up, the sticky mess between your thighs less than comfortable.

Warm arms kept you in place, denying your movement.

"Spence I gotta clean up," you said trying to push yourself off his chest.

"If I remember correctly you said at least 25 minutes and from my calculations I have 3 minutes and 38 seconds left of cuddle time," the lanky man under you said matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing but resting your head back on his shoulder, "If I get a UTI thats 3 minutes and 38 seconds of me playing screamo in your ear at full volume."

With one last squeeze he kissed the side of your head, the scent of ammonia only sightly bothering him, "Worth it."

[notnctu]

through the lens ❀ l.jn

❀ lee jeno x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, smut/mature content, fluff (romance?), slight angst ❀ details - photographer!jeno, model!reader, college!au, shy!jeno but he aint shy in bed, strangers to fuckers!au ❀ word count - 8k (this is the longest thing ive ever written) ❀ warnings - nude modeling, swearing, oral (f/receiving), some sweet love makin’ ❀ brief synopsis - jeno asks you to model for his internship project, but little did you know, it was going to be a nude photo shoot.  

❝ jeno was too shy to hold eye contact, but he stared at you endlessly through the lens. ❞

❀ a/n - hihihi this is author doie❀ ! im bad at writing smut so pls dont hate me ah ha lol i tried my best i also dont model/do professional photography so really apologize if i butcher any terms lmaoo the only thing i am is that im in college and im shy

Jeno had applied to almost a hundred internships and almost close to none returned with an offer, even after a whole month of waiting. He absolutely needed to start building his portfolio before the beginning of his senior year of college. The embarrassment of possibly graduating without any experience loomed over the desperate boy. 

Photography had been more than a hobby to him, to the point where he wanted to take it seriously. His parents weren’t the most supportive of an Arts major, but that couldn’t stop him. Jeno saw the best through a camera lens. He had a special eye for beautiful moments and the impressing urge to capture it forever. 

It was too late to change his major, if he wanted to graduate with all of his friends. If he wanted to be successful, he had to act on it now. 

The swoosh! of a new email startled the sleeping boy. He stared at the brightly lit screen, reading the words over and over again to make sure it was real. Jeno was so enthralled with excitement that he scrambled out of bed to wake up his roommate, Jaemin.

He shook him so violently that the sheets fell from Jaemin’s warm body. “Dude! I got an internship!” He spoke with incredible glee, a wide smile couldn’t leave his face.

Jaemin groaned and had to hold Jeno by the shoulders to halt the boy from causing the room to spin. “Why--What is going on?” He dazely rubbed his tired eyes to blink at his giddy roommate.

The screen blinded Jaemin as it was shoved too closely to adjust. “Whoa--,” he pushed it away and shut his eyes, “--repeat what you just said one more time.” Jaemin held a finger up and Jeno grabbed it, jumping onto his best friend’s bed.

“I got an internship. Someone got back to me.” Jaemin returned the same excitement the moment he processed his words. He shot up in bed and hugged his friend tightly. 

“Wo-w, dude! Congratulations!” The two boys hurried on their feet to cheer together. There was no concern for the rest of their housemates, only celebration that roared throughout the entire night.

+

Truthfully, Jeno had no recollection of applying to this studio. It could have been a random link on a job scouting website, but he couldn’t be more grateful. An internship was long overdue and Jeno had been itching to get some recognition for his craft. 

“Hello, I’m Lee Jeno.” He bowed slightly at the receptionist, who had a stern stare that made him feel vulnerable. The first thing he noted about the office: white and minimalistic. 

Jeno’s specialty was landscape photography. His aesthetics consisted of black and white filters, city lights, dark mood lighting, and background commotion. He enjoyed capturing chaos the most, a scene where more than one thing was happening. The only reason being that there was more to look at. 

“Nice to meet you. The name is Lee Taemin, but you can call me what you please.” A young, lean man strolled his way towards Jeno with a wide grin and his hand for him to shake. Taemin was slightly shorter than him, but his stylish, expensive boots made up for his height. He had to be only a maximum of five years older than Jeno as Taemin appeared relatively youthful. 

Taemin’s firm grip pulled Jeno along inside the studio. A small gasp escaped from Jeno which earned robust laughter from the older man. “I hope you can break out of your shell soon. There is no room for timidness around here, Mister Lee.”

“Please, you can call me Jeno.” He smiled, quite awkwardly at the beautiful man. 

The tall glass windows, the concrete, gray floor, the white doors that lined the hallway, had to be all too predictable. Jeno envisioned this is what high class must look like. It was the pristine, bright feeling and the smell of vanilla that lingered distastefully. There was chatter behind the closed doors --- mainly directing, and high praises. 

The only off-put was that photographers worked behind closed doors. From the few studios he has visited previously, photographers often worked in open spaces due to lighting fractures or the ability to roam more freely. 

“I’m actually very ecstatic you signed up for the internship, since you do seem a bit on the younger side.” Taemin gestured toward the sofa in the middle of his massive office. Jeno sat across from him. Water was already placed on the glass coffee table that separated the two. A laptop was opened to face Taemin.

Jeno slyly rubbed the condensation from his palms on his jeans. Taemin’s stare bore deep into the shy boy, who had to break eye contact from time to time. “I know.” Jeno chuckled nervously, “thank you for getting back to me. I was really hoping to gain work experience through mentorship.” 

Taemin nodded at everything Jeno was saying. His face being completely expressionless. Jeno sipped his water to regain moisture in his dry throat. Taemin was more intimidating than he was anticipating. “Sounds great. Happy to have you here. It might be a small business, but the experience is worth investing in. Every photographer who has come in and out of my building has found their forte. Let’s say, it’s eye opening.” 

“That’s exactly what I was looking for actually.” As scared as he was of this mysterious man, he really enjoyed the comfort the environment radiated. 

Taemin leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “I noticed in the portfolio you sent that you don’t have any portraits or any people, in general, in your photos. Do you have any works with people? Since this is a studio of fine art nude photography.”

Nude. Jeno practically choked on the last remaining spit he gathered. Taemin acknowledged the boy’s shocked reaction and tilted his head curiously, “you did know that I specialize in contemporary fine art nude photography, right?” Unfortunately, Jeno did not. 

Jeno cleared his throat, “yes, of course. I wanted to challenge myself.” He had to lie, there was no other way to cover up his disbelief. This internship was the only hope left for him to gain something. Though, even the thought of shooting a naked body made him anxious.

He hated how timid he was. His friends and family say otherwise, mainly for the reason that Jeno automatically lit up behind a camera. In all honesty, he hid behind it. It was the only safe place that Jeno knew what he was doing. However when it came to real life situations without it, he lacked the confidence to be himself.

As ironic as it was, he hated being seen. He liked to be the background character in his own life, because the main character took too much of a toll. It could also be his deafening insecurities and lack of self esteem, but Jeno didn’t mind not being the center of attention.

“You like a challenge?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. Jeno caught a glimpse of the twinkle in Taemin’s dark eyes. “Then for your first task, I want you to show me that you can take on this role.”

Jeno scrambled for his phone to jot down notes. “Send me an emotional portfolio, model of your choice. They could be a friend of yours that you feel comfortable seeing naked. It must include a variation of headshots, full body, and body details. It must also be raw and unedited photos. I want to see if you have the eye for the art to capture these types of images.”

“When would you like it by?” He stammered, completely winded at the sudden project that unloaded on top of him. 

“Next Friday, and you’ll present it to me here in person. Feel free to use this studio if you don’t have a place of your own with equipment. All you need to do is book a room with the front desk. Any other questions?” The sound of the laptop shutting caused Jeno to look up at the brilliance in front of him. He needed Taemin to help him succeed. 

“Why do you take nude photography?” 

Taemin was unable to stop the laughter that erupted into the room. “I don’t run a pimp business or sell soft core porn, if that’s why you’re staring at me so funnily. What I make is an art masterpiece, it has nothing to do with physical features or desires. It’s the pure emotion that clothing distracts from. Clothing conforms the model into an aesthetic, and while that works for editorials, it won’t be a consistent thing here.” 

Jeno nodded understandingly. Overwhelmed and lost at words. He was unsure what he had gotten himself into. Where was he going to find a model on such short notice on such lewd conditions? He was really going to need to step out of his comfortable zone, in his photography and social skills. 

Taemin stood up and extended his hand once more. “I take pride in my art, so I hope you, too, start finding that in your own.” 

+

Jaemin held his stomach from the endless laughter, tears welling up in his eyes. “Nud-Nude photography? And you didn’t know?”

“Jaemin, keep it down.” Jeno whispered and cautiously peered around at the few people flooding into the small lecture hall. “I don’t want everyone in our club to misunderstand and think I’m some creep.”

His best friend straightened up in his seat and placed his hand on Jeno's slumped shoulder, “first of all, you’re a complete idiot for not researching. Secondly, it’s an art form. If you really got yourself a shady, rated R internship, I would’ve told you to drop it instantly.” 

His spirits were slightly lifted, but he was still struggling with who he should ask to model for him. As much as he’s already seen of Jaemin, being his roommate, he honestly would rather leave the rest to imagination. Jeno wasn’t purposefully searching the room for a candidate, but he could not stop his eyes from drifting.

He spotted the most attractive side profile that sat two rows below him. He shook his head to make sure he was seeing her correctly. Peering around, he looked for another possible face to shoot. But oh god, how she caught his eye every time she even slightly moved.

You smiled happily with your friends by your side as your club’s executive board members introduced this year’s goals and events to attend. It had to be the smallest amount of alcohol still running in your system that caused you to giggle every time guys tried to turn around and hit on you.

“Why don’t you focus on our club members instead?” You smirked at the smug older boy, who had poorly attempted to grab your attention. “I think this information is important to you. These events could help you develop your social skills to be much better.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but your girl friends scoffed by your side.

He got up in disbelief and quickly walked out of the room. There was a brief pause at the sudden movement, but the announcement carried on per usual.

Jeno impatiently waited for the club meeting to finally be over, so he could talk to you. The longer it dragged, the more his confidence was subsiding. “I’m heading to study, wanna come with?” Jaemin poked at Jeno’s knee.

“Yeah, but you can go ahead first. I need to talk to someone.” His voice was shaky and his throat went so dry. Jeno’s shifty eyes scanned the room, hoping no one saw how nervous he was acting.

Jaemin’s eyebrows lifted suspiciously, “who? I didn’t even know you talked to anyone who came today. Donghyuck and Renjun aren’t here---”

“--her, Jaemin... her. I’m going to ask her to model for me.” Jeno motioned his head. His heart beating faster at seeing a small grin appear on your face from a comment someone made.

Jaemin hummed, “good luck with that, bud. I’ve got two shoulders for you to cry on after.” The extra hint of sarcasm only made Jeno sweat nervously. He was seriously doubting his decision, but it wouldn’t be a challenge if he didn’t do it. He knew he’d regret it more if he didn’t just ask you. 

Once the meeting was dismissed, you wanted to get out of the room before the heavy rush into the hallways. Unfortunately, a few frat guys pulled you into their conversation and chatted up a storm. Your friends played into their foolery, but you stopped paying attention when they asked for your numbers.

There was a faint tap on your shoulder and you turned to see who the culprit was. You didn’t seem to know him, because you would’ve remembered such a demeanor. His eyes were glued to the floor behind you and his shaky hands ran through his brown locks. His shyness was quite endearing, yet alarming since you weren’t sure why exactly he had approached you.

“Yes?” You asked curiously.

The moment Jeno heard your delicate cadence, he melted like a popsicle left out in the sun. He peered up, but quickly reverted his eyes to the white tiles when he noticed how beautifully you stared at him.

He counted his breathing to calm his rapid heart beat. He cleared his throat to introduce himself, “I’m Jeno. I’m a third year Arts major, um-- I was just--- I know we don’t know each other. I wanted to ask, uh-” Jeno was horrified at how he stammered over his own words. His cheeks burned with a red glow, and if he couldn’t look you in the eye before, he definitely couldn’t now.

“Hey, see you later.” One of the bulky frat guys called and you waved back weakly. 

A guy who had been chasing you endlessly scoffed at the pitiful sight and smirked at you, “see you at my house tonight? Been missing you in my bed lately.”

“Thought you would’ve guessed the reason why I stopped coming around.” Jeno heard the sting in your remarks and the disbelief in the male. 

You honestly could have left, Jeno knew that. But you stayed and waited patiently for him to finish. Jeno could tell how strong you were just by your intimidating aura that practically suffocated him by standing in close proximity to you.

You sighed and reached to grab your jacket on the folded seat, “look, Jeno. It’s nice to meet you and all, but I gotta get going.” 

Shockingly, the shy boy reached out to stop you by your fingertips. His touch lingered before he dropped your hand quickly. “I’m sorry. Are you free this Monday?”

“Uh, that depends. If you’re asking me on a date, then I’m busy.” Rolling your eyes, you weren’t sure why you still stayed to listen to what this random stranger had to say. If it were anyone else, you would’ve walked away the moment he asked if you were free. However, you acknowledged his timidness and the courage he must have mustered up to approach you.

Jeno shook his head violently, completely in shambles from that type of misunderstanding. “Not a date. I need someone to model for my portfolio photos that my internship assigned. It’s actually very important to me because it’s the first internship that responded back to me when I had applied to so many a whole month ago. Basically, I really need this and you because I think you’d be perfect to take pictures of. Oh-- wow! That sounded very bad --- uh --- what I meant is that your facial proportions are perfect and---”

“I’m free Monday.” You cut off his endless ramble and gestured toward his phone. He handed it to you without any hesitation and you typed in your number. “Text me the time, place and what I should wear.” 

“Oh actually, it’s a nude photoshoot.” Your eyes doubled in size, completely offended by that statement.

Jeno felt the sudden shift in the air and brought his hands up to block himself, “to be more clear, it’s a contemporary fine art nude photography studio. The pictures are pieces of art and to be seen as that only. I have no intentions or ulterior motive to sleep with you, see you naked or sell, leak your nudes for the profit of your body. But, I understand if you no longer want to do it because it sounds super strange now that I am explaining it.” 

Your shoulders relaxed and the fist that formed unraveled. You exhaled deeply, “I’ll do it. We can talk more about it on Monday and I get to leave on my own accord if I don’t feel comfortable. We work on my conditions.” Picking up Jeno’s chin, he was absolutely petrified at the forced eye contact and your incredible, powerful gaze. He was mesmerized by the fire in your eyes, and if he stared any longer, he could’ve lost himself in them. 

“Of course.” With that, you dropped his face and left without another look back. Jeno looked down at his phone and the new contact name, (Y/N). It had slipped his mind to even ask what your name was and he slapped his face in utter stupidity. “Do better, Lee Jeno.” It was a remainder to himself to, hopefully, be better the next time you two speak.

+

Monday, 3:03 PM. 

Jeno paced back and forth in the brightly, lit white room. He was trying to find any blinds or curtains to cover the tall windows of the high rise building. It should not be too much of a problem, the extra lighting was a positive. Jeno was only worried for your comfort of the openness. 

There was a soft knock before Jeno practically tripped to open the door. His breath hitched at the sight of your bare face. This time, you were the vulnerable one. Jeno only saw purity, yet impressed at how your tired eyes still managed to bid him a soft smile. He admired your uneven complexion, and the sparse moles that dotted your skin. 

“Okay, so you want to see me naked now or later?” Filled with jokes, your voice was light and airy this afternoon. There was a bit of a contrast from the first time you two met. Softer, enchanting, almost ghostly. 

Everything in the room was white. The mattress on the floor had a white comforter and white sheets. The backdrop. The walls. The hardwood floor. The only color was the blue sky that the tall windows let in.

“Here’s a robe. You can change in the bathroom.” Jeno scratched the back of his neck and his eyes wandered everywhere, but your’s. 

“Would you be okay with me just taking off my clothes in here?” You saw the light tint of pink cover his face, and spread to his ears. You examined more of the shy boy’s embarrassed face, finally getting a really good look at him. Jeno was very attractive, and you could only imagine how beautiful he must look if he fully faced you.

Jeno fiddled with his camera strap, “only if you are okay with that.” Clearing his throat, he stood next to the window to give you some privacy. “I’ll go over what I plan on doing. I’m going to take photos of your face details, parts of your body, full body, and portraits. You can lay down on the bed and I’ll direct you in poses. Have you modeled before?”

He was scanning the bustling city below his feet. Cars zoomed quickly and crowds of tiny people flooded the streets. He brought his camera up to his face, not being able to resist the urge to capture such a thrilling sight. 

“If Instagram counts, then yeah. Professional model gig would be a no. Nude photography is a definite no, unless we are talking about being filmed during sex.” Jeno chuckled, while also holding the camera steady and stealing a few moments to keep for himself.

For a strange reason, being naked for a non-sensual reason felt even more vulnerable. Laying on the soft fabric, you felt oddly exposed and slightly more reserved. You’ve had countless strangers see you naked. Men were sexually desiring to see a sexy picture. You were always lusted after, but this feeling of nakedness was special.

“Are you ready?” Jeno gulped, finally setting the camera down. 

You hummed cheerfully. Your heart was leaping out of your chest as the boy shifted slowly to face you. As he turned, you noticed he had his eyes sealed shut, which caused a small laugh to erupt. “Jeno, you have my permission to open your eyes and to look at me.”

Holy shit, he was trembling with an inexplicable fear. The camera was slipping from his sweaty hands. His mouth was as dry as the desert. Jeno’s pounding heart was loud in his ears. 

Jeno has seen his past girlfriends laying naked in bed, but this situation was too different. When he saw you laying there in absolutely nothing, he was overwhelmed, yet astounded at how graceful you appeared.

There was no exchange of words and no exchange of eye contact. He towered over your lying figure and shakily brought the camera to his eyes. He selfishly wanted to capture your elegance. Through the lens, he saw all of you: the curve in your eyelid, your curled eyelashes, the small mole next to your soft lips, the sharp color of your eyes, the way your hair frames your face.

This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. You were comparable to the arts found in popular museums. Your body lines were enticing and an impressive shape. Your breasts pooled on your chest, the round nude nipple in the centers. Your details had to be sculpted by gods, who took their sweet time making you. You were a true masterpiece. 

Confused, Jeno felt a huge mixture of emotions. Was he aroused? Was he infatuated? Did he just fall in love with a complete stranger? He recognized the same thrilled feelings he felt taking landscape photos. With each click, he grew more excited with how beautiful the photos were turning out.

“Sit up and rest your chin on your left hand. Lean your weight on your right leg.” Jeno’s direction was clear and firm. There was no evidence of a smaller tone he usually spoke in. Sitting up, you placed your elbow on your upper thigh to steady your chin. Jeno had already gotten down to floor level to you. 

Without the camera that separated you two, it had to be the first time he faced you completely in such close proximity. There was so much to admire about Jeno. He remained concentrated on his craft, but it was actually very sexy to see his dedication. It was almost like he was a whole new person, like all the shyness drifted away. 

Jeno couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t simply your beauty that amazed him. Your confidence made everything easy. There was something about your blank stares, when he asked for an emotion, you portrayed it perfectly.

“Can we talk while you shoot?” Your sudden voice startled the photographer. He lowered his camera and his gaze automatically wandered off behind you, which didn’t go unnoticed. He nodded after a short pause and the shutter noises continued.

“Why did you choose me as your model?” 

Jeno peeled away from the device, “because you’re you.” He didn’t even know what that statement meant. It wasn’t like he knew you before the first time he asked you to model for him.

The corners of your lips dipped down, drawing an evident frown. Click. Jeno loved that image especially. It was a simple way to get real, authentic facial expressions. He marveled at the photo, but registered the reason behind it. “I wanted to ask you the second I saw you. I just knew that I wanted you.” 

“But you don’t know me.” 

Jeno looked through the lens once again, welcoming a full view of your stunning attributes. He spoke in a low voice, “then, let me know you.” Click. 

It would be the biggest lie to say that you weren’t aroused by Jeno at the moment. He was cool, without trying to be. He really did shine when he had a camera to work with, like a star to a dark night. While he had a distinct demeanor off the bat, you enjoyed unraveling the rest of him. He was, also, the first man you met that didn’t seem sexually driven by a naked woman in his presence. 

You had to resist every urge to push the camera away and share the few seconds of his entire gaze before it wandered away. You wanted to rock his world, he was so innocent and beautiful. You wished to wreak havoc on him, have him show you how much he wanted you. 

+

You anticipated an awkward photoshoot, but Jeno made you feel safe and comfortable. He made sure to adjust the temperature when goosebumps rose on your arms and when your nipples became painfully hard. He never touched you or came too much into your personal space. He always asked for your permission. 

Nude modeling was a new experience for you, but you were surprised at how much you liked it. or how much you liked Jeno taking your photos. He sat next to you on the bed when you put on your articles of clothing and panned through several shots to satisfy your curiosity.

Leaning close, your head ducked to see the photos. A gasp escaped your lips when you saw just the first few. “Is that really me?” The pictures made you feel an abundance of emotions, you felt what they reflected. Sadness, melancholy, happiness, confidence. You didn’t know images had that much power to make you feel that, especially photos of you.

Jeno nodded, smiling so wide that his eyes turned to moon crescents. He was so in love with the results. He found respect for Taemin’s craft and he was right, he might’ve found a new forte to experiment with. “I can send you the photos digitally too, if you want them.”

“Maybe I’ll print them out, frame them, and gift it to every horrid man who has tried to flirt their way to my body since they want to see it so fucking bad.” 

Jeno peered over and saw the tiny glimpse of pain in your orbs, “why would you give horrible people what they want?”

“So they can finally shut up and leave me alone. Plus, this is art and if I tell them it’s actually me, maybe it’ll change their minds to start treating me like it.” 

He held his palm up and almost immediately, your fingers filled the spaces between his. “I’m going to need you to start treating yourself as fine art.”

“Keep taking more photos of me and I just might start thinking I’m Mona Lisa.” Your laughters blended nicely into each other. There was mutual mental acknowledgement of the happiness you were both feeling.

Jeno never let go of your hand, and there was a short moment of comforting silence where you two sat in each other’s existence. You were the one to break it, “are you doing anything after this?” 

He shook his head. “Well then, you’re mine for the rest of the night. We’re going to pretend we’ve been close friends since first year and eat take-out on my bed because that’s what I need at the moment.” 

+

“I know you respect my body and see this as an art form, but I’m genuinely surprised that you didn’t feel aroused at the slightest.”

Jeno didn’t even realize how much time had already passed being you. You two ate and chatted as if you’ve known each other forever, as if the friendship wasn’t established several hours ago. It felt safe and right, like you two belonged in each other’s existence and nowhere else mattered.

He felt warm inside from your hearty laughter and courage, like he was watching a painting come to life or a photo in movement. You were smitten over how endearing and complex he was. He was more than what meets the eye and that alone drew you towards him.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Jeno paused to watch your reaction, “in the most respectable way, I was somewhat turned on. But! Before you trail blaze me for being just like every disgusting male in your life, I genuinely didn’t have any sexual thoughts during the photoshoot. That was all professional and it will continue to be like that.” 

Getting up from your bed, your mind was working at lightspeed to process his confession. Jeno was fast to pick up someone’s personality, what stood out and what was kept hidden. He knew quicker than anyone else that you were not someone to offend because you were a strong, straight forward woman.

His personality breakdown went like this: you knew what you like, you knew you were going to get what you want, you enjoyed flirty banter (with people of your choice), you weren’t afraid to be blunt, or kick someone’s ass. You carried yourself with confidence that graced your every step, which makes anyone attracted to you instantly. Bold, confident, sexy had to be what came to mind whenever he thought about you. 

Nonetheless, he really liked you as a person. He could pat himself on the back all day long for just approaching you, but he knew the real reason as to how this all happened. It was you saying yes to a stranger’s odd photoshoot. You made him the luckiest man in the world. 

“Continue? Are you looking for excuses to keep seeing me?” You smirked and Jeno’s voice grew small. 

“I--- uh, well,” there goes the nervous stammering, “I know the conditions were a one time thing, so I understand if you don’t want to do it again.” As the night had progressed, Jeno gradually began to hold eye contact and actually looked at you directly without the help of seeing you through a lens. This was the first time he broke it. 

“Hey now, I’m messing with you, Jeno.” He had been sitting on your floor, at the end of your bed. You crawled on your elbows to reach him, and to hold his chin to face you again. Deja vu. “I’d love to get naked for you again, and again, and.. as many times as you want me to.” 

He stared at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. His eyes scanned your beautiful face to see your lips pull back into a mischievous smile. Gulping, he swallowed every ounce of courage he had left. “You don’t have to say it like that.” He tried to remove your grip, but it latched onto his hand. 

“You’re finally looking me in the eye, sweet thing. I don’t think you realize how much I had been wanting that from you.” You caressed his cheek, rubbing small circles on his texture. 

“What else do you want from me?” His implication sounded suggestive, even if his curiosity was innocent. 

Your hot breath brushed against Jeno’s lips. “I can show you.”

Jeno, the one and only college guy who has seen your naked body in a non-sexual context. Jeno, the shy, sweet boy who appreciated and recognized you as a form of art. Jeno, the talented and skillful photographer, who consistently made sure you felt comfortable. Jeno, the only person in the world who you’d model nude for. Jeno, the dazzling character behind the camera who you wanted more than anyone else you’ve ever met. Lee Jeno.

He seemed like he was inching closer, already tilting his head to fit your’s. You smiled to yourself, seeing that your words were received well. Diving in, your lips swam together fervently. 

The poor boy found himself lost in your enchanting, alluring gaze. He let the trance consume him, selfishly kissing the art he admired so dearly. A small part of him felt the guilt and confusion that began to rise. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wished to feel your lips on his neck, or run his hands across your hot skin. He swore these thoughts were not present earlier. 

A small pop! and Jeno held your shoulder to pull away. “I’m sorry, did I do something?” You asked, honestly concerned that you were taking more than you deserved. The least you desired was to hurt Jeno, who had been nothing but nice and sweet.

“(Y/N),” you could listen to your name roll off his tongue all day, “I feel somewhat guilty. I don’t want things to be misunderstood.”

“Which would be?”

“I don’t want you to think I coerced you into being my model just because I had intentions to sleep with you.” Jeno was already gathering his things, but you hopped off your bed and placed a hand on his chest. “Because that’s what it’s starting to look like at the moment.”

“Was that something you did though? Did you have those intentions?” Your stare bore right through him. The warmth of your hand relaxed his racing heart.

“Never, (Y/N), I would never do that to someone.” Your hand traveled down to grab his belongings and tossed it back onto the ground. 

He silently watched as you took off your pants, and stood in front of him in your underwear. “Then, we’re fine. I know your intentions have always been pure. But truthfully, Jeno, seeing you focused while you worked sparked something in me. You don’t understand how aroused I got and how badly I wanted you to fuck me on that bed.” His hand trailed up your exposed thighs, finally touching your softness. “You’re the one guy I wanted first, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that.” 

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” His cheeks revealed how embarrassed he was, but his dark, lustful eyes were telling a different story.

A smirk fell upon your face, “then don’t say anything.” 

Jeno devoured you, inhaling the light hint of vanilla that still lingered. He hoisted you onto your mattress and kissed you like his life depended on it. His antsy hands roamed your free range, exploring, holding, gripping the parts he marveled over. Small moans from the back of your throat encouraged him to continue.

No one has ever kissed you with the amount of passion Jeno did. It was gentle, with enough vigor to cause your panties to dampen. It wasn’t sloppy, where previous guys had a problem of missing your mouth entirely and slobbered your chin. 

His lips worshiped you, highlighting your good sides. Flashes of the photoshoot popped into Jeno’s head as he left purple marks on the places he loved capturing the most. He pushed up your shirt, exposing your chest to him again. His tongue circled around your hard nipple as he made sure to give the same amount of attention to each one. 

Jeno knew he was too shy to hold your intense stare, but getting to know you during and after the photoshoot, he could see the softness in your gaze. He was, now, able to see all of you. The sight of you through the camera was addicting enough, so finally taking you all in was more than satisfying. 

Your hands ran through his hair as he kissed down your torso. His thumbs hooked the waistband of your underwear, and peeled it off your body. You gasped as the cold air from your apartment grazed against your exposed figure.

Jeno paused to admire your glistening pussy, “would it be okay if you let me make love to you?”

Your heart burned, not out of embarrassment, but at how he still managed to ask you for your permission in the sweetest way. You rested your weight on your elbows, “no one has done that before, would it actually make me want to fall in love with you?”

“It wouldn’t be too bad. I have a lot of love to give and you look like a person who deserves all of it anyways.” Jeno’s finger ran over your wet slit and rubbed your clit slowly.

Your moans filled the room as the electric jolted throughout your veins. The wetness grew, seeping out of you like a waterfall. Jeno dropped down to his knees, and lifted your legs on his broad shoulders.

“Are you usually this wet, baby?”

Chuckling, you smiled at his bold choice in using pet names, “Just for you.”

He hummed, chiming at how he liked your answer. Spreading you open, his tongue met with your swollen bud that begged for his licks.

His tongue darted side to side, up and down and in result, your back arched in pleasure and a darkness clouded your mind. His name and mindless profanities streamlined their way out of you as Jeno ate you out in such a precisely delicious way.

Grabbing a fist full of hair, you pulled him closer, even if there was no more space to fill. Looking down, you two exchanged glances before he thrusted a finger into you. Your hips bucked harder as he eased in another one.

Jeno curled his fingers in search of your sweet spot and found it when a deep moan escaped your throat. His fingertips rubbed and pressed into your plush flesh, causing you to practically scream and squirm in his mouth. 

He suckled your clit and fingered you simultaneously and quickly. The pleasure was overflowing and you released his hair to grip your sheets below you. Your legs shook and trembled as he had no caution to stop.

“Please, I’m going to--” you could barely talk due to your face contouring to the splurge of pleasure every single time Jeno rubbed your spot. “--to explode.” 

He had to take back what he thought earlier in the day. This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. The whole scene played like from one of his favorite films. It felt like he was giving his photos life. Your body twisted and turned, accentuating the curves of your lines. 

Jeno had become painfully hard against the fabric of his jeans, but seeing you fall apart because of his minimal movements exhilarated him. “P-Please, don’t stop.” A breathy moan followed suit and your thighs tried to press themselves together. Jeno didn’t allow it, his free hand hooked underneath your left thigh to pull one side away from his cheeks.

Your high gradually grew so tall that it all eventually came cascading down. Your legs shook violently and sat up from the euphoria that took over you. Jeno prolonged your buzz and you screamed loudly, having to bite down on your fingers to stop yourself from angering your neighbors.

Jeno drank you up, letting your wetness cover his chin and drip down his knuckles. He pulled away, at last, and you took deep breaths to control your heavy breathing. It was like Jeno knocked the wind completely out of you. 

He stood up and you saw the outline of his hard bulge straining itself through his jeans. The next scene was quite animalistic. You, still embodying your high, sat on your knees and unzipped his pants with your needy hands.

“Now, it’s your turn to get nude for me.” You whispered, tauntingly. Jeno groaned when you reached down and gently pulled him out. He stepped out of his clothing, all of it. His shirt was lost in the corner and his bottoms were scattered over your floor. Mirroring his actions, you took off your last piece of cloth.

Jeno was built. Though his biceps did not go unnoticed during the photoshoot, you were surprised at the lines of muscle that sketched his body. It made your mouth water, seeing his extremely hard dick stand against his toned abs. His red tip fell just below his navel. Jeno only kept getting better as the night continued on.

Pulling him closer, his hand found their way to the back of your head as you aligned your mouth to the wetness that spilled from his tip. “I want to make you feel good.” Jeno’s hoarse voice made your knees weak.

Peering up, you batted your eyelashes at him fondly. “Just a little taste?” You begged, having to hold his shaft with both of your hands because of his thickness. Your tongue was already stuck out, your hot breath causing the tiniest bit of sensation for him.

He nodded and his eyes were trained on you. He didn’t want to miss any second of your kitty licks. You flattened your tongue against his warmth, dragging it up to the top. The saltiness hit your palette as you swirled around his redness. “Oh--” Jeno threw his head back and bit his lip, “--lay on the bed now.” 

You smiled sweetly and gave his member a quick kiss before reaching for a condom in your drawer. Jeno climbed onto your bed and situated the rubber comfortably. You laid on your back and he was fast to pull your legs around his waist. 

He lined himself at your entrance and eased his tip in slowly. Squirming, you craved him to fill you up to the brim. He leaned down to kiss you, letting your tongue lap with his. It’s your hands with the mind of their own when they flew automatically to hold his face whenever you wanted to deepen the kiss. Then, Jeno stretched himself all the way in and he caught your gasp with his lips. He groaned, feeling the mess he created merely minutes ago. 

His hips moved so easily with your wetness, but he went slow. Dragging out each pull and then, pushing himself back in roughly. “Jeno!” Your body jolted up the bed each time. His body fell over yours to hold you intimately, letting you bury your face into his neck. Your lips latched themselves onto his sensitive skin, painting a purple sunset. 

Jeno’s arms snaked underneath your thighs as he pressed them to your chest, folding you almost into a ball. Your mouth hung open as he fucked you harder, rougher, deeper yet keeping the tempo rhythmically slow. At this point, you could feel his hits in your gut. Your weak hands gripped loosely around his strong wrists that held your legs down. “You’re pussy is so tight and holy shit---, you keep getting more beautiful.”

A familiar burning sensation set in your chest as you saw how concentrated his face had become. You were so fucked out that you could barely speak, “you—” his hips mercilessly slammed into you powerfully, enacting a low moan every time he reached your sweet spot. “—keep surprising me.” His actions came to a halt and he stared deeply into your soul. 

You whined, wiggling your hips for any friction. He held them down into the mattress, knowing his grip was strong enough to leave a mark. “I told you, I was going to make love to you tonight.”

“I’ve already fallen for you.” You said breathlessly, tracing the side of his face and pecking his lips softly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to me by saying those things.” He whispered and pushed his entire shaft to fill you to your brim. 

You yelped his name and gripped his shoulders, but he wasn’t done yet. “Show me how badly you wanted me the first time you saw me.” Jeno blinked at you in slight shock. 

As he continued to hold the deep gaze, he kept pushing his dick further and further into you. He was balls deep, almost impossible to keep going. He fucked you without the need to pull out, just burying his cock deeper into your wet pussy. You exclaimed, moaned, cussed at every push. Holding the stare was more than enough to lose yourself all over him again. 

Jeno was drunk with the image of your fucked out expression and every time the mixture of pleasure and pressure caused your eyebrows to crease and mouth to open release sensual sound. He had been trying his best not to come undone, to fixate another climax for you.

The feeling of you wrapping tighter and tighter around him drove him insane. “Give it to me, please.” Your muffled plead called for his release, but he could feel that you were close to your second.

Jeno sat up on his knees and pulled you into his arms where your thighs fell over his. You groaned at the empty feeling, though it was quickly replaced with a gratifying moan when he inserted himself again. Your arms dangled around his neck, foreheads touching intimately. 

The fucking eye contact again, how could you get enough of it? You giggled, amused at how different Jeno was when he eventually opened up. He wrapped his strong arms around your back and thrusted his hips up into you. The way this man made you squirm, scream, and shake were nothing you’ve experienced before. 

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek when he went rampage on your pussy. “Not laughing now, are you?”

You whined in pleasure, brushing your fallen strands of hair out of his face. “Shut up before I make you.” 

“Then I’d rather keep going.” Kissing up his jawline, you lead your way to his pout. His kisses intoxicated you with his passion and madness, like the most intense part of a symphony, or when the bass drops after a long build up in a song. 

Jeno sped up, ramming up into your slick pussy over and over again. He even brought your hips down to match him, guiding you down as he went up. The headboard was knocked against the wall, your windows steamed up, cries of pleasure from the both of you created the ambiance, the smell of sex filled your lungs. Jeno reached between your bodies to furiously rub your clit to where it felt almost raw. It all sent you into the clouds, the familiar queasiness settled in your lower half.

Your eyes rolled back and your back arched, having to pull away from the desirous kiss with Jeno. “I’m cumming!” You announced before the tension unraveled, causing you to see absolute white. The second wave was much more uncontrollable, Jeno felt you squeezing radically around his dick as he tried to fuck you faster to prolong the feeling.

Your legs shook around his and your upper body went limp with pleasure. You reached the peak of the mountain and it came crumbling down underneath your toes. It was catastrophically enthralling, to the point where you physically felt something leave your body.

“Oh shit..” Jeno stopped his motions at the sight of you squirting over his lap. He pampered your torso with fluttering kisses, hoping to calm your spastic body. “...baby, are you okay?” He asked with a bit of concern of how lack of life you seemed. 

This man just gave you the best climax in your whole life and he asked if you were okay? Regaining your senses, you sighed a small yes to reassure him that he didn’t actually murder you. Hopping off, you pulled the condom that restricted him.

He hissed when you cupped his balls in your palm. “Cum, my sweet thing.” You purred and Jeno’s hand pumped his member aggressively. You leaned in to help, sucking the tip and flicking your tongue over his slit. 

His other hand gripped your neck, causing you to drip on your sheets. Jeno was panting and with every tug, it became louder. He seemed so desperate to release that it made you smile to be the reason behind it. “Can you lay down,” A grunt followed his question, “please.” He huffed.

“Because you asked nicely.” Smirking, your back hit the sheets and you opened your legs to give Jeno a view. He situated himself above your stomach, as he fucked his tight grip.

“I’m cumming---” He couldn’t look any more amazing. With a final moan, the white streaks streamed out in short sequences. It landed across your abdomen, over your nipple, and pooled around your belly button. 

Bringing himself back to reality, Jeno stepped back to marvel you, his masterpiece. The white streaks coated your purple skin and your chest rose fast to catch your reality. Gazing upon your naked body, he was utterly infatuated with all of you. He was so in love with the sight of you that not a single photo could capture the beauty that you were. 

Jeno pondered the thought of how merely a day changed a small part of him. You were life changing, addicting, an incomparable character that he felt like he’s known forever, and now, couldn’t live without. It was the taste of your juices on his lips, your sweet melodic music that was your voice, your daring smile that enticed him to never peel away from you. It was simply you. 

He leaned down to rub his knuckles against your cheek, planting a lovingly peck on your forehead. “I’ll go start the water for you.” 

+

Jeno anticipated the reaction of his mentor. He found himself at the same scene he was when he was first given the task. Taemin sat across from him, hunched forward to analyze his new set of photos on his laptop. Raw, unedited photos of you, your body, your details. 

The hum of the air conditioning droned on, driving him mad. Jeno needed one reaction, but Taemin had been silent and expressionless for the past ten minutes. Whenever he did move, it was to click through to the next picture. 

Suddenly, he shut it closed and stood right up. Jeno, panicked, did the same. Taemin stuck his hand out and Jeno hesitantly grabbed it, incredibly unsettled and unable to read the older man.

Taemin received it firmly, giving Jeno a good handshake. “Welcome abroad, Lee Jeno. I expect even more great things from you.” 

Jeno registered his delightful mood switch and he was fast to follow up, “my photos, --- you --- like them?” 

Taemin nodded generously, patting Jeno on his shoulder. Taemin reached up to tap his own eyelids. “What you can see, is very special, kid. You’re an artist and I’m here to recognize that for you. It seems to me, you can do more than take pictures of sidewalks.” 

Jeno smiled happily, his eyes disappearing from joy. He couldn’t wait to tell you about it. 

The rest of the week, leading up to Jeno’s appointment, had felt nothing short of blissful moments together. You and Jeno spent almost every waking minute together without the cost of your friends’ time. He walked you to your classes, some even being across the campus from his own. You accompanied him for meals, even sitting in his lectures to just be with him.

There were no words that established what you two had become to each other. Jeno wasn’t looking for that anyways, in fact, he somewhat liked the ambiguity. If only he could tell you how making love to you made him begin to actually fall for you.

You were never one to hold a serious relationship, but you found a small want for that festering in Jeno. It was hard to admit to yourself, but Jeno saw you for all that you were. He truly saw you, whether it had been through a lens or through his own eyes. He captured your rawness and you were able to find vulnerability around him. 

He ran to you, where you sat in the lobby waiting for him to finish his meeting. Peering up from your phone, you noticed the beaming smile on the boy’s face. You couldn’t hold back your own grin, seeing him apparent with so much joy. “I’m guessing good things?”

“I got it, (Y/N)!” He jumped into your arms and you laughed at the sudden affection. “He loved my photos.” 

“I didn’t doubt it for one second. You’re an artist, Jeno. You create masterpieces that make even someone like me, feel like art.” 

Jeno hugged you closer to his chest, giving you a tiny squeeze. Pulling away to face you, his eyes examined your outstanding grace. You knew what he was already going to say, but simply wanted to hear him say it. “That’s because you are art.”

[imagineaworld]

evening shift - iii | b.b

pairing : bucky barnes x reader

summary : another evening shift leads to bucky coming to y/n’s rescue

word count : 1.1k

warnings : swearing, attempted assault (may be triggering given recent real world events to pls be cautious), teensy bit of violence

masterlist

Bucky woke up early on Monday, ripped from his sleep by a nightmare that often plagued his mind. He sat up like lightning, panting to catch his breath. He looked at the time: 5:47 am. 

At least he managed to get some sleep, he supposed. Now all he needed to do was pass the time until 4 pm, when he would head to the bar where Y/N works to hand in his resume.

Making the most of the relatively empty streets, he decided to go for a run, at least until the sun rose. 

-

Monday afternoons were always quiet. Not many people go out for drinks on Monday afternoons, so Y/N wasn't particularly busy when Bucky eventually strolled in around 4 and took a seat at the bar.

"Hey, you," Y/N smiled, seeming genuinely happy to see him. "How's that resume?"

Bucky handed her the sheet of paper that had his resume printed on it. "Ready."

Y/N's eyes scanned the paper. "Looking good," she said. "Want me to pass it on?"

Bucky nodded, bouncing his leg on the barstool. 

He watched Y/N disappear through the staff-only door with his resume and anxiously awaited her return. 

He thought about what would happen if he actually got this job. Y/N would be his coworker, perhaps they could even become friends. Or were they already friends? Maybe Y/N thought they were. Or she was just being nice and Bucky was reading into things too much.

She returned shortly after, looking rather put out. She noticed Bucky's concerned look. "Everything's fine with the resume," she reassured. "I've been asked to stay a bit later, which is a bit...shit."

"I'll stick around, if you want," Bucky replied. "Keep you company."

"I'd like that, although there are only so many drinks I can give you on the house," she joked.

Bucky took twenty dollars out of his pocket, sliding it across the bar towards her. "For the coffee and for your help."

Y/N shook her head. "Coffee was on the house and you don't have to pay me for being your friend, Bucky."

So they were friends. He hadn't really had a friend since Steve. Especially not a girl friend. And she had said his name... God, his name sounded so good when it came from her lips. 

He tried not to think about Steve, or the way Y/N said his name. "Then I will have a cup of your finest coffee and you can keep the change."

She laughed but took the money. She took the amount for the coffee and put the rest of it in the tips jar. Bucky scowled.

"I'll get you that coffee."

-

The hours passed by and the sun had set. The bar was busier now, with more people having some drinks after work. Bucky had been sat talking with Y/N all afternoon and into the evening.

He learned her favourite colour and that she had an older brother. She survived the Blip but her brother didn't, so technically she was the older sibling now. But growing up, she had been the younger sibling.

Bucky had successfully avoided answering too many questions about himself. He made sure he didn't lie though, he hated the idea of lying to her.

At 7 pm, she had gone through the staff-only door and re-emerged with a jacket and a bag slung over her shoulder. 

"I'm off," she announced to Bucky, heading around from behind the bar. 

"Why not stay for a drink?" He suggested.

He would never have done it if he hadn't seen that man at the other end of the bar watching Y/N the whole time he's been there. Something about him wasn't right, Bucky thought. And with the number of drinks Y/N had made for him, he was very drunk too.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, causing butterflies in Bucky's stomach. "But I have to get home to feed my cat, he's probably wasting away by now."

"Oh," was all Bucky said.

"But if I could get your number, we could arrange drinks another time?" She proposed.

She wanted his number. She wanted to get drinks with him. More butterflies. Bucky fumbled in his pocket to pull out his phone and handed it to Y/N to put her number in.

"There," she said, handing Bucky his phone back. "Just send me a text and I'll have your number."

He sent a quick "Hi :)" text and they said goodbye. But he couldn't shake that uneasy feeling in his stomach, no matter how many butterflies replaced them.

-

Y/N was cold. She hadn't anticipated having to walk home in the dark and cold. Arms wrapped tightly around her body, she walked a different way home than she usually would, sticking to the main, well-lit streets.

"Hey, baby, where you going?" A voice called out from behind her.

Dread flooded her body but she kept walking, picking up her pace a little. She could hear the footsteps behind her getting closer and closer. A hand reached out to grab her wrist, pulling her to a halt.

"Where you off too, hm?" It was the man from the bar, she'd been serving him drinks all night. The smell of booze was radiating off him.

Y/N tried to pull herself free but the man had an iron grip on her poor wrist. She began to panic, her breathing quickening as she debated what to do. 

She could run, but he would follow her. Then he would know where she lived. If she didn't run home, where else could she run? What if she ran into someone else with wicked intentions?

"Hey!" Another voice called out. Bucky. He stepped closer, into the light of the streetlamp. "Hey man, back off."

The man let go of Y/N's wrist and she backed away. "Why? Is she your girl?" He challenged Bucky. Bucky didn't answer. "Cos if she's not, then she's fair game."

The man's words enraged Bucky. He lashed out, landing a punch square on the man's jaw and knocking him to the ground. 

Bucky stepped over the man's figure. "You okay, Y/N?" He asked, gently taking her wrist to inspect for injuries.

YN snatched her wrist back. "Were you following me?"

"I was following him," Bucky clarified, motioning to the unconscious man on the floor. "I saw him eyeing you up at the bar. That's why I asked you to stay. And then I watched him follow you as you left."

And here Y/N thought Bucky just wanted to have some drinks with her. "Oh," she said. "Thank you."

"Are you okay?" He asked again, ignoring her thanks. 

She shook her head. He could tell she wasn't okay, her eyes looked bewildered and her shoulders went up and down rapidly as she breathed. 

Bucky extended his arms. "May I?" 

Y/N nodded, stepping closer to Bucky as he wrapped his arms around her shaking figure.

"You're okay now," he whispered to her softly. He could smell her perfume, the same floral scent as before. "Let me walk you home, hm?"

"Okay," she said, pulling away and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

TAGLIST:

@felicityofbakerstreet​

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

[undermattsun-archive]

mouth

(skate rat) kunimi x reader | word count: 1.8k

a/n: i said i was writing a drabble, a simple short slice,, wtf happened?? anyway ty @bakatenshii​ for putting up w my spam about this <3

18+ university age | pls read all warnings

warnings: drug use (weed), bad words, bad (slightly toxic) behavior, toxic relationships, a bit of blood

now with its sequels taste + savor

Oikawa’s parties were never really your scene, considering the amount of greasy touch-starved skaters that were crawling around and all the bad decisions you’ve made with them in the past, you really should’ve tried your best to avoid any function thrown by him. But the promise of some mindless fun after a grueling week of finals made it worth swinging by, even for an hour or so.

You’re seated on the arm of the beat-up old couch near the front door, giving you the perfect seat to watch various people of differing sobriety fall in and out of the party.

Just as the desperate scene of Matsukawa coming on to the fourth girl of the night unfolds before you, there’s the familiar burn of eyes boring into you, acutely aware of who it might be. 

For a moment you wonder if standing your ground would be better, thwarted by your own body moving without a second thought and making a desperate attempt to avoid simple eye contact, you sacrifice your perch,  hoping to find someone that you didn’t have a complicated history with.

“Trying to run?” Cool fingers wrap around your wrist, forcing a groan to escape your lips. It was a mystery how someone who was high most of the time and never wanted to expend any energy could move that quickly across a room.

“Running implies I’m scared, avoiding would be the better term,” you try to pull away from his grip, only to have him tighten his hold forcing you to turn and glare into his hooded eyes, “what do you want?”

“A hello maybe, not nice to ignore me.” He relents his hold and you roll your eyes, he looks deceptively good tonight. You can’t help but take in his appearance, grimacing when you notice he’s wearing the oversized black Champion hoodie you’d given him for his birthday, when you were still on semi-decent terms.

“Yeah about that, I only say hi to people who don’t fuck me over.” You try to move away from him but he quickly crowds into your space, focusing a calculating look on you.

“Fuck you over how?” His expression shifts, he’s giving you that look, the one he gives whenever he has you pinned against a surface and taking everything he wants from you. 

The look he gives before you can’t help but surrender completely to him.

“Forget it, just leave me alone.” You try to look around him, trying to find a familiar face, someone you could cling onto to avoid this uncomfortable confrontation and your inevitable downfall right into his hands.

You shove at his chest and slip by him, deciding that leaving completely would be the best option, only to have hands grip at your waist and pull you back harshly. You land on the couch with a soft thump about to send another scathing comment his way when you notice him reaching behind the couch, pulling out a clear glass bong with a skull engraved on it.

The sight of it fills you with another wave of irritation and nostalgia, another present from you to him, another instance of you practically on your knees begging for his attention. You know this is your real cue to leave, that the second you start smoking with him you’ll truly be putty in his hands.

“Just one or two hits,” he hums, already sensing your hesitation, he pulls out a half empty plastic water bottle and a dime bag, “I'm sure you stressed yourself out this week.”

“Mm how considerate of you.” You shift slightly in your seat, positioning yourself better in case you decide to really escape this time.

“You look good.” It’s nonchalant and almost half-hearted but it still causes a slight tingle to run down your spine. You hate the way his feigned disinterest always has you wanting more, all the times he’s looked at you with rapt attention only to coat it with impassivity a moment later making you crave more and more of him. The imagery fills your head and makes your mouth dry. You push the thoughts away, you’re here to smoke some of his weed, and then leave nothing more.

“Don’t,” he looks up from his ministrations to raise a brow at you, “‘m not playing your games tonight.”

“Fine, you look like shit.'' He hands you the bong and you consider smashing it, but it’d only be a waste of your money and good weed.

“Lighter.” You touch the mouthpiece to your bottom lip and stare at him expectantly. He shakes his head and twirls the lighter in his fingers.

“Payment.” A smug look crosses his features and the temptation to throw the bong itches at your hands again.

“I hate you.” It’s under your breath and both of you know that despite how irritated you are with him, you don’t mean it in the slightest, you never do. You hook your finger onto the collar of his hoodie and tug him forward, slamming your lips together in a chaste kiss, the moment his lips part against yours has you pulling away.  

“Hm? That was too short and sweet for you,” you snort at the comment and try to take the lighter from him, he shakes his head and turns the bong so the bowl is facing him, “you’re just gonna fuck it up and hurt yourself let me.”

“Whatever.” You fix your lips properly, holding eye contact with him as he lights the bowl, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke crawl down your throat and invade your lungs. He grins at you as he pulls the bowl from it, letting you clear it out.

You hold the smoke for a moment, and just as you’re about to blow it out, Kunimi snatches the bong from you and sets it down by the couch, surging forward and capturing your lips. His hand flies up and squeezes at your cheeks as he licks into your mouth, forcing your jaw to drop. His other arm curls around your waist, not bothering to put up a fight as he maneuvers you onto his lap.

Your hands press against him and you finally exhale slowly into his mouth, feeling his chest swell slowly beneath your palms. There’s a pause in his movements, leaving you to think he’ll pull away, only for him to continue his greedy exploration with his villainous tongue. 

Though you’d never say it out loud, you’ve always been impressed by his lungs but the lack of oxygen begins to make your chest tighten and your head feel a little too light.

“Fuck wait.” You gasp, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. His hand drops from your face and slips under the hem of your shirt letting his fingers dance across the small of your back.

“For what?” He nips at your bottom lip, trying to get you to retaliate but you narrow your eyes at him.

“Apologize first.” You drive your index finger into his chest and he scoffs.

“I don't do that,” he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your neck, making you yelp out, you hiss as he pulls off and licks at the raw skin, “take me or leave me.”

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You tangle your fingers in his hair and yank harshly, pulling him into a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything. You feel his fingers continue to massage your back while his other hand runs up and down your thigh.

If you aren’t going to get an apology, you figure there’s other ways to get a bit of retribution. You dig your teeth into his bottom lip, grinning against him when you feel the taste of iron spread across your tongue. his hand on your thigh squeezes tightly making you gasp, only allowing him to delve his tongue further into your mouth, acting as though he has a right to it. 

“Bong.” He rasps as he pulls away from you, you take a moment to admire the crimson staining his lips. Reaching down you swipe up the bong, handing it to him and scooting back to avoid being burnt. Watching quietly as he fixes it against his mouth, lighting it and taking a long drag.

It was disgusting really, he always looked  good like this, the only thing rivaling this expression was that faintly proud look he got in his eyes whenever he landed a trick. He pulls the bong away and holds it to the side, looking up at you and tilting his head. 

“What?” You frown as you watch his eyes flicker to your mouth, his message loud and clear. with a sigh you inch forward, letting your lips part, you jump slightly when he surges forward to slot his mouth against yours. You inhale slowly as he exhales, reveling in the taste of the weed and his tongue moving across yours.

“You two sure know how to make it seem like you’re the only ones in the room,” you pull away once more, the two of you turning to look at Iwaizumi settling on the couch beside you, “just wanted to warn you that Mattsun is threatening to come join you two.”

“Tch like hell he is.” Kunimi pulls you closer against his body, only making you groan at the sudden wave of possessiveness.

“You’re not my boyfriend.” You really have no interest in letting Mattsun’s slimy fingers and dirty dick anywhere near you, but skipping out on the opportunity to piss Kunimi off, even just a little, would be a waste. you raise a brow as his head falls back against the couch, reddening eyes observing you lazily.

“You want me to be or something?” You ignore the snicker that falls from Iwaizumi beside you two and narrow your eyes at the man underneath you.

“So you can fuck off and forget i exist for another month again? Yeah right.” The flash of anger fades quickly when you start to feel the headiness that comes with your high swirl through you. 

“I'll make it up to you,” the statement punctuated with both of his hands sliding further up your shirt, “mouth.”

“Kunimi.”

“Mouth.” you swipe your tongue over your lips before relenting, letting your jaw drop and your tongue loll out a bit. He swipes his tongue against yours before sucking it into his mouth. He lets out a low groan as you grind down against him and throw your arms around his neck desperately trying to deepen the kiss.

“Don’t fuck down here again, Oikawa’s room should still be open, he keeps striking out anyway.” You kick your leg blindly, satisfied when you feel your foot make contact and hearing Iwaizumi letting out a curse. 

“Oikawa’s?” Kunimi mutters against your lip, and you hum in agreement, sliding off his lap and pulling him along with you. 

“I better not be able to walk tomorrow or I’m never talking to you again.”

[blazingparker]

Starker, 49, pls🥺❣️

love you❣️

thanks for letting me know which list you preferred!! <3 also, this isn't exactly how the first Iron Man movie went but I took some creative liberties, so I hope you don't mind!

General, 49. “I’m not going to fight you.”

send me a dialogue prompt!

TW: descriptions of torture, murder.

"I want you to build me a Jericho Missile."

"No."

The four gray walls of the cave and the computer monitor with the blueprints of his latest weapon disappeared. There was nothing, for a moment.

Then there was burning in his lungs. There wasn't enough air-why wasn't there enough air?

Suddenly, he was heaved up and he gasped, feeling cold water run down his face and into his clothing. Oh. So that was why there wasn't any air.

Next was a burning in his chest. Was someone trying to rip out the arc reactor? Was it killing him?

The pitch black nothingness slowly morphed until the cave re-emerged and a man with a gun stood in front of Tony. He glanced around, but there was still nothing. Just the bare walls of the cave and the man dripping with blood in front of him.

"I know what you and your friend were planning. I killed him first, and now? Now, I'm going to kill you," the man seethed. Tony didn't even have time to breathe before the gun was aimed at him and a shot was fired.

Tony shot straight up, tangled in sheets and almost falling out of bed in an attempt to escape. He was trapped again-why wasn't he dead? What was going on?

Someone was yelling, screaming for an unknown presence to let them go. Tony took a shuddering breath and blinked in shock when he realized it was him.

He couldn't breathe. His chest was too tight, the arc reactor was going to kill him. They were coming after him - he had to get out of here. Something was holding him down, and the soft words being murmured in his ear did nothing to ease the panic of someone's arms around him. Tony balled his hands into fists and swung blindly, trying to defend himself. He had to get out of here why was no one helping him-

"Tony. Stop. Please, my love. Stop. You could hurt yourself."

The words made Tony pause, blink. The Ten Rings had never called him my love. They'd never been concerned with his well-being - hell, they'd waterboarded and otherwise tortured him to ensure compliance.

Slowly, their bedroom came into focus and he could hear Peter's soothing voice trying to bring him out of the nightmare and back to the present. He didn't even realize he'd been weakly swinging at Peter until strong hands caught Tony's own in a gentle grip. The soft crooning in his ear never stopped, never skipped a beat even though Tony was sure he'd managed to land at least one blow while Peter was trying to stop him without making things worse.

"Why won't you fight me back? I hit you, just fight me back," Tony choked out, feeling tears continue to streak down his cheeks as he heaved in a shaky breath. Slowly, gradually, his husband let go of his hands and Tony could feel soft fingers brushing through his hair and the fabric of a pajama shirt sleeve ever so carefully wiping his tears away.

"I’m not going to fight you," his angel of a husband murmured back to him, pressing a soft kiss to Tony's forehead. "I love you. I would never fight you." Tony hiccuped while trying to choke back another sob, leaning into Peter's chest and allowing the continuous strokes in his hair to calm him down.

"Let's get you wrapped up in a blanket, yeah? Then I can check your hands. You might have hurt yourself," Peter whispered, and Tony nodded. Whenever Peter had a nightmare, Tony would run him a bath to help soothe him. Tony was different - running water brought him right back to that cave and sent him spiraling all over again. They'd discovered that one night and Peter had spent an hour holding him, whispering sweet things while Tony trembled and tried to bring himself back out of the cave.

"Why-why? I could have hurt you," Tony protested, sniffling even as Peter gently wrapped him in the softest blanket they had. It relaxed him even more - he was warm and dry in his and Peter's bedroom. Afghanistan was thousands of miles away. Peter just smiled at him, sweet and gentle. Not sadistic and cruel.

"Tony, I can stop a bus with my bare hands. I'm alright, I promise." With that, Tony allowed Peter to take his hands again, fingers rubbing over Tony's wedding band as Peter kissed each of his knuckles. Each touch brought Tony further and further away from the cave and closer to his husband.

"Thank you," he managed to say after a few minutes, leaning in and brushing a kiss over Peter's cheek. Peter just smiled brightly at him, with the light of a thousand suns. Tony could get lost in that smile.

"No need to thank me, Tones. I love you," Peter said, smile never leaving his face as he leaned in, gaze flickering to Tony's lips in a silent question.

Tony leaned in the rest of the way, dragging Peter closer as their lips met. He had always been a man of action rather than words, anyway.

[love-loser]

midnight ( hawks / f.reader )

surprised my first fic isn’t too yandere but here it is, adapted from an old slash fic i wrote a long time ago for a friend, based off cardlin audio’s asmr video about cinderella. feedback is much appreciated! praying to GOD tumblr doesnt mess up formatting pls pls pls, also lmk if there are any typos i missed! masterlist

2.9k words ↬ “There hasn’t been a ball this month where I couldn’t find you out here by yourself,” Keigo says, forlorn, “The when was easy… hm, as the night grew darker, sure enough, I’d find you here, beneath the moon, and all her stars. No… for you, it was always the other questions that bothered me. Who are you, mysterious girl, who bewitched me so? Why do you stand out like… like a rose among a field of daisies? How do you manage to get me to speak in such pine?”

“Stare as long as you wish, my dear, at all the stars the heavens have to offer, I promise you will not find one that shines quite as bright as you.”

The sudden words have you stiff, before you turn your head away from the view of the expansive front yard of the palace to rest your eyes on the unexpected visitor. The shock you feel when you see it’s the one specific royal that you’ve been pining over for months has you completely frozen.

For a moment, you think maybe the prince is drunk, or has you mistaken for someone else, or even both, but the next litany of words (you’d never imagined the prince’s voice to drawl so nicely when speaking to you of all people) prove both those assumptions to be wrong. 

“I’m sorry, your highness, you must have-”

“My apologies. I did not mean to scare you,” The prince, Keigo Takami, takes a step closer, then another, until he’s leaning on the balcony railing alongside you, close enough for you to feel the ghost of his body heat. “I had a feeling you would be out here on the balcony easel,” Before you can question just what the prince wants to do with you, or even how he knows you, he continues on, “How did I know?” 

A small chuckle, then a sigh.

“Why, there hasn’t been a ball this month where I couldn’t find you out here by yourself,” Keigo says, forlorn, “The when was easy… hm, as the night grew darker, sure enough, I’d find you here, beneath the moon, and all her stars. No… for you, it was always the other questions that bothered me. Who are you, mysterious girl, who bewitched me so? Why do you stand out like… like a rose among a field of daisies? How do you manage to get me to speak in such pine?”

A pause tells you that yes, you can reply.

“Your highness, I am only a mere civilian.” You’re too shy to spare a glance towards the next king of your country, so you settle for staring off into the comforting sky, “You must be mistaken. I am only here, after all, to grant the wishes of my… godmother.”

How ironic, that your words were really more truthful when spoken the other way around. After all, it was your wish to attend the balls, granted by a certain (fairy) godmother. 

“But not a single woman back in that ballroom can garner even a peck of my attention, no matter how desperately they may try, and… perhaps, most importantly of all, where do you run off to every night, as the clock strikes midnight? You look surprised. Did you think I didn’t notice how you excuse yourself at the exact same time during every ball?”

“I-I’m sorry, Prince, but I do think you’ve the wrong person.” you fluster, peeling yourself from the stone railing and making for the double doors behind them. What you don’t expect, though, is Keigo’s handsome features suddenly coming into view. The sight sends you into a fit of stuttering heartbeats and bated breath, and you can’t help but flick your eyes to a space just above the prince’s right shoulder. you feel steady hands come up to rest on your waist, just on the delicate, slight curve of hips, too tight to be called gentle. 

“I assure you, I notice a lot more about you than you might expect.” Keigo sighs, seemingly perplexed, “No matter. I will find out soon enough.”

“What do you mean by that, your highness?” You were already in a compromising position, and the last thing you wanted was for the prince to throw you in a dungeon because of your previously assumed well hidden affections for the royal figure.

“Hm? Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was nothing more than the prattling of one who considers himself to be your biggest fan,” for the first time that night, Keigo gives you a warm little smile, an expression you never thought you’d be on the receiving end of, “Well, I would think it’s your turn to humour me a bit, wouldn’t you say? I’ve been craving the soft lilt of your voice since two nights ago.” 

“Well… What is there to admire?”

“What is there to admire? Why, my beautiful you, what isn’t there to admire? That… faraway look in your eye when you gaze out over the city each night, the way you move with a grace unlike any lady in this court, not quite floral, but fluid and vibrant in a way that is all your own,”

You can feel a warm rosiness settle onto your cheeks at the words, the heat on your skin battling the cool night air. Keigo is so close, you’re almost afraid the prince can feel you overheat. “And what about that forlorn touch to your smile that turns even the most candid of our moments together… bittersweet, as if you knew it wouldn’t last?”

“You are making a hassle over nothing, my prince,” You try to deny, shaking your head and wiggling out of his grip, or at least trying to.

“I admit, at first I thought you were intimidated by my station,” Keigo laughs, almost in disbelief, “The bachelor prince sought by every eligible lady in the kingdom. Who would he choose? Of course, even I am aware of such titles in my name.”

“But, no, there is more to it than that… You don’t fear that I may be too much for you. If I may be so bold, I think the sorrow and your sigh is that you know… I’m just right for you. And yet, you cannot have me.” 

You turn your head, feeling a breeze dancing along the strands of your hair, and the folds of your clothes. There’s a certain stinging on all your nerve endings, and it all pumps back to your heart, where you feel pain and longing course through your veins.

“Nonsense. Your highness, surely, the crowd is waiting for your presence. Leave me be and go tend to your guests.”

“Something tells me the answer to that riddle lies within the reason you dash off every night as the clock turns over,” Keigo continues, unaffected by the denial and stepping forward to brace you against the railing with his arms and body, “You are the only guest I care about… And yet, I don’t even know your name.”

“(y/n),” you answer, shrinking back. The prince had a way with his words and mannerisms that just made you feel that much smaller in his demanding and touchy disposition. 

“(y/n)… Though we’ve talked like this at every one of these balls so far, trading wits and flirtations as duelists trade blows, I find myself walking away each time somehow knowing… even less of you. But I’ve got a feeling, then, I’ll have all the answers soon.”

“What-”

“What makes me say that? Call it a lucky guess.” Keigo looks over, past you, before uttering a mutter, “Why, would you look at the time? Is it that it struck early? Or is it that time flies when you’re having fun?”

“Already, my prince? I-I’m so sorry, I really must be going,” you sucked in a nervous breath through your teeth, eyes showing just a hint of panic at the thought of revealing what would really happen once time was up.

“No, I know, the time has come and you must leave me. How did the bard put it? Parting is always such sweet sorrow. Farewell, (y/n), I’ll see you soon.”

And like that, you felt the warmth radiating from the prince taken away as quickly as it came. The bite of the cold night air snaps at you almost immediately.

“Yes, ah, I’ll see you soon.” You knew, though, that you’d let the encounters go too far and swore to your wavering self that this would be the last one. You stepped past the prince, tried the cold knob, once, twice, before giving it a hard jiggle in a sad attempt at escape.

“Are the doors locked? But… however could that be? Why would that happen? Could it be a faulty lock or… is it instead that they were locked on purpose? Perhaps by a, curious prince, made impatient by the constant abandonment. He endured whenever the girl of his dreams would whisk herself away from him every night. Imagine the agony beyond power of speech and frustration when this vixen, this succubus stalks his vision at night and his thoughts every day.”

Your heart quickens, finding your once again pliant in the prince’s hands, “Imagine, how maddening that must be to have something taken away from you again , and again … just when  you’re finally about to,” Keigo leans in, warm, minty breath kissing your lips, “Get a taste of it. Yes, my dear, I did lock those doors, and now, my sweetness, I can’t let you leave.”

“But believe me, when I say that if you felt for me the way I feel for you, you wouldn’t let yourself leave either. You’ve a secret, do you? One you need to tell me? Well, I have a secret of my own, in fact. I have several, the first of which is that there is a hidden passageway, not easily seen from the balcony… and that, of course, is by intention.”

Keigo drew back the slightest bit, reaching up to pull a particular curtain draw- one that didn’t differ much from the other braided ones to Taehyung’s untrained eyes. A loud clack had you flinching, before you turn and a wooden ladder makes itself known. 

“Follow it up, and it leads to my room. Come with me now, and we’ll… share our secrets.” You just about lunge for the base of the ladder, just a bit breathless.

“I really should be taking my leave, Prince.”

“Well, well, suddenly, aren’t you in a hurry, hm? Let me lead the way.” Keigo takes the first step, all too experienced as he climbed up the ladder. You found it hard not to look down, considering they were on the second floor and scaling between balconies.

By the time Keigo is off and you are just about to make it, the prince offers a hand, and takes your hand in his, clasping it gently and loosely.

“You know, it’s odd... I never let anyone up these stairs, let alone a stranger.” Keigo muses, “First you managed to get me talking and now you managed to get me to reveal some of my deepest secrets. Remind me to get my revenge. Oh, I’m not- my god, your clothes!”

Oh. So that’s what happens when you stay out too late. Out of all the possibilities, you had to end up naked in front of your longtime love.

“What has happened to you? Your clothing seems to be ripping to tatters more and more with each passing moment- Here, take my coat,” you appreciate how fast the prince sheds his outerwear, and you graciously accept for once, happy that the only other living thing in the hallway to witness this debacle is the poor potted plant in the corner.

A turn of a key, the click of a lock, you poking his head out and then getting flustered when he sees Keigo smiling fondly at the gesture. Yes, a very normal day for a common person like yourself.

They’re out of the hallway and Keigo is sneaking you into his room, a stark change in tone from the sultry air of the younger night.

//

“Here we are now. Now, sit down on my bed. Wait here. I’ll find you some proper clothing. While I admit that I have dreamt quite often as of late of having you in my room, it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t meant to be… perfect. It was meant to be… right . I’ll return shortly with some clothes. No- stay. I promise you, I won’t be long-”

Though flustered and a tiny bit flattered at the lewd admission, you stood, far too uncomfortable to stay alone in the prince’s room, naked. “Please, let me, prince.”

“Ah, alright, if you insist. The blankets do look good on you, yes. Well, here we are,” It’s a short walk to his expansive closet, and you find yourself in a shirt that’s just a little too loose that feels like heaven on your humble skin. 

“My prince… I think I am ready to tell you about myself,” You admit, playing with the sleeves of the soft, fabric shirt, “If-If you’re willing to hear, of course.”

“I would give nothing more to hear anything you wish to tell me,” Keigo pulled you to a seat on the bed, your thighs touching, shoulders brushing.

“Well, I… I come from a wealthy family, though they are not kind to me. My stepmom, she runs a fabric shop, along with my two step sisters-”

“You- what? That old widow… but she only has two daughters… Everyone knows her husband and her stepdaughter died in that tragic accident, which as, sorrowful as it was, might have been a welcome escape from that frigid woman.”

“Well, yes, but I am here… I was kept as a maid all this time, and haven’t known many amenities in my life thus far,” you look up from his hands, which are nestled between the soft lines of your thighs, “But it could be worse, so I do not complain.”

“But, if you’re her stepdaughter, then… you’re the rightful heir to your father’s estate… But that does not explain how you came to wear such… niceties if you were kept as a maid.”

“A fairy godmother answered my pleads, as irrational as it may sound…” you gathered up the last ounce of courage you had, and looked into the prince’s understanding, sharp eyes, “I understand if you don’t believe me, Prince.”

“Of course I do, my love,” Keigo cupped your cheek, thumbing at the soft skin, “Please, call me Keigo, or any variation of that as you wish.”

“And how about yours, then… Keigo?” You tried, experimentally. Though foreign, the name was not completely unwelcome on your tongue.

The man smiled, humming at the sound of his own name, before nodding, “My secret? After all of that, you still wish to hear mine? Well, I suppose you’ve earned it, and how can I deny the wish of an angel lying in my sheets?”

 “All right, in retrospect, my secret isn’t quite as elaborate or cunning, nor as thrilling or shocking, in face, if you’ve been watching my eyes and reading between the lines of my words, dear, I’m sure you must already know my secret…”

A heavy pause, before he sighs and finishes, “Is that, I’m in love with you. I teased myself with the idea after the first night, toyed with it the second… fought with it the third and came to accept it on the fourth. And ever since then, I found myself madly, wholey, and helplessly in love with you.”

“But you must know that, right? You must feel it in your heart as I do, resonating ceaselessly since the moment we met. I love you, because you are beautiful, in mind, action and appearance. Or, are you beautiful because I love you? I do not know.”

You bit your lip, leaning into the man’s touch and shifting closer to fit snugly in his side, “(y/n)... You… You don’t have to go back, you know. The clock is struck midnight, but you’re still here. Surely, that has to mean something. You can leave that life behind. No more scullery and cinder sweeping.”

“Instead, you have opulence and wealth- every extravagance you could want, ever delicacy, but crave every possible pleasure you could ever long for. Say a word, and it’s yours- give all of you to me, let yourself be mine, no one else’s, and it’s yours, (y/n). And in return, I will also give myself to you.”

“Y-Your highness, I- I can’t possibly,” you turned your head away, at a loss for words. If the title bothers him, he doesn’t show it.

“You could spend the rest of your life swaddled and pampered, appreciated and adored, loved by the kingdom, and worshipped by your prince. But… That’s not all you want, is it? No, I can tell now. Seething within you, there’s a desire for something, more than just comforts. You have a darkness in your heart, a heavy stain left by the indelible touch of that wretched stepmother of yours. Have they healed? Can they ever?”

“Whatever she and her have done to you, I promise you, we can return upon them tenfold. My word is law, and if you would be mine, then you would have my word to wield like a sword. I will be your knight, and all of the kingdom’s strength shall be my power, all of this can be yours. The wealth, the power, the prestige, and the vindication, and in exchange, I would ask you but for one simple thing- you. All of you.” 

“If you say yes, you will be mine until eternity ends, and we can rule this kingdom together- happily ever after. We will seal our vows here now on this very bed and I promise to make you long only for more of my touch, to erase the thought of anyone else from your head. If you say no, I will leave your clothes on the bar of the doors, and you can return to your life of injustice. Let’s say, my dear, what life will you choose?” In hindsight, maybe you should’ve known he wouldn’t let you have much of a choice anyway.

[babylooneytoonz]

Blood Trails [ Pt. 4 ]

Chapter Summary: Being locked up at the HYDRA cell with Sasha makes you have a slight change of heart. Is it just an innocent change of heart or is it your heart's way of trying to remind you what your brain cannot remember?

Warnings: Violence, Implied Child Abuse, Non Con Sex Reference , Implied non descriptive torture tactics

Word Count : 3000+ (I K R ?)

Blood Trails Masterlist link -> here.

Bucky was able to miraculously pull out the magnet from the top of the car that ended up freeing him. He swam up until he was on the surface, and he hopelessly looked around, but he didn’t see anything remotely related to HYDRA or his daughter. His anguish was so much, he fell to his knees, on the middle of the road, and screamed; his eyes writhing in rage and venomous hatred. He was going to hunt you down, hunt each of you down, and send you back to hell. With rage filled eyes, his outfit soaked from top to bottom, he somehow walked all the way to the Avengers facility; and of course, Sam, Wanda, Clint and Tony surrounded him, as he told him what had happened.

“Get the fucking Quinjet ready.” He commanded, as he practically pushed his body into his tactical wear.

Tony raised a curious eyebrow, eyeing the man with the metal arm from the corner of his eye, “I don’t want to put a full stop to your momentum there Barnes, but where exactly are you going to look for Sasha? She may be anywhere in this goddamn world, in any continent or any country.”

“He is right you know –“ Sam began, but then his eyes widened as though a thought had just hit him, “Unless he knows something and already has a lead.”

All heads turned towards him, almost drilling a hole into the man with the metal arm who had just finished fixing his gun holster with his guns. He then turned towards them and murmured, in a loud voice, “I’m going to Hungary, because that’s where Vasili Dreznov operates from.”

“Okay, did I miss something over here?” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, causing Bucky’s jaw to clench as he shot him a dangerous glare.

“That woman got a call.. she said the name Vasili. The only Vasili I know is a HYDRA handler, Vasili Dreznov. The last I heard, he was at the Hungarian base.”

“Well, atleast we’ve got a lead.” Wanda chimed in, as the rest of the team started dispersing and getting ready for their mission; rescue Winter Soldier’s daughter.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Your boots crashed against the concrete metal flooring of the underground HYDRA base in Hungary as you walked through the maze like hallways, that was illuminated by a single LED light in each hallway. You were walking in the middle, with Vasili walking directly behind you. In front of your eyes, Sasha Barnes was chained up, thick metal cuffs adorning her tiny wrists as the HYDRA guards dragged her down the hallway. You craned your neck slightly to turn slightly towards your handler, and your eyes narrowed, your voice hissing in a low voice, “Неужели нам нужно связывать ее, Vasili?” (Do we really need to chain her up, Vasili?)

Your handler didn’t answer, and instead, he just used his arm to push you forward, so you kept on walking, causing your eyebrows to twitch as a sudden surge of frustration filled you up, and only a whisper came out of your lips as she was pushed into one of the cells, and the door was slammed shut on your face, “Она всего лишь ребенок.” (She is just a kid.)

“Похоже, ваше лечение прекращается. Я чувствую в тебе слабость, птичка, и думаю, слабость здесь – действительно опасная вещь.” (Looks like your treatment is coming off. I can smell weakness on you, little bird, and guess what, weakness in here is a really dangerous thing.)

“I’m not getting weak, Vas –“

Arms grabbed you suddenly, and instinctively you let out a loud cry, “No, VASILI PLEASE DON’T…IM ..IM NOT GETTING WEAK.. I JUST… PLEASE NO..” that was soon muffled when something tasting bitter was stuffed into your mouth. Tears streamed across your face and your eyes widened in a sudden fright. Reflexively, you started struggling and squirming, trying to break free from the clutches of the HYDRA guards, who only laughed at the state of pure agony that you were in.

“Looks like наш маленький солдат is getting her memories back, and that is something we will never want, eh?” Vasili made a motion with his hands; a motion you well understood and instinctively, you used stopped walking and with all the force in your body, you jumped where you were standing, the force of which caused the HYDRA guard who was holding you to loosen his grip in order to steady himself from falling and getting disbalanced. You took the moment to hurl yourself to face him, your eyes glaring death into the guard’s eyes as your hands latched to his throat, and you snapped his neck into two, like a twig.

Your eyes widened, when you felt the familiar taser prick against your neck, and you fell to your knees, as pain shot through your body, like shards of glass pricking against your skin.

“N..No..Pl…please..” was all you could cry out as your eyelids started getting heavy, and you felt someone grab your foot and start dragging you against the cold metal floor, the course surface burning against your skin as your body was dragged into the lab, where you were shoved into the electric chair, and the helmet was fixed against your head.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

“Come on, Vasili’s not even banged you yet, and you’re not able to fucking walk.. what you gonna do when all of us take you and your tight little cunt one by one ..”

“Прекрати, Alexei, this one’s a fucked up bitch.. leave her alone.. rumour has it..she bites..” Another guard’s voice sounded through your ears but you were in no position to listen; you could concentrate on nothing but pain..whatever you thought, whenever you tried to breathe, only one thing was what you could feel and that was pain.. blinding, deafening and bone chilling pain.

The guards unlocked the heavily barricaded steel door and the minute it opened, you were pushed into your cell, the force being enough for you to land on your knees, only your hands held out in front of you to save you from a disgraceful fall. You kept laying there, resting your head against the cold floor, just breathing when a soft feminine voice reached your ears, “Больно?” (Does it hurt?)

You fluttered your eyes open, and you pushed yourself up in a sitting position as your palm wiped off the dried up blood on the corner of your lips, where a new gash had now formed. You looked up at the girl who was sitting on your bed and was looking down at you, her eyes widened in fear, yet childlike inquisitiveness.

You didn’t reply, but instead, gripping the corners of your bed, you tried lifting yourself up, slowly, but for some reason, your body seemed to be giving up and you only fell back against the floor with a curse escaping your lips. You let the five year old help you, as she threw out her arm towards you and took it, coiling your fingers against her soft ones as she pulled you up; half of it being your own effort and the other half her super soldier strength.

You fixed yourself on bed next to her and the two of you awkwardly sat next to each other for a few seconds in silence, the things she had said to you now all forgotten and out of your head again.

“Сделают ли они это и со мной?” (Will they do this to me too?) Her voice was soft, her blue eyes fixed on yours as you gave her a ghost of a smile before laying down against the rock like pillow, choosing not to answer her. What were you supposed to say to her? That she was going to be tortured beyond her wits soon and turned into a cold killing machine?

You fluttered your eyes shut, fighting the urge to let your tears flow out of your eyes when you felt her pull the cotton sheet over your broken body. You didn’t know what it was about her that made you feel human again, alive again, like you had a heart and you had feelings again; but worse than that, it caused you to fear in the back of your mind, that she was making you weak.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Your eyes flung open at an ungodly hour, when you heard a voice somewhere in your cell. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you looked up to see Vasili casually seated on a couch not far from where you were laying, with Sasha propped up on his lap, his fingers stroking the girl’s cheeks. You didn’t fail to notice the fright in her eyes and the way she beckoned you with her eyes to call her to yourself, away from him. And you didn’t fail to notice the way the evil man eyed the little girl; reminding you of the hours that you had just let him treat you and your body like a vessel that was only made to please him when he wanted. You couldn’t hide the sliver of disgust that crept up inside you, a sudden instinct that you felt to suddenly protect her, it being ironical that you were the one responsible for her being here in the first place.

"Sasha, can you come over here? Now please?"

You didn't know where you got that courage from, or that spark in your eye, for immediately, the little girl was standing next to you, while the two of you kept looking at the evil smirk your handler had on his face.

You grabbed Sasha's hands, pulling her tiny body behind you as you stood up, your legs still shaking from the aftermath of the torture you went through yesterday.

"She is a five year old kid, Vasili. Leave her out of this. I've never said no to you, but please, leave her out of this."

The thin-faced man only gave a wry, devilish laugh. He slowly stood up, his lips puckered slightly, as though he was trying to suppress an incoming smirk from creasing over his lips. You kept towering over Sasha, your eyes flashing dark, distilled rage as he meandered his way over to you and suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him.

"Если у меня не будет ее, я заставлю ее смотреть." (If I cant have her, I will make her watch.)

Your eyes clenched shut in disgust, and when you opened them again, your eyes were red and bloodshot.

"You're a disgusting, vile bastard, Vasili."

The only sound that filled your cell after that was the sound of his evil, raucous laughter, as your muffled cries of pain and disgust.

A few hours later,

"Wake up, Sasha."

You nudged the little girl awake.

She rubbed her eyes and slowly fluttered them open. You had no idea what time of the night it was, but from a tiny round grilled window in your room, you could see that the sun wasn't out yet. You gave her your hand as she sat up in bed, and looked at you.

"Now listen to me, very carefully. I am going to try and get you out of here. Okay? But I'm gonna need you to play along with me. Can you do that?"

You gave her weak smile, bringing your palm up to the top of her head as you quickly ruffled it up before you pushed her away, so she fell back against the cold gravel, taken aback.

"Почему бы тебе не держаться от меня подальше? Просто держись от меня подальше. Кто угодно! Убери ее отсюда к черту! Посадите ее в другую чертову камеру! Кто угодно!" (Why dont you stay the hell away from me? Just stay away from me. Anyone! Get her the fuck out of here! Put her in another goddamn cell! Anyone! )

You slammed your fists hard against the back of the door, and repeatedly banged on it, until there was another bang on the door from the outside, followed by a few curses, and then a voice, "Заткнись, солдат." (Shut the fuck up, Soldier.)

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

The Quinjet wasn't crowded today, as Natasha and Bruce were on a classified mission someplace in Afghanistan. This left Bucky, Sam, Tony and Clint; for even Wanda and Vision were out on another mission.

"I hope everyone knows the drill," Bucky muttered, in a low voice, his arms crossed over his chest, as he eyed the team, "We're gonna land in approximately five. There is no scope of failure."

Within the next few minutes, Bucky and the rest of the Avengers, had jumped off the Quinjet; and were already making their way towards the base, slinking through the shadows until the heavily guarded base was in sight.

"Well, to the count of, oh well, what the fuck ?" Bucky growled into the comms, when he saw that Sam was already out, and was running towards the guards in full swing, ready to take his flight, along with Tony Stark all suited up and ready to kick some HYDRA asses. "I thought I said wait for instructions." He growled again into the Comms, as he effortlessly deflected a bullet using his metal hand, and at the same time, that deflected bullet pierced into the stomach of another HYDRA guard that was in close proximity.

A loud thump on your door alerted you and Sasha. Your index finger flew up to your lips and you threw up your palm to keep her where she was as you stood up and with slow, unsteady steps, made your way to the door, when at the exact same time, the door jostled open with a loud noise, and two HYDRA guard's entered; with Vasili on their trail.

They tossed your combat uniform to the floor, and it landed against the concrete with a crash and you looked up at them quizzically.

"Get dressed. We have a situation. And we need you to be armed and ready to break a few necks," he mumbled in a rich Russian accent.

"What's happening?"

"That Avenger scum.. they're here. Now hurry up, моя машина-убийца."

The door slammed shut again, but this time, you did not hear the sound of them locking your cell from the outside. Once you were sure that they had left, you hurriedly bent and grabbed your uniform, taking off the torn rags that you were wearing and started sliding into it, your eyes fixed on the now excited girl.

"Now listen to me, княжна, I will get you to them, and once you are there, you will not look back. You will leave. Is that clear?"

You knelt down in front of her so you were now face level with her. You didn't understand why you were doing this for her, what was the pull that was binding the two of you together, but you knew that this was a chance that she could escape; from meeting the same fate that you had met, and from Vasili's evil eyes. You almost gasped, when suddenly, out of the blue, when you had least expected it, the little girl placed her palms on either side of your cheek, all her fear of you now forgotten.

"А что насчет тебя? Пожалуйста, пойдем со мной.." (What about you? Please come with me..)

You bit your lip hard; but it was more in an attempt to force yourself to not cry as you smiled, shaking your head.

"Я дома, а тебя нет." (I'm home but you are not.)

You stood up, before she could reply because you didn't want her to. For some reason, this little devil of a child managed to bring out a different side in you, a side that made you want to fight the monsters that you were swimming in, but you also knew how powerful they were. You couldn't fight them alone, even if you wanted to. Shaking these depressing thoughts away, you grabbed your gun with one hand, when she smiled at you and slowly slid her hand through your other hand.

"Now trust me, I am going to get you to your superheroes, but you need to start pretending now. We can't let the guards know.. what we have planned, and what we are planning to do. Okay, Sasha?"

"Yes... mama."

"I'm.. I'm.. not your mother.."

You immediately forced yourself to look away, but her words seemed to be radiating like static through your mind. You could hear the sound of a baby crying, somewhere in the distance, but just as soon as you heard it, a sudden jolt of a pain in your head caused that voice to fade away. You gasped suddenly, your palm flying to your throat, as sweat pooled over your forehead and you looked down at her. Before you could react though, a series of bangs and gunshots started ringing outside, somewhere in the facility.

"You're Black Widow's daughter," You whispered, grabbing the girl as you tossed her over your shoulder, holding her there using your free hand, while with the other, you pulled open the door, and aimed your gun, just in case you needed to shoot.

You didn't need to shoot them, you only had to answer them; that you were taking her to safe place, so they couldn't get to her. No one suspected, for they were too busy running towards the area where the fight had ensued.

"Listen, Sasha.. I want you to scream for help, as loud as you can when you see any of your friends, okay?" You nudged her, as you ran towards the source of the commotion, and she just shouted back a yes, her tiny hands pressed against her ears as the gunshots ringing all around the base were too loud.

After what felt like running for an eternity, you finally saw a glimpse of what the Avengers fighting together looked like. It was a madhouse, as though hell was raining down on the HYDRA guards from all directions. Your eyes, however, fell on the glistening, shining metal as it deflected a bullet with such precision, you were almost awestruck, only to be pulled back from your sudden trance by Sasha's sudden screaming, which you know was because she wanted to capture his attention; the Winter Soldier.

He suddenly snapped his head in your direction, his eyes meeting your sharp ones; the only thing that was visible on your face due to your face mask. And slowly, his eyes travelled to the girl that was on your shoulder, a dangerous throaty growl erupting from his mouth, before he started pushing his way through the HYDRA soldiers, right towards you.

You blinked, almost squinting your eyes, as you waited a few seconds, for him to get closer. And once he was almost two inches away you turned your tail and started running, back the way you had come from. You knew what you were doing, you were trying to pull him away from the crowd, from where the fighting was, for you couldn't hand Sasha to him right where the fight was going on.

Bucky was fast, and you could feel his heavy footsteps behind you, as he was almost reaching you, his arms drawn out so he could grab you; or Sasha. But instead of grabbing her, he slowly lifted his gun, aiming it towards your foot and his finger flew to the trigger, when Sasha's cries filled his ears.

"DADDY, PLEASE DON'T SHOOT HER."

A look of confusion washed over his face, and he didn't understand. Nevertheless, he dropped his gun weilding hand to his side, and that was your cue to finally stop running, and lower Sasha to her feet, so she could run to him.

"Sasha, off you go." You pushed her towards Bucky, who caught the little girl in his arms. "I don't understand," Bucky began speaking, but the force with which Sasha crashed against him, he lifted her up in his arms, clutching her against his chest. He kissed the side of her face, and then the two of them turned towards you; both with reasons entirely different from each others, but you were long gone, as though disappeared into thin air.

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[voidcat]

–The Life Cycle of a Butterfly

Characters: Daichi Sawamura / f!Reader

Genre & Word Count: fluff & 2.9k

requested by anon:

Would you do a fluff Imagine for Daichi Sawamura where proposes to his HS sweetheart infront of Ukai’s shop because it’s the place of a lot of their relationship firsts like he realized he had a crush on her when they were first years running to each other after their clubs (she played soccer), where she told him she loved him after they lost to Aoba Johsai third year, got yelled at for kissing in front of when they found out they were going to the same university, etc? Your Bo fic got me ❤️

A/N: song rec for the fic is a Nocturne of Chopin’s. also pls keep it in mind i did the ending at 2am so there may be few sentences w/o verbs that slipped my attention.

Sakanoshita Store is a familiar place for many. A meeting point for teens, a store full of wonders for kids and a vantage point for Karasuno High, especially for the sports teams.

It is the place where you first hung out with your new teammates, some of whom you’d become life-long friends in the future. It’s where you found your second family and felt at ease, discussed tactics and laughed about funny memories.

For you, Sakanoshita Store was where you first laid your eyes on the infamous team, though unaware of it at the time, they managed to attract your attention. An usual after-practice snack, you and your friends had crowded the place. Upon entering and seeing there were no absent tables, they had bought whatever they came for and left. And in their absence, there was an air of unease. “Hey, who were they?” you asked one of your friends but the curious expression on her face made it obvious she hadn’t noticed them.

The next day in class, a stroke of silver hair you recognized from the store. “Hello Sugawara-san.”

“Oh, hi (Name)-san. Did you need something?”

“Yes, actually... I was wondering, which club you were in?”

“The boys’ volleyball club!” “Since when Karasuno has one?” The face he makes sends regret through your bones. With a soft giggle, hand scratching his head, he offers a sad smile; similar to the air they brought with them the other night.

“Well the club surely didn’t meet the expectations we had but Daichi-san has hopes for the future.”

The way he says the words gives you hope too, for their club and future success. “Who is, Daichi-san?”

“Square chin, broad shoulders, very nice back? Never captured your attention?” “I will… make sure to look for him next time. Thank you, Sugawara-san.”

“Please, you can call me Suga.”

Suga was right that day, because once Daichi Sawamura captures your attention, it’s downhill from there on.

Exchanged greetings were awkward at first but in a short time, you two would take the time to greet one another and ask how you are. With it began small talk, usually outside Sakanoshita Store, snacks in hand, standing like that for god knows how long.

“So what sports are you doing?” “Soccer!” His face a mixture of surprise and amusement, a moment you hoped would be engraved in your memory forever. Playing the sly, you invited him to one of your practices and he invited you to one of his. Working out and exchanging tactics and suggestions on health were a given after that.

When Suga invited you to the first of many study groups to come, you were none the wiser. “Hey (Name)! I’m holding a study group tomorrow for the upcoming exams. Would you like to join?”

And for your luck, it’d always be the seat next to Daichi or across him that was empty. They either liked to meet up earlier; Suga, Daichi, Asahi-san and Kiyoko-san, or Suga would tell you the time few minutes late for you to show up last.

No complaints though, as fierce as he is on court, Daichi was expectedly good with classes too. He would take the time to explain things patiently if anyone ever needed help, seeing that side of him would make you feel you were included in on a special event. One too delightful to watch and fluttering you in the process.

Firsts is something you experienced quite a lot in High school.

First low grade, first time you had to stay up all night to study, first time you had a bad game and first time you had someone in the audience that you cared for deeply. The first goal you scored was in the very same match, the finishing blow to the game and your winning point. It was the first time Daichi hugged you with an iron grip.

The first time you had snacks at a time so late was when you joined the team. Practices going longer than planned and starvation coming over the lot of you, Ukai’s store is where you all would [go].

The first time Daichi realized his feelings towards you may be bigger than anyone could foresee, it was another late night after practice hangout. As the chill air brushed your cheeks and left clouds of steam in its presence, you were having an energy drink, thanking him for it. One sip and your face was taken over by a new emotion, the surprise of tasting your favorite fruit in the drink, you asked how he knew and he just shrugged with the same small smile of his; a hint of knowing was hidden there but “Dumb luck.” was all he said.

As he started taking notes of what you like and what ticks you��ve got, the small details spilled during study sessions; you found yourself doing the same for him. Study group leading to study dates after an unexpected proposal one evening; a joke with a hint of serious in it.

“Hey have you been to this café downtown? The one that opened recently? I’ve heard they make discounts for couples, we could pretend to be one if you’d like.”

Pretending was easier than asking, little plays for gentler dreams, to avoid the possibility of stern truths and harsh rejections. Something close to disappointment passed through his face but he shook it off quickly, offering a big smile and a nod, “It’s a date, then!”. Oh how the both of you hoped for the words to come true hereafter.

Juggling on the thin line of what-nots, teasing remarks from your friends could not be escaped. And with people who don’t know you two, assuming you were more than just friends, it’d make things more sufferable occasionally. The close calls and the brushing of hands, his breath tingling your cheeks and your eyes watching him with an ever-lasting spark whenever he wasn’t looking around…

Safe to say you were always there for one another, could talk about anything and everything, a shoulder to cry on and a chest to bury your tears deep, a rooted support system at the matches and great consolation for any kind of losses.

Although fights and arguments rare and in-between, one came by after the biggest game of that time, ending with the victory of Aoba Johsai’s epic win. The morale was down, the third years now more lost than ever, for they were so close, fingertips almost grazing at what they’ve been chasing after for the last three years. As everyone started to leave one by one, back to their homes, it was only Daichi and you left behind, back at where it all began.

Frustration clear from his face and the air around him, you reached out a hand, only to stop midair, not touching him, grazing his shoulder or offering a soft pat. It was clear that wasn’t what he needed. Putting on a face of the strong leader for so long, doing the best he could to keep the team up and hopeful; it took everything in him to hold himself together. You wanted nothing more than to help him stay together, stronger than before, than ever.

Consoling words falling short at one point, it was clear he didn’t want to hear.

“Why do you even care so much about this? It’s not like our team faces a great defeat at the beginning, you are not the flightless crows, the depleted ones fallen out of their strenght-“ “Because I care about you, you idiot!” You didn’t mean to yell but maybe it was better to put it out like that.

For the first time in the past hour, his face softened to something new, curious and tender. The “why?” hanging from his lips could be heard from the silencing weight on the street.

“Because I care for you. I love you, can’t you see, how much it hurts me? Do you think I can’t feel your pain and anger right now? Your disappointment and doubts eating at your guts?” Hands acting on their own as words came out of your mouth, you held him in a gentle grip as you kept going.

Aware of the tears gathered at the edge of his eyes, you were numb to yours until he wiped away yours with one step, one touch.

A second step and he was hugging you tight, pressing to himself as much as he can. As if the world around you was reaching its end and he wanted to shield the both of you no matter the consequence. Words mumbled into your hair, you didn’t need to hear to understand what he was trying to say.

Seeing you hand in hand, it was Suga first to cheer on you. A little “Took you long enough!” coming from him didn’t go unnoticed and you could only laugh in response. He did have a point after all. Knowing that, he wouldn’t miss any chance he could get to brag about how it was him to get you two together.

“So our loss to Seijoh was a plan of yours as well?” Daichi said one day and Suga toned down the bragging about being the best wingman.

Joining the club on their practice matches whenever you can was more than just an excuse to see your boyfriend. Getting to see the improvement of your underclassmen made you feel like a mother who first witnessed their baby walking and running. Still doing your best to encourage them whenever you can, you were there with them ‘til the very end.

As school drew near, the immersing? Fear of separation hovered over. It was without a doubt you all would keep in touch but there was something saddening about having to leave high school behind and begin a new chapter of your lives. No more cozy lunch breaks with your friends, you could never get to enjoy the sudden taste of spotting Daichi across the hall during your breaks, waving at each or blowing kisses at one another. No more after school practices together, farewell joint work out sessions and early practices.

With the ever pressing matter of this, all you could was to live in the moment, enjoy it fully and through, take as many mental pictures as you can, laugh your heart out until tears come out and Suga’s face hurt from smiling so much, until Kiyoko cracks down a smile and joins in on your schemes, Asahi watching the rest of you with worry…

And Daichi by your side, almost all the time. Suga would say you two were attached by the hip. On the walks home, you’d offer him your arm and he would pull you to himself instead, an arm wrapped around your waist, your head on his shoulder, inhaling each other’s scent and watching the sun set.

When the awaited time came at last, first thing you did was to run to him, yelling where you would be going for studying. Joining on your joy and little celebration dance, he pulled you to himself and wore the same proud smile he always had whenever his thoughts lay on you.

“Let’s have a treat like always to celebrate!”

“You mean- Ukai’s store?”

“Why not? We should have as many Karasuno snack memories as we can there.” Seeing the unease on your face, Daichi placed a kiss on your head and leaned in for a hug.

“Come on. My treat.” With a quick nod on your part, he grabbed his jacket and the two of you were on your way out. Your feet practically skipping, you couldn’t contain your enthusiasm and started rambling off about anything you could spot on the way, hands never stopping once.

“Hey! Wait a second. You never told me where you got in!”

“So… hungry… cannot- talk…” He said in a rather mimicking voice, low, his unoccupied hand reaching out to a nonexistent table of feasts, clearly impersonating the many times you’ve done the same thing to him.

“Okay, so be it. I can wait!” At your words, he shot a grin your way and pulled you further to himself.

By the time you reached Ukai’s store, purchased anything you craved and got out- another request of Daichi’s, “For old times’ sake.” he simply said. As you were busy unwrapping, his eyes lingered on the store and the trees around, each stone and person passing by.

 He speaks so quietly, you don’t register his words at first: “It’ll feel weird coming back here as college students. I’ll miss seeing through the eyes of a crow.”

Your hands coming to a halt, you look at him, at his eyes and the corner of his mouth, and he doesn’t keep your expecting eyes waiting. “But it’ll be a new beginning for us. Visiting again as the students of (University Name) this time.”

Turning back to face you, with the same smug grin of his, it catches you off guard, even if only for a second. Food be damned, you throw yourself at his arms, the very same ones you found consolation and comfort many times before, and before either of you can realize, you lock your lips, Daichi holding you in his arms, spinning you around.

It feels so normal and natural yet magical, another first in the chamber of joy and the course of living, in the cycle of life and everything. As everything else around you seems to tone down, colors faded back into the background as well as the sounds, you are startled by the shout, a little too familiar. Offering Coach Ukai a sheepish grin, you pull Daichi by his hand and run off to where your feet guide you; the laughter coming from the both of you ringing in the air, bubbling up in your chest and making you feel.

The cycle rounds up again and you take on the new step, from now on comes new beginnings, each one a new adventure test, new taste to try, to drink, run and yell, scream and dance.

It always leads back to certain places engraved in your lives. The same café you first went for an impromptu date, the same park you had a picnic, the familiar front of Sakanoshita Store, the same benches you’ve sat together many times before and fell asleep many more…

Be it a celebration after the tiring week of finals, or a study date gone rogue, a party to celebrate one’s birthday or just a quick run-down the store due to an emergency craving; it always rounds back to the same places, although new settings come once in a while to be joined.

Seasons pass, people come and go, things change and flowers bloom.

The waters wash down the worries just as hit against the rocky cliffs, sharpening some and softening the others, the breeze gently grazing your cheeks and the sun leaving little kisses.

Another day of walking together, nothing particular in mind to do and you find yourselves in front of the Sakanoshita Store like many times before.

“Do you want anything?” you ask Daichi and he just shakes his head. Whispering “I’ll be out in a minute.” you go in.

By the time you are out, Daichi’s attention seems elsewhere, gazed focused on far away, on something that’s not even here. Breaking out of the trance upon hearing your steps, he turns to face you, an expression you haven’t seen in a while, at least not directed at you.

“(Name)-“ he begins, “The past years I’ve gotten to know you, live with you and by your side, they have been the greatest years of my life.” Your breath comes to a pause, unsure of what will follow his words.

“And ever since I’ve met you, you have become a butterfly in my heart. In my stomach, exciting me with your presence; in my mind, entrapping? My thoughts and ideas; flowing in my blood like the oxygen and filling my heart with emotions I could never imagine be true.”

Holding your hand with his, in a manner he has done before, his gaze follows your fingers and trails up back to you. “And just like a butterfly, my life has entered a cycle. A mere caterpillar meeting you, chrysalis never seemed so easy with you, and with that I’ve emerged as someone bright new. Over and over again. Each moment we’ve shared, a new cycle; each day coming to an end, the cycle would carry us back here; each tender memory now engraved in my heart is a gift from you and my days I’ve spent with you.”

Another deep breath and he adds lastly. “So thank you. For giving me this opportunity and letting me live through so many lives, more chances than a butterfly could ever have.”

As your heart stammers in your chest, torn apart on how to feel and what to say, you just stare. “I… I don’t understand-“

“My butterfly-“ Daichi says as he squeezes your hand, “Would you be so kind and allow me to experience more cycles by your side, take me into your heart and life, share a leaf for now and ever?”

When put out like that, it seems clear as day, as the sky above you in that very moment. And all you can say is to let out a “Yes!” and throw yourself into his arms, like you’ve always done.

[babbushka]

Miss Zannah for Sinday can I pls get my husband being pegged. Pretty pls? He’s been so good he deserves it. -Autumn 🍁

“I made four new friends today,” Kylo says late at night, after the two of you have had a long day running the galaxy, “And I only killed one of them.”

You had been encouraging Kylo to open up a little, to maybe talk to some new people. He protested, saying the only person he needed to talk to was you, but you had given him one of your famous looks and he had taken the hint. Being Supreme Leader meant he needed to be personable, needed to be likable.

So out into the ship he had gone, and apparently he had listened to you – to the  best of his ability, at least.

You roll over from laying on your back to snuggling up onto his chest, muscular and ridged with scars. You settle your chin on the dip between his pecs, and  beam up at him, your fingers tracing happy little patterns all across his skin. He shudders underneath your touch, and you grin.

“I’m so proud.” You say sincerely, shuffling up to straddle his thick waist, abs tensing under your naked body. “And I saw you changed the policy regarding the TIE pilots, you’ve been so wonderful today.”

“I have?” He swallows hard, excitement flickering behind those dark eyes of his.

The lights are low in your quarters. The usual clinical white has been dimmed down to a soft red glow, one that washes the entire room in a seductive atmosphere. It’s appropriate, you think, for what you want him to do to you, what you want to do to him.

“Yes.” You nod, letting your hair fall into your face as you smooth your hands up his stomach, battle-hardened and strong. You can feel his cock filling up behind you, can feel the thick curve of it prodding your ass. His hands fly up to cup your tits as you lean down to whisper in his ear, “And you know what, I think you deserve something sweet.”

“Fuck me, please.” He turns his face to catch your lips, licks into your mouth real slow, insistent. “Please, (Y/N).”

You grin, you could have bet money on him wanting to get pegged, you could have won big.

Draping yourself all over him, you walk two fingers up to his mouth, slide them between his plush lips and rub them against his tongue.

“Suck.” You say, and as his mouth creates a vacuum around your fingers, you feel the wetness begin to pool between your legs.

He was going to get pegged, there was no question about it – but just because you were going to be on top, didn’t mean that you couldn’t also get penetrated. In fact, as a late-night impulse purchase, you had special ordered a double-sided strap on for occasions such as this.

Normally Kylo was pretty good about stimulating you with the Force while you fucked him with the strap, but towards his orgasm his grip on reality tended to loosen, tended to shatter, and you’d always be left just on the edge.

Well, you think, as he coats your fingers well enough that you pull them away from his mouth with a sticky string of spit, not anymore.

You slowly, carefully, finger him open. It’s fascinating to you, all the time, the transformation your husband goes through. He’s large, he’s intimidating, yes – but when you’ve got him like this, when he’s on the bed underneath you, when he’s got his legs spread like a whore and you shove your fingers up his ass, he practically melts in your arms.

“Fuck, (Y/N),” Kylo groans, his fingers sucking you up into his body.

“Greedy.” You whisper, no real heat behind it, as you get him open and sloppy. As you finger him, your other hand strokes his cock, coaxes pre-come to drool all over your hand, which you use as a lubricant. You’re being lazy right now, not wanting to get the real lube, not wanting to take a single step away from your husband. “Relax for me, just for a minute.”

You ask him with your mind to levitate over the strap. He does so quickly, eagerly, and the thing almost smacks you in the back of the head from the force at which he zips it through the air. He’s too excited, too wound up, too high strung, anticipation building in his beautifully flushed chest.

It takes a moment for you to put on the harness. The vaginal stimulant slides in so easily and so well that you have to brace yourself on his chest for a moment. He’s whining, hips wriggling as he holds his thighs open, his hands hooked under his knees, because he wants to be filled too.

He gets his wish soon enough, as the head of the strap nudges at his hole, the soft silicone warm just from being handled, wet from all your slick, all his come. You take over the hold on his hips and settle between his legs as his calves curl around your back, and for a minute you’re thrown, in awe, just at the sheer mass of him, of how he’s practically hanging off the edge of the bed.

You’re certain he helps the process along with the Force, he has to, because his blushing ass gives way too easily for the strap, and soon you’ve got it thrust all the way inside. The pressure from the action pushes the dildo further into your cunt, and you both cry out a gasp at the same time, pleasure pounding in your ears.

“Oh!” Kylo groans, his chest splotchy with arousal, his dick hard and leaking, curved beautifully against his stomach. “Oh, yes, thank you.”

“Don’t be shy, let me hear you.” You say even though your throat is dry, as you begin to move your hips.

As you thrust, you have to hold back from coming yourself, have to hold out for him. But it’s hard, because the thing is vibrating now, and you can feel it all the way up in your nipples when your clit rubs up against the hard silicone, your hips jolting forward, fucking Kylo deeper on the strap.

“Thank you – right there – harder, please, oh yes, yes…!” He’s babbling, already dissolving into pleasure, as you find a rhythm that has the both of you shaking, dripping sweat.

You pull out and ram yourself back in, you know he likes it hard, fast, wet, dirty dirty dirty. You know he likes it painful, the masochist. You yourself enjoy rough treatment, but it’s harder to be rough on yourself in this position. Maybe if he hasn’t blacked out, he’ll rail you into next week, your hazy mind conjures up in between the both of your moans.

“You like getting fucked?” You ask, drooling all over yourself, your mind buzzing from the feedback loop from your force bond. “You like this?”

And you know the answer, because it’s all you can think, all you can feel. All your senses are consumed with lust, with the feeling of power surging through you, your veins on fire. You can’t tell if it’s yours or his, but does it really matter?

“Yes!” Kylo moans, moans loud like a slut and takes the strap just as well, “I love it, I love you, faster, please.”

“You’re so handsome, so strong, so capable,” You do as he says, speed your hips up in a way that has him hiccupping, in a way that has you getting fucked on the strap too, rocking back and forth and back and forth on the stimulant, your clit throbbing just as hard as his neglected cock is. “Cry for me honey, let it out.”

He’s got big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, just from the stimulation. You can tell you’re hitting right up on his prostate, you can tell because the entire room is shaking, the proof of his power crushing time and space around you.

“I’m – I’m gonna,” He’s breathless, face and chest sweating so much that you can barely get a good purchase on his body, and he opens his eyes enough to ask, “Can I come?”

“Ask me again.” You shake your head, and he scrambles to apologize, to fix his error.

“Please can I come?” He tries again, shaking, trembling, licking and biting at his lips. “Please (Y/N).”

He wants to kiss you, but his mouth is too far away, you’re not tall enough to reach him from where you pound into his ass with the strap, from where you’re so close to coming yourself. You nod, giving him what he wants, because after all, he has been so so good.

You wrap your hand around his weeping cock and fuck his prostate and he’s blowing his load all over your tits before he can even yell, “Oh, Force!”

He raises a pleasure-weak hand to your clit and does something wicked with the power he wields, to have you shouting out your orgasm, arms officially giving out and collapsing down onto him. Maybe when you’re not electrified from bliss you’ll laugh about how must stronger Kylo really is than you, how much longer he can fuck you than you can fuck him.

But for now, he’s nearly out of it, stars dancing behind his eyelids. You know because he’s projecting them right behind yours, all his muscles twitching underneath you as the both of your bodies begin to drain themselves of all the tension in the galaxy.

“Thank you.” Kylo mumbles, exhausted.

You’re a puddle of come and affection, the both of you, but you’re too tired to even speak. As you slide the strap out of him careful careful careful, and as you undo the latches on your hips and ease yourself off the stimulator, you send him mental notes of love and adoration and affection, which he loops right back to you.

Tomorrow he’ll go back to commanding the galaxy with an iron fist, but for tonight, you think he definitely deserved a little extra care – even if he’s already snoring.

[lawrising-a]

📝 i'm late to the party but one for nikki pls,,,,,,,,,

( @madetrouble )

. november 23 .

‘ do you wish to know a well kept secret only known by a hotel writing pad? why there's tiny clips of papers massacred around the room? the answer is simple ; it's the fact that i've been writing about my survival partner. whenever bright pink makes my vision swim and my fingers twitch with the urge to let it out. frustrations, bold opinions ... regrets. the reason there are holes in fragile papers is because my grip on the pen cannot loosen. i get too violent with my motions. jerky, overtly emotional. now i find myself rambling on the back of a magazine, hoping to calm my bundling nerves before i try this again. this is the last available thing to write on in my nighted hotel room ---- unless i resort to the skin of my arms, of course. it's too desperate, though the former troublemaker always tended to bring out a stranger in me. ’

‘ when i briefly brought up my woes to jael days prior, she recommended organizing my thoughts by using my hands. a silly thing that felt more like a jest than someone looking out for my strained connection ; though i resorted to it nonetheless. my brain scatters about, fleeting feelings disappearing the moment i try to take my pen to them. would this bode better if i pretended this was a letter to send her? logistically, that adds up better than the initial plan which was writing aimlessly. so i wish to try and adapt this new direction moving forward ... ’

‘ ... ’

‘ i never said i don't like you : are words that were once spoken to you, nikita, before. with a terseness to my tone, forever testy whenever i acknowledged your presence. and i did do mean it. that statement stands strongly today like our bodies do. unwavering despite everything thrown at us, even with the unending outside forces snipping our bond to loose ends. never have i disliked you. at least not in a way that i believe would be genuine distaste. sometimes you push all the right buttons to light something dangerous in me ; molding me into something i am not. you make me angry, spiteful, teeth aching for revenge. there was a time where i believed that was all your doing, actually. twisting my perception into wicked tainted nothings to fuel a point left unseen by our corpse filled audience ... never say i don't learn, however. it's come to my attention that i have always been that person. easy to rile up. eager to sniff out mistakes so i look holier in comparison. is it so wrong to need to be needed more than your peers? to be the better option, so you're the first choice? considering how our relationship's turned out, i'll take that as a yes. ’

‘ admitting things to your face is hard, you know? sharp dolled up eyes pierce right through me. you look me over with unkindness, like you're waiting for a shred of weakness to expose. you scare me, nikita. you'd hurt me if it meant your survival ; some of your words and choices have scarred me for life thunder makes me think of manny, of the rounds you put in his chest. i watched that. never took my eyes off him for a second unlike you and joey but what makes the shivers race down my spine is knowing there's some of me trapped in you. there's no comfort with knowing i would've done the same things you had. i wish there was, but looking at you is like looking in the funhouse mirrors. you're so easy to demonize. to write off as the worst parts of me. naively pretending that is all you are. it's why i think things so achingly tender that is only reserved for this, between me and something to write on. if you knew, you'd be a shark : eager to work more blood out of me when you see it pool around my limp body. i can't let that happen. ever. ’

‘ despite my ill toned words and critiques, i do want to say. to say nikita, i don't blame you. not for roi's death, not for colleen's, and not for safiya's. i don't harbor any blame even as you ripped the people who loved me away. sometimes i think i can. i think about manny and safiya especially, eager to use them against you once your hackles raise ... but it veils the tiredness within. there is no blame here. we've both done awful things to survive. what makes me hesitate with you is the fact none of the awful feelings have faded yet. there's been times where all i wanted to do was imprint upon you, nestle deep into your sturdy side ; slipping my hand around your neck and cupping you tenderly there. i held you like that before, remember? although the sting of our bond makes me think otherwise, as well as all the things we've snarled to each other in the past. is that kind of affection for people with tethers like us? i doubt it. but please know i wish differently ... and that, through it all, there is a part of me that respects you. admires your beauty and courage, naturally drawn to taking shelter in it at the worst of times. you're the flood and the lighthouse. god, i get so painfully poetic at times that never matter. ’

‘ space runs thin on this magazine, thus bringing the curtain to a close. there is so much more i tell you in my dreams. more words weighing my tongue down like iron. they all forever pale when worded so needlessly complex, perhaps even totally lost on you. which brings me to my dry words. no poetry weaves in-between these next lines. they must be heard and understood ---- no more implying things. ’

‘ i love care about you. you scare me with your strengths. inspire something crueler in me something that helped me survive and i think of you often. to be blunt, i think about if you're okay. wonder what manny saw in you. think what ifs that you'd probably feel weird about. do you think about everlock as much as me? will you accompany me to literal hell and back for lost, beloved souls? did you want me to back? ’

‘ yet, i think, the million dollar question is ... ’

‘ do you write about me too? ’

[havokangel]

from the dining table

Ben Solo x Reader

a college-ish angsty one shot based off of harry styles from the dining table. 

a/n; this was low-key therapeutic for me to write and my thirst for my bby has reawoken (even tho i haven't seen the new star wars) so i hope yall enjoy and pls message me if you liked it <3

the beginning

Ben Solo knew from the second he saw you, he wanted you. Perhaps want isn’t enough, no, he needed you.

You met at a party. A college party, nonetheless. Back when things were simpler, and all he had to care about was what paper he had to write and when he was going to smoke his next joint. He saw you from across the room, red cup in your hand and not a care in the world on your face, hips swinging to the rhythm of whatever EDM song was being blasted.

He’d always been shy, but the rush from whatever he was drinking was enough to override his fears. You remember the first thing he said to you, no matter how many times he protests that he wasn’t that drunk. 

‘You look a lot like my next girlfriend.’

Despite the cheesy line, it got you hooked to him.

The rest of the night was a blur of bodies being pressed together and teeth against skin, sheets being fisted in your hands as Ben made you fall apart. The morning that followed made Ben think that maybe, just maybe, you were going to be part of him for years to come, as you cooked breakfast in his shirt. 

the middle 

Ever since that first night, you were wrapped around Ben’s finger, as he was yours. As you both began to mold your separate lives into one, you began to learn each other. You learned what made him his blood boil and his fists shake, and you learned what made him feel like he could climb mountains, as he did the same for you. It seemed like when the two of you were together, you could both take over the world, and it appeared like so to others; to your friends, family, coworkers, everyone.

But not everything was as perfect as it seemed. 

Both of you were strong, independent people; dominant personalities, you suppose. This factor reared its ugly head as the honeymoon phase came to a close.

It started with little things, like taking too long to text back or coming home too late. The passive-aggressive comments would build and build until it came like an explosion, words being tossed around like grenades, tears being shed, and doors being slammed.

Even though the words would hurt, you knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. And the fights would be over as quickly as they started, ending with his lips against yours and your clothes on the ground, and all would be well, because you loved each other, and you knew that would make this work. It had to work. It just had to. 

Ben had always seen red when he would get mad. When he was younger, his anger would pour out of him like a waterfall and he never learned how to control it until you came into his life, encouraging him to seek help for it. Never would he think he would see red again, until the moment he knew you were going to leave him.

He doesn’t see red when he saw you shoving your clothes into your suitcase, tears and mascara streaming down your cheeks, no, he sees flames, flames red and burning.

“You’re going to throw five years of us away? Just like that?” He screamed, and you just chucked the closest thing to you at him, ironically it being a framed photo of the two of you. It shattered as it fell to the floor. 

“I’m over this shit, Ben! I’m fucking over it!” Your voice had become more of a sob, as you pushed past his tall frame. He tried to grab your arm, but you ripped it out of his arm, continuing to the door. “I’m sick of the fighting! I’m fucking sick of it all!” 

The door was halfway open when he furiously spat out, “I never fucking loved you.” 

That stopped you in your tracks. Turning around to take one last look at him, you can see his chest starting to heave, and his lower lip quivering. You could have yelled at him, told him to go to hell, the whole works. But you knew he didn’t mean his words.

He never did. 

So you just looked at him, and you turned around and left, saying nothing, leaving Ben standing alone in the kitchen you once cooked in, wearing his shirt.

the end

He thought you would’ve called. You always did, even when you were the one in the wrong. But as the days turned to weeks and the weeks into months, your name not even once popped up in his phone. You hadn’t even come to the apartment to gather your things; your brother had. 

It took a bigger toll on himself than he thought it would have. 

For the first month, he drank. Every night he would come home and drink until he either cried or punched a hole in the wall, drafting message after message to you but never getting drunk enough to the point where he would send it. He wanted to think you were doing the same, but he knew you wouldn’t be. You were going to move on, and you were going to do it without him.

The second month, Ben found himself on dates at bars with women who he swiped on, all bearing a resemblance to you that he kept denying to himself. When they would be asleep in your spot in his bed, he would catch himself beginning to say your name, before feeling the wrench in his heart become bigger, and would instead get up to get a drink.

It took nearly four months for him to finally get a grip on himself, to actually feel like he could live his life without you apart of it, and the same went for you.

Five years with someone is a long time. Five years you spent with Ben, building a life together, planning a family and everything in between. But life has a funny way of working sometimes; and maybe one day, months, maybe years from now, you can both find the closure you’re looking for.

But for now, trying to rebuild what was once broken in the two of you, is what matters most.

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 9

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who has a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 9 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

Attention ! If you wanna be tagged pls send me a message or an ask it’s easier and faster for me than going through the tags of each part every time. Thank you :)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

The hardwood floor feels cold against Billy’s bare feet as he trudges out of the bedroom and towards (Y/N)’s kitchen in search for a coffee and a cigarette. Luke the cat is purring as he spots him, rubbing on his legs in hope for some food. 

Billy never particularly liked cats but this one has grown on him. He’s fat and lazy and blissfully unbothered by everything. He really really likes this cat. 

Starting the coffee machine, Billy reaches out for a mug and has to suppress a groan as his eye register just which one he’s grabbed. It’s black and shiny and there’s a picture of a much younger (Y/N) printed on it. She’s maybe 3 or 4 years in this picture, a poster child for innocence but her smile is the same one he’s grown so fond of. It’s what’s written beneath the photo that makes his heart drop. 

“ Happy father’s day to the best dad in the world. “ How fucking ironic.

Unconsciously, Billy’s eyes wander towards the doorway leading to the living room. His hands grip the mug a little tighter as he feels the anger start to bubble up again. 

There’s a man on this couch, he’s banged up and yet he’s sleeping safe and sound. That man shouldn’t be there, he gave up the right to be there years ago. There’s a man there that broke (Y/N) heart in a million little pieces and judging by the tears that stained her cheeks last night, he continues to do so to this day.

Maybe, Billy thinks, he’s projecting his own frustrations and pain and suffering onto this situation. Maybe this one can have a happy ending for (Y/N) and her dad. Though life has never really given Billy a reason to believe happy endings do exist outside of fairy tales. This can only be a crash and burn situation waiting to happen.

For the first time in his life, he hopes he’s wrong. He wants so desperately to see (Y/N) succeed, to see her happy. 

Luke nudges against Billy’s ankle, effectively softening the mood a little. 

“ Alright, amigo. I’ll give you some food. Calm down. “ 

Maneuvering his way around the kitchen and preparing the food for Luke, it all feels weirdly domestic. He can move around freely, no fears of making any wrong moves of messing anything up. This is what home feels like. What his own home should feel like. What it never does.

“ You talking to the cat ? “ 

A pair of eyes look back at Billy, that looks so familiar. They’re (Y/N)’s eyes. Identical and yet they couldn’t be more different. There’s no warmth in these eyes, no softness. No love.

The man’s eyes are cold and tired and empty. 

“ Yeah, so what ? “

“ No I — I wasn’t judging. Just — look kid I was just trying to start a conversation. “ 

“ Not a kid. “ 

There’s a shift in the air, a shift in Billy’s mood too. Suddenly he’s on high alert, extremely conscious of his surroundings, of the man’s moves. It’s a side effect of living with a dad who loves to smack you around. You get highly aware of everything around you. The good and the bad. And it’s scary. Like a constant shadow following you, ready to swallow you whole if you let your guard down for long enough.

(Y/N)’s dad lets out a long sigh then leans against the kitchen island. He looks worse for wear. Tired. Exhausted. The skin around his eye is colored in hues of red and blue and purple and it’s swollen almost shut. There’s dried blood around his nose and the cut above his eyebrow looks painful even from afar. 

Billy knows he shouldn’t, knows this is probably earning him a ton of bad karma points, but there’s a tiny part in him that take a sick satisfaction in this man’s misery. No matter how much his physical wounds hurt, they won’t ever come close to the emotional anguish he’s willingly put his own daughter through. And for that, Billy thinks, he deserves to suffer.

If anyone knows how it feels, it’s Billy. He’s been through it all, the physical and the emotional pain and if he was ever asked to chose, he’d take the hits over the heartbreak anytime. Those heal at least. 

“ I understand that you don’t like me a whole bunch. I — I deserve it, probably. “ the guy says, a slight southern accent ringing through his words.

A scoff falls from Billy’s lips “ probably. “ 

“ What do you want me to do ? I’m trying here, ya know. “ 

Billy turns around, pours himself another mug of coffee, black. Strong. Not because he wants it, one cup is usually enough for him in the morning, but because if he doesn’t take a minute to cool down the anger and frustration is gonna get the best of him and he’s gonna reach over the kitchen island and give this dude another black eye.

“ She didn’t have to take care a me last night but she did. I appreciate that, I do. I know she’s a good girl. “

“ You don’t know shit, man. “ 

“ And you do ? “

“ I was the one holding her when she cried for hours the last time you showed up, drunk off your ass. I know that, no matter how much shit you put her through, she still loves you and cares about you way more than you deserve. “

“ What I put her through ? “ 

“ Yeah. What you put her through when she was just a fucking kid. Smacking around her mom like it was nothing? Having (Y/N) witness all of it ? That shit is unforgivable in my book. If it was on me, I would’ve left you there last night. I wouldn’t have given you a second look. Fortunately for the both of us, she isn’t like that. She’s warm and soft and loving and she gives way more than she ever asks for. “ 

Billy moves closer to the guy, looks him straight in the eye. God how he wishes he could have the guts to say these things to his own father. Stand up to him. To put down his foot and make it clear that enough is enough.

Fact is, he doesn’t have it in him. Not now not yet.

But this isn’t Neil. It’s not his own abuser. Not his own demons he’s fighting here.

It’s (Y/N) and for her it’s worth the fight. For her it’s worth being brave.

“ Listen to me, “ he says and lowers his voice so tremendously it almost resembles a growl “ she once told me that people don’t need to earn love, that it’s not something one has to be deserving of. I don’t think that’s true all of the time. I think you need to do a whole lot to earn back her love and even then you won’t be deserving of it. Not after what you did. You’ll never be good enough for her. Never. She’ll love you anyway. That’s the world she’s living in. A good one. Where people forgive. I don’t share that sentiment. I don’t forgive. So if you hurt her again, I will hurt you. That black eye ? You’re going to wish for it back if I get my hands on you. I’ve done worse things to people and back then my only reason was boredom. This girl ? I love her. I’m sure you can imagine how much that feeling fuels my anger if someone were to hurt her. Are we clear ? “ he asks and pats the man on the shoulder. 

“ Are you threatening me ? “ 

“ No. I’m just making sure you know the stakes. “ 

Billy can already see this ending badly. It’s like a sixth sense for misery. He hopes, for (Y/N) sake, that he’s wrong.

The odds tell him he’s not.

“ She’s always a woman to me “ by Billy Joel is softly playing from the vinyl player in the corner of the recreation room. (Y/N) sits by a table helping one of the younger girls draw a bunch of flowers with crayons in all colors of the rainbow.

Billy never particularly liked the song until he heard (Y/N) sing along to it one day in her kitchen. She was wearing his shirt and her hair was piled on top of her head and there was still a faint imprint of her pillow visible on her cheek. She’s never looked more gorgeous than in that moment. 

It became one of his favorite songs then. He thinks she knows. Sometimes she hums it when they sit on her couch and she softly plays with his hair. Things don’t feel so bad then. 

As if she can sense his thoughts, (Y/N) lifts her eyes off the drawing and finds his across the room. Her lips are pulled into a tiny smile, it’s hardly there but it’s enough for Billy to notice. For him to understand. 

“ She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes “ Billy thinks the guy might be onto something there.

This is the first time she’s smiled since everything with her dad happened. Her dad, who’s still waiting at her place for them to return. She’s offered him to stay for a while, “just to get back on your feet”. It makes Billy uncomfortable, so fucking uncomfortable. He can already see her making up scenarios in her head, of a future that involves her dad. A happy one where the past is the past and wounds and magically healed. He loves her unwavering positivity. He loves that she believes in a world where good things happen to good people. 

He also knows that this makes her vulnerable though. If things don’t go the way she imagines them to go now, and they won’t, it’s gonna hit her twice as hard. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to stomach seeing her go through that hurt. If only he could take it from her. He’d do it. In a heartbeat. 

“ You’re doing it wrong “ a tiny voice speaks up from beside him. Jack is 6, he’s got shaggy blond hair and blue eyes and a bright smile missing a few milk teeth already. Jack, like (Y/N), believes in a world where ordinary things are magical and love if free and good things happen even though the world has done nothing but prove him wrong. Jack reminds Billy entirely too much of another little boy with blond hair and blue eyes and a perfect little world.

That boy is gone now. Buried underneath a thousand layers of hurt and bitterness and cruel words from a person that’s supposed to love him. Billy hopes things can turn out different for Jack.

“ What do you mean, I’m doing it wrong ? I’m literally just coloring in this fu — this picture. “ 

If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he’d sit in a room with a bunch of kids and his — his girl, coloring in pictures and listening to cheesy pop love songs, he would’ve told the person they’re insane. It’s his new normal though, as normal as life can be for him anyway. And even though he will never admit this to anyone, not even (Y/N), he might even enjoy these moments a little. Problems seem to be non existent for the for the time being. The air feels lighter. The mood feel softer. It gets easier to breathe, even if it’s just for an hour.

It’s, and he’s not going to repeat this, it’s kinda fun. 

“ Yeah but you made the dinosaur green. It’s not. It’s supposed to be brown. “ Jack speaks up again, pointing his small finger towards Billy’s green T-rex drawing.

“ How’d you know ? You ever seen a T-rex ? “ 

“ Uh-huh. “ Jack nods “ my mom took me to a museum once when we visited grandma in New York City. They had lots of pictures and postcards. Maybe if mom — if she — maybe I can go again and bring you one. “ 

Billy doesn’t know this boy’s story but it’s clear to him that something about his mom ain’t the way it’s supposed to be. He knows Jack stays here permanently so whatever it is, it can’t be good.

“ See, I’ve never seen a T-rex so I wouldn’t know about the color. I’d appreciate that postcard. “ 

Jack nods but the childlike wonder, the excitement, is gone. He’s more timid now. Almost sad.

“ I don’t think my mommy is gonna come get me anytime soon. But if she does and we go to New York I promise to bring you one. You’re my friend now. “ 

God this kid is trying to kill him, huh ? 

“ Mommy hasn’t visited since when it was snowing outside. I miss her sometimes. “ 

Yep, Billy’s heart was officially shattered into a million little pieces laid out on the table in front of him, right above the drawing of the (wrongfully) green colored dino.

“ I miss my mom too. “ 

It’s the first time he’s told anyone this is — ever. Sometimes he likes to make himself believe that he doesn’t miss her anymore. That she effectively lost the right of being missed when she chose to leave. That’s a lie though. Absolute bullshit.

If anyone needs to hear the truth right now, it’s this little boy. And the little boy inside Billy that’s still missing his mom an awful lot, no matter how much grown-up bitter Billy likes to deny it.

“ Where is she ? “ Jack asks with that unbothered childlike curiosity.

“ She uh — I don’t know for sure but I think she’s back home in California. “ 

“ Was she not ready to be a mommy ? Mine wasn’t. “ 

“ I — I don’t know, Jack. “ 

“ When I last saw my mommy she hugged me really tight. And she gave me a teddy bear and she told me that she loves me very much but that she’s sad and sad people can’t be good mommys so she’s going away to become happy again and when she’s not sad anymore she’ll come back and we can be happy together. Maybe your mommy was sad too“ 

Billy has to swallow back a knot forming in his throat. Has to keep the tears at bay. This is not place to cry, Billy. Not in public, Billy. Never in public, Billy.

“ Maybe. “ 

“ Well I hope she is happy again soon so you can be happy with her. “ 

Wherever she is, Billy too hopes she’s happy. 

Maybe Jack has a point, maybe one day they can be happy together. Maybe when he isn't sad anymore. He hopes she’s there already waiting for him.

“ I’m not saying you shouldn’t let him stay. I’m just not okay with you being alone with him “ 

“ He’s my dad, Billy. “ 

“ Exactly. “ 

One word conveys all he feels on that subject. Their track record is just too fucked up to ever trust someone just because they’re supposed to be “family”. It just doesn’t mean shit. 

Billy’s holding onto a bag of grocery they have picked up, as (Y/N) opens the door to her place. She’s told Billy it’s okay for him to go home though there’s no way in hell he’s gonna leave her alone with this dude. And home and “home” anyway.

“ I know what he did was — “ she doesn’t finish the sentence though, as her eyes fall onto the state of her apartment.

Every drawer seems to have been pulled opened and ransacked, there’s cutlery on the floor and not a single cupboard door is closed. The pillows that used to be neatly placed on the couch are thrown everywhere.

“ Dad ? “ 

And there it is. The metaphorical bomb Billy knew was gonna come but wished so hard it wouldn’t. 

His eyes wander around the room before they land on a piece of paper on the kitchen island. He picks it up and reads the first few words before knowing exactly what it is. The heartbreak he so desperately wanted to safe her from, all written down neatly in blue ink on white paper.

“ Some of my money is gone, Billy “ (Y/N) says as she hurries out of the bedroom, an empty old can of Folgers coffee in hand. 

“ You should read this “ is all he says as he holds out the letter to her. What does one say in a situation like that ? Hey babe, here’s some heartbreak for ya ?! 

She carefully takes it from his hands and lets her eyes move across the page. He can see clear as day what the letter says, doesn’t even have to read it himself. It’s all there in her eyes. In the way the warmth slowly vanished and is replaced by a cold, a sadness, utter despair. 

He warned him. He fucking warned him not go break her. Not again. And what does he do ? Exactly that.

“ Billy ? “ she says, a sniffle evident in her voice.

“ Yeah ? “ 

“ What did you say to him ? “ 

“ What did I say to him ? “ 

“ Uh-huh. “ 

Why does it matter, he thinks. The guy is gone. Up and left as he always assumed he would.

“ He says in this letter that you talked to him so what the fuck did you say ? “ 

The fury her voice holds, he’s never seen in her before. It’s terrifying. 

“ I told him not to hurt you again. Told him he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. “ 

“ That’s not on you to decide “ she yells. It’s the first time he’s heard her yell like this. With pain in her voice with — disappointment. 

“ I was trying to help “ 

“ Well stop ! “ 

“ I can’t. I love you and I know what guys like him are like. I — “ 

“ You don’t know anything “ she’s crying now and as much as he wants to hold her, he also feels the anger bubble up again. There’ve been many moment where Billy was in the wrong, where he deserved to be yelled at. Not this time. He did nothing wrong this time. Hearing her say these things is not only shitty, it also hurt. A whole fucking lot.

“ I know what shitty dads are like. They don’t give a shit, (Y/N) “.

 “ Maybe yours doesn’t. But my dad is not Neil. Maybe he can change. Maybe he can love me again. Unlike yours, mine at least he used to love me. “ 

The anger is gone. The sadness is gone. Everything he’s felt up to that moment is just gone and he’s left feeling completely numb as those words leave her lips.

He can see the realisation in her eyes of what she just said. 

“ Billy I — “ 

“ Fuck you, (Y/N) “ 

She’s following him out of the apartment and down the corridor, down the stairs, out of the building and into the parking lot. And she’s crying. Crying up a goddamn storm.

Billy can’t bring himself to care. Not right then. Not after what she just said to him.

“ Billy please. “ 

“ You know what (Y/N), “ now it’s his time to yell, “ maybe my dad doesn’t love me but at least I am honest enough with myself to accept that fact. At least I don’t pretend like my life is all rainbows and butterflies and sappy love songs. I know he doesn’t love me and I accept how fucked up and shitty it is. At least I don’t live in a fantasy world where everything fine and dandy and problems are magically fixed by singing kumbaya and drawing my feelings. “ 

As he gets in the car and speeds off, leaving her alone in the dark, his thoughts twist and tangle in all kinds of ways. None of them clear. All of them a blurred mess. 

He only notices the tears running down his cheeks as he arrives home and gets out of the car, wiping them away so that Neil won’t see them. He fears he’ll be able to tell anyway.

With heavy steps Billy walks up to the house then tries to turn the key as quietly as possible. If ever he believed in a higher power, Billy prays that now is the time they chose to be kind to him and make sure Neil doesn’t catch him coming home late. 

But as he stated before, life’s hardly ever been kind to him and tonight is no exception.

“ Where’ve you been ? “ Neil asks as he leans against the door leading into Billy’s room.

“ Work. “ 

“ Not until now you haven’t “.

“ A friend’s “.

Neil raises his eyebrow, for a moment contemplating his next step. Usually Billy would care, about a possible beating, about whatever nasty words Neil is about to spit at him. Though tonight he doesn’t give a shit. Whatever he does, whatever he says, it won’t hurt nearly as much as (Y/N)’s words just did.

“ Uh-huh and what got you all wheepy ? “ 

“ I doesn’t matter “ he murmures and turns towards his room, effectively being stopped by Neil’s arm reaching out and blocking the way. 

“ What was that ? “ 

“ I said It doesn’t matter “ 

For a moment the two just stare at each other, matching fury in their eyes. Silently challenging each other to make the next step.

Neil grabs Billy’s jaw in between his fingers and squeezes just a little. Just hard enough to hurt but not leave a mark or cause serious damage.

“ Thin ice, Billy. Thin fucking ice. “ 

With that he lets go and moves towards the kitchen.

Billy hurries into his room, slams the door and slumps down on the floor besides his bed. His head drops down to rest on his knees and another round of hot salty tears roll down his cheeks.

If this way any other situation he’d be cuddled up on (Y/N)’s couch, telling her about the things that upset him and she’d tell him that she understands and that things can only get better from here on out and then she’d kiss him and put his heart back together little by little. 

But what if the only one that can fix your heart, is the one that destroyed it in the first place ? Not broke. Destroyed.

Billy reaches up towards the phone resting on his bedside table and pulls it down towards him. His fingers move across the buttons in an almost trance like state. He knows the number by heart. Has dialed it so many times. So many times.

It rings. Once. Twice. Three Times.

He wonders if she even picks up.

“ Hello ? “ 

If only hearing her voice could make things right. Could fix him in one way or another. If only hearing her voice could make him feel like home the way it used to do. If only hearing her voice was enough.

“ Hello ? “ she asks again.

Billy clears his voice then takes a long breath, bracing himself for what’s about to come and then. Then he answers.

“ Hi, mom. It’s me. Billy. “ 

_______________________

@babygal-babygal / @anxiousamandapanda / @imjusthereforsupernatural / @chhhcherybomb / @tomarisela / @noodlenerd101 / @xxcxrolinexx / @bippity-boppity-boopa / @mcrmarvelloki / @silver-winter-wolf / @thecrowclubsmanager / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @salemlysi / @sarai-ibn-la-ahad / @asheseiler / @stra-vage / @ssstutteringbbbill / @biliyonce / @addictofsupernatural / @angelophany / @charmed-asylum / @xxemoluverxx / @killer-queen-xo / @1lluminaticonfirmed / @rebel-broken-angel /

[accidentally-a-writer]

you’re running out of time

Hello yes, remember when Stand Back was fluffy? Yeah that time is over now. As always, this is for @stegekay who has been working her ass off lately and running the Non-Stop Marathon, and juggling writing and talking to me in the meantime. Show her all the appreciation guys. 💖

... 

Laurens knocks before entering, seeing that Alex is indeed awake by now. “General Washington will join us soon, he assures, he’s been caught in his endless cycle of work and replies.”  

“As he’s too want to do,” Alex mumbles sleepily, shifting on the chaise, still looking a little uneasy. “Should we two just take supper now?” 

“I’m sure he won’t be long Alexander.” Laurens plops next to him and grins, exhausted. “It’s been a Hell of a day.”  

“Yeah I can see that,” Alex lets his head tilt back. “Maybe we should eat anyways, you don’t feel so good.” 

“Hey, stay out of my emotions, brat,” Laurens chuckles. “Let’s wait for your guardian to join us, he really did seem contrite he couldn’t come sooner.” 

“I’ve no doubt that he’s sorry to miss supper, I just wish he wouldn’t miss it at all- I know he’s working John, but tonight he promised- do not call me a child, I know how I sound.” 

“See? What use am I in our conversations when you can tell so easily what I’m about to say?” 

“Most frown on speaking to oneself.” 

“Conceded.” Alex grins at him, and Laurens grins back. “Come, perhaps we can convince Washington to retire sooner if we bring you to be a constant irritant as you are.” 

“Oh ha ha,” Alexander says sarcastically. “He told us to stay in here.” 

“I made it just fine,” Laurens stands and pulls Alexander up with him. “Besides, I’m a lieutenant colonel, I can protect you for the five minute walk it takes to get to His Excellency’s office..” 

“Oh I most assuredly do not trust you to do so,” he teases. “But should my guardian choose to reprimand us we shall indeed use your excuse to the maximum, a distinguished soldier as you are.” 

“Quite. Allons y, petit lion.” Laurens opens the door and bows dramatically, ushering Alex from his room, the wards. 

Alexander huffs at the nickname and shakes his head, crossing the threshold unassumingly. As soon as John follows he collapses. 

“John?!” Alexander’s eyes widen and he tries to catch him but it happens so quickly, he’s already on the ground. Alexander sinks next to him. He was fine, they were just talking- “John? What’s- John what’s wrong?” 

A hand settles on his shoulder, too close to his neck, and Hamilton feels the cool metal of a dagger placed at his neck. “He’s outgrown his usefulness.” 

The voice sends a violent shiver down Alexander’s spine, and absolute dread fills his core. He feels… he feels wrong. It feels wrong again. So wrong, he feels weak and he can’t breathe and he can’t access his magic- where’s Washington? 

Alexander heaves a breath to scream and- 

The dagger is between his lips before he can utter a sound. “None of that now, I’d hate to mark up a pretty thing like you, but I will. I’ll cut your tongue out if I have to, understand?”

God he can’t stand having the man so close to him it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts- 

“I won’t ask again, pet, understand?” 

“Y-yes,” Alexander says, jerking his head in the affirmative. “John- what’ve you- what’ve you done to him?” 

Where’s Washington? Alexander knows the man should be feeling his absolute terror right now, shouldn’t he be coming? 

“Oh, he’s fine. Mostly. I might’ve slipped him a bit of a poison but it’s an easy spell to undo the effects.”  

The man hauls Alexander up, finally (thankfully) removing the dagger from his lips. He casts a mere glance at Laurens and sends him through Alexander’s door, suddenly bound and gagged. 

“Can’t be too careful; the boy could wake up and ruin the surprise prematurely.” 

“Sur-surprise?” What does he want? Where’s Washington?!

“Yes, for your father-” 

“The general is not my-” 

“Shh, I didn’t tell you to speak.” Alexander’s head spins with the Dark magic and confusion both. Why hasn’t Washington come to help him? 

“He’s blocking your bond, obviously.” Davies chuckles, startling the boy in his grip. “He doesn’t want you to feel his fear; ironic, hm?” 

He feels himself being pulled and it hits him then; this man means to take him. 

“Oh, do not fight me now pet, I so am not in the mood.” Any ability to scream or thrash in the mage’s grip dies with the order, and Alexander is left to scream at the wall of a bond. Surely, surely Washington will come soon anyhow. 

Davies drags Alexander through the maze that is their home, and Alexander cannot help but to let his eyes linger on every detail; what if this is the last time he sees it? 

When he’s out of the house, and therefore out of the last of Washington’s protective wards, Davies stops them. 

“Right, now you may scream for your father.” Oh, there's no way Alexander is doing that, that is so clearly meant to be a trap- 

Agony rips through his veins, all encompassing and everywhere. It feels like it’s eating him inside out, like his blood’s been replaced by fire and he can’t stop the screams of pain from exploding from his throat. 

“You either scream when I tell you, or I make you.”  

Alexander barely hears the mage over his own throat ripping as he spasms in the dirt. The wall in the bond comes crashing down and Washington’s own terror and panic crashes over him. 

/Alex?! Alexander what’s wrong?! Where are you?!/ 

He can’t answer, the pain is so mind-numbing all he can do is scream and scream and scream and scream. 

He feels Washington though, he feels him spatially and emotionally. Frantic. 

The pain fades but its aftershocks are still excruciating. Alexander feels that grip on his arm again, hauling him up and against the man’s chest. His hand snakes around his neck and Alexander doesn’t need the dagger there to feel just as threatened. 

He’s dragged away from the door just as Washington burst through it, fear shining clear as day in his eyes. 

“Let him go,” he gasps, chest heaving. His arms jerk forward, desperate to hold his ward. “Whatever you want, you can have, just let me-” 

“I have what I want.” 

Washington chokes on his breath - not a sob, it isn’t a sob, he needs to keep it together - at the mage’s words. He has his son, he’s going to take his son, Washington is going to lose his son. 

“I- There must be something else, anything else that you want.” 

“Do not try and dissuade me from my prize, Washington. You know as well as I that there is nothing in the world worth more than this little angel full of untapped power.”

Washington releases a shuddering breath, Davies’ proximity unnerves him too but it is nothing compared to the growing nausea at his words. He’s going to take him. 

The air stirred around Washington, cracked with power he dare not release with his ward so close to his intended target. 

“Control yourself, General. I’d hate to have this one meet a painful end so young.” Alex feels himself jerked closer to Davies’ chest, his head forced up so his throat is bared to Washington and he is rendered disconcertingly sightless. 

“Release my ward and you may go,” Washington rumbles, splaying his hands non-threateningly. “We won’t follow.” 

“You won’t follow my initial transportation regardless,” Davies smirks. 

“And why is that?” 

“Because Lieutenant Colonel Laurens is upstairs dying from Ryeinstere poison.” Washington blanches, and the stab of fear Alexander feels from him makes him squirm in the mage’s grip. “Now, there’s no one allowed in little Alex’s room without his express permission hm? Only you and the Colonel. So if you do not tend to him soon, he’ll almost certainly choke on his own vomit and be no more than a corpse by the time you return.”

Washington couldn’t breathe. He either lets this man take his son or- or he’ll take another one. 

/Save John./ The voice slams into his head, reminding him just how enormous the loss will be if Alexander is taken. He’s his Bonded, his child. To lose him will be agony- /Please, please don’t let him die because of me./ 

/Alexander-/ 

“Make your choice now, Washington. You don’t want me to lose my patience; this is going to be the last time you see the whelp after all.” 

“Please,” the plea bursts from Washington’s mouth unbidden. What good will begging a man like this do? “Please don’t take him, please, anything else, I’ll- I’ll surrender.” 

Alexander makes a strained protest, silenced immediately by a sharp ‘Hush!’ from the mage. He’s enjoying this, the most powerful man in the colonies, apparently, begging him. 

“I like you begging… do it again.” 

Washington falls to his knees, without hesitation. Davies jerks Alexander’s hair to see; it sends a jolt of despair through Alexander’s core to see his guardian reduced to kneeling at the feet of this madman. 

“I beg of you, please don’t take him,” Washington was above no form of degradation if it meant Alexander might be safe at the end of it. “Please… please, I beg you.” 

Davies hums, grinning down at Washington. “Moving, truly, General.” Alexander feels the hand in his hair begin stroking. With his other Davies tosses a vial in front of Washington. The antidote, Alexander guesses. “But no.” 

Dark engulfs both the mage and Alexander, wrapping them up and pulling at his very soul and oh God it hurts. What hurts more is hearing Washington scream for him and then… nothing. 

They land in the front garden of a huge estate, warm and beautiful and so wrong. 

Washington’s side of the bond screams in agony, in loss. Alexander sobs as he struggles with his and his father’s grief. 

Rough hands snatch at his jaw, strangling his cries. “Shut up.” 

“Let me go, pl-please, please let me go.” 

“I said shut up!” Alexander is thrown to the ground by the blow to his face, his cheek splitting on Davies’ ring. Davies tears at his hair, forcing him up onto his knees with a cry, hands scratching at the vice ripping at this scalp, trying to relieve the pressure. “No more tears for Daddy,” Davies hisses, “from now on I am the only thing that matters to you.”