#took everything in me to be able to try and form words

[ghouldtime]

Celebrating Halloween with the TF141 Men

Happy Halloween!!! 🎃👻 My absolute FAVORITE holiday so you know I had to do this because SPOOKY TIME HELL YEAH

Captain John Price

He's never really been one for it or most holidays. He's usually far too busy to celebrate them and days fly by without him realizing. They're usually something that sneak up on him, seeing as he is preoccupied most of the time and the last thing he's worried about is partying or doing something special

He only really notices it because Halloween has mainly been his busy holiday, especially for more messy missions or times when he needs Intel. In countries that celebrate it, it makes for an extremely easy get away and is a great opportunity to be less covert and more direct. Man covered in blood? Which? Everyone is, it's Halloween. People can look at a corpse and wouldn't even question it, they'll just think it's really good special effects. The screaming? Oh don't mind that, just a soundtrack :)

He's not one who exactly celebrates it in a traditional way. He never really had the time for that - for sitting down and handing out candy or dressing up. That's too much time out of his day and he usually doesn't have that luxury - nor does he feel its sensible. He's far more on the side of tricks over treating, or going to Halloween events instead of participating individually

On Halloween, it's pretty much a guarantee he's going to pull something or do a relatively harmless prank. He's got quite the sense of humor underneath his stern facade. It's usually something harmless like "Did you see the leek in the bathroom?" And as you investigate, it's a literal leek (the vegetable) and he's holding back laughter

If you try to one-up him, he'll just come back stronger next year. You'll be playing a dangerous game but it should always be expected. His team learned that the hard way. It doesn't help he can get others in on it

That doesn't mean the day is without treats. If it matters to you, he'll happily take you to a party or any Halloween themed event that you want to go to - his only thing is that he won't host those, too much clean up and headaches as far as he's concerned

He'll only dress up if you pick out the outfit. It's nothing personal, it's just not something he's particularly interested in, but he will happily oblige. He usually thinks most costumes are a bit ridiculous but what's the harm of getting in the spirit? Besides, it's very much worth it to see you smile

It's hard to get him to slow down and enjoy things like holidays, but with you by his side it feels a lot more natural. He's a stubborn man stuck in his routine of all work, little play, sometimes he needs someone to boot him out of it and get him to live a little. It's difficult yet he'll always make it worth it

No matter what you decide to do or where you go, he'll be holding your hand, keeping you close to him. His attention will always fall right back on you throughout the night, no matter what else is going on. Whether it's watching a scary movie or hanging out at a bar hosting a costume party, he'll always be turning to you

Having someone like you by his side is really what he needed to remind himself that he is human too and anchors him onto the humanity he can scarcely find some days. It's easy to forget the smaller things in life unless you have that within your reach. When his day is all weight-of-the-world stakes, he sometimes loses the smaller picture. Seeing your smile is a reminder of what and who he is fighting for, and why he must keep doing it

He'll be holding you a bit closer, his gaze lingering more so than usual, and the lines around his eyes will be that much softer as he steals yet another glance at you. Halloween might be a night of frights but the scariest thing in that moment would be spending another minute without you :)

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

It would honestly be weirder if he didn't like Halloween. He's dressed like a damn skeleton year round and you can't tell me he doesn't play into the bit (it would be absolutely hilarious though if he just dressed like a regular guy on Halloween. That's a real scare amirite)

He actually wasn't a fan of it growing up, mainly due to the association with all the frightening outfits and his brother Tommy taking the opportunity to up the ante on scaring the living daylights out of him. But now that he's reclaimed the mask and his brother has long been gone, it's a bitter sweet thing and one of the few things that actually help him remember his brother in the best way (seeing as they repaired their relationship when they were older)

Except the difference is Halloween is meant for plain ol' good scary fun. The kind where people can opt in if they want to participate. He's not looking to create traumatic experiences or give someone a bad association, he would rather not pass his own childhood on in that way

That being said, Ghost isn't one to go out and actively wander around or party. He's still his usual introverted self. No holiday will ever change that for him

He still decorates for it, he's having fun with it because it ties right into his aesthetic. Spookiness is literally in his name. He will mainly decorate with skeletons and skeletal animals doing goofy things - it's different each year. The cowboy skeletons were a hit, as was the undead petting zoo, full of those anatomically incorrect skeletons

Yes, all the skeletons DO have names. And yes, they're all puns - he finds them humerus ;)

His ideal Halloween is more of a classic night in. He will still dress up to hand out candy, but also he is spending most of it by your side for a slasher movie marathon. Spending time with those he values on arguably his favorite holiday is his preferred way to celebrate

And yes, he usually will dress to match the part. Most years his costumes are reflective of said slashers or notorious movie killers. He has the right build and stature to make for an utterly killer Jason, Mike Myers, Ghostface - you name it, he probably has a costume for it

He personally loves old slashers because of how bad most of them are, they have a sort of nostalgia to them that he likes. If you're not able to watch those or are too squeamish, he will happily put on other genres of Halloween movies

Anything stop motion is usually fair game! But if you'd rather watch a TV show instead, he won't contest. The Twilight Zone is a classic series OR you can even watch those Halloween baking shows

He will get ridiculously invested in them if you do. Prepare to watch the entire season that night if you make that choice, and he WILL have commentary (Lemon curd? Really? Everyone knows raspberry pairs better with it and it's Halloween themed. Why aren't you making it bloody??)

Usually he isn't much of a candy eater, but he naturally has a fair Halloween stock so feel free to swipe some if you're feeling up for it. He's more of a baked sweets kind of guy, which he has absolutely made SURE to stockpile with other snacks and drinks for your movie marathon. Naturally he makes sure to have your favorites there too, that goes without saying

You won't have to get up to answer the door if you don't want to, he will happily do it. He is, however, never going to be the person to just leave the bowl outside. Halloween being his favorite holiday means he IS participating to some degree. It brings him happy memories. He usually isn't gone for too long, though. After all, he can't miss his favorite scenes (or his favorite person for too long )

Expect to spend most of the night bundled under a fluffy skeletal patterned fleece with all the movies (or shows) you pick all that much more interesting with his commentary, his arm around you. He won't mind if you fall asleep like that or hide into him if it gets scary - don't worry, he's the only ghost you'll have to worry about

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

If you want someone to have fun with and truly celebrate, he is absolutely your guy. He loves Halloween, mainly because it's a great community holiday and is one of the few that's not centered on familial stuff or love alone

Not to mention, he has good memories of Halloween growing up. He remembers being a kid once, wanting to dress up and be his favorite super heroes and the fun that came with it. He wants to be one of those people who absolutely made kids' nights with a generous bounty of candy, the same way that others did for him

He prefers decorating with a more retro vibe. Modern decorations just don't cut it for him and he feels they don't have the same magic. Call him particular but he finds far more charm in the older decor than the new cheap stuff. Anyone can get the newest trendy thing but that display? All vintage (he's got great taste)

He is ALSO the one who has the king size candy bars and the GOOD stuff. He's also considerate - he accounts for kids with peanut allergies and has a trinket bowl they can pick something from if they can't have candy or just want something a bit different!

He absolutely lives for seeing all of the costumes and the creativity that goes into them. He's already looked up the hottest outfits and media so he can know just how to compliment them to make them smile.

He's 110% enlisting your help to pass out the candy and to keep things going. He needs someone to keep him company through the chillier part of the night and someone to talk to, not to mention - he needs a distraction

It's trick or treating - what would it be without a bit of a trick? Granted, he waits til the later part of the night when the older kids are roaming and darkness has fallen. He loves laying in wait in a ghillie suit. No one sees him until it's too late and he's popping up, scaring the living daylights out of them

He's in his element there. Stealth, using his great sense of humor, and having fun? Yeah, he's having a great time. And he'll make sure you are too. You're welcome to join him in his endeavors. He's got a second suit somewhere - you can both surprise those who try and swipe a whole candy bowl they think was left unattended

Needless to say, they learn their lesson fast. It takes everything in him to hold it together and keep a stern face as they slink off. The second they round the corner, he's cracking up. Works every single time - and he changes locations and tactics each year, good luck

He's got enough candy to go around and in the quiet moments, help yourself, he'll enjoy some right by your side too. Have to keep fueled up for the night ahead. He'll make sure you're staying warm (or cool, if the climate happens to be miserable this time of year) and will be happily tell you scary stories if you feel so inclined to listen. He has plenty in store that he learned from when his siblings were little - and ones his older brother told him too

There's many things that can haunt you in this world, and before the night is up you'll be adding his laugh or the warmth of his hands adjusting your costume, letting his touch linger for a bit longer than normal - in the best way, of course ;)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

Contrary to popular belief, holidays or celebrating them aren't particularly his thing. Like Price, he's usually quite work focused and can be a bit too absorbed in it for his own good. He didn't become the youngest member of TF141 for nothing, this man has dedication

He's still very much learning the balance between work life and personal, it's a thin line he tends to forget about because of how driven he is. Usually all he needs is someone to instigate, maybe distract, and get the ball rolling. He'll be all for it after a nudge in the right way

Like anything he does though, when he commits he COMMITS. He's going all out. He's particularly fond of the artistic aspect of most costumes and having fun with it. It's the one time of year you can wear nearly whatever you want and no one will (particularly) judge you for it

If you want to do a couples costume or duo's costume, he's your man. He's pulling out all the stops for it. He's actually got a decent eye for the arts and he CAN sew. It's a practical skill and it's made him plenty of friends (especially with those who are a bit too big for their uniforms, or who are accident prone and seem to wear holes into their gear like it's their job)

Just say the word or idea and he'll be right on it, looking into inspiration and doing what he can to put it together. He'll even do the SFX makeup if you want (he's seen enough gore that he'll be able to get it right, trust him on that)

If you go to any event, you'll probably win the costume contest. He's putting in all the details he can. Or he can keep it low-key, if you'd rather not have the attention and just want to have fun. Either way, he'll be matching your energy and vibe

He's not really going to want to spend the night passing out candy alone. Sure, you can do some of that - but it only comes once a year. Why not take advantage of the spookiness and the ambiance of the holiday? He'll be the one who would rather attend things like haunted houses, even if they are ineffective against him - he'll spot most scares from a mile away. At least it's fun to see them try, most times he'll just stand and stare or even laugh if they try really hard. Luckily, it means he'll protect you

Another option is ghost hunting, and he doesn't just mean chasing after ghost. He's all for ghost tours or going to abandoned places to see what all the fuss is about. Don't worry, he can keep you safe. He knows how ghosts work, after all, he works WITH one. It might be eerie but it'll be a Halloween you won't forget

If you really, really don't want to go - he'll settle for one of those fright nights that they have at some amusement parks or other local places where you can opt out of the scares. As long as he gets to do something with you and have fun while the night lasts, he'll be happy to do it

The night will likely end with you both nearly passed out on the couch, costumes half thrown off as you sprawl over each other, with some B-grade cheesy horror movie running in the background. Though you're both so tired after all you did so it doesn't really matter what's on or what monster or ghost they're talking about. After the night you've had, you're the only boo he cares about

BONUS

König

For some context, he never grew up WITH Halloween. As in, it wasn't really celebrated or much of a thing in his hometown, aside from maybe a few gimmicky commercial things. With him being so far away from others and growing up in a rural community, it wasn't ever really a choice. His parents certainly weren't participating nor would he

He was made aware of it in school but it never particularly appealed to him or was an idea that crossed his mind. He simply shrugged it off most years or downright ignored it. He didn't see why it would be something he would celebrate or participate in himself - interacting with strangers and loud children to give them candy? No thank you. That was until you came around.

Truth be told, he didn't really exactly see the appeal of Halloween. He's surrounded by death, skeletons, and gloom all day - why would he want more of that? Plus, children these days have too much candy, all that processed crap can't be good for them. He's someone who has to be convinced and have it shown from a different point of view. Such as the aspect of being able to be whatever you want to be for a night and not having others judge you for it, but rather encouraging it

Now THAT appeals to him. Despite the fact he's got his social anxiety under control in an iron clad grasp, the trauma of his childhood and being targeted for being different - for simply being himself still have lingering effects to this day. The idea of potentially being accept for just being himself is still something he struggles with and is part of why he's so closed off. Having an entire holiday where people can be who they want, dress up like who they want to be, and have fun with it is greatly appealing

He'll take some time to get used to it but you'll have to get him out there for him to truly feel the spirit(s) of it. He's someone who needs some push when it comes to social things or holiday events to get out of his comfort zone. Just get him to wear a mask (easy, seeing as he does that all day when he's at work), throw on a jacket, and take him out by the hand and show him the wonderful things of it and he WILL warm up

Seeing all the kids having actually happy childhood moments, laughing and running with their peers in ways he could have only dreamed of when he was their age, softens something inside of him

And it only works more when they don't look at him in fear or cower but rather in awe, because he's a big guy - he knows it. And in a costume of any kind, he blends right in and is JUST who kids want to see on Halloween

The blow that finally struck through right to his heart was when you took him by the hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you walked with him down the street to take a look at all the decorated houses as trick or treaters ran about. The warmth he felt wasn't just from you being tucked against his side, but rather deep within as you smiled up at him and asked what he would like to be next year. It's not from you being physically there with him alone, it's from the fact you cared enough to BE with him and to show him what he was missing far beyond the surface level alone. It's the fact you even bothered to try and the fact you cared about him enough to try and bring him some joy in a usually bleak world

That's all he needs to hear to already be planning it out in his head as his face flushes. Thank goodness he's wearing the mask. He certainly doesn't know himself but he does know one thing - it's going to be a couples costume. And he's going to be celebrating with you :)

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[chilumi-shipper]

Little Lamb (3)

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader / Wanderer x Fem!Reader / Alhaitham x Fem!Reader x Kaveh

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Lambgirl!Reader, Dumb and Innocent Reader, Manipulation, Pseudoincest, Size Kink, Overstimulation, Praise, Slight Degradation

Summary: Genshin men fucking innocent little lambgirl you.

Go check out the other boys (Diluc, Kaeya, and Xiao) and (Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha, and Thoma).

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Kamisato Ayato

His parents took you in when you were both just little kids.

The young Ayato's curiosity about you began the very moment you entered the estate with a confused look on your face.

"Ayato, this is Y/N. She really needs our help." His mother was gentle when she introduced you to him.

His mother said to him in a soft voice, she spoke about how you were a poor, helpless girl that they rescued from Kairagi Samurais who were planning to sell you because of your extraordinary features.

Young Ayato's hands couldn't help but reach out for your soft and cute ears in fascination, but you backed away before he could feel the fur of your ear on the pads of his fingers.

"Oh, she's a little shy. But I hope you can treat her like a sister." You hid behind his mother, looking at him as he stares at his mother in disbelief.

"Is that understood, my darling?"

His light purple eyes stared at your small form, looking up at him with such innocent and soft eyes.

"I don't want her as my sister." Tears welled up in your eyes as you hear the young boy say those words.

"...Ayato?!" His mother was at a loss for words, she didn't expect such an answer from her well-mannered son.

When you were rescued, you heard all about Ayato and Ayaka, the former was still a baby, but you were told that Ayato was a kind-hearted and polite boy, and that he will surely accept you within his home.

A family is something that you have always wanted.

Ayato knows that. Although... he has never viewed you as a sister, back when he was a child, you somewhat acted like a pet, especially towards his parents. And now, you act like a servant, constantly trying your best to please him in hopes that he starts to view you as family.

That was all you wanted, so for so many years, you have done everything in your power to meet the young lord's expectations.

As you both grow older though, his demands turned... more unusual.

Your tasks are not akin to the ones of a regular servant.

According to him, your tasks are... more of familial matters, something more important.

"I c-can't... I-I can't do it, Ayato..." Your whimper was accompanied by a few sniffles, tears coating your eye as you held your body up on top of him.

He wrapped his hand around his dick, caressing your folds with his tip. "But it would really really make me happy if you ride me, darling." He pouts at you, and you could only look away for that was your greatest weakness.

You were both fully naked, him laying on his bed and you holding yourself up to try and straddle him. However, for the past five minutes, you were only able to get the tip of his cock in before you turn into a whimpering mess.

"But Ayato... It h-hurts." You frowned at him, your ears folding as a sign of your sadness.

He sighs, his hips shooting forward a little to push some of his length into your cunt. "There..." He grunts in your ear, causing an uncontrollable wiggle of your tail that somehow always happens when he does something like that. "Now keep going..."

You felt his hand tighten around your waist, probably due to your pussy immediately clamping down on him despite not even half being pushed in.

After a few seconds, you try again, pushing yourself down on his length to take him in some more.

You cry out only halfway in, looking desperately in his eyes and shaking your head. "No no! Ayato, I can't..."

You just couldn't anymore, normally, he would be the one to do all the work of fucking you. You felt ashamed, not even being able to fulfill his request.

Ayato merely sighed in disappointment, before switching your position so that he was on top of you. Then, he slammed his cock all the way in, making you scream out in euphoria as you cling on to him for dear life.

He breathes heavily as he fucks into you, "When you can finally do what I ask you to do, perhaps... I'll finally acknowledge you as family."

Underneath him, you acquire some new-found determination, next time, you will try your best so that you can finally be a proper Kamisato.

Scaramouche (Wanderer)

Nahida has been hearing the prayer of a certain lamb girl trying to get into the Akademiya. She senses the pure heart and determination within you and decides that she will help you out.

"I know someone that can tutor you so you can pass your entrance exam!"

And that's why you ended up in the home of a grumpy looking scholar with a big hat. You smiled brightly at him, clutching your books to your chest.

"Lesser Lord Kusanali said you're really smart and that you would love to help me!" You looked at him expectantly, not faltering under his intense gaze.

Much to his annoyance, he couldn't possibly go against Nahida, so he opted to sit you down and actually try to teach you.

Quickly did his annoyance grow when he realized that nothing sticks to that brain of yours except food and delusions. You talk all about getting into the Akademiya but you could not even grasp the easiest subject in the entrance exam.

Your first session wasn't the best, you left his home disappointed and Wanderer knew that Nahida would question him about what had happened and why you looked so sad.

For your second session, Nahida gave him an advice: "Why don't you try quizzing her and giving a prize when she gets a question right. Don't put her down with those insults you usually give."

This ultimately sparks an idea in his head.

You were bent over his counter top, your skirt hiked up and your underwear on the ground. You breathe heavily and closed your eyes as he sinks his cock deeper into you.

"Now... which Darshan in the Akademiya specializes in biology, and the study of medicine?" He whispers in your ear, and he almost chuckles as he sees your tail wiggle, which he know at that point means that you know the answer.

"Amurta!" You answered enthusiastically, your legs twitching as he starts to play with your clit with his fingers.

"That's a good girl..." He started to thrust slowly into you as he plays with your clit. You moaned, feeling warm from his rare praise.

It's simple really, nothing is a greater prize for you than receiving praise, feeling good all over. He knows that you would do anything to be called a good girl, to be acknowledged as smart, you have always been submissive like that.

He's been setting up quizzes like these ever since your second session, and it's proven effective, if you get a question correct, he starts to fuck you play with your body the way you like, throwing in a praise to get you going, but if you get it wrong or take too long to answer, you get a spank and most likely get degraded by him. If you pass the quiz, you get to cum and be treated like perfect little princess, if you fail, you get to go home with a red butt and watery eyes.

"What is the name of the border that separates the desert and the rain forest?"

Your blood runs cold, and he notices it immediately. You know that one, but for some reason it's blurry in your mind.

Wall... Wall of... Saa...

Smack. You yelp as you feel a slap land on you clit. He feels you squeeze around him in surprise, making him thrust according to what speed he wants..

"Wall of Samiel." He spits out, roughly pounding into you. "Stupid slut."

"I-I knew that!" You cried, feeling disappointed that you couldn't piece it together in your mind faster. You cling onto the counter as his brutal thrusts shake your whole body.

At the end of that session, you got an 13/20. Could be better but he decides to let you cum that day, as well as fill you up with his own seed before cleaning you up and sending you on your merry way.

"Bye bye, Hat Guy! Tomorrow, I promise you don't have to spank me once!" You waved him goodbye, oblivious to the weirded out stare the people passing by gave you. You merely thought about how many praises you're gonna get tomorrow.

Alhaitham and Kaveh

He really should charge Kaveh twice as much of his rent.

"...and you will be staying in my room with me!" Kaveh exclaimed excitedly as he proudly presented to you his room.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the well-kept room, everything neatly in place, thought there were some crumpled paper pooling from his desk, and the decor well-chosen for his own preferences.

"Woahhh!"

As your eyes scanned the room, Alhaitham managed to catch your gaze, merely standing on your left with his arms crossed.

"I don't seem to remember allowing someone else to live in my house." He spoke directly to Kaveh, before he focused his eyes on your ears sitting on top of your head. "Or do you plan to excuse her as your 'pet'?"

You hide behind Kaveh, hoping he would jab at the gray-haired man for you.

"This is both our house, I pay the rent too y'know!"

"Barely."

"Whatever, you just don't understand what being kind is." Kaveh grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his room, before shutting the door in Alhaitham's face.

"Ignore that guy... he's just a bitter lonely scholar!" The blonde said the last part particularly loud, intending to let his roommate hear what he said.

You giggled, nodding as you take in the room you'll be sleeping in.

Kaveh isn't coming home tonight. Apparently, he's gonna be spending the entire night at the Akademiya working on a project that he's been neglecting for a month.

That leaves you all alone with the gray-haired man that you fear so much. Though, without Kaveh to rile him up, he's quite nice to you.

He even made dinner for you and him to share.

As you ate, you keep thinking about Kaveh, if he's gonna come home or not. You've never slept alone, and you are quite afraid.

Alhaitham took note of your troubled expression, "Kaveh isn't coming home tonight." He says, and you begin to panic, shaking in your seat.

"I-I can't..." You shake your head, looking down with watery eyes. "Can't sleep... a-alone."

He merely sighs, not wanting to hear the bleats of a panicked lamb in the middle of the night. "Sleep with me then."

...

He didn't expect to see you fully undress yourself after bringing your pillows into his room. "What are you doing?"

You look up at his clothed form, looking at him as if he's the crazy one for not taking off every garment on his body for bed. "Kaveh says that the only way to sleep right is if you sleep fully naked."

You took off your underwear, making Alhaitham sigh, "Did he now...?" His words were laced with skepticism that you were too stupid to notice.

You nod, making your little nest on your side of his bed. "Mhhmh, the air is nice and chilly, and the blanket keeps you warm." You cover yourself with his blanket. "You should listen more to Kaveh, Mr. Alhaitham, he's smart and nice and caring...."

"And stupid..." He muttered under his breath, taking off his top to expose his toned upper half. Despite his suspicion on what exactly happens in the confines of Kaveh's room, he can't exactly deny his intrigue in you, so he indulges.

He rids himself of his clothes, his weight dipping into the cushions as he lays next to you. Under the blanket, the skin of his muscular arm feels the pads of your searching fingers. He turns to you, seeing you already looking at him while your hands finally wrap around his arm.

You look cautiously at him, all while you guide his hand between your legs. "Did Kaveh teach you this too?" Alhaitham looks at you unbothered, letting you place his fingers against your core.

"Yeahh... when I can't sleep... iiih" You squeal out when his fingers start moving to rub your clit. You held onto his wrist, ever so slowly grinding down on his hand.

Alhaitham pries his hand from your hold, making you whimper as you chase after his touch. "How lazy..." He shakes his head, sitting up to position himself above you. "When you go back to his room tomorrow, why don't you show him what I'm gonna teach you."

You look at him curiously, his hand reaches for his cock, holding it at the base and nudging the tip at you clit. He rubs the tip continuously at it, occasionally running through your hole.

You instinctively open your legs wider for him, moaning as you feel wetness pool out of your pussy. "M-Mr. Alhaitham..." Your ears fold, feeling overwhelmed by such a large thing being pressed against your sensitive part.

As he moves to line up his length to your cunt, his tip leaving your clit covered in his precum, he feels the vibration of your shaking tail near your heat.

"Excited?" Alhaitham scoffs at the sight of your hole leaking with cum as he pressed his tip against it.

You nod, a deep blush evident on your face. "M-Mr. Alhaitham... I like this..." You let him know, nodding at your self-realization.

He eases himself inside you, breathing heavily at how you clamp down on him immediately. "Kaveh ought to treat his little pet better, I bet fingers aren't enough to get you off now, huh?"

Feeling how incredibly tight you are, Alhaitham grips your waist for support, pulling you closer to sink himself deeper into you. You flutter around him so sweetly, welcoming his cock with such warmth and pleasure that it has him lost for words.

Soon enough, he pounds away at you, hitting your sweet spot that pushes you to let out some cute little bleats. While you were losing your mind being fucked by his cock, his expression was as if he was reading a book, blank and intense.

While you were tearing up from the pleasure, slurring as you say his name over and over, your body shaking, he rams into you with feverish intensity, so composed and dominant.

It's when he combines his fingers, rubbing at your clit, with his hard thrusts did you finally scream so loud at him. "M-MR. ALHAI.... AHHH." You held desperately onto his wrist, trying to ease of of the pressure off your pussy, but he was relentless.

"Cum with me." He says so stoically, but it remains a command in your ears, even if you don't necessarily know what it means.

You let go of... something... a knot-like feeling in your tummy, and next thing you know, there was something incredibly hot flowing inside you, filling you up with warmth.

Alhaitham pulls out, and you get a glimpse of his softening cock with cum still staining the tip. "Tell your beloved Kaveh that that's how you get a little lamb to sleep." As he mentions it, you feel your eyes droop, tiredness taking over you after that mind numbing orgasm.

"I will, Mr. Alhaitham..."

...

"He did what?"

You merely nodded at his question, pointing at his pants. "Yes, Master Kaveh... with his cock, almost like yours!"

You were sat naked on his bed, nice and ready for bed, and as Kaveh was reaching out for you to initiate your nightly routine, you started to talk about last night.

"I really like what Mr. Alhaitham did, Master Kaveh. He's really good!" You smiled all innocently at him, unaware of the current eruption of emotions in his mind.

"Good, huh?" Kaveh places himself on top of you, pinning your hands on the bed. "That's the last time I'm spending the night at the Akademiya."

He reaches out to kiss at your fluffy ears, just like he knows you love. "Since you loved it so much, why don't I show you how it's really done. I'm sure Alhaitham is to stiff to let you get the full experience."

You feel your tail shake with excitement, and as he noticed it, he smiled, his hand reaching to rub your glistening pussy.

Long story short, Alhaitham hears some bed creaking and loud bleats from a certain lambgirl coming from Kaveh's room for many hours that night.

He's had a chance to think about it...

Perhaps if that cute little lamb would accompany him in his room more often, then he can let Kaveh get away with not paying rent for a couple of weeks.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Little Lamb in this day and age?!?! (⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠)

Hahahahah, yeahhh, it's been a while, I hope you enjoyed!

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

A Firm Partner

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Lawyer Joel Miller x Female Reader Summary: Mr. Miller needs you to stay late... even if tomorrow is your birthday. Warnings: porn with very little plot, smut, unprotected p in v, office sex, couch sex, desk sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel has a filthy mouth, joel carries you and refuses to pull out while doing so, joel eats pussy from the back, probably the best way to ever wake up, law talk (but not a lot, this is an escape), no use of y/n Word Count: 3,400

A/N: Happy birthday dear @ohheypedrito! You are the absolute cornerstone of my Pedro obsession and nothing has been better than sharing in the delulu of him over the past couple of years. I can't believe we've known each other for 20+ years and all it took was Pedro Pascal to become so close. Sometimes I truly don't know how I'd be able to survive without our delulu yap sessions. Thank you for all that you do, and most importantly, being my friend. I wrote this while wearing my TTPD cardigan and listening to our shared delulu Joel Miller songs. 🪿 Thanks to @schnarfer and @mothandpidgeon for their input and always letting me talk about how much @ohheypedrito means to me lol. Please also enjoy the requested nose against clit and playful spank mentions gifted from @schnarfer.

Masterlist

—-

The conference room is full of your coworkers, engaged in hushed conversations with each other as you take your seat at the mahogany table. Joel Miller strides in, your eyes are instantly drawn to him as the room hushes, his mere presence commanding attention.

He settles into the high-backed leather chair at the head of the table, everyone and everything seems to shrink around his presence. Joel’s reputation precedes him, his firm is the most prestigious in Austin. You can hardly believe you landed a position here, fresh out of law school. But you’re here now, sitting mere feet away from the man himself. You admire his broad shoulders filling out his impeccably tailored suit, the dark green color of his shirt highlighting the golden glow of his skin and the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. 

“Good morning everyone,” his deep voice rumbles through the room as he begins to outline the case. You try to pay attention to him, try to focus on the case, but you can’t stop thinking about his plush lips. Would they taste of the strong coffee he’s drinking? How warm are they this morning? You’re mesmerized, watching the way his mouth forms each word, the slight Texas drawl rolling easily out. 

You’re interrupted from your reverie when you hear your last name and look up, your eyes meeting Joel’s. “You’re going to need to stay late with me tonight and get this taken care of.”

You nod, attempting to hide a sly smile as he continues on.

—-

The office fell silent hours ago, the last of your colleagues had long trickled out as the sun set. The only sounds now are distant noises from the city below and the clicking of your heels on the polished floor as you walk down the dark hallway to Joel's office.

You stop at the threshold, taking a quick moment to admire Joel. He’s sitting hunched over his desk, the light of his desk lamp casting him in a golden aura. His dark green shirt, usually crisp and buttoned to perfection, is now softened by the late hour. He’s undone the top few buttons, your eyes widen when you’re blessed with the glimpse of his neck and chest. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his toned forearms dusted with dark hair. His long, thick fingers absently tap against the stack of papers in front of him. Sensing your presence, he looks up, his dark eyes finding yours in the dim light.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “I need you to take a look. Close the door.”

The door clicks as it softly shuts, now it’s just you and Joel Miller in his office filled with polished furniture and framed accomplishments. The heady scent of him overwhelms you—coffee and expensive woodsy cologne—as you move towards him. Joel’s intense gaze follows your every move as you stand next to him. His shirt pulls taut across his broad chest when he leans back, running a hand through his hair.

“These depositions,” he says, gesturing to the papers on his desk. “Something’s not adding up.”

You lean in, acutely aware of how close he is as you scan the documents. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body as you reach for a page. He watches as you read through it, your eyes scanning through the typical legal jargon.

"What do you make of this discrepancy?"

"I think… we need to look closer at the witness statements,” you lay the paper down, searching for another file.

“I think you’re right,” he murmurs as he leans in to examine the paper.

“We should compare these statements side by side.”

“Mm, good idea. There’s more room on the couch.”

You nod, goosebumps prickling across your skin as you walk over and settle amongst the cool, leather cushions.

He sits next to you, impossibly close, you’re acutely aware of every point where your bodies almost touch. Joel leans back, the leather creaking slightly, as he casually drapes an arm along the back of the couch, just inches from your shoulders.

You try to focus on the papers in your lap, but you find it too daunting as he leans even farther in.

“What do you think?”

You turn your head slightly, your lips now mere inches away from his. Intense and unreadable dark brown eyes stare into yours. You can hear the ticking of the clock sitting on his desk and yet time stands still.

“I think…" your voice barely above a whisper. “We need to look closer.”

Your mind races, you can hardly keep any semblance of composure as he shifts slightly, his thigh now pressing against yours. The heat of his body seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

“Closer, huh?” he drawls.

You nod. Joel's eyes flicking down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze.

“Mr. Miller,” you whisper.

“Baby, you know you can call me Joel.”

“Joel…”

The papers on your lap flutter to the floor as he closes the remaining distance between you. His lips are warm, soft, and familiar, reminding you of the last time you kissed him–yesterday morning when he backed you up into the supply room, whispering against your skin how much he missed you. 

A soft whimper leaves your lips as your mouth opens, allowing his tongue to taste yours. A trail of fire is left on your skin when his hand slides up your thigh, bunching your skirt as he goes. He knows how to touch you and how to make you moan… Joel Miller knows you.

Charting a path, his lips move to your neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive spot he knows you love to be kissed at.

You’re whimpering, already writhing against the smooth, cool leather of the couch. All day you’ve tried to focus on work, tried to figure out the case in front of you, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of Joel’s body pressed against yours again. It’s been almost six months of sneaking around, of heated glances across conference rooms, of always feeling his eyes on you while you’re in the office. Six months of pretending you're just another associate, when really you're the one who knows exactly how Joel Miller likes to be touched.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day darlin’,” he drawls. “Been waitin’ for you.”

Thick fingers find the apex of your thighs, already slick with need. He clutches your thighs, parting your legs as his palm grazes along your silky skin there. He smirks, a devilish look, when he feels just how wet you are for him.

His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply, like he really has been waiting for you.

You’re squirming, aching for more, and when he slides a hand higher, skimming the edge of your damp underwear, you sigh his name. “Joel…”

“Love it when you say my name baby,” he growls, pressing his finger against the soaked fabric. “Can feel how much you want me.”

His fingers slip beneath the elastic, finding your slick, swollen flesh. A long moan escapes you as he parts your folds, stroking your needy pussy. Your hands fist in his dark green shirt, holding on as he his thumb circles your clit. His touches are confident and purposeful, working you over like you’re a case.

Open-mouthed kisses are trailed along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at your racing pulse before soothing it with his tongue.

“You’re so wet f’me, aren’t you?”

You moan an affirmative noise as he leaves one last, chaste kiss against your lips before he moves to settle on the floor between your parted legs, his hands gripping your hips tugging you to the edge of the leather couch.

He slowly drags your panties down your legs, throwing them behind him before bunching your skirt up around your waist. He spreads your legs wider, his brown eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of your pussy dripping for him.

“Look at you, baby, so beautiful. Been thinkin’ about tastin’ this pussy all damn day.”

His dark eyes meet yours before he dips his head, the tip of his nose sweetly bumping against your clit as his tongue licks against your aching cunt. Your fingers thread through his thick hair, holding him close as he laps up the taste of you.

The way his tongue slides along your slick folds, teasing and probing before plunging inside has you arching off the couch with a gasp. You feel his warm breath against your skin as he sighs contentedly, his mouth working tirelessly to taste you.

"Oh god, Joel…" you cry, fisting your hands in his thick, dark hair.

He hums against you, the vibrations making you shudder. He holds you in place as he alternates between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue against your clit, keeping you right on the edge.

When he slides two thick fingers inside your slick heat, you nearly come undone. He pumps them in and out, slowly, so achingly slow.

"Joel..." you whimper, fisting your hands in the dark waves of his hair.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he rasps. "Could spend all night right here, worshippin' this perfect little pussy."

The tension inside you winds tighter and tighter, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head. You're right there, chasing that peak you’ve been waiting to climb all day.

"That's it, baby," he rasps against your flesh. "Cum for me.”

His gruff words are your undoing. With a sharp cry, you shatter, your walls clenching around his fingers as your orgasm rolls through you. He works you through it, not letting up until you're spent, chest heaving and panting.

Your limbs are loose as you float back down to earth in the middle of Joel Miller’s office, he places a soft kiss against your core before crawling back up your body.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” he growls before kissing you. You moan, licking the taste of yourself from his lips and tongue. Your hands slip under his shirt, feeling the plush of his belly before the hard planes of his chest.

Joel pulls back, his dark eyes boring into yours with intensity. He grips the fabric of his shirt and with one swift motion, tears it open. Buttons scatter across the room, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. You smile and take in the sight of his broad, golden chest.

You fumble with the smooth fabric of your blouse as you quickly remove it, revealing your light blue lace bra. He growls, fixated on the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath you take.

His large hands run up and down your stomach as you reach behind and unclasp your bra, letting it fall away.

“Perfect,” he breathes before dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly. His hand comes up to palm your other breast, kneading the soft flesh.

You're writhing beneath him, cunt aching with need as he sucks and nips at your breasts. “Please Joel,” you whimper.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, a devilish grin on his face. "Please what, darlin'? Tell me what you need."

"I need you.”

With a groan, he pulls back, undoing his belt and zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down, his hard cock springs free, his thick shaft hard and ready to fuck you. Veins trace along the length of him, pulsing with need.

You lick your lips unconsciously, wanting to taste the bead of precum glistening in the dim office light. Your hands reach out, feeling the nest of dark curls at his base as you give him one, long and tight pump. His hand covers yours, and with an agonizing slowness, you both stroke him, spreading the slick precum along his cock.

“Fuck me Mr. Miller.”

He groans, his hips bucking slightly before hooking his arms under your knees, lifting your legs up and apart, spreading you wide open as he notches himself at your entrance.

One, smooth thrust in and he’s sheathed fully inside your wet heat.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he grunts, his thick cock spearing you as your hands roam over the flexing muscles of his back, your nails digging into his skin as he fucks you into the leather couch.

He pauses, his dark brown eyes locked on yours in the dim light of his office. You feel deliciously full, stretched around him.

"You take me so well, darlin',” he rasps, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips.

The leather couch creaks beneath you, his hands clamp down on your hips, yanking you against him as he pounds into your wet pussy. His breath is hot against your neck, as he sucks against the delicate skin there, fucking you senseless.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you up against his broad chest. You gasp at the sudden change, when he lifts you off the couch, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Hold on tight, baby.”

You oblige, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your breasts press firmly against his chest, nipples dragging against the coarse hair of him there. He walks you across his office over to the desk, his thick cock shifting inside you with each step. You exhale a breathy giggle when his palm makes contact with your ass, leaving a sweet sting against your flesh.

“Fuck darlin’, you feel so good wrapped around me like this.” 

His thighs flex with each thrust as he pounds you relentlessly. He growls your name, fucking into you, his legs set wide as he stands. Your head falls back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. He latches on, sucking and nipping, grunting against your skin. 

With one swift motion, he sweeps everything off his desk, scattering papers and pens to the floor before placing you on the edge of the desk. A small whimper leaves your lips when he pulls out, your pussy already missing the stretch of his cock. You’re pathetic for his cock, trembling with need, your legs spread wide. He steps back and looks you up and down, the edge of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin as he admires your wide eyes and heaving chest. 

“Turn around and bend over for me darlin’.”

You comply, sliding off the desk and turning around, spreading your legs wide, presenting your ass and cunt to him. 

“Mm,” Joel breathes appreciatively before you feel him kneel behind you. 

He pulls you back slightly, your pussy meeting his warm breath ghosting over your skin, a shiver of anticipation rolls through you when you feel the tickle of his beard on the backs of your thighs as he nuzzles against you. 

“Goddamn, you look good enough to eat.”

Your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth desk surface at the first swipe of his tongue against you. A long, low hum vibrates against your cunt as he delves deeper, his tongue worshipping every fold and crevice of your pussy. His nose bumps against your ass he buries his face between your legs, the wet sounds of his mouth working you over fills the office. 

You whine, your hips rocking back against his face, squirming all over his eager mouth. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling in relentless circles. Your legs begin trembling, barely able to hold you up. He chuckles lowly, before leaving one last kiss against your pussy. 

He rises behind you, his hands sliding up your back to grip your shoulders, his cock hard and lightly tapping against your ass.

“Easy now,” he grits, his voice rough and low. Your hips sway at the anticipation of feeling the length of him pulsing inside you again. 

The broad head of his cock teases your entrance before he pushes into you, stretching you wide. He leans over you slightly, one hand moving up to press between your shoulder blades while the other clutches the edge of the desk for balance. His skin meeting your skin echoes through the room blending with your heavy breathing. 

Your eyes flutter open, catching sight of the reflection in the window. Joel–his jaw clenched tight, brows furrowed together creasing his forehead, deep brown eyes watching his cock fuck your accepting pussy is backlit by the city lights twinkling outside. His power is on full display for only you and the secret you two keep. 

He pulls almost all the way out, swirling his length around your entrance, before sinking back in, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he anchors himself. Your fingers claw at the desk, searching for something to hold onto as his cock pistons into you. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me, can feel you gettin’ ready. Need to see your pretty face when you cum f’me.” 

He grabs your waist, turning you over with ease. He hovers above you, his broad frame caging you in, pressing your back against the smooth surface.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," he promises. "Gonna make you feel it for days. You deserve it, don’t ya’?"

Wide eyed, and staring at him, you nod.

He sinks back into you with one deep thrust, bottoming out inside your slick heat, your head rolling back as he fills you completely.

"That's it darlin'," he rasps, his hips snapping against yours. "Take me so well."

Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer, deeper. His thick cock drags along your walls with each thrust, his finger finds your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. Your head falls back against the desk, a high keen escaping your lips.

"Look at me," he commands gruffly. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you cum for me.”

You force your heavy lids open, meeting his intense dark gaze. His brow is furrowed in concentration, a light sheen of sweat on his golden skin.

The pressure builds inside you with each stroke of his thick cock, every swipe of his finger against your clit. Your entire body feels like a livewire, every nerve ending alight within you.

"That's it, baby. You're so close, I can feel it. Your sweet little pussy's grippin' me so tight."

You’re teetering on the edge, ready to tumble over. Joel fucks you more erratically, his breathing labored. You know he’s cresting on the edge, right next to you. 

The tension inside you snaps. Your back arches off the desk as your orgasm bursts through you. Your walls clenching Joel's cock as you cry out his name, your vision going white at the edges. 

"Fuck, you're so perfect," he grunts. "Feel so good cumming on my cock."

A guttural groan tears from his throat as he stills, spilling deep inside you.

You cling to each other as you float down from the high, pulses gradually slowing. He places tender kisses along your jaw before claiming your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

"Should we get back to work?" you ask against his lips, a sated smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest pressed to yours. "I think we're done for tonight, sweetheart. Let me take you home, want to wake up next to you on your birthday." 

—

Your body feels heavy and relaxed with sleep, but there's a warmth building between your thighs. Slowly drifting into consciousness, you become aware of the source - Joel’s tongue lapping at the sensitive skin between your legs.

You let out a soft moan, your fingers instinctively carding through the thick tendrils of his hair. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours your pussy.

Blinking away the last signs of sleep, you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. His dark eyes twinkle with golden flecks lit by the soft early morning light filtering through the curtain when they meet yours.

He pulls back slightly, his plush lips and beard shiny from your slick. A roguish grin spreads across his face as he gives you a wink.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he drawls before diving back in between your legs. 

—-

🪿

[erwinsvow]

you can tell when your boyfriend's had a long day because before you even hear the door open, you hear a sigh from the other side. a deep, lung-emptying, filled with burdens you cannot imagine kind of sigh.

it's only going to get worse when he comes in and realizes you fell asleep on the couch again (waiting for him, which he hates, wishes you would sleep in the bed and not strain yourself for him, thinks he doesn't deserve that. he also thinks he doesn't deserve you, but you are very keen on making him stop thinking that way. it'll start working soon, you're sure of it.)

back to the couch. the romance book you'd been reading abandoned on the coffee table, your favorite of jack's blankets spread across your feet, and wearing one of his army green shirts, faded and soft and distinctly smelling like him no matter how many times it's been washed. when he comes in, your eyes are still shut, half-asleep, listening for any signs of a continued sigh—trying to assess in your tired state just how bad the shift had been tonight.

there's light pouring in from the curtains in the living room, though you know the bedroom is pitch-black right now, just like he prefers. and when he sets his backpack down on the counter and sighs again, you don't need to open your eyes to see it in front of you—a tired jack, rubbing his temples and his hair messy from how many times he'd probably run a hand through it after whatever stressful event had plagued his night.

you sometimes wish you could do something to make his job easier—though you can't, and never will.

you open your eyes anyways. sitting up, taking some of the blanket with you, you blink sleepily at his tense form, walking from the kitchen back to you. he does this thing when he comes home, running his hand over your hair and kissing your forehead. it's the only thing you like about when he leaves, knowing that you'll get this when he comes back.

he pulls away from you and holds your head in his hands.

"will you ever start listening to me?" jack, not angry, not upset, just tired and gentle, just like how he always is.

you shake your head, wondering if you'll get a smile, a little bit sad that you didn't. he comes over and sits next to you, and you lean in happily to his touch, face smushed into his chest as he finally relaxes, stretching his back and sinking into the couch.

you used to ask him questions—how was your day? was it bad today? are you okay? but now you've learned you don't need so many words to figure out what's going on with him, that there's tell-tale signs in other things. the sigh is one, the lack of his smile is another. he keeps rubbing your back but he doesn't open his eyes, which is another.

you tilt your head up and press a kiss to his cheek, before resting your head back on his shoulder.

"do you want breakfast?" you ask quietly, but jack shakes his head. you stay there in silence for a few minutes, and then he opens his eyes and takes a look at you for the first time since he's walked in through the door—takes a real look at you. your mussed up hair and his shirt hanging off your shoulder, and if he had to guess, no sleep-shorts under. you usually abstained when you were waiting for him.

socks—because the living room gets cold and despite how much he pays—and however much he would pay, everything he made if that's what it took—to keep his bedroom warm and comfortable for you, you still take to sleeping on the couch every time you're waiting.

staring at your sleepy eyes, and then remembering how his home is littered with signs of you everywhere, from the book and the almost-empty cup of tea on the table, to your water bottle on the kitchen counter and your shoes by the door, he remembers something you had told him once. that you'd sleep on the couch every night if you had to, to be able to say hi to him right when he comes home.

you take an idle hand to his hair, running your fingers through his curls, scratching in that way that you do, the way that makes his eyes shut and muscles relax right away. it's hard to resist��your touch is entrancing. and then for a split second, he thinks about it too much, thinks about you too hard, how you wait for him on the couch and text him goodnight even when you know he can't reply, offer to make him breakfast even when you're half asleep yourself.

you take care of him, without being asked, in the ways that he didn't even realize he needed. and then you curl up next to him and stroke his hair like it's nothing to you, like it's just another day. not realizing how this nothing had quickly turned into his everything, that if he opened his eyes right now, you'd be staring at him with so much love in your eyes that he feels...

you lean in closer, pressing a hand against his chest and then a chaste kiss to the skin in the fold of his neck. he can feel your laugh before he can hear it, vibrating against his skin.

"not too tired for that, huh?" you say the words so casually, and jack is confused for about half a second until he realizes that this is why he can't go on his phone during his shift—his wallpaper is a picture of you in his favorite dress and the way you text him makes him nauseous with the realization that there's someone waiting for him at home who loves him in the way that you do, and usually when he starts thinking about that, his mind wanders to other things and then—

jack starts saying something, but you don't let him finish.

"that's okay," you hum, moving though he wishes you wouldn't—he likes how warm you feel slotted against him. you get down on your knees in front of him, though he tries to stop you.

(try being the operative word—he grabs your wrist and you wrangle out of his touch easily, much too easily considering he knows just how strong he can be, knows how little strength it takes to pin you down when you try to run away from it, how you thrash when you finish and he has to use a little bit more to keep you in place so he can keep taking you through it because he just really loves how you sound when—and that's not helping. fuck.)

and when he opens his tightly shut eyes, you've already undone the tie on his pants, taken him out of his boxers and stroking with your hand while your eyes flit up to meet his quickly. and you smile up at him, like there's nothing you'd rather be doing and nowhere you'd rather be, and then you lick a wet strip with the flat of your tongue up the entire length of his shaft and he thinks he's blacked out.

he wants to shut his eyes again but he wouldn't dare—not when he knows what's coming. you drop a dollop of spit on his tip, using both hands to stroke him now, incredibly concentrated. jack thinks it's cute for another five seconds, and then you take as much as you can fit into your mouth and he loses all train of thought. you bob your head up and down, and he's not sure when, but his hand ends up woven through your hair, resting on the top of your head. he's not pushing—not yet, anyways—but taking what you give. his head thuds against the couch when he feels your tongue swirl around the tip, suctioning while your hands keep stroking.

his apartment is quiet in the morning, and right now it's filled with the noise of the squelch of your mouth, how when you take him too far into your mouth, down your throat, you choke and gag and keep him there for as long as you can before letting go and breathing. just for a second though, and then your cheeks are hollow again, mouth filled again, and he bites down on his lip to stop from moaning loud enough to wake up his neighbors.

and he doesn't know how you do it—how do you always know what he needs? his hips buck up, and you put on wet palm on his thigh, over his scrub bottoms, trying to keep yourself steady while you focus on him like it's the most important thing in the world.

jack knows better than to stop you when you get like this. but he still does, using the hand on your head to pull you off briefly, because he thinks he'll die if he can't see what you look like right now. your eyes glassy and wet, lips smeared with his pre-cum and your spit, your mouth and chin shiny too. and you keep stroking him while he looks, resting your head against his thigh while you do it, smiling up at him.

and then you go right back—and you can tell your boyfriend's about to finish. something in your stomach and lower begins to flutter at the realization that your smile is what does it for jack everytime—so you take him into your throat and hollow your cheeks out and then you hear it before you see it.

jack's broken moans. the way he lifts his hips up, bucking into your mouth, how hard he's breathing as he does it. and then the tell-tale fuck, fuck, fuck and the groan that tells you game over. you feel his cum rush into your mouth, covering your tongue, and you keep going, sucking on his tip gently, swallowing it as it comes.

you keep stroking softly, resting your head against his thigh again, staring up at your boyfriend, whose eyes are finally staring down at yours.

"do you want breakfast now?" you ask quietly, hand a little tired and realizing there's spit all over your mouth now. jack doesn't seem to mind, helping you up and onto his lap, leaning in for a kiss that lasts too long.

"no," he says, staring at you with a look that is very familiar. and you smile so he smiles, and you feel a lot better once he does. "got my breakfast right here. your turn."

[babydoll372]

well, lemme stop that not getting requests thing

could you bless us with more stalker!wanda? msybe a second part of what you already have, or with something else, because i‘m literally feral for stalker wanda 😔✋ like down bad

maybe for something new, stalker!wanda is something like ingrid from ingrid goes west, if you know that? like she stalks r through insta and is desperate to become close to her, starts acting similar to r so r will like her and ends up becoming r‘s best friend and then something more?

Creeper Pt.2

Pairings: stalker!wanda x reader

Word count: 1612

Warnings: smut, shy!wanda, stalking, photography without permission, implied kidnapping, roleplaying, cunnilingus, fingering, implied further smut, mentions of strap ons, obsessive!Wanda, slight jealousy, public sex, begging, praise kink, dom!r, sub!wanda, talks of cnc, social media stalking

Kinda combined these two requests tgth so I hope you like :) thank you for my first actual request

Wanda scrolled through each photo you had posted in the last hour, you must still be at the party. You have to be. And in your beautiful black dress, she saw a glimpse of in the back of one of your posts 6 months ago hanging up, now she could envision it on your body. She snuck into the party and quickly grabbed a red solo cup, acting as if it was full but really it was empty, the only thing she wanted to taste tonight was you, and she’d be damned if she let alcohol get in the way.

She scoured the area, refreshing your page every few seconds until she spotted you in a corner talking to two women and one male, making her instantly shrink. Now that she was facing you, she didn’t know how she would be able to react or talk to you. She danced the cup around in her hand and would occasionally grab her phone to sneak photos of you. But when you said your farewell to the three others and walked towards the kitchen, the room she was in, she felt her body envelope with hope. She cleared her throat and turned in a different direction, acting as if she hadn’t been watching you and knew everything about you.

“Excuse me?” She quickly turned to look at the source of the voice - you. She gulped nervously and stood taller, trying to hold herself confidently.

“H-hey, you look beautiful…”

“Thank you. Uh, you’re-“

“I’m Wanda,” She outstretched her hand for you to shake and you slowly reached up to take it, raising a brow as you did.

“Hello, Wanda. You’re in the way of the beer, you mind moving?” Her eyes widened and she had never moved so quickly, her gaze staring you down as you popped open the bottle and took a sip, glancing over at her as she quickly averted.

“You have a staring problem?”

“Wha- no! No, no, I- I don’t, ma’am..” Dumbass. This is a college party and she just called you ma’am. A stranger, well, to you she was a stranger, just called you ma’am. You smirked and leaned on the countertop.

“Wanda, huh? Where are you from?”

“Oh, I live around here..b-but I lived in Sokovia until I was 9!” You nodded slowly, stepping an inch closer to hear her better over the deafening music in the room beside you.

“Sokovia? Fancy…what brought you to Westview?” You took a sip of your beer once you finished speaking and she watched the way your sharp jaw shined just right under the LED lights embarking the house, your throat swallowing the liquid easing down your throat as if it was nothing.

“Well, my parents wanted better for me and my brother…” She couldn’t form an answer with your alluring appearance, and the hint of your perfume over the smell of beer and sweat lurking the house. She tried to keep the conversation going but eventually, you got bored and moved on, but she wasn’t going to end it there. No, she couldn’t leave this behind, she couldn’t ruin her one chance. So when you left the house that night she followed with a distance, already knowing your house location and how to get there, so tracking you was easy. She eventually quickened her pace and hid against an alleyway wall, peeking her head over once to see you turning the corner in her direction. She grinned nervously to herself, knowing this was what she had to do. If you weren’t willing to give yourself freely then she’d have to take you. When she heard your heels connecting with the concrete at a much closer distance, she reached out and yanked your body into her arms, holding you against the wall and shushing you with a hand over your mouth. Your eyes were wide as you wiggled violently in her arms, trying desperately to escape.

“Shh, shh, please don’t do that…please, I’ve worked so hard to get to this point, I need you to not fight me on this.” She pleaded, smiling softly at you once you slowly calmed down, tears streaming down your cheeks. She gently removed her hand from your mouth once you shook your head to her question, she asked if you’d scream if she removed her hand. You knew there was no one in sight, no one to save you, at least.

“You look so pretty when you cry…did you know that? I bet you didn’t, but that’s okay, Y/N.”

“H-how do you know my name…?” You never once shared your own personal information with her at the party, you only asked and she shared. She giggled and shrugged.

“I know everything about you…I love you.” She pressed a kiss to your lips after a moment of silence and you smiled into it, kissing back until she pulled away. “Was that good…?”

“Oh, you did so good, baby…I didn’t realize how hot roleplaying could be until you grabbed me like that.” She blushed under the city light and quickly took out her phone.

“I took photos of you like you asked. I- I also took them on my camera when you were at home getting ready.” Her white and shiny teeth were made visible as she smiled to herself, knowing you’d be proud of her for following what you asked her to do. Wanda had never roleplayed, the thought never even crossed her mind until you suggested it as you were riding the strap you forced on her one day in your bedroom, and she could only blabber out agreements to the deal so that she could cum, imagining it was inside of you and that the strap was her cock. She thought it’d be embarrassing, awkward even, but she proved herself wrong when she let herself embrace the psychotic character that was really just her deep down. She ‘pretended’ to be your stalker, which you forced her to do as an ounce of humiliation, considering she had already stalked you beforehand. She then had to take photos of you, just like she always did before, and you wouldn’t get to know when she was doing it. And if you caught her, it’d be a punishment. The rest was fair game for her, she was allowed to play it out however she wanted, and you just had to accept it willingly, which you did.

“Mm, I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. C'mon, lean against the wall and take those pants off, let me show you how proud I am.” Her eyes widened as she looked around, and despite the empty streets, she still clutched her crotch anxiously.

“Are you sure no one will walk by? W-what if there’s a cop-“

“Stop being a baby, weren’t you just the one about to kidnap me? Where’d that Wanda go, huh? Now get against the wall and let me eat you out, pretty girl.” She shyly nodded and unbuttoned her trousers, lowering them and her underwear to her upper thighs in case she had to pull them up in a hurry at some point.

“Mm, look at that pretty pussy…did tonight get you this wet? Yeah? Tell me your favorite part.” She was about to speak until she felt your lips wrap around her clit and you moaned loudly, clearly in exaggeration. She threw her head back, not caring for the slight pain that was caused by the bricks behind her as she brought her hand to your head.

“M-my favorite- fuck! Part was w-when I grabbed you and- and pushed you against this wall- mm!” Your tongue lapped against her pulsing bud as you glanced up at her with dopey eyes, and she whimpered eagerly. You pulled back for a second and spit on your fingers, rubbing them along her hole that clenched around nothing.

“You twisted little girl- it turns you on when I’m helpless and defenseless against you?” You cooed out as your fingers entered her and were quick to pull out to the base of your fingertips, only to return, creating a steady motion. Your lips returned, lapping up her juices before bringing them to her clit as an unneeded lubricant.

“Y-yes, ma’am…oh, I- I think I’m close-“

“No, no, no, not yet, Wanda…good girls wait for my permission.” She whined, her legs shaking already as your digits continued to pump furiously inside of her, making her stomach clench tightly and reveal a delicately crafted sculpture of a six-pack. It wasn’t too noticeable, but it was enough to make you moan under your breath.

“Please, I- I’ve been a good girl for you t-today, a really good girl!” You giggled, pulling away from her cunt and having a string of her juices follow you. Your chin was already soaked and she hadn’t even finished yet.

“Tell me how much you love me.”

“I love you so- so fucking much!”

“Tell me how badly you need me, baby.”

“I-… mph! I need you more than anything!”

“Tell me how obsessed you are with me.”

“I’m so obsessed- I love you s-so much, I- I can’t get over you, I need you! Please! Please let me cum!”

“…Cum for me, Wanda.” She didn’t waste another moment, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her juices trailed down your fingers, your mouth instantly finding home once more on her pussy to lap up her release. She whimpered in clear overstimulation and you chuckled against her, slowly pulling away as she held onto you tightly, instantly missing the full feeling of your fingers.

“Once we get to my house we are fucking all night, baby girl.”

[colorfulrook]

I have an idea:

Basically, it would be Reader and Jinwoo who have known each other for a long time. They're best friends, and Reader was always super affectionate with him when he was an E-rank. She treated his wounds, cooked him food, etc., and flirted with him directly, but Jinwoo ignored her advances every time (for him, it was just affection between friends), but Reader always continued even though it wasn't reciprocal.

When he became an S-rank, he got closer to the other hunters, especially Cha Hae In, and Hae In did the same thing Reader did for him (taking care of him), except that he reacted to her advances. Reader, seeing this, understood that she had to let it go and was happy for him despite the heartbreak. Everything she did for him, she did with the other hunters in the guild (brought back cookies, put bandages on Baek, while complimenting him on his muscles, etc.). Jinwoo seeing Reader being affectionate with everyone except him gives him a pang in his heart realizing that he hates it when Reader is with people other than him and begins to regret all the times when he didn't reciprocate and ignore her advances. One day when Reader is injured he goes to heal her and tries to do what Reader did for him hoping to be able to get closer to her again

Thank you so much for trusting me with your idea! I hope you will enjoy reading it and tell me if you liked it! I value quite much every opinion you throw ahaha, love you all - Rook

Ps: I proofread it a bit quickly so eventual grammar errors will be dealt it later!

Where the heart awaits [S.JW x F!Reader]

Pairings: Sung Jinwoo x F!Reader Word count: 1.5K Theme: Fluff, angst (Injury ahead!)

Being an A-Rank healer was tough, but it had its perks. You met all kinds of people—arrogant hotshots, quiet tanks, mages who thought they were gods, hell even S ranks—but none of them managed to leave you an impression like Jinwoo. Gentle, caring Jinwoo who, no matter the hardships of being an E-Rank, never backed down on a job.

You met him during one of your first dungeon after you awakening, despite having already some offers for all kinds of guilds, you politely declined, saying that you would like to lend a hand to the guildless people before committing to one.

That’s how you ended up in a cramped, damp D-Rank dungeon with a group of nervous, under-equipped hunters… and him.

He hadn’t said much at first—kept his head down, focused. You watched as he silently took more hits than he should have, trying to protect the others even though he was clearly exhausted. By the end, he was bloodied and limping, but smiling when he handed the core to a trembling C-rank who looked like he might burst into tears. You had walked up to him, healing magic already warm in your palms, and asked with piqued interest.

“Do you always try to be a martyr, or was today special?”

He blinked at you. Then he smiled. “Habit, I guess.” Feeling refreshed as you healed him, warm magic tickled his skin.

That was the start of your friendship.

From then on, things moved fast. Days turned into month that eventually turned into one year.

You started teaming up more often. Dungeons with Jinwoo became your favorite—how you waited eagerly every time there was a new dungeon, a smile forming everytime you read Jinwoo's name on the list. You could already feel your heart warming.

You began to see him after and before the raids, sometimes even cooking for him and his sister after a particularly gruesome outing. He walked you home after late-night cleanups. You learned how he liked his coffee, how he couldn’t handle spicy food, and that he always, always made sure everyone else was safe before thinking about himself.

You started to look forward to the way his eyes would light up when you brought snacks. To the little, tired smiles he’d give you at the end of a run. You flirted with him—openly, shamelessly—sometimes just to see him flustered. But he never responded to it. At first, you told yourself it was just because he was shy.

But you were wrong, he wasn't shy, he just thought you were very friendly.

It hit you one night when the two of you went out to eat in one of those small restaurant full of people and laughs. You'd teased him again—something flirty, casual, something about how you liked guys who were quietly heroic and kind to their teammates. Jinwoo had just laughed. Not nervous. Not awkward. Just… amused.

The thought of you referring to him went completely over his head.

"Don't worry (Y/n), you are an amazing person and hunter, I'm sure you will find someone you love soon enough!"

And that’s when it sunk in. You could feel your smile dropping a bit before regaining your composure.

To him, your kindness was just that—kindness. The way you patched him up, brought him home-cooked meals, dragged him out for breaks, gifted him silly little trinkets to cheer him up—he’d seen all of it as the affection of a good friend. And maybe, in his mind, he didn’t deserve more than that anyway.

So you smiled and kept going, because even if your heart ached sometimes, his presence was worth it. Being by his side was better than not being there at all.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

When Jinwoo came back from his double dungeon, you felt everything change, as if someone pulled a rug from under your feet and disrupted your carefully built balance.

He was stronger. Colder. More focused. You watched as he built his new life—his new guild—and got closer with hunters you barely knew. He spent more time with Cha Haein, and even though she didn’t speak much, she didn’t need to. The way she looked at him said enough. And worse, the way he looked back at her…

You decided to let him go.

You still talked frequently but you decided that it was time to do something with yourself, Jinwoo was happy with Haein, it was time to reach your happiness as well.

You decided to join Baek Yoonho's guild, feeling ready to lend your powers to a bigger group of people—it was time for a "fresh start" as you called it.

You loved it there, truly, you began to grow fond of every member of your usual dungeon party. Thus you decided to spread your affection to them.

You began to take extra care while healing everyone, especially Guildmaster Baek, handed cookies to the office staff, even embracing one of the rookies— "Gukkie" you called him with the affection of a big sister—in a warm hug for nailing one of the raids in a dungeon.

You didn’t mean it as payback. It was just you being you.

But Jinwoo slowly began to notice it.

And for the first time in a long time, he was the one watching you from the sidelines.

Jinwoo didn’t realize when it started—the way his eyes always followed you, shadows always at the ready to protect you.

Maybe it was the moment you tucked a blanket around Baek Yoonho’s shoulders after a gruesome raid and told him to get some rest, your voice warm with that same gentle tone you used to use just for Jinwoo.

"Master Baek, I know you are toning your body everyday but you must take care and rest after a dungeon!" you'd say pouting.

Or when you ruffled that one hunter's hair after he brought you a smoothie and said, “You’re getting sweeter by the day,” and Jinwoo had to stop himself from yanking your hand away, starved of your usual caring touch.

It didn’t hit him all at once. It crept up slowly, a quiet cold wave that nipped at his ankles. A sharp tug in his chest every time you smiled at someone else. And a heavy, sinking feeling when he realized that you haven't smiled like that at him for weeks.

You were still kind and affectionate during the now rare times you saw each others. But you didn’t linger anymore. You didn’t tease. No more late-night texts, no more lingering touches. You didn’t call him “handsome” with a laugh or sneak his favorite candy into his coat pocket before a raid.

And it was his fault.

Thinking back to before he went in that double dungeon left him with a bitter taste on his tongue.

He’d thought it was just how you were. That your softness belonged to everyone. He hadn’t realized—until it wasn’t his anymore—how much of it you had given only to him.

Now it was too late. Or maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t know.

Not until the day of an abnormal red gate dungeon.

When Jinwoo felt the pulse of the gate from across the city so stronge that even Igris twitched.

And then your name came through the emergency report from the White Tiger Guild.

A red gate. An unexpected ambush. An A-Rank healer, critically injured. You.

Jinwoo didn’t remember giving the order to teleport. He just moved. Shadows exploded from the ground like a tidal wave, launching him towards your position.

The first thing he noticed was how small and frail you seemed in Baek Yoonho's arms, whom looked at him with wide eyes.

"We closed the dungeon but we need to help her fast if we want her to live"

You were unconscious, blood seeping from your uniform, your breathing was shallow, and your mana flickered like a dying candle. Someone had tried to patch you up, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t you.

Jinwoo’s hands trembled as he touched your cheek. For a moment, all he could do was stare.

You were always the one healing. Always smiling through exhaustion, patching wounds, giving warmth without asking for anything back. Now you lay still, quiet and cold.

Something cracked deep inside him.

“Why didn’t I see it?” he whispered, almost angrily. “Why did I let you go?”

Beru stood silently nearby, his gaze lowered. Even his shadows stayed quiet, watching their king kneel beside the one person he could never bring himself to face until it was too late.

Jinwoo’s heart raced as his hands trembled, pouring every ounce of mana into you with a desperate kind of reverence, trying to heal the wound he had failed to stop. His shadows clung to you like a protective cocoon, dimly glowing with the magic he so freely gave, trying to mend what had been broken both in your body and in his soul.

"Please," he whispered again, his voice trembling with a vulnerability he had never shown before. "I can’t lose you. Not like this."

His forehead touched yours, and for a fleeting moment, the world faded into the background. The overwhelming pulse of his heart, the suffocating grief, the quiet dread of losing you—all of it seemed to blur as he focused entirely on you.

His breath came out in ragged gasps as he choked on the words he had kept buried for far too long.

“Wake up…” His voice cracked, the words barely audible. “Please. I still haven’t said it. I haven’t told you…”

But then he felt it—a soft pressure on his hand.

“Jinwoo…” Your voice was weak, your hand reaching up to gently touch his face. “I’m here…”

He leaned down, cheek pressed against yours as relief washed over him like a tidal wave. The fear, the doubt, the hopelessness that had gripped him melted away.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured softly, his hands brushing away the sweat on your forehead. “I'm sorry you had to wait for so long”

You smiled weakly as you felt the warmt of his words settle in your chest, maybe there was still hope after all.

[marvelseries19]

VANISHING POINT

Chapter One - Castaway

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter Four | Chapter five |

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female agent reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: The mission was successful, however, your return home will not be as easy as you may believe. In fact, you're not sure you would be able to get back.

A/N: It's been a while since I've been excited about writing. So, here is the first chapter. I hope you like it. I rewrote a few times, but I think this is as good as it gets. I would appreciate feedback on it, and any comments, suggestions, questions, or just conversations about it are welcome. There are some posts that I would like for you to check out, there is some info and ideas that I wanted to let you know. If you saw a typo or something, no, you didn't. Enjoy :)

Warnings: +18, descriptions of injuries, language, etc.

Word count: 1.2k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours.]

The Quinjet hummed steadily beneath your fingertips, the vast stretch of ocean below endless and unforgiving. The ride back to the compound was at least full of beautiful views.

It had been an easy mission, just surveillance on a suspected HYDRA base. It took a week to complete, and now you were on your way home.

You leaned back slightly, exhaling. Just a few more hours, and you would be back home. Back with her.

Your fingers idly reached for the chain around your neck, your thumb grazing over the cool metal of the ring that rested against your collarbone. Natasha’s ring. Your ring.

"So you don’t forget who’s waiting for you," she had murmured the night before, fastening the delicate chain around your neck, leaving a soft kiss at the nape of your neck. You had smiled, shaking your head, but you had worn it beneath your suit every day since.

You were still lost in thought when Control’s voice crackled into the cockpit.

"Quinjet 9, this is Control. We just lost your tracking signal. Do you copy?"

Your brows furrowed. That’s not good.

"Yeah, I’m here. Everything looks fine… But let me check." Your fingers moved swiftly across the controls.

"Check your navigation relay. We’re showing nothing on our grid." A knot of unease formed in your stomach.

"Navigation relay is showing an error," you reported, your voice tight. "Stand by. I'll reboot—" The comms crackled, then cut out.

Silence.

Your stomach dropped.

"Control, say again? I'm losing you—repeat last!"

A new sound sliced through the cockpit—a shrill, piercing alarm.

Your radar flashed red. Missile lock. Your blood turned to ice.

"Shit—"

The first blast struck the Quinjet’s side. The impact threw you forward, your head slamming against the seat as the ship lurched violently. The left engine flared and failed instantly.

Alarms screamed. The Quinjet spun into freefall.

"Unidentified hostiles—taking heavy damage! Engines failing—I’m going down!" You shouted into the comms, straining to regain control.

"09, respond! What’s your location?! Agent Sloane, respond!"

You gritted your teeth, forcing your shaky hands over the controls, trying to reroute power. But the ship was already lost. The only thing you could do was brace for impact.

Your fingers clutched the ring against your chest.

Another explosion. The world blurred.

The ocean rushed up to meet you.

And then... Nothing.

—

The tension in the command center was thick enough to suffocate. Maria Hill stood with her arms crossed, eyes locked on the central monitor where Quinjet 9’s tracking data had once been.

Now, just static. Nick Fury stood beside her, his jaw tight, watching the same feed with unreadable eyes. Agent Dawson swallowed hard, headset pressed to his ear as he scanned multiple screens, waiting for anything-any sign of life.

Then—a red alert.

Dawson’s heart dropped.

"No, no, no..."

He straightened, turning toward Hill and Fury. His voice was steadier than he felt.

"We lost Quinjet 9."

Hill’s eyes narrowed. This couldn't be happening. "What do you mean 'lost'?"

Dawson hesitated. "No comms. No signal. No trace. It’s just... gone. We don't know where it is."

Silence.

Fury exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. "Shit."

A muscle in Hill’s jaw twitched, but she gave a curt nod. "Start a search. Now."

Dawson hesitated. "Are we letting Agent Romanoff know?"

Fury and Hill exchanged a look.

Hill's voice was quieter now, almost resigned. "We'll tell her soon."

But Natasha Romanoff was already walking toward them, worried about not being able to contact you.

And the moment she saw their faces, she knew something had happened.

—

The first thing you felt was pain.

It dragged you from unconsciousness, a dull, throbbing ache that rolled through your entire body in relentless waves. Your head pounded, the world tilting dangerously even though you weren’t moving. The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore filtered through the ringing in your ears.

You forced your eyes open.

Blurry at first. Then, sharper—too sharp. Sunlight burned against your retinas, forcing you to squeeze them shut again. You tried to shift, but the moment you did, agony tore through your right side.

Your breathing hitched.

Ribs—definitely broken. You pushed through the pain, blinking against the light, taking in your surroundings.

Sand. Golden, coarse grains clinging to your skin. Your tactical suit was torn and streaked with blood and seawater. You were half-buried in the surf, the edges of the tide touching your boots. Further up, debris from the Quinjet was scattered across the beach—twisted metal, shattered glass, pieces of what was once your cockpit.

Shit.

You bit back a groan as you tried to sit up. A sharp, white-hot burst of pain shot through your right shoulder.

Dislocated.

Gritting your teeth, you cradled your arm against your torso, barely holding back a scream. Your ribs protested with every movement, but you had to keep going.

Your left hand found your chain, fingers fumbling until they closed around the ring.

You exhaled shakily.

Natasha.

She had no idea where you were. No one did.

The Quinjet had gone down off-radar. You had no comms, no signal, no way of knowing if anyone was even looking for you yet.

You’re on your own.

For now, at least.

Your forehead throbbed, and when you reached up, your fingers came back slick with blood.

You checked yourself over as best you could. Right shoulder, dislocated; ribs, at least two broken; head, bleeding, probably a mild concussion; and finally your legs, sore but not broken. Good. Small victories.

Breathing through the pain, you forced yourself to move. You needed shelter. Water. Some kind of plan.

But first—the shoulder.

You swallowed hard. There's no way around it. It had to go back in.

You found a rock near the treeline, rough and sturdy enough for leverage. Your breathing was ragged as you planted your feet, braced your body, and slammed your shoulder back into place.

White-hot pain was felt behind your eyes, swiftly dragging you into darkness. Resetting your shoulder—or other joints—was nothing new, but never under circumstances like these or with this many injuries.

The agony was too much for your body to handle. So to protect you, it shut off.

—

A few months ago

"You’re fidgeting."

Natasha’s voice was amused, but there was something softer in her tone, something fond.

You rolled your eyes, stuffing your hands in your pockets. "I don’t fidget."

She smirked, stepping closer, the city lights casting a glow on her freckled cheekbones. "You do when you're nervous."

You sighed, exhaling a shaky breath. It was a stupid thing to be nervous about. You’d faced assassins, HYDRA, and alien invasions, but somehow, this moment felt more terrifying.

You pulled the ring from your pocket. A simple band, strong, unyielding.

Much like her.

Natasha’s breath caught.

"I know we never really talked about it," you said, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "And I know we’re both terrible at normal, but—"

She cut you off with a kiss, her fingers curling around yours, closing them over the ring.

When she pulled back, her voice was barely a whisper.

"I was waiting for you to ask."

—

You were jerked back to reality by the sharp, relentless pain in your ribs and shoulder, the ache grounding you in the present. But the memory of your marriage proposal still lingered, a warmth that cut through the agony like a lifeline.

You flexed your fingers. It worked.

Barely conscious, body trembling, you let your fingertips brush against the ring resting against your chest. A reminder. A promise.

And with that, you forced yourself to your feet.

[pathologicalreid]

called you again | s.r.

in which you make a late night phone call to your ex-boyfriend because you're convinced he's the only thing that can lull you to sleep

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (h/c) content warnings: exes but they're still in love so... a lot of yearning, briefly mentions a bau case, inspired by a mattress and a tiktok. word count: 1.84k a/n: shout out to whichever anon from yesterday told me to post this!! you're a real one

Rolling over on your bed again, you tugged the comforter over your shoulder, hoping the fabric would form a cocoon around you. Mimicking the feeling of someone behind you, warm arms wrapped around you. You begged for the comfort that you needed in order to fall asleep, but sleep never came. 

Your exhaustion had come and gone, any hint of sleepiness wiped away when you moved from your couch to your bed. Insomnia had come to find you, a face so familiar that you had begun to greet sleepless nights with open arms. 

On your nightstand, your phone buzzed. Likely a social media notification or a news email telling you the end was near, but you rolled over anyway on the off chance that it was a text. Every night, you remind yourself that you should turn on do not disturb, but you’d spent years waiting for your phone to buzz at all hours, hoping for the opportunity to tell Spencer how your day was. That’s why you had to check your phone, hoping to see the contact with the heart next to it, remaining unchanged since you broke up with him two months ago. 

Cringing at the blue light on your sensitive eyes, you squinted at the notification. It was an email, holding the weekly advertisement for the grocery store. You tried to resist the disappointment that roiled in your brain, but it took over anyways. Disappointment that it wasn’t Spencer and shame that you’d thought he’d reach out to you after everything that happened between you. 

You clicked on your messages, looking at the short exchange from the day he came by to drop off a box of your things. He’d brought you coffee. You’d broken his heart two days before, and he brought you coffee from your favorite kiosk near his apartment. That kind of love was the epitome of Spencer Reid, and that was why it had killed you to let him go. 

As if your thumb had developed a mind of its own, you tapped on his contact and initiated a phone call, quickly sitting up in bed and ending the call, tossing your phone in the depths of your down comforter and glaring at it in horror. 

It must’ve been less than a minute before your phone started to buzz again, you rifled through the bedding to look at your phone, and there it was. The purple heart that you’d placed next to his name the night of your first date. It seemed cruel to take away his heart when you knew very well there was no love lost between the two of you. Swiping at the screen, you lifted the phone to your ear and took a nervous breath, “Hey.” 

“Are you okay?” He asked immediately, not responding to your greeting and instantly trying to get to the root cause of why you had called. 

You tried not to read into it, staring at your lap and fiddling with a loose thread on your pajama shorts. “Spence,” you said meekly, your voice hovering over a whisper as his question echoed in your head.

He was silent for a moment. You imagined he was considering hanging up on you until he spoke again, “Hang on.” 

You heeded his instruction, shifting awkwardly on your mattress and listening to the shuffling on the other end. It was almost two in the morning, and he didn’t sound like you had woken him up, so he must be out on a case. Something akin to deja vu came over you then, imagining him in some city that he’d never be able to explore while you waited in your apartment for the slightest bit of contact. 

“Y/N?” Spencer said your name, and every bit of embarrassment you felt related to this call faded away. You could deal with the humiliation if it meant you got to hear him say your name just one more time. “What’s wrong?”

Because it couldn’t just be that you wanted to hear his voice, the only reason you could possibly be calling him in the middle of the night was because something was wrong. You were stranded when the metro stopped running or someone had stolen your wallet. No, the pounding of your broken heart was keeping you up at night. Even now, it slammed into your ribcage, ricocheting with the reminder that this was all your fault. “Where are you?” You asked, sniffling through the question and wiping you face with your sleeve. 

He sighed on the other end of the call and you told yourself it was in relief that nothing was wrong. “Bismarck,” he responded softly, matching your tone of voice in only the way he could. “We got here this morning for a family annihilator,” he explained in more detail. 

You felt yourself falling into a familiar pattern, settling your body back in bed with your phone pressed to the side of your face. Family annihilators were hard on the whole team, but Spencer was someone who held family dynamics with the highest regard. It always broke him to see that destroyed. “How was the flight?” 

“It was alright,” he answered, entering a similar pattern as you. “We had to fly over tornado alley. It’s storm season, you know?” 

Humming, you nodded despite the fact that he can’t see you. “And I’m sure no one appreciated your facts about turbulence,” you said, a teasing lilt finding its way to your tone. 

He chuckled through the phone and your heart soared, “They never do. No one ever gets them like you, lo—” 

Your body stiffened as he caught himself. It would’ve been so easy for you to move past the initial comment if his instinct was to follow it up with a pet name. Lovey. He liked to call you lovey as a term of endearment. Your previously floating heart came back down to earth, “So it’s a bad case, huh? I should probably let you get back to work.” 

“Between you and me, I’m supposed to be at the hotel right now, so this would count as my break,” he told you, managing to coax you into staying on the phone. 

It was hard to be broken up with someone who hadn’t strictly done anything wrong, and it was hard to deny him conversation when he was wrapped up in such a dark case. “What’s the weather like?” You asked, choosing to talk about things that don’t truly matter. 

He sighed, “Cold, but I’m sure you could’ve guessed that. JJ whines about it every time she steps outside. We’re inside most of the time anyway, so I’m not really bothered.”

Weather was never an issue for Spencer, you used to think he’d be miserable in the winter, seeing as he grew up in Las Vegas, but it would seem that his time in Boston had completely changed him. 

“It’s finally getting warm here,” you mentioned. Though, of course he knew that already. Spencer hadn’t taken up residence in Bismarck, but sometimes it felt like he was 1,500 miles away, even when he was just across the river from you. It reminded you of all the times you’d disagreed on the temperature you should leave the thermostat at, and it brought a pit back to your chest. You used to insist that 68 degrees in the winter wasn’t the same as 68 degrees in the summer, and he’d tell you that it was the same temperature, it just felt different because of changing variables. 

Laying in your bed, you wished he was there to explain how the tilt of the earth’s axis affects the temperature, but instead, you could only talk to him about the weather. The cherry blossoms would bloom soon, and you wished he was here to take you to see them. “What’s wrong?” He asked you again, his voice was so gentle that it nearly crushed you. 

Looking at the other side of your bed, the side he used to sleep on, you sighed helplessly, “I can’t sleep.” It felt infantile to say it out loud, the average person would’ve taken something by now, but you could barely get yourself to stand up, let alone go to the medicine cabinet. 

“Have you taken anything?” He asked, reading your mind just like old times. 

You hummed, keeping your eyes on the other side of your mattress, “No. It’s too late anyway, I wouldn’t wake up for work.” 

“Maybe you should take something and take the day off, you sound exhausted,” he told you, a familiar worry crawling into his voice. 

The reminder of why you had left overwhelmed you. Spencer could give you all of the advice in the world, but he’d never be there to help you. Yours wasn’t the first relationship to fall victim to the BAUs hours, but it hurt nonetheless. You loved him so ardently that you’d forgotten to love yourself, and when you couldn’t take the distance anymore, you’d called the whole thing off. It was hard to love someone who wasn’t there, but it turns out distance does make the heart grow fonder. “Maybe,” you mumbled, looking at the divot on his side of the bed. 

It hurt you to acknowledge that the inanimate object you slept on had its own memory of Spencer. The impression of his body across the cushion reminded you of the space left by people in Pompeii, their suffering had been immortalized for people to gawk at 2,000 years later, but in 2,000 years, your romance with Spencer wouldn’t even qualify as a blip in the universe’s timeline. There would be no lasting impression of two lovers holding hands because he wasn’t yours and you were no longer his. 

“Spence?” You breathed into the receiver, looking at the memory foam imprint with tears in your eyes. 

He waited for a beat to respond, “Yeah?” 

Your chest ached to tell him that you loved him—that you had made a mistake, but that wasn’t fair to him. That wasn’t fair to you. “Stay safe, okay?” You whispered, hoping that one day things might be different, and if that day ever came along, you’d want him to at least consider the possibility of coming back to you. 

“Okay, sleep well,” he murmured back to you before the phone clicked off. 

At a sloth’s pace, you crawled onto the other side of your bed and curled yourself into a ball. When trees had objects left around their roots, they simply grew around the invasion, but your mattress was an inanimate object with no way of moving or growing or adapting to a life without him while you had no choice but to do so. Closing your eyes, silent tears streamed to the pillow that smelled faintly of his shampoo—no matter how many times you washed the pillowcase. Finally, you let your body relax into the memory of him. 

You supposed you could always buy a new mattress, but that would mean fully letting him go.

[xaer1s]

ㅤㅤ ❛ ㅤ✿ ──────​ cold to the touch ⸝⸝

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ 정우영 ] ─── JUNG WOOYOUNG ⨾ ATEEZ

ㅤㅤsynopsis:ㅤhe got that piercing for fun, yet he was happy to see you react to it more deeply than just with simple happiness.ㅤ⨾ㅤwarnings:ㅤnsfw!!, mean-teasing-dom!wooyoung, oral (f receiving) heavy make out sessions at the beginning, all of it is just nasty stuff, tongue pierced woo <3, absolutely no plot, he munching on it, slight p*ssy play and slapping, lmk if missed anything & sorry for possible mistakes!!ㅤ⨾ㅤword count:ㅤ1,4kㅤ⨾ㅤa/n.:ㅤbased on that video where he says he wants a lip piercing (or it was my imagination sry guys) but his mother doesnt let him; justice for our boy, woo...

ㅤㅤNAViGATiON ・・・・・; ✉︎ message me on: @smnxi ; please reblog and follow if you like my posts! do not spam likes, or you'll be blocked, sorry! ♡

ㅤㅤif you'd like to be a part of my taglist, fill out this form, dm me or comment on ONLY the rules post!/ requests open!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ• . ˚ ⋆ . ｡.

. . . after wooyoung didn’t resist the temptation of getting more and more tattoos alongside with a tongue piercing, you just carefully examined from the sidelines how it would turn out for him and to be frank it was quite sexy. but with this, came the thoughts wrapped with filth, picturing his hot muscle dragging over your sensitive petals, gifting small circles and quick flicks with the cold metal had you slowly falling into madness.

and oh did he saw those thoughts every single fucking time you got a glimpse of the piercing while he was speaking. the way you so intently stared; he was sure if he’d ask you what he said just now, you would totally freak out and be caught with those nasty images keeping you occupied.

it made him swell with pride, pumping his ego like nothing else in the past days. he has you wrapped around his fingers and now wooyoung made it his own little personal mission to have you go nuts on his tongue.

his coat carelessly left somewhere in they way between the front door and your living room, shoes kicked off, the bouquet he picked with care for you now tossed on the coffee table in the middle of the room, you crashed against him desperately after a long day of waiting for him to arrive home.

the sensual dances of your swelled lips, the make out messy and sloppy, your spit mixing together at the eager way his tongue almost fucks into the cavern of your mouth. your back flushed against the wall, his right hand planted next to your head while the other took a hold of your chin, his thumb swiping across your smooth skin in small shapes.

doing your very best to breathe through your nose as a way to ground yourself, trying to keep your dizziness at bay, it just didn’t seem to work though. your legs wobbly, words not even being able to made out, muttered against the kiss, by the way the man completely just devours you, leaving you unable to even resist, not if you wanted to too anyway.

even if the possibility of losing your grounding were to happen, his muscled arms would tightly fold around your, ensuring every inch of you body perfectly molded against his.

“baby- calm down-” finally you were able to mutter with great effort but in response, wooyoung pulled your bottom between his teeth, giving it a tug and the strength almost enough to break through the delicate, pink skin.

“mmm, you said-” he groaned into your mouth, one of his arm making its way up to push against your throat, your head tipping back with a small thump against the cold concrete wall. “you wanted a kiss-..” he practically ate you, everything messy and smudged and hot around you. your body was uncomfortable. burning up while he choked the words back inside you before they could even come up to the surface in the form of resistance.

free hand sneaking their way between your legs without your notice, only feeling the way his palms lands a smack on your clothed heat, fingers then circling in an attempt to have you completely soaked and goddamn needy.

“you got it baby..” he laughed; in the meantime of seconds, he ended up on his knees, looking up at you with those intense, desire filled eyes. his gaze almost screaming he’ll rip apart your clothes if you’re not stepping out of them right in this moment.

larger hands planted on the top of your thighs, his short nails digging into your flesh even through the fabric of your thin shorts, subconsciously pulling them until you finally gave in. your thumbs hooking into the waistband and with a quick push it was already around your ankles, shaking your legs enthusiastically to get rid of the annoying piece of clothing which seemed to practically being glued on you in your hurry.

wooyoung’s eyes finding their new favorite place on your panties, with rush he tugged it barely aside, the focus on just reaching what he had to.

cupping the inside of your thigh with his left hand, giving it a gentle, encouraging push to spread, your back leaned on the wall for leverage you pushed your hips out right in his face.

“look at this, baby..” he tuts with a mocking click if his tongue. “all the trashing around and still so ridiculously turned on..” wooyoungs let’s his big thumb graze over your soaked up folds while he watches in awe at the way you so urgently wiggle yourself close.

his hand holding your legs now pressing you firmly back to the cold wall, halting down all your grinding and your impatient moves while he takes his time as if he was the man with the most time on his hand. and when it came to you, he was indeed.

“woo-.. just do it..” a whine escaped you as his fat thumb circled your twitching clit, your love juices gushing out while you clenched on the terrible feeling of just air filling you.

“shut it.” your back arched with a stretched out moan, your toes curling as his hand what was caressing you so tenderly landed a slap on your swollen lips. pain shot through you, beautifully mingling with overflowing pleasure, the lines blurred and washed together deliciously.

the air got caught in your throat the moment you felt his lips embrace the small bundle of nerves, teeth grazing and tugging it. the cold metal bullied your sensitive flesh as he dragged it across, circling it and flicking over while he gazed into your eyes. overflowing lust was visible as he drank up all your expressions like air, his thin yet long lashes fluttering prettily.

crumpled top now hunched over your breasts, one trembling hand holding it in place as the other caressed the males raven dark locks, fingers curling around them and pushing him into you. he took the opportunity to drape your right leg over his shoulder, ensuring better access for his hungry mouth.

all logical thought faded from your hazy brain, only focusing the way this man went all out for you. just the way he liked it, all silly and needy not wanting to mutter a single word of complaint, —even if you were able to—, yet in this case it wasn’t possible. you waited this moment for days if not weeks, letting the piercing heal, only entertaining yourself with your mere imagination.

while he pushed you higher and higher on the wall from the way he chased after you to taste and feel after not doing it so long, his arms wrapped themselves around your thighs, the muscles subtly flexing in the action. the hand that was pulling, now changed into pushing against his forehead desperately.

wooyoung knitted his eyebrows together in frustration, determined to not let you slip away. one big palm gathering the now overly drenched textile just carelessly pushed aside from your pussy, straight up ripping away delicate fabric, making it completely useless. with this, his eyes slipped shut to turn his whole attention towards you, his the muscle going back and forth from dipping into your fluttering cunt, tracing your flushed lips and circle your twitching clit. all harmonizing together, overwhelming your senses and resulting in your whole body trembling, the heated feeling grew in your stomach and was ready to snap.

after few, maddening lash of the cold metal ball, your body went rigid suddenly while a strangled moan rippled from your throat. release coating his chin and face, wooyoung did his very best not to waste a single drop and let it drip onto the floor.

his brain completely shut you out and the cries for him to stop, —so he didn’t— lapping with the same determination.

only when he came up for a quick sip of air your managed to stop him from diving back. “gosh- i said stop!” wooyoung wiped your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand with a cheeky smile before landing a last, playful peck to the inside of your thighs. then he carefully eased himself from the floor to reward your lips too with a sweet kiss.

“i had no idea you would enjoy it so much.” at the shove you gave him in the shoulder he just laughed you off.

plagiarism is strictly forbidden, do not translate my works, copy them or publish them on another site ; @xaer1s

[rafayelxsylusho]

Horny thoughts 🔥🔥#2

TW: Smut

Part #1 Here (Caleb)

Xavier lifted you effortlessly, his arms encircling your waist and thighs. His touch was electric, igniting a fire beneath your skin that only he could stoke.

After all this years he'd shown you nothing but patience, understanding, and an unwavering respect for your autonomy, it felt right that today would be the day everything changed between you.

He had been patient, always putting your needs and wants before his own. He had respected your wishes for so long, using condoms each time he made love to you. He knew that you didn't want to deal with the side effects of other forms of birth control, and he didn't want you to go through that either. But you knew that lately, he had started to dream of a different kind of intimacy. One where he could give you all of himself, and take all of you in return.

You felt the soft give of the mattress beneath your back as he set you down, gentle as always. The cool air kissed your bare skin for a moment before his warmth enveloped you once more. You could feel every hard plane and angle of him pressed against every soft curve of you, a perfect fit that never failed to take your breath away.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips found your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your racing pulse. You watched, as his hand reached for the drawer of the small table beside the bed. The sound of it opening and closing was deafening in the charged silence of the room. He had the condom in hand, his intentions clear.

He was already hard, his arousal pressing insistently against your hip. You could feel the dampness of his leaking tip, the heat of him burning into your skin. He was aching for you, desperate to be inside you.

You saw the confusion in his eyes as your hand covered his own, stopping him before he could tear into the condom packet with his teeth. For a moment, he froze, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand your sudden hesitation.

Wait," you whispered, and you saw his confusion deepen, his eyes searching yours for answers. You took a deep breath, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the soft skin.

"I want to feel you," you breathed, words tumbling out before you could stop them. "All of you. I'm ready, Xavier. I want this."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured, I-"

You silenced him with a finger to his lips, "I'm sure."

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, you could see the way his pupils dilated, the blue of his irises turning stormy with desire "If we do this I wont hold back," he murmured "Once I'm inside you like this, you'll have to take all of me. Every. Single. Drop."

He emphasized each word with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips against yours, letting you feel the hard, heavy weight of him. Your lips parted on a soft gasp, your fingers curling against his chest. He was so close, so hard and ready.

"I want to give you a piece of myself that you will never be able to escape," he continued "A part of me that will be with you always, no matter where you go or how much time passes.

"Then take me," you breathed "Give me all of you, every part of you"

"As you wish," he said, before he was surging forward, his hips snapping against yours with a force that stole your breath. He was inside you, filling you, stretching you in the most delicious way. You could feel every thick, hard inch of him as he sank deeper and deeper, until he was buried to the hilt. Your walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust to his size, to the intense fullness of him.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own. And then he started to move, a low groan escaping his lips as he savored the feeling of your tight cunt enveloping him.

"So fucking soft," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. Another hard thrust had him sinking even deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. "so wet," he panted, picking up the rhythm "so warm," His rhythm grew steadier "and soooooo fucking tight."

He braced himself on his elbows, his biceps flexing as he gazed down at you with a look of pure lust. You could see the way his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck straining as he fought to maintain control. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his backside as you urged him on. Your fingers raked down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake as you clung to him.

Your walls clamped down around him as you felt the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. The sensation was intense, bordering on too much, and your body's instinctive response was to try and push him out, to clench and flutter around the thick intrusion stretching you so deliciously.

"Stop clenching like that, my sweet darling, I need to be*thrust* right *thrust* there if you want to carry my baby"

In a show of strength, he flipped your positions, leaving you straddling his hips. You found yourself looking down at him, your hair tumbling around your shoulders. Your breasts heaved with each breath, peaks hard and begging for his touch. But before you could do anything, he was gripping your hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass as he urged you to move.

"Come on, fuck it out of me," he said "Ride me. Take what you need, what we both want."

You braced your hands on his chest, your fingers splaying over the hard muscles. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and strong beneath your palms, it matched the throbbing of his cock inside you. With a moan, you started to move, lifting yourself up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, then with a cry, you sank back down, taking him to the hilt once more.

"Yes," he hissed, his head falling back against the pillow as you started to ride him.

You felt your arms start to tremble slightly as you continued to ride him, the ache in your legs was growing, the muscles burning. Just as you were about to pause and catch your breath, Xavier intervened and grabbed your wrists, his fingers wrapping around them. He tugged your arms down, pushing your elbows straight and forcing your breasts together, making them swell and strain against each other.

"It's my turn now," he said, his eyes flashed with a wild light as he looked up at you "Grab my thighs tightly, bunny. It's going to be a bumpy ride, and I need to see these perfect tits bounce for me."

Before you could respond, he let go of your wrists and grabbed your hips tightly, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. Then, with a powerful flex of his thighs, he started to thrust up into you, driving his cock deep into your core.

You had to lean back and grab onto his thighs, your nails digging into the firm muscle as you tried to anchor yourself. The force of his thrusts was incredible, shaking you to your very core. Your breasts jiggled and swayed with each snap of his hips.

"Yes, fuck," he groaned, his eyes glued to the mesmerizing sight of your breasts. "Just like that. Let me see them, let me feel you."

You knew you wouldn't last much longer, knew that you were racing towards a climax that would shatter you completely.

"Look at you," he said "Look at your little cunt stretching so prettily around my cock." His thumb brushed over your clit as he watched it swell and peek out from beneath its hood with each thrust. It was a fleeting touch, a mere whisper of sensation, but it was enough.

Your back arched and your nails left angry red lines on his thighs as you came undone. Your pussy clenched around him, walls rippling and fluttering as your devastating orgasm crashed through you.

But Xavier didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He was too close to the edge, too consumed by the need to fill you, to claim you. He kept driving into you, each thrust pushing you higher, making your climax stretch on and on until you thought you might pass out from the intensity of it.

With a hoarse cry, he slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your still fluttering heat and at the same time, he pressed down firmly on your lower belly, his large hand spanning the area where the thick outline of his cock was clearly visible.

The added pressure made your already impossibly tight cunt even more so. It was too much, too perfect, and with a moan that echoed off the walls, Xavier came undone.

Hot, thick ropes of his seed erupted from his cock, painting your insides white as he emptied himself inside you. His hips jerked and shuddered against yours, each spasm triggering another surge of his release. He pushed down harder on your belly, ensuring that every last drop of his essence was forced deep inside, directly into your waiting womb.

"Take it. Take every drop. I want it to take, I want to put my baby inside you." He captured your lips in a kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim your mouth as thoroughly as he had just claimed your body. You could taste the desperation in his kiss, the need to possess you completely. Your own arms came up to wrap around his neck, holding him close as you both drifted down from the heights of your shared ecstasy.

@hwangintakswifey

@mcdepressed290

@sadfragilegirl

[ponderingmoonlight]

jjk men cheering you up

Pairings: gojo x fem!reader; geto x fem!reader; choso x fem!reader; sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Warnings: this is my first fic in months so I hope you enjoy. Will post more from now on🫶

Gojo Satoru

Gojo knows something is off the moment he sees you. Your usual spark is dimmer, and even though you try to play it off, with that stern expression and eyes hidden behind sunglasses, he isn’t buying it.

So, naturally, he decides to fix it the best way he knows how - by being an absolute menace.

“Helloooo, earth to my favorite person!”

He dramatically waves a hand in front of your face, leaning in way too close for your liking. Honestly, this is the last thing you need today after getting shat on by literally everyone crossing your path. Why does everything have to go wrong. And more specifically, why are you always involved?

His sunglasses are perched on his head, letting those ridiculous blue eyes stare right through your soul.

You sigh.

“Gojo-”

“Bzzzt! Wrong answer. It’s Satoru, your beloved, devastatingly handsome best friend-slash-mentor-slash-personal-jester-slash-lover? I don’t know about that last part, we didn’t get specific on that.”

He pokes your cheek, grinning.

“Now tell me what’s wrong, or I’m gonna start listing my best qualities. Out loud. In public.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the small smile forming. How does he do this? It’s like all the frustration leaves you bit by bit the second this jerk starts talking. What were you even mad about in the first place? He gasps.

“Was that a smile?! Oh, I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Before you can protest, he grabs your wrist and teleports you to a café downtown. The next thing you know, he’s ordering every single dessert on the menu, grinning like a proud child while you stare at him like an idiot.

“Nothing a little sugar can’t fix,” he comments, plopping down across from you.

“And if it doesn’t work, don’t worry - I’ll just have to be even more annoying until you laugh for real. Or we can take this to my bed-”

“Can you just stop?”, you interrupt him immediately, cheeks turning bright pink.

You shake your head, but as he starts dramatically fake-crying about his "invisible pain," you find yourself laughing anyway.

What a jerk. And yet, what a blessing.

Geto Suguru

Geto doesn’t say anything when he notices your exhaustion. Sure the elders took out their anger and frustration on you again and sent you through the country hunting day and night for curses. You don’t deserve to go through this. Not you, one of the kindest people he knows. He simply sits beside you, offering his presence instead of demanding explanations while all you’re able to do is staring in the distance.

All that horror, that restless night…When is this going to end? When will you have a life again?

After a while, he quietly lifts up his voice.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, and he doesn’t push. Suguru never does. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while gently allowing his arm to rest over your exhausted shoulders. It’s like he’s your savior, your ambrosia after every stressful mission.  

“Alright,” he says.

“Then how about a walk? Fresh air might help.”

You agree, and soon you’re strolling through a quiet park, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow. Geto is calm, steady - he doesn’t try to force conversation, just lets the silence sit comfortably between you both while his hand gently holds onto yours.

When you sigh, he finally speaks.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone, you know.”

His voice is soft, understanding, his touch so reassuring that you feel like bursting out in tears any moment.

“I’ll listen whenever you’re ready.”

The sincerity in his eyes almost undoes you, but you manage a nod. Geto doesn’t need you to thank him. He simply reaches out, squeezing your shoulder gently before letting go.

“Wait”, you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“What is it, (y/n)?”

“Can you…can you maybe just…hold me?”, you mutter.

Suddenly you feel out of place. What are you even doing here next to that guy all your friends crush over? Did you really just ask him to hug you?

“I mean I-“

“I’d honestly love to”, he replies before you’re able to explain yourself.

The next second, you find yourself devoured between his arms, lost in his immaterial touch, his arms light as a feather and yet so demanding against your skin that you feel whole again.

For the first time in months, you find yourself relaxing. Not in a bath, not in a sauna, but in the arms of a man you learned to love more than any obstacle could ever hurt you.

Choso

Choso notices the way you drag your feet, the way your shoulders slump. His instincts scream at him to fix it, but he isn’t sure how. To be honest, he still isn’t good at reading human emotions. Yuji told him a few things here and there, but what if you feel uncomfortable by him talking to you? What if you get mad, scream at him? His chest tightens the way he hates it most.

But he has to do something. There’s no way he’ll allow you to potentially feel bad.

So he does the only thing he knows - he stays close.

You’re curled up on the couch when he silently walks over, placing a blanket over your shoulders. When you glance up at him, he merely nods, sitting down beside you. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence is solid, grounding.

To be honest, you’re on the brink of crying. It feels like the whole world is against you with everyone screaming, lying and ditching on you. When will this finally stop? Will you ever be happy again? This life just feels like a nightmare you can’t wake up from, I grave you cannot escape.

After a moment, he shifts.

“You should rest,” he murmurs.

“I’ll stay here.”

There’s something so simple, so unwavering about his words that the tightness in your chest loosens just a little. You lean against him without thinking, and when he doesn’t move away, you let yourself relax.

He smells surprisingly good for the old man he is, his body soft and yet hard against your touch. Without thinking twice, you lower you head to his chest and start screaming, crying, bawling your eyes out.

“You don’t have to hide from me”, he simply comments, his hand caressing your hair and making sure it doesn’t stick to your soaked face.

“I’ll always be here. And I’ll kill everyone who makes you feel this way.”

You can’t help but chuckle while wiping your nose in the most unladylike manner.

“You being here is more than enough.”

Sukuna

Sukuna scoffs when he sees you sulking, immediately springing up from his throne.

“Tch. What’s with that pathetic face?”

You glare at him. Honestly, he’s the last thing you need right now. Not when your life is falling apart already, not when you have 99 problems to deal with – him not included.

“Thanks, asshole. That really helps.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“What, you expect me to coddle you? Please.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. No, you can’t take this right now. This isn’t the time for Sukuna’s shit talk.

“Then leave me alone.”

But he doesn’t. Oh, he never does.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and suddenly pulls you into his lap, making you yelp. His clawed hand rests lazily against your head, almost like… like he’s patting you?

“You’re annoying when you mope,” he grumbles, but his fingers brush against your scalp in slow, careful strokes.

“So stop it already.”

You blink, stunned.

“Are you…are you comforting me?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

You can’t help it. You laugh despite feeling like shit, and his scowl deepens. But he doesn’t shove you away, doesn’t stop his absentminded gestures of comfort.

Maybe he won’t say it outright, but you get the message.

Even the King of Curses doesn’t like seeing you sad.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

[rebelssvy]

vulnerable ✧.*

bakugo x reader

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ “you drew stars, around my scars.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *

summary: fluff, somewhat sad. you get hurt and bakugo comes to cheer you up. you cry to him

you felt utterly helpless. after the most recent incident, you were left on a bed rest. hurting both your knees, and back lifting a building off civilians.

you sat in the dorm, as everyone else was at school. left in silence and your emotions. your thoughts became overwhelming. falling into a slumber you your mind drifted off.

it wasn’t long until you heard a knock on your door. “come in..” you mumbled, throat dry and scratchy. you weren’t sure who would be coming in to see you. it had been days since everything happened and only your close girl friends dropped by.

watching the door handle twist and pop open. katsuki stood in your door frame.

“holy shit it’s fucking depressing in here.” he stated before flipping on your light switch and closing the door behind him. you didn’t want him to see you like this. you had been very fond of him since first year. slowly growing closer to him as you became adults, about to graduate soon.

“hi..” you croaked out. become very aware of your voice. you gave him a weak smile.

“hey loser” he said dropping a bag onto your desk and pulling the chair over to your bed. before he sat down.

“i brought you some snacks. maybe you’ll be less rude to me i thought” he said with a chuckle.

“i-i haven’t seen you.. in what feels like forever.” you said hushed. not able to generate much volume in your speech.

he took in your expression. you looked slightly unkept, he still thought you were utterly gorgeous. you had yourself hidden in your hoodie and blanket.

“they took m-me for surgery.. right after i passed out. i guess adrenaline can only get you so far..” you said as if he wasn’t aware. you didn’t know it but he had stayed at the hospital the entire time.

his hardened expression switched to one of love and care. he dropped his head before saying “can i see..” he looked sincere.

you nodded before sitting up, moving your blanket out of the way. you showed him your legs. all bruised and scarred, some of the pen from the surgery still apparent.

you awaited his reaction. wondering if he would feel disgusted or not. would this be the moment he decided he would never like you, or the opposite. maybe he would think i am strong. you thought

“i already think your strong, y/n.” you gasped, can he read your mind? “i can read you like a book.” he stated chuckling. you laughed with him.

you sat in silence before sitting up farther. “do you.. want to see my back?” you asked him. almost wanting a form of validation. for him to tell you your scars didn’t ’make you’.

“yes. show me.” he responded, still calm. you noticed a subtle blush on his face.

you reached around your back, finding the hem of your hoodie. before groaning. you were still in a lot of pain. unable to get it over your head.

“can you help me?” asking weakly. he didn’t respond verbally, he just smiled softly and brought his hands to yours.

for his quirk being so hot, his hands were often cold. you drew in a quick breath when he made contact with your skin.

he studied you, bringing your hoodie up over your head. holding it over your naked cleavage. the doctors still didn’t want you wearing bras for it could mess up your stitching.

once again you felt vulnerable. waiting for him to say somthing. he ran his fingers near your incision. you watched his face as he did so.

you felt your eyes gloss over. growing very emotional at his touch. trying your best not to cry, you let your eyes fall to your knees. staring at them instead of him.

“you can cry around me… cry baby.” he said softly, his eyes now on your face. without another word you started sobbing. all the emotions that had been off, switched on from his touch.

you sounded embarrassing, stifling, groaning. you felt every emotion at once. quivering, you whispered, “i’m sor-ry you have to see me like this.”

before you could say anything else he pulled you into a hug. hugging you like you could slip away at any moment. you grabbed onto him, dampening his hoodie.

the moment was just you, intimate. vulnerable.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

i think i’m gonna make this but with kiri!! why not loll. please give me asks. i’m beggin

[loveesiren]

𝒮𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒

Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon) x Reader

a/n: see the full request here! I changed it a little, hope you don't mind! I wrote this while kind of tipsy so it's not my favorite, sorry if the proofreading was shit/if there's any mistakes! I hope you enjoy regardless! <3

synopsis: After their fight, Y/n is surprised to hear that her best friend still needs her so desperately.

warnings: angst, language, panic attack, fluff

wc: 3.7k+

Spending time with your best friend has always been your favorite thing in the world. Jiyong was your safe space, your person—the one you could sit in comfortable silence with or talk to for hours on end without ever running out of things to say. But lately, that joy had been overshadowed by a growing concern gnawing at your chest.

BIGBANG’s tour was just around the corner, and their new album was about to drop. It was supposed to be an exciting time, and it was—you were beyond thrilled for them, for him. You had always been his biggest supporter, ready to help in any way you could. But as you sat in the dimly lit practice room, watching Jiyong push himself to his absolute limit, that excitement soured into unease.

His voice was raw from overuse, cracked and strained in a way that made you wince every time he spoke. He practiced his choreography until he was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Some nights, he worked himself to the point of collapse, and you were the one left to pick up the pieces—carrying his limp, exhausted body to bed, draping a blanket over his shaking form, whispering for him to rest even though you knew he wouldn’t listen.

Tonight was no different. The music blasted through the studio speakers, and Jiyong was lost in the rhythm, his body moving on autopilot despite the evident exhaustion written all over him. You watched as his steps faltered, his balance wavering. Then, just like that, his legs buckled, and he went crashing down.

“Jiyong!” You rushed to his side, your heart hammering as you kneeled beside him. His skin was clammy, his breathing ragged as he tried to push himself up. You grabbed the water bottle you’d brought for him and shoved it into his trembling hands.

“Drink,” you urged, your voice softer now, laced with worry. He took a few sips, barely able to keep the bottle steady. “Ji, you’re worrying me,” you admitted, eyes searching his for any sign that he’d finally listen, that he’d see what he was doing to himself.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Just have to make sure I’m ready for tour.”

You shook your head. “Ji, you’re overworking yourself. You’ve got everything perfected, okay? Give yourself time to rest.”

He exhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet despite your hand reaching out to steady him. “You don’t get it, Y/n,” he said, brushing past you, already making his way back to the center of the room.

You stood as well, crossing your arms as you watched him stubbornly reset the track. “I get that you’re tired, Ji,” you said gently, trying again. “You’re just hurting yourself at this point—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, cutting you off as the first beats of the song echoed through the studio.

Your chest tightened. “I’m just worried… I mean, you fainted and now you just want to keep going like nothing happened?”

Jiyong clenched his jaw, his fists balling at his sides. He turned to face you, eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, frustration, desperation?

“Look, Y/n,” he said, his voice cold and sharp, each word like a blade slicing through your chest. “You’re a bartender, alright? You don’t have to be that skilled at anything.”

The air in the room shifted instantly. You felt the words like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat.

Jiyong must have seen the way your face fell because for a split second, his expression flickered with something softer—regret, maybe? But then it was gone, replaced by a steely determination as he turned back to his practice.

“If I’m not perfect, then I’m done. Alright?” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “If you can’t handle it, then fuck off.”

Silence.

You scoffed, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips even as you fought to keep the tears at bay. “Wow,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Fuck you, Jiyong.”

You turned on your heel, grabbing your bag with shaking hands as you stormed out of the studio. You half-expected him to call after you, to chase after you and take it back. But he didn’t.

The only sound that followed you was the relentless pounding of the bass as he started the song over again.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, but it did nothing to dull the sting of his words. Your vision blurred as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. You barely registered getting into your car, hands gripping the wheel so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

You had always known Jiyong could be stubborn, obsessive even. But this? This was something else. This was him drowning, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull him back to the surface.

And worst of all, he didn’t even want you to.

You barely made it into your apartment before collapsing onto your bed, burying your face in the pillows as sobs wracked your body. You cried until there was nothing left, until exhaustion took over, pulling you into a restless sleep.

-

How is he? You texted Seunghyun, your fingers hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

A few minutes passed before your phone buzzed with his response.

Being a total prick.

You sighed, pressing your forehead into your palm. It had been three days since you last spoke to Jiyong. Three days since he spat those words at you, since you walked out of that practice studio, feeling like the ground had been ripped from beneath you. Three days of silence.

And now, with BIGBANG’s first show of the tour just four days away, all you could do was check in through the others. You had been messaging Seunghyun and Daesung, hoping—maybe even praying—that Jiyong would come to his senses, that he’d realize how badly he had hurt you. But instead, he was still working himself into the ground, still burning himself out, and in return, treating everyone around him like shit.

You bit your lip, debating whether to text him. Your fingers hovered over his contact, but your stomach twisted at the memory of his voice.

"You’re a bartender, alright? You don’t have to be that skilled at anything."

That one line alone still stung like hell.

Jiyong had always been intense when it came to his career, but never—not once—had he spoken to you like that. You had been his best friend for years, his shoulder to lean on when things got too heavy. And yet, the moment you expressed concern, he shoved you away like you were nothing.

Was that really how he saw you? Just some nobody?

You blinked back the fresh sting of tears. No. You refused to let yourself dwell on it anymore. Instead, you did what you always did when life became too much—you threw yourself into work.

Extra shifts, late nights, anything to keep your mind occupied. And it worked… for the most part. But when Saturday rolled around, that familiar ache settled in your chest like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You had never missed one of Jiyong’s home shows. Not once. From his first-ever performance to the biggest sold-out stadiums, you were always there, watching from the V.I.P section, cheering him on. But this time? This time, you weren’t even sure if he wanted you there.

So, you made the decision. You picked up an extra shift at the bar. Saturday nights were always hectic, and if nothing else, at least the tips would be good.

Still, as you got ready for work, your heart ached. It felt wrong not being there.

You glanced at your phone. Zero messages from Jiyong. Nothing. He wasn’t even going to check in. Not even a half-assed apology. Your fingers tightened around your phone, debating one last time if you should reach out.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath before quickly typing out a message.

“I love you, Ji. Good luck at your show tonight.”

Short. Simple. To the point.

You sent it before you could overthink it, shoving your phone into your bag and focusing on finishing your makeup.

-

Meanwhile…

Jiyong sat in the dressing room, his body slumped against the couch. His vision swam as he stared at his phone, your message illuminating the screen. His hands trembled as he gripped the device tighter, reading and rereading your words.

"I love you, Ji."

God, his chest ached.

His head was pounding, his skin slick with sweat despite the AC blasting in the room. He was exhausted—more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. His entire body ached, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement. He had barely eaten in days, barely slept. And now, the crushing weight of knowing you weren’t here—knowing that he had done this, that he had driven you away—was suffocating him.

She should be here, he thought bitterly.

You were always there. Always in the crowd, always waiting for him backstage with a knowing smile and a bottle of water, telling him how proud you were. No matter what, you were there.

But not tonight.

And it was his fault.

“Jiyong, are you okay?”

He barely registered his stylist’s voice until he felt the cool press of her hand against his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” she muttered, concern evident in her tone.

“M’fine…” he mumbled, swatting her hand away weakly.

She frowned but didn’t argue, instead focusing on finishing his hair, even though the strands were already damp from the sweat clinging to his skin. No amount of styling product would keep it in place—not with the way his body was overheating.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to push through the exhaustion. One hour until showtime. Just one more hour.

But even as he tried to rest, the shivering wouldn’t stop.

“Jiyong!”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Seunghyun and Taeyang’s voices.

“What?!” he snapped, his patience paper-thin.

The two men exchanged a glance before Taeyang took a cautious step forward. “Dude… you don’t look so good.”

Jiyong scoffed, turning onto his side to face the couch. “Fuck off, I’m fine…” His body trembled violently, contradicting his words. “Just leave me alone.”

Seunghyun frowned. “You’re sweating like hell, and you’re shaking, Ji. You seriously think you can get through a full show like this?”

Jiyong gritted his teeth, forcing himself to sit up. “I said I’m fine,” he ground out, even though the room spun around him.

The others weren’t convinced. They had seen Jiyong push himself too far before, but this? This was different. He looked pale—too pale. And the way his shoulders trembled, the way his breaths came out shallow and labored, sent a deep sense of unease through them all.

“We need to tell the manager,” Seunghyun finally said. “If he collapses on stage, it’s gonna be bad.”

Jiyong let out a bitter laugh. “I won’t collapse.”

“Bullshit,” Taeyang muttered. “You can barely sit up.”

The room fell into tense silence before Daesung finally spoke up. “I’m gonna call Y/n.”

Jiyong’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “No,” he croaked, but it was weak, barely a whisper.

“She can help,” Daesung insisted, already pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, good idea,” the others agreed.

Jiyong clenched his jaw, his fists tightening in his lap. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this—to see him so weak, so broken.

But deep down, past all the pride, past all the self-inflicted suffering…

He just wanted you.

Because no matter how badly he fucked up, no matter how much he pushed you away…

You were the one person who could always put him back together.

The moment you stepped away from the bar, you broke into a sprint toward the bathroom, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your phone buzzed relentlessly in your pocket, each vibration sending a fresh wave of anxiety through you. Hands trembling, you yanked it out, eyes widening at the flood of missed calls.

Daesung. Seunghyun. Taeyang.

Something was wrong.

You barely had time to inhale before hitting Daesung’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Y/n, Jiyong needs you.” His voice was tight, urgent.

Your stomach clenched. “What’s going on? I’m at work.”

“I think it’s a panic attack or something. I don’t know—he won’t let any of us help him. Y/n, please, just come.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching. “I don’t… I don’t think he wants me there, Daesung. We had a fight. He—he said some things…”

“He’s shutting down, Y/n. Our manager is thinking of canceling the show.” His voice cracked, desperation seeping through the line. “You’re his best friend. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

Your fingers dug into the bathroom counter. The things Jiyong had said to you still echoed in your head, sharp and unforgiving. But was that really him talking? Or was it exhaustion twisting his words, pushing him past reason?

He was your person. Your best friend. And right now, he needed you.

“I’m on my way.” You hung up, moving quickly to gather your things, but before you could slip out, your boss caught sight of you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? It’s packed out there—we need you!”

“I’m sorry, sir. Family emergency,” you stammered, throwing your apron onto the counter.

“If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.”

You met his glare, then—without a second thought—flipped him off and stormed through the crowded kitchen to the back door, heart hammering as you reached your car. You tossed your bag onto the passenger seat and peeled out of the parking lot, heading straight for the stadium. The city lights blurred past you, neon signs flickering against the darkening sky.

Your phone rang again. It was Daesung. “Hey, I’m almost there. Where do I go?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’re on the list,” Daesung said. “Just head backstage.”

You barely parked before jumping out of the car, navigating through the maze of security and flashing lights. The walls of the venue were lined with photos of legendary musicians, their eyes seeming to watch you as you ran past. Your pulse thrummed in your ears.

Then you heard Daesung call your name. “Y/n!” Daesung waved you over, his relief evident.

You didn’t waste a second. Following him down the hall, you turned a sharp corner and stepped into the dressing room. The air inside was thick with tension.

Jiyong sat hunched over, his elbows braced on his knees, his face pale and drawn. A paramedic stood beside him, pressing an ice pack to his head, murmuring something you couldn’t hear.

“Ji…” Your voice came out softer than you intended, your heart twisting at the sight of him. “What happened?”

His head lifted at the sound of your voice. His dark eyes met yours, wide and glassy.

Then, as if gravity had yanked him forward, he surged up from the couch and threw himself into your arms. His entire body trembled against you, his grip so tight it nearly stole your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking.

You barely had time to steady yourself before he buried his face in your shoulder. His weight pressed into you, as if you were the only thing holding him up.

“Ji…” you whispered, your hands sliding up his back, fingers threading into his hair. “I’ve got you.”

His breath came in shuddering gasps. “I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have said those things. I should have listened to you—I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. I—” His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”

The others watched silently as he clung to you, their faces a mix of relief and quiet concern.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, rubbing slow circles into his back. “I forgive you.”

His shoulders shook as he let out a quiet sob, the dam finally breaking. The weight of exhaustion, pressure, and regret poured out of him all at once.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” you asked over his shoulder, still holding him.

Daesung nodded, ushering the others out. The paramedic handed you an ice pack and a bottle of water, giving you a small nod before exiting.

Jiyong let you guide him back to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. He wiped at his tear-streaked face, sniffling as you handed him the water. You pressed the ice pack gently to the back of his neck.

“Ji, tell me what happened.”

He took a slow sip, his voice hoarse. “I fucked up, Y/n.” He shook his head. “You were right. I shouldn’t have pushed myself so hard. I—” He exhaled sharply. “I’m exhausted. And then you weren’t here, and I just… I don’t know. I lost it.”

You hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted me here after what you said to me.”

His gaze snapped up to meet yours, guilt swimming in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it. Not for a second. I was out of my head, Y/n. I’ve been beating myself up over it for days, but I was too ashamed to call.”

Your heart softened. You reached for him, pulling him close and pressing a light kiss to his temple. “I know, Ji.” You stroked his hair gently. “I just worry about you.” A quiet pause. “I love you.”

His breath hitched. “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked, his voice small. His big, innocent eyes searched yours, raw and vulnerable.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a tear from his cheek. “Of course I can. Just don’t ever say some dumb shit like that again.”

A weak smile tugged at his lips. “Cross my heart.”

“Do you feel any better? Do you need to cancel the show?”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand. “You fix everything. You always do. You’re magic like that.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against them.

Shivers ran down your spine.

“Here.” You tugged him down gently. “Lay back. You have forty-five minutes until the show. Rest as much as you can.”

With a deep breath, he let himself relax against the couch, his fingers still loosely curled around yours. You ran a comforting hand through his hair, cooling him down with the ice pack.

-

“How’s he doing?” Taeyang and Seunghyun appeared in the doorway of the dressing room, their faces laced with concern but softened by the sight of Jiyong sitting upright.

“I’m fine,” Jiyong muttered, his voice still a little hoarse. He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slowly before flashing them a sheepish smile. “Sorry for being such a prick…”

Taeyang let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “We’re just glad you’re okay, man.”

Seunghyun smirked, glancing between the two of you. “Y/n, I think we need to keep you around more often. Seems like you’re the only one who can get through to him.”

You grinned. “Well, I just lost my job, so I’m free whenever!”

“What?” Jiyong snapped his head toward you so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. His smile faded instantly, replaced by guilt and concern.

You waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Ji. My boss was a fucking dick anyway. I was gonna quit eventually.”

But Jiyong wasn’t convinced. He looked down, his fingers twisting the hem of his shirt as his jaw clenched. You could see the thoughts racing through his mind—this was his fault. Another thing to add to the weight he carried.

“Hey.” You softened, reaching out and tilting his chin up with your fingers, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “You’re more important, yeah?”

His bottom lip quivered ever so slightly before he muttered, “M’sorry…” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion.

Your heart clenched. Without thinking, without hesitation, you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

He froze for half a second, as if his brain was struggling to process what was happening. But then, slowly, he melted into you, his hands coming up to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss.

It was hesitant at first—uncertain, full of unspoken words—but then something shifted. His fingers tightened against your skin, his lips moving with more urgency, more need. Like he had been waiting for this just as long as you had.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you both jolt apart.

“Uh… show time in five,” Seunghyun said, eyes wide with amusement before he and Taeyang practically ran out of the room, leaving you and Jiyong in breathless silence.

As you pulled back just slightly, your noses brushed, his breath warm against your lips. His dark eyes were searching yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“W-what was that for?” he stammered, voice cracking slightly.

You bit your lip, hoping you hadn’t just overstepped everything. “Good luck,” you whispered, offering him a small smile.

Jiyong blinked at you, stunned. Then, to your surprise, his lips curled into a slow, boyish grin before he cupped your face and kissed you again. This time, it wasn’t hesitant—it was filled with silent promises, unspoken confessions, and years of built-up longing neither of you had dared to acknowledge until now.

You smiled against his lips, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“Now go!” you laughed, gently shoving him toward the door. “You don’t wanna miss your first show.”

Jiyong stumbled back slightly, his grin never faltering. As he reached the doorway, he hesitated, his fingers lingering on the frame as he turned to look at you.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” he asked, almost shyly.

Your expression softened. “I’ll always be here, Ji.”

Something in his eyes shifted, like he was silently thanking whatever higher power had brought you into his life. Then, with a final, wide smile, he spun on his heel and took off down the hall, his energy renewed.

From backstage, you watched him take the stage, his presence electrifying the entire stadium. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all you could focus on was him.

And as he stood under the blinding lights, microphone in hand, he turned his head ever so slightly—just enough to catch a glimpse of you in the shadows.

A private smile ghosted across his lips.

Your stomach flipped.

This was only the beginning of a whole new chapter in your life.

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[westside-rot]

Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

[mandoalorian]

trending for you [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: Bucky’s appearance on The Late Late Show changes everything, with the truth coming to light and his feelings laid bare for the world to see. As the public forms their opinions, Bucky focuses on what matters most—his future with you. But with new dangers ahead, you must navigate a path filled with uncertainty and growing tensions.

Word Count: 7200

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content, employer x employee, male recieving oral, handjobs, sub!Bucky, you love taking care of your Congressman, man has a praise kink too, political discourse, canon-typical tensions and love confessions.

Masterlist

prev chapter <3 | congress & carnality masterlist

Bucky stood in the dimly lit warehouse, arms crossed over his chest as he listened to Sam pace back and forth. Joaquin Torres, the ever-eager and slightly starstruck Falcon, sat at the table between them, eyes darting between the two men as he took in everything they had just laid out. Coffee rings stained the table, thanks to Sam, and the three men’s eyes raked over the intel, piecing it all together one by one.

“So, let me get this straight,” Joaquin finally said, leaning forward. “Ross is only siding with Hydra because they’re blackmailing him with this… super soldier serum that prevents him from going full Red Hulk mode?”

“Bingo,” Sam muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And if we can get him a different treatment, something that doesn’t make him their little puppet, then we cut off Hydra’s leverage.”

Joaquin whistled, shaking his head. “Man. I knew politics were shady, but this is some next-level villainy.”

Bucky huffed, still silent, his jaw tense. He was staring at the blueprint of their next steps, but his mind wasn’t all there. Not after everything that had happened, and revisiting it like that proved to be just as challenging. However, it was nothing he had never done before. 

“You good, cyborg?” Joaquin teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like you’ve been through hell and back.”

Bucky finally exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Yeah. I have.” His voice was gravelly, exhausted, but there was a glint in his eye—determination. “But I’m still here.”

“Damn right you are,” Sam clapped him on the back, grounding him for a second. “And you’re about to go live on national television to expose this whole operation. You ready for that?”

Bucky rolled his shoulders, shrugging. “Yeah. I’ve done worse.”

Joaquin smirked. “Man, you really are old-school cool, huh? Just gonna stroll up in there like, ‘Hey America, guess what? There’s a secret underground Hydra operation happening under your noses and I’m gonna fix it.’”

Sam laughed at that. “That’s exactly what he’s gonna do.”

“Bold move,” Joaquin huffed, grinning.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, it gets bolder. We’re gonna need you to reach out to someone for us.”

Joaquin raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Sam slid a tablet across the table. The screen displayed a series of medical reports, all linked to a certain Dr. Bruce Banner.

Joaquin let out a low whistle. “You want me to call the Hulk?”

“We don’t need the Hulk,” Bucky said, adjusting the cuffs of his black button-up shirt. “We need Banner’s brain.”

Sam tapped the screen. “Ross is taking some kind of suppressant to keep his Red Hulk side under control. If Banner can decode it, we might be able to cut Ross loose from HYDRA. No more blackmail, no more leverage.”

Silence settled for a moment. The weight of what they were about to do loomed heavy in the air.

Joaquin exhaled, then clapped his hands together. “Alright. Let’s do this. I’ll reach out to Banner, see if he can get us something to counteract Ross’s condition.”

“Good,” Sam nodded. “Meanwhile, Barnes here needs to get suited up for his big debut.”

Joaquin grinned at Bucky. “You gonna wear a tie?”

Bucky scoffed. “I’ll wear a goddamn suit. That’s enough.”

Sam chuckled. “Man, you really don’t do this whole media thing, do you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t.”

Joaquin smirked. “Well, you’re about to go viral. Again.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face. He didn’t really understand what it meant to be viral but it certainly didn’t sound good. Viral. Like a disease. “Great.”

Sam patted his shoulder, his expression shifting to something softer. “You got this, man. We’ll be watching.”

Bucky met his eyes, nodding once. He knew they had his back. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t doing this alone. He had you, Yelena, Sam, Joaquin, and maybe even Bruce Banner if Sam could make contact. And that was one hell of a team. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The safehouse was quiet—too quiet. You sat curled up on the couch, one leg bouncing anxiously as you stared at the blank television screen, waiting for the Late Late Show to start.

Bucky didn’t leave until Yelena had arrived, and promised him she’d keep you safe. He was practically pushed out of the door, not wanting to leave your side. You offered a nervous smile to Yelena. She was beautiful, on the shorter side with ragged blonde hair and electric blue eyeliner. She looked unbelievably cool, and you briefly wondered how Bucky had become so close with someone like her. Yelena immediately made you feel safe and at ease, talking to you like she had known you forever. She said something like ‘if Bucky trusts you, then so do I’, and that was enough. 

“Relax, котёнок,” Yelena’s voice drawled as she strolled into the room, arms full of snacks. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You turned to her, blinking. “I— I’m just nervous.”

“For the show?” She plopped down next to you, dumping the snacks onto the coffee table. “Or for your boyfriend?”

Your face heated instantly. “He’s not my—”

Yelena snorted, cutting you off with a dramatic sigh. “Oh please, do not even start. You are so down bad for Barnes. It’s adorable.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” She nudged you with her elbow. “You love me because I bring snacks and wisdom.” She skillfully threw a sourpatch kid into her mouth, squirming at the taste when it landed on her tongue.

You peeked at the snacks—chips, candy, and two bottles of beer. You raised a brow. “Beer?”

She shrugged, popping one open. “Bucky is on TV. We drink.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. Yelena beamed, taking a swig before settling back against the couch.

“Okay, tell me,” she said, kicking her feet up. “How did this whole thing start? You and Barnes?”

You hesitated, chewing your lip. “I met him in Brooklyn… he helped me move into my apartment.”

Yelena’s brows lifted comically. “He helped you?”

You smiled a little. “Yeah. I was struggling, and he just showed up out of nowhere.”

Yelena smirked. “Classic Bucky. That man is helpless when it comes to a damsel in distress.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was not a damsel in distress.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, sure.” She waved a hand. “Go on.”

You sighed. “I thought he looked familiar. I asked him about it, and he just shrugged it off. He was so vague about everything—where he was from, what he did. It amused me.”

Yelena grinned. “Let me guess. You were charmed.”

You hesitated, but your small smile gave you away.

“I knew it.” Yelena cackled. “You’re so soft for him.”

You groaned again, sinking into the couch. “Can you not?”

She patted your knee. “Sorry, sorry. Please continue. I love a good love story.”

You huffed. “The next day, I went to an interview for a job… and he was the one hiring.”

Yelena’s mouth fell open. “Shut up.”

You grinned. “Nope.”

“That’s so corny,” she said, laughing. “Like a rom-com.”

“I know.” You exhaled, shaking your head. “It just… happened. One thing led to another.”

“And now you’re in love with him.”

Your breath hitched. You opened your mouth, but Yelena just gave you a knowing look.

“Admit it,” she teased, wiggling her brows. “Say it out loud.”

You swallowed. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought it. You had felt it for a long time. But saying it out loud…

Your voice was quiet. “I love him.”

Yelena smiled. “Yeah. I know. I have sixth sense for these things,” she said proudly, examining a Twizzler between her fingers. 

A comfortable silence settled. You anxiously bit at your nails as you watched the commercials on TV. The interview would be starting any minute now.

“I’m scared, though,” you admitted. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen after tonight. What if—”

“Hey,” Yelena cut you off, her voice softer now. “Barnes will be fine. He’s got Sam, Joaquin, he’s got me, and most importantly—he’s got you.”

You exhaled slowly, nodding.

“Besides,” Yelena smirked. “I need to see how this romance plays out. I’m invested now.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.” She took another sip of beer before tilting her head. “You know, I actually met Bucky in a very similar way.”

That caught your attention. “Wait, really?”

Yelena smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Mhm. Back when I was still running around, doing my Black Widow thing, I was sent after him once. Some HYDRA remnants put a hit on him.”

Your stomach twisted. “A hit?”

She waved a hand. “Pfft. Nothing serious. They wanted me to take care of it because I was the best.” She shot you a cocky grin. “Obviously.”

You blinked. “Wait—so they sent you to kill Bucky?”

“Technically.” She eventually took a bite of the Twizzler. “But I was mostly just curious. Everyone said he was the most dangerous assassin ever. So I found him, tracked him down, and tried to fight him.”

Your jaw dropped. “Tried?”

Yelena snorted. “Tried. He won, obviously. But I got a few good hits in.”

You stared at her. “You fought Bucky?”

“Mhm.” She grinned. “And when he realized I wasn’t actually trying to kill him, he took me out for a drink instead.”

Your eyes widened. “He what?”

She nodded. “Yup. Sat me down at some dingy little bar and bought me a beer.” She shrugged. “I guess we bonded over being screwed over by the people who raised us.”

You exhaled. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Yelena smiled. “He’s a good guy. You know that, right?”

Your chest tightened. “I do.”

“Good.” She nudged you. “Because he really likes you, too.”

A small, shy smile tugged at your lips.

“Now,” Yelena clapped her hands together. “Shut up. The show is starting.”

Both of you turned to the screen, your heart pounding as the Late Late Show’s theme music began.

Bucky was about to go live.

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The Late Late Show theme music blared through the speakers as the camera panned across the roaring crowd. Bright lights flashed, illuminating the sleek, modern set where Jimmy Coors, the ever-charismatic host, stood in his navy pinstripe suit, grinning at the camera.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jimmy said, spreading his arms wide. “Tonight, we have a very special guest. You know him. You love him. Some of you are terrified of him.” A playful chuckle rippled through the audience. “He’s a war hero, a former Avenger, and the most talked-about man in America right now—please welcome Congressman James Buchanan Barnes!”

The crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, and excited applause filled the room as Bucky strode onto the stage.

You sucked in a breath.

Seeing him on the screen, looking so composed, was surreal.

Bucky wore a sharp, all-black suit, tailored perfectly to his frame. His dark hair was neatly combed back, but a few strands still fell stubbornly over his forehead. His beard was trimmed, and his blue eyes were piercing, even through the screen. He looked so handsome — so Hollywood. 

Yelena let out a low whistle. “Damn. No wonder you’re in love with him.”

You shoved her shoulder, but your eyes never left the screen.

Bucky shook Jimmy’s hand before settling into the plush armchair across from him. Despite his usual brooding nature, there was a quiet confidence in his posture.

“So,” Jimmy said, leaning forward with an easy grin. “You’ve been off the grid for a few days now.”

Bucky smirked slightly. “Yeah, needed a break from all the conspiracy theories.”

The crowd laughed.

Jimmy chuckled. “Well, let’s address the elephant in the room, then. You’ve been vocal about your suspicions regarding HYDRA’s resurgence. And now, suddenly, you disappear for almost a week? A lot of people have been speculating about what happened.” He tapped the desk. “Care to clear things up?”

Bucky exhaled. His fingers drummed against his knee—a nervous tick. You recognized it instantly.

Then, he lifted his gaze. “I was attacked.”

The audience fell silent.

Jimmy blinked. “Attacked?” Jimmy glanced over to the cameras, and then the producers, and then back to Bucky. 

Bucky nodded, his expression hardening. “HYDRA is not just a ghost from the past. They’re still out there. And they don’t just operate in the shadows anymore. They are inside our government, inside our military, inside everything.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Jimmy’s brows furrowed. “That’s… a bold accusation.”

Bucky tilted his head. “It’s the truth.”

The studio fell dead quiet.

Jimmy hesitated before nodding. “And you have proof?”

Bucky reached into his jacket, pulling out a small USB drive. He placed it on the desk between them.

“This,” Bucky said, voice firm, “contains classified documents, video footage, and intelligence reports—evidence that proves HYDRA is still alive and operating under the protection of certain high-ranking officials. Including President Thaddeus Ross.”

Gasps rang out.

You gripped the couch cushion so hard your knuckles ached.

Jimmy, for once, looked stunned. He picked up the USB drive, turning it over between his fingers. “And you’re showing this now, live on television?”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “Figured it’d be harder for them to cover it up this way.”

The audience cheered.

Jimmy chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, I have never seen a politician with balls this big.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and even Bucky cracked a small grin.

Then, Jimmy leaned in. “But listen, Bucky, I gotta ask…” He waved a hand at the screen behind them, where footage from news reports played—clips of Bucky pulling you from the facility, carrying you in his arms, his face twisted with raw desperation.

Your stomach flipped.

Jimmy’s voice softened. “There’s been a lot of speculation about the woman in these videos. You saved her, but no one knows who she is. Some reports claim she’s just your assistant. Some say she’s an informant. Some think she’s a political pawn.” He paused. “But that look on your face?” He pointed at the screen. “That doesn’t look like politics. That looks personal.”

Your breath caught.

Yelena leaned in, eyes wide. “Oh, this is about to get good.”

Bucky’s expression shifted.

The audience hushed.

For the first time since the interview started, he looked almost vulnerable. His fingers flexed against his knee, and he exhaled slowly.

Then, he spoke.

“She’s not my informant,” Bucky said quietly.

Jimmy waited.

“She’s not a political pawn.”

Bucky lifted his head, eyes burning with intensity.

“She’s the woman I love.”

The room exploded.

The audience lost it—cheers, screams, whistles.

Yelena smacked your leg. “Holy shit!”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Jimmy, laughing, threw his hands up. “There it is! I knew it!” He grinned, looking out at the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a romance!”

Bucky huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head.

Jimmy turned back to him. “No, but seriously—tell me about her.”

Bucky hesitated, as if he didn’t know how to put it into words. Then, he simply said—

“She’s everything.”

You swore your heart stopped.

The crowd awed.

Yelena groaned, clutching her chest dramatically. “Ugh. You’re so lucky. Where do I get one?”

Your eyes burned. You covered your mouth, overwhelmed.

Jimmy shook his head, grinning. “Well, you do realize you just sent the internet into a meltdown, right?”

Bucky smirked slightly. “Yeah, I figured.”

Jimmy sighed. “Man, I gotta say… between this and your little crusade against HYDRA, you might as well run for president.”

The crowd cheered again.

Bucky blinked. “Wait, what?”

Jimmy laughed. “No, I’m serious! People love you! You stand up for what’s right, you’re taking down corrupt politicians, you fight for the little guy—and now you’re out here confessing your love like some tragic war hero? You’re America’s golden boy!”

More applause.

Bucky looked bewildered.

You were, too.

Yelena? She just grinned, shaking her head. “Oh, he’s so screwed.”

Jimmy turned back to the camera. “Folks, give it up for Congressman James Buchanan Barnes!”

The audience roared as the camera panned out.

And as the Late Late Show cut to commercial, you let out a shaky breath—because everything had just changed.

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The Late Late Show was a whirlwind, a huge success, and yet, despite the triumph, Bucky felt that gnawing unease in his gut. The world was starting to notice him, sure, but he knew his fight wasn’t over. There was still so much at stake—HYDRA, Ross, and the promises he’d made.

Now, in a sleek, high-rise building on the outskirts of Washington, Bucky stood in front of President Thaddeus Ross, who, despite his imposing figure, looked somehow smaller in the private, dimly lit room. The tall windows framed the night sky, casting long shadows over the two men.

Sam and Joaquin stood nearby, their postures relaxed but tense—watchful, just in case things went south.

Ross was sitting at a large desk, hands clasped together in front of him, his face hard. His normally strict demeanor had softened just a touch, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as Bucky approached.

“You’ve got guts,” Ross said, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll give you that.”

Bucky didn’t sit. He wasn’t here for small talk. “I’m here to make sure you understand something,” he said, his tone even but laced with warning. “You stay the hell away from HYDRA. I’m done watching you play the puppet. You’re gonna stop working with them, and if you want to live—if you want to stop your gamma problem from getting worse—I’ll help you. But only if you cut all ties.”

Ross’ jaw tightened. He sat back in his chair. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“No,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t. You’ve been a pawn for too long, but there’s still a chance for you to do the right thing. You need help, Ross. I know a few people who can help.”

Ross leaned forward, voice shaking with anger and desperation. “HYDRA won’t let me go so easily. They’ve got eyes on me. They’ve been threatening me for years, and this… this is my life now. You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything with some easy solution?”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy,” Bucky replied, his voice colder than before. “But it’s the only way to get you out from under their thumb. You don’t have to be their puppet anymore. And if you want to get control of your condition, I can help you—Bruce Banner can help you decode the anti-red Hulk pills. The cure is out there, Ross, and you don’t have to keep hiding behind their lies.”

Ross stood up suddenly, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think I want this? You think I want to be stuck in this?” He let out a harsh laugh, bitterness spilling from his words. “I’m stuck. Stuck in this cycle of trying to control something I can’t. And HYDRA? They hold the leash. They made sure of that.”

Bucky stepped closer, a grim resolve in his eyes. “I know you’re a victim here, Ross. I know that better than anyone. But you don’t have to let them win. You can fight back. You can get out. We can do this together. But only if you stop playing their game.”

Ross met his eyes. For a moment, the anger in his gaze softened, replaced by something more human—vulnerability, regret, fear. He finally exhaled sharply.

“Do you have any idea how much this will cost me?” Ross asked, voice quieter now. “HYDRA won’t let me walk away without consequences. They have control of so much—my research, my career, my life. If I betray them, they’ll make sure I don’t live to regret it.”

“Then don’t betray them. Just stop working for them.” Bucky’s voice was firm, unyielding. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure everyone knows the truth. No more hiding behind the government or the press. You can start making your own choices, Ross. This is your last chance to do something right.”

Ross stared at him for a long time, and in that moment, Bucky saw it—the small crack in the wall Ross had built around himself. Maybe he wasn’t the villain after all.

Finally, Ross spoke, his voice a low rasp. “I can’t promise it’ll be easy. But I’ll try. I’ll try to get out. For you.”

“No Ross, for you,” Bucky said, his tone softer now. “You’re the Goddman President, you do this for you and the people of America. And when it’s over, you owe them an apology,” Ross swallowed. “We’ll help you get the medication, the real treatment you need. You don’t have to keep going down this path.”

As the two men exchanged one last look, Sam stepped forward, a silent acknowledgment passing between him and Ross. “We’ll be in touch,” Sam said quietly.

With that, Bucky turned, walking towards the door. Joaquin followed closely behind, glancing at Ross one last time.

Before they left the room, Bucky turned to look over his shoulder. “And Ross? Don’t make me regret this.”

Ross gave a stiff nod, and Bucky and the team stepped out of the room, the weight of what was to come settling on their shoulders.

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Back at the safehouse, Yelena had made herself right at home. She’d already raided the fridge for snacks, pulling out a bag of chips, some cheese, and a bottle of soda as she plopped down beside you on the couch.

“So,” Yelena started, winking at you, “how down bad are you for him?”

You choked on your soda, turning to look at her. “What?”

Yelena shrugged innocently, though her grin was anything but. “What? Don’t look at me like I don’t see the way you look at him. The way you always look at him.”

You felt your face flush. “I… It’s not like that.”

“Oh, it’s definitely like that,” Yelena teased, munching on a Cheez-It. “You’re just lucky he’s head over heels for you too. Can’t imagine what it’s like to have that level of devotion.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, feeling both embarrassed and warm inside. “I don’t even know how it happened. But it did. And now I…” You trailed off, your voice quieter. “I just want to be there for him. All of this—this war against HYDRA—it feels like it’s mine too. I want to help.”

Yelena’s teasing expression softened slightly, but she didn’t lose her mischievous glint. “You want to help?”

You nodded, looking at her. “I need to learn how to fight. I don’t want to be the person sitting on the sidelines while Bucky risks his life every day. This is our fight now, not just his.”

Yelena studied you for a long moment. Then, she smiled widely. “Alright. I’ll train you. Since you asked so nicely. But just so you know… It’s not gonna be pretty. You might end up on the floor a lot.”

“I literally did not ask you to train me.” You scoffed.

“You didn’t have to,” Yelena winked, bouncing up and stretching her arms. “It makes sense. You want the best in the business to train you. And that would be me. The best,” She thrusted her thumb into her chest. “So I’ll do it. Out of the goodness of my own heart. Because I am good. Sometimes. Most of the time. Hey, do you have any more Cheez-Its?”

“You’re something else Yelena,” you laughed. “But maybe we keep this between you and I? Bucky would just worry.”

“Yeah yeah,” she said with a wink. “Let’s start in the morning.”

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The limo’s leather seats creaked slightly as Bucky and Sam sat in silence, the only noise coming from the faint hum of the city as they drove toward the safehouse. The flashing lights of the streets outside felt distant, like the world was a little bit quieter now that the chaos of the day was behind them. Bucky was leaning against the window, his gaze lost somewhere in the dark night, while Sam sat across from him, his arms folded, his brow furrowed in thought.

Sam glanced at Bucky, noticing how quiet he had been since the press conference. It wasn’t like him to withdraw like this, even after everything that had happened. Sam could tell something was weighing on him.

“What’s up, man?” Sam asked, breaking the silence. “You’ve been out of it.”

Bucky’s gaze shifted slightly, but he didn’t look fully at Sam, his eyes still distant. “Just... thinking.”

“Yeah?” Sam leaned forward a little. “Thinking about what?”

Bucky took a long breath, his fingers tapping absently on the armrest. “I miss him, man.”

Sam blinked, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in Bucky’s voice. “Steve?”

Bucky nodded, his voice quiet as he continued. “Coors called me America’s Golden Boy and I just… I don’t know. I guess I thought about him. I know it’s been years, but it still feels... wrong. I should’ve been there. He was always there for me, and now... he’s not. I can’t help but feel like I let him down.”

Sam softened, understanding what Bucky was feeling. He had seen how much Steve had meant to him, how deeply their bond went, even after all the pain and time that had passed. “You didn’t let him down, Buck,” Sam said gently. “You did what you could. It’s not your fault that things went the way they did.”

Bucky looked out the window again, his expression unreadable. “I keep wondering if he’d be proud of me now. He always believed in me, but I don’t know if I believe in myself.”

Sam gave him a look, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Bucky, man... you don’t have to be Steve. You’re not meant to be Steve. You’re your own person. What you’ve done, what you’re doing now—it’s bigger than anything we ever thought possible. And Steve would be damn proud of you. You’re not the guy you were when you were under HYDRA’s control. You’re a different man now.”

Bucky let out a breath, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know, Sam. Sometimes I feel like I’m still that same guy in a way. Like I’m still fighting the same battles, just in a different place.”

Sam shook his head, a smile forming on his lips as he leaned forward slightly. “You’ve fought more than your share of battles, Bucky. You’ve earned this. Steve would tell you the same thing. Hell, if he was here, he’d be giving you one of those damn pep talks he was so good at.”

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound just a bit shaky. “Yeah, he probably would.”

Sam leaned back in his seat, his voice growing softer. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone anymore. You’ve done the work. You’re your own person now, Buck. You’ve got your team here with you. We’ve got your back. Always.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered to Sam, his gratitude evident. “Thanks, Sam. For always being here.”

Sam gave him a nod, a warm smile on his face. “That’s what brothers are for.”

They both sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between them but also bringing a sense of calm. Bucky let the words sink in, allowing himself to feel a little lighter, a little more at peace with where he was. He wasn’t the man Steve had been, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still carry on in his own way.

Eventually, Bucky broke the silence again, his voice low but with a hint of a smile. “I hope he’s watching... wherever he is.”

Sam grinned. “Oh, he’s definitely watching. And probably yelling at you to get your act together.”

Bucky laughed, a genuine sound that warmed the space between them. “Yeah, probably.”

The limo continued its journey through the quiet streets, but for the first time in a while, Bucky felt like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to find his own way—one step at a time.

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The door clicked open softly as Bucky stepped into the safehouse, his posture relaxed but his eyes still holding the weight of the day. He was tired, but the overwhelming feeling of relief flooded him as he stepped inside. The familiar warmth of the space greeted him, and the quiet atmosphere felt like a breath of fresh air after the storm of the last few days.

Yelena was already lounging on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table, a bag of chips in one hand. As soon as she saw Bucky walk in, she grinned and gave him a thumbs up, the phone in her other hand still glued to her face.

“You’re trending, big guy,” she announced, her voice filled with a playful edge. “You’ve got the internet wrapped around your finger. Everyone loves you.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. “What are you talking about?”

Yelena turned the phone toward him, showing him the glowing screen. The latest trending hashtags flashed across the screen, including #BuckyForPresident and #BuckyBarnesIsOurHero. The comments were pouring in, from people calling him a hero to those who were moved by his bravery during the interview.

“I think the world is in love with you, Bucky,” Yelena teased, looking up at him with a grin. “You’re making waves, for real.”

Bucky stood there for a moment, processing the words, the notifications flooding the screen. His chest tightened, but in a way that was soft, almost emotional. It was overwhelming—more than anything, it was humbling. But it wasn’t the kind of recognition he had ever sought. He had done all of this for the right reasons, to protect those he loved, and to stop HYDRA once and for all. But seeing the world, his world, reacting this way—it felt different. Like he was finally seen for who he really was.

“Guess I didn’t expect this,” Bucky said, his voice low as he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think people would actually... care about me this way.”

Yelena snorted, her smile widening. “Oh, please. The world’s been waiting for you to come out of hiding. They just needed someone to stand up, and you did. And you did it with style.” She pointed to the screen again, where a fan account had posted a fan art of Bucky holding the world on his shoulders with the words #OurHero written across it. “And it doesn’t hurt that you’re hot.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t do this for the attention, Yelena.”

“I know, I know,” she replied, tossing a chip in her mouth, still amused. “But hey, you got it. And they’re loving it. You’re not the only one trending. Look who else is,” she added, scrolling to another post.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly as Yelena showed him a comment from you. “I’ve always known he was a good man. I’m so proud of him. #MyBucky.”

Bucky swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat. His chest swelled with affection for you, mixed with a tenderness he hadn’t expected. His voice softened as he spoke. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

Yelena shot him a knowing look, the playful teasing fading for a moment. “She is. You’re lucky, Bucky. Don’t mess it up.”

Bucky took a deep breath and nodded. “I know.” His heart thudded heavily in his chest. “I don’t think I could. I... I’ve never been sure of anything more in my life.”

Yelena’s eyes softened, her usual teasing tone replaced by something warmer. “I’m glad you’re figuring it out. You deserve some happiness.”

The words sat with Bucky for a moment, before he nodded again. He had come so far. He had spent years fighting his own demons, trying to prove he could be good, and now, with you by his side, it felt like everything had finally aligned.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice quiet, filled with longing.

Yelena smiled knowingly and pointed toward the hallway. “She’s in the bedroom, waiting for you. She’s been so anxious, watching the interview, wondering how it went. But...” Yelena’s voice lowered with a teasing edge again. “You know, she might be more nervous about the kiss you gave the world than anything else.”

Bucky chuckled, his heart pounding in his chest at the thought of you waiting for him. “I don’t know what came over me,” he said quietly, shaking his head as he walked toward the bedroom. “I just had to say it. Had to make it clear.”

“You did good,” Yelena called after him, her voice light and playful. “She’s definitely gonna love hearing that.”

Bucky stepped into the bedroom, his eyes finding you almost instantly. You were sitting up on the bed, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating your face, your eyes flickering with uncertainty as you watched him approach. The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind of tension that felt forced or strained. It was the kind of nervous energy that only comes when two people who’ve been through so much finally come together, knowing there’s something real between them.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, his voice low and filled with affection as he leaned against the doorframe.

You looked up at him, your face lighting up with a soft smile, but there was a nervousness behind your gaze. “So... how’d it go?” Your voice was a little shaky, but there was so much pride in it, too.

Bucky’s gaze softened as he walked toward you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. “It went... better than I could’ve imagined,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I made it clear, I think.”

He paused for a moment, studying your face, seeing the way your eyes glistened with emotion. He felt that familiar pull toward you, like he couldn’t be away from you for even a second longer.

You bit your lip, your heart thumping in your chest as you asked, “What you said on the show… Bucky… I couldn’t believe it.”

“I said...” Bucky’s voice caught in his throat for a moment, before he continued, “What I said was the truth.” He let out a breath, his words raw, vulnerable. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes, and without thinking, you reached up, pulling him toward you. “You’re really going to make me cry, huh?”

Bucky chuckled softly, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “I’m just telling the truth.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, a slow, tender kiss that was full of everything unspoken between you. It wasn’t just passion. It was the love that had been building between you two since the moment you met. It was everything.

As you kissed, you pulled him down onto the bed with you, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. When you pulled away, you looked up at him with a smile.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “Was it okay?” he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice. His blue eyes searched yours, looking for reassurance. “Did I do okay?”

Without answering, you leaned in, kissing his lips again—this time, with a new urgency. Slowly, you kissed down his neck, your lips moving along his skin, igniting the sparks between you. You could feel him tense, his breathing shallow, and it only made you smile more.

You cupped his face and pulled yourself on top of him, straddling his suit clad lap. You started tugging at his tie, slowly undoing it before discarding it haphazardly. You began unbuttoning his shirt but as your fingers fumbled, Bucky helped, popping each button off in one swift motion. The shirt, along the rest of his clothes, formed a pile on the floor by the bed.

"Let me take care of you," you murmured against his lips, your hands sliding down his torso.

Bucky let out a breathless laugh, his grip on your hips tightening. "Sweetheart, I think you already are."

Your lips found his neck, tracing the strong column of his throat. He shuddered when your teeth grazed his skin, his fingers flexing against your waist.

"You looked so good on that stage," you teased, your voice hushed. "So confident, so strong. And the way you spoke about me—" You kissed down his jaw. "You have no idea what that did to me."

"You drive me insane, you know that?" Bucky rasped, tilting his head back as you pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his pulse point.

You grinned against his skin. "Good."

Bucky’s breath came heavier as your fingers traced the hard planes of his stomach. His muscles twitched under your touch. His skin was warm, littered with scars and stories you had yet to hear in full. But right now, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t a politician or a man burdened by the past. He was just Bucky. Your Bucky.

And he was looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

"You're staring," you murmured, hands splaying over his chest.

Bucky swallowed thickly, his fingers brushing up your sides. "I still can't believe you're real."

You smiled, brushing your lips over his, teasing, light. "Then maybe I should remind you."

You kissed him again—deeper this time, slow and teasing, tasting him, drinking him in. His hands were everywhere, skimming over your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

"You take such good care of me," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, along the column of your throat. His hands roamed, reverent and careful, as if memorizing every inch of you. "Let me take care of you, too."

His lips found the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and a soft sigh escaped your lips.

"You already do," you breathed.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. "Not enough."

His metal fingers dragged along your skin, cool against your warmth, as he worshipped you with his mouth, his touch, his everything.

“Bucky…” you moaned, closing your eyes as a wave of pleasure washed over you. “You’re too good, let me—“ your hands found his manhood, already hard and pressing against his boxers. You gave it a squeeze and Bucky tensed up, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and biting at the skin. You placed your free hand in his hair, tugging at it and running your fingers through it, and with your other hand, you pulled down his shorts letting his cock spring free.

A string of curses left Bucky’s mouth as you pumped him, your eyes not leaving his. They were so beautiful; ocean blue with very small traces of teal, and his pupils were blown dark and wide with lust. You felt your insides coil with the intensity of the eye contact. “You like that, pretty boy?” You coaxed, your voice laced with feigned innocence.

Bucky swallowed, nodding his head speechless.

“Nuh-uh, use your words baby.” You rolled your finger over his tip, gathering the precum on the digit. You brought it up to his lips. “Tell me.”

“I like it— don’t stop— please,” Bucky choked out. When his lips parted, you gently pushed your finger in his mouth. 

Bucky sucked on your finger and pulled off with a pop, cleaning up his mess. You flashed him a wild smile. “Good boy,” you praised, feeling Bucky twitch in your hand with the words. “You’re my favourite taste.”

You kneeled down, lying on your front and crawled between his legs, starting by licking a line up the curve of the Congressman’s cock. 

“You’re teasing,” he mumbled, his head falling back as you sucked on his head, gathering his salty precum on your tongue, revelling in the way a groan vibrated through his chest. “I won’t last.” He warned, his metal hand grabbing you by your hair.

“That’s okay,” you giggled. “I can take my time with this some more if you like?”

You cupped his balls and without warning, pushed yourself down his whole length, choking around his size. You blinked away the tears that stung at your eyes as his cock hit the back of your throat. 

“I want— fuck— I can’t—“

You pulled off him and looked up with wide doe eyes. “What?” 

“I wanna— ngnhh—,” Bucky gasped as you took him again, messy, wet slurping sounds filled your makeshift bedroom. ‘Wanna fuck you.” He gasped out. 

“Fuck my mouth then,” you offered breathlessly. “Told you Bucky, tonight I just wanna look after you.”

Bucky looked at you, concern lilting in his wide eyes. “Don’t wanna hurt you baby, don’t wanna be too rough.” 

“Shut up and fuck my mouth,” you sighed impatiently, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

“Oh, now who’s being bratty,” Bucky exhaled, shaking his head with a small chuckle. With both of his hands, he placed them on the back of your skull, holding your head in place. Bucky thrusted into your mouth without warning. Immediately you gagged around him, his manhood taking your breath away. You splayed your hands out against his hips as he fucked you like you was his toy, his doll. 

He didn’t last long, to no surprise to either of you. Without warning, Bucky spilled his load into your mouth, painting your tongue and the back of your throat. You were totally and completely obsessed with him, the taste of him and every single inch of him. You were so deeply and madly in love with your boss and now, you didn’t care if the whole world knew. You swallowed his cum with a big gulp and flashed him your tongue to prove that you’d done so. 

Bucky leaned over and pressed his pink lips to yours, bringing his hands up to your breasts and giving them a tender squeeze. “My girl, my girl, my girl…” he whispered, licking a stripe over your lower lip. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too Bucky.”

And as you both surrendered to each other once again, the world outside faded away. All that mattered was the love you had found, the love that was growing stronger by the day.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

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