#when he was still tiny i visited and he passed out flat on his back in my arms 😭

[fabulouslygaybean]

still thinking about how one of my older sister's cats cries and screams until he's cradled like a baby because he likes to sleep in people's arms

[gremlingottoosilly]

Your Loser! König × Krueger's Sister had me feral. Like, I genuinely think König would visit him just to catch a glimpse of you, always pretending to get a bit lost around the house he's visited for so long to "accidentally" catch you in the shower or in your room.

Unfortunately, your shared apartment with Krueger is small. It doesn't feel this scrawny and dirty when you're on your own - when your asshole of a brother is away on missions(you hope he won't come back) and you can finally breathe freely. But this place certainly feel crowded when he is at home - and when his friends are with him. This kitchen wasn't built to accommodate a man as giant as Konig. He looks awkward, crouching over your tiny fridge so he could, probably, get another beer or steal some of your food. You're the only one to cook here - thankfully, Sebastian chips in for food and utilities, his crazy military paycheck finally coming in handy...if only he didn't spend so fucking much on alcohol and weapons, you maybe could move out. Still, you kinda don't like the way Konig would always try to flaunt his wealth. Making you feel embarrassed that a man in this shiny uniform, with cool new phone and some expensive fucking watches is drinking beer on your old couch, in your old and somewhat dirty flat. Then again, he enjoys hanging out with your brother - so he isn't all high and mighty, you think. Still, he will always laugh so so condescendingly when you comment about new thing he bought for himself - and then Krueger would accuse him of being a "fucking show-off" and that the just wants to take you to his bed. You never thought he did - but Konig does look just a tad bit embarrassed of the accusation. He is always trying to touch you, too. Was shy and reserved at first, only barely grazing the open skin when he passed by you on a way to the other room - but he became much more greedy once drunk and with your brother too tired to do anything. Konig is dragging you to his lap and you, shy little thing, can only whimper softly as he touches you everywhere. Promises to be gentle and nice if you're nice to him. That he will take you away once you agree to be his - and you'd trust him if it weren't for the crazed look in his eyes. You liked him more as a shy loser, not the man who pounds your pussy with vigor that makes you cry, and then drags you to his car so you won't have to explain anything to your brother. Krueger probably wouldn't even care that much.

[pixydustworld]

Being married, Hermione supposed, was a lot like being dead. Lonely and unending — but the most prominent similarity, inescapable.

The ring on her finger was heavy and ancient, a cluster of emeralds that managed to sparkle under any light, and carved in the center of the band were two letters: DM

Exactly seven weeks before, Hermione had entered her cramped office on the 4th floor of the Ministry of Magic, and found Draco Malfoy sitting at her desk.

“You’re wasting away here,” Malfoy had said as a greeting, “Working to build a future that no one believes in. You’ll never accomplish what you wish.” He’d glanced up at her, eyes “Not without me.”

They certainly weren't friends, not even acquaintances — none of their recent interactions (a tight-lipped smile as they passed each other in the hall, a shared look over the Atrium when Cormac McLaggen had tripped and fell headfirst into the fountain) warranted an unannounced office visit, nor did it explain why Draco Malfoy, of all people, felt comfortable enough to sit in her chair.

Perhaps sensing her annoyance, Malfoy had continued talking, which in turn, only annoyed Hermione further. “I’ve been thinking about this future you speak so passionately of, the one where we all have space to belong. I’d like to help you bring it to life.”

“Why.” Not a question, more comparable to a demand.

“You are the answer, Granger, to all of this. The Ministry doesn’t care about your ideas.”

“And you do?” Hermione hadn’t bothered to keep the incredulousness from her voice. 

He had shrugged.“I care about a better world.”

At the flat look she gave him, Malfoy had amended his statement: “For Teddy,” he’d said with more sincerity than Hermione had originally thought he could ever possess, “I want him to have a better life than I did.”

The war had been terrible, like a rot that spread through the cool earth, it had touched everyone — and after the dust had settled, Hermione had come to the conclusion that she held no authority over how others healed, and in turn, how they grew. 

Harry had settled into something softer, finding solace in gardening and lazy afternoons, Ron chased thrills, tumbling from one danger to the next, but Malfoy had surprised her most of all, with his dedication to Teddy.

Looking back, Hermione supposed that was the start. The beginning of her defenses crumbling, the crack in the glass that quickly splintered out of control, consuming her vision entirely — acknowledging he cared for Teddy was enough to change her original perception of him, knowing that he’d break apart the world to carve a better future for him, was something entirely different.

“So what do you suggest?” 

“Marry me,” He’d said, “And you’ll have everything you’ll need to rebuild.”

Whatever Hermione had expected him to say, it certainly hadn’t been that — “And what do you get?” She had asked after a long moment, eyes narrowed, always on the defense, especially with him, “Forgiveness?”

“I don’t care about forgiveness.” Malfoy had shrugged, still sitting comfortably in her chair, “All I need is an heir.”

Hermione had laughed, too loud for her tiny office, too loud for their quiet conversation — she hadn’t slept more than 12 hours in the past 4 days, weary and overworked, there had been no room in her crowded head to think about suppressing her initial reaction. 

“You want me to become the next Lady Malfoy?”

“While I deeply appreciate the idea of you having my last name, I am a realistic man. It will undoubtedly be Granger hyphen Malfoy.”

Her laughter had still been something she tasted when Hermione stilled. There had been no humor in his eyes, only open sincerity — “You’re serious?” She had asked, for the first time, feeling the full weight of his words, “No! No, I can’t marry you, I don’t even know you.”

Malfoy had scoffed. “We grew up together, Granger.”

“That does not count!” Hermione had snapped, “This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and you’re proposing to me.”

“Five years.” Had been his response.“One child and unfiltered access to my accounts for the rest of your life. We can make an Unbreakable Vow, if you’d like.”

“You are insane.”

“Perhaps. But I know what I want.”

“What you want,” Hermione had argued, “Is not me.” 

“You are exactly what I want.” Malfoy had sounded so sure, so determined, fighting for something, perhaps, for the first time in a long while, “I need you. And as it turns out, you need me.”

“I don’t need anyone.” Hermione had snapped. Which was true, she could rebuild the world herself with her own aching hands, brick by unforgiving brick. “I can do this by myself.” 

At that, Malfoy had grinned, wide and all encompassing. “I have no doubt about that. But just because you can do it by yourself, doesn’t mean you have to.” He’d said, “Just think about it, alright?”

Unfortunately for her, Hermione had thought about his offer, more than she would like to admit — like a dog scratching at the door, like a ghost determined to haunt her, his words trailed after her, weaving their way into her bones.

Perhaps, she had reasoned with herself, the answer wasn’t ripping herself apart to fit into the narrative the Ministry had decided for her, perhaps the true answer was simple, close enough to touch. 

A month later, after being denied funding for the thirteenth time, Hermione had stormed into Malfoy’s office, ignoring his secretary, ignoring the voice in her head that told her to stop. “Five years?”

“Only five.”

And so, that was how her life had unfolded. A rushed ceremony, Malfoy’s hand warm on her waist, Harry as their bewildered witness; the beginning of half a decade together, a fortune to spend, a world to rebuild — and hovering at the back of her mind was a thought, floating softly, like an early September snow: an heir, owed as payment.

In the year that progressed around them, Hermione was met with yet another startling realization: she liked his company, furthermore, she missed Malfoy’s presence when he was away from her side. She wanted to hate him, wanted to be disgusted by the way his fingers always trailed spirals of fire across her skin in public, hands finding their faithful home in the small of her back — but despite Hermione’s best efforts, she didn't hate him.

She liked him.

Loved him, even.

It hadn’t happened overnight, a slow progression of muddled feelings, dripping to pool at the base of her spine, but one thing was for certain — one day she’d looked up, and had been glad to belong to him, if only for a moment. Hermione had not chosen him, and wouldn’t of, given the chance — but, yet, here he was beside her, a rock in the sea, letting her waves crash against him endlessly; she looked at him and saw an impossible future, one that extended past the five years they’d promised to each other.

Her own feelings aside, the two of them were happy together.

And then, on a Tuesday morning in early June, Draco Malfoy ruined everything.

 “I think we should have sex.” He said conversationally, tone even, “Right now.”

Hermione glanced up from her book. “Now?” 

Malfoy nodded, looking too comfortable sitting on her bed, “If you’re free.”

“I am.” She said softly. When faced with the terrifying problems of her youth, Hermione had always turned to reading — so in her best efforts to remain neutral on the subject of conceiving a child with a man whom she loved, who most undoubtedly did not feel the same way about her, Hermione returned to her old habits.“You can just do it, I’ll keep reading.”

Malfoy blinked at her. “You want to keep reading.”

Hermione nodded.

“While I fuck you.”

Hermione nodded again.

“This is what you want?”

“Yes.” She said through her teeth, “Now hurry up, you could've finished already.” Then, because she didn’t want to stare at his stupidly handsome face (nor the incredulous look on it) any longer, Hermione went back to reading about The Goblin Rebellion of 1752.

Warm hands smoothed up her legs, blunt nails scraping across her flesh, and Hermione narrowed her eyes at the page. “It’s my fault.” He said after a moment, “I’ve neglected my husbandly duties.”

“I should’ve never let you wander so far away,” He continued, fingers beginning to trace the crotch of her shorts, while Hermione dutifully re-read the same sentence three times, “Should’ve fucked you the first night, right there on the Ministry floor.”

Reading about Goblins seemed impossible, made even more so, when Malfoy slipped his fingers beneath the fabric of her pajamas, and began to lightly trace her cunt. “I knew you’d be warm.” 

His voice was closer than before — Hermione glanced away from the blurry page, to find her husband inches away, breath warm on the exposed flesh of her stomach. 

“If this is how you think conception works,” Hermione said tightly, hardly able to breathe, the weight of his touch over her cunt sending shivers down her spine, “I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed.”

“Maybe I want to play with my food.”

“Hm.” 

He was silent for a while, tugging her shorts down past her knees, twisting her open with his fingers; he didn’t speak again until he was licking softly at her center, content, Hermione realized with spreading horror, to spend the entire day between her thighs — 

Her fingers, who seemed to have a mind of their own, slipped down her torso, twisting in his hair, tugging at his scalp. Hermione felt him smile against her cunt, felt the scrape of his teeth on her flesh, caught between his jaws like prey. “How is your book?” He asked thickly.

“Fine.” Hermione whimpered, beyond pretending to read now, “I-Informational.”

“Such a smart girl.”

They both felt how she twitched at his words, tightening around his fingers. 

“So clever,” Malfoy continued softly, still so capable of being cruel, “And strong. I see you when I close my eyes, beautiful,  so tight and wet. Only for me, yes? For your husband?”

The book fell on the bed with a thud. “For you.” Hermione agreed, tugging at him, nails scraping across his skin like thorns from a garden, “For my husband.”

Fingers worked her clit, slipping through the wetness; as pleasure curved up her spine, unrelenting in a beautiful way, Hermione twisted away, grasping at the bed sheets — but met resistance when Malfoy tugged her back to his body. “No, no,” he murmured, adopting a patronizing tone, “Pretty girls don’t get to run away.”

She was still twitching, trapped beneath him in endless pleasure, when he brushed his cock across her cunt, pressing inside with aching slowness. It was instinct to remind him of the protection spell — but the words died in her throat when Hermione remembered what he wanted. What they both wanted.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” He rasped against her breast, teeth scraping flesh, “For so long.”

“A year,” Hermione hadn’t been able to keep the whine from her voice, how her breath hitched, painting her words with sweet desperation, “is not that long.”

Malfoy looked up, eyes glistening. “I’ve wanted you for much longer, Hermione.”

His cock was currently inside of her, carving a home, but hearing her name on his lips somehow felt infinitely more intimate. “You have?”

“If sleeping down the hall from you was all I’d ever get,” Malfoy panted, lips wet and red from sucking at her nipples — Hermione had a terrible vision of him doing that to her when she was pregnant with his child, swollen with him, “I’d gladly take it. I’d take whatever you gave me.”

“You love me?” The world was tilting on its axis, he was somehow still moving inside her, thick and swollen, somehow still pressing deeper.

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak, to fill her head with soft words, overflowing from his lips like a river swollen with rain — but before he could, Hermione twisted in their embrace, eyes narrowed in indignation. “And you didn't say anything?” She twitched when he hit the soft part inside her, words breaking off in her throat, voice turning brittle, “This entire time we could have been fucking? You are an idiot — ”

They’d kissed before, at parties, amongst twinkling lights and spilled champagne — but he’d never kissed her like this. Hungry and desperate, as if Malfoy wanted to consume her, bones and all, to etch a permanent place for himself along her spine. Hermione whimpered, pressing him closer, deeper inside, tightening around his cock; her hands slipped down to the mess of their fucking, squeezing his balls.

“Your poor little cunt,” Malfoy groaned, “Having to stretch around my cock. When we’re done, I’ll kiss it better, I promise, I’ll do whatever you want, stay on my knees for you forever, just let me cum, please, please — ” 

Hermione had barely finished nodding when she felt warmth of his cum inside her, felt as he kept fucking her — desperate thrusts, sloppy and uneven, felt as he pushed himself deeper inside.

It was alarming, the idea that this could grow to something more, blossom, like a late spring flower — to become something beyond what they’d originally agreed upon. That perhaps, she could be guided gently down this path, hand in his own, towards a destination she’d never intended.

To love and to be loved in return.

“Do you think it took?”

Malfoy’s laugh vibrated against the skin of her ribcage, the echo of him inside her bones. “I tried my best.” His fingers slipped through the mess of her cunt, slowly pushing his cum back inside. “Come here, little wife. Let me fuck it deeper.”

All soft limbs and warmth, Hermione opened her legs further, making a home for him between her legs. “I’m not that little.”

Sliding his cock back in, Draco hissed between his teeth at the feel of her, “Not for long,” he agreed. 

[the-al-chemist]

The Prodigal Son

For Day 3 of @thethreebroomsticksfic’s Weasley Week, I present a little Percy angst.

Warnings: mentions of Christmas, when right now it’s only October.

December 1995

It was Christmas Eve, and in the Ministry of Magic Headquarters, work was slowly grinding to a halt. From the window of his office on the uppermost floor, Percy had a clear view of the festive memos that left a trail of glitter in their wake as they flew back and forth across the atrium. Far below, colleagues were bidding one another glad tidings, and the fireplaces flashed green as staff clocked off and went home to the families impatiently waiting for them to return.

Now that day was growing late, Percy must have been one of the only people left working. He was certainly the only person left on his floor; even the Minister for Magic himself had gone home to the bottle of brandy that he said was calling his name. As he left, he had praised Percy for his commitment to his work.

Percy was committed to his work. If it were not for his conscientiousness, he would never have secured such a prestigious job role at such a young age. He was living proof that diligence and determination could get a person far in life.

In truth, however, it was not his excellent work ethic that kept him at his desk this Christmas Eve. It was more of a case of him having nowhere better to be.

Still, as the lights in yet more office windows deluminated, and the crowds down in the atrium dwindled further, Percy had to admit that he longer wished to remain where he was. He may have only had a tiny, empty, and extortionately expensive flat to return to, but being there alone couldn’t be worse than being alone at work. He could hardly spend the night before Christmas sleeping at his desk, after all.

He passed no one in the corridor on his way to the elevator, but as its doors opened on the second level, he was joined by a tall and familiar-looking wizard a few years older than him. The wizard had dark brown hair and fine lines around eyes, and a stack of books floated in the air beside him.

“Evening, Weasley,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

Percy’s Christmas was unlikely to be merry, but he forced a smile and replied stiffly, “And to you, Davies.”

“I heard about your dad’s accident. He’s out of St Mungo’s now, isn’t he?”

In response to Chester Davies’ question, Percy gave a curt nod and made a humming noise. He had not visited his father during his stay in hospital. He felt guilty about not doing so, but given the way the two of them had argued the last time they spoke, he imagined that his presence would not have been particularly conducive to a speedy recovery. Percy had not yet entirely forgiven his father for the things he had said during their argument; he could only presume that the lingering resentment was mutual.

“Your family must be relieved to have him home for Christmas,” Chester continued. “I suppose that there’ll be a lot of you at your parents’ house this year.”

The way he spoke made it sound like another question, and Percy felt compelled to answer.

“I’m not certain,” he said. “I’m not spending Christmas with them this year. Too busy with work.”

Chester looked almost disappointed, but he quickly recovered himself as the elevator came to a halt and opened out into the atrium.

“Well, when you see your dad, give him my best. And your mum and Bill, too.”

Percy couldn’t bring himself to tell Chester that he would not be seeing his family to give them anything. Not that he hadn’t been sent anything from them. Just that morning a soft parcel had been delivered to his flat with a label written in his mother’s hand. He knew without having opened it what would be inside. Every year since he could remember his mother had knitted him and each of his siblings a jumper. It was a tradition, just as much as the turkey on the table, the gnome on top of the tree, and stockings opened beside the roaring fire.

Without warning, Percy was struck with a sudden pang of homesickness, one that he couldn’t ignore. He wished profoundly that he had never argued with his father, that he had never left the Burrow, that he could be there now enjoying Christmas with his family.

But, he thought, perhaps he could. He had assumed that he would be unwelcome, but if his mother had sent him a jumper, then maybe she would have left a place at the table for him as well. The more he considered it, the more Percy was certain that this was the case. The jumper was more than just a gift, it was an olive branch. It was his mother’s way of saying that he was still loved, that he still belonged. Surely, he would still be welcomed with open arms. After all, what was Christmas if not a time for forgiveness?

His mind made up, Percy stopped in a Muggle shop in the London street above the Ministry of Magic and bought a large bottle of sherry, the most expensive in the shop. He tucked it under his arm and ducked into an alleyway so that he could Disapparate without being seen.

He thought longingly of the Burrow, of home, of the ramshackle house with its drafts and mess and the wailing ghoul in the attic. He thought of the piles of shoes in the porch and numerous odd socks in the washing and the chickens that pecked in the yard. He thought of the warm woollen blankets, the smell of his mother’s cooking, and the cosy golden glow of the lights that shone through the windows during the darkest nights. He took a deep breath and smiled as he Apparated to the front garden, where he found the house…

Empty.

The place was silent. The lights were all off. No one was home. It was Christmas Eve, and the Weasleys were elsewhere. Percy didn’t know where exactly, because no one had bothered to invite him. Clearly, no one missed him that much.

Percy was half-helplessness, half-bitterness. He felt like a small child, lost and alone. He felt like an old man, aching and world-weary. More than anything, he felt angry. His anger only increased when he returned to his flat to see the still-unopened gift his mother had sent him resting on the table.

Jaw clenched and fingers trembling, he picked up the parcel and carried across the room to the window, where his owl Hermes was resting on his favourite perch.

“Take it back,” he told Hermes, who blinked at him and let owl a low and doleful-sounding hoot in response. “Just take it back.”

His voice was louder than he’d intended it to be, and his eyes began to sting. Hermes ruffled his feathers, but he took the strings of the parcel in his talons. Percy exhaled.

“Thank you,” he said, gentler this time. He stroked the feathers on the top of Hermes’ head with the back of one finger. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he opened the window to let the bird out, a chill entered. Percy steeled himself against it, welcoming the feeling of physical discomfort, appreciating the way it distracted him from the pain he felt in his heart. And as the last friend he had left in the world disappeared into the midwinter night sky, carrying the last piece he had left of his family, the clock struck midnight.

It was Christmas, and Percy was all alone.

[hinasakuino]

No thoughts, just Nanami Kento being a worry wart on your honeymoon

Short drabble bc I love this man (and I haven’t posted anything on tumblr in foreverrrrr)

“Just a few more steps and we’ll be inside with sweet sweet a/c,” You sang, Kento grunts and adjusts you on his back again, you plant a kiss on his cheek and hum as he carries you the rest of the way to the villa.

Once inside, he deposits you in the chair, propping your foot up on the other chair, he tsks and goes to get the first aid kit.

“Ken enjoy the a/c for a second please my toe will be fineeeee,” You called out to him but he ignores you and begins cleaning up the cut on the side of your toe, it wasn’t that big of a deal really, you both went out hiking with the rest of the group. You decided to wear sandals, thinking the hike would be smooth paths straight up to the glorious view of the city below but instead you were met with rough terrain, overgrown grass and debris. Your foot slipped and you stumbled over a broken beer bottle slicing a cut alongside your big toe.

Although you reassured the tour guide that you were fine to continue the hike, hell you were halfway up the mountain, your overly worried husband called it quits and carried you down the mountain.

Nanami stands and goes back in the direction of the bathroom muttering he may have forgotten something else to help with your foot, you groan but tell him to hurry back, he should really be enjoying the cool air after being out in the heat most of the day.

“Babe!” You shout when you still hear him rumbling in the bathroom, the villa was already fully stocked with simple first aid things but Nanami took the extra step to go out and buy more things, you glanced at the cut, the bleeding had already stopped, all you needed was peroxide,ointment and a band aid, but Kento was treating this like a dismemberment of your toe. You sighed and stood up shouting his name, he didn’t answer. You waddled to the room and leaned against the door frame of the bathroom.

“Ken, please get some water or something you carried my fat ass down a mountain in summer heat, you’re going to pass out stressing over this tiny cut, and look the bleeding has already stopped!” You exclaim, he jumps at the sound of your voice and drops the items he had on the counter. You snort when you see what they were, ibuprofen, ointment, rubbing alcohol and peroxide, a box of bandaids lay on the counter as well.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, and you nod, walking up to his shirtless frame, pressing yourself flat against him.

“I’m fine but if you pass out because of heat exhaustion or dehydration I will be very pissed,” You smile and take his hand leading him back to the living room, he sat in the chair you were in while you went to fix him a glass of water and pulled the leftover chopped fruit you had with breakfast from the fridge. He smiled as you walked back handing over the items, you started to walk away but he grabs you by the arm, and pulls you into his lap.

“You were also out in the heat,” he comments, pressing a strawberry to your lips. You accept the fruit and press a chaste kiss to his lips letting your eyes flutter close as he deepens the kiss.

“I love you,” You hum, when you break away for a breath of air.

“I love you more darling,” He says and presses a kiss to your forehead. He takes your hand and intertwines your fingers, the sun filters through the glass sliding doors and your ring glints in the light making you smile. You pull your phone out and snap a picture, you feel the smile stretch across your face and turn to press another kiss to his lips, unfortunately you were still in disbelief that you were married to the love of your life. He groans and shifts you in his lap, a smirk on your face when you realize you’ve made him hard. You giggle and stand.

“No funny business, you’re still red and burning hot, let’s go for a swim and then visit that later,” You giggle nodding your head in the direction of his groin. He scoffs and watches at you strip from your shorts, you were already wearing your bikini top out having discarded your top on the way up the mountain, you kick the shorts to the side and saunter out of the sliding doors and into the pool. Kento follows after shortly, a smug smile on his face as he watches you floating in the pool. He smiles knowing all the countless times you’d mention how lucky you were to have him, little did you know Kento always thought it was the opposite, he was so lucky to have you, so lucky that you loved him the way that you did, so fucking lucky that you ended up marrying him. Warmth springs in his chest and he jumps in the pool sending water everywhere making you tip under water as well. His arms are around your waist in an instant and he pulls you to the surface laughing. You groan and flick water at him.

“You ass,” You say, groaning, he laughs again and kisses you, making you wrap your legs around him.

“I love you,” He breathes against your lips, you inhale his scent and nod, unable to speak, as your lips seek out his.

“I wanna hear you say it back,” He whispers to you.

“I love you Kento,” You say in a breathless whisper, he surges forward and kisses you again.

“Again?” He asks, and you nod repeating yourself, and each time you do he kisses you, making that warm feeling settle in your gut as he showered you with affection.

I can’t stress how much I want this man, so I’ve been writing about him lolol. Enjoyyyyyy!

[dorthyanndrarry]

Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy -45-

Tags: alcohol use, marijuana use, cigarettes, smoking, reckless behaviour, lack of self preservation, anxiety issues, chronic illness, deportation, racism, the fucking Tories, ptsd, super unhealthy coping mechanisms, Down and out Draco who’s friends with muggles, various OC’s, enemies to lovers, angst, mentions of throwing up/vomit, mentions of suicide, mentions of panic attacks, swearing

suggested rating: Mature

Part 1 (contains links to all parts) <- Part 44 || Part 46 ->

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Chapter Twenty

Potter went to work the next day. Which was utterly beyond belief, as far as Draco was concerned.

He coped by spending the day with Mary. He did Mary’s shopping for her first and then settled in to watch her programs with her and eat biscuits with weak sweet tea. He couldn’t keep up with Coronation street, which often had long, convoluted storylines, but he adored listening to Mary’s excited recaps. The comedies were more his speed. Draco liked being able to just laugh and not think.

Elle joined them during Father Ted, hearing Draco’s laughter through Mary’s open window. And Samuel showed up after his shift, squeezing onto the middle of Mary’s tiny couch between Draco and Elle to watch a panel chat show. They all pitched in for fish and chips from a small local chippy down the street and laid the bag across Mary’s little coffee table, chips tumbling out of the greasy waxed bags as they shared around.

Mary dozed off in her little gliding rocker, her gentle snores keeping them company as they watched some sort of mystery program. Draco wasn’t following it terribly well, half-asleep himself, leaning against Samuel’s shoulder. Elle was pressed to Samuel’s other side, hugging a faded floral pillow to her chest as she watched the show. Samuel seemed the most interested, guessing what would happen next and mostly being right. None of them had a telly; Samuel and Elle preferred books, and Draco preferred company, but occasionally they all managed to come together and watch a few shows at Mary’s like this. They were always Draco’s favourite sorts of days.

Draco left when everyone else did, promising Mary he would visit again soon, waving as Samuel headed into his flat, giving Elle a hug before she went upstairs. He remained in the centre of the courtyard, standing perfectly still until he heard Elle’s door close.

It was quiet. If he strained his ears, Draco could just barely hear cars passing by on the road outside, and even then, part of him thought it might just be in his head. His mind gently twisting the sound of his own blood pumping in his ears into something alive and real, so he wouldn’t feel as alone as he was.

Draco patted his jeans down until he found what was left of his battered pack of cigarettes. He finished out a bent cigarette, lighting it with his wand, hunched over slightly to hide what he was doing. He breathed in too deeply, making his lungs and throat burn, his eyes watering and fighting to keep himself from coughing. Draco pressed his wand back into his pocket, a simple extension charm holding his wand in a space the size of a pound coin.  He wondered, with a bitter smile as he took another drag, if the Ministry would also call this misuse of muggle artefacts since he bought them in a muggle shop.

Draco closed his eyes, rocking onto the balls of his feet. He was already feeling it grow, that gnawing ache that lived in the centre of him. And with it, the desire to find a bar, a club, somewhere full of life and warmth, and alcohol to soften the jagged edges.

Draco flicked the butt onto the ground, ground it with the toe of his shoe, and went around to the back of the building to apparate back to Potter’s flat.

-

💜 Next update will be tuesday pst 💜 i think I had the evil eye on me last week, I had an uncanny amount of badluck, but things have been better this week, hopefully it will stay so 💜thank you for reading! 💜

Tags below v (I don’t have a permanent tags list. All tags are of the wonderful people who left messages or reblogs on the previous 2 parts.)

💜 @idareyoutotakealook  thank you so much!😍 I’m really enjoying exploring this potential version of Draco

💜 @luna13e-blog  💜 💜thankyou!!! hope you’re feelin better 💜

💜 @dewitty1 yay for brain medicine! I don’t know what I’d do without it 💜 💜thank you!

💜 @shadowybook harry really does need a break, silly boy 💜 💜thank you!

💜 @addicted-to-w0rds 😆it’s such a good image 💜 💜thank you! 💜 💜

💜 @languedor71 draco does like to bother people into spending time with him the little shit😂 💜 💜thank you!

💜 @deadhoneybee thank you so much! hope the delay didn’t dissuade you lol

💜 @devilrising draco loves being loved and wanted and needed, the silly boy, someone just give him some attention 💜 💜 thank you so much!! (happy to see you again)💜

💜 @beelzebub-banshee 😁at least your doggos are having fun while they wear themselves out!  💜thank yous! 💜

💜 @pain-changes-everything  draco; half blunt asshole, half a ball of anxiety and panic, a recipe for a man🤣 thank you soooo much!

💜 @havingaverydrarryday thank you!

💜 @chamomileteafuel  💜  @harley--queen  💜 @hmmihaventdecidedyet  💜 @atomicauthorathletevoid  💜 

💜 @kaosuiinku    💜  

[shallyne]

Through Blood And Tears

Fanart by @edgyellie

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Three! A teeny tiny more action. The next chapter will be shorter.

Words: 4,017

TW: Violence, mention of death, injuries, fire, near-undeath experience

A murder in Rhys's court makes Rhys and his brothers pay a visit to his cousin Mor, who is a vampire. For the first time they are meeting the leader of the Vampire coven Mor lives with and they are shocked to realize it's the girl they believed to be mortal.

Chapter Three

Rhysand watched as vampires entered and left the room to talk to Feyre about the murder of one of her vampires. He wandered around the first floor as they did, staying near Feyre in case she needed him. He found a big library when they walked through another wing as they brought the body to the mortuary until they held a wake for the deceased vampire at full moon in a few days. Polina, Rhys had learned, was her name. She was only twenty-three years old and had turned into a vampire barely two years ago. To his surprise and opposed to all stories that he had heard about vampires, everyone in the manor seemed to mourn. The party that was in full swing when Rhys first entered the house rarely ten hours ago was long gone. Not a trace that there was any party celebrated here at all. The manor was eerily quiet now, only hushed conversation between the few vampires that still wandered the corridors. Rhys didn't know what the others did now. They went back to their rooms, to do what, he didn't know. Maybe they went to bed, sunrise would occur very soon, or they prayed to some god. Maybe even the Mother or the cauldron. He shook his head and looked back at Feyre when the last of the vampires left the room. They were back in her office now and the smile that Feyre had plastered on the whole time vanished as soon as the door clicked shut. With every passing hour the dark circles under Feyre's eyes seemed to worsen.

"When did you last…eat?" Rhys asked softly. Feyre looked up from her desk, a flash of surprise to still find him there.

"I'm fine." she only replied. He looked at her, raising his eyebrow. Annoyed, she took the leather bag she had discarded when she had first entered the office that night und pulled out a little bottle filled with blood and drank it. "Happy?"

Rhys followed the movement of her tongue as it flicked over her lips. "No." he shook his head, banishing any memories that threatened to bubble to the surface of his mind. Feyre groaned in annoyance. Good, annoyance was better than the shell she was for the last few hours since they found the body. Rhys said "You're exhausted. We won't come far like this. Go to bed, eat when you wake up and then we'll make a plan."

"We can make a plan now."

"No." he answered, crossing his arms. Feyre scowled at him but shrugged.

"Fine." She growled, stomping toward the big double doors that led into the dark corridors. That she didn't argue told Rhys enough about how exhausted she really was. He knew Feyre. She was stubborn and if she really wanted something, she would stop at nothing and sleep often fell short in these moments. It's been five hundred years but Rhys knew that's a part of her that would never change.

He trailed behind her through the wide corridor, eyeing a few portraits that hung on the wall. One of them was of Feyre although he could tell that it wasn't her who painted it. The painting was a whole different style and it looked flat, Feyre had always brought emotions into her paintings. If she painted portraits, it was like looking at a real person but this painting didn't convey anything. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, she turned around and narrowed her eyes. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm making sure you'll reach your chambers safely." he said, brushing past her and starting to ascend the stairs.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" she hissed but didn't argue as she followed.

"Yes, I already got told once or twice." Rhys chuckled. They ascended another set of stairs in silence until he spoke again. "Now that we are going to work together, you could tell me something I don't already know. Like, how did you turn into a vampire?"

Feyre stiffened beside him. Rhys knew that this was the wrong question when he could feel the mood between them shift. She didn't meet his stare as they walked another set of stairs, she just stared right ahead, her jaw clenched. "No." she grumbled. "That's none of your business."

"Okay." Rhys replied softly. "I just thought–"

"You should stop doing that, it clearly doesn't work for you." she interrupted him and stormed through the corridor as they reached the upper floor. Rhys strolled behind her until they arrived at the doors to her chambers. He was about to say goodbye when he spied something through the cracked dark wood door that he had always believed to be a silly legend. "You're sleeping in a coffin?"

Feyre shrugged and went inside, stopping at said coffin. "Yes." she replied nonchalantly as she traced the gold applications on the coffin. Before he could ask, she explained "We can sleep in normal beds but most of us can rest better in coffins."

Sighing she bent down to untie her shoes and slid them off. Her jacket got discarded on a nearby chair. With a grunt she opened the lid of the coffin and climbed in.

"Aren't you going to change into nightclothes?" Rhys asked.

"I can do that later." she replied. "Be back at dusk, we'll make a plan then." she let the lid down until the coffin was closed.

Rhys blinked confused, he wasn't used to being disregarded like that, but he wouldn't argue now. "Alright, I'll see you later then." he said, turning around to leave.

"Rhysand?" she asked quietly when he reached the doors, hand already resting on the doorknob.

"Yes?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. The lid was only slightly opened, Feyres blue eyes fixed on him through the gap.

"I–" she stopped and looked away. "Never mind, good night." she snapped the coffin close.

"Good night, Feyre." Rhys whispered and left. When he exited the house, dawn was slowly approaching. As he winnowed back into the townhouse, he felt the exhaustion of the long night creeping in. Azriel already waited for him when he arrived. Rhys made a quick job of filling Azriel in about the second murder of one of Feyre's vampires and he gave him the orders to alert his spies to keep their eyes and ears open about a vampire roaming the courts and to immediately notify Rhys about any sightings. Azriel followed the orders right away, leaving Rhys alone in the house. When he walked through the cerulean painted corridor to his own room he ignored the wave of sorrow that overcame him when he walked past Feyre's former room. It felt like an eternity ago that it turned out that the mortal girl he believed to be the love of his life five centuries ago was actually a century old vampire. Unbelievable that this was roughly twelve hours ago. Rhys shook off the memories. He would think about it when he had some rest.

It was an hour to dusk that Azriel came in to tell Rhys that a vampire was spotted near the mountains at the Dawn Court.

Feyre hated to admit it but Rhysand was right when he told her that she needed rest. She was more rested than she was in quite some time and she also took her time to feed. She had already taken a long bath and discussed with her vampires about holding watch until she would catch the roaming vampire. They discussed shifts who would hold the first one. Other than that she had made sure that every of her vampires was fed and answered questions about the wake that they would hold for Polina at full moon. Now it was just waiting for Rhysand so they could finally plan how to catch the vampire who ran wild in Prythian, threatening Feyre in her own territory. One thing was for sure, she would take that kill and she would not show any mercy.

While she waited for Rhysand, it seemed like the plan was planning itself when Jurian found her to tell Feyre that Nuan, her contact from the Dawn Court, sent word, a vampire was seen near the mountains of Dawn Court. It was only a matter of a few minutes until Feyre and Mor were all packed up to go and placed a dozen of her vampires around the manor grounds to keep watch. They hurried out of the front door, about to get word to Rhysand, but the moment Mor clicked the door shut, Rhysand winnowed in front of the gates, Cassian and Azriel in tow.

"Did you already hear?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Yes, Dawn Court! Let's go!" Feyre countered. "If we are lucky they are still there."

Rhys didn't argue, he just reached out his hand for Feyre to take. His hands felt warm as they gripped Feyre's. Although it wasn't a surprise because Feyre's own hands were always cold. He winnowed both her and Cassian, meanwhile Azriel traveled with Mor. They reached a field of grass between an oak forest and a mountain.

"That's the spot where the vampire was last seen." Rhys explained when Mor and Azriel caught up to them.

"Oh really?" Feyre mocked. "I wouldn't have guessed."

He looked confused for a moment and then rolled his eyes.

"What's your plan?" Cassian asked before they could argue. He looked between them as he waited for an answer. Feyre tried to take in her surroundings but the little field was surrounded by forest, the only thing she could make out from there was the pathway that led up the mountain.

"I'd say we split into two groups and search the land around the mountain." Rhys suggested.

Feyre frowned. "Why not climb the mountain? I doubt they're waiting around for us down here."

"There's a village close. Maybe we should go there first and ask around." Azriel chimed in.

Rhys tilted his head in thought as Mor asked "How close?"

Feyre only half heartedly listened to the discussion as she scented blood. It came from the path that led up to the mountain. Sniffing again, she slowly backed away toward that path, careful to be silent on her feet, avoiding crunchy leaves and gravel and twigs.

The blood could have been caused by anything but something told Feyre that the vampire was up there, so she only followed that feeling and ignored the voices in her mind that screamed at her not to go. She would get the vampire and nothing would stand in her way, she had two lives to revenge.

Cassian, Azriel, Rhys and Mor were still deep in discussion as Feyre squeezed herself through bushes to get to the pathway. A thrill went through her at the thought that she would catch the killer soon, ready to kill them.

"Where's Feyre?" Mor asked as they agreed to visit the village first.

Rhys looked around, scanning the forest. He had realized that Feyre got unusually quiet as they discussed their plan but he assumed that was because they hadn't agreed to her plan. He hadn't looked back to see if she was still there because he thought they agreed to work together. Apparently, Feyre had her own plans.

"Maybe she just needed to pee." Cassian shrugged.

Mor threw him a pointed look. "We're vampires, Cass. We don't pee."

Cassian sighed as the shadows around Azriels curled around his ear.

"Maybe she's hunting." Cassian countered, uneasiness spreading between them. A killer was on the run and Feyre had snuck away.

"She's not." Mor said, worry spread over her face as she looked around, probably considering which way Feyre could have gone. "She fed this morning and even if she didn't, she has more self restraint than that. We need to find her before the vampire does."

Rhys followed Mor's gaze to the pathway that leads up the mountain. "Do you think she went that way?"

Mor didn't answer for a few heartbeats. She sniffed once, then twice and went still as death. "Blood." she whispered. Her gaze slid to Rhys, her worry overshadowed by determination. "She went that way, we need to follow her."

Rhys nodded. "You go the village and see what you can find out." he told his brothers. "Mor and I get Feyre."

"Are you sure?" Cassian asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his Illyrian blade.

"Yes. We don't have time, let's go." Rhys replied. Mor already walked towards the pathway and before Rhys hurried after her, he said "We'll meet here again after we are done."

Rhys caught up to Mor a moment later and together they ascended the mountain.

About twenty minutes went by, the sun already started setting, when Rhys spoke again.

"Why does Feyre not like to talk about how she turned?" he asked his cousin.

Mor looked at him. "That's her story to tell, Rhys."

"Of course it is." he replied. "But–"

"Nobody knows her story." Mor interrupted. "Everytime someone dared to ask, she either flat out refused to answer," Rhys knew that one "–or she changed the topic or she got in such a foul mood that everyone better kept their distance."

"You don't know her story either?" Rhys asked.

Mor shook her head. "Whatever it is, she wants to keep it in the past."

Rhys was about to reply when a scream disrupted them from farther above. Feyre's scream.

Rhys tried to winnow but it seems like some ancient magic on this mountain forbade him to do so. "I can't winnow." he told Mor.

They exchanged one look and started sprinting.

Feyre leaned against a tall boulder, her legs starting to grow tired. Just a short break, that was all she needed. She was close, she could feel it. Only a few more steps. A few feet away she heard the crunching of gravel. Startled, she stood up, her hands closing around the stake that he had stuffed in the pocket of her jacket and she rounded the corner. Two paths opened before her. One was the gravel path that led farther up the mountain and one path led to a wooden archway, right into the mountain. Her instincts told her to keep away from the archway when took a step toward it.

"Come out." Feyre pressed out between gritted teeth. "I know you're there."

A small wave of relief washed through her when she saw a drop of blood on the path that led up the mountain. At least she wouldn't waste time following the wrong one. As she walked past the archway, she made out a shadow out of the corner of her eyes. Her head whirled to the archway where she made out a silhouette, female from the look of it.

"You." Feyre hissed, pulling out the stake. A wave of rage rolled through her so suddenly that she had to grip the stake tighter to keep it from slipping out of her hand. She would kill her right now and be done with it.

Although her plans were cut short when the female summoned fire. Fire. No. No no no no. Feyre stepped back in shock, stumbling when she reached the edge of the mountain and threw herself forward to keep her from falling. She only risked a short look down the mountain, she was so high up. A ragged breath left her as she realized how high she already was.

"Who are you?" Feyre asked. That was not the vampire she was following. "Are you working for them?"

For the first time in five hundred years Feyre started trembling and she hated herself for it. She didn't dare stand back up, worried that she could trigger the female. Maybe she still had a chance to keep the female from attacking.

The flames illuminated her hair and Feyre couldn't tell if it was the fire or if she had red hair. She couldn't make out much more because the rest of her face was hidden by a hood.

The flames she summoned burned brighter and without a warning it surged toward her. It was so fast that Feyre barely remembered how she screamed and stumbled back, over the edge of the mountain. She was able to grip the edge of the mountain, trying to hold on but another scream escaped her when the fire hit her hands. The pain seared through her whole body, making her almost lose her grip but she didn't let go. Feyre could have sworn that she heard a whispered "I'm sorry." before she heard the footsteps of the female as she walked away.

"Come back!" she yelled as the wind tore at her, freeing some strands of hair from her braid. Her grip started slipping. "Fuck!"

Feyre tried pulling herself up but it made everything worse. Pebbles fell down and made it harder for Feyre to hold on. She wouldn't die. It was almost impossible for Feyre to die, it was only possible if someone pierced her heart with a wooden stake or killed her with fire. That didn't mean that this fall would be easy, though. She knew from experience that it would hurt like hell and she really wasn't in the mood to fall from a mountain.

"Feyre!" a female voice suddenly called her. Mor. Mor came for her.

"Mor!" Feyre sobbed. "Mor! I'm here!"

Just a few more moments, Feyre thought as her hands slipped farther. The skin of her hand sliced into stone and made the burns on her hands hurt more. Just hold on a few more moments, she's on her way. But Feyre couldn't hold on.

"Feyre!" Mor yelled, way closer now. She was running.

"Mor." Feyre sobbed again, but it was too late. Her grip loosened and she fell, screaming. Mor screamed something that Feyre couldn't understand. She pressed her eyes close, waiting to hit the ground.

But it never happened. Something hard slammed into her but she was still conscious and….it didn't hurt. Wind was tearing at her hair, the cold biting her skin.

"I got you." Rhys murmured in her ear as his scent enveloped her and she felt his warmth radiating from him. "I got you, Feyre darling."

Slowly she opened her eyes to look up at him. He had saved her. Mor and Rhys had come to save her. In a moment of weakness she threw her arms around him.

"What happened?" he asked, his thumb stroking soothingly over her back.

"I- I was trailing a blood scent, I knew that the vampire who murdered Polina was up there. So I followed, I was ready to kill him but I reached–" Feyre shook her head. "I reached that archway and I saw a figure. She just stood there but I couldn't see anything. Maybe she had red hair but maybe she didn't, I don't know. I know that she wasn't a vampire because she had powers. Fire. And she–she attacked me with her powers and I stumbled back. She walked away and I tried to hold on, Mor was so close but I couldn't, my hand hurt and it slipped farther and then I fell."

Feyre looked back at him, into his violet eyes, and drew back her hand. Rhys's gaze followed that gesture and his gaze turned murderous as it stopped at her burned hand. She would have shuddered if she hadn't known that it wasn't meant for her.

"You're okay now." he said, pressing her closer to his chest. She had not realized that she'd begun trembling again. Everything in Feyre screamed to not let him get close again but she couldn't keep from melting into his touch. Just for these few moments before everything went to shit again when they landed.

As Rhys banked right and Feyre turned her head to get a better look at his wings. Of course she had already seen Cassian's and Azriel's wings but the sight of Rhys's wings was so intimately familiar that it brought Feyre all the comfort to get her to stop trembling. Rhys flew them back to where Mor waited for them and she instantly pulled Feyre into a hug.

"Are you okay?" she asked, panicked, taking Feyre's face on her hands. "Are you hurt?" She was about to take Feyre's hands when she saw the damage. "There's a village nearby, maybe they have a healing salve." She put an arm around Feyre. "Let's go."

"It'll be fine, it will heal." Feyre said, walking down the pathway with Mor, Rhysand silently trailing behind.

"I know it will but it's a burn, it will take a long time. Remember Jurian's sunburn?" Feyre snorted, of course she remembered. That was months ago. . "See? Maybe we can find something to speed up the healing process. We are in the Dawn Court after all."

Feyre linked her arm with Mors, grateful to have her at her side. When they reached the bottom of the mountain, Azriel and Cassian were already waiting.

"What happened?" Cassian rushed forward, standing on Feyres other side.

"Feyre got attacked, presumably by another Fae. Did the village have an apothecary?" Rhysand answered. Cassian worriedly looked at Feyre as Azriel answered Rhys's question.

"Are you okay?" Cassian asked.

"Of course." Feyre smiled. "It's hard to kill me."

"That doesn't mean you can't be hurt." Cassian replied. Feyre just linked her other arm with his and looked back at Rhysand in question. He nodded.

"Lead us to the village, mighty General." She told Cassian.

Mor didn't lie when she said the village was nearby. It was just a short walk until they reached it. Feyre, Cassian and Mor went to the apothecary first and Mor got a lot more than just a salve "Better to have it than to need it." she explained.

In the meantime Rhysand and Azriel took care of checking them in. They stayed the night in that village to see if the vampire they were looking for.

As Mor took care of Feyre's hands, putting salve on and bandaging it, Feyre took a look around the room. It was simple, exactly what one would assume when they looked at the wooden facade. The room was also kept in woods, two small beds with a little side table in between and a tiny closet shoved into a corner. That was all that fit into this tiny room. The males barged into Mor and Feyre's room after Mor was done taking care of Feyre's hands and sat on Mor's bed.

Azriel stared at Feyre's hands and Feyre pondered if Mor maybe did the same for Azriel many years ago when she was still mortal. Rhysand interrupted her thoughts "You are sure that she wasn't a vampire?"

"Vampires don't have powers." Mor explained. Feyre nodded in confirmation.

"Could it be that our vampire just turned her?" He asked.

"No, that's not possible." Feyre snapped. If their vampire had turned the girl she wouldn't have any powers the moment he had bitten her.

Rhysand raised his hands in defense. "I was just asking, I don't know how it works exactly. You didn't tell me anything."

Mor winced beside Feyre.

"I didn't tell you about how I turned." Feyre hissed. "Even if I told you it wouldn't help you to understand how it works, I was barely conscious. Still interested?"

Rhys huffed. "Yes, I'd still like to hear your story."

"Rhys." Mor warned.

"Fine." Feyre growled.

"What?" Mor whirled her head towards Feyre.

"Fine." Feyre repeated, scowling at Rhys. "But if my story leaves this room I am going to hunt you all down and kill you."

"Okay, that's fair." Rhys said. "We won't tell a soul."

Mor kept staring at Feyre. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I know it's hard for you, you don't have to."

She nodded at her friend and took Mor's hand, taking a deep breath and began telling her story.

"It happened fifty-three years before I met Rhysand, before I met you all. I remember that it was an unsuspecting day, I didn't expect that this would change my whole life–"

Tagging: @starfall-spirit @brieslibrary @reverie-tales

[duskholland]

Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date.            or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact.  a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels​ for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3  +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot. 

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

[bestiesenpai]

Dirty Little Secret - Toji Fushiguro

I love a good meanie :) this was inspired by a thrilling convo i had femme reader lads, everyone 18+ 12.3K words

content warnings are as followed: dubcon, blackmail, age gap, manipulation, noncon somnophilia, pseudo-incest, cheating, infantilization(?), mention of guns, drinking, choking, burning(w/ a cigarette? Idk how to explain), a lot of different pet names lol and Toji calls himself daddy

It all started with the messy, bitter divorce your parents went through, leaving your mother a struggling woman all on her own. You tried to help with bills, tried to tack on a few side gigs here and there and get a couple part time jobs but it just wasn’t enough.

Until she met Toji and all the worries you two had about money just suddenly melted away. He wasn’t outlandishly rich but somehow he made enough money that both you and your mother could quit all the jobs you’d had to take on.

Your mother was ecstatic, positively thrilled about the newfound freedom she has. She’s able to afford luxuries she’d never been able to before and there was no need to worry about pinching pennies and scrounging for every last meal. You could live comfortably, but there was something about Toji that rubbed you the wrong way.

There wasn’t one singular thing that drove you to disliking him, it was all just a culmination of things. His cocky attitude, the way he acted like he owned the whole house the first time he visited, how he seemed to be eyeing you up in a way far less acceptable for a man that was meeting his new step-daughter. As soon as his eyes landed on you, it was like your mother no longer existed.

They got married faster than you could blink, a rushed ceremony done at city hall with a few random witnesses watching her take the surname Fushiguro. Your mother was beyond happy, and while you were happy to see an easy smile on her face again, the knowledge that Toji would be living with you now hung like a dark cloud in the back of your head.

“Careful there doll, wouldn’t want you to break a nail.” Toji teased as he saw you pick up a moving box that was left in the living room. He was moving his and his sons belongings into the house and you’d been tasked with helping.

“Shut up.” Glaring at him, you grabbed the box in a huff and stormed up the stairs, stomping your way into the room that was your step-brothers, Megumis. You’d only met him once at a formal dinner and he seemed nice enough. Far different than his father but strikingly similar in appearance. He was away at university in another city, only visiting every other weekend if he felt like it.

Lingering in the empty room longer than you should, you tried to steer clear of Toji. The physical labour of moving boxes had made him sweaty, a nice sheen building up on his forehead and arms that highlighted the taut muscles underneath the skin and underneath the tight black t-shirt he was always wearing.

“Why don’t you go sit pretty on the couch, hm? A little girl like you shouldn’t be trying to lift such heavy things.” Catching you coming down the stairs, Toji was sporting his usual signature smirk whenever he saw you.

“There’s still a lot of stuff to bring in and I don’t want this to take all day.” Standing at the top of the stairs, you wavered. He wasn’t making any move to get out of your way or to come up the stairs and the two of you were stuck in a staring match.

“But you’re just so delicate, are you sure you can keep up?” Toji finally started moving up the stairs, a large box in his hand that looked to be no trouble for him.

“I’ll be fine!” You snapped at him, backing up and out of the way to let him pass you.

“You sure about that?” Stopping right in front of you, Toji held the box out of the way so he could lean close to your face, almost brushing his hair against your forehead.

“I’m sure!” Face erupting in a hot flush, you scramble away from him and down the stairs. You can hear the dark chuckle leaving his throat and the incident has your hands shaking as you go to the moving van.

Starkly avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the day, you take the pizza your mother ordered for the family straight to your room and don’t come out for a good while. She knocks on your door not once throughout the night, too busy giggling stupidly in the living room with Toji.

“Good morning baby girl.” Toji croons when he sees you appear in the kitchen in the morning, a hot cup of coffee in his hands as he leans against the kitchen counter. Your ears burn at the nickname, but you ignore him and go straight to the refrigerator.

“Hey!” Shuffling back when he slams the fridge closed in your face, another shout is caught in your throat as he looms over you, large calloused hand keeping the door closed.

“You just gonna be rude and not say good morning to your new daddy?” The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs on his breath, fanning over your face. He’s cornering you against the refrigerator, using his looming stature to force you against the door entirely.

“Go away.” You whisper, but you want to shout, push him away and stand up for yourself. But something in Toji’s stare and the way he carries himself has you withering.

“I don’t even get a good morning kiss?”

“Huh?” Your eyes go wide when he grabs your jaw, tilting your face up and holding it there so he can lean in and graze his lips against yours. Slapping your hands on his chest, you struggle to keep him at bay.

“Toji, have you seen my car keys?” Your mothers shout from the other room rips away the quiet, tense moment between you two. Toji takes a few smooth steps back, shuffling back into his place against the countertop right as she comes into the room.

“Yeah, right there.” Flicking his chin to the kitchen table, there lies her keys.

“Thanks.” Grabbing them, she takes a glance at you and then a double take, furrowing her brows and pointing vaguely at you. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Why are you making that face?”

“I-” A tiny flicker of your eyes to Toji has your face burning all over again and any words are lost on you. “I feel a bit sick.” Ducking your head down, you rush out of the kitchen, the passing cry of ‘go lay back down then’ from your mother going ignored as you slam the door to your room and lock it.

Toji leaves sometime after your mother does and for a while you’re home alone. Finally able to eat in peace, there’s a few things you’ve been wanting to do ever since you met Toji, one of them being snooping through his things.

He was secretive with so many things, it was only right that you get a little intel on him. You barely knew what he did for work, the only thing he said he did was ‘freelancing’ and that was it.

Walking through the open bedroom door, you steered clear of the things you knew were your mothers. The old dresser she had and her section of the closet was still exactly the same as before Toji came into her life.

But now there was a new chest of drawers tucked away in the corner of the room, rich dark wood that contrasted with the light color palette of the rest of the room. There was also a safe tucked under the bed and one in the closet as well, you’d seen Toji bring those in himself.

Opening the top drawer, it was no shock to find folded piles of socks and underwear, a few black tank tops. The second had more shirts, the third was the baggy pants Toji mainly lived in and the fourth had more fitted bottoms.

But sticking out from between a few folded pairs of slacks was a thick file folder with your families last name on it. It was in pristine condition and once you opened it, you saw that so were the things inside it.

Detailed records of your bank history, notes that had everything about you on them; your favorite food, color, your typical daily schedule, who you hung out with and all their personal information, the places you frequented and all the jobs you’d held in your life.

“This fucking stalker.” Reading over notes clearly written in Toji’s handwriting, the contents of the folder made your stomach churn. Shoving it back between the pants, you stood up properly and turned to the closet.

The safe in here was buried under a stack of folded clothes waiting to be hung up. Toji’s side of the closet was relatively bare, with the only thing hanging up being the lonely suit he owned that he wore to get married in.

Punching in all the possible number combinations you could think of - all the phone numbers you knew by heart, your home address and every birthday - you came up empty. There was no way to open the safe in the closet, and you had to abandon it.

The safe beneath the bed was heavy, nearly breaking your back as you tried to drag it out into the open. It was a thin black metal box with a long rectangular shape and the same number pad as in the closet. Only this time, when you punched in the last four digits of your phone number, it opened with a click.

What you saw inside wasn’t what you were expecting. Sure, Toji was a mysterious guy with secretive habits and a job you knew nothing about. You had barely information on him, yet you still weren’t prepared to see all the guns he had stored inside the safe.

There were long shotguns, handguns, revolvers and plenty of ammo and holsters. Even with the slight wear and tear on some of the barrels, you could tell Toji took good care of them as nearly all of them were freshly polished.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Just as you reached out and skimmed a finger across one of the handguns laying innocently in the pile, Toji’s flat monotone voice sounded behind you.

Ripping your hand away, your head whipped over your shoulder to stare at him in terrified shock. He shouldn’t be home, you hadn’t heard him come in or the front door open and close. Frozen on the ground, you struggled to find the air to breathe.

“Such a nosy little thing.” Toji commented, his eyes drifting to the open closet door and the dresser drawer that you’d left ajar. “If you were curious about daddy, you could have just asked.”

“Why do you have these things?” What were you referring to? The guns? Records of your every move, down to how long your phone conversations were late at night?

“They’re for work.” Pushing away from the doorframe, Toji sauntered into the room, dragging his feet lazily.

“But-”

“That’s all you need to know.” He cut you off with a stern look, kicking closed the safe.

“Why...why do you have all those papers about me?” Came your next question. Looking up at Toji, you were suddenly aware of how you were presented to him. Sitting on your knees, hands balled up into fists in your lap, looking up at him with wide scared eyes - and he noticed it too.

“You’re my little girl, why shouldn’t I know everything?” Biting his lip as he looked down at you, Toji had to stop himself from grabbing your hair and shoving your face into his clothed cock. Instead he flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders and used his foot to push the safe under the bed. Scrambling to your feet, you watched as the safe disappeared.

“What’s in the safe in the closet?” You were standing far too close to Toji for your liking, he was within less than an arm's reach of you and you could smell the dark woody aroma he liked to put on.

“Important shit. ‘Gumi’s birth certificate, passports, the usual.” Shrugging casually, Toji walked over to the dresser and kicked it closed as well. “Got some stuff for your mom and you in there too.”

Letting a lull fall into the conversation, you scurried from the bedroom when Toji went to close the closet door. You could hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath upon discovering your absence, but he closed the bedroom door shortly after and you could hear him go down the stairs.

Hours later and your mother informed you she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Something about meeting up with friends for an unexpected late night outing and staying out past dark.

Left to your own devices, you tried to avoid being detected by Toji as you milled around in the kitchen and fed yourself.

“Sweetheart, that you?”

Keyword being tried.

Biting back a harsh sigh, you emerged from the relative darkness of the kitchen and into the living room where Toji was lounging on the couch with no shirt on, all his muscles and scars on full display.

“There’s my baby girl.” Toji broke into a smile.

“Yup, I’m here.” Rolling your eyes so you could force yourself to stop ogling his body, you turned halfway back to the kitchen.

“Woah woah come back!”

“What do you want?” Not keeping this sigh at bay, you quirked a brow at him.

“Ya know your mothers not here and I’m getting awfully lonely sitting in this house by myself. Why don’t you sit with me?”

“No thanks.”

“That’s too bad, sweetheart, ‘cause I wasn’t asking.” You can feel his hand wrapping around your upper arm before you even hear him getting up from the couch.

“L-let go!” Thrashing in his hold does no good, you’re thrown onto the couch like a doll in no time and Toji sinks in next to you, spreading his legs wide and throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

“Your mother wants us to spend more time together, get better acquainted and whatnot.” Grabbing the beer he had on the coffee table, Toji drinks until it’s empty and he crushes it in his hand. “And what better time than now?”

Huffing and puffing, you adjust yourself on the couch and try to focus on whatever Toji has playing on the TV screen. It’s some cheesy action movie made way before you were born, and while it makes you groan at the cliche plot points, Toji is having a grand old time.

“You want a beer?” Toji asks, picking up a can and cracking it open.

“No.” Shaking your head, the last thing you’d want is to possibly get drunk and lose your senses around him.

“Oh, oops.” Upon hearing your no, Toji not so subtly tipped the can over and let it fall into your lap, the beer inside spilling out onto your clothes.

“Toji! What the-” Leaping up and tossing the can onto the coffee table, you could feel the cold liquid seep into the fabric of your pants and underwear, even stretching to the back of your pants.

“That’s too bad, my mistake! Better go get changed.” Toji laughed, completely unashamed of what he’d done. Flipping him off, you stormed away. “Put your pajamas on, it’s getting late!”

“Fuck you!” Angrily walking to your room, you ripped off the wet clothes clinging to you. You were tempted to stay in your room the rest of the night, but there was no doubt that Toji would come up and drag you back down to the living room.

“Aw, don’t you look cute.” He teased when you came back down in an oversized shirt and sleeping shorts. He had procured a blanket from behind the couch and it lay on the arm.

“Ugh, it’s still wet.” Even though he’d grabbed a blanket, he hadn’t grabbed a towel to sop up the beer in the couch cushions.

“It��s okay, you can sit right here.” Grabbing your wrist, Toji yanked you onto his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist as you fell into him. Throwing the blanket over you, Toji forced you to lay against his bare chest.

“Let me go sit in the other chair.” There was a perfectly good arm chair a few feet from the couch you could sit on.

“Now how could we bond if you’re so far away?” He chuckled, hiking you back up as you tried to slide off him. Biting your tongue against any further useless arguments, you tried to get comfortable in Tojis lap.

“Be careful now, baby, all that squirming might get me excited.” Toji whispered in your ear, gripping the flesh of your waist tightly underneath his fingers. Chuckling again at how your body went completely stiff, he settled back into the couch and watched the movie.

Begrudgingly focusing on it as well, it was almost inevitable that you relaxed into laying on Toji, the smooth up and down of his chest expanding with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

“This movie’s stupid.” You grumbled as a commercial hit. Your arms were crossed tightly, having gotten riled up at one particular scene for how predictable it was.

“S’not stupid, it’s a classic.” Toji replied.

“Still stupid.” Shaking your head slightly, you let out a soft yawn.

“Aw, is it getting close to your bedtime?”

“Shut up.” It wasn’t that it was particularly late, but sitting in the low light of the living room, under a cozy blanket with a warm body underneath you holding you tightly, it was more relaxing than you thought. Coupled with the quietness of the TV and the slow even breaths Toji took right by your ear, who wouldn’t get a little sleepy?

“Poor baby’s tired.” You could just feel the mocking pout on Toji’s lips. Shifting his hands and grabbing onto your thigh, he turned you to sit sideways in his lap, legs across him and your head securely tucked under his chin.

“Not tired.” Trying to reason with him was impossible, and you gave up once the movie came back on. With a secure arm wrapped around your back and his other hand resting snugly on your outer thigh, Toji had you right where he wanted you.

“Still awake?” Toji asked ten minutes later and he already knew the answer. Your breathing had gotten quiet and you’d fallen slack in his arms, and when he rubbed your back you let out a soft, sleepy hum and snuggled deeper into him.

Careful not to wake you, Toji dipped his hands to the hem of your shirt and tugged it up so he could get under it. Trailing his calloused fingertips up your back, he felt the bumps and ridges of your spinal cord as he went. Pushing under your arm, he got to where he wanted: the soft flesh of your breast.

Cupping it in his palm, Toji bit his lip to hold back a soft groan. He’d wanted to do this since the day he started dating your mother and learned about you. From the very first picture of you she’d shown him he was hooked and every subsequent move he made after was calculated to get right to this very moment.

A soft uptick in your breathing let him know that you could feel what he was doing, but you did nothing else as he pinched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers.

Pushing you to lay back a little, Toji crept his other hand up your thigh. Your legs were simple dead weight to him and with a few nudges he was able to get his hand down your shorts and cup your sex.

“Be a good girl and get nice and wet.” Mumbling to himself he pushed his middle finger through your folds, coming to your clit and grinning wildly. Rubbing it with practiced precision, Toji kept his ears trained on the sound of your breathing and he was prepared to keep going even if you woke up.

Pressing a few kisses to the top of your head, he cooed at the delicate sigh you let out. You were getting aroused, Tojis finger was starting to get slicked up and glide easier against you.

Pushing his index finger against your clit, he worked you up even further. The movie was forgotten on the television, all of Tojis focus going to you and the way your brows scrunched up at the feeling of someone else’s fingers against your cunt.

You weren’t wet enough for Toji to push a finger inside, but he was fine with waiting for another time. Just playing with your clit and pinching your nipple was enough for him for now.

Pressing his nose against the top of your head, Toji let out a shuddering breath when you came in your sleep. A few desperate whimpers fell from your lips, and your face screwed up a little, your body clenching as pleasure rolled through your sleeping form.

Taking his hand slowly out of your shirt, Toji laid it back on your thigh and tried to collect his own breathing. Getting you to cum in your sleep on his lap had riled him up more than he expected, the thrill of making you come undone without your knowledge going straight to his head.

It wasn’t long after that your mother came home, gasping at the sight of your sleeping body in Toji’s lap and delighted that you were finally getting more comfortable with him. Not wanting to wake you, she snapped a few pictures for posterity and had Toji carry you to your room.

“You want me to what?” Staring at your mother like she’d grown another head, you couldn’t hide the disdain at what she had just proposed of you in the late morning.

“I want you to spend the day with Toji! He’s going into town to do some shopping and I think it’d be a great way for you two to get closer.”

“I don’t want to get closer to him.” The memory of last night made your cheeks burn. You were far more embarrassed about falling asleep in his lap than you’d ever be willing to admit.

“C’mon (Y/N), I saw you two together on the couch last night! It was so cute, I want you to have more moments like that with him.” Your mother gave you a pout, one just begging to humor her request. The desire to say no was right on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine, I’ll go with him.”

“Yay!” Clapping her hands together lightly, your mother turned away and started to gather a few things to start her own day.

“Let’s be quick, okay?” Ten minutes later and you were sitting in the front seat of Toji’s vintage camaro.

“I think we should take it nice and slow today.” Toji replied, firing up the engine and drowning out your thoughts with the loud roar. It was hard to look at him, so you kept your gaze trained to the passing scenery outside.

“Did you sleep well last night, baby?” He asked as the car came to a stop at a light. Toji was staring right at you, a wide smirk on his face. Pressing your lips together, you refused to look back at him. You might have slept well, but waking up with slick coating your inner thighs ruined the entire experience, whether good or bad at all.

“Why do you care?”

“Ha! Why do I care?” His sharp laugh made you jolt, turning to glare at him as the car started moving again. “You must have slept well, you were knocked out on my lap.”

“Won’t happen again.” You grumbled, watching his hand fiddle with the radio and turn it to a random station.

“That’s what you think.” Giving your thigh a quick pat, Toji settled into his seat. Driving to the shopping district he had in mind, as soon as you stepped out of the car Toji was by your side with a hand on your back. “I’ve got some business to take care of first, let’s go.”

“Don’t touch me.” Shoving his hand away, it was right back where it was in seconds. A low wave of annoyance washed over you, but you started walking in the direction Toji was taking you. The annoyed feeling only grew as you passed people by on the street and women openly stared at him, not giving a care in the world about the gold band on his finger or the fact that you were next to him.

And he didn’t seem to care either. You could see the way he would look back at some of the women, sending them easy smiles or holding eye contact longer than normal. Walking into a jewelry shop, you were finally away from their prying eyes, but the hand Toji had on your back only got firmer.

“Want me to buy you a little something?” Toji whispered, leaning close to your ear.

“Like what?” You challenged, looking across the shop floor. There were countless expensive jewels just lying in wait behind thick glass cases.

“Whatever you want, baby girl. Just point and I’ll get it once I’m done.”

“Done with what?” Looking at him incredulously, you saw him nod to someone waiting against a back wall.

“Business.” Patting your back, Toji went to talk to them, slipping into a back room and leaving you alone on the shop floor. Trying not to stand out, you found an open chair and pulled out your phone, already bored.

“Finally.” You said upon seeing Toji appear in front of you after nearly thirty minutes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was doing some negotiations.” Inspecting him further, you could see he was breathing a little heavier and there was just the slightest sheen of sweat above his brow.

“What, did you kill someone back there or something?”

“Almost.” He replied with a shrug. You’d meant it as a joke, but with the way Toji wasn’t smiling you couldn’t tell if he did too. Letting his eyes roam over the shop, he flicked his chin out. “Find something you like?”

“No.” Taking a step toward the door, you were tugged back by your sleeve.

“I bet you didn’t even look.” Toji chuckled, dragging you over to a case. “How about a little tennis bracelet, hm? We could add a little charm, how about a T?”

“I don’t want it, I won’t wear it.”

“Ah, sure you will.” Brushing you off, he waved over a sales associate. “Now, tell the nice worker what color you want, gold or silver.”

Walking out of the store with a pretty little bag in hand, you followed Toji to the next few stores he had to go into for ‘business’. Sometimes he was quick and you didn’t have to wait even a few minutes for someone to hand him a thick envelope that he tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. Others, he’d slip into the backroom and you’d have to awkwardly wait around.

“Are we actually going to do some proper shopping today, or is this it?” You snapped after being dragged around for a good while. You hadn’t even wanted to come, but now you just felt like a kid being dragged around against their will.

“Relax baby, daddy’s done, he’ll pay attention to you now.” Toji teased, pinching your cheek and cooing at you.

“Whatever, lets go.” Swatting him away, you stormed off in a random direction, Toji’s laughter burning in your ears. It was your turn now to drag him from store to store, some you weren’t even interested in. Following you dutifully, Toji bought whatever you wanted regardless of price tag.

“Let’s go in here.” Toji stopped you right in front of a popular lingerie store. There were large adverts in the windows of scantily clad women dripping in lace and frilly garments, and there were a large number of people inside as well.

“You can’t be serious.” You blanched, watching in slight horror as he toed his way over to the front door.

“Cmon baby, you deserve something nice.” He said loud enough to have a few passersby giggle. Seeing your face turn from one of shock to embarrassment, Toji knew he had won. Following him into the store with your head down, you tried not to look at all the bras and panties displayed so prominently.

Taking a seat at one of the chairs near the front of the store, Toji kept his eye on you as you walked around. Seeing your fingers glide across silk and lace, pass mannequins in intricate pieces of lingerie, he couldn’t help but imagine you in some of them. He’d only gotten a taste of what you had to offer last night, and he already hungered for more.

“I think you’d look great in that.” He came up behind you as you looked at a bra and panty set, little red and white love hearts adorning lacy pink.

“Pervert.” Glaring over your shoulder, you tried to conceal that you’d grabbed a pair for yourself. “Go sit back down.”

“I get it, you wanna keep it a secret and surprise me.” Fishing out his wallet, Toji handed you the credit card he’d been using the whole day. “Take your time baby, I’m going to have a smoke.”

Making sure he left the store, you let out a sigh of relief at finally being alone in a place like this. It was bad enough he suggested it, but to have him watch you pick out underwear was downright mortifying.

Grabbing whatever you liked, you walked out with a sizable bag in your hand and a pretty long receipt. Toji was nowhere to be found outside the store, and as you scanned past the people milling about, he wasn’t on the street either.

You had his number, feasibly you could call or text him to find out where he was. But with a limitless credit card in your hand and newfound freedom, that was the last thing on your mind. He would find you eventually, say something snarky and tease you and then you’d be on your way to grab lunch.

“Excuse me, miss!” For a moment, you thought the gentle voice calling out to you as you walked down the street was Toji. But as you turn around and are confronted with a stranger, you’re reminded that Toji would never be so polite.

“Yes?” He was an average looking man, around Toji’s age.

“I couldn’t help but notice you walking around, you look so beautiful.” The man had a hopeful smile on his face, taking in your reaction to the sudden compliment.

“Oh, thank you.” Giving him a once over, you quickly spotted the silver wedding band on his finger.

“What’s your name? I’d love to take you out sometime.” Shuffling a tiny bit closer, the man was already pulling out his phone before he even finished the sentence.

“I’m s-”

“She’s not interested.” A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, yanking you back into a firm chest. There wasn’t a need to look up and see who it was, the distinct cologne wafting into your nose and the rough treatment was enough.

“Huh?” Bunching his brows together, the man looked confused between you and Toji.

“Huh?” Toji mocked, leaning towards him with a raised brow.

“I think she can speak for herself.”

“My baby doesn’t talk to insignificant flies like you.��� Staring him down for a moment, Toji got him to turn tail and leave in a huff.

“I could have handled that myself.”

“Yeah, well I handled it better.” Turning you around, Toji smirks down his nose at you for a moment.

“What?” His look is unnerving, it makes your heart flutter a bit and that’s the last feeling you want to have for him.

“I deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“A reward for what?” Scrunching up your nose, you recoil a little as Toji bends at the waist and presents his cheek to you.

“For coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress.” Tapping his cheek with one finger, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Don’t leave your daddy hanging, now.”

Looking him over, you weighed your options. It was only a kiss, an innocent little peck on the cheek. Where was the harm in that?

The harm came when, as you were leaning forward with your lips slightly pursed, Toji turned his head and kissed you square on the lips.

Jerking back in shock, you didn’t get far as Toji grabbed your chin to keep you in place. His lips were rough, dry and cracked and the scar on the edge of his mouth wasn’t helping in that regard.

Brushing his nose against yours, Toji didn’t keep the kiss going for long; even he had boundaries for being in public. Pulling away, he swiped your bottom lip with his thumb, grinning at your flushed face and slightly labored breathing.

“Daddy got you flustered?” He teased, taking the shopping bags out of your hand and holding them himself.

“No.” You reply a few seconds too late, your lip’s in a pout and your voice has a slight whine. Biting his lip, Toji scanned your face.

“God, the things you do to me.” Roughly grabbing your hand, he tugged you along down the street. “Let’s get some lunch, I’m fucking starved.”

“You’re back!” Your mother exclaimed upon your arrival, leaping up from the couch to hug both of you. She quickly hurried out of the way upon seeing all the bags Toji insisted on carrying in by himself, her jaw dropping in shock.

“Don’t gimme that look, babe, you know I had to spoil the little princess.” Toji laughed at her expression, dropping some of the bags into your hands and kissing your mother on the cheek.

“I-I’m just shocked...we never come back with that many bags when we go shopping.” Her voice was quiet as she looked between the two of you.

“You gettin’ jealous on me now?” Toji teased, poking her in the side and making her jump. “I was just following your orders, forming a closer bond with my new step-daughter.” Pointedly shielding the lingerie bag from her view, Toji passed it into your hands. “Maybe she’ll show you some of the outfits she bought, we even picked some out together.”

If by ‘together’ he meant he shoved a slew of tiny skirts and low cut tops into your hands in the dressing room and then bought them when you rejected all of them anyway, then yes, you could say you two picked some out together.

“Uh- yeah mom, I’ll show you some of the stuff later.” You nodded along, eager to escape the situation and hide in your room. Not waiting another moment after the words left your lips, you ran up the stairs and to your room.

Pouring out all the things Toji bought you, you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy going out shopping with him. There was no limit to what you wanted, anything your eyes touched was yours in an instant.

“Knock knock.” Pushing open your door and swiftly closing it behind him, Toji held up the remaining bags. “You forgot some.”

“Thanks.” Reaching out to grab them, you didn’t get the chance as Toji set them down and stepped around you, grabbing the little bag from the first store you went to. Fishing out the velvet box, Toji opened it and dangled the dainty tennis bracelet from his finger.

“Put this on for me, will you? Wanna make sure it’s a good fit.” Dropping the bracelet into your hands, Toji chuckled when you struggled to get it on. “Need my help?”

“No I’m fine.” You said, pinching the clasp between your fingers desperately.

“Let daddy help you.” Grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer, Toji swatted your fingers away.

“Your fingers are too thick, how’re you ever-”

“Got it.” Releasing the bracelet, Toji watched triumphantly as it hung from your wrist. You barely mumbled a thanks before he was grabbing your wrist again, nearly pulling you chest to chest with him. “Now, what was that about my fingers?”

“N-nothing!” Slapping your free hand on his chest, your face burned terribly and only got worse as he laughed.

“No, no, go ahead and say it. My fingers are too thick, huh?” Grabbing your jaw, Toji slid his index and middle finger across your face until they came to rest on your lips. “Say ‘ah’.” Pressing your lips together firmly, you shook your head as best you could.

But Toji wasn’t one to take no for an answer and shoved past your lips, forcing your mouth open with his other hand and flattening your tongue. Clutching onto his wrist tightly, you looked up at him with watering eyes as his fingers slid too far back and choked you.

Growling at the sight of his fingers stuffed into your mouth, Toji dropped his other hand, grabbing your ass tightly in his hand and rocking your hips against him. Looming over you, Toji ripped his fingers from your mouth and slammed his lips onto you.

The kisses you shared before were nothing compared to this one. With a hand gripping the back of your head, Toji made sure not even a centimeter of space passed between you two. His lips molded to yours perfectly, mouths slotting together as he pushed his tongue in and claimed your mouth for himself.

Drool began to drip down the corners of your lips, sliding down your neck and chest and creating a glossy mess. It was getting harder to breathe the longer you went, your body quickly growing weak from lack of oxygen.

Gasping for air when Toji finally broke the kiss, your mind was spinning, barely able to focus on the fact that you were kissing your mothers husband and certainly not paying attention to the way Toji pushed you back onto your bed, body bouncing roughly on the mattress.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Toji says with a sigh, climbing over your body and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw. His hands pawed at your clothes, bunching up your shirt as he tried to get to your breasts.

“T-toji! Stop!” Letting out a scandalized gasp, your eyes flew to your bedroom door. Surely your mother would hear and come to save you.

“No need to be nervous, baby-” yanking down your bra, Toji palmed your breasts roughly, “daddy’ll make you feel good.” Sitting up just enough to yank your shirt and bra off, Toji held your arms down and stared lovingly at your chest, his cock twitching to life the longer he looked.

An argument had bubbled up from your chest, ready to spew out and knock some sense into Toji, but as he descended onto you, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth, the words died just as quickly as they formed.

What was the use of telling Toji to stop when you knew he wouldn’t? There wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that if you yelled at him, told him it was wrong to cheat on your mother and fuck his step-daughter, he wouldn’t laugh straight in your face.

Fire back and ask why you think he cares about that? You’ve already seen the file he has on you and the lack of information he had on your mother. He’d already proven himself to be more than enamored with you and what kind of man would he be if he let something like ‘morality’ get in the way of what he wanted?

Moaning under your breath as Toji kissed and licked your chest, you had an argument with yourself brewing inside your head. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the attention he was currently giving you. He was confident in what he was doing, so sure of himself unlike some of the people you’d been with. The knowledge that came with being older was surely showing itself now.

Especially in the way he rolled his hips against yours, getting you to moan out a little louder this time, the sound coming from deep within your chest.

“Sound so pretty, baby.” Toji groaned, peeling himself away from you to shed himself of his clothes and to take the rest of yours with it. Letting out a low whistle at seeing you completely bare in front of him, Toji slapped his hands onto your thighs, peeling your legs apart to stare right at your cunt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The pure animalistic look in his eyes had you throbbing, both with need and embarrassment. No one had looked at you like that before, unadulterated and hungry. Shyness crept in and you flung your hands down to cover yourself.

“No hiding, little one.” Smacking your hands away, Toji laughed at the pitiful, embarrassed whine you let out. “Aw, is someone getting shy? Can’t handle daddy looking at your messy cunt?”

“S’not messy.” You pouted, but it was true. A steady buildup of slick dripped out of you, coating everything between your legs and even dripping down between your asscheeks.

“You’re my messy little girl, aren’t you?” Ignoring your light protests, Toji laid himself down between your legs, making a show of putting your thighs on his shoulders and squishing his head with them. “I bet you taste as good as you look.”

With one last wink, Toji dove between your thighs, his tongue already out and ready to lap at your folds. The first touch of the tip of his tongue to your clit made you jump, hands flying down to grip his hair as your eyes went wide.

Flicking it a few times, Toji wrapped his lips around the bud, sucking hard as his fingers dug into your thighs firmly. You moaned just as loud as Toji did, the vibrations from his mouth travelling up to the ones leaving your chest.

Toji’s dream of being here with you, having you laid out on your back with his face buried in your cunt, had only gotten stronger as time went by. He nearly lost it in the lingerie store, seeing you walk so innocently around all the thongs and delicate lingerie. He had to leave to smoke a cigarette and cool down or else he would have dragged you into the dressing room in front of everyone.

Lapping at your entrance, Toji shoved his tongue in, his nose bumping your clit as he did. Massaging your walls, he drank in your essence, easily getting drunk off the taste and feeling of your thighs crushing his head. Painstakingly letting go of one of your thighs, he brought his thumb to your clit.

“Toji!” You gasped and your thighs got even tighter around him. Toji could barely breathe let alone think about anything but making you cum on his tongue and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Shoving his fingers between your legs, he slid them down to the hilt and felt your walls clamp down onto both them and his tongue. Your essence was everywhere now and he was sure the scent of your arousal would linger on his skin for days.

Putting his tongue on your clit again, Toji fucked his fingers into you. The obscene wet sound was music to his ears, a song he hoped to play over and over. Your moans had turned into babbles, your fingers carding through his hair as the pleasure washed over you.

“F-fuck-” Barely able to get the word out, you came on Toji’s fingers, whimpering loudly as he sucked your clit harder. You were sure you had crushed him for good now with how hard your thighs tensed up around him, but Toji seemed more than okay when they finally relaxed and fell to the wayside.

“What a good fucking girl.” Toji was breathless and lightheaded himself but he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease you, slap your quivering thighs with both hands and drink up your release. Your feeble hands were too weak to push him away, just a slight nudge on his forehead that he easily ignored.

Forcing air into your lungs, you got a moment's reprieve when Toji finally pulled himself away from your cunt. Your arms wound around his broad shoulders, pulling him into a half hug as your legs were hoisted up around his waist.

“You gonna let daddy take what’s his?” Toji whispered in your ear, blindly grabbing his cock and tapping tip against your clit.

“Yes!” You sobbed, nodding your head desperately. Glancing down between your bodies, you could see just how thick Toji’s cock was; his fingers surely did not compare.

Pushing the tip of his cock in, you could immediately feel the difference from his fingers. The stretch that his cock gave was unimaginable and you nearly broke into tears as he bottomed out.

“Hurts- s’too big-” Unwinding one arm, you pushed on Toji’s chest.

“Sshh, sshh, you’re fine.” He cooed, intertwining your fingers and pushing your hand onto the mattress.

“Toji…” Whining under your breath, you blinked away the mist of tears at your lashes and looked at him. “Daddy, please.”

The soft ghost of a smile on Toji’s face fell after hearing you call him daddy. His whole face fell, in fact, eyes going wide and pupils blowing out. The hand that was holding yours tightened, smashing yours into the mattress as his other flew to your thigh.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” Toji could hardly get the words out before he was pistoning his hips, thrusting his cock into you at an alarming rate. He had intended on taking it a bit slow, savoring the moment more as he finally got to fuck you.

But that plan was gone and in its place was the plan to fuck you into the mattress, turn your brain and body into mush as he made you cum over and over again.

“Daddy! Slow down!” You wailed and in the back of your head you wondered if your mother could hear you, if she was outside the door just waiting to burst in on the two of you.

“Not a fucking chance.” Toji responded, voice muffled against the side of your neck. His tongue lashed out, hot and heavy against your pulse. Leaving bite marks along your skin, Toji growled into you, grinding his hips and getting a shiver down his back.

Already sensitive from your first orgasm, the second one came with no warning. Scratching your nails down Toji’s back, your feet dug into his back as your cunt clamped down on him. Any remaining sense you had, any thoughts about your mother or being caught were gone now, the only thing filling your head now was the drag of Toji’s thick cock against your walls and the way his balls slapped against your ass.

The sound of Toji fucking into you seemed to echo off the walls, mixing with the choked moans you let out and creating music to Toji’s ears. Every drag of his cock along your oversensitive walls, every thrust forward bringing another gush of your sticky release to coat his skin - all of it was heaven for him.

“Honey, have you seen Toji?” Your mother’s sudden call wafted down the hall as she came up the stairs, the familiar thud of her footsteps getting closer.

“Uh-” Your voice caught in your throat, fighting through the jumbled mess that was your mind to come up with a good answer.

“Better say something quick, I didn’t lock the door.” Toji smirked against your skin, forcing his hips to all but stop and grind painfully slowly against you, his skin just lightly catching your clit.

“I-I don’t know where he is.” Your tongue felt like lead, sitting stupidly in your mouth and barely forming the right words.

“Okay…” There was a pause as she trailed off and you could hear her right outside your door, feet shuffling a little as she thought of what to do next.

The sound of her footsteps trailed off and both you and Toji let out a gruff exhale.

“Finally.” He mumbled, pulling his hips back.

“Honey one more question, what do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza!” You screeched right as Toji snapped his hips forward. Burrowing your face into Tojis hair, you tried to stifle the squeals leaving your lips.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Waiting until her footsteps completely rescinded, Toji sat up on his elbow and smirked at you.

“Guess we’re having pizza for dinner.”

“Shut up.” Pushing his face back into your neck you avoided his teasing gaze. Chuckling to himself, Toji nipped at your skin.

“Now, where were we?”

Crawling out your room nearly an hour later with sweat on your brows and unstable legs, you tried to conceal the cum dripping down your inner thighs. Toji refused to let you clean up, sliding a pair of shorts onto your legs and telling you it would be a waste to get rid of the gift he gave you.

Sitting down at the table without him, you were thankful to be the only one there. No one could see the way you were trembling and squirming with every squishy gush of cum that seeped out of you.

“Hi honey.” Joining you a few minutes later, none the wiser to what had happened upstairs, was your mother. Greeting you with a soft smile, she was about to open her mouth to speak again when the front door opened.

“There you are!” She beamed at seeing Toji walk through the front door. Your brow furrowed at seeing him come through the door instead of walking down the stairs. He’d made a comment about climbing out of your window and acting like nothing happened, but you didn’t think he was serious.

“Yeah, went on a walk.” He shrugged, stepping into the house and holding the door open. “And look who I found on the way!” With a fake beaming smile, Toji waved his hand behind him as Megumi walked through the door looking as unimpressed as the day you met him.

“Megumi, you’re home!” Clapping excitedly, your mother shot up from her seat and to him, giving him a quick hug and taking the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Mhmm. Nice to see you again.” Polite as ever, Megumi smiled briefly at your mother.

“Go sit down at the table, we’re just about to have dinner!”

“Okay.” Nodding slowly, Megumi set his eyes on you, raking over your form as he took a seat across from you. The silence between you two was thick and you could tell there was something hanging on the tip of Megumi’s tongue.

“Hi.” You whispered, briefly making eye contact with him before looking at the wood grains on the table.

“Hi.” Sighing out the word, Megumi kept his eyes on your face, observing the way you bit your lip nervously and kept your thighs tightly clenched together. When his eyes dropped down to see the tennis bracelet on your wrist, you thought smoke would pour out of his ears.

“Getting acquainted with your new step sister?” Sauntering into the space, Toji roughly ruffled your hair, laughing at the way you swatted him away before doing the same to Megumi.

“You could say that.” The younger man replied, his eyes slightly narrowed looking between the two of you. Loudly pulling out the chair next to you, Toji sat down and slid his hand onto your thigh under the table.

“Alright, everyone, time to eat!” Ever the hostess, your mother appears without fail with the pizza you’d said you wanted for dinner.

As you ate, you could tell Megumi knew something was up between you and Toji. He always seemed to make eye contact with you whenever Toji’s hand strayed too high up your thigh and his thumb grazed your soaked slit. He was far too keen, sending you questioning looks whenever you would clear your throat to cover up a soft moan.

Left to clear the table with him, you couldn’t make eye contact with Megumi at all. The silence between you two was overbearing, made even more so when you went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“So, (Y/N)...my dad is fucking you, isn’t he?” Megumi’s abrupt question made the plate you had in your hands fall back into the sink with a loud clatter.

“W-what?” Staring down at the soapy water covering your hands, you could feel Megumi’s eyes burning a hole into your head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you two at the table. And I saw him climbing out of your bedroom window.” Taking a clean dish out of your hand, Megumi peers his head into your personal space, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“And what if he is?” The lump in your throat was bigger than you expected, choking you as you tried to speak. This was it, now that Megumi knew he would tell your mother and life as you knew it would be over for you.

“Don’t cry.” He said softly, wiping off a tear on your cheek you didn’t even know was there. “My dad’s sick, taking advantage of you like this.”

“What?” Hiccuping softly, you rush to wipe the other tears off.

“I knew ever since he started dating your mom that he was into you, I’m sorry I didn’t try and stop him.” Megumi sighed heavily, shaking his head as if to chastise himself. “I’ll have a talk with him and-”

“N-no, don’t.” Sniffling the last of your tears away, you force your voice to be steady. “I can handle it.”

“(Y/N), he’s not a good man, he won’t listen to you if you just tell him to stop.”

“I know, I just-”

“Then let me help you!” Clearly growing agitated, Megumi’s voice rose and his palm slapped against the counter, making you jump. There was silence, then the shuffling of footsteps with Toji appearing in the kitchen entryway with a furrowed brow.

“What’s going on here?” Looking between the two of you, his gaze settled on Megumi. “You, speak.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Megumi glared at him. Refusing to back down, he remained locked in a stare with Toji as the man approached.

“Yeah? And what that might be?” Coming nearly face to face with each other, you noticed how close in height they were to each other, with Toji only a few inches taller.

“You’re taking advantage of (Y/N).”

“Ha, and who said that?” Flicking his eyes to you, Toji chuckled. “Cause I know it wasn’t her.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that? You’re married to her mother for God’s sake!”

“Whoop-de-fucking-doo, you’re so observant.” Spinning his finger in the air, Toji pushed Megumi’s shoulder. “What do you plan on doing about it?” Quirking a brow, Toji didn’t wait even two seconds for a response. “I know you’re just upset I got to her first, kid. Now all you’ve got is your little hand at night.”

“That’s not true!”

“Even if it’s not, keep your fucking hands off what’s mine.” Hooking an arm around your shoulder, Toji pressed a kiss to your temple. “If I catch you so much as jerking it when she’s around, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Fuck you.” Megumi spat, his fists clenched at seeing Toji touch you so casually. It boiled his blood to see his dad treating you like this; there wasn’t a doubt in Megumi’s mind that you weren’t suffering with him around.

“Sorry, not into boys.” Letting you go, Toji slinked away to the fridge and grabbed a can of beer. Leaving without another word, as he turned the corner Megumi slammed his hand down against the counter.

“That fucking bastard.” He snarled, hanging his head low and trying to calm his shaking breath. Slowly releasing the tension in his body, Megumi stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I need to take a walk.”

“Okay.” You whispered back, probably going unheard as he stormed out the back door. Leaving the rest of the dishes in the sink, you left the room as well, going up to your room and staying there for the rest of the night.

It’s deathly quiet in the house the following day. Any instance where Megumi and Toji are in the same room, the tension rises dramatically. Refusing to even acknowledge the others presence, Toji has already whisked your mother away for an impromptu date night at five pm, promising to stay out late with a biting tone directed at Megumi.

“Finally that dirtbag left.” Huffing as soon as the door is closed, Megumi slumped onto the couch. “I can’t stand him, I don’t get what your mother sees in him.”

“I have no idea.” You mumble, feigning disinterest and scrolling on your phone. In truth, whenever you had a moment alone during the day, Toji had come up to you and touched you, teasing you by cupping your ass or kissing you. All you wanted to do was go upstairs and relieve the burn between your legs, but no good excuse to leave Megumi alone came to mind.

“Some of my uni buddies sent me home with a gift, if you’re interested.”

“What is it?” Sending him a curious look, you watched him hop up from the couch.

“You’ll see.”

The gift in question was an unopened bottle of liquor one step up from the bottom shelf. It didn’t smell good when he opened the bottle and even mixed with some juice from the fridge, the burn as it went down your throat was horrid.

“Are you sure this can be called a gift?” You blanched, face scrunching up tightly in displeasure.

“When you’re on a budget like we are, yeah.”

“I thought Toji sent you money?” Swirling the liquid in your cup, you watched Megumi take a bitter sip.

“Why would I ever use his money?” Sure, Toji made sure Megumi’s bank account never hit below five digits, but that didn’t mean he wanted it or even asked for it. Leaving well enough alone, you turned on a random movie and kept drinking, keeping all mentions of Toji at bay.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get properly drunk, words slurring together and dumb drunk giggles shared between you. It was easier to get to know Megumi this way, his likes and dislikes and general personality; the harsh scowl on his lips was gone, replaced with a lopsided smile.

“I gotta take a leak.” Stumbling up from the couch, Megumi strolled out of the room, keeping his hand on the wall to steady himself. Flipping through your phone in his absence, a sudden text caught your attention.

(Toji): daddy’s bored baby, send me a little something

(Y/N): like what?

(Toji): I’d love to see you in that new lingerie

Giggling coyly as if he’d spoken the words directly to you, you kept a tight grip on your phone as you made your way to your room. Megumi and the movie on the TV didn’t even cross your mind as you closed your door and went straight to your dresser drawer.

It was a bit of a hassle getting your clothes off and then the new ones on, your vision was swimming and every few seconds you stopped to giggle at yourself and your lack of ability. Bumbling through sliding the lacy panties up your legs, you flopped onto bed and opened the camera.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you took several pictures of yourself for Toji. Nearly all of them were at least slightly blurry, some brazen shots of your cunt through the panties while others were tasteful shots of your breasts.

Sending them off with a few heart emojis and a little ‘sorry, I’m drunk’ tacked on, you clutched your phone to your chest as you waited for his reply.

“(Y/N), you in here?” Megumi threw open your bedroom door with no warning or second thought, his eyes bulging out of his skull seeing you spread out on your bed in lingerie.

“Gumi, get out!” Throwing your hands over your body, you let your phone fall to the floor. Stuck in a drunken stupor, Megumi didn’t leave the room, but he did look down at the text Toji sent you.

“Why is my dad texting you that he’s fucking rock hard?” Curling his lip in disgust as he read the message aloud, he scrolled up to see the previous messages, his mouth falling open at seeing your pictures.

“Megumi!” Snatching your phone angrily from him, you gave him a hard shove. “Leave!”

“(Y/N), don’t let him do this to you!” Megumi barely moved from the push.

“Just leave!”

“No! I won’t let him ruin your life!” Grabbing onto your shoulders, Megumi swayed slightly. “I know it can be exciting to get attention like this but- but don’t do it with him.”

“You don’t know anything.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you refuse to meet Megumi’s eyes. He’s silent for a beat, weighing whatever options are inside his head.

“I do know some things.” Licking his lips nervously, Megumi tilts his head and catches your eye. “I do know anyone is better for you than that nasty fuck. Even I’m better than him.”

“Yeah?” For some reason, you crack a smile for him. There’s something about how adamant Megumi hates his father that makes you laugh a little.

“Let me show you.” His voice drops and Megumi shuffles closer to you, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your nipples through the thin fabric of the bra. The action, along with the way Megumi looks at you, has the heat between your legs picking up again.

You’re grabbing his collar and kissing him before you can take a full breath in, lips drunkenly smashing against each other as you stumble back onto your bed. Megumi’s hands go up and down your sides, grabbing and squeezing your flesh between his fingers.

Kissing down your neck, Megumi’s hand slides under your panties and he doesn’t speak on the fact you’re already wet enough that he can slide two fingers into your cunt with ease. Even if the fact does catch his mind it’s gone just as quickly as he grinds the heel of his hand on your clit.

Sloppily rutting into your thigh, Megumi lets out a pleased sigh when you tug his sweatpants down and free his cock. Jerking him off as you kiss, he swats your hand away when he finally gets fully situated overtop of you.

“Fuck.” You both groan as he slides in, your panties hooked to the side because both of you were too frantic to properly take them off. Megumi kisses you as he thrusts into you, noses bumping painfully together as you chase your high.

Even with Megumi looking exactly like him, you still find yourself wishing it was Toji above you. They sound nearly identical as well, Megumi’s groans a dead ringer for his fathers. Keeping your eyes squinted, you force the image of Toji to be the one in front of you and combined with Megumi messily rubbing your clit, you’re able to cum with a soft moan the same time as Megumi.

“Shit, I came inside.” When the glow of his orgasm finally subsided, Megumi pulled out of you with a hiss and slid your underwear back into place.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill.” A decision you were happy about, remembering Toji had cum inside you as well. Sitting with you a few minutes longer, catching his breath and lightly petting your hair, Megumi comes to a slow stand.

“I’m going to take a shower, try to get some sleep.” Pulling your blanket over you, the two of you share a smile before he leaves. Your phone lays forgotten on the floor, all the ensuing text messages from Toji ignored as you fall asleep.

It’s not that he’s upset. No no, Toji could never be upset with you. He was more disappointed than anything. Coming home in the dead of night to an empty bottle of vodka on the floor and his son passed out drunk in his bed, and then coming to your room to see you still in the lingerie you’d sent pictures of with cum that wasn’t his smeared along your panties.

No, Toji wasn’t upset. But the way he ripped the blanket off your body could lead you to think otherwise. Staring at you, passed out and utterly helpless beneath him, the desire to ruin you had him rolling his shoulders. He was getting excited at the prospect of hurting you, teaching you a lesson in not sharing what was his.

Climbing on top of you, Toji spread your legs apart, a sick grin pushing his cheeks up. It wasn’t everyday he got to use his own sons cum as lube, and it surely wouldn’t happen again. But as Toji slid his cock into you and the squelch of it sounded around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out a deep, low laugh.

Lighting a cigarette over you, Toji goes slow in fucking your sleeping body. He doesn’t need to worry about your mother possibly wondering where he was; he had drugged her on the way back home. Megumi wouldn’t wake up even if you screamed, liquor was always a good nightcap for him.

Maybe Toji was a bit upset, because the longer he stared at you, the more irritated he became. He knew he would have to take care of Megumi later, smack the kid around a few times and send him on a train back to university. But with you, your punishment needed to be special.

“Wakey wakey, sweetheart.” He sang to himself, nearly dropping the cigarette dangling between his lips as he shifted forward and wrapped both hands around your neck. Slowly increasing the pressure, Toji’s eyes flew open in delight when you choked and sputtered to life.

“Toji?!” Your voice was practically none existent, there was hardly any air left in your lungs for you to make a sound. Your fingers clawed at Toji, struggling to be let go in your still drunken haze.

“Thought you could go and be a slut, did ya?” Leaning over you, Toji begins to pound into you. Although there’s a slightly softer give because you’re still wet, your cunt still burns painfully from the treatment and Toji refuses to be even the slightest bit gentle.

He lets go of your neck when your hands fall slack, clamping one hand on your waist as the other ashes his cigarette over your stomach, watching as it settles onto your skin.

“Le-let me go.” You force the words out between hard gulps of air.

“Why, so you can fuck my son again?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke right in your face.

“How do you-”

“Cameras, baby. I put cameras all over the house and there’s a couple in your room right now.” Toji revels in your surprised expression and even more so in the pained one you give him when he takes another drag and puts the lit cigarette against your skin. You scream exactly how he wanted you to and he does it again and again.

“Toji! Toji stop, please-” You sob, trying to swat away the cigarette butt getting your hands pinned to the mattress instead. Looking down at your thighs, there’s several blooming burns taking shape, marring your skin and leaving bloody welts.

“Only if you stop being a slut.” Finally done with his cigarette, Toji flicks it onto your bed to be dealt with later. Planting both hands by your head, Toji sneers down at you. “Tell me, are you ever going to fuck someone else again?”

“N-no.” Tears cloud your vision and you shakily put your arms around Toji’s shoulders as he fucks you even harder.

“No what?”

“No daddy!” Fully wailing, you bury your face into Toji’s neck when he leans down close enough. “No no no no.” Your quivering little cries are all Toji needs to cum, slamming his hips against yours one last time before stilling completely. He breathes deeply as his seed mixes with Megumi’s, too much for your cunt to handle as it spills out when he pulls out.

“That’s what I thought.” Toji isn’t gentle when he removes himself from you. He’s even less so in removing your lingerie, ripping it to shreds with his bare hands and touting that it was ruined now. He leaves you alone for a few minutes, returning in only his boxers with a new shirt in his hands that he forces onto you.

Sitting at the head of your bed, Toji pulls you into his lap. His shirt does a good job of covering the burn marks littering your upper thighs, something you want to forget about sooner rather than later.

“I’m telling my mom.” The words fall slowly from your mouth, taking all your courage to say. Toji snorts, lighting another cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air.

“Life’ll get a lot worse for you if you become a little tattle-tale.” He says it calmly, meeting your eye when you pull away to look up at him. “Who do you think stopped all those debt collectors? Payed off this shitty house and filled not only your mom's bank account but also your fridge.”

“I-”

“Who’s gonna take care of her if I leave? You two certainly weren’t cutting it without me.” He’s right and you know it. The truth of the matter was that you couldn’t survive without Toji’s money and if your mother left him, the two of you would have an even harder time finding work.

The truth made tears burn your lashes and fall down your cheeks, hiccuping cries left your lips that were only slightly muffled by Toji pulling your head into his chest. Putting out his cigarette, he ran a hand down your back and cooed.

“Oh pretty baby, don’t cry. Daddy won’t do it again, he promises. So long as you promise to keep that little mouth shut and let him do whatever he wants. We got a deal?” Toji half nods your head for you, pressing a big kiss to your forehead.

“Daddy, m’tired.” Sniffling loudly, you force the tears to stop falling, biting your lip to stem the flow.

“Let’s go to sleep then.” Shuffling you under the covers, Toji follows suit. He smells strongly of cigarettes, the scent overtaking you as his head hits your pillow. Pulling you against his body, Toji grips your ass tightly. “Goodnight doll.”

“Goodnight.” Biting back another wave of tears, you push your head into Tojis chest and will yourself to go to sleep.

Being awoken with your step fathers hands around your neck had been scary and was imprinted on your mind for the rest of your life. But waking up in the morning with your legs over his shoulders and his face buried in your cunt was surely a memory that would stick with you as well.

“There she is.” Toji grinned, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Took you long enough.” Shoving his tongue deep into you, Toji stifled any opportunity for a response. Your heels dug into his back, hand shooting out to grip his messy bedhead. With how sensitive you were already, he must have been between your legs for a while.

Sucking on your clit, Toji groaned as you gripped his hair painfully hard, your back arching high off the bed as you came. Your body thrashed around, hands trying to pull Toji closer while also pushing him away. Pulling his mouth away, Toji rubbed his fingers against your clit in the absence of his tongue.

“Good morning, princess.” Laughing when you smacked his hands away, Toji sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making a show of licking off all of your slick that coated his face.

“G-good morning.” Breathless from the ordeal, you dumbly kissed Toji back when he knelt down and captured your lips. You could taste yourself so strongly on his tongue and smell yourself on his skin.

Breaking the kiss, Toji helped you dress for the day. He didn’t make any mention or acknowledge the marks on your legs, only giving them a flitting glance as you pulled on some pants.

Walking down the stairs together, to your horror Megumi was already in the kitchen when you walked in. He glared angrily at Toji, giving the man a wide berth as he moved about the space. Slinking to the farthest wall, he sent you a pitying look and took a sip of the coffee in his mug.

“Good morning!” Your mother announced her presence with a loud yawn, barreling into the kitchen with terrible bedhead and a stumble to her walk.

“Good morning mom.” You couldn’t look her in the eyes, keeping your head bowed as you returned her greeting.

“Morning honey.” Toji smirked, kissing your mother right on the mouth and keeping her there for a few seconds.

“Get a room.” Megumi mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the two.

“Toji, what’s that taste in your mouth?” Smacking her lips together as she pulled away from the kiss, your mother furrowed her brows. “Is that a new gum or something?” Making direct eye contact with you, Toji snorts and pulls her into a hug.

“Yeah, something like that.”

[frostandflamesfanfic]

The Last Three Years (Sherlock x Reader) - Chapter 1

| | Masterlist | |

Chapter 1: The First Few Weeks

“It feels like a tear in my heart, like a part of me missing and I just can’t feel it. I’ve tried and I’ve tried…” -Britt Nicole and NF (Can You Hold Me)

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x Watson!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k+

Warnings: Implied suicidal thoughts and brief language

Summary: Even though the world didn’t revolve around Sherlock Holmes, your world has come to a complete stop as you struggle to cope with a loss as large as this.

The day after the funeral was a solemn one. You knew it was going to be rough, but you also knew there was nothing you could do to stop it from coming. The truth was that he died. He had died and was never coming back. You would never see his face, aside from in the papers. Never hear his voice, or his laugh (as rare as that was), again. There would be no more midnight music or late-night childish tantrums. Not even the cry of excitement that would come with the sound of police sirens nearing the street.

He had left you alone and you didn’t know what else to do but be a rock for everyone else he left behind. Elora had been quiet most of the day. Her injuries were healing nicely and the doctors said she would be able to walk within a matter of weeks. However, your friend was getting worse and you could tell. You did your best to try and strike up a conversation whenever you saw Elora, but you were merely met with silence. 

It didn’t take long for John to begin distancing himself. The transition of several miscellaneous items to a girlfriend’s soon transformed into piles of boxes and a new flat. His room slowly became an empty hall of memories that were of adventures past. The flat turned into a dust collector, untouched and unloved. 

“It’s difficult,��� he admitted to you once. “Without him here it’s...difficult.” 

“And you think this is easy for me?” you dared to question him. “Do you think it’s easy for me to be able to wake up every day downstairs in the same damn flat, thinking maybe today will be different? Every day, John, I force myself to get up and recognize the fact that he’s. Not. There.” Your hands clenched into fists again, nails pressing deep into your flesh but unfortunately not drawing blood. “He’s gone and I have to wake up every morning praying that my best friend is still alive. Because I don’t know if I’ll get up one day and she’ll be gone, too.” 

“I can’t do it anymore,” John replied. “It hurts too much. I’ll come visit, I promise. I just can’t be here. Not anymore.” 

Yet, he never visited. After that day, you and Elora were left on your own to fend for yourselves. It became a more difficult challenge each passing hour. Elora’s condition was getting worse. Not only would she refuse to talk, but she refused to eat or drink. All she wanted to do was sleep in a ball and you feared she’d never wake up. A few weeks later, the hallucinations had started...

“I saw him today,” Elora said one day at breakfast with a sleepy smile.  

“Oh, did you?” you said with an amused smile. You thought it was a dream, something your friend had conjured up in her many tireless nights of sleep.  

“He came in through the window,” she replied nonchalantly. “Told me I was being an idiot. That I’m wasting my time.” Elora cut a small piece of eggs and grimaced at the lack of flavour. “He asked about you, too.” 

You raised an eyebrow at that.  

“He’s too chicken to see you. Don’t blame him, though.” Another tiny bit of food — a success. “Pretending to be dead is difficult for anyone’s mental capacity, even for Sherlock.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to stop yourself from lashing out. He’s not pretending, but you can’t know that now, you thought to yourself. Not when it’s helping you finally take care of yourself. Instead, you chuckled and nodded. “You tell him I miss him next time, okay?” 

Elora looked deep into your eyes. “You don’t believe me, do you?” 

A sigh as a fork clattered against the porcelain plate. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just don’t know what to believe anymore.” 

“He’s coming back.” 

You stabbed a piece of egg onto a piece of toast. It was getting harder to stop the aggravated outbursts from coming. You knew you had to be strong, but sometimes you would just...crack. “He better make it bloody quick.” 

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

You tried to keep your composure every day as best as you could. However, there is only so much one human being can take. Everyone has their limits. You just need to know which buttons to push to trigger a full shutdown. The more times that button is pressed, the easier it is to break. One morning, you woke up to get a cup of tea from the kitchen. You put the kettle on, set two cups on the tray-- the nice ones for a change, a Christmas gift from Sherlock one year. Red as blood when warmed up, a sign of the impending anger whenever an eyeball ended up in the kitchen. 

Looking out the window, you found yourself humming an unfamiliar tune. It wasn’t until a few moments later that you realised what it was. It was one of his songs. He would compose between adventures. He always claimed it helped him think better. You would tease him. 

“So Mr. Emotionless mindlessly composes beautiful music in his free time…” 

“Oh, do shut up. Music has been proven to improve mental capacity.” 

“So you’re upgrading your hard drive?” 

“If I say yes, will you go away?” 

You sighed as you poured the tea into the cups, a light smile flickering across your lips as you inhaled the scent of the liquid. When living in America, it was easy to switch to coffee. Black, two sugars, and a hint of cream. However, upon arriving back home in England, you found yourself gravitating back toward bitter black tea in the mornings. It was your routine-- a taste of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic lifestyle. Carefully to avoid getting burned, you lifted the cup to your lips and sighed once again. 

Everything seemed normal that morning, except for one thing. . . 

Elora was perched on the fire escape railing, peering down at the ground below.  

In a split second, the world around you came crashing down. You didn’t hear the heartbreaking sound of the teacup as it slipped from your grip and shattered onto the linoleum floor. You didn’t even register the burning sensation of the tea as it spilled across your feet. Your body felt numb, your brain buzzing with activity and white noise. The only thing running through your mind was, not again. Please, God, not again. 

Without a second thought, you bolted out onto the fire escape and dragged Elora back into the flat. “What the bloody hell were you doing out there?” you screamed. “You could have fallen and died! You nearly gave me a heart attack! Elora, you can’t just do things like this. What would have happened if I wasn’t here? Lord, Elora, why?!”

Your friend responded with nothing more than a blank stare. Elora hadn’t said much in the past few days. Her condition was getting worse, you knew it. As much as you tried to give her space, you couldn’t help but overhear the late-night sob sessions. Many nights, you were startled by piercing screams of agony. No doubt she was having nightmares. You wished you could comfort her, but the first night you tried, Elora had flung a handful of knives near your head. 

“Elora?” you asked softly. “I need you to talk to me.”

She blinked. “He’s-” she started. “He came to visit me again. This time he told me he couldn’t come back home.” Elora blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. “He has to come back.” 

As you opened your mouth to respond, you were cut off by hysterical laughter.

“What am I talking about? Of course he’s going to come back! He wouldn’t just leave us. There’s no bloody way!” The laughter soon died down into throaty sobs. “He has to come back. He has to come home.”

Gingerly, you put a hand on her shoulder. “Elora, did you take your medication this morning?” you asked. “The one that Doctor Morrison prescribed?”

Elora made a face. “I don’t need any damn pills. I’m perfectly fine.” She glanced down at your feet. “How are you not in any pain right now?”

You took a peek at the ground and noticed the blisters that had already begun to form on your barefooted flesh. You shrugged. “Developed better pain tolerance, I suppose.” Maybe you needed to take a different approach with her. “Can you at least try the medication? It might help you sleep better tonight.”

Your flatmate’s eyes narrowed. “I sleep fine.”

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Two weeks later, you were jolted awake by the sound of glass shattering. You reached for the revolver by your bedside table (a precaution since you were kidnapped last year) and slipped on a dressing gown. As you raced out of your bedroom, you heard an ear-splitting scream, followed by another crash. “Elora!” you exclaimed. “What’s happening?” When you didn’t receive a response, you stumbled through the dark flat. Please let her be okay, you pleaded in your mind. Please don’t let me lose her, too.  

When you flicked the lights on, you looked around in horror as the flat was empty. Elora was nowhere to be seen. Another crash sounded, but it sounded farther away now. “Elora!” you shouted again, desperate for some sign that your flatmate was alive. 

Another scream. And it was coming from upstairs.

Hardly thinking, you raced out of the flat and made your way up the stairs two at a time. You kicked open the door to reveal Elora racing around the kitchen. In her hands was a bat, which she was using to shatter anything and everything she could make contact with. Vials were strewn about the table, glass shards littering the linoleum floor. There was nothing you could do but helplessly watch her slowly descend into madness. 

“Why. Did. You. Do. It?!” Elora’s voice cried out, smashing a vial containing a white powder. “Why.” 

“Why.” 

Whack.  

“Did.” 

Smash.  

“You.” 

Crash!  

“Leave?!” 

This routine continued for a few minutes before the bat was tossed aside. Instead, Elora chose to pick up a variety of papers and began shredding. The hysterical laughter made an appearance. “You think you’re so clever, do you?” Elora shrieked. You watched in horror as a newspaper clipping was ripped in half. “You think you can figure everything out before it happens.” There went one of her compositions. “Well, I bet the great Sherlock Holmes didn’t see this coming.”

You leaned against the doorframe, helpless. You wanted to be able to step in and help her. You wanted to save her. The only problem was you didn’t know how. 

Elora’s tirade stretched out for another hour of hysterical laughing and crying fits. By the time she had finally calmed down, curled against the island, the flat was a mess-- well, more of a mess than usual. You winced as you watched the glass cut into her palms as she slammed the ground in anger. That could not be comfortable. “Elora,” you tried to soothe her.

Upon hearing her name, Elora looked up, eyes wide and dark. Her voice was weak and croaky from crying, but you could hear the words she tried to say. “I am not okay.”

=========================

Author's Note: Whoo, we have liftoff here, folks. Something I wanted to focus on with this work was the power that grief has over an individual. In Many Happy Returns and The Empty Hearse, we do see how John was grieving, but I always wondered how he really moved forward with Mary. I’m hoping that I’m not falling into the typical “damsel-in-distress” trope with this story, but when characters have a strong connection, it’s difficult to just have them move on without a bit of emotional trauma. 

Remember, if you liked the story, make sure to leave a like, comment, and a reblog! Also make sure to message or ask me to join the tag-list! More chapters will be coming soon!

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Do I wanna know? | chapter two

summary: because if we’re being honest, Yelena is one hundred percent an excited tourist and she loves New York, while y/n plans her way out. Meanwhile, although Bucky promised Yori for a full dinner, that might have to wait because he doesn’t appreciate y/n leaving notes everywhere.

word count: 3.8k (maybe this is going to be a short chapter fic for the first part?)

listen to: Death wish- Role Model, Bad blood- Taylor Swift

series masterlist

If we were being completely honest, Bucky was a bit shocked about your whole story as he read file after file on the last few days of what Ayo and the other Dora Milaje had gathered on you, you were a black widow. Bucky, being in Hydra for so long, was aware of their existence and the threat that they pose to everyone that was their mission or that got in their way.

Bucky even recalled that he had been woken up from his slumber to actually train with some and although he usually ended up injuring them, there were a few times when he ended up being knocked out after actually having a longer fight than they usually had. Now, from what he remembered Natasha saying back when they were running away, is that they killed whoever didn’t pass the test. Bucky’s skin was covered in goosebumps as he recalled which ones had failed, which ones had probably been killed because of him.

Another thought popped into his mind as he recalled a mission not long ago, probably fifteen years earlier, a mission involving a target in Iran, a nuclear engineer if he remembered correctly. He had been accompanied by two black widows, the memory of them still seemed foggy but he could almost see their faces if he tried hard enough.

Suddenly, his phone started to ring and he looked down at it, it was Sam.

“Did Doctor Raynor ask you to call me?” Bucky asked as he checked the time on his watch, it was almost five a.m., which you guessed was about five p.m. wherever Sam was.

“It’s nice to hear your voice as well, partner,” Sam stated and Bucky could already feel the smile on Sam’s voice.

“Co-worker,” Bucky corrected him as he closed his files on you but let your picture up as he settled on the tiny desk. He could already see people starting to move on the street, getting ready to work. “So, did she call you?”

“Maybe,” Sam said sincerely with a shrug and Bucky closed his eyes and placed a hand over his face with annoyance. “But I also was wondering why you weren’t answering my texts since yesterday about your date with the pretty Bartender,”

Bucky knew that leaving Sam on “read” about his questions would eventually come to bite him in the ass but he had procrastinated having to deal with his emotions on telling Sam somewhat the truth. That he didn’t feel up to it, that he truly never thought anyone could understand him and his guilt, that he truly felt alone and that he didn’t think of anyone in that sense.

But now, he believed that the last part could be also a lie because there was something about you that he truly didn’t even know how to feel about it.

He’d rather be anything but a target for a trained assassin like you were. But Bucky felt like he had been doomed from the second that his eyes met yours. Did he feel inadequate for being so captivated by someone that had tried to kill him? Yes. He thought about your encounter every day, multiple times throughout the day? Yes.

“It’s nothing, we just didn’t click,” Bucky answered with a nod and he could feel Sam trying to find the words on how to console him and his loneliness, which honestly, he didn’t need right now. “Plus, I’ve been thinking of going back to Louisana soon and perhaps I’ll pay a visit to Sarah,” he said before Sam cut him off.

“Don’t you dare,” Sam warned with a voice flat and hard as a stove lid.

Bucky simply chuckled mostly to himself before continuing. “See, this is what happens when you try to meddle,” he said nonchalantly.

“I hate you,” Sam answered.

In a weird way, it was their way of saying that they cared about each other although neither Bucky nor Sam would ever confess to it. They would truly deny it until the end.

“I hate you too,” Bucky replied with a smirk. “Keep in touch and be careful,”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a groan, Bucky assumed that he was about to get ready to fight. “You too,”

Bucky smiled as he hung up, he was thankful for having Sam to watch his back, even more now that Steve was gone. But soon, his eyes fell back to yours, effortlessly.

God, he thought, he needed to find you.

“I need to find him,” you stated hours later to Yelena as you both ate the pizza you had bought a second ago. Apparently, Yelena told you that it was traditional to eat one slice for one dollar pizza when you first came to New York. So, there you were, you had decided that you needed to take a day off after repeated panic attacks regarding Petrovich, and Yelena had agreed.

“But you already know where he lives,” Yelena answered back, mouth full as she watched you with a pair of heart-shaped glasses she had bought right before eating the pizza. After being free for a while, you realized how fun it was for Yelena to dress in an unusual or out-of-the-ordinary way, you assumed it was the freedom that she had to acquire to actually be whoever she wanted to be.

You sometimes felt jealous of her, you wished you could be that confident but you knew that deep down you, maybe, enjoyed your long trousers in neutral colors and turtle neck sweaters, moreover, you also knew it was easier to go unnoticed that way; just in case someone was following you.

Someone like Petrovich, or Bucky Barnes.

“I know, I know where he lives but he’s a fucking avenger,” you whispered before taking another bite as you watched your phone and realized that you were closer to Times Square than whatever you had anticipated. “Maybe he doesn’t have all the security than others have, but the other’s might freak out and caused them to be more alert if he gets killed in his apartment,”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Yelena stated, clearly not paying enough attention to your plan but to an elegant excentric lady that had just passed close by with a large orange coat that almost touched New York’s streets, she was clearly Yelena’s type.

“What about you?” you asked, deciding that changing the topic was the smartest thing for you to do. “How’s your job going?”

You were a great active listener, nodding and following her with your eyes and trying to call back whatever thing he was saying. Yelena was not the best with things that she didn’t find quite significant on her mind but you always appreciated being the listener in conversations and at least Yelena was always there for you for the difficult conversations.

Yelena simply shrugged as she finished her pizza and dumped the tissues she had on trash close to her as she then put an arm around you.

“I’m having a harder time, a bit more work than what I signed for,” she said as you cocked your head.

“Is it about your younger target?”

“Yes, she’s causing more trouble than anticipated,” Yelena said with a frown, but you could still feel the breeziness as she told you about her problems. “But you know what? Everything is going to be great!” She announced as you took a left on the corner and arrived at Times Square.

You could see the smile on Yelena’s face brightly and before you knew it, she whisked you off to the center of it as you gazed at the larger-than-life screens that surrounded you along with all the buzz of tourists and people close by. You laughed with her before she pulled her phone and took a selfie of both of you with the larger screens that you could catch. Yelena’s joy was contagious as she twirl on the busy streets as if she was a child, she watched with bright eyes everything and it felt like she was seeing colors for the first time, quickly she took your hand, and started to twirl with you.

She didn’t mind the other tourist or other new yorkers glaring at you with snubby frowns on their faces, as they watched you laugh, but before you knew it, you saw a glimpse of something. Your world suddenly stopped turning as you were sure you had caught those dark eyes with cruelty watching you sickly. Before you knew it, your feet gave up and you landed on the floor, Yelena quickly followed as she fell over you because of the sheer force of your game.

But you didn’t mind the pain of landing on the concrete, or of Yelena’s body over you, or your twisted ankle, you had only one thing in your mind.

Was it him? Was it Petrovich?

“Y/N? Y/N are you okay?” She asked with urgency before she saw the spell on your eyes as they frantically looked for any trace of the man you were most scared of but he was nowhere to be seen and you embarrassingly realized that it might’ve been your imagination playing games.

If we were being honest, recovering from the trauma was hard and you couldn’t exactly go to a therapist and you couldn’t find one easily that treated ex-assassins, or current assassins. So, when you had episodes such as this one and the last ones you had been having the last few days, you were left with an unsettling feeling, a feeling of wanting to run away as fast as you could. It took everything in you not to collapse to the floor or to start hyperventilating.

You never felt safe. He might always be right there, waiting for the right time to make you his once more.

“Y/N! Look at me,” Yelena finally screamed at you with exasperation as she cupped your face with his hands and made you look at her straight in the eyes. “You are safe, he’s not following you!”

Yelena wasn’t oblivious, she knew what you were going through. You barely managed to muffled a whimper that left your lips and your eyes shut as you nodded. People were already watching you on the floor having your panic attack and although Yelena wasn’t even phased by it, she knew that you both didn’t need to be the center of attention for this, this was the last thing you needed.

Before you opened your eyes again, Yelena had pulled you up with all the strength that she had, you automatically followed her steps and quickly took her hands before you open your eyes again and wiped some of the tears that were threatening of falling from your eyes.

“He’s not here,” Yelena whispered once more. “You are safe, he doesn’t know where you are and you’re okay,” Yelena assured you, as you squeezed her hand hard as if you were on a rollercoaster.

You weren’t sure if it had been seconds or minutes from falling but soon, your breathing was back to normal and you could let Yelena go. You looked around you and although some people were still staring at you, there weren’t as many as before, but you could still feel the lingering feelings of fear on the back of your mind and your cheeks warming at the thought of what you had done.

“Are you okay?” Yelena asked you again.

“Yes,” you lied as you nodded.

The truth was that you were definitely not okay and that although you were maybe sure that Petrovich had been a hallucination, a fraction of your memories of him, you couldn’t still discredit the theory that he might know that you were in New York. You knew him like the back of your hand and you were aware that you had to move places very fast if you didn’t want to leave any trails behind you.

That’s how it had worked for you for the past few years, you were always on the road, always in movement and you knew that it was a problem if you were in one place for too long because he could easily track you, he could find you and then you would be a prisoner again. If you were being honest, you knew that you were in a constant state of anxiety and the last few days had only made you double down on it. You’d sleep about 10 hours in total the past few days and although you knew that with Yelena you were able to conceal your feelings remarkably well, you could only do so much to hide them from Yelena, or anyone truly.

You had deep dark circles under your eyes and you almost felt frantic, a tight cloud surrounding you all the time, a feeling that made it hard to breathe the more you thought about it. The more you thought about the idea of going back to him, of having to endure the punishments, of having to endure him touching you, it made you feel sick to your stomach the more you thought about it.

You recalled your thoughts as you walked to your place, you had always dreamed about a different life but now, if you finished this, it wouldn’t be a dream anymore. Dreams are not for people who are not living a life already perceived as one.

But you realized that this incident of today only marked a new chapter for your mission.

If you wanted to get out and feel safe from Petrovich, you had to kill James Barnes sooner rather than later.

So, you did whatever good assassin would do when in doubt: review your files. As soon as you had arrived at the small Brooklyn apartment, you dropped your bag and coat on the floor before running to your computer and opening it.

You couldn’t figure James Barnes easily the first time you read those files. He seemed so melancholy and alone but you could sense that there was an entire storm under the surface. The long walks he took mostly on the night confused you for a second before realizing what they did for him, when you were feeling overwhelmed you would usually climb to a rooftop or go to an open space, you would feel the wind whipping at your cheeks and nose, but you didn’t care because you felt so at peace. You’d forget your anger, your fears, the overall feeling of being lost, and in those moments you’d only listen to the wind and the sound of whatever place you were around, trying to figure out where the voices came from, what they were talking about, what their lives might be like, what would happen if you had a similar life like them.

But suddenly, between all the lonely times he had and the times he visited the Avengers compound or his doctor’s office, there were few places where he would be other than his apartment, which was the last place you wanted to go to.

But then, between the hundreds of documents and a coffee that you had made halfway on your reading, you found something. Something that could be clearly useful, something that you were sure could make you leave New York in a couple of days. Before you took another sip of your coffee, you highlighted the name.

Yori Nakajima.

On a normal day, Bucky would be fine with going to the restaurant that had somehow become a safe place for him, a second home but right now, he had barely slept as he tried to do his best to figure out how to find you. Although the Dora Milaje had given Bucky a great dump of information, they hadn’t been exactly able to find your current location, they simply had managed to find where you were staying in Berlin before you came to America to kill Bucky.

Therefore Bucky was on his own. He knew he could handle technology, at least far better than what Steve had but he didn’t particularly enjoy using it, but if he meant finding you he didn’t care. Nonetheless, it hadn’t been an easy task to do so, he had to call Sharon for a favor on how to hack some city cameras and she had helped him easily, although, on the back of his mind he recalled his second rule: don’t do anything illegal.

But right now, he truly didn’t care because he needed to know who had sent you and, although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he wanted to know you.

But the last two days had taken a lot on his mind and now his back was rigid for spending so much time on the desk and on his computer, he hadn’t truly eaten something and before he realized it, Yori had been knocking on his door on the afternoon, claiming that Bucky had promised an early dinner a few weeks ago and he hadn’t kept his promise. Bucky rolled his eyes, trying to explain that maybe tonight wasn’t the best time for an early dinner but Yori had insisted on it.

Too emotionally and physically exhausted to say no to Yori and then listen to him complain about how he was being an awful person, Bucky had simply accepted and promised Yori he would be there by seven. He didn’t want to debate with Yori on why he couldn’t go that night, on why he hadn’t been sleeping, and why, a part of him was extremely embarrassed about running into Leah after not asking her for a second date. He needed more questions regarding his basically none existent personal life. Besides, the longer he kept Yori waiting, the more insistent he would become and Bucky knew it wasn’t just fair to him.

Yori was one of his only and sincere friendships, and following Dr. Raynor's advice, he really needed those at the moment.

So, Bucky quickly put on his leather jacket over his black t-shirt and put on his characteristic black gloves before closing his apartment and walking towards the restaurant. The streets were buzzing with people in Brooklyn and Bucky could feel the warm air of what was left of the summer, he walked through the streets as his mind recalled his childhood memories with Steve as they walked through those very same streets, playing and laughing along, how they would sneak out to go dancing with girls, how they would walk on them as they returned home from school, everything.

Bucky could remember everything and although he always tried to push it away, it chipped at his heart a bit.

But before he realized it, he had arrived at the restaurant, he was missing a couple of steps but suddenly a woman with a long black coat opened the door, she wasn’t facing Bucky’s way so he couldn’t truly see her face but Bucky caught the clicking noise her boots were making against the concrete and how confidently she was walking away, plus there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he tried to brush it away as he opened the door and entered the restaurant.

His eyes immediately fell to where he always sat with Yori at the bar, he was already waiting for him as he motioned on his hand for Bucky to walk faster towards him.

“You should’ve come at the same time as me,” Yori complained as he shook his head whilst he read the newspaper.

“Well, I’m here now, right?” Bucky stated as he finally sat down with a groan next to him, before he knew it Leah had appeared right in front of him with a sly smile, which Bucky reciprocated immediately with a really awkward grin.

“Nice to see you too,” she said with the soft tone of voice she always had when speaking to Yori or Bucky, and Bucky felt his cheeks turning pink as he nodded. “The usual?”

“Yes, please and I already want to order a miso soup, like the girl who was here before,” Yori stated with a smile as he continued to read the newspaper.

Leah nodded and went to the back to get him and Bucky their drinks but Bucky simply chuckled at the thought of Yori flirting with someone his age, he wasn’t aware that he might have it on him but he realized that he could always be surprised by him.

“So, who's the girl?” Bucky asked as he started to unzip his leather jacket.

“She was beautiful, and she knew so much about pinnacle,” Yori stated with his usually joyful tone. “Right, Leah?”

“Oh yeah,” she stated as she returned with their drinks. “In fact, I think that you know her,” Leah added as she cocked her head.

Bucky immediately frowned and wrinkled his nose as he listened to Leah, he knew for a fact that the few women he knew nowadays wouldn’t be close to this bar and even less would know about the existence of Yori, Yori was Bucky’s friend outside of whatever madness he had been living in, he was Bucky’s window to a common life, to a life without blood, a life without fighting, a peaceful life. And so, he had tried to keep as separate as he could those worlds so that they wouldn’t collide because he was aware of the danger that it might present.

“What?”

“Yeah, she left a note and everything,” Leah said as she kneeled on the counter and took a folded piece of paper, which Bucky grabbed it immediately and quickly unfolded the paper as fast as he could.

Bucky felt cold over his whole body and he was sure if he wasn’t already leaning into the counter of the bar, he would maybe even almost collapse. He could swear he was listening to his own erratic heartbeat and his head started to hurt as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened, around the fact that you had found Yori, around the fact that you could actually cause harm. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him as he realized that he had seen you, that you were there, that the thing he couldn’t quite pinpoint was your perfume, that you had been watching him and that you knew, that you weren’t afraid of messing with him in the vilest way.

Before he realized it, he was seeing red.

“Leah, this is my card and charge everything that Yori wants in there,” Bucky stated firmly as he gave Leah his card. She rapidly blink, unsure of what to make from his reaction but Bucky didn’t wait. “I’m sorry, I have to reschedule Yori,” Bucky stated and he didn’t wait for Yori to answer, he simply ran towards the door, bumping into people as he finally reached the street and started to run towards where you’d gone.

As he ran, the paper on his hand fell on the street.

I’m seeing you.

***

author's note: honestly lI feelike this chapter and the last are more like world setting than anything else? But I'M SO EXCITED FOR NEXT CHAPTER AND I'LL BE POSTING IT EARLY ON KO-FI because shit really hits the fan.

by the way sI'morry I didn't proof read this so it can be messy

anyway, let me know if you liked it and everything in between, your comments make my day so truly thank you for reading!!!

***

feedback is always welcome!!!

donate: help me with my laptop? ko-fi

also available on wattpad (soon)

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[saintlike78]

Ok so... I have a little request : Bill is not with Fleur, but he meets Harry's cousin (Dudley's sister, who is the complete opposite of her family and loves Harry as her own brother) and she arouses his interest, and from here you can continue as you wish, if you could do a little smut if you are comfortable.🤗🤗🤗

I know Dudley doesn't have a sister, but I like the idea. And sorry for the mistakes, but I don't speak English so well.

Never seen anyone like you [B.W.]

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I’m so sorry for the long wait, but I loved this idea so much, but I just didn’t know which direction to go with it, but I hope you like what I came up with. Reader is the same age as the twins and is also a muggle. This is also kinda paired with another request, where the person just wanted a Bill Weasley smut, which is also included.

Pairings: Bill Weasley x Fem! Muggle! Reader

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: NSFW 16+, vaginal sex, fingering, unprotected sex, age gap (7 years), mention of death, mention of nightmares, mention of injury.

The wind hit your back and made a chill run up your spine, making you shiver. Standing in the driveway of nr. 4 Privet Drive, you and Harry were watching your mother, father and brother leave because of the wizarding war threatening their safety. Your mother had tried but failed to get you to leave as well, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Harry behind and not being able to be there for him and to protect him, even if you had no magic yourself.

You had always loved Harry and saw him as a closer family than your actual family. You never understood what the problem was with him or why your family seemed to despise him so much, that was until he got his letter and he left for Hogwarts. You were so happy for him, but not being able to see him and only during the summer was tough because without Harry there to take all the slander from the Dursleys you, unfortunately, became the family's punching bag. When you turned 18 and finally moved out, you let Harry stay with you in your flat instead of going home to your family.

The house seemed eerie with only you and Harry and no future. You sat on the kitchen counter, Harry was pacing around the kitchen whilst you were waiting for the order to come and transport you both.

“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to leave and go into hiding yourself,” Harry said looking at you with worry.

“I’m sure, Harry, I want to be here with you and make sure you’re alright.”

A knock sounded on the door and you jumped down from the counter, following Harry to the door. Harry opened the door and inside stepped many familiar faces and some you hadn’t seen before. Having had Harry stay with you, you had met all the Weasleys (except for Charlie and Bill), when you had gone to visit The Burrow.

They all stepped inside one at a time and greeted you. The twins had made a huge show about picking you up and spinning you around telling you how much they had missed their ‘favorite muggle’, you slapped both their arms lightly and let them pass you. The last two people to enter was Arthur Weasley who you greeted, and one person you hadn’t met before. He had red hair, letting you know he was a Weasley as well, he was tall and had scars running down his face like Remus Lupin. You were almost at a loss for words when he stepped inside, your mind completely blank after looking at how handsome he was. You could already feel a little crush starting to form and you got butterflies when he made his way to you and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

“I’m Bill Weasley, a pleasure to meet you, at last, my family has told me much about you.” He said as you shook his hand. “Y/N Dursley, lovely to meet you too,” you said knowing you should be letting his hand go, but letting it linger a little longer.

You both just stared at each other, completely forgetting where you were and that you had things to do. That was until Fred and George came up on either side of you, each placing a hand on each of your shoulders, prompting you to let go of Bill’s hand.

“Well, now you’re just missing Charlie and then you’ve met the whole Weasley-clan,” Fred said with a laugh.

You just laughed and nodded your head.

“I’m going to go find Harry,” you quickly smiled at Bill and got out of the twin’s grasp, leaving them alone with Bill in the hallway.

“Blimey, why did none of you tell me!” Bill exclaimed in a low voice.

“Tell you what?” the twins said in synch.

“Tell me about Y/N,” he said as if his statement was obvious.

“We did, we said she was really nice and that she came round the shop and by the house a couple of times,” George said, still not really understanding what their brother meant.

“Yes, you said she was nice, but you didn’t tell me she looked like that.”

Both Fred and George let out a laugh, “Well mate, we didn’t think it was important to say that she doesn’t look like the other Dursleys.”

Bill hmphed like a child, “you could have told me. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Alright alright, calm down Bill,” Fred laughed.

“But if you must know… she’s the same age as us, so a bit young for you eh? But she’s also single, from what we’ve gathered,” George informed their brother.

Bill just nodded and was about to ask more about you, but Moody’s voice was heard from the lounge telling everyone to gather around.

Entering the lounge, Bill spotted you and came to stand beside you, but slightly behind you. You felt his presence and turned your head slightly to give him a smile, one that he returned.

Moody briefed you all on what was going to happen, not without an objection from Harry. When Moody told everyone that he wanted there to be seven Harrys’, you had volunteered, since you felt kind of useless, being a muggle and all. This also didn’t go over well with Harry, telling you that this was out of the question, but you being just as stubborn as he would not let him talk you out of it. You told him that you wanted to help and that this was the only way for you to help with this situation.

After much convincing from not only you but everyone, he finally agreed.

“Alright, all the Harrys’ have a companion to ride with except for you Y/N.. you can ride with Bill,” Moddy informed you.

You nodded and felt a hand fall on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. You looked back at Bill, whose hand it was, and smiled again. He kept his hand on your shoulder as a form of comfort and encouragement, squeezing once in a while. You could feel the butterflies swarming around in your stomach and you felt all warm and tingly all over, just because of his small touch.

Not long after, you were clinging on to Bill as you made your way to The Burrow. You didn’t know what you were thinking volunteering, since you couldn’t really protect yourself against the swarm of death eaters that followed you through the sky. Bill was trying his best to steer and fight back against them all. Moody was trying to shield you from the other side, but then suddenly a green spark hit him, and he tumbled towards the ground.

You let out a scream and buried your head into Bill’s back.

“Don’t worry, the worst part is over, we’ll be there soon,” Bill shouted against the wind so you would be able to hear him.

Arriving at The Burrow you were met by Molly attacking both you and Bill with a gigantic hug.

“Are you alright?” she asked looking between Bill and yourself.

“We’re alright mum, but Alastor… he didn’t make it,” Bill said looking down.

You put a hand on his back, slowly rubbing up and down trying to soothe him. You knew everyone was close with Moody and that his death would hurt the Order.

“How is everyone?” You asked Molly, hoping she would bring you some sort of good news.

“We’re still missing Fred and Arthur, but it would be best for you to come with me inside… George was hurt, he’ll be fine, but I need to keep an eye on him,” Molly informed you both.

___________________________

You were startled awake by the image of Alastor crashing towards the ground. You were trying to catch your breath, your hands shaky and sweat running down your back. You decided you needed a glass of water and perhaps some fresh air to calm down. You quietly got out of your makeshift bed on the floor and tried your best not to wake Ginny and Hermione, as you made your way out of the bedroom and down the creaky stairs towards the kitchen.

The cold water slid down your throat and you instantly felt better, but you still needed some air. You quietly opened the door to the garden and walked outside, the cool summer air instantly lowering your body temperature and relaxing you. Finding a nice spot, you sat upon the grass looking up at the stars, you hoped everything would turn out alright, but you weren’t so sure with how intense everything had been last night and that was just a tiny mission. Your head raced with millions of thoughts you didn’t notice the scar-faced ginger looking at you from the door and making his way over to you when he noticed the number of clothes (or rather lack thereof) you were wearing.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly as to not startle you with his presence.

You looked up at him and nodded. You patted the spot beside you, indicating for him to sit.

You couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked in the moonlight, even if he was just wearing some casual plaid pajama pants and a knitted jumper, which you could tell was a Molly original.

You sat in silence as you both stared at the moon, the cool air having finally cooled you down, your temperature was now a bit too low, and you could feel goosebumps rise on your bare arms and legs. Bill who had been watching you making sure you were comfortable quickly removed the knitted jumper and handed it to you.

“Here, you’ll get ill if you don’t warm-up,” he said and you didn’t argue, pulling the jumper over your head. It smelled good and was already warm from leftover body heat from Bill, which made your stomach do a flip and fill with butterflies.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile, “please tell me if you get cold and want your jumper back.”

“No problem, and it’s fine, I don’t really get cold,” Bill said.

Putting his hands behind his head, he laid down looking up at the stars. Your eyes were instantly drawn to the way his muscles flexed in the grey t-shirt he had worn underneath the jumper. Your mouth watered a little, but you quickly pulled yourself together and laid down as well.

You laid in silence and looked at the stars, it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it was like you had known him your whole life, it felt so right.

A couple of minutes passed before Bill broke the silence.

“Why’d you decide to go with Harry instead of your family?”

You were a little taken aback by the bluntness of the question, but nevertheless answered quickly, not needing time to think about your answer.

“Harry is my family, and I couldn’t just leave him, especially now… I want to be there for him, even though I’m just a muggle, I..I’m going to be there until this war is over.”

Bill nodded turning his head towards yours, your head already turned towards him meeting his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat when you realized how close your face was to his, the way his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips made your stomach do flips. Suddenly he started leaning in, “I know this is very sudden, but may I kiss you?” Bill said lowly, almost a whisper.

You nodded and leaned in the rest of the way connecting your lips with his. You knew it was so cliché, but you felt instant sparks of electricity shooting through your entire body.

The kiss was slow and gentle, but then you felt Bill’s tongue on your bottom lip asking for permission to enter your mouth, which you granted. He leaned upon one of his arms, so he was above you, his free arm cupping your cheek and keeping your face towards his.

This went on for a while, but begrudgingly you pulled apart for air.

You stared at each other, both taking deep breaths trying to regain a normal breathing pattern.

“wow,” Bill sighed out, “you are unbelievably beautiful.”

Your cheeks turned red with the heat of the blush settling on your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered and reached a hand up to caress his cheek.

You ended up talking until the sun rose on the horizon, the morning dew settling on the grass, making everything damp.

Your head was on Bill’s chest, hugging him to keep warm, but also just to be close to him.

“You don’t think I’m too old do you?” Bill asked, gently stroking your back.

Your headshot up from his chest to look into his eyes, “of course not,” you laughed and shook your head, laying it down again. Bill just chuckled and mumbled “alright.”

___________________________

You ran across the lawn as the black smoke figures landed around you. You tried to find Harry or Bill.

One of the figures shot a spell towards you and you ducked and covered your face, even though you knew that wouldn’t help. You waited for an impact, but it never came, instead, you were yanked by your arm into a broad chest. You looked up and saw Bill already looking at you, a concerned look on his face.

“Okay get ready, love,” he said quickly.

You didn’t get a chance to ask for what before the air was knocked out of you and the world spun around you.

You landed with a ‘thump’, eyes closed, still holding on tightly to Bill, afraid you were going to be sick.

“It’s alright now, you can open your eyes now,” Bill said quietly.

You opened your eyes, and you were met with the bright sun shining down on you. The light breeze caught in your hair and the smell of the ocean met your nose.

You looked around, the ocean was in front of you, and behind you was old, but cozy-looking, cottage.

“Where are we?” you asked, still not letting go of Bill.

“Shell cottage, it’s my family’s place… I took us here because we’ll be safe here,” Bill explained.

You nodded, but the relief was quickly replaced by worry and fear.

“But what about Harry and the others? They’re not here!” you rushed out, also leaving Bill’s arms to pace in front of him.

He pulled you back and pushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“The rest of the family is fine. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all went somewhere, where I’m not sure, but Ron promised he would let us know that they’re safe.”

You sighed out, still very concerned, but relieved that you were safe and hoped that Harry would be as well.

“Let’s go inside, love,” Bill whispered, taking your hand and leading you inside.

He first showed you around the house and then showed you to your room and let you freshen up or take a nap, just letting you calm down in your own space.

___________________________

You were startled awake by the images that played behind your closed eyes. You focused on the room, the moonlight bleeding in through the window, lighting up a part of the floor.

Your breathing was heavy, and your body was sweaty.

You tried to calm down for about 10 minutes, but you just couldn’t find a peaceful enough state to let yourself go back to sleep.

Your feet hit the cold floor and the wood creaked beneath your feet. You made your way out of your room and across the small hallway to where Bill had let you know his room was.

You opened the door slowly, peeking inside.

Inside you were met with a sleeping Bill, his shirtless figure on his back. You closed the door behind you and tip-toed your way over to his bed.

“Bill,” you whispered, already feeling guilty for disturbing him.

He stirred a little, not opening his eyes, but letting out a little “hmm?”, indicating that he was awake enough to hear you.

“I can’t sleep,” you mumbled shyly.

He didn’t say anything further, he only moved his blanket to the side and opened his arms for you to crawl into. You didn’t hesitate before crawling into the bed and curling up close to his body, already feeling calmed by his steady breathing.

“thank you,” you whispered, breathing in his calming scent.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, you could feel his breathing even out and you knew he had drifted off again.

You closed your eyes and listened to the steady beating of his heart, lulling you back to sleep.

You woke up, your entire body warm from being wrapped up in Bill’s arms. Your legs tangled with his, his arms still holding you tightly against him.

You looked at his calm sleeping face, you felt so at home with him, and you let out a content sigh.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” Bill said, startling you.

“I’m not staring,” you fired back too quickly to sound convincing, causing Bill to slightly smirk.

“Whatever you say, darling,” he said and hugged you closer.

He opened his eyes, looking over your face and smiling.

Bill leaned in and pecked your lips slightly, gauging your reaction. You just smiled and leaned in again kissing him longer.

Bill deepened the kiss, moving so he was above you. You spread your legs slightly allowing him to get between them on top of you. The kiss turned more passionate and heated as Bill slowly ground his hips into yours, causing you to softly moan into his mouth.

Bill broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, “Is this okay? Do you want this?”.

You whimpered slightly, “please Bill, I want it.”

Bill let out a groan at your words and reconnected your lips, hips grinding into your own.

The small whines and whimpers that left your lips egged him on and went straight to his cock.

Bill reached one hand between you feeling your wetness through your panties. “So wet for me and I haven’t properly touched you yet.”

You whined at his words, craving more of his touch.

“what is it you want, pretty girl?” he asked, teasing you.

“please touch me, Bill,” you whimpered out, eyes big and begging.

“Such a good girl,” he praised before moving your panties to the side and finding your clit drawing slow circles on the nub.

You moaned at the feeling and grabbed his arm that wasn’t working on you.

His fingers moved down, and he slowly pushed a finger into you causing you to let out a small gasp.

“I just need to get you ready for me,” Bill said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He then added a second finger, creating a delicious feeling because of the slight stretch. Bill used his thumb to rub your clit bringing you closer to your release.

He curled and scissored his fingers making you clench around his fingers, Bill’s lips curled up into a slight grin.

“Cum for me, my beautiful girl.”

His words made the coil in your belly snap and you came on his fingers as you shook and closed your eyes in pleasure. You were panting as Bill worked you through your orgasm. He removed his fingers and brought them up to his lips sucking them clean and releasing them with a ‘pop’.

“absolutely divine.”

He made haste work of removing your panties and the shirt you had slept in, as well as his own boxers.

When you were both completely naked, he stroked his cock a couple of times before running it through your folds to gather your arousal as a lubricant. Bill slowly started pushing into you and you both released simultaneous gasps at the feeling. He pushed all the way in and bottomed out in you but didn’t move as he waited for you to adjust.

“I’m okay, you can move,” you said and moaned when he pulled back his hips and snapped them back into yours, and set a steady and pleasurable pace.

Leaning down so your chests were pressed together, he sloppily kissed you drinking up all the moans that spilled from your mouth to his.

He broke the kiss and leaned up slightly to snake a hand between your bodies to rub your swollen clit. You didn’t have time to process before you came for the second time that morning. Your whole body shook, and your legs tightened around Bill’s hips.

“Such a pretty sight… think you can take one more?” Bill panted out.

You whimpered and nodded.

“Ah, use your words angel.”

“Yes, Bill, I can take another,” you moaned out as he kept pounding into your sensitive cunt.

“Good girl,” Bill said as he pulled out of you and laying himself down, guiding you by your hips to straddle him.

He positioned you above his cock and guided it into you again.

“There you go, my pretty baby, go own ride me,” Bill encouraged, and you wasted no time in obeying him.

You rocked your hips, circled them, and bounced on him until you felt yourself nearing another release and you moaned loudly.

Bill’s hand found your clit again and rubbed it until your knees quivered as you came again.

When you had finished, Bill grabbed your hips and angled you so he could fuck up into you, chasing his own release.

Not long after, his thrusts faltered, and he stilled as he emptied himself in you.

You collapsed onto his chest trying to catch your breath. Bill rubbed your back slowly, before pulling out of you causing a whimper to fall from your lips.

“You did so well,” Bill praised, kissing your forehead.

“I’m never going to let you go, my pretty girl.”

[some-random-loki-stan]

The Man Needs His Cat

Bucky x fem!reader

Word count: 1,960

Warnings: mentions of animal death, fluff, Tony/Bucky interaction

Summary: Bucky and Reader stumble across a kitten in the woods and Reader is tasked with asking Tony for a huge favor. 

A/N: y'all- I'm head over heels in love with catperson!Bucky

The situation had to be dealt with carefully, (Y/n) knew. She didn't want to come on too strong or he'd be quick to turn her down. Maybe a hypothetical would be the best course of action... She took a breath and pulled her shoulders back. Then, with only a second of hesitation, she entered Tony's lab. 

He greeted her from his hunched over position at one of the many cluttered tables, barely sparing her a glance. In the heat of engineering, he worked on some odd piece of tech he had yet to fully present to the team. She echoed a small 'hello' back and rocked awkwardly back and forth on her feet. 

Still not looking up, Tony indulged the girl with idle conversation. They spoke of their day, of current world news, of the weather. That's how he knew she wanted something. The girl would always engage him in casual conversation just before asking a favor. Tony didn't mind much, of course. If anything, he found it entertaining how intently she tried buttering him up. But today he had quite a bit of work to get done so he wanted to get this show on the road. 

Putting his tools down, he looked at her pointedly with a knowing grin. "Alright kid, what's up?" He asked.

(Y/s)'s eyebrows raised in question, playing dumb. "What do you-" 

"Drop the act, (Y/n)," he chuckled, and grabbed an already greasy rag off the desk next to him to wipe his hands. He stood and made his way to her, tossing the rag back on one of the several tables in the lab. "I know when you want something, so just go on. Ask." He said, his face light with a smirk.

(Y/n) flushed with warmth, embarrassed by his boldness. But she continued anyway, determined to fulfill her promise to Bucky. 

The night before, she and Bucky were on their way home from the movies. It was a beautiful night out and in their comfortable silence, they found themselves on a slight detour through the woods. At some point, Bucky had pulled over off the side of the road and onto a look out.

Bucky, ever the silent communicator, simply stared at (Y/s) confused face with the softest smile on his own, before stepping out of the car. While (Y/n) scrambled to open her door, Bucky walked the couple of feet towards a barrier fence overlooking the river beneath him. His eyes followed the shine of the water as it drowned the boulders lining the river bed. He thought for a second how exciting the challenge of rock hopping sounded, never really having gotten the chance to as a child.

The call of an owl pulled his attention to the tree line which he observed with such intensity that (Y/n) nudging his arm made him tense. She flashed him a smile to calm the surprise on his face and in an instant, his arm was around her, pulling her close. They both looked out at the shadowed woods and (Y/n) was even sure to point out the moon and stars themselves. 

In the silent moments that passed, they both had turned to embrace each other wholly. They stayed like that for a moment and then Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. Pulling back to look at his warm, loving face, she found acute concern instead. He was glancing just past her head, off into the bush leading down to the river bank. 

"What's the mat-" she asked quietly, shrinking away. 

Bucky pressed his fingers to his lips and hushed her quickly and gently and then slowly gestured to his ear. Listen, he was telling her. 

She didn't hear anything at first. Nothing but the rush of the river below them and the gentle night breeze above them.

But then, just as she was about to ask again, she heard it. The faintest of mewling. Barely audible but definitely there. 

Bucky grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes once more before he squeezed them tightly and moved past her. He approached the thicket and hesitated for only a second before pressing forward. The branches hurt his skin but he'd suffered worse.

(Y/n) tentatively called his name to which he responded "I've almost got it." His voice sounded distant and strained and it worried (Y/n) that she could no longer see him through the darkness, being so close to the river and all. But as long as she could hear his grunts of discomfort from the branches whacking him in the face, she remained calm enough. 

Eventually, he emerged. Even in the dark, (Y/n) could see the pure white fluff sticking out between Bucky's fingers. As he approached, the fuzz ball revealed its face from its careful hiding spot in the crook of Bucky's arm and glanced around. Two dark eyes and the palest little nose swung in her direction, its whiskers twitching with cautious curiosity.

A kitten.

The poor thing was trembling but so was Bucky. Placing a hand on his forearm, she beckoned his attention and spoke low.

"What was it?"

To bide his time, he shifted the kit closer to his chest and took a deep breath. He didn't meet her eyes but he mumbled just loud enough to hear.

"A whole box of them but…." He didn't dare finish the sentence and instead held the kitten in front of his face, ignoring the unwarranted feeling of loss he felt for its siblings. Swallowing hard, he finally met the girls soft, understanding eyes and smiled sadly. 

Before she could say anything, the small creature let out another indignant mewl that seemed to reassure Bucky just a bit. With that, (Y/n) moved to his side and slung her arm around his waist.

"Alpine," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I think I'll call him Alpine." Bucky said fondly. His eyes never left the baby and the girl knew he was in deep.

"Oooh, I know that look." She tittered. Bucky only stared, his eyebrow creased, questioning. "That's the way you look at someone you love. That's the way you look at me." She said with a blush, nudging him lightly.

His face melted into that soft loving one she cared for so dearly. The kitten settled into the warmth that embraced him as the couple kissed.

"Let's get a move on. It's getting colder and colder by the second and I'm sure this little guy agrees." The kitten mewled one last time.

With a light chuckle, they spared one last glance over the look out before returning to the car where Alpine slept peacefully in Bucky’s lap the whole way home.

The two couldn't help but discuss what they were going to do with little Alpine. Bucky was set on keeping it and had even decided to clear his schedule the next day to make a vet visit. The only issue was their living space. They weren't too sure how Tony would react to them bringing a cat in off the street. But the girl could see how much the kitten meant to Bucky already so she promised to talk to Tony in the morning. 

Well, morning came and now here she was.

Tony crossed his arms impatiently. "Well?" He pressed, tilting his head up.

(Y/n) anxiously grasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward a bit. "What would you say to the idea of us getting a pet?" She stared openly at his face as he stared back at hers. The question bounced around in Tony's head, leaving his eyebrow slightly creased and the room painfully quiet. (Y/s)' nervously raised eyebrow gave him a clue into the situation.

"Right….and who exactly is this 'us' you're referring to? Cause something tells me I'm actually being iced out of this decision." Before she could even get a full breath in, he continued on. "All right, what are we working with, huh? A rabbit? A goldfish? If it's a parakeet, it won't even get past the front door, so help me god." 

The girl shook her head as she let out a laugh. She could tell he wasn't overly fond of the idea. It was clear by the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. But judging by the way his voice didn't fall completely flat, he wasn't opposed to it either….not entirely, anyway.

"No, no. Not quite. It's a cat. A kitten, actually, so there's still time to train it and all," She reassured him. "And Bucky should be getting home any minute from the vet with him if you'd like to say hello."

Tony caught himself before he let his expression drop at the name of the elusive ex soldier. He'd gotten better at watching himself since the two of them moved in. Bucky and (Y/n) weren't together when they did, but being only a few steps down the hallway certainly allowed them a closer relationship.

Tony nodded his head reluctantly and dropped his arms to his sides. 

He followed the girl down the various halls as she recounted how they found the poor kit, and found themselves approaching the common room. Or the family room, as (Y/n) preferred to call it, while simultaneously prattling on about how much time and energy the team wastes pretending to hate each other. Huh.

They could hear the tinkling of a bell being wacked around from down the hallway. As they entered the room, they stopped in the archway and took in the sight before them. 

Bucky sat crisscrossed with his back to them. In his hand was a feather wand, standing out bright purple, blue, and white against the dark brown floor. In front of him, white fluff darted back and forth. There was the smallest sound of tearing as its tiny claws ripped against the carpet, no doubt leaving it frayed.

Tony tried his very best to suppress his dissatisfied grumble...

They watched for a bit as Bucky went back and forth with the kitten. Tony didn't have to look hard at all to see how much the ex soldier cared for the tiny thing. No only because of his undivided attention towards the cat but also because of the many beige bags labeled "PetsPlus+"  full of toys, treats and towers scattered around the sofas. 

He thought it might be good for Bucky to have another companion around. Maybe it would help him relax. Maybe even lighten up a bit.

Tony stepped forward.

"So, uh, I'm not a big fan of funky smells so that's got to be top priority as far as pest control goes with this thing, alright?"

Bucky jumped to his feet and Alpine followed suit, hackles raised. Bucky quickly scooped him up and held him close. "Of course." (Y/n) made her way over to them. "Our rooms are big enough to keep him there most of the time and we have already worked out all the responsibilities between us. We've got it covered."

Tony stepped back a bit looking them up and down, humming. "I expect weekly visits in the family room," he said pointedly, then waved his hand. "Keep it tidy, folks." And with that he left the couple to their new fascination.

Tony lingered at the doorway on the way out. While the couple was distracted, he found himself watching that wretched arm. The dark, intimidating metal turned soft and gentle as it reached out fearlessly to antagonize the tiniest, weakest thing in the room. No hesitation, no fear. Not in Bucky or the kitten. Tony knew then that it stayed, no question.

The man needed his cat. And damn it, he'll get it.

[amysteriousmessenger]

May I request some fluff RFA headcanons? 🥺🥺

I hope these are okay!! I added Saeran and V just for the sake of it!! <3 these will be a random mixture of with and without MC!

Random Fluffy RFA + Saeran and V Headcanons

Yoosung Kim Fluffy Headcanons

He asks you to marry him in LOLOL, since there’s an expansion pack where you can set up a little house for extra storage. He gets really nervous and a bit sweaty about asking you to do it, he takes it oddly seriously and Zen almost passed out when he thought that you were actually engaged.

He tries to make you coffee every morning, especially if he’s trying a new style out. He thinks it’s really fun and he loves to greet you with it for breakfast. After a while, you come to associate the faint smell of coffee with Yoosung. 

At the start he starts sneakily using little bits of your shower gel because they smell so much nicer than the one his gamer student budget allows him to buy. Eventually, he’ll just cave and buy a bottle of the one that you use because it means he gets to be reminded of you all day and it’s a lot better for his skin anyway.

If you play with his hair when his head is in your lap, he’ll absolutely fall asleep. Yoosung is a little bit like a puppy in that way, it just makes him feel so happy and loved.

Zen/Hyun Ryu Fluffy Headcanons

Zen’s a big person for morning kisses, especially sleepy ones. He’s an early riser and definitely feels extra needy in the morning. He’s also always the big spoon, he likes to feel as though he’s protecting you even when he’s asleep.

Whenever you’re crying and cover your face so he can’t see, Zen’s the kinda person who would gently pull your arms away so he can get a look at you and figure out what’s wrong. He’ll kiss at your eyes and cheeks until you either stop crying, or let him get close enough to pull you in so you can cry on his chest. 

He loves doing skincare on you. If he thinks you’ve had a hard week, he’ll do your moisturiser, clay mask, face mask, eye mask- you name it, Zen wants to pamper you with it. He knows the importance of skincare and he thinks it’s a great way to relax and pamper you. 

Zen’s ‘Happy Place’ that he thinks of when he gets stressed is the two of you, beers in hand, spending an evening in the kitchen trying to cook food. He can hear the laughter, smell the ever-so-slightly burning food, taste the traces of beer on your lower lip. It just makes him so happy to think about and he can feel the desperation in his limbs to sprint home at full speed and make the daydream real.

Jaehee Kang Fluffy Headcanons

Saturday mornings are Jaehee’s favourite out of the whole week. She’s just worked 5 hellish days and Saturday is the day where she gets to have a bit of a lie-in. Usually, Jumin doesn’t ask her to come into the office on weekends and it’s usually just a case of working from home. Jaehee tries not to oversleep too much because she doesn’t want to throw off her schedule but sometimes she can’t help but pass out for 10 hours straight and undisturbed. 

She really enjoys bubble baths with you. When you first start doing it together, she’s a little shy at being seen undressed so intimately, but she still really enjoys the time alone with you. It’s a great way to unwind and she likes being so close to you.

Jaehee isn’t much of a cuddler when she’s asleep, she tends to just sleep flat on her back out of exhaustion. However, if you wake up for any reason during the night, you’ll frequently find her hand holding yours, whether she did it consciously or not. 

She collects really nice and cute stationary. She doesn’t really take them to work because she doesn’t want to be seen as unprofessional, but once she runs the coffee shop, she gets to write in her little hot-drinks-themed stationary and decorates the little cups with tiny stickers for the frequent customers and especially for whenever Zen comes to visit.

Jumin Han Fluffy Headcanons

Sunday mornings are Jumin’s favourites. He usually wakes up really early by routine, but on Sundays he spends a little bit longer curled up in bed with you and Elizabeth the Third, watching you both sleep. Jumin’s also usually the big spoon if he’s sleeping on his side, but when he sleeps on his back he typically still has one arm around your waist so you’re pulled next to him with your head on his chest.

He personally donates to many different cat shelters all over the country. He takes the money straight out of his own bank account and gives generous monthly donations to make sure that there’s enough funding to both feed the cats already there, and take in extra cats of the streets along with getting them adopted. Jumin’s staff actually has a company policy that if they adopt a cat from one of the shelters that Jumin supports, the vet and adoption fees are covered by him, he counts it as philanthropy.

Jumin has a bottle of wine in his cellar from the date you met, the date you first kissed, the date you got engaged and the date you got married. He hasn’t quite decided when he’ll share those wines with you, he just knows at the moment that he wants to keep them for a very special occasion. 

When he’s bored at work but he can’t call you because you’re busy, he pictures taking you to one of his vineyards on the weekend. He’ll picture your smile, you adjusting your hat and lightly squinting against the sun, you smiling at him over your glass of wine. Then he’ll tell Jaehee to clear his schedule for the weekend.

Saeyoung Choi Fluffy Headcanons

Your arms around him, holding him against you, is pretty much the only thing that can bring Seven out of an anxiety attack. If you’re not physically with him, he crawls under the duvet on his bed in hopes of still smelling you. He’ll call you and look through selfies with you that he has on his phone until he calms down. 

Seven frequently tries to make you food. He’s never had to cook for anyone before and he doesn’t really cook for himself, so it’s a lot of trial, error and frustrated takeaways. You try to eat whatever he makes though because you can really tell that he’s put his heart into it and you want to show him that you appreciate the effort he’s making.

He loves you feeling his biceps and gushing over how strong he is. He’s not even particularly ripped but you can tell he has strength in his limbs and seeing you give him any kind of physical approval makes him m e l t instantly.

He’s both the big and little spoon, depending what mood he is in. Sometimes he wants to hold you close and never let go, but sometimes Seven needs a little bit of support too and want to feel like he’s needed by you.

His absolute favourite dates are the arcades, the cinema, bowling and carnivals. He has far too much fun on the bumpercars and he absolutely has it out for you, you spend most of the time trying to escape him.

GE Saeran Choi  Fluffy Headcanons

GE Saeran always makes very over the top hot chocolates for the both of you. He has an arsenal of whipped cream, syrups, chocolate shavings and sprinkles. His hot chocolate is better than any you could buy in a store. He’ll make one for you whenever you ask, and then sometimes just to surprise you if it looks like you’re having a bad day.

GE Saeran ends up getting two cavities in his first few years of living freely. He does look after his teeth, but he let his sweet-tooth go little bit wild with all the new foods he got to try, it was all so new and fun to him, he just wanted to try everything! He took much better care of his teeth after that, but the trip to the dentist was quite a weird one since he’d never been before. 

Slight Angst: Saeran always serves your food first and makes sure there’s always extra helpings if you want it. He usually puts a little bit more on your plate than what you would usually eat. He never quite gets over the guilt of taking your food away at Magenta, so he spends the rest of his time making sure you have more than enough to eat now.

He likes to constantly buy you little gifts that he sees when he’s out and about that remind him of you. A little notebook in your favourite colour? A little forget-me-not necklace? A candle that smells like your perfume? He’d added them all to his cart. 

After lip kisses, Saeran loves giving cheek and hand kisses to you. For him, he really loves getting head kisses and he thinks it’s extra cute when you plant a little kiss onto the tip of his nose.

V/Jihyun Kim Fluffy Headcanons 

V usually wakes up first, unless he was working late in his studio. He wakes you up with a kiss to the forehead, a cup of coffee and soft words. After he’s put your drink on the table, he’ll climb back into bed with you and cuddle until you’re properly awake.

He actually enjoys baking with you. Well, he likes to help you bake and then he gets to do the decorating. You usually bring a cake to any RFA hangouts and it’s always very obvious when V’s helped you bake because it feels like he goes out of his way to put a piece of gallery-worthy art onto a cake with food colourings and icings. He thinks it makes it tastes better, and you have to agree. 

In recent years, V’s been considering trying a more plant-based diet. He thinks he’d like to try vegetarianism, but he’s frequently spend periods of time as a pescatarian, especially after he’s come back from travelling. It also means that he gets to practice cooking more too.

[wasabito]

➽ corruption collab masterlist — hosted by @ultimate-astridwriting and @bummie ♥️

➽ note: definitely gonna come back and edit this a bit more because threesomes are hard as fuck, no pun intended lmao happy v-day everyone!

➽ word count: 3.2k

➽ cw/tags: polyamory + body worship + threesome + praise kink + public sex + choking + handjobs/fingering + vaginal sex + squirting + established relationship

➽ pairing: akaashi x fem!reader x bokuto

💿 1. nasty — ariana grande || 2. come on — jhene aiko

With Valentine's Day fast approaching, it becomes rather apparent that love and romance are in the air. Storefronts are decorated in bubblegum pinks and reds. Flower shops promote their special bouquet arrangements at discounted prices. Even your favorite hole in the wall coffee shop has fallen prey to the spirit of cupid as they announce their new strawberry shortcake dessert and heart-shaped scones.

In lieu of staying home for the third night this week, your boyfriends escort you to dinner at an upscale restaurant in the city. They treat you to a five-course meal and a bottle of wine even pricier than the dinner itself. One would think, after three years of dating, you would no longer be caught unawares by their spontaneity. And yet, here they are, once again pulling the rug from underneath your four-inch heels.

Your gaze flickers from Akaashi's tranquil smile to Bokuto's wide grin.

Adjusting the napkin in your lap, you open your mouth to speak, then pause as the right words fail it come. Brain short-circuiting instead, you let out a confused, "Huh?!"

"We're taking you to Italy!" Bokuto repeats, about ready to hop out of his seat with excitement. He looks to Akaashi, "Three nights in Venice, right 'Kaashi?"

"Yes, we decided on Venice after you told us you'd always wanted to visit. Remember Koutarou's birthday last year?"

"But that was like months ago! Did you two honestly hold onto that drunk little confession this entire time?"

"Of course."

"Yup!!"

It's in moments like these when you are reminded of their history together, first as teammates playing volleyball, and eventually close friends. Not much longer after that, you'd met and fallen for Akaashi, then Bokuto, and thus began the relationship of today. While you find it a little ridiculous, it seems neither of them has any qualms about this trip.

After all, you are their lovely girlfriend. Why wouldn't they want to make your wishes come true?

Bokuto claps his hands, eyes sparkling. "Everything's already planned out, babe, so don't worry your pretty little head, okay?"

You can't argue with that. Reaching over, you take Bokuto's hand in your right and Akaashi's in your left. "Alright, since you two went to all this trouble for me, I guess I'll just sit back and enjoy it."

♥️

Venice is just as beautiful as you imagined.

It looks as if it's floating upon blue-green waters with lots of sunshine, beautiful architecture, and a vibrancy that makes it feel like the city has a life of its own. You are grateful you didn't come by yourself. There is no way you would've enjoyed it without Akaashi and Bokuto at your side.

"We're about a ten-minute walk from Piazza San Marco," Akaashi says as he taps his glasses. His sharp gaze is locked on the map in his hands, likely committing most landmarks and details to memory. "Would you like to check it out?"

"Yeah! Let's do it."

"Off we go, go, go!"

Thus, a majority of your first day in Venice is spent sightseeing.

The three of you take a gondola ride through Canale Grande, then have a peek into the Gallerie Dell'Accademia at Akaashi's insistence, though naturally, you wouldn't have come all the way to Italy and not visited at least one art museum. Afterward, the three of you go to the Le Mercerie shopping district and buy gifts for your friends before finally taking a pit stop for the most delicious gelato in the city.

The sunsets sooner than expected, casting the entire block in deep red hues. Bokuto's mood is greatly influenced by it, and the jetlag certainly doesn't help. He props himself against you, nuzzling you in a way that says he's itching for a kiss.

"Tired, Kou?"

Bokuto hums. "A little... More hungry than anything."

He leans in and pecks your lips with a sated smile. "Maybe I should eat you. I mean, how is it my girl's so damn cute? Not fair, I can't resist."

You snort at Bo's silliness but can't help shivering a little at the tiny implication of his words. He always did like to lay his head on your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites where he could.

So, the thought of him eating you out made you squeeze your thighs together.

Akaashi approaches with your frozen treats held between his long fingers; having overheard Bokuto earlier, he tucks his wallet back into his pocket.

"We'll get some dinner after we drop off these shopping bags. How does that sound?"

You eagerly take your gelato from him with a smile.

"Sounds like a plan."

Akaashi nods, standing at your other side, close enough to brush elbows though not as close as Bokuto, who was nearly hovering.

The three of you are in one of the narrow, maze-like streetways, basking in the warm, early evening glow. The sweet taste of fruit and cream on your tongue fills you with so much contentment, especially while being with your favorite people. You aren't sure if anything could top the way you currently felt, and the trip has just barely started.

Upon arriving at your temporary place of residence, a quaint little villa on the waterfront just along the shore of Punta Sabbioni Beach, Bokuto immediately kicks off his sandals, dumps the bags, and promptly falls asleep on the couch.

"It's so weird seeing Kou like this." You remark. "On any normal day, he's brimming with almost too much energy, but now he's all tired."

"Well, he did stay up an entire twelve hours on the plane. It was only a matter of time before fatigue caught up to him." Akaashi picks up Bokuto's shoes with practiced ease and places them by the others.

There is a fond smile running along the edges of his mouth as he tucks a throw around the man's larger frame. You help him adjust a spare pillow under Bo's head and then set off to explore the rest of the area.

It seemed like everything about Venice was taken straight out of a romance film, with its cobblestone paths, gothic cathedral architecture, crisp ocean waters, and authentic Italian cuisine. It is no wonder the city's known to draw hapless souls together in romance. Even you fell subject to it, and by each passing moment, you crave to be with your boyfriends.

You are standing at the balcony overlooking the beach, satisfied with your inspection of the villa when Akaashi comes to stand behind you. He holds onto the railings, caging you in his arms, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"He was right, you know." He murmurs. "You do look good enough to eat."

Blunt as ever. Apparently, something's never change.

Though one might say that Akaashi is as he's always been after high school and college, there is no denying his boost in confidence. After all, he had landed not one but two rather attractive partners.

He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, before latching onto your neck.

The sun's scenic view on the horizon, reflecting upon the beach sands of gold and shimmering orange waves, makes for an excellent backdrop.

You turn to face Akaashi and pull him into a heated kiss. His lips convey a sense of devotion to you, and with each press of them against yours, you can feel just how bad he's yearning for more.

"Kei," you whisper. "Let's go inside."

In a moment, Akaashi whisks you off your feet quite similar to how Bokuto would, though you both don't even make it to the bedroom.

Your other partner had sat up on the sofa, hair flat on one side, scrubbing his eyelids.

"Guys, I'm freaking starving!" Bokuto groans. "Let's get some food or something."

He doesn't even notice how you and Akaashi are breathing heavy or how your clothes are sporting wrinkles that were not previously there. Regardless, Akaashi has food delivered while you went ahead to shower the day's journey away. There are still two days left. You'd get your chance with them at some point.

♥️

Sadly, the entirety of day two is spent indoors. Heavy sheets of rain continue to fall, muddying the shoreline. The three of you huddle on the sofa wrapped in blankets with subtitled movies playing in the background.

Even though you would've much rather been out exploring in the city, just sharing in your boyfriend's warmth would suffice for now. Akaashi hands you a steaming cup of something rich in both color and smell.

"What's this?"

"Just espresso." He takes the empty seat beside you.

You savor the taste while leaning against his shoulder. "Mm, nice."

Bokuto keeps his head on your lap, loving how you thread your fingers into his hair.

It is a tranquil kind of peace that soon lulls you to sleep.

Later, when you finally wake up, it's dark, and you're alone. A blanket had been tucked around your shoulders to shield you from the sudden chill. At some point, the television had been shut off along with every light in the room. You might've been a little scared if not for the voices coming from the second floor. Slowly, you creep up the winding staircase, dragging along the blanket around your shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto chuckles. "You're finally up!"

His hair is down, wet from his shower, and he holds a thin towel together around his waist. In his hand is a cellphone, and he doesn't hesitate to shove the screen into your face. "Say hi, Tetsu!"

"Hi Y/N, how's it going?"

You blink slowly, still trying to wake yourself up.

"Kuroo, hey… I'm well. How are you?"

"Great, just about to head out for a late lunch. I hear it's almost ten pm over there."

"Yeah, it's an eight-hour time difference."

You and Kuroo continue to chat while Bokuto towels off his hair and puts on clothes. Afterward, you let Bokuto resume his conversation and join Akaashi on the bed. The man had gone full editor-mode with his glasses propped up in his hair as he read through some work documents.

When you approach, he greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "You look well-rested."

"Is that your way of telling me I have drool on my cheek, Keiji?"

He cracks a tiny smile, eyes taking in your features, then he pokes your cheek with his index finger. "Perhaps."

You scrub the corners of your mouth with your sleeve and drape yourself over Akaashi, work be damned. This was supposed to be a special weekend for relaxing.

"I really wanted to go to the beach today." You pout.

Akaashi interlocks his fingers with yours. "Maybe we still can. It stopped raining a few hours ago."

"Really?!"

You hop off the bed and head for the window. He's right, the rain had long stopped, and the beach lay bare, lit by only the moonlight.

Maybe a short walk to the beach would do you some good.

♥️

The grains of sand feel cold against your feet without the sun to beat down on them, but you don't complain. The air is humid enough on its own that you forgo wearing actual clothes and instead wear a swimsuit along with Bokuto's old Fukurōdani windbreaker.

You walk along the shore, toes digging into the sand, letting the ocean waves lap at your feet to wash them clean again.

At first, it's so eerily quiet without a soul around except you, but even that doesn't last long. You hear Bokuto's voice bellow into the night as he jogs towards you in nothing but swim trunks. Behind him, Akaashi trails slowly after with a blanket in hand.

"We thought you might want some company." He says and spreads the cover on the sand several feet away from the water, content with just watching.

Bokuto grabs your hand and you go running to the water with him, but a second later, you both come sprinting back.

"It's freezing!"

"S-So co-co-cold!"

You collapse on top of him, fingers splayed across his bare chest. However, when you try to sit up, Bokuto has other plans. He keeps you pressed to his chest with both arms around your waist.

"Let me keep you warm, baby!"

You know he meant it in the most innocent way, but you can't help but think other thoughts. Your nerves fray at the image that blooms in your head and spreads like wildfire.

And as Akaashi strokes your back, you know he's probably read your mind.

It's the way your eyes seem to glitter with want that gives it away. Akaashi has always been rather observant, and so your silent cues are something he's always been privy to.

His nimble fingers curve around the nape of your neck, and he tilts his head to capture your lips in a kiss. This one is unlike the one from yesterday. There is no rush, no desire to quicken his haste; instead, he savors the taste of you like it's something to be thoroughly enjoyed.

Underneath you, Bokuto stirs, growing aroused at the sight of his two lovers' kiss. He can't decide whether he wants to join in or sit back and watch. But his large hand comes down to stroke your ass, resulting in a moan you breathe directly into Akaashi's mouth.

"You're not usually so forthcoming, Keiji," you whisper against his lips. "Eager, are we?"

Akaashi pulls away just enough to pepper your face in feathery kisses. "Can you blame me? When I have such a lovely girlfriend here."

As if confirming his words, he slips a hand under your jacket and cups your breast. The pads of his thumb brush along the seams of your bathing suit, caressing your nipple.

"Kou, let's show Y/N just how much we love her, yes?"

Bokuto didn't need to be told twice. He had been in entranced by you and Akaashi, completely taken by the way your lips danced upon one another. But now, he wanted more than anything to touch you, kiss you, hold you.

Bokuto cradles you in his lap, propping your legs open with his knees so Akaashi can kneel in front of you. It didn't take much for him to relieve you of your clothing, namely your swimming bottoms. But the second the air hits your bare cunt, you feel tense.

You aren't sure what it was, but the atmosphere is different. Both Akaashi and Bokuto are so focused on you, it feels like you're under a spotlight.

"You're so pretty, so beautiful," Bokuto says while squeezing your thighs. His warm breath tickles your ear as he presses his nose into your neck. Next, his lips follow suit. "Wanna fuck you, so bad baby. You'd like that, right?"

His words earn him a chuckle from Akaashi, who merely licks two of his fingers, wetting them and sliding into you. Your mouth parts, shaky breaths barely expelled from your lungs. You're hyper-aware of the fact that you're literally being fingered on a beach in the middle of the night, and you can't bring yourself to care. It feels good to be pampered by the two men you love.

For every moan, Akaashi gives you double for your efforts, thrusting his fingers just right, curving them in such a way that has your back arching off Bokuto, who has also taken to fondling your nipples. With every roll of his hips, you feel his cock against your ass, and it pushes you further into Akaashi's fingers.

Your impending orgasm sweeps by so close and yet so far away. All you can do is rock yourself faster.

"Please," you whimper. "W-Wanna come."

Akaashi crooks his fingers, pressing into the perfect spot that sends you hurtling over the edge. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching in intervals you have no control over until his hand is coated with your wet, slick juices that keep coming the more you squirt all over him.

"She's so wet 'Kaashi. Look at our pretty girl."

Akaashi places a chaste kiss on your forehead with a smile.

"She's doing well, so far. Let's see if she can keep going."

Bokuto shimmies his shorts off enough to free his hard cock. He had been uncharacteristically patient until now, but that was soon to change as he lines himself up with your cunt, teasing you with just the tip.

Your whining is unintelligible, but both men understand you more or less.

"Give the pretty girl what she wants," Akaashi says. He strokes his own hard-on at the sight of Bokuto's pushing past your wet folds. "I know she can take more than that."

Bokuto has always been girthy, and it takes you more than a few seconds to adjust to his size, but when you finally do, it feels like heaven.

The position you're in gives Bokuto all the power to thrust into you like a ragdoll. But it's only when you make eye contact with Akaashi that you realize that it's, in fact, the other way around for him in particular. From where he sits, stroking his cock with flushed cheeks and choked moans, you see just how much control you have over him.

"Kiss me." You moan.

Akaashi doesn't let you repeat yourself. He kisses you long and hard even as you grip his throat with one hand and his hair with the other. He kisses you until his lips are red and bruised.

"Good boy. Both of y-you."

Bokuto groans loudly. "Say it again. Keep saying it!"

"Y-You're both so good. I-" your hips stutter against Akaashi's fingers that are rubbing circles into your clit. "Good, so good-"

That's all it takes to take Bokuto over the edge, blowing his load. "Perfect, so fucking perfect."

You can feel another orgasm swelling up inside your belly. You try to tell them but can't, too overcome by the feeling of your body tingling with desire. It's too much, overwhelmingly so; your vision blurs with unshed tears as Bokuto continues to pound into sopping pussy. Pleasure floods every fiber of your being until you're limp and every nerve in your body is set alight.

Bokuto slips out of you easily, a string of his semen following.

You can only look on in a drowsy haze as Bokuto leans over and kisses you and then Akaashi, working him over with a tight fist.

♥️

The following morning, you’re the first to wake, but only because there’s a limb jammed into your back and a heavy weight on your chest. It takes you a moment to realize, but it’s Bokuto’s elbow poking you and Akaashi’s head resting on you.

All three of you are a tangle of limbs in bed, but you aren’t sure how you’d gotten there.

“G’mornin’” Bokuto breathes. His lips caress the column of your neck.

“Morning.”

You shift into a more comfortable position. Though doing so presses Akaashi’s morning wood against your thigh.

“Keiji, you awake yet?”

“Mmm barely.” Akaashi looks up at you through his lashes, then smiles and nuzzles closer into your chest.

Bokuto, content with being your big spoon, reaches over to touch Akaashi, hands cupping his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day!”

“That’s true, should we do something special.”

Thinking about the previous night, you feel desire stirring in your gut. “Could we just... do it again?”

Both men look to each other then back at you, sporting matching smiles.

“Why not?”

[acourtofbooksandfantasy]

Starfall - Azriel x fem! Reader

Disclaimer: this is my first piece I’ve ever published. I’m not taking requests but would be open to ideas for new things to write! Let me know what you think. I had this idea the other day and couldn’t stop thinking about it until I wrote it down. I also originally named the main fem! character but decided to make it Y/N at the last minute, so if her name is in there then whoops! Either way, enjoy xx

Starfall. The most beautiful night in Prythian. Souls traveling to a far off place, leaving a blinding beauty in their wake. The Night Court prepared for weeks to welcome their passage.

Each member of the Inner Circle enjoyed this day, but Azriel often used this day to mourn. And to hope. Each year, he would wish upon those flying glimmers of starlight. Praying. Hoping. One day, he would find his mate.

In the past, he used the evening to drink and pray and hope that Mor would realize she was his mate. But when she and Emerie confirmed their mating bond two years prior, Azriel simply used this evening to wish upon the stars for someone of his very own.

This year was not any different, until two months before when a secret Illyrian camp was raided and a young woman was found, wingless. She was battered and bruised, terrified of any male who came near her. Cassian had brought her back to the House of Wind with Feyre’s help, to give her a place to recover and rest.

Over the coming weeks, she revealed to Mor and Amren that her name was Y/N, and that she had been sold to the foul Illyrians at a high price to help support her family. She was used for work, cleaning and cooking, and kept in a small room. She revealed her wings were taken after a visit where Rhysand and Cassian required Devlon to start training all Illyrian females. As she told the story, even Amren shed a tear.

Cassian and Azriel were introduced to Y/N, along with Nesta, to help train her. Even without wings, Feyre believed it would do her much good to know how to protect herself. And Y/N vowed she would never again let someone lay hands on her unless she asked. Over the weeks, Cassian and Azriel coached from the sidelines as Nesta and Mor demonstrated and helped, since Y/N still feared the males being too close. Each day she grew a little stronger, and became more confident. It became evident just how much the training was helping her mentally when she agreed to come out for a night at Rita’s with the Inner Circle. Much to Morrigan’s delight, as she would finally have a friend to dance with who wouldn’t make inappropriate comments like Cass.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch from across the bar as Mor and Y/N jumped and spun, without a care in the world. However, he became alarmed as he noticed two dark males approaching her from behind. Each one reached to grab her arms, and he growled as he flew from his chair. He pushed the men back, scooping Y/N into his arms and winnowing both her and Mor to the back of the bar where he knew no one would be. When he put her down, Y/N stared at him breathlessly. She couldn’t believe it, but when he came out of nowhere to rescue them, she hadn’t felt fear. In fact, she felt a strange pull in her stomach. Deep, aching. Longing. Like, she had known him before, in another time perhaps.

The mating bond.

It caused her to step back as it snapped into place.

But Azriel didn’t seem to notice a thing.

“Are you alright?” He asked, gently brushing a hand to her elbow as she stood, star struck.

“Yes. I’m fine….thank you.” She replied after a few awkward seconds.

Mor gave her a puzzling look, “Uh…okay you two let’s go home. Az…”

He grabbed their hands and winnowed them back to their home.

That night, Y/N sat alone in her room, feeling a pull towards the shadowsinger’s room. She knew she should probably stay, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she went. Her curiosity got the best of her, and all of a sudden she was stood outside his bedroom. One hand ready to knock, but unsure of what she would say. She stood there nervously until the door cracked open, and Azriel popped his head out into the hall. He was only wearing some trousers, his hair disheveled from the slumber he’d just awoken from.

“ Y/N. Is there…something wrong?” He asked nervously.

“I…I…” Y/N scrambled for a reason to be in front of his door, “I sometimes have nightmares. I can’t fall asleep because I’m afraid of having a terrible dream.”

“Oh. I see.” Azriel said.

Y/N stood there, unsure of what to do next, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sor-“

But before she could finish her thought, he grabbed her wrist gently and brought her inside.

“You can stay for a little while if you’d like,” Azriel started, “I have nightmares too. About my hands. And my mother. We can watch out for each other. And I can take you back to your room when you’re ready. You take the bed, I can sleep here.” He gestures to the small couch at the foot of his bed.

“Azriel I don’t want to take your bed.” Y/N stated, feeling guilty about coming in the first place.

“I insist.” Azriel gestured to the bed.

She sat down on the edge, as he laid himself on the couch that was barely big enough for him and his enormous wings. Even with them all tucked in, he nearly spilled out the sides of the couch.

She laid down as well, waiting for slumber to set in, but it didn’t, because she could only focus on the tug from her to him.

Close to an hour had passed, when finally a whisper emerged from the quiet. “Az?” Y/N lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes?” Azriel replied timidly.

“Can you…can you come up here?” Y/N asked rather calmly.

Silence filled the room, before the tall and dark Illyrian stood from the couch, slowly setting himself down on the other side of the bed. He lay flat on his back as well, as if trying to avoid touching her at all costs.

She reached across the bed and found his hand, interlocking her fingers in his. She rubbed her thumb along the lines of his scars.

“Thank you. For rescuing me. Maybe I can help rescue you from your nightmares?” Y/N said.

Azriel smiled at the ceiling in the dark, “Perhaps.”

________________________________________

Each of the girls from the Inner Circle had gone to the seamstress weeks prior to the event to have gowns made for the celebration. Each of the girls selected a gown some shade of Night Court black, except for Y/N. Feyre and the rest of the Night Court females found a gorgeous silver silk fabric, embedded with tiny crystals. When held up to the light, the fabric twinkled like a sea of stars.

“ Y/N! Since you are our special guest for the celebration, you should have a dress made from this!” Mor shouted, shoving a pile of the fabric into Y/N’s arms.

Y/N stared, mouth wide open, “I’m not sure, I don’t want to…”

Feyre stopped her by gentle placing a hand on her shoulder. “You are not a burden, and no one will be upset if you outshine every one of us. You deserve to have a night as fabulous as you are after all you’ve endured.”

Y/N smirked and nodded. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll have a dress made from this!”

________________________________________

The males waited, rather impatiently, in the front hall at the bottom of the staircase.

“You all have been getting ready since 10 o’clock this morning, you can’t SERIOUSLY still be primping can you??” Cassian grumbled as he leaned back on the wall.

Morrigan exited her room where they had all been drinking, giggling, and preparing for the evening. “You clearly have no understanding of what getting ready means to females, “ she said as she rolled her eyes at the general.

One by one, each of the girls stepped out. Feyre and Y/N were the last left inside the room. “You look lovely, Y/N. I’m so glad you’ve become one of our best friends.” Feyre gave Y/N a small squeeze. Y/N smiled, still appearing somewhat nervous for this evening.

Feyre studied her face closely, “He will think you are the most magnificent creature in the room tonight,” she whispered with a wink.

All the breath left Y/N’s lungs as she thought of the spymaster.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.

Her heart pounded as Feyre gave her hand a quick squeeze before heading to the staircase. “Come along, Y/N. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

________________________________________

His breath caught in the back of his throat at the sight of her at the top of the staircase.

The floor length gown had a deep v down the front, with two sheer straps that wrapped over her shoulders and crossed in the back. The silky fabric flowed as she took each step. She shimmered like starlight, and as the shimmering fabric moved it made it as thought Y/N herself was glowing in the night.

“Holy shit.” Cassian mumbled under his breath. Nesta elbowed him in the stomach, causing him to go into a coughing fit.

As Y/N reached the bottom of the stairs, everyone stopped what they were doing.

“Well, shall we?” Rhysand asked with a playful grin, simultaneously locking arms with his mate and nudging his spymaster brother towards the girl in the sparkling gown.

Azriel and Y/N stood for a moment. Y/N’s eyes remained focused on her feet, and Azriel watched as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. In that moment, when she looked up and locked eyes with him, he felt everything. A rushing of magic, or spirit, or something, coursed through his veins.

“Mate,” he said, so softly that only she could hear.

They remained frozen in time, stood there, taking in one another. As if their souls needed time to catch up on all the time they had been apart.

Azriel extended a hand to her, and their hands intertwined as they left the front hall. As they walked, Azriel leaned in and whispered to his mate, “You know, it might be hard to keep my hands off of you tonight.” Y/N peered up at him through her thick eyelashes. “You are quick to forget, I have not accepted the bond yet,” she replied with a smirk.

“You wound me, my love,” he stated with a look of bewilderment and shock. It took everything in him not to scoop her into his arms and winnow back to his room, to have his way with her right then and there.

________________________________________

They danced most of the night. So much so, that Cassian made several jokes about how he’d never seen his brother dance that much in their entire lives. It didn’t bother Y/N or Azriel one bit.

The couple stopped to sit and watch as the souls began to descend across the sky, traveling to wherever they belong. Azriel couldn’t help but watch his mate as she stared into the sky, absolutely enamored with her.

Y/N could feel the sting of his stare on her cheek. She turned to him, and reached across the table, her hand closed holding an object tightly inside. “I’d like to give you something,” she smiled. Azriel gave her a perplexed look, opening her hands to find a macaron.

He looked at the pastry, then his mate, and back to the pastry. “Are…are you certain?”

“I’ve never been more certain in my life.” Y/N replied confidently.

Azriel forced himself to savor every bite of the macaron, when really he wanted to shove the whole thing into his mouth so he could whisk her away from the party. Once he was finally finished, he stood, gesturing for Y/N to take his hand.

Cassian shouted from across the dance floor, “Hey brother!! Don’t be too loud tonight, SOME of us need our beauty rest!!” Nodding his head towards Rhysand. Feyre smacked him across the back of his head and Rhysand laughed. Azriel let out a low growl, but Y/N placed her hand on his lower back and stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear.

“Take me home, shadowsinger.”

And they winnowed away into the night, as fast as the spirits had traveled across the midnight sky.