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ellemj · 2 months

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I Hate You

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @kateversca1011: "y/n has these weird mind powers where she can feel others feelings or make others feel hers...she accidentally during a very heated fun time projects everything she is feeling to Bucky, basically doubling his pleasure"

Summary: After ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, one bed trope, unprotected sex, hate sex, dirty talking, praise, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 9.3k

A/N: I fucking LOVED this prompt yet I feel like my (4th) attempt at it is as horseshit as the other attempts. This may get another attempt one day. Thank you @kateversca1011 for the wonderful prompt inspo, I hope this entertains you at least a little bit.

You have the worst luck in the world. In fact, your luck is so bad that you might even be able to call it a curse. It was one of those unfortunate things that started early in your life and has carried on throughout the years, affecting seemingly everything that you do. You thought it came to a head when your hometown was obliterated twelve years ago, when your parents were killed as they lay asleep in their bed across the house that you grew up in. You thought that was the pinnacle of your misfortune. Then, you thought that maybe it was two days after that, when you were sure you were being rescued from the rubble you laid under, only to be taken away by soldiers with unmatchable strength and brutality and stripped of not only your rights, but your dignity. You were held captive for so long that you stopped attributing your dark times to bad luck and started to think this was how life was supposed to be. By the time they started experimenting on you, you didn’t even feel bad for yourself anymore. You simply accepted it as the next era of your life that you had no control over.

“Okay, we’re all done.” Shuri’s voice rings out through the speaker in the MRI machine. The flat surface that you’ve been lying on for the past forty-five minutes begins to slide out of the narrow tube it held you in, slowly exposing the rest of the room to your view. You take a deep breath in, stretching your arms out in front of you and wiggling your legs a little. Your lower half always falls asleep when you have these scans done.

Shuri watches you intently through the glass of the MRI observation window. She watches as the nurse helps you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the tabletop. She watches as you run a hand through your hair and offer the nurse a kind smile before moving to stand on the floor. She watches as your eyes narrow in the slightest and a look of surprise crosses your face. She knows what you just did. She knows that the moment the nurse was in your personal space, you had no control over the unusual chemistry of your brain. You invaded the nurse’s mind and picked up on the fact that she’s afraid of you.

“She’s not ready to go free yet, is she?” Fury asks tersely. He entered the observation room so silently that Shuri didn’t even notice him until he spoke. As the nurse leads you out of the MRI room and begins taking you back to the main area of the medical bay, Shuri turns in her chair to face Fury.

“She doesn’t have enough control over her abilities yet. I think she’s still psychologically stable, the program you put her through did its job, but there’s no guarantee that she’ll simply go out into the world and behave.” Shuri chooses her words carefully. She doesn’t think that you’re a threat in your current state, but should you ever desire to be, you could easily become one. Your powers rival those of Wanda Maximoff’s, except even less is known about the extent of yours thus far. You’re the equivalent of the Winter Soldier without anyone having used his activation words yet, a ticking time bomb.

That’s what leads to Shuri and Fury both addressing you in the medical bay moments later. You sit on an exam table picking at a loose thread in your frayed jeans as they approach you, trying your hardest not to read into their thoughts, their feelings. You’d like to experience what it’s like to be surprised by what comes out of someone’s mouth for once.

“That was your last fMRI for a while.” Shuri says happily, her smile looking truly genuine. You smile back, but continue picking at the thread, not wanting to make any prolonged eye contact. Eye contact always seems to make it easier to read people, and easier for your own thoughts and emotions to spill over into their consciousness if you’re not careful.

“I’m guessing there isn’t all good news though, right? Since you’re both here this time.” You ask knowingly, your gaze darting between the two who stand before you. Shuri gives Fury a sideways glance, as if she’s waiting for him to take the lead. His eye narrows at you, his forehead scrunching up above his eyepatch as he studies you.

“We can’t let you go out and live your life just yet. There are too many unknowns right now. I’m going to be putting you up in the Avengers tower.”

“But—” Fury holds up his hand to silence you, as if you’re a backtalking teenager.

“It’s not permanent. This is just until we can help you gain more control over your abilities. We can reassess after. When you’re finished here, I’ll have someone waiting outside to take you over to the other side of the compound and show you around.” Fury’s gone before his words have even fully sunk in.

“He’s a straight-to-the-point kind of guy, isn’t he? No bullshit with him.” You say quietly, shaking your head as you come to terms with everything he’s just said. You’ve been staying in what you can only call a high-end holding cell at the nearby SHIELD base since the day you appeared on their radar and they brought you in, very much against your will. Another bout of bad luck, you’d told yourself, as you were restrained with some sort of technologically advanced handcuffs and later forcibly put through multiple rigorous evaluations. After the evaluations came the decompression and psychological rehabilitation that they had originally designed to be used for victims of capture and torture, agents who were in too deep and didn’t have backup when the worst happened. After that, you started undergoing medical testing, constant scans and blood draws, on a weekly basis. Shuri was brought in because no one else could figure you out.

“It’s the eye patch, he has to be short and gruff with people to fit the look.” Shuri jokes. She stands closer to you than most people would, within arms’ reach. You offer a light laugh and she considers it a small victory. “I think you’ll find that living in the tower, around other people with unique abilities, might actually help you. You’ll get a really nice room too, probably nicer than just about anywhere else you’d find in the city.”

“A nice room that I never get to leave.” You point out. Shuri’s gaze softens and she looks you over. Most people wouldn’t look at you and see a bomb that hasn’t yet been detonated. Hell, you could probably weaponize that fact if you wanted to, the fact that you look normal, innocent even.

“You can leave your room, but I think it’s best if you don’t get too close with anyone, physically or emotionally. Give yourself some time to learn boundaries when it comes to your abilities first.” Shuri advises. She notices the way you take in her entire appearance as she speaks, but you avoid looking into her eyes. You’re trying to give her mind the privacy it deserves. You’re making an effort to stay out of her thoughts, and to keep from projecting your own onto her. She thinks that you’ll get the hang of the control thing soon enough, and Fury will either free you to go about your new life or he’ll make an attempt to recruit you as an asset. Only time will tell which direction you’ll go, but she finds herself hoping that this won’t be the last she sees of you.

---

Bucky’s heard about the girl who reads minds, the girl who can make others feel her pain, the girl who could take away someone’s mental anguish with just one shared look. He’s heard enough about that girl that he formed his own mental image of her. He pictures her as an evil cartoon witch, with long, dark fingernails that curl up at the ends and a characteristic black and purple outfit, maybe even flying around on a broom. When he heard that this cartoon witch would be moving into the empty room across the hall from his, he imagined cardboard boxes filled with crystal balls, spiders, and cobwebs being dropped off before the girl’s arrival.

Bucky didn’t think for a second that you’d show up so quietly and uneventfully, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. He didn’t think you’d show up with nothing more than a small, government-issued duffel bag and a profound avoidance of eye contact. And he sure as hell didn’t think that you’d end up being so goddamn pretty. As you stood in the lobby of the tower with Maria Hill and two other SHIELD agents, Bucky was just getting back from a therapy session with Dr. Raynor. He saw you as you stood there with your duffel bag and blank stare aimed at a wall. He saw you as you made sure to board the elevator last, letting everyone else enter before you and then staying a few steps behind on your way in. You saw him as the doors began to slide shut. You caught one little glimpse of the man, dressed in dark jeans and a dark Henley tee. Unreasonably attractive. That was your first impression of him, as the doors closed and he disappeared from your sight.

An hour later, you’re sitting alone in your new room, carefully folding and putting away the few pieces of clothing you brought with you. Your wardrobe consists of a couple of pairs of jeans, a sweatshirt or two, and the same pair of sneakers you always wear. Or at least that’s what it consisted of until today. When you arrived to the room and finally had the chance to shut Maria and the other agents out and settle yourself in, you quickly realized that Tony Stark, or more his wife Pepper, had taken it upon their shoulders to have your closet filled with a wide range of pants, shorts, dresses, workout attire, and far too many shoes for someone with only two feet. You thought it was a mistake at first, that maybe you’d been given the wrong key to the wrong room. Until you saw a white envelope sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. It contained the only note you’d ever received from anyone, detailing how all of the items in the closet now belong to you, and were picked out by Pepper upon Tony’s request. As you stand in the closet now, running your fingers along the various fabrics and colors hanging in front of you, it feels as though every birthday that you missed out on celebrating after your parents’ deaths and your own capture are being celebrated in this moment.

---

Bucky sits in one of the briefing rooms with Sam and Torres, only half-listening to whatever they’re droning on about as he traces the golden crevices of his vibranium arm with his flesh index finger. He doesn’t chime in at all as the topic shifts from one of last week’s missions, to a piece of intel Torres intercepted yesterday, to the mission that could potentially be coming up at the end of this week. It isn’t until Torres brings up the girl that just moved in upstairs that Bucky’s flesh hand falters and his eyes flit up to take in the image that’s holographically displayed over the table in the center of the room.

“I gathered as much information on her as I could.” Torres says, as he begins flipping through a few different files on the display. He stops on one titled First Event. When he opens the electronic file, Bucky’s heart drops instantly at the words his brain sorts through and picks out. Terrorist attack. Intentional target. Orphaned. HYDRA. He swallows hard when the picture of your childhood home, completely reduced to smoking ash and rubble, appears before him. Another picture shows a small girl, seemingly around age eleven or twelve, covered in soot and dirt, with her hands bound in front of her as she’s being lifted and placed in the back of a truck. “She was taken by HYDRA operatives when she was 12. It was an operation with the sole aim of taking twenty children, disguising the entire thing as a brutal terrorist attack. The missing children were all presumed dead in the attacks, which was what HYDRA wanted. There was never an investigation for any of them.” A few pictures show a grimy prison-like holding cell, an operating room with different pieces of technology and equipment that definitely aren’t standard in normal medical facilities, and a few brain scans. “All of the twenty children underwent testing and experimentation. Some died within a couple of weeks, some within a couple of months. She was the only one to survive to be rescued. She lived in this underground HYDRA facility for at least ten years that we know of.”

“Ten years?” Sam asks incredulously, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “How did she end up on SHIELD’s radar?” Torres pauses his biography of the worst years of your life and opens up a different file on the display, one titled Second Event.

“Skipping the details of how she was rescued in the first place, she doesn’t have much control over her abilities. She tried to lay low, that much was obvious, but SHIELD has a program to seek people like her out, to keep an eye on them.” Torres explains. Bucky’s eyes are glued to an image of the girl he saw in the elevator only an hour ago. You’re at an outdoor farmer’s market, with a ballcap pulled low over your forehead and your gaze cast downward as you browse a fruit stand. The image is eerily similar to a moment of his own life that he remembers, buying plums at a Romanian market when he was trying to go unnoticed and live a quiet life on his own.

“So, she made a misstep somewhere along the way, becomes property of SHIELD, and then Fury sends her here.” Sam recaps, looking to Torres to make sure he’s got it all right.

“Pretty much, yeah. He doesn’t think it’s safe to let her be out in the real world on her own yet.”

“Not safe for her? Or not safe for everyone else?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow. Bucky turns his attention to Torres this time as well, curious about the answer.

“Both.”

A few more details are shared around the table as Torres flips back and forth between all of the available information that he has on you. Bucky, however, is deep in thought. He watches as new and old images flit back and forth on the screen, his mind digesting everything and piecing you together. You’re pretty, that’s for damn certain. You’re pretty and he can tell from your past, from your known abilities, that you’re likely good as hell at manipulating people. He imagines with your looks alone that you could get just about anyone to do just about anything for you. With your looks and your abilities? You could do more damage than most. You’re dangerous. Dangerous and unpredictable. And now you live across the hall from him.

Those two words repeat in Bucky’s head as he takes the stairs up to the main living floor later that same day. Dangerous and unpredictable. There are a few more words floating around in his head but he’s actively ignoring those. So goddamn pretty.

You really are pretty. You wouldn’t necessarily think so yourself, as you stand in front of the full-length mirror in your room, crossing your arms over your chest. FRIDAY’s voice rang out through a speaker somewhere in your room just a few minutes earlier, letting you know that dinner would be at six. Of course, FRIDAY didn’t offer you a dress code or even a very solid answer when you asked her what one should wear to such a dinner. The last time you had dinner with anyone, you were twelve and you were wearing a sparkly pink Barbie shirt. Though you could double check your closet for a shirt like that now, you have a feeling you won’t find one in your size. So, you remain in your distressed jeans and oversized gray SHIELD sweatshirt.

“Do you think she’ll show up?” Torres asks, mainly directing his question to Sam more than anyone else. Sam shrugs as he continues stirring the spaghetti sauce he’s been cooking on the stovetop.

“If she’s hungry she will.” He responds. Truthfully, he has no idea if you’ll come out of your room or not. If you don’t, he’ll take a bowl of food to your room at the very least, but he’d prefer it if you came out and interacted with everyone so he could at least get a feel for you. It was obvious by the way Bucky sat so narrow-eyed and steely in the briefing room earlier that he doesn’t like you, that he doesn’t trust you being in the tower. Sam hasn’t yet jumped to such a conclusion.

“What do we do if she does? If she shows up?” Torres almost sounds nervous. Sam chuckles before propping his wooden spoon on the edge of the saucepan and moving to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.

“We eat dinner.”

---

You don’t look like a scared, vulnerable twelve-year-old girl, and you most definitely don’t look like someone who has the power to manipulate thoughts or feelings. As you sit at the table, twirling spaghetti noodles around your fork, you’re trying your best to ignore the eyes on you. You feel a bit relieved that it’s not the entire group staring, no, it’s just that one unreasonably attractive man with the black and gold prosthetic arm. He stares. He stares as if it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Honestly, maybe it really is the only thing he knows how to do, because he sure as hell hasn’t participated in any of the table small talk this evening.

“So, you were just laying low before SHIELD found you?” Torres asks kindly, tearing apart a piece of garlic bread with his hands as he peers over at you. He’s seated immediately to your right and has been the most inquisitive thus far.

“Yeah, clearly I wasn’t very good at that though.” You respond lightheartedly, earning you a few small laughs around the table. You lift your fork to your mouth and take a small bite of pasta. It’s heavenly honestly. It’s so much better than the measly three meals that you’ve taught yourself how to cook.

“How do you feel about ending up here?” Torres is a curious one, you’re quickly learning.

“I’m not over the moon about it but the food is better than what I was cooking for myself so, it’s not all bad.”

As you answer questions and do your best to avoid making too much eye contact with anyone, to avoid reading into anyone’s thoughts or dropping your own thoughts into anyone else’s mind, Bucky stares. He watches you intently. You’re effortlessly charming, answering everyone’s questions with a shy smile and kind voice. He’s sure it’s a façade.

Bucky’s cold stare and the fact that you happily pretend like you don’t feel his gaze on you is the reason why Sam, at the end of dinner, stands up and assigns the two of you to clean-up duty. If Bucky’s gone ahead and jumped to a conclusion about you based on a few flimsy pieces of intel and some grainy pictures, then Sam will give him the opportunity to confirm his suspicions with half an hour of alone time with you. Either he’ll come out of clean-up duty realizing he was wrong about you or he’ll come out of it with an earful for Sam.

Fifteen minutes after everyone’s finished eating and gone their separate ways for the evening, you find yourself wiping down the dinner table with a wet cloth. Bucky is watching you from the open concept kitchen, where he stands in dim lighting, scrubbing dishes at the sink.

“I can feel you staring.” You say evenly. Though your back is to him, you know his eyes are following your every move. He sets a soapy bowl down in the empty side of the sink and gets to work on another, still watching as you lean over the table and scrub over the wooden surface. He says nothing. Daring a glance over your shoulder at him, you catch sight of his blue eyes, cold and calculating as they stare right back at you. That’s the moment you feel it, a wall around him, around his mind. As you look into his eyes, you can’t get even the slightest reading on his feelings, on his thoughts. His mind is impenetrable.

You quickly look away and continue wiping down the surface of the table. What the hell was that? You’ve never been around anyone you couldn’t read before. Bucky sets another soapy dish into the right side of the sink and lets his gaze fall away from you for a moment. Did you look into his thoughts? Did you see what most people see when they look at him? A monster, an uncontrollable killer? He’s patiently waiting for you to flee, to run and lock yourself in your room after analyzing whatever you just saw in his mind. However, different thought is crossing your mind. You want to try again, to get closer to him and get a better sense of the wall you felt around him. You push a couple of chairs into their rightful places beneath the table and then look over at Bucky again as he works on the dishes. His blue eyes meet yours once more and there it is again, that wall. Before you lose your boldness, you begin walking toward the kitchen, your feet carrying you closer and closer until you’re only a foot away from Bucky’s right side. He acts uninterested and his focus remains on a dirty dish and a sponge in his hands. Your eyes dart down to the sink and you notice the clean, soapy dishes in the side closest to you. Before you realize what you’re doing, your left arm is brushing against his right arm as you start rinsing the dishes beneath a steady stream of hot water. Bucky tenses next to you the moment the sleeve of your sweatshirt brushes over the skin of his bicep.

“Are you scared of me?” You ask softly, keeping your eyes down on the suds that are running off of the bowl in your hand. You watch as they swirl around in the bottom of the sink before disappearing down the drain. Bucky scoffs and a low chuckle slips past his lips.

“Scared isn’t the word I’d use.” He says coldly, passing you another dish to rinse.

“Then why do you stare at me like that?” You question, matching his cold tone.

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m going to try to get in your head.”

“Haven’t you done that already?” Another dish is passed over to you. The hot water is turning your hands pink, and the frustrating interaction with such an unreasonably attractive ass is turning your cheeks the same color.

“If I had, you would’ve known.” You point out, turning your head to look up at the side of his face. He doesn’t turn to meet your gaze at first, so you study his features. There’s a light stubble peppered along his lower face, over his jawline and chin. He looks young but something about him gives off more of an old soul vibe.

“You don’t have enough control over your abilities to be able to read someone without them knowing?” His tone has shifted from a cold one to a condescending one.

“I do, but I don’t care to put in any effort to hide it when I’m reading someone who already knows I can do it. I wouldn’t put in that kind of effort for you.” You retort. You’re unsure where exactly the animosity came from, but you feel it. It’s palpable in the air, the way the two of you already dislike each other. Bucky’s glad you’re returning the sentiment honestly. It’ll make it so much easier to ignore the fact that you’re fucking gorgeous. Gorgeous and pure poison.

---

The update Fury left his house at four in the morning for wasn’t at all the update he was expecting. When his assistant called and told him that there was a new development with the girl he put up in the tower, the girl that HYDRA had experimented on and practically raised with the goal of having her become weapon of mass psychological destruction, he expected to hear that you’d done something apprehensible. Maybe you’d turned the other occupants of the tower against each other and caused a modern-day civil war, maybe you’d figured out a way to level the tower entirely, he had no idea. It wasn’t until five minutes ago when he finally slid into his office chair and viewed the new intel that he felt a bit of relief, and yet a new kind of stress. HYDRA wants you back.

---

No one stays in the tower on the weekends. Sam heads off to see family, Wanda and Vision jet away for weekend stays seemingly anywhere but here, and even Torres has plans. You assume Bucky is gone too, considering you haven’t heard anyone else around since you last saw Sam leaving at sunset.

As you sit comfortably on the couch in the living area, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks, you feel almost at home for once. You’re flipping through the various movie options on Netflix when you hear the elevator ding and the doors begin sliding open. You freeze with your thumb hovering over the remote in your hand as your eyes slowly drift to the left. Bucky Barnes. Of course he doesn’t have any weekend plans. Why would he? The man is practically insufferable anytime he opens his mouth. He shoots you an uninterested look as he steps into the living area and starts pulling his leather jacket off.

Fuck. He’s the one freezing in place when his gaze floats down to your lap and he notices the skin of your thighs. He tosses his leather jacket onto the opposite side of the couch and narrows his eyes at you before moving toward the kitchen for a bottle of water.

“You don’t have pants?” He asks, his disdain for you evident in his tone.

“I was held in captivity for over a decade, what are pants?” He hates when you’re sarcastic.

“Fine, no pants. But you have a TV in your room, don’t you?” He wants you locked away in there where he won’t even have the chance to let his eyes betray the rest of him.

“Are you going to be here all weekend?” You turn your body so you can see him over the back of the couch. You lock eyes with him as he takes a gulp from his water bottle. He notices the way your gaze drifts downward, focusing on his lips for a brief moment before trailing even further down to the tight shirt he’s wearing.

“Yep.” He puts emphasis on the ‘p’ at the end of the small, simple word.

“Do you like movies?” An olive branch, you’re extending an olive branch. If you’re stuck with him as your only company for the next 48 hours, you sure as hell aren’t going to make it easy for him to hate you. Why make yourself any more miserable? In the event that it does that opposite and makes him hate you even more, you’ll still feel like you won.

Your question caught Bucky off guard. You turn to face the TV once again and he watches as you use the remote to rifle through a category titled Action Movies.

“I prefer books.” He says flatly.

“If you can get over yourself for two hours, you could watch something with me. It’s up to you.”

You didn’t expect him to go for it, in fact, you don’t even know if you actually wanted him to. At first, you thought he rejected the offer. He scooped his leather jacket up off of the couch, shot you an unreadable sideways glance, and disappeared into his room, locking the door behind him. You’ve just decided on a movie when Bucky reappears, wearing black sweats and stupidly, only his dog tags adorning his chest. When he comes into view, your eyes immediately wander, taking in the entirety of his build. Fuck. How does someone who acts like such an ass end up looking like such a god? Bucky notices the way your gaze settles just above his waistband and he can’t stop the smirk that takes over his features.

“You don’t have a shirt?” You ask, mimicking his tone from earlier.

“I was held in captivity for decades, what is a shirt?” He didn’t quite mean to let you in on his past, but there it is. You sit before him stunned, your widened eyes dropping down to look over his vibranium arm with a new understanding. “You really haven’t been in my mind, have you?” You shake your head, still unsure of what to say to him. Bucky solves the issue at hand by taking a few more steps forward and sinking into the couch one cushion away from you. “What are we watching?”

---

Shit goes sideways really fast in your life. You were only half an hour into the movie when the power suddenly went out and the dim emergency lights in the hallway kicked on. You and Bucky froze and looked at each other with a mix of confusion and anticipation, both of you feeling that something was off. It was less than a second later when Bucky heard the commotion in the elevator shaft and he knew exactly what was coming. He was on top of you in an instant, forcing your back down on the couch before rolling the both of you off and onto the floor. He managed a second roll once you landed on top of him on the hardwood, making sure that when the movement stopped, you were securely underneath him and his body was shielding yours. You watched his face as he seemed to move on autopilot, reaching up to the coffee table and breaking a glass vase with one hand before using the shards of glass to deter the two men rappelling in through the now blown-in elevator doors. It all happened so fast, seeming to begin and end in all under 10 seconds, before Bucky was shoving you down the hallway toward the emergency stairwell.

He led you down four flights before pulling you through another metal door, into yet another dimly lit hallway. When you were both safely tucked away in a briefing room, he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweats and called Sam, setting it on speaker and placing the device on the table in the center of the room. Now you stand still, frozen, unsure of why you feel almost nothing. No fear, no concern, nothing. You simply feel like you have no control over anything and there’s nothing you can do to help or hurt the current situation. When Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the table, lifting you by your hips to sit you on top of it, you don’t resist.

“Are you okay?” He asks hurriedly, scanning your entire body with his eyes as his hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head from side to side. He’s looking for any sign of injury, but there’s nothing. “Say something.”

“Bucky? What’s going on?” Sam’s voice rings out from the phone on the table, snapping you out of whatever silent haze you were in.

“The tower’s been breached, we need to get out of here, now.” Bucky responds tersely. He still holds your face in his hands. You blink a few times, coming back to your senses, before looking up into his eyes. Relief. You see relief soaking into his features as he realizes you’re fine. “You’re okay?” He needs to hear you say it. You nod slowly, his palms brushing over your cheeks as you do.

“I’m good, I’m okay.” You whisper.

“Can you get down to the garage?” Sam questions. You can hear the sounds of him typing through the phone, probably sending out an alert to everyone he can.

“We’ll figure out a way to.” Bucky assures him.

“I’ll send you an address for a safehouse, you take her there and you stay put. Let me know when you get into a car. Fury says a strike team is already on the way.”

So much for living in the tower being the way to keep you safe.

---

You wouldn’t have expected such a broad, muscular guy to be so stealthy. Bucky got the two of you down to the garage and into a car in what you imagine was record-breaking time. It truly would’ve been a feat if he’d managed to get back upstairs and grab you some pants or himself a shirt as well, but you can see how that wasn’t really an option.

You sit in the passenger seat now, using his phone to text Sam and let him know that you made it out safe and are on the way to the address he sent. It’s quiet in the car for a couple of minutes, the only sounds being the tires against the road and a light rain coming down on the windshield as Bucky speeds down a dark highway. You set his phone in a cupholder by the gearshift before placing your hands on your still bare thighs. In this moment, you wish you could read into Bucky’s thoughts. What’s going on in his head? Does he have any idea who those men might’ve been? What they might’ve been there for? You don’t want to come across as conceited or self-centered but you’re pretty damn sure they were there for you, most likely on behalf of HYDRA. Maybe if you could read into his thoughts, he’d have a different suspicion and it would ease your growing anxiety.

“Is that the first time the tower’s ever been breached?” Your voice comes out too soft, too meek for your own liking. Bucky lets out a deep breath before relaxing in the driver’s seat. He wanted to hear your voice more than he realized.

“As far as I know, yeah.” He says with a nod, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. That isn’t quite what you wanted to hear. Maybe something along the lines of oh no, it happened a hundred times before you moved in would’ve made you feel better. Bucky doesn’t like the quiet that takes over the car after he gives you his answer. It feels tense, and not your typical can’t-stand-each-other kind of tense. “There are a million different reasons they could’ve been there.” He knows what you’re thinking, that they were more than likely there for you.

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better.” Your voice isn’t so soft anymore.

“You think they were there for you.”

“It makes the most sense, HYDRA has never really been known to let shit go.”

“I know.” He says it so emotionlessly but the way the realization settles on your shoulders is anything but. You feel what can only be described as a fist wrapping around your heart and squeezing it. He knows. He knows about HYDRA, he knows how they operate. He knows because he’s been through their shit, probably even more intensely than you.

“I don’t have any pants.” You mumble, pushing away the heavy topic of the most heinous organization that you know to exist. Bucky chuckles under his breath as he steers the car around a curve. He finds you annoyingly likable for someone he’s intent on hating.

When you pull up to the safehouse forty-five minutes later, you’re more than relieved to see that though it’s a very small cabin on the outskirts of a national park, there are two bedrooms. After checking in with Sam on the phone, you leave Bucky in the living room while you wander down the short hallway, trying to decide which bedroom you’ll be calling your own tonight.

“Did you take me off of speaker?” Sam asks Bucky in a hushed tone, praying you’re out of earshot. Bucky sinks into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose with the index finger and thumb of his vibranium hand.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“She was the target tonight. HYDRA wants her back. They don’t want her dead, they want her back.”

“And you didn’t want to say this to her?” Bucky asks in a whisper.

“She probably has PTSD from what they did to her all of those years, there’s no sense in upsetting her if we don’t have to yet. For now, as long as she’s safe with you, we don’t have to tell her.” Sam explains quickly. Bucky can hear the din of an airport coming through the phone speaker. Sam’s trying his best to get back to New York on short notice, which tells Bucky it’s definitely serious.

“She already has her suspicions.” Bucky points out. He glances over his shoulder and down the hall, just as you’re stepping out of one bedroom and into the next.

“Just…don’t let her out of your sight. At all.”

Bucky stays seated on the couch for a few seconds after hanging up the call with Sam. His mind is speed running through the various outcomes of this whole situation. There’s a chance HYDRA already knows about the safehouse and they’re planning to hit it sometime tonight. There’s a chance HYDRA doesn’t know shit about where the two of you are right now and you’re safe at least while you’re here. There’s a chance you get pissed at Bucky and climb out a window in the middle of the night. Fuck. How did he end up being the one here with you?

You’re rummaging through a dresser in the largest bedroom at the back of the cabin when Bucky taps his knuckles on the already open door and steps in. You’re on your knees, digging through the bottom drawer, with your hair falling forward and obscuring your face from him. His eyes follow every move you make as you tuck the hair behind your ear and glance over at him.

“Is this where you’re sleeping?” He asks, tilting his head in the direction of the queen-sized bed. You follow his gaze, taking in the thin blue quilt and sad, flat looking pillows. You nod slowly.

“Yeah.” You respond, pushing the drawer shut and rising to your feet. You were looking for an extra pair of pants but the dresser only seemed to hold various extra blankets, sheets, and towels. Bucky nods, his eyes drifting back to the bed as if he’s deep in thought. When he tosses his phone onto the bed, you narrow your eyes at him. “I said I’m taking this one.”

“We both are.” He says defiantly, taking a step further into the room before closing the bedroom door behind him. He fishes the car keys out of his pocket and drops them on top of the dresser before heading for the bed.

“What the hell does that mean? There are two rooms, two beds. There isn’t a chance in hell we’re sleeping together.” You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head aggressively. You watch him as he starts pulling the covers back on the far side of the bed.

“You just told me that you think those men were there for you. If you’re right, those guys were able to breach the equivalent of a maximum-security prison on steroids. And you want to sleep alone? In a room with a window?” He questions you as if he doesn’t already know that those men were most definitely there for you. He sees hesitation in your eyes, and he knows he’s got you there. You crave safety, security. You won’t fight him very hard on this and he knows it.

“I’m not wearing any pants.” As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, you’re aware that you sound like a damn kid. A whiny kid.

“I’ll give you my pants if you shut up about it already.” Bucky promises. He stands next to the bed, with his hands firmly on his hips, waiting to see what your next move will be.

“Fine, give me your pants and I’ll suffer through the night.”

“In this bed?” He gestures toward it with his vibranium hand. You nod. “Say it.”

“In this bed.” You agree, with every bit of a bad attitude brimming your tone.

It’s not long after that that you find yourself wearing another man’s baggy sweats as you lay mere inches away from him. He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat warming the space beneath the covers, but not so close that there’s a threat of bodily contact.

Bucky’s wide awake beside you. He’s watching in the darkness as the quilt over your side rises up and then drops down again with every inhale and exhale. He usually has trouble sleeping, but knowing exactly who’s after you and what they’re capable of is giving him even more trouble.

“Are you still awake?” You whisper almost inaudibly. You’re facing away from Bucky so you didn’t notice the way he’s been staring at your back, watching you breathe.

“Yeah.” You’re silent for quite a few seconds after his response, but he knows your mind is working overtime. “What?”

“Nothing, I was just wondering.” Another minute of silence goes by before you roll onto your back and heave a deep sigh. Bucky waits patiently. He counts the seconds as they go by. One. Two. Three. Four. F— “If you weren’t there tonight—”

“Don’t think about that.” He warns. His eyes coast over the side of your face. He can see the worry, the stress playing on your features.

“But if you weren’t, I would’ve ended right back where I was.” You voice trembles in the slightest, and you hope he doesn’t notice it. He notices. Bucky’s fists clench beneath the bedsheets.

“You don’t even know if it was them, or if they were after you.” You roll over to face him now and he can see the tears gathering in your eyes, glinting in the moonlight from the window.

“I know.” You say assuredly, without a trace of doubt behind your words. Bucky knows he can’t lie to you, he can’t convince you that you didn’t nearly end up back in HYDRA’s clutches tonight. He can’t lie to you, and he won’t.

“Do you feel safe right now? Here?” He asks, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard it before. You search his face before answering with a small nod. “Focus on that. Don’t work yourself up over what could’ve happened. Just rest tonight and we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

“I’m already worked up, I can’t sleep.”

“I gave you my pants for you to lie here all night and not sleep?” He asks jokingly. You move your leg under the covers and kick his shin lightly. When you start to pull your leg back to your side of the bed, something stops you.

“Do you want them back?” You offer. Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, unsure of where you’re going with this. It’s as if the playfulness of the moment is erasing the fear and stress in your mind, so you go with it. “I’ll give them back.”

“So, all of that complaining about not having pants was what? An attempt to get me out of mine?” Bucky teases. He props his head up on one hand over his pillow, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips.

“You gave in pretty easily, didn’t you? I think you wanted to take them off.” You retort, nudging his leg with yours again. Bucky licks his bottom lip as he gauges the tension growing between the two of you. Is this what you do to help you fall asleep? To test the waters, he places a hand right above the knee of the leg you keep nudging him with. It’s as if his touch sets off an electric spark, you feel it dancing from your knee all the way up to your chest and then right back down. The feeling settles between your legs.

“I was doing you a favor.” He rasps, rubbing light circles on your leg with his thumb. “And I was trying to shut you up.” Silence is becoming familiar between the two of you. You look at him for a long moment, mesmerized by the way his thumb is circling against the fabric of the sweats that he gave you. You find yourself staring first into his eyes, and then at his lips. You’d ask yourself what the hell you’re thinking but, let’s be honest: you’re not thinking.

“Would you do me one more favor?”

“What’s that?” Bucky asks as his hand inches a bit further up your thigh.

“Shut me up.”

---

There are a thousand reasons Bucky can think of to not be doing exactly what he’s doing right now. A thousand reasons to not be sucking on your bottom lip and grinding his erection against your clothed cunt. Maybe even a thousand and one reasons not to be absolutely fucking loving every second of it. But every filthy little moan and whimper that graces his ears only spurs him on. He’s doing you a favor, right?

“This isn’t really shutting you up.” You can feel his smirk against the skin of your neck as he slows the movement of his hips and begins grinding against you at a tortuously useless pace. “Maybe we should try it with the sweats out of the way, see if that shuts you up.”

“Yeah, that’s an idea.” The words come out breathlessly. You place your hands against Bucky’s shoulders and push him off of you. He returns to his side of the bed, trying to calm himself down as you lay beside him and shimmy out of his sweats. As far as he knows, that’s all you’re taking off. But in a moment of boldness, you decided to speed things up a bit and take your panties off with them. When you glance over and see him lying on his back, with the moonlight highlighting the sweat that glistens over the ridges of his abs, all you can think about is him. Being on him, being under him, you need him. He looks back at you with a daring look and you’re sold, you’re straddling his hips, hovering right over his boxers in an instant.

Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat when his flesh palm lands against your hip, just beneath the fabric of your t-shirt, and he only feels skin. Where’s the waistband of your panties? You see the surprise on his face as he grips your hips tighter, keeping you from sitting down and fulling straddling him.

“I thought I said try it with the sweats out of the way.” He tsks playfully. You have no idea how badly he wants to rip his boxers off and plunge his cock so deep inside you that you scream.

“Oops, I must’ve misheard you.” Your mischievous smile makes his cock harden that last little bit, and he can feel the way his balls begin aching to be emptied. He fucking hates you for making him feel this way.

“I should’ve known that being a good girl and listening wasn’t going to be your thing.” He says with a shake of his head. You’re about to say something else teasing and sarcastic when Bucky’s fingers dig into your hips sharply, surely leaving bruises, and he forces you to sit down across the hard shaft of his cock. Your wet cunt instantly soaks the fabric of his boxers and within two seconds, he can feel how wet you really are for him. For him. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you. He has to remind himself repeatedly as you begin circling your hips, because he fears he’s quickly forgetting that fact. You grind down with a little more pressure and he can feel a bead of precum slipping down the head of his cock. A soft groan slips out of him and he starts pushing your t-shirt up higher and higher until he’s pulling it over your head. The pale moonlight is just enough to let him see your bare chest and again, he’s chanting in his head. He hates you. He’s just doing this to make you feel better, to get your mind off of the HYDRA shit so you can sleep tonight. That’s all it is, right? A favor. As you lean down and start kissing and sucking on the skin of his neck, he feels your fingertips slowly dragging his boxers down by the waistband. He hates you.

At some point, Bucky helped you get his boxers all the way down his legs and he kicked them off and away until they were lost beneath the mess of sheets and blankets atop the bed. When your hand fisted around his cock the first time, he rutted into your hand without meaning to. It was like instinct. You wrapped your fist around him a little tighter and pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss as he thrusted into your hand a second time, letting his precum wet your palm and then using it as lube. You would’ve been satisfied letting him fuck your hand, honestly. You probably could’ve orgasmed just from that experience alone, but you didn’t need him knowing you were that easy for him. That’s what got you to where you are now,

“I hate you.” You lie straight through your teeth as you drag your cunt back and forth along the length of his cock. Every time the head of it rubs against your clit, Bucky can feel your thighs tremble on either side of him and he’s fighting the urge to bend you over the bed and ruin you.

“I hate you too.” He lies right back. When you look into each other’s eyes, you both know there isn’t much truth coming from either of your mouths. “Sit on my cock.”

Never have you ever been one to listen when a man tells you what to do, until this moment, with Bucky Barnes. He watches as you position the head of his cock just right at your entrance. You’d think a man would want to watch as his entire length disappears inside of you, but no. Bucky looks up at your face as soon as the tip notches inside you. He watches with heavy breaths and groans falling from his lips as your mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ shape and your eyes scrunch closed at the way your walls stretch to fit him in.

“That’s it, don’t stop until you take it all.” Filthy. He’s fucking filthy. And you listen to every word he says, sinking down until you feel his balls pressing firmly against your ass. “Shit.” When he finally tears his eyes away from your face and gets a look at where you’re so deeply connected, he can’t fucking stand it. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. “You have to move.” He groans, slipping his flesh hand further back from your hip to grab your ass.

“I can’t.” You whimper, leaning forward and bracing your hands on the mattress, on either side of his head.

“Move or get off of my cock.” You’d almost be offended if you didn’t know that he’s saying that because he’s close to blowing his load in you too early. You can feel the way his balls are tightening against your ass and you know he’s desperate. So, you try. You lift yourself up one single inch, and then slide back down. Then two inches, then back down. You repeat it over and over slowly, building up a rhythm as your own pleasure begins to grow. “Fuck, maybe you’re a good listener after all.”

“Stop talking.” You moan out, picking up the pace. You’re fully fucking his cock now, your bodies making obscene sounds as skin slaps against skin repeatedly. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, hate me a little more and see what that gets you.” He taunts, squeezing your ass with both hands and using his grasp there to help guide the up and down movement of your hips. You’re close and truthfully, you don’t even want to tell him.

The trouble really starts when he moves his flesh hand to your lower stomach and presses his thumb against your clit, offering a delicious friction there as you ride his dick. The increase in pleasure makes it even harder to think straight. You’re not thinking straight in the slightest when you move your hands to his chest, not paying attention to the fact that you have one hand over his heart.

“I’m close.” You whimper, earning you another squeeze of your ass with his vibranium hand and a bit more pressure against your clit. Your eyes are shut tightly as you focus on the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls and the tip of it nearing your cervix with every snap of your hips.

When you open your eyes and look down at him, his blue eyes flit up to meet yours and that’s when you realize the mistake you’ve made. He starts rubbing circles against your clit the moment your eyes meet, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes in like a tidal wave, sweeping and relentless. With your hands on Bucky’s bare chest and your eyes locked, you lose the last shred of control you have, the last morsel of control over your abilities slips from your grasp. He feels it. Bucky feels every bit of pleasure that’s coursing through your body, he feels every thought in your mind, he hears your inner voice screaming for him. In the heat of the moment, you pour every sensation that you’re feeling straight into Bucky’s nervous system.

He can’t even speak as his orgasm hits ten times harder than it ever has before. He knows it’s coming from the eye contact and your hand on his chest, he can feel the uncharacteristic coolness beneath your palm that rests over his heart. It’s why he clamps his own hand over yours on his chest and uses his vibranium arm to wrap around your back and pull you down against him. As Bucky’s cum paints your walls, filling you so full that it starts dripping down his shaft, he can’t stop thrusting up into you. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

“Bucky, I’m…” You suck in a deep breath as you collapse on his chest, though he keeps your hand anchored over his heart. “I’m full, I can’t…” He shushes you as he continues pushing his cock up into your pussy. He slows but doesn’t stop.

“Don’t move.” He’s begging. Though his tone doesn’t sound like it, he’s fully aware that that’s what he’s doing. You haven’t fully caught your breath yet, but a soft laugh leaves your lips.

“Move or get off of my cock.” You repeat his earlier words playfully.

“I hate you.”

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#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Text

No, soldier, no.

Synopsis: You have been transferred to a British military base to work with Ghost on a new mission. As a non-native English speaker, you are not very keen on British slang/culture and need some time to pick up on things. Ghost tries to help you navigate through your language barriers and finds it rather amusing in the process.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,287

Notes:

Dedicated to all the non-native English speakers like myself who are trying their best and to the native English-speaking friends who teach us without judgment.

I’m not good at writing combat and action scenes yet, so I gave them another sedentary job once again.

You voted fluff; I give you something similar—a cute crackfic.To those who voted angst, I’ll give it to you next time, promise.

WARNING: Swearing. Again.

Want more?

———————————————————————

“And this,” you point at the spread map on the table, “is the enemy’s safe house.”

He looks at the pinpoint with furrowed eyebrows, giving small and repeated nods.

“Did we get clearance on what time to strike?” He asks, his eyes fixed on the mark as if he’s conversing with that little red pin.

“No sir, not yet,” you reply, “the Captain will come shortly to brief us on that matter.”

He stands up straight. His focus is still fixed on the map, trailing with his eyes along the road you marked. “Who’s coming with us?” He asks.

“Captain left some files on your desk, sir,” you explain, “he said that we should go through them together and choose the right recruits for the job.”

“Together?” he turns at you with the same expression he was looking at the pinpoint.

“Yes, sir, together.”

“I can do that on my own, soldier.”

“Of course, you can,” you say, “but this is a joint mission, and I get to have some saying as well, no?”

“No.” He states.

“No?”

“No.” He repeats. “I’ll lead them, so I’m the one who gets to choose the right people for my team,” he claims, walking to his desk to check on the new recruits’ files.

You clear your throat. “And my side has to have a saying to that, sir.” You reply with as much authority as you can.

He gives you a side eye, opens a file and begins to read, ignoring your statement.

You knew he was difficult; they told you that much. Simon “Ghost” Riley likes to work alone, they said. And when you asked them what this so-called Ghost does when he’s on a joint mission with other forces, they replied with the same statement; that he’s being difficult.

But you have worked with difficult people before. Most of them are like that in the force, especially regarding hierarchy. Little did he know that you had the upper hand in this situation. Difficult people hate having to deal with other difficult people.

“No problem,” you say, acting agreeable, “I just want to warn you that some of the people in those files are not very obedient and don’t like to be ordered around.”

“There’s no such thing in the army, soldier.”

“Oh, but there is, lieutenant,” you say, hiding a smile, “especially if they’re the Captain’s godson or the General’s nephew; they tend to slack a lot.”

“Fucking bastards,” he swears and rolls his eyes. He leaves the file before him and picks the rest of the pile, swearing profanities. He begins shuffling through the papers with eagerness. You speculate he’s trying to find the people you’re referring to. A sign that indicates a blood relation with the General, birth certificates, notes that specify who baptised who, perhaps. Of course, he can’t find anything, and he gives up.

“Which of these fuckers are they?” he finally asks, throwing the papers on his desk.

“May I approach your desk to show you, Lieutenant?” You ask out of politeness.

“Oh, no, no need to do that, Y/N,” he replies sarcastically. He looks at the mess he created with the scattered papers, “just point them to me telepathically, and I’ll discard them.”

You stare at him, and he meets your gaze. You didn’t get any definite answer from him, so you are waiting for a clear answer, just like they taught you to do ever so obediently. Unfortunately, he misunderstands your stance.

“Please tell me you’re not actually trying to send me information via brainwaves, soldier,” he comments with a desperate tone.

“I was just waiting for an answer, Lieutenant.” You explain.

He keeps staring at you before he lets another exhale and rubs his eyes.

“Yes, Y/N,” he says, opening his arms wide, almost theatrically. “You may approach my desk and pinpoint those brats at me, just like you did with that checkmark before on the map.”

You nod and do as you are told. You sit opposite Ghost’s desk and start sorting out the messy papers. “Apologies, sir,” you say, “sometimes it’s tough to understand when you’re being sarcastic.”

He looks at you dumbfounded. “At what point did you think I wasn’t being sarcastic when referring to telepathy?” He asks.

“Well, it was between sarcastic or angry, sir,” you explain, looking embarrassed, “and I didn’t want to take my chances.”

He rubs his forehead and stays still for a while. You peak at him from the corner of your eye; he looks like he’s calming down, contemplating. As if he’s reflecting on his actions.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, “I sometimes forget we have a language barrier.”

“And cultural.” You add.

“And cultural.” He agrees.

You both begin to collaborate on the recruits’ profiles. You discard the ones you know are not fit for the job (i.e. the ones that will clash with Ghost and his personality) and hand him the shortlisted ones. He begins muttering something about “CROW bags”, and you look at him like a puppy trying to understand the “sit” command. He patiently explains that “CROW bags” stand for “Combat Recruit Of War”, which, in the British army, is a soldier fresh out of training, a newbie, and therefore not fit for the job. When you ask him what the “bag” means, he shrugs and says he doesn’t know. You shortlist five profiles you’re both happy with and agree to wrap them up. You lean on the desk and stand up.

“Sir,” you say, still leaning on the table, “you need to change your desk.”

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks.

“It’s wanky, sir.”

You’ve never seen him turn with such force to look at you. He shakes his head vigorously like he’s forcing thoughts to travel from his brain to his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to suppress a laugh, “my desk is what?”

“Wanky,” you repeat with confidence, “all this time that we’ve been going back and forth with the files, the table was wanking.”

“The table was…” he leans back in his chair and covers his already concealed mouth with his gloved hand.

“…wanking, sir,” you complete his sentence, “here, look,” and proceed to shake the unsteady desk.

“You need to either get a new desk or screw this one better, sir.” You advise him, now examining the desk’s legs. He pinches his nose’s bridge and murmurs something like “table, you fucking wanker” under his breath before finally gathering the courage to explain.

“No, soldier, it’s not—“

But as he speaks, Captain Price interrupts your conversation and walks into the office. He looks at Ghost, who is almost teary-eyed from the suppressed laugh and then at you.

“What are you two up to?” He asks with a smile, holding his tactical vest with his thumbs in its pockets. Ghost gestures for him to stop talking.

“I was just telling the lieutenant—” you begin, but Ghost interrupts you.

“The table is wonky, or rather wobbly, and I need to tighten the bolts.” He says and gives you a meaningful look. Epiphany strikes you, and you widen your eyes.

Price shakes the desk and looks at you both. “Look at that,” he says, “you’re right, Y/N”, and shoots you one of his signature smiles, only to be met by the red hue that has spread across your face from embarrassment and eyes threatening to bolt from your head. You lower your head in response. Price moves his gaze from you to Ghost in confusion.

“We managed to shortlist a few, Capt,” he says to Price changing the conversation.

“Very well,” Price says. “Any good?”

“Yes,” you reply, “only the good ones—no CROW bars.”

“It’s bags, kid,” Ghost whispers, and Price chuckles slightly, “CROW bags.”

———————————————————————

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upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

Text

CH10. Cheque, Please! | The Menu [2.2K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

ONE YEAR LATER

The diner was packed.

Tables were full, the large room a buzz of chatter and music, the speakers playing an old sixties bop. It was a familiar sight, one that happened more often than not since Jim sold the diner. The new owner ripped the place apart, down to its old bones before he put his life savings into it.

New floors, new tables and chairs, artwork on the walls that were signed by Argyle, a photo of the whole staff taken and framed by Jonathan, Jim Hopper at the forefront, a wide smile on his face on the last day before his retirement. The bulbs in the neon sign outside had been replaced so it no longer flickered, the green and blue glow of it now announcing the diner’s new name, proud and bright for everyone to see.

Eddie’s Slice Of Chicago.

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out as you entered the kitchen empty plates piled high in your arms and Jonathan took them from you with practised ease.

Steve was on the grill, still hesitant and not as fast as Argyle, but he was flipping burgers quicker than he had last week. His chef whites were brand new, his name badge shiny and his front of house position taken over by Nancy. Everyone was in new uniforms, freshly pressed and a sage green, aprons still without stains and a pocketful of pens that didn’t run out of ink too quickly. Robin was taking orders, laughing with a family from out of town, letting their toddler grab at her finger as she promised them to return soon with their pizzas and shakes. Dustin was helping Max run a large order to a table of backpackers, a border collie under the table at their feet, getting its ears scratched by the new start, Mike.

There was a sign on the staff notice board, up beside the employee of the month, a piece of ripped paper with the words “SIXTY FOUR DAYS SINCE THE LAST FREEZER BREAKDOWN.” The rest of the space was filled with staff photos, polaroids and prints of the group at a fourth of July picnic, a barbecue at Jim’s in the summer, huddled around the kitchens countertops in the winter, drinking from mugs filled with Argyle’s homemade horchata, the frame that held Billy’s scrawled termination letter, an old napkin that held a small conversation in pen.

It felt more like home than ever. Even when Eddie wasn’t there.

Everyone answered to you in his absence, unofficially in charge when the boss wasn’t here. It had taken some getting used to, hell, you’d even tried to pawn off the responsibility to Nancy, or Steve, anyone who’d been at the grill longer than you had. But Nancy was part time, back at college during the week, taking Robin on dates in the evenings and Steve was too busy being trained as a new prep chef to worry about invoices and deliveries.

So you stepped into the role cautiously, softening to the idea when Eddie kissed you something fierce and told you that there wasn’t anyone else he trusted to do the job. His acceptance letter had come the month after taking over the diner. A thick, white envelope that lay heavy on your doormat because he’d finally moved in, sharing your small apartment with you like he did everything else.

Clothes. Jewellery. Books. Records. Food. Kisses.

Vincennes University offered Eddie the chance to do what he hadn’t been able to before. Refining his craft, learning new skills, working in a state of the art kitchen with equipment he’d come home and gush to you about. The diner was doing well enough that tuition wasn’t a worry anymore and suddenly, the long commute into Indianapolis for classes four days a week seemed worth it. Eddie was passing with flying colours, receiving accolades and opportunities at every given moment and when he came home, exhausted but happy, he came home to you.

Bone tired, he’d slip into the apartment, socked feet padding gently over the floorboards, Tupperware full of something delicious to be stacked in the fridge. He’d find you curled up somewhere, a black cat called Basil in the nook of your bent legs. He’d kiss you sweet, he’d kiss you soft, warming you up to a simmer until you forgot how much you’d missed him that day.

It was all worth it.

“Table eighteen wants extra hash browns and booth six needs two pepperoni’s and the Hawkins special, chefs,” you called to Steve as you slapped the orders onto the bar.

“Got it,” Steve and Argyle called back, one a little more nervously than the other but it was okay, ‘cause Eddie was home soon.

Eddie was home soon.

He’d called from a pay phone outside of the school, voice buzzing with excitement, with pride, and yours mirrored his back. He’d be on the train soon, he’d meet you at the apartment, if you could get away early. So you handed your keys to Nancy and she grinned, knowing there was a cause for celebration waiting at home for you. You drove Eddie’s van back along the road, coming into town on the familiar stretch, passing Wayne’s, the trailer park you both visited every Sunday for dinner.

The apartment door was unlocked, dimly lit in the early fall gloom, already smelling like garlic and tomatoes, like fresh bread and the scent of Eddie cologne that lingered on his jacket that hung in the hallway. Eddie’s records were in the shelves by your books, his guitar hanging from a hook in the tiny office room, his shoes on the bench by the door. He’d transformed your kitchen when he’d moved in, a decision that had been all too easy to make. There were pots and pans hanging from the rack, shiny, sharp knives that he was scared of you using without him there, jars and tubs of ingredients stacked high in the fridge and the pantry. There were fresh herbs in planters on the window sill. The radio always played.

The kitchen always felt like the heart of the home.

That’s where you found Eddie, sweater sleeves rolled up and grinning at you from the stove top, a large spoon in hand as he mixed in some fresh rosemary to the pot of sauce. He greeted you with a glass of wine, the cheap stuff that you liked best, catching you in a kiss before you could bring the cup to your lips.

He kissed you soft, kissed you sweet, humming when you laughed into his mouth, his free hand slipping inside of your shirt to ghost his fingers over your ribs.

“Hi,” you whispered. You’d never tire of this. This warmth, this kind of greeting, this feeling of coming home. “Good day?”

Eddie nodded, stealing another kiss, catching the corner of your mouth. He gazed at you, eyes shining with excitement and you could practically feel the buzz in his bones for what he was about to say.

“I got it.”

You blinked, once, before your smile turned into a grin and it stretched wide. You barely had the common sense to place your wine on the countertop before you launched yourself at the boy, your arms wound round his neck as your crushed your face into his curls. Eddie whooped, a joyful thing as he lifted you off your feet and grinned against your throat.

“You got it,” you whispered back to him, everything in you frilled with awe and pride.

“I got it,” he repeated again. His voice sounded thick.

The internship with Chef Emmelie was something that everyone in Eddie’s class was vying for. Eddie had spent an insane amount of time on his application, using you as his own personal taste tester in both work and home. New recipes were concocted, old dishes were reworked and it had all paid off. Eddie had been hand picked to work alongside one of the country’s greats, assisting in setting up a new restaurant, a fine dining establishment that promised to deliver nothing but the best cuisine to the masses. Eddie would help create the menu, and hopefully, maybe, eventually, take over as head chef.

It was another level of surreal.

“I knew you would,” you mumbled into his neck, pulling back only to crush Eddie’s cheeks in the palms of your hands and give him a kiss that ducked his breath away. His lips tasted salty, but perhaps that was your own tears you could taste. Eddie just held onto you tighter, his stew mix bubbling away without any attention. “Where is it? Have they told you where you’re setting up?”

You’d held Eddie’s hand as he clutched his application letter and promised him that no matter where they sent him, you’d follow. The only thing that tied you to Hawkins, was the boy and Basil was easy enough to smuggle into a cat carrier, once you could catch him. Wayne had squashed any hesitancy from Eddie immediately, waving him off and saying that there would be private jets for each of you once he hit the big time as the new celebrity chef. And of course, there was the diner.

Eddie laughed then, a breathy, disbelieving thing and he finally shuffled to settle you onto the small dining table that sat in the corner of the kitchen. He nudged his way in between your legs, sniffling when Basil appeared to wind around his own ankles and the only sounds were the purring of the cat and the simmering of dinner. You held your breath, brows raised, expectant.

London? Dubai? Paris? Los Angeles?

“They wanna set up in Chicago.”

—————

Going back to the city you left was a lot less daunting with Eddie by your side.

Wayne moved out of the trailer park and into your apartment, something that made leaving a little easier for Eddie. He still owned the diner, and promised to stop by at least a few times a month if scheduling around the new restaurant would allow. He’d found a new manager, a woman from town called Joyce who loved to bake and knew enough about taxes and accounting that she didn’t fuck up order and invoices. She loved the place like Eddie did, promised she’d do it proud.

(She met Jim on Sunday in summer and after she served him her famous cherry cheesecake, one date in the park had turned into three, into five and now they were inseparable. They spent most of their time walking around town, visiting farmers and Jim enjoyed his retirement by helping Joyce create new desserts for the diner.)

Eddie’s internship came with an apartment in the suburbs, a small townhouse that was far enough from the hustle of the city that you felt more at home than before. It was less bright, less loud and Basil had a garden to roam in, a bench beside a vegetable patch he could bathe in the sun from.

It had a pantry and old oak floors, a huge window that looked out onto the street that was lined with cherry trees, and a nook in the living room that you liked to read in. You found a job, pretty easily, a vintage bookstore on the edge of town that smelled like coffee and cinnamon, old pages and older stories. It was owned by an old man who let his dog sleep under the front desk, who brought in pastries for breakfast and made you sweet tea in the summer.

The restaurant opened in the spring. Hit headlines the following day, praising the special on the menu made by newcomer chef, Edward Munson. By the summer, the heat was climbing and so was Eddie’s popularity. He was running the restaurant, got to create a new menu every six weeks and the waitlist was booked out until Christmas. He told you he loved you every time you paid him a visit, on your lunch break, a whisper between a kiss hello and goodbye in the kitchen, coy whistles from his staff that he burned pink at.

And when you both drove back to Hawkins for long weekends and holiday stays, you crammed yourselves and Basil into your old apartment with Wayne, packed his freezer full of food and tried to convince him to take in one (maybe two) of the strays from the trailer park to keep him company.

You spent the Fourth of July with the diner crew, in the backyard of Jim and Joyce’s new home, sharing Polaroids and newspaper clippings of the restaurant, of your new home, Eddie’s menu. Steve was in awe but nothing could beat the look of pride on your boyfriend’s face when Steve told him he’d mastered a French omelette. Argyle was running the kitchen, Nancy had been promoted to assistant manager, part time or not, and Robin had helped Jonathan in running a Sunday morning coffee club, where Hawkins residents got to taste test new bean flavours over a pastry breakfast and some town gossip.

Eddie didn’t scowl much, not anymore.

And when you next bumped into Chrissy, you waved at her from under the tuck of Eddie’s arm, diamond ring glinting on your left hand in the sun. She didn’t have much to say to you, not after that.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff

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moniquill · 2 months

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Call to action! The Seaconke Wampanoag Tribe is lasking everyone to please contact House Speaker K. Joseph Shekarchi and Senate President Dominick J Ruggiero to ask for their support for House Bill H7477. We’re asking that you send a letter to [email protected], [email protected] - YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE LOCAL FOR THIS PART!

If you live in RI, include the rep of the district that you live in (check here https://www.commoncause.org/find-your-representative/ to find who your rep is and here http://webserver.rilegislature.gov/Email/RepEmailListDistrict.asp for their contact information)

Below is the letter that I’ve sent, to use as a template, though of course your own words would be best.

My name is Monique Poirier - I’m the Secretary of the Seaconke Wampanoag tribe. I’m writing today in hopes of bringing your attention to RI House Bill H7477 (https://legiscan.com/RI/bill/H7477/2024), which regards recognition of the Seaconke Wampanoag Tribe.

Historically, the Seaconke Wampanoag resided in Massachusetts and Rhode Island - Cumberland, Lincoln, Pawtucket, and East Providence. When the state lines were drawn, dividing Massachusetts and Rhode Island, the tribe was divided. Due to patterns of migration, a majority of the tribe now resides in Rhode Island. Recognizing the tribe in Rhode Island would allow all members of our tribe to be recognized in the state that they live in. I myself co-own a home, pay taxes, and vote in Pawtucket.

We are only asking for recognition; we are not asking for money or land, and we have no interest in establishing a gaming facility - only for the state to acknowledge that we are still here.

Recognizing the Seaconke Wampanoag Tribe in the state of Rhode Island would give us access to federal funding, which would benefit Rhode Island as well - it would bring money into the state.

This bill would recognize the Seaconke Wampanoag tribe as a Native American Indian Tribe for the limited purpose of establishing eligibility for federal education, job training, healthcare, and housing benefits - and the federal protection of the sale of Native Artwork by the members of our tribe. Our goal is to more effectively pursue support for tribal healthcare and education initiatives, to protect our cultural sites, and to practice our culture and arts. We sincerely hope to gain your support in our efforts.

If you’d like to run a small story on any platform concerning the efforts of the Seaconke Wampanoag tribe, please contact:

Chief Darrel Waldron - 401-781-1098, [email protected]

First Councilman John Falcon Harris - 401-699-1913, [email protected]

To learn more about our tribe and its history, please visit https://www.seaconkewampanoag.org/

Many thanks for your consideration,

Monique Poirier

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lua-magic · 4 months

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Mercury and your buisness Mind .

This blog is for those specially who wants to get into business or are confused between job and buisness or what kind of business would suit them.

Mercury is our logical mind, we also call it our business mind.

Which ever house Mercury sits in your chart that house related work or buisness you can easily get into.

Mercury in ancendent.

Native is made for business, he/she can get into any business and be successful. Such native has got strong business mind

Mercury in second houses

Mercury is exalted here, it makes you great speaker here, however this house is of family, so native can get into family Buisness or run buisness with family.

This house is alsovforbfood, so if moon is exalted then native can go into food related or kitchen or cloud kitchen business as well.

Mercury in third House.

Native would be great in communication, media, tours and travel and commission related work or business. If Mars is exalted then native can work with his siblings as well.

Mercury here decreases your courage, so native would be unwilling to take initiative, but if Mercury is not afflicted then person could work with his friends and would get support from his friends as well.

Mercury in fourth house.

There are two placement of Mercury which is tricky, one is fourth and second is in ninth house.

Whenever Mercury sits with moon or in cancer, Mercury make native obsessive and disturbs the mental peace of native.

It gives native OCD, especially if moon is afflicted then it causes anxiety, fear and overthinking.

As Mercury is fast moving planet so it makes moon highly disturbed 😧.

Remedy.

Remedy is to actually, decrease the strength of Mercury, ie, Mercury is your friend and social circle, such native should sit in isolation and should have minimum friends, Quality over quantity.

For gains and Money this placement is excellent.

Well, such natives are good in real estate, and with land related work or business.

They can also go for home related buisness like home decoration, or selling home decoration, furniture, luxury furniture, especially if their Venus is also exalted.

Mercury fifth House.

Best placement for Mercury, native is fast learner and life long Lerner and teacher.

Native would be successful due to his own intelligence, and learning.

Native could be author and writer as well.

Native could also opt for teaching and counseling.

Native can also do books related buisness.

Native is great with children and could get into buisness that is for kids, like, children book, teaching, selling toys or even writing children novel.

Mercury in sixth house.

This is the only placement where Mercury is comfortable doing job as it loves to solve day today problems, it is great problem solver here

But, you can go into service related buisness like, food service, taxi services any buisness that provides service to its customers.

Mercury is seventh house.

Relationship wise this is problematic placement, as Mercury is asexual planet and also fast moving planet, so it creates problems in relationship but buisness wise it is an excellent placement.

Native can get into retail buisness, or go for branding, networking, even make themselves as big brand.

Mercury in eitgth House.

Native thinks alot about money and gains, and money wise it is good only when native is involved in eighth house related work like Bank, insurance, CA, occult, auditing, digital marketing , crypto currency such person could also become great detective, they can go into Research and development as well.

Native is great when it comes to dealing with other's money 🤑, they make good salesman as well.

Mercury ninth house

Here, placement is challenging as Mercury damages the Jupiter, Mercury is selfish, while Jupiter is divine and loves to give that is why Jupiter rules twelfth house which house is house of giving.

Jupiter also rules ninth house, which house of Dharma, religion and rules, and Mercury being prince doesn't like to follow rules

So, when you have this placement then it is better you get into business where religion is involved like selling religious books so, you can save your Jupiter and Mercury is also happy.

But, be careful never go against morality in business because you will block all your blessings.

Native can sell, religious ornaments, things or books.

Mercury in tenth house 🏠.

Such people are great sales person and excellent at marketing and PR, these are the person who would sell comb to a bald person.

So, they make great salesman and marketing.

Such native could also work with government,or collaborate with government like government tender and work with them.

Mercury in eleventh house.

Such natives are great with masses, friends and are good in dealing with large number of people.

They should get into work that involves large numbers of people like forming corporative society, NGO, even they make great speaker, counsellor and teachers. People love to follow them, hence, they make great influencers as well

Mercury in twelfth House.

This is not good placement for Mercury and Mercury is uncomfortable here, Piesces is deep ocean and Mercury being prince doesn't like to go in dark, Mercury is also selfish so it doesn't like the idea of unconditional giving and charity which is also twelfth house.

But, twelfth house is also of, foreign land, meditation, spirituality, yoga, charity, and investment.

So, person could either work outside their motherland or get into import and export business.

They can also do business related to meditation, yoga, and spirituality.

They can also go for investment.

Now, Mercury also your speaking skills, If Mercury is afflicted by malefics then person would be extremely rude with thier words and would hurt lot of people.

When Mercury is with Mars native can go for automobiles or even in technical line.

#spirituality #occult #vedic astrology #astro community #astro observations #astro notes #astrology

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fxirysforesight · 3 months

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Future Career Pick A Card

Directions: Take 3 Mindful Breaths and Pick The Work Set-Up That Attracts You The Most!

Disclaimer: This is a general reading. It may not resonate for everyone and that's okay! If you are having trouble choosing a pile, take a minute to relax and then try again.

Pile One:

What Career Path Is Pile One Looking To Go Into?

Judgment, 9 of Cups, 4 of Swords

I feel like this is my Legal Studies, Politics, and Healthcare Pile. A lot of you are looking to go into Law or careers where you feel as though you are doing the right thing. You may want to go into careers where you are representing people or being a voice of reason for someone. You all seem to be problem solvers or at least interested in conflict-resolution based careers. Those of you who chose this pile are probably all or nothing people. I don't think a lot of you have any Plan B's or C's. You probably decided very early on what you want to be or do and that's what your heart is set on. You are looking for a career that has everything that you want. A career that fits your wants and needs and is a source of fulfillment for you is ideal Pile One.

These Are Some Careers I See You All Looking To Go Into/Be: Lawyers, Judges, Administration, Healthcare (Doctor or Nurse, a Veterinarian as well), Legal Work, Therapist (Mental Health, Massage, Etc.), Yoga or Meditation Instructor? For some of you, I see jobs where you are the Middle Man like for example a Hiring Recruiter.

What Career Path Is Best For Pile One?

8 of Cups Rx, The High Priestess, Strength

Pile One, you need to go into a career path that you know you won't walk away from. A career path that is sustainable for YOU. Regardless of the pay or whatever other constraints there may be, you need to find a job that satisfies your soul and not just your financial or social needs. I said before how I think that you all may enjoy conflict-resolution careers. It would be best for you all to find a career from which you can learn from or solve problems within. You would likely excel in careers that involve caring for someone or something in some way, shape, or form.

These Are Some Careers I Think You Would Excel In: Healthcare (Doctor, Nurse, Vet, Psychiatrist, Psychologist) Detective Work, Professor or Teacher, Guru, Counselor, Medium, Psychic, Astrologer, Tarot Reader.

Significators: French, Frenchie, or French Tips, Aries, Spring Months (March, April, May), 20+, Dyed Hair, "Not Yet", 444, Libra, 7th House Placements (Specifically Mercury and Sun), Strong Pisces, 12th House Sun or Moon, Moon and Neptune Dominant, Leo or 5th House Placements.

Pile Two: (This Pile was very similar to Pile One. If you felt drawn to that Pile go and give it a read and see if it resonates!)

What Career Path Is Pile Two Looking To Go Into?

5 of Swords Rx, The Star, The Wheel Of Fortune

The first thing I saw and heard was "Giving Back". This is my Humanitarian pile. A lot of you are likely studying or wanting to study Humanitarian Studies. You likely find yourself leaning towards careers or social endeavors that benefit not only yourself but the rest of the world as well. Your ultimate goal in a career is overcoming challenges, compromising or ending a conflict of some sort. You all want to change the world and give the up and coming generations inspiration and hope for a better world to live in. You want renewal. A fresh start.

These Are Some Careers I See You All Looking To Go Into/Be: Public Service, Tech and IT Jobs, Motivational Speakers or Anything To Do With Public Speaking, Freelancers or Non Contract Workers, Nonprofit Organization Workers, Health and Safety Professionals, Human Rights Activists, Scientists, Researchers, Entrepreneurs, Advocates, Social Workers.

What Career Path Is Best For Pile Two?

The Emperor, 4 of Swords Rx, Ace of Wands

Pile Two, you need to go into a career path where you have the opportunity to lead. A career path that offers you stability and structure. A career path that is practical and logical according to your own needs. All jobs will make you feel stress, but I would advise you to enter a career that provides you with the sanctuary you need to rest and recuperate. I feel like those of you who chose this pile get tired or burnt out pretty quick? Extroverts with low social betteries? It would do you well to enter into careers that you see yourself building a future off of. Additionally, for some of you I think jobs that are more hands on and interactive would be better for you. Careers that provide you with passion, action, and excitement!

These Are Some Careers and Career Titles I Think You Would Excel At: Self Employment, CEO's or Bosses, Government Based Careers, Entrepreneurs, Engineers, Military, Managers, Administration, Manual Labor, Tech and IT Jobs, Freelancing, Careers That Allow You To Travel, Sports or Athletics. This Pile has a VERY strong Masculine Energy. A lot of you may find yourselves in Male Dominated Career Paths, and you may have a lot of Masculine Energy in your Natal Charts as well.

Significators: Aries, Leo, Aquarius, Libra, Spanish, 10th House Mercury, 10th House Uranus, Chart Ruler in 11th House, Air and Fire Dominants, Mars in 1st or 10th, Libra Mercury, Sun-Mars and Sun-Saturn Aspects, 555, Aquarius Midheaven and DSC, Uranus Dominant.

Pile Three:

What Career Path Is Pile Three Looking To Go Into?

Queen of Wands, Queen of Cups, Page of Cups Rx

Creative Workers. A lot of you who chose this pile may have struggles or are currently struggling with finding the career path that suits you. You WANT to do a certain career, but you may think that you NEED to do another career because the career you dream of is unrealistic or out of reach or maybe just doesn't fall into your life plans or budget. You are likely searching for a career that you have an emotional connection to. Although money is important to you, you're not really concerned too much about monetary matters, because you know that you can't be happy in a career that doesn't speak to you. You want a career that you get excited about being able to do, a career that allows you to feel as though you are in control of your own life. A lot of you want to work with kids and young people, I can tell.

These Are Some Careers I See You All Looking To Go Into/Be: Elementary School Teachers, Leaders of Some Kind, Child Counselors, Midwives, Nannies, Children's Book Authors, Music Teachers, Singers, Poets, Interior Design, Home Business (Maybe a Daycare), Family Therapist, Realtor or Real Estate. In contrast to Pile Two, there is a lot of Feminine Energy in this pile. You all may find yourselves in Female Dominated career paths and you may have an abundance of Feminine Energy in your chart.

What Career Path Is Best For Pile Three?

King of Swords, The Chariot, Justice

Pile Three, I would advise you all to go into career paths where you have structure and routine. A lot of you who chose this pile have very strong morals and values with all of this watery energy here. You are kind and empathetic but you are also logical and firm. You would do well in a position of authority, where you are allowed to demonstrate and enforce self-discipline and hardwork. You will likely be known for your candor and integrity in your careers pile three. You value honesty and fairness, and it will show regardless of what path you choose. You would thrive in careers that allow you to teach others about the wonders of the World, whatever that may mean to you.

These Are Some Careers and Career Titles I Think You Would Excel At: Counselors, Networking, Mediators, Influencers, Authors, Motivational Speakers, Auditors, Elementary School Teachers, Family Therapists, Behavior Technicians, Children's' Book Authors, Interior Design, Home Businesses, Real Estate.

Significators: "Soon", Cancer, Sagittarius, Gemini, 20+, Fire, Musician, 10th House Sun or Moon, 1st House Moon, Mercury in 9th House, 4th House Stellium, Water Dominant, Pisces Moon, Cancer Midheaven, Libra, Saturnians.

#🍓 fairytalks #astrology #tarot #pick a pile #pick a card

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forbidden-sunlight · 3 months

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yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to the second installment of this scenario, featuring Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 who helped me write this finale.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this series will be taken down.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive back into the cutthroat world of publishing.

Part One

The press conference went as expected.

Everyone wanted to know who accused best-selling author Abigail Crowley of plagiarism, where is the evidence to prove that an unidentified individual is the one who really wrote The Darkness and The Nightingale, and why are the representatives of the publishing company are now just finding out about it less than a month before its release date. Yandere!Literary Agent is good at his job, at least when it comes to standing in front of flashing cameras and phones shoved in his face, asking for a statement. He answered the journalists who patiently raised their hands and disregarded the ones who kept interrupting with asinine questions that had nothing to do with the subject of the press conference whatsoever. Yes, he had been contacted by the true writer. No, he will not give out a name to respect their privacy. Yes, there is evidence and it will be presented to a judge, should Abigail Crowley wishes to take Sailboat Publishing House to court and fight back against the claims. No, the printing date will not be changed. He is currently with the writer on revisions and he will not take any more questions at this time. Please speak to the company’s PR representative, Ms. Isley, for a formal interview. That is it for today.

The world now knows the truth. Social media was going to be a proverbial shitstorm; one side will defend Abigail Crowley and say she is the true author as she is still a great writer, and there will be people who speak trash to her out of spite for whatever reason. Some will even try to track you down online and harass you for days on end. Yandere!Literary Agent just hoped that you meant what you said about not being online anymore because of politics.

In any case, the projected million copies to be sold would have to decrease significantly. You told him over the phone that you didn’t mind, commenting that at least 100,000 should be a tidy enough number and he would still get his commission. He didn't have to worry about the fees since Abigail is going to pay for those, or fight back. That was the ultimatum Yandere!Literary Agent and the board members gave it to her almost a week ago.

It was six-thirty in the evening when he told you about what had happened. He was still in the office finishing up a few things, and he had you on speaker mode while he typed away at his desk. You were typing too, working on the revisions and thanking the universe that you had a digital copy of your manuscript on file too, so the task he had given you made things a little easier. So did taking two weeks off of work. But the way you saw it, the PTO either had to be used now, or it wouldn’t be rolled over because you had too much PTO. Yes, that can definitely happen in your career field because you need the hours to pay for bills and essentially being alive. You were making good progress and hoped that you didn’t need to pull another all-nighter just to finish up these edits on page 159.

You were diligent, Yandere!Literary Agent will give you that much. He reminded you of the deadline. You told him to focus on his work, and he’ll have a pristine manuscript in his inbox. Please stop the daily phone calls and text messages, he was putting the pressure on you. This is why you did not want to become an author.

He contacted you on Friday night about the press conference. The following week, an email titled The Darkness and the Nightingale - final edits popped up as soon he opened his computer on Thursday morning.

It’s done. Contact me only if there are edits that must absolutely be changed. Going to sleep. Night.

[First Name]

The manuscript had been sent to him at three o’clock in the morning. You had really cut it close but it was here. The story was finished. He quickly opened up the document. He looked over the edits, compared it to what was written before….and nodded in affirmation. Yes. Yandere!Literary Agent thought as he looked over the words, your words, with a small smile, leaning back against his leather chair. This is a story that will sell.

Yandere!Literary Agent placed the manuscript on a flash drive, arranged a meeting with the printing companies and sent you three options for the cover art and needed a response as soon as you were able to. All in all, everything had turned out. A week before the release date arrived, The Darkness and The Nightingale were loaded into trucks to be sold in bookstores across the country.

One task done. Now to move onto the next project.

He deleted your contact info. He had no reason to keep it, at least on his phone. Email was enough. Sure enough, another client sent him a pitch for a new trilogy that would act as the prequel to the original ones that were already popular with young adults, and Yandere!Literary Agent dove head first into it. He hadn’t realized that a month had passed since The Darkness and The Nightingale had been published. This is what usually happens when he concentrates solely on one client. A bad habit, yes, but as he has mentioned beforehand, he is good at his job.

No news yet in regards to Abigail Crowley, the plagiarism issue was dying down in favor of a startlet’s drug overdose, and there was a meeting on Monday to discuss sales. Another win-win for Yulian Prescott, the man who had single-handedly saved the company from going under. But on Friday afternoon, Yandere!Literary Agent received an email from the printing companies and PR department, concerning the sales of your book. Flummoxed, and a little worried that the number of copies unsold outweighed what was printed, he opened the email.

He blinked. And then blinked again before removing his glasses, giving them a good cleaning and placing them back onto his face. He re-read the email again, his eyes growing wider and wider. This wasn’t about copies that weren’t sold….it was a request from five hundred different printing companies to print your book. The demand wasn’t isolated to the States. There were demands from all over the world!

Unlocking his phone, he swiped over to TikTok, searched for Booktok and looked at the trending topics. There were reels, memes, and reactions about your book. There were people quoting about your book, reenactments of certain scenes, before and after reactions, etc. Of course there were some who didn’t believe that you wrote it, thinking you stole it from Abigail, but that was beside the point.

Your first book had taken the world by storm, and he hadn’t even considered this possibility because it has only happened a few times with Sailboat Publishing. He should have negotiated a higher number of books with you! But that was then, this is now.

He quickly opened a new message on his email, attaching the email he had gotten, inquiring you to see what he has seen and if you would allow more copies to be published. His schedule is open, so please answer when you get a chance. He received an email from you a few hours later, stating the following:

I work twelve hour shifts on weekdays and only have weekends to get my life together. Why do we need to discuss numbers? I already received the advanced copy. Were you trying to send an attachment? It didn’t go through. Wi-Fi was down until now.

[First Name]

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately responded, asking if you would like to meet up later today if that was possible. You said that you were still out running a few errands, but could meet him at Sally’s Diner or a Starbucks. Both places were located halfway between his office and your home, at least the ones you knew about. If he wasn’t at work today, where else did he want to meet? You don’t want to travel too far, and you’d like to take a nap before it gets too late in the day. He had to fight off the smile that was threatening to stretch across his mouth. Cheeky. He thought. He already had a light lunch, but he wasn’t opposed to getting a mid-afternoon pickup. When he offered to pay for your drink and a pastry of your choice, you responded that you would meet him there in an hour.

It gave plenty of time to gather what he needed to speak to you about the current situation.

He met you outside of the building at the allotted time, enjoying a light breeze before following you inside, holding the door open for you and a mother-daughter duo exiting with Strawberry Acai Refreshers in their hands.

Once the orders were placed under his name, Yandere!Literary Agent led you to the back of the cafe and sat down at one of the small tables. You followed suit, hooking the straps of your backpack on the back of your chair. “Did you read the attachment?” He asked.

You nodded. “I did. But….you’re absolutely sure the numbers are right, the ones you’ve shown me? Because if this is your idea of a joke, I swear to God -”

Yulian held up a hand in the air, stopping you from saying anything else.

"Believe me I thought the same thing when I first opened it, but this is no joke, [First Name]. Publishing companies from around the world have reached out, requesting mass publications in at least fifteen different languages, at the moment. And according to the PR team, more keep coming. Your work has gone global, [First Name], and more people are wanting to read it."

You looked at him in utter disbelief, leaning back against the chair with wide [Eye Color] orbs. Before you could ask him any more questions, the barista called out for Yulian.

Yandere!Literary Agent stood up, collecting the drinks and pastry and returning to his seat. Placing them down on the table, he gave yours, and put his black coffee to the side so that he could boot up his laptop. He pulled up the reprint requests so you could see it for yourself. The proof that you are a successful writer. You stared at the screen for a moment until you glanced back up at him.

“Why is it so successful? I thought the reason we agreed on a small number of copies to be printed was because of the plagiarism scandal. There’s been nothing on the news about it lately, or about Abigail.”

Yulian smiled. “Because you are a brilliant writer. While we did agree on a small account of copies to be printed, there’s high praise on social media. Everyone is clamoring to read it, hence why the demand is greater than anyone could have anticipated, myself included.” He folded his hands together, elbows pressing against the table. “Now, regarding the…situation with Ms. Crowley, the legal team still has the materials you had shown to me; the receipts from Etsy, the Google Docs, they all have timestamps. So even if she wishes to take it to court, no one can deny that she did indeed steal your work because you created this masterpiece while she was working on another series. And before you say anything, your personal information has and will not be released.”

You nodded slowly at his words, your shoulders dropping in relief before reaching for your beverage, taking a languid sip from the cup. Then another, obviously relishing the effect of caffeine giving your body that much needed energy boost. Yandere! Literary Agent knew the feeling all too well.

“Now, how many copies will you allow us to reprint?”

“What are the fees that will come with doing this kind of job?” You fired back. “If there is a global demand like you say there is, then someone will need to translate it. Not to mention there are different cover designs, marketing, all of that fun stuff. Will the royalties, if I am to receive any, be deducted to cover the cost? I do not want to get myself into any more debt that I already have.”

Yandere!Literary Agent pulled out his laptop from his messenger bag, pulling up the spreadsheets that the publishing and financing departments had created earlier in the week. The information included fees for translating, reprinting, and international shipping based on demand. On the very bottom of the last spreadsheet would be your net income.

He had no doubt that this amount of money would allow you to be debt-free and live comfortably…at least until you could write another book. Then he saw the confusion, panic, excitement and anxiety swirling in your irises. The mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Yandere!Literary Agent had seen that stupefied look more than once. It was the expression of someone who had not expected to receive such a big paycheck, at least until he had kindly explained that there were some fees which needed to be paid, which would be deducted from the royalties. With you, it seemed like he did not have to hold your hand and explain how the business of publishing went, word for word.

Which is why he was quite surprised to see you suddenly standing up, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. “Where are you going?” He asked, watching you push in the chair.

“I’m leaving.”

“But you still haven’t decided on a number of copies for us to reprint!”

“I’m sorry, but I am not liking where this conversation is headed. As I mentioned before, I write for fun. This isn’t about the money, and I have no desire whatsoever to be your next cash cow. Can’t you decide on a number and call it a day?”

“Not without your consent! That would be in direct violation of our contract, and you wouldn’t be paid for the reprinted copies!” He exclaimed. Yes, he knew that he was acting a bit…childish, but this is a serious matter! How could you even think of walking away from a one-in-a-million opportunity like this? Or even believe that he would use your writing to embellish the company’s reputation further by being the sole representative of an extremely popular, best-selling writer?

Because in the darkest corner of his mind, a nasty voice would gleefully agree with your accusations. This was nothing personal, it was a business. And he would go where there was talent, and money. Not to mention elevate his status even further as a high-in-demand literary agent for one of the biggest publishing companies in the States.

You raised an eyebrow at him, then leaned forward, putting your hands on the back of the chair.

“Mister Prescott, for a minute, please pretend I am not a client and explain in layman’s terms, why would I be paid for that? As far as I was concerned, once the book is out of my hands, it is your responsibility and how the printing is handled. Or am I wrong?”

A client. That’s right….you weren’t a client. You were just a hobbyist writer who had your work stolen by one of his clients. But you were still a writer, someone who could create worlds while working godawful shifts back-to-back. So he spoke plainly to you.

While you were not officially his client, your work was still part of Sailboat Publishing, therefore it is his responsibility to ensure that the royalties matched the time and effort you had put in creating The Darkness and The Nightingale. Yes, he had to make sure the quality of the book’s printing were high quality and not a hackneyed rush job just to keep up with the demand.

Then he said he would be delighted if he could be your official representative…in the near future.

You shook your head. “No need for that. You returned my story to me. After we decide on numbers, I’d say your business with me is done.”

“You don’t want to be an author on the New York Times’ Bestseller List.” It was more of a statement than a question. So why did his heart drop into the pit of his stomach at the thought of never seeing you again once you walk out of the door?

“I’m pretty sure you have more than enough clients to keep yourself busy for a long time.” You said dryly. “You’d drive yourself crazy if you worked with me.”

“And how do you know that it won’t work out?” He challenged you with a small smile. You just gave him an ‘are-you-shitting-me’ frown before releasing a low sigh.

“I still have six more months left on my contract with the hospital. I can’t just quit or I risk having to pay back everything as compensation for breaching it before the end of the contract. I wouldn’t be able to do anything related to the book, like tours and interviews until…sometime next year? No, more like the beginning of next year, like around February. I am starting to outline the concept of another idea I have for a book, a standalone, but I only write on my days off or when I’m on my lunch break. Are you fine with waiting until I send you a query letter and the first fifty pages until next February? Is that too long for your liking?”

Yandere! Literary Agent was not bothered by this proposition. If anything, it worked out perfectly with his schedule. And there is the prospect of you becoming his official client. However, he did not want to push your boundaries any more than he already has for today. Instead, he said that it was fine with him.

“If you agree to us printing more copies of The Darkness and The Nightingale, then we’ll be all set until next year. Do you want to use the same cover worldwide, or do you want us to come up with some alternative covers for different countries, and send you the designs you like?”

“...Alternative.” You said, pulling back the chair and sitting back down, backpack plopped into the adjacent seat. “Do you have any artists that you recommend, or have portfolios I could look at?”

Decisions were discussed within the next hour, and Yandere!Literary Agent was satisfied with leaving Starbucks with an idea of what his Monday morning is going to look like. But what satisfied him more was the number of copies that he and you agreed on. Fifty-thousand, in each language.

It was enough to make his heart quicken with excitement.

Or is he anticipating the momentous day when you signed a contract with Sailboat Publishing and he became your literary agent? Six months might seem like a long time….but he prided himself on being a patient man.

Knowing he will be the best damned agent for you, because you deserve nothing less, and much more.

Knowing he will be the only one to read your WIPS, help you become a better writer, protect you from the paparazzi and anyone else who would dare to try to covet you like a trophy.

Knowing that in the end, all you will have is him. And he will have you, whether you like it or not.

If Abigail Crowley keeps trying to contact him, pleading that she wasn’t wrong and that she did have a new idea for a book so please read her emails she’s been sending please give her one more chance don’t ruin her life please…he might have to do something about it.

Noisy dogs need to be fed, right?

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

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#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere male #yandere #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere! literary agent #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive love #tw manipulation #cw manipulation

590 notes · View notes

binsito · 4 months

Note

Bestie idea..cuz I have dad!skz on my mind a lot .....laundry room quickies or quickies while baby sleeps

With any of them 😫😫😫😫

i propose to you.. ot8 dad!skz 😝 (i have been incredibly unwell after seeing chan with those babies..)

(i started this in 2023 but that above statement still holds true)

also not all of these involve laundry rooms and/or sleeping so i hope you don't mind bc i didn't want to be redundant with the scenarios! :]

warning: parenthood! pretty tame ngl! just lots of sex with dad!skz 🤤 unprotected piv, pet names such as "baby," "good girl," etc in a sexual setting, i believe minho is the only one that is specified as a boyfriend rather than a husband but who gives a fuck, jeongin has slight somno, a few might have slight exhibitionism/voyeurism/semi public sex but nothing crazy, cum, uhh fingering, mentions of oral, breeding in some, tit play, yeah!

bangchan: he's busy, you're busy - it's only a matter of time before you both just explode. he works hard at his office job and he's sick of getting business calls even on the weekend. so he decides to cash out some of his vacation hours just to spend time with you and your sweet baby.

god, he is so lucky..

seeing you take on a motherly role shouldn't be making him feel so fuzzy but he can't help it, you're just gorgeous, so natural at it. he takes it upon himself to help you put the baby to sleep while you do chores around the house.

he startles you when he creeps up behind you as you fold his clothes, letting you know the baby is asleep while he starts kissing on your neck. it gives you goosebumps, you can't remember the last time you had been intimate with chan and it's turning you to putty in his hands.

"what if we had another, hm?"

you try hard not to break out in a laugh - he would definitely have to find a way to juggle work, two babies and a wife efficiently but you knew that was his breeding kink talking.

"you want another baby, channie?" you giggle, playing along with it because you know it gets him going.

"mhm.. another wouldn't hurt right?" he whispers in your ear as he slips his hands under your shirt to squeeze at your bare skin.

before you could even protest, he had you bent over, face between your legs as he prepped you to take him - laundry long forgotten.

you were honestly a little scared of the stretch.. bracing yourself as he inched his cock inside you gently. his grunts and nails digging into your skin was a sign of how tight he was finding you. your cunt around him was driving him crazy and he knew he was going to have a hard time pulling out but what's one more little one, right?

minho: 'im coming back from work now, babe.'

'don't wear anything under your pjs.. im coming straight to you'

those text messages from your boyfriend left you reeling.

of course you followed his request obediently!

you had laid your baby to bed not long ago and you were hoping it would be a peaceful night - no crying or waking up in the middle of the night.

you had made sure to really tire him out to ensure he was out like a light.

and when you heard the front door to your apartment open, anticipation began to boil in your tummy at what awaited you.

you could hear minho fumbling with his belt down the hall before approaching your shared bedroom. cock already half pulled out by the time he reached you, shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"d'you prep yourself for me?"

you nodded, knowing he wanted you wet for him to take for when he got home. you were always so sweet to him, always knew exactly what he needed before he even asked.

he kissed you gently as he tugged your night gown up, the coldness of the air making you shiver a bit as he ran a finger down your wet slit. he angled his cock at your entrance and pushed in, letting your cunt envelop him. god, it felt so good to be deep inside of you - he was absolutely crazy about you.

just the feeling of having you around him could make him cum-

the baby monitor goes off, crying loud through the speaker.

"shit.. i got him.." he sighed out, quickly fixing himself as you laughed at him.

you could tell how frustrated he was over having blue balls but fatherly duties were awaiting him.

changbin: baby is out with his parents and as much as you love your little one (who is an exact copy of changbin), you are so glad to finally have the house and your binnie to yourself.

he couldn't contain his excitement much either, his mom wouldn't be back until two with the baby so he made sure to enjoy every second he could with you. he barely let you finish having breakfast before he was tugging you over to the couch. he would've taken you on the counter but

1). it might've been uncomfy for you and he's a gentleman!

2.) despite how needy he was, he wanted to have some decorum!

it felt so good to have his hands roaming your body, he always made sure to be delicate with you. he kissed you so sweetly and was shocked when you broke the kiss so suddenly, a whimper leaving his pouty lips. you smiled and just assured him it was because you wanted to be on top this time.

you?

on top?

who was binnie to deny his gorgeous wife the pleasure of riding him? especially when he would get the perfect view of your nice tits and pretty face. so he laid back, watching as you took a deep breath and aligned his cock with your entrance, breath hitching at the initial breach. his cock thick and heavy but so so good inside of you. your hands planted firmly on his chest as you set a steady bounce, moaning his name as he played with your nipples.

it was so easy to lose yourself to the feeling of his cock, so much so that the ringing of the doorbell almost went unnoticed.

shit.

was grandma and grandpa back so soon with the baby?

no fair, you were just getting started!

hyunjin: hyunjin had just helped put the baby down so you could go take a quick shower. your baby was just as clingy as he was, always throwing a fit if you weren't constantly showering him with kisses.

you didn't mind though, you loved both of your sweet boys and you were so thankful that hyune was such a great dad.

it felt nice to take a peaceful shower after such a long day, the water soothing any worries you might've had.

you heard the door to the bathroom open and some rustling as someone opened the shower curtain and got in.

"baby.." you laughed, knowing damn well it was hyunjin behind you. he just giggled and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"little one's asleep.. let me just have this with you really quick." he mumbled against your skin

hand reaching to your front so he could find your clit, rubbing softly as you let out a relieved sigh

"you sure he won't wake up?" you whispered

"no, but if he does, he's in the bassinet right outside next to our bed, babe. don't worry okay?"

his words reassured you as you relaxed into his touch, letting his fingers work at you as you leaned your head back into him. all he wanted was to bring you pleasure, he loved watching your pretty face contort and call his name out softly.

"gonna cum for me, angel? c'mon.. let go.." he whispered against your ear, kissing it softly. it gave you goosebumps and the way his fingers diligently rubbed you made your orgasm wash over you.

after showering (and letting him taste you after his endless begging), you both headed out into the room, baby still sleeping soundly.

jisung: there was nothing more exhausting to jisung than having a family dinner.

it was so stressful.

all the catching up and conversations clashing with one another from all sides of the table. at least your baby seemed entertained, playing with spoons while the waiter took everyone's order.

if jisung didn't step out soon, he feared he would literally explode. his parents kept bombarding him with questions and he felt like your family always questioned his worth as a suitable partner and dad.

you always made sure to let him know that you loved him and that he was perfect regardless what he or anyone thought. as soon as you noticed him zoning out and struggling to engage with the family, you excused yourself, asking your mom to watch over the baby while you stepped out with jisung, going on a short walk around the restaurant where you could talk in private.

"baby i-i'm sorry are you mad-"

"what? no.. i needed some fresh air. it was too noisy and stuffy in there.

you're doing your best y'know? im proud of you." you smiled softly at him while giving him a soft peck. you dug into your purse for his cigarettes and handed him one, grabbing the lighter and bringing the flame to the tip once he put the stick in his mouth.

"you gotta relax before going back in there though.." you whispered.

he was always able to relax when he was alone with you, you were comforting. he began blowing some smoke while his hands came up to cup your tits. squeezing them tightly which earned him a mewl. soon he was lowering the top of your dress down to reveal your chest to him, playing with your nipples between his fingers as if your breasts were some type of stress ball for him. you'd laugh at him if you didn't love the sensation of his fingers on you so much. he tossed his cigarette once he got tired of it, preferring to latch on to one of your tits instead.

"c-c'mon ji.. let's not get carried away.. we gotta get back.." you weakly said, but having to cut this short was proving to be difficult for the both of you.

once he got his fix (although if he was honest, he was still craving you), he let go with a loud pop, pulling your top back up with a smile

"thank you, doll.. i think i got the energy to kiss your dad's ass now." he joked.

"hope our princess is surviving his horrible baby talk." you giggled

felix: you and felix had planned a huge party for your baby's first birthday. everyone you both knew was invited, including the baby's eight uncles who loved spoiling her rotten. it was an outdoor party in your backyard, you had even gone as far as renting out a bouncy house for the older kids and a fun kid sprinkler so they could play in the water.

felix was in charge of food, he had spent the whole day on the grill outside making ribs and hot dogs before bringing them inside to set up everything nicely. you followed after him to help, putting everything out on aluminum pans so that people could pick what they wanted from each container.

"good job, babe, these taste great." you smile as you swallowed the piece of meat you had tasted.

he leaned in to kiss you, pulling you in close. he was so happy to get to celebrate your baby's birthday with such a big and wonderful family.

"baby's havin' fun out there. look at her playin' with the water." he giggled as he peeked outside

"what if we had fun of our own? everyone seems to be having a blast out there.." you teased him, hand coming to cup him through his shorts.

you didn't have to tell him twice, pulling himself out of his shorts as you fell to your knees for him. you knew you had to be quick incase anyone came in asking for the bathroom. thank god the kitchen island covered you from anyone who might've looked from the outside in.

felix was so sensitive and the idea of someone walking in made him quickly blow his load in your mouth which you gratefully accepted, licking your lips before you gave his tip a soft kiss.

seungmin:

family vacation was going great! you and seungmin finally got a chance to take your baby out on a trip and spend the weekend at a nice resort alongside other members of your family. it was nice to have a group of you together to enjoy some time away from your stressful lives.

the baby was having fun at the pool in his new floaty and didn't want to leave the water yet so you left him with his auntie while you and seungmin got washed up.

but seungmin was feeling quite handsy the whole day, especially now since you were both along in your room. he tugged on your bathing suit strap and smiled devilishly as your top fell down and exposed your chest.

"minnie we have to get ready for dinner, c'mon.."

"i'm getting ready! see? swim trunks off"

you rolled your eyes as he showed you his hard cock, his hand stroking it to entice you. the mere sight of your husband like that made you want to jump his bones.

"make it quick, hurry." but your voice sounded weak, desperate.

he bent you over the nearest surface and stuffed you full of his cock, not wasting a second where he could be inside of you. he knew he had to be fast, it would only be a matter of time before your sister would be knocking at your door with the baby.

the way he was tugging at your hair had you seeing stars, cock relentlessly hitting your sweet spot. you felt like you'd collapse under him if he kept this pace up but it was too good to protest.

"minnie.. oh god.. c-can the baby sleep with your mom tonight please? please.. n-need more of this.. need you!"

he just laughed at you, giving you a sharp spank.

"what am i supposed to tell her? my wife wants me to fuck her stupid on our family vacation? you want me to tell her how bad you want my cock?"

jeongin: "innie.." you giggled, nudging him gently.

he was not budging at all. you didn't blame him though, it was his night to check on the baby if he started crying and unfortunately for him it was a really difficult night to put him to bed.

you got under the covers and shuffled down until you were face to face with his crotch, rubbing him gently and watching as he grew in his pants.

he began to stir once you pulled him out, licking at his tip and feeling him start to sit up. he lifted the covers slightly to see you taking his cock in your mouth, popping off with a smile.

"happy birthday, baby.." you whispered

he smiled softly and cupped your cheek to bring you up and out from underneath the covers, he kicked the sheets off and pulled you on top of him.

"perfect way to start my morning, hm?" he teased, squeezing your ass tightly before tugging your shorts and panties to the side. his cock prodded against your entrance as he kissed you hungrily.

"finish what you started." he instructed as you began to slowly sink down on him, taking his cock like the good girl you were.

"fuck, jeongin.. need you to cum inside me so bad.."

it was so hard to contain your moans, biting your lip harshly to keep quiet.

"still on birth control, baby?" he asked, eyes hazy because your cunt felt so tight on him and it was making him delirious.

you shook your head, smiling at him playfully.

"gonna make me a daddy on my birthday? huh?" he grunted as he helped you bounce on him, he thrusted up into you and gripped your hips painfully tight.

"shiiit.. gonna cum in this pussy.. pump a baby in you.. give you my seed. will you take it? you're gonna take it."

#binsito #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #stray kids x reader

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astrologylunadream · 6 months

Text

Who am I destined to love?💌☁️🔗 [Soulmate reading] (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hey it's Lunadream🤗 We will be doing a reading on your destined lover!💗 hope you find your message🌸💫

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the love you long for, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~🌸🌟

Pile 1🦊

Pile 2🦢

Pile 3🛋

Pile 4🎹

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 💌

Pile 1🦊

Sign energy: Forgiveness, Anger, True feelings, Fame, Singer, 3rd house, Cancer, Moon, North node, Gemini, 🪐🧩🌃🛎

☁️Your energy: You guys have a fiery energy about you, very kind and fun loving. You are very emotional and tend to have outbursts if your emotional state is not safe or well taken care of. You could love singing and I'm getting a more specific message that someone in this pile has a famous parent/mom, a singer mom if there are any of you in my pile 1😆 You get frustrated easily but those feelings come from your true heart, and you express yourself openly and genuinely. I feel like this pile doesn't back down when angry💢 You could be a night owl, prefer the night time. I feel like you're more in touch with your emotions at night, like cinderella I'm hearing "when the clock strikes twelve" and suddenly you are your true self at night, your openly emotional real self.♡ You may feel inclined to become famous or a public speaker, sharing your thoughts and ideas with those who need it the most.

💘Who you're destined to love: Fox, Neck, Taurus, Gemini, Fix, Leo, South node, Air, Aries, Water, 🎡🦀🍭🚀 A very fun and gorgeous person awaits my pile 1, if you were drawn to the fox here it came out again so this is your confirmation this is definitely the pile!! This could be someone from your past, you will feel a sense of familiarity with this person. They have a more so direct approach to communication and think fast. Very witty, intelligent and a natural problem solver. Taurus, Gemini, Leo, or Aries placements, they may have Sun conjunct Venus or Mercury I feel. They have a very attractive neck, especially with the Taurus energy. As for the purpose of this destiny, I'm seeing as someone you are destined to fix, almost help in a way, your love is meant to heal this person on an emotional level. They will be so glad they met you, like you were fated to help them. It's giving heaven sent angel vibes <3 They will see you as an answer to their prayers, and things will only look up from there.😊 This destiny is an emotional journey for you both, connecting through mutual understanding and comforting one another is the true reason for this connection. It will heal and nurture your hearts greatly.♡ It will be a fun, pleasant and in some ways childlike relationship made of pure love and trust.

💌Messages from them: I'll never forget you, I finally get it, Our love is a game, I know exactly how you like it, I see you, Extra cards: Daily, Follower, Angel, Green, Crazy, 8th house, Earth, Chiron, Water, Sun, (Guardian angel vibes🥺💫)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the fox emoji~🦊 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 2🦢

Sign energy: Cafe, Long term, Endurance, Stomach, Hair, North node, Aquarius, Gemini, ⛵😂🌉🤍

☁️Your energy: You guys have such a graceful vibe, I see so much pure cleansed energy with this pile. Elegant swan energy for you guys <3 Most of you in this pile are looking for long term commitment, so you may be hoping that the one you are destined to love is someone you will be with for a long time. Some of you work as a barista/job at a cafe☕💕 Your hair is gorgeous and people talk about it a lot.💇‍♀️ Aquarius and Gemini placements overall air signs but I'm getting such indirect Virgo energy from this pile omgggg any Virgo's in my lovely pile 2??😂 Btw this emoji!!😂😂😂 Do you use it alot?? Could be significant for any of this pile, you may laugh a lot and your laugh is very light and beautiful. I'm seeing a future of laughing and happiness with this pile I feel like that is also your destiny to just, laugh and have fun. Just loosen up a bit and enjoy the little things that make you happy, being grateful is meant for you my pile 2's <3 You have such an angelic presence about you, so admirable and full of kindness and beauty. You may want to meet your future but don't like the steps to get there, but I'm hearing only of you endure the journey of your hopes can you arrive at the destination of fulfilling them. Haha maybe that resonates with some of you, I feel like you may drink coffee or tea often. Cafes are your jam!

💘Who you're destined to love: Comfort, Love, Shame, Present, Blind, 12th house, Lilith, Eros, Neptune, Air, 🤣🤒😤🧲 Okaaay my pile 2's we have some interesting energy going on with this 👏person👏 You are definitely destined with this person romantically, I'm hearing fated connection. This is someone who is seemingly new or not experienced with love, they make mistakes and don't know what they're doing most of the time.🥺 They also have so many fantasies about it some that they are shameful of or embarrassed to meet, they have a some darker needs too in a romantic connection. Many of their turn on's in a partner are subconscious fears aswell. I get the vibe this person isn't the best at communiting their desires, it makes them feel vulnerable and out of place like a fish out of water. Pisces/12th house and air placements are possible. They are a dreamer, they have this "where am I? Who am I?" type of vibe😂😂 like they are just one with the energies, I feel like this person is very in tune with the spiritual side of life themselves. Your person is very attractive in a soft aesthetic way, ethereal and beyond physical charms that rope you in like a buoy in the crashing waves of the sea🌊 You are destined to love this person with all your heart, to cherish eachother on levels deeper many can experience. A soulmate connection is likely, and this is such a deep and contemporary romance as well as passionate. You will fulfill many desires with this person, because they take you to higher places you can't explain. I was also getting some "spicy"👀 messages coming out in this pile but since this is not an 🔞 reading I was like 👁👄👁 "not today-" LOL it will not complement the soft/dreamy vibe of this reading lol😂👌 So for my pile 2's that are interested, your person has some intense desire for you for sure maybe check out my dark pac readings for some messages in that😅😳 :'> Overall this is a very intuitive and romantic person, they are all giving and all consuming in this destined love with you.💗

💌Messages from them: I don't look at other people, I'm addicted to your love, You might get hurt, I have nothing to give, I'm not okay (🥺🥺💔) Extra cards: Alien, In, Fantasy, Shopping, Age, 12th house, 9th house, Sagittarius, Jupiter, 6th house (Destiny calls to heal this person and their fantasies, to either restrict or enhance their deepest desires.)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the swan emoji~🦢 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 3🛋

Sign energy: Try, Activity, Library, Unicorn, Keep a secret, Chiron, Gemini, Vertex, Sun, 3rd house, 😫👿🕯⛓

☁️Your energy: Alright my pile 3's could be Gemini, Leo, Virgo or prominent 3rd house energy. I'm getting some heavy vibes with this some, something is telling me that many in this pile are new to tarot or giving it a try for the first time or for some could have quit for a while and come back for some answers. If you felt this way this definitely could be your pile. I am sensing some worried energy, my pile 3's are not telling anyone what they have been up to recently🤫🙊 You have been keeping this to yourself, and maybe even the idea of loving someone is something you are not ready to share just yet. You guys are very unique and smart, you have a talent for knowing things and speaking well. Sometimes you have a dark side that you don't want to show, and it is your deepest worries and thoughts that hold you down. You may read a lot, there could be many book lovers in this pile. I feel as if you are afraid of fate hence why you are trying to see the future you are uncertain of.😟 My pile 3's are very cautious people especially when it comes to life and fate. You are heavily drawn to the occult, but also fear those practices. You see fate and destiny as chains that weigh you down, and you wish to break free to finally reach the clouds above. You are an independent and spiritually wise thinker.

💘Who you're destined to love: Fight, First, Honey, Spring, Skin, 4th house, Cancer, Water, Moon, Capricorn, 🛎🤞☔🍑 Okay my lovely pile 3's I keep getting an anxious energy, this could be about love itself. I hope this may ease my pile 3's uncertainties of the future.😞💖 This person you are destined to love has a strong personality, one that somehow compliments yours. Okay but like when you guys first meet??😍 I'm getting some passionate and bold conflict turned into something really sweet💞 I feel like you argued with this person a lot when you first met, but then after you set aside your disagreements you realized how caring and loving they can be.😢 You may have gotten very defensive about yourself or things they told you, but you soon learned to listen to their words as they hold truth and only wish to help you. They may be born in spring. Cancer and Capricorn energy is strong for this pile's person, you are destined to meet them. This connection will show you to be less skeptical and afraid of conflict and disagreement, and to learn how to understand those who seem cold or not "good" on the surface. I'm feeling this person wasn't nice to you at first, only after you loosened up from the emotional shell you tried to protect yourself with. They finally started being nice to you without reason, or perhaps you didn't realize their kindness until then. This connection is meant to shift perspectives, and hold security in trusting others. This is such a powerful lesson within this fated love omggg😭💗 Some of you might marry this person!!💍

💌Messages from them: Are you attracted to me? Don't talk to me, You can't control me, I'll only distract you, I'll never forgive you (My pile 3 your person really cares about you and they tend to push you away and it seems like they're brushing you off but that's how they show their love for you by removing themselves from the situation to let you heal and take your time😭🤍) Extra cards: One of a kind, Feminine, Hold on, Style, Juno, Moon, Eros, 9th house, Scorpio, Taurus (Omgg they see you as a devine feminine to them, their other half. They want to marry you for real!!🥺)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sofa emoji~🛋 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 4🎹

Sign energy: Find, Desert, Quiet, Winter, Hands are tied, Eros, 7th house, Sagittarius, Pisces, Earth, 🖌🕯💘🥊

☁️Your energy: Ohh I'm loving the energy of pile 4 we have some prominent Jupiter placements here!! Could be a Libra, Sagittarius or Pisces somewhere in your charts <3 earth signs are possible. I'm definitely getting Sag/Pisces vibes from you guys😇 Creative dreamers searching for self expression and love~ some of you may be more on the quiet/shy side or more submissive in relationships. But outside of them you are a free spirit with a wild heart, you just love having fun and doing the things that make you happy. You want to find a soulmate, someone who is spiritually tied to you... who's heart is locked to yours eternally. You are looking for a person who will appreciate your creativity and spirituality, your soft and illusive dreamy self with a passion to explore life and everything you love. You may be an artist/painter or enjoy those activities, or physical sports like weight lifting or going to the gym. Could be interested in boxing. You are a fighter and a lover because you fight for love. May be born in winter, also I'm getting specific middle east vibes so some of you could be from there.💫💕

💘Who you're destined to love: Soulmates, Forgiveness, Backwards, 11th house, Date, Mars, Cancer, Venus, 1st house, Lilith, 🤕🍳🍂🏷 This is someone from your past, now I'm getting some past lover vibes. For some of you this is an ex, or someone you had an argument with. I'm sensing someone you will meet online, or have possibly already met before. I am seeing that in the beginning of this connection, you or them were too impulsive or quick to complain about the way things started off between you two. After some time I'm seeing the work of fate brings you back to this person, and you will be surprised how much they held on to this connection.😦 Like you will be shocked how much this person really cared (maybe you thought they would be angry/distant with you) but like this person will be on their knees for you omg.😖😳 This person is very emotional and honestly so deeply in love with this pile and they just want a second chance😞💕 They regret their past decisions and the way they treated you, and fate is calling you to accept and love them, this is after all who you are destined to love. There may have been a misunderstanding in the beginning or a first impression that affected your judgement of them, but there will be clarity with this person finally and my pile 4 you will see the truth about them. They are genuinely attached to my pile 4's and have just so much love and respect for you.🥺 You are destined to love and cherish them aswell, as it is very likely you will find this to be your soulmate.💗

💌Messages from them: To me, I feel so confused, It's all fake, Why would you want me? Our eyes have met (They are so scared of loosing you because they feel in their heart you guys are meant to be soulmates😫💞) Extra cards: Despair, Cuddle, Backwards, Previous, Love at first sight, 9th house, Libra, Water, 6th house, Neptune (They would be sad without you pile 4 they feel as if the work of fate brought you together😭😖💖)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💌

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the piano emoji~🎹 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months

Text

♡ chronicle #1 : routine ♡

wc : 2544

somehow, you’ve gotten used to living with the dragon man.

the man, you later found it his name is bakugou (after some prying, the guy’s annoyingly stubborn) had been living with you for about three weeks now and has seemingly started warming up to you, you say seemingly because you’re still not so sure.

he adapts to the human lifestyle quite quickly. he ditched his tattered old clothes and you've offered him your biggest set of clothes for the time being until you’d go out shopping some other day.

you have to admit it’s entertaining to watch him interact with your household items, like your utensils, glasses, books and plants, even if they are fake.

he likes watching tv but acts like he doesn’t, claiming that human entertainment was beneath him. but you catch how he always seems to be laser focused on the tv whenever you have some kind of drama tv show on, despite him saying he’s only watching ‘to kill time.’ he’s gotten used to technology rather quickly though. he likes listening to music and choosing songs when you connect your phone to your little bluetooth speaker.

you also note he likes cooking, or he likes watching you cook. you wouldn’t have guessed by the way he pointedly glares at you but you notice he’s less focused on you than he is on the food your making. you’ve let him try using the knife more lately when you were sure he wouldn’t use it to kill you in your sleep. he’s good at cutting stuff up, (maybe from experience?) and you were pleasantly surprised to see he was actually a really good cook. pleasantly surprised, definitely not a little jealous of his ability to watch one cooking show and replicate the dish perfectly. not at all.

in a way, it’s like having a roommate..that just so happens to be a dragon.

except it’s not because he acts more like a big cat rather than a roommate or a fearsome dragon.

for some reason he’s decided to make his stay- until-he’s-fully-healed-deal insufferable for you.

he nabs your food from your plate whenever you order takeout, despite you letting him pick out what he wants from the menu every time. he growls and nips at your fingers whenever you try and reach back for your food and he snarls at you whenever you try to take your food away from his grubby grasp.

he still sticks to calling you human despite you having told him your name multiple times, all he does is stick his nose up and scoff at you. he’s also, despite his rather large presence and size, really good at sneaking around. meaning he sneaks up on you regularly and scares you shitless. he likes to pretend you’re overdramatic too, calling you a scaredy-cat for getting startled so easily though he makes no effort to hide that shit eating grin on his face whenever he’s spooked you.

he doesn’t seem to understand the concept of having job, making fun if you for 'submitting to another puny human'. you’ve tried to explain how the puny human in question is the reason you get payed and the reason he gets to eat that yakiniku he seems to love. he merely scoffs and claims he would’ve just beat the shit outta your boss. "have him know his place."

you find out through light coaxing that bakugou is a dragon shifter, they posses human forms but have the blood of great, ancient dragons coursing through their veins, is what he says. they seem quite incredible from what he’s told you and he himself seems pretty damn proud of his heritage. they age the same way humans do but their strength, stamina and quite literally everything else surpasses them greatly.

you were curious, how could you not be when a dragon man was in your house with answers to all of the fantasy questions you’d accepted would never be answered forever ago?! you ask and ask and bakugou answers, some of your questions have him scoffing offendedly ( like you asking if he uses his fire breathing as a barbecue tool, the answer is unfortunately no) some questions have him snorting and smirking to himself and some questions take a little while of thinking before he provides an answer. you notice his long, scaly red tail raises upwards the slightest little bit when you hum excitedly whenever he answers your questions, as much as he huffs about them. you decide not to comment on it.

“ what about your parents ? are they dragon shifters too ?" he stiffens at your question and you feel the vibe has changed from the one before, you don’t like it.

he lowers his head and his eyebrows furrow a little harder, you’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to divulge private information about himself but then he speaks up and claims it’s none of your business.

he’s right, it really isn’t, but you foolishly believed you’d get to know each other a bit better. you know you don’t technically need to, but you thought— you don’t really know what you thought. all you can say is that as annoying as he is, you can’t deny your intrigue of this man.

you decide to blame it on the fact that he’s a dragon for now and leave it at that.

you have more you want to ask him, but he doesn’t seem to want to talk about this subject anymore. you don’t want the conversation to end yet.

and then you remember.

“hey !” you suddenly start, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you “ how exactly did you end up blasting through my wall ? you were injured too, i never asked you about it, must’ve slipped my mind.” when he registers your question, it has him tightening his jaw in anger. fists clenched and veins popping “that fuckin’ bastard..” he growls.

“who ?”

he regains as much of his composure as he can but he still looks very pissed off.

“nothin’. it doesn’t matter.” he shrugs, looking away from you before deciding to step off your kitchen chair to flop onto the couch unceremoniously.

“wha- the reason you blasted through my wall doesn’t matter?!” you splutter, staring at him dumbfounded but he either doesn’t see you or doesn’t pay you any mind. he’s already scrolling through channels on your tv and replies with a simple “nope”.

and just like that, the conversation ends.

lately though, you’ve established somewhat of a routine with the dragon man.

he seems to enjoy binge watching tv shows rather than watching movies, you realized he was hooked on your favorite show when he growled and threatened you when you turned it off to head to bed. you didn’t mind watching your favorite show for the 50000th time and it’s always nice to see other people’s —dragons, in this case—reactions to your favorite moments.

despite his bravado, he’s ridiculously expressive. he glares and growls and groans whenever characters do something he deems stupid. he doesn’t say much when romantic moments happen, but he huffs proudly, almost like everything went according to his plan. frankly, you found it quite cute.

every time you come back from work, you chow down on some take out and watch your favorite show toghether, mixed with bakugou occasionally commenting every once in a while.

today though, you're back late.

today had been more grueling than usually, work seemed to drag on longer and it seemed that the clock in your office was frozen or broken. that, or you were stuck in some type of time vortex.

it's about 10pm when you step foot into your apartment. you instantly feel more at ease, it's warm and you smell the donburi leftovers that were confined to the fridge yesterday. you blink, then look up at your dragon roommate.

his head is perked up, the tip of his tail standing at attention, his eyes narrow into slits when he sees it's you and his shoulders sag. he huffs and a barely there pout forms on his lips.

"you're late." he grumbles. he takes another fierce bite of his donburi and shoves it in his mouth, as if to simulate biting you for the irreperable act you've commited. you hold back a snort at how ridiculous he looks trying to be intimidating with his cheeks all puffed out.

"yeah, sorry" you sigh "work ran till late" you kick off your shoes and you hear him scoffs, muttering something along the lines of why you don't just have your boss burnt to a crisp. "don't talk with your mouth full" you joke. you scold him like he's a child and he responds like one when he simply growls at you.

you're opening the frigde to grab your portion when he beats you to it " 'ts in the microwave ! " he calls loud enough for you to hear. and sure enough, you find you're bowl in the microwave waiting for you, you'd have to heat it up a bit, but not as long. you smile to yourself and turn to him, he glances at you then pointedly looks away, scoffing to himself. you're too far away to see how his ears prickle and burn as they turn a light shade of pink.

you plop yourself down next to him on the couch, food in hand,and start eating. bakugou jumps into motion. he snatches the remote without even giving you a chance to glance at it and switches to netflix like he's been living here forever. you find you don't really mind that, for some reason.

he mutters a "fuckin' finally" when he hears the iconic 'du-duummm" and the show starts where you left off yesterday. this is the episode you left off on yesterday. then it clicks.

you blink at him " you haven't watched episode 15 yet ?" you questioned. he rolls his eyes like you had asked him a stupid question "course not..." he sniffs. he wants to cut himself off but decides against it "you weren't back yet." his eyes are fixed to the tv.

you feel yourself flush involuntarily, it's such a miniscule, frankly stupid thing to be embarrassed about but you've learned to not take the dragon man's kindness (if you can call it that most of the time) for granted.

"oh" you gasp, he refuses to look at you. your eyes dart from him to the tv then back to him, and back to the tv to hide your embarrassement.

"you could've started without me, i wouldn't have minded." you whisper bashfully, you're quiet over the sound of the tv, but you know he hears you cus he scoffs at you.

"shut up." he grunts, his arm flexes where he has it draped on the back of your couch as he shuffles to sit more comfortably. " i can't do that." then, as if trying to save face, he splutters "you'd get all pissy about it..it's annoyin'".

"i wouldn't have gotten 'pissy' " you mocked hotly.

"ya did when i blasted your wall."

"that's because you blasted my wall ! "

"tch."

your banter ends there as you both quietly watch the show, you let out a few yawns and rub at your eyes, trying your hardest to fight off sleep but you feel like your losing. until bakugou speaks up again.

"you..." he starts. you lazily roll your head back from where it's propped up on the couch to blink at him sleepily, he meets your eye for a moment, only for a moment, then looks out towars your balcony window. you hum to try and coax him to continue speaking.

"you..wanted to know about my folks, right ?" he asks gruffly.

you're using the last of the strenght your sleep-riddled body has to sit up a little straighter and nod quickly, eyes slightly wider. he looks at you for a moment longer than before. a beat passes and neither of you say anything, finally he sighs for the umpteenth time today and speaks up.

“my ma’s a shifter, my old man’s a human." he confesses. you’re eyes widen, you sit up straighter “woah really ?!" you bleated. he grunts in response.

" wow, so you’re half human..?"

“all of us are, shitty human.”

" cut that out, i’ve told you my name a thousand times !"

he simply rolls his eyes at you.

"you're a human, a shitty one at that, that's all i need to know about you." he smirks when you lay down onto the couch just to kick him in the shoulder. he smiles wickedly and grabs your leg, shoving it back towards your torso. you yelp, kicking your other leg up but he's faster. he's got you in his grasp, like a hunter catching its prey. his sharp teeth on display with that nasty little grin he has on his stupidly handsome face, a mischievious glint shines in his eyes and it has your stomach tying itself into knots.

"c-cut it !" you whinge. he smiles wider at your complaints, leaning over you a little bit more until your socked feet are pressed to his chest, you try to push at him, but you stop when you feel like you'll damn near break your legs trying to cause any damage to that huge chiseled chest of his, your head spins. you resort to trying to push at him with your hands, but it feels like you're trying to push a fucking wall at this rate.

"you started it, shitty human" he cackles, pressing against you harder "gotta pay for it, now."

"y-you'll crush me, you b-big lizard !" you wheeze.

"big lizard, huh?" he guffaws, smirking down at you "got some guts talkin to me like that, human."

despite rapidly losing your breath, you find the strenght to glare up at him, puffing out your cheeks. he snickers and finally relents, pushing himself away so you can finally breathe "fine, fine" he concedes "you prey animals are all so weak, barely touched you and you almost died"

"you-!" you sit up quickly, sputtering as you catch your breath "you just tried to kill me ! how's that barely touching me?!" you shot. he simply rolls his eyes at you and you think this is the longest you've seen him with a smile on his face, albeit at the expense of your poor lungs.

" relax." he answers easily, you feel like strangling him "wasn't trying to kill ya," a dangerously mischievious glint glows in his deep carmine eyes again when he looks at you " if i was, you'd know." you can't help the chill running down your spine, you mask it with a cough and turn away from him to continue watching your neglected show, turning your nose up at him. you hear his deep chuckle in response, you want to punch him.

but there's a part of you that can't help but feel a little giddy, you've learned a little more about your dragon...co-habitant. even if it's just a little bit, you feel like he's opening up to you more, very, very slowly but surely. you smile softly to yourself.

somehow, you've gotten used to living with bakugou.

541 notes · View notes

studiopeached · 2 months

Text

THREE, TWO, RUN. ft. Peter Dunbar

♡ SUMMARY: After fleeing from your boyfriend, it isn’t long before the two of you reunite, against your will or with it.

♡ CONTENT WARNINGS: pwp, afab, fem!reader, ex-boyfriend!peter x reader, peter being a serial killer, moderate description of gore, NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, oral (fem receiving), big dick peter—not great prep, p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking kink, fear play, predator/prey dynamics, size kink, bondage

♡ WORD COUNT: 2.4k plot, 1.9k smut. 4.3k total

♡ STREAM NOTE: SMUT BELOW THE SECOND NSFW BANNER. this is a spin off from my @peachedtvs blog called 'Til Death Dont We Part'

♡ MASTERLIST. cumming soon! Main blog @peachedtv

Peter felt you were quite silly, even from when his eyes first laid upon you through the windows of your diner.

So silly, in so many ways.

You were silly in the way you spoke. Expressive, lively, words filled with kindness and rhythm. Words Peter wanted to lock away for only him to hear. Your voice always melted into his mind like honey. Soothing, calming, just like the music he’d hum to silently as he got rid of your recent obstacles. A heavy saw in his hand slashing back and forth, splitting bone into two before stuffing remains of human flesh into a black tarpe—or when he'd bring the nuisances back alive. Screams of pain, terror, and torment vastly contrasting a smooth melody muffled through his earbuds.

Your smile was silly too. Loud, boisterous laughs pairing with it each time as you’d close your eyes tightly, breaths jagged as you’d brace your stomach from the joy. Your smile so mesmerizing Peter wanted nothing more to lock it away behind a key. To melt away in the melody of your laughter, to spread it across his lips and adorn the smile as sweetly as you do.

What was even sillier was how silly you made him feel. On the surface, the twist in his stomach was sweet. An admiration, an appreciation of something so pure. Although,

Peter always fell apart.

Even in the room of his own heart.

Every silly thing had something inside of him twist. A strange twist, a bubbling feeling that had his gut wrench around itself—curling around and laying discomfort deep into his heart, where it stood mockingly. Unable to be buried beneath other thoughts, placed behind distractions, or replaced with another. And this bothered him.

Peter was always in control.

Control of his job, control of his victims, the police, his therapy, the growing police patrols in your city. So why couldn’t he control this?

What were you doing to him?

He thought it was uncomfortable at first. But that strange feeling was quite addicting, stacking tenfolds in intensity ever since the first time he felt it with you.

“Are you okay?”

By now, this memory had occurred over 3 years ago.

The first day you two had met, Peter was not in a good mental space. His family was in ruins, the relationship between he and his mother deteriorating until he had finally decided to storm out of the house and leave for good. Leave his home for good.

With nowhere to go, and a rumbling stomach, Peter decided the best course of action was to first fuel his appetite. Damn Diner was loud, painstakingly so. There was a mess of voices, the clash of plates, cutlery, dragging of chairs against tilted floors, chaos that hummed against a muffled out melody of tunes through the ceiling speakers. Everything was so loud. There was a child in the booth next to his. A mess of ketchup and mustard spraying everywhere, a glob falling onto his cheek as his eyebrows knit together in annoyance. There was a couple in the booth across, arguing over the cries of their child whining for a crumb of their attention. There was yelling from the kitchen, scolding as a worker had done something wrong and sent an order to the incorrect table.

And then, there was you.

Timidly, you rushed over to his table. Clumsy and expressive as you stared down to him with empathy, apologizing profusely as you explained the mess around the diner. And there, all the loudness stopped. Your voice muffled, muffled until it became strikingly clear and the diner around him seem to slow. Peter's eyes traced your face, how you were out of breath, how kindly you looked to him, how you asked if he was okay. And in this world of distain, you were pure.

And there was the first twist.

Peter spent nights going crazy.

Absolutely insane.

When he had first broken into your apartment, his heavy steps drowned out by the moans of your roommate through the paper thin walls, he thought he would melt into the floor when he first inhaled the scent of you room.

It was a soft aroma, something that had his eyes rolling into the back of his skull when he saw you laying peacefully on the bed. Your head was smushed between a folded pillow, covering your ears as your face was scrunched in discomfort.

"Lucy's being so loud tonight, isn't she, Darling?" Peter spoke softly, the back of his hand gracing your cheek as he sat on the edge of your bed. Careful to dip your mattress slowly so as to not wake you. Carefully, his other hand trailed up the curve of your torso, hip to waist, before entangling with your fingers.

Your hand felt right in his.

Soft, smooth, and warm against his cold skin. And there, he knew even fate was in his hands the moment he had yours in his.

When Peter had mustered up the courage to approach you in the park, he felt his heart beating out his chest, his mind going hazy from everything he wanted to do to you—from hearing your voice up close again. It had been nearly a year since you two had first met at the diner, and it seemed as though you had forgotten him completely. Luckily, Peter knew enough about you through his year of...supervision, and was soon able to swipe you off your feet. There, he became yours.

Your boyfriend.

And you, his girlfriend.

Often the two of you shared late nights after your dates. The hum of cicadas drumming into the background as you'd lay into the grass of the park the two of you 'first' met in. Your hands would intertwine together as the other would hold the grass below. In this park, the two of you would often talk about your dreams, aspirations, or talk shit about whatever seemed to bother you in your life at the moment. And Peter always listened.

In other moments, the two of you enjoyed each other's company. A silence paired with the ambience of howling wind, crickets, and a glint in your eye from the reflection of the moonlight and stars twinkling above. And through this silence, your heart spilled.

“I want to be with you forever, Peter." You spoke softly, you eyes still stuck on the starlight above.

A twist, something twisted once more.

For the first time, Peter eyes looked away from you—a blush traveling to his cheeks, a pale red hue over his soft features.

“Forever, then, Darling."

And forever meant forever.

Years together flew by, and you both had your own jobs—despite Peter's insistence for you to stay at home and allow him to care for you. Although, you wanted to work. You wanted to experience the world. But what you didn’t want were the unreasonable hours of overtime your boss had subjected to you. Much to Peter's dismay, many late afternoons he would return to an empty home. Full of furniture, light, decoration, but never with the person he truly wished the presence of. Every evening, you would trail home hours after him. Enervated, dragging your feet along the floorboards as you slumped into his open arms.

“I missed you, Peter.”

Your voice was like honey.

“I missed you more, Darling.” Peter greeted you softly. There it was again. Something twisted. Peter looked down to your visage. Dark eyebags staining your soft skin, a pout dragging your lips, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sighed from exhaustion. His gut was twisting stranger than usual. A mix of annoyance for those who have exploited you, an annoyance that made his stomach curl inside.

Peter did not want you to continue working.

Your boss had gone missing for a couple days now.

The company was in disarray, having strangely lost employee after employee ever since you were recruited. The once bustling, lively atmosphere became quiet, dull, and empty. And with the new loss of your employer, there wasn’t an office cubicle you could return to. For the first time in months, you returned home before Peter.

Although, something felt off.

With Peter home, it was always lively. The ambiance of bustling trees against the wind outside, a hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen, a low vibrato of your home's ventilation system, and the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. He was such a soothing soul. Without him, the home felt strange. You felt the presence of another, many, an overbearing amount. As though invisible strings clumped together to weigh you heavier into the floor boards, creaking the dark oak louder than usual.

Without Peter, it felt as though something was calling for you—and curiously, you began to explore. Exploring the home you resided in, as this home empty of your lover didn’t feel like a home anymore. And that lead you to the door that stood at the far end of the first floor. Tucked beside the laundry room, you stood still and seemed confused.

Was there always a lock?

A sturdy lock it was. Heavy metal weighing it flush against the wood, holding the door firmly shut to keep everything in out. There was a strange smell, too. A scent that leaked from beneath the dark oak doorway, filling the air with a musk of cooper and spoiled eggs. Your hand reached for the lock, flinching when built up static pricked your skin. A warning. But you held firm. Giving a cautious, downward tug as the lock went slack. It was open. You pushed the door back slowly, a low creak humming your presence, a flood of a strange meat stinging the view in your eyes.

Firmly, a familiar hand held your shoulder.

The hand of your boyfriend.

You were terrified.

“Darling, what are you doing?”

You couldn’t think.

Not with the view of mangled flesh, the smell of copper and iron so strong your head began to haze strangely. No, you couldn’t think. Even more so with scattered limbs decorating the floor—being the remainder of the morbidly intact heads of your former colleges and employer, of your missing boss. Pieces of them did not fit like a puzzle. Limbs, skin, so much of their bodies were missing.

What was that dinner Peter served these passing evenings?

And it seemed as though fate enjoyed sparking your memory.

This time around, nearly three years later, it was not scatttered corpses, blood, or flies that greeted you. You stood before the door of the fourth apartment complex you were going to apply to. Advertised as a gated community of safety, an exorbitant lot you were willing to hack up the money for to get away from him.

Although, just as three years ago, just as you were able to arrive to the complex, nails dug into your shoulder, holding you in place. A voice low, strange, and terrifyingly familiar. The grip dug into your flesh this time, keeping you from running—just as you did in the home you shared with him. With a door you shouldn’t have opened, and a hand on your shoulder that felt larger than usual.

Your boyfriend's hand.

“I missed you, my Darling.”

You didn't know what was happening.

You scrambled fruitlessly, trying to shove Peter's hand off your shoulder when a burning wet rag was drowned upon your lower face. You kicked, muffled screams and sobs as you dug into the palm that pinched the bridge of your nose, your body growing increasingly more limp. You didn't know what was happening, but by the next moment, it seemed as though you were melting into the floor—the world around you sputtering and glitching as your vision faded out and back in as you fell back onto a large bed.

You couldn't recognize the monster that was before you.

You didn't want to recognize the monster that was before you. Although, a rough, large hand gripped the lower half of your face, covering your mouth and pinning you down into the plush duvet to muffle horrified screams, forcing you to look deep into a being empty of a soul.

Even back then, you always felt Peter’s deep eyes had an errie glint. They seemed dull, strange, and detached from any wonder or interest. All until his gaze would flit upon you. A spark of light dashing his iris, a soft smile spreading his lips. He only looked human when he looked at you.

Peter still kept that smile. A smile that had morphed after his descent into maddness. Sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes that contrasted against sharp blues. He looked terrifying. His forearms were scattered with scars and wounds, peeled back scabs across his skin—likely from the amount of struggling you had done while in his arms. Your name was etched into his skin. Over and over and over, hearts and sharp lines littered as keloids formed in the place of his artwork. His size dwarfed you, a wolf to rabbit. Predator to prey.

“Pe—“

"You remember the time when you'd say it back, don't you, Darling?" He leaned down by your neck, breathing in shakily as though he couldn't believe you were finally here. With him. All to himself. "When you would say you missed me too." His voice was disfigured. A mix of insanity and dark undertone to his speech making your head spin and eyes well with tears. Your entire body was trembling, the skin on your back burning as every nerve in your brain set off sirens that resonated throughout your head. You felt too fearful to even choke out a pathetic sob, wanting to blend into the sheets below you.

Meanwhile, Peter felt himself going crazy. He couldn't help the way his mind ran a mile a minute as he stared down at your dicheviled form. You were always so pretty, absurdly so. Even as the strands of your hair fell misplaced over your face, even as you looked up to him with so much fear, hatred, and terror, his stomach twisted just as it did three years ago. That strange feeling laying addiction down into the lining of his stomach, soothing his body that felt run dry of how you made him feel.

He needed you. Now.

Peter brought a hand to his lips, hastily removing his right glove as he bit the fabric covering the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off by his teeth. His free hand pinned you pliantly down into the mattress by the lower half of your face, the other sliding beneath your shirt to tear the fabric off your body. You thrashed, muffled sobs and tears running down your cheeks, wetting the palm of his hand.

Your terror only fueled him further.

His hands groped and fondled every inch of your skin that one could imagine, a long tongue pairing with his touch as Peter licked a long stripe up your neck—sucking deep blotches and bruises of dark blue and purple hues across your neck and chest. Peter marked you as his, bit your flesh like a meal, and ruined your soft skin for his pleasure.

The mattress beneath you was in shambles. Inch deep tears lay by your head as Peter held back the urge to squeeze you blue, from ripping into your flesh, the torn mattress a goreish display of holding back the brutal cuteness aggression Peter got from the sight of you.

His hand slid from your mouth, gripping your neck tightly to restrict precious air from flooding your throat. He wanted you ditzy anyway. Nothing but a lifeless shell of who you were once he was done.

Pilant.

Obidient.

And what better way than halfway choking you out?

Your hands held his wrist desparately, nails scratching into his skin as he only smiled wider in response, stitches appearing on the corners of his mouth to prevent his face from ripping in two from his pure display of euphoria.

You hadn't stopped crying this entire time. Desparate pleas falling on deaf ears as you begged Peter that this was enough, that you'd listen, that you'd stay. And as convincing as it seemed, Peter was not giving you another chance to escape him. Not again.

His hand trailed down until it cupped your clothed cunt. Nothing on your body remaining besides your panties. A gift, perhaps—the best for last. Peter pushed your panties to the side, experimentally swirling the pad of his thumb onto your clit, causing you to wretch out a struggled moan.

"P-Peter—!" He only smiled in response.

"You've always been so sensitive, huh? It seems you haven't changed at all." His thumb pressed harder onto your cunt, rubbing your clit side to side as the palm of his hand pressed firmly down upon your womb. He watched you fall apart with glee, sliding his other hands between your thighs and gently nudging a finger inside of you. You threw your headback into the sheets, grabbing the duvet desperately, your hips trembling as you felt your sanity waste away to the pleasure wracked into your body.

You always fell apart so prettily.

Your hand shakily reached out to Peter, your lips quivering as a second finger curled into your cunt—the heel of his hand hitting the underside of your puffy clit as he kept toying with the bud. It burned, terribly so. Considering how much larger his stature was to yours, how much larger his finger would be to your own, it was a miracle you weren’t ripped in half yet. Although, it sure felt as though you were.

Peter stretched you out relentlessly, scissoring inside of you before curling the pads of his fingers plush against your g-spot. You arched your back desperately, crying out as your hips stuttered in response. And Peter kept prying there. His fingers pounding into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over and over until you felt as though you'd die from the overstimulation. As you reached out to Peter, he pulled a length of manila rope from his back pocket—grabbing your wrists before tying your hands together and in front of your chest as through you were praying—and perhaps you were. Praying to Peter to slow down, to be more gentle.

A third finger was nudged deep inside of you, pairing with the speed of his thumb on your clit increasing. His fingers pounded into you feverishly, sounds of your arousal soaking your inner thighs and his forearm—dirtying the sleeve of his pinstriped coat. You couldn't concentrate, no longer resisting against the firm hold his shadows had upon your wrists. No longer holding back your sweet moans.

A burning desire began to pool in your gut.

"Peter, p-please—"

A hand gripped your throat.

"P-Peter, please— I'm gonna cu—m!" He smiled to you. You were always so easy to please.

"Cum then, dear." His fingers sped up their speed inside your cunt, recklessly pounding and curling into you, bruising your g-spot painfully as you sobbed out, clenching your pussy around his cock as you squirt onto him. Peter smiled, leaning down to suck your clit and swirl his tongue around the bud as your mouth opened silently. Your hips struggled away, and yet his shoulders spread your knees firmly, the underside of your thighs thrown over them. Peter continued to bully your pussy past your orgasm, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers continued to curl and pound into you to ride out your high. You were crying endlessly. Begging him to stop, that it was enough. And yet, he didn't pull out his hand until you were merely twitching and whimpering in his bed. Broken.

"Have you lost yourself in the pleasure, Darling?" Peter was manic. Your pleasure felt like a high he couldn't describe. The way your fingers clenched around him, he felt as though it was a sign. A sign that all your struggling was only to encourage him to fight against you, a sign that you were only pretending to be scared.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Your eyes widened open when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds, Peter having removed his clothing now too. You struggled, trying to sit up when his hand once again held your throat warningly, choking you lightly against the mattress—gently enough that you could take slow, shallow breaths.

"Peter, it's not gonna fi—!" Your mouth fell open silently as Peter suddenly shoved the head of his cock inside of you. Your pool of arousal allowing him to slide in with just a minor amount of resistance—minor to his strength at least.

Meanwhile, your eyes blew wide as you whimpered out desperately, struggling against the binds on your wrists as your cunt stretched around him. He was big, painfully so. And you were thankful he decided to slide the remaining of his length in slowly, inch by inch. And yet, even when he was just halfway, you felt as though he was already plush against your cervix.

"Is she resisting, hmm? I guess I can be a little rough, you were always into that, anyways." Before you could understand what Peter meant, he slammed the remaining half of his length deep inside of you as you screamed out, your hands curling tight fists as your nails dug deep crescents into your palms.

Before you knew it, Peter pulled out to the tip, and slammed right back into you. His pace was unwavering. A hand gripped on your neck, the other pressing you into the mattress by a palm against your womb as he split you on his cock. Peter pounded into you, skin against skin as you soaked his cock, splashing your arousal onto his pelvis and lower stomach. He was big, too big. Tears streamed down your face, and Peter only wiped them with his thumb before licking it into his mouth. He wanted to taste your fear.

He wanted to rip you apart.

Your chest heaved as his thumb came down to your clit once more, roughly pressing onto you before swirling it harshly. You arched your back, clawing at the wrist on your throat as you moaned, crying around his cock when the underside of it would press into your g-spot, when the head of it would slam so deep against your cervix you felt he might fuck himself into your womb. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a hand gripping the torn sheets below you as you cried out when your pussy clentched around him.

"Please, please, can I c-cum—" You sobbed, looking down to where you and Peter where connected, seeing your cunt stretched impossibly wide for your ex-boyfriend's cock.

"Don't you dare."

"Please, Baby."

Fuck.

You drove him fucking crazy.

Peter swore he could’ve cum on the spot from hearing you finally call him baby once more, the name you neglected from him. The only name you should be calling him. Peter laughed.

"You truly know me so well, Darling." Peter's pace increased. His cock pounding into you hard enough to have your tits bouncing and the frame of the bed on the verge of giving out—your cunt clentching onto his fat cock even more.

"You can cum in three seconds." You nodded stupidly, too desparate to think.

Peter pulled back to the tip, slamming back inside.

"Three," His palm pressed into your womb, feeling the buldge of his dick against his hand, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. You swore you were going to die if you couldn't cum soon, Peter's counting teasingly slow as he fucked into you like a fleshlight. Like a pet.

"Two." Your pussy fluttered against him, Peter's fingers swirling your clit viciously.

"One," You whined, sliding your hands to his upper back as you raked down his skin.

"Please, please, please, let me cum." You were going crazy.

"Cum." You threw your head back, near screaming his name like a mantra as you clencthed around him, squirting for the second time that night as his cock continued to pound deep inside of you. Peter let go of your throat, his hands sliding beneath the underside of your thighs to push your knees into your chest—fucking you meanly in a harsh mating press as he refused to slow down. You felt like your soul was going to fall out your body, your pussy spasming as Peter continued to pound into you without any concern to your fresh orgasm and painful overstimulation that burned your walls.

"B-baby, Peter—please, I can'—"

And for the first time since three years ago, and for the first time together—Peter kissed you.

His kiss was soft, gentle, loving. His hips never stilled, continuing to rip orgasm after orgasm out of your poor little pussy. Although, his mouth was soft against yours, eyes closed and hand holding your neck lightly as the tips of his fingers graced your bruised skin. Bruised with the marks of his love, his obsession.

He held your face as kindly, as though you may be gone if he didn't keep you in his arms forever. Peter's tongue slid into your mouth slowly, and you moaned around him—letting him in. Your body missed him so much.

Maybe you still love him, even after it all.

Peter's pace became staggered, his hips slowing until he kept his cock deep inside and came directly into your womb. His load gushed out from the sides of your hole that stretched around him, stuffing you full. Peter allowed your thighs to rest by his hips, laying you back against the mattress as he continued to kiss you. His hands massaged your body, comforting the bites, hickeys, and bruises.

"I love you, Darling."

Peter spoke softly, pulling away from you. Admiring your fucked out state.

"So don't you leave me ever again."

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