#i remember it fucking up my wrist for weeks though LMAO

[lliwless]

Posting this one on its own because I'm still insanely proud of it a year later :)

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit fanart #mcyt tommyinnit #tommyinnit mcyt #mcyt #mcyt fanart #i'd love to redraw this #i remember it fucking up my wrist for weeks though LMAO #lliwless art

[freedomfireflies]

Plssss y/n and harry are at a party that is full of celebrities including The Weeknd (God I love him) and Harry finds out he has dated y/n. (y/n not famous, she is a normal person) lmao I need to see Harry all jealous

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

With a laugh, you slide from the barstool as he approaches, arms finding their way around his neck as he pulls you in for a long overdue hug.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he murmurs, squeezing at your hips once before letting go.

You brush the hair from your face as you lean back, fighting a rather large smile. “Harry invited me,” you tell him, nodding your chin toward the sulking man on the stool behind you. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here?”

Abel laughs, arms crossing in front of his chest. “I didn’t either, but something told me to come out tonight and I guess…now I know why.”

“Please,” you snort, clocking the suggestive look in his eye, but blushing, nonetheless. He always knew the way to your heart was flattery, and you can’t deny that you’re pleased to see your old friend. “How’ve you been?”

He launches into an explanation of his wild week, and you nod appreciatively, listening to each detail as he recalls it. 

You’re excited to see him, having not really heard from him for a few months, although you suppose you understand why. 

But no matter the reason for the disappearance, you give him your undivided attention, happy for the brief connection.

It’s not until Abel begins describing the hassle going on with his label that you feel a familiar arm snake its way around your hip. 

With a subtle tug, you find yourself now sitting firmly on a lap. Harry’s lap, to be specific. And you know him well enough to know the pressure of his fingertips along your hip is indicative of his annoyance.

You smirk, letting your hand rest over top his as Abel continues speaking, oblivious to the subliminal argument you and Harry are currently having.

His knee begins to jostle beneath you, anxious and irritated. You liken it to that of him tapping his wrist impatiently as if telling Abel to hurry the fuck up already.

In return, you squeeze his palm between your fingers. Once. Twice. Calm. Down.

The arm around your waist tightens. Until your back is softly jerked against his chest. No.

You wonder the reason for this behavior. Sure, his jealousy makes an appearance once in a while, but not usually around his own friends. Not in a place like this. And not around someone as sweet as Abel, who is so far back in your past, you can hardly remember it.

Harry’s chin finds your shoulder. Rests there. Jaw clenched. Fingers now tapping your hip. Hurry.

You nestle back into his embrace, relaxing against his large frame as you exhale softly. Easy.

“—so, I wasn’t really sure what to do, you know?” Abel shrugs, glancing toward the rest of the room before looking back. “But what about you, huh? Wasn’t sure I’d see you around for a while.”

Harry’s grip tightens.

“Oh, no, this isn’t really my scene,” you agree quickly, laughing a bit as you straighten up, attempting to loosen the hold on your hip. “But with Harry’s tour starting soon, figured I’d swing by before he heads off.”

“That’s right. That’s so cool, man. Heard it’s is gonna be huge,” Abel replies, eyes flicking to Harry as he offers a supportive grin. “Yeah, hoping to swing by the L.A. show sometime.”

Appreciative of the kind gesture, you offer Abel a thankful smile before glancing over your shoulder toward the still very sullen man keeping you planted to your spot.

You had expected him to at least pretend to look happy. Offer a grin of his own or even return the compliment. Pleasantries having always been his speciality.

But tonight, for some odd reason, he only frowns. “Yeah, thanks…man. Listen—” Suddenly, he’s standing, forcing you from his lap as your feet hit the floor and his fingers weave around your upper arm. “—we gotta head out. Thanks for dropping by, though.”

And with that, you’re gingerly yet forcibly slung toward the direction of the exit.

“Wait, Har—Harry,” you hiss, twisting back around to call a quick, “Sorry! It was so good to see you. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“Will do,” Abel laughs, tossing a hand up in greeting before returning to his friends and you return to the 6-foot man-child dragging you out of the party.

“Harry,” you warn as his palm outstretches to shove the double doors open and pull you into the dark night. “Harry, my arm—”

He lets go within an instant once you’re safe and sound on the sidewalk, and you stumble toward a steady footing.

His eyes, narrowed and dark with livid displeasure, find you. He stands tall. Still. Offering no explanation for his behavior as you’re left to brush your hands down your dress.

“The hell was that?” you huff, straightening up as you study him. “Since when do you manhandle me—”

“What the fuck was with you?” he retorts, hands finding his pockets as he jerks his head toward the building before raising his voice in mimic. “‘Oh, Abel, I missed you so much, it’s been so good to see you, let’s so do this again.’”

Your glare begins to mirror his, hands finding your hips as you scoff, “That’s not how that happened and why do you even care?”

“I fucking care because…” He hesitates, making a noise himself as he looks out into the street, mulling over his response. “Because it was fucking weird.”

You lean back. “What? What was weird? We were talking—”

“Yeah, why?” 

Your brows pull together, eyes falling over his hardened expression. “What do you mean why? Cause we’re friends.”

“Yeah? Is that all?”

The lilt in his voice is venomous and you can feel your muscles recoil as you hesitate. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs as if suggesting you figure it out yourself, and you’re positive you don’t like the implication.

You take a cautious step toward him, pointer finger raising in the air as you murmur, “You better watch your fucking tone, Styles. Whatever it is you’re trying to say? Don’t.”

His head cocks to the side. “What? You don’t want me to say that I think you used to fuck him?”

There it is.

You can feel the swell of livid outrage form deep in your chest as you move back. “That’s what this is about.” Not a question. A statement. A glaringly obvious acceptance. “You’re jealous he and I used to see each other.”

His glare deepens at the carefully worded phrase. “I’m not jealous—”

“Ha.” Your laugh is bitter. You look away, head shaking with disbelief. “No, that’s good. That was a good one. Because if you weren’t jealous, then why the fuck are we out here instead of in there?"

Harry straightens up. Grits his teeth. Doesn’t respond.

So, you respond for him. “Because he’s in there…right?”

More silence. More confirmation of the truth you’d almost be flattered by if he hadn’t made such a scene. 

You have two options, you realize now. 

Continue standing in the middle of the street screaming at each other as the people around you awkwardly watch. 

Or talk him down.

Even though, truthfully, you’re not sure why you have to talk him down when he’s the one acting like a child.

But it’s then that you’re reminded of the times Taylor has been in the room. Or Camille. Or Kendall. The times when you’ve never felt more out of place in this world of his. Standing beside him as he catches up with an old lover.

And despite reminding yourself that it doesn’t matter who was in his past as long as you’re in his future, it doesn’t diminish that devil on your shoulder reminding you how different you are from his very specific type.

No matter your confidence in your relationship, it doesn’t erase the small trickle of doubt that works its way in when you see them together.

And the only thing that truly brings you back to reality is the tender tone of his voice as he reminds you that you’re the only one he sees in a room full of people. 

It’s a kindness that makes a world of difference. 

A kindness you see he needs now.

Slowly, your resolve fades, anger dissipating with each second that passes.

You step closer to him, small hands smoothing up his chest until you can cup his cheeks. He tenses, curious of your intentions as you begin to stroke the soft skin beneath your fingertips. Calming him. 

“Abel and I met a long time ago,” you tell him softly, noticing the flex in his fingers at the admission. Still, you carry on. “We dated—briefly—and it ended on bad terms. We weren’t really a good fit as partners. But, later, we became friends. And he’s the one who told me about the party where you and I met.”

Harry’s brow cocks upward. Yet, he doesn’t speak. He waits.

“I see him maybe once a year if that. And always in a crowded, social setting. He will always be a good memory in my past. But you…you, Har, are my future.”

Now you begin to see the understanding. The relaxation in his muscles. In his expression. In the way his hands find your hips to pull you a bit closer. Have you near.

“And in a room full of Abel’s…I only see you,” you can’t help but add a bit cheekily, and you’re rewarded with his smirk.

“Wow,” he mumbles, head shaking softly. “No, that was bad. Is that how dumb I sound when I say it?”

“Hey.” Your hand slaps at his chest. “It was cute.”

“Yeah. Sure. All right, angel, whatever you say.”

You pull your lip between your teeth, fighting a smug grin. “It was kind of cute the way you got so mad.”

Now, the glare returns, and he rolls his eyes while attempting to let go.

But you hold steady, pulling at his jaw as you laugh, “No, really. Got all grumpy and mad. Everybody wants to steal my girl, yeah? Is that—I mean, was that what was going through your—hey, where are you going?”

But he’s already striding down the sidewalk, leaving you behind as you chuckle adoringly. For a moment, he doesn’t reply. Simply walks down the street as you’re left to wonder.

Then, he turns. Smirking yet again as he calls, “I’m taking you home. So I can show you exactly what happens when someone tries to steal my girl.”

Your face flushes, thighs already attempting to clench together as you swallow apprehensively.

Then…

You follow.

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #abel makkonen tesfaye #the weeknd #jealousy

[the-cult-of-russo]

Endorphins (Part 2)

Pairing: Reader/Billy Russo

Warnings: cursing, angst, pain, the usual dark shit. I don't wanna tag it too like specifically to keep the suspense alive lmao the usual Punisher type of bullshit. It’s nothing you haven’t read before if you’ve read my other angsty shit.

A/N: Soooo this was a request but it turned into multiple parts because I got carried away. And I don't wanna put the request on here like I usually do because of spoilers lmaooo

But to answer the rest of your ask anon, I know, I was away awhile. Life hasn’t been kind to me and then I ended up knee-deep in another fandom lmao But I’m back babeeeyyyy!! ;)

Also, the name of this series is from a Don Broco song with the same name. If you don’t know who they are, check them out. They’re my fav band and I love them. 

Yeah, alright, yeah, alright, yeah, alright

Transfusing my blood in the morning

Yeah, alright, yeah, alright, yeah, alright

Be snoozing that lust in the morning

Do you right, do you right, do you right

I'll give it all up in the morning

What a life, what a life, what a life

Still feeling that crush, feeling that

—------

You shivered a little as you stood on the sidewalk, getting fed up of waiting for the cab. You’d called ages ago now and it never took this long for one to turn up. You’d been working at Anvil for a little over two months now and you’d fully settled in the place. After you’d told yourself to stop being weird with Billy, you found it easier to be around him. You’d actually become friends with him. He’d even invited you out a few times for drinks with Frank, Karen, Curtis and some guy named Micro. You were doing well at your job and enjoying it. You’d been sitting in on Billy’s meetings and he’d started to ask you advice on things that Mr Johnson never would have asked you about. He even asked you to meet with some of the smaller clients he knew you could handle on his behalf if he was busy. Things were really looking up. You weren’t as anxious as you used to be either. Twice a week for over a month, Billy had trained with you until you felt confident about your self-defense. You only had a few times of feeling like someone was watching you but no one had followed you since that one time, so you knew it was just the residual after-effect of being creeped out. You still took cabs home from work though. But this night, you’d stayed to work a little later. And now the cab seemed like it wasn't turning up. You really didn’t live that far and the longer you stayed out on the street, the colder you got and that creepy feeling started to set in and you didn’t like it.

“Fuck it,” you huffed, starting to walk. You’d get home quicker at this rate. Your steps were hurried in your desperation to get home. You wanted a nice hot bath when you got in, you felt the cold down to your bones. You were just considering which bubble bath to use when you were grabbed and shoved into an alleyway. You yelped, not expecting it, and your back hit the brick wall with such force, you knew it would bruise. You blinked with wide eyes at the man in front of you. The one holding a very large fucking knife like he was ready to shiv you. He looked way older than you, years of drug use all over his face as he snarled at you. Any training Billy had shown you seemed to fly right out of the window with your worst fear facing you. You felt weak and pathetic.

“Give me your bag,” he growled at you. You took a shaky breath. You knew you should just give it to him but this month's rent was in there and also your phone that had your life on it. Not only personal, but all your work schedules and meetings and important client info. You tried to remember what Billy had taught you before your hand darted out, grabbing the wrist with the knife and using your other arm to bend his at an unnatural angle. He screamed as the knife clattered to the floor and as he moved away, you made a run for the mouth of the alley. But then you were grabbed again and shoved to the floor. Before you had a chance to get up, you felt a blinding pain in the side of your head that made you see stars. He’d punched you.

“You fucking, bitch! You want me to kill you?!” he yelled angrily. He hit you again and you felt it as your lip split, your mouth filling with the coppery tang of your blood. As you lay on the damp and dirty floor, resigned to the fact he was probably going to kill you, the sound of giggling and talking hit your ears.

“Shit,” the man muttered, swiping your bag off the ground before running off to the other end of the alley. You blinked blearily, noting one of your eyes was swelling badly and you couldn't see out of it. And then a group of five women walked past the end of the alley all looking dressed up and ready for a night on the town. 

“Oh my god!” one of them called out, signaling to the others before they all hurried over to you. You couldn't make out who was saying what as they all muttered their concern and one of them helped you sit up. Your head was spinning. 

“We should call the cops,” one said frantically.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” another said quickly.

“No. No, please, I just wanna go home,” you whispered, voice wobbling as the emotion of being mugged hit you hard. You felt so embarrassed that after all Billy had shown you, you couldn't even defend yourself. Not only that, but he’d taken your rent money and your phone. You wondered if Billy would be mad at you. You’d asked him about having certain work things on your phone, confidentiality and all. But he’d told you it was fine, to just make sure to look after it. And you’d failed. The girls tried to argue with you, but after you insisted some more, they offered to walk home with you. Through your hazy brain, half concussion probably, and half just trauma, you managed a thank you to them before you went inside and right up to your apartment. As soon as your door shut, the sobs started. Your whole body was shaking, your chest burning hard. You wobbled over to the mirror, wincing at your face. Your left eye was swollen shut and already purple, your lip split and blood all over your chin. You looked a mess. You sat on your bed and cried for what felt like forever. But then the buzzer for your apartment started going frantically. Your heart stopped, wondering if the man had followed you home even though you knew it was stupid. He wouldn't be buzzing to be let in, as if you’d just buzz him right up for round two. After a few minutes of it none stop going off, you stood on shaky legs. Your back hurt like a bitch too and you could only imagine how bruised it was. You took a deep breath before pressing the intercom.

“Hello?” you asked shakily. 

“Y/N?! Jesus Christ, let me up!” Billy demanded, sounding desperate yet relieved to hear your voice. You were far too confused about why he was here to think about the way he was behaving and too muddled in the brain to ask him. So instead, you let him up. But while he was on his way up, you remembered the state of your face and you felt panic prickle at you. You’d have to tell him what happened. He’d be disappointed in you for being awful at looking after yourself and then just be pissed you lost your phone. You felt like you couldn't breathe by the time he was knocking on your door.

You opened it, quickly walking inside before he could see you. If he was going to cause a scene, you at least wanted it to happen inside the privacy of your apartment. He shut the door behind him before looking at you. He looked like someone smacked him for a moment, staring dumbly at you as his dark eyes seem to take in each and every injury. At least, the ones he could see.

“I…” he fumbled, mouth clamping shut as a deep concerned frown overtook his face. He took a step toward you but stopped when you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked down.

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice sounding raw. You hadn't meant it to sound so feeble but you weren't feeling so brave right about now. He had this weird sad look on his face for a moment. Like you just told him his puppy was about to die. But then it hardened a little and you saw him roll his shoulder. Something you noticed he did when he was pissed off or stressed.

“‘Cause I tried to call you about the meeting tomorrow and some asshole answered your phone. I know you ain’t in the habit of givin’ your phone to strangers so I knew somethin’ was wrong,” he muttered tensely. He took another step towards you then, his face softening a little.

“What happened?” he asked gently. You figured you could try to be brave and tell him the truth. But mortifyingly, instead, you burst into tears. He rushed over to you instantly, gathering you in his arms as he held you like you were made of glass. But after crying it out a little, you moved away and angrily wiped your good eye and shook your head.

“I’m so stupid! I got mugged. Fucking mugged, Billy! After everything you taught me, I wasn't able to stop it. And- And… he took my rent money. And my phone! I lost my phone, I’m so sorry!” you rambled through your crying. He looked offended for a moment before he carefully took your face and made you look up at him.

“That's a joke, right? You think I give a shit about the phone when you're standin’ here hurt like this?” he scoffed. You felt the shame burrow deep inside of you.

“I don't know what to think right now. My head’s a mess,” you wept pitifully. He carefully guided you to the couch and eased you to sit before he dropped to his knees in front of you. You had half a mind to tell him your floors were a little dusty and he’d ruin his nice pants but you couldn't get the words out. 

“I don’t care about the phone, I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is you right now,” he insisted. It made you feel a little better. Now you just felt bad that you thought he’d be mad at you. If your head wasn't so fuzzy you’d probably have realized that now you were friends, of course he’d care you were hurt. Just the same way as he would if it was Karen this had happened to. You sniffled, wiping your good eye again as you willed the tears to stop. 

“Have you been checked out at hospital?” he asked concerned, his eyes once again darting to your messed up eye and lip. You shook your head, not wanting to speak or you’d only cry harder again. It was bad enough he was seeing you like this. You wanted to crawl in a hole and stay there.

“You gotta get checked out, Y/N. You look…” he trailed off with a wince and you snorted through your tears.

“A mess?” you asked self-deprecatingly. He frowned and shook his head.

“Ain’t no scenario on this earth where you look a mess. You look in pain. And I don’t like it, so get your ass up. We’re goin’,” he muttered firmly, standing up and giving you a look that told you he meant it. You didn't have the brain power to think more on his words as you stood up reluctantly. 

“Can I…?” you trailed off as you tried to breathe, sniffling again. You felt like you’d been crying forever at this point but it seemed like it was slowly calming down as your body got used to the shock it was going through. “Can I change into something more comfortable?” you asked softly. You were still in your work clothes. Now bloody and needing to be thrown away. You weren't sure how long you’d be waiting in the emergency room and you wanted to at least feel more comfortable.

“You need any help?” he asked, his face the picture of concern. But you shook your head and tried to give him a smile that was probably more of a grimace. 

You went into your room and carefully got changed into an oversized tee and some leggings. You slipped on some fluffy slipper boots and didn't care how stupid you might look leaving the apartment with them on. Comfort was your main priority right now given the fact your body was suffering with the opposite. You grabbed a zip-up hoodie and threw it on before wandering out to the living area again. Billy stopped his pacing, giving you a sad smile as you walked over. He hovered next to you the whole time you walked down the stairs and until you got in his car. But you didn't mind it. It made you feel safe. The ride was tense on the way to the hospital. Now your tears had stopped, you felt like all the energy had been sucked out of you. 

“When you’re done here, you’re gonna tell me what this piece of shit looks like,” Billy growled, his hands tightening around the wheel. You nodded numbly, not really caring. You didn't really know what Billy was planning on doing with that information but right then, all you felt was an empty hollow nothingness. You were sure you were still in shock. 

You felt like you’d waited forever to be seen at the hospital but then you were ushered in to be seen with Billy. You’d sat on the examination table, Billy in the chair, as you told the doctor about what happened to you. Billy’s leg had been bouncing around but by the time you finished your story, he looked ready to crawl out of his skin. 

“Okay Miss Y/L/N, do you need Mr Russo to leave while I examine you?” the doctor asked kindly. You shook your head, not even thinking to ask if Billy was okay with staying. He was bringing you comfort and you didn’t want him to leave. With a nod, the doctor started to look at your injuries. When he’d lifted up your top to look at your back, you’d heard Billy suck in a breath so you knew it must have been badly bruised. After he’d given you a good look over, he scribbled on his chart before looking at you.

“You have a minor concussion. I’m going to prescribe you some pain medication for the pain and you need to rest up. Take some time off work. Do you need me to write a medical note?” he asked.

“No need. She can have all the time off she needs,” Billy muttered from where he was sitting, holding himself tightly. The doctor glanced at him curiously then.

“I’m her boss,” Billy supplied.

“Have you filed a police report yet?” the doctor asked as he looked back at you.

“Yeah,” Billy answered quickly. You glanced at him for a moment, confused why he lied. But then you remembered the conversation in the car so you just nodded to the doctor.

“Okay, just make sure you rest,” The doctor said as he wrote out your prescription. 

“Can I sleep? With the concussion?” you asked wearily. You were exhausted.

“You can. Medical experts used to think it was a bad idea with a concussion, but now with modern science, we know it's perfectly safe,” he answered with a kind smile.

After getting your meds, Billy drove you home once again. The car ride was silent and you could sense Billy’s anger, only you knew it wasn't directed at you. You'd be touched at his concern if you didn't feel like the world was spinning. He helped you up to your apartment and into your bedroom once you got there. He didn't speak until you were settled in bed.

“You need me to stay?” he asked softly. Despite his body showing clear signs of being pissed, his voice held no inflection of it as he gazed at you.

“You… you don't need to stay the night. But maybe just until I fall asleep… if you don't mind?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up in shame. 

“Of course, I don't mind,” he frowned, moving to sit on the bed. It didn't take long before you were out like a light. When you woke the next morning, your body ached like a bitch and your face was throbbing. You moved to sit up carefully, your one good eye looking around to see Billy wasn’t there. You didn't know why you were disappointed since you told him only to stay until you fell asleep. But as your eyes drifted to your nightstand, you saw your pain meds and a bottle of water. Along with a box containing a new phone and a note.

I put in all the contacts that I had and set it all up for you. Don’t worry about work, just focus on getting better. Karen will come over with some lunch for you to make sure you eat and I’ll be around after work to check in and make sure you're okay.

Try to take it easy, sweetheart.

Billy

PS. I paid your rent. Don’t argue about it, just accept it.

You felt yourself smile despite it all as you read his note. Before working at Anvil, you didn't expect the mighty Mr Russo to be so sweet and soft. He’d really looked after you the night before and you were grateful for all of his help. Even if you were a little embarrassed about him seeing you in that state. You were really glad to have him as a friend. 

—-----

It had been three months since you’d been mugged and you were finally moving past it. It had taken almost two weeks for you to heal and feel ready for work and Billy hadn't once made you feel bad for missing work. He’d even brought in a temp so you didn't go back to a mountain of work, although he had confessed to you upon returning that she’d been awful compared to you. All the guys had helped you through it. Billy, Frank, Karen and Curtis all came to see you and make sure you were okay. Billy had been by every single night to check in with you and you were grateful. Eventually, you’d gone back to work and people didn't need to check in on you. You’d been a little skittish at first but everyone had been accommodating, especially Billy. He’d even taken to driving you home from work most nights. Only if you both finished at different times did you get a cab. It had brought the pair of you closer and you considered him one of your best friends. He’d seen you at one of your darkest moments and he hadn't turned you away. He’d helped you through it. And now things seemed like they were finally settling back to normal and you were grateful. You weren't sure what happened to the guy that mugged you. Billy hadn't mentioned him again so you presumed he hadn't found him. You knew he would have told you otherwise. You’d not long been in your apartment after Billy dropped you off when you heard the door knock. You were still in your work clothes, not yet changing into your PJs, but your shoes were haphazardly on the floor. You padded over to the door and opened it to see your landlord. He looked flustered or upset, you couldn't tell. But before you could ask him if he was okay, he spoke.

“You need to leave,” he muttered. You blinked dumbly at him for a moment as your brain tried to understand what he’d said.

“What?” you asked confused. You’d never had a problem with him before and you were a good tenant. The only time you had an issue with rent was when you lost your other job, but he’d been so kind and understanding about it.

“You need to pack your things and be out by morning,” he hissed. He looked pissed off and you shook your head.

“Why? What happened?” you asked, sounding as confused as you looked.

“Didn't you hear me?! You need to leave! You don't wanna find out what happens if you don't!” he yelled angrily before hurrying off. You stared at the empty doorway for a moment, not quite understanding the exchange. Surely he couldn't do this. He had no grounds to turn you out and he wasn't giving you any notice. 

But as you closed the door and moved away, the gravity of his words hit you. What were you supposed to do now? Even if he legally couldn't do this, you’d have to fight it and you didn't deal with confrontation well. You didn't want to stay here when he clearly wanted you to leave. You had no idea what he’d do if you didn't go. You didn't have any family and the only friends were the ones you made at work. You weren't about to ask Karen and Frank to crash on their couch and you didn't know Curtis well enough. There was Billy but the idea filled you with embarrassment. You might be friends but he was still your boss. You only had until morning to be gone with all your stuff and the more you thought about it, the more you panicked. The landlord's ominous words rang out in your head and after what happened when you were mugged, it set off the trauma still laying under the surface. Before you knew it, you were crying as you tried to come up with a plan of how to get you and your stuff gone. With no plan coming to mind, you reluctantly picked up your phone and called Billy.

“Hey, you okay?” Billy asked quickly after only two rings. You tried to get a hold of yourself. You knew you were being a little over dramatic about the whole thing. But you were worried and had nowhere else to go. When you didn't answer him right away and all he got was a sniffle out of you, he sounded more panicked. 

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked firmly. 

“I… My landlord kicked me out. I don't… I don't understand. But he threatened me… I think? And I don't… I don't have anywhere to go and all my stuff and I…” you rambled through your tears, shaking your head. He was silent for a moment and you almost wondered if he’d hung up.

“I’ll be right over,” he said before he actually hung up. You groaned at yourself for being so stupid. Why did you always have to have Billy come and rescue you like some damsel in distress? He probably thought you were being dramatic and stupid about crying over it. Before long he buzzed and you let him in. When you opened your door, he quickly embraced you in a hug and you melted into him as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m overreacting about this,” you mumbled into his chest.

“Don’t need to be sorry,” he murmured, rubbing your back soothingly. When you moved away, you felt a little calmer and wiped your eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, confused.

“I don't even know. He turned up telling me I have to leave with my stuff before morning. When I asked why, he started yelling at me to leave and said I don't wanna find out what happens if I don't,” you replied with a shrug. Billy’s jaw ticked as he shook his head.

“Want me to have a word with him?” he asked looking angry, his eyes glancing to the door.

“No. It’s… fine. He obviously doesn't want me here so I just wanna go. But I don't know where to go,” you lamented. You didn't want to know what would happen if Billy spoke to the landlord. Nothing good. But the end result would be the same, you’d need to leave. Billy rolled his shoulder, blowing out a breath like he was trying to calm down. 

“Just stay with me,” he answered casually. Like it was the easiest answer.

“Isn't that weird though? I mean… you're my boss. And you see me all day at work and then you’ll see me at home,” you muttered with a frown. 

“I’m also your friend. And I don't care. Ain’t gonna get sick of you if that's what you’re worried about,” he smirked wryly, making you smile a little. 

“You’re sure?” you asked hesitantly. 

“More than sure. You can stay with me just until you find somewhere. I can have my guys come by and get your shit. We can put it in storage or somethin’ until you move somewhere,” he sounded so sure of his plan and you didn't have another one. 

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely. You weren't sure how many times this man would do something to help you like this. 

“Don’t gotta thank me,” he scoffed, giving you a soft smile. He made some calls and before long, some of the guys you knew from Anvil were taking away your stuff and putting it in a large van. You’d packed your essentials and it depressed you as you’d packed up your stuff ready to realize just how little you had. 

Once you got to Billy’s, you carefully placed your bags near the sofa. It was late now and you were tired from having to go through all the stress and the hassle of packing up your stuff. You’d never been to his place before and you glanced around, taking it all in. It was very him. And you weren't surprised he lived in a penthouse. 

“Alright, you can take the bed, I’ll take the sofa,” Billy murmured as he took off his shoes and placed them neatly near the door. The whole place was spotless but you should have figured from his office he was a minimalist and a little bit of a neat freak. 

“No,” you huffed.

“What was that?” he asked with an amused smirk as he looked at you.

“I said no. You’ve already done too much for me. I’m not taking your bed from you too,” you frowned.

“Y/N…” he started, looking ready to give you a lecture.

“No, Billy. I won't budge on this. It’s not gonna kill me to sleep on your couch. It looks comfier than my old bed anyway,” you shot him a firm look and he held his hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

“Alright. If you need me, don't be afraid to get me,” he gave you a sympathetic look and with a nod, he went off to his bedroom. He hadn't shown you around but the place was easy enough to suss out for yourself. You found the bathroom and changed into your pajamas. When you came back out, Billy had left a duvet and pillow on the couch for you. You smiled to yourself as you set it up and got inside it, feeling comfortable. You wouldn't stay here too long, just until you got your shit figured out. You’d get looking for apartments in the morning. 

—-----

You yawned a little and stretched your legs out from where you were sitting on the sofa as you watched TV. You’d been staying at Billy’s now for almost a month and it was definitely longer than you’d planned. Billy had insisted he looked for a place himself. He wanted to check it out and vet the landlords to make sure you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened at your old place. He was pretty firm on it so you let him take the reins. But he hadn't found anything yet. Anything you’d come up with, he’d shot down after looking into it and you trusted him. He’d been insistent on the fact he didn't mind you there so you tried not to worry about it. If he wanted to look then you'd let him. It just didn't help that he’d told you he only wanted the best for you but you weren't exactly on the same money he was. It made things trickier. But you knew you needed to find something soon. When he’d said you thought he’d get sick of you, he wasn't wrong. He was eerily perceptive like that. You didn't want him to get sick of you because you were actually happy. Your life was going good. You loved your old job but you didn't have friends there, just acquaintances. It wasn't like here at Anvil. And you didn't have a trusting friendship with Mr Johnson either. He cared but it was different. Everything was going perfect and you didn't want that to change because Billy decided he’d had far too much of you. You couldn't help but worry.

But you’d admit that staying with Billy had been easy. You’d both wake in the morning and share breakfast before heading off to work. Your work days would go how they always did and then you’d both come home. You ate take out a lot but sometimes Billy would cook and he was really good at it. He’d told you he loved to cook but he didn't do it often when it was just him. He enjoyed having someone to cook for. After dinner, you would both just veg out a little and watch TV before bed. It just worked. You both enjoyed each other's company and it was easy. But you needed to get your ass in gear and move because it was too easy and you kept having those pesky thoughts about him that you knew you had no place having. You needed the safety of your own place where you could keep the boundaries of a friendship with Billy instead of fantasies of something more. You knew Billy didn't do relationships. And even if you went down that road, what would happen if it went wrong? You’d lose your job, your friends, your best friend. You didn't want to deal with that. 

It had taken time away from Billy to really see that. To open your eyes. You’d thought a lot these past two days. Billy and Frank had been gone for a couple of days with some of their guys on a mission. You didn't ask questions. He’d told you once about some of these things he did, how they weren’t exactly legal. But you knew they weren't the bad guys in these situations so you didn't ask. You were worried of course. Anything could happen. But you knew Billy could handle himself. He had before you turned up and he would if you ever ended up not being in his life. So you went on as usual. You weren't sure exactly when he’d be home. He told you it should be sometime today but that sometimes these secret missions could run over a little. So as you heard the key turn in the lock, your head snapped to the door as it opened. Billy came in wearing his tactical gear and you mentally slapped yourself for your body's instant reaction to it. But then you noticed his tense face and how he was holding himself strange. And then you saw the blood as the light reflected on it. You’d missed it with how dark his clothes were.

“Holy shit, what happened?” you asked, jumping up and rushing over to him.

“Got shot,” he bit out, ridding himself of his vest. 

“And you didn't go to the hospital?” you asked incredulously, helping him get his shirt off when you saw him struggling. He gave you a deadpan look but you didn't budge as you looked at him like he’d grown another head.

“Guy turns up with a gunshot wound, there's a lotta questions,” he muttered vaguely. But you knew what he was referring to. He moved away, now shirtless with a very obvious gunshot wound in his shoulder as he grabbed a bottle of some kind of alcohol, opening it and having a long pull from it. 

“Do you need me to call Curtis?” you asked worriedly, watching as he rooted through a cabinet and pulled out a little bag.

“Nah, I can handle it,” he stubbornly answered. Taking the bag and alcohol and dumping them on the coffee table before heavily sitting on the sofa. You groaned, rolling your eyes at the man's stubbornness. 

“Will you at least let me help you?” you asked exasperatedly. He properly looked at you then as you stood there with worry etched all over your face. His tense and moody demeanor changed slightly, his face softening.

“You don't gotta see this shit,” he frowned. You huffed, stomping over and sitting next to him, angling your body to face him.

“I don't care. Let me help you. It won't be easy to fix this with one hand,” you quirked a brow at him and he chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

“Need to get the bullet out and sew it up,” he sighed. You nodded, looking through the bag which seemed to contain medical supplies. You found a pair of tweezers and grabbed a crap tonne of gauze. 

“Use this,” he murmured, handing you the drink that you could now see was whisky. You took it, glancing at his wound before back at his face.

“This is gonna hurt, isn't it?” you asked with a wince.

“Yep,” he snorted mirthlessly. You took a deep breath before pouring some on his wound. He groaned, struggling to hold his body still as you apologized profusely. Suddenly the alcohol was back in his hands as he chugged some of it. You worked hard to get the bullet out, feeling bad at every pained moan leaving his lips. It seemed the more pain you inflicted on him, the more he drank and you were surprised he hadn't passed out yet. Once the bullet was out, he relaxed only a small amount. And then you got to work stitching him up the best you could.

“It’s probably gonna leave a scar,” you frowned after you were done and taped a bandage over it.

“One of many,” he mumbled, sounding drunk. You weren't sure if it was the booze or loss of blood. Probably both. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“You don't need to thank me. You're always saving me in one way or another. Figured it was time I paid you back,” you smiled wryly. He grinned and reached out with his good hand, cupping your cheek so tenderly that you almost forgot to breathe. He just stared at you for a long moment and you were about to ask him what he was doing, but then he leaned forward and his lips were on yours. Your brain malfunctioned, unable to think with him kissing you like this. Your body went on autopilot as you kissed back. But as he deepened the kiss, you tasted the whisky on his tongue and reality hit you like a train. You pulled away, eyes wide as you blinked at him as he looked at you for a moment like his brain was disconnected from his body.

“We uh… we shouldn't do this. You're my boss, it's unprofessional. And you're drunk,” you murmured, feeling mortified with yourself for kissing back. He was so out of it, it felt far too much like taking advantage. You knew for a fact he wouldn't have kissed you if he wasn't drunk. And not to mention, you knew what he was like. He was a great friend but you knew his reputation. And all his other PAs he’d had his way with ended up without a job. There was no way you wanted to lose everything you had at Anvil for your stupid crush. Billy laughed but it wasn’t pleasant as he shook his head and drank some more of his whisky.

“Right… unprofessional,” he snorted. You tried not to hold the meanness in his voice against him. He’d been shot, lost a lot of blood and was drunk. You took the bottle from him, placing it on the table before you stood up.

“Come on, let's get you to bed,” you said softly, hoping he wouldn't be an asshole. He blinked up at you lazily for a moment before nodding. When he stood, he wobbled and you winced at how out of it he really was. You helped him into his room and into his bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. You looked at him for a moment, worried what the next morning would be like. You didn't want it to be awkward. You hoped he wouldn't remember.

When you woke up the next morning, you heard a noise in the kitchen. You sat up a little and looked over, seeing Billy dressed in a suit and making himself a coffee. Any other person wouldn't notice he’d been shot the day before, except for the fact he wasn't using his left arm. You glanced at the clock, worried you'd be late for work. But it seemed he was up a little earlier than usual. Dread curled low in your belly as you sat up properly and he looked over at you.

“You sure you should be going into work?” you asked warily.

“Had worse,” he grinned cheekily. He seemed like he didn't remember the mess of the kiss and you felt relief sweep through your entire being. You hurried off to the bathroom to get ready for work. When you came back out, he had coffee and your favorite cereal waiting for you.

“Can we talk about last night?” he asked hesitantly after you sat down and started eating. The spoon halted in front of your mouth, a spike of fear hitting you.

“What about it?” you asked vaguely. For all you knew, he could have been talking about turning up injured and you helping him. He sighed, flexing his hands a little as he looked away. 

“I shouldn’tve kissed you like that. It was a dick move and I’m sorry. You were right, it was unprofessional. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable,” he frowned, finally looking at you again. You almost told him it didn't make you uncomfortable but you didn't because it wouldn’t help your current situation. Things were getting far too cozy with him and you knew that's when things would go wrong. He’d have you once and be bored. And you knew he only kissed you because he wasn't in his right mind. You were at least glad he wasn't upset about it and seemed genuinely sorry. 

“Don't worry about it. It's like it never happened,” you smiled. He shot a smile back at you, looking relieved. Maybe he thought you'd be mad at him for it. But you were glad it was out of the way and you just wanted to move on from it. 

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine

[skiller0dani]

Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #post prison spencer #jealousy #possessive #criminal minds #smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader #jealous smut

[noctumbra]

𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏 (𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏)

summary ─ “not yet,” he whispered. “i jus’ wanna keep on kissin’ you.”

pairing ─ fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, light fluff, angst, kissing, riding, crying, emotinal sex, shall we call it love making???, unprotected sex, nothing extreme in this one folks, this is the real goodbye sex believe

a/n ─ hi. i'm back with yet another fb bucky fic :) i feel like i fucked up a bit towards the end but.... lmao hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank youuu <333

previous part ─ trilogy masterlist

It was the graduation day when he popped out from his hiding place.

It had been weeks since the last time you saw Bucky. You knew he dropped you off to your apartment, your roommate was kind enough to tell you because he had to ring the bell. You saw your call history on your phone and knew you called Bucky. You talked on the phone for almost forty minutes. You didn’t remember what you talked about, though, and that was what you’d like to ask him, but you haven’t seen him ever since that night.

So, when your doorbell rang as you were getting ready for the day, you didn’t expect to find him standing at your doorstep.

“Hi,” he whispered. He had a tired smile on his face; his eyes looked haunted and it seemed like he lost weight. You frowned.

“Hey,” you whispered back. Your eyes were seizing his body up and down, worry etched on your face. “Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask. He sniffed lightly and nodded. It was a hesitant nod, and you picked up on it immediately. “Bucky…” you said. He waved a dismissive hand on the air.

“It’s fine,” he murmured. “Couldn’t sleep lately, that’s it.” You frowned but didn’t say anything. Opening the door a little more, you invited him inside. He smiled as he stepped through the threshold. “I was, um, wondering how you’re doing since, uh, you know, that night.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “I’m fine.” You slowly moved your head back and forth. Chewing on your lip, you decided to out with it. “I saw that I called you that night from my call history,” you started. “I don’t remember what we talked about, though.” You watched Bucky as his face went from shocked to relieved to sad. It was an interesting transition, you thought. “I was hoping you could tell me, actually.”

He let out a laugh, it sounded forced. “Oh, um, it was nothing important, really,” he said, shrugging. “You talked about how you hated the taste of beer, and said that you can’t understand why people like vodka.” He smiled.

“For forty minutes?” You asked, eyebrows high on your forehead. He nodded. “Damn.” You would talk about those things, and if you did talk about them for forty minutes, then it was too normal for you to now remember anything because you must have been drunk as fuck. You chuckled. “Here I was worrying myself to sickness because I made a dumb out of myself.” Bucky chuckled lightly with you.

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “You were totally right.” You rolled your eyes.

“Sure, Barnes,” you grunted. Bucky chuckled again. A silence fell between you two, but it wasn’t disturbing. Instead, it was peaceful, and you smiled when you realized you somehow missed his presence being next to you.

“You’re gonna look beautiful,” Bucky said after a short while, and you made a questioning hum. He pointed at your dress for the graduation day. “It’s gonna look amazing on you.” You felt your cheeks burn as you smiled and ducked your head.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Bucky’s lips curled up at your reaction, his stomach suddenly flipping over. He silently cleared his throat. “I’ll, um,” you started, biting your lips for a second before you continued. “I’ll see you at the graduation?” You asked. Sniffing a little, Bucky nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m gonna be there. I’m graduating, too, y’know,” he added. You let out a short chuckle, and he rolled his eyes, but both of you were joking. So, it didn’t take you too long to start laughing.

“It’s good to know that you were studying while parading around,” you murmured with a grin on your face. Bucky blushed. He might have been fucking around, yes, but he did study to his exams, thank you very much.

“Well, I gotta pay my loans somehow, right?” He sent you a wink and grinned back at you. You shook your head fondly.

You hated for making you fall in love with him, breaking your heart and using you, but you knew you were going to miss him like crazy after today. You didn’t know his plans after school─ actually, you didn’t know anything about him and his life. You didn’t know about his future plans, about his parents, siblings if he had any, or what he liked to do on his free time. He was a blank page; the only thing you knew, however, was what he liked in bed and how he acted when he was angry, and that was it. You frowned slightly.

“Hey─” You heard him and felt his large, warm hand holding your wrist gently. “Where did you go?” He asked, his voice soft and eyes concerned. It was a new look on him; not unwelcomed but unexpected. You never saw him worrying over you, or showing his emotions so openly to you before.

You chewed on your lip, debating on telling the truth. Looking at his beautiful, blue eyes, seeing the slight vulnerability in them, you said ‘fuck it’ to yourself in your mind. “I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted. “After today, I mean. I’m gonna miss seeing you around.”

His eyes changed. Their color looked brighter, they widened, and you saw some tears gathering in them. You felt your heart beating in your throat as you watched him shedding a tear.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” he whispered. He sounded so broken, so raw, you wanted to hug him and tell him that you weren’t going to leave him. “I’m gonna miss hearing your bitching about random things,” he added. You snorted. You rolled your eyes and snorted again.

“You─” You started but stopped to huff some when you heard him snickering. “You idiot.” Bucky laughed. His whole face lightened up as he threw his head back and laughed. You should have felt insulted because he was laughing at you, but he looked so happy, and you just couldn’t. You huffed a bit more. “I’m not gonna miss your dumb ass, Barnes,” you muttered. He giggled.

“C’mon,” he said. “You love my dumb ass.” He froze, thinking he fucked up, but your soft chuckle relaxed him.

“It is a nice ass,” you murmured. Bucky watched a large grin spread on your face with sparkling eyes. He chuckled, a soft blush sitting high on his cheekbones. You just grinned at him cheekily. You were so beautiful, so gorgeous, Bucky couldn’t believe he got the chance to have you in his life in a fucked up but good way. He wished so badly that he could take all the shitty things he did to you, but he knew it was too late.

He cleared his throat. He should leave, he thought, but before he could reach for the door, he felt your hand closing around the collar of his t-shirt, and he was yanked forward.

Your lips collided; soft and slick ones against the chapped and slightly cold ones. Bucky gasped as he shivered and gave into your kiss. His lips were the cold ones, so he let you warm them. He let you stroke, kiss and lick them, and in return, he swallowed all the whimpers and breathy little moans you released into his mouth.

“Baby,” Bucky panted as he pulled back slightly. One of his hands found its place on your cheek, cradling it gently. His thumb was stroking your cheekbones, touching your eye and caressing your slick lips.

“Please,” you whispered. “I─ Please, James, I-I need you, please.” You looked into his eyes with tears blurring your vision. You heard the small hitch in his breath, watched him grimacing with pain and then, he leaned in for another kiss.

Moaning in unison, you grabbed at him. You felt his arms wrapping around your waist, and he pushed you against the wall, caging you against it with his body. You whimpered. You missed having his body this close you, missed feeling his lips teasing yours and missed letting him kiss you all over.

“Mmmm,” Bucky hummed deeply as he nibbled on your neck gently. He was being careful about leaving marks since there was a graduation you had to go through, but you didn’t care. He could give you hickeys, and you’d cover them up with make-up. The only thing you cared, however, was to have him inside of you. You’ve gone without him for too long.

“Bucky…” You whispered. You heard him hum again. Your hand grabbed his hair, pulling a little, you whined lowly. “Bucky…” He hummed louder. You huffed. His teeth were worrying a flesh in his mouth, sucking and licking over it. Every puff of his breath was making the small hairs on your body to rise, making you shudder violently in his arms. “Sir…” You finally whimpered, and Bucky bit you hard.

“Yeah, love?” He asked. “What is it?” He kissed the place he bit. “Tell me.” You wiggled and exposed your throat to him even more. Humming approvingly, he placed kisses all over. “Come on, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Take me to bed, please,” you whispered. “I missed you, missed having you in me, please.” You looked at him through your lashes. His eyes went dark, pupils dilating, Bucky let out a soft growl.

“That so, baby?” He murmured. You nodded. Your eyes still had some tears in them, and you felt one of them running down. Bucky’s face crumpled immediately; expression softening, he leaned in to kiss the tear away. You only held onto him tighter. “A’right,” he whispered. “Hang on tight, lil’ koala.” You smiled at the name but did as he said.

He kept peppering kisses on your face as he walked towards your bedroom and was gentle when he laid you down on your bed. He was standing between your legs, elbows supporting his weight, when he leaned in for another kiss.

This one feels a bit different, you thought. Your eyes were closed and hands were in his hair. He kissed you gently, softly even. The way he cradled your cheek in his palm was loving, and you felt new tears stinging. It was chaste, this kiss. Neither of you included tongue in it; it was only lips, your hands on each other’s faces and the intimacy.

Slowly, both of you got rid of your clothes. First, it was your t-shirt on the ground with your bra and then his t-shirt joined them, and then came out your shorts and his jeans. He let your panties and his boxers on, though. When you made a questioning hum, Bucky just smiled.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “I jus’ wanna keep on kissin’ you,” he added. You hummed happily. As much as you wanted him in you, you were definitely okay with more kissing.

─

Bucky probably should have walked away after he saw that you were doing fine. Hell, maybe he shouldn’t have come to check up on you. He was going to see you at the graduation, he could have waited for couple more hours, but he was scared that he might have missed you during the chaos and never saw you again.

He had to say proper goodbye this time.

He didn’t think you’d start things, though. It was always him who started these sort of things; it always him who kissed you first, who begged you to give in and tried to convince you to take you to the bed. Roles were reversed, today. You took the first step.

Bucky should have stopped this after the kiss. He should have pulled back. He should have thanked you, murmured his goodbye and wished you success and love in life. Instead, he kept kissing you.

This would be the last time he’d be taking you, though, he thought. After that, you were off to God knows where. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever see you again. So, he gave in.

Kissing you and feeling you against his body were the best feeling he had ever experienced in this world, he was sure of it. Having your hands pulling on his hair, nails digging into the muscles of his back and being able to swallow your moans and whimpers into his kiss were the things he would always remember. He was going to remember the way you whined his name so prettily, the way you moaned breathily when he made you come… Bucky was going to miss these, was probably going to yearn these, but he knew he had to say goodbye.

He was no good to you. He only hurt you, made you cry. He did not deserve you.

Bucky knew that he was never going to be worthy of your love. He was too much of an asshole for that. He was going to have a very little piece from it while he could, though.

“Bucky…” You breathed. Your eyes were closed, and your face was peaceful. Bucky smiled. Kissing your cheeks, he nipped on your jaw lightly.

“Yeah, baby?” He murmured. He felt you wiggle under him.

“Wanna feel you,” you whispered. “Please? We don’t have much time, I wanna feel you.” Bucky held back a sigh. You were right; you did not have much time, and Bucky suddenly wanted to ditch the graduation and stay here with you in your bed.

“Alright, love,” he whispered back. “Okay, sssh.”

His fingers found the hem of your panties, and Bucky was gentle as he stripped you free of them. He slid off his own boxers, briefly straightening up to chuck them on the ground, he grabbed his wallet to dig out a condom.

You grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“No,” you whispered. “Can we not use it? I wanna feel you.” Bucky swallowed harshly. You wanting to feel him, wanting him to be bare in you… He was going to be pissed if this was one of those dreams.

“We don’t wanna have a baby, right now,” Bucky murmured, trying to joke a little. “We’re barely adults.” You smiled as you patted his cheeks. Bucky realized your smile looked sad. Blinking, he tried to ignore it.

“I started taking the pill again,” you said. “Just wanna feel you, come on.” Bucky nodded. He could feel his body shaking lightly; nervousness and excitement mixing with his lust. He nodded again. Pressing a kiss on your forehead, he dropped the wallet.

You pulled him into a kiss as Bucky grabbed his cock and lined it up. He greedily swallowed all the moans you released while he slid into your wetness smoothly.

“Fuck,” he moaned loudly.

The exquisite feeling of your wet and warm walls around his hard cock felt so fucking good that Bucky felt like he was about to come. It was such an intense feeling, Bucky suddenly hated the existence of the condoms. It served for an understandable reason, but it also deprived him from a sensation like this one.

“Hmm,” you mewled. “Sir, fuck, you feel so good,” you panted, then. Bucky grunted.

You should have done this before, Bucky thought, he should have taken you bare earlier even though he was sort of glad that this happened on your very last time.

“’ma move, love,” he whispered into your ear. “Can’t wait anymore.” You nodded. Your hands were holding onto his sides tightly, thighs wrapped around his waist as Bucky pulled out only to slowly slide back in.

He was going to drag your last time out as long as he could. He wanted this to last. He was not going to fuck you and be done with you, no. He did that enough in the past. He was going to feel you, now.

“Mmm, Bucky!” You whimpered. Your nails were digging in deep, but Bucky didn’t care. He wanted you to leave marks so that he could look at himself in the mirror later and touch them and cry. He let out a harsh breath as he slid in once again. “Yeah!” You cried out softly. “There, please.”

Bucky did as you said and kept hitting that spot of your repeatedly. His pace was still slow and deep, he was still trying to make it last and feel you deep in his presence. You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you were quiet as you held onto him tightly. He could only hear your barely-audible whimpers and his name as a whisper when the thrust was particularly deep.

“You feel so good, baby,” Bucky whispered. His ears were howling, his brain was going fuzzy around the edges and he started to hear some sort of a white noise through the howling.

Bucky felt his eyes and nose burn. The feeling of your naked body against his, him being bare inside of your wetness and you holding onto him tightly… Bucky felt raw. He felt vulnerable as hell. Every place of his body where it was touching yours was on fire. It was like your skin was getting etched into his, marking him completely and forever, and Bucky was letting it happen.

“James,” you breathed silently. A soft sob ripped apart from him as he buried his face into your neck. You kissed his temple, petted his hair and stroked his back. You could hear his soft sobs, silent sniff and slight shaking of his shoulders. You kissed his temple again. You pushed him back, but he scrambled to hold you against him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “I’m here. Just lay back, alright?” Bucky sniffed silently and did as you said.

He leaned back against the headboard, and you climbed onto his lap. Lowering yourself onto his cock again, you held his head against your chest, allowed him to hide there.

“Sssh,” you murmured softly. His hands were on your back, holding you tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here.” You hugged like that for a short while. His sobs slowly ebbed away, but you continued to stroke his hair.

“’m sorry,” he whispered, voice croaked. You shrugged. You grabbed his face in your palms and lifted his head up. His eyes were glowing even more with some redness in them, his nose was a bit puffy like his eyes, but it was the expression that hit you hard.

It was pain. Raw, unhidden pain. His eyes were earnest as they looked into yours. You felt the oxygen trapped in your throat when you made eye contact. You shivered. It felt like his eyes were looking into the very depth of your soul, seeing and understanding your true feelings towards him. It scared you.

So, you leaned in and kissed him as a distraction. Anything to get his eyes off of you.

Bucky whimpered. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you, as he returned your kiss. His soft lips parted lightly and allowed your tongue inside. You licked into his mouth, stole another whimper and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Move,” he whispered. “Take what you want.” He gave you a chaste kiss. You exhaled shakily as you raised yourself on your knees a little only to fall back down. You moaned. Bucky peppered soft kisses on your neck. His hold on your waist was tight still, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him to ease off even though it made breathing just a tad harder.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried his face to your chest. Bucky, understanding what you were implying, took a nipple in his mouth and sucked and bit on it gently. The lazy suction and slow movements of your hips were driving you crazy. Everything felt so sharp, so deep and so scary but also so good, you felt like you were falling apart.

“Come,” Bucky whispered, pulling his mouth off your nipple. “Can feel you, come, baby.” You whined loud and long as you came on his cock. Your orgasm felt like it went for a century. Its hold took over you slowly, spread through your body from your belly like a wrecking ball, but you felt the impact into your bones. You cried out.

Whining, you kissed Bucky’s cheeks, lips and nose. “Come in me,” you panted silently. “Sir, Bucky, please, come in me. I need it─” You cut yourself off with a low moan. Bucky let out a sharp cry as his hips thrusted up into your still convulsing core. He was close. His balls were tight and full with his come. Your walls were trying to milk it away from him, he could fucking feel it.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathed and then moaned. You cooed at him.

“’m here. C’mon,” you continued to coo. “Come in me, Sir. Lemme feel you.”

Feeling his whole body going taut, Bucky buried a moan into the crook of your neck as he came inside of you. You sighed as Bucky let out small whimpers. You could feel his come coating your walls, and you hummed.

You stayed in that position for a while, cuddling and breathing each other in. His hands were holding you tight, fingers drawing various shapes on your body while you traced his tattoos and examined his piercings. Both of you came down from your high slowly.

You got up and rolled off of him.

“Yuck,” you whispered as you felt his come leaking out of you. Bucky smiled apologetically. “I wanted it,” you reminded him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. You walked towards the bathroom, quickly cleaning yourself. When you returned to your bedroom in a bathrobe, you saw him dressing up. “Leaving already?”

Bucky grimaced. “We only have two hours to get ready,” he murmured. His voice was soft and low. You found it soothing. “I can’t hang around too long, gotta shower and change.” You nodded. This time, it didn’t feel like an excuse to run away. Graduation was onto you both, it was understandable, but Bucky wasn’t running away.

“Okay,” you nodded. “Yeah, make sense.” Bucky nodded, too. He pulled his jeans on, fixed his t-shirt and hair and grabbed his wallet.

“I, uh,” he started, inclining his head towards the door. You let out a ‘yeah’. He smiled. You were at the door when he turned around, suddenly looking very serious.

“This was the last time I was taking you, you know that right?” Bucky asked. He wasn’t taunting, or bragging or anything. His voice was still soft and low, but he sounded like he was far away. “We’re graduating, and God knows what’s expecting us. We’re gonna have different lives and… we’re growing up.” Bucky sent you sad smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you kiss me like that because I wanted to say goodbye properly, but I don’t regret it, so,” he shrugged. “Take care, will you?” With teary eyes, you looked at him. Bucky sighed. In one step, you were in his arms and hugging him tightly.

You understood what he meant. Whatever you had was for during college. The end has come; it was the graduation day, and that meant you had to leave this part of your college life behind. You didn’t want to, especially not when you were in love with him, but he was right. You were going to have different lives. You were adults for a couple years, but graduating meant that you were an official one now.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Bucky whispered and pulled back. “You’re gonna be okay and successful in your job. You’re tough like that.” He smiled, this time it was a genuine one. He leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Take care, Y/N.”

“Take care, Bucky,” you whispered. “You’re gonna be one hell of a teacher.” That pulled a startled laugh out of Bucky, and you grinned tearfully. “A badass one, too.” You eyed his tattoos. He shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess,” he murmured. “Gonna be that teacher, but it’s worth it.” Giving you a lopsided smirk, he watched you for a couple seconds. Then, he walked to the door, opening it. He looked at you before he walked out. He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the last second he decided against it. You ran to him, kissing his cheek and fixing his hair.

“Be gentle to yourself,” you murmured. Bucky nodded.

“I’ll try,” he whispered and then cleared his throat. “Um. Bye, Y/N.” You muttered a soft ‘bye’, and he was off. You closed the door and sank down. You let the tears wash your face and pain away.

─

As soon as Bucky was outside, he let out a sob. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, but he didn’t want to give you that hope and then crush it. He knew he would fuck up somehow if you were to try out a relationship. You didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve you.

Lifting his head up, looking at the sky, Bucky took a deep breath.

“Here comes the sun,” he whispered and turned on his heels.

His figure got lost in the sea of people as he walked down the street. He felt like he lost a piece of himself in them, too.

#bucky barnes x reader #fukcboy!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #fuckboy!bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes blurbs #till dawn (here comes the sun)

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 || (very dark) 70s!Bucky x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: he tried to be sympathetic to your cause, he really did, but he couldn’t just let you get away with disrespecting him like that.  

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (noncon, plus breeding kink and tons of degradation, like very heavy degradation, and multiple orgasms/overstimulation), misogyny, a bit of dumbification, housewife kink, ‘sir’ kink (brief), choking, implied anal, spitting (not on the reader, unfortunately lmao), quite a bit more than period-typical sexism, awful awful awful this fic is absolutely awful

                            Brooklyn, 1970.

Bucky’s mornings were sacred.  He had his rituals: showering, cooking breakfast, reading the paper and having his first drink and cigarette of the day, all before he left for work.

But throughout this entire week, his mornings had been ruined by the stupid fucking protest in the park just outside his window.  And to think he’d actually paid more for an apartment with a view of the park— he hadn’t realized then that the “view” was gonna be a bunch of hippies creating awful music and an unbearable smell that left his whole apartment reeking of reefer if he dared to open his window.

Attempting to ignore it for a week only made him more resentful with each passing day.  Each time he figured the crowd would surely leave soon or at least be quiet for the night, they seemed to somehow get louder just to spite him.

He probably should've waited until he was a bit less agitated to go down and try to bargain with you, but he stormed down there instead and tapped you on the shoulder when his presence alone wasn't enough to distract you from your incessant chanting.

“Would you consider being quiet?" he asked firmly.  "I have to work in the morning and—”

“We won’t be quiet until women have equal treatment under the eyes of society and the law,” you interrupted to explain condescendingly, shocking him with your icy tone.  He could hardly believe your attitude, in fact he couldn’t remember any woman speaking to him that way in his life: so far, he wasn’t enjoying it.

“I just thought you could be a little more respectful,” Bucky shot back, even more stern.  “You’re not making anyone wanna support your movement by acting entitled and inconveniencing everyone.”

“I’m sorry the revolution is inconvenient for you,” you replied, but it didn’t sound much like an apology. 

He wanted to say more but you blew him off and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him confused and irritated and livid.  Up until now he had been quietly skeptical about all this talk of liberation but now he saw it for the poison it really was.  A girl like you— who could've been a real looker with some willingness to try and a better attitude— talking to a man like him with so much hate and over what, a polite request?

This could not be tolerated; he couldn't let you get away with acting like that.  And lucky for you, he was exactly the guy you needed to teach you your lesson.

The good thing about hippies high on shrooms is they aren’t the most observant.  When he returned to the demonstration area the next night, he was able to grab you roughly and pull you back from the crowd with almost no trouble at all, dragging you into an empty alley and clamping his hand down over your mouth as your eyes went wide and your throat vibrated with silent screams.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed against your ear, “whatcha fightin’ for?”

He liked the way it felt to have you squirming against his grasp, using all your strength and not even getting close to escaping.  

“How does it feel to know I can do anything I want to you?” he growled against your ear.  “C’mon, sweetheart, can’t you put up a better fight than that?  I thought you believed in equality… you should be able to get away if you’re as strong as I am.”

He felt your warm tears trailing down around his fingers which held your face tightly, the struggle of your limbs slowing and weakening slightly.  His cock was already getting hard as he imagined the moment you would finally give in.

“You remember me, don’t you?  You didn’t need to be so rude, darlin’.  You could’ve just been nice and none of this would be happening.”

Your elbow shot back into his ribs and he exhaled sharply but didn't let go, grabbing your wrists and holding your arms to your chest as he pinned you to the wall.

"Oh, that's not gonna work, babydoll.  I'm so much stronger and bigger than you, all you're gonna do is make me angrier.  Is that what you want, sweetheart?  To make me angry?" he asked mockingly, leaning in to lick the shell of your ear as you tried to turn away.  “Pretty girl like you would make a great wife, why would you want anything else?”

Ignoring your struggle, he reached into your shirt and purred as he groped your chest, your nipples hardening when he pinched them.  “Maybe I can get behind this bra-burning thing if it means having easier access to your tits all the time,” he grinned.  “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I can see them through your shirt?  Shouldn’t be showing ‘em off if you don’t want any attention.”

As fun as it was to play with your tits, he had bigger plans, so he reached lower to start tugging down your jeans, your legs uselessly kicking as he exposed your ass and thighs.

His cock was already rock hard as he hastily opened his fly and pulled it out with one hand, leaning back to spit on it quickly.  He spread the fluid with a few strokes over his length, figuring it would be enough to get inside you even if he didn’t really care if he hurt you.  

Your eyes went wide and your head bucked wildly as he poked the head of it against your opening, your body fighting a little harder once again.  The irony of that, though, was that you were already plenty wet in spite of what he had expected; it was so much funnier to watch you struggle now that he knew you were not-so-secretly enjoying it.

“Don’t be so dramatic," he chuckled darkly, "I bet you can take a cock real easy since you believe in all this ‘free love’ bullshit.”

He groaned as he pushed into you, impressed by how tight you were— so tight that it made his cock throb right away, your walls pulsing and rippling around him as he filled you to the brim.

“Oh fuck, there you go…” he hissed, smiling as you sobbed harder and struggled a bit more before finally relaxing into his tight embrace.  "You're gonna take it all, baby, every fuckin' inch of me."

A hard sob choked out of you every time he slammed himself to the end of you; he could feel the hatred radiating from you, the way you would kill him in a moment if only you weren't so weak.  But he could feel your reluctant acceptance, too, and the way it was slowly turning into euphoria— you were finally starting to like how it felt to be helpless to him, it was obvious with the way your pussy gave him such a warm and willing welcome while your pretty tits got even harder.

You clearly wanted to hate him, but your body knew better.

"You think I'm a sexist pig, I'm sure," he chuckled, "but I'm really not— I love women!  And you know what I love most?  Huh?"

He felt you nervously shake your head behind his hand and he laughed.

"I love the way you get so dumb when you get a cock in you.  All those useless little thoughts leaving your head when you're finally getting fucked right."

Your cries got louder even though they were still muffled by his hand, your sweet little pussy giving him a squeeze of encouragement.

"It's okay to like it, babydoll, it's what you were meant for.  Made to be my brainless fucktoy… born to serve me," he growled.  “You really should learn to appreciate," he grunted between brutal thrusts, "that your only purpose is to keep my dinner hot and my cock warm.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and he felt your walls bear down on him tightly, wetness seeping down around him.

"Oh fuck, are you coming?  Shit," he moaned.  "Looks like you really needed to be put in your place, just needed to be used... god, you made a fuckin' mess, too, you soaked my cock…"

Your little hands tightened into fists, pushing against where his arm held them back, but he stayed steady as he pumped into you, letting himself get a bit lost in the feeling of you while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

It felt so damn good to have a cunt coming around him, but it was even better knowing that you were fighting it and still couldn’t stop it, completely helpless to how good he was making you feel.

You almost screamed under his hand when he reached down to quickly rub your clit, your back arching to try to run away from his touch; poor thing, you were so sensitive it probably hurt you, but he was having too much fun watching you realize you were going to come again.

"Yeah, gimme another one, slut," he grinned, your legs quivering as waves of slick coated him and started to even drip down your legs.  "Can't stop coming like the dirty whore you are, huh?  Bet nobody's made you come like this before— cause nobody's given it to you right.  Nobody's shown ya what it's supposed to be like when a man takes you and makes you his."

From the way you moaned softly, teary eyes fluttering shut, he knew you liked the sound of that.

"Yeah, wanna be mine, baby?  Wanna be my little slut?  Or do you want me to pump this pussy full and leave you here on the ground for any other man that comes by to use you if he needs?"

You groaned softly, a weak little noise, and he felt his cock flex; as much as he wanted this to last as long as possible, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“M’close, honey,” he breathed.  “I’m gonna come.”

He laughed breathlessly when you shut your eyes, like you were trying to go somewhere else in your mind, trying to pretend this wasn’t real.  But it was real, and he wasn’t going to let you forget that.  He was elated to make your nightmares come true.

"I sure wouldn't mind pulling out and covering that pretty face you've got,” he hissed.  “It'd be funny to see you go back to your little march and show them how owned you are.  But not today, babydoll, I think there's only one way you're gonna learn your lesson."

Another muffled gurgle from you, and this time it didn’t even sound like protest.  Maybe you were just too tired for that at this point, but it gave him hope that you could finally behave.

"I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth and you're gonna beg me to come inside you, is that clear?" he grunted, feeling you nod vigorously.  "You're not gonna scream are you?"

You shook your head, and he slowly pulled his hand from your mouth as you gasped for air.  "Please— come in me," you panted.

"Address me as 'sir'," he instructed.

"Please, sir, I— I want you to come," you whined.

He chuckled right against your ear, feeling you shiver in his grasp.  "Honey, I don't give a fuck what you want."

To think you ever resisted your natural desire for submission was absurd now, considering the way that statement made you openly moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll never get it outta you, sweetheart.”

One more orgasm washed over you, making him laugh darkly while he watched you bite your lip to attempt to stay quiet; but that was impossible once he fucked you harder just to spite you, having to hold you tight to make sure he got as deep in you as possible.  Your whole body shook as he slammed into you, and he laughed at how dumb and helpless you looked.

"Bet you're on those new birth control pills," he grimaced.  They really weren’t that new, but he still hadn’t gotten used to them.  "Makes me sick to think you're letting a perfectly good womb go to waste.  Betcha want me to breed you nice and deep, yeah?  Wanna get knocked up?  You don't even care that I'm a stranger, you wanna get your pussy filled by any random man's come so you can have any random man's baby, ain't that right?"

At first he had worried that you would scream or cry for help, but now his concern was more that your moans would be too loud and somebody would catch the two of you in this alley.  Even if it was obvious now that you wanted it, public indecency was still a crime.

Good thing he had a new way to shut you up: his hand tight around your throat, silencing your sobs to blessed silence.  It was so hot to have you entirely at his mercy like that, to feel your pulse beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up his thrusts suddenly.

"Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasped, “fuck, y-you… little whore…”

He had a habit of running his mouth when he was right on the edge, and the way your pussy was milking him for all he was worth made him spit out whatever filth he could think of.  

“Stupid fuckin' bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he fucked you as fast and rough as he could, chasing his high with no regard for your pleasure or your pain.  "Dumb whore, fuck, you stupid— ah, shit— stupid fucking cunt!"

He cried out as he filled you, groaning loudly with every pump of his seed into your waiting body.  Only when he was sure every drop was inside you did he release his grip on your neck, a loud gasp coming first before a few coughs and chokes that only made his cock harder despite having just filled you.

You started to struggle again, and he couldn’t believe it— after everything, did you still not know your place?

There wasn’t much time to relax and enjoy the afterglow when you were already trying to get away, and so he had to hold you tight again while he smiled exhaustedly.

“N-no,” you stammered, and he covered your mouth again as he pulled your head back to rest on his shoulder.  Clearly he hadn’t done enough yet to fuck that word out of you.

“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” he panted against your ear, still catching his breath, his chest covered in a thin layer of sweat where it was exposed by his shirt.  “You’ve still got another hole to fill.”

#dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes dark fic #bucky barnes noncon #dark!bucky barnes smut

[duskholland]

No Control || Frat!Tom Smut

summary ↠ tom can’t stop thinking about harrison’s girl, and it’s starting to become a problem. — in love with your best friend’s girl au. warnings ↠ this is fifty shades of morally-ambiguous grey, but I wouldn’t say it’s /too/ out there..?¿ there’s no actual infidelity but because of the au, there are themes of cheating, so avoid this if it’s a touchy subject for you. cw: a lot of alcohol, a ton of jealousy/possessiveness, heavy swearing, ongoing frat/party/bet culture, tom being a bad friend, harrison being a bad boyfriend, y/n being a bad girlfriend, and nsfw content. this contains smut! 18+ minors dni. word count↠ 17.6k. a/n ↠ please don’t do this irl, this is just fantasy !!!! y/n, tom and harrison are all flawed people, so please don’t go into this expecting them to all be perfect !!!! this was almost twenty thousand times more debased and fucked up, but I reeled it in last minute :’) that being said, this was still so much fun to write lmao. I listened to your girlfriend by blossoms + jessie’s girl pretty much on repeat as I wrote this! title is from 1d’s classic banger, which apparently influenced this more than I’d thought. thanks to all the anons who sent in ideas for this the other week!! a lot of them made it into this fic, so if you sent in a concept—thank you so much <3 I messed around with the pov so it flips halfway through! it should be obvious but I’m flagging it so you don’t think I went mad. hasn’t happened yet my lovelies but frat!tom does test me ! :’)) enjoy !!! <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ masturbating (male), oral + fingering (fem receiving), protected mxf sex. possessiveness in the dirty talk. again, there is no infidelity but there is a lot of bad behaviour + boundary pushing <3

✧ *:･ﾟNo Control･ﾟ:*✧

Tom has seen a lot of pretty girls in his life, but tonight, he thinks that he’s seen an angel.

The frat is loud. The crowd is so thick he can barely breeze, and the fog machine has left a deep grey smog smothering the living room. Flashing strobe lights and the deep drums of bass cut through the air, but despite the way Tom’s head hurts, everything irritating fades as he looks across the room and sees a girl. You. You’re standing in the open doorway, leaning against one of the beams, a solo cup in one hand with the other resting on your waist.

He instantly knows that he wants you.

You’re in a red dress, with the flattering material clinging to your waist and shoulders. It draws Tom’s attention, but that’s quick to shift to your face as he watches you laugh at a joke made by one of your friends. He recognises a few of the people that you’re with from one of his lectures, but he’s almost certain he’s never seen you before. He’d definitely remember.

“Bro? What’s up?” Harrison is behind him, Tom’s best mate. They’ve been friends since high school, and when Tom had decided to up sticks and move across the ocean to a college in America, Harrison had followed. He’s good like that. “You’re just staring at the wall. Look like a proper tosser.”

Tom scowls as he drags his eyes away from you, directing all of his most scathing anger at Harrison. The blond is smirking. Perched on top of his head is a black SnapBack, printed with the frat’s logo. It matches the one that Tom’s wearing, just Tom has it pulled on backwards. He’s the only member of the frat that wears it like that, and it’s become an unofficial declaration of his status.

For the last year, Tom has held the revered position of president of the frat. It’s a lot harder than he’d thought it’d be, but it comes with perks. Several perks.

“I’m looking,” Tom replies, crossing his arms.

“At what?”

Discreetly, Tom brings his cup to his lips and uses his index finger to sneakily point across the room. He leads Harrison to you.

“That girl,” he says slowly. “Do you know who she is? Who invited her?”

Tom prides himself on knowing most people on campus—or, at least, anyone he needs to know. Anyone involved in Greek life or the party scene at his college has a face burned to his memory, and he prides himself on recognising matching names too. A lot of power comes with being able to immediately recognise someone. It makes him likeable, and he feels good knowing that someone feels appreciated by him.

“Dunno,” Haz mutters. He squints his eyes as he looks at you too. “She’s with Tyra. Maybe they’re friends?”

Tom scoffs. “Well, I’d guess that, yeah.”

“Are you going to do anything, or continue to stare like a creep?”

After taking a final swig of his drink, Tom pushes the empty plastic cup into Harrison’s hands. His mate thumps him on the back.

“I’ll be back,” he mutters. Then Tom pauses and throws out an easy smile. “Or not. Depends.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Go on.”

“See ya, mate.”

As Tom walks across the crowded room, he tries to hold himself a little straighter. He’s dressed simply tonight, in an all-black combination of t-shirt and jeans, but the gold chain he has around his neck adds a little depth. Around his wrist is his watch, and it glints as Tom reaches up to briefly whip off his hat and tousle his hair. His eyes are fixed firmly on you, and he finds himself grinning when you see him.

You’re even more radiant up close. Your eyes are a beautiful shade, and they fill with curiosity as you look Tom up and down. An expression of intrigue passes over your features as you mutter something to a friend and push away from the doorframe, being pulled to Tom as if by an unseen gravitational force.

“Hi, darling,” Tom leads with, keeping his voice cool. When you step closer, he meets you, easily and lightly pressing his hands to your waist as he kisses your cheek. “I’m Tom.”

You give him a wry smile. “I know who you are,” you reply. Your eyes are fluttering all over his face, and your hips feel soft beneath his hands. “Y/N.”

Tom likes how your voice sounds.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he responds easily. He crosses his arms, angling them in a way that makes his muscles bulge. “I’ve not seen you around here before.”

There’s a shyness to your gaze that makes Tom smile wider, and he watches as you fiddle with your hair and tentatively meet his gaze.

“Do you know everyone that comes to your parties, Tom?”

“Yeah.” Tom slips his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Or, at least, I try to. I know I’d definitely remember someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” You’re speaking louder now, emboldened by how fully Tom’s giving you his attention. All around you, there are people looking, people whispering. Everywhere Tom goes, he garners attention.

Tom offers you an easy smile, tilting his head to the side as he nods. Sometimes he likes to play it cool and keep his cards close to his chest, but he doesn’t think you’d like that. He doesn’t think the chase is necessary. You’re looking at him with round, inquisitive eyes, and your gaze keeps circling back to his mouth.

“You’re stunning, love,” he says. “Do you want to dance with me?”

You reach out and take his hand, and Tom feels a jolt of warmth trail up his spine. It confuses him. He’s pursued a lot of girls in his life, and he’s felt attraction plenty of times before, but he’s never had his heart ache quite like that from just one touch. As you run your thumb over the back of his hand, you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“A dance? With the president of the frat?” you tease. As Tom chuckles, you smile cheekily. “I dunno. What can you give me in return, if I give you what you want?”

“Oh, a businesswoman,” he teases. “I see how it is.”

You smirk. “Business major,” you supply.

Tom arches his brows. “I’m a business major.”

“I know. We’re in the same class.”

For a few minutes, you slip into conversation about your course. Tom learns that you share the same 9am every Monday morning—a class that he only managed to make it to the first week of term. You don’t linger on the topic of academics for too long, though. It doesn’t take much before Tom’s got you in the back corner of the room where it’s quieter, listening to you reel off your first impressions of the frat. You keep your hands on his shoulders, slowly but purposefully rolling your fingers over his shirt, keeping him on his feet as he catches a whiff of your peach perfume every time you move closer.

He almost gets his dance, but then there’s a tap on his shoulder, and it’s one of his brothers, whispering about an incident on the patio involving a table and the pool. Tom grimaces and reluctantly casts his eyes back to you.

“I need to go and sort this out,” he mutters, frustrated. You shrug, biting your lip as you rock back on your heels. “Will I see you later?”

“I don’t know. Will you?”

Tom smiles. “I will,” he promises. Wanting to give a lasting impression, he easily swoops his hand up to cup your cheek. When he receives a nod of approval, he leans in and deposits a lingering kiss to your forehead, inhaling a deep breath of your shampoo and feeling the tip of his nose tingle in response. You cling to his arms a little tighter, and when Tom goes to pull away, he isn’t able to until you’ve kissed his cheek.

“Have fun,” you say, stepping back.

“Thanks, darling.” Tom gives you a final look, his insides debating whether or not he really needs to go deal with the issue. When there’s a loud shout from out on the patio, he sighs. “Take care.”

Even when he’s out on the terrace, you stay on Tom’s mind. As he oversees two of the guys pulling the table out of the pool, he replays his interaction, mind swirling over your face, your figure, your voice. He finds himself scratching at his chin, not entirely present. After a while, he ends up back in the house, huddled with a group of the guys, and it isn’t until someone pushes Harrison forward that Tom truly comes back into the room.

“How long has it been, man?” Jacob, one of the guys, and one of Tom’s American friends, is grinning at Harrison. The man is standing in the middle of the group, bashful cheeks a light pink.

“Eh… a couple weeks,” Harrison supplies.

“Bullshit,” Tom adds, chuckling when Harrison flips him off. “Haz hasn’t got laid in months.”

“Fuck off,” Harrison mutters. “Not all of us are as...promiscuous as you, Tom.”

Tom shrugs. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Harrison pauses, stroking his chin. “Dunno,” he finally decides.

Tom rolls his eyes. “We’ll wingman you,” he decides. He looks around at a few of the other guys and doesn’t stop until they’re all nodding and making similar sounds of agreement. “Anyone you like the look of tonight?”

Haz hesitates but eventually shakes his head. “Nah. Haven’t seen who’s around.”

“Alright.” Tom presses his palms together, an idea forming. “Next girl that walks into the room, we’ll set you up with.”

Harrison hesitates. “But what if she’s taken?”

Jacob steps forward, smirking. “The next single girl who walks into this room,” he clarifies. He holds out a hand and raises a brow. “Bet?”

Harrison looks down at Jacob’s hand. A bet, like the one he’s referring to, may as well be as binding as a contract. There’s no going back. He looks to Tom, a little nervous, but the fear vanishes when Tom nods.

“Alright.” Harrison does the frat handshake, and the guys around them all holler. Tom makes his own loud sound of support, grinning widely. “We’ll do it.”

They have to wait for a while. The first few girls that walk in are all accompanied by partners. Tom’s starting to get tetchy and he knows Harrison is too, but as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the universe decides to throw a curveball right into his face.

You walk in.

“Oh, shit,” Jacob says. He elbows Harrison. “There you go.”

Harrison immediately looks at Tom. “Uh… Isn’t she…?”

Tom sucks in a hard breath, the sound sticking behind his teeth. “Yep.” He looks at Harrison, who’s looking particularly deflated.

For a moment, Tom thinks about Haz and everything that he’s done to support him. Harrison flew across oceans to stay with Tom, moved into the frat with him, operates as his right-hand man. He’s his golf buddy, his gym partner, his best mate. For Haz to go back on such a public bet would be the same as resigning himself to social humiliation, and Tom would be a terrible friend for making him do that. Tom can give him this.

Right?

“I don’t need to—”

“Nah.” Tom decides to step up. “It’s a bet. It’s fine.”

Harrison grimaces. “Are you sure?”

Tom feels like a petulant child. Now he’s agreed to it, he feels his stomach rebelling. You find yourself at the centre of his attention again as he looks back over, instantly regretting it as the action connects your eyes with his. His breathing catches as your lips pull into an eager smile.

But Tom pushes through it. He looks away and stares at the floor as he nods, strengthening his attitude as he reaches out to smack Harrison on the back.

“Yep. Go for it.”

“Thanks, bro.”

He can barely watch as his guys approach you, and Tom decides to stay back in the corner of the room. It’s clear that you’re confused at first, but through quick discreet glances, Tom watches as you start to talk with Harrison. When Tom gets approached by another girl, you start to speak with Haz more freely, and he assumes that you’ve forgotten all about your conversation from earlier. When Jacob and the others split off, leaving you and Harrison alone in the back corner, Tom has to leave the room.

For a while, Tom drinks. He does a couple of shots out on the patio and chats with a few girls, and eventually, he’s pulled back inside the house. He ends up in the large living room, where the main party is happening, and it seems that you and Harrison have taken it to the next level in his absence.

Tom’s lips curve into a scowl as he looks across the room and sees you, wrapped up in Harrison. The blond’s hands roam all over you, moving from your cheeks, shifting back into your hair before curving down your figure. Tom can barely keep watching as Harrison’s palms curl around your waist and go down to squeeze your ass, and he swears he can almost hear the breathless moan you deposit into the air in response.

He looks away when Harrison starts to nibble at your neck and you toss your head back in pleasure, but Tom can’t stop himself from stealing quick glances every few seconds. In the pit of his stomach lies a terrible beast, acidic and possessive, clawing at his heart. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that he can’t quite shake, even when Tom tosses the remnants of the shit beer down his throat. There are easily a hundred people in the room with him, but he doesn’t care about a single one of them. The only one he cares about is you.

After a few moments of his eyes dissecting the contours of your face, Tom feels someone wrap their arms around his waist. He stiffens, turning his head and looking around until he finds himself staring at the face of a girl from his accounting course. She’s pretty, wearing silver eyeshadow, and Tom thinks that her name is Sasha.

“Hey, Tommy,” she greets. Her perfume smells overpowering and it makes Tom grimace. “Wanna dance with me?”

Tom looks back across the room, his stomach turning as he sees Harrison has pulled you down onto a sofa with him. As you straddle his lips and continue to kiss him, his blood runs hot.

“Fuck yeah, darling,” he mutters. Tom reaches out and wraps an arm around the girl, pulling her closer and letting his eyes fall shut as her lips find their way to his neck. “Let’s dance.”

He doesn’t need you. He barely fucking knows you. Tom has met a thousand girls, and it feels as though he’s kissed as many. The only things he knows about you are inconsequential—who cares if you smell like peaches and wear a glossy lip balm? Who gives a fuck that your voice sounds like a pretty wind-chime. Not Tom, that’s for sure. Tom’s got another girl kissing him and tugging on his hair. He doesn’t need you.

So why can’t he stop thinking about you?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The pillow that Tom has wedged over his head makes his ears ache and does nothing to obscure the sounds drifting into his room, so after a few moments of failed silence, he throws it aside. A loud huff passes by his lips.

It’s been a month since the party, and every Sunday morning since, without fail, he’s been woken by the sounds of your moans. Harrison’s room is right next door, and though he’d always complained to Tom that the walls are thin, Tom had never been the one on the receiving end like this. It’s always been Tom having lazy post-party sex with a random girl, or Tom taking a girl into the shower room and locking out his brothers all morning. Now it’s Harrison, making noise with you, and suddenly it’s not just the fact that he’s not had sex in four weeks that’s getting on his nerves.

Your moans are loud as they catch in the back of your throat, and they make Tom hard. He grumbles as he reaches down, hands dipping beneath the covers as he pushes a palm beneath his boxers. A softened groan passes past his lips as he pulls out his cock, pausing only to bring his hand back to his lips and spit on it before he starts to jerk off.

Tom had gotten over the guilt of getting off to you without your knowledge two weeks ago. For all he knows, you know that he can hear you, and you’re being so loud for him. He’s learnt that you’re cheeky like that, and the thought makes Tom tug his cock a little harder. Harrison’s bed is squeaky, and he can only imagine that you’re riding him. Tom bites back a moan as he imagines how pretty you must look on top.

He’s spent more time with you now, since that party, and it hasn’t helped his predicament at all. Every time he runs into you, you seem to grow hotter, and his attraction for you only burns brighter when he sees Haz grab your hand or kiss your lips. What had started as a bet for one night together has escalated, and now you’re both dating. Tom doesn’t think that he’s a bad person, nor would he ever say he’s a bad friend, but you’ve become his forbidden fruit.

Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t have you that makes Tom so incensed. He’s never been denied like this—been blocked so unscrupulously and irritatingly. Whilst you aren’t official with Harrison, Tom knows that his mate likes you. Hell, he can hear how much he likes you, right now, as Haz’s bed continues to squeak and your moans rise in volume.

Tom thinks he could get you to moan louder.

It takes an embarrassing two-minute window before Tom’s biting back a yell of your name, cumming in sync with a set of particularly loud whines that you emit next-door. He falls back onto the mattress, his clean hand going up to card through his curls as he tries to catch his breath. For a few moments, he lays there, scowling up at the ceiling as he tries to bathe in the afterglow of release, but it goes crashing down again when he hears your light giggles followed by Harrison’s deep guffaws.

Tom practically storms out of bed, wiping at his hand with some tissues before he stamps into a pair of grey joggers and leaves his room, slamming the door loudly in his wake. He hopes the sound scares Harrison so much he falls off his fucking bed.

The bad mood continues, even after Tom’s leapt through the shower and scrubbed at his ears. He ends up in the frat’s kitchen, the wide space still partially littered with solo cups and discarded bags of crisps from the party the night before. There are a few junior members of the frat hobbling around with black bin bags, looking pale and peaky. When they see Tom, they try and pretend they’re not hungover, and their act of skittish admiration is enough to make him feel a little better.

He’s just starting to assemble a protein shake when the air in the kitchen changes. Tom finds his eyes drifting towards the door, just in time to watch you walk in. The sun seems to follow you as you stroll into the kitchen, one hand at your side as the other plays with the tips of your hair, a relaxed smile on your face. As you look around the room and take stock of the several fratboys sitting on random pieces of furniture, your smile draws shyer, and Tom watches you glance down at your feet as you hurry towards the counters to where he is. You catch his eye, a blinding smile unfurling across your lips as you raise a hand in greeting.

As you sweep close, Tom blinks himself out of his stupor. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he steps forward to kiss your cheek, his hands falling onto your shoulders. When you step away, he takes in your outfit. Your legs are mostly bare, but you’re in a pair of shorts with an oversized grey t-shirt slouched on top of you. Tom’s eager eyes dip down, caressing your chest until they find the pointed tips of your nipples, straining against the fabric.

He clears his throat as he feels his cock prick to life.

“Morning, darling,” he manages, immediately turning around and facing the counter. He uses the smoothie as a pretence, but really he doesn’t want you to see the building bulge between his legs.

You seem to be oblivious, and Tom sucks in a breath as you step close. You place your chin on his shoulder and peer over it, comfortably leaning into him, and he swears he can feel your tits brushing up against his bare spine.

“Morning, Tom,” you greet, voice raspy and pure. “How’s your hangover?”

Tom chuckles, focusing very intently on ignoring the way your minty breath fans out across his cheek. You’ve got your arms wrapped loosely around him, hugging him easily and comfortably. He’d never complain that you’re at ease around him, but it doesn’t help his boner.

“Fine,” he responds, playing it cool. “I’m a pro at this, darling. Can’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”

You snort, and despite the loud volume, Tom thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you murmur, voice vibrating straight into his ear. “I feel like I’m going to die. Head’s killing me.”

Tom coos. He spends a moment violently mixing some green protein powder into the rest of his smoothie, then reaches up and rummages through a cupboard. When he procures a packet of painkillers, you release a deep sound of relief and finally step back.

“There you go, love,” he mutters. He makes sure to brush your hand with his as he passes it to you, smirking slightly when you jump. A lot of the time, Tom thinks his attraction to you is one-sided, but then something like this happens and casts doubt on that assessment. Neither of you has mentioned the night that you met, and sometimes he wonders if he should bring it up.

Tired and slightly delirious, Tom decides to test the waters. Just for fun, because he can, and because he likes the thought of making you flustered. He knows that his reputation precedes him and that you probably buy into the idea that he’s a flirt as much as everyone else does. If you respond badly, he’ll just blame it on his naturally charming disposition, and if Haz takes issue with it, well… Tom will just bring up the many red marks on his ledger.

“Thanks, Tom,” you say. He watches you rummage through a cupboard and pull out a glass, and his eyes follow your legs as you lean over the sink to get water and the hem of the shirt rides up.

“You know you’re fucking stunning, yeah?” Tom says before he can second-guess his plan.

You freeze, the waterline in your glass threatening to spill as you try to process his words. When you look back, there’s an expression of curious bewilderment on your face.

“What?”

Tom, his boner finally soft again, turns around to face you properly. He brings his arms over his chest, smirking wider as he watches you look at the curves of his biceps. He’s shirtless, and he knows the hours he’s spent in the yard doing weights with Haz shows in the firm definition of his abs and pecs. You seem to enjoy looking at him.

“You look hot.” Tom watches your face very carefully, not wanting to cross too many lines. “I bet Harrison told you that though, this morning.”

Something shifts on your face, and you bite your lip. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Harrison doesn’t say much in the mornings. Or, well, ever.” You pause, a deep line carving between your troubled brows. “He isn’t very vocal.”

Tom hums, stepping a little closer. “Harrison is good at a lot of things, but he has certain shortcomings.”

You lick your lower lip, and Tom’s gaze lingers on the glistening trail of your saliva.

“Like what?”

Tom makes a non-committal noise and pauses to take a sip of his smoothie.

“Well, you know. He’s very intense. He doesn’t always see what’s right in front of him.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be friends?”

“We are. He’s my best mate. But that doesn’t mean I can’t criticise him for acting carelessly.” Tom drops his voice, letting you see the way he checks you out. “I just think that he doesn’t appreciate how lucky he is sometimes.”

You turn away, breaking eye contact as you take your pills. As you hum a soft tune, you pick up the kettle and fill it up, only looking back to Tom when it’s been plugged in and starting to boil.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” you reply, voice curious. You step closer until you’re standing in front of Tom, your eyes again going to his bare chest. “What does Harrison have that you don’t think he appreciates enough?” The suggestive look in your eyes matches the seductive inflexion in your voice, and Tom feels a shiver pass down his spine.

He plays it off coolly, shrugging slightly. “I’m just saying, darling, that if I had the honour of waking up beside someone as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sights all morning.” Tom reaches out slowly, gently letting his fingers bridge the gap between you as he toys with the hem of your shirt. You move closer, subtly encouraging him to continue, so Tom lets his hands shift up to hold your waist, feeling your curious eyes on him the whole time. “What was he thinking, eh? Letting such a lovely lady leave his bed. Crazy.”

You chuckle, a bashful smile on your face as you gnaw your lower lip. “Well, he wanted tea.”

Tom hums. “And I think that that’s bullshit.” He pauses suddenly, eyebrows raising as he finally looks away from your face and finds his gaze sticking on an emblem branded to your big t-shirt. A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest. Of fucking course. “You know what this is, love?” he asks, tugging at your shirt. When you shake your head, he grins. “Boyfriend material.”

Your reaction is immediate: soft frown, arched brows, confused stare.

“Harrison is not my boyfriend,” you say.

Tom clicks his tongue. “Never said he was.” He rolls his hands up your sides, gently caressing your warm figure. Though he wants to run his palms higher to your chest, he stops himself. “This is my shirt, babe. Laundry gets them mixed up all the time, but it’s mine.”

Your lips part and you look between Tom and your shirt with horror in your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur. Immediately, your hands fly down to the hem. “Do you want me to take it off?”

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “As much as I’m sure I’d like that, there are too many other people in here.” He feels jealous again just thinking about it.

You nod, pausing the movement after a second as your eyes narrow. “Wait, how do you even know? It’s just a plain t-shirt?”

“What, you think I’m making this up?” Tom’s smirking again, and it widens as you fluster. “‘S alright, love.” He reaches up and points at the emblem which marks an event from rush week last year. “Logo,” he states. “And… I think you’ll find if we take a look at the label on the back, it’s got my name on it.”

You let him manhandle you, melting back into his hold as Tom stands forward and turns you around. He brushes your hair out of the way and reaches up, gracing his fingers over your spine as he delicately pulls out the back label. You won’t be able to see it, but it fills him with smugness to see his initials stained stark against the label: TSH.

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway.” Your voice is hoarse, light and feathery as if you’re holding your breath. Tom lets his hand rest on your shoulder after he’s tucked the label back. He’d move away, but you’re leaning into him completely, your hands grasping at the palm that he has curled around your stomach. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Tom leans down, and in a bold move, very gently kisses the base of your neck. Your skin is soft and warm beneath his lips, and the breathless gasp you release is just as sweet.

“It’s okay,” he rumbles. He pauses, eyes fluttering shut as he inhales your peachy scent. “Feel free to use it any time you’d like.”

Not wanting to push too hard, Tom leaves a final, wetter kiss to the bottom of your neck before moving back, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and repositioning his hands back on the counter. He leans against the wooden cabinets, wondering if you’d been able to feel his hard-on that’d peskily bounced back when he’d heard your whimper.

If you feel anything, you don’t say anything. In fact, you’re quiet as you step to the side and pour out the boiled water into two mugs. “Thanks,” you say, speaking through the steam. You glance back to Tom, and he swears your eyes are darker. “It’s soft.”

Tom sips his smoothie, eyeing you over the brim as you poke at a tea bag with a metal teaspoon.

“Fabric softener,” he says, nodding slightly. His brain is running slow, still caught up on how nice it’d felt to kiss your neck. “It suits you.”

You throw him another shy smile. “How does Haz take his tea again? No sugar, yeah?”

Tom bites his lip. “Wrong,” he lies. “Haz likes three sugars. Don’t be afraid to put in a little more, though.”

You eye him sceptically. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“He is my best friend, love,” Tom says. He hides his mischievous grin behind his smoothie, and he watches you roll your eyes. “Listen, if he’s got a problem with it, he can take it up with me or he can come and make his own cup of sodding tea. Lazy bastard.”

You snort, and Tom feels his stomach turn as he watches you spoon three teaspoons into Haz’s mug.

“Well, I’ll let you know what he says,” you mutter. Finally, you pick up the mugs in your hands and walk forward, pausing in front of Tom. Your eyes skim his figure again, briefly zeroing in on his chest before caressing the fine lines of his lips. “Thanks for keeping me company. This was fun.”

Tom nods and steps forward to kiss your cheek. He hopes you can feel how desperately he wants to press his lips to yours.

“Any time, darling,” he assures. “If you ever need anything, you know where I am, yeah?” He lets his teeth brush your earlobe as he pulls back slowly, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver.

“Yeah,” you murmur. You swallow deeply, and your eyes hold his gaze for one moment longer before you tear them away. “Have a nice morning, Tom.”

Tom watches you walk across the kitchen, almost stumbling when you get distracted trying to look over your shoulder back at him. He smirks, raising a few fingers in a lazy wave.

“See ya!” he calls back.

His blood doesn’t stop pumping until you’re all the way out of sight, and even after that, he knows the only way he’ll be able to properly shake you is by attending to his hard-on. Again.

You’re like a shadow that won’t stop chasing him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party is in full swing, and Tom feels like a king.

There are several benefits to parading the title of president of the frat. Tom gets the largest room in the house, along with an ensuite. He’s able to prioritise himself on the gym schedule and the cleaning rota. Every party, he’s looked up to, treated like royalty, his every wish and command carried out by his brothers. If he doesn’t like a song, it’s changed. All it takes is one arched brow in the direction of a partygoer, and they’re ejected from the house. The beer is his favourite make, and everyone loves him.

Tom has the whole world in his hands, which is why it’s incredibly infuriating that his kingdom tonight isn’t ordered how he’d like it.

It’s two months into the semester, and the buzz that’d characterised earlier parties has faded. Finals are coming up soon, so maybe that’s why Tom feels unsettled. Or, maybe it’s the fact that the music isn’t hitting quite as well as usual. It could be that he hasn’t tied his shoes as tightly as he normally does, or maybe that the vibe within the house is just...off.

But Tom knows exactly what the problem is if he brings himself to think about it. He’s tried drowning his ugly feelings in cheap beer, but there’s no denying it: his mood had taken a significant plummet when he’d glanced across the room and seen Harrison with his hands all over you, your lips locked together. The shard of jealousy that had lodged itself in the warm precipice of his heart is unshakeable, and there’s a horrible bitter taste on his tongue.

Tom is so fucking jealous that he’s about two seconds away from pointing at the couple and getting someone to kick you out.

“Bro. Bro. The fuck is wrong with you, man?”

It’s probably a good thing that Tom’s been interrupted, as he’s fairly sure there’s enough poison in his gaze to burn off a large patch of Harrison’s hair. He shakes a grimace over his lips as he looks to the side, eyes falling to his friend, Jacob. Jacob’s in a loose Hawaiian shirt, the red and white pattern glowing under the luminescence of the UV lights.

“What?” Tom says, playing it cool. He takes another drink, shuddering slightly as he lets the alcohol ease him.

“You look like you want to beat someone up.” Jacob squints, trying to look in the direction that Tom knows he’d been staring in. “I only see Haz. Are you guys, like… Good?”

Tom releases a short bark. “‘Course, man,” he says, voice lifting lighter. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Jacob scoffs. It’s loud in the crowded living room, but Tom can feel the undertones. “Uh, we all know about the bet. We all also know that you’d had your eyes on Y/N before Haz pulled her.” He pauses, wiggling his brows until Tom punches his arm and scowls. “I’m just sayin’... Seems like you have some unresolved shit going on.”

Tom doesn’t deem him with a response, not knowing where to start with that. It’s Saturday night. The last thing he wants to do is talk about this. He already drives himself mad every other day of the week as he ponders this particular puzzle.

“We need to get the energy up,” Tom mutters. He spins around, beckoning over a few of his friends with his hands. Someone gives him a shot, and he downs it before looking back at Jacob. “We’ll do a game or something. Get people. We’ll do it on the patio.”

Ten minutes later, there’s an assembly of partygoers on the terrace at the back of the house. It’s a mix of sorority girls, jocks, and fratbros, but Tom doesn’t pay them much attention as he claims his spot on a rickety canvas camping chair and sits back. He lets Jacob take the lead, doing another two shots when he sees you and Haz join the circle.

You’re in a black dress tonight, the material skimming just above your knees. As you walk out onto the patio, the midnight breeze swishes the hem up a little, and Tom watches as you giggle and drop Haz’s hand to smooth it down. Harrison presses an easy kiss to your cheek, and the smile on your face builds. It freezes when you spot Tom, your eyes darkening as your teeth dig into the pink flesh of your lower lip. Tom raises a brow, watching you stand a little straighter as your gaze runs over his form, lingering on the golden chain he’d pulled on earlier.

The spell breaks when Harrison sits on a chair and tugs you down with him, an expression of irritation briefly souring your angelic face before you smooth it back. Tom doesn’t look away until Jacob starts to speak.

“Spin the bottle,” Jacob announces, looking around at each person. There are a few groans, but they’re drowned out by the cheers. Tom just rolls his eyes, sitting back and briefly surveying the circle. He’s pretty sure he’s pulled at least five of the girls already, and the rest of them seem fine, too. Obviously, there’s only one person he’d want the spin to land on, but he’s already accepted that the universe isn’t on his side when it comes to you.

A few rounds pass. Tom isn’t really paying attention until the neck of the bottle lands on him and he has to kiss a girl from his psychology class. It’s a quick kiss, and her lip gloss makes his mouth tingle, but Tom only realises how hammered he is when he has to sit up from his chair and lean over to spin the bottle.

Tom looks around the circle as his fingers ponder the glass, grasping the attention of the group like he’s holding court. He looks at you and finds you looking at him, your lower lip held between your teeth as Harrison rubs your arm. Haz has you in his lap, your legs thrown across his thighs as you sit on him sideways. Harrison’s blond curls rest up against the side of your face, and Tom has to look away as he grimaces.

The bottle spins. It clatters quickly over the paving stone, hurtling with an angry force that Tom hadn’t entirely intended to use. He holds his breath, his eyes widening as it stops. Pointing at you.

“Looks like that’s Y/N,” Jacob announces.

Tom sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at Harrison. His mate’s eyes have lost their charm, a deep frown settled on his face. Tom thinks he looks exactly like the tough-faced models from Vogue with that mardy scowl on his face. He raises a brow, as if to say, up to you, and watches as you turn in Harrison’s lap and whisper something into his ear.

A moment passes, and Tom’s surprised when Haz nods and pushes you up from his lap. He meets Tom’s eyes, giving him another smaller nod, and Tom sits back, pleasantly resigned to the fact that Harrison isn’t going to ruin the game.

“Hi,” you greet as you approach him, smiling.

Tom reaches out, offering you his hands as you finish treading over the collection of limbs and shoes that crowd the patio. Your fingers are so soft in his.

“Hi, darling,” he responds. Tom feels hot, everywhere, and he hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “You look stunning,” he adds, voice quieter.

“Thanks.”

You hesitate, eyeing him up and down as if trying to assess the best way to kiss him. The girl he’d just kissed had bent over to press her lips to his, and as Tom remembers this, he drops one of your hands and reaches up and wipes his mouth again, trying to eradicate all traces of her lips. When he’s achieved this, he tentatively reaches up and presses the palm to your waist. Respectfully, of course. There are a lot of people watching.

You seem to be less reluctant to indulge, and Tom feels his eyes widen as you step forward and sink into his lap, your knees bending as you press your shins into the canvas of the camping chair on either side of Tom’s thighs. Suddenly your face is hanging in front of his, warm breath coming out over his face, and Tom has just enough time to wonder why your breath smells of pineapples before you’re leaning in.

He kisses you, and for a few seconds, he’s frozen. Everything that he’s learnt at the frat and over the course of his college life goes flying out the window, and he’s left feeling like a kid again. The background noise filters out, and all he can focus on is the weight of your body pressing into his legs and the feeling of your lips, soft and silky, moving over his. When you reach up to weave a hand into his hair, he comes back around, the roar of the party filling his ears as an adrenaline rush floods his chest.

Tom knows this will probably be his only chance to kiss you, so he leaves nothing behind. He brings both hands to your waist, urging you closer as he recovers his charm and kisses you properly. His tongue works into your open mouth, pressing against you and exploring the sweet space of your lips as you moan into him. He feels your fingers drift down, one of your hands staying bedded in his curls as the other plays with his chain. Never before has Tom felt so consumed by a kiss, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach around and grab handfuls of your skin, wouldn’t hold back his kisses, or his moans, or his coos of praising endearment. He’d give you everything.

When you pull back, your nose brushes up against his, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“How was that?” you ask, voice quiet. There’s a shyness to your disposition, a nervousness as you meet his eyes.

Tom reaches up, holding your cheek and brushing his thumb across your chin. He tidies up your smudged lipstick as he squeezes your waist.

“Perfect,” he replies, voice low. He can feel Harrison staring at him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re… You’re incredible, darling.”

You sit a little taller, looking proud of yourself. “Well, now I understand what all the hype is about,” you mutter. “You’re a good kisser. A really good kisser.” You pause as a shiver works its way down your spine, and Tom glances at your bare arms.

“Here,” he mutters. When you stand from his lap, he’s glad his jeans have some wiggle room so his raging boner is less obvious. Tom’s quick to shrug off his jacket, and he passes it up to you without a second thought. “Don’t freeze,” he says, wagging a finger at you.

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Yeah, you can.”

You bite your lip. “Won’t you be cold?”

Tom just flexes his biceps, smirking again as he sees you checking out his muscles. “Got these bad boys to keep me warm,” he teases, pointing at his guns. He softens, just for a moment. “It’s fine. Said you could always use my stuff, didn’t I?”

You look flustered, opening and then immediately closing your mouth before turning around and making your way back over to Harrison. Tom sits back in his chair, trying halfheartedly to suppress the smirk that continues to hold his lips as he admires how nice his jacket looks draped loosely across your shoulders. You always wear his clothes so well.

Tom looks at Jacob, who shakes his head in response. Then he looks at Harrison, and he can’t stop himself from laughing. Harrison’s a shade of salmon pink, and it only softens out a little bit when you settle back into his lap and kiss his cheek. Tom watches Harrison flip him off then pull you closer and kiss you harshly, and messily. You don’t seem as into it as you’d been with Tom, he realises. You’re holding back, grimacing slightly as Harrison pulls back a triumphant moment later.

The game concludes a while later, but Tom stays out on the patio, feeling dizzier by the second. The camping chair is comfortable, and the chill in the air helps him feel soberer. Whilst Tom doesn’t regret the multiple cups of beer and several shots, he does consider that he might’ve gone a little too far in his efforts to forget about you.

You’re gone, now. Out of sight, back in the party. Tom’s making light conversation with a few of the guys still left in the circle, but they clear out when a shadowy presence falls across the patio. It doesn’t take long for Tom to realise it’s Harrison, and he tries his best to sit up straight and look less smug as Harrison drags a chair over and places it opposite Tom.

Harrison stares at him, hard. He’s in a matching snapback and a loose white t-shirt, his ring glinting as he crosses his fingers and examines Tom’s face.

“So…” Tom starts, disliking how charged the air is. “Y’alright, Haz?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom,” Harrison says instead. When Tom pulls a face, he sharpens his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tom chuckles. He’s feeling drunk and annoying. “Well, that’s a bit of an unspecific question, Harrison. There are many things that you might say are wrong with me—”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Harrison breaks off, sighing loudly as he flops back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. He looks smaller, nervous. “Do you have a thing for my girl?”

Instinctively, Tom shakes his head. “Y/N?” he says dumbly. When Harrison nods, Tom hums. “Is she your girl?”

Harrison flounders for a moment. “I mean… Technically no, but we’ve been hooking up for two months.” He pauses, grimacing. “Look, mate. I know I fucked it when we met her. I knew you wanted her, and I still took on the bet. But I really fucking like her now, and… And…”

“And?”

“If you decide that you want her, you’ll get her. You always do.” Harrison grumbles as he crosses his arms. “Can I not have one thing? Just one.”

“You do know that Y/N is perfectly capable of making her own decisions, yeah?” Tom says, only slurring slightly.

“Oh, yeah. Of course, of course.” Harrison’s bobbing his head almost comically. “But still… Do you know what I mean?”

Tom closes his eyes for a few moments, the patio spinning. He speaks through gritted teeth. “Haz, I love you, man. You know what I’m like. I’m a flirt.” He cracks open an eye and gives Harrison a dopey smile, and the next words he speaks are the truth. “I wouldn’t seriously try to steal your girl, alright? I wouldn’t sleep with her if you guys have a thing. We were just playing the game.”

Harrison releases a deep breath. “Thanks, man, I—”

“Wait.” Tom feels bolder. “You do need to tell her, though.”

“Tell her what?”

Tom narrows his eyes. “You know what,” he says, speaking to a very sheepish-looking Harrison. “She’d want to know that your relationship is built from a bet. If you… If you seriously think that you’re g’nna have a fucking relationship with her, she needs honesty.” Just the thought of you and Harrison going official makes him feel sick.

“No way.” Harrison’s curls go flying as he shakes his head. “Fuck that. Are you mad? She’d break it off.”

Tom grimaces and looks away from Harrison. “I’m just saying,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t lie to the people you care about.”

It’s rich coming from him, but Tom knows that nothing he’s said has been a lie. He won’t sleep with you if you’re still with Haz. Maybe he’d try to break you both up, but he wouldn’t purposefully sleep with someone in a relationship. Logistically, he doesn’t think he’d be able to, even if he wanted to, because despite the tantalising banter he’s able to carry out with you, you’re a good person. You’d never cheat on Harrison.

“Yeah.” Harrison looks guilty now. “I guess.” His eyes shift away from Tom, falling to someone else. Tom startles when he feels two hands come down to rest on his shoulders, and glances down, only relaxing when he recognises the silver rings curled around your fingers.

As if a deity, you’ve appeared, just when Tom was thinking about you. He wonders if it’ll always work like this.

“Hi,” you greet, looking first to Harrison, then Tom. “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re standing behind his chair, perfume light and peachy. When Tom cranes his head back, your perfect face blurs.

“Nothin’,” he murmurs, a sleepy grin on his lips.

You chuckle. “How drunk are you right now?” you ask.

Tom makes a non-committal sound. “I don’t want to stand up and find out,” he admits. “So I’m just going to stay here until I get sober.”

“What if it rains?”

“Well, I guess I’ll get wet.” He reaches back and grabs lightly at his jacket, still covering your upper half. “Some thief ran off with my jacket.”

You snort, then pat his shoulders before walking around to the front of his chair. You offer him your hands, and Tom takes them easily.

“Babe?” Harrison pipes up. “What are you doing?”

With ease, you help Tom up from the chair. He fakes it a little, exaggerating just how woozy he is so that you have to wrap your arms around his waist. He hides his mischievous smirk in the crook of your neck, suppressing his guilt. He wasn’t lying to Harrison—he will stay in his lane. But old habits die hard, and you’re very warm, and he’s very drunk, especially with the blood rushing to his head.

“Putting him to bed,” you respond. “He’s tired.”

Suddenly, Tom finds himself yawning. He leans into you, pouting softly at Harrison as he tries to look as exhausted as possible. He’s always been a convincing actor, and his friend buys it completely.

“Alright,” Harrison says. “Do you need help?”

You shake your head. “Nah,” you respond. “I’ll be fine.” You squeeze Tom’s waist. “He’s just a big teddy bear.”

Tom doesn’t think he likes that (if anything, he’s a lion), but it seems to ease Harrison. The man presses forward, kissing your cheek before giving Tom a firm pat on his shoulder.

“Right, then,” he says. “I’ll be inside.” Harrison glances at Tom, reluctance filling his blue eyes before fading slowly. “Sweet dreams, bro.”

“Thanks, Hazzy.”

“Don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

Tom’s still chuckling as you lead him back inside, and he knows that you’re trying not to giggle too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom already knows that you’re cute, but as you help him up the staircase and get him ready for bed, your adorableness really comes through.

“Drink this,” you announce, walking back into his bedroom with a glass of water in your hands. Tom admires the way that you walk, glad he’s already in bed and hiding beneath the covers. Your hair is a little wild, and he knows that’s probably his fault—Tom’s cheeky, and he’s especially persistent when he’s hammered, and he might’ve been a bit mischievous in the bathroom when you’d tried to convince him to brush his teeth, refusing until you’d had to physically push the brush into his mouth. You’d rolled your eyes, and he’d been distracted by watching you in the mirror.

“What is it?” he asks annoyingly. Now Tom is almost naked, clad only in his boxers, and he does a deliberately long stretch of his arms above his head, smirking as the duvet falls down to expose his toned torso.

You roll your eyes again as you sit on the edge of his bed, pushing the glass into his hands. “Water,” you supply. You stare at him, raising a brow. “Probably won’t help with the hangover, but I feel like I need to try.”

Tom takes a few sips, looking at you over the rim of the glass. You look tired, up close. Still glowing, and beautiful, and gorgeous, but tired. Your lipstick is faded, and he can see the shadows of your dark circles peeking through your makeup.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You glance at him, chuckling shortly before looking down at your hands. You play around with a few of your rings, sighing.

“Just tired,” you respond. You manage a forced smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

He frowns. “It does.” Tom obediently downs the entire glass, wanting to coax a smile to your face. “Why’d you come out if you’re tired?”

“Haz wanted me to.” You bring your eyes back to Tom. “I wanted to come and support you, too.”

Tom blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Aww.”

You scrunch up the end of your nose as you stand from his bed, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “Well, I do care about you, Tom. I know there’s a lot of pressure on you to make the parties good.”

Warmth bursts through Tom’s chest. “That’s so cute,” he mutters. He looks up at you, the light being cast from the ceiling light cascading over your shoulders like a halo. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re plastered,” you respond, smiling. You walk closer, running a hand over the top of the duvet until you reach Tom. When you’re standing up by his head, you tentatively reach down to push his shoulders. “Lie down,” you coax. “Bedtime.”

Tom sinks into his mattress with ease, smiling when you gently pick up his head and plump the pillows. You reach down and pull the duvet up to his chin, tucking it in around his chest firmly, your tongue held between your teeth as you go. You’re very attentive, and the sight of you looking after him so well doesn’t help his predicament at all.

“Thanks, darling,” Tom murmurs. He sighs contentedly. “So comfy,” he whines. “Why don’t you stay with me if you’re tired?” He cracks open an eye just in time to see the expression of shock on your face fade to one of amusement.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you respond. “Can you imagine how confused you’d be waking up in the morning?”

“Would be a good kind of confusion, though.” Tom rounds out his eyes, trying to look as soft and unassuming as possible. “I’m a great bed partner, babe. I won’t kick you. I’ll give you space. Or, if you want, I’ll cuddle you. I’m great at cuddling people.”

You just laugh, your face vibrant and light. “You’re so funny,” you say. “I wonder if you’ll remember this tomorrow.”

Tom scowls, grumpily snuggling further into bed. “I invite a pretty girl into my bed and she rejects me,” he grumbles. “Your loss, baby.”

“You sound more and more like a fratboy every time we speak.” You stand back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him up and down. “Right. I left painkillers on the side, and there’s more water too. Sweet dreams, Tom.”

You turn to leave, but Tom makes a noise of objection. You pause, raising a brow in question.

“Goodnight kiss,” Tom begs. “Please?”

You laugh again but step back towards him. You bend over, necklace dangling in Tom’s face as your hands smooth up to rest in his hair. He’s overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the close proximity, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to imitate the breathtaking kiss from earlier. But then you move up. You kiss his forehead, gently, stroking a few strands of his hair as your lips linger against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. When you pull back, Tom has a dumb expression on his face, and he’s glad that you follow up the kiss by turning off his lamp.

“Night, Tom,” you say, walking across the room. There’s a single shard of light, peeking into his room through the open door, and it illuminates your silhouette as you pause there.

“Night, Y/N,” he responds, voice slightly thick.

You gently close the door behind you and leave Tom alone, with nothing but his thoughts and his fantasies to entertain him. He grumbles as he turns over, a very prominent and selfish thought pushing to the front of his mind:

Tom loves Harrison, but he’s fed up. He can’t carry on like this, yearning incessantly. He doesn’t want to stay in his lane, he wants you to be his girl. Desperately.

Tom has to do something. He has to make you his.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You think that whoever scheduled Intro to International Business for 9am on a Monday hates all college students.

It’s dreary as you make the hungover trek to campus. The ache in the front of your skull rattles with each sombre step, and you never get used to the chill of November’s dark mornings despite having plenty of experience with them now. You’re bundled up in a hoodie, a jacket, and a scarf, yet the flecks of grey raindrops still manage to soak you. By the time you reach the lecture theatre, you’re grouchy and regretting ever leaving your bed.

At the time, going to the frat party the night before had seemed like a great idea—Harrison hadn’t stopped blowing up your phone about it all weekend, and you’d felt compelled to keep him company. There were other factors that made you eager to go, too.

It’s all a blur now. Spin the bottle, disrupting Harrison’s tense conversation with Tom, taking the latter upstairs. You think about the sight of Tom bundled up in bed, duvet pulled to his pouting lips, and your entire body bursts into flame, rippling with an unrestrained desire that makes you feel guilty for just existing. You’d been so affected by the events of the night before that you’d had to go home, too overwhelmed to stay with Harrison in the room beside Tom’s.

Most of the seats around you are empty. You’re early despite rolling out of bed after sleeping through your first alarm. As you settle into the back of the theatre, you begrudgingly pull out a pad of paper and a pen, wishing you’d thought to bring sunglasses. This is the class that you supposedly share with Tom and Harrison—also business majors—yet they’ve never made an appearance beyond a half-assed attempt in the first week. Sometimes you wonder how they’re both able to pass a class they never show face in.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Who the fuck scheduled this so early? They’re taking the piss.”

You startle as a grouchy voice enters your space, and your eyes snap up just in time to see a dark figure drop down into the open seat beside you. The deep navy blue hoodie is pulled above his head, and he immediately crosses his arms, but you know without a doubt who it is.

“Tom?” you ask, voice full of shock. You sit forward, reaching out to place a hand on his arm as you peer at him. When you meet his pale face and see the thick sunglasses covering his eyes, your eyebrows raise. “Since when do you come to class?”

Tom clicks his tongue, lips curving into a smirk. It’s a little disconcerting that you can’t see his eyes, but you can tell they’re dark and seductive. They always are.

“What d’you mean?” he teases. “I’m always here.”

“As if.”

He shrugs and breaks off for a moment to yawn. “Thought I should start being a good student, ‘n all,” he mutters. “Finals next month, and everything.”

“And how’s your hangover?”

Tom pulls a face. All of a sudden, he leans over, rummaging through his bag with loud actions until he procures a bottle of water and a bag of mixed nuts. When he sits back up, he pushes down his hood and jerks off his sunglasses, exposing the damage. You wince as you take in the deep bags beneath his eyes and the way his brown irises are marred with red. He still manages to smile, though, and after ripping open his snack, crunches a couple in quick succession.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I don’t get hungover, but if I do, it clears pretty fast. I’m built differently.”

You snort. “Yeah right,” you mutter. You find yourself looking at his lips, and briefly, you’re transported to how incredible they felt last night when you’d straddled him and kissed him. Quick to shake that off, you find yourself blinking as you stare at him. “You were trashed last night. I had to take you to bed. Do you remember?”

Tom gives a hapless shrug, not quite looking into your eyes. You wonder, not for the first time, what thoughts are running through his mind. He confuses you immensely.

The night you’d met, you’d been convinced you’d end up sleeping with him. He’d swaggered over to you, dripping charm, looking incredibly hot in an all-black ensemble, chain, and cap, then he’d kissed your forehead and promised to see you later. Just, you hadn’t seen him later—instead, his friends had not-so-subtly set you up with Harrison as Tom had stood across the room, watching. A part of you had felt side-lined by him, but Harrison is attractive, so you’d jumped on him the moment you could.

Harrison is nice. He’s kind. Dependable. He’s the kind of boy that you could easily take home to your mother and hear nothing but kind words about. He isn’t always the most attentive, but he’s funny, and he cares for you, so it’s fine.

Tom is… Tom is an entirely different ballpark. There are no words to describe Tom Holland. You’d thought you knew enough about him before meeting him at the party, but the man you’ve come to know since doesn’t match up to the reputation that surrounds him. Tom is cheeky—it’s obvious in his flirtatious jokes, and his lingering touches, and his habit of kissing your cheek every single time he sees you. He’s funny too, but his sense of humour isn’t mean or callous like most of the lads in his house. Beneath the hardy exterior lies someone who genuinely cares, and looks out for the people he loves.

He makes you feel alive, each one of your cells burning and sizzling every time he’s around. Tom makes you feel the pounding rhythm of your heartbeat everywhere—in your ears, in your chest, between your legs. He gives you everything, whilst giving you nothing at all. It’s entirely perplexing.

You need to stop comparing them. It’s not a competition. You’re seeing Harrison, and Tom has no genuine interest in you. You’re friends, and he’s flirty, but that’s it. You’re friends, and you shared the best kiss of your life last night, but that doesn’t mean a thing. It doesn’t matter that Tom fires you up the right way, because it’s one-sided, and you’re with Haz.

Tom ignores your question about the night before and instead tips his bag of nuts towards you.

“Care for a nut?”

You snort as you pick out a cashew, crunching it softly as he watches. Tom’s deep brown eyes linger on your lower lip as you slowly lick the salt from it.

“Delicious,” you say, earning a loud cackle from your companion.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters, grinning wickedly.

“No, you just have your mind in the gutter. Not everything has to be an innuendo, Tom.”

“Wrong. Everything can be and is an innuendo if you try hard enough. You should know this by now, darling. You’ve spent enough time with me.”

“Maybe, but not all of us share your immature sense of humour, Tom.”

He gasps, eyebrows sliding up his forehead in mock shock. “Are you calling me a child?”

“Childish,” you clarify, smirking as he shoots daggers at you. “You’re such a boy.”

Tom sits back, blinking a few times in quick succession before clearing his throat. His eyes seem to darken as he leans in closer, bringing a hand up to rest on your shoulder. His fingers are warm as he pushes the hair from your face and gently tucks it behind your ear, leaning across the seat until he’s able to whisper gently.

“I am not a boy,” he coos, voice soft. “I’ve just never broken out the proper charm on you, darling.”

Your throat runs dry as his hot breath fans out across the side of your face, minty fresh.

“And what is this proper charm?”

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but it fades a moment later. He pulls back, appearing to lose his cool last minute as his cheeks flush.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters instead. He shifts around in his seat, looking back at you for a split-second before glancing away. Tom’s reluctant to meet your eyes, and you watch, confused, as he chugs about half his bottle of water before pulling off his hoodie. He’s still flushed—face warmer and more alive than it’s been all morning.

Your brows furrow as you look at Tom’s shirt. “Hey, is that the one I borrowed the other week?” you ask, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom chuckles, regaining his charm as he throws his hoodie on top of his bag and turns to face you, a hand lodging in his hair. It’s longer than it’d been at the start of the semester, a few strands dangling over his forehead.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Smells of you.” Something crosses over Tom’s face, and he flashes you the tips of his pearly teeth as he smirks. “Smells of us, darling.”

Your reaction is immediate and uncontrollable. A hot flush, moving through your entire body, forming in your centre and rolling across your figure from the inside out. You hope that you can play it off by pulling your notebook into your lap. The back of your mouth is dry, but you manage a weak, quipping response of, “you should wash that,” before you spiral too far.

It’s in the small things. His comments. His lingering touches. His smirks. Tom drives you crazy.

The lecture starts, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you stay huddled up in the back with Tom, killing time as he shows you a collection of photos from the night before. After flicking through the snapshots from a very blurry night, Tom moves on to a different folder in his phone, nimble fingers swiping across the screen and showing off some of his favourite memes. You end up almost crying from laughter, clutching to his arm as you bend over in your seat and try to pass by undetected by the notoriously strict professor. Tom’s hand soothes over your back, and you briefly wonder if you should dissolve into laughter more often just so he can bring you back down.

When the class finishes, Tom throws his arm across your shoulders and walks you across campus. It’s only when you’re halfway towards the car park that you realise where he’s taking you.

“Wait— I can walk back home.”

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“It’s out of the way, though.”

Tom squeezes your side. “‘S alright. You’re my best mate’s girl. ‘Least I can do.” He pauses, apparently oblivious to the sour expression you pull in response to those words. “Plus, you looked after me last night, so… I kinda owe you.”

Deciding to just accept it, you hum in agreement. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

He’s very warm and his cologne smells like a forest breeze. You enjoy strolling across campus with him, especially when he kisses your temple as you separate at his car. It’s a battered old thing, and you’ve been in it a few times before. You’re fairly sure that Haz owns it too, but the way Tom settles into the driver’s seat and keys the ignition makes him look like the proper owner. Tom commands any space he inhabits with poise and elegance.

“You’re out near Sarah, aren’t you?” Tom asks as he jerkily reverses from his parking space.

“Yeah.”

“Nice area,” he comments, which makes you laugh. Tom glances at you, raising a brow. “What?”

“Small talk?”

“Mmm. Well, is there anything else you’d like to talk about, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Fuck, you can’t handle the way that sounds dripping from his lips.

“Nope.” You stretch your hands out in front of you, yawning. “Too hungover to think.”

“Fair enough.” Tom drums his fingers over the wheel, and you find yourself watching the lines of his slender digits. He has very pretty hands. “Good party though, eh?”

“Oh yeah. Crazy. Did you have fun?”

Tom releases a noise of reluctant agreement. “It was alright. Not the most successful night for me.” He risks a brief glance at you, chuckling. “Isn’t really the best look to get escorted to bed.” You aren’t sure if you should feel guilty for that, but Tom���s quick to add, “not that I don’t appreciate it. I do. I just shouldn’t have been so eager.”

“Why were you?” you ask. “It seemed like you were trying really hard to get drunk. Did something happen?”

Tom cackles, the sound so loud and quivering so precisely that it makes you jump. “God, if you only knew…”

“Eh?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

You’re intrigued now. “What?” you press, reaching across the console to pat his thigh. You’re over halfway back to yours now, and like a bloodhound, you want to know answers. “Was it a girl? I’ve not seen you with anyone since… Well, ever.” You furrow your brows. “Did someone reject you?”

Tom’s face clouds over immediately, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you watch his jaw set into a hard line.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps, his easy demeanour gone.

“Woah,” you mutter. “Sorry.”

Tom cards a frustrated hand through his hair, his eyes glinting dark. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I was not rejected.” The way his voice quivers makes it sound like a lie.

You pull a face as you cross your arms over your chest, your hangover exacerbating your rapidly falling mood.

“Aren’t we friends?” you ask.

He sucks in a fast breath. “Yep,” he replies, speaking through tight lips.

Something has changed. It’s as if you’ve crossed an invisible boundary that you hadn’t seen, tripped a trick wire only visible to him. The air between you is thick, and Tom doesn’t say another word until he’s turned down your street and pulled into a space outside your house.

“Well… Thanks, I guess,” you mutter. You reach into the footwell and pull up your bag, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn back to face him. For a few moments you bounce between jumping out of the car or staying, but you hate leaving things tense like this. Not with him. “Are we… good?”

Tom turns off the engine. For a moment he stares at his hands on the steering wheel, but then he brings his gaze up to you. His eyes are sad and raw, and it makes your heart hurt.

“We’re fine, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Sorry. It’s the, uh… The hangover. Makin’ me act like a twat. I’m sorry.”

You release a sigh of relief. “It’s okay, Tom.” A light chuckle slips by your lips. “I was worried I pissed you off for a moment there.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You? Never, darling.” He drums his hands over his thighs, and you remember the circumstances.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” you say. You hasten to undo your seatbelt and reach towards the car door, only to pause when Tom reaches out suddenly to touch your arm. “Yeah?”

“I, uh…” Tom’s close, leaning over the console. Your eyes drift over the freckles of his face, and you get distracted by how warm his brown orbs are, like glinting pools of honey. “I really am sorry,” he adds. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “It’s fine.” You glance down to where he’s softly caressing your arm, his eyes fixed firmly on your skin. His hand feels nice. Soothing. He soothes you. He always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tom nods. “Yeah. I’m great.”

You don’t quite believe him, but you’re willing to accept that the hangover has knocked him.

“Well, thank you,” you say. You turn back to face him. “For the lift. And the nuts.”

Tom finally smiles again, and the sight makes your heart soar. “No worries, babe,” he says. He winks. “Any time.”

You lean over the console and kiss his cheek, your mouth hitting a spot of skin closer to his lips than the side of his face. If Tom notices how flustered it makes you, he doesn’t say a thing. You’re still shaking as you pull your bag over your back and hobble from the car, shouting back a tight, “bye!”

Tom raises his hand through the open window and winks again as he pulls away from the curb, leaving your body throbbing persistently and your heart more confused than it’s ever been.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks pass. You don’t see Harrison much, but Tom continues to come to class. Life goes on, nothing unchanged, and finals come and go with ease. Before you know it, it’s the final mixer of the semester.

Harrison’s going to miss it. He tells you as much when you turn up at the frat two hours before kickoff to find him stuffing shirts into a bag. He looks guilty as you walk into his room, question written all over your face.

“You remember Rory, yeah? From UPenn? He invited me to their party. Apparently, they’ve got Travis Scott. It’s gonna be lit, so… I’m going.”

“Overnight?” you ask, looking at his heavy bag. Harrison nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Sorry… I probably should’ve told you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah.” You glance down at your hands and swallow the irritation that festers in your chest. Harrison has never been great at communication. Throughout the duration of your arrangement—whether you’re just dating, or just hooking up—he’s kept his cards close to his chest. He confuses you.

When you’d first spent the night with him, Harrison had acted like he’d wanted something more with you. You’d been on a few dates, he’d brought your flowers, the works. But with time, it’s as if he’s tired of you. The spark has slipped away, and if he wasn’t on his way across state, you’d sit him down and have a discussion about the direction of your entanglement. But he is, and you have no time, so you display your irritation by crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry,” he adds. He finishes zipping up his bag and throws it over his shoulders before stepping towards you. With warm hands, he cups your cheeks and brings you in for a deep, passionate kiss. “You can always come if you want.”

You grimace as you shake your head. “I told Tom I’d help him here,” you say. “It’s fine. Just… Have fun, alright?”

A shadow of jealousy briefly flitters across Harrison’s face, but it’s quick to smooth away when he clears his throat. “‘Course,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you from his room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Hm?”

“Tom. What are you doing with him?”

“Oh. Just hanging up banners, and stuff. He wanted me to help him with the drinks too.”

“Nice.”

The air between you is stale, and you’re glad when Harrison pulls you down the corridor and pauses outside Tom’s room. There’s loud music coming from the room, so Harrison has to rap loudly several times, an act that makes you cringe.

“Come in!” yells Tom. Harrison does just that, pulling you in after him with a firm grip. “Oh, hey guys?”

You instantly wrench your hand from Harrison’s, not wanting him to feel your palm grow hot as your eyes fall onto Tom. You’ve caught him mid-workout, perched on the edge of his bed, shirtless and doing curls with a hand weight. There’s a healthy red flush to his face, and his bicep bulges as he flexes with the weight. All across his chest are lines of thick muscle, and you find yourself staring.

“Hey, dude,” Harrison says. “I’m just on my way out.” He turns to look at you, an easy smile on his face. “Y/N told me you guys have plans tonight, so… I guess, I’m just wondering. Can you keep an eye on her? Look after my girl, y’know?” He pauses to chew on his lip, guilt at leaving reflected in his eyes. “Make sure she’s okay, ‘n all that.”

Tom stands from the bed, tossing the weight onto the mattress with ease before approaching you, smirking. “‘Course, Haz.” He wraps a very hot, slightly sweaty arm around you and pulls you into his side. “I’ll take care of her.” Tom glances at you, shrugging softly. “Take care of you,” he adds.

You don’t know what kind of dangers you might face tonight that warrant a personal guard, but you don’t think you mind it if your attendant is Tom. He’s hot and sweaty and he smells of man, but you burn for him.

“Thanks,” you respond, slightly breathless.

Harrison looks between you both, then shrugs. “Great.” He steps forward and briefly touches his lips to you. Tom freezes, holding you tighter in his arms the moment Harrison kisses you, and that action makes you feel perplexed. “Have a good time, guys.”

“You too, Haz,” Tom responds. You echo similar sentiments.

When the door closes behind Harrison, Tom doesn’t move. He simply holds you tighter, then drops his mouth down and presses a light kiss to the base of your neck. Your choked whimper travels into the air, and you flush as he steps away.

“We will have fun tonight, won’t we, Y/N?” he teases. His eyes are dark as they briefly skitter across your figure. After a moment, Tom walks across the room and picks up a towel and a fresh set of clothes. Tom pauses in front of you, tilting his head as he looks at you. He has to know how frazzled he makes you feel. He’s got to.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice high. “A lot of fun.”

“Mmm. Hope so.” Tom steps forward and cups your cheek in his hot palm, kissing your forehead before stepping back. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself comfortable, yeah? What’s mine is yours.”

A full-body shiver travels down your spine, but luckily it isn’t until he’s turned on his heel and strode over to the door.

“Have fun,” you call out. Tom turns back to wink, then disappears in a flash.

As the door closes behind him, you wonder if you really lost your spark for Harrison, or if the feelings you had for him just paled in comparison to the ones you harbour for his best friend.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party picks up quickly. You split off from Tom a few hours in, being pulled away by one of your friends and staying with them for a while. You start to miss him, though, so you excuse yourself from a game of beer pong out on the patio and walk back into the large frat house, cringing slightly as you hear the loud music. You haven’t been drinking much tonight. Something tells you that you’ll need your sober brain.

It takes you a while to find Tom, the house busy and wild. He’s not in the kitchen, nor the hallway. Your adventures take you to the large living room, where they have the music and the drinks set up. As you wander inside, your eyes take a moment to acclimate to the dim lighting. When they settle, you see him, and the breath leaves your lungs.

Tom is standing in the middle of the dancefloor, talking with a girl. She’s draped in his arms, the tips of her fingers running through his hair as she chats to him. Tom is looking at her intently, paying rapt attention to what she’s saying, but the smile on his face doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes. When he spots you, his brows briefly raise, only for them to lower again as he smirks. He winks at you, then reaches for the girl, bringing her in closer and dropping his mouth so he can start to kiss her neck.

Jealousy consumes you. It burns through every other rational thought that you have. The sight of the girl wrapping herself around him as Tom kisses up her neck makes your fingers curl into fists at your sides, and you start to walk across the room before you can comprehend it. Tom sees you, continuing to make flirtatious eye contact with you as he deposits light, wet kisses to the girl’s shoulder. It feels targeted and provocative, and whatever game that he’s playing seems to work.

“Tom!” you call out when you’re just a few centimetres away. He leisurely pulls away from the girl, dark eyes twinkling mischievously as he looks up at you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

You grimace. Now you’re over here, on the receiving end of stares from Tom and his companion, you wonder why you’d responded so immediately and directly.

“You need to come with me. We have, uh… Things to do.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the girl as he crosses his biceps over his chest. He’s wearing his golden chain, the one that always drives you mad, and he looks so fucking handsome under the UV lights.

“And what would those things be, Y/N?” he asks. The girl at his side is looking between you both.

“You know,” you hiss.

The girl frowns, then huffs out a sigh and pushes at Tom’s arm. “Can we go upstairs?” she asks him. Tom glances at her, chewing his lower lip as he finds himself on the receiving end of her fluttering lashes.

“No, Jess,” he says, evening out the rejection with a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Have a good evening.” Before she can respond, Tom reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you with ease towards one of the corners of the room. You squeal as he tugs you, easily falling into his side and enjoying the press of his warm arm to yours. He drops his voice, pausing only when you’re on the edge of the dancefloor to spin you and press his hands to your waist. “Are you alright, darling?” he asks, smirking. “Looks to me like someone was a little jealous.”

Your body heats up, and you find yourself nibbling at your lower lip as you try to make sense of the situation. “Nope,” you lie. With ease, you reach up and rest your hands on Tom’s broad shoulders. “I was just… Thinking about the night we met. You said we could dance then, but we never did.” You tilt your head to the side, throwing out a convincing smile. “Do you want to change that?”

Tom growls, tugging you closer as he wraps his arms around you. The tips of his teeth brush up against the shell of your ear and you whimper as his hot breath fans out over the side of your face. “Fuck yeah, babe,” he murmurs.

You settle into it easily. Tom ends up pulling you so your back rests flush against his front, his arms skating around to hold your waist as you grind back against him. It’s close and hot, and it doesn’t take long for him to put his lips back where they belong—on your neck, kissing deeply. Everything that he does feels calculated and purposeful, but it’s only when he brings his kisses near your ear and whispers a low, “you’re so fucking hot, baby,” that you come back to earth.

“We… Shouldn’t,” you whimper. Tom kisses your lobe in response. “Harrison.”

“What about him?” he mutters. His voice is raspy and seductive, and the way he strokes his hands over your sides makes your eyes roll back. “He doesn’t care about you like I do, Y/N. You know he doesn’t.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the way Tom sucks deep bruises to the sensitive spot on your neck. Harrison had never been able to find it, had never even tried.

“He cares about me,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Yeah. But not enough.” Tom spins you in his arms, reaching up to cup your cheek in a hand. He peers at you, eyes wide and insistent. “He lies to you. Did he ever tell you about the night that you met?”

You quirk a brow. “No.”

A shadow of hesitation passes over Tom’s face, but he swallows it down. “He only came up to you as part of a… a fucking bet. That’s the only reason I didn’t come back to you that night.” He strokes his fingers over your cheekbone, soothing you when you frown. “You’re the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever met in my life, and it’s been killing me to see you both together.”

You press your forehead to his, feeling his breath come out in hot pants over your face. “Do you like me, Tom?”

He chuckles. “You have no idea how much, babe.” Tom shifts his hands back to your hair and he cradles your face. “I’d be so good to you. I swear.” He’s speaking earnestly, his voice breaking softly as he looks at you. “I love Haz. He’s my best mate. But we all know that you’re not a good fit. He left you here tonight. He doesn’t satisfy you.” Tom drops his voice, tilting his head to the side as his voice drops lower. He brings his lips closer, kissing the side of your mouth as you shiver. “I could satisfy you properly.”

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. For a moment you stare at Tom, eyes swirling down to his lips, then, as if entranced, you reach down and pull your phone from your bra. Using one hand on the screen, you reach up to cup Tom’s face with the other, smiling softly when he instinctively tilts his lips and kisses the palm of your hand. You write out a short message, the guilt in your heart fading when you briefly check Harrison’s Instagram story and see him surrounded by a sea of girls at the party he hadn’t invited you to.

After sending the message, you tilt the screen towards Tom’s face, watching his skin glow white as he slowly reads the few words.

You: Haz, I’m sorry to do this over text, but it’s over. I think we both know that we’re better as friends.

Tom’s brows raise. “Did you..?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip and slowly tuck your phone back against your chest. “It’s over.”

Tom kisses you immediately, both of his hands anchoring your cheeks. You could almost cry with how good it feels to have his mouth touching yours again. He parts his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan as you wrap your arms around his neck. As he holds you tightly, his hands slip down to hold your waist, and though your teeth and noses collide and clash, you don’t care. It’s beautifully imperfect, and it’s so hot that it makes your whole body throb. Tom’s curls give you the perfect leverage to jerk him closer, and as you make out mercilessly on the edge of the dance floor, you feel a piece of you slot into place.

“Come upstairs with me,” he groans, voice thick as he speaks against your lips. Your mouth is wet with spit, but you don’t bother to wipe it clean when you pull back. Tom’s eyes glint with hunger, and he grabs at your hand when you nod.

The journey upstairs is fast and easy, full of your giggles as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. The moment you’re in his room, Tom pushes you back against the door and flicks the lock, attaching his lips to your neck with ease.

“Tom,” you whine, running your hands all over his back as he sucks harshly against your skin.  

His hands skim lower and you curve your spine away from the door so he can grab handfuls of your ass, your moan mixing with his grunt when he pulls away from your neck to kiss your lips again. It’s as if he’s ravenous—unable to pick between your lips and your neck, your hips and your ass. Tom changes his position every few seconds, and the irregularity fills you with excitement.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans. Tom pulls back breathlessly, looking straight into your eyes. “Can I… Are you okay with this?” he clarifies, holding your gaze firmly until you nod.

“I’m more than okay with this,” you say.

“Good, good... Pretty baby.” Tom runs his index finger down your face, his knees bending as he slowly sinks down in front of you. He scatters two light kisses to each of your breasts before travelling down your navel, only stopping when he’s fully on his knees, gazing up at you from beneath his lashes. “Darling?”

“Hmm?” You’re light-headed but aroused, your dress feeling tight as you shuffle against the door.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat, and the first time you try to speak, only a moan comes out. Tom smirks, fingers easily pushing up the hem of your dress. As his fingertips stroke up your thighs to rest on your waistband, he pauses, tilting his head to the side in question. “Yeah,” you manage, voice a whisper. “I want that so badly.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, darling.” Tom’s head dips, disappearing between your legs. You whimper as he rubs the front of two fingers down the front of your panties, the material wet and warm. “God…” He unhooks them easily and tugs them down your legs, pausing to allow you to kick them off. When he repositions, he holds your thighs further apart and presses a kiss to your soft flesh. “You’re fucking soaked, lovie.” His hot breath fans across your centre. “Pretty cunt’s just waiting for me, isn’t it?”

His cockiness turns you on, and you’ve barely gotten out a garbled moan before he’s delving in. Tom’s skilful tongue runs up your slit, light at first, gradually leading you into it. You cry out as he finds your clit, sucking softly around the bud before lapping his tip across it gently. You have to reach out and grab ahold of the nearby bookshelf as arcs of pleasure spread out from your centre, small whimpers and moans being pulled from your mouth as Tom continues his assault.

“Tastes like paradise,” he whines, speaking against your cunt. “So sweet, baby. I understand why Haz likes being with you so much.” Tom pauses, drawing a few more strokes across your clit as you whimper. “Mine now,” he murmurs, deep voice vibrating across your centre. “My pussy.”

“Tom,” you moan, legs shaking. He responds by bringing his right hand up, slowly curving two of his digits into your heat. As he starts to thrust his fingers, the sounds of your wet arousal fill the air, making you moan louder. “Feels so good,” you encourage, realising he works harder when you speak to him. The top of his curls brushes against your legs as his tongue continues to glide over your clit, merciless and pleasurable.

“You sound so pretty, love,” Tom says, pulling away slightly. The vibrations from the noise make you moan louder, and you glance down to see him staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust and his chin covered in your juices. He looks back between your legs, readjusting his fingers and curving them at different angles before he strikes gold. When you call out his name, his other hand goes up to your hips, holding you back against the door as he smirks. “I want you to cum for me, darling,” he coos. “Let me make you feel good. I want to hear those pretty little moans. Be loud for me.”

You don’t take much convincing, as once Tom’s got his mouth back on your clit, you’re arching your back as you fall over the edge. He laps your bud with his hot, firm tongue, his fingers continuing to stroke at your walls until you spasm into climax, reaching out to grab his hair as you moan and writhe against the door. He holds you up, even when you feel like falling, and it has to be the most intensely pleasurable orgasm that you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Fuck,” you pant, only able to calm down when Tom pulls back. He sits on his shins, smacking his lips as he looks up at you, smirking. You’ve still got a hand on his head, so you fiddle with his hair as you recover. “That was so good.” A breathless smile finds your face. “So good. Thank you.”

“No problem, darling.” Tom clambers to his feet, and your eyes find themselves drawn to the bulge in his jeans. “Knew I could make you cum,” he says, speaking almost to himself. “Looked like an angel. Taste like one too.”

You swallow a moan and step forward, hands twisting behind your back to release your zipper. Tom’s eyes widen as you push down your dress, stepping out of it with ease.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” you ask, biting your lip as you look over to the bed. Tom shakes his head and offers you a hand after you’ve pulled your phone from your bra and placed it down on his desk.

“No way,” he agrees. Tom pushes you down onto the mattress but stays standing at the edge, nimble hands quickly releasing his belt and pulling off his jeans, then his shirt. You admire his Calvin Klein boxers, black with a white band skimming across the top, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Fuck,” he adds. His eyes skim your figure, appreciation held in his gaze. “I can’t believe I’ve got you here.” He gets on the bed, pushing you down and climbing on top of you as he kisses his way up to your mouth. When he’s hovering above your face, he cups your cheeks. “Most beautiful girl in the whole world, love. Girl of my dreams.”

You kiss him, your hands finally able to learn the curves of his muscular back. Tom grinds down into you, his covered crotch meeting your bare pussy, and the friction to your clit makes you moan into the kiss. As you admire his form, you settle into his lips, your heart beating faster and more persistently against your ribcage.

“Tom,” you say, speaking against his mouth. He pulls back, lips red and puffy. “You’re so handsome. Have I ever told you that?”

Tom bites his lip, continuing to roll his hips down against yours. When you start to grind up to meet him, an expression of enjoyment darkens his face. “Thanks, love.”

You lick your lips as you wrap your arms around him, holding him closer as he continues to grind into you. “Every time I’d see you out doing weights or walking around shirtless, it’d turn me on,” you admit. You snake a hand between your bodies, managing to press your palm up and against the outline of his cock. Tom groans loudly, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and whining as he ruts against the pressure. “I want to feel you,” you whimper. “Properly. I want to feel how good it is to have you inside me... I can feel you. I know you’re big.” You bite your lip. “I’ve thought about it for weeks.”

Tom forces his face away from your neck and meets your eyes, his pupils completely dilated. “You are going to be the death of me, lovie,” he says seriously, drawing a chuckle from your lips. Tom leans up and kisses you, softer, but only for a moment. He reaches across his bed and rummages through his bedside table, procuring a condom a second later.

“Let me do it,” you offer. Tom nods, and you swap positions with ease. Tom settles on the mattress, raising his hips and watching as you tug his boxers down his legs. You feel yourself salivate slightly as you take sight of his cock, erect and flushed, pressing up against his lower stomach. Holding the open condom in one hand, you run your thumb over his tip with the other, gathering beads of his silver precum on your fingertip. You meet Tom’s eyes and sit back on his thighs as you push your finger into your mouth, exaggerating your moan as you lick it clean.

Tom tosses his head back, his hair fluffing up against the pillows. His cock twitches against his stomach. “Fuck, baby… You’re driving me crazy.” When you reach back and roll the condom over his length, he can barely keep still, rutting up and filling your hand the moment you’re done. “You know… every time you stayed the night with Haz, I could hear you guys,” he says, looking at you through hooded eyes. You give him a few pumps, biting your lip as you admire his member and try to imagine how good it’ll feel filling you to the brim. “Used to get off listening to your moans. Imagining it was me fucking you. Thinking… Thinking about how good it’d be to- fuck- to open you up on my cock.”

His words make you feel hot, and you speed up the rhythm of your hand as you watch his face flush with heat. “I know,” you admit. “I could hear you sometimes.” You lean up and press a kiss to his chest, feeling his hot skin between your lips. “You make the hottest noises, Tom.”

“For you,” he groans, jaw tensing. “It’s all for you.” He continues to rut into your hand, and you smirk as you feel him throb. As Tom grows more erratic, you feel your slick between your legs thicken and your core begin to throb.

“Can I ride you?” you ask.

Tom immediately bounces his head, eyes lighting up like you’ve spoken the only thing he’s ever wanted to hear. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—”

You bend over to kiss him, sliding up his body with ease. Tom reaches up your back, eager hands falling to a stop at your bra. He manages to unclasp it after a few attempts, grinning victoriously against your lips as it falls slack. Once you’ve thrown it aside, you sit back, watching as Tom’s hand goes down to guide his cock through your slit. One of his hands rests on your hip, palm hot and heavy, and he gives you a short squeeze as he presses his tip against your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, moaning loudly as his girth stretches your cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut as you adjust, breath hitching when Tom adds his thumb to your clit, the pleasure easing the stretch. When you’re completely seated, you find yourself shifting, Tom groaning when you clench and slowly start to ride him.

“Oh my god,” he moans. “Feels like heaven, darling. Actual heaven.” His jaw is tense as he tosses his head back, prying open an eye to watch as you bounce over him, moving faster as you find your rhythm. “So wet, sweetheart. So tight… So much better than I’d ever imagined.” He’s looking at you with pleasure screwed across his face, and the sight of him so desperate makes you feel powerful.

“Tom,” you whimper. “I can feel you so deep.” You’re starting to unravel, feeling him everywhere. With the thumb still rolling over your clit, his hand weighing down your hip, and the tip of his cock brushing deeper each time you come together, you can feel yourself on the verge already. “Can you… I can’t…”

“Y’wanna flip?”

“Yeah. Please.”

It happens easily, without Tom falling from you. A moment later, you’re resting over the warm mattress, wrapping your legs around Tom’s back and pulling him closer as he rails you into the bed. He’s faster than you’d been, and the new angle opens you up deeper, allowing his tip to press more pronouncedly against your g-spot. His chain dangles against your neck, the cool metal scorching against your flushed skin.

“Oh god,” Tom groans. The sounds of your bodies meeting as he roughly thrusts into you, again and again, fill the air. “You’re so perfect. Feels so good.” His eyes are dark as they meet with yours, swirling with unrestrained lust. “So wet, lovie. D’you like it when I fuck you? Yeah? Pussy’s squeezing me so tight. My pussy, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, liking how it sounds.

Tom grunts and drills into you faster. With each rotation of his hips against yours, his thick head reaches further, dragging across your g-spot with ease and causing sparks to race up your spine. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and you clutch at his torso for purchase as you scramble to stay grounded. When you add a hand to your clit, you feel your cunt clench, squeezing his length and making him groan again.

‘I’m not gonna last, love. Shit. Feels too fucking good,” he whimpers.

You bring his lips back to yours, meeting them clumsily as you moan. Your skin is hot and sweaty, being smothered by the heat of his body bearing down on you. You wind your free hand into his hair. “It’s okay,” you get out, voice catching. “I’m so close, Tom. Fuck. Make me cum. Please.”

You ride the edge for a few moments more before Tom cries out, calling your name in a voice so exerted and broken that it pushes you over the edge too. As his cock pulses against your walls and his groans fall like music to your ears, you let everything go, basking in the pleasure that crashes over your figure in thick, consuming waves. Tom’s hands are slick as they grasp at your sides, but he’s holding you tightly in place and you like it.

When the air finally clears, Tom pulls out, collapsing onto the mattress beside you with a loud groan. You flip onto your side, quivering as your core pangs with pleasurable aftershocks, your tired eyes drifting up to meet his. He reaches out, sweaty palm drifting to your face as he cups your cheek and smiles at you.

“Well,” he starts, voice low. He pulls you closer, and you carefully curl yourself into his arms. Tom nuzzles his lips against your forehead and leaves three light kisses to your skin. “That was a heavenly experience.”

You snort, burying your face in his chest and feeling the cool metal of his chain press to your skin. “Heavenly?”

“Mhmm. Because you’re an angel. My angel.”

You smile into his front. “What a charmer,” you say.

Tom combs some fingers over your hair and softly coaxes you away from his chest. Both of you share a pillow, his deep brown eyes feel of inquisition as he looks at you.

“Darling,” he mumbles, speaking slowly, almost nervous. “I like you a lot. And… And I know the circumstances are messy and complicated, but… I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I want this to be an every time thing. I want you to be my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah. My girlfriend.” Tom’s handsome eyes flutter over your face. “What do you say?”

You trace your index finger around the sculpted lines of his face, smiling softly as his lips pull into a grin. You think about how your life has changed since the first night you met him, and how your heart has slowly learnt to gravitate towards him. Tom’s right—it is messy, and maybe your union is complicated and a little wrong too, but it feels good. Him kissing your forehead and pulling you closer feels good. He feels good.

“Yeah,” you agree, speaking slowly. “I would really like that.”

Tom’s face splits into a smile, and he pushes in to kiss you. “Good,” he murmurs. “‘Cos I’m gonna woo you every single day of your life. I’ll bring you tea every morning, tuck you in at night. Make you moan louder than you’ve ever moaned in your life—”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already won me over, Tom, you can calm down—”

“Nope.” Tom’s grinning widely as he continues to peck your lips, unable to keep his hands off you. “I’ll keep charming you until I’ve won your heart, babe. This is just how it’s got to be.”

You kiss him, not knowing how to tell him that he’s already had your heart, firmly in the palm of his hand, since the very first night you met.

“Well,” you respond, voice quiet in the air. “I quite like the sound of that.”

Tom nuzzles his nose against you, lips brushing yours. “Yeah?”

You hum affirmatively and reach up to bury your hands back into his hair. “Yeah.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:D let me know what you think please !!! I would love to know if you have a favourite scene...?! I am torn between y/n putting tom to bed + the lecture theatre...lmk (if you want !!)

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3 

thank you for reading!! <3<3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #frat!tom #frat!tom holland #frat!tomfic #smut #alternate summary for this is: tom has a raging b*ner for 16k straight

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hanma Shuji as reader’s sugar daddy lmao

STOP I--

I CAN'T STOP WRITING FOR THIS MAN I--

The Arrangement: Shuji Hanma X Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: a lil' NSFW at the end

masterlist

song recommendation: Pu$$y Talk - City Girls (Feat. Doja Cat)

Fluttering your lashes seems to do the trick every time for the men who come to the ritzy bar.

"A cognac?" Flutter them for emphasis when you ask a question. Purse your lips a little. Lean forward so they can see your cleavage.

It works every single time. Even on married men who are 100% dedicated to their wives... or mistresses. They're already half-drunk when you pull out your tricks, and their over-confidence leads to fatter tips in your pockets in hopes of scoring an hour with you. But even after all of the cajoling, the pursuing, the lusting... you turn them down and head back to your shared apartment, stuffing the money into your rent jar before taking a shower and heading to bed.

And the cycle begins anew the next day.

You don your slinky black dress, spray a tap of perfume on your wrists, and twirl your curls around your finger before leaving the apartment and driving to the place that hogs your evenings. And it's Friday evening, which means the work crowd and the wealthy crowd would come together in the glamorous bar.

"Y/n," Okina, your manager, calls out. "Big client in the VIP room upstairs. Think you can handle it?"

Big client? VIP room? Serving drinks at the private bar? "Fuck yeah," you answer, saluting the woman who just rolls her eyes, laughing.

"Don't drain them of all of their money, y/n," she replies and you nod, giving her a wink. You climb the stairs up to the private room and watch as servers make the wooden table nice and shiny for the guests coming. The VIP room has only been used four times in your entire seven years here, but every single time it was used for a big client who left amazing tips.

"Maybe I could use tonight's money to save up for a dog," you muse out loud, wiping down the bar and preparing your workstation carefully. The image of the Maltipoo you'd desired since childhood pops into your head, and you smile to yourself, coming up with a list of names as you work.

You're so lost in thought that you don't realize a good portion of the clientele has already come in, each one of them dressed to the nines and taking their seats.

Two snaps call you back to reality, and you look up at the man waiting for your assistance as you clean a bar glass.

"How can I help you, sir?"

The black and yellow-haired man looks at you with a bored expression, orange eyes roving over your appearance slowly. He adjusts his glasses, then states,

"Whiskey. Neat." You fulfill the request and place the drink in front of him with a napkin.

"Anything else, sir?"

"I'll be back shortly." He downs the drink all in one go, and you watch him walk off warily. The tattoos on his hands are enough to warn you that maybe this guy is bad news, but you shrug, taking the glass and putting it in the small sink against the wall. A few others come up to the bar for drinks, but the presentation and following discussion claims most of the men's attention.

Which is fine... sort of. It's really eating into your tips, to be honest.

"Another whiskey." You immediately offer it to the man in front of you, and he downs it, just like the one before.

"Anything else?" you murmur, and he crooks his finger at you. You lean a little closer, tilting your head just so and tucking your lip underneath your top row of teeth.

"You work here part-time? Full-time?"

"Full-time," you reply, fluttering your lashes. The earring in the man's ear shakes a little as he tilts his head a little, mimicking your stance.

"Do you enjoy it here? Make a lot of money?"

"Money is okay; I like working here," you answer, leaning forward to show off your cleavage as you grab his abandoned drink. He grabs your wrist, giving you a small smile before caressing your fingers.

"You know who I am, don't you, y/n?"

"No." The truth rolls off of your tongue with ease, but the man's face falls slightly as if he's disappointed that you don't know about his wealth and fame. "Should I?"

"Only if you want to." He raises a brow, blinking slowly. Did you want to? "Shuji Hanma." The man flips you a card, covered in gold foil and black, shiny cardstock. "If you're looking for some fun outside of work, you should give me a call."

_____________________________________________________________

If you're looking for some fun, you should give me a call.

You flip the card around in your hands, noting the numbers in gold foil and the lack of a name, a business, or anything else identifying. Yeah, Shuji Hanma is clearly someone who needed to be paid attention to. You consider dialing the number that night, but then you remember the lack of significant tips. Why bother with a man who wouldn't pay you for excellent service?

Even Onika thought it was odd that you hadn't received a cash flow...

You sigh, tossing the card aside and laying back on the bed, the dream of owning a Maltipoo slipping even further from your grasp.

"Curiosity killed the cat," your roommate warns day after day after day. But on the fifth day of having the card lay on your desk, you finally pick up your phone and call the number.

"And satisfaction brought it back," you muse, waiting for the line to pick up. It picks up on the second ring. "H-hello? Shuji Hanma?"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the beautiful hostess from the bar. Thought about my offer?"

"Yes," you breathe, and Shuji hums softly.

"Meet me at Ocean Prime for dinner tonight. Say, at eight?"

"Eight is good."

"Do you want me to send a car for you?"

"No," you reply. "I'll drive."

_____________________________________________________________

You're sitting across from Shuji, who is dressed in a pinstripe suit and wearing the same glasses as before.

He is handsome, you think to yourself, but it doesn't stop the way you nervously interact with him as he peruses the menu, cuts his fish, or asks you about your life.

"Y/n, have you ever thought about... quitting your job?" You shake your head immediately, thinking about all of the bills that would need to be paid and how much debt you'd rack up on credit cards. "You see, I'm looking for someone who is willing to be... somewhat of a comfort to me. You know, in the mundane things, like being there when I come home after work and allowing me to take them out on dates, or being my plus one to events where I'll be forced to interact with others."

"A girlfriend?"

"No," Shuji shakes his fork at you. "That's a level of commitment I cannot allow for myself. More like a younger, prettier beneficiary. It would come with perks, like bills being taken care of, a new wardrobe, a work-free lifestyle, travel, et cetera."

"Wait." You swallow your water with a hard gulp. "Like..." You scan the room for people who may be tuning into your conversation nervously. "Like a sugar baby?"

"Sure," Shuji answers, shrugging. "I mean, it's a lot of work - attending to my needs, that is. But I'll make sure you're well compensated."

"I..."

"Take some time to think about it. Oh, and by the way," The man slides you a thick envelope. "For tonight, as well as the tips I had to extort from the others. Go ahead and count it." You look through the money and realize that the hundred dollar bills add up to about three thousand dollars.

"Shuji, this is..."

"Fifteen hundred for your time, and fifteen hundred for your tips." You can't say anything else as you hold the envelope in your hand. However, Shuji continues to eat his meal, sipping at his water carefully. "What're you thinking?"

"Even if I say no, this money is mine?"

"Of course," he smiles. "Though it would be nice to take you home tonight."

It's only as Shuji is eating you out that you realize that you can officially quit your job. Not even with a two-week notice. You could call today and quit.

"Give me two weeks," you whisper, and Shuji hums, looking up at you and ceasing his movements.

"Two weeks for what?"

"My job."

"Oh," he chirps, smiling. "I expect nothing less from you, pretty girl." He hoists your legs up around his shoulders and dives back into your cunt, removing his glasses and slurping up your juices eagerly. You tangle your hands into his hair and moan loudly as he sends you right into your first orgasm of this little arrangement.

#hanma shuji #shuji hanma x reader #shuji hanma #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #shuji hanma smut

[sailorhyunjinz]

HI BESTIE IMY HEBSBRBS AHH I’ve been so busy ... also recently got super sick and I’ve not been well at all ,, it’s just the flu / a stomach bug tho ! :,) hru ???

Your latest reaction was so good ,, thoughts r being thunk ?? Thinking about skz reaction to you rubbing / jerking their dicks just whenever you’re bored .. and you don’t even really notice that they’re getting off ahah IDK IT JUST SEEMS TO HOT ??

Once they cum or wtv you’re like ;) hsshbrbs

I have a dick but honestly it’s never bothered me reading ur shit directed towards a female reader ? For some reason I really like it bye 😭🤚

-🚬

BABYBOOOY WHY HAVE YOU BEEN SICK?!?! :((( Hope you’re feeling better now, i should give u some of my healing medicin aka my kisses :(( <33 

Also that last bit AAh thank u T-T i try to be more inclusive but like AAAGH im always so scared that i’ll mess something up from my lack of ~ knowledge ~ BUT I REALLY TRY MY BEST >< so thank uuu for having patience for my dumb ass

ANYWAYS SPEED REACTION LEGO 

warnings: skz x gn!reader. handjobs, blowjobs, cum, orgasm (m), cum eating, slight overstimulation

Bangchan

“w-what the fuck” 

yeah thats his only reaction when you suddenly stick your hand down his pants, wrapping your hand around his dick and slowly stroking it while big spooning him

you werent trying to get him off... more like... you wanted something to play with while watching the movie

boy would be ~ flustered ~ 

he’d find it interesting

why would you jerk him off if you didn’t want him to cum yk?

like that type of thoughs

but of course you can’t expect him to not react LMAO

you were fully immersed in the movie because it started to get interesting now and you didn’t notice how you started jerking him off faster. 

until...

you felt something warm and wet hit your hand paired with his dick twitching

you looked at him and saw that poor boy was biting his bottom lip so hard trying to not disturb you with his moans

“did you cum?” you say, lifiting up his pants to which he yelped and put his hands over yours right at his crotch. “n-no”

Minho

be bold with this man 

pull his pants down when he’s just chilling ASHASHA oh god

he doesn’t think it fair 

eventhough he does the exact same to you

when he does it to you it more like he simply wants to feel you all over, not intending for you to get turned on

but make one moan and this mf thinks it a game

“how many times can i get y/n to moan”

NO OK BUT RETURNING TO YOU -> HIM

it would take sum time to get him to cum

he doesnt strike me as the sensitive type and so you could jerk him for quite a while which hey more fun for you

but ooone faithful day he was more turned on than usual leading to him cumming quicker than he usually does during one of those times where you played with his dick

stroking it, running your thumb across the tip, licking it .. you name it...

you smirk when he accidentally cums on your lips and you lick it off and he just starts complaining (yk when jisung bit his fingernail in that two kids room episode, yeah that tone)

“y-you can’t just do that!!” you start chuckling “what? mad that you came like a bitch?” 

nex thing you know you’re pinned against a wall OOP sorry

Changbin

he lives for this BUT only if you give him attention

which you dont because you’re simply bored and dont want to get him off, more like... liking the feeling of having him in your hand lmao

“can you at least look at me?” you shake your head, holding his semi-erect dick in your hand “shh,,, im watching something!” 

that would be the everyday conversation ahsahsha

I FEEL LIKE YOU COULD GO FOR A WHILE??!

he’d be relativly quiet as well so you wouldnt notice until he actually cums and you’re like “...wtf why is my hand sticky”

BRUH U START APOLOGIZING HASHAS HE JUST GLARES AT YOU FOR NOT GIVING YOU ANY ATTENTION

but he came anyways so..

you try to escape the situation but he’s not having it

“nah you’re not escaping now, finish what you started baby”

Hyunjin

another boy thats lives for this 

why? because a) its a handjob b) he likes the thrill of not knowing when you’re bored c) because you forget what you’re doing and he likes seeing you surprised when he cums ASHAHS god bury me 

would purposefully make you bored 

“the wifi is down y/n,, guess we having nothing to do...w-wanna give me a handjob”

you shrug, “alright” 

you’re completely lost in though, wondering when the wifi will return or what you guys should eat for dinner

suddenly he cums,,, a lot,,,

you laugh at him and he’s kind of blushing with his hair covering parts of his face. 

“i-i’m pretty sure the wifi will be down for a while” ;))

Jisung

FUCK YES LETS GO

he would already just be naked infront of you at random times

like,,, whats the point in putting on clothes after the shower if he knows that you are going to sneak up on him and jerk him off yk?

but what this boy didn’t know was how you didn’t notice most of the time

your hand just having a mind of it’s own...

but you’d notice pretty quick 

since this boy LOUD YALL 

whiny mf 

“shush!” you say, scrolling on your phone with one hand and jerking him off with the other.

you didnt intend on making him cum,,, just giving him a massage ASKKASJSKSA

he’d act all like “ppfft... you can’t make me cum from just that-”

and then shuts up because “h-hey... this feels too g-good”

not thinking he’d cum this quick you started talking to him but were quickly cut off from him letting out a long moan

“f-fuck,, y/n..h-haa,,,”

after he cums you’re like “heading to bed”

but he pulls you back, grabbing your wrist and looking at you with big doe eyes

“c-could we keep going?” 

Felix

boy would be walking around, holding his crotch because he never knows when you attack

because he belong to the more... sensitive bunch of boys... HE DOESNT LIKE IT TOO MUCH

mostly because he’d cum too fast and it would leave him embarrassed (awh poor boy:(( ) 

thats legit the only reason LMAO

noo poor boy wants to appear all tough for you even though you’ve told him over 100 times that he doesn’t have to be, you love him for who he is yk? <33

BUT NOPE stubborn baby sets bets with you

“ok this time i won’t cum that quickly... last time was a practice round”

ASHAHSH WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY JESUS

4 minutes later... YEAH YOU GUESSED IT

and you didnt even notice?!?!

you just thought that those sounds were him in like pain ASHShHAS

because you were to preoccupied thinking watching tv

needless to say,,, he was pouty,, for a while

until you attacked again LMAO

Seungmin

ok gimmie a second,,,, i need to think 

alright... he likes it BUT he’s shy

you need to give the puppy some time to warm up 

do it too fast and he gets scared AHSHASH

so ok lets say that the both of you are doing,, nothing

and you just slowly feel him up and it eventually leads to you jerking him off

you’re not even aware of how good he’s feeling with your hand around his cock

“y-y/n can you stop?” 

“stop what- oh”

looking down you notice that he already came, his cum coating the tip and your hand with white thick ropes

NOT THAT HE CAME FAST JUST THAT HE SUFFERED WITH THE SLIGHT OVERSTIMULATION ON HIS OWN

goddamn... seungmin is always so difficult to write for ONLY ME?!?!?

seungmin stans are already knocking on my door SORRY IM TRYING

Jeongin

BLUSHY BOY

I REPEAT; BLUSHY BOY

“w-what are you doing y/n~?” he says while your hand travels down the side of his body while the two of you were chilling in bed. “im bored” you huff out, looking him in those big brown eyes. “we can play videogames!” he says trying to make you get your hand out of his pants but you shake your head. “i wanna play with you instead” 

boy would melt

painfully shy (and hard)

because you it all happened so fast??

the two of you were chilling, everything quiet and peaceful and before he knows it you’re jerking him off vigorously

he covers his face with his hands, occasionally sneaking a glance of your pretty face from inbetween his fingers as you give him a handjob

you’d be too focused watching his face as almost falling asleep not noticing the boy squirming around 

until you hear

“h-hghnn...”

thats his cumming sounds btw HAHSHAH IF I WASNT CLEAR ENOUGH

jesus i cant write reactions for shit BUT THEY SEEM TO BE REALLY APPRECIATED SO YEAH!

I have 2 more of these coming up oh and also remember that this is legit word vomit SO ITS NOT PROOF READ AND UHM... i’ll try to do the two other ones this week heheh ^^

#straykids smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #skzsmut #kpopsmut #stray kids imagines #straykidssmut #straykids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader #bangchan smut #lee know smut #changbin smut #han smut #hyunjin smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #i.n smut #🚬 anon #Cherrymail🍒

[lyricalporcupine]

Finally done though I am not happy with it lmao imagine that

ANYWAY

I can’t remember if I posted the snippet that this piece is based on but it’s under the cut anyway. Please enjoy!

~~~~~~~~

(Note: Takes place several weeks after arranged marriage. There is an attack from another tribe and it’s the first real fight Beau’s been in. They haven’t had their first kiss yet, let alone had sex. This takes place before all that)

~~~~~~~~

The last thing Beau remembered was an arrow piercing her belly, near her hip, a shout, and total darkness. 

She woke up some time later, though she’s not sure how much time had passed, in her bed. The furs were heavy but soothing, the familiar scent of animal musk and the sweat of herself and Yasha prominent deep in the fibers. 

She felt a large, calloused hand holding hers and she took a deep breath and slowly blinked her eyes open. The hut was cast in its typical dimness. The ever present fire was softly crackling in the middle of it and when Beau turned her head toward it, she saw a large bodied silhouette. 

“Yasha?” Her voice cracked, throat dry. She tried to swallow and her throat stuck, causing her to cough. 

The hand holding hers pulled away and she watched, with bleary eyes, as the figure picked up a waterskin and held it up to Beau’s mouth. 

“Drink,” came the familiar voice of her wife. 

Beau raised her head and drank deeply from the canteen, her hand wrapped loosely around Yasha’s wrist. After a few deep gulps Beau pulled away and took a deep, shuddery breath. 

“What happened,” Beau asked as she settled back into the bed. She blinked her eyes and her vision refocused and she watched as Yasha corked the waterskin and sat it aside. 

Yasha herself resettled beside Beau, legs crossed. “You were hit with a poison tipped arrow,” Yasha said softly. “We thought—“ Yasha paused, swallowed and tried again. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“How long have I been knocked out,” Beau asked, her voice still rough. 

“Half a day,” Yasha replied. “Give or take an hour. After the healers did all they could I moved you to our bed.”

Beau reached for Yasha’s hand and the barbarian quickly gave it, her grip light. “Have you been here the whole time, watching over me?”

Yasha’s gaze fell to the bed and she gave a small grunt. “Mostly. I did have some matters to tend to that couldn’t wait. There are more I need to deal with.”

Beau nodded and released Yasha’s hand. She tried to push up into a sitting position and hissed in pain. “Fuck.”

Yasha was immediately hovering over her. “Be careful,” she said softly. “Please.”

Beau groaned and moved the blanket from her lap. She found a bandage wrapped around her belly and down around her hip and upper thigh. The bandage was stained a light red and she looked up at Yasha. “What did the poison do?”

“I was told it kept your blood from clotting,” Yasha answered. “There’s also a chance the wound may be infected. It’s a very large gash.” 

“Greeeat,” Beau snarked flatly. 

Yasha reached out and gently laid her hand where she knew the wound was. Her palm began to glow and warmth flowed from Yasha and seeped deep into Beau’s skin, even through the bandage. Beau felt the pain severely lessen even if it didn’t fade completely. 

“That feels great,” Beau said with a groan. When Yasha pulled her hand away, Beau looked up at her. “You have healing magic?”

“Some,” Yasha said softly. Her eyes were still cast down and she wouldn’t meet Beau’s gaze. “The healers in the tribe are good at what they do. They saved your life. But I’ve been trying to find a cleric. It’s been difficult. Not many people want to be part of semi-nomadic tribe in the wastelands.”

Beau reached for Yasha’s hand and, once again, Yasha freely gave it. “I do,” Beau said softly. 

That got a small smile from Yasha and she gently squeezed Beau’s hand. “After today, I’d say you’ve earned your place in our tribe.”

Beau smirked. “I didn’t earn it by marrying you?”

Yasha’s smile turned into a smirk. “Sadly, no. In fact, that made the other tribe members more wary of you. They wanted you to go through the standard trials to induct you into our clan.”

“You couldn’t have convinced them otherwise,” Beau asked. 

Yasha gave a small shrug. “I could have. And considered it. But a lot of them do not like what I’ve done with the clan since taking over. They think I’m soft.”

Beau’s eyes dropped to Yasha’s hand still held in her own. She flipped it over and began tracing her fingers along the various grooves along Yasha’s palms. “I remember you telling me our wedding night that the Skyspear position isn’t hereditary.”

“That is correct,” Yasha said. 

“So how did you become the Skyspear?”

Finally, Yasha looked up at Beau. Her eyes were hard, cold, but it wasn’t  directed Beau herself. “I killed the last one.”

Beau’s eyebrows raised. “Can I ask why?”

“It is tradition,” Yasha said. “To gain a new Skyspear you have to slay the previous one. That’s how it’s always been.”

“Alright,” Beau said. “But I have a feeling something happened to make you challenge her. You don’t seem like the type to want the power.”

Yasha shook her head. “I did not.”

Yasha fell silent and Beau waited. When it became apparent that Yasha wasn’t going to elaborate, Beau decided to prod her a bit. “What changed your mind?”

Yasha’s eyes fell again. She was silent for a long while but Beau could tell it was because she was considering her words. 

“Tribal life is hard,” Yasha began. “There are certain rules and oaths one takes when committing to the clan. To become a member you undergo severe trials. Survive them and you become a member of the clan and earn your name. Before becoming the Skyspear, my clan name was Orphanmaker.” As she spoke her old name, sadness tinged Yasha’s voice and Beau gently squeezed her hand. 

“Once you become a member,” Yasha continued, “you vow celibacy until an appropriate mate is chosen for you.”

“You don’t get to choose your own spouse,” Beau asked, disbelieving. 

Yasha shook her head. “No.”

Beau picked up on the grief in Yasha’s tone and quickly put things together. “But you did anyway. Didn’t you?”

Yasha smiled at Beau’s quick mind. “I did.”

“What was her name,” Beau asked gently. 

Yasha’s smile grew and became wistful. “Zuala,” she said quietly. 

“Can I ask what happened to her,” Beau asked softly. “I’ll understand if it’s too painful to discuss.”  

Yasha surprised her by shaking her head. “It is painful but. I want you to know.

“We married, in secret,” Yasha explained. “And we were happy, for a while.” 

Yasha’s face fell and Beau knew why. “You were found out.” It wasn’t a question but Yasha nodded slowly. 

“We were.”

Beau’s heart sank. She was sure she knew how this played out but found herself asking anyway, “What happened?”

Yasha took a deep breath and released it slowly. “We were taken into custody and held for a day. Or less. I’m not sure. Then the Skyspear called for Zuala and she was taken from the cell. 

“I managed to escape,” Yasha continued and Beau could hear the emotion causing Yasha’s throat to thicken. “I ran to where they had taken her, which was to the executioner. But I was too late. I watched, too terrified to move, as they killed her.”

Beau felt her eyes burn, bison blurring slightly from tears. “Yasha…”

Yasha shook her head slightly but continued. “I’m…unsure what happened after that, exactly. It’s a blur. I blacked out and the next thing I remember was standing over the Skyspear, my sword plunged into her chest and hearing her gasp for breath. 

“More fights happened after that,” Yasha continued. “Some clan members claimed I was the new Skyspear. Others said I had betrayed the clan. Some of them attacked me and I fought to defend myself. Most of them did not survive.

“To make a long story…slightly less long, I became the new Skyspear. I changed a lot of things. No more assigned mates, for starters.”

“Yeah, I can see why you changed that,” Beau said. 

Yasha smiled at her. “I also put a stop to the children fighting.”

“The kids fought,” Beau asked, surprised and slightly aghast. 

Yasha nodded. “I fought many other children while I was a child. Most of those fights were to the death.”

Beau’s welted widened and her mouth hung open. “You killed other kids?!”

Yasha’s head hung with shame. “I was being primed as the Skyspear’s greatest weapon.”

“And then she totally fucked you over,” Beau said. 

Yasha shrugged. “I knew the rules. So did Zuala. But.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” Beau said softly, to which Yasha nodded. 

They sat in silence for several moments. Beau was lightly running her thumb across Yasha’s knuckles when Yasha finally spoke up. 

“I was scared.”

Beau looked up from Yasha’s hand. “Scared?”

Yasha nodded. “I saw you get hit with the arrow. And when you fell I feared I had lost you.” 

Yasha looked up at Beau and the human could see fear in Yasha’s eyes. But there was something else there, too, that caused Beau’s breath to catch. 

Yasha pulled her hand from Beau’s, only to flip their positions and to hold Beau’s hand in hers. “I have grown fond of you, Beauregard. Far more so than I expected, especially given how little time we’ve known each other.” Yasha’s eyes fell shut and she took a deep breath and blew it out of her nose. “I do not wish for you to get hurt.”

Beau reached out with her other hand and lightly gripped Yasha’s wrist. The barbarian’s other hand lightly laid across Beau’s, gently holding it in its place. “Y-yeah,” Beau said, stuttering slightly, feeling her heart beat rapidly against her ribs. “I like you, too, Yash.”

Yasha gave Beau a small but genuine smile. She squeezed Beau’s hand before gently pulling hers away. “I have to go,” she said, quickly standing. 

Beau’s heart immediately sank. “You’re leaving?”

Yasha sighed as she made her way to the yurt’s leather flap that acted as a door. “I need to check with the healers and see how the others are doing.” She turned back to Beau. “You wish me to stay?”

“Of course I want you to stay,” Beau said softly, almost sadly. 

Yasha looked at her for a moment, then to the flap, and back to Beau again. She moved back to the bed quickly and bent forward. She raised one hand and gently cradled the back of Beau’s skull and leaned down to place soft kiss at Beau’s hairline. Yasha pulled away only to press her forehead against Beau’s quickly. 

“I’ll be quick,” she whispered before pulling away and quickly headed outside. 

#beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #skyspear yasha au #arranged marriage au #beauyasha fanfiction #beauyasha fanart #lyricalporcupine #porcupine writes #porcupine scribbles #save an artist and REBLOG

[junova]

↬ 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | 𝐫. 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

abstract — the one where ransom gets a taste of his own medicine, but you happen to be so much sweeter than he’s ever been. 

pairing — ooc!ransom drysdale x fem!reader 

wc — 4.1k+  im so sorry lmao 

warnings — cheating (if u squint its very vague), angst, fluff, slight self deprecation, ransom is kinda nice idk, i want a soft!ransom drysdale now pls, this is also very messy so read at ur own risk!

[m blabs] — howdy howdy! first time ransom fic. woot woot! still kinda finding my voice w writing so i hope you like it! <333 

His mouth set in a hard line as you continued to curl into his chest, the span of your confidence seemed to be wiped away with a nightmare from the past. Part of him was upset you hadn’t told him anything, the blind leading the blind, as you stepped foot into his family event. Seeing the last person you’d ever thought would be there. 

Surely by now, he thought you would trust him but it was more than evident you still didn’t. You persisted on hiding everything from him, anything you were sure might tick him off. 

Well, Ransom wasn’t necessarily known for biting his tongue.  Although, in your presence, he was learning what to say and where to say it. 

It really surprised him. Not one woman had been able to tame him, not since he’d be fucking everyone in sight. His desire was endless and not one single individual would be enough for his fill. 

Then, he found you drunk and sobbing on the concrete, right outside of the bar he was exiting. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you why he stopped for you. He never really paid attention to anyone if it wasn’t to his own benefit. Ultimately, meeting you was, even if he wouldn’t realize it then. 

You flinched from his touch when he patted your shoulder, gently asking if you were alright. If anyone asked him, Ransom would surely deny he felt you pull at the strings of his heart in an instant. 

He just knew. 

Maybe it’s why it took him so long to accept it, to believe in what he felt for you. Definitely not because you did nothing but be the most wonderful human he’d ever met. More had to do with him. 

Ransom dropped you off the first night you met in your small apartment downtown, definitely on the rougher side where he thought his Rolex sporting his wrist may get stolen. 

A cute little thing like you living in a neighborhood like this — didn’t make much sense to him. Then again, it certainly checked out with his privilege why he didn’t. 

Truly, Ransom didn’t realize how fortunate he truly was. Of course being a trust fund brat gave him the ignorance to live in an unmatched state of bliss. 

He still remembers the moment. 

Watching as you fumbled with your keys, finding it more than difficult to open your front door. It was cute, with your tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. Now, he wondered how he’d forgotten why he’d gone to get hammered at the bar in the first place. 

“Here, let me help.” New to Ransom, he offered a giving hand. Grabbing the key from your jittering fingertips before unlocking your door. He tried to hand you back your keys, but you pulled him so close, your chest touching his own. Dragging two rapid hearts through your apartment. 

“You smell like him.” A dopey smile on your face lighting every dark sight of Ransom, not that you’d know it did. “I smell like who?” 

“My ex-boyfriend.” Your hands cupping his cheek, but you were too drunk to realize how Ransom flinched from your touch. 

He didn’t push you away either. 

“But he definitely didn’t look this good.” Defying all laws of his own nature, Ransom let you stay in close proximity to him as you felt him up. Your hand resting on his chest, traveling lower stopping at his stomach. “Definitely didn’t feel this good.” 

He watched as you sighed, your puffy eyes were only slightly swollen and the mascara was still staining your skin with the rest of the makeup you wore. If anyone had asked him, you’d looked like a wreck but he still found you alluring. 

Ransom always liked his women looking more than fucked out, usually from gagging around his cock. Not crying over a broken heart. Nope. He definitely did not like dealing with a woman's sorrow. 

“He never let me touch him though. Guess that should have tipped me off.” You let your hands travel back up, wounding themselves around his neck before they applied more pressure — pulling him into you. 

Ransom found you pretty confident for not even knowing anything more than his first name and the car he drove you in. You were definitely craving attention and maybe he’d be more than happy to oblige but the little voice in his head Dr. Shoal told him to listen to was being a pestering, little bitch. 

What did Ransom want? 

Right now he wanted to drown himself in some sweet ass pussy. He knew you would give yourself easily to him, especially in your drunken state. Clinging onto him like he was a vine. 

The smaller part of him, the better part, knew you were drunk out of your mind. Absolutely plastered, but you had to stand there looking like a goddess. 

He didn’t really know why he was letting you touch him, maybe in hopes the deeper, darker side of him would win like it always did. Ransom knew better, even if he tried to hide it from everyone including himself. 

He liked you. From the very first moment, he knew he’d have to get you. Whether it cost your own sanity or his, Ransom didn’t care. 

It’s why he left you drunk and alone, safely tucked into the comfort of your sheets with his number left in your phone. Even taking the liberty of texting himself from it. 

He could never be too careful. Letting you slip through his fingers was simply not an option. 

Thanks to him, you didn’t forget about him. 

The next morning your memory only held vague images of a handsome stranger helping you home, thankfully he seemed to be nothing more than a doting gentlemen. The first for you to ever come across. 

Until later in the afternoon the following day, Ransom introduced himself and checked up on you, worming his presence into your life. 

Then he kept talking to you everyday, surprising even himself in the matter. Truly, he couldn’t help it. Part of him loved how gently you spoke to him on the phone. No one ever talked to him with such a level of care. 

He always warranted yelling, usually he was the one who stirred the pot. He enjoyed it, and thrived in a chaotic environment. It’s what he grew up in. Ransom was more than comfortable with his own family yelling and cursing him out until the sun came up. He did just the same. 

So, whenever you sweetly asked him how he was, it threw him off guard. 

Not a single soul even cared or bothered to ask him anything. Truth be told, Ransom was a sack of shit treating everyone like they were the gum beneath his shoe. It didn’t matter who talked to him — Ransom was simply more superior in every conceivable way. 

He would succumb to not a single soul. Paving his own way through life, with only the money from his trust fund of course. 

Then the two of you fell into each other and he could pinpoint the exact moment he did. 

The weeks and months blended together. He couldn’t really tell you why he was still lingering around, while he got nothing in return. You did get him off once or twice, but he wasn’t fucking you like he really wanted to. 

Maybe it was the innocence in your eyes pulling his soul into the very little good he still had left within him. Or maybe it was the way your thumb dragged over his cheek when you thought he was in slumber, blissfully unaware of your touch. 

More importantly his favorite thing, the way you let him hold you when the two of you cuddled. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, bouncy cheeks pressed into whatever knit sweater he decided to wear that day. 

It was all the little things, unknowingly making him fall in deep like he never had before. 

Unwelcoming to him, his mother came barreling in one Sunday afternoon, while you slept in his arms. Even as Linda screamed his name, you never jolted, out like a log. Safe in the peace he kept you in. 

Linda looked annoyed, irritated he even had company in the first place but not surprised. What truly shocked her was they both had clothes on.  Not truly believing Ransom was capable of such a sinless interaction. 

He knew what she wanted; he didn’t even have to move from his position to continue a private conversation. Not that it would get him off the couch, and out of your embrace in the first place. 

“I said no. Don’t know why you bothered coming here.” Linda angrily sighed. “You should at least show up.” 

Ransom didn’t notice, but subconsciously continued to run his fingertips up and down your spine. Linda did. She noticed that he didn’t even care she was judging him, but let you remain unbothered sleeping in her son’s embrace. 

“It’s for Walt. You need to be there.” She stepped closer, hoping the increase in her volume would wake you. “I expect you to grace us with your wonderful presence as does the rest of the family.” 

The sarcasm dripped, attempting to coax him out of the four walls he never seemed to leave. Not recently, anyhow. 

“I already told you, I can’t.” Now Ransom was irritated and he really wished she would calm the fuck down. It was one day, one event. There would always be another, that much wasn’t lost on him. “I have plans. Send him my best.” 

Assuming it was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke, you moved jolting yourself in his arms, before remaining still again. His heartbeat continues to soothe you. 

“You have plans? What else could be more important than your family?” The louder Linda’s voice grew the more you stirred, pissing him off. 

He really needed to change his locks. 

Even if he had no intention of going, he needed his mother to leave. Really for your own sake — trying to save you from Linda giving you a cold shoulder followed with a third degree burn. 

“Fine. I’ll go. Can you just leave?” She accepted Ransom’s submission, before looking at your figure. Sound asleep and clinging to her one and only, sinking your claws into him. 

She really didn’t like the way Ransom was looking at you. Linda was positive he would never be able to care about someone other than himself, but here he was, holding you close to his chest. 

Almost like his life depended on it. 

“Who is she to you?” With a raised eyebrow, eyes narrowing to you before meeting back with Ransom’s cerulean blues. 

“I don’t know yet.” Ransom paused looking down at you, so beautiful. Holding a light so pure, so radiant; he hoped no matter how cruel he could be, he’d never act like that towards you. “Maybe someone I don’t deserve, but want to be better for.” 

His rough, calloused fingers drawing mindless patterns on the exposed skin of your waist. He didn’t know what Linda said next or when she left. 

Time seemed to stand still, his confession hitting his chest fiercely. He let himself sit with it for a moment, before you woke up. Enjoying a moment where he didn’t have to deal with anything, he didn’t have to say a word. 

He could just enjoy the moment without eyes judging him or you questioning why his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter whenever you were around. 

It was the first of many. Moments where he felt small pieces of himself chipped away into your care. Planes of existences within him no one had ever scratched the surface of. 

Much like right now as you cried into his chest, begging for mercy. 

Because you were afraid. Terrified you had made the worst mistake, an unforgivable one. You lied about your past and to Ransom it felt like more than a betrayal. More accurately he felt a dagger in his heart placed strategically with your murderous hands. 

He’d never felt such empathy and pain at once. Maybe he’d never been empathetic a day in his life at all. 

Until now. 

To make matters worse, he knew his entire family was watching the whole scene from the window. It wasn’t from worry or concern for either one of you. Mainly all of them enjoying pain being inflicted on Ransom. 

Linda of course wallowing in her ego, he could practically see her bask in her own pride. Another thing she’d been right about checked off the list. 

The rest of the family watched the two of you fight with shiteating grins permanently stamped on their face. They’d never seen Ransom care about anyone but you. To watch the relationship he held so close to his heart blow up so publicly, only fueled the fire to Ransom’s rage. 

Except Harlan. 

Even through his hot, beating anger Ransom was trying his best to comfort you. To calm you down even if you had been the one to be caught red handed. Harlan couldn’t believe it, someone Ransom seemed to care about more than himself. 

More than any of his family. Not that Harlan was offended. Well, maybe a little, but more so he was thrilled his grandson finally found someone he had to grow up for. Someone he had to earn, not buy. 

No bribes. No schemes. No games. 

Just you. 

“Hugh, please talk to me.” How could he? It’s not like he had much to say. Maybe he did, he just wasn’t sure how to get the words out without hurting you or himself. 

“I know I lied and I fucked up, but please — we need to talk about it.” Soft hands reaching for his own, but he brushed them off, his hands snaked higher on your waist. “We should have talked about this the moment you met me.” 

Dead silence is all you were met with as he walked the fine line of pushing you away, leaving you behind and pulling you closer than he ever had. 

“You’re right. I should have told you the truth but can you blame me?” He met you with solemn eyes and his own heart beating rapidly. “Yes I can.” Ransom was trying to act cold and distant but the two windows to his soul told a different story. 

“That’s fair.” Even as he was holding you, Ransom still felt like he was a galaxy away. He was withholding himself from you like a turtle retracting into their own protection. A year ago, before he met you, he knew he would have never even recognized it. 

Now, you made it possible for him to be aware of just how much he had changed. He broke old habits of his own just to please you so when you disappointed him, this unreachable high standard he held you to, it shattered his sense of self. 

“Did you still love him?” Ransom questioned you. “I did. At the time, he’s all I ever really knew. I thought that’s what love felt like. The only image of love I had was the one he gave me. So, I ran with him and it crushed me.” 

Ransom had to pretend the words you were speaking didn’t split him into you two. The image of you falling in love with someone else was enough to make him wanna strangle your ex. 

His friend. 

“Then we just got into one really big blow out. Right in the bar in front of all of his friends I had met for the first time that night.” You reached for a chunk of his sweater, clenching the material in your hand, like you were trying to convince yourself to let the words fall from your mouth. 

“He told me how much I’d been irritating him and I couldn’t help but notice every girl he flirted with and touched right in front of me.” You tested the waters, placing both of your hands over his chest, the beat of his heart calming you down. 

“Then I just cracked. It was only one of the many fights we’d been having over the course of the past few months. Everyone single argument pushed me closer to the edge, until the last one actually did.” You sighed, watching as he frowned. 

“I ended things that night, before getting thoroughly plastered and soon enough crying on the cement. Wasted and lonely out of my mind, until I met you.” You moved your hand from his heart, cupping his clean shaven face. 

“You made me realize I never knew what love really meant or felt like.” This piqued Ransom’s interest. 

You said love. 

Could a tragedy bring out the words Ransom craved to hear more than anything in the world? 

Maybe you cared about him, more than anyone ever showed him. But loved him? How could someone be as hateful as him be worthy of someone like you? 

Even if you had broken his heart, he’d done far worse to more people than he could count. He wasn’t really in a place to judge but it didn’t change the fact it still hurt. A lot. 

“Hugh.” You heard him gulp rather loudly. “Yes?” His tone came out as more of a question than a response. 

The silence he gifted you was unsettling at the very least. “You've barely said a word.” He was surprised he didn’t scurry off in his beamer the second he saw the guilt reach your eyes. 

He was surprised he hadn’t let his anger take over and let the rage he felt inside body take it all out on you. 

He was surprised he somehow couldn’t inflict a single hateful word towards you, even as you sat with his heart in your hands. 

In pure bliss of just how much you owned him. 

“I hate it. This fucking corner you’ve back me into. Not to mention for the prying eyes of my entire family to watch the show.” The sharp tone he uses sensoring you. “You used me just to get back at him.” 

“Like I was some pawn in your game and I really even shouldn’t be mad.” He paused, trying to choose his words as carefully as he can. “I’ve done the same thing to so many different women. Used them and threw them out at my earliest inconvenience.” To your surprise, even Ransom’s, a single tear left his eye showing you how much you really meant to him. 

You hated yourself for letting it get to this point. 

“But you? I could never even think about hurting you. I could never live with myself if I treated you like everyone else because you’re so much more than that to me.” The tears continued to roll. The dame Ransom kept shut his entire life, opened because of you and he just wanted to make it stop. 

He would give anything — even you. 

He just wanted to not feel like a piece of shit for once in his life. For a moment, he thought he might have a chance to be something more than the picture he portrayed in everyone’s mind. You showed him maybe it was more complex than it seemed. 

“I just assumed I was that for you.” You sighed in frustration, softly wiping his tears away. “You are, though. You are more than that.” 

“Then how could you be so okay with lying to me?” The crease between his eyebrows only created more of an indention as he felt the anger trying to escape out of him. 

You let the tension get to you first. 

“Because I-I was scared if I told you the truth, you’d never tell me.” You puzzled him once again. You softly reach up between his furrowed eyebrows, the pad of your thumb smoothing it out. 

“Tell you what?” His mind was clouded with the possibilities of what he could have missed. 

“I can’t spell this one out for you.” You were tired of being the one to do everything first. Even if your intentions weren’t free from fault once you realized who he was, your feelings for him were anything but. 

“I don’t know what you want from me. You only let me fall for you because you knew how much it would hurt him.” He bit back, growing impatient and tired. “Any other time, I would have cared. Probably would have been more than happy to assist. But you made me-” 

Then Ransom cut himself off, jumping out of the swing and away from you. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I thought I could.” He literally sprinted to his beamer, but you chased him. 

You were hell bent and just as crazy as he was. Maybe it’s why it worked for as long as it did. 

“Hugh! Get back here.” You were running, thankful you’d gone for a more casual outfit today, the sneakers supporting your feet far better than the heels you’d usually wear. 

Maybe if it was someone with a normal childhood upbringing you would have just cut your losses but this was someone who chose to be called Ransom. 

This was someone who chose to run away from love and care because the only affectionate way he knew how to treat someone was to throw money at them. 

This was someone who had the communication of a ten year old because that’s when his own mother didn’t bother to mess with him anymore before sending him off to boarding school. 

This was someone who didn’t know how to love — and to be loved. 

By the time you caught up to him his was digging for his keys, but he couldn’t fucking find them. 

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” Your tone was sharp and he knew you meant business. “For once in your life, stop running away.” 

“Why not? What good has it ever done for me to stay?” His back was facing you, his broad shoulders stilled with the rest of his body. Almost like he was ashamed of what he was hiding. 

“I can’t speak for everyone else. I can’t speak for your mother or for Richard. For Harlan or for anyone else you thought might abandon you and really did.” You inched you way closer until you knew he felt how close you were to him.

“I can only speak for me.” Giving yourself, the final piece of you to a man who might run away from it. 

You were so close he felt your breath on his back, and it made him tremble. He was shaking, terrified of it all. You didn’t let him be for long. 

Intertwining your fingers with his, as he kept them at his sides, rubbing your thumb along the palm of his hand. 

“I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. Lied to you. You never deserved it. Never.” You thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at you while pouring your heart out to him. A theory proved to be right as he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like a princess. You’ve done right by me, more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. It made me feel inadequate. My dark secret, always looming over us like a dark cloud of my own personal doing.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t done the proper thing by us and made you feel like I used you. You had every right to feel it because I did.” You took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever the future held for the two of you. 

“I never expected to fall in love with a trust fund, playboy brat.” You felt him take a deep breath, like a breath he’d be holding all his life could finally be set free. 

“I love you, Hugh.” The next thing you knew he had you pushed up against the car, lips hungrily attacking your own. 

All forgiven because you love him. You actually were in love with him. 

He couldn’t fathom it really because you’d been the first. To accept him just as he was. The first to refuse to call him Ransom because you like the way Hugh rolled off your tongue better. 

You liked how he felt on your tongue, too. 

The first to tell him Fran and Marta should call him Hugh because you wanted to be the only one who got to. The first woman to cook for him, willingly and not attached to the Thrombey payroll. 

The first woman he had ever fallen in love with. 

The first one he’d stick around and not run away for. 

So, he kissed you. Hard. Softly whispering how much he loved you into the kiss, because maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright. Loud and proud. 

Yet, he felt it with every bone of his body — no longer lost in the blues.

taglist: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @tinylumpiaa @brattycherubwrites

#im so anxious to post this #bc i dont really love it but....... #here we go folks. #i rewrote it too many times sksksk 💀 #not doing it again #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans x reader #m.writes

[fukurodianthus]

Cotton Candy Kisses

Synopsis: Let’s get one thing straight, confessions aren’t Ushijima Wakatoshi’s cup of tea, and the same goes for you when it comes to dealing with rejections. But then, your crackhead friends (who are done with watching two emotionally constipated fools pine for each other for two years) decide to take matters into their own hands. 

 Its a recipe for disaster, topped off with cherry coke and cotton candy.

Genre: Fluff, (a light sprinkle of angst thrown in), friends to lovers AU, mutual pining

Trigger warnings: Just a smol makeout scene lmao (not explicit), swearing(meanwhile, my mom: *disappointed brown parent noises*)

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x fem! reader

Word count: 3k+

Author’s note: I planned to release this on valentine’s day, but my exam schedule said “no❤️”. N E ways, didnt get time to proofread it, so excuse the painful amount of errors it may have. (More unnecessary rambles notes at the end!)

𝐈

“Toshi, Terushima asked me out on a date.”

“Terushima as in Terushima Yuuiji from Johzenji? The one with piercings?” Ushijima sat on the gym floor, busy tying his shoelaces.

“Yeah.”

He sat facing away from you, so you had no way of telling how well he was taking this news.

Not like it mattered anyway.

For the last two-years, you had kept dropping subtle hints that you liked him. Hell, if baking heart-shaped red-velvet cookies for him every valentine’s day hadn’t given him the slightest hint that your feelings for him weren’t exactly platonic, probably nothing could make the stoic ace aware of your feelings.

Unless you directly said it to his face.

Wakatoshi, I like you.

Four words. There were just these four words standing between Wakatoshi and your undeclared feelings. Four words could free you from the shackles of this unrequited love that had been weighing you down for the past two years.

But what was the point anyway? He’d reject you, just like he rejected Ririka. The Ririka Hirai, captain of the girls’ volleyball team, the ace who wielded magic in her hands. Let alone the guys from Shiratorizawa, even boys from other prefectures were totally whipped for her. He didn’t even bat an eyelid before a firm ‘No’ rolled off his lips. She hated crying in front of others, but the redness in her eyes and her swollen eyelids made it obvious that her spirit had been crushed by the rejection. Her previous outgoing, warm and friendly nature had vanished within a few seconds as she withdrew herself into her shell.

If this is what rejections did to people, then you were fine with being crushed under the weight of unrequited love. And you didn’t have a Semi Eita in your life like she had, so there wouldn’t be anybody to help you out of your wallowing self-pity.

Your mind wandered back to your interaction with her yesterday, how she had pulled you into the locker room, firm hands wrapped around your wrists with no intention of letting go. You were reminded of her disastrous plan, and how you’d stupidly agreed to go along with it.

𝐈𝐈

(𝟐 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨)

“You love him, don’t you Y/N?” she asked you, cocking her head to her side as she twirled the green roots of het bubblegum colored hair. Why was she so oddly insistent on dying her hair like a meth-addicted oompa loompa? And the bigger question was, how the fuck did she look so good?

“I don’t know, Riri.” What did she expect to hear? How could you say that you weren’t half as brave as she’d been? You’d rather tend to the wounds that unrequited love caused than deal with the empty-black void of self-loathing, insecurities and embarrassment that rejection left behind.

“Y/N, I’m not a fool. I can see the way your eyes light up when he’s around.”

“So what? What the fuck should I do? Confess my feelings and get rejected? I’d rather wither under the weight of my undeclared feelings than have my soul crushed by a rejection from my best friend, thanks.” You knew you were wrong; you knew you should let go of these useless, painful feelings by confessing. Hearing him reject you would put the nail in the coffin of your one-sided love and you’d finally be free.

But you didn’t want to be free. Cowardice had this odd feeling of comfort attached to it, and you’d gotten used to it.

“Y/N, I’m not here to fight with you over a stupid himbo of a guy. It just hurts me to see you go through the same pain I had gone through. I’m just here to look out for you. I’ll give you my advice whether you want it or not, and its up to you if you’ll take it.”

You looked away. You knew that whatever she was going to say would probably make sense, she was such a smartass after all. She was never wrong, as much as you hated admitting it. Why was she such a good friend, why did she have to be so nice? It pissed you off.

“Ushijima is bad at this entire thing of love and friendships, its probably not big news to you, is it? His parents’ divorce ruined his faith in love.” She cleared her throat, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. “He doesn’t know how this entire thing of love and feelings work. Loving him is difficult, it’s like expecting an iceberg to provide you with warmth. But…” her voice trailed off.

“But what?”

“I think he likes you. He’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. He never saved a seat for me at lunch the way he does for you. He acts...weird around you.”

“That’s bullshit Riri, he does that stuff for me because I’m his team's manager, you know?”

“You’re just as dense as him. Perfect! You’d make a great couple” she giggled, fluttering her long, black lashes.

“Why did you confess to him if you thought he liked me?”

“Oh, I was coming to that. You see, I was a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t like me back, so I thought I might as well get these stupid feelings of my chest and move on, you know? It still hurt a lot for a few days, though. Rejections sucks, that’s nothing new. And I kind of liked Semi, so it felt like I was emotionally cheating on him if I still liked Ushijima. So, I finally confessed to him after getting rid of my feelings for Ushiwaka.” She pressed her lips together and looked away, a faint blush blossoming on her cheeks.

“You and Semi are…”

“We’re a thing now, yeah.”

“I’m so happy for you Ririka!” you practically squealed, squishing her reddened cheeks.

“We had a talk yesterday and we decided that we can no longer bear to see you two emotionally constipated dummies pining for each other anymore, so we’re taking matters into our own hands.”

“What?” Your stared at her with widened eyes, praying she didn’t come up with any stupid plans to make the situation worse.

“Do you know Terushima from Johzenji?”

“Yeah, kinda, that tongue-piercing dude with an undercut, right?”

“He’s my friend and he has agreed to helping us.”

“Oh hell no.”

“I don’t take no for an answer, I’m sorry. Babe, you can come out now.”

You choked on your own spit as you saw Semi climbing out of Ririka’s locker.

“How the fuck did you even fit him in there? Was he there the whole time? What made you think sneaking your boyfriend into the girl’s locker room was a good idea?”

“Honey, that’s too many unnecessary questions, I ain’t answering them. And there’s nobody around. So, I don’t think we’ll get in any trouble as long as you don’t snitch.”

“I’m not going to snitch.”

“That’s what I thought. Now babe, tell her about our plan.”

Semi went over with the details of their plan.

Needless to say, it was a recipe for disaster, you were sure of it.

Having an affinity for all things disastrous, you agreed to their plan.

*flashback ends*

𝐈𝐈𝐈

(𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭)

“Y/N, you there?” Ushijima was done with tying his shoelaces a while ago and now stood in front of you, his tall frame cowering over you.

You snapped out of your trance.

“Yeah, I was j-just busy thinking about some stuff.” You smoothed out your skirt and gripped your bag tightly, and looking down at your feet. You could feel his gaze on your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Stuff as in…Terushima? Were you thinking about him?”

You were taken aback by his uncharacteristically direct question and looked into his eyes. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips; his brows furrowed together in…concern?

Your imagination must be getting better of you.

“Yeah, I was thinking about our date, tomorrow.”

His eyes seemed duller than usual, lacking its usual lustre.

“He doesn’t have a reputation for being loyal, you know.” His words seemed long-drawn, forced, painful. As if it physically hurt him to get these words to roll of his tongue.

He ran his fingers through his greasy olive-brown hair, his gaze still fixed on you. You became painfully aware of the silence in the empty gym room. Why was your heart beating so loudly? Was his heart beating just as loud?

His breath hitched as you stepped closer to him. You noticed the way his sweat-drenched shirt clung to his body, highlighting his well-built frame, the way his lips glistened when he licked his lips, the way his tousled hair stuck to his forehead. You almost brushed those stray strands off his face. Almost.

You spoke in a low tone, almost in a whisper. This moment seemed fragile, like treading on thin ice. It felt as if you both were in a trance and any loud noise would snap you back to reality. You wouldn’t mind being stuck in this trance for a few eternities. “Terushima is a player, a heartbreaker. You think I don’t know that? Maybe I just want to have my heart broken, Toshi. Isn't it better than loving someone who will never love me back?”

He stared at you with a blank, unreadable expression. You noticed how his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he gulped, his neck and collarbones glistening with sweat.

He had no business being this hot, godamnit.          

“I just remembered, Coach Washijo wanted to have a talk with me-“ he took a step back, breaking eye contact with you.

“Coach Washijo is on a sick-leave for a week, Toshi.”

“Ah okay, right.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the gym, the tips of his ears covered in a faint red glow.

How long will you keep running away Wakatoshi?

𝐈𝐕

(𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲)

“Yeah, chocolate will be fine.”

Terushima handed you the ice-cream cone, flashing his iconic toothy grin at you.

This park of the amusement park was quieter and calmer than the other parts. You were seated on a bench beside a  mermaid shaped fountain. Behind you, far off in the distance was a Ferris wheel, lit up in pink and red neon lights, a classic decoration that was put up in this park every valentine’s day.

“Want anything else, babe?” He sat down beside you on the bench, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Dude, you don’t have to put on such a show, you know? You don’t have to make it so realistic.”

He threw his head back and let out another one of his irritating laughs. It was pretty cute, even though you’d never admit it aloud.

“Y/N who said I’m pretending? When Riri asked me to take you out on a fake date to make lover boy Toshi jealous, I thought this would be a pretty good opportunity to score a date with a cute girl, it doesn’t matter if the date is fake or not.”

“You even bought a couple’s ticket, huh?”

“This amusement park has a special valentine’s day offer for couples, fifty percent off for each ride, aint that crazy? I was just saving my coins princess.”

“I swear to god, call me that one more time and you’ll find my foot up your ass-“

“Ooh, kinky!”

It physically hurt you to not punch him and wipe that cheesy grin off his face. “I can’t handle you Terushima-” You hungrily bit down on the ice-cream, gobbling it up in a matter of a few seconds.

Terushima's nose scrunched up in disgust. “The fuck Y/N, who bites ice-cream like that! Are you a caveman or something?"

“Aw babe, didn’t you know? I’m not like other girls.” You dramatically flicked a stand of your hair, as your pretentious, catty tone drew a chuckle from him.

“C’mon now, fake date or not lets a have a good time! I’m done sitting around on this bench, we’re in an amusement park for fuck’s sake Y/N!” He took his black leather jacket off, flinging it around his shoulders, his white shirt clung to his skin. He looked like a stereotypical bad boy out of a wattpad book written by a 16-year-old. You bit down the urge to make a sarcastic comment about his appearance.

“Get up now, you lazy butt.” He offered you a hand.

You slapped his hand away and stood up, brushing the small remnants of the ice-cream cone off your plaid yellow dress.

“Damn, you feisty.”

“Serves you right, pisshead.”

He was about to make a snarky retort when his eyes suddenly landed on someone standing in the crowd beside the ferris wheel. “Looks like lover boy is here.”

“You sure its him?”

“A hundred and twenty percent ma’am! Now go get your man!” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead before winking at you. “That’ll get him riled up enough.”

“You’re such a little shit-”

“Shut up, he’s coming here, go talk to him.”

You turned around on your heels to see Ushijima making his way towards you.

“Hey! What you doing here Toshi?” You tried putting on a surprised expression, but after seeing how Terushima snickered at you, you understood that you probably overdid it.

“Uhm, did I interrupt your d-date?” Ushijima looked painfully flustered. His eyes searched your face, looking for signs of annoyance or anger.

He was surprised at how happy you looked. Didn’t girls get annoyed when someone interrupted their dates? Ah, women, such complex creatures, all mysteries of the world seem irrelevant when compared to the mystery of a woman’s psyche.

“No, not at all! Do you want to tell me something?” You cocked you head and batted your eyelashes at him playfully.

But he remained silent, lips tightly pressed together as his eyes kept flickering between Terushima and you.

“Hey Yuuji, I’d like to talk to Toshi in private, maybe you could…you know-“

“Ah that was stupid of me! I’ll leave you two to yourselves. I’ll be at the Haunted Mansion if you need me, a friend of mine works there as a part time zombie.” He pointed finger guns at you and winked. "See ya later sweet cheeks!" You saw his silhouette fade into the distance.

It was only you and Ushijima now.

The golden glow from the setting sun and the faint pink lights from the faraway Ferris wheel illuminated his face in a rose-gold glow. He sported a red flannel shirt, more specifically the one you had bought for him while shopping with Tendou last summer.

He looked ethereal.

You cleared you throat. “Toshi? You wanted to tell me something, right?”

He looked started, unsure of himself. You looked at him with anticipation, your heart almost leaping out of your ribcage.

“Y/N, for the next match Yamagata will replace Akakura as the libero because he twisted his ankle in in the hallway today.”

Unbeknowst to you, Ririka and Semi hid behind an ice-cream truck in the distance, keeping an eye on you both. They could hear small excerpts of your conversation. So, when they heard Ushijima saying something about ‘match’ and ‘libero’, they let out frustrated groans. “That dense fucker messed up yet again.” they whispered under their breaths in unison.

Disappointment flashed across your face. Was he serious? How dense could a guy possibly be?

“You came this far, interrupted my date to tell me this, Toshi? You could just have messaged me, you know?” Your voice trembled, vision blurring with tears.

So much for love.

You felt stupid, you wanted to slap yourself across your face for being naïve enough to believe that Ushijima Wakatoshi could ever reciprocate your feelings.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You started to walk away, wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your dress, when you felt a strong arm coil across you waist.

Wakatoshi pulled you close, and in an instant his lips were on yours. You didn’t spare a second thought before kissing him back, your lips hungrily melting into his. You grazed your tongue across his lower lip as he pushed you against the fountain, one hand placed on the small of your back pulling your body closer and the other under your dress, grazing your thigh. Your fingers aimlessly hovered over his chest before gently tugging him by the collar of his shirt.

When he finally pulled away, you both stared at each other, panting breathlessly, hair drenched from the light spray of water cascading down the fountain. The warmth of his lips still lingered on your mouth.

The sound of his voice snapped you out of your dreamlike trance. “Tendou and Semi told me that I wasn’t worthy enough of being Shiratorizawa’s ace if I chickened out of professing my feelings to the girl I’ve liked for two years. How could I sit back and watch that guy from Johzenji steal you away? I like you Y/N, and I'm tired of pretending that I don't."

You were about to respond when Semi’s voice rang out from behind the ice-cream truck.

“Oh my god Riri! Did you see that? They kissed! I’m so proud of my miracle boy-”

“Keep it down you dimwit, or they’ll hear us-“

You let out a soft chuckle and took Ushijima’s hand in yours. “Wouldn't it be very surprising if Semi and Riri suddenly popped out from behind that ice-cream truck, Toshi? But that's totally impossible right? Not like they'd ever eavesdrop on us-"

Semi and Ririka slowly made their way towards you, eyes downcast with guilt.

“We didn’t mean to intrude-” Semi started to explain.

“Shut your trap, you shitheads, we wouldn’t be together if it weren’t for you.” You chirped, drawing them into a tight embrace.

“What do you mean Y/N?” Ushijima stared at you, confused. You stifled a chuckle.

“Well, we actually made a plan…” Ririka started explaining.

After Semi, Ririka and you explained your entire scheme to him, he stared at you, confused, open mouthed.

“You could just have told me, you know? All this to get me jealous?”

“I was scared of getting rejected, Toshi.”

“I’d never reject you!”

“And how the fuck was I supposed to know that? You never showed any signs of recognition at my hints, how was I supposed to know you liked me? You huffed.

“Well, I suppose I…nevermind.”

“No, finish your sentence!”

“Would you like to ride the Ferris Wheel, Y/N?”

“Thought you’d never ask. But first, buy some cotton candy for your lady love.” He took his hand in yours, interlacing your fingers with his. "Anything for my girl."

𝐕

Ushijima’s lips softly grazed you neck, his hot breath fanning across your collarbones.

The soft pink light from the Ferris Wheel lit his face up.

Wiping a piece of leftover cotton candy from your lips, he suddenly asked, “Why do you love me, Y/N?”

You thought of the times he saved extra bento boxes for you after lunch when you refused to eat properly, how he’d stayed awake, sitting in your bedside chair, taking care of you as your body burned in fever, how he’d laugh at your stupid jokes even though they weren’t anything close to being funny, or how he’d show up at your door with cotton candy and cherry coke whenever you were under the weather.

You pressed your lips against his before whispering,

“What’s there to not love, Toshi?”

Author’s rambles notes pt. 2: Ririka Hirai isn’t a very well-known character, but I decided to add her anyways because the girl’s volleyball team characters deserve some love too! You can find more about her here (if it very isnt obvious already, I find her character absolutely adorable!)

N E ways, I hope you enjoyed reading this fic(which has absolutely 0 grammatical errors and i totally didnt write this while overdosing on an unhealthy amount of coffee at three in the morning)

Reblogs would be highly appreciated!

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu ushiwaka #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima imagine #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x you #hqradiostation #ushijima x fem!reader #ushijima fluff #ushijima angst #ushijima wakatoshi #dani's fics #ushiwaka x reader #ushijima fanfic #ushijima #ushijima scenarios #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x fem!reader

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Wendy!! i was angst-inspired and wanted to share - Shinichiro finally having his feelings reciprocated by one of the people he confesses to, and the other Black Dragons are happy for him, until Akashi realizes he's also having feelings for this person. Of course he respects Shin enough to not get between them, but... it's fine if they get some time on the side, right...?? y/n's got two hands, what he don't know won't hurt him, etc etc. eventually it gets to the point where they feel like things can't continue the way that they have without someone feeling betrayed. so they're preparing to tell Shinichiro but they don't get to before uhhhhhh His Naptime💀 and they both have to live with that guilt and decide how they're gonna move forward, like do they get together?? do they back off of each other?? does it even feel the same if they're not sneaking around? does it make each of them think too much of Shin whenever they see each other??? it just hurts, it hurts my heart because emotions and hurts my brain because i could not write this if i tried lmao

I WAS ABOUT TO GO TO BED UNTIL I SAW THIS AND YOU GAVE ME

H E A R T B U R N

This prompt is ABSOLUTELY INSANE.

And I love it, I'm writing it. Y'all better strap the fuck in, BECAUSE MR. TAKEOMI IS MY ANGST KING. FREAKING GENIUS MASTERMIND, YOU ARE.

Rain Bringer: Shinichiro Sano & Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation (I have been saving this song for a good one. I think this is it):

"We should stop this..."

Takeomi's lips slide up the side of your neck and back down, ignoring your statement in the dim light of the room. The lamp in the corner is red, your signal to Takeomi that you're free for him to come over, which happened every so often after Shinichiro left your apartment for the evening.

"You don't mean that," he replies finally, and you huff, feeling his hands course up to your waist.

No, you don't mean it.

Yeah, you like Shinichiro, but Takeomi makes you feel things no man has ever made you feel. Ever.

It's as if Takeomi took your essence and wrapped it around his wrist, chaining him to you forever. Shinichiro was a safe bet. Takeomi was what your entire body lusted for and desired in the middle of the night when your bed wasn't warm.

"Kiss me," Takeomi whispers and you obey, leaning back to catch his mouth as he leans over your shoulder. "Everything's fine." You kiss each other until the result is the both of you laying in bed, bodies tangled around each other as he pumps into you with sinful and terrifying lust. "God, you're so damn perfect," he breathes, holding your wrists above your head and nudging your nipple with his tongue. "Wish I could have you like this every night."

And you do, too. Sort of.

Out of all of the Black Dragons, why did you have to fall for both Shinichiro and Takeomi? If it wasn't for that night when he walked into Shinichiro's shop and gave you that look... fuck, that heat-filled and desire bringing look!

You'd gone weak-kneed and landed right on them in front of Takeomi, taking him in the backroom like a devious and scheming whore. It wasn't okay. If Shinichiro found out... you'd both be dead. You'd gotten lucky multiple times with Takeomi's dalliances, from almost getting caught in the shop to the warehouse to the fucking bathroom at the club...

You liked Shinichiro. You did.

But Takeomi was just... something else.

After his single orgasm and your fifth one, your head rests against his chest and you hear his heart beating slowly beneath his rib cage.

"We need to tell Shinichiro," you exhale. Takeomi goes stiff, but the thought had crossed his mind before. He thought about pulling Shin aside and trying to tell him in the nicest way that he was fucking his girlfriend. But... to his shame, he never got the courage. But now that you're bringing it up, he feels some sense of 'morality' or whatever it was.

"We'll tell him tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," you reply, falling asleep on the man's chest after a few moments of silence. Takeomi wished he had his cigarettes so he could smoke to ease his mind, but not wanting to wake you, and not wanting to move - he forgoes them, instead letting his mind roam while you rest.

_____________________________________________________________

The news comes that morning.

Both of you had multiple missed calls and a tear-filled Mikey and Emma trying to get a hold of you, get a hold of someone.

But you both had been deep in the throes of sleep, nestled in with each other as the sun rose on the bleak-ass day. You part without words, Takeomi pressing a kiss against your forehead as he leaves out the door, forgetting the breakfast you tried to make and the coffee that had gone cold in your silence of getting ready for the day. How could you face the younger Sano children like this?

You were sure that Takeomi's cum was still nestled between your thighs like the stain of your sin, visible for every single person to see as you walked down the street to the Sano home. You're shaking as you walk through the door, shivering even though it's not cold and your body curling in on itself, even though you haven't been hurt.

Takeomi is sitting at the table, facing away from you, but you can't find the strength to call out to him. Instead, you feel like a fraud as you cry in Keizo's arms, trying to find something that feels authentic to you deep in your heart. You had feelings for Shinichiro. But you cry more out of guilt than your pain, trying to make sense of your own actions.

At the funeral, you wonder if you had just asked Shinichiro to stay the night - instead of being so eager to push him out - if he would have survived. And again, Takeomi doesn't speak to you, and you don't try to speak to him.

Neither of you can face what you've done.

Especially not with each other.

_____________________________________________________________

A week passes.

Two.

Three.

And you find yourself in your apartment, staring at the things he left you with a sense of dread. The chain, the shirts, the bracelet he stowed away for your birthday...

You swipe the things off the dresser top, enraged at yourself for being such a horrible person. You can't face yourself - all of the mirrors have been turned around. All of his clothes were still in your closet because you knew if you touched them, you'd be forced to face what you've done.

But anger drives you forward, pulling at the items and yanking them off their hangers, each shirt, each pair of pants, each hat falling to the ground in a heap of laundry that you can't find the heart to dispose of.

You could find the heart to fuck his best friend, though.

The swarm of accusatory thoughts begins to plague your mind, and you sit on the floor, tears falling from your eyes as you try to knock them loose or free them so they can't hurt you anymore.

Your thoughts are so loud that you almost don't hear the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You swallow your tears, wipe your face, and trudge to the fixture before opening it without checking to see who it is.

Your mouth dries up when you see Takeomi, his eyes full of sorrow.

"Takeomi," you breathe, but he pushes past you, ignoring the sound you make when he grips your wrist and drags you to your room. when he sees all of the clothing scattered across the floor, something in him recognizes your dilemma, but he doesn't say a word. Instead, he turns around and kisses you roughly, pushing you against the door and swiping his tongue across your bottom lip.

It's not wrong if Shinichiro's dead, you chant to yourself, trying to make sense of the feeling in your body as Takeomi takes you and claims you as his over and over again in the bed you once shared with a dead man. And you can't help it, you rationalize.

Takeomi's the only one who understands your pain, your suffering. It's unique to both of you and drives you back together, even though his death drove you two apart.

"I don't regret what we did," Takeomi pants, moving you up and down in his lap while you face him. "I don't regret a single moment of it."

And deep down, you don't either.

_____________________________________________________________

But sadly, those feelings of lust and desire peter out with time.

You realize that the relationship between you and Takeomi was built solely on the fact that you were sneaking around, that you were being little shitty kids and playing a game that didn't make sense anymore. It's like playing hide-and-seek with a ghost, but that ghost is how you felt about Takeomi before, and how you feel about him now is staring you right in the face.

The face before you is Shinichiro's, and you stare into his dark eyes and see the betrayal lurking there in your dreams, in your nightmares, in your thoughts when you pass by the former S.S. Motors.

"We should stop this."

This time, Takeomi looks up at you and into your reflection in the mirror. His eyes seem to betray how he truly feels, which is nothing short of empty.

"Yeah."

You get dressed in silence again, just like the time when you found out Shinichiro died, and he leaves without saying and word and without a kiss. You watch him walk away into the rainy night, hands in his pockets, and wonder if Shinichiro hadn't died... would you two still be doing what you did before? Would you sneak around with him and play the gamble of getting caught? Or would you settle for a man who made you feel safe?

Maybe you'd dump him for Takeomi.

You don't know.

But all you know is that every single time you remembered Takeomi Akashi, you'd have the painful memory of betraying someone you cared about... twice.

#takeomi akashi smut #takeomi akashi x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev smut

[joonkorre]

To my love,

@drarrymicrofic prompt: forbidden

read Paper Hearts by @dorthyanndrarry and have been completely obsessed w draco doing little mundane things as a hobby or bc it's therapeutic etc etc. i had to fold these paper cranes for an art project once. it's fucking addictive lmao. ao3

tw: very brief mention of blood

It’s just a thing Draco does when he’s bored. A past-time, or a hobby, even. If it’s past midnight and less tiring to be honest, he’d admit that it’s a coping method. But he never really feels like that as of late, as expected from a permanent resident in what is now the Dark Lord’s lair.

Light, clean air, silence, and Merlin knows what else, are lacking in abundance in the Malfoy Manor these days. However, with owl posts too easily intercepted and words too eagerly etched on skin rather than blank pages, paper is readily available. Draco has a lot of free time, being ‘Lucius’s worthless son’ and all. Thus, he writes.

Are you out there? How do you fare?

I haven’t eaten breakfast today. Perhaps I should’ve, but Nagini never leaves.

Will Harry Potter ever get caught?

I tried to go out today. Do you know how it feels to have blood drained from your feet?

Comments of nonsensical nature like so. They help, though. Draco doesn’t quite know the psychology behind it, but he can’t help writing them. A passing interest, then once every two weeks, then every other day, then any piece of paper he can find. Any piece large enough.

To my love,

That Luna girl cries again.

He doesn’t understand why—he’s never understood much, now that he thinks about it—but he’s taken to writing those three words before every message. It feels nice, he supposes, to pretend there’s someone who looks forward to reading his letters, regardless of how boring or awful they are. No matter, a tiny phrase never hurts anyone. He hopes. How many things (small, insignificant things) did he say that—?

To my love,

The last of Mother’s roses have faded to a dull grey. They used to be the color of lilac.

He’s used his wand as a light tonight, a whispered Lumos scarcely bright enough to write down a sentence and cut a strip of paper away, making a square. Familiar folds and creases give way easily beneath his calloused fingers in the dark. Feeling the precise pleats, he bends the wings, then pulls out the tail and the neck. He runs a finger down the neck’s tip. Its head is formed.

To my love,

Should I have killed him?

Cracking open the dirty window right beside his bed, the cool scent of fog and sleepy meadows wafts against his face. A gentle tap of his wand, and the paper crane floats away into the night with minute flaps of wings. Where is it going? He never knows. To his love?

To my love,

There’s a suitcase hidden inside my mattress, ready to go.

Draco closes the window and slides under the cover. Staring up at the swirling darkness of his canopy, he hopes the crane gets to, say, the nearby valley before descending.

To my love,

Let’s run away together.

The scenery is nice there, at least.

----

There’s an analogy to be made about shackles and penance and father’s sins. Draco wouldn’t know. He’s not in the right state of mind to ponder it.

A shame. It’d be nice if his last thought before the Kiss is something poetic.

“He was but a child,” he hears his mother scream. A deafening crash echoes throughout the vast space as her chains weigh more with each word spoken out of turn, forcing her to the dirty floor. “A child!”

Titters and jeers swell in the overheated courtroom. Draco shifts his neck against his collar, silent. Much herculean effort has to be made to ensure his legs are still, lest he rushes to his mother’s side and. Well. He doesn’t know if moving without permission also results in the same punishment. It’ll be improper to collapse in defeat before he’s supposed to: after the Dementor’s had its way with him.

He stands there, unable to do all but look at the particularly orange tile four paces from his position.

“Before Draco Malfoy is given the Dementor’s Kiss as punishment for his crimes, relatives and loved ones are now allowed to say their last words to him,” the Wizengamot judge whose name Draco has let slipped out of his mind in a daze says with a bored drawl.

“If Mrs. Malfoy had just waited for this announcement, she wouldn’t be in her… predicament,” he says, his ‘but what can I do?’ attitude spurring the courtroom to snickers. Draco asks himself, for a brief, horrid moment, if Fiendfyre can be called forth without a wand.

After the laughter has died down, the judge says, “Is there a relative or loved one here who has something to tell Draco Malfoy before we proceed?”

The only one in the vicinity is his mother, whose sobs are choked off by heavy chains. His father has fled. Probably died, too, bless him.

The judge doesn’t even let Draco finish taking a breath and continues, “Alright. Draco Malfoy, you—”

“Wait.”

All noises cease, leaving behind the squeaking of trainers against tiles. Draco doesn’t look up even as the sounds get closer to where he stands.

“Mr, Mr. Potter,” the judge stammers, “you are not Mr. Malfoy’s relative nor loved one.”

“We have history. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Ratty trainers come into Draco’s field of vision. It’s already too late.

“I—yes, that should be enough, Mr. Potter.”

“Thought so.”

Potter’s presence covers up the especially orange tile, and now Draco can look nowhere else but at the many pockets of the man's olive green jacket. Lifting his head remains a horrible idea.

Nothing seems to move, then, even dust particles seem to pause mid-air. From what Draco can deduce, Potter is content to just stare at him for a bit.

“Thanks for helping me out that time,” Potter finally says. Draco doesn’t know what he wants him to say. That night was fucking hell on earth, he could barely remember it with how hard he blocks it out of his head. So what if he didn’t turn Potter in? What does it matter?

Draco stays silent, even as Potter rustles in his innumerable pockets and grumbles when he can’t seem to find what he’s searching for. Before Draco knows it, Potter hums in pleasant surprise.

“I want to give you something,” he says, holding the mystery object out in a closed fist. Draco frowns, tempted to let his face shift into something long-past and glare at the man in front of him. “Come, now, don’t be stubborn.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco reaches for the object, wrists aching from the iron bands, pulsating with heat. To his confusion, Potter covers Draco's hand with both of his. The man is a furnace, his palms possibly even warmer than the iron bands, the sensation sending volatile, feverish streaks of lightning up Draco’s arms. Potter then tucks an item into Draco’s hand, keeping his hands close by as Draco peers at what he is gifted. His eyes widen.

A paper crane.

Potter's left forearm shifts a bit, jostling the jacket sleeve and capturing Draco’s eyes. This can’t be right. Draco glances at Potter’s right arm and the visibly holstered wand that he always carries with him. Back to his left arm, where the head of another wand is but a hint in the shadow. Draco would’ve thought so as well, would’ve thought Potter is being cautious, if not for the instant familiarity striking him like an elbow to the throat.

His head whips up so quickly his neck strains within the collar. Knowing emerald eyes meet his gaze. “Potter, no.”

An eyebrow cocks up. “Did you not say you want to run away?” Potter whispers back. His fingers trail to the edge of Draco’s armbands like they’re trying to sneak under and touch bare skin.

Draco gasps. Nothing makes sense anymore, absolutely nothing at all.

But from the way the court is growing evidently agitated, from the way Potter doesn’t let them bother him one bit, from the way he waits, endlessly patient.

Potter might be the only one able to make sense of anything at all.

Draco leans a hair closer, so his voice is clear to no one but the two of them.

“My mother,” he says, watching Potter’s irises get swallowed up by pure black. “Remember what she did for you, Potter, please. She can’t stay here…”

Potter nods, promising a later date, that they will both get her. And Merlin help him, Draco trusts every word.

A chair tumbles onto the ground. Shouts explode into existence, footsteps thumping. Draco grips Potter’s left forearm as Potter’s wand effortlessly slides out of its holster into a waiting hand. The fizzling heat of hastily casted hexes slices through the air. With his mother’s shout of relief in his ears, Draco succumbs to the squeezing suffocation of Apparition.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #forbidden #paper cranes #aight here we go #i got the idea that perhaps draco is more keen on having #someone who loves him than he thought #so his feelings/magic are poured into these paper cranes #and they are compelled to fly to the person they deem his 'love' #which is *drum roll* harry goddamn potter #at first harry was like erm wtf #a lot of these messages made draco look like a coldhearted douche #but the more he wrote the more it's like a diary to him #so his feelings/confusion/frustration/etc were all there for harry to read #trust he definitely felt a lil something something when draco #started writing 'to my love' before every message #draco is oblivious as hell yk how he is #joonkorre writes

[silverlightqueen]

Blood Lust

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

vampire!hyunjin x human!reader - smutty smut smut lmao, fluff, a little bit of angst ig, fwb type vibe except the benefits include Hyunjin feeding on y/n lol

Word Count: 10.4k+ (I got carried away, I’m sorry lmao)

Summary - Having a part time job whilst at university is standard, right? Babysitting, bartending, retail, hospitality? Well, y/n’s job is a little… different. Or maybe a lot different. Depends on whether you find being a hot vampire’s personal blood bag weird or not.

Warnings: biting, blood, blood consumption, unrequited love, possessiveness, toxicity in a not-relationship, unprotected sex, intercourse, rough sex and softish sex, softdom!hyunjin x sub!reader, very brief sub!hyunjin, very explicit dirty talk, asphyxiation, slight body worship, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), hair pulling, teasing, mouth fucking, begging, praise, hickeys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, lots of soft aftercare, sexual and non-sexual nudity, I think that’s it but please let me know if you notice that I missed something!

a/n: and here is the fourth (and my favourite) instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I had so much fun writing this absolute filth and I hope you guys enjoy reading it! thank you @silverlightprincess​ for proofreading, I love you! please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts x

taglist: @kodzu-ken​ @cloudsgathering​ @silverlightprincess

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‘Took you long enough,’ Hyunjin says when I answer the door, and I give him an apologetic smile, making my eyes wide the way he can never resist, and I can see him fighting to keep the smile off his face. ‘Sorry. I was just… doing something,’ I say as I move aside to let him in, and he raises an eyebrow, slipping off his shoes. ‘Doing what?’ he asks, suspicious, and I avoid his gaze, locking the door after him. ‘I… um-’ ‘Let me guess. You forgot to have your iron supplements and remembered when I knocked on the door?’ he asks dryly, and I give him a weak smile, making him let out an annoyed huff.

‘y/n, I’m hungry. It’s been over a week,’ he complains, and I roll my eyes, trying to hide how endeared I always get at his complaining – he might be a big bad vampire to his clan, but he’s just a whiny little baby when he’s with me. ‘I’m sorry, Jinnie. It’s hard to remember, because I never used to take them,’ I say in my softest voice, knowing he won’t stay annoyed at me, and he just sighs, heading into the living room of my apartment. ‘And you used to wonder why you fainted all the time,’ he says exasperatedly, throwing himself down on my sofa.

When I first started at university, I was – to put it simply – broke as hell. My student loan funded my school supplies and my travel costs, and the money I earned working at my uncle’s restaurant paid for my driving lessons. I had no spare income to spend on anything else – I was still living with my parents, so I wasn’t homeless or hungry or anything. But I had no money for clothes, or nights out, or… anything other than the basic necessities.

When it got to the start of second year, and my uncle had to close his restaurant because he was getting a few customers a night if he was lucky (at every family gathering, he gets drunk and rambles about how Uber Eats murdered his business), I was desperate; I couldn’t pay for my driving lessons anymore, and I was having to buy a lot more supplies for school. One of my friends, Yeji, knew that I was struggling with money, and decided to confide in me about an arrangement she had with a friend of hers.

Her friend, Chan, was the leader of a vampire clan, she’d told me, and she was his blood donor. They’d meet a couple times a week, and he’d feed on her and pay her for it. I was fascinated – I knew vampires existed, but I never knew one personally, or knew anyone that knew one either, so to hear about Yeji’s arrangement astounded me. According to Yeji, vampires tend to drink from blood bags rather than from humans these days, but they still prefer blood from the source. So when Chan had offhandedly mentioned to Yeji that he was looking for a blood donor, she asked how much he was willing to pay. When she heard, she instantly offered to be his donor, knowing that that much money per feed would fund the rest of her university life after just a couple weeks.

I’d had so many questions for her. When I asked if it hurt, she told me the initial puncture felt a little like an injection, and then after that, she wouldn’t really feel anything other than it being a little uncomfortable to hold her neck at such an awkward angle. It would leave her feeling drowsy and weak, but Chan would feed her a little of his blood, just to strengthen her, and she would feel back to herself within no time. The two little scars on her neck would take a while to fade, but she said they were easy enough to cover up with makeup. I’d heard that being fed on was pleasurable, and almost sexual, but when I mentioned that to Yeji, she grimaced and said that it wasn’t at all like that. For her and Chan, it was a business transaction between good friends, and nothing more.

I was intrigued, to say the least, and I’d gone home that night thinking about the possibility of becoming a blood donor to a vampire. The next day, Yeji had run up to me excitedly, to tell me that one of Chan’s clan members was looking for a donor. Only a week later, I was waiting to meet him at a coffee shop, as though it was a blind date. I felt so nervous, worried that he’d take one look at me and walk straight back out. But the second he walked in and his eyes met mine, my heart stopped.

He was adorable, painfully so – with his soft brown hair falling over his cute glasses, and his light academia boyfriend aesthetic. He looked around my own age, but Yeji had told me that he was, in fact, 318 years old at the time (we celebrated his 320th birthday just a few months ago). He sat down with a shy smile, and I was lost for words. He had none of the pale skin or brooding moody looks or all black outfits – he was quite tanned with a friendly face and dressed in soft neutrals. I couldn’t believe that this harmless looking soft boy was a blood-sucking vampire. There was no way.

He bought us a coffee each, and bought me a caramel shortbread because, he told me shyly, it looked as sweet as me. We spoke for hours, our conversation quickly changing from generic and awkward, to comfortable and deep. I explained how difficult it was to fund life at university without putting pressure on my low-income parents to support me, and he explained his life as a vampire. We left the coffee shop at closing time, Hyunjin insisting on walking me home, and we parted with the decision that I would become his blood donor.

We met again, only a week later, with the same shy smiles and slightly awkward conversation. This time, I’d gone to the house that he shared with some of the clan members, but nobody else was at home. It was just us. We’d slowly worked up to it, and when Hyunjin was stood before me, neck bent so that his mouth brushed against the skin of my throat, I felt relaxed and prepared due to his gentle comforting and support. I tried my hardest not to tense when I felt his fangs puncture my skin, wincing a little at the sharp pain, but before I had time to get used to the feeling of someone drinking my blood, Hyunjin had pulled away, coughing up all my blood over his hoodie.

‘What’s the matter? Are you okay?’ I’d asked, and Hyunjin had wiped at his mouth, face twisted in disgust. ‘y/n, I’m really sorry, but your blood is… gross,’ he’d said bluntly, still coughing between each word. This had hurt more than you’d expect – somehow, it’s not a nice feeling to hear that a vampire finds your blood disgusting enough to cough it all back up. ‘Oh. I’m really sorry,’ I’d said, feeling humiliated, and Hyunjin had waved his hand in the air, swigging down some water. ‘No, don’t apologise. I just… I was just surprised. Do you not know you’re anaemic?’ he’d asked, and I’d blinked at him in surprise. ‘Anaemic?’ I’d echoed, and he’d nodded, an amused smile playing at his lips. ‘Your blood has, like, no iron in it. Drinking your blood was like… drinking bitter coffee. Just how you’d add milk and sugar to coffee, your blood needs iron.’

He’d left me in his room whilst he went to get me some iron supplements, and I’d eaten two of the gummy vitamins when he’d handed them to me. We’d waited for half an hour, and then we’d tried it again, sat on his bed this time. His fangs slid into the two little holes they’d made earlier, not as painful this time around, and he didn’t pull away this time either, instead pulling me closer with his strong arms. It was a weird sensation, not a… nasty one, but just weird. With each hungry gulp he took, I’d felt myself getting drowsier and drowsier, head becoming light, and my eyes slid shut after around thirty seconds.

I’d felt Hyunjin pull away only a few moments after that, and he’d shook me lightly, just to keep me awake. ‘Let me feed you some of my blood,’ he’d murmured gently, lifting his wrist to his mouth and piercing the skin. He’d held his wrist to my mouth then, and I’d gently sucked at his skin, tasting the metallic tang of his blood on my tongue. Seconds later, I felt wide awake, like nothing had happened at all.

For the next year, I went to his house twice a week for a few hours at a time. We’d usually watch a film or play a video game or just sit on our phones together in his room, when he wasn’t drinking my blood, of course. It didn’t take me long to realise he wasn’t exactly the shy soft boy I met that first day. Don’t get me wrong – he was still a little quiet sometimes, awkward and clumsy, a total scaredy cat, and he’d be shy around new people. But after a few weeks, once he was much more comfortable around me, different elements of his personality came out too. He was flirty and bratty and sassy and he could be a total whore – he loved his loose comfy clothes, but he also loved his tighter-than-skin jeans and slightly see-through shirts, leather and silk and expensive cotton blends, in black and navy tones. But he was also sensitive and emotional, thoughtful and sweet. It was soon obvious to me that he was multi-dimensional as a person, complex with so many levels, and I’d wanted nothing more than to get to know them all.

I met the majority of his clan members over that time, and they were all just as nice as Hyunjin. I spent a lot of time with them, because Yeji and our friends were friends with them too. We went to parties together, had a lot of movie nights or ordered takeout together at their clan house, meaning I spent more time with Hyunjin than I did with anyone else, which did nothing for my hopeless crush on him. But I didn’t mind that my attraction to him wasn’t reciprocated because we were slowly becoming best friends.

He was always so careful with me, so gentle, like I was an antique vase or a fine china teacup. He’d hold me close to him with a firm grip, and he’d take slow and steady gulps, never making more than two punctures in my skin when he fed on me. He would never have us sitting in one position for too long or feed on me for more than two minutes at a time – when he was particularly hungry, he’d feed on me three or four times in one sitting, but only for two minutes at a time. When he’d pull away, there was never any blood around his mouth like you see in the films, and no blood staining my neck either. He was clean and careful, always cautious of hurting me, and I was so grateful for that. Sometimes I’d run into Yeji at the house, after Chan had fed on her, and every now and then, she’d have blood all over her neck and shoulder or her clothes and hair would be a mess from Chan losing his composure and being a little rougher with her than usual. I would thank God each time, so lucky that Hyunjin treated me like a fragile doll.

After a year, I’d made enough money from being his donor – or, as Jisung loved to call me, Hyunjin’s personal blood bag – that I could put a deposit down on an apartment. I’d told my parents that I was working as an assistant at an accountancy firm when I didn’t have any lectures or seminars at university, which is why I was making so much money, and that Hyunjin was the only co-worker my own age, which is why I was with him so much. I moved into an apartment block around ten minutes from the clan house, on the same floor as Chaeryeong, and Hyunjin helped me move in. A couple of the other clan boys chipped in too so that, and I quote, ‘you have to let us stay with you when we want a break from the clan’.

Only a month after living at the apartment, I’d woken up in the middle of the night to someone hammering at the door. I’d jumped out of bed, dressed in just a little vest and satin shorts, arms and legs bare, stepping into my slippers as I rushed to the door. I’d had my phone in my hand and had typed in the number for the emergency services, ready to phone them if this was someone trying to rob me, and I’d opened the door carefully. Before I could even process what was going on, Hyunjin had burst in and thrown himself at me, pulling me into his arms and burying his head in my neck, my legs instinctually wrapping around his waist to keep myself steady.

‘Jin, are you oka-’ ‘I’m really fucking drunk, and all I could think about was you, and how hot you are, and how fucking amazing your blood is, and how much I wanna drain you dry, so I ditched the boys because I missed you too fucking much,’ he’d growled in my ear, making my eyes widen in shock and my underwear dampen embarrassingly quickly. He’d chuckled, taking a deep breath, before whispering, ‘judging by the sweet smell coming from your pussy, doll, I think you like the sound of that too.’

He’d kicked the door shut behind him and, with his vamp speed, we were in my bedroom only a few moments later, the vampire boy dropping me onto the bed and climbing over me instantly. ‘Listen, y/n, I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’m really, really drunk. Like… I’m wasted,’ he’d murmured into the skin of my neck, hands roughly trailing up and down the sides of my body. ‘I can tell,’ I’d replied breathlessly, hands tangled into his soft black locks, fluffy and messy around his forehead. ‘Which means… I’m not gonna be able to hold back. I probably won’t be gentle like I always am, because that always takes a lot of self-control, which I don’t… really have at the moment. So if you need me to stop, say… werewolf,’ he’d said against my skin, saying the last word with disdain. The werewolves and vampires had always had a long-standing rivalry, and he was obviously aware that the word would pull him out of any desire-filled reverie.

He hadn’t even given me a moment to reply before he’d sunk his teeth into my neck, rough and harsh, and I’d let out a gasp into his ear, his hands gripping onto my waist. He’d sucked at my neck, drinking my blood desperately, and I could feel it dripping down my shoulder and chest. And usually, when I wouldn’t be able to feel anything because of how gentle he was, all I could feel was pleasure, pure hot pleasure flooding through my veins. It was heavenly, and I’d let out little moans and whimpers into his ear, making him even more desperate, with my hands on his back, nails digging in through his thin white shirt.

It wasn’t long before his big veiny hands were wandering eagerly around my body, one palming at my breast and rolling the hard nipple between his fingertips, the other slipping under my shorts and pressing against my clothed core, my wetness having seeped through my underwear. He’d moved away from my neck and looked down at me with ruby red eyes, his jet black hair a sweaty mess and my blood dripping down his chin in harsh red lines. ‘Fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking hot. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,’ he’d growled, his pointed fangs on full display, making my chest tighten with desire. ‘Can I fuck you, doll? I need you so fucking bad right now,’ he’d asked lowly, hands both stilling against my body, and I’d instantly replied, ‘yes, Hyunjin, please.’

Now, another year later, it’s pretty common that we fuck when he feeds on me. I found out that it was so difficult for him to feed on me as gently as he used to, desperate to just throw me against a wall and drain me of every drop. But when I’d look at him nervously with my ‘big innocent eyes’, he knew he couldn’t hurt me. But that night, we’d found out that messy and rough feeding just felt… so much better. We’d also found out a lot of other things since that night; Hyunjin loves biting me in places other than my neck – my boobs and the insides of my thighs are his personal favourites – and I love it when he’s fucking me and bites me just as I’m about to cum – it heightens the pleasure a thousand times, making me see white and scream his name out like it’s being torn from my throat.

But, to my slight disappointment, sex is all it is. We’re like friends with benefits, but the benefits include feeding on me as well as sex. A lot of other things have changed though. Hyunjin practically lives at the apartment now – he sleeps here 4 or 5 nights a week. It’s like we share the apartment; he’s got as many of his belongings here as I do. I don’t mind it, though. He is pretty much my best friend, so spending time together is enjoyable, even if it means I’m falling more and more for him. Hyunjin’s paid me enough over the past couple years for me to be able to do my master’s degree, and I also managed to get a part time job at the coffee shop where Hyunjin and I first met, so it doesn’t feel like I’m solely relying on the money he gives me (it’s enough to fund me, but I don’t want him to think I’m like his little blood bag and nothing more – I basically am but we won’t talk about that).

This last week, though, I went away with the girls for a little last minute break to Rome (we’d planned to go for two weeks but then we would’ve missed Jackson’s Halloween party in a few days, and it’s already being called the party of the year, so we decided to just go for a week), and so he’s had to drink from blood bags whilst I was gone. He was sending me all these sad snapchats of him pouting with a straw in his mouth, wishing he was drinking from me instead – I think he wanted me to react to it with pity, but instead it was just turning me on. I landed back a couple hours ago, and I forgot to have my iron supplement vitamins when I arrived at the apartment, so he’s right – I had them when he knocked on the door.

I look down at him, sprawled out on his side of the sofa, his black locks a stark contrast against the grey cushions. He looks like such a boyfriend, dressed in a thin white t-shirt and a pair of grey joggers, white socks on his feet, glasses on his face and a silver chain around his neck. He looks up at me with a small grin on his face, eyes scanning my body. ‘You look hot, doll,’ he smirks, and I feel my cheeks heating up. I’m only in comfy travel clothes but he’s looking at me like I’m dressed up to the nines. ‘Thank you, Jin,’ I reply, sitting down beside him and letting him pull my legs across his lap.

‘I’m being serious. You look all glowy. And you’ve tanned a little. Did you have fun?’ he asks, hands skimming up and down my legs. ‘I loved it, Jin. We should go together. Everything was so beautiful. The sights are amazing, the weather is gorgeous, the food is delicious, the people are so lovely. The vibes there are just perfect. You’d love it,’ I tell him, and he just watches me as I speak, a small smile on his plump lips. ‘You’ll have to take me one day, angel,’ he murmurs, and I nod, unable to keep the shy smile from my face.

‘I saw on Ryujin’s story,’ he begins, and I knew this was coming, my heart sinking a little as he continues, ‘that you guys made friends with the people staying in the hotel room next to you. What were they like?’ ‘They were nice. We didn’t actually speak to them ‘til the fourth day, then we had dinner and drinks together on the fifth day, went sightseeing together on the sixth, and shopping together on the seventh. But, yeah, they were okay. They were a bit too… boisterous and noisy for my liking, but the girls got on with them, so I didn’t mind spending time with them,’ I explain honestly, and he just nods, looking like he still has more questions. ‘How many of them were there?’ ‘There were eight boys, and four of them brought their girlfriends. I got along better with their girlfriends than them, to be honest,’ I say lightly, Hyunjin just looking at me unreadably. ‘So you spent a few days in Rome with four single guys?’ he asks, voice tight, and I let out a gentle sigh.

‘Jin, do-’ ‘Answer the question, y/n.’ ‘Yes, we did. Is that a problem, Jin?’ ‘No, y/n, it’s not. Or, at least, it wouldn’t be, if you weren’t covered in a scent that isn’t yours,’ he says evenly, and my eyes widen. ‘I’m covered in someone else’s scent? Well… it must be Yuna’s, because we shared a bed. Or Lia’s – I wore her hoodie on the flight ba-’ ‘No, y/n. I’ve spent enough time with Yuna and Lia to know what they smell like. That’s not the scent on you. You smell like a human boy. So stop lying and tell me why,’ he says, voice tight, and I sigh. ‘Jin, I’m not lying. I didn’t, like, sleep with any of them, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ ‘Then why do you smell like a human boy?’ he asks slowly, obviously trying to keep his composure, and I take a deep breath.

‘I was sat next to one of them on the flight back, and he fell asleep. His head fell on my shoulder a couple times, and I felt bad to wake him up, so I just le-’ ‘You just what, y/n? You let a random human boy sleep on you? Get his scent all over you?’ he demands, hands tightening on my legs and veins protruding from beneath his honey skin. ‘Are you being serious right now, Jin?’ ‘Yes, I am. You can’t just let random human boys get their scent all over you.’ ‘And why not?’ I demand, voice shaky with anger as I take my legs off his lap, and he glares at me. ‘Because I pay you a lot of money to feed on you, and I don’t want anyone else getting near what’s mine,’ he growls, butterflies exploding in my stomach when his eyes glow red.

‘But I’m not yours, Jin. You pay me to feed on me. That’s all. There was no agreement that I would stay away from any other boy!’ I exclaim, shocked at how ridiculous he’s being and trying to ignore how much my body is aching for him, and he scoffs. ‘You don’t need any other boy. I give you all the companionship you need, I fund you so you buy anything you want, and I keep you satisfied. That’s all you need,’ he says simply, and my mouth falls open slightly. ‘What if I wanted a boyfriend? An actual relationship with a boy who loves me?’ I ask, giving him a chance to say what I so want him to say, and his eyes flash momentarily before he says, ‘you don’t want a relationship.’ ‘What if I did?’ ‘We’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it. But, for now, you’re mine, y/n, and you know it. I don’t want you getting any other boys’ scents on you again, understood?’ he asks, and I just stare at him in shock, unable to believe how unreasonably he’s behaving.

He gives me a few seconds to reply and when I don’t, he moves so quickly I don’t even realise what’s happened until he’s hovering over me, my back pressing into the sofa, and his hand is pressed to my throat tightly. ‘I asked you if you understand,’ he says lowly, eyes glowing red and fangs glinting in the mellow light of the lamp, threateningly sharp. ‘No, Jin, I don’t. I don’t understand why I should have to stay away from other boys,’ I whisper, heart nearly beating out of my chest, and he lets out a harsh scoff. ‘Because you don’t need them. You only need me,’ he growls, tightening his grip on my throat, and I let out a little gasp of surprise, already feeling a slight dizziness in my head.

‘You only want me, too,’ he whispers, ducking his head so that his soft lips move against the skin over my collarbones, releasing my throat and moving his hand to hold my waist instead. ‘You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know how much you want me, doll? You forget how well I know you, much better than you can ever know yourself. I can sense your every thought, your every feeling – I can smell it on you. The way the serotonin rolls off you in waves when you look at me, the way you drip with dopamine when we touch, the way I feel like I’m drunk on your endorphins whenever I’m around. My presence makes you want me, angel, and we both know it,’ he murmurs softly between gentle kisses, fluffy hair tickling against my cheek, and all I can feel, more with each word, is complete and utter humiliation. Never once has he – or any of the other vampires I see on a daily basis – told me that they can do that – can sense humans’ emotions.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, pushing himself up on one forearm to look down at me with a half-smirk. ‘Don’t be embarrassed, doll. I love it – I really fucking love it – that you want me as much as I want you. As much as I’ve always wanted you, since the first moment I set eyes on you. It consumes me, angel, how much I want you,’ he admits, not looking me in the eyes as his hand slowly makes its way up from my waist to brush my hair back from my face, and the butterflies in my stomach are unbearable. ‘How much do you want me?’ I ask without thinking, the words coming out as a whisper, and his eyes flit up to meet mine, both of us silent as I wait for him to speak, hoping to God he’s going to say he wants me just as much as I want him – more than just sexually. ‘More than you can ever know, princess,’ he murmurs, sparkly brown eyes locking with mine, and my heart jumps at the nickname he so rarely calls me – I’m doll every day, angel when he’s in the mood, but I’m only princess every now and then, when his eyes sparkle the way they are now, like he’s looking at the universe and it’s reflected back in those beautiful brown eyes.

‘Let me… let me show you?’ he whispers, the words coming out slightly questioning, and I can’t help the small smile that spreads across my lips, despite not hearing quite what I wanted to. I slide my hand around the back of his neck, fingers pressing into his soft skin as I pull him down to me, eyes sliding shut as his lips meet mine. I never used to understand the hype over kissing. I never had any of the fireworks, the passion, the clashing tongues and teeth like you read in books and see in films. I only ever kissed one boy, once, and it was quite awkward – he practically tried to suck off my face from the get-go, his hands clamped on my shoulders. But Hyunjin, god, is he good at kissing? I could kiss him for the rest of my life, with his soft plump lips and his hands trailing all over my body.

He barely waits a second before parting my lips with his, tongue sliding into my mouth without a moment of hesitation and his big hand pressing against my waist. I tangle my hands into his hair, soft locks sliding between my fingers, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me, as close as physically possible. Before I even have a chance to start feeling uncomfortable, I feel a rush a movement, and not even a few seconds later, I’m on my bed beneath him, our lips still pressed together.

He turns us over, my body laid on top of his, and I forget momentarily that my weight atop him is nothing in comparison to the kind of weight he can carry. I practically melt into him, my body melding into the curves and contours of his body, fitting us together like puzzle pieces. He slides his hands into my hair, the feeling of his fingers against my scalp making me let out a soft whine. ‘You’re fucking perfect, doll,’ he groans against my lips, my entire body tingling as our mouths move in sync, slow and passionate, not nearly as rushed and desperate as usual. His touches are gentle, careful and tender, where he usually holds me in a bruisingly tight grip, rough and possessive.

I slide my hands under his t-shirt tentatively, and he doesn’t even hesitate to sit up, breaking away from me momentarily as I pull the top over his head, throwing it over my shoulder as he reattaches his lips to mine. I slide my hands over his torso, fingers roaming over the ridges of his hard abs, his skin radiating heat. Vampires might have no circulation but the rumour about them being freezing cold all the time is false – their body temperature automatically regulates to the temperature around them, meaning he’s just as hot as I am right now.

His hands slide under my shirt, and we break apart again for him to pull it over my head, instantly leaning down to suck at the exposed skin of my breasts as he cups them, big hands covering them completely. I let out gentle whines, head falling back, and one of his hands comes to rest at the base of my exposed throat, asserting his dominance – I might be on top of him right now, but we both know who’s in charge here.

He doesn’t wait long before turning us over, kissing me for a few more moments before he climbs off me, standing at the foot of the bed. He gently grabs my ankles, pulling me down the bed, and I let out a gentle giggle, a smile on his face at the sound. He pulls off my socks, momentarily tickling the underside of one foot, and a startled laugh is forced out of me as I kick at his hand to make him stop. He reaches for the drawstring of my joggers with a grin, tugging it open deftly and pulling them down my legs swiftly.

My black underwear isn’t anything special, just a plain cotton bra and my high-waisted comfy granny pants, but his eyes trawl over my body like I’m in the finest lingerie, the bulge in his joggers becoming a little more noticeable, making my mouth water embarrassingly quickly – I could live on my knees for Hyunjin if that’s what he wanted me to do. His eyes meet mine, a small smirk on his lips as he drops to his knees, pulling me further down the bed so that my legs are slung over his broad shoulders, heels resting against his strong back.

His hands grab at my pants, ripping them away from my body effortlessly, reminding me again of just how strong he is – he could literally crush my neck without a single hair of his moving out of place. He spreads my legs further, eyes locked onto my core, and he lets out a gentle groan. ‘Fuck, so wet for me, angel,’ he murmurs, running a finger over my slit, a desperate whimper falling from my lips. ‘I don’t need prepping – just want you, Jin,’ I murmur, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘That’s the spirit, doll, but I don’t wanna rip you in half. We’ll see how well you take my fingers first,’ he says amusedly, not giving me a second to reply before he plunges a finger into me.

I gasp loudly, but the pleasure disappears with his finger which he lifts to his lips, eyes locked with mine as he licks his finger clean of my essence. His eyes flutter shut momentarily as he lets out a low moan, my pussy flooding at the sound. ‘You taste amazing, so fucking sweet. This pussy was made for me to eat, wasn’t it, angel?’ he asks, and when I take a second to reply, he raises an eyebrow, prompting me. ‘Yes, Jin, only for you,’ I reply hastily, and a satisfied smile spreads across his lips.

His finger slips between my folds again, and he doesn’t give me a second to react before he adds another, trying to work me open a little. ‘You’re so tight, doll. And you said you didn’t need prepping,’ he laughs, curling his long fingers inside me, making me clench around him. He slowly pumps in and out of me, rocking his hand against me gently, and I let out moan after moan at this completely foreign feeling. He’s always so quick, so desperate to have me fall apart on his hand as fast as I could, but this? This is different, this is slow, heavenly, like he wants me to enjoy this blissful feeling.

He adds another finger, just about fitting inside me, and I throw my head back against the bed, back arching up as I let out a loud moan of his name. ‘Fuck, angel, you’re killing me. Love your pretty moans,’ I hear him murmur, his voice just about breaking through the pleasure that rolls over me like waves crashing, and his thumb appears at my clit, rubbing slow circles that make me whimper desperately. I look down at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s been watching me, eyes studying my face for my reactions as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my head falls back, mouth falling open in a moan.

His fingers disappear from inside me after a few minutes, giving me a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure as he moves closer to me, warm breath fanning out over my core. ‘Oh, god,’ I moan out when he licks a long stripe up my slit without warning. My hands instantly reach down to tangle into his hair, tugging at the locks as he sucks at my clit with his plump lips, making my toes curl. He flicks his tongue over my folds, whimpers spilling from my lips as I squirm, and Hyunjin puts one arm over my waist, pressing down to hold me in place.

He pokes his tongue between my folds, gently pushing into my core, and my mouth falls open into a silent scream when he begins to slowly rub at my clit with his thumb, my legs slamming into his back and pulling him even closer, as close as possible, his head completely buried between my legs. Wet and obscene slurping sounds drown out my desperate moans, and Hyunjin begins to let out grunts and groans against me, lapping at me like a man possessed.

I feel myself getting closer, the knot in my stomach tightening as Hyunjin sucks at my clit, pushing two fingers into me and pumping them at a mind-numbing pace. ‘Gonna cum for me, angel?’ he hums against me, and I can’t even muster up the sanity to reply, just moaning out his name, and he lets out a low chuckle before flicking his tongue over my sensitive bud, fingers curling against the spongy spot inside me. I tense up completely, head pressed back into the bed as I call out his name in a moan, releasing all over his hand and tongue. He works me through my orgasm, gently rocking his hand against me as he laps at my folds. ‘God, you taste amazing,’ he murmurs once I’ve come down from my high, licking the last bit of my release from his fingers, and it takes all my effort to lock my eyes with his as he does so, his lips quirking up into a smirk.

And then he lifts his wrist to his mouth, and I know what’s coming, stomach turning with excitement as he bites down into the skin. When he pulls his wrist away from his mouth, I push myself up onto my hands shakily, leaning forward to his wrist that he holds out to me, blood blooming from the smallest little wounds in his skin. I hold his arm to my mouth, sucking at the dots of blood, the metallic taste exploding on my tongue, and not a second after swallowing it down, I feel my energy coming back, regaining my strength quickly.

He pulls his arm away after a few seconds, his focus returning to between my legs, but when he lowers his head, his lips land on my inner thigh rather than my pussy, and I brace myself for the initial sting. His sharp fangs puncture into my soft thigh, the smallest sharp pain making me wince, but it quickly disappears when he hungrily gulps down my blood, messy and desperate. He lets out groans against my thigh, my blood dripping down my skin as he drinks me like a man starved, and I can already feel myself weakening, the pleasure making my head light and dizzy. He lifts his arm up again after a few moments, the two tiny puncture wounds still bleeding, and I lick it up, the weakness disappearing instantly.

He pulls away after around a minute, my blood dripping down his chin in two lines from the corners of his mouth, as though he’s greedily taken more of me into his mouth than he could handle, and he smirks at me as I wipe it up, putting my now bloodstained finger to his lips. He licks my finger in one swift motion, eyes closing as he savours the taste. ‘It’s not fair, angel. You shouldn’t have such a sweet pussy and delicious blood. You’ve got the whole package,’ he murmurs lightly, making me laugh as he rises from his knees, a small smile playing at his lips.

He looks down at me, dark eyes flitting over my body, and I feel conscious under his intimidating gaze. He seems to sense that I want to curl in on myself, shield my body from his view, and he gives me a soft smile. ‘You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n, and you don’t even know it. You’re heavenly, angel,’ he murmurs softly, holding out a hand to me, and I take it, letting him pull me up from the bed and into his arms. He holds me so tenderly, so gently, that I can’t help but bury my head into his chest, his soft and floral scent flooding my senses.

‘Gonna let me fuck you, angel?’ he asks, voice low, and I take a step back from him, a small smile on my face. ‘Wanna suck your dick first,’ I reply, his eyes darkening instantly, and I can’t help the grin on my face when he groans, ‘you’re one of a fucking kind.’ I take his hand into mine, pulling him around to the side of the bed. I kneel on the bed, hands on his shoulders to steady myself, and once I’m comfortable, I pull the drawstring on his joggers open, slipping my hands under to push them halfway down his thighs. He’s wearing a pair of plain black boxers, his bulge straining against the material, but I don’t pull them down just yet, instead moving my attention to his torso.

He’s so perfect, sculpted by the Gods, and I can’t help but admire his body every time I see it, hands running up his stomach and chest, and over his big shoulders. I bring my lips up to his collarbone, kissing and sucking to leave a mark, threading my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. He waits patiently, hands on my waist, lips letting out gentle sighs every now and then, and I can’t help but respect his self-control. He’s always so patient, putting me before himself, and I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for him.

I take pity on him after a little while, moving from his neck and looking up at him with a small smile as my hands trail down to his underwear. I slip my hands beneath the waistband, pulling his boxers down just enough for his hard length to spring up against his stomach, Hyunjin letting out a gentle hiss. He’s so long with a perfect curve (he has the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen), and his head is painfully swollen and red, the tip leaking with milky white precum. My mouth waters at the sight.

I lean down and press a kiss to the tip, tongue sliding out to taste some of his precum, and he lets out a shaky breath. I spread his wetness down his length with one hand, his hands coming to tangle into my hair. I place my tongue at the base, licking up to the tip against the vein on the underside of his cock, and he tenses as I do so, gripping my hair tightly. I take his head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around him as my hands slowly rub the rest of his length. I look up at him through my lashes as I take him further into my mouth, feeling him hit the back of my throat, and his head falls back, a soft moan falling from his lips.

I gradually build my pace, steadily bobbing my head on him and taking him as far in as possible. ‘Such a good girl, doll,’ he groans, gentle moans falling from his lips more and more often now, and I know it isn’t going to be long before he loses all control. I’m just beginning to adjust to having him hit the back of my throat with each bob of my head when his hips start twitching, and he begins thrusting into my mouth, controlling my head movements with his hands fisted into my hair. All I can do I grab onto the backs of his thighs as he fucks my mouth, my eyes beginning to water. His tip hits the back of my throat harshly, and I gag around him loudly, making him curse as he bucks into my throat.

‘Swallow,’ he instructs, voice not nearly as gentle and soft as a few minutes ago, and I try my best to do so, my throat contracting around him in noisy gags. ‘Come on, doll, you can take me further than that,’ he says teasingly, before pulling my head forward, his cock pushing down my throat and my lips wrapped around the base of his cock, and he can barely thrust back and forth because of how tight my throat is around him, desperately gagging to push him back out. Tears stream down my face, saliva running down my chin, and my choked gags and desperate breaths mingling with his soft grunts and whispered words of comfort in the air.

I can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching in my throat, and I ready myself to feel his hot release hit the back of my throat, but he pulls me off him with a loud sigh, looking down at me with tender eyes. He wipes the saliva from my face with gentle fingers, tilting my head up to kiss away the tear tracks that stain my skin, hand stroking my hair soothingly. ‘Always so good for me, angel. Gonna let me fuck you now?’ he asks, our eyes locked together, and I nod eagerly. ‘Please, Jin, want you,’ I breathe out, throat hoarse, and he grins, pressing his lips to mine in a brief kiss.

‘Lie down for me,’ he says, and I do so, watching as he pulls his joggers and boxers down his legs and kicking them away impatiently before he joins me on the bed, hovering over me. ‘You’re still in your bra, doll. This won’t do,’ he grins, slipping a hand beneath my body to expertly unclasp my bra. I pull it off me quickly, throwing it off to the side as Hyunjin ducks his head, flicking his tongue across one nipple as he rolls the other between his fingers, toying and tugging at it gently. I let out a gentle whimper, tangling my fingers into his hair, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘Want me to bite you, angel?’ he asks teasingly, and I let out a low moan as confirmation, feeling his sharp fangs slide into the soft flesh of my breast not a moment later.

I gasp loudly, pleasure flooding through my veins as he swallows down my blood hungrily, the heady haze of bliss settling over me more and more with each gulp. Whimpers and moans fall from my lips every few seconds, my hands in his hair pulling him closer and closer, one of his big hands gripping onto my waist, fingers rubbing against my skin comfortingly. He doesn’t drink a lot this time, having had more than enough from my thigh, so I don’t feel too weak, but he still feeds me a little of his blood when he’s done, making me smile up at him.

‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you? Have you got enough energy?’ he asks softly, brushing my hair back from my face, and I nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. ‘I want it, Jinnie. I want you,’ I whisper against his lips, and I feel him grin, resting on one forearm as he rubs his head against my folds teasingly. ‘Jin… please,’ I breathe out, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and he lets out a low chuckle. ‘I like hearing you beg, doll,’ he murmurs, smile playing at his lips as he continues running his head up and down my folds, tapping the tip against my clit every few seconds, the wetness gushing from my core soaking him. ‘Please, Jin, need you to fuck me, fill me up with your cock, bite me and drain me dry, need it so bad,’ I plead pathetically, and his eyes darken at my words, the boy letting out a gentle ‘fuck’.

He sinks into me slowly, and I gasp as he inches in, enjoying the burning stretch and gripping onto his strong shoulders as I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me with my ankles locked together. He lets out a low groan when he bottoms out, our bodies lined up perfectly, and he brings his hand up to my mouth, slipping two fingers past my lips. I roll my tongue around them as he gives me a moment to stop clenching around him and adjust to the stretch. He pushes his fingers a little further in, making me gag around them, and I shoot him evils, Hyunjin trying to look apologetic, but failing miserably and looking amused instead.

‘Can I- fuck, angel, you gotta stop clenching, gonna make me cum. Can I move? Doll, please, I need to move,’ he pleads, the words coming out as a low whine, and I feel a thrill in my stomach. I can’t help but feel pride at being able to make Hyunjin – someone so dominant – whiny and submissive because he’s that desperate to fuck me. I hum out permission around his fingers, and he pulls all the way out before pushing back in, slow and deep, the drag of his cock against my walls making us both moan. ‘Fuck, so tight, angel. So wet and tight. Fucking love this pussy, doll,’ he growls as he fucks into me, dark eyes locked with mine as I moan around his fingers.

‘How’d you want it, y/n? Want me to fuck you slow, doll, or so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?’ he asks in a low voice, hips stilling as he pulls his fingers out of my mouth, and I let out a gentle whine, not quite sure what I want. ‘Anything, Jin, just need you,’ I whisper breathlessly, and he grins a cocky grin, his ego satisfied. His hand comes to the base of my throat, pads of his fingers resting against my blood vessels, and he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty, before slamming all the way back in, knocking all of the air out of me in a desperate moan, his balls slapping against my ass.

‘You were only gone a week but, fuck, I missed you so fucking much. Missed your sweet pussy and your sweet blood, angel. Couldn’t stop myself from jacking off to the thought of this tight, wet little cunt, doll,’ he growls against my ear, his hand at my throat tightening just a little, and I let out a pathetic whimper in reply, his words sending a fresh wave of arousal gushing out of me, coating his thighs and abdomen. ‘So wet, doll, gushing around me. Did you miss my cock, angel?’ he asks between thrusts, my hands tangling into his soft locks, gripping tightly. ‘Missed your cock so much, Jin. Wanted you so fucking bad while I was gone. Never wanna leave you again,’ I try to say, half of it coming out as garbled nonsense and moans, and he lets out a low groan, his thrusts becoming even harder and deeper, his silver chain brushing against my chin with each thrust.

His hand tightens even more, completely cutting off my airflow, and my head instantly starts to become light, the pleasure increasing endlessly with each second. ‘More,’ I barely manage to breathe out, and he lets out a gentle chuckle, doing as I say, fucking me so hard that the bed creaks with each thrust. ‘My dirty little girl. Can’t even handle what I’m already giving you, and you’re asking for more. You forget how strong I am. I’m gonna tear you in half as this rate, angel,’ he murmurs against my ear, hand still tight at my throat, silver rings digging into my skin, and I don’t even feel fear, like I probably should. All I can feel is pure, hot need.

He moves one of my legs from around his waist, bringing it up between us so that my ankle rests on his shoulder, the new position allowing him to go deeper, so much deeper, and his tip scrapes against the spot inside me that makes me scream. He reaches down to rub at my clit, bringing me closer to my climax, and I can feel my vision beginning to go blank when he ducks his head to suck at my neck with his plump lips. The mixed sensations of his hand at my throat, his cock filling me up perfectly, his thumb at my clit and his mouth sucking marks onto my skin makes my eyes flutter shut, the pleasure overwhelming me.

‘Look at me, angel. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you,’ he growls, cock dragging against my walls, and it takes all my energy to open my eyes. His jaw is clenched, sweat dripping down his face, lips swollen, eyes dark and dilated, glinting red every few seconds, his chain dangling in my face. He looks like sin incarnate. ‘Fuck, you’re so pretty. So fucking pretty,’ he groans, releasing my throat from his tight grip, and I take a deep gasping breath, not even realising how much I needed to breathe. He holds his wrist to his mouth, biting at it again and pushing it against my mouth. I lick up the small drops of blood, quickly regaining my strength, and he presses his lips to mine once I’m done, in a brief passionate and sloppy kiss.

He breaks away from me with a grin, continuing to fuck me hard and deep, swollen tip scraping against the spongy spot inside me, and I let out desperate moans and whimpers of his name, Hyunjin grunting and groaning sinfully softly as tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I clench around him sporadically, knowing my high is nearing, and he knows it too, his hand slipping down to my clit and rubbing slow circles with his thumb, making me call out his name. ‘Gonna cum for me, doll?’ he asks, and I can’t even bring myself to reply, just nodding along with loud moan, and he grins, his cock still hammering into me.

‘Want you to cum for me, angel. Cum on my cock, y/n, soak it up like a good little girl. So good for me, angel, wanna feel you cum around me,’ he prompts, pushing me closer and closer, the knot in stomach becoming tighter and tighter, and I’m so close, practically there, hanging on the precipice of my high. He grins at me, his lethal fangs sliding out and his eyes glowing red before he ducks his head, biting into the soft flesh of my neck and pushing me over the edge. I scream out his name as he gulps down my blood, numbing bliss flowing through me like morphine, his cock still rocking into me and his thumb toying with my clit. My vision is completely blank, neither white nor black, just… blank, pleasure exploding within me, and I feel my consciousness slipping away until Hyunjin’s finger slips between my lips. He must have bitten it because I taste his blood on my tongue, bringing me back to this moment with him.

He breaks away from my neck when I’ve come down from my high, lips and chin covered in my blood and his eyes still flickering red as he grins, both hands digging into the mattress on either side of my head, the pace of his thrusts increasing once more, his cock slamming into me as he chases his high. I wrap my legs around his waist tightly, arms around his shoulders and nails digging into his skin, hard enough to leave marks. I try not to let the overstimulation stop me from getting him to his climax, my pussy clenching around him with sensitivity, and when I feel his cock twitching inside me, desperate moans falling from his lips and face scrunching up with desperate desire, I know he’s about to cum. I dig my heels into his back to hold him deep inside me, and his head drops down to my neck.

‘Cum in me, Jin. Wanna feel you cum in me, please. Fill me up, Jin. Cum for me, baby,’ I murmur into his ear and he does as I ask, moaning my name loudly against my neck as his entire body tenses up. He bites into me again as he releases inside me, his hot thick cum painting my insides as he slowly moves his hips against me, leisurely sucking my blood. He gently rocks into me until he’s finished and I’m completely out of breath, both of us covered in blood, sweat, tears and cum.

‘God, you’re so good for me, angel,’ he murmurs gently after pulling away from my neck, his fangs retracting before he presses kisses to the skin he’s just bitten, sucking and nipping to leave marks. I play with his hair, body still tensing with aftershocks, and he runs his hands up and down my body, caressing my sweaty skin. Every movement, every action, every featherlight touch of his is so comforting, so tender, that I feel like I can stay here with him forever, letting him worship my body so gently like this, my hands playing with his soft, fluffy locks.

But after a while, I can feel myself drifting away, and I know I can’t sleep like this – covered in various… liquids, with completely soiled sheets and a vampire practically drunk on my blood lying on top of me. ‘Jin… I gotta get up. Clean myself up before I sleep,’ I murmur, and he whines, making me smile at his bratty behaviour. ‘No, wanna stay like this,’ he mumbles against my breast, having ventured down to leave marks on the soft flesh beside my nipple. ‘We can after. Just let me have a quick shower and change the sheets,’ I say softly, and he sighs, waiting a few moments before he pulls out of me and gets up off me, standing up beside the bed.

‘Wait here a second,’ he says before heading towards the bathroom, giving me a view of his cute little ass as he goes. I lie there in silence for a couple minutes, focused on the feeling of his thick cum trickling out of me, before he reappears with a smile, making my heart stop momentarily. His hair is pasted to his forehead with sweat, the bottom half of his face is covered in blood, his lips are swollen and his eyes are lidded with the drunken tiredness of being full on blood, but he looks like the most beautiful man in the world to me.

He scoops me up into his arms, bridal style, and carries me into the bathroom, my eyes on his face the entire time, a small smile on his lips because he knows I’m watching him and admiring him. When we walk into the bathroom, my eyes flit to the bathtub, which is now full. I realise he’s drawn me a bath, my heart swelling when he gently puts me down, not letting go until my feet are firmly on the floor. ‘Go to the toilet first. Don’t want you getting a UTI,’ he says, and I let out a bratty whine, making him raise an eyebrow. ‘Toilet. Now,’ he says, and I pout, stomping to the toilet. His eyes stay locked with mine as I piss, and I let out a laugh after a few seconds – the fact that he’s stood there naked and covered in blood watching me as I wee naked and covered in blood is just so funny to my sleep deprived and jet-lagged mind – and he just rolls his eyes with an amused smile.

Once I’m done washing my hands, I practically bound to the bath eagerly, and he helps me to climb in. I sigh happily as sit in the tub, the temperature of the water perfect to cool down my burning hot skin. I lean back against the edge, my eyelids drooping with tiredness as I watch him wash his face in the sink, cleaning away all the blood. ‘What a waste,’ he murmurs as he watches the red-tinted water wash down the sinkhole, making me let out a little laugh, and he smiles softly at the sound. He climbs into the shower and I watch as he turns the dial, the glass fogging up as the water rains down over him, soaking his honey skin and his pitch black hair.

I love watching Hyunjin do anything, my eyes not leaving his face as he gently scrubs at his skin with my passionfruit-scented shower gel, but I’m so tired that, without even realising it, I fall asleep after a few minutes. Hyunjin wakes me with a tender smile, once he’s out of the shower, wearing fresh underwear and joggers, his chest bare and a towel around his neck to gather the water that drips from his dark hair. I’m too tired to even speak as he washes me, soft hands rubbing gently at my skin, cleaning away the sweat on my body, the blood stains around where he bit me, the dried release around my thighs and the echoes of tear tracks on my face. Neither of us speak the entire time, but we don’t really have to – his touches on my body say everything he wants to say, and my gaze locked onto his face says anything I want to say.

He drains the bath, drying me carefully and carrying me back into the bedroom once he’s done, redressing me in a clean pair of underwear and a soft t-shirt of his that I’ve claimed as my own. He must have changed the sheets whilst I was asleep in the bath, and we climb into my bed together, his arms holding me close. I almost fall asleep the instant my head lands on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as my body lines up with Hyunjin’s, his front pressed to my back and his arms around my waist. I stay awake just long enough to hear him whisper something, something that sounds suspiciously like what I’ve wanted to hear from him for nearly as long as I’ve known him, but sleep takes me before I can reply.

When I wake in the morning, the other side of the bed is empty, and his bedroom is empty too. And when I see that his shoes are gone from beside the door, I realise he must have left whilst I was asleep. I practically turn the apartment upside down, but he hasn’t left me a note. I check my phone, but he hasn’t texted or called. I can barely make it back into bed before I dissolve into tears, sobbing as though my heart would break.

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[aiiwa]

fuck marry kiss 4 kuroo, kenma and ushi hehehheh

thank you for sending me these three hehe this one was a bit hard for me!!

FUCK. ushijima wakatoshi. big, strong man make brain go brrr.

your boyfriend was just so...big. his bulky, 6’3 frame was pure, sculpted muscle, years of conditioning were to thank for that. but the sheer size difference between the two of you was rather blatant. anywhere the two of you went, people would always do a double take; but times like now, is where the difference in your sizes really stood out.

“look at you, my darling, y/n.” ushijima grunts into your ear.

you and ushijima were currently at a random event centre hosting the umpteenth sports gala you’ve attended, locked in the grandeur of the women’s bathroom. spending the whole night teasing him under the white clothed tables, had lead to you being lifted in his arms; dress bunched at your waist, his large hands holding the underside of your smooth thighs, as he had you impaled on his thick, throbbing cock.

“t-toshi...s’big…” you mewl at the feeling of him slowly sliding himself in and out of you.

your eyes were closed in pleasure, but when he ruts into you roughly, they shoot open. and you’re instantly taking in the lewd right of your reflection in the mirror. the way ushijima’s hair sticks to his forehead, as his face nuzzles into your cheek. the neckline of your dress sits under your exposed breasts, that jostle with each thrust, as your pussy sucks him in so greedily.

“i said, look.” his darkened eyes admire your spent body. “so beautiful. this is what you wanted, isn’t it darling?”

MARRY. kuroo tetsurou. wait but like havin’ a lil baby with his hair sdkjhskj. and yes the baby was conceived after that one time he didn’t go on his morning run lmao.

being two weeks overdue after nine long months of pregnancy, it shouldn’t have surprised you that you would end up with thirty-four hours of labour. and maybe you had cussed out your husband, digging your nails into the palm of his large hand. but every second was worth it, leading up to now, where you could hold your angel in your arms.

from the moment your baby boy was welcomed into the world, in the early hours of the morning, you and kuroo were instantly entranced by him. infatuated with all ten of his cute little fingers and toes, the chub of his cheeks, and his long lashes. the growing love and adoration for you and your husband’s creation had only just blossomed, the start of parenthood here to stay. though there was just one thing you couldn’t shake off.

“why couldn’t you have normal hair?” you grumble lowly to kuroo, the two of you watching over your sleeping son.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

brushing a thumb under the blue cotton beanie on your baby’s head, you reveal the thick, ink coloured tufts of hair that brush over his little forehead. just as unruly as his father’s. kuroo only chuckles lightly, instantly understanding what you had meant as he moved the beanie back to cover the infant’s head.

“c’mon, y/n, you love my hair. remember you used to pull at it-”

“shut up.” you smile, shaking your head at his antics. “i just mean, his hair is a defining feature, and that’s all you.”

“what are you talking about? his sleeping face is all you, look at him.” kuroo replies, before adding. “sleeps just like his mama, gremlin expression and all.” this time you risk whacking his chest as he tries to muffle his laughter.

KISS. kozume kenma. wanna give him all the kithes he deserves.

reaching a big milestone of one million subscribers on youtube and twitch, had called for a celebratory stream - and there was no one better to have with you, other than your fellow pro-gamer best friend, kenma. the two of you had made big names for yourselves in the gaming community, starting your careers around the same time, and becoming fast friends over your competitiveness. and perhaps a major crush on him had begun to greatly develop over time.

you and kenma had become so close that at your announcement of reaching one million followers, he’d proposed streaming together at his house to celebrate. and so there you were, setting up your hear next to his, in a lay out which allowed you two to sit next to each other and be seen.

what you hadn’t expected when the red blinking light of his camera flashed on, was for kenma to go on a spiel of praises for you. he seemed to have a whole speech mentally prepared - listing off his favourite moments with you, mentioning how much you’ve accomplished within the community, and how proud he is of you.

“...i’m just so glad to have met someone like her-”

“-kenma.” you cut him off.

without even realising you’re leaning over, holding the back of his neck, and turning him to face you so you could press your lips to his. they’re soft against your own, in a kiss sweet and tender. moving back, you take in his flush cheeks and wide golden eyes; before your own widen at what you’ve just done. jolting back you bring your hands to your face, mumbling to yourself as the comment section pops off on your stream.

you feel cool, slim fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face before kenma’s lips are back on yours. the kiss quickly deepens as one hand tangles into his silken strands while the other ends the stream.

an hour later when you restart the stream, both you and kenma appearing dishevelled and wearing matching grins, you purposely ignore the teasing comments from your shared followers.

“hey again guys! sorry we faced some technical difficulties before, but we’re ready to play some games!”

FMK CLOSED.

#💖 nona hits 500 #anonnie❣️ #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smut #ushijima x reader #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader