#the way they meet in this au is actually pretty dark (no one is surprised i know) but that's a story for another day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

star-girl69 · 4 months

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She Calls Me Baby

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

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synopsis: college au, in which you slowly realize something is wrong with your girlfriend.

a/n: love this song. had to do it sorry. anyways this sucks actual BALLS but idc i just have to write something or else i will lose my empire and title as mother of clarisse tumblr ☹️

Jackie and Wilson - Hozier

warnings: NOT BETA READ, im sure this is so discombobulated but IDC!!!!!! anyways, swearing, mentions of death and the usual demigod stuff, mentions of monsters, idk pretty chill…, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your favorite story Clarisse ever told you is the one about soulmates.

She told it to you in the dark, in her bed, hand on the side of your face as she whispered to you like you were secret lovers.

She told you that humans once had two heads and four arms, but Zeus thought they would grow to be too powerful and split them apart. Hearts split in two, detained to roam the earth, trying to find each other.

That’s how it feels with Clarisse- like you’ve known her for years, like your bodies were born of the same speck of dust, souls grew next to each other, fires inside of you burning in the same altar for a hundred years before you met.

Clarisse approached you fast- hard and unrelenting like a hurricane. She wanted whatever she could take from you, love, comfort, a one-night.

It scared her when you wanted to give.

It was kind of crazy how easily the two of you just fit together, crazy how you both liked some things, both hated things, hated something things she liked and nice versa. It was like there was this natural balance between you, everything sort of cosmically weighed out- and it just felt so right to be with her that everything else faded away.

But it was clear that Clarisse fell head over heels for you, the way she would smile and just tell you that you were so different, so much better than her. You were everything she wasn’t, and she resented you so much for it she loved you.

You weren’t exactly sure why Clarisse loved you so much- maybe it was the way you respect her past, maybe it was the way you didn’t push- you just accepted the crazy and tried your best to save her with what little information you did have. It surprised her and you when you became the one to get greedy, to take from her, but you knew she loved the feeling of being wanted.

But lately, Clarisse has been particularly… off. It’s not exam season, so you can’t chalk it up to that. And she’s the most talented player on the field hockey team, you’ve seen her play- she’s overconfident and for good reason. She has no reason to be stressed there, unless somethings changed.

But something tells you it’s not that.

The first real concrete clue you ever got was when you first met her.

The library is where you met Clarisse. The one closest to your dorm hall, the one that’s two floors and built like an out-of-place Greek temple- it always makes you smile when Clarisse gives it a dirty look, trying to persuade you to go to any other library. It doesn’t make sense to you- why go to the one all the way across campus when this one is only a five minute walk?

She always seems on edge when she meets you in here, but she bites it back and won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. She says it’s just a weird thing she has, hard to explain, so you let it go when she clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she smiles, pulling out the chair next to you. She glances around the library, not nervously, but observant. Ready, waiting. She’s always been able to do that- scan an entire room in seconds and find out everything.

“Hi,” you smile, stretching as you push your books away from you, grateful for the distraction her brown eyes and sweet voice provide.

She picks up a textbook you’ve pushed off to the side. She scoffs at the title, mumbling about how she still doesn’t know why you would choose the major you did.

“How was practice?” you ask, choosing to ignore her remarks in favor of soaking up her attention and the much needed distraction.

“Boring,” she hums, rubbing her foot up and down your leg, head in her hands. “Freshmen are pissin’ me off, they don’t know shit. Coach has to teach them all the basics over again.”

You lay your head on a thick textbook, staring up at her. “The freshmen are always shitty. Then you love them by the end of the year.”

“I don’t,” she huffs, but some of her favorite members of the team are the freshmen she hated her sophomore year. “Whatever. It’s different, they all suck. Shouldn’t be here.”

“Sure,” you say, yawning again.

“Okay, did you not sleep last night?” she chuckles.

You shrug sheepishly, Clarisse is always so adamant you sleep and eat enough, but sometimes you have to sacrifice the little things for your grades.

“I had a test this morning, stayed up a little later cramming.”

“Uh-huh, so, like, until 1 in the morning? Worse?”

You hold your breath, sitting up as you conveniently look away from her. “3,” you exhale.

She smiles and puts a piece of hair behind your ear.

“But,” you smile, sensing the lecture. “After these five questions, I can be all yours for the rest of the day.”

She pretends to weigh her options.

“Well, I do like the sound of that.”

—-

The second clue is the way she always seems like she’s running away from something.

Your rooms are blessedly only a few doors down from each other, so someone is always sneaking into someone else’s and your roommates have both learned to deal with it.

Silena, Clarisse’s roommate, only greets you with a smile as you sheepishly slip past her in the mornings- Clarisse’s shirt haphazardly slipped over you.

So, on this day, you’re slumped in bed while Clarisse promises to take care of you, and you’re all too happy to let her.

She’s already spent the last hour lying with you in bed, letting you sleep on top of her- forcing you to catch up on some much needed hours of rest with her soft voice in your ear and hand trailing up your back.

She only got up when you mentioned you were hungry, immediately suggesting the idea of ordering from your favorite restaurant, refusing to be swayed by you back into your warm bed.

So, here you were, scrolling on your phone while you waited for the click of the door and the smell of hot food. And it comes, you prepare to make some quip about how dare she leaves you for almost a half hour.

Her keys jangle in her hands as she quickly shuts the door, turning around and pressing her back against it. She breathes out, heavily, before her eyes meet yours and she studies the shocked and confused look on your face.

“Ran up the stairs,” she smiles, leaving her keys and wallet on top of your dresser, dropping the bag of food on your bed before she goes to the window, peeking out of it. “Didn’t want my princess waiting for too long,” she chuckles.

You don’t even look at the bag of food in front of you. You reach out and grab her hand, and she flinches, but pulls away from the window and into your touch.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, and panic flashes in her eyes as she quickly rips open the bag.

“C’mon, don’t let it get cold.”

“Clar… baby,”

“Wanna watch a movie? Or play a game? Anything you want, sweetheart, jus’ say the word.”

—-

The third clue is the fact that you’re 99% sure she’s seeing things.

It sounds horrible to say, and sometimes late at night when she’s asleep against you, you wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do. You’ve only met her mom a few times, never met her father- Silena and her have been friends for years, but you still feel like it all falls to you.

It doesn’t, legally, maybe not even morally- but she’s your girlfriend. You should know what she wants, you should be able to advocate for her when she can’t.

So, the best thing you can think to do it ignore it. You pretend it doesn’t concern you, you pretend you don’t see it, you pretend because you can’t even think about the idea of her not being her, of her being away from you.

You focus on the moment.

You love these walks with Clarisse, her hand warm in yours. It was moments like these where you felt like Clarisse was your sun. Yes, the setting sun was warm against your back, but nothing made you feel alive like Clarisse did. Your hands swing together, hitting your hip, and she seamlessly switches from your hand to wrapping at arm around your waist.

You smile at her, cheeks hot. You go to adjust your bag as a means of distracting yourself, but your hand awkwardly ends up floating in the air when you realize Clarisse took your bag when she picked you up from your last class.

As if sensing the awkwardness, she hikes the tote bag farther up her shoulder.

“What’re your plans today, pretty girl?”

You hum, feeling so at ease with the way she calls you that pet name, with the way she squeezes you closer to her.

“Well, I finished my big project yesterday, don’t really have anything else to do, so I was just gonna chill. What ‘bout you?”

“Ugh,” she groans. “I have practice until 8. But I’ll come over after? And spend the night?”

You smile, laughing softly.

“I don’t know why you even ask anymore.”

“It’s polite,” she smiles. “I’m a very polite person, only when it comes to you.”

“I’ll see you at 8:15, huh?”

“Obviously,” she huffs, kissing your temple. Again, you feel like cheeks heat like this is the first day you met her. It’s embarrassing to be affected by her so much, but it’s also so sweet. Only she can draw out these reactions from you, this potent all these months later. It still feels like the first day with her sometimes, but you also feel like you’ve known her for years.

She bites her lip and hisses a curse word under her breath.

“What?” you ask, snapped out of the way she holds you so perfectly, following her eye line. She stares firmly in between two cars, but there’s nothing there.

“Nothing,” she says, not taking her eyes away from that spot- not even blinking, you realize after a second. She hides the way she gets, that unrelenting focus like when she’s playing in a game, with a laugh.

“Thought I saw that bitch from my 11am.” You look at her. You don’t believe her. She knows you don’t. And it breaks your heart that something is clearly happening, and you can’t force yourself to feel bad for ignoring it, and you can’t force her to tell you. “C’mon, let’s go.”

She moves to hold your hand and drags you off forcefully toward the direction of the entrance. She squints, almost like she’s driving off something with her mind.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, squeezing her hand, feeling unsettled just by the way she’s so clearly ready for a fight. It’s like she can see something you can’t.

She risks a small glance at you, a normal looking smile.

“It’s all good, baby. I’ve got you,” she smiles, reaching back like she’s stretching, but something where there’s nothing glints in the sunlight.

—-

The fourth clue is the fight with Silena.

She asked you to meet her at her dorm, wear something nice and pretty, and you’ll go out for a nice dinner and some ice cream. She’s been so busy with practice lately, it makes your entire body squeeze the way she jumps to spend time with you at the first off day she gets.

You smooth down your pretty top, the one you know you look good in, the one you know she likes. You’re about to knock on the door when you realize it’s been left open, just a crack. That’s when their voices rise, enough so you can hear them.

“It different now, Clar!”

“It’s. Not. It’s not different, it will never be different, nothing will ever change.”

“Before, Clarisse, when you told me you had this crush on the girl in your econ class, I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t care. But, Gods, Clarisse, anyone can see it’s different. She’s not just some girl, she’s your girl, your girlfriend, and you’re totally in love with her.”

“I know that,” she huffs. “I’m the one who’s actually in love with her. I love her, and I know her. I know what’s best for her.”

“And she’s in love with you too, Clarisse.”

She laughs. “I would hope so.”

“It’s different, Clarisse. It’s been different for a while, and I didn’t say anything because I thought you would notice. But you haven’t.”

“Fuck, Silena, please. Please, just stop. I’m not puttin’ her through that. I’m not putting myself through that again. I’m not that girl anymore. I am not my father’s daughter.”

“It never goes away, Clar.”

Silena’s voice is quiet, hesitant. Clarisse has confessed to you her struggles with her emotions all her life, particularly anger. Half the reason her mother sent her to that camp she always talks about was because she had such bad anger issues. But she worked through them, and you know she’s different now, she has healthy outlets and ways to cope.

But still, Silena seems scared.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You hear her walking towards you and quickly step back, smoothing your face out into a blank slate, tempted to hit yourself in the head to forget what you just heard.

The door swings open, and she smiles immediately when she sees you.

“Y/N,” she says, sticking her keys into her pocket. You force yourself to do your best smile. “Oh, baby, you look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile, letting her wrap her arms around you, letting her press a soft kiss against your lips.

—-

Clarisse made you laugh all night, made you smile, made you wonder how you ever got this far in life without her. She paid for your dinner and ushered you out of the restaurant, chuckling about how you drove her crazy and she just wanted you now-

Until she walked you to your car, opened the passenger door for you- suddenly shoving you inside and pushing the door softly closed, as much as she could get it with your foot still hanging out.

“Clarisse!” you shout, but she’s already appeared in the driver’s seat next to you, ushering you inside, reaching over and shutting the car door. She locks them with a satisfying click, finally letting her shoulder’s sink down. “What the fuck?” you huff.

“Sorry,” she smiles, hands squeezing the steering wheel. “It was the weirdest thing, a squirrel ran right over my foot, I got so freaked out…” she smiles, forces a laugh, but you only look at her unimpressed.

“Clarisse,” you sigh, letting your hands fall to your sides in defeat. “What’s going on? Please?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it.

“Just let me drive home,” she had said, and now you’re home, leading her into your dorm and she presses her back against the door.

You put your hands on her shoulders and she puts hers on your hips, she can’t look at you and you do your best to meet her eyes.

“Clarisse,” you say, a silent beg that all your suspicions are wrong, and everything and fine and she still loves you, she’s still your girlfriend.

“I’m not ready to tell you,” she rushes out. Her fingertips dig into your skin. “I’m not ready, okay? I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“T-that’s okay,” you say after a moment. “It’s okay. I just… you can tell me, when you’re ready. I’m just scared, I don’t know why this is happening, you’re being so different-”

She hugs you and puts her face into your neck.

“Please, Y/N,” she breathes, shaky breath tickling your neck. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything, just let that be enough, please.”

You hugs you quick and hard, and you’re so shocked by it that you almost take a step back. But you can’t, really, not with her arms so tight, so right around you. And once you realize it’s just your Clarisse, you coo softly and put your hand in her hair, the other around her shoulders.

“Of course it’s enough, baby. Of course, I just want you to know that I’m here… I’m here…”

You run your hand through her hair and she exhales.

“I know, I know it’s not perfect, but you’re all I have. You’re all I have, Y/N, just be here with me, please.”

“I will,” you breathe. “I will.”

Your mind is swirling with more questions than answers, but Clarisse asks you to call her baby again and leads you to your bed. And you do, you call her baby and tell her you love her.

And the realization comes slowly, but once it comes it feels so right.

You don’t know what’s going on with Clarisse. All you have are incoherent clues strung together, but you realize you don’t care. You love Clarisse more than you’re scared of a little crazy.

And you tell her that as she lays on top of you, and she simply takes her face out of your neck, the faintest hint of tears welling in her eyes.

“I love you crazy, baby,” you murmur.

She smiles, and you feel like you’re being sucked into the eye of a hurricane.

She lets out a soft breath, like she was scared, so scared- and you’re not sure she’s ever been scared before. But she’s scared of losing you. She’s scared of losing you, and that makes you giddy like a schoolgirl. That makes you love her even more.

“I’m a lot of crazy,” she says, and you can’t tell if she’s joking, but you laugh. You laugh like a hyena, because you love her more than you love yourself.

You want to be the harbor she comes back to each night, you want to be the pillow where she rests her head. You want to be a vault for her secrets and her love. You want to be everything for her and you want to be everything to her.

You don’t believe in Greek myths, but maybe that one about soulmates was right.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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kquil · 7 months

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JAMES POTTER | 16:49 ⏤ FREE GOODIES

SUM. : you had more baked goods than you were able to sell and decide to give them out for free to the firefighters at your local fire station to say thank you

TAGS. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; baker reader ; firefighter james ; james being a love sick puppy ; he hides it well though ; remus and sirius begin scheming ; everyone knows james is in love ; it's obvious to everyone but you

LENGTH : 1.6k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“No! Don’t tell me!” you giggle as the man behind the counter grins widely and laughs along with you, his hazel eyes carefully watching as you bring up a brown paper bag and a steaming take-away cup of coffee, “Our special BLT sandwich and a dark roast, cocoa blend to go,”

“All ready for me, huh?” James teases as you smile innocently. He pays for his order and goes to inspect the contents of the brown paper bag as you move behind the cash register and file away his notes, “And a mini treacle tart!” James’ voice lights up in cheerful surprise when he sees the unexpected treat but hurriedly goes in search for more payment in his wallet.

“Don’t you dare, James,” you scold light-heartedly, “it’s on the house,” his movements stop and he meets your eyes, ready to retaliate. However, sensing your seriousness, his shoulders slacken and his expression eases into a grateful smile instead.

“Thanks, you’re an angel,” of course, he couldn’t help but send you a wink. His words spread a heat across your cheeks but you pay it no mind, hoping that any signs of your flustered state can be ignored as long as you didn’t draw attention to it.

“I know I am~”

“Take care, angel,” with a toothy grin and a wave, James turns and leaves, his day already looking as bright as could be.

James has been visiting your little bakery and cafe for the better part of a year now; he’s become one of your beloved regulars, maybe one of your most beloved. He was just too handsome and charming for his own good, cute and sweet and always gentleman with you. His uncontrollable dark curls and round glasses gave him this boyish appeal that you couldn’t help but fall for. His voice is smooth and comforting, his eyes a mesmerising hazel, his lips a pretty shape—

“Hey!” snapping out of your daze, you turn to your co-worker in shock.

“Wh-what?”

She smirks and wiggles her brows at you, “I knew you had a thing for him,”

“Oh shush Leona!” you huff and fold your arms but burn hotter in the cheeks when she laughs at you.

“No need to deny it, I can see why you’re so head over heels~”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” making your way over, you playfully nudge her side as you plant yourself beside her and help with the cupcake decorations.

Gasping, Leona grasps at her chest in mock offence, “I never believed you were that kind of boss! I was tricked—!” her mock ramblings were cut off with another nudge to her side that sent the both of you into a fit of giggles.

“What should we do with all this?” you ask with a huff, staring in disappointment at all the leftovers in your display cases. Most would only end up in the trash and it broke your heart to see such goodies go to waste.

“Why don’t you donate them at the local police station or fire department?” Leona suggests with a smile as she wipes down surfaces, “The fire department isn’t too far from here so you can go there first and do the police station on another day we have extra leftovers,”

Smiling brightly, you nod and get to work, “Brilliant idea Leona! How come I’ve never thought of that before?”

“Maybe because you’re too busy all the time?” with a light-hearted pout, she faces you and presses on about how you need to consider yourself as a priority for once and actually go home on time. She had a point; the bakery was consuming your life. But you worked hard on the things that mattered to you and that was always a trait you were proud of. Every day you return home with pride and fulfilment in your heart; you loved that feeling despite the ache in your limb. Sighing, your enthusiasm slows considerably but you keep on packing up a random selection of baked goods, “Just think about it at least, boss,” Leona comes up behind you and gives you a quick but heartfelt hug, “we want you to be our boss forever so you have to stay healthy,” just like she always does, she brings a smile to your lips and slowly helps you with packing up the rest.

With the bakery closed up, you head out with your packaged leftovers piled high in the passenger seat of your car and wave goodbye to Leona before pulling away. She was right in saying that the fire station wasn’t too far, it was a short five-minute drive from your bakery with parking close by too.

It was a little unnerving. You had never done this before. And, even though you knew there was nothing wrong with doing this, your nerves still caused a stir in your chest and stomach at the thought of facing such brave and dedicated workers. However, it was that simple thought that pushed you forward. These men and women deserved free baked goodies and more for all of their hard work, there was no need to be shy about it. Balancing the stacked packages in your arms, you push the front door open with your back and carefully turn around as you step into the space.

“Whoa, you need help with those?” someone calls from your left and you turn to see a handsome brunette, standing tall with an almost invisible dusting of freckles on his nose and a faint scar across his cheek and jaw.

“Good afternoon!” you chirp happily and sheepishly accept his kind assistance, “I— umm, I wanted to give you guys some of the baked goods from my bakery. We made a little too much today,”

He grins widely as he appraises the tall stack of packages before turning to you with gratefulness in his eyes, “So that’s what smells so delicious,” the two of you share a laugh, “Thank you so much for this, it’s very kind of you,” a warm heat coats your cheeks as you shyly wave off his praise, which he shakes his head at discreetly but still maintains his happy grin, “come,” he tilts his head to one direction, “lets go feed everyone,”

Remus introduces himself as he leads you down a hallway to the lounge room, where he suspected most of his colleagues congregated to. When you give your name in return, he tilts his head and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Oh nothing,” he chuckles softly, “I just thought it sounded familiar,” you had questions but shrugged and shrugged them off as unimportant when the two of you finally made it into the lounge area. Entering the space, you see the firemen scattered around the wide room, a group were playing cards around a table with several spectators, one or two were reading a book while another small group stood by a small kitchenette with steaming mugs, chatting between themselves.

“Remus!” a dark haired man with a visible neck tattoo walks up from where he stood observing the card game, just so he could sling his arm over the brunette’s broad shoulders, “Who’s our cute guest?”

Remus introduces you and the purpose of your visit but his voice slowly fades into the background as soon as you meet eyes with a very familiar pair of hazel pools.

“James?” blinking in surprise, you tilt your head and observe the man in his fireman uniform, minus the heavy jacket, leaving him in a black compression shirt to showcase his muscles. It made your cheeks heat up again but hotter. You had no idea how brawny he was with his soft charm and sweet face. But this was a very pleasant surprise.

The man in question stands up, staring at you as if in a trance and makes his way over as Remus and his raven-haired friend step away with devious grins on their faces. They weren’t the only ones however, everybody else in the room looked on with a similar grin stretching across their lips, slightly leaning forward in their interest.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he sounds like he’s choking on air, breathless and in complete disbelief at the sight of you.

“I uh– there were some leftover goodies at the bakery so I thought I could give them to you guys…as a thank you for all your good work,” you admit softly, staring up at him with timid eyes and watching with a gradually racing heart as a toothy grin takes over his features. His eyes sparkled with mirth under the fluorescent light and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. How does he do that?

“You’re really too kind,” and so perfect James wanted to finish, ignorant to his friends’ snickering. Please be mine! It was a desperate wish and one that he had been making for a long time but he needed to keep his cool. He understands how overbearing and clingy he could be at times and didn’t want to frighten you.

“You guys deserve it,” you return and silently hold up your packages with a smile. Happily, he takes the load and leads you to a table where he helps spread them out for his friends and colleagues to take as they please. Everyone around you gushes at the array and sings your praises in between their gratitude for the kind gesture. Amongst all the chatter, you also manage to hear soft whisperings that didn’t quite fit the rest of the words at the forefront of surrounding conversations.

“That’s the cute baker Jamesie has been gushing about for months now, huh?”

“Seems so. Finally, we can put a name to the face,”

There was some laughter, “He looks like a love sick puppy,”

From the corner of your eye, you observe James and the goofy grin on his face, trapped in a daze as he stares down at you with adoring eyes and a soft blush on his cheeks. In your head, you make a mental note to visit the fire department more often.

A/N : it just feels right that James is a firefighter, right? i'm not the only one who thinks this? nevertheless, i hopefully managed to convince you lovelies otherwise hehehe~

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @fortheeeefics @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

#james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter imagine #𐂂 : timestamp #james potter fanfiction #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #firefighter James potter #fireman James potter

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azsazz · 5 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 6)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Not edited lol

Word Count: 2,891

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Masterlist]

Notes: Of course the first fic post of 2024 has to be MM 💙

_________________________________________

“So, you just think you’re free to do so as you please, where you please?” Your grating voice startles Azriel from the work he’s doing. The oil drain plug slips from his fingers as he winces, falling into the pan below.

His bike had needed some servicing, nothing he wasn’t able to take care of himself, though Cassian was supposed to meet up with him after the only class he had today and he hasn’t shown yet. His roommate was pretty handy, had to be, with how old and how often his rustic Bronco is. He’d offered to help Az, or at least sit outside and pester him, whatever he was feeling.

Apparently, he wasn’t feeling much like showing up at all, which was fine because Azriel knew exactly what needed to be done and enjoyed listening to the sounds of the world while he worked; birds chirping as they chased each other from tree to tree, other students happily talking as they walk down the block, and the occasional car driving up the street. It’s easy to focus on something like this, and he’s feeling a lot looser than he has been as of late, though he doesn’t expect that to last very long.

He wishes Cassian were here to be a buffer right now.

What Azriel doesn’t understand is what you’re doing here. Obviously, he knows very well that you live here, but after the harsh few meetings the two of you have shared, he’s not entirely sure why you’re approaching him, of all people.

Grimacing, he slips his glove-covered hand into the dark oil pan, feeling through the thick, slick liquid for the plug. He needs it, and he hadn’t really wanted to get this dirty, but at least he has boxes and boxes of gloves to use at his disposal.

He eyes you, squinting from the sun haloing around your head. You look just as you had the day you moved in—a frown tugging the corners of your mouth down, pretty eyes glaring down instead of up at him through your lashes. Your arms are crossed over your chest too, and even though it’s been a few days since he’s last seen you, he isn’t surprised about the scowl you wear.

It hadn’t been enough to avoid you, it seemed. You were going to run into each other no matter what. But he’d avoided you this long, even kept his music down to a lower volume. Okay, so, one click lower hadn’t quite made you back off of him, still pounding on the walls late at night, but he’s been trying to be nicer about it, actually listening to those knocks, lowering his music or stuffing his earbuds into his ears.

Seems like it hasn’t made you any happier, his trying.

“Am I disturbing your afternoon, all the way out here, princess?” He asks, tacking on the little nickname he knows you hate because it will get under your smooth skin.

Your foot taps with your annoyance, rhythmically. It kind of sounds like the bass line to one of his favorite songs. He realizes now that you’re not wearing any shoes. His brows furrow and his eyes slide back to yours, watching your lips purse. He can’t hide the smirk spreading across his mouth so he turns his head back to his work, watching the oil filling the pan.

“I told you not to call me that,” you growl, and he glances up, enjoying the way your nose scrunches up. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be doing this in the middle of the parking lot.”

“That’s funny,” he snipes, because why won’t you just leave him alone? “I didn’t ask you.”

Your cheeks go red. Azriel brushes it off, grabbing a few paper towels from the roll he’s brought out and wiping the oil plug clean. He’s meticulous with it, making sure all of the threads are clean before he sets it aside to wipe his gloves off. He grabs the new filter and removes the packaging, awaiting your snarky response.

You sigh, sitting down on the curb. “Look, I locked myself out and my phone is inside. Can you maybe text Cassian and have him let Feyre know the situation? He has her number.”

He cuts you a glance before his hazel eyes flicker away. Since when did Cassian have either of your numbers? Since when did he talk to you?

“He should be here in a little while,” Azriel answers, removing the old filter. He tosses it in the pan with the used oil and wipes his gloves again, cleaning them before he reaches for the new filter to replace. It slides in easily, and he caps the drain. “You can ask him then.”

You huff like it’s the most inconvenient answer in the world, but he doesn’t want to get oil on his phone, and he doesn’t want to take his gloves off right now. Not ever, but certainly not in front of you of all people. “Please, can you not be a prick right now? I’d rather let her know as soon as possible so I don’t have to be around you.”

Not exactly the response he was thinking you’d give, but it sparks his irritation anyway.

“I’m not being a prick. I’m working on something and you’re interrupting me because you’ve made the mistake of locking yourself out. Maybe you should take your phone the next time you go to the office to complain.”

Your face flushes and your mouth drops open in a gape.

Yeah, he heard all about that.

Azriel glares, unscrewing the fresh bottle of oil with a little more force than is necessary. But he’s annoyed now and he just wants to finish this so he can go on a nice long drive, far away from you.

You swallow harshly. “You’re right, I’m so—”

“Now here’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” Cassian’s voice echoes around the parking lot, startling the both of you. Azriel wills the oil into the hole faster, because he can’t bear seeing Cassian being all buddy-buddy with you. “What are you doing out here with no shoes on?”

Azriel glances at you from the corner of his eye. Your gaze flickers away as soon as his eyes land on you, turning your attention to Cassian, but you look a little defeated, shoulders curled in on yourself as if trying to hide from him.

“I uh, got locked out of my apartment and my phone is inside. I was just asking Azriel if I could borrow his phone to text you, but here you are.”

Azriel notes the way that his name rolls off of your tongue.

“Here I am, saving damsels all day long,” Cassian jokes, and you laugh.

The bottle in his hand slips, oil dripping down the paint of his bike as Azriel quickly fixes the spout back into place.

Neither you nor Cassian seem to notice, thankfully.

“Still need help, Az?” His roommate asks, but Azriel shakes his head.

“All good, man.”

“Great. (Y/N), why don’t you come on inside and I’ll wait with you until Feyre gets home. Maybe we can pick up where we left off in class.” Cassian slings an arm over your shoulder and grunts dramatically at the shove you give him. Azriel doesn’t like how friendly you’re being with each other, fingers tightening around the nearly empty bottle of oil.

And you have a class with Cassian too? He doesn’t like that either.

Not. One. Bit.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It’s not right.

Nothing is ever fucking right.

The tattoo gun in his hand shakes and the line squiggles, array, just like his thoughts.

It’s well into the night and yet he can’t find sleep again. Azriel had tried, he really, truly, had. He’d been tired, lied down and shoved his headphones into his ears, praying that the music would keep the thoughts at bay. Flashes of memories shattered the songs, menacing words slipping between lyrics, slicing into his brain like spears no matter how loud he turned the music.

He’d tossed, turned, done anything he could to fight away the nasty thoughts, but nothing had worked.

It had been another long day in an endless string of them. Working on both his portfolio and practicing on any willing participant he could find. Usually, his roommates. Cassian had begged him for the stupidest tattoo he’s ever been asked for—even worse than a tiny little pink unicorn tramp stamp. Even though Azriel had needed the practice badly, there was no way he’d tattoo the words ‘in case I forget later:thank you’ across Cassian’s hips.

He wouldn’t be a good friend for allowing Cass to get that, and it wouldn’t look good in his portfolio anyway.

After having a pizza dinner with his roommates, who were all too lazy to want to cook on the first night of classes, Azriel included, he’d gone straight to his room for his sketchpad, ignoring Rhysand calling after him, asking if he wanted to watch a movie with them. A part of Azriel did. He wants to be able to forget everything in his stupid brain and give his full attention to a movie, but tonight isn’t the night for that. Not with all of the dark ink splashing through his mind.

So, he’d stuffed his headphones in his ears so as not to disturb his roommate's movie night, and pulled down one of the many sketchbooks he has neatly stacked upon the shelf above his desk.

It’s black cover stared at him, the void of it much like the dark matter in his mind. The leather bound journal is thick, more so than any of his other sketchbooks, as if he can shove all of the bad thoughts into it and bind it shut so they can never escape.

It had been his therapist’s idea, the sketchbook. He’d always liked art and had drawn from a young age, but the thoughts in his brain didn’t always equate to something positive. He’d struggled with it alone for the longest time, but the incident with his step-brothers had forced him to seek therapy, encouraged by both of his roommates.

Azriel had found that therapy was not for him within the first twenty minutes of the session. He didn’t like the woman trying to pick his brain. He didn’t like her fake niceties and recounting the accident he’d been trying so hard to block from his memory. He didn’t like that his hands shook the entire time, no matter how hard he’d curled them into fists. They’d shook for the rest of the week, and it had made him angrier than ever, felt like retelling what had happened only made the memories so much clearer, giving them permission to stick to his brain.

He hated it.

But she had suggested journaling, or drawing in a sketchbook. So, despite not signing up for another session with her, he drove down to the local art supply, and bought the thickest, darkest sketchbook he could find. Azriel drove to his favorite spot in town, sat there for hours and hours, pouring every little emotion he could into the drawings until he could barely uncurl his fingers from his pencil.

He stared at the drawings and they stared right back, taunting him with their dark, shaky lines and sharp-fanged smiles. His chest constricted, breath caught thickly in his throat, and he’d slammed the sketchbook shut, binding it with the leather cord and knotting it so tightly he didn’t know if his fucked up fingers would be able to unwork it. But he’d trapped them inside of the book, and they hadn’t been able to get out. For a few days, anyway.

Azriel had considered throwing it off of a cliff. Had considered burning it, tossing it into the lake, digging a hole at the state lines and burying it. He hadn’t done any of those things, though. Once his breathing had calmed and his hands stopped shaking so badly he’d tucked it into his bag and shoved it up on the shelf with the rest of his sketch pads. No one would notice. Cassian and Rhysand didn’t enter his room if he wasn’t around, and no one else was allowed in there. Most of his other sketch books were black as well, so this one was hidden well in the midst of the others.

It brings him to now. He’d pulled the dusty sketchbook from his shelf, opening it with once again shaky hands. The thoughts had been harder to dispel lately, sleep more difficult to find. It had been easy to attempt drawing out the demons with the loudest music he could find, but even he could admit, that after letting those harrowing memories from their cage and onto the paper where he could shut the cover and trap them, he felt a little better.

Better enough to attempt to work on his tattooing skills.

But the gun in his hand still shakes.

“Fuck,” he curses, tossing the gun onto his desk. The clatter cuts through his earbuds and slides, skidding to a stop once it’s knocked into the cup of pencils and sticks of charcoal. A plume of black puffs from the chalk falling from the rim and Azriel glares. “Fuck this!”

He swipes at the jagged lines of the mountain he’d been inking above his kneecap with a paper towel, scowling at the bite of uncomfort that follows the motion. The jaggedness of his lines can be passed off as the snow lining the mountain, but he’s still pissed off. If he can’t straighten out his lines, there’s no hope for an apprenticeship at all. Of course, he can fall back on his charcoal drawings, but he’s never wanted anything more than this. He’s dreamed of becoming a tattoo artist, loves everything about it, and he doesn’t want to give everything he’s worked towards up.

Azriel slumps in his seat, ripping the black latex gloves suctioned to his hands off. Running his fingers through his hair he squeezes his eyes shut tight, swallows the lump in his throat, and breathes deeply. In. Out. In. Out again.

The music is no longer helping. He tears the buds from his ears, replacing them in their charging case with shaking hands. He grits his teeth as he stares down at the marred flesh, willing them to stop trembling.

They don’t.

Before he can do something he might regret—like smash all of his things to bits, a noise draws his attention.

It’s not coming from the living room where Rhysand and Cassian are watching some action movie. He can hear the sounds of reckless driving and explosions creeping from beneath his door. This sound, however, has something zipping up his spine, his ears perking as he listens for more.

There’s a low moan, muffled by the thin wall connecting your room from his. It sounds soft and sweet, has Azriel’s spine going tight as he sits straight in his chair, cheeks getting hotter when he realizes it’s you, and the moan is a sensual one.

You must not think he’s home because he’s not blasting music, or you don’t care if he is, or maybe this is your way of getting back at him for all of the times he’s been rude to you since you moved in.

A low curse emits from your mouth, and Azriel might think that you were in pain if he didn’t recognize the lust lining the noises you’re making, the way you seem to be begging for it, calling out to the God of Pleasure.

He can’t sit here, can’t listen to this. He can’t humanize you or listen to the sweet sounds you’re making through the wall. It’s too perverted. As much as it makes his cheeks heat it feels wrong to be listening to you pleasure yourself through his wall. His body is coiled tighter than it had been with his harrowed thoughts, and he doesn’t realize that his hands have finally stopped quivering.

Azriel springs from his chair, slipping out of his room like his ass is on fire, although there’s a warmth beneath his skin that isn’t one of hatred.

“Took you long enough,” Cassian complains when he plants himself on the couch beside him, tugging a pillow onto his lap. He needs something to hold onto, is all. His friend shoves a bowl of popcorn his way, and Azriel takes a handful, stuffing the buttery goodness into his suddenly dry mouth. “You’ve missed all the good parts, but we’re watching the second one next. Rhys will fill you in.”

“No, I won’t,” Rhys adds, completely engrossed in the car chase that’s happening. “He didn’t want to watch it when we asked, so it’s his loss.”

It’s fine, really, because the movie is the furthest thing from his mind.

Azriel can barely focus on what they’re saying, on the brightness of the movie that makes him squint, so different from that of the soft lighting in his room while he worked. He refuses to look at anything but the screen but his eyes are unfocused as his mind wanders, and then his eyes are following until he’s staring straight at the door to his room as if he can see past it and through the wall inside.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @vellichor01 @hirah-yummar @girl-who-writes-stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @konaanaria13 @emiler-love @yourdorkiness @azrielsstarlight @saltedcoffeescotch @badpvn @prongslena

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel/reader #midnight muse #art school au #tattoo arstist!azriel

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lixern · 7 months

Text

; xx. wriothesley x gn!reader , modern au

imagine being in a mall youve never gone to before with your friends, so they know the place and you dont. they give you locations but you just cant memorize them all! you tell your friends youre going to the restroom, and they tell you directions to the restaurant theyre going to so you agree to meet up with them there. well.. when you step out- wait, what was the restaurant's name again?

you ponder for awhile, what is it? but then suddenly forget the directions they gave you. god, you just have to wing it.

well, wing it you didnt! you got lost, and didnt see any of your friends in the restaurants you walked pass. you look around for reliable looking people to ask, and there you see a man with black hair with a few gray streaks, with supeeeeerrrr light blue cute eyes! a few piercings and a wolfish appearance to him. you walk up to him and..

tap tap "hey.. uhm- do you know how to get to.." you say, embarassed. you literally just forgot the name!

aha! nevermind that, you just remembered!

"*******. ya, the restaurant? thats the one i think!"

you look like a lost dog!! infront of the most sculpted man youve ever seen aswell... hes so cute, you shouldve asked someone else for directions or your nose probably wouldve bled infront of him if you didnt keep your composture. especially infront of his friends! they looked so attractive too. long, white hair with blue streaks and a dark purplish blue type of hair color? god, youre surprised how such good looking people exist.

he turns to look at you the second you tap him, and now you realize just how tall he is the way he stares down at you!

"Well sure, but the buildings preeeettty big so you want me to escort you?"

wow.. his voice was super hot too. well- wait! nows not the time to dream!!!

you look at him and nod, too stunned at his appearance to speak. you watch him talk to his friends, hearing them but not listening. he then pats your shoulder, signalling your leave. huh.. maybe youll ask his number later.

you walk with him, a bit flustered at how tall he towers over you. should you engage in conversation, should you stay quiet? how do you avoid embarassing yourself infront of a gods creation?!?!

"so, whats your name?"

the man asks in the middle of your pondering, well atleast you dont have to think about that anymore. so.. you give him your name and ask his!

"well, it's [name]. how bout you?"

you sound pretty cool, but inside you arent!! he sounds so pretty, hes indeed a pretty boy..

"wriothesley." he says with a gentle smile, looking down at you with bright eyes. he seems fond of you, but you dont know that!

"rio- rizzley? wosley??" you try to pronounce the name, failing ultimately.

"wrio, for short." he chuckles, patting you on the back. whats up with all the physical affection its driving you mad!!!!!

you laugh slightly, smiling a bit too sweetly for your first interaction and, he notices. but he doesnt wanna scare you away.. youre just so cute!

you talk and talk with him, and hes the same level of talkative as you are! finally, someone who actually responds to your yapping! you just wish he could be your boyfriend right now.. waitwait. you guys just met no way!

its been about 5 or more minutes you guess, then you see him pull out a white card on his bag and write something on it with a pen. he puts the pen back and shoves the card into his pocket. you then speak up, pointing at a restaurant and asking him if its that one. he says yes, nodding as he does so.

"i can go there by myself now, thanks for the help wrio!"

but no, he disagrees.

"nah, i think ill just bring you there. you might get lost even if its just right there."

he smirks, mischievously at that. but.. its kinda cute not gonna lie. so you just nod and walk with him. his hand slides across your side, your hand then the bag you carry, it drives you insane how close you are!

you finally get there, smiling up at him. admiring his pretty face one more time before having to let the sight go.

"thank you really, for the help- I hope it wasnt a distraction to you and your friends hangout or something..."

a light red tint dusts over his cheeks, as he says a polite "your welcome" before walking away. you first fix your composture before entering, but then suddenly.. wait! you forgot to grab his number!!!

"wrio!" you scream, but hes too far to hear you so you just weep internally in vain, before entering the restaurant.

your friends scold you, its been like 20 minutes since they were there! little do they know you got a bit lost.. you sit down beside them, before noticing the pocket in the bag you carried had a little white card peeking out of it...

on the back of the card in the clearest space there is, you read..

i know its just a business card im sorry aha, pretty shit way to tell you my number yeah? but its all i have right now.

maybe you dont have to say goodbye to his pretty face after all.

#genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x reader fluff #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin impact writing

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wafflefries13 · 11 days

Text

Walk Me Home (Bakugou x Reader)

Summary: You get help with a stalker from an unexpected hotheaded source.

AN: I posted this a while ago, like a couple of years, but Tumblr ate it. So, repost!

Warnings: Stalking, kidnapping, canon typical violence. Sort of an au where hero work is more of a college track.

You were racing the drops of condensation dripping down the frosted cooler glass. Personally, you thought the one on the far left was going to win. The center had been in the lead, but it crashed into a glop of drops and was forced to a sudden halt. The middle left gained a sudden lead by dropping down through an empty space. It veered suddenly and crashed into the far left, both of them stopping dead.

Well, so much for that.

That was the fifth race you’d monitored this hour. You’d spent the previous hour walking around the aisles of the convenience store you were holed up in, rotating the chip bags, soda bottles, and cans so that all the labels faced outward. The hour before that you spent memorizing the employee cleaning manual kept under the sink in the customer bathroom. And the hour before that you had spent tirelessly counting every ceiling and floor tile (Ceiling = 237, Floor = 422.) You were kind of surprised the worker behind the register hadn't said anything by this point. His feet were kicked up on the counter, and you were pretty sure he hadn’t looked up from his magazine since you came in.

It was dark outside by now, the street lights the only way to see where you were going. It had been early evening when you had first rushed in. Abandoning your condensation drop race, you sneaked a look out the wide windows that lined the front of the store. There, half-way hidden in the shadows of the large tree, silhouetted by the street lamp light. You jerked back, heart jumping up 100 beats per minute. God, you hoped he hadn’t seen you. But he had to know you were in here. So why hadn’t he come in? Why hadn’t he left?

You felt sick. You were going to be sick.

The door chimed as they slid open. Your fight or flight response kicked into overdrive

(Definitely flight). You ducked behind a display of dill pickle flavored chips. Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Did you jinx yourself? Did he see you looking out and take that as an invitation? If he tried to do something, would the cashier help you? Would he even think something was wrong? Would he call a hero?

“Hey,” A voice broke you out of your panicked internal monologue. “The hell are you doing down there?”

Wait. You knew that gruff, irreverent voice.

“Bakugou?”

You and Bakugou were in the same class at UA. You weren’t sure he actually knew your name, though, much less that you sat a few seats away from each other.

You looked up from your crouch behind the chips display at his confused and slightly annoyed looking vermilion eyes. Well, his default state was slightly annoyed, so maybe that second part didn’t mean much. He had one hand in his pocket, the other loosely holding a bottle of cola by the neck.

“Umm,” you said, flustered. “I dropped a 500 yen coin. So, you know, don’t want to lose that. And, hey! These chips are 500 yen, too! So if I find it I can get a bag!” You nervously laughed, still not standing.

He narrowed his eyes at you, furrowing his eyebrows. Letting your self-consciousness take over, you slowly stood, rubbing your arm awkwardly and not meeting his gaze. Your eyes nervously darted to the large window, trying to see past the glare of the store lights.

“The hell are you looking at?” Bakugou said, lazily turning his head to look out.

“Don’t!” You said without thinking. You grabbed his uniform shirt sleeve and pulled him toward you, if only to get his attention away from looking outside.

He jerked back away from you, bringing up his arm as a barrier between you, as if you could ever do anything to hurt him. “Hah? What the hell?”

You looked away, wringing your hands together. “Sorry, I just… Can-can you do me a favor?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Outside, across the street, there’s a big oak tree next to the street light. Is there… Is there someone still standing there?”

His glare turned less harsh. He rotated his neck and shoulders as if he was stretching his muscles, sneaking a glance through the window. He hummed low in his throat and turned back to you. “Yeah, there’s some creep there. Can’t make them out too well. You know that guy?”

You pressed your lips, slinking farther to the back of the store and away from the view of the window. “It’s nothing. I can deal with it later. Sorry to bother you.”

“Jeez,” Bakugou huffed, not buying it for a second. He followed your retreat, looming over you as your back hit the cold window door of the fridge. “You’re really bad at lying, aren’t you? What, is he some ex you’re trying to avoid? Owe someone money?” He smirked at his joke, but his face turned serious again when he saw your concerned and fearful expression.

“The truth is,” you started in a whisper. “I have a stalker. That guy out there has been following me for a few weeks. Usually it’s from school to work, but today he was waiting till I got done with my shift. I-I didn’t want him to know where I live, so I started taking all these back streets to try and lose him. I thought he’d just get bored or something, but he was always just behind me. So I came in here. Maybe if I Just waited here for a while he’d get bored and leave, but he’s been standing out there, waiting for me, for hours now, and I just want to go home and forget all about this but if I step outside…”

You weren’t sure when you started crying. All you knew was that at some point you couldn’t keep it in any more and everything started pouring out. You started hiccuping with the effort to keep back tears and making a scene, the heels of your hands digging into your eyes. Bakugou awkwardly rubbed the back of his head and looked away.

“Jeez,” he said under his breath. “I never know what to do when girls cry. Uh, hang in there?” He patted your shoulder, bringing his hand back when you flinched from his touch. “Have you, like, tried calling the police?”

“Of course I have. They said they can't do anything because he hasn’t actually done anything illegal. And it’s not like I can get a restraining order or something because I don’t know who he is.” You sniffed.

“Huh. Well. You want me to go kick his ass?”

Your brain took a second to process his response, then you burst out in a fit of giggles. He smiled back, more like a self-satisfied smirk. You tried to gulp down a breath, laughing becoming frenzied as the stress of the situation finally overwhelmed you. Then, as suddenly as you started, you stopped as an idea slammed into you.

“Actually, maybe you could do that.” Bakugou quirked his brow at you. “No, not literally. I mean, well, you’re scaring looking-“

“Hey!”

“And I was just thinking that maybe if someone was with me - if you were with me - when I walked home, then he wouldn’t think he could, I don’t know, take advantage of the situation?”

“You want me to be your bodyguard?”

“I mean, when you put it like that…” You fiddled with your hands again.

You stood in silence, the only sound the buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you and the hum of the drinks fringes behind you.

Bakugou shoved his drink in your hands. “Pay for this for me. I’m gonna grab some instant noodles and boa buns too. You know how to get home from here?”

You blinked up at him, twisting the bottle anxiously in your hands. “If we get to the train station, then I know where to go from there.”

He jerked his head to the front. “Great, let’s hurry it up. I want to get home too, you know.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Move your ass.”

You followed closely behind him, paying for the snacks at the counter. You hesitated when the doors to the convenience store slide open, standing half-way out. The street light hit your eyes differently out here, blinding you to the already dark shadows. Was that a twitch of movement? A hidden figure in the mess of shapes cast by the trees?

Bakugou’s grip on your wrist shocked you out of your grim hyperactive imagination like a bucket of ice water. His mouth was pulled into a frown, but he gently pulled you out of the doorway. He let you go as you walked out of the light of the store. You desperately wanted him not to.

It didn’t take long before you heard a third set of footsteps join yours and Bakugou’s. You inched closer to him, arms brushing together. Seemingly unconcerned, Bakugou munched on a boa bun.

“Hey,” He said. The abruptness of it in the otherwise silent night made you jump. “Didn’t you win the 50 meter dash in the sports festival last year?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Cool. This should be easy, then.”

He whipped around, chucking the boa bun directly at the man following you. You heard a sound of surprise. Bakugou grabbed your hand and took off in the other direction. Your feet pounded against the sidewalk, knees high in a way that you would have considered indecent in your uniform skirt if you weren’t already terrified. Your heart pounded in your ears as he led you down turn after turn, block after block. After the length of several 50 meter dashes, he let go of your hand, Both of your long strides slowing down as you came to a stop in the glow of the train station’s entrance. You bent over, hands steadying yourself on your thighs. Next to you, Bakugou stretched backward, pulling his arms back to ease the muscles.

“Well, that wasn’t too terrible, huh?” He said with a smirk.

You gave a breathy laugh. Standing up, you searched the dark around you for any signs of human disturbance. You pushed your hair out of your face, sweat sticking to your forehead from your impromptu marathon.

“Sorry you had to sacrifice your bun.”

He shrugged. “You‘ll just owe one. You know where to go from here?”

The two of you started down the road back to your house. You tried to fill the space between you with small talk. Bakugou would grunt in response every once and a while. You tried to ignore the feeling that he was getting annoyed with you. But whenever you would trail off, he’d snap at you to continue your line of thought.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you finally got home, just that it was late. The windows were dark and you fumbled with your key. Bakugou skeptically observed your house.

“You’re not home alone, right?” He asked.

“I am, actually. My parents work for a pretty new company, so they’re out of the city a lot for business trips.”

“Hah?” He sounded indignant, like you personally offended him. “They left you alone with this creep around?”

“I mean, I haven’t really told them.” You pressed your lips, trying not to meet his furious glare. “They already just deal with a lot. And I already told you what the police said. I just don’t want to worry them, you know?”

He tapped your forehead with his knuckles. “Idiot. Parents are supposed to worry, that’s what they’re there for.” He glowered as his cell phone rang. Fishing it out of his pocket, he mumbled, “Speak of the devil.” He held up a hand in goodbye. You waved a little before dropping in to a bow of gratitude. You could hear him arguing with the person on the other end of the line.

You triple checked all the locks on your windows and doors, turning on all the lights. You drew the curtains in tight, not looking too deeply into the dark outside. But you were home now, you were safe behind these familiar walls. And besides, that guy didn’t know where you lived, right?

~~~

You were still half asleep at your desk in school the next day. You hadn’t slept well last night, jerking back awake at the slightest irregular noise. You were becoming a wreck. You weren’t sure exactly how much more of this you could take. After you had woken up for the n-th time last night, you had typed out a text to your mom, explaining what was happening back home. Agonizing over the text, you ended up deleting it.

You started nodding off. You could just rest your eyes for a second, right? It was a passing period, so you had some time.

A stack of textbooks slammed down on your desk. You shrieked, throwing yourself back. You would have fallen back if someone didn’t catch your chair.

“Whoa, hang on there, (Y/N)!” Kirishima caught your chair and set you back upright. Bakugou drummed his fingers on the textbooks he had just stopped your heart with.

“Thought you were going to bed after I left last night,” He said.

“Ooh, left last night?” Mina said, sliding over. “Is there something we need to know?”

“Lay off, Pinkie!”

“No, it’s no big deal, really!” You tried to salvage the situation, waving your hands in front of you. “We just walked home in the same direction is all.”

“Walking home together?” Sero said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a pretty big leap in your relationship, don’t you think, Bakugou?”

“I said to lay off, you damn extras!”

The small group started playfully arguing with each other. It didn’t feel at all serious, especially since every one but Bakugou was laughing and joking against his threats.

“Can’t anyone have a private conversation around here?” Bakugou said angrily. He stomped away, turning back at the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?” Realizing he was talking to you, you quickly excused yourself and hurried after him.

Bakugou was leaning out an open window, the autumn wind tossing his hair. Not sure exactly what you say, you bowed a little. “Thanks again for last night.”

“Do you have any clubs after school?” Bakugou asked, ignoring your gratitude.

You blinked.”No, I don’t. I have to head to work after the final bell.”

“And how far is that from here?”

“Not very. It’s a Japanese sweets cafe that opened nearby. I’ve seen some people with our school’s uniform there, so I guess it’s pretty popular here.”

“And how long’s your shift?”

“From 4 to 6:30 on school days, 8 to 4 on the weekends. But, um, why?”

He scoffed, knocking your forehead with his knuckle like he had the night before. “Idiot. Obviously because I’m gonna make sure you get to work and home okay. You said that weirdo followed you from school to work. So we’ll walk there together then back to your place. At least till your parents get back in town, because you’re definitely telling them, you got it?”

You could feel yourself blushing hard. “Yeah, sure, of course! That’s really kind of you, actually. Thank you!”

Bakugou waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t take it personally or anything. I just don’t want to be watching the news and hear your dumbass got kidnapped or some bullshit like that.”

You weren’t really sure how to respond to that, so you just twirled a lock of hair around your finger. “Still, I really appreciate it. It’s really heroic of you!”

Bakugou whipped his head away, but you were almost sure you caught his cheeks turning pink. “Tch, whatever. Don’t think too hard about it. And I still expect payment! You better be ready to cough up some of those sweets from your job!”

~~~

“So, (Y/N),” Your coworker, Matsu, said while elbowing you good-naturedly. “Who’s your friend you brought in today?” She winked and nodded her head at a small table set on the patio of your workplace.

Bakugou was studying, gnawing at the end of his pen. He’d planted himself there after the two of you left school. He’d kept on a steady diet of sweets since your shift started, and you started getting worried about what your paycheck at the end of the month would look like. Once again, you talked the whole way through your walk with only interspersed responses from the blond. But you felt much more comfortable chatting this time, less like you were bothering him. Although you knew he would never admit it, you had a feeling that Bakugou could really be kind under all that ego and anger.

You started placing chick-shaped meika hiyoko in a tray in the display case. “Bakugou is a friend from school. Well, I think you’d call him a friend, anyway. He’s just waiting for my shift to end to walk me home.”

You didn’t like the self-satisfied look that came over Matsu’s face. “Ooh, walking you home, huh?”

“Oh, stop coming up with ridiculous ideas! He’s just…” You trailed off. How exactly were you meant to explain your situation?

You were saved from responding with a knock on the window. Bakugou mouthed an order of Shingen Momo. You quickly excused yourself despite Matsu’s teasing protests.

Bakugou had a healthy stack of plates from previous sweets stacked next to his text book. You tried mentally adding a tally of how much his little feast was going to cost you. You set the plate down and looked over his shoulder at what he was studying.

“Wow,” You commented. “That looks really difficult. Did I miss something in class today?”

“No,” He said. “I’m studying for college entrance exams.”

“Oh, right. You want to get into that famous hero college, right? I guess they have to be pretty tough. I heard Izuku in our class wants to go there, too.”

Bakugou snapped the pencil he was holding. “That damn Deku! Always trying to take my ideas! Who does he think he is, trying to be a hero, huh?! No one even knew he had a Quirk until recently! He pretty much breaks every bone in his body when he uses it! How’s a loser like that meant to be a hero?!”

You were a little shocked. You didn’t think you’d ever seen Bakugou this suddenly passionate about anything. Yet, despite his negative ramblings, he came across as admiring the boy with green hair in your class, talking about Izuku’s training schedule and how strong he had gotten since they knew each other in middle school. You couldn’t help but giggle at his sudden uproar. Hearing you, Bakugou cut himself off, quickly glancing away.

He fished another pencil out of his bag and re-focused on his text book. “That creep is still here.” Your mouth went dry as all frivolity seeped from your body. Bakugou stealthy pointed the end of his pencil to a garden store across the street. “He’s been walking in and out of stores this whole time. He’s hiding out there now. Definitely keeping an eye out.”

You gulped hard. “What should we do?”

“Well, first, you can bring me another momiji manju. Then, go back to work. Let me know when your shift ends. You guys have a back door, right? We can go through that, cut through the big inside shopping center.” He pulled out his phone and opened an app. “I looked it up. There’s another train station near here. It goes right to the one near your house. We’ll jump on there.”

You expected your heartbeat to slow down now that there was a solution to the probable danger. But instead it kept speeding up as you thought of the work Bakugou had put into researching his escape plan.

“Wow,” You breathed. “I guess you really are my hero, huh?”

Bakugou bristled, turning his face away before you could see it turning red (although the tips of his ears were practically a cherry color by now), and shoved an empty plate at you. “Momiji manju! And make sure it’s hot this time!”

~~~

“He’s still behind us.”

Your stalker was more cautious this time. He was making more of an effort to go unnoticed, ducking in and out of shops, getting lost in the crowd, but still keeping an uncomfortably close distance.

Bakugou clicked his teeth. “This guy doesn't know when to quit. You’re sure he doesn’t know where you live, right?”

“I’ve never seen him around. But…” You let the thought hang between the two of you like a dark cloud.

Bakugou seemed to be contemplating something for a second. Clenching and unclenching his fists, his hand shot forward to tightly grip onto yours. You started a little at his sudden aggressive hand holding, but flexed your fingers to intertwine with his. Bakugou cleared his throat, looking away.

“You’re not-“ You could have sworn you heard his voice crack, not that you would ever admit it. Bakugou cleared his throat and started again. “You’re not scared of heights, are you?”

“Not really. Why?”

Faster than you could keep up with, Bakugou pulled you closer. His other arm swept down, scooping you up under your knees and holding you to his chest. He took two large steps before kicking off a vending machine on the side of the street. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he took off his support from your back, pointing his hand palm down and releasing a blast. The explosion rocked through your ears as the two of you were propelled upward. A scream died in your throat. Just before you landed on the roof of a store neighboring the street you were just walking along, he released another explosion which propelled you even higher and further.

“I thought you said you weren’t afraid of heights,” Bakugou said with a laugh in his voice. “Open your eyes.”

You didn’t really notice how tightly you had clenched your eyes until he told you to open them. You had your head buried in the crook of his neck, the scent of caramelized sugar and smoke overwhelming your senses. You cracked open one eye just as Bakugou launched you both high in the air. You lost your breath, gazing in wonder at the sight before you. The sky was ablaze with red, oranges, and purples as the sun set. A band of stars was just twinkling into existence at the very top of the sky. The town below you looked just like a train-set model, tiny and delicate and perfect. Your stomach dropped as you plummeted back down. You laughed, yelling, clutching to him tighter. He tightened his hold around waist, smirk widening into a genuine heartfelt smile.

You both stumbled a bit, coming to a rocky landing in your neighborhood. There weren’t any more commercial buildings around, so you thought the residents would be grateful that they wouldn’t have to deal with shoe prints on their roofs. The air around you was crisp with the scent of melting sugar. You were lost to a giggle fit, holding your stomach as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

“You think he saw that coming?” Bakugou asked with a sideways grin.

“This is worth all the momiji manju in the world if we get to do that again!”

Bakugou’s chest swelled with pride as he brushed off invisible dirt. “Hah, what I tell you? It’s going to take a lot more than some creep in a black hoodie to get one over on Bakugou Katsuki.”

You clapped for him. “Full marks, Mr. Future-Number-One-Hero.” He ducked his head, looking away bashfully. You started walking in the direction of your house. “How did you even come up with that idea?”

“Rockets. I figure you have to get some pretty powerful force to shoot something that high up. And considering my Quirk is the most powerful force out there, well, it was a cinch.”

“So is that going to be your hero name, then? Rocket Man?”

He scowled. “No way! My hero name’s gonna be something way cooler! Like, like,” For someone who had dedicated his whole life to becoming a hero, you thought it was a little cute that he had left off some of the more practical aspects, like what he would be called. He snapped his fingers. “What about Lord Explosion?!”

You tried to bite back a laugh. You failed. “It’s a little obvious, don’t you think?”

“Alright then. What about King Murder?”

“Well, it’s certainly direct.”

“Wait, I’ve got it! Lord Explosion Murder!”

You stopped trying to hide your laughter. “Perfect. I can see it on all the T-shirts now.”

He pouted, no doubt trying to look menacing. “Alright, what’s your great idea?”

You hummed in thought. “What about Ground Zero? That’s what you call the middle of a major disaster. You know, like an explosion? It’s kind of metaphorical, thematic, and way more marketable than having the word ‘murder’ in your title.”

Bakugou looked down, eyebrows furrowed. “Damn. That is good.” He gave you a sideways look. “What’s your Quirk, anyway?”

You fiddled with your fingers. “It’s nothing too fancy. Nothing heroic or strong like yours, I mean.” You pressed your lips together and whistled. Instead of a normal sharp note, however, you replicated a perfect Asian Koel call. Not a second later, you heard a reply from a nearby park. Altering your call al title, a small brown bird with white speckles and red eyes flew down and landed on the back of your hand. You alternated with a few more calls, a Pacific Swift, Gray Nightjar, Kentish Plover, and Japanese Sparrowhawk. One by one, the birds would respond and come to perch on your hand or shoulder, the plover taking a dignified seat on your head. The sparrowhawk squaked at Bakugou when he tried to poke it.

“I can recreate any birdsong if I hear it once,” You explained. The Koel cooed as you pet under its chin. “I can kind of understand them, too. Not in a Dr. Dolittle way or anything, more just the general idea of what they’re trying to communicate. Danger, hungry, food here, that kind of thing.”

“Must be fun in the spring.”

“Ugh, you have no idea. It’s impossible to sleep in.”

“Maybe they’re just trying to chat you up.” Bakugou created a little explosion in his hand. The birds squaked in protest and flew away. “Little bastards. Don’t birds have noises to let other birds know not to mooch on their territory?”

“You mean a song? And what do you have to defend anyway?”

He slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close again. “Birds mate for life or some shit, right? They need to know you’re not available.”

Your heart definitely didn’t skip a beat. Definitely.

~~~

One of the last things you expected the next morning was to find Bakugou waiting impatiently at your front door. “What am I supposed to do if you just don’t show up for class, huh?” He declared with a haughty attitude. “You’ll make me feel guilty.” He came in, slugging off his shoes at the doorway and collapsing on the couch in the living room. “Let me know when you’re done with breakfast then we can leave.”

“Oh,” You said. “I, uh, don’t usually eat breakfast. I try to get to school early, so…”

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows. “Seriously? It’s the first thing in the morning. How are you supposed to have energy for the rest of the day?” He put on a begrudging air as he marched to the kitchen. He started pulling out pans and rummaging through the fridge and pantry. “Geez, you have nothing here! What, your parents didn’t leave any grocery money when they abandoned you here? Well don’t just stand there. Go finish getting ready. I’ll get something together by the time you’re done.”

Unsure about leaving him alone in your kitchen, but in no position to refuse him, you headed back to your bathroom to try and make it look like you had been getting a decent night's sleep for the past week.

Slugging your backpack over your shoulder, you came back downstairs to the smell of warm waffles. How Bakugou had managed to make a giant stack of fluffy waffles in the few minutes you were gone was beyond you.

“Shouldn’t we eat on the go?” You asked when he set down a plate on the table.

He tapped the long handle of the spatula against his shoulder. “You have way too many unhealthy habits. You don’t ask for help, you don’t eat breakfast. What am I going to do with you?” He pushed you down into a chair and took a seat in the one next to you, angrily stabbing the top waffle and taking a massive bite out of it before it even made it to his plate. “Eating on the go messes with your digestion. If you want to be helpful, start making a grocery list. You don’t work today, right? We’ll go to the store after school. I don’t need the stress of having you pass out from hunger on top of everything else.”

You stared at him as he wolfed down his breakfast. When he noticed you still haven’t taken anything, he shoved the plate to you. Taking a waffle, you couldn’t help but have a large smile spread across your face.

“You really are nice, aren’t you, Bakugou?”

He choked on his waffle. He refused to look at you for the rest of the morning.

~~~

Bakugou had been walking you to and from home for three weeks now. People at school had definitely started to notice. Especially after he started to drag you to eat lunch with him and his friends, lunches that he had made for you. You started showing off your Quirk a little more. Your favorite was calling down crows, bribing him with shinny pins and glass gems. You especially got a kick out of Denki freaking out when the birds mimicking human speech.

Without really noticing, you had slowly stopped being so nervous. You didn’t triple check your windows and doors at night, you weren’t always looking over your shoulder, you didn’t flinch when the chime over the door at work sounded.

You had also been growing significantly closer to Bakugou. You didn’t think it was at all possible for someone so rough to have such a sweet side. Sure, everything kind he did was still smothered in his devil may care attitude, but you came to learn that his abrupt remarks and aggressive personality was just a top layer. Bakugou knew what he wanted in life and was never subtle about sharing his thoughts. But his own emotions still came as an annoying mystery to him. He would intertwine his fingers with yours, declaiming with a blush and avoiding your eyes that he just wanted just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get lost or snatched away from him. He made sure you started eating well, something you had all but dropped due to stress. He would pull you into the kitchen with him, having you help him making breakfast and your bento lunches.

There was one situation where sitting on the patio of the sweet shop you worked at. Your boss had noticed his frequent stays and had recruited him to help test new recipes. Not to mention this helped ease the impact on your pay check.

Munching on a new flavor of melon pan, you two chatted under the warm sun. Giggling at some remark he made, you froze when you felt his fingers brush your face. Suddenly, Bakugou was less than a breath away from you. He brushed a lock of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. His hand dropped down to your chin, eyes falling to your lips. Your heart started stuttering, breath coming out in shallow gasps. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip.

Bakugou looked up, searching your face. You let your eyes flutter closed, leaning forward.

You both must have jumped three feet in the air with the interrupting squawk. A crow perched on your head, beak darting forward to peck at the melon pan forgotten in Bakugou’s hand. Bakugou yelled at the bird, waving it away and yelling obscenities at it. But that didn’t stop him from tearing off a chunk of the sweet bread and throwing it to him.

You both kept the blushes for the rest of the day.

~~~

You knew that nothing this good could last forever.

It started out like any other new-normal day. You were walking home from work with Bakugou. It was late autumn now, the days getting shorter and nights longer. The sun had already completely set as you strolled down the street. You didn’t notice something was wrong immediately. But then your stomach started to turn into knots. You shuffled closer to Bakugou who seemed to be noticing that something was amiss, too. You kept telling yourself that you were being paranoid. Nothing had happened for so long now, why would something suddenly happen now?

And then you heard the sparrow start singing. It was high pitched and panicked. A few swept down, fluttering in front of the two of you before cascading back up to their tree. You knew that sound. It meant danger.

You latched yourself to Bakugou’s side. “Bakugou,” You whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

He wrapped his arm around you. “Yeah, I noticed. Stay close, okay?”

You were afraid that you were practically tripping over his feet. But you didn’t want to move away. Every muscle tense, you looked over your shoulder. He was walking behind the street lights, staying out of the majority of the light. The street lights just barley illuminated his dark clothes, his hunched figure, determinately marching at a steady pace. Was he holding something? Did he just speed up? Was he-?

Bakugou stopped suddenly. You stumbled a bit, clutching his arm to get your balance again. “Bakugou?”

He whipped around. “Hey! Asshole!” He turned to you, hesitating for only a second before cradling your face, maybe a little more aggressively than he should have, rattled by nerves, and kissed you. It wasn’t extremely romantic, your teeth clashed for a moment, his fingers burying in your hair. He dropped one of his hands to your hip, pulling you closer and angling his head. The kiss was desperate, urgent, trying to communicate feelings and thoughts that it would have been difficult to vocalize. Your eyes fluttered closed. You pressed back up into him, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other tangerine in his mess of spiky blond hair.

The seconds stretched on for what seemed like minutes, but when you pulled away it felt like it was over all too fast. You tried to regain your breath, slightly panting. He looked into your eyes with an intensity and softness you had never seen from him, all his layers peeled back to show a soft and caring core.

His face suddenly hardened. He pulled you into him, turning his face to look back at your stalker, who you had almost completely forgotten about during your kiss.

“She’s not interested!” He shouted. “She’s got a boyfriend! Get it through your thick skull! And if I ever find out you’re nothing my girlfriend again, I’ll kill you, got it?!”

You looked at your stalker straight on from the first time. He was this dark shadow that cut through the street lamps lights. He was shaking, with nerves you hoped, but more likely with rage. But at least, standing in front of you, with someone strong at your side, he looked so much more human. This wasn’t a shadow with fangs and claws. Just a person. Sure, an unhinged person who had been following you, but you had back up. A whole team of support both emotionally and physically.

The stalker didn’t say anything, just stared at the two of you. He looked like he was going to come to you, to fight, to scream. But he just turned, marching away, back into the dark.

~~~

“Do you think he’s actually done?” You asked. You were back at your house, nervously chopping leeks for lunch in the coming week.

“Damn better be,” Bakugou said. He reclined on the couch, flipping through a magazine.

“I guess that means you don’t have to walk me home any more then,” You said, leadingly.

You smirked when you heard him slam the magazine back on the coffee table. “Like hell! You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you? I can walk you home whenever I damn well feel like it! Or, you know, if you want me to, I mean. You still want me to, right?”

You tried to press down your grin as you walked back into the living room, sitting down next to him. “So, you were serious about that? You’re my boyfriend now?”

He scowled. “I don’t say anything you mean. You’re mine now, got it?”

You smiled and kissed his check. “Only if that means you’re mine, too.”

He blushed up to his ears, pressing his face to the top of your head. “Sure.”

~~~

An hour later, there was a knock on the door.

Bakugou left just a little while ago, and since then you had taken a shower, changing into your pajamas. Coming down stairs to check the locks and lights one last time, you saw Bakugou’s laying across the back of the couch. You picked it up, rubbing your thumb over the collar. You’d have to give it back to him at school tomorrow. You smiled fondly, thinking of what he’d try to say to justify him forgetting something.

And then someone knocked at the door.

You started a little. You put a hand to your chest to calm your beating heart. It must have been Bakugou. You supposed Bakugou had realized he had misplaced his jacket and come back. Well, you didn’t mind seeing him again, you supposed.

Practically skipping to the front door, you opened the door with a smile. You barely had the door cracked when it slammed open, cracking against the wall, the knob indenting in the soft drywall. You shrieked and fell back, landing hard on your butt. Before you could regain your bearings, a heavy weight pressed down on you.

Your eyes bulged open. A man in all black was on top of you, knee pressing into your chest, one hand securely applying pressure to your throat and the other pressing a too sweet smelling rag against your nose and mouth. The bottom of his face was covered by a black bandana, but his eyes were wide and blood shot. He was muttering something to himself, or maybe you? But the blood rushing to your ears blocked out any cognizant thought.

Your hands flew around, slapping and shoving, trying to jab your thumbs into the soft tissues of his eyes, clawing at his cheeks. But nothing seemed to bother him too much. And then things started getting fuzzy at the edges. The spiked fear in your head started swirling around. Your limbs felt heavy and stopped responding to your commands. Then everything fell, and the dark pulled you in with an ice cold grip.

~~~

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. It was dark, so dark you almost thought you were blindfolded. You were curled up in an uncomfortable ball, something fibrous was shoved in your mouth. You tried to poke it out with your dry tongue, but it didn't budge. Your hands were fastened behind you with plastic zip ties. You flexed your fingers, coming to grasp the thin but strong metal bars behind you. You tried to stretch out your legs, but your bare feet came into contact with more of these bars. Trying to sit up, you could only manage an awkward hunch as a roof of bars thunked against your head. A cage. You were in a dog cage. You were tied up in a dog cage in the dark.

You tried to kick against the bars, but you couldn’t build up much force with so little space. All it did was shake the cage in an awful rattle. You stopped when you heard footsteps. You shuffled on your side to the back of the cage, which wasn’t saying much with how little room there was any way.

The door to the room the cage was in opened. You squinted against the sudden light, temporarily blinded. Blinking up at the figure of your capture, You felt the blood in your veins turn to ice. Your ears rang with the sudden surge of adrenaline and every muscle in your body told you to get ready to run.

Your capture, your stalker, stood like a horrible stain, silhouetted in the light. He pulled back the hood on his jacket, beaming down at you. This is the first time you had seen his face up close. Did you know him? You think he might have come into the shop once or twice. But you couldn’t think of any time you would have talked to him.

He smiled like a kid in a candy store. It made you ill. “You’re awake!” He said. His voice was chipped, strained from years of smoke. The reek of it hung on his clothes and wafted through the room. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know it’s small and uncomfortable. But I had to make sure, you know? You get it, right? I had to speed everything up, see? I just-” He balled his hands into fists. Suddenly, he slammed down on his knees in front of you. Your shriek was cut off by the gag in your mouth. “I had to get you away from him! The way he was all over you, touching you, grabbing you, k-k-kissing you!” He slammed his fists on the cage, making it shudder. He saw your wide eyes, your trembling. He lowered his voice, leaning down to look closer at you. “I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t your fault. He was taking advantage of you, right? But it’s okay, I have you now! And don’t worry, we’ll get out of here soon. There’s this place, way out in the mountains. We’ll be safe there. I have a room, just for you. A little palace for the perfect little doll…”

He tried to reach through the bars and touch your face. You screamed through your gag, trying to kick away his hand. He jerked back, surprised. He got angry in a flash. Slamming his fist against the bars again, he got up, muttering to himself about how this would all be solved once he could get you out of the city, how that damn boy had tried to poison you against him.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. You had to get out. You had to get out! You squirmed against your bonds, but only succeeded in having them cut deeper into your flesh.

You felt a chill in the room. You squinted, trying to see through the dark. You noticed a blackout curtain taped around a window. One corner fluttered away. The window must have been slightly opened. If you could just get your gag out…

You chewed at the dense fabric. Bits were coming off in your mouth, getting stuck between your teeth. Working your jaw until it felt like it was about to fall off, you finally managed to work it loose enough to shove it from your mouth with your tongue. Pressing your lips together, you let out a pitiful excuse for a whistle. You swallowed hard, willing saliva back into your mouth. Once more, you whistled, the sound transforming into a Russet Sparrow call. You thought you heard a faint reply from outside, but couldn’t be sure with every one of your nerves rattled and frayed.

You ran your fingers along the bottom edge of the cage. Along the back side, where the bars met the hard metal floor, there was a small lip of metal, something that had been welded wrong in the cage’s construction. Maneuvering your bound wrists, you started to saw at the zip ties with that jutting piece of metal.

~~~

He’d forgotten his damn jacket.

Bakugou was on his way home after leaving your place. Halfway there, he suddenly realized he felt a lot colder than he had when walking to your house. He supposed he could always turn around and pick it up now. It would give him another excuse to see you. But his old hag would probably just get angry at him if he showed up later than normal. Still, maybe he could just use the later hour as an excuse and stay at your house for the night. Sleeping on the couch, of course! But he did wonder what you looked like first thing in the morning…

Feathers flung in his face. Bakugou jerked back, swiping at the air in front of him. A couple of those small birds you would chirp at was frantically flying circles above him. One dive bombed him again, chirping nervously and fast.

“Beat it, dumb birds!” He whacked at them again. Stupid jelous birds.

Then he noticed their patterns. Sure, they would dive down at him, but then they would shoot up and fly back in the direction of your house, circling back to him. It was almost like they wanted him to go back there…

Bakugou broke out in a cold sprint. His feet pounded the pavement as the birds flew leading the way. He was panting by the time he reached your street, more out of the rising dread in his chest than actual exhaustion.

Reaching the front gate to your house, he froze. The door was wide open. He launched himself inside, yelling your name. His coat lay in a crumpled heap just inside the entrance. Underneath it was a strange rag. Picking it up, Bakugou felt that it was slightly wet. He brought it to his face and sniffed, jerking it back when the sickly sweet smell hit his nose. Chloroform.

His mide connected the dots in a flash. He yelled angrily and punched the wall, the drywall caving it without his notice. He dropped the rag and headed back outside.

He saw the birds chittering in a tree branch. “Hey!” He yelled at them. “You know where she is, right? She sent you to tell me. Take me to her!” At the back of his mind, Bakugou felt like an idiot for yelling at birds in the middle of the night. A sense of relief overwhelmed him when the birds chirped again and purposefully flew away, darting back to him to make sure he was following.

~~~

You couldn’t tell if you were making any headway with the zipties. Did they feel looser or was that your imagination? Or perhaps you were just losing feeling in your hands from the cutoff of blood flow. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop the one thing that might help yourself.

With a sound that to you mimicked a thunder clap, one of the zipties snapped. You almost sobbed in relief as you brought your hands to your front and rubbed your wrists. You tugged on the other plastic tie around your wrist, but it was still stubbornly strong. You’d have to cut it off with a knife or something.

A knife! You needed something to protect yourself with. There was no way of knowing if your bird distress call had actually reached anyone. You needed to take care of yourself, get outside, get to a phone or a police station or a hero or something. You knew you had a slim chance of taking on your attacker in a one-to-one fight. He had at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you, not to mention whatever his Quirk might be.

You fumbled around in the dark, trying to find the latch for the cage. Swiping randomly, your fingers clutched around the pull handle for the door. You tried to yank to open but it wouldn’t budge. Feeling around, you clutched a heavy padlock firmly attached to the handle. Of course your stalker would have taken extra precautions, and you didn’t think you could break the lock with a thin piece of metal.

No sooner had hopelessness started to creep back into your mind than you heard the door to the room click open. You threw yourself back against the far side of the cage, shoving the gag back in your mouth and putting your arms behind you as if they were still tied.

Your stalker peeked in, smiling widely like he had a wonderful surprise for you. “We’re almost ready,” He said, giddily. “I can get you ready to move now. You’re just going to have to sleep for a little longer, okay? By the time you wake up, everything will be fixed!”

You watched in disgusted horror as he took out another rag, licking it to soaking with his saliva. Was that what he had pressed against your mouth and nose back at your house? Did he have some sort of chloroform-saliva Quirk? If you weren’t going to be sick before, you definitely were now.

But then he fished out a key from the pocket of his ill-fitting sweatpants. His hands shook as he tried to fit the key in the lock of the cage. You still had the element of surprise on him. You pictured your plan of attack. When he opened the cage door to grab you, you’d kick him. Then, while distracted, you’d claw at his face, bite him if you had to. You didn’t need to beat him, you just needed to distract and disorientate him enough to make it out of the room. You could close the door behind you. Maybe there was something near you could barricade it with. Then just sprint as fast as you could to the door. He made it sound like you were still in the city, in a residential district as the very least. You could run next door, hide in someone's backyard, pound on their door until they let you in to call the police.

Just as he fit the key into the lock, there was a loud sound from outside the room. It sounded like it came from downstairs, banging. Your stalker glowered, ripping the key from the lock. He tossed it on a desk in the room, slamming the door behind him as he marched out to deal with the intrusion.

You were barely able to fit your hand through the bars, much less reach the key. You took a steadying breath before starting to whistle the sparrow song again. You heard a faint reply from outside. You whistled more frantically, a sharp song that indicated danger. You could just barley make out a lump pushing against the blackout curtains covering the window. A tiny tan bird head popped up from the corner of the curtain. You could have cried. Quieting your whistle, you nodded your head at the desk with the key. The little bird fluttered its wings, hopping around the room. It probably didn’t have the best night vision either.

You heard banging coming from downstairs. There was a roar of something you quickly recognized as an explosion. Bakugou? Your message had reached him! And now he was fighting your attacker by himself. You had hoped he would call the police or a hero or something. Honestly, you thought to yourself, you should have seen this coming.

The sparrow found the desk. It pushed the key off with its beak. The key was about the same size as the sparrow. It had a little trouble carrying the key over to you. It dropped it just within reach of your index finger to pull it into the cage. Using two fingers to hold the key, the most you could fit between the bars, you jammed the key into the lock and twisted it. You had never been so happy to hear a click before.

You slammed the cage door open, causing the bird to flutter away in surprise. You stretched your aching muscles as you unfolded yourself from the cage. Whipping your head around, you tried to find some sort of weapon you could use to help Bakugou. Seeing nothing in the small room, you opened the door just enough to peak out. As silently as you could, your legs still half asleep from being stuck in a cramp position, you snuck out into the hall.

Downstairs, you heard Bakugou yell. The little sparrow dove down the staircase and you followed. You saw Bakugou and your attacker grappling in the living room which was crowded with moving boxes. Your stalker had his teeth sunken in to Bakugou’s arm. His arm fell limply to his side as numbness seemed to spread to that whole part of his body.

Frantically looking around, you saw a half-packed lamp sticking out of one of the boxes. You heaved it up, the weight reassuring in your hands.

Bakugou spotted you over your stalker’s shoulder. “(Y/N)!” He barked out. “Run!”

Just as your attacker turned around, you surged forward with the lamp held aloft. With a scream, you brought it down on his head with all the strength you could muster in your addled limbs. He crumpled to the floor like wet cardboard. Blood began to leak from his skull. You dropped the lamp, the feeling on impact still drumming through your fingers.

“(Y/N)!” Bakugou called again. He stumbled to you, his left side already half paralized by your stalker’s Quirk infused bite. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? I told you to run, idiot! How did he get inside your house?” Before he had a chance to breathe, much less answer his questions, his left leg gave out on him. You caught him, halfway holding him up.

“I’ll tell you everything when we get to the police, okay?” You said in a frazzled voice. He tried to haul himself up to standing, but he might as well have been standing on a broken ankle.

Bakugou told you where the front door was. You half dragged him through the house to get outside. Just as you opened the front door, you felt something hard and heavy plow into the small of your back. You went flying forward, dropping Bakugou who landed with a grunting thud.

“(Y/N)!” You heard from behind you. You pushed yourself up, looking behind you. Your stalker, face now red with dripping blood and wild eyes, stumbled towards the two of you. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s trying to poison you against me! He’s going to take you away from me! Unless… He already has! He’s corrupted you!” He lifted his leg to kick Bakugou in the stomach. Bakugou lifted his good arm and released an explosion aimed at the stalker’s stomach. The second man yelled in pain and was blasted backwards.

Bakugou shoved himself up, propping himself up on his good knee and maneuvered his way in front of you. “This time, listen to me and go,” He said sternly.

“Bakugou!” You protested.

He looked over his shoulder at you and smirked. “Hey, I’m your hero, right? That means I got to protect you, even if I get hurt.”

Your stalker roared, thrashing as he picked himself off the ground. The place where Bakugou’s explosion had caught him ripped his oversized hoodie, revealing his belly and chest that now had burns. He roared again and started charging to you.

You gripped Bakugou’s good shoulder, pulling him back. You threw yourself in front of him, spreading your arms wide and closing your eyes tight.

Just when you were expecting a blow from your stalker, you heard an annoyed and surprised grunt from him instead. Opening your eyes, you saw the deranged man tangled in ribbons of white cloth. He snapped and tried to lash out at it, but the more he struggled the tighter it became.

A man appeared behind him, seeming to melt out of the shadows. He tugged the white cloth so it snapped tight around your stalker, pinning his arms and legs so he fell over unbalanced. The man controlling the cloth was dressed in all black, goggles over his eyes and a mess of black hair. He pulled his goggles up, revealing extremely tired looking eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime by now?”

~~~

The next half hour was a rush of commotion. The hero, Eraserhead, who had secured your stalker called for an ambulance and the police. As soon as the red and blue lights were visible, he left, leaving your stalker tied and gagged against a street lamp. You barely had time to thank him while Bakugou grumbled about not needing saving behind you.

The paramedics gave Bakugou an injection to counteract the poison from your stalker’s Quirk. The police quickly took him away as he shouted obscenities, making promises that he’d come back to you, that he’d save you. You tried to take some comfort in the officer’s promise that the man would never see the outside of a jail cell again.

You sat in the back of the ambulance, a heavy blanket around your shoulders. You had just finished giving your statement to the police. The neighbors surrounding the house you were trapped in had come outside to see what the commotion was all about. You felt pinned by a million unasked questions, unsaid accusations, prying eyes. You were going to be sick.

“Hey.” You looked up. Bakugo stood in front of you, rubbing feeling back into his previously paralized arm. He jerked his head to the side slightly. You scooted over and he sat next to you, pulling the blanket over his shoulders too. “So,” he said.

“So,” You echoed.

“The police called my parents,” He said after a moment of silence. “Mom’s coming to pick us up. She said she can bring some extra clothes for you to change into, if you want. Dad’s making up the guest room.”

“What?”

He gave you a sideways look. “What, you think I’m letting you stay alone in that house after what happened tonight? You think I’m an idiot or something?” He put his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He spoke into your hair. “You’re staying with me and my folks until your parents get back. Then I’m going to chew them out for leaving you alone for so long, and maybe then we’ll see if you can go back there.”

You giggled at his statement, half out of frazzled nerves and half out of love of his protective nature. You curled your fingers into his t-shirt, resting your head against his shoulder. “That sounds nice,” You mumbled, exhaustion and worn out adrenaline finally taking hold of your body. “It sure would make walking home easier.” Just before slipping under, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. “My hero.”

He pressed a kiss on the top of your sleeping head. “Always.”

#fanfic #wafflefriesfic #my hero academia x reader #bnha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader

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oatsmeall · 4 months

Text

Friendly strangers.

Jk! x f!reader | smut | not proof read

Warnings: suggestive themes and language.

College au | strangers to lovers

When you started your year at college you didn't think it'd be so lonely.

You didn't really make friends or talk to people at the campus. Your closest friends went to another college, it sucked. You weren't completely disappointed though. You just minded your business and went on about your day.

However.. you and this complete stranger would often see each other throughout the day, that being your AP chemistry course And often even in the library. You didn't know him but you sometimes talked to each other. Not conversation wise but you would ask for a sheet of paper or a pen and he'd do the same. Occasionally when you'd see him in the library, you'd sit at the table he sat at and he'd do the same again. It was a routine, the game of "Friendly strangers".

You will admit though he was very handsome, tall with dark hair in a wavy mullet and tattoos so beautiful, accompanied by piercings on his brow, lip, and all around his ears. His eyes were alluring, doe eyed when he'd ask questions and siren eyed when tension arose.

You're now sitting in the library in a comfortable silence but you really want to get to know him. You've been seeing him all semester and yet you've never exchanged names. This could be a new start to finding friends.

"psst.. hey" you whispered throwing a small ball of scrunched paper.

"hm?" He seemed to become surprised. His doe eyes were prominent.

You moved from one chair to the other to get closer to him.

"what's your name? I figured I should ask... Considering I've got class with you AND we sit together anytime we're in the same room anywhere."

"Right, uh- I'm Jungkook. Your name?"

"Y/n. Nice to.. formally meet you?" You said in a confused tone.

"yeah, same."

It fell silent again, this time somewhat awkward. You looked around the library thinking of something you could say next, to your dismay, nothing came up.

"uh- so...what're you studying for?"

"that chem test we've got next week. Better prepare now to get it out of the way.."

"mhm.. that's great. You're better than me, I just come here to scroll through my laptop and skim through class work or homework. And read, of couse." You say laughing at the last part.

"well it is a library after all. I'm actually about to finish studying. I'm going to head to a corner store right now... If you'd like to come along I wouldn't mind. Maybe we can get to know each other better?"

You were surprised he asked you to go with him. Even with such a straight face you couldn't tell if he was being genuine or if he felt bad...

"sure, give me a sec." You agreed anyway.

"No way? I thought that was from a whole different era? Huh? Who would've thought."

"pay attention more in class Y/n."

"mmk..Mr. Perfect."

You and Jungkook had been conversating out on a random picnic table for what felt like forever, it felt as if you've known him for eternity, like you've known him so long. He had a strange familiarity to him. Unexplainable really.

"you know... I never thought I'd ever talk to you, ever. Or that you'd talk to me at all. I just thought you were so quiet and shy. Which you're quite the opposite.." he laughs saying the last part.

"I could say the same for you Mr. Perfect, but honestly me too. I don't know where I got the guts to talk to you." You shrug eating your ice cream.

"I used to think you were so pretty..I still do. I just couldn't get the attention of the pretty girl." His eyes became lazy, the siren eyes. Oh my God...

His head in a tilt, staring you in your eyes, you felt embarrassment arise. Your face felt warm.

"you're too generous. But you know what... I was thinking.. that you're not so bad yourself, I would stare at your tattoos.." you were trying to sound like a confident woman but you felt awkward.

"yeah? Hm. What about my tattoos did you like?" He asks quietly staring at you deeply.

"I like your big arms and hands...and the way your tattoos adorn them beautifully." you say touching lightly over his hand and up his arm.

"Really? Hm.." his gaze became dark. His big hands suddenly gripped your forearm. He got up from across the table and walks over to you still grabbing your arm.

"how about I go show you what these hands can do? Would you like to come to my apartment?" He says with worry at the end. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"your apartment? U-um.. yeah sure. You don't have a dorm?" You asked in genuine shock.

"no actually, I moved out my dorm about a month ago... I like privacy." He says in a laugh.

"right.. lead the way."

All you could feel was the subtle pain in your back, Jungkook slammed you into his wall by his entrance to his apartment. Excitement rolled within you.

"Can- uh,, fuck..- may I?" He said between his kisses, he really knew how to get your spots on your neck. It felt so erotic.

"yes- mm yes- of course" you were trying to catch your breath.

"fuck- I want you bad, you're so fuckin beautiful" he said smirking while sucking your neck.

"mhm? Auh fuck, You're good at that"

He then grabbed you and carried you bride style into his living room onto his couch.

He sat with his legs spread apart, such a sexy position for such a sexy man you thought.

You crawled onto his lap causing him to close his legs together slightly, you put your own legs on either sides of his legs now sitting on top of him completely.

You lowered your body completely on him, you felt his hard cock poking your ass.

"excited?" You asked teasing him.

"very" he says shortly after continuing by devouring you in kisses.

Gripping your sides with eagerness, you began to grind on him, he encouraged you more by moving you as well with his tight grip.

"mm fuck baby, you make me harder and harder by the minute" he hisses

"fuck- you're so aggressive, I love that." You say staring at him. Your eye contact felt lethal this amped up your high.

"yeah? You like that?" Jesus, you just met the guy formally and now you're riding his lap?

He grabs your face with his big hand, forcing you to look at him. Your heart literally skipped a beat, you just discovered yourself in this moment, you loved his aggressiveness, THEE aggression.

"Jungkook- I want you...in me.." you say quietly.

"okay.. if you're okay with it then okay."

You nodded quickly. He grabbed you off of him and got up and disappeared into the dark hallway coming back shortly after with a silver foil packet. He sat down next to you. You then took over from there. Without notice you made eye contact with him while your hands went down into his sweats, stroking his cock slowly and teasingly in his pants. You just smirked at him. He threw his head back and hummed lewes noises while you stroked up and down.

"fuck- Y/n...."

You then pulled his sweats down and let his cock spring out. His cock was big. You took in what was eventually about to go into you.

He grabbed the foil packet and ripped it open with his mouth and pulled the rubber out, rolling it onto his dick.

While he was getting situated, you too we're doing the same. You took your short biker shorts off along with your panties, leaving you in your oversized sweatshirt.

He stared at you while doing so mesmerized at your beautiful body.

He pat his lap indicating to sit on it, slightly smirking at you. You did and again you put your legs on either side of his legs, you slowly sunk down onto his cock, you felt your pussy stretch out, but if felt so good to you. Your pussy throbbed, already wet you slid onto his dick nice and easy.

"mm-fuuuck, y-youre s-so big" you winced.

"baby you're so wet, all for me." He hissed throwing his head back.

"oh my God auh-fuck" you moaned as you fully plopped onto him.

He grabbed your waist hard.

"alright baby, hang onto me."

Before you could do or say anything he slammed into you hard, slowly pulling out and doing it again. Your ass smacking his balls and thighs became a louder noise, he began going fast and hard.

"o-oh my- a-auh ffuuuck" your moans were out of this world, it sounded like music to Jungkook's ear.

"yeah baby- take this cock, good girl."

The pet names made your stomach do cartwheels, you became wetter and wetter.

"yes, yes, yes, s-so good" you moaned again and again.

The lewd juice noises where on full ear display, the sound of ass on balls was amplified and your moans and cries were on blast.

"yes baby, you're doing so good, yes" he hissed. He grabbed your waist with one hand and his other reached over to your throat.

This felt so pornographic but the throat grab made your pussy throb and gush.

"uah auh, my god, f-fuck Kook I'm gonna c-cum! Fuuuuck" your pussy began to clench and so was Jungkook's hand around your throat.

"come on baby, cum, cum for me." He was also reaching his high, he felt your clench and his dick felt like it was gonna burst.

"yes, yes, fuck aughhh" you moaned in agony, your pussy was pulsating from the high you just came down from.

"yes baby, good girl" he was out of breath, breathing hard, his from hair drenched in sweat, he moved his hand from your throat your face again forcing you to look in his eyes.

"Kook- what the fuck." You say shaking. Your legs went numb. All that rough fucking made your legs weak, and your pussy throbbed and pulsated from all the force.

"yeah? You liked that?" He said still tying to catch his breath a little.

"yes." You say shyly. Even after that, you can't help but feel shy.

"here, let me get you cleaned up. I'll be right back" he stood up also taking the condom off and disposing of it.

All you could think about is how you absolutely got demolished by a stranger you only met formally today... Maybe you should continue on with these activities.

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #jungkook #bts #bts smut

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bloodynereid · 5 months

Text

Tinsel, Gold and Dragons

(modern au!)

pairings: rhaenyra targaryen x fem! reader, past rhaenyra x alicent

tw: kissing, alicent bashing, alcohol consumption, talk about hooking up, hatred of the holiday season??

description: You were wondering how the hell this family had so many attractive people. Rhaenyra’s brain was currently not computing, she was pretty sure this was called bisexual panic but it had never really happened to her in real life before.

a/n: hiii hope you enjoy this little fic i randomly wrote last night. i've been kind of missing just writing stuff that isn't requests so hopefully this is still ok haha. ALSO i'm 100% an alicent defender, she's the loml so just remember that a lot of this is from rhaenyra's pov and not my own thoughts about her character. anyways hope you enjoy this and happy holidays <3 (might write a part 2 at some point but who knows?)

Rhaenyra Targaryen never liked the holiday season. After her mother died things just got worse and the boring parties she was always subjected to only got more boring. The welcome reprieve of baking gingerbread in the kitchen with her mom was gone in seconds and now holidays just reminded her of everything she had lost.

This year’s party was going to be the worst one by a long shot. Rhaenyra had to deal with Alicent fucking Hightower - oh sorry Targaryen now… that was something she still hadn’t accepted. I mean how do you even cope when your best friend suddenly starts fucking your dad in secret, gets pregnant, marries him and then proceeds to act like she’s Virgin fucking Mary?

The answer is with a lot of scotch, stupid hookups and long hours studying. She was desperate to get her law degree so she could finally do something and it also meant she could start working at her uncle’s law firm.

Currently though she was stuck in her father’s house whilst her new toddler half-brother threw temper tantrums and broke anything in his vicinity.

It was Christmas Eve and Viserys had nearly decided to cancel the annual Christmas party, in favor of “family bonding” but Alicent had somehow convinced him to keep it on. Rhaenyra did not want to think about what she had done to convince him. She nearly gagged at the mere idea of it.

Smoothing out the material of the dark red dress with a slightly higher slit than what would be considered appropriate, Rhaenyra let out an audible sound of satisfaction. She looked fucking hot. Plus Alicent would freak when she saw it, perfect.

Once upon a time Alicent Hightower had been her best friend, and probably something more but now… all that Rhaenyra could muster up for her is a cold chill of utter hate and rage.

Rhaenyra was thrown out of her thoughts when her phone called out the familiar ringtone that belonged to her uncle.

“Daemon… you do know that people can text now don’t you?”

“Haha, you can call me old all you want but you might regret it when I don’t tell you how I’m about to save you tonight.”

“Please tell me you found a way to make them all die fiery deaths.”

“Nothing as dramatic as that but I assure you it’s still the perfect escape.”

“Are you going to leave me in suspense while I endure this torture or…”

“Fine, you spoiled princess. We’re having a little party at the firm and since you’re coming to work here soon…”

“You didn’t.”

“But I did.”

“Fuck off. You mean I can actually leave this party.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“You’re my savior.”

“Knight in shining armor and all that. Just remember to get me a good present this year.”

“When do I ever disappoint you?”

“There is also another surprise waiting for you when you get here.”

“Daemon… what have you done?”

“Nothing. There’s just someone I think you should meet.”

“Oh God, maybe I won’t go.”

“You know you’re too desperate not to, plus she’s your age so you won’t have to deal with boring old men like me.”

“She’s a she?”

Rhaenyra perked up, she hadn’t had a date in a while and ever since Alicent she hadn’t even tried to step her foot back into that pool. A string of meaningless hookups with men had done nothing to quell the heartbreak side of the whole situation. This would probably be good for her.

“Yes. So I guess that means you’re coming?”

“Obviously.”

“Should I send a car over?”

“Don’t bother, I’ll just drive Syrax.” Syrax was a birthday present from Daemon, a beautiful and subtly gold car that drove like a dream.

“Ok, see you soon Nyra.”

“Bye, Uncle.”

Rhaenyra sped through the streets of King’s Landing in the comfortable leather seat of her car. The bright Christmas lights that adorned the shops made a bright smile appear on her face. She may hate the holidays but at least the lights and food were incredible.

She arrived at the tall building that held Caraxes, Daemon’s law firm and named after his first dog but no one needed to know that. She gave her name to the security guard before parking the car in one of the empty spaces.

Her red dress fluttered in the cold breeze as she waited for the elevator to open. The firm was located on the 60th floor, the penthouse. Rhaenyra always loved being up high so the height was never a problem. What was annoying was how long it took her to actually get up there.

When the elevator doors finally opened at the correct floor, loud Christmas music echoed through the floor and she could clearly hear cheers coming from the area close to Daemon’s office.

Since the secretary was nowhere to be seen, Rhaenyra walked the now familiar route towards her uncle’s office. Weaving through a variety of cubicles she found a large Christmas tree and a small bar had been set up outside her uncle’s office.

“NYRA!” A loud voice that corresponded to her uncle slurred out and his tall frame ambled towards her. Within moments she was suddenly caught in a warm embrace and she returned the hug with her smaller arms wrapping around his torso.

“When did you have time to get this drunk, uncle?” Rhaenyra asked when they finally parted.

“Oh you think this is drunk, darling. Don’t you remember me at that New Year’s-”

“Andddd I’m going to stop you right there. I still get trauma flashbacks.”

“I must say, you look absolutely stunning Nyra. I’m sure our dear Alicent flipped when she saw you.”

“You should have seen her face when I told her I was going to unfortunately not attend her party.” Rhaenyra and Daemon shared a laugh before Daemon spotted someone in the crowd and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Y/N! I have someone you should meet.”

Rhaenyra followed Daemon’s line of sight and found the most beautiful woman she had probably ever seen. You were wearing a dark blue floor length dress which was held up with spaghetti straps. A pashmina scarf looped around your elbows and you had a smile on your face as you approached the two of them.

“You summoned me?” You asked when you finished weaving through the sea of people.

“Well yes, I wanted you to meet my niece. Rhaenyra this is Y/N, our newest and most promising associate.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” You said as you offered a hand to the stunning silver haired woman. You were wondering how the hell this family had so many attractive people. Rhaenyra’s brain was currently not computing, she was pretty sure this was called bisexual panic but it had never really happened to her in real life before.

“I-uh, nice to meet you too.” Rhaenyra stuttered out as she took Y/N’s hand and shook it.

“Well I’ll leave you two to it.” Daemon said with a conspiring tone in his voice before he disappeared into the crowd.

“So… Daemon’s been singing your merits all over the office for a while now so I think I have an unfair advantage here.”

“Oh God, what has he been saying?” Rhaenyra groaned out as she dramatically swept a hand over her hair.

“Nothing bad, I promise. You’re getting your law degree at The Citadel, right?”

“Yup.”

“How’s that? I was debating going there for a while but ended up going to Oxford instead.”

“It's hell but worth it, I hope.”

“I totally get that, Oxford was like medieval torture but I’m happy it landed me in this place.” You said as you swept a hand in the direction of the office space.

“Wait, how old are you?” Rhaenyra suddenly asked before her face contorted in embarrassment. “Shit, that was rude, sorry.”

“Ha don’t worry, I get that all the time. I’m 25.”

“24.” Rhaenyra offered back in solidarity.

“We’re basically the same age then.” You said with a wink before you took a sip of the amber liquid in the glass tumbler.

“Probably why Daemon shoved us in this little corner together.”

“I’m for one glad to be stuck in this little corner with you.” You said as you smirked in Rhaenyra’s direction. A light blush started to dust Rhaenyra’s cheeks.

“I’m glad too, but I’m desperate for a drink. This week has been hell.”

“You don’t like the holidays either?”

“Hate them.”

“We have something else in common after all.”

You spent the rest of the party sitting next to Rhaenyra in Daemon’s office. You drank sparingly, not wanting to be drunk since Rhaenyra needed to drive back and you didn’t want to act like a fool in front of her.

Rhaenyra felt like this was the first time in years that she felt truly happy. It was nice just to talk and gossip and be free to actually be herself. With Alicent it felt like she was walking on eggshells before the incident and now it was near impossible to be in the same room alone with her. But with Y/N…

At first, Rhaenyra went into this wanting just to have a quick hookup but those hours spent talking or maybe it was the alcohol that got to her head but she decided she deserved something better. She deserved someone better.

“Do you need a ride home?” Rhaenyra asked when people started to mill out of the party. Y/N turned to her in surprise before a gentle smile lit up her face.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble?”

“Not at all, but don’t think this is some kind of selfless act - maybe I just want to spend more time with you.”

“Well, we just have to indulge in your selfish desires don’t we?” You said with a twinkle in your eyes and a laugh on your tongue.

“You have no idea the scope of my selfish desires.”

“I would like to find out…”

Rhaenyra basically dragged you down to her car after that little remark. As she drove through the streets of King’s Landing, you took a leap of blind faith (or maybe love) by gripping the hand that lay between the two of you. Rhaenyra instantly threaded her fingers through yours and you spied a small smile making its way to her face.

Once she pulled up in front of your apartment building Rhaenyra bit her lip and turned to look at you - still completely in awe of how pretty you are.

“We arrived.”

“That we did.”

“Well…”

“Well… do you uh-”

“Do I what?” Rhaenyra said as she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Rhae… I- do you want to come up?”

“Only if we can have a date tomorrow.”

“It’s Christmas Day.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Hmm… deal.” You said as a giddy smile graced your lips. Suddenly the feeling of soft lips meeting against yours startled you out of your reverie and you jumped to thread your fingers through her silky hair.

“You are so beautiful.” Rhaenyra mumbled against your lips before slipping her tongue to delicately stroke yours. It seemed impossible that your smile could widen even more but it did.

“Mmm, says you. You fucking goddess.” You said when you both finally pulled away. Panting and grinning like idiots.

“This is certainly turning out to be a very merry Christmas.”

“Ho ho ho.”

rhaenyra is an bisexual icon just like her uncle and we love her for it !!

#rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra is a bisexual icon.#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x fem!reader #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #hotd x reader #hotd modern au #modern au #house of the dragon x reader #got #syrax #caraxes #viserys targaryen

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rikiluvly · 5 months

Text

MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

🥀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱

tysm to the anon that requested this! <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | more to come...

PAIRINGS: vampire!riki x human!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and your mom move into an old mansion after some struggles. but what happens when the mansion is actually occupied by 7 vampires and the youngest just can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.

GENRE: vampire au, fluff, a tiny bit of angst.

WARNINGS: mention of food, slight swearing, and Ni-ki is kinda rude.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

PREVIOUSLY ON MIDDLE OF NOWHERE:

"I- I saw this shadow walking this way so... I followed it," you tilted your head down feeling slightly ashamed of your foolish behavior. should you have stayed in your dark, lonely bedroom after all?

"that's no shadow y/n, that's out Mother," his voice turned quieter as he looked into your eyes.

"after she died last year her ghost has been foolishly wandering the castle quite a lot, the library was her favorite place, no wonder you caught her coming into here," now that was a surprise, vampires now ghosts?

"I can see why, it's really nice in here," you felt sympathetic for Riki, and the others as well but he seemed really affected by it. as you looked into his eyes for a bit longer you noticed how pretty they were. for a vampire.

"yeah..." his voice drifted off as he maintained eye contact with you. his dark hair, long hair fell beside the sides of his face. up this close, you could see the beauty marks spotted around his face, the one on his chin caught your eye the most.

"you have really nice eyes y/n," he whispered as your faces were so close you swear you could kiss him.

and you did just that.

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

kissing a vampire? how stupid could you be?! except you really had to admit that the kiss was a special one that would be hard to forget.

after you had both pulled away from the connection of your lips, Riki asked you to meet him by the pond the next day. the pond seemed concerningly scary for you but you were assured by the vampire that it had more to it than just trickles of water.

the weather had just started to change into a warm daze the next day, so what perfect time for you to wear your favourite sundress. It was white with tiny flowers speckled over the linen fabric. you then decided to pair it with a white bow in your hair.

your mother had gone out into the local town to buy some much-needed food and supplies. you took the time you got 'alone' to head outside and meet with Riki. nerves were building up in your gut as you knew that whatever was to come was something not expected.

as you walked outside and approached the pond you could see Riki sitting on the edge with his feet submerged into the water. his head quickly turned around when he noticed your footsteps.

“y/n, you came,” he said having a look of excitement on his face.

“of course I did, wouldn’t wanna miss it for anything,” you said as you analysed the fountain perched in the middle of the water. mermen and mermaids were carved delicately onto the fountain.

you could feel Riki’s eyes on you as you were taking in the art.

“it’s really beautiful Riki,” his strong gaze was fixed on you as he also admired the 'view'.

"c'mon, I've gotta take you somewhere y/n," Riki connected his hand with yours, pulled you along with him, and took you through the forest around the back of the house. tall trees filled the sky and you could hear the rustling of leaves and bushes from the gentle breeze.

you and Riki approached an old grave in between two large oak trees. the name that was engraved was covered with red blood spelling the word 'FATE'.

"this is our mother... I wanted you to meet her properly this time," he took your hand and directed you to sit down in front of the grey stone.

"hi mother, I've brought someone I would like you to meet," you had realized the wind suddenly started to get more chilly when you noticed goosebumps forming on your bare arms and legs.

"her name is y/n, and she claimed to have seen you passing through the hallways at night. I thought we had decided to never enter the house again," the atmosphere started to change completely. the wind was howling intensely along with the rough swaying of the trees. you started to think about how this could be the reason you die, so as instinct you grabbed onto Riki's arm as tightly as you could.

"you're not going to die, sweetheart, not when I'm around," you forgot about that, how he could read minds. "shit, I think I've gotta get Jak-" as those words were coming out of his mouth a vampire with a foot length cloak appeared in front of your eyes.

"no fear pretty girl, Jake has come to save the day," Jake said as he gave you a wink. he's an insanely handsome guy you thought to yourself.

"hey!" Riki nudged your shoulder, you don't even have any privacy in your own thoughts anymore. Riki then whispered in your ear and insisted you close your eyes and bury your head in his shoulder so you don't get afraid. without any hesitation, you do so and suddenly feel the softness of his neck against your cheeks. "do it." you hear Riki say and a few seconds after a loud boom is heard echoing through the forest. you lift your head without any instructions to do so and take in the quiet of your surroundings.

"what happened?" you ask looking into Riki's dark eyes.

"nothing for you to worry about sweetheart, Mother just got a little angry is all," he reassured you and then proceeded to thank Jake.

"also what's with the cloak man? you look like a vampire from the 1800s," Riki said as he smirked while taking in Jake's outfit.

"Jungwon insisted we go through the old cupboard in the attic, and I gotta admit I do look pretty handsome in this cloak," he said as he winked at you for a second time.

"alright, that's enough goodbye now Jake," Jake then disappeared back into the mansion and left you and Riki alone.

"well... that did not go as planned but at least you got to see some of the horrors of living out here," he pulled you off the ground and you began to wipe the dirt from the back of your legs as you started to walk.

"Riki, may I ask, what exactly happened to your Mother?" Riki stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath.

"c'mon, I'll tell you when we reach the library."

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

“stop being so slow Heeseung!” Riki shouted to his older brother. the chuckles from him and his brothers were projected through the halls of the castle. while Riki and his fellow vampires were playing tag, Riki accidentally tripped and fell on his face. he stood up only to realize his nose was bleeding from the fall.

"you okay little guy?" Jay asked him as he inspected his red nose. "I'll take you to Sunoo don't worry," he held onto Riki's hand and directed him to the living room where their third youngest brother sat. "Sunoo can you help our youngest? he tripped and hurt his nose."

Sunoo came over to inspect Riki's injury. "of course, come here," he patted the seat next to where he was sitting and brought his hand up to cup Riki's cheeks. a light was glowing from Sunoo's warm hands and the blood from Riki's nose was disintegrating into his skin. Sunoo then released his hands from the youngest's face and asked how he feels now.

"I feel a bit funny..."

"you'll be fine, no need to worry." Riki stood up and went back to find the others so they could continue their game of tag.

"hello? Heeseung?" no one was to be found anywhere, the castle was as quiet as it could ever be. however the silence didn't last for very long, a scream was heard from around the corner. Riki was now breathing at a fast pace and his hands were shaking at his sides.

once the boy reached the corner he peeked his head to only be met with the dead body of his Mother.

a funeral was held a few days after when the brothers had finally come to reality that their Mother had passed. the seven boys surrounded the grave to say their goodbyes when suddenly red blood started to appear on the grave. the blood started to spell out a specific word.

FATE.

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

"I'm so sorry Riki..." you felt extremely bad for the seven boys. you could never understand the feeling of losing a Mother. the story gave you more drive to protect your own Mom knowing that the same thing could happen to her.

"It's okay y/n, we still don't know who killed her but... I just want to promise you that I won't let anything like this happen to you or your Mother, I want you to feel safe here," you do feel safer than when you first moved into the house that's for sure.

"I feel as safe as I could be Riki, but I should probably make my way back now, I loved spending this time with you," you stood up to make your way out of the library.

"be safe y/n."

"always," you gave him one last smile as you closed the door behind you. you really should have kissed him, how can someone go from being so rude to being so… nice?

the walk back into the kitchen felt like an eternity. you entered the room only to be met with your Mom unpacking bags of food.

“so, what were you doing when I was gone?” you hated lying, especially to your own Mom.

“I just spent some time reading in the library, y’know just checking out the books,” sure you were.

“right well let’s get lunch ready.” when lunch was mentioned you felt like you hadn’t eaten for days. once your lunch was cooked you made your way into the dining room.

to your surprise the table was occupied by six of the brothers. “what are you guys doing here!” you whispered while taking a good look at the cups of blood placed on the table. you brought your eyes to meet the empty chair that was usually to be occupied by Riki.

“lunch is served!” your mom came storming into the room and gave you a confused look. “Honey, what’s up, you look like you've seen a ghost."

can she really not see them?

A/N: hope you enjoy it! likes and reblogs would be deeply appreciated!

TALGISTL: @they2luv1naia @lwavander @itzz-me-duh @wzy3ka @lari-05 @entenen @143won @heysunghoon @soobiverse @cinasual @j-wyoung @heartbreakrikiversary @angelicjuicey @crybqbyme @hsgwrld-archive @mrchweeee @yanqiiuver @certified-niki-lover @rikisblackgf @loumin908 @jena4realz @imsodazed

#enhypen x reader #enhahearts #enhypen #niki x reader #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #enhypen smau #kpop #nishimura riki smau #ni ki x reader #ni ki #ni ki fluff #niki enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #rikiluvly

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peachyteabuck · 9 months

Text

let it happen (it's gonna feel so good)

↪ summary: now that you're officially kate's again, she puts you to good use.

sequel to the plum tree blossoms even in winter

a commission for someone who wishes to remain anonymous

↪ pairing: kate bishop x reader, yelena belova x reader

↪ words: 10,043

↪ trigger warnings: heavy pet play, implied kidnapping, dehumanization, blowjobs using strap-ons, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, strap-on PIV sex, manipulation, mob au, dark au, mentioned free use, mentioned primal play, use of 'daddy'

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

News of your return travels fast. Gossip does that in this business - all people have is the word of mouth and their reputation. The second one utters a juicy bit of conversation over a line or while on guard, a clique of power-hungry goons are picking it up and spreading it around as far as they can. Kate’s one of the most powerful mobsters in the Northern Hemisphere, visible in ways leaders hadn’t been in the past. Women, certainly not pretty ones, are ever as influential as she’s been.

So, you’re not surprised when every bodyguard, goon, runner, rat, dealer, and saleswoman who walks through the doors of her home or office looks at you with a mix of pity and smugness. The former because they knew what happened to those that betrayed the all-powerful Kate Bishop. The latter because people had been placing bets on how long you’d make it out in the real world, and you’d learned from Carol that very, very few had actually thought you’d last the year.

Honestly, the fact people were gambling on your ability to survive hits you less than you think it should. In truth, you wouldn’t have bet on yourself either. There are no underdogs here; only winners, losers, and those throwing money between them.

You try and remember the positives of being back in Kate’s care. Warm beds, always. Food that tastes good and doesn’t come from a bag. Her large bathtub with massaging jets. Her personal chef. Her caves of heated blankets you can hide in during traditional New York blizzards. Her chilled pool during hot summers. Fleeting memories of your time on the street bring your gratefulness into perspective, choosing to ignore your feelings of inadequacy as people you’ve known for years gawk at you like a newly revealed zoo animal.

It’s not as if all of them are mean – Kate would never allow them to throw things at you, touch you, or even come within a few feet of you without her express and explicit permission. But their heavy gazes, their snickering…it all makes you curl even deeper into yourself as you curl against the large dog bed. Kate has bought a new one, the deep gray contrasted by “Kate’s puppy” embroidered off to one side. Your skin occasionally brushes against it when you’re sleeping, yet another sensory reminder of your place.

Natasha is the first one to really meet with Kate after your newfound arrival, the two of them chatting over drinks and dinner. You get occasional bites of the lobster rolls (one of Natasha’s favorites), but as the meeting leeches deep into the night, you’re too tired to do anything else but keep your form.

She looks you up and down as you remain in position in the corner, your thick collar keeping your head up and face forward. It’s a strain, but one that’s familiar enough to feel…nice. You choose not to lean into the comfort, just letting it warm you from the inside out.

“The pet’s back, huh?” she asks as she shakes her head and turns back to watch Kate sign checks. Money laundering is a complicated business that requires careful precision and planning. These include cutting real, legitimate checks for fake, bloated amounts. Kate could have one of her assistants do this, but she likes to double-check the numbers – she refuses to be on the other end of such a heinous crime. “She’s prettier than I remembered.”

Kate grunts out a laugh. She’s known Natasha since the two of them were mixing coke with pre-workout…the redhead is allowed to make comments that would get other people shot. Still, Kate doesn’t need Natasha getting too big for her britches…even if those britches are currently skin-tight leggings that flatter her ass tremendously.

“Yeah,” your owner says, not bothering to look back at you. She’s still shaky in her belief you’re back for good this time, and doesn’t want to jinx it by going soft. “They just can’t seem to stay away.”

“Has it really been a year?” Nat careens her own neck to rake her eyes up your form once more. She’s not as into such discipline as Kate is - preferring a little more push and pull with the ones she decides to fuck. Even so, she can’t deny the scene in front of her is hot. Your form is perfect, with your back arrow straight and your gaze unflinching. Not to mention your nipples are hard as diamonds as they’re exposed to the chilled office air, and you shiver every so often when the air conditioning sputters to life.

Kate hmms after a minute or so, shoving the stack of checks into an envelope before pushing them aside. “And about a week. Time flies so fast, doesn’t it?”

It's Natasha’s turn to murmur a response, the both of them watching you now. It takes all your might not to look at them, keeping your eyes trained on one of Kate’s small vintage horse statues she got into collecting a few years back. Most of them were tossed when she moved into her new office after her old club was mysteriously burned to the ground after an undercover cop was found flirting with an escort Kate hires every so often. The insurance money was quite a lot, enough to build her a new office, and buy a whole lot of new decorations.

But that horse statue, somehow, remained unscathed. Depicting a wild stallion running through a river – its eyes wide, mouth open, teeth barred as fish flip uselessly around it, hair tossed from imaginary wind, and light brown coat speckled with dirt – you wonder if she had kept it for any particular reason. The statue, though dynamic, was neither large nor immediately thought-provoking. You also wondered why it was so low on the set of black matte shelves, given its old place had been higher and on an adjacent wall.

“You know what they say,” Kate leans over to graze her knuckles over your cheek. You don’t flinch, instead leaning into her touch. She rewards you with a smile. “Pets always find their way back to what they know.”

Natasha doesn’t disagree but does turn the conversation away from you. She’s not a prude, but watching you get eye-fucked by a mafia boss is not her idea of a fun evening (at least, not now. You’re always more interesting when there’s an audience). She’s certainly not against voyeurism, but in a world where she can touch…she’d always rather be at the center of the action.

“When are you meeting with the Russian?”

Kate takes a sip of her drink. The bourbon is just how she likes it, neat, and she hums in appreciation. She may be a very complicated woman, but she prefers a very simple drink. “Tonight. Said she’d come later into the evening when the club was busiest.”

If this were anyone else, Natasha would say something sarcastic, mocking the person for hiding in the sea of hot, sweaty bodies (not that it would work, Kate’s team of bodyguards are exceptionally well-trained in the art of track and trace.). But they’re not talking about just anyone, and although Natasha isn’t afraid of her…it’s just best not to invite the devil to your dinner table. “Makes sense. You know how they are.”

“Speaking of which,” Kate leans over and unhooks your collar, a sign you can lay down and rest for a little bit. “Don’t want her all worn out before our special guest arrives.”

Natasha says nothing. She’s pushed her luck enough.

“But yes, I’m intimately familiar. When they shave your head after kidnapping you and do it poorly, you tend to remember their cruelty.”

She wrinkles her nose at the memory – including the number of wigs she had to buy once she was safely returned. She was young when it happened, and her hair had long grown out since then, but her skin still remembers the itch of the growing stubble atop her head.

“Anyway, you know what I need from you,” Kate shakes her head to push the experience back deep into the recesses of her mind. “Everyone is hands-on, everyone tracks her. I don’t want a single person entering or exiting this club without us knowing any affiliations.”

It’s not as if Natasha knows the protocol – she was the one who developed it after an unfortunate incident with a Bratva a few years back – but she nods along as if it’s the first time she’s heard it. It’s easier that way.

As she goes to leave, Kate stops her – a wave of emotion cracking through her harsh façade for just a moment, before her steeled brow resets itself into its regular position. “Keep her safe. I can’t lose her again.”

The redhead just nods once, silently, before going back to the security wing with the rest of the team. Even underground, she can faintly hear the deep bass of a particularly rancid EDM remix, but mostly the only noises are the sounds of tactical gear clacking against itself. Loopholes in a military overstock program meant police departments were willing to exchange gear for cash with nonsequential serial numbers, and Natasha was always the first in line when silent auctions went live. It’s what she liked, it’s what she was good at: protecting, watching, strategizing.

She liked Kate trusted her enough to give her as much freedom as she does. That’s where she saw other mobsters fall—egos too big it couldn’t fit inside of them, imploding the whole organization from the inside out in a single generation. Natasha didn’t want to a freelancer anymore—the money was good, but stability had become more important in recent years. Maybe she’d gone soft, maybe she’d just gotten older. Either way, looking at the vast away of screens that covered every inch of the club and its perimeter…she felt truly at home.

Back in Kate’s office, you lay in your dog bed while your owner smokes a cigarette. It’s not something she does frequently—she’s a busy woman, she doesn’t have time to press pause every hour to hunch outside. Plus, she hates smoking with other people. She quit for the reason most people refuse to: the social aspect proved a worse taste in her mouth than the nicotine. Even the e-cigarette people didn’t find themselves outside, instead blowing fruit-smelling air into whatever closed space they felt entitled to.

Whatever, she sighs, putting it out in an ashtray that looks suspiciously similar to your pussy. I’ve got more important things to think about anyway.

Kate sees the suit first – a muted orange with fantastical patterns woven into the fabric, reminiscent of tapestries she remembers from a museum visit from a job farther down the East Coast. The thread glimmers in the light, a subtle way to signal her importance. Heeled boots thump against the tile as she walks, her loose, bouncy blonde hair framing her face. Unlike most of the people in the club tonight, she’s perfectly relaxed. It’s as if she’s sitting down at a family restaurant she’s been to a million times before, confidence in her step you’re not used to seeing.

“Yelena,” she says, gesturing to the seat where – just last night – Kate fingered you until you squirted all over the floor. She made you clean it, but your face still heats at the thought of her sitting there. “Come, sit. I will have my assistant pour us a drink, if you’d like.”

Assistant. Its double meaning hanging in the air like a dark, ominous cloud.

Yelena looks you up and down, eyes raking over your form as if you were a painting she was attempting to commit to memory. Her eyes seem to see not through you, but all of you – flesh and bone and sinew. You’re not sure what to make of her heavy gaze, the way she stops every few inches for just a moment before continuing. People watch you, stare at you, all the time – some shocked, some less so. She doesn’t look at you the way they do, like a starved animal seeing its keeper dangle fresh carnage outside of its cage. Rather, she’s a fully fed bear, fat and happy as it revels in its hunting ability. She knows she doesn’t need to kill, doesn’t need the destruction or chaos or unspeakable violence; but she can. She very easily can. And that’s all that matters to her, and her prey.

You’re wearing a gag – that part isn’t new (she’s not some sniveling virgin) – but what surprises Yelena ever so slightly is that it’s shaped like a dog bone. Drool pools at the side of your mouth, dripping down your chest and covering you in your own spit. All you can do, though, is look up at her with wide, empty eyes.

That is, until you remember your manners and turn your gaze downward.

“I don’t intend to stay long,” she says. It’s not meant to be sarcastic or clipping. It is what it is. Still, as she looks you over once more, a small smile curls at her lips. “Bishop-“

“Kate, please,” the brunette insists. “We have enough history to be past that formality, don’t we?”

Yelena doesn’t correct herself, continuing to stare at you. Her gaze is so intense you can feel it without looking back, small fires igniting down your spine under it. “I see you found a way to occupy your time since we last spoke.”

You wish you could see her, but all you can do is stare at the floor while the tension in the room builds in the way one expects the crash of a tsunami. Kate keeps much of her time in the Eastern Bloc a secret lost to time, but you’re not that much of an idiot to understand what silence means in these spaces.

Kate gives a tense smile, stepping to give Yelena some space. You’re not sure if the guest is asking for it, or if Kate needs it to cool down. “Sit, please. We’ve got much to discuss.”

It’s hard to track the movements of their feet through sound, but the slight scrape of the chair legs against the hardwood floor is too distinctive to ignore.

Kate tries to ease them back to the intended conversation, the experienced gears in her mind turning as fast as they can. “As I told Melina, your ports would be an incredibly valuable asset to us, and-“

“What are you offering me?” Her accent is thick, her tone straightforward. It’s one of the things Kate likes most about working with Russians – they don’t dance around the issue, they don’t fuck around, they don’t ask her to read between the lines. They say what they want to say without preamble or metaphor. Life is easier when you know what kind of target you’re shooting at. “You want access to several multibillion-dollar ports for what, the shithole Jersey has to offer?”

Kate narrows her eyes. “Underestimating your enemies seems to be a thing with your people, isn’t it?”

Yelena just laughs. It’s a dry, husky sound, and you do poorly at dampening the flutter in your chest. “Governments are very temporary where I’m from. No sense in vesting yourself in something that can’t touch you in a country so big.”

Both women pause. In the distance (or maybe right next to you), you hear waves crashing ashore—the sound of car alarms and windows breaking and people screaming. It’s here. It’s here and you are stuck in the middle of it.

“What do you want?” Kate remains outwardly calm, combing through her knowledge of the other woman to try and find some middle ground. It’s true – dock access benefits her much more than her Eastern counterpart. But she’s made people agree to a lot more for a lot less.

The woman across from her hmms, but stays silent otherwise. It’s that heavy, weighted silence; the kind that begs for another party to ask a question, lower their offer, barter for less. It’s an anvil that hangs over the both of them, swinging as they work against each other to determine where it will fall.

“Sign this deal, give me access to the ports, and if all goes well I’ll let you stay a week with my puppy over here,” Kate says plainly. Your head shoots up and your eyes widen when you realize what she’s saying, that she’s offering you up as bait for this deal. The bait part isn’t so surprising, you’ve been used as a carrot much more than you’ve been used as a stick. What causes your heart to stop is how sincere she sounds. Kate’s poker face is akin to a brick wall (maybe concrete – a brick wall has too many imperfections to be compared to your owner), but you’ve known her long enough to know how her tone wavers just a little when she’s lying. You hear nothing, no notes skipped or rests added. Just a sincere, long melody that rings throughout the room in a minor key.

It’s not as though Yelena isn’t gorgeous – with her plush lips, soft face, and eyes lined with dusty eyeshadow. She has this relaxed air about her that screams “I know exactly what I’m capable of, and you do, too.” And if your relationship with Kate is any indicator, you’re very attracted to that energy. Still, a pretty unknown is still an unknown…and you’re worried your recently lost seniority with Kate could have devastating consequences.

“I can give you money, drugs, equipment, girls,” Kate tells her. “But you said you willing to come and talk, so I’m assuming you didn’t come here just to-“

“No,” Yelena cuts her off. Fucking bold ass Russians, Kate thinks. You’d think they’d at least let you finish “I want to take the puppy out on a nice dinner, a little…what is it you Americans call it?” She smiles, laughing to herself just a little. “Dine and wine?”

Kate doesn’t correct her.

“Whatever it’s called, I want to do it to the pet. One night, including dinner. That’s what I want in exchange for giving you dock access.”

Kate clenches her jaw just a little. You don’t notice, head perking up at all the attention on you. It’s nice to not be a little toy on a shelf sometimes, everyone staring at you but no one touching. Having merely the focus of one person is a nice change, especially in a restaurant as fancy as you presume Yelena frequents. Perfectly literate in poverty, you can tell this woman and Kate fall in the same tax bracket (if they paid their taxes accurately).

They work out the details on their own, details far above what you’re able to hold in your own brain. All you care about now is what happens next, your body thrumming with excitement. If you’ve gotten the attention of this woman, you’re curious of what others would do for you.

Kate cuts up pieces of the food to feed to you from her own fork, pausing every so often to take a bite of her own. It’s awkward, sitting there just out of view but so exposed, hands bound in front of you as you’re denied the chance to feed yourself.

Sharon blinks, face blank. “Must we do this now, boss?”

Kate just smiles, watching as you eagerly swallow the spoonful of mashed potatoes. Ever since your return, she’d had her chef prepare comfort food she knew you’d missed while you were on the run – macaroni and cheese, pot pie, chicken noodle soup, decadent desserts. Watching pleasure wash over your face with every bite was worth denying you all those months. It’s something Kate’s had to learn intimately; how torturous waiting is. Still, she knows she—and you—are better off with abundance of patience.

“This is the only time I have available to speak on this matter,” she doesn’t look away from you as she speaks, her tone light while her words pointed. “We can either discuss this now, or you can wait in three days when the subject in question is back in position.”

The blonde’s jaw sets, her hands balling into fists under the lip of Kate’s massive oak desk. It’s not like she’s some prude, like that one guard who lasted twenty-four hours before begging to be moved to another post. She just knows that, less than four feet away, you’re clad in only soft panties and a large t-shirt that shows off your hardened nipples, collar jingling with each movement and your hands kept inert. If she had her way, she’d be bending you over and filling your holes with her fingers, laughing as you wept from the pleasure.

She’s not a prude, she’s just really fucking horny and wants to go home so she can watch the most intense porn she can find. Alone. With her vibrator and thruster and noise-canceling headphones and maybe an expensive bottle of Scotch. Or an edible. She doesn’t know, yet – part of the joy for her is sitting with the process and going with whatever sings to her heart the most.

So, Sharon shoves down the memory of your moans, of past promises of letting you loose in Kate’s mansion while Kate’s most trusted within the organization hunt you down like prey. She digs her nails into her palm as a distraction, but all it does is think of them digging into your hips.

“Are you really going to let her do that?”

Kate doesn’t move a muscle, and, for a split second, her blonde counterpart thinks she’s going to crack. Sharon knows what you mean to her, what your return symbolizes. When you decided to leave, Sharon remembers how angry she was, how often Kate came home with bloody knuckles or a split lip from forcing Nat to spar with her. To have you back and then immediately do something she’s never done before with you—letting someone outside their tight-knit group lay any sort of claim on you…it worries her.

But she’s Kate fucking Bishop, she has no flaws, admits no wrong, displays no weaknesses.

“We need several billion dollars, and all we have to do is let our little pet out into the world for the night,” Kate says with a shrug, looking at you with the same critical eye of an art collector. “Seems like a good deal to me.”

“Plus,” she pets the top of your head as you nuzzle into her knee. “Yelena’s not an idiot. She knows we’ll be watching and if anything happens to my prized pet that she’ll meet the end she was promised by the Red Room.”

Sharon nods just a little, trying to imagine how much a nightmare tracking you, the Russian, and the Russian’s own security will be awhile keeping Kate in the loop. She and her team can get it done (not as if they have a choice), but it'll be the definition of a logistical nightmare.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kate coos to you. You keen under her words, pressing your face into the side of her knee and rubbing your face against the fabric of her jeans. “Daddy will always keep you safe.”

“Kate,” Sharon can’t tamper down the bile that rises in her throat as she imagines a Kate without you once more. “You’re sure?”

She ignores her, instead forcefully grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to face Sharon. You let out a small yelp, which Kate simply ignores.

"Do you want to be a good girl for me?"

You nod, desperately trying to push the fear to the back of your brain. Needless to say, it doesn’t work – you can feel it oozing down your spinal cord and settling into your stomach. You’ll be good – you’ll do anything to be good…but you worry your clammy hands and shaky breath might give you away.

Kate pulls you back so that you’re facing her, forcing a whimper from your throat.

“Then don’t leave that Russian’s side for a single fucking second, you understand?”

You nod as much as you can, eyes wide with fear. You truly have no plans to run again—you’d spent enough time on the streets to know that even if you somehow got away (which, in and of itself, is about as likely as you jumping off a building and flying), there’s nowhere for you to go. You have nothing to your name, nothing to barter or trade for on the streets. Kate is, in all ways, the devil you know. Better her than what waits beyond her scope.

The woman holding you face smiles—not the kind that comforts you, but the kind that has you bracing for what comes next. “Perfect.” She pushes you away as she lets go, patting your cheek hard enough that you’re sure it qualifies as a slap. “I knew you could do it. Now, Sharon, walk me through the security protocols, please.”

Kate’s bedroom in her mansion is technically categorized as a “master bedroom,” but feels close to its own apartment within the house. It’s bigger—much bigger—than the home you grew up in, certainly larger than anywhere you found to sleep while away from her. She’s got a large vintage wardrobe that’s been fitted with the favorites of her toy collection, a huge bathroom with a tub large enough for three people, and a small kitchenette.

You have your own walk-in closet, too, not that you really use it. On occasion, you’re arm candy to a fancy dinner or meeting, or you need to catch the eye of a target to leave them vulnerable. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of clothes hang, sadly, mostly unused, as you clap (yes, clap, Kate is not one to spare any expense, especially when it comes to you) the lights on.

You wish you had been given some sort of dress code; you’re not really used to dressing yourself. Truthfully, you’re not used to making any decision on your own, and now that everything rests on you… you’re terrified of messing it up.

It takes what feels like hours, but soon you’ve got three options. A vintage satin wrap dress that hugs your figure but gives you room to breathe, a strappy emerald green floor-length gown with a visible slit that parts every time you walk, and a plush pink sun dress that barely hits your knees but whose sleeves and straight neckline give the illusion of modesty.

In the end, paired with black stilettos and diamond jewelry you’re nearly completely sure was stolen from the Met, you choose the wrap dress. You’re not sure what Russian mobsters like, but you think it’s a safe bet that they enjoy plunging necklines, a high, hidden slit, and perfectly winged eyeliner.

(Or, at least you hope so.)

The car Yelena said would come at eight comes right as the clock ticks into the hour, one of Kate’s servants alerting you to its presence as it pulls into the winding driveway. It’s empty, save the driver, who attempts to neither greet you nor converse with you. He opens the door for you and helps you over the curb, certainly, but the car ride there is completely silent.

Wherever you go, someone seems to be right at your side. The driver escorts you into the restaurant, and the hostess walks you to the far back, where Yelena is already sitting at a perfectly set table in a private room.

“Sit,” she says, pouring champagne into shiny fancy glasses. “We have much to discuss.”

You do as you’re told, taking a champagne flute from her. Initially, you’d hope the alcohol would calm your nerves. Now, you’re settling for it warming your skin.

“It’s nice to have you alone, маленький щенок. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your face heats—you know your existence is the elephant in the room in many meetings with Kate, but having people know you when you don’t know them has never gotten less strange. Still, your lightweight nature begins to mask itself as bravery as you down the rest of the bubbly liquid. “Anything in particular?”

Apparently, the champagne, while calming your nerves, also dulled your inhibitions.

Yelena, to her credit, just laughs. Like her voice, it’s deep and raspy and goes straight to your center.

“Just that you are a very, very good girl who would do anything for her beloved owner.”

Her energy is electric, enigmatic. This must be what Eve felt like in the garden, with the snake swirling around her in its impossible size. Truthfully, you’d bite into anything Yelena asked you to, if she did it in the same way she asked the waiter for a booth in the corner or how she requested a more “balanced” selection of wine from the sommelier. She even lets you order for yourself, something Kate has never let you do.

It’s interesting to see the differences between the two of them.

As you watch Yelena cut a thin bite of bloodied steak, though, you realize how similar they really are. Yelena, like a knife with an intricately carved handle, and Kate, like a baseball bat with blood in its grooves, may not be mirror images of each other. It is easy to imagine, though, the both of them, side by side, waiting for their turn to torture someone who had wronged them in some way. Danger, regardless of its form, settles its heated self into your lower abdomen.

The conversation is light, flirty. It reminds you of a first date, the kind you went on before Kate domesticated you. You feel…warm, the light of her gaze. It’s hazy, too, the way a fire is in the wee hours of the morning. You feel that same sort of flush, that sort of vulnerability that only reveals itself in the hours before the birds start to sing. It feels both like decades and like seconds before you’re splitting a cherry crème brule and Yelena is sliding the waiter her black card. She holds you close to her with her arm around your waist, her thumb drawing small circles even as the directs you into a black car with the same driver as before. The ride is a daze, her hands dancing over your skin in complete silence.

She guides you into your destination—a hotel—in the same manner, the doorman pointedly making an effort to keep you from his eyeline.

The name of the place doesn’t register until you’re stepping into the lobby, a hand on your waist guiding you to an elevator hidden off to the side. Of course – this is the expensive hotel Kate gets rooms in sometimes to house guests she wants to keep an eye on. Yelena booked her own accommodation, and you doubt Kate needs as much retcon on Yelena as she does for a normal client, but what really causes your breath to hitch in your throat is the cost. A week here is more than most people make in a year, and you know she’s staying for two.

“You’ve been here before?” she asks as she hits on the buttons closer to the top row. The penthouses, you recognize.

“A few times,” you answer honestly. “But never for more than a night or two.”

The room Yelena’s staying in looks exactly like yours did all those years back—modern, tastefully decorated, almost too neat. You don’t have much time to look around, though, before Yelena’s got you pushed against one of the walls while presses her lips to yours. She doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to—simply bunches your dress in her hands to pull it off you.

It falls to the floor in the same way you think Marie Antoinette’s head did – smoothly, and with silent, eager onlookers watching as it finds its place on the ground.

You expect, or at least hope, there was more fanfare, more witnesses to her destruction. All this dress is getting, as you step out of it and deep into Yelena’s arms, is one woman’s lust. It’s easy to see, though, how anything the Russian does would overpower a crowd of thousands; in the same way her silence screams louder than an army, the way she tugs her bottom lip between her bright teeth says more than anything anyone else could tell you about her.

Her hand rests over your clothed pussy, skimming over the soft skin there. “What a good girl you are.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks and over your chest. You wonder if this is what being burned alive would be like—the light tinging the border of your vision and painful heat quickly turning into pleasure.

“I like them well trained,” she murmurs into your skin. All you can do is grab at her shoulders, holding her close. If Kate said it was okay…

“I’m a busy, busy woman, little puppy,” Yelena peppers small kisses across the base of your throat, her soft, plush lips sending shockwaves through your body. “I don’t have the time to break the brats my…colleagues seem to enjoy so much. But you…you’d do whatever I’d ask you to, wouldn’t you?”

If the room was on fire, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to tell until the roof caved in. Heat licks at your abdomen, sparks flying across your center as you cross your legs in an attempt to dampen the flames. It, needless to say, doesn’t work at all.

“Oh, puppy,” Yelena grins as the hand begins to ghost over your tummy. “No, don’t do that. Don’t hide from pleasure, my darling.”

Your mouth feels drier than a desert as you meet her heavy gaze, her eyes lined with artfully smudged black shadow. She’s stunning, there’s no way around that (not that you want to avoid it); but, truthfully, you’re also not so sure what she sees in you. It’s easy to forget your insecurities, though, when one hand is suddenly moving south and pushing your carefully curated panties to the side.

Her hands remind you of the rest of her—rough, skilled, no-nonsense. She teases you for a moment, ghosting her fingertips over your desperate cunt. You want her, you want her more than a man dying of dehydration craves an endless freshwater ocean. She knows it, too, watches through dark lashes as you pant and chase her lips when she pulls back.

It's only when you begin to whine that she slides her fingers into your dripping pussy, a moan passing her own lips the same as yours. “Oh щенок, you’re wet after just a little kissing, huh? You like it when I touch you there?”

You swallow the frog in your throat, trying to find a way to defend yourself. The choosing you, the conversation in the restaurant, the touches in the car…but your protests die in your chest as her other hand moves to your throat.

“Gotta hold you in place, щенок,” she murmurs. “Can’t have you running away, can I?”

She finds that special spot inside of you easily, like a scent hound to the hideout of a family of foxes. You can hear the beats of horses’ hooves in just under your ribcage, their owners hollering at the chance to hunt properly.

“I-“ You gasp, trying to find purchase against the wall. When the concrete doesn’t make way for your fingers, your find yourself digging them into her suit. “I-“

"Come on, baby, be good for me,” Yelena purrs. It’s sweet, sincere…but you also can’t imagine how fake it’d have to be for you to not feel a trembling in your knees. She could be a snake oil salesman, and you a harlot hypochondriac with money burning a hole in your purse, and you’re sure you would do whatever she asked. “Give me what I want.”

And so, you do – exploding from the inside out like dynamite inside a coal mine. It’s hard for you to keep yourself upright, and you find yourself leaning on Yelena entirely. She catches you, keeps you upright enough so you can catch your breath.

“I know, baby,” Yelena purrs, rubbing her thumb against the fabric of your dress. “I know, it’s okay.”

She holds you to her, gives you a moment to find your proverbial footing as the pleasure settles into the base of your spine, your knees no longer struggling to hold your weight. You pull back, leaning on the wall as her arms cage you in.

“What a pretty girl you are,” she says quietly, as if she’s merely confirming to herself that her assumptions were correct.

Your heart—the stupid, fluttering thing—thumps against your ribs as you reach for her belt.

Yelena lets you do as you please, finding your lips as your hand finds the toy placed just for you. “Mm,” she moves to nip at your neck as you spit on her cock, your hand finding purchase on the carefully molded silicone. “So good, too. I’ve heard a lot of rumors, щенок. It’s good to know so many of them are true.”

Heat rises in your cheeks and chest. You’re not sure what to say, or do. Even if you did, all of your focus is concentrated on releasing what you want from their confines. Yelena doesn’t stop you, but doesn’t help either. All she does is push you to your knees, one hand on the top of your head while the other guides the toy to your lips. You’ve done this thousands of times with Kate, with her own strong hands at the top of your head.

This is different, though, with Yelena. Different in the way swimming in an ocean is different than swimming in a lake; in the same way sexting through text is different than through a phone call. It’s indescribable but perfect, and you can feel yourself dripping as you lick up the length of the shaft.

“Look at me, красивая девушка,” Yelena murmurs, voice low as if to not startle you. She moans as you meet her heavy gaze, the corners of your eyes watering as you slowly swallow her cock. “Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

You’d smile if your lips weren’t so thoroughly occupied, the praise hitting you at every angle. The warmth prods at you, urging you on, with the world shrinking until it was only the two of you and no one else. There was nothing, no one, who could break the focus of you on Yelena, and vice versa.

It's easy, with her hands on the top of your head and endless sweet nothings tumbling from her lips, to swallow her down until your nose was pressed against her pubic bone. She’s got a tuft of light brown hair on her lower tummy, a happy trail you’re eager to nuzzle into when you’re not pre-occupied with her cock.

“Gorgeous,” Yelena whispers, seemingly more to herself than to you.

Funny enough, looking up at her, you’re thinking the same thing.

She swipes her thumb over your cheek, following the outline the silicone makes in the muscle. “Absolutely fucking gorgeous, милый.”

Her praise spurs you on, pushes you to force yourself further and further down until you can feel tears forming at the corner of your eyes and your lungs fighting for air. Yelena just watches you, eyes full of awe and one hand at the back of your head, as you pull back and sputter for air before licking up the shaft once more.

“Enough of this,” she says gruffly, suddenly, grabbing you and throwing you over her shoulder before you can so much as squeak. You’re tossed on the bed much in the same fashion, her hands unzipping your dress and tossing your panties aside as Yelena kisses you. She’s rough, passionate, moving you without pretense until she’s on her back, your core hovering over her face. “Now this,” she moves her head enough to kiss as your empty, waiting cunt. “This is what I’ve been looking forward to since I saw you the first time.”

You want to question her—ask her how she knows about you, how she saw you when Kate keeps you under such close supervision. The curiosity dies as she grabs reaches under your legs to grab your hips and seats you atop her, her lips and tongue moving in tandem. It’s hard to keep yourself from rocking against her, and so you don’t. You grind against her tongue, your hands finding hers to help with her balance. You cum easily, quickly, shaking against her as she moans into your pussy. As the pleasure subsides you push yourself away ever so slightly, seating yourself against her chest. Both of you catch your breaths, the shared panting the only sound in the otherwise quiet hotel room.

When you’re finally able to look down, to see her blissed-out face covered in your juices, you’re mesmerized.

Yelena just smiles up at you, eyes half closed. “черт возьми, you’re amazing. Give me a second, and we can do it again.”

The next morning, Yelena drives you herself, waving away the driver who passes her the keys despite his concerned look. She opens the passenger door for you and closes it once you’re fully inside, getting into the driver’s seat after that. As she drives off, silence settles over the two of you. It’s hard to make small talk in your situation, and so you wait for her to say something first.

Luckily, she does.

“You could come with me, you know.”

You don’t meet her gaze, if she’s even looking at you. All you can do is stare out the car window and watch as the world passes by.

“Americans have nothing on us,” Yelena continues. You wonder if she notices your hands balling into fists. “I could keep you safe, if you wanted to run. It’d be very easy to convince my own people to love you the way Kate’s people do.”

The car stops—a red light, hopefully—and her hand caresses your cheek. “Look at me, щенок. Please.”

And so, you do. Apparently, you’re very easily persuaded.

“Not sure if Kate has told you, but you’re quite the talk of the underground.” Heat rises on your cheeks, the horrors of being known pricking at your skin like needles. “Like some kind of cat tossed out the back. Many people were following your path, щенок. Many people were following Kate’s path as well.”

“W-“ you stop for a second as her thumb rubs at your bottom lip, the lip she was nipping not-so-long ago. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you are a trophy,” she murmurs, eyes flitting from your lips to your eyes to your heaving chest. “You deserve to be treated like one. And I’ve got a special place for you with me, if you want it.”

Yelena lets you look away from her as the light turns green, the world once again shirking its responsibility to be a quality distraction. The car goes too fast for that, and so you are stuck rolling her words over in your brain.

“I can’t,” you say when the club comes into view. “I just can’t.”

The blonde next to you sighs quiet enough that you barely hear it. She nods to the valet—some scrawny kid you’ve seen once or twice. Where your hands rest in your lap, you feel Yelena’s own sliding between your fingers and depositing a simple business card. On it is just a number, the characters a stark black against the thick eggshell paper.

“Maybe one day I’ll see you again, щенок,” she whispers into your ear. “Tell your владелец she can use the docks whenever she’d like.”

You don’t speak Russian, but it’s easy to tell who she’s talking about.

“Thank you,” is all you can say back, eyes wide and waiting. You worry there’s some catch, a bit of rope you forgot to step over that will make you hit the concrete face-first.

But you remain upright, familiar faces ushering you through. It’s still early in the day, which is something you’re grateful for. You don’t need to deal with the prying eyes of patrons on top of the pity from the workers who are mopping the floors and cleaning glasses. You pass a few of Natasha’s lower guards in the narrow, dim hallways—all of them staring at you as though you were a cow being sent to slaughter. They’ll feast on you someday (both of you know it), but you still can’t make yourself do anything but stare at the floor.

Kate shows no emotion as you step into the office, her face expertly wiped of emotion. Natasha, standing guard at the door, seems relieved. She and her guardswomen have always been a sort of Greek chorus, their reactions slipping through the cracks in their facades every so often. It makes their earlier expressions far more sinister.

“Go lay down, puppy,” Kate says without looking at you. “Daddy’s got some work to finish.”

You do as you’re told, taking your shoes off before sliding onto the dog bed. As soon as your skin hits the fabric you can tell it’s been cleaned – the blanket on top of it, too. It’s still warm from the dryer, smelling distinctly of the lavender dryer sheets she buys in bulk. The bed at the hotel was too big, uncomfortable in its never-ending borders. This feels closer to home, and you lose consciousness to the sound of Kate’s keyboard clicking and opera music playing softly from her desktop.

Hours later, you lift your head when you hear her desk light being turned off, the familiar click a moment of respite from the harrowing silence of the office.

She smiles – a small smile, but a smile nonetheless – when she sees you perk up.

Home? You ask silently, looking at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Home, she tells you through a silent nod.

You tamper your excitement enough to follow her calmly, her arm wrapped possessively around your waist as you exit. The club hums with the pre-opening anticipation, and your own eagerness mixes with the electricity in the air.

The ride home is silent, Kate looking more at her phone than you. She does, though, keep one hand on your thigh, and for that, you are ecstatic.

Once home, Kate grabs one of the collars and leash sets that hang inside a custom end table, a bowl of car keys on top hiding its true function. You drop to your knees without further prompting. It’s hard to fight the moan that bubbles at the familiar clicking sound, and so you don’t.

It makes your owner smile, and you preen under the attention. The hand not holding the leash cups your jaw as you, too, grin with her.

“Such a good puppy,” Kate purrs, looking you over for signs Yelena had failed Kate’s commands.

“If I see a single mark on her, I will kill you,” she’d simply said.

The Russian just laughed. “Going to be hard, Катя. How about just the neck?

Kate hmms, thinking about it. She certainly doesn’t need Yelena to pull out of this deal for something as simple as a few hickeys. “Fine. Anything below the collarbone is fair game.”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

You do not heed her warning—you don’t need to. You’ve known Kate long enough to know exactly what you’re getting into.

“Come on, pup,” she says, standing up straighter as begins to walk towards her personal wing of her house. Just as she trained you, you stand and follow right behind her, eyes focused on the floor. You miss crawling, but know Kate likes to keep your favorites for when she’s really rewarding you. When you’ve proved you deserve it.

As you follow her, you pass a room that’s hidden from view - the door closed to warn the eyes from unwanted, unexpected visitors. Inside rests the larger pieces from Kate’s sexual collection - the full cage, the St. Andrew’s Cross, the coffee table with rivets made for rope. All custom-made to her specifications (and your body measurements).

It surprises you, just a little, when she doesn’t lead you directly to there. Kate has always preferred grand gestures to smaller ones, and that preference doesn’t end when she steps into the bedroom. Once, after receiving news a rival of hers was finally killed by another, second rival, she tied you to the bed and edged you for six hours. She set a timer and everything, telling you it was “an hour for each bullet in his skull.”

You swallow your shock, following her diligently throughout her large mansion. You like Kate’s predictability – even when it’s paired with brutality. This change…you’re almost worried, even as excited and the last thrums of your previous orgasms rush through your blood.

It all melts away, though, when you feel Kate come up behind you, kissing at your neck. She pushes you towards the bedroom—the shared bedroom—the one with the bed you’re rarely allowed to sleep in. This is her version of affection, her language of love. She would never say it, never out loud, but it still makes your heart flutter.

“Good puppy,” she moans as she pushes you against the doorframe, kissing you fiercely. “Such a good fucking puppy for Daddy.”

One of her hands snakes between you, cupping your heated mound. It’s still sore from last night, but that certainly has never stopped her before.

“You’re so beautiful, too,” she murmurs breathlessly. “My gorgeous ray of fuckin’ sunshine.”

The beating in your heart travels south, Kate’s hands roaming over your hips and ass and thighs as she kisses you breathless. It’s easy for her to push your dress up, exposing you to the cool air. Kate laughs, staring at where your very expensive panties were no longer present. “She took ‘em, huh?”

You swallow, not sure what to say. In truth, you hadn’t even thought to look for them—Kate usually makes you go without.

She just laughs, going back to caressing your ass. “Can’t even blame her, I would’ve done the same thing if I had the chance.” She moans as her fingers sink into you. They’re not too deep, but that doesn’t do much to mitigate the stretch. “Fucked a lot of good pussy when you left me, but not a single one matches up to this cunt right here.”

You yelp as she slaps your clit, moans replacing the sharp sound as she circles it slowly. It’s easy to love her when she’s the one taking the pain away, even if she’s the one who caused it in the first place.

Without panties, her fingers slide in easily – your wetness already pooling under you. Your pussy is sore, but it only adds to the pleasure that spreads in your abdomen. It’s the kind of soreness you can feel everywhere—your shoulders, your thighs, your stomach, your arms. It feels good to be a well-loved toy, you think. It feels good to be used, to be useful.

“So wet already?” Kate purrs, a humiliating laugh tinging her words. “I bet I could get my dick now and I’d be able to fuck you exactly how I want to.”

You moan—you can’t help it—biting at your bottom lip.

“You want me to fuck you, puppy?” she asks, smiling as you nod feverishly. “Good girl. Strip, then go wait for me on the bed. Hands and knees, puppy.”

You scramble to take your clothes off and find your place as soon as she lets you go, almost tripping over your own feet in your frenzied desire to follow her orders. The bed, luckily, has already been made, providing you with a wide landscape in which to stake your claim.

Kate appears behind you, it seems, seconds later. The elaborate strap she’s chosen is gorgeous—all woven leather and silver hardware. She has a plethora of harnesses at varying levels of similar and dissimilar to the one she’s wearing, certainly, but after she wore it when she made you squirt for the first time…this one had remained her favorite.

You shiver, just a little, when you feel her hands running over your hips. Kate guides you, silently, closer to her. The silicone brushes against your bare core ever so lightly, sending another wave of desire through you.

“So wet,” she murmurs, her fingers everywhere except exactly where you want them. You’re about to whine, to cry, to beg, to do something to convince how desperately you want her, but before you can even open your mouth, you can feel the head of the toy slip inside of you.

“Oh,” you moan, barely fighting the urge to collapse into the bed, to let her use you like a toy. You know, though, that she likes to be the one to choose your position—if she wanted you with your face pressed into the sheets, she’s put you there with a hand between your shoulders. “Oh, please.”

“You’ve been a good little girl,” Kate muses. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the slew of pleads desperate to spill from your lips. “And well-behaved puppies deserve rewards, I suppose.”

You don’t have time to breath before she’s slamming into you, the toy fully sheathed as Kate pins you to the bed.

“Tell me who you belong to,” she hisses, the strap stretching your cunt. Unlike Yelena’s, this one is smooth, ridgeless, with a bulbous head that ends in a cone shape. It hits that spot inside of you with the kind of delicious pain Kate is so well known for—your cries interrupting her commands. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

You can’t speak—you simply can’t. Your fingers grasp at the silk bedsheets, desperately wishing you had claws so you could hook them into the $15,000 fabric and tear them into shreds. Like a werewolf stuck in the middle of its transformation, the rabidness racing in your blood feels too much for your mortal flesh to bear.

And yet, Kate pushes.

“Say it,” she growls, barring her teeth as she thrusts into you.

“I-I,” There’s no way, no way you’ll be able to choke those words out, choke any words out – everything you want to say is lodged in your throat, stuck there like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. You thrash in the same way, knowing your fate but fighting against it anyway. What was that guy’s name? Sisyphus? He had it easy, rolling that boulder up that hill. At least he wasn’t getting his cock teased while it happened.

Or maybe he was…you couldn’t remember much of your early college English classes as a fire raged inside of you.

“It belongs- oh!,” you moan as Kate bottoms out, the leather of her harness pressing against the inside of your thighs. “It belongs to you.”

“That’s fucking right,” she moans, deep in her chest, as she fucks into you with purpose. “You’re mine, all fucking mine and no one else’s.”

Your cries punctuate her proclamations, hiccups and moans layered over her words.

“I don’t care how many other people touch you,” Kate tells you, ignoring you as your howls of pleasure. “I don’t care if every fucking night you’re at the center of some orgy. You’re mine. Not Natasha’s, or Maria’s, or even fucking Carol-“

You’re wailing now, sure the soundproof walls have disintegrated and are thin as paper—pieces of which flap against your sound waves. Kate, in her unwavering desire to ruin you for eternity, keeps going.

“And certainly not some goddamn Russian who doesn’t know when to stop fucking pushing.”

“N-no!” All you can do is wail, clutching to her so hard you’re sure there will be red marks down her back come morning. Kate won’t mind, though. She also likes a bit of pain to remind her of her own mortality.

“Good fucking puppy,” she whispers, panting into your ear. “Took a stray dog in from the street, gave it a collar. Look at it now, huh?” You can hear the smile on her lips—the kind hunters have when their prey whimpers below them. Kate could set a thousand traps, catch you a thousand times, and she’d still have that delicious grin plastered over her face. It makes you feel small, vulnerable, like a rabbit caught in a snare. You love it.

“Such a good fucking mutt,” she moans. “Good fucking mutt who takes my cock so well.”

It’s easy to come, then, already sensitive and desperate and so deeply happy to be back with he woman you love the most.

“Yes, puppy,” she moans. “Give it to me.”

And so, you do, over and over again. Kate continues fucking you, even as you begin to shake from the overstimulation. The world shrinks to just the two of you, Kate panting in your ear and you swimming in pleasure. There is no one, there isn’t a need for anyone, to exist outside of you and her.

You’re not sure when it ends. Like an ocean in high tide, you can only wait for her to recede and grant you peace under her thick duvets. She wipes you down with warm, fluffy towels with Puppy embroidered onto them, cleaning your slick and the dried lube from your center and inner thighs. When you gasp at the feeling of the cloth against your sensitive skin, to which Kate just coos and peppers kisses against your sweaty temple.

“It’s okay, baby,” she whispers. “Go to sleep. I know you’re tired.”

Always the best at following directions, you allow unconsciousness to overtake you.

You wake up hours later, the darkness outside giving you no clues to the time. Your whole body is the kind of sore you haven’t experienced in years, the kind that reminds you of when your college roommate freshman year convinced you to run a 5K with her.

Kate sits beside you on the bed, reading some hardcover book about something or other. She likes older books, the boring kind you’d expect a dad to be reading in an old armchair.

It’s easier to deal with her when she’s satiated; when a deal’s gone well, or her product sold for more than she expected. She’s got a quicker step, and holds one hand in her pants’ front pocket as she smirks.

You’re not always the first thing she concerns herself with after her days go perfectly. She wants to brag—to soak in the euphoria of hard work done well with the people who benefit the most from her dealmaking.

But now, as she pushes sweaty hair from your face and smiles softly…it feels good. It feels right.

“How are you feeling, puppy?”

You blink, trying to clear the sleep from your vision. “M good, I think.”

Kate hmms. “Need anything?”

It’s only then you realize how dry your mouth is. “Water, maybe?”

She grabs it for you without question, reaching into the mini fridge hidden inside a less garish nightstand. She waits, patiently, until you’ve downed the whole bottle, before she speaks again.

“Now,” you can hear how out of breath Kate is, as though her restraint in not asking immediately after you’d woken up had driven her to the brink of madness. “Tell me everything she told you. I want every. Last. Detail. And I’ll reward you in ways you can’t currently comprehend.”

You’re not sure what to say at first, the fear of triggering Kate’s possessiveness is always a looming threat. What does she want to know? That you sat on her face? That she likes red wine? That her Russian accent thickens when she’s fucking?

Kate grabs your chin and forces you to meet her gaze, her eyes narrowed in determination. “Don’t think, puppy. Just tell me everything that happened in the order it happened. This sort of arrangement could change some things, could make you a much more important asset.”

You blink, still unsure. Kate’s eyes, though, don’t move from yours.

“Come on, puppy,” she leans down to kiss your forehead. “Tell Daddy what happened, and I can make you a very happy pup.”

#yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader #yelena belova x kate bishop x reader #lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff #kate bishop/reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Helping Hand 13

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, manipulation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The dull hues speckle in your vision. You've grown used to the haze and when it fades, you long for it. The pain melts way enough for comfort but not enough to be forgot. Always there, always aware of your own futility.

It isn't the pain that rouses you that night but a sensation just as pertinent. At first, you're not sure what it is. Gentle waves on your skins, spirals that raise bumps, caresses that make you shiver.

You bring your hand up to meet another. Your touch lingers on Jonathan's wrist as your lashes flutter open. His silhouette is limned by the lamp behind him. The shadows set his features in a sinister way.

You murmur but don't speak. He hushes you, trading the strap of the sling that binds your arm. You groan at the ripple of pain underlined by something more. Something unbidden.

“All I want, dear, is for you to feel better,” he says as he pets your cheek, “do you know that? It's all I've ever wanted.”

You blink. You have no strength to argue. To point out the obvious. He's the one who has you at your worst.

“That day in the bookshop, when we met,” he turns onto his shoulder and lays on his side, “you looked lost and I felt as if I'd found you.”

You shake your head and squint. His words confuse you. He weaves such sweet soliloquys yet what he's done cannot be painted with pretty lies.

“You put that man above you for how long? And even after he abandoned you, you still could not put yourself first,” he cradles your face, “darling, can't you see that's all I'm doing.”

“No…” you whisper and close your eyes.

You whimper and try to turn your face away. He catches your chin and tuts, keeping you in place as he lifts himself again. He surprises you as his lips meet yours. He kisses you softly, as if he means every word he says. A new sort of pain sparks in you.

He lets his fingers dance to your hairline. He moans into your mouth as his tongue delves inside. You squeeze your eyes tight, unable to resist. As much as you could blame the drugs, you know it's as much your own weakness. Just like those days you laid on your back and fulfilled your vows.

His fingertips graze your temple and cheek, down tour neck and along the crook of your collarbone. Further and further, feeling you through the light layer of fabric. That too big tee shirt that serves as your only shield.

He grips your hip as he leans over you, the slight pressure of his weight makes you squirm. You break away from his lips and gasp, grabbing him with your free hand, the sling keeping you trapped below him.

“Please, Jonathan,” you beg.

“Darling, darling,” he kissed along your chin, “I only want to take care you, hm? Just because he never did, doesn't mean no one will.”

“No, stop,” your voice crackles, “please…”

“Sorry, darling, sorry,” he rasps between nibbles along your neck, “I won't mention him. It's best…” he kisses your shoulder, “if we both forgot that pesky ex.”

“N-no,” you squirm, “please…”

“I won't…” he let's the sentence dangle, “no, I only want a little.”

You wriggle, groaning at the agony it nails into your bones. You still to quiet the pangs, whining as he lifts himself over you. His hand wanders up and down your side as his lips descend your body.

He pushes up the bottom of the tee and bares your stomach. You babble and hide beneath your eyelids. He rolls the fabric above your chest as his lips tickle the tender flesh there. You quiver as he nips and pecks at you.

For a moment, you think it might be delirium. That the painkillers have skewed your mind. You want to believe it but it's all too real.

Just as real as that flamed stoked in your core. That glimmer of desire that lights your horror. You shouldn't like it. You shouldn't want it. It's that desire that comes from neglect. Of desperation.

His hand roves over your body, admiring you, worshipping you. No, consuming you, controlling you, violating you. You shudder as he teethes and kisses along your chest, toying with your sensitive buds and your overwrought nerves.

“It feels nice, doesn't it darling?” He speaks into your flesh, “I can tell, the way you tremble…”

You let out a moan, tortured but easily mistaken for delight. His hand brushes along your hip and down your thigh. He cloying drags his fingers back and forth, circling nearer and nearer your vee.

You bite your lip as he nudges you lightly, shifting his legs between yours. He hovers over you, smothering your lips once more. He kisses you hungrily as his fingers trail along your pelvis. He delves between your folds as he swallows your groan.

He rubs you, slow but firm, curious but certain. His touch awakens your body even as your mind stays foggy. He draws pleasure from you easily. Expertly.

As before, you are defenseless. You have no way to resist him. He is above you in every way. More than physically.

He rolls your bud beneath his fingertips. He kisses you ravenously, puffing and panting, moving his hips in time with his hand. He slides his fingers down and dips them inside you, pressing the heel if his hand against you.

He rocks his hand, electricity shooting down to your toes and up to the crown of your head. You tense as the unyielding pain mingles with your stolen delight. You whine and turn your head away, his lips smearing across your cheek.

He breathes in your ear, growling as he tilts his hand, adding to the pulsing pressure in your core. You can feel how wet you are. You can hear it. You bite back another moan.

This isn't fair. It isn't. But life has never been very fair to you. Nor have the men in it.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #drabble #series #au #helping hand #bookstore au #the night manager

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beardedjoel · 11 months

Text

closer | part four

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: you go to joel’s house, unsure of what to expect when you finally confess how much you want him, and what follows doesn’t disappoint in the least. 7.4k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), porn with some plot, soft!dom joel, fingering, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names for reader

a/n: if you held out to this chapter to get to the good stuff bless you !!! *saluting emoji*

Joel had spent the rest of his evening sobering up, now left with just his thoughts about what an absolute mind fuck that moment in the hallway with you had been, and the ensuing argument with Tommy. His brother really got under his skin with all the shit he said, but Joel also hated that he was right about most of it. He sighs, leaning back on the couch and trying to equally distract himself with the TV and at the same time, sort out his thoughts. A sudden knock at the door takes him by surprise, but the shock only increases when you’re the one standing on the other side of it, looking beautiful and enticing in your summery outfit, standing with your hands wrung nervously in front of you. Yeah, I’m fucked, Joel instantly thought to himself.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giving Joel a timid smile.

“Hi,” Joel says, giving you another one of his boyish grins. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Joel asks, leaning on the doorframe. He can’t believe he’s the one feeling slightly awkward at seeing you now, worried that he possibly overstepped with you again earlier.

“My mom… wanted me to bring you - oh, shit!” You realize, looking down at your empty hands. “The cookies,” you say, biting your lip. “There were cookies, but I forgot them.” You can’t believe in your rush to see Joel, you’d left them sitting on your counter.

Joel laughs, noticing the tenseness he was feeling loosen up, and seeing your teeth bite those perfect, inviting lips he’s unable to let you leave for even a minute to retrieve these cookies for him. “S’alright, why don’t you come on in,” he says, low and rumbling, his eyes quickly giving you a once over. Your heart jumps in your chest and you nod.

“Okay,” you say, already breathless from the nerves of what you’re about to do. You step inside, slip off your sandals, and walk towards the middle of the room. Now that you’re actually getting a good look at it, his house is pretty much what you’d imagine - quaint, put together, and it feels cozy and lived in. Dark gray couches and chairs, wood coffee tables and features, and a large television make up the living room you’ve now stepped into. It’s tasteful, but definitely decorated by a man, having an overall, undeniably masculine feel to it. You realize you’re just silently taking in and judging his home, and feel self conscious at the way he’s looking at you expectantly.

“You have a really nice home,” you mumble, half looking down at your feet. “S-sorry about the cookies.”

“I don’t care about those cookies, if I’m honest,” he says, his head cocked to the side as he steps a little closer to you. His voice is getting lower, and your heart is pounding out of your chest. You think it might just be loud enough for him to hear as he draws nearer to you. “I’m sorry about earlier, darlin”, I had a little too much and was eager to see you again and see what you were thinkin’. Shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that, though,” he apologizes, his eyes a bit softer and wider than usual as he looks down at you.

“Oh…” you breathe, unsure what to do next, avoiding his eyes as you inspect the ground. “That’s okay, Joel. That’s actually kind of most of the reason why I came here,” you admit to him.

“Didn’t just come over to deliver some cookies, then?” Joel is now right in front of you, and he gently puts his fingers on your chin, tilting it upwards to meet his eye line. You almost shrink back out of nerves, but melt when you catch a glimpse of his dark eyes boring into you, two pools of desire staring right back at you.

“N-no, I didn’t,” you say, bravely not breaking eye contact.

“Didn’t think so,” he says, “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really here for.”

“I just… I needed to say that the other day, it was okay. More than okay. I wanted to do that, and to keep doing that with you. I was just nervous, it didn’t mean I didn’t want it. You make me nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, girl,” he says sweetly, looking at you with soft eyes, but he can see his words have had no helpful effect on you. “I really make you that nervous, huh?”

“You do, more than you could know.” you admit, breathing out a long breath, wanting to steady yourself before your next words. “You told me to say what I want. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, been wanting to… kiss you like that. I- I’ve been wanting you and… watching you since I got here.” Once the words are out of your mouth, you can’t believe you’ve admitted it to him, but it feels good, so good. It’s out in the universe now, up to Joel to reciprocate or not.

“Oh, baby,” he tuts, almost condescendingly, but it turns you on, his gaze hardening with desire at the confirmation of your feelings towards him. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you eat me up with your eyes? Always lookin’ at me when you think I can’t see it,” he says with a little head shake, and his voice has gone deeper with suggestion. You gasp a little, looking up at him with a shocked expression. He simply smirks, knowing he has you all figured out.

“Bet you’ve been thinkin’ about me, haven’t you? What you’d do if you could get me alone like this? If I wanted you too?” he continues, and your knees feel like jelly.

“I do, every day,” you manage to squeak out, nodding in response. You can’t believe he’s seen right through you, and this entire time you had thought he wasn’t paying any attention to you. He lifts a hand up again, holding a forefinger and thumb on your chin now. You feel your whole body shudder at the touch, and Joel’s smirk grows as he notices the effect he’s having on you. You stare back eagerly, awaiting whatever he has to say next.

“You sure this is what you want, darlin’? Be honest now,” he says.

“Yes, so badly… please,” you whisper, feeling desperate now that it’s so close within your reach.

“Just what I wanted to hear,” Joel responds simply, his eyes going a shade darker. You can barely breathe as his hand slides to cup your cheek, and in one fluid motion he’s leaning down closer to you, his lips brushing against yours. You flutter your eyelids shut and lean into the kiss, putting a little more pressure into it, until Joel pulls away slightly.

“Shy little thing you are,” he hums, and the rumble of his voice so close to you sends another shiver up your spine. “S’okay, I don’t mind, we can take our time,” he says gently, stroking your cheek again. You want to prove him wrong, you want to unleash yourself and give in completely to it, so you lean forward again, tilting your head up and deciding to fully commit to it. You won’t mess it up this time, you think with determination.

You grab the back of his neck, feeling his thick, gorgeous hair under your hand and press your lips back into his hard, immediately deepening the kiss. Your lips part enough for his tongue to slide in and you groan a little at how incredible it feels, like a dream. He tastes slightly of beer, and you take it all in, the wetness of his mouth on yours, and delicate slide of your tongue against his now. You are quickly losing control, grasping harder at his neck, your nails scratching along the skin as your mouths and tongues come together again and again. Joel groans, one of his hands sliding up onto your shirt and squeezing your breast. He makes a satisfied grunt when he feels you have no bra on, thumbing your nipple through the fabric. You moan into his mouth at the sensation, hips automatically arching towards him as he pinches and flicks at it, the buds now hard and aching for him. Your core is burning hot, already tingling and turning with desire, desperate for him to touch you more. You practically gasp when he suddenly grabs your hips, pulls his mouth off of yours, and spins you around, pulling your back and ass flush against his front. He holds you tightly against him by putting his arms around your hips, his head nestling in the crook of your neck. You look down at his strong, tanned arms holding you and feel your knees go weak again - this feels better than you could have imagined.

“Bet you thought I didn’t notice how you got all dressed up in your little bikini just for me the other day did you? Or the way you walk around with that perfect body making me go crazy, smiling like the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he purrs, and you are writhing under his grasp, your pussy beginning to ache and pulse at his words.

“Y-yes, it's all for you. I just wanted -“ you trail off, feeling embarrassed.

“Wanted what?” he commands, his grip on your hips tightening.

“For you to notice me,” you blurt out.

“Done much more than notice you, you sweet thing. You’re makin’ me wild, you know that? Wantin’ you day and night? Knowin’ I shouldn’t...”

“R-really?” you ask, even though the answer seems obvious at this point. You’re simply having a hard time believing this isn’t some fever dream right now. “Why s-shouldn’t you?” you say, your body trembling slightly at the way his hands are now roaming over the front of your body, teasing you.

“Isn’t it obvious, baby?” he rumbles, placing a kiss on your neck. “You ever been with a man like me? Someone older?” he asks quietly, his voice hushed and breath hot against your ear.

You shake your head, then say a soft, quiet “no” in response. He makes a small, pleased hum at your answer.

“J-just a few people, here and there. Nothing really,” you reply breathlessly, thinking of the few drunken hookups or shorter-lived relationships you’d experienced during college. None of them felt like this - they hadn’t known what they were doing with you, hadn't been able to drive you wild like Joel already was able to. “No one like you,” you add quickly, hoping he’ll like to hear it.

“Good,” he purrs, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you even closer to him, your ass now pressing even harder against his crotch, feeling how hard he already is. “I like bein’ the only one,” he says, and the possessiveness of his words sends another wave of desire through you. You grind your hips back into him slightly, rubbing on his cock, to show him how you felt about what he said.

“Oh, you like that then, baby? You like when I’m a little jealous?”

“N-nothing to be jealous of,” you barely breathe out, trying to tilt your head in the direction of his, your lips looking to find his again.

“That’s right,” he says, his hand on the waistband of your shorts now, the tips of his fingers threatening to dip below and explore. “Cause this is all mine,” he continues, his fingers going slightly lower but not anywhere close to where you’re throbbing for him. You breathe heavily, and a small whine comes out of you involuntarily when he slides his hand down, his fingers brushing along the outside of your pussy. He’s gentle, yet to explore further, just stroking your lips, teasing a bit of a finger further in periodically. You melt into him, your head lolling back onto his chest. He tilts his head down and kisses your neck, the scratch of his beard adding wholly to the feel and experience of it. It sends a shudder through your entire body when Joel suddenly sucks lightly on the skin there, his breath coming hot down your neck and chest. He sucks harder as his fingers feel slightly deeper in your slit, just how slick it is, biting down on your neck a bit. You let out a breathy yelp at the sensation, never having any man do that to you before.

You’re trembling, and you know Joel can feel it. You’ve never been so nervous to be with someone like this before, and you don’t know exactly why. There’s something so defined in the way he carries himself, the way he treats you, and it makes you worried you aren’t experienced enough for him.

“Shh,” he pulls his hand out of your shorts and tries to soothe you a bit, holding you tightly to him and rocking slightly. “You sure it’s okay?”

You gulp and nod, willing your body to stop shaking underneath him. “I wish I wasn’t so nervous,” you scold yourself out loud.

“How about this, sweet girl…” he says, and you tilt your head enough to look back at him, your eyes meeting his. “You be okay if I just take control from here? You won’t have to worry about a thing that way.” Joel leans in and kisses the side of your face and you melt into it before he plants another one on your neck, eliciting a breathy moan and nod in response to his question.

“Okay… yeah,” you decide, “Tell me what to do.”

“Okay,” he says, a devious smile crossing his face. “First thing, let’s take a look at that pretty little pussy,” he says into your ear, voice low and suggestive. You just nod again, already undone by everything he’s doing, and willing to do anything he wants to next. You don’t know what you thought his plan was, but it certainly was not for him to pull away, spin you around, and start pulling your shorts down right there as you stood in the middle of his living room. You step out of the shorts now bundled at your feet, and Joel’s lust filled eyes linger on your panties - red lacy ones you’d picked out hoping he might see them. The smirk that comes across his face as he eyes them gives you a rush of satisfaction.

“Do you like them?” you ask shyly, already thinking you know the answer.

“Oh, I do,” he replies quietly as he stares. “Do a little turn,” he commands, making a spinning motion with his hand. You slowly spin around, revealing the thong strap with a bit of lace at the top that makes up the back of your underwear. Joel groans quietly and before you can continue turning back towards him he grabs your ass, both hands fisting full of your plush flesh there. “Perfect ass,” he murmurs, “Askin’ to be smacked,” he says, giving one of your cheeks a light tap as he lets go of where he was grabbing onto you. You turn back and Joel is on you again, his arms pulling you right against him, this time facing from the front.

“Smacked? W-what, have I been bad?” you ask, half teasing and knowing you’re no good at this dirty talk stuff. You haven’t had nearly enough practice to know what to say, but Joel seems to say whatever comes to his mind.

“As a matter of fact, you have,” he says suggestively, and you see a sly grin cross his face. “Saw you up in your window those few times, teasin’ me.” You feel your face get hot at the confirmation that he saw you, despite it being for him.

You let out a small nervous chuckle. “You saw that, huh?”

“Gonna act like that wasn’t all for me, your little show? You know, I’ve been turned for days after seein’ that, just that little glimpse of ya,” he says. You smile a little more confidently now at the confirmation that it had such an effect on him.

“Did you… touch yourself thinking of me?” you say, running a hand down Joel’s chest now. The fabric of his t-shirt is soft, but you can feel his toned chest and stomach underneath. You sigh as your trembling fingers reach lower, resting on the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure did, you naughty thing,” Joel says, “And don’t think I don’t know about what you do, when you rush off after seein’ me outside, goin’ off to think about me while you touch that little pussy of yours.”

You gasp, mouth hanging open in shock that he’d guessed that much, that it seemed he’d been observing you just as much as you had him. “I-uh-“ you stutter, completely turned on and embarrassed at once.

“It’s alright, baby,” he coos, a finger fiddling with the waistband of your underwear now. “Makes me happy that I turned you on so much.” He reaches down and feels you through the outside of your panties now, and you know he must feel how you’ve been getting wet, soaking through the fabric already. You’re dazed, and as he grabs your hand, leading you to his couch and sitting you down, you allow him to move you around without any resistance - you’re complete putty for him.

Joel stands above you, and leans over your body on the couch, bringing his hands to the sides of your panties and pulling down, revealing your bottom half in full now. Joel lets out a groan, seeing your pussy lips already swollen and ready for him.

“Tsk,” he tuts, “Look at that wet little pussy, just for me,” he says, delicately swiping a finger through it, causing your hips to buck forward towards him. He kisses you deeply, hungrily, and you soften into it, just loving the way his lips feel against yours, the urgency behind it. He’s palming your thighs, his large fingers covering so much of them as he strokes his fingers along the skin there. You are aching, dripping, on the verge of begging for him to put an end to your misery and just touch you.

“Joel,” you gasp, pulling away from the kiss.

“Hm, what is it baby?” He continues to kiss your face and trails then down to your neck, eliciting a small moan from you.

“P-please, touch me,” you say, unable to take another second of his hands being so close yet so far away.

“Thought I was the one makin’ the calls here,” he says with an arched brow, and you can tell he gets off on it. He wants that control, to know you’re at his whim, pleasuring you when he wants, making you come when he decides to.

“S-sorry,” you say, feeling lost. You don’t know how to go about any of this, you’ve never had a man offer to do what he did.

He slides himself down over you slightly, then pulls your tank top over your breasts and just… stares for a few moments, taking it in, appreciating it.

“Shirt off,” he commands, and you lift your arms up so he can pull the tank top over your head. He discards it on the floor, not once taking his eyes off your naked form sprawled open on his couch, every nerve in your body on fire under his gaze. He finally brings his head down to your chest and begins flicking his tongue on each nipple, taking equal time with each one. You squirm, feeling another rush of warmth and wetness between your legs, panting hard now as you rub them together slightly trying to relieve some of the throbbing.

“You need my fingers on that pussy, don’t you?” he says, noticing your writhing movements and quiet whimpers. Simultaneously he takes one of your hard nipples back into his mouth and rolls his fingers over the other, rubbing gently. A moan like you’ve never made escapes your lips, and you’d normally be embarrassed, but it feels so good, your thoughts too clouded to care. You pant, nodding furiously.

“P-please, I need it, I need it,” you call out, feeling like crying at how much your cunt is aching now. Your deliriously half lidded eyes look at Joel, and he looks downright sinister now.

“You’re being so good, waitin’ for me, I think you deserve that,” he smirks, and you feel like you’re starting to catch onto his game, and you have to admit - it’s fucking hot. You wait with baited breath as his hand dips down, his finger starting to rub circles on your clit and your hips instinctively rise up to meet his finger harder, wanting more from him. You practically yell out a moan at the feeling of his finger giving you that bit of relief you’d been dying for.

“My, my, you are absolutely gorgeous, baby,” he says, the vibration of his mouth over your nipple sending a shiver through you.

You make begging, whining sounds, panting and moaning as his finger circles your clit slowly, and he increases the speed slightly at your noises. He begins to tease a finger at your entrance, slowly pushing it in.

“How’s that, baby?” Joel asks, kissing the curve of your breast and sucking lightly.

“S-so good,” you pant in response, feeling your climax rising up inside of you, feel it close, within your grasp already. “Can I ask for more, please?”

“So polite and sweet, you insatiable little thing,” he says, biting his lip slightly. He pulls out and adds a second finger, sliding them both into your pussy and you grind your hips onto his hand at the sensation. He rubs your clit with the other hand as he steadily pumps his fingers in and out of you, the sound loud and sloppy echoing through the living room.

“Taking it so good,” he coos, watching his fingers pump as deep as they go inside of you.

“Need more… I need your cock, Joel. I want you to fuck me,” you yell out suddenly, unable to take the urge to have him fill you anymore. You know he said that he had control over what you’re doing right now, but you think fuck it, as your mind keeps drifting to having him inside of you. It takes everything in him to not whip out his cock and pound it into your soaking wet pussy, but he decided that he wanted to take things slower with you. He wanted to treat you well, give you what you deserve, not rush into things and hurt you in some way.

“Oh darlin’, not today, I want to enjoy this perfect pussy of yours nice and slow,” he says, peppering kisses over your chest again but more tenderly this time.

“I-I’m on the pill and everything, I swear,” you say desperately, just trying to think of any reason he wouldn’t want to sleep with you.

“Sweet girl, it’s not that,” he laughs a little, and you whine as he completely removes his fingers and he moves to reach a hand up to stroke your hair. You look down at him with fraught, pleading eyes. “Just wanna give you some respect, darlin’, treat you right, okay?” You frown a little but understand where he’s coming from, nodding in agreement.

“Just let me take care of you, okay?” he adds sweetly, and you smile at the tone he’s using, so soft and gentle.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, then tugs on your hips, pulling you onto his lap so that you’re facing him, legs straddling him. You’re feeling half drunk on the desire and look down at him with bleary eyes and wrap your arms around his neck, leaning close. The heady desire in your wide gaze almost has Joel regretting his decision to not fuck you tonight, and his cock strains against his jeans a bit harder. He kisses you, reaching a hand in between your parted legs and playing with your clit again, stroking it along with the slit of your pussy. You immediately grind your hips, the position you’re in on top of him only increasing the pleasure as you push down onto his hand.

He lets out a groan as he slides two fingers back in, feeling how easily it slips inside of you, how wet and ready you were for him. He dares to add a third one and you cry out a little, the way he’s stretching his fingers inside of you.

“Look at you, taking all my fingers like that,” he groans, looking down at where his hand is connecting to your body. You bury your face in his shoulder as you ride his fingers, increasing the rhythm in and out of you. His thumb is steadily rubbing your clit while he curls the fingers in the most perfect way and you moan into his ear, his name spilling out of your mouth. His other hand is now in your hair, pulling lightly, then stroking your back, landing firmly on your ass and squeezing hard. It’s like he can’t get enough, finding new places for his hand to explore.

“Joel… joel…” you say urgently, breathless.

“Let it out baby, let it out. Let me hear you come for me,” he purrs, nosing the side of your head and ear while keeping up the steady push of his fingers. You’re shaking, your hips rocking onto his hand, sliding over his legs quickly. “Let me feel you come all over this hand, filthy girl. Do it,” he commands.

“My god. Oh my god,” you call out, and his last commanding words send you over the edge, your orgasm beginning to rock through you, sending your hips and body shuddering, coming onto his fingers. You pull your head off his shoulder, dipping it back and exposing your face and neck. Joel grips your chin with his free hand, holding you steady, and watches your climax as it crosses your face, your mouth open and letting out moans that only serve to make his cock painfully hard now.

“Atta girl, just like that,” he praises, and it’s incredible, his fingers hitting the perfect spot inside of you as your whole body trembles at his touch, fire coursing through your belly and tingling on every inch of you. Your climax slowly subsides, and you breathe heavily, daring to slowly open your now heavy eyes. You see Joel with an intense, satisfied grin on his face. He pulls a hand up and brushes the hair back that’s now stuck to your face with sweat. He kisses you, a tender, sweet kiss now and chuckles.

“That was gorgeous, baby,” he says, and you smile shyly, tilting your head down a little.

Coming down from your post-climax haze, you’re now very aware of his cock, feeling it hard and pressing against his pants underneath you. You slide off his lap and kneel in front of the couch, reaching up for the belt on his jeans. He grabs your hand, stopping you from going any further.

“Woah, darlin’, that’s alright. Wanted tonight to be all about you,” he says, grinning.

“B- but I don’t want you to not - you’re turned on, and I want to… help.” You look up with a furrowed brow, confused as to how he couldn’t want this.

“‘Course I’m turned on, when I’ve got your pussy all over my hand, you lookin’ beautiful like that, but I’ll be alright. We’ll get to that another time.”

“You’re sure?” you ask hesitantly, hands planted firmly on his thighs.

“Promise ya,” he says, leaning forward and cupping your cheek, planting another kiss on your lips. Joel reaches underneath your arms and pulls you back into his lap so that you’re sitting sideways over him, wrapping his arms around your lower half and resting you against his chest. You lean into it, breathing in his scent and smiling. Joel starts to stroke your bare back gently with his fingers, and the feeling alone of his hands on you like this could turn you on all over again. You shiver a little at the electric touch and pull your arms around his neck. You’re painfully aware of his hand increasingly going lower and lower, and feel like you already need him again, the familiar wetness coming between your legs.

“I make you feel good tonight, baby?” he asks suddenly, planting a kiss on your head, sounding so sweet, and you smile.

“Mhmm,” you let out a small sleepy moan, nuzzling your face against his neck. “Thought that was obvious,” you chuckle a little nervously. His hand gently squeezes and kneads your ass that’s perched on his lap and you make a small whining noise without meaning to.

“What’s all that?” Joel asks deviously, “Didn’t get your fill?”

You feel a little flush come over you at how easily he’s turned you on again but you pull your head off of his shoulder and try to look him in the eye. “Guess not,” you say with a small smirk. Joel returns it and glances down at your naked body sprawled over him, the gears in his head turning as to what to do to you next. He grabs a hold of you, spinning your body so that your back is against his chest.

“Listen, baby, if I touch you again, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to handle it without things gettin’ painful for me, so let’s get a little creative, okay?” His voice is low next to your ear.

“Okay.” You nod. “You’re in charge again,” you say, and he smiles into your neck, the words clearly exactly what he was hoping for.

“Good girl,” he whispers, the sound of it rumbling across your skin and making you twitch and shiver a little. You do wish he’d just fuck you senseless already, but he seems to be the one setting the rules here, and you realize rightfully so, you’re the one who’s let him.

Joel reaches a hand down and strokes through you again, feeling how wet you’d already gotten again. “Christ, you’re so swollen for me, look at you,” he marvels, teasing your folds apart with his fingers. You breathe a little sigh of relief as his touch eases some of the aching going on between your legs.

“You’re gonna touch yourself now, baby, while I watch you and take care of myself. You do a good job with all that, and I’ll finish you off, okay?” Once again, you know it’s not a question - this is how Joel has decided you two are getting off. You’re feeling skeptical and shy about touching yourself in front of him, and it must read openly on your face.

“Um, okay, I’ve just never touched myself in front of anyone,” you admit timidly.

“Think of it like this - let me see what you’d do to yourself when you’d think of me, hm?” he says. You think you can handle that, so you smile a little and nod in approval.

“I can do that,” you say, wanting desperately to hear what you think he’s about to say.

“Good girl,” he smiles, and it’s music to your ears. Your heart starts to beat more wildly as he moves you off of his lap and sets you on the couch, standing up in front of you. You sit awkwardly for a moment, adjusting yourself in the seat to try and look as sexy as you can.

“Okay, darlin’,” he says, nudging your legs open wider with his knee as he stands in between them. “Go on now.”

You take a shaky breath and reach your hand down between your legs, gently feeling the outside lips of your pussy. The look on Joel’s face immediately emboldens you a bit, he looks desperate to see more, squirming a bit where he stands.

You look down at yourself, still feeling embarrassed to look Joel in the eye while you do this next part. A finger slides down into your slit, rubbing your clit slowly, and you watch as your finger starts to become slick and shiny as your hips grind a little onto it. Joel grunts a little at the sight.

“Look at me,” he commands, and you snap your eyes up to his face, then downward. He has a determined, absolutely hungry look in his eyes as he reaches to his belt and undoes it, unzips his pants, reaching in and pulling his cock out. It springs free, and he immediately fists it, stroking lightly. You try not to have a visceral reaction to it, but fuck. It’s bigger than any cock you’ve ever taken, or seen, for that matter, and you are barely paying attention to what you are doing to yourself now with your jaw slack and your eyes wide and trained on his dick.

Joel chuckles devilishly, beginning to stroke himself faster. “Focus up, darlin’,” he says, and you try to move on from the surprise of the sheer size of Joel’s cock, but it’s hard to do as you watch his hand move along its length.

He suddenly stops, and holds out his hand, palm up to you. “Lick it,” he says, and you stare a little stunned and wide eyed for a moment before leaning forward and running your tongue along his hand, finger still rubbing on your clit. You stare up at him as you do it, light moans coming out as you coat his hand in your saliva. It’s strangely erotic, tasting the salty skin of his hand and the leftover remnants from where he touched your cunt earlier. He fists his hand around his cock again and the sound is much louder, your saliva making the shaft slick as he returns to a slower pace, enjoying it.

“Let me see you put a finger in,” he says, and you immediately move your index finger to your opening but stop there, slowly circling your clit with your thumb.

“How many?” you ask, looking up at him alluringly, finally starting to feel more bold.

“Oh, filthy girl,” Joel tuts, tugging a bit harder on his cock. “Just one for me now, don’t wanna rush anything.” You frown a little and whimper, knowing it’ll get a reaction out of him, but you slide one finger inside of yourself, beginning to pump it in and out. Joel makes a small groaning sound at the sight, his eyes glued to where you’re beginning to fuck yourself harder with your finger.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweet girl, add another one,” he moans, his movements becoming even quicker on his cock and you try to match his pace as you add another finger and continue rubbing your clit. You’re moaning at the sight of it all, the way his cock is so hard from just watching you do this, the way Joel’s strong hand is moving over it like his life depends on it. You want his cock in your mouth so badly, you want just a taste of him if he’d let you, and seeing the little bit of precum on his cock makes you salivate and lick your lips. Your hips are arching up into your touch, wet and sloppy noises the only sound in the room for a few moments as Joel’s fist slaps into his flesh over and over.

“Please Joel, let me taste you,” you beg through your panting breaths, desperate to have the length of him inside of you in some way.

“Shit, you cock hungry little thing,” he grunts out, shaking his head, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. You are writhing, desperate to hold out until Joel can make you climax instead, but it’s so difficult when your view is what it is right now. You can tell Joel is close, he’s panting hard, a sheen of sweat on his face, and his cock looks like it’s absolutely throbbing.

“Into my mouth,” you try begging once more, thinking he’s about to come at any moment.

“No,” Joel says, voice strained, and you frown. “Let me paint those gorgeous fucking tits,” he grunts out.

He doesn’t wait for confirmation, but instead continues watching your fingers plunging into your pussy as he climaxes, his body shuddering slightly as ropes of cum release out onto your chest. He almost leans his head back, closing his eyes, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the way his cum is coating you. You stop moving your fingers, simply relishing in the sight and feeling of his climax. Joel groans out a few expletives along with your name, breathing heavily, and he still stands over you, looking down with that post orgasm bliss on his face while you smile up at him.

He leans down, placing his hands on either side of your body on the couch, getting his face close to yours. He moves one hand to your chest, swiping the cum up onto his fingers and holding it up to your mouth.

“There’s your taste of me,” he says gruffly, and you open your mouth almost immediately, craning your neck forward to take the fingers in deeply, licking and sucking them clean. The look on Joel’s face is a mixture of surprise and satisfaction, feeling like he’s seeing a new side to you now that he’s gotten you out of your shell a little bit.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel says each word slowly and carefully, then smirks as his fingers pop out of your mouth, completely cleaned off all his cum.

“I did a good job for you?” you ask, suddenly feeling a bit shy again as you seek his validation.

“Oh, yes,” he replies, pressing his lips to yours deeply, and he opens his mouth to slide his tongue over your lip. You shudder a bit and return it, your tongues flitting in and out of each other’s mouths. Your hips are bucking upwards, missing the pressure of your fingers now, and you moan desperately into Joel’s mouth. Joel reaches between you and slides his fingers down your slit, immediately pushing three fingers inside of you, picking up right where you left off. He pushes them in hard, and you inhale sharply, the immediate feeling of him filling you so much taking you by surprise. His fingers move furiously, pumping in and out of you, and your body tries to squirm away from the intensity of it once he puts his thumb on your clit. But the way he’s hovering over you, your body below him on the couch, you have nowhere to go, and he’s relentless with his speed now, curling his fingers inside of you.

All you can do is make strained moaning sounds as he places his lips to your neck and sucks on the skin, trailing his lips down and doing the same thing on your chest. You know it’s going to leave a mark, and you don’t care, you can’t care right now with the way everything feels so incredible. Your whole body is shaking with the intensity of his movements, your climax practically at your fingertips as your hips push back into his fingers, driving him deeper.

Joel murmurs praises into the skin of your neck as you continue lifting your hips. He presses a hand down on your thigh hard, holding you in place, leaving you to take exactly what he’s giving you. And what he’s giving you is absolute fucking ecstasy. Your crying moans urge him on, and he’s pushing all three fingers as deep as he can, and everything suddenly feels… different as he hits the most sensitive spot inside of you. You let out a little yelp, surprised by the sheer intensity of it as he hits it over and over.

“Look at you… tight fuckin’ pussy, taking my fingers so good. You like when I fuck you hard like this?” he growls, plunging his fingers more aggressively into you, enjoying the loud, sloppy sounds he’s making as you leak all around his fingers.

You simply moan, long and low, in answer as he curls his fingers and hits that spot again. Holy shit, is the only thought running through your mind, over and over again.

“Of course you do, you fuckin’ dirty little thing. My perfect girl, taking my fingers however I want you to.” His words make you practically scream, his name on your lips repeatedly as you feel the sensation of your impending climax beginning to overwhelm you.

You stutter, trying to say his name again, let him know you’re going to come, but he already knows, of course he already knows, because he’s kissing your neck again and telling you.

“That’s it, baby, come right on this hand again,” he says before sucking on your neck again. You’re completely devastated, the orgasm burning through you as your hips spasm and grind down. He’s keeping up the pace, his fingers hitting deep as you ride it out onto his hand. You scream his name and practically lose all sense of anything else you’re saying or doing while your entire body is taken over by the fiery, tingling sensation as you come.

“My… god…” you breathe out, muscles finally loosening from the way your entire body had tensed up during your orgasm. Your head flops back onto the couch and you feel your whole body go limp as you try to steady your breathing. You don’t even dare open your eyes, you’re in such a haze right now and don’t want it to end. Joel’s lips find yours and press into you, and you lazily return the kiss, bringing an arm up so you can gently stroke his cheek. He pulls back, taking in the satisfied smile on your face, closed eyes, flushed cheeks, and wild hair, and he thinks you look more gorgeous than he’s ever seen you.

“Had your fill yet, baby?” he asks, sitting down next to you and nuzzling the side of your hair with his nose. His smell so close to you is immediately intoxicating all over again, and you don’t know how you’re expected to leave this man’s side.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, “Not even close.” Joel laughs heartily, and the sound lifts your heart - you don’t think you’ve made him laugh like that before now, so you peek your eyes open and look over at him, grinning in response. “Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time,” you assure him, rubbing your eyes to try and make yourself more alert.

"Now what makes you so sure there’s a next time?” he teases you, and your eyes widen in shock. You don’t think he’s being serious, but…

“I- I just thought… you seemed to like it too…” you stutter, tripping over your words around him yet again.

He laughs again, that hearty laugh you’ll be chasing hearing forever, you think, and grabs your face.

“I’m just messin’ with ya, darlin’,” he reassures you, capturing your surprised, pouting lips in a kiss. You giggle a bit into his kiss and then deepen it for a few moments before standing up off of the couch, getting dressed. Joel gives a slight look of disapproval at the fact that you’re putting your clothing back on, but lets you go ahead anyway.

You’re unsure of what your next move should be. Should you stay over longer? Stay the night? Would Joel even want you to stay the night?

“Why don’t ya head home, sweet girl,” he says, answering the question before you can even ask, standing up next to you and wrapping his arms tightly around you, pulling you in. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you reply, understanding but feeling disappointed. “Can I see you again? Tomorrow?” You look at him with eager eyes, praying his answer will be yes. Now that you’ve crossed this line, there’s no going back, and you want more of him, need more of him.

Joel chuckles. “Impatient, impatient,” he drawls. “Sure thing, I’ll be ‘round tomorrow evening.”

You give him a hopeful smile, waving your goodbye to Joel after stealing one last kiss. You rush up to your little apartment, barely bothering to turn on any lights as you run over to your bed and promptly scream into your pillow like you’re fifteen years old again. Once you get the rush of excitement out of your system, you sit up, eyeing the plate of cookies on the counter and laugh loudly to yourself. You pad over to them and pick one up, biting into it and smiling to yourself, unable to help the feeling that this man is going to ruin your life in the best way possible.

#god i fucking love this chapter!!!!#fic: closer #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanficiton #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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girlboybug · 1 year

Text

California Gurls

"warm, wet n’ wild, there must be something in the water."

or the one where joel hasn't been to california in god knows how long, but, one thing's for certain. he loves, california girls.

what’s playing 🎧 : california gurls by katy perry

pairing : joel miller x cali!girl reader

word count : 2k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUTTY HEADCANON LIST, age gap, public sex, light themes of exhibitionism, heavy petting, bikini fetish, is that a thing? it is now. unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, oral f!receiving, blowjobs, doggy style, riding, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, switch coded joel and reader, joel still leans towards top/dom, edging, forced orgasms, drunk/high sex

TRIGGER WARNINGS : umm i honestly can't think of any besides sex under the influence of both alcohol and weed but neither joel and reader are sober so its all around consensual as always :) if i missed anything plz lmk!

a/n : hi baes, im sorry that ive been slacking on uploading, ive been a bit burnt out, and i recently just got a job! so i fear my uploading may become more scarce but i will try my best to not let it get too bad.

ive had this au in mind for awhile n thought a headcanon list would b perfect hehe and i might make it a full fic in the future. i have a very special fic im almost done with and then a few more requests, thank u to those patient ppl who requested it, i promise i havent forgotten abt u!!! anyways sorry this is so long kjjdsjhdjsj plz enjoy and if there is anyway i can make my writing more inclusive pleaaase let me know!

joel didn't even want to be in california, but it was on the way to where him and ellie needed to go, and it was supposed to be just them two passing through, nothing less, nothing more.

but then, and of course there's always a but, on the journey both joel and ellie stumble upon a beach.

a beach with you.

culture shock for joel, like immediately. it's almost like the virus never spread to california, specifically their beaches. girls girls girls, all clad in the skimpiest bikinis and swimwear he's seen in years - or ever actually.

ellie convinces him to stay, just for a little while, and of course, he obliges, begrudgingly. the begrudging feeling and furrow in his brows slowly melts away when he's left to unwind in the warm sand, wandering eyes traveling across the beach's very underdressed inhabitants.

he lets ellie play in the water, he's more than content enjoying the view surrounding him in the sand.

you’re quick to notice the newcomers, instantly excited upon meeting new people

you make it real difficult for joel to maintain eye contact while he talks to you, he feels like he needs to physically hold his eyes in place so they don't drift down to the way your tits spill out your bikini top

he can smell the salty water, the semi sweet and unforgettable scent of sunscreen and a hint of coconut on you, and it's honestly mind numbing

and when ellie begs to stay in california for a bit longer than they planned, he surprises both himself and ellie when he jumps to say yes.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

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you make joel never wanna leave california. when it's dark out, with the beach left empty and void of half naked and sunburnt people, it becomes a space for just you and joel.

he loves fucking you right on the sand, loves setting up your bright pink beach towel across the sandy floors just to push your face down onto it, smushing your cheek until your pretty lips pucker and sob his name when he bullies the fat head of his cock into your fluttering hole.

it was so easy getting joel to crack and fuck you, it didn't take much convincing, if anything, it took more convincing on his part to not bend you over upon immediate introductions. but when he finally lets himself have you, it's all he ever wants to do

it was a massive shock that he could keep up with your stamina, he's like what, 56? and you're a 20 something year old full of life and energy and yet he was giving you a run for your money, almost making you tap out when he forces a third orgasm of the night out of you

he loves to drag his tongue across your skin, loves to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder when he fucks you from the back, he loves tasting the remnants of the ocean that lingers on your skin

loves to sneak off with you behind the lifeguard tower, and he loves hearing you plead with him to give you some attention.

he loves to make you beg for it. he loves pushing those tiny bikini bottoms that cover not enough, just to lap and lap and lap, at your soaked cunt.

loves to eat it til you cry, he doesn't stop until you have to push him off. he loves it when he gets to flip you on your tummy, he pulls your hips up and buries his face in your pussy, licking you up until your legs shake and can barely keep you upright, but it's okay, he's always there to keep you in place.

you enjoy feeding his ego when you tell him he's the best you've ever had, which isn't a lie

but the way he forces your knees near your ears when you whine about how his cock is the best, and the way he plunges in so deep you can feel him kiss your cervix, makes you feel like you'd say anything else he wanted to hear to get him to keep fucking you like that

sometimes he just can't keep his hands off you, so he'll pull you away to the secluded part of the beach, and make you ride him

oh you love riding him. you like feeling the slight shift in dominance that occurs when you get on top. you love pushing his chest down, letting his back connect to the sand, tons of little grains getting lost in his hair when you keep him down like that, fucking him the way you like, using his fat cock like your personal toy.

you don’t care about how sensitive he is, you make him take your tight cunt, he's the one that wanted this, so it's only fair he finishes what he started after all.

it's your turn to only get more turned on when you see his pretty brown eyes line with tears when you're fucking him through his second orgasm back to back.

you're insatiable when you're like this, drunk on his cock, and drunk on the power trip of being in control. you’re unable to stop your hips from rocking down onto his, guiding his fingers to your needy clit.

you lower yourself down to his chest, kissing his freckled shoulders, teeth grazing over his collarbones when he's whimpering in your hair, feeling too much everywhere but he doesn't tell you to stop, he takes everything you give him

loves pulling you into his chest when you've ticked him off, he keeps your back to his front, he spreads your legs and keeps them open with his ankle hooking around your's.

his strong bicep, that you love, keeps you in a loose chokehold, his free hand teasing your soaked cunt, bringing you to the edge of release just to rip it away from you. he loves kissing your sunkissed skin, feeling the warmth from being in the sun all day while he whispers for you to, shut the fuck up and behave.

his fingers circle around your clit, switching between that and burying his thick digits in your aching hole, scoffing when you sigh and whimper in relief when he pushes his middle finger in

doesn't let you finish despite your pleas and cries

he's so mean when he's mad at you. :(

he takes your bikini bottoms, pocketing them away and tossing you his flannel if you're gonna complain that much about being bare even though you're practically naked 99% of the time.

you immediately go home, throw his flannel over a pillow and hump it, trying your best to focus on the scent that wafts from his flannel, and lingers on your skin, pretending the friction you felt was from his fingers

you love getting back at joel, like when you're sitting at the tiki bar, and he's trying his best to converse with your friends

you'll snake yourself in his arms, hopping onto his lap while he sits in the barstool, accidentally letting your wet bikini bottoms soak his drying swim trunks

you also unintentionally squirm around in his lap, 'not realizing' you're grinding your ass right on his hardening cock, looking up at him in faux concern when he starts stuttering and stammering mid-convo

he grips your hips, his fingers digging into your warm skin, silently warning you

you don't heed his warnings, naturally, and instead hop off his lap, announcing to the group that you've decided to go for another session in the water, leaving him to awkwardly swivel his barstool away as to not flash his aching erection beneath his swim trunks to all your friends.

of course joel always gets the last word, he's pulling you away from the water, tugging you along with him by the rocks near the shore the furthest from everyone

little girl is gonna learn today, he mutters to himself, and you have to hide your squeals of excitement, knowing he's gonna fuck you stupid

and that he does, he makes you work for your orgasm, and that’s only if he feels nice enough in the moment

he has you on your knees in front of him while he leans his back against the sturdy surface of a large rock, his hand resting behind your head while he grunts for you to take every inch of him down your throat

s’what girls like you are good for, i’nt that right baby?

your cunt flutters at his words, he always makes you tingly from just speaking

when he’s about to cum he can never decide which is better, seeing your pretty face covered in his seed or watching you swallow it down without a single flinch

before you, joel hadn’t done anything like this in like, 20+ years, so when you think you’re done, you’re not.

his cock stays hard sometimes, and he’s more than willing to use you over and over until he’s satisfied, not that you complain, you’re always so pliable and compliant for him.

he sits you up, pulls you into his lap and makes you put it in, loves watching his fat cock disappear into your greedy cunt, sucking him in and wrapping around him like a tight glove.

holds your hips down and keeps you in place while he fucks up in to you, tugs your bikini top down and sucks on your chest, tongue messily dragging all along your salty skin, teasing your sensitive nipples with his teeth

sometimes he’ll play nice, he’ll rub your sweet little clit, cooing and kissing at your neck and cheek when you collapse in his chest, rutting on his cock while he fucks you through your all consuming orgasm.

buries his face in your neck to breathe in your scent when he’s close, whispers to you if you’ll let him cum inside, and you always say yes

grunts a few utterances of your name when he cums in you, he slowly fucks his cum inside you, the wet sound from your grinding bodies turns him on more than he can even describe, addicted to how it feels and how it sounds

loves to slowly pull out, and watch his cum leak from your hole, loves knowing he’s the first and only one, who gets to do that to you.

and when he’s at your small place, with ellie being at a girl her age’s place for the night, he unwinds in your bed with you, passing a blunt back and forth

you give him sips from whatever fruity alcoholic drink you’ve concocted that night, giggling mid kiss when you taste the mixture of a mango pineapple drink and weed on his tongue

and he always gets the munchies on nights like this, but not for food

loves devouring your pussy when he’s high, he’ll make his way on top of you, eyes ablaze, mouth parted with low breaths, eyeing you down like you’re his prey

you try to tease him by closing your legs, but that’s fine, he can work with that

he grabs your ankles, taking them in one big hand, pulling you down towards him before he lifts your legs up by your ankles, smirking to himself when he pushes your panties to the side and dives in tongue first

he can eat you out for hours, he’s just so hungry, and he can’t get enough of you

and when you’re shaking, trembling, struggling to breathe, he loves watching the violent jerk your body makes when he pushes his cock inside your messy and soaked hole, loves holding you down while you shake beneath him from your burning orgasms you just had back to back

fucks you nice and slow, wants you to feel every single inch, and every single vein inside of you, wants you to know who’s fucking you this good

and when he can’t hold off on leaving california any longer, he tries to convince you to come with him. and in the time that the pair has stayed in california, ellie has grown to like you, and naturally joins him in his pleas, begging you to come along with them.

and as much as you want to go along with them, you can't get yourself to leave. california’s your home, and it could be their’s too, you try to tell them, but you both know where the other belongs.

when he leaves, he kisses you hard enough that you pray it bruises into your lips for the rest of your life.

you make him promise to try and come by at least every summer, and with a wide smile, he says he can do that.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal joel miller #the last of us hbo #joel miller x female reader #ellie williams tlou #headcanon #joel miller headcanon #tlou hbo #the last of us #joel miller hbo #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #joel miller headcanons

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derangedanomaly · 3 months

Note

Hi, I was hoping to request a scenario with undertale bros, underfell, underswap, and horrortale. (Ignore horrortalenif itsnalready to much) and in this, reader is blind. People have the ability to heal blindness now since monsters got to the overworld because of the healing magic, but there's that 1% of people who just can't be healed. I would love to see how they would act when first meeting them and how they eventually grow to see them as best friend or lover. You can depend d if it's best friend or lover I'm fine with ether!

Thank you for reading this, and please have a nice day/afternoon! Also stay safe!

This is really interesting! Y'all are getting really creative with these scenarios. I like it! I also hope you have a nice day/afternoon, and stay safe! Enjoy! (Also, sorry for the delay)

Masterlist

UNDERTALE AUS X BLIND READER

(Undertale, Underfell, Underswap, Horrortale)

Warning: mention of cannibalism in the Horrortale part (not very detailed though)

UNDERTALE

They're both so considerate of you. They want you to have absolutely no problems while walking around anywhere. (Papyrus is your own assigned shield )

They're both very surprised when they found out that you're one of a kind with this 'defect'.

Papyrus will immediately want to be your friend! He will try so hard to gain your friendship.

Sans on the other hand will kinda avoid you. Unless you need help with something. He WILL help you. No matter if you're friends or not. He just has this respect towards you.

Who knows. Maybe- they'll want to become more than friends 😉 (Depending on your relationship with them) (this goes for all the following AU's!!)

UNDERSWAP

Sans feels this need to help you out a lot of times. Which makes you in turn feel a little "pathetic".. but you know he means well!

Papyrus will be around you quite a lot, because he wants to help you out whenever. (Similar to Classic, just without avoiding you)

They both just help you out. Though Papyrus does so in secret, while Sans...not as much.

Since Sans keeps in contact with Error, he introduces him to you! You and Error immediately click together, Error's short sight and your blindness is the core reason for your friendship. (Even though they're not really the same thing)

Sans is delighted that you two get along so well! But after a few interactions...he starts to feel jealous. (Lmao, you started this though 💀)

Papyrus doesn't want you to have any sort of connection with Error. He wants you to stop interacting with him immediately. It's worse enough that Sans keeps in contact with Error. (Let the besties be! 🙄)

UNDERFELL

Lmao, they don't give a shit about your defect. They'll still treat you as if you never even HAD any blindness. (That's so sweet though, wtf?)

Sans will probably make lots of jokes about blind people. (They're pretty much dark jokes)

Papyrus on the other hand will sometimes forget that you're blind, and will "accidentally" slip up. (Many times)

"You seeing this shit Y/n?" <- Papyrus 2024

Papyrus and Sans will accompany you a lot though. You'll be squished between them a lot. (What dream-)

They act like such brutes, but once they're alone with you, they'll turn into soft puddles. (Lmao. Imagine that.)

HORRORTALE:

Horror actually likes the fact you can't see him.. he thinks like that because he knows you'll probably be very terrified of him if you would've seen him in person. (Poor baby-)

Papyrus is kinda oblivious to your blindness, until Sans has to point it out to him.

They're both very much- worried about your safety.

Look, they don't doubt your abilities, it's just that you being blind makes you an easy target. The solution? SKELE-BROTHERS PROTECTION SQUAD!! (Papyrus came up with the name 💀)

They're very violent towards the people that cross ways with you. I swear- they don't hesitate to kill people for you.

Papyrus kinda turned you into a cannibal accidentally- he fed you his famous spaghetti 💀

But you know, you didn't know the contents of the meal, and was enjoying it too much. And you know... The more you had it the more you became addicted to it. (I mean, it's Horrortale. What did you expect?)

You knew that you were eating human meat at some point, since Papyrus and Sans kept dropping hints. (Aka. Making it obvious) but you were too far into eating it, this being the 10th time Papyrus served you Spaghetti. What's the use in stopping now?

#undertale fandom #sans undertale #undertale #sans x reader #papyrus x reader #papyrus undertale #fell sans x reader #fell papyrus x reader #swap papyrus x reader #swap sans x reader #horror sans x reader #horror papyrus x reader

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espinosaurusrexex · 11 months

Text

The Trap - Introduction

Worlds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: Welcome to the apocalypse. This is the introduction to the new world you're about to enter. Let's see what your life is like. Do me a favor and be open, and maybe there'll even be a handsome stranger to meet...

a/n: so this is heavily influenced by The 100 and Love and Monsters and I guess also Maze Runner, if it seems chaotic at times, that’s because it is. With that being said: have fun reading i’d love to hear what you think

word count: 2.2k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death and misery, loneliness, dystopia, nuclear weapon and monster stuff, obnoxiously optimistic reader (give her a chance okay)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 10th 2039

Hey Book,

Here are the things that happened today:

found a new pen (that’s great because this one is running out)

watched the acid fog from the building with the tall glass roof (pretty dope if you ask me!)

went to the west border and saw new tracks

finally got the nose right on that Gordon Ramsey sketch (it’s finished, yay!)

gave Berty a makeover

The day has been pretty sweet. I’m thinking of going out tonight to watch the meteor shower. Hope I don’t die.

Anyway, see ya tomorrow!

~You know who :)

The notebook closed with a loud thud that made even you twitch. Your eyes went to the basketball on the shelf above the makeshift bed.

“Sorry, Berty.” The ball didn’t respond, obviously. Its plastic wig shifted slightly further over the marker eyes, making it seem all crooked and funny looking. You weren’t crazy. You just preferred not to talk to yourself.

A look at the window told you that it had gone dark by now. The weather conditions weren’t too great for another acid fog so your plan was good to go. You grabbed your backpack and headed out to the cliffs where you had the best view. Ever since the apocalypse started, there were a lot more stars visible at night. Half the population had been wiped out with the Hydra nukes and the rest played survivor with the mutated animals roaming the earth due to the atomic bombs that had been fired on that day.

You remembered it vividly actually: Bright beams shooting through the sky and then it rained down like hellfire. Green glowing stripes covered the horizon from where you looked down onto the city.

The world hadn’t been that great to begin with to be honest. People were suffering, water and food supplies had shifted into the negative, and don’t even get started on climate. Humans had collectively decided that their planet was going to waste anyway. So, where was the harm in a little more destruction, right?

It’s not like you or any other normal citizen had had a chance to decide on another outcome anyway. The united governments of the world had been infiltrated by an organization with fucked up values and no sense for common human decency. They didn't care that their bombs would wipe out half of the world’s population. Hell, you’d be surprised if they even considered this an argument for their ‘cons’ column. But, hey, it had one benefit after all: if this was the worst it could get, there was nothing left to lose.

You kicked open the door of the buried school bus that had become your temporary home for a while now. Temporary in the sense that there was no way of knowing what would happen or when something would attack. You tried to make them all as cozy as possible though. Berty was a big part of that attempt. The painted basketball had become a loyal companion in your ever-shifting habitats. And even though it was a pain to transport a so unfortunately shaped object, you would never dare leave it behind.

The humid evening air hit you like a broken fan. It was springtime, but that had stopped to matter many years ago. The weather merely shifted between scorching hot days and bearable nights. Though the wintertime was making being outside a little more doable. The trees hung low over your head when you stepped past the traps you had laid out around your home. You lived at the edge of the forest, which wasn’t the most secure place of all the ones you’ve had so far, but it was a little cooler. Most of the dangerous things out there hid several miles from the tree lines anyway.

A dark sky stretched over your head as your feet dangled off the cliff by the forest. You were munching off an old can of beans that you had found on your stroll through the cities as the bright streams of light shot through the sky. It was beautiful and thrilling. Teetering you on the edge of remembering the very day that made this whole shit show go down. The sky was lit up back then too, but it wasn’t half as beautiful as this.

You could have sat like this for hours. The meteors wouldn’t stop passing until the sun rose, but there was a danger of being tired in broad daylight in this world. You couldn’t risk strolling through the morning with half a working brain. Especially because the morning brought a routine acid fog with its sunlight. You took a look at the tactical watch on your wrist. It was 3:30 am - Probably best to head back to safety.

As you stepped through the dried ground, you hummed a song from the old record in your bus. It didn’t work great and it was broken in several places which had you always listening to a slightly messed-up remix of the actual song, but you liked it anyway. Close to the bus, however, there was rustling from the side. Your body went into surviving mode immediately. There was a routine: hide, listen, escape. Only idiots fought whatever was out there.

So that’s what you did.

The tree you hid behind was wide enough to cover you whole, which gave you easy access to sneak your head past the trunk and see what was making the noise. It came from about 20 feet before the buried bus, but there was nothing to be seen. The rustling continued though and as you stepped forwards from your cover, you noticed that it came from underneath. Something had fallen into your trap! It was foolproof of course, but you still approached it with care, fearfully and intrigued all together as to what you had caught this time... well, it was the first time here to be perfectly honest. Even more exciting to say the least.

Your feet crunched the dried leaves beneath you as a mumbled curse reached your ears. That was weird. Last time you checked, monsters didn’t talk. You were even more surprised, however, to find a broad man tangled in the hole you had dug outside your home. Of course, a person had been stupid enough to walk into your trap. You had been so excited about something more dangerous.

The man had not noticed you standing above the hole just yet. He was still working with the net you had splayed out beneath the fallen leaves, too busy cursing his life away in the dirty opening. You cleared your throat after a minute, though. And as amusing as the whole scene had been, the man looking up at you wiped the smirk off your face immediately. He was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes gleamed up in the moonshine, a deep frown on his face as soon as the surprise to see you had faded.

“You got caught in my trap.” You said blankly, still captured by his face. You had not seen another person in nearly a month. It was strange, to say the least. That’s why you weren’t really expecting your mouth to say anything smart.

“This is supposed to be a trap?” The brown-haired man huffed before cutting through the last rope to free him from his restraints.

“Well you can’t get out, can you?” There was a short silence in which you caught the slightest hint of disbelief in his eyes.

“If you wanted to catch a monster with that, you wouldn’t be making such snarky comments. It’s barely deep enough for them.”

Anger crept up your neck. Who was this stranger to not only fall into your - awesome - intruder trap but also criticize your work even though he was the idiot stuck in it? “Why do you think I wanted to trap monsters? Maybe my trap was for people, which, in that case, it is brilliant.”

“It’s stupid,” he grumbled.

“Oh come on give me a little credit, I only had spare materials.”

There was the confused glare again, and you couldn’t really place it just yet.“Yeah, yeah. Trap’s great now get me out.”

“That wasn’t genuine.” Your arms crossed before your chest, but you couldn’t hide the small smile forming on your lips. This was fun.

“You know what’s gonna be genuine? My foot in your ass once I get out of here.” Oh, not so fun.

“That's not a really good way to make me help you, you know?” You were about to step away when you heard him sigh deeply beneath you. A triumphant smirk appeared on your face before you held your head over the hole again.

“Can you please help me out of this genius trap?” The Brunette was rolling his eyes, but it was good enough for you - after all, you didn’t want to make enemies just yet.

“Why of course! I love people that appreciate good handy work!”

You nodded appreciatively and reached for the net he held your way. It took a little bit to get enough momentum but then he jumped and dug his boots into the soil walls and within seconds, the stranger was pulled up from the ground.

“Drop the bullshit.”

“What bullshit?”

Now that he was standing in front of you like that, you noticed how tall he was, and built, too. It was a wonder you had managed to pull his weight out of there now that you thought about it. He was really handsome, too. His dark hair fell into his face and his eyes were bright blue, staring down at you with a gloomy expression. It didn’t scare you, though. You were more... fascinated by him, really.

He looked at you for a second, and the gears were literally turning behind his eyes. But he caught himself quickly, shaking his head and making his way out of the forest. You weren’t ready to have him leave, though. It was rare to meet people now, and this one seemed entertaining enough.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Away.” You barely heard him over the heavy footsteps he pressed into the ground.

“You can’t go!”

That made him stop. The stranger turned around with an unfazed expression, his shoulders hanging low with annoyance, but you wouldn’t let up. “And why’s that?”

Shit, you hadn’t thought it would get this far. Your hands wrung the net as you stood there looking for an explanation. But the guy turned around with a condescending clicking of his tongue. “Wait! You haven’t told me your name.” You shuffled over to him in haste, you steps faster than his, but it was difficult to catch up to him, still.

“I don’t have to.”

“You do, actually. It’s a rule.” He stopped again, and you almost fell at the abrupt halt.

“A rule,” he repeated in disbelief, his face still unimpressed, but he was quite pretty this way.

You smiled. “Yup. You fall into my trap, you tell me your name.” To be honest, you were a little proud at how fast you had come up with the idea, but it seemed the stranger was still not impressed. He just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at you almost amused.

“That's not a rule.”

“It’s my rule.” Was that a tiny smile creeping onto his features? You liked it - looked way better than those broody anger lines.

Then he huffed and shook his head. “Bucky.”

“Gesundheit,” you answered immediately, but that seemed to stick that annoyed look right back onto his handsome face.

“No. Bucky is my name.” Oops.

“Oh. Sorry.” You tried it out in your head, then. And it suited him quite nicely. It was a little odd but witty - just like him.

“Whatever.” His arms untangled before his broad chest and Bucky looked ready to leave again. You didn’t want that, though.

“Would... uh.. would you like to come in?” Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? Your hands were a little sweaty, but talking to someone that actually responded felt so good...

You earned another look with that question. Really, you’d already gotten used to those in the three minutes you knew him - seemed to be his M.O.

“What?” He wasn’t confused this time, at least you didn’t think so. It sounded more like he hadn’t heard you.

“You know... be my guest.” A bright smile spread on your lips, but Bucky wasn’t buying it, and frankly, you were running out of ideas to keep him here. Normally, people were happy to see others around here, but Bucky? He didn’t seem to like talking very much.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

Your eyes found the ground as you heard his steps distancing from you again. “Oh, ok.” You mumbled to yourself, and with a last wash of hope, you called out again. “Will I see you again?”

“No.” He was already by the tree line, now. And Bucky didn’t seem like the type of person to run back the distance in slow-mo like you had seen in those old films.

It didn’t discourage you, though. “Okay, you know where to find me!”

“Not gonna visit you!”

“See ya soon!” You waved and bit back a triumphant smile when you heard him chuckle before he disappeared out of the woods.

Hey, Book, It’s me again.

And, man, what a great day!

more…

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