#and usually going to both jobs in the same day knocks me out

[becca-e-barnes]

becca!! i had a thot that’s keeping me awake okay so dbf!bucky really fucking the reader for the first time and he gets carried away and completely overstimulates reader until she just can’t stop coming even if it’s the slightest touch and he taunts her about it the whole time

he’s just like “filthy girl, you just can’t. stop. cumming. huh?” and he punctuates each word with a hard thrust while reader just whimpers because she can’t even talk anymore 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Ooooooh that's really interesting actually! Because maybe all you've managed up until that point is needy, frantic hookups. Quickies that are so damn satisfying but don't allow for much passionate exploration.

So maybe when he actually gets a chance to take his time, it's so different to what you're used to with him. You're familiar with the kind of desperate euphoria that he can give but that's nothing compared to the kind that he's determined to give you now that he has all the time in the world.

The way he could spend hours kissing and nipping at your skin truly takes you apart. The way he seems to get just as much pleasure as you do from the soft touches, your body entirely surrendering to his talented tongue until your thighs are trembling over his shoulder.

By the time he's actually slipping inside you, you're so overstimulated that every inch feels like too much. Your body is fluttering around his, overworked but still somehow desperate for more. "Oh, that's it. Take it, sweetheart." He's lost in the feeling of the slow glide, holding back from letting himself give in entirely.

You're so consumed by the overwhelming feeling as he settles inside you, letting you whimper and sob against his neck. You don't know whether to move your hips or not. It's a strange feeling, being torn between needing more, needing less and needing exactly what you're currently getting.

He pulls back a little, his movements are so slight but they still leave you gasping. "Bucky, please." You beg, your nails digging into his back as he presses back inside you once more.

"So pretty like this. Take it so fucking well." There are tears welling in your eyes, his steady rhythm of shallow trusts driving you wild. The tiny movements are almost worse than the pace you're used to from him because this is totally unrelenting. There's no escape at all from the overstimulation.

"Bucky, I'm gonna cum again. Oh my God, I can't. I can't, please." You whimper, nipping at his earlobe with your teeth.

"You think I'm gonna stop after I hear that? Baby, that's exactly what I'm aiming for here." His voice is low, strained from holding himself back but there's still that lighthearted, sarcastic edge to his tone.

And God, he doesn't stop. He keeps offering that same shallow grind until your eyes are rolling back in your head and your body is tightening around him. "Fuck that's it. Silly little thing like you just can't help yourself. Can't stop cummin' for me, no matter how hard you try." You hardly even register what he's saying but you do register that the thrusts don't falter, even after you're spent.

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #dbf!bucky #I went for a late night run last night for the first time in so long and I forgot how good it feels #I was so motivated last night #I had a long day at work when I was supposed to be off #went and got myself a new dress that matches my hair #then went to my other job for a few hours #and usually going to both jobs in the same day knocks me out #but I can feel all the motivation that I'd lost coming back #I'm feeling like myself again #for the first time in MONTHS #and fuck it feels incredible #I'm so far past feeling like shit? #This is definitely a rant for my personal account lmao #but before that #I think I'll take my makeup off and go for a run

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

#john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #shmalk ! ᧔♡᧓ #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #john price #simon riley x reader #alpha!simon riley x beta!reader #beta!reader #alpha!simon riley #alpha!ghost #alpha!ghost x beta!reader

[miguel-ohara-eater]

The suit stays on 🕸️

(red: Miguel)

————————————————

————————————————

(summary: he gets home early from work SUPER horny, and he gets right to it with the suit still on.)

CW: masked sex, creampie, angry sex, rough sex, face grabbing, uhh whatever it's called when you can't talk.

————————————————

you were laying in bed reading your favorite book, wearing one of Miguel's big shirts that went down to your mid-thigh as you waited for him to come home.

everyday was the same. you'd lay in bed, he'd come home mad, and you'd cheer him up.

it was the regular ritual, but you didn't mind. you knew his job was stressful and you loved him so you'd do anything to help.

just as you were daydreaming about him as you read your book, you heard the front door open and shut a little louder than usual.

you put your bookmark in your book, setting it aside on the bedside table and you sat up a bit.

he walked through the bedroom door, wearing his spider suit and his mask. he walked over to you, flopping on top of you before you could say anything.

"well hi." you smile and pull him up a bit closer as he wraps his arms around you, and you could hear his heavy panting.

"how was work?" you'd asked as you tried to take off his mask.

he pushed your hand away, burying his face into your shoulder.

"fine." he mumbled

you looked at him, a little confused since he normally wasn't this touchy, let alone since he was still wearing his spider suit.

"wanna talk about it?"

"no."

what a man of many words huh?

he sat up, his hands on both sides of your head and his knees next to both of your hips.

you looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, not able to see his face but he was panting.

"you good? you sound pissed." you went to go put your hands on his waist but he wrapped one hand around both of your wrists and pinned them above your head.

"I said I'm fine." he grunted, and you sighed.

"fine. what do you want me to do to help then?" you huffed

he didn't answer. instead he used his other hand to lift your (his) shirt past your waist and underneath your breasts.

when he looked down he saw you weren't wearing any panties, and since it was ovulation week you were already dripping. he let out a soft 'mmmh', pushing your legs apart with his knee.

"you're not gonna take the suit off?" he shot a web at your mouth, keeping your hands pinned above your head.

"the suit stays on." he mumbled, and you just nodded.

his suit dissipated from the waist down, a pair of spandex thong-like underwear underneath. (in the comics he wears these, sorry!)

he used a talon, sliding them down the middle as if he's got a million pairs of these. his rock hard cock springs to attention, the spandex underwear falling off of him and who knows where.

he tightens his grip on your wrists, pushing apart your legs with his hand and positioning himself in front of you.

once your glistening pussy was right in front of him, he rubbed his cock in your juices, coating himself with a small grunt before pushing his tip into you.

you squeaked, already feeling full just from his tip and you squirmed a bit.

he pressed down on your hips, keeping you still and shoving the rest in with a loud (plap).

you moaned/screeched, and he started thrusting.

"keep squealing like that and I'll make sure to let out any anger for the next three days out on you." he snapped, his thrusting becoming harder and faster.

you closed your eyes, seeing stars and your back arched as you adjusted to his size during the thrusts.

he was still panting, his hips moving at speeds faster you'd even known he could fuck you at. his balls slapping against your ass and your clit nudging his pelvis everytime he bottomed out his thrusts.

"wanna know why I'm so pissed?" his voice was angry, and with every thrust your knuckles knocked against the headboard as he kept your hands pinned above your head.

with how hard he was fucking you, you could barely hear him but you nodded and your breasts bounced at the same rhythm as him.

"Miles Morales broke a canon event." he huffed and thrusted harder (plap)

"Miles Morales didn't listen to me." (plap)

"Miles Morales ran when I tried to explain everything." (plap)

his voice was getting louder, and with how hard he was gripping onto your wrists you knew he was close. and coincidentally you felt your own knot tightening up in your stomach, turned on by seeing him fuck you angrily in his spider suit.

"Miles shocking Morales is going to collapse the multiverse!!"

he let out the loudest groan known to man, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and with your moans and skin slapping, you couldn't tell if he was groaning or yelling anymore.

his pace quickened, his warm seed filling you to the brim as his hips stuttered a bit. he was huffing, still fucking the ever loving shit out of you as his cum started seeping out of your holes.

you couldn't take it anymore, your back arching as a orgasm ripped through you.

your cum soaked his dick, mixed with his and after he fucked you through your orgasm he pulled out. leaving your pussy tightening around nothing and his panting slowed down as he laid on top of you.

after a couple minutes of recollecting your thoughts, he pulled the webs off of your mouth, took his mask off, and let go of your wrists. he made some marks on your wrists, but you didn't care.

you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his head, running your hands through his sweaty hair.

"sorry." he mumbled and you shrugged

"don't worry about it. I'm pretty sure that's the hardest orgasm I've ever had." you smiled and he looked at you, grinning.

"guess we'll have to do this again tomorrow huh?" he said jokingly and you shrugged

"sure."

————————————————

LALALALA okokok. IT'S FINISHED SORRY IT'S LATE 😔

I'm at my aunts house rn and soo tomorrow will be late too. apologies everyone.

I actually kinda liked this one today though 😛

SEE U TOMORROW

————————————————

#spiderman 2099 #2099 #astv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderdads #kinktober #miguel ohara #miguel smut #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spiderman #across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader smut #smut #kinktober miguel ohara

[discotitsposts]

meant to be

Spencer trying and failing to flirt with you because you are oblivious to his attempts.

spencer reid x reader

i picture this as later seasons spencer maybe sometime around 12-14?

some mature themes mentions of sex at the end so 18+

writing this because i saw something about people who are bad at flirting and that’s literally me. (i hope ppl get the reference w the nickname)

Spencer had tried every day to get your attention romantically. It didn’t work. Nothing did. You were so oblivious to all of his flirting attempts. He figured maybe you had trouble understanding so he worked harder to make you think of him as more than a friend. He tried everything his genius brain could come up with.

He even made up a nickname for you, Bean, because you always had a coffee in your hand, and because he was taller than you.

Today you were getting coffee with him as usual. At your favorite coffee shop and library. You didn’t work at the BAU so you would eventually have to go to your own job so Spencer decided to try again.

Since you lived in the same building, neighbors in the same hall, he picked you up every morning. Drove you to get coffee and you each picked a book for each other and then he drove you to work.

He knocks on your door awaiting anxiously. You come out in your outfit, just a t shirt and jeans. you didn’t have a dress code at your job, you were an author and usually went into a nice office that the publishing company provided to write since you had a hard time focusing in your apartment. Too many distractions.

In Spencer’s car you make small talk as he tries to think of a way to flirt with you. Normally he’d call Morgan but his son was a toddler now so he was busy. He gets so lost in his head he doesn’t realize he just ran a stop sign on accident and almost hit someone.

He hears you yell “Spencer what the fuck!” and slams the brakes. The other car honks and his heart is pounding in his brain. He pulls to the side of the road and stops.

“Spencer. Breathe. It’s ok.” You worry tracing your face at the sight of his extremely fast breathing and you rub his back reassuringly.

“Holy shit.” He barely chokes out. His face is beet red and he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Switch.” You tell him. He looks at you and feels comforted immediately by your face. “Let’s go, switch.” You get out of the car and switch sides.

‘So much for flirting’ he thinks. Then it hits him. When he picks your book for the day, he’ll give you a romantic story. Something that says ‘I really like you but I’m an idiot so I don’t know how to tell you but i’m not actually an idiot because im technically a genius but my fucked up life has ruined romance for me but i’d love to try it with you if you are okay with that.’

When you take over driving you don’t talk. You just focus on the road. You had even turned the music off. He hopes you’re not upset with him. That thought quickly dissipates when you pull into the parking lot and your face is beaming. You both race to the entrance and he gets there first and opens the door for you. You stick your tongue out at him and he smirks.

You order your usual drinks and he gets himself a breakfast bagel and you get a croissant. He puts the food at a table and you both get up to grab each other a book. You had yours picked since last night, The Godfather. It’s only a little over 400 pages so he’ll probably finish it by lunch time but at least it will be fun for him since it will make him think of you. At least you hope it does.

You have a habit of making funny commentary during movie nights. When you watched ‘The Godfather’ trilogy with Spencer he had laughed so hard he cried.

Meanwhile Spencer is searching rows of books looking for the right one. He moves to poetry but nothing feels right. He feels slightly frustrated so he moves back to classics and picks ‘A Little Princess’ instead. A favorite of yours you had read in elementary school. Not romantic but shows he knows you well.

When he makes his way back to the register to check the book out, you’re already seated munching your croissant. He makes his way to you and hides the book behind his back. You discreetly pull yours out of your bag and hide it the same way.

“1,2,3!” You both count at the same time and then reveal your books. Spencer cracks up when he sees the book you had picked. He had read this before but he enjoyed it because it reminded him of you. You both eat and finish your coffees. You look at each other.

“More?” Spencer asks.

“Obviously.” You answer. You both stand up and order more coffee.

Back in Spencer’s car you open the book and start reading. He’s about to put the key in the ignition when sudden confidence hits him. He doesn’t know if it’s the caffeine but he doesn’t care. He should kiss you right now. He stares at you until you look up.

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t start that engine up soon Mr. Chauffeur.” You tease him.

He leans closer and puckers his lips slightly. He’s so filled with lust he just can’t wait anymore.

You look at him strangely. Was he trying to kiss you right now? Probably not. Truth was you were always so filled with doubt whenever you liked someone. Especially Spencer. He was just too handsome and sweet and perfect.

He leans in even closer to you and tilts his head. You, however, had gone back to your book and weren’t even looking at him.

“Does this make you uncomfortable” Spencer leans in closer. He closes his eyes and you lean down to reach for something from your bag. He doesn’t feel your soft lips on his and thinks he may have missed your face. He opens his eyes.

“Everything does. I have anxiety Spencer. All the time anywhere day and night. ” You reply while eating a yogurt you had found in your tote.

Spencer pulls away and smacks his forehead. He starts the car and drops you at your work and drives to the BAU feeling defeated. What would it take for you to realize how bad he wants you.

That night he decides to drop by your apartment. You had gotten a ride home from work by a friend tonight. He opens his door and walks the short distance to yours.

When his hand knocks on your door he feels nervous. You open the door and greet him.

“Hi!” You cheer.

“Hey, I was gonna order a pizza. You want?” He lies. He actually wasn’t the biggest fan of pizza. He didn’t eat it too often but it was your favorite food so why not.

“That would be great. I’m starving.” You clutch your belly dramatically. Which makes Spencer laugh.

He picks up the phone, “What would you like on the pizza m’lady.”

You tap your chin and think. “Sausage.” You reply. Spencer thinks of a way to flirt. Kind of.

“How much sausage would you like?” He asks smirking.

“Uhh, 5? I don’t know dude. The normal amount that goes on a pizza?” You answer sarcastically, going to your dvd rack to pick a movie. Spencer sighs. He calls and places the order and helps you pick a movie.

“How about ‘How To Be A Serial Killer?’ That’s a good one. I love Matthew Gray Gubler in this one so much.” You fan girl a little.

“Who the fuck is Matthew Gray Gubler? Also, no, not with my line of work. I need a break from that.” Spencer asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice. You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically.

“Ok, fine. how about a Disney Classic? Sleeping Beauty is my favorite.” You ask. Spencer nods. You put the movie on and grab two root beers from your fridge. Spencer thanks you when you hand him one and you lay a big fluffy blanket over you both. Not far into the movie the pizza arrives and you cheers Spencer with your pizza slice.

After you both eat and are full the movie is still on. You’re starting to feel sleepier by the second. Spencer offers you to lay with him and you take him up on it. He’s basically a giant teddy bear. He’s so warm and comfortable.

“I’ve got a real life sleeping beauty right here.” He whispers to you. You smile with your eyes closed. Too sleepy to open. He gets out from under you, to your dismay. He cleans up the trash from eating. He even washes some dishes you had left sitting. When he comes back, you’re still half awake. He sees you sneak an eye open to look at him and your smile after.

“It seems there’s a fair maiden who has fallen asleep. However can we wake her? What if she sleeps for a hundred years?!” He exclaims. You start giggling softly. He leans closer to observe you.

“I don’t believe it! She’s laughing in her sleep! Must be quite a funny dream. Wonder what it is. Only one way to find out.” He gently leans down and kisses your lips softly. This action puts you in shock and you’re blushing. He starts to pull away because doubts fill his mind. You grab his hair and pull him back in.

You both pull back and he starts to ask you,

“Were you ok with that?”

You cut him off, “Yes.” Then you rip your shirt off. Spencer’s in shock. He follows your lead and starts undressing. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom. The kiss you’re sharing is deepening by the second.

“Fuck why is it so hot in here.” You complain.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Spencer had been kissing you on your neck sucking the skin softly. He lays you back on the bed. He makes you comfortable. He goes down on you and then fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before.

The next morning you woke up naked next to him flashes of last night replaying. You couldn’t believe it. Spencer was so passionate! You didn’t even imagine he liked you like that.

He groans next to you and turns over. You get up and put on some coffee. When you come back into the bedroom he’s awake and looking for you.

“Hey, coffee’s ready.” You lean over and kiss him. He groans too tired to give an answer. He pulls you into the bed and holds you longer.

With him, this felt so easy and realistic.

Then you realize something.

This was meant to be.

the end ♡

to anyone who read this far: hope u enjoyed reading!! please let me know if u enjoyed! xoxo

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sunshine and syrupy kisses 🥞

about : mornings w mike!!!

author’s note : he’s so boyfriend!! oh to spend a quiet, comfortable morning with him and abby 😞😞

mornings with mike can go a couple different ways:

1. being woken up by quiet knocks on mike’s bedroom door and realizing that oh shit. abby’s going to be late for school.

mike’s alarm clock had gone off not once, but about three times by now. you both acknowledged it and chose to ignore it, turning back to cuddle up with each other in the warmth of each other’s bodies and mike’s sheets. it was well past dawn and you both had lives to live, jobs to work, but neither of you cared at that moment.

however many minutes later there was a soft series of knocks at the bedroom door. “mike? are you awake?” a soft voice asks.

abby.

“i’m awake. give me a minute” mike groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he turns to look at his alarm clock, which reads 8:56 am.

shit.

once he realizes that abby was in fact late for school he scrambled out of bed, kicking the sheets to the side and scaring the shit out of you in the process.

“babe? what’s wrong?” you asked sleepily as you watched your boyfriend frantically pull on clothes. his hair was disheveled, his soft curls just about falling in front of his eyes. sleep was prominent on his features as he tried to hurry out the door.

“we overslept, abby’s gonna be late for school” he said as he patted his jacket pocket, searching for his keys.

you turned to look at the alarm clock, having the same realization that he did just moments before.

“shit.”

2. waking up in each other’s arms, a slow and quiet start to your day. the sun streaming through the gap in the curtains as you blink the sleep away from your eyes.

you blinked slowly as the sun shone in your eyes. mike stirred gently next to you, wrapping his arms around you. it was early enough that abby wouldn't be awake, so you and mike had some time to yourselves.

"morning baby" mike muttered, his voice thick and husky with sleep. he gave you a lazy smile and pulled you closer to him.

"good morning" you said back quietly, snuggling against him. you lay your head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

the atmosphere was quiet and calm, the faint sounds of birds came from outside your shared bedroom window. you felt safe and comfortable in his arms, you never wanted to leave. thankfully, it was a weekend, which meant abby would usually sleep in and you could stay in bed with mike for longer.

"any plans for today?" you ask, your voice muffled as you spoke against his skin.

"nope. you?" he said sleepily.

"nope. let's just stay here all day, yeah?". he hums in response, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

3. waking up to an empty bed, the smell of breakfast wafting in the air

when you woke up mike wasn’t in bed with you. the sunlight was streaming through the gap in the curtains and the sheets were only warm on your side of the bed. you stirred, forcing yourself to wake up even more to scan your surroundings to find any trace of your boyfriend.

as you rubbed the remaining traces of sleep from your eyes you got a whiff of something delicious coming through the crack in the bedroom door, which made you smile faintly.

you slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of mike’s sweatpants that were laying on the floor before making your way towards the kitchen. the smell of bacon and pancakes only got stronger as you continued down the hall.

as you reached the kitchen you saw mike at the stove, waiting for the pancakes to cook before he flipped them. he wasn’t much of a cook when you first started dating, but recently he’s been trying to make different things for abby, as well as for you. he wasn’t the greatest at first, but he’s been improving. ( just don’t mention the meatloaf incident, he still gets embarrassed about that. )

abby’s sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling away with her crayons as usual. she notices you before mike does, and calls out to you with a small wave. “hi!!”

“good morning abby” you say as you walk over to the kitchen table to see what she’s working on. it was yet another drawing of you, mike, and abby all together. “looks good as always. keep up the good work.” you smile, ruffling her hair slightly before walking over to mike.

“good morning handsome.” he was wearing an old t-shirt of his and a pair of sweatpants. his hair was still slightly messy, and for once he didn’t look totally exhausted. his eyes had been on you from the moment abby greeted you, a small smile on his lips as he admired you.

“good morning.” he leaned in for a quick kiss, smiling into it as he pressed his lips to yours. his eyes flicked between your face and the rest of your body, and his smile grew bigger once he saw that you were wearing some of his clothes.

"breakfast smells good." you say, leaning into his side as he goes to wrap his arm around your waist. "they're not burnt this time" you tease.

"hey, i tried!" he laughed, reaching for the spatula to flip the pancakes. you could hear abby giggling at the table behind you guys as you bantered. "these look better don't they? i've gotten better"

"you have, they look delicious" you reached into the cabinet and grabbed three plates. mike started piling pancakes and bacon on each one. you moved to placed a plate on the table in front of abby, before going back next to mike.

you poured some syrup over your plate and then grabbed your fork, taking a bite of your pancake. you hummed in approval.

"these are delicious. thanks mike" you smiled.

"glad i didn't burn them this time." he smiled, leaning in to kiss you again. your lips were sticky with maple syrup, and he tasted like coffee.

#pursuedbyamemory writes #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie

[buckybabesonly]

Protector

Summary: When Steve gets injured on the field protecting you, Bucky lashes out at you from fear of seeing you in danger, and jealously of Steve’s arms around you.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Avenger!reader, platonic Steve x Female!Avenger!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff (y'all know we only do happy endings here)

Warnings: Jealous Bucky, Bucky being slightly mean to reader out of over-protectiveness, minor character injury, I’m not very good at writing action scenes I apologize 🙇🏻‍♀️

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: My creative juices are floooowing lately! I have so many ideas saved in my drafts 😭 Please let me know if you liked this one!

"On your feet. Again." Steve’s voice was authoritative, demanding, as per usual. He gestured his hand at you as you lay on your back, skin gleaming with sweat.

You gave him a faux-scowl, the muscles in your legs shaking with exhaustion as you forced yourself to stand, hands bracing themselves on your knees.

"Wait. Need a breather," you said, shaking your head. Your hair was coming loose from your ponytail, and Bucky's fingers itched to neatly sweep the strands back from out of your face.

He watched silently from one side of the room, observing your sparring session with Steve. He was going pretty tough on you, though he told you it was for your own good.

"No breathers out in the field," Steve grunted, tackling you and practically tossing you over his shoulder, but with enough finesse so you landed safely on your butt.

"Hey!" you exclaimed loudly in shock. If you had been looking, you would have seen how Bucky reflexively half-rose from his perch, afraid that you had actually been hurt, until he saw the way you scrunched your nose in annoyance at Steve and bounced back on your feet indignantly.

"I was making a point -" Steve ducked to the side when you launched a fist towards his head, then threw out a sharp roundhouse kick. You just managed to graze the top of his hair, and he laughed jovially.

"Almost. Try again."

Bucky settled back in his seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he watched you throw yourself again and again at Steve. Especially when Steve's strong arm encircled your waist, the other one hooking itself under your thigh to throw you onto the ground once more.

He clenched his fist, wishing it was him with his hands on your body instead, and in an entirely different setting.

His excuse for being in the training room was to try and see where your weak spots were and offer you pointers, in hopes that you would improve your hand-to-hand combat. You were an excellent sharpshooter, and could easily defend yourself, but needed to work on your offensive attacks.

Lately, the idea of you attacking someone head on had been making Bucky feel uneasy. Which was ridiculous, since you were part of the team and it was literally your job, but he found that it was affecting his focus out on the field. He felt like he had a constant obligation to look out for you, to protect you.

It seemed like Steve shared the same sentiment. The super soldiers were both oddly protective over you, and it had actually been Steve's idea to up your training in recent months.

The way you moaned as Steve landed a punch in your abdomen made Bucky simultaneously want to rugby tackle his best friend to the ground, and somehow planted sinful thoughts in his head. He knew Steve would never hit you with full-force, however, and made himself to stay put.

"Rogers, I swear one of these days, I'm going to kick your ass," you groaned.

He laughed again, and you took the opportunity to exploit his distraction, using your position on the floor to knock his feet out from under him with surprising force. Your kicked his shins sharply, sending him on his knees, and lunged for him.

You had him on his back for once, finally, and you grinned triumphantly at Bucky. He was mildly perturbed at your position, semi-straddling Steve, but he managed to crack a smile.

Steve finally called it a day half an hour later, leaving you and Bucky alone in the room. You were humming to yourself, stretching out your limbs. Bucky didn’t miss the way you winced slightly.

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked, tossing you a bottle of water.

“A little, but it’s alright,” you shrugged. You took a sip, eyes sliding over to his form. He was looking particularly handsome today in a pair of form fitting black jeans, heavy boots and his leather jacket zipped up around his torso.

God, this man could be wearing a garbage bag and you would be drooling. From the first day you met him, you had developed a crush on him, hooked by his ruggedly handsome looks and tough exterior. What really made you fall, however, was that surprisingly soft personality hidden underneath. He made you laugh, too, and you loved the way the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled at you. Bucky had easily stolen your heart.

Said heart was continuously fluttering nowadays whenever you were near him, like he was a silly teenage crush. You tried to play it cool.

“So, any tips?”

Soon, you were both grappling at each other playfully, peals of laughter leaving your mouth as you “fought”. Bucky was smiling that darn smile, looking almost childlike as you circled each other.

At some point you ended up on top of him, your hands around his wrists as you pinned them back. He could easily free himself, but he humored you.

“Hah!” you called out.

Bucky’s laughter subsided slowly as he took in the sight of you, panting on top of him. His eyes inadvertently fell to your cleavage, where the swell of your breasts was oh-so-visible from his vantage point, your skimpy tank top doing little to hide your skin.

Mortified, he felt a rush of blood to his groin. He knocked you off swiftly before you could feel anything which would reveal what a pervert he was, coughing loudly to hide his embarassment.

“That’s enough,” he said, surprising you with a change of tone. You felt a little disheartened at the switch-up, confusion settling in.

“Ah, okay,” you said, nodding. He was probably getting tired of your games, knowing how you didn’t like to take everything too seriously. Bucky mumbled something about going to take a shower before he excused himself and left.

Being an Avenger was always going to be life threatening. However, you could think of nothing else you'd rather be doing than fighting alongside your chosen family, trying to make your contribution to the world, even if it meant risking yourself.

You usually considered yourself a solid team player, trusting Steve to make the right call out on the field. Now, you weren't so sure, faintly aware that maybe, just maybe, you had screwed up. Especially in situations like these, lying on concrete with your ears ringing, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

Smoke and dust filled your sight. Your mind was scrambled, unable to comprehend what had happened. You couldn't see a thing, but you could feel the pain in your shoulder, and you wondered if you had dislocated it or worse.

The smoke cleared. All of a sudden, Bucky's face appeared, panic clearly written in his eyes.

The pieces were slowly coming together. You suddenly became aware that Steve was lying behind you, shield in hand and positioned above you. You could hear him groaning in mild discomfort. The clanging in your ears were subsiding so you could hear him and Bucky's shouting.

Your disorientation faded, and you realized what had happened. The explosion.

Four S.H.I.E.L.D agents had gone rogue and had secretly been working for HYDRA, who had been spending the past year regaining power and presence. You had been one of the people dispatched to take them down after the team received intel on the location of their base. They had been holed up in an underground bunker beneath an abandoned warehouse, the perfect spot for a group like them.

You weren't even supposed to be in that part of the bunker, but you saw an opportunity to breach their control room, where undoubtedly you would be able to find all sorts of valuable information about what HYDRA was planning, or what terrible projects they had ongoing. Unfortunately, they had been savvier than you thought, and had implemented a safeguard in the event of a security breach.

That safeguard, as it turned out, was explosives.

Steve had found you as soon as he was made aware of what you were doing, and he had appeared no more than 15 seconds before the bombs detonated. If he hadn't been around, you were almost certain you'd be dead.

You barely had time to register Steve's appearance before you suddenly found yourself flying off your feet, Steve a blur of blue as he re-positioned himself to protect you.

"...fuck, will you say something? Are you okay?"

Bucky was screaming in your ear, and you blinked, the haze finally clearing. Alarms were blaring, Steve was back on his feet, scooping you up with ease.

"We need to get back to the Quinjet," you heard Steve bark, and he began sprinting, jumping over rubble with you in his arms, Bucky following close behind.

As soon as you boarded the jet, Steve sat you down and ordered Bucky to tend to you. He was already kneeling at your feet and inspecting your injuries wordlessly. Steve swiftly geared the Quinjet to life, desperate to get them out of the area before anything else went to hell.

"Look at me," Bucky said sharply, his voice rough. You were startled at his tone, his hands brushing your hair back as he inspected your head for any serious injuries. Blood was trickling from your temples, but from what he could tell, they were only shallow cuts. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," you managed to say faintly, the reality of what had happened slowly sinking in. You had put all of them in danger because of your reckless actions, and Steve had actually been injured because of you. You could see the blood dripping off his fingers as he sat at the console, though from the way he handled himself you knew they could only be minor lacerations.

Your eyes landed on Bucky's face then, scanning him for any signs of injury. He seemed physically unharmed, but his face was bright red and he was shaking with rage as he spoke to you. You were ashamed, knowing that he was furious you put his best friend in danger.

“I told you to stay put,” Bucky snarled, slamming his hand against the back of your seat.

"I - I know," you stuttered, vaguely remembering Bucky's request in your earpiece just moments earlier.

“Why couldn't you just listen? You had to play the fucking hero?"

"Bucky, lay off of her." Steve's warning was stern, and Bucky shot a glare at the back of his head.

"No. She was being stupid," he spat, looking back at you. "What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?"

You bristled then, despising his patronizing tone. “You’re one to talk. How many times have you completely gone off script and blindsided us with your decisions?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew it was an unfair statement.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think you realize what could have happened back there."

You looked at Steve again, guilt consuming you. He was focused on operating the jet, and you knew that he hadn't been seriously hurt, but he could have been. Or, worse, Bucky could have been caught in the explosion. He was lucky not to have been there.

"I'm sorry," you began, but Bucky cut you off.

"You need to take this fucking seriously," he snarled. "You went marching in there blindly, and look what happened."

"I thought I might be able to get something useful," you said weakly.

"Look how well that turned out," he said sarcastically. "You blew everything up."

You recoiled, hurt. You wondered if Bucky was actually upset that you had destroyed a valuable chance to get information on HYDRA. Though how were you supposed to know extracting the information would set off literal bombs? You had been acting quickly, wanting to get in and out. Maybe Bucky blamed you for destroying that chance.

"You can be so fucking stupid and selfish," Bucky exclaimed angrily, lashing out in full force. So reckless, doing whatever you wanted to do, without so much as a thought to how much potential harm you could be putting yourself in.

"That's enough," Steve shouted loudly, his voice angry and booming.

You flinched visibly, biting down hard on your lip to stop yourself from snapping back. Or worse, crying. Bucky walked over to the other side of the jet, away from you.

The feeling was awful. Your shoulder was burning, throat in pain from the smoke you had inhaled, and all Bucky had done was shout. It was surprising, how much your feelings hurt at his outburst.

Bucky was as tense as a statue. His mind was racing as he refused to look at you, thinking of all the worst possibilities. His heart felt as if it had literally skipped a beat the moment he saw you lying in the rubble, seconds after he'd heard the explosion and realized he could no longer hear you in his earpiece - there was a chilling moment amidst the action where he really, genuinely believed you had been killed.

Having you act so blasé about it after the fact infuriated him.

You, on the other hand, felt a heavy weight in your chest as you watched Bucky mutter to himself, the muscle in his jaw twitching. You felt so guilty, feeling so...incapable in Steve and Bucky's presence. Steve had been hurt because of you, and Bucky had every right to be mad at you. Nonetheless, his words cut you deeply.

Stupid and selfish.

The rest of the journey back to the compound was tense and silent. Bucky stared at the wall whilst you stared at the ground. As soon as the jet landed, Bucky stood up with full intention of hoisting you up against his chest to take you to the medical wing, but found Steve standing between you and him instead. Like a barrier, as if he wanted to protect you from Bucky's wrath.

"Let's get you checked out," Steve grunted, his arm once again around your damn waist as you stood.

Even though it was neither the place nor the time, jealously instinctively entered Bucky's bloodstream at the way you leaned on Steve. He wanted to be the one to take care of you, dammit, but all he had achieved was make you avoid his stare.

"Get her head checked out whilst you're at it," Bucky barked. "See if you can find out why she lost all her fucking common sense."

Tears sprang to your eyes when Bucky stormed off the jet, heading into the compound first. It hurt you more than you cared to admit that he hadn't even stayed to see if you were alright.

"He didn't mean that," Steve said quietly.

"He did," you retorted, wincing in pain as you experimentally moved your shoulder. "Shit."

"You alright?"

"Dislocated, I think."

Steve helped you to the medical wing, where you were promptly checked and - yep, dislocated shoulder. No other injuries though, thanks to Steve.

"You saved my life," you said gratefully as Steve stood beside you, wiping dried blood from his hands and face. "Thank you. I'm sorry, as well."

Steve's face was kind yet stern as he moved to stand in front of you. "No need to thank me. But yeah, the way you behaved was kind of reckless."

"I know."

He placed a heavy hand on your good shoulder, squeezing gently. "Get some rest, okay?"

"Do you think Bucky hates me?" you asked suddenly, looking up at Steve searchingly. "You know him best. Do you think he hates me now?"

Steve sighed loudly in a way that planted doubt in your mind despite his answer. "No, of course he doesn't hate you."

"I think he's at least annoyed that I risked your life," you mumbled.

"Okay, first of all, I've been in so many explosions that it's just a regular day at the office, now," Steve said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Secondly, I think he's just annoyed that you risked your life."

You were dubious, thinking that Steve was just trying to placate you. You recalled how Bucky had glared at you before. If he actually cared, surely he wouldn't have just stalked off like that?

“I think my safety was the last thing on his mind.”

"Get some rest," Steve repeated. "Stop overthinking."

You nodded unconvincingly, all while your thoughts continued to be plagued by a certain dark haired, blue eyed man.

"She okay?" Bucky asked Steve the moment he saw him in the hallway just off the medical wing.

"You could ask her yourself, you know," he said, cocking an eyebrow. When Bucky didn't respond, he offered, "Dislocated her shoulder. Few cuts and bruised ribs. Otherwise, she's fine."

Bucky felt himself let go of a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He had inspected you pretty closely on the jet and was sure you had been fine, though he was annoyed he didn't realize your shoulder was hurt, however part of him was still fearful. To hear Steve confirm that you were mostly fine was a relief.

"Good," Bucky said brusquely. Steve tilted his head at him, observing his best friend with judgmental eyes. The silence between them spoke volumes. “Shut up," Bucky added.

Your shoulder had been easily maneuvered back into place, though you were confined into a sling and would be for the next few weeks, rendering you useless on the field. That, combined with the gnawing guilt of putting Bucky and Steve in danger, dampened your usually upbeat self.

After being discharged from the medical wing, you had retired to your bedroom and stayed there for the rest of the day. A few mornings later, you left your bedroom at the crack of dawn, startled to see Bucky already making breakfast in the kitchen.

"Oh. Hey," you said meekly, clearing your throat as you made your way to the coffee machine.

He had dark circles under his eyes, and you wondered if he had slept at all. His hair was disheveled, like he had been running his fingers through it, and he had stubble all across his sharp jawline.

Things were weird now after his tirade at you. You considered the two of you to be friends - very good friends, actually. In fact, you would be lying if you said you didn't have a deep-rooted hope that you might become more than friends. But, after Bucky's explosive verbal attack on you, you felt so small standing in front of him. You had avoided him for the past couple of days, afraid of any potential confrontation.

He thinks you’re stupid and selfish, you reminded yourself. Each time his words replayed in your mind, a fresh wave of pain hit you. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about how harsh he’d been for the past few nights whilst in bed, tears slipping down your face and onto your pillow as you tried to sleep.

Your gut twisted in discomfort. You liked Bucky so much, and his admonishing had crushed you somewhat. You wanted him to respect you, didn't want to disappoint him, but you had achieved the opposite.

You turned your back on him and poured yourself a coffee, knowing that if you looked at him for too long, you might start crying. His face was one that you used to love looking at, loved how affectionate he was when he spoke to you, but now you were just scared. You didn’t think you could take it if he snapped at you again.

"Are you okay?" He broke the silence first, and you wondered if he actually genuinely cared about the answer. You really weren’t sure anymore.

"I'm fine," you said, nodding and moving over to the pantry to try and find something to eat. You stretched up to the shelves with your good arm, fingers curling over a bag of croissants but not quite being able to reach.

You felt his presence behind you, his chest pressing against your back softly as he took the pastries down for you, setting them down on the counter.

Bucky watched when you stiffened slightly, and felt a heavy twinge of regret at how he had spoken to you that day. He was already feeling like an ass about it, but now he wondered if you were somehow frightened of him. He knew that he had crossed a line, said some pretty nasty things.

He stepped away from you, clearing his throat loudly to catch your attention. When you half-turned to face him, he spoke.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said the other day. It was out of line."

He could only see your profile as you bit down on your lower lip, shrugging as if to say no big deal. From the way your eyes were darting about, Bucky could tell you were holding back on your emotions. "It's okay. You were right."

Bucky frowned, watching as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. "What do you mean?"

"What I did was stupid and selfish," you said, your voice quivering. Bucky's lips pressed into a thin line as you continued. "I wasn't thinking, and I put both of you in danger. I'm sorry. You have every right to be angry at me."

Realization hit Bucky like a freight train.

"Hey," he said gently, approaching you again, his hand awkwardly curling around your wrist. He could see your eyes beginning to well up. "Don't get upset." He tilted his head at you, trying to coax you to look at him.

"I'm not," you sniffed, blinking hard in an attempt to rid yourself of your budding tears.

"When I said you were stupid and selfish," Bucky winced at those adjectives now, "I meant I just felt you were stupid to put yourself in danger, and selfish because - well, you didn't even think about what it would do to me."

Your brow furrowed at Bucky's rushed explanation, looking up at him quizically. Your eyes were still glistening, and his heart ached.

"I don't understand."

Bucky made a slightly frustrated noise, releasing your wrist. He planted his hands on the kitchen counter instead, trapping you, your lower back pressed against the marble edge. He sighed loudly, making you swallow nervously.

"Bucky?"

"I care about you," he began, suddenly unable to articulate himself properly as he looked into your eyes. “A lot. As in, a lot."

"Oh-kay..." The syllables were long and drawn out. You were still nonplussed.

"No, you don't get it," Bucky said through gritted teeth. He cast his mind back to the events in the bunker, that same fear creeping into his system. "There was a second where I heard the blast, and I thought you were done for. I was terrified."

Bucky leaned closer, so close that his forehead was almost resting on yours. His eyes fluttered closed. It was easier if he didn’t look at you to voice his feelings.

"There was a very real moment where I thought I lost you, and it was horrible." The unspoken meaning hung in the air. I can't live without you.

His confession made your heart rise in your chest with surprise and disbelief.

"Oh, Bucky." The way you spoke his name made him want to hold you tight. "I had no idea you cared so much," you said softly.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, and they were anguished. "That's the problem. I'm so scared of showing you my feelings that you had no idea I care about you more than anything." He scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't know what I was so afraid of. The idea of you being hurt is infinitely more terrifying than telling you how much I really like you."

“I - really?” His words were black and white, but you were afraid to truly believe them.

“Did you know,” Bucky began, lifting his hand to brush his knuckles against your cheekbone, “how much I want to protect you? Keep you from harm? At first, I didn’t understand it, but then I realized that I was falling for you.” He took a deep breath. “It’s been so long since I felt anything like that for anyone, that I barely recognized what it was.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his nerves. He knew he had to tell you how he felt. The way you were gazing at him now in pure adoration was motivation enough.

“I want to be with you, as more than friends.” He let out a soft huff of laughter, like he was amused it had taken him so long to admit something so simple.

You lifted your hand to cup the back of his neck, feeling a renewed confidence and sense of happiness at his words.

“I should have told you long ago how much I like you, too,” you whispered. Bucky's chest swelled in happiness at your admission.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?" he asked quietly, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

Your reply was to stand on your tip-toes so you could meet his mouth in a kiss, finally doing what you had wanted to do since the moment you met him.

#bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #winter soldier

[kiarastromboli]

I missed u (Matt Sturniolo x Y/n)

Masterlist.

Warning: Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :)

Summary: You and your boyfriend Matt haven't seen each other for two weeks, and it's becoming unbearable for both of you.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Matt and I have been a couple for over a year now. Since the beginning of our relationship, we've always been very close, to the point where I don't think we've ever gone more than 2 days without seeing each other until last week.

I didn't think his absence would affect me so much. This week, Matt has been particularly busy with his YouTube channel, and he and his brothers have had quite a few projects to manage lately. As for me, I've been swamped with work; we're entering the Christmas season, so my job is busier than the rest of the year.

Anyway, it's been more than two weeks now since I've had the chance to see my boyfriend, and I feel like I'm going crazy. I have trouble sleeping without him, and I won't lie about the fact that I really want him right now. I know he feels the same way. The only times we've had the chance to call each other in the past two weeks were for him to relieve some pressure because, according to him, he "can't do it alone."

This leaves me desperate in the situation. I've tried to distract myself by masturbating several times, but it doesn't help. I'm incredibly horny, and the only thing that could help me right now is Matt.

I was quietly in bed at 1 a.m., unable to sleep as usual, when I was alerted by a message from my boyfriend on my phone.

I knew teasing Matt wasn't a very good idea, firstly because he's been just as horny as me lately, so I knew it would frustrate him. Secondly, it would end up frustrating me too...

I could see Matt starting to type and then stopping, as if he was hesitant to send me a message. After waiting for several minutes, I decided to put my phone down when I realized he wouldn't respond.

Well, at least that's what I thought before receiving another notification on my phone...

I got up from my bed to walk over to my wardrobe. I pulled out an assortment of lingerie I had bought a few days ago for this special occasion, especially for Matt. It was a blue lace set, Matt's favorite color. I knew it would drive him crazy to see me in it. The garter belt gave me a goddess-like figure, and the bra held my chest perfectly, although I knew Matt wouldn't waste a second to tear it off. I was already completely wet at the thought.

Barely finishing tidying up my room, he was already there knocking on my door. I hurried to run and open it for him in my little outfit.

"Hi-" he began to say before I cut him off, pulling him towards me by his collar and kissing him as I opened the door for him to enter.

"So eager," he said, disconnecting our lips with a smirk.

He took a step back to observe me in more detail when he saw what I was wearing. I could see his pupils dilate. I spun around to give him a better view, and he grabbed me by the waist after running his hand over his face to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Do you like what you see?" I asked, smiling.

His grip on my waist tightened as I locked eyes with him. He licked his lips and bit them, continuing to look me up and down.

"Do you remember your safe word?" he asked, bringing his hand to my throat to force me to look him in the eyes.

"Ketchup," I said, chuckling to tease him. He tightened his hand around my throat, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

"I'm serious, y/n. What's your safe word?" he said in an intimidating voice, bringing his lips close to mine.

"Hmm, red," I said in a tiny voice, biting my lips. I could feel a warmth building between my legs just from his voice.

His eyes left mine to gaze at my slightly swollen, rosy lips from our previous kiss. A smile played on the corner of his face before he started advancing towards my bedroom, not letting go of my throat.

"Kiss me," I begged when we reached my room, and the back of my legs touched the side of my bed.

"What did you say? I think I misheard," he replied, amused by my impatience and desire.

"Please, Matt, kiss me," I pleaded, frustrated that he wouldn't press his lips against mine again. I looked pathetic, and he loved it.

He took off his t-shirt. "Show me that you deserve it," he said, chuckling before pushing me onto the bed so that I sat right in front of him.

I raised my eyes to him, giving him an innocent doe-eyed look. He looked at me as if he were a predator, and I was his prey. My eyes drifted to the bulge in his gray sweatpants in front of me before returning my gaze to him.

"Don't play shy with me, baby. I know you're dying for it. Take it," he said in an authoritative tone, grabbing my hair in a ponytail to clear my face while licking his lips.

I brought both of my hands to the elastic of his sweatpants, pulling them down to his ankles, leaving him in his boxers. He was bulging in his boxers; I had almost forgotten how sizable it was. Not too big to be unmanageable, but just big enough to fill me where I needed it. However, it had been a while since we had been intimate, and I already dreaded the pain I would likely feel when he penetrates me.

"Stop looking at it like that, suck it before I shove it down your throat, y/n. Don't make me wait," he said, abruptly pulling on my hair, making me sigh in surprise.

I started to palm him through his boxers, looking him straight in the eyes. I could see the intense desire burning in his eyes, making me smile in the moment.

"This is the last time I'm warning you, y/n. Stop teasing me, take it," he said, trying to hold back a frustrated moan when I removed his boxers.

"Or what?" I said, smiling playfully. I wanted to push him to the edge; I knew he wouldn't be gentle with me, and that's what I wanted.

He smiled, licking his lips to suppress a chuckle.

"You want to play like that, huh?" he said, running his thumb over my lips. I quickly took it between my teeth and nodded, looking him in the eyes.

"Fuck, I missed you so much," he said, removing his thumb from my mouth to grasp his member and press it against my lips, signaling me to open my mouth, which I eventually did.

Without warning, he immediately thrust it deep into my throat, catching me off guard and making me cough around his cock.

He chuckled but didn't stop his momentum. He began guiding my head back and forth faster and faster. I tried my best not to choke and to suppress my gag reflex every time he hit the back of my throat.

"I missed fucking your pretty little mouth like this, princess," he said, breathing rapidly. "You're so good with your tongue," he added, throwing his head back, making me moan around his cock.

Tears started to flow down my cheeks due to his constant abuse on the back of my throat, and he quickly noticed, coming to wipe my tears away with his thumb.

"Look at you crying like a baby when you were acting all tough just a few minutes ago," he said with a smirk. I furrowed my brows, unable to help but moan every time he opened his mouth to say something.

I was completely at his mercy, and I loved it. He let go of my hair to grasp my face with both hands before thrusting into me at an inhuman speed. He released moans and groans, and it only excited me even more.

He pulled out of my mouth suddenly, causing me to let out a sigh of relief and frustration. "Why did you stop?" I asked, breathless.

He leaned in to kiss me fiercely. "I'm not done with you, baby, don't worry," he said, smiling against my lips before pushing me to move back towards my headboard. He was now positioned above me, his lips glued to mine without any struggle for dominance; his tongue didn't have to fight for control.

His hand moved from my cheek to my neck, then to my chest, where he paused for a moment to play with my nipples through my delicate lace bra, making me moan again, this time into our kiss. I felt completely intoxicated, drugged by him, by his lips on mine, and his hands on my body. I was on fire, completely consumed by him. I wanted him to do unimaginable things to me.

His hand left my chest to roam my waist, where he sank his fingers before descending to my lower abdomen.

My breathing quickened; he was getting closer and closer to where I needed him. I couldn't take it anymore; I only dreamed of one thing: him touching me.

He started playing with the lace of my panties, frustrating me at the moment. I wanted him to go further, but I knew he was punishing me for my previous behavior. "Matt, please," I said, moaning and closing my eyes. I needed him to touch me; I was dying for it.

"Please what, baby? You're a big girl; formulate a proper sentence, princess," he said with a big smile. He knew exactly what I wanted; he just wanted me to say it. He enjoyed seeing me beg; he loved it.

"Please touch me, I need you. Stop making me wait. I promise to behave like a good girl. Please, touch me, Matt," I pleaded, moaning pathetically. He directed his lips to my neck before finally touching me through my panties.

I let out a sigh of relief when I finally felt his fingers apply pressure to my clit. He made agonizingly slow circular motions, and I began to squirm against the mattress, frustrated because I wanted more. I needed more.

"Matt," I said in a frustrated moan, feeling him smile against the skin of my neck. He slipped his hand into my panties this time, letting out a surprised moan in my ear when he felt how wet I was for him.

"Soaked like a little slut," he said before coming to suck marks on my neck.

"Yes, your slut, and only yours," I replied, moaning when he started massaging my clit harder and faster. I couldn't help but moan at this point; it was stronger than me. I could feel that familiar knot tightening in my stomach; I had been waiting for days to finally climax properly.

But suddenly, and without warning, as I dangerously approached my orgasm, he removed his hand from my panties. I raised my head with a frustrated moan once again. He sat up to look me in the eyes with a satisfied smile. "What's wrong? Were you about to come? Did I stop at the wrong moment?" he said, chuckling.

"Matt," I told him, looking at him with frustration for what he had just inflicted on me. He took me by the waist to switch our positions this time, him below and me just above him.

"You're lucky it's been two weeks since we've done anything. If it weren't the case, I would have left you hanging to punish you for how you behaved with me," he said, grabbing me by the throat before giving me a hip thrust, rubbing his erection against my still clothed pussy.

I let out another moan before leaning slightly forward to rest on my arm placed on his chest. "Take off your panties before I tear them off," he said, smiling.

I moved off him to remove my panties and then straddled him. He directed me towards his face. "Ride my face, baby," he said authoritatively.

I hesitated for a moment before giving in and positioning myself just above his face. His arms wrapped around my thighs as if to prevent me from escaping his grasp. I slowly let myself fall onto his face, and when I felt his tongue on my pussy, I thought I was going to go completely insane.

He began to lick my clit going progressively faster and humping against me which sent vibrations directly against my clit, I hadn't put my weight on his face for fear of smothering him but I could feel my thighs weakening as the minutes passed. He began to lick my hole assiduously, his nose rubbing against my clit which pushed me even further towards my orgasm, his fingers were planted in my thighs when he felt them trembling because they were weakening, he came to press on them to force me to put all my weight on his face.

I tried to resist but I was so obsessed by the effect he was having on me that I finally cracked, leaving all my weight on his face, which caused the pressure of his nose on my clit to increase, making me moan louder than the previous ones.

I started rubbing back and forth on his face controlled by my pleasure it was all just too much for me the sensation in my lower belly started to become unbearable "M-matt- oh my- fuckkkk" I said closing my eyes feeling my orgasm approaching.

I raised my pelvis because I felt that all this stimulation was too much for me, the orgasm that was dangerously close was driving me crazy but Matt had another plan in mind with the help of his arms he came to press again on my thighs to force me to stay in place, he started to eat me with more passion I threw my head back when I felt my orgasm coming "fuck- I'm going to cum. "I groaned, almost screaming, at the pleasure he was giving me, and suddenly the pressure was off again. I came all over his face, shouting his names and a few insults along the way, before letting myself fall onto the bed next to him.

My eyes were closed, I was out of breath and Matt came to stand beside me, kissing my cheek before whispering in my ear "I'm still not done with you", I could hear his smirk in the tone of his sentence.

He straightened up and turned me against the mattress, now on my stomach. "Matt, wait, I'm too sensitive," I said, turning my head slightly towards him. He grabbed me by the hips and arched me so that I was level with his pelvis.

"I don't care you can take it I know you can." he said in my ear before straightening up and rubbing his member against my hole. His free hand caressed the length of my back before grabbing the back of my neck and pressing my head against his pillow.

He knew it'd been a while so he gently pushed inside me and I let out a moan of pain at the burning and stretching sensation, he stopped halfway through to ask me "Are you all right princess?" and I couldn't help but smile at his concern, it was so paradoxical that he should ask me that after fucking my throat like a monster and giving me one of the most powerful orgasms I'd ever had.

"Yes, baby, you can move, I just need to get back to your size," I said, moaning softly. He moved forward again until he hit bottom and let out a beautiful moan.

"I can't believe this pussy is mine." he said as he caressed my ass before starting to stroke back and forth.

"Fuck you're really tight I'm not going to last very long." he moaned clutching my hips as if his life depended on it.

I felt like I'd gone completely stupid because of his cock, it was going exactly where I needed it to go, the only sounds coming out of my mouth were moans and my boyfriend's name, as if my memory had been wiped and those were the things left out of my vocabulary.

He started to speed up the movement and he brought his hand to my clit to play with it was still super sensitive so I couldn't help gesticulating when he did that.

"I'm gonna fucking cum y/n" he said in an animalistic moan his movements had become severely fast he was slapping the bottom like I'd never been able to feel it in my belly.

"Cum with me princess." he said as he felt my pussy clench around him I didn't need to speak he knew my body by heart he knew I was about to cum.

And after a few more thrusts I came for the second time, my vagina convulsing around his cock, pushing it to the edge before he cum inside me.

We stayed in that position for a moment, just long enough to catch our breath, before he pulled out of me and lay down beside me.

With what little strength I had left, I snuggled up to him, "I love you, baby," he said, running his hand through my hair.

"I love you too," I replied in a tired voice with my eyes closed.

"I'm going to run you a bath, my princess, and I'll drop you off at work in the morning, don't worry." he said with a smile before standing up.

Masterlist.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #ao3 fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #smut

[alotofpockets]

Missed calls | Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Reader

Prompts: "Please don't hang up." & "You love me?"

Warnings: Injury, broken ankle, surgery, and use of pain medication.

A/n: I have no clue if the medical stuff is right, just go with it haha

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.5k

If there was one thing you knew for sure, it’s that your best friend is not a morning person. She prefers to sleep the day away, which isn’t always possible with her job. “Less, come on. It’s match day, you’ve got to get up.” A grunt came from the other side of the door, “Fine, I’ll get up.” You smile at her grumpiness combined with her raspy morning voice, before heading back to the kitchen where you got her favorite match day breakfast ready for her, along with a big mug of coffee. 

With your own mug in hand you sit back down, going over the notes for your meeting later. You are so focussed on your notes that you don’t hear Alessia walk into the kitchen until she sits down next to you. “You really didn’t have to do all this for me, I know you have a busy day of your own.” Alessia sits down at the other side of the table. You lift your eyes from your notes and are met with her already shoving the food into her mouth. “I know I don’t have to but I wanted to, and you were clearly hungry.” You nod your head at the already half empty plate. “What can I say, you make the best match day breakfast.” She says accompanied with a chef’s kiss. 

Alessia cleans up the kitchen, as you go over your notes one last time. You were presenting the finalization of your project to one of your biggest clients, since you were the lead on the project, you would do most of the talking. The clients were flying in from out of the country, hence the reason your boss had allowed the meeting to take place on a Sunday. Your Sunday’s are usually reserved for watching Alessia play, so you would sadly have to miss today’s match.

“You are going to crush that meeting.” Alessia says, once she’s put all the dishes away. “I don’t know, what if I screw up.” She shakes her head in response, “You’ve led this project for months, you know all the ins and outs. Plus you have an amazing team behind you, they’ll help out wherever necessary.” You smile, “Thanks Less, you’re right.”

You’re both leaving home at the same time, Leah already waiting on the curb to pick up Alessia. You wave at her, before hugging Alessia, “Have a good game, Less.” She hugs you back for a little longer, “Thank you. Good luck with your meeting, you’ve got this.” Alessia walks to Leah’s car, while you make your way over to your car, before you get in you turn to Alessia. “Hey Less.” You yell her way once she opens the car door, she turns around to look at you. “Give 'em hell out there.” She smiles, “You too!” 

Leah immediately teases Alessia, “So, when are you going to ask them out?” She rolls her eyes at her teammate, “We’re just friends Leah, please drop this.” Alessia knew that the teasing wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, just maybe this car ride could go without some.

You arrive at your office with coffee and tea for your team, who all made it in on a Sunday. Together you go over your presentation once more, before settling on some light conversation to settle your nerves. You excused yourself to set up the meeting room, wanting a moment to yourself before the clients arrived. Everything was ready to go when you heard a knock on the conference room door, you looked up to see your boss in the door frame. “They’re downstairs, are you ready?” You let her know that you are and get your team. 

The conference room was quickly filled with people, everyone shaking hands. “Thank you everyone for making the trip over for this meeting. I would like to start by summarizing the project, and then go into more details. Does that sound good for everyone?” You were met with a couple of yes’s and encouraging smiles all around the table. The moment you started talking about the project you were so proud of, all the nerves seemed to fade away. 

About twenty minutes into the meeting your smart watch notifies you of a call coming through, without watching your watch you press the call away. The soft buzzing continues a couple times after, you’re starting to get worried but you have big responsibilities at the moment, so you try your best to not show it and press the call away again. Another few calls came in and the rest of the conference room was starting to notice your brow furrow while you continued talking. The client speaks up, “It’s okay if you need to get that, it sounds urgent. Shall we take a five minute break?” You look over to your boss who nods, giving you the go ahead. “Thank you, Sir.” You direct towards your client, before grabbing your phone and walking out of the room. 

Six missed calls from Alessia and four from Leah. This can’t be good, you think before dialing Alessia’s number, your stomach drops when she doesn’t answer. You try Leah next, she answers almost immediately. “Hey, Y/n, sorry I know you had work today.” You’re too worried to listen to her properly, “Leah, what’s going on?” Wanting to get straight to the point, as you start pacing the hallway. “I’m at the hospital with Alessia, she broke her ankle and needs surgery. She won’t go under until she sees you though, is there any way you can-” Leah gets interrupted, “Yes, mate, I’m talking to Y/n right now, give me one moment.” You hear her say to a whiny Alessia. “Sorry, Alessia is trying to take the phone from me. Ehm what was I saying? Oh yeah, if you’re able to, can you please come to the hospital?” 

You looked over to the conference room, signaling for your boss. “Give me one second, I’ll call you right back.” You tell Leah. Your boss closes the door behind her and walks your way, “Is everything okay?” You shake your head in frustration, wanting to be there for Alessia but also not wanting to be professional and continue the meeting. “Alessia, my best friend, was just admitted to the hospital and needs surgery.” Before you can explain the rest of your situation she interrupts you. “Okay, then you need to go to the hospital and be there for her.” Your boss nudges you back into the conference room. “Y/n needs to leave, there’s been a family emergency.” She informs the clients. “Yes, I am sorry to leave like this but you are in excellent hands.” You look around your team. You hand your notes to one of your coworkers, “Here are my notes, you’re in charge. Text me if you need anything, but I believe in you all.” 

With your laptop in hand, you walk to your desk quickly. You call Leah back like you promised. “Hey, tell Less that I’m on my way.” You hear Leah tell your best friend, you hear a faint, “Give me the phone.” before you hear Leah’s voice again, “Lessi wants to talk to you, I’m going to hand the phone over. Keep in mind that she’s pretty drugged up right now.” She warns you. 

“Y/n,” Alessia whines on the other end of the line. “are you almost here?” Like Leah warned you, you could hear in the way Alessia was slurring her words that she had a lot of pain medications, which meant that she was in a lot of pain. “Hi Lessi, I’m just getting in my car but I’ll be there soon, okay?” Alessia gasps, “What’s wrong?” You’re instantly worried again. “Please don't hang up, I need you." You release the breath you were holding, “I’m not going anywhere.” You continue talking to her, “How are you feeling, Stargirl?” You loved teasing her with the nickname, since she wasn’t a fan of it, secretly she loved when you used it though. “Hmm I told you not to call me that. It hurts but the medicine is helping.” You smile at her response to the nickname. “Why don’t you just get your surgery done, sweetheart? I’ll be there when you get out.” 

Alessia had the phone on speaker, so Leah was listening along. She shakes her head with a knowing smile when she hears you call her sweetheart, and the blush on Alessia’s cheeks gives her even more proof that her teammate was head over heels for you. “Because I need to see you before surgery?” You furrow your brow, “Why is that?” The drugged up girl starts rambling and slurring over her words in the process but from what you are able to catch, she’s saying that she needs to see you before in case she doesn’t wake up. “Oh Lessi, baby, it’s ankle surgery. It is ankle surgery, I think you’re going to be fine when it comes to that.” Alessia starts shaking her head, not that you could see it of course, “Still, I want to see you before.” You give up on trying to convince her, “Okay, I will be there in just ten minutes. What room are you in?” Leah is the one to answer that question.

It isn’t until you knock on her hospital room, and make eye contact with her, that you hang up the phone. You’re by her side in just a few steps, taking her face in your hands before bringing her in for a hug. Leah said a quick hello before she went to get a nurse, clearly done with Alessia’s stubbornness and wanting to get her to her surgery. Alessia starts sobbing in your arms, you stroke her back, “It’s all going to be okay, I’ve got you.” You manage to calm her down before Leah arrives back with the nurse, who’s ready to take Alessia to the operating room. Alessia reaches out for your hand, with a worried look in her eyes. You give her hand a quick squeeze and place a kiss on her cheek. “You’ll be alright. I will be right here when you get back.” You assured her. 

You keep checking your phone for any updates from work. “Everything alright?” Leah asks when she notices. “Yeah, it’s fine. I just had to walk out of a pretty important meeting to get here, so I am awaiting a text from my boss or one of my coworkers updating me on it.” Leah sends an apologetic look your way, “I’m sorry I called you out of there, I hope you won’t get in any trouble over it.” You think back on how adamant your boss was on you leaving, “Oh, no, don’t worry about that. My boss practically told me to go to the hospital right away.” 

Back when you started at UNC you didn’t know anyone, seeing as you moved continents to go to your dream college. Within your first week there you met Alessia, you bonded instantly after realizing you grew up only a few blocks away from each other. After college you both moved back to the UK, finding a place together in London. Ever since, you’ve had soccer all around you, Alessia often having some teammates over. You didn’t mind one bit though, her friends were yours, and visa versa. That’s also how you met Leah a few years ago, when she and Alessia started playing for England together. So, it was nice catching up with Leah while awaiting Alessia’s return. 

It doesn’t take too long for Alessia to get back from surgery. The three of you spend time in the hospital room together. Alessia was coming down from the high dose of pain medication, feeling a lot more like herself, though still rather upset that she would be out for a couple months. Your phone rings, and your watch displays your boss her name, “Sorry, I have to take this real quick.” You say as you excuse yourself from the room. Your boss called to let you know that the meeting went great, and that the client was very impressed with the work you and the team delivered. Of course, she also asked how things were with Alessia, to which you responded that her surgery went well and that you were waiting until she would be discharged. 

“Update on the meeting?” Leah asks when you walk back in the room. “Yeah, she said it went well, and that the client was happy, so that’s a big relief.” Alessia looks between the two of you with a furrowed brow. “You left before the meeting was over?” You nod, “You needed me, Less, of course I did.” She stayed quiet for a moment, letting your response settle in. “You must really love me, to miss the biggest meeting of your career.” She finally says. You smile at her before sitting down, “I do.” You say under your breath, not intending for anyone to hear it. Alessia did hear you though, she quickly looks over to Leah to see if she actually heard it or if she was just imagining it. Leah looks back at her with a smirk on her face, which is enough for Alessia to realize you had actually said it. "You love me?"

Your eyes shoot up to her nervously, the nerves leaving as soon as you see the shine in her eyes, and the smile on her face. “Of course I love you, Less. I have loved you for a long time.” Her smile grows impossibly bigger, “I have loved you for a long time as well.” Alessia sends Leah a look, which she understands instantly. “Yeah, I’ve got to go check on something. I will be back.” The defender says, before quickly making her way out of the room. You take it as your queue to sit down on the bed with Alessia, going in for a hug instantly. “Couldn’t have told me that years ago, Russo?” You joke. “Hey, you could’ve done it yourself.” You laugh with each other, before Alessia leans in to kiss you. It was soft and sweet, it was everything you had hoped it would be. 

When Leah comes back in and sees you cuddled up together on the bed, she mumbles a ‘finally’ under her breath, before waving some papers in the air. “I just signed your discharge papers, let’s get you out of here.” You first drop off Leah at her home, and then continue your drive home with Alessia. The girl was extra clingy that evening, which you absolutely adored. 

The next couple of weeks you often find yourself in the car with Alessia, driving her to her physio appointments. You had been working from home most days since her injury, grateful that you were able to do so. Being able to take care of your girlfriend was very important to you, and of course Alessia loved having you home so much.

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a tip 💗

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x y/n #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #leah williamson

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Good Luck, Fermata Tower (18+)

pairing: fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader

genre: firewatch au LMAO, smut (MDNI), soo much angst, COMFORT, fluff

description: after the death of your roommate you have to find a greater purpose to life. what better way than to became a fire lookout with a surprisingly charismatic neighbour tower?

warnings: this fic is a lot, please read ALL warnings. SUICIDE, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death 2x, reader goes through grief, so does seungcheol, AGE GAP, RADIO SEX??? LMAOOO, dirty talk, petnames, cockwarming, pentrative sex, strength kink, f. and m. masturbation (mutual?), PINING TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE, MENTIONS OF DOING DRUGS/DOING SHROOMS, talks of drowning, if u know the game i think you'll be able to visualize the beauty of this way more, intensive writing on the scenery and the emotions, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASe

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "im getting out lana", "im just gonna be making animal sounds", "can we make this into a play so i can perform this?", "OF ALL THE THINGS THAT COULD MAKE ME CRY IT WAS THE DESCRIPTION OF HIS HOT ASS FACE"

wordcount: 13.9k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL. i love this fic. the writing is a little novelly for a fic, but i was so passionate ab this whole firewatch thing and i got SO INTO the arcs and their personal losses and i just really love yn and seungcheol. i hope this was worth the wait and i apologize for not finishing sooner. all my love, beefboy

You and Mingyu meet at college at some parkour club that you’d both joined to make friends. You face-plant into the pavement and knock out a tooth and Mingyu takes you to a nearby hospital. You click instantly. 

You and Mingyu spend every moment together - you help him and he helps you. Mingyu is smart, you realize. He knows all the formulas in your mathematics course by heart. You tell him he’s smart and he says that no one else seems to think that.

You and Mingyu are best friends. You have matching necklaces that complete a heart. 

You and Mingyu party together and when you get too drunk, he carries you down the halls, home. Sometimes at night he sleeps in your bed. 

Your friend group thinks you’re dating, but you think you and Mingyu are something much more earnest than lovers. You think Mingyu is your soulmate. 

You piggy-back ride Mingyu at graduation and you give him a peck on the cheek when he shakes hands with the dean. 

You and Mingyu become roommates. You binge-watch terrible movies together and hold drinking games. It’s hard to admit some of your favorite memories are from watching the Alvin and The Chipmunks trilogy. 

The night before it happens you and Mingyu eat dinner together that he cooked. You see his snaggletooth every time he smiles. 

You’d almost lived together for two years that morning. He usually wakes earlier than you, but he is nowhere to be seen. The apartment is oddly still. You feel trapped. 

You enter Mingyu’s room.

You think he’s asleep. You leave him alone. 

Two hours later you grow worried. You enter his room to find him in the same position. You shake him. Mingyu doesn’t wake. 

The doctors say a case like Mingyu’s is extremely rare - he was in great shape. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better. 

Mingyu’s funeral is grim. His death is so terrible, says the pastor, because it’s so domestic. You think it’s terrible because he is - was - the brightest, most amazing person to walk the earth. His parents want you to hold a speech, but you can’t find the words. You think you might sob if you go up there. You sob anyway. The flowers form a ring on the floor of the church and your soulmate is dead.

You can’t sleep anymore. You imagine him dying, left arm numb, alone in the dead of night and choking out your name, reaching for the thin wall that separated you. You cry for a whole month. The apartment is cursed so you live with your parents. 

One day, you see an ad for a job in the paper. 

You take it.  _____________________________

“Hello?” 

Static stormed the tower-house when the other end cut off.

“Are you there?” 

Your eyes frantically darted around the cabin. It was no more than a 13 foot rectangle and yet your tired eyes couldn’t find the radio, churning out a gruff voice. 

You’d just arrived, barely turned on the generator to allow light in. It was nighttime. The park’s dips and peaks were veiled in blue; the silhouettes of the trees, forking out in long, thin spikes, were navy and the lake Fermata was the brightest, glittering pearl from the moon above. Stars twinkled knowingly at you. 

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 

“Yeah, hi, I’m here,” you breathed out tiredly. You let go of the button and a small bit of static spoke back to you. 

“Y/n?” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m in Bay Valley Tower. It’s to the east. Saw your light turn on,” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep. It had a rasp at every vowel, strings of vocal chords straining to spit out the words in between sticky ropes of bile. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You had nothing else to say. The flimsy, one person bed beckoned to your tired body. You moved, like a doll, one limb at a time, into its harbor, collapsing into the thin mattress. You laid on your side, moonlight shining in from the window by the door. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, carelessly. Impatient in tone, you imagined he’d probably been through this a hundred times before. “So,” he sighed out, deeply. “What’s your problem?” 

“Hm?” 

There was a shooting star, dancing across the sky in that moment. You watched it, shuffling onto your back with half-closed eyes. Stardust sprinkled from it on the open, empty sky.

“People here are all running from something. So what’s your deal?” 

You sighed, watching the star’s open path. It could go anywhere, you thought. Then you moved your arm, holding the receiver to your mouth. 

“Listen, Seungcheol. I’ve been hiking for two days, so I’m gonna go to bed now, okay? Hopefully you’ve found some manners by the time I wake up,” you mumbled, then let go of the button (it had a harsh, grainy texture for some reason), and laid your hand, radio in it, limply at your side. 

You heard a raspy chuckle from the other end. You had no energy to be angry. 

“Alright, Fermata Tower,” there was a smile in the anonymous man’s voice. 

There was a pause. The sound of the fierce breeze carried whiffs of autumn, as it lulled you to sleep. You had almost fallen into a black, snow-buried slumber when you heard the radio crinkle again: 

“Fermata, do you see that shooting star?” 

You had no energy to respond, radio spewing static in your open hand. Thankfully, Seungcheol seemed understanding.

“That’s good luck. So...”

A moment. You and Seungcheol watched the sky-dancer, apart. 

“Good luck.”  _____________________________

“You’re awake!” 

It was Seungcheol’s voice. Transformed by the orange hues of daytime, he sounded much more alive than the night prior. 

“I can see you sitting at your desk.” 

Indeed you were sitting on your desk - a flimsy wooden thing, which looked like it had come form a yard sale - studying the map of the massive park. There were simple cartoonish figures to indicate stresses of trees and drops in the terrain, and rock quarries and waterfalls and lakes. You’d delicately pointed out your own position with red marker, scribbling ‘me’ by it with a heavy child’s hand.

It was cold - the thin boards did not do much to ward away the heavy wind, hooting creeping in the cracks. It smelled like pine needles and tea, as you’d just boiled a lavender on the kettle. IT sat, heating your fingers where it rested beside them in a mug left behind by the previous firewatchman (it read: “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”). 

The radio clattered against the wood when you clumsily picked it up. 

“Didn’t know when I signed up for this that I would be dealing with a stalker,” you joked, smiling small when you heard the man on the other end let out a hearty laugh. 

“Hey, don’t go labeling me just yet, kid.”

“Kid?!” you said incredulously, dropping the marker that you had been so diligently using to scribble excellent comments on your map (latest was: “maybe cute bears”). “How old are you?!” 

“I’m 37,” Seungcheol said.

“Oof.” 

“Hey!” 

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, dropping your pen and leaning back in your seat. The view was beautiful. You could see the lake, surrounded by a rippling sea of trees, each top reaching for the sky, like you. “I’m 27, I’m getting up there with you.”

“Just a small decade.”

“I’m mature for my age.” 

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the radio. You spun around in your chair (it creaked horribly - it sounded like a pig at the sight of a cleaver) surveying each square of the forest from your windows. You narrowed your eyes, trying to spot his lookout tower. 

“How come you can see me but I can’t see you?” you mumbled, now standing to try and see, but it was drowned out by the sheer volume of pinewood. Seungcheol grumbled on the other end: “I should be East.” 

“Yeah, fuck, I forgot to tell you, I think I dropped my fucking compass on the way here,” you ran a hand through your hair and frown. 

“Uh, shit, you’re gonna have to pick up a new one, bud,” he said and you slumped. “Well, if you’re facing the lake - Fermata Lake, I mean - I should be to your left.” 

You followed his instructions. You faced the lake, then took two loggy steps to face left, then squinted incessantly at the horizon. Not dissimilar to a crowd in Times Square, the trees stood toe to toe all across at every inch you spied. The pines zagged upwards like Giza, and culminated into the biggest mountain in the park, just under the sun. The mountain loomed overhead where you finally spotted the lookout tower, like a monster crouched over its prey. You tried to shake off the thought and focus on the lone, floating tower in the pit of pointy trees.

“I see you, Bay Valley,” you breathed into the radio. 

The tower looked much more lonely from so far away. It was different when you were in it, but with the miles-long stretch between you two, you found it looked so small and feeble. You could make out the light turned on within it, a rectangle of burning orange. The shooting star must’ve crossed directly between your two towers. 

“Attagirl,” Seungcheol smiles. “Do you see me waving?”

“No, what the fuck.” 

“I got binoculars.” 

“Ew, you are a stalker!” 

“It’s for bird-watching!” Seungcheol informed you, offense in his tone. You cackled into the radio. “I like watching birds, thank you very much.” 

“Jeez, can’t believe what this job does to people.” 

“I liked bird-watching before I got this job,” Seungcheol said.

“You’re so white,” you grinned. 

“I’m not even white!” 

You and Seungcheol both laughed, joyous hiccups interrupted by bursts of static and 3 miles of rocky terrain and pine needles. You squint at the sun, traversing and dipping under the jagged hedges of the tree-line. 

Your head lolled over to spot between the desk and doorway, where you’d dropped your orange backpack (a peculiar color, come to think of it - same color as the lifejacket they deploy on airplanes when everything has already gone wrong). Now it was flopped onto its side, zipper ripped open and knick knacks and crumbs at its mouth, spilling onto the floor. 

“Where do I get a new compass?” you asked, looking at a yellowed book sat beside the backpack.

“Uh, shit, gimme a sec,” Seungcheol mumbled, and before his radio cut off, you heard, briefly, the itchy scrambling of papers, and the sound made him seem a lot more real. “We have these, uh, supply boxes scattered around. ‘M readin’ this, uhhh, fuckin’ info-thing.. Should say which of them supposedly has a compass.” 

“Sounds like you really know your stuff.” 

“Get off my ass, Fermata.” 

You heard papers rustle again and a small bump before the radio cut off, as if he put the radio down on the table. You awaited, arms crossed over your pink and gray striped hoodie, and staring at sundown. Orange flooded the sky, as if it were all engulfed in flames and this was really hell. 

“Uhhh, okay, I got it! There’s one down at Eleison Valley? The code is 1-2-3-4. That’s actually the code to all of them.” 

“Secure.”

“Shut up.” 

“Well, I can get some exploring done, at least,” you frown, spying a not-so-casual hike on the dotted surface of your map, when you tangoed back to the table, fiddling with the edge of the paper. 

“Yeah. You should probably do it tomorrow though. Sun’s coming down.” 

“Yeah. Can’t believe I slept that long.” 

“Don’t feel too bad about it, kid. I was knocked out for, like, two days after the hike out here. It’s a miracle you’re already awake.” 

“Thanks, Bay Valley,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with some strained shuffling. You watched, eyes half-lidded as the sun fully disappeared behind the curtain of the park. Its light still roamed the sky, where it hid. Half dark blue, half red, the sky twinkled at you and your insignificance brilliantly. You tried not to think about how lonely and floaty your lookout tower must look from afar. Everything feels big when it’s close enough. 

“You’re welcome, Fermata.” _____________________________

“You think I could eat any of these mushrooms, BV?” 

“BV?” 

“Bay Valley.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol sighed on his end of the radio. You were trudging through the undergrowth in your new hiking boots, lifesaver-colored backpack on the plates of your back, weight pushing through the fabric of your jacket. “No, I don’t think that would be wise.” 

“Damn it. Was gonna get hella high,” you joked, eyeing another cluster of snow-white mushrooms under the shade of a tree, sloping along a gnarly root. Your crunching steps in the loose dirt came to a halt - there was a dropoff. The cliff cut off like a broken chocolate bar and a sharp rockwall supported it to the next layer of earth. 

The path was snaking down towards the lake. You’d circle around and climb up towards Tri Forks Tower, where eventually the climbing heights would bowl into Eleison Valley - a flower field, supposedly (in the map a little flower icon alerted you of this). 

“If I die from this rockwall, please, tell my family I love them,” you grumbled, fetching an itchy, frayed rope from the depths of your backpack. Squinting at the high sun, pale drops of sweat forming around your forehead, you slung it over the hook. The park was littered with these - rusted old things that were leaning forward from years of heavy hikers’ tugging. This one was particularly bent. 

“You’re so dramatic,” came Seungcheol from the speaker. 

“Am not, man, these rocks are like fucking knives!” 

“Such a drama queen. A real Primadonna.”

You huffed and puffed as you lowered yourself down the cliffside. Your boots pressed flat against the jagged rock, biceps burning as you held yourself up and walked down the side of it. The whole world was with you, sideways, and you would’ve stopped to appreciate it were you not sure you would pass out doing so. 

“Holy shit,” you said to yourself when you were finally on stable ground and not spider-manning the mineral deposits of the park. You put your hands on your hips and squinted at its imposing open jaw. 

“You down yet, Queen B?”

You panted, grimacing, when you tugged the rope hard and it leapt down like a flying snake: “Yeah, I’m down.” 

You continued padding through the forest. The earth was dry and it was summer, but the wind was harsh and it cooled your stovetop-skin as you walked along a rock quarry, Fermata Lake hiding behind the covers of huge, flat bulwark. You listened to the cacophonous call of the forest: rustling leaves and birds. 

“I had a friend - uh, friend of a friend, actually - who, like, got high as fuck off mushrooms and had a bad trip,” you said, mouth to the mic of the radio, as you studied the cover of the leaves. 

“Yeah? What happened?” Seungcheol hummed. 

“She said that, like -- fuck,” you breathed, scrambling over a particularly rocky rock. “She said there was, like, like her house flooded. Like, water just came gushing in and the whole house was, like, underwater suddenly and she.. She thought she was gonna drown. And her fuckin’ kitchen turned into, like, a coral reef or some shit, I don’t know.” 

“Shit,” Seungcheol seemed much more alert now. You heard him put something down on his table (you imagined it was just as shitty as your own). “I didn’t even know that was possible.” 

“It’s fucking crazy. Don’t do drugs, man.” 

You turned past the quarry and was met with the sight of the huge, gaping hole of Fermata Lake. Strangely oval, the lake was flanked on all sides with thick pineland, except for a slight angle where grassy hills turned upwards towards Tri Forks Tower. 

The water was much more green up close. Algae sloshed up the side of the gravel-earth, willing you into the murky depths. 

You stared at it for a while. You thought maybe you could make out someone standing at the bottom of the bowl-shape.

“I’m at Fermata Lake,” you said then, and then started walking again. 

“Good job! And you haven’t even died at a drop off yet,” Seungcheol joked and you laughed. 

“God, you’re such a jerk. I bet you’re fuckin’.. Watching birds right now like a nerd.” 

“Okay, rude-” 

“Why don’t you go outside and be productive?” 

“I’m looking for fires,” Seungcheol snarked back. “The binoculars are multi-use.” 

You let the conversation die down for a bit, focused on the walk. It was peaceful when you let it be, but at times you came to feel like you were being swallowed alive, or like the looming figure of Aluralura Mountain was pressing its boulder-brawn in between your shoulder blades. The air in the forests was thicker, so you stayed persistent in your path, as you climbed up the clearings and spotted Tri Forks in the distance. 

“Hey, uh, Y/n?” 

The sudden intrusion of Seungcheol on the radio had you jolting, dropping the radio into the earth (thankfully it was fine - here the earth was softer and it dipped under your boot and water pressed out from the mull). You bent over and picked it back up. 

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you scolded, wiping mud off the yellow plastic of the radio.

“Oh, uh, sorry..” 

It was only then that you noticed a meekness in Seungcheol’s voice. You, of course, had not the furthest idea what he looked like, but he sounded like he was holding a knife behind his back. You furrowed your brows and stared down the radio, as if it would give you answers. There was dirt clamoring the yellow, where your fingers had held on.

“What’s up?” you said and sounded fakely bright. 

“Well, I just-” he cut himself off with a cough, one that reached those stringent, thinning vocal cords and brought back the rasp. “I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I mean, when you came to the tower.” 

You didn’t respond, only furrowed your brow and looked out across the sun-lit moor. There was a deer traversing across the grass. 

“Uhm. Because. I was- I was kinda drunk, uh, when you came, and I know I was kinda pushy about, you know, why you came out here and all that.” 

“OH!” you exclaimed and the noise ended in a laugh. “Please, Seungcheol. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.” 

“Okay, good,” he mumbled. 

The flower field came into view after climbing a particularly steep hill and it was a flower field - not just cartography myth. 

It was all sunflowers and catmint - a huge, long stretch of purple and yellow splotches, stemming from green, untamed grass - stretching as far as you could see, disappearing into a hill at the far horizon. You were sure the smell of pollen went for miles, flowerdust sprinkling the air in heavy coats. The path you were following split the field in two, a dry, boring gravel streak, but you saw, faded from sunlight, a once deep, now light, ashy brown box at the right side. 

“I found it!” you shrieked into the radio, a newfound strength gearing your legs into a sprint. “Fuck, yes!” 

“Good job, Fermata!” there was a smile in his voice. 

“Thank you!” 

You were also smiling, when you went up to it. It was rectangular and made of planks, held together by a metal loop and a padlock. Like everything else, it was dirty and ravished, and you felt a faint worry at the sight of scratch marks on its side. You clicked in the code: 1-2-3-4. 

The interior of the box was mostly empty. To your horror the first thing you saw was a porn magazine, which you did not dare to touch; then you saw a granola bar, which you did touch and stash away in your backpack, without any regard for how old it may have been; then came the compass, small and cheap metal and pointing out that you were, in fact, facing Northwest.

There was another item in the box. You did not initially see it, as it was taped to the interior of the lid, but when you raised your eyes, you saw it. It was a piece of paper - a note. 

Grimacing, you ripped it off where it was blowing violently in the wind, holding it tight between your fingers and smudging dirt along the untainted white. 

It read: 

‘Hey, Cheol. If you head up the path there’s a family of raccoons! I left this granola bar here so you could feed them! From Jun.’

“Hey, Seungcheol?” you said absently, staring over the blue, scribbled ink, worn out from months of rainwater dripping in through the planks. He hummed on the other end of the line. “There’s a note here for you. From a, uh, Jun?”

“Oh.”

There was a pause that you couldn’t decipher - maybe you could have, had you been there with Seungcheol. Maybe if you could read his face, his body, you could’ve known what it meant. But for now you just stood in the breeze. It was picking up, getting angrier, hurling at your clothes and hair, banishing you from the field. The flowers dangled uselessly. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” 

Silence. 

“No, not really.” 

“Oh, okay. Uh, who’s- who’s Jun?” 

Silence. 

“The guy who used to work in Fermata Tower. Before you.” 

“Oh.” 

Every second was longer than the last. You wish you knew what it all meant, but you sensed in Seungcheol’s curtness that he was not taking questions currently, and so you looked around the quickly graying sky and the suddenly spiteful wind and folded the note away in your jacket pocket. 

“I’m gonna head back now,” even your voice was rocked by the wind. 

Seungcheol didn’t respond. 

You left Eleison Valley alone.  _____________________________

This was where it was supposed to be - greatness. Not success, but something greater, larger, more alive than you could ever be. You thought you’d find it in the mountains, the valleys, the lakes and the forests and maybe that had been naive of you - to think that nature and earth could give any sort of meaning that death had taken away from you. These shadowed parts only served to make you feel smaller, you realized. The mountains glared at you, the forests swallowed and spat you out. 

You couldn’t sleep. The image of Mingyu’s outstretched hand was back and you could almost see him from your flimsy bed, lying on his back with a tanned hand out for you. You left him alone, just like you always had. 

Burrowed under the veil of your thin blanket, grabbing at it with clumsy hands, you turned your back to Mingyu’s corpse on your floor.

A prickle sauntered up your back. It was that emotion that something was creeping closer, something was out to get you. That you would feel a cool, dead hand on your back and when it would spin you around his face would be there, and he’d look nothing like himself; he’d be pale and purple around the mouth and his eyes would be sunken and dark and all the glitter he possessed - that he used to possess - would be gone and something menacing, like a hungry mountain, would have replaced it. 

You thrashed, suddenly, to look back at the corpse. It was still there. Hadn’t moved an inch. Deja vu. 

Thoughtlessly, desperately, you fumbled for the radio wrapped up the sheets of your bed. Your fingertips found the plastic hardware, and it bounced at your eagerness, before you pulled it along the sheets and up to your mouth. 

“Seungcheol?” you gasped. 

When did you start crying? You decided you must’ve been crying all night and maybe you’d cried so much that your brain had stopped registering the feeling of wet tears. 

There was a pause. A long one. So long, you started to really become aware of the cries of the wind, the patter of the rain and the endless mumbling of the trees (and the gargled, bubbling blood rising from Imaginary Friend Mingyu’s half-open mouth). Then static spoke back to you: 

“Yeah?” his voice was so raspy, you registered that you must’ve awoken him from his sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your nails dug into the radio and you pressed it into your chest, holding on tight. 

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered, words full of shaky air. There was another pause and for a second you feared that Seungcheol might’ve gotten angry and gone back to bed. But he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” You heard rustling on his end, and you imagined him standing up from the bed, looking out at your lonely island of a lookout tower. “Do I need to trek over there?” 

“No!- no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you protested, then trailed off. 

“... Are you crying?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut: “I just- d’you remember what I said? About my- my friend’s friend who- who had a bad mushroom trip?” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember. Her- Her house flooded, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was tainted with thorough confusion, but not annoyance. Never annoyance. 

“Well, I just-” you sputtered and sighed. You almost wanted to stop talking and give up when Seungcheol stayed quiet on his end and drew the words forward: “It’s so stupid. Sometimes I just- I just feel like that. Like you’re drowning, everywhere you go. You know?” 

Your voice was stringent with nervousness, and you picked at your nail, wrapped around the radio in the shallow dark. 

“It’s not stupid, sweetheart,” he mumbled. It was amazing to you how gruff and tough Seungcheol turned soothing and caring so fast. The nickname felt like a warm hug, and you almost didn’t register the sound of fabric rustling once more. “I’m coming over.”

“N-No!” you gasped sharply. Your eyes flickered down. Mingyu watched from the floor, eyes glazed over from death. He smelled foul.

“Can you.. Can you just- talk to me?” you whispered helplessly, and Seungcheol quieted down, seemingly weighing your proposal. 

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you,” Seungcheol whispered soothingly, and for God’s sake, you didn’t even know what he looked like, but the rasp in his voice, and the comfort and warmth that sung out the speaker of the radio had your heart clenching in your chest. “What do you wanna talk about?” 

“Um, I don’t know,” you sniffled. Seungcheol only softened his voice and sat, awake in the middle of the night, comforting you.

“Can I tell you about birds?” 

He told you about birds for 45 minutes before you fell asleep (something he had predicted would happen); he told you about how pheasants are known for their striking colors and how they have excellent eyesight; he told you how he saw a nightjar just before going to bed that night, and how they’re incredibly hard to spot; he told you about Barrow’s Goldeneyes, and how they’re the funniest little guys, and he loves them, because they glow purple in the sunlight; he told you about g…

Oh. You must’ve started dozing off.  _____________________________

You weren’t sure when it changed, but at some point you looked out the window, and the mountain looked a lot more like yourself. 

You were getting better, happier, you were waking up with more energy, you were bubblier. You weren’t entirely sure you could blame it on the park though. For two months you’d had your job and for about two months, every once in a while, you’d radioed Seungcheol at night, and without any question, he’d tell you about birds. 

It sounded stupid the more you thought about it, but his voice lulled you into a comfortable sleep even on Mingyu’s most insistent nights. 

You’d wake up and patrol your area, then you’d settle back in for a couple of hours, watching out for fire hazards and guests in the park, before you’d patrol one more time. Then you’d go to bed. 

This was not the type of job you took to make friends, but somehow Seungcheol had become the reason you woke up everyday. Everyday you looked forward to walking through the woods with his voice on your radio, and you looked forward to making him laugh and him making you laugh. 

“Seungcheol, I’ve got eyes on what I’m pretty sure is a Red-breasted Merganser, come in.” 

This morning you were up extraordinarily early - for you, that is. You weren’t certain what exactly prompted this early rise (maybe you were finally sleeping right thanks to a certain rough-throated man?), but nonetheless you’d enjoyed the view of dawn along the undergrowth and had eaten half-warm oatmeal in bed with an open book. Now you were bored and craving the attention of your only forest-companion. 

Seungcheol didn’t respond like you were expecting though. When the radio crinkled in response, you heard him panting on the other end and thumps, like he was picking it up off the floor. 

“That’s… That’s great, Fermata. I’ve gotta get my.. My binoculars out,” he heaved for air and fumbled clumsily with the sensitive mic. You cringed at the sound. 

“What are you doing? Why are you so out of breath?” you asked. A twinge of worry slipped out in your tone. Was he okay? 

“I’m, uh, working out,” Seungcheol chuckled, and he seemed to finally regain composure, clearing his throat sheepishly. “You’re not usually awake to hear it.” 

“You work out every day?” 

“Sure do - gotta be prepared to knock out a grizzly,” he grunted. 

You leaned back in your seat, a less than amused expression on your face, because a twirling strand of fire danced up your chest and settled into your cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot? Fire spread across your nerve endings and twinged you red in the apples of your cheeks. You ran your hands over your face to soothe the sizzling.

This was ridiculous, you thought. Seungcheol was not making you blush. You didn’t even know what he looked like! He might as well have had an eye patch and a mohawk. But even as you halfheartedly scrutinized yourself, your thoughts clouded over the idea of sweet, attentive, raspy Seungcheol with big arms and thighs and a sculpted chest and-

“Are you- are you, like, buff?” 

The question left your lips before you could stop it. Your voice broke halfway through the sentence and you let go of the button with an embarrassed hiss, like a kettle huffing out air. The embarrassment, that was potent and squeezing at your chest, worsened when you heard Seungcheol’s throaty chuckle on the other end, limp and dry. 

“You’re curious today, aren’t you?” he mused then, smirk clear from the tone and pronunciation of the words, and you squeezed your eyes shut because why was his voice and the thought of him and the warmth coming through the radio speaker suddenly bothering you so much?

The truth was you hadn’t masturbated in months. With everything going on, you simply hadn’t felt the urge or the want. But, it occurred to you, now that you were slowly becoming a functioning human once more, the urge was returning hot and fast in your core, and, of course, your only companion with the raspy voice and the attentive words and the apparently muscly body was bringing forth this urge with ease. 

You pressed down the urge, taking a deep breath before you pressed the button once more. You were not going to masturbate to the thought of Seungcheol - not Seungcheol who you only knew by voice, who had been nothing but caring and sweet to you. You could not corrupt the preciousness of your companionship with your lewd, depraved thoughts. 

“I’m just curious what you look like. Unlike you, stalker, I don’t have binoculars!” That sounded a lot more like the you that had not just gotten wet at the thought of Seungcheol’s bulging muscles. 

“Hey! The power of the binoculars is limited. I can only really see your silhouette, nothing fancy,” he defended and then right as you were about to respond, he knocked the wind out of you again: “And yes, I’m pretty buff, if I do say so myself.”

Ugh. 

You went the rounds that day and got through another day without having to complete fire protocol, ending out the evening with a pack of instant noodles your family had so graciously sent you (Seungcheol scolded you: “That has no nutrients!”). However each step through the forest and each slurp of noodles and page of your book was plagued by the latent fire inside you. A burning occupied your abdomen fueled by the echoing morning voice of Bay Valley Tower. 

By nightfall you gave in. You were only a girl. This didn’t have to change anything, you thought, as the park turned plum purple. You settled into bed in your pajamas, sitting upright against the frail wood wall and letting your hair bunch on the rattling plate of glass. Your eyes moved to and fro, bouncing over the now lived-in cabin and taking in the dark void of the farest corner. 

Briefly, you fiddled with your radio in your palm. You could call Seungcheol and- wait, why would you do that? No, no. You packed away that wicked thought - it only served to make you feel more guilty. No, instead you slid down the wall to lay in your pillow, now positive you were alone. 

An owl hooted outside and you slipped your hand into your underwear. 

It was surprisingly easy to surrender your consciousness to the lust (and you had, God bless your soul, stayed wet throughout the entire day). It clouded you over, as you began rubbing up and down your pussy, ghosting over your clit to dip down to your glazed slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you conjured your best doll-replica of Seungcheol.

In your dream he was a faceless mist, but he had a carved upper body, and from the fog surrounding his head spewed his voice - dripping in warmth and comfort, as you imagined it was his toned arm reaching between your legs and pumping into you.

Your other hand snaked down to your clit, where your hips canted off the bed. In the whirl of thrusting into yourself and rubbing tight circles in your clit, you realized, lip bitten raw under your prying teeth, that there was no reason to hold back your moans. It was only forest and wasteland for miles - and surely Seungcheol would not hear you in his floating snow globe. 

“A-ah, Seungcheol,” you wantonly murmured, burying your head in your pillow and sighing lazily. A flush had crept up your neck, where your chest expanded to allow for air. The pleasure was immense - probably more intense, since it had been quite a while - warmth spreading in your lower stomach and culminating at your throbbing clit. Recklessly, you moaned and thrashed as you fucked yourself on your fingers, hiking towards your orgasm. “Seungcheoool-”

“Y/n?” 

You froze. 

Maybe you’d imagined it. Still, your fingers were stopped in their tracks, simply resting on the warmth of your folds, itching to continue. You sat up in bed and tried to ward away the creeping panic. Your heart began to gallop to the beat of a siren. 

The air had been starched when you finally pulled your hand out of your underwear, hot cheeks and glistening hands all over, when you began searching for the radio.

“Y/n, are you okay?” 

You had your back hunched over the edge of the bed, searching for the little yellow receiver, when his voice came again in a thick forest of static. You snapped your head to under your comforter, where the noise was slightly muffled. 

In a blurred panic, you threw the comforter off of you and spotted the small radio by your calf, and you scrambled to pick it up. When the dirty plastic touched your cheek, you stopped, sighed a shaky, hot breath, and closed your eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. What’s up?” you let go of the button and cringed at your own disheveledness, the breath and shake in your voice. You pressed your forehead radio-front in a silent prayer. 

There was a hesitance to Seungcheol when he spoke next: “... You were calling for me, you sounded in pain?” 

This was certainly the worst thing he could’ve said. You would’ve rather he told you he spotted a bear at the foot of your tower, trying to eat you! You must’ve accidentally kicked the radio and hit the button, you decide, and you damn yourself for keeping it in the bed - of course, shit like this would happen!

“I was…-” (If only you were a better liar), “- pranking you…” 

Seungcheol huffed out in amusement on the other end and you wanted to jump off the railing to the lookout tower and break your neck. “You were pranking me?” 

You gulped with a decidedly dry mouth. “It was a bear attack prank.” 

Seungcheol was smiling: “Yeah?” 

You were not: “Yeah.” 

There was an entropic silence, where you thoughts came rambled and pleading in your head: Please, just let this go, please, just let this go, let’s pretend it never happened, let’s-

“You wanna know what I think you were doing?” 

Seungcheol’s voice had dropped an octave. The smile in his voice was gone and there was something menacing and commanding about him now. In the moment, overcome with a cocktail of guilt and shame, you could not discern if this was anger or lust - the first seemed fitting. 

“I think you were fucking your little fingers thinkin’ about me,” he hummed and in response you whined and squeezed your eyes shut. The shame encapsulated you. “Shh, shh, calm down, I’m not mad, honey.” 

Blinking through rapidly forming tears, you opened your eyes to stare, dumbfounded, at the radio (as if it were Seungcheol and you were not several miles apart). “Really?” 

“Not mad at all. Jus’ think you should’ve told me if you wanted my help,” he tutted on his end and, God, he was so nurturing and comforting and he knew it, and it was so sexy. Your pussy, which had vaguely throbbed from the negligence throughout, was now screaming for your attention, hole clenching sadly around nothing. 

“I thought you wouldn’t want-” 

“You’re crying again, baby,” he must’ve noted from the hoarseness of your voice and the sniffles that accompanied every syllable. 

“Just want you so bad,” you sobbed, now shamelessly slipping your hand back into your underwear and sighing dazedly in relief when you touched it again. 

“Need Seungcheol to take care of you, huh?” The smile in his voice was back. 

“Yeah.” 

“Bet you don’t want me talking about birds now, hm?” he chuckled (at his own joke), voice low and raspy. “Are you touching that pretty pussy?” 

“Mhmm,” you responded lazily, floating high on the sound of his voice and jolts of electricity they sent as you worked up a pace on your clit once more. The pain of the interruption ebbed away. 

“Good girl, hm?” He knew. “Getting off to the sound of my voice, eh? Don’t even know what I look like.” 

“Hng- k-know you’re b-buff,” you gritted out, voice coming in sharp breaths. Your body moved languidly, back arching off the bed and hair coming out in choppy strands on your pillow. Seungcheol scoffed out a laugh: “Like knowing I could just fold you in half? Fuck you into tomorrow? Hm?” 

You let out a loud, dumb whine of his name. It was a total inability to get over his words; how melodious it was, and yet, how contradictory the smoothness of his words were to the strained nature of his thrumming voice. And the worst of it all was how confident he was - you supposed hearing someone else masturbate to you would be a confidence boost - and how the arrogance swelled out in the most comforting, nurturing way. Each word felt like a hand on your body, like a caress that sent shivers down your spine. 

“Fuck, princess, say my name like that again. Please.” 

“Seungcheol!” you obliged mindlessly, legs shaking on either side of your glistening hand. 

“Shit, I-” he grunted, and you heard a fumbling of fabrics on his end. Your nerves spun in excitement at the thought of him getting hard at your voice. “Can you put two fingers in the pretty pussy - it’ll feel like one of mine, baby.” 

You cried out when your fingers entered yourself, pads of your fingertips rubbing against your walls. Outside of the windows, the park was an empty wasteland of mauve and orchid, and the Fermata lake was brilliantly alive and dipping under the three-quarter-moon. 

“Wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock right now,” he grunted, and he’d lost breath and composure and if you knew what his face looked like, you would imagine it sweaty and twisted up and a red-lipped ‘o’ letting the jaw slack. 

Resuming your earlier motions (double-handing your own kitty), you felt your orgasm lurking in the pit of your stomach, a tight-wound knot being ripped apart. You were panting into the cool air, creating silver-clouds in your tower-home. “A-ah, want you inside me so bad, Cheol- shit! Gonna- gonna cum-” 

“Yeah? You gonna cum thinking about my cock inside you baby? Thinkin’ about me just bouncing you up and down like my little fuckdoll?” His speech ended in the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, and you imagined every well-defined, flexed muscle under the moonlight and the thought had your whole body jerking and shaking and when you closed your eyes the stars stayed with you, white and glimmering under your eyelid. 

The strangled moans of your orgasm sent Seungcheol over the edge - at least from what you could tell. His dirty talk turned into strings of curses and moans and grunts until the radio went dead, and all you could hear was your own labored breaths and the faraway hooting of a horned owl. 

The silence flatlined the excitement into nervousness. Your lip was almost automatically caught in your teeth and you glanced over the radio beside you through your lashes.

Oh shit. What the fuck had you done?

“Uh, did you-” the smell of sweat shot up as you shuffled in your sheet to grab the radio once more. “Did you, uh, cum?” 

Oh fuck. You just made it way worse.

The silence from the radio was much louder than any response, but when the receiver did finally crinkle with static, the sound of laughter exploded from it.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, BV,” you scolded, but you were smiling and relief flooded you like water overflows Fermata Lake during heavy downpour. 

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped on the other end. “It’s just-.. ‘DID YOU CUM?’” 

“Alright, I’m going to bed now. You suck,” you quacked, and even though you were alone you thought to suppress the gentle tugging at your lips into a sharky smile. 

“DID YOU CUM?” 

He sounded pretty when he laughed.  _____________________________

“I can’t believe I have to hike down here to confiscate some fireworks.” 

Your grumble came from the forest beside Fermata Lake. You were walking down a patch of dirt revealed from years’ of trampling feet, dewy sprigs of grass arching into the mud. A group of (presumably) teenagers were firing fireworks down near the edge of your assigned territory. 

“They’re a fire hazard!” Seungcheol squawked obviously, and you huffed in your boots, preparing to climb down a rocky slope. 

“I know that! It’s just everywhere - the website, the signs - don’t use fireworks!” you complained. Seungcheol hummed absently on the other line: “Go teach those suckers a lesson, Fermata!” 

“I will,” you said, agitated. 

“Just don’t fuck with their personal belongings. Last thing we need is a lawsuit. Again.”

“I won’t,” you said, deflated. 

Even in your most angered moments, you could hand yourself over to the gentle forest. No longer were you protruding into a bubble, straining to get through a barrier that was urging you out, but you were absorbed into it, like you were one of its own. 

The forest was lush with pines and brown and green moss painting bark and rocks, and the grass leapt higher than your knees, as you trudged further and further in. 

SWOOOOSH!

A firework propelled into the sky about 100 meters away, and you watched its ignited trails of smoke before it exploded into a fest of sparkling blue and gold. You huffed out in anger at the sight. The sky wasn’t even fully dark - it was merely a muted blue evening. 

“Did you see that?” Seungcheol came from the radio-speaker. 

“Yeah, I’m right with them.” 

As you padded closer the smell of wet pine cones and coltsfoot accompanied the sound of distant voices - indeed, they sounded juvenile. You could make out at least two girls and at least one boy, although their voices were hard to distinguish, the way they echoed in between the grid of trees.

“Hey!” you yelled, as you creeped just close enough. Their voices hushed and you saw their frightened faces lit by handheld, Target-bought flashlights when you peeled back the screen of a bramblebush. They were gathered together amongst a tent, flashlight lighting the plates of the faces ablaze in cool white.

“Cut it out with the fireworks, alright?” you huffed and your anger melted a little when you saw that they were indeed just kids - maybe 19? They seemed to have nothing to say, and so you scanned the beer cans and the scattered backpacks and finally caught sight of a bundle of rockets in the grass. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up with a sternness. 

“Hey, that’s ours!” one kid chimed, but he made no move to stop you, really, as you trudged angrily back to the bush you had come from. 

“Not as long as you’re in our park, man. It’s a fire hazard.” 

“We’ll take them back home-” 

“Goodnight!” The desperate plea fell on deaf, tired ears. You just wanted to eat dinner, so you disappeared out on a trail of pine needles and valiantly ignored the trail of curses and insults following you. You could care less. 

“I got the fireworks, Seungcheol,” you sighed tiredly and your eyes were dark pits and your face was relaxed, if only to conservative energy. 

“Good job, Fermata.” 

You were not in the talking mood. Maybe Seungcheol could tell by your tone of voice; maybe he could hear it in your sigh; but Seungcheol piped up again: “You know, if you need some energy for the hike back, there’s a supply box - uhh, 52? - if you head upwards instead of towards Fermata Lake.” 

You wanted to be grumpy, you really did, but the thought of a salivating, expired, delicious, out-of-date granola bar had you changing course to the slowly gaining hill of the forest. 

It was weird. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to Seungcheol’s tower. Under the prickly cover of pine some mile in the distance, you could see a glowing square, perched over the treetops by long, wooden pillars, support beams crossing the middle. You couldn’t help but wanna go up to it. There had been an unbearable magnetic pull to his tower ever since that night however long ago. You decided to stay the course for Supply Box 52. 

“I can practically see you from here,” you commented, and the tower was becoming a beacon as the evening mulled darker and darker by the minute. 

“Really? Hang on,” he did not let go of the radio-button, and so you had the pleasure of listening to the ruffling of fabrics and thumps on the floor. “Can you see me flexing in the window?” 

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, and the sound bounced off the pines and traveled up to the rock of the nearby Aluralura Mountain. “No, I’m not quite that close.” 

“Damn it!” 

“Yeah, it‘s a real shame,” you muttered, smiling, and then you caught sight of the supply box up ahead. The hill flattened out once more (to which you breathed a sigh of relief) and the box was perched on the edge facing the path that began onto the cliffs. This was Seungcheol’s territory - cliff sides and all. “I think I see Supply Box 52.”

“Open that bad boy up.” 

You entered the code, scrolling the mechanisms one by one until the numbers read 1-2-3-4 (you still thought this combination was ridiculous), and when you opened the lid it creaked horribly, worn from the weather. 

The wind was harsh that day, and a note, identical to the one you’d found at Eleison Valley, broke off its tape from the mean pushes of the wind. Instinctively, you grabbed it as it started to fly off, and your hand closed around it and crinkled it under your fingers. You looked at it with knitted brows. 

Wordlessly, you tucked it in between your side and your arm, redirecting your attention to the goodies in the supply box. 52 held a rope and a map and another directory for supply boxes and, to your exhausted delight, a box of grandma-looking caramels. You took the whole thing and stuffed it into your bag. 

As you shuffled, you put the note between your lips, stuffing the plastic container of gold-wrapped, sugary candies in between your rope and your own map and a coat for possible rain. When you zipped it up, the fabric of the bag warped grotesquely to fit the various items you’d brought. 

You pulled the note back out from your lips. A small wet patch of spit lingered on the paper, as you unfolded it. 

It read: 

‘Hey Seungcheol,

If you find this, I gotta go be with my mom now. I’ll miss you forever.

From Jun.’

The wind blew kisses on your back like the presence of a ghost.

“You find anything good?” Seungcheol’s voice peeked through the static of the radio. It had been quiet for a while. You couldn’t take your eyes off the letter. The ink was smudged and slurred. 

“Uh, caramels, actually,” you said, eyes dancing over each slope of ‘forever’. “Like, granny caramels.”

You put the letter away.  _____________________________

A week later and you were looking out of the window at pouring rain. The sky was smothered by a duvet of dark gray clouds, and the rain was coming harder than you’d ever seen. It was like thousands of bullets pelting into the ground and turning it soft and muddy, and the drops hit your roof like the nonstop click of a keyboard. 

"Rainy season, huh?” your mouth was to the radio. 

“Yeah. We’re gonna be staying up all night to watch out for lightning. Fire hazard.” 

“Shit, I should make coffee.” 

“I’m way ahead of you.” 

The lightning came and thunder followed. The sound was enormous and terrifying. It grumbled like a hungry beast and the sound bounced off of every mountain-wall and echoed from all sides. You felt very small, wrapped up in a blanket at your desk, a steaming cup of coffee by your side and your fire extinguisher evacuated from its holder to stand beside you, all red and shiny aluminum and rubber nozzle. 

“Did that look like it hit a tree?” you asked after seeing a zig-zagging bolt of lightning hanging a little too low over the crowns. Your voice was louder than usual - this night was a game of overpowering the screaming rain. It was some 1 AM.

“Uhhhhh, shit. Maybe. We’d see the fire, but it’s possible it’s at the root.” 

“Fuck,” you whispered. “Was that yours or my area?” 

“Uhhhhh-” 

“I’m gonna check it out.” 

Determined, you let the radio fall on the table, as you fumbled for another sweater. The knitted fabric slipped over your other sweater, and then you were wrapping yourself up in your raincoat.

“Maybe I should go - it’s slippery right now, it’s dangerous as fuck. You could fall and hit your head, you know. I think it was closer to me anyway, so--” 

“Seungcheol, I already have my coat on, I’m going!” 

And indeed you were going, despite the grumbled protests of Seungcheol. Your coat blew in the hurricane wind as you stood atop the cliff, looking down at the cascading water, that’d all race down to the sinkhole that was Fermata Lake. Through the clouds, there were no stars to trade glances with, not even ghosts.

You fought headwind the entire way, your hair flowing wildly and your coat threatening to unbutton at the will of the blasts. The ground under your rainboots had become mud and the further you trudged into the forest, the more the mud crept up your yellow shoe, slinging over you like liquid ropes. 

“I’m going down the drop off again!” you were screaming to overpower the wind, radio to your mouth before you dropped it into your pocket and retrieved your bag to regather your rope. 

“Be careful!” Seungcheol commandeered bitterly, muffled from your pocket. “It’s slippery as shit! Radio me immediately when you’re down, so I know you’re okay.” 

Even as your face grew wet and sore from the whipping rain, you scoffed. A gloved hand shoved into your pocket, brought the radio back up to your red lips: “Stop being such a pussy!” 

“Say yes, Y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes. “Aye, aye.”

“... I’ll take that, asshole.” 

Wet as a wipe, you slung your rope over the hook and prepared it in a slew of motions you’d by now memorized. Although, you noted your movements were awkward, somewhat impaired by the layers of fabric that encased you. Stubborn, you stood before the hook, grabbed onto the rope, and began walking backwards. 

Your booted foot curled around the edge of the cliffside, and with the tightened rope you began your careful horizontal walk. Raindrops pelted your face like a clenched fist, but you only blinked away the water and tried to focus on stepping carefully down the side of the rockface. 

KRRRRRRRRKKKKKK!

You screamed girlishly when your rope snapped from the hook, and you watched it come flying out over the ledge, before you realized, horrifically, you were already falling. 

It was barely a second, just one blurry image of the weeping sky, before you were on the ground, groaning in pain. A pulsing ache creeped up your spine, and you twisted your body in the mud to put the weight on your side. You sighed into the mud, dirt on your squished cheek. 

The rain was uncaring of your unfortunate situation, as you laid pathetically in the dirt, body scrunching up like an elastic, while your shadow was cast by sudden bursts of lightning. Panting, you pushed yourself up by your arms and felt blindly for your-

Where was your radio? 

Your pocket was deflated and empty, and you scrambled in the dirt, desperately, pushing yourself up completely to scan the area. You noted how the pain subsided into a small, dwindling soreness, thanking whatever God for your layers of clothing and the softness of the earth. 

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision, aided by another strike of lightning atop Aluralura Mountain. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 

“Hello? Seungcheol?” 

There was no static to indicate your message had been relayed, and the usual red digital numbers telling you what channel you were on was gone, a simple, black screen remaining, mirroring your muddied face, twisted in anguish. 

“Fuck this,” you hissed, standing up on two legs. You looked back up to where your lookout tower was still ablaze, a yellow box in the heights. The rope was fucked. You had to go down anyway. Huffing, you started walking. 

You marched through the undergrowth, crossing through unpathed forest to reach the destination. It was near a hollow marked on your map, and so the expedition, although scarier, more empty and dark without Seungcheol's warm voice, was mild. 

Wet petals brushed your face from rows of bushes, and even through your gloves the cold left your fingertips numb. You sniffled in the dark. 

You found the hollow, then you found the tree. There was, indeed, ash going up the side of it, seemingly stemming from a smaller bush in the clearing, but the fire had been long put out by the insistent rain, and partially you felt disappointment that you’d trekked all the way out here, only for there to be no real danger. 

Heavier than ever, you turned your gaze to the glowing hut in the distance. 

You almost wanted to go back to your own hut, to turn your back to Seungcheol’s glowing tower and forget this ever happened. The anticipation of seeing him - of him seeing you - was a tall wall to overcome. But, you realized, not only was his tower closer; you also needed help. 

Your radio was fucked, your rope was fucked and moreover, you needed to be sure you hadn’t done irreparable damage to your back. With water dripping over the ledge of your hood, you began walking towards Seungcheol. 

Rainwater cascaded off the edge of the trees and the consistent dashed dots looked like tiny glass orbs in the light of Bay Valley Tower. It was intensely quiet for a while - it seemed like every bush-tailed critter of the forest had scuttered away to hide from the rain and the echoing growling of the sky. 

“Y/n!” 

You were so tired you almost could’ve missed it. Each layer of fabric weighed you down and the dirt smearing your cheeks and hands and fabrics could’ve melted you right into the earth. But indeed, a voice - so familiar it almost hurt - was calling to you in the dead of night.

“Seungcheol?” your first call was not a call, but a whisper, as you peered into the thick grooves of the forest. Then, your senses returned to you and you screamed as loud as you could: “Seungcheol!” 

“Y/n!”

You and Seungcheol called for each other, syllables echoing off the huge, towering presence Aluralura Mountain. Getting closer and then closer, and then you could see the figure of another raincoated person, shaded by a hood.

“Y/n? Oh, thank God!” He ran to you, swimming in the rubber of his red coat and pink lips peeking over the closed hood. 

It was a little paralyzing. He was so beautiful, you didn’t even know which speck of his shadowed face to look at. Tan, wet skin and big eyes from which the longest, blackest lashes you’d ever seen sprung. Most notable were his fuzzy, blocky eyebrows sitting over his brown eyes, fine wrinkles springing from the corners (you’d like to think you’d helped create some of those). His lips were big and bright and pouty, but it was wiped away when he smiled at the sight of you, and you could die, because a dimple indented itself in his cheek at the motion. 

“Are you okay?” his smile faded when you said nothing, only stared at him, and then stared at where his thick fingers wrapped around your arm. He leaned into you and God, you hadn’t seen him before this very moment, and now he was leaning over you and he was so close and he smelled like pinewood, and you were pretty sure you smelt exactly the same. 

You lowered yourself from your daze, trying to follow the pattering of rain atop both of your hoods. “Uh,” you gulped, finding his eyes, “yeah, I jus’... I thought you were joking when you said you weren’t white.” 

His laugh. His laugh was even prettier in person and it had the same rasp and the same disapproving hint to it that it had had at all your other jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Fermata?” 

“Bird watching is crazy, man.” 

He smiled and studied your face for a moment, still leaned over you and thoroughly ignoring the rain and the thunder and the dirt on your boots. Then the smile faded, just a little: “What happened to your radio?” 

“Oh- oh my God! Do you- do you remember my first day? The drop off! I fuckin’- fell down, my rope came undone on the hook! My radio was knocked the fuck out, it was crazy, I’m gonna need a new one-”

“Are you okay? You fell?” Seungcheol’s strong eyebrows became furrowed and the sight was so utterly mesmerizing to you. You waved him off: “I’ll be fine, please, I just want to get out of this weather.” 

Seungcheol did not seem to entirely believe you, but nonetheless he grabbed your hand - in his own rough, used one - and started leading you upwards (“If I don’t hold your hand, how can I be sure you don’t fall down another drop off?”).

Time was not as agonizingly slow by his size, and the tower seemed to propel towards you and the hands on your wristwatch seemed to move backwards. Not before long, you were climbing up the stairway with Seungcheol’s iron fist on your wrist, so as to prevent you from falling down something else (you had a feeling that he would not let this go). 

“I’m gonna make us some tea,” grumbled Seungcheol when you arrived.

“Yes, please,” you murmured. Your coat was folded beside you, starry raindrops soaking into a blanket thrown over his bed. 

It was warm in Seungcheol’s tower house - he had half a brain to put an electric heater in the corner of the room, unlike you - and it was only the sudden embrace of warmth that had you looking out into the park and realizing you would have frozen to death if you’d stayed. 

There was a warm glow from a naked bulb in the ceiling (you guessed Seungcheol had put it up himself), an old rug full of sand-corns, and a shelf with various books. Seungcheol also had a small kitchen, a desk and a bed, just like you. The layout was exactly the same, but sitting down on Seungcheol’s bed, you noted he must’ve made some alterations. Your fingers pulled at the white of the mattress - it was his own and it was much softer.  

When the electric kettle (a rusted, iron old thing) was cooking, Seungcheol turned to you sheepishly and unzipped his coat. You waited in secret anticipation for his supposedly smoking-hot bod, but were disappointed to see another sweater underneath it. 

Seungcheol stopped the kettle and took two large mugs from his cupboard. These, he placed on a carved tray (you thought he might have made it himself from pinewood), and then from a small, wooden tea box on his countertop, he produced two bright yellow tea packets, which he gently placed in the mugs. Then he poured in the water, steam traveling up to open his pores and whatnot. 

“Do you want anything in yours?” he asked, not really looking. 

“Uhm. No, no, thank you,” your hands were folded in your lap. 

He only grunted in response and left one tea untouched, then took a clear, plastic container of honey from an array of unrefrigerated condiments, and squirted half the bottle into his tea. He sniffled when he was done, grabbing the tray and turning to you. Tonight, Seungcheol was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Can you-?”

“Hm?”

“That little- little table over there-”

“What?”

“Can you grab it?- For- for the tray?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

The tea sat on the tray and the tray sat on the foldable table and you and Seungcheol sat before them on the edge of his bed. You took the hefty mug in your hand and took a slurp, looking over at him from the rim. Seungcheol looked at you awkwardly. He did not move for his tea. 

“I should take a look at your back,” he said. 

“What? Why?” you quacked disapprovingly. “You fell on it,” Seungcheol reminded you.

You shook your head silently. “I like your hut. It’s way better than mine.” 

“I’ve been here longer,” Seungcheol shrugged. You looked at him and he seemed displeased - this would not have been a big deal were you speaking to him on the radio, but his aura was much more commanding in person - something about his eyes, you thought. You had to look away, settling on your mug again (there was a cartoon dog on it). 

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured. Seungcheol stared into the side of your face and his obvious concern for you weighed down at your muscles. 

A gentle pause where rain pattered his roof. 

“Are you okay?” 

You glanced over, nervously: “Tired.” 

He bit his lip: “Maybe I should’ve made coffee... Can we put instant coffee in tea?” 

“Seungcheol, I wanted to ask you something,” you said and put your mug down on the tray again with a small ‘clink’. Seungcheol rubbed his hands over his trouser-clad thighs, nodding, maybe more nervous than you. The warm glow of the bulb made him even prettier and all was warm and dry in the hut, even though rain was falling down in thick curtains just outside by the troughs. “It’s just..” you began, “you’ve been so avoidant about this.. Jun guy..”

Seungcheol’s sigh interrupted you before you could finish: “He was just the guy that worked here before you.” 

“I found another letter.”

Seungcheol’s furrowed expression softened and he looked at you with big, glassy brown eyes, hidden under a waft of choppy bangs. What was that in the shine of his pupil? Fear? Vulnerability? Sadness?

“It was about- it said he was gonna go be with his mother and that- that he would miss you,” you explained and your voice was snotty and throaty, and your eyes averted to a folded napkin beside a half-eaten slice of bread. A fly circulated it hungrily. 

Seungcheol’s lips made a tight line, dimples poking out pathetically. He cleared his throat and you heard the strain in his vocal chords once more (and it was so real because there he was - right beside you). 

“Me and Junhui came here together. We’d just finished college and we didn’t want-.. We didn’t want to be adults yet. Like, an office job, wife and kids,” he began and there was a tremor about Seungcheol tonight. “I don’t think he was made for a job like this though. I think the loneliness got to him.. Think he just lived with it ‘cause he could tell I liked it.” 

You nodded along until he wasn’t speaking anymore. Then a thick silence absorbed the two of you, a patch of moss drowned in the downpour. 

“His mom was dead, so..” he whispered. Tears gathered at his waterline like a string of stars. “So, yeah, he went to.. To be with her.” 

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol,” you whispered and the echoing whispers of the storm bouncing off the rock faces of Aluralura mountain beckoned your hand onto his woolen sleeve. “I had no idea.” 

“They never found his body, you know? He’s just out there, somewhere,” both you and Seungcheol turned your heads out to the pitch black expanse of the massive park. Your mind wandered to every crook and crevice you’d seen out there, wondering if a dead body had hidden behind a quarry rock. “Fuckin’ terrified I’ll find him one day. Just… Rotten.” 

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say? Even though you’d stood in a similar situation - losing a friend - you couldn’t find anything that could ease his pain, the pain that was now tinting the light blue and dulling the sound of the rain. The whole room was pulsating. Luckily, it seemed Seungcheol had something more to say. You watched his lips pucker as the words tried to leave his tongue, then watched them draw back. 

“He used to.. He used to say this thing. It reminded me so much of what you- you said that night about, uhm, your friend’s friend. He used to say that- that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d just be.. Totally.. Convinced that he was at the bottom of Fermata Lake and he was drowning,” Seungcheol’s voice broke one too many times and his jaw clenched. “God, I was so worried. Jus’ thought I couldn’t- I couldn’t be the reason that happened again.” 

“I…” A tear slipped down your face and your hand left Seungcheol’s arm to wipe it, furiously.He turned to you pitifully, the broad width of his shoulders hanging low. “I’m sorry- you weren’t meant to feel that way-”

“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” Seungcheol grabbed your hands in his, a deep frown on his lips. 

You stopped the tears, face burning hot and wet when you looked up at him again, calmed. His thumbs stroked over the backs of your hands. The pads were rough and beaten. 

“Y’know it was sort of the same for me,” you said. Seungcheol waited for you to talk patiently and with a small, encouraging smile, as warmth streamed from his hands into yours.

“Yeah, my- uh roommate - best friend - died. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I found him, like, his hand was just outstretched towards- towards the wall to my room, and he must’ve just lied there while his heart was giving out and I wasn’t there-... And I found him the next morning like that and I thought he was asleep and I left him there. Again. And I just can’t stop seeing him everywhere and for a while I was afraid that he would move, you know, like, start crawling towards me or some shit, but I think now I’m actually more afraid that he’ll never move. I think that’s the joke or whatever, he just won’t move, he’ll just be there the way I left him- and I guess- I guess, I thought I could find some sort of higher purpose out here, but I just can’t.. I feel more as though.. Like, it was these things that took him away from me, these fundamental parts of- existence. Like all the cliffs have evil faces and they want to take me too, and maybe I did want them to take me, but not- not anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense?” 

You peered up at Seungcheol through your lashes, wet and heavy. He was frowning, hands gripping yours tighter.

“You don’t want them to take you anymore?” he asked quietly. You shook your head. “How so?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it has much to do with me or the park. I think-” you gaze flitted to Seungcheol and he smiled knowingly. You scoffed and smiled too. 

Although you both were fully clothed (Seungcheol annoyingly so), it felt as if all the layers had been stripped away one by one; sweaters and trousers, skin and meat and bones. All there was left were two brightly glowing hearts in front of one another. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered then. “You don’t have to say it.”

You rolled your eyes: “I think it’s because of you.” 

He grinned, wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes and cheeks bunching up in shiny, red fat. You poorly suppressed your own grin and the two of you leaned into each other when your eyes hooked, laughing into each other's shoulders.

“You’re so dumb,” you complained, forehead scratching against the stiff, knitted threads in Seungcheol’s shirt. 

“I think- I think we both jus’ get dumber together,” you could feel his smile into your neck and the hot stream of air that bounced against the skin. 

Right as you were about to pull away, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around your back and pushed you back into him. You giggled at the motion, but with little thought your own arms wrapped around his back too, and your knees clashed where they met. 

“Seungcheol?” your voice was muffled by his neck. His only response was hum, that ruminated from deep in his throat right by your ear. You pulled away until you were staring at his face. 

Each thick stroke of eyebrow hair, each long, black eyelash and each mole dotted on his softly aging skin was crystal clear then. Your hands wrapped around his biceps and felt your heart buzz at their pronounced carvings under the wool. Seungcheol smiled down at you in a sort of adoring way.

“I think-” you began, then felt stupid, then felt idiotic and cowardly. “I don’t know- I think we should kiss now?” 

It came out as more of a question than a statement. 

Seungcheol gravelled a laugh and his eyes became all squinty and he pursed his lips as if it concealed his amusement in any way at how you squirmed beneath him and your face heated up. 

“I think you’re right,” he nodded and you could barely register the feeling of joy that exploded in your chest, before Seungcheol’s pillowy lips crashed into yours at the same instance as a crack of thunder. 

The lightning was a flickering show to the performance of yours and Seungcheol’s passionate kiss. His lips molded to yours and yours to his, warm and chapped and your hands couldn’t help but wrap around the soft planes of his cheeks - to pull him further, to keep him with you. 

Seungcheol grappled for your hips, and you moaned in a sort of discombobulated agreement, as he, with shocking ease, pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body, stroking and pressing into the meat, left a burning ghostly trail behind it. 

“Can I be honest?” you mumbled in between bitten kisses and panted breaths. “You’re hotter than I imagined.” 

Seungcheol smiled into the kiss at that: “You too, baby. Now you get the real thing, hm? After fucking your sweet pussy thinking about me?” 

You whined in response, hips canting down into his and head dropping into the warm crook of his neck. You licked mindlessly at the skin, rolling your hips into his. Seungcheol groaned and steel hands halted your eager core. 

“Desperate so quick?” he quirked, and you cried out because how could even begin to describe how hot it was that he could entirely still your movements so nonchalantly? You swallowed before you tilted your head from the safety of his neck. 

“I have waited so fucking long for your cock, Cheol. I need it inside me now,” you said seriously, and it was his turn to swallow the rising viscous in his throat, before he nodded and pushed you off his lap to remove his trousers. 

You saw the way the metal of the belt reflected the light, as he (almost angrily) began journeying it off his middle, and you took the hint, beginning to discard your clothes. Your first sweater fell to the floor, then the next followed, and then you were stomping the floor to rid your soaked trousers. Another article of clothing that was soaked - your panties! And embarrassingly so, you thought, watching the slick, wet patch as you lowered the material to the floor. 

Only then did your attention return to Seungcheol, now fully naked in his hut with windows on all sides, and you audibly gasped. 

His torso was one huge slab of muscle and meat. The skin was relatively pale, pronounced pecs and his arms were like tree trunks at his sides. His thighs were fucking huge, indentations of muscles peering through his skin, as he impatiently worked his boxers off. 

He halted though at your gasp, smirking cockily before returning to his work.

“Is it as good as you imagined when you came thinkin’ ‘bout me?” he muttered as his boxers slid down his calf. Too busy staring at his girthy, leaking cock sprouting between his legs, you neglected to answer and Seungcheol continued in a deliberately raspy tone: “Jus’ thinking about your pretty moans, my cock’s aching for you, princess. You’re not gonna come warm it up, beautiful?” 

“Yes-” you stumbled over a treacherous boot, “yes, I am!” 

“Good girl,” Seungcheol rumbled, bemused, as your knees floundered into the mattress and back into his lap. Seungcheol seemed to have other plans, however, because as soon as you had found your footing, and his warm hands were sliding up your back and his neck was craned up to you, breath hitting your breasts, he raised you and flipped you over, so you were digging into the mattress and he was above you. The shadows only served to define the chisel of his arms further. 

His hand slid down your soft thighs, settling in between your legs to run two fingers through your folds. 

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he whispered, somewhat mesmerized at the slick coating his fingertips. You squirmed impatiently and he shushed you, ever so gently: “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

Immediately following up on his promise, the two fingers snaked down to your sensitive, pulsing hole, prodding gently. You wiggled and whined, one of your hands (which had been gripping his bedsheets) stopped him at the wrist. He stopped, eyes flitting up to your flushed, shiny face questioningly. 

“I wan’ your cock now. No prep,” you scowled, strands of hair sticking out messily. Seungcheol frowned. 

“I need to-” 

“I’m wet enough, please, been thinkin’ ‘bout this since-..” you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at how fucked out you were already, so precious, all beautiful and naked and womanly. 

“You sure?” he asked, voice matching the depth of the thunder. You nodded eagerly: “Please, please-” 

“Okay,” he murmured, sticky hand leaving your burning pussy in favor of pressing it against the underside of your thigh. At the command of his strong hands, your body folded in half and the realization of your position had you crying out pathetically. “Anything for my beautiful baby.” 

My. His. The word choice had you clenching around nothing, all spread out for him while he lined his pretty, red cock up with your entrance. 

“Gonna feel real full in a minute, yeah?” he said absently, watching intently at how your pretty pussy was splayed out and ready and aching for him, mind reeling at the sight of you and the smell of you and how you felt under his hands. 

And suddenly it was there - a mountain of pressure building around the head of his cock as it pushed inside, bursting when he pushed in a little further, until he was fully nestled inside. Seungcheol was not unaffected, body curling over yours animalistically with a deep, throaty groan. You, too, had to squirm and moan wantonly, as your body shone under the bulb. 

“You’re so tight, pretty,” Seungcheol managed, face scrunched up, as his pelvis met your pubic bone. His hands gripped your shaking legs once more, fully folding you in half and you cried as the movement invited him further inside, feeling him brush the spongy spot inside you. 

“Feel s’good!” you moaned, even as he hadn’t moved yet, and Seungcheol’s hands squeezed you in response. 

Experimentally (perhaps fearful, as you had rushed into it without preparation), Seungcheol thrust shallowly and was pleased at your broken cry, so he did it again and then again, and then he was building up a rhythm and your sultry moans were slipping through the cracks of the hut and bouncing off the walls of Aluralura mountain and echoing twenty times over. 

There was nothing sweet about the pace of Seungcheol’s hips. He was pistoning in and out with an impressive agility, huffing over your folded body. It was desperation; the way your nails raked over his back and his sloping arms, and sweet, little whimpers and your pussy choking his cock. 

“Sweetest, prettiest-” he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, stomach caving inwards and clenching. “Fuck, cutest, little princess being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Love your cock,” you babbled, “Love- love your cock, love you.” 

The words slipped out as if they were nothing, but their meaning was solidified by your raking hand sneaking up to his neck and pulling him down into another sloppy kiss. Tongues melding and spit trickling down your chin as he hummed into your mouth in the most wonderful way. 

“Love you, too. Pretty, funny, sweet girl-” 

“A-ah, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you warned, voice nothing but a breath, and your face pleasured, scrunched up in the dead of night. Your stomach was a well of pressure.

“I know, baby, I know. Squeezing me so tight,” he soothed, hands running up and down the plush underside of your thighs, as his hips continued their unrelenting pace. “Come on, cum on my cock.” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Seungcheol-” a string of curses and his name followed as your pussy clenched one last hard time and your cum seeped out around his thick, veiny length.

Holding his own orgasm at bay, he clenched his jaw and gritted out: “Where d’you want my cum?” 

“Inside!” you mewled, overstimulated and sore, and legs still pressed to your chest, clammy and slick. 

Seungcheol would’ve made a snarky remark was he not already cumming at your words, white seed painting your insides and spilling out around his softening length. He thrust a couple more times, relishing in the sounds of your fucked-out moans before he’d emptied himself, and he dropped down beside you. 

Due to the nature of a one-person bed, you and Seungcheol were both pressed close to one another, covered in sweat. Your panting, huffing breaths synchronized and you stared into each other's eyes, all wild and blushed. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, brought back to reality by a distant calling owl. You were still in the park, you realized - not some other pleasure dimension like one may have thought. Seungcheol smiled giddily.

You looked out into the wasteland, and your eyelids and limbs (draping over Seungcheol’s big, pretty body) were suddenly heavy. You yawned.

“D’you think we have to stay up anymore?”

Seungcheol watched you gauging the pinelands with starry eyes. “You can go to bed,” he offered gently, “I’ll stay up and make sure the storm’s over.” 

“Are you sure?” you mumbled, but you were already settling into the domes of his chest, closing your eyes. Seungcheol looked at you and thought you were adorable. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you stay here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can your dick stay inside me?” 

This prompted a laughter blooming all the way from his chest, where your cheek bunched up against the skin. His arm was wrapped around your back. 

“Sure, baby.” 

You mumbled something like ‘okay’ or ‘good’ or ‘thank you’, and you drifted off into sleep with his arms around you, and when Seungcheol was certain the storm had passed, he nuzzled his head into your hair and dozed off himself. 

At the swimming red sky of dawn, your eyes pried open to see Seungcheol already awake, still wrapped around you. 

Nonchalantly (that is to say: as if your chest was not bursting with glee), you nodded your head over to the window behind him:

“Is that not a black-billed cuckoo?!” 

And Seungcheol thought that maybe you and him could find birds together elsewhere too. 

#svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seungcheol angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #svt x you #seventeen x you #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #angst #smut

[bagopucks]

A. Matthews - Mean Words Hurt People

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): none! Just light angst.

—————————————

“Hudson just take the pills.”

“No!”

“Hudson please! They’ll help.”

“No! Go away! I can’t do it, I hate you!”

It had been an awfully stressful week. Auston and I were both feeling the irritability. With the second round knock out, I was patient. I assumed he might need time alone or with his team, and it was time I was willing to grant. What I hadn’t expected was for him to dive headfirst into the fire. I worried that we never got time to discuss it or that he never got time to cope with it, but at the same time I wondered if Auston coping was spending time planning our wedding and being a father to Auston. I always wanted to ask, but I never wanted to overstep my boundaries.

Until it came to hell week. Hudson’s allergies had been horrible. I worked overtime almost every night, and Auston was left with most of the work. It was bumpy, sure, but even if it had been myself and Hudson, I knew it still would have been bumpy. Hudson was tired and cranky, and stuffy and itchy and miserable. Auston was miserable navigating everything, trying to keep the kid happy, trying to make him take his pills, trying to find ways to entertain him. I felt horrible coming home each night, some worse than others. Some more peaceful than expected.

Some days Auston would be out cold on the couch, his clothes a mess, his hair pulled up, exhaustion laced in his furrowed brow. Other days I could hear the screaming and fussing from Hudson well before I even got up the front porch steps.

Hudson’s allergies and attitude couldn’t have come at a worse time. Halloween was around the corner and I had so many plans as to how I wanted to share it with Auston and Hudson. The last thing I wanted was for my miserable and moody kid to put those on the back burner. Especially because it was a chance to go out and have some family fun. Even if we hadn’t been the most stable of families recently.

I reminded Auston to be patient, but it was never really him that seemed ready to give up. Sure he got overworked, sure he was as miserable as Hudson, and as lost, but not once had he turned to me and told me he couldn’t do it. Until the night I came home to quite the tense scene. Auston sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Toys were everywhere, Hudson was nowhere. He looked a mess. He looked exhausted. And when he looked up at me and told me he needed a break, I couldn’t get mad. I understood. When Hudson had spells like these, I often found backup was the best way to handle it.

“Was it worse today?” I asked softly as I closed the door, assuming Hudson was asleep.

“I stopped asking myself that a while ago.”

“I’m really sorry, hun.” I sat down next to him on the couch, gentle as I rested my hand on his back.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” The tension in his voice was something foreign to me. Auston was usually so collected and relaxed.

“It’s just his allergies. He just doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so miserable, and why it won’t go away. Just give him time.”

“I really need a break.” A piece of me wanted to tell him parenthood is a full time job. But I couldn’t, because while I knew it was a full time job, I liked my vacation days. And the perfect babysitter came in the form of my mother.

“Maybe Hudson needs a few days with grandma.”

“You think?” I pulled back at the tension in his tone. “I’m sorry.” Auston was quick to apologize, running his hands through his hair and sitting back. When I finally got a good look at his face, I raised a brow. There was more than just exhaustion in his features.

“Did Hudson say something to you?”

“What?” I watched Auston’s deep brown eyes meet my own. “No.”

“Aus. Did something happen?” I quickly placed my hand on his thigh.

“No. Okay? It’s fine. I just- I’d like to go home… alone- to sleep in my bed. With my dog.”

“Okay… okay if that’s what you need. Auston, just- I’m here for you. Okay?”

Auston stood up, and I watched him walk toward the door. For reasons I didn’t understand, he was more than overworked. He didn’t seem interested in sharing, but I assumed a full night of rest would help. “Drive safe, okay?” I watched him nod as he put his shoes on, and I locked the door behind him after he left. I hoped to delve deeper into the issue when Hudson awoke in the morning.

“Hey sweetie.” I spoke from the stovetop, cooking a few eggs for Hudson to eat for breakfast. I watched the boy peek around the kitchen and dining area before he padded off into the living room. When he returned, he came to my side and hugged my leg. “Sleep well?”

“Okay.” His distant and somber tone made me sigh. Both of my boys were anything but happy. It hurt knowing I could do nothing to help either.

“We have to talk, okay?” I watched his big eyes shoot up to my own. I wondered if he already knew what was on my mind. “Go sit. I’ll bring your plate over.” And I did just that. Once I finished cooking the eggs, I put them on a small plate and grabbed a fork, carrying the items over to set them down on the table. I pulled my chair out across from Hudson. The lack of Auston at our table was oddly unsettling. We’d both grown used to his presence in the mornings.

“Auston‘s really stressed.” The mention of the man lost my son’s interest. His eyes didn’t lift from his plate. “You’re not making things easy, hun. And I understand your allergies are killing you, but that doesn’t give you any right to be difficult or mean.”

Hudson dropped his fork on his plate, looking down at his lap.

“Have you been mean?” I leaned forward slightly, listening in the silence. Listening until I heard a quiet sniff. “Hudson?”

“I didn’t mean it.” His broken tone made me raise a brow.

“Honey, what didn’t you mean?”

“Did I make him leave? I didn’t want him to leave. Is it my fault?” His questions made me shoot up from my chair to cross the table, kneeling on the floor by Hudson.

“Honey.” I spoke in a stern yet soothing tone, reaching upwards to cup his tear stained cheeks. “Hudson you could never scare Auston off. He loves you.” I cooed.

“I’m so sorry, momma… I didn’t mean it!” Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, mistakes had been made, and i finally understood the issue. An issue I never should have left Auston alone with. “I don’t really hate him… I didn’t mean it.”

“Hudson, why would you say that?”

“I didn’t mean it, momma.” His quiet cries turned into sobs.

“Shhh.. okay honey.” I rubbed my son’s head, my heart hurting for both Auston and Hudson. They both needed comfort I wish I could have provided sooner.

“I don’t hate him.” Hudson whispered in a broken tone.

“I bet Auston would like to know that.”

“Not if he’s mad at me.” I shook my head.

“He still loves you, honey.” I wiped his tears one last time. “You just need to apologize.”

From day one, Auston’s mind had been plagued with worries. What if he wasn’t good enough? Or what if he couldn’t be a good father? What if he wasn’t cut out for all the responsibilities, or he couldn’t be a good role model? He never actually prepared himself for the day the kid he’d worked so hard to earn the favor of, would say he hated him. Auston had been floored when Hudson screamed it across the house. It was worse than any pain he’d ever felt before. It was the last thing he’d wanted. And he didn’t know how to tell me. I couldn’t blame him. Because it was a situation I didn’t actually understand. When I turned up with Hudson on his doorstep, a piece of me didn’t expect him to be home, but sure enough, Auston had opened the door just minutes after knocking. Felix stood at his feet, clearly oblivious to the situation, panting excitedly at the sight of Hudson. His best friend.

“Hey Aus.” I flashed the man a tender smile. Auston breathed a sigh that made his shoulders droop.

“Hey.. is everything okay?” Auston opened the door wider, an invite inside. I hesitantly stepped into the home, resting a hand on Auston’s hip and pressing a quick kiss to his chest.

“I came to check on you.. Hudson did too.”

“I was uh.. Felix needs to go on a walk.”

“Let me handle it.” I slid past Auston to grab the dog’s leash, calling Felix and kneeling to get him hooked up. “I’ll be back soon.”

I had faith in my boys making up. Despite the fact that Auston wasn’t Hudson’s father yet, I still knew that they had the ability to talk about their emotions and communicate well. They had never fought before… but I had faith they could apologize and move on.

“Mom,” Hudson called for me softly.

“I’ll be back soon, honey. I promise you’ll be okay.” I pressed a kiss to my son’s head before patting his back, and gently pushing him inside. “Fifteen minutes max. That’s how long I’ll be gone.” I reassured both boys before stepping out the door. Auston hesitated before shutting it behind me.

Was I worried? Sure. But again, I knew they’d be fine.

Auston shuffled his feet nervously for a moment before glancing back down the hallway. “You thirsty, bud?” He asked Hudson, the two making eye contact for the first time since their fight.

“A little.” Neither knew how to begin the conversation, so instead, Hudson and Auston walked down the hall and fetched two glasses of water, before settling in the living room on the couch.

“Your mom wants us to talk.. doesn’t she?” Auston took initiative, holding the cold glass of water between his hands.

“Yeah.” Hudson nodded, eyes examining his own water like a science experiment.

“I’m sorry your allergies have been so bad.” Auston slid a bit closer. “I know that stuff sucks. And I wish I could have been a better help.”

“Mom said we’re gonna see a doctor next week.” He paused. “She said they’re gonna give me something that should work better than the pills.”

“Hudson I was only trying to help.” Auston could barely handle dancing around the subject, so he decided to face it head on.

“I know.” Hudson’s little voice quivered.

“There’s nicer ways to treat the people trying to help you. And I understand if you had frustrations. It’s okay to have those, but there’s better way to communicate frustration than insults. Mean words hurt people.”

“I’m sorry,” Hudson whispered, peeking up at Auston, guilt in his sad features. “I don’t hate you.” The words took a huge weight off the shoulders of both boys. Auston let out a shaky sigh, and Hudson felt far less guilty than before. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.. Hudson it’s okay.” Auston set his glass of water down, reaching for Hudson, who slowly got up and climbed into his lap. Auston rubbed Hudson’s back while the boy sat with him, a mutual understanding between them that there was still love shared. Their relationship remained strong despite what had happened.

“You’re not mad?” Hudson pulled his head from Auston’s shoulder to look at the man.

“Nobody’s perfect, Hudsy. You’ll learn that as you grow up.. and you’ll make other mistakes. Just like I will. And that’s okay. It’s important that people have patience with one another… I’m not mad. I love you so much. Just do me a favor and try to communicate a little better in the future when you’re upset, okay?”

“You’ll help me.. right?”

“Absolutely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #auston matthews blurb #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews #singlereaderseries #singlereaderfic #ella’s updates #ella’s inbox

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Edelgard, Dimitri, and Mercedes with a s/o who is always tried thought the day, either half asleep or taking a nap somewhere.

Doesn't help that when it's 3am s/o is doing literally anything but sleeping.

(FE3H) Edelgard, Dimitri, and Mercedes with a perpetually tired S/O

just like me fr

Oh lovely, now there was another person who is eternally sleepy in the Black Eagles.

But, at least this time they weren't skipping out on lectures.

Edelgard at first tries not to be overbearing and just gently nudge them in the right direction of trying to get more sleep in the night.

Of course, that does not last very long.

(Edelgard) "I somehow knew you would be in the library, S/O."

(S/O) yawn "Edelgard? Oh, hey. Has the lecture already started?"

Edelgard sighs as her expression softens a little, gently putting a hand on their shoulder.

(Edelgard) "It's nearly time for bed. If you are going to rest, you can at the very least do so in your own room."

She doesn't want to sound like a nag, but she can't help but fret over S/O, at least in private.

Sometimes, she knocks on their door when she suspects they're still not asleep on the nights she can't either.

Those sleepless nights usually result in the two having a heart to heart, and being extremely tired come morning.

But Edelgard would not trade those moments with them for anything in the world.

Dimitri can't help but chuckle at seeing S/O yawn in the morning. The sight was honestly quite cute to him.

If not a little worrying. This was the fourth day in a row they looked ready to drop dead.

(Dimitri) "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a ghost with how ghastly you look."

(S/O) "Ugh, I feel like one..."

(Dimitri) "Then perhaps you'd like something to wake you up? I could ask Mercedes to bake you something, or have Sylvain annoy you to awakening."

(S/O) "Goddess, please don't. It is way too early to be dealing with him...I might take you up on asking Mercedes, though."

He usually brings coffee or some kind of tea to help keep S/O up, or something to let them sleep late at night.

Dimitri trusts them enough to be responsible enough to know when it was time to sleep or not, but he has on occasion found them still awake at midnight.

(Dimitri) "S/O? What is that racket!?"

(S/O) "I needed to clean my room up, it's a little too messy in here."

(Dimitri) "In the dead of night?"

(S/O) "...It's not that late is it?"

(Dimitri) "Late enough that someone else other than me might come and make a noise complaint..."

(S/O) "Well, while you're here, can you lift my bed real quick? I need to grab something, and then I promise to sleep."

S/O was still full of energy, that was either a lie, or they'd sleep during lecture after trying and failing.

(Dimitri) sigh "Alright, please move aside."

Mercedes is probably the best solution for S/O's sleepy tendencies.

That, or she might accidentally make it worse.

Due to her usually calming demanour, S/O feels ten times as sleepy whenever they're together.

Mercedes doesn't particularly mind, since Annette feels the same way too.

In the morning, Mercedes has some sweets that she baked for them to help wake them up.

And if they needed to sleep? She'd happily let them rest their head on her lap.

(Mercedes) "Oh, I know! What if I tell you some of the ghost stories I know to keep you up?"

(S/O) "I-I think I'll pass on that one. The last story you told me, I couldn't keep my eyes closed for hours..."

(Mercedes) "Hm...Well, I'm glad I do such a good job of telling them at least! But I wish that didn't come at a cost of your sleep schedule."

(S/O) "I mean, it wasn't exactly great to begin with."

(Mercedes) "And it's too late to bake any sweets...Oh, I could make you something spicy!"

(S/O) "...Y-You mean you're going to cook?"

(Mercedes) "I'm still trying to learn from Ashe, but I think I could make something great for the both of us!"

Suddenly, S/O became far more alert.

(S/O) "I-I think I'm full for right now, Mercedes! And I'm feeling really awake talking to you too!"

Mercedes looked slightly disappointed before S/O sighed internally.

(S/O) The things I do for love... "...But I wouldn't mind trying at least little!"

Her expression brightened at their response.

(Mercedes) "Really? Okay, let's head to the mess hall!"

(S/O) Goddess be with me...

#fire emblem three houses x reader #fire emblem three houses headcanons #fire emblem three houses imagines #edelgard x reader #dimitri x reader #mercedes x reader #edelgard von hresvelg #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #mercedes von martritz

[wambsgansshoelaces]

heyy love, i love your fics so muchhh!! if ur requests are open, i was wondering if you could write this fun lil oneshot i thought of<3

(didn't really think much of the details but i imagined something like the episode with the pierce family, or u could change to what feels nice to u)

reader is like super hot/crazy attractive and the siblings are instantly interested. kendall and roman, being their idiot selves, start competing for her attention and trying to get her to accept going out etc. turns out, at the end of the day, shiv gets the girl, as she was the one reader wanted all along (gagged them)

Girls Get Girls

Siobhan Roy x fem!Reader

not gonna lie anon I feel like I didn’t do this too well so I’m so so sorry :( I still hope you enjoy even though I don’t really deliver x

btw I literally love you anon keep requesting

im so gay

Word Count: 2.893k

Mergers, acquisitions, stock, trade, liquidation. You couldn’t give a shit about any of it.

You’re not in the financial field at all, much to your parents’ disappointment. It’d brought you out of favor with them, brought your siblings closer to each other.

You usually don’t come to these things, but tonight it talk of selling the entire company. Leaving it all behind, cashing in the lotto, and fucking off. Your family had convinced you to come- despite your clear dislike for everything finance and business, you still hold stock and stake in the company. You were also going to get a pretty penny from your inheritance, so it would be wise to judge your potential buyer alongside your family.

You’re getting ready in your childhood bedroom, pacing the carpet as you put the finishing touches on your outfit. Your father had made it very clear: your job was to root out intention, then act accordingly. Regardless of whether you thought the Roys were worthy of the company or not is irrelevant at this moment. You need to be intimidating.

Intimidating, but also hot. Just for yourself.

A soft knock sounds at your door. “It’s me,” your cousin calls from the hall.

“Come in,” you call back.

She waltzes in, her blouse billowing behind her as she deposits herself on your bed. “Dad’s going to have an aneurysm.”

Even though you already know the answer, you ask, “Why?” You lean against your desk, facing her.

She snorts, knowing you’re trying to push her buttons. “He wants the company, dipshit. I still think all if this is to get on our nerves.”

“A chimp would do better as CEO than any of you,” you say, scoffing. What had started out as what you thought was joking was turning into something else.

“So why won’t you do it, then?” she asks, bitterly. “I don’t see why it has to be either you or someone out of the family entirely.”

“I’m not doing it because I don’t want to. My siblings also just… have no interest. We’re all off to bigger, better things.”

The two of you stare at each other until your father’s yelling draws you both from your trance.

“Up and at ’em,” he’s saying, pretty much to himself, once you’re downstairs. You brush imaginary dust from your sleeves as you make the awkward walk to the helipad. You and your brother share an exasperated look. Despite the fact that you’d been wedged apart over the years, you and your siblings share a lot of the same views and opinions.

“All this peacocking is fucking insane,” he mutters to you once you’re stopped a safe distance away from the pad.

“Just wait until you see them,” you mutter back.

Even though you weren’t involved in the business side of the company, you’d still been involved. You’d gone to dinners, conferences, galas. You were a bit of an outside source, as you held no real position in the company, but you knew you were vital.

At almost every event where someone with your last name was required to attend, there was also a Roy. You’d only ever seen them, never spoken to them

You hear the helicopter before you see it. Sunglasses perched on your nose, you look up. As it descends, your hair and jacket are blown vigorously back, and your hand goes to your scalp. The generated wind is aggressive, slicing over your skin, your clothing. The sound is now deafening, and you notice your sister clamping her hands over her ears. Your father gives her a look, something along the lines of don’t look weak, and your sister rolls her eyes in response, mouthing fuck you.

You have to suppress your smile. The helicopter’s landed, and people are starting to pile out.

“Logan, old friend,” your dad bellows jovially. While the two families had never met, never been close, you know your father and Logan Roy were actually the best of friends. You don’t know how they met. Your father spoke of Logan from as far back as undergrad university.

Your father steps forward, meeting Logan halfway as he leads the rest of his family towards yours. They envelope each other in a hug, and your brother snorts. He’s the only one who’s ever interacted with the Roys.

“It’s like he has a multiple personality disorder,” he’d told you the other day, talking about the enigma that was the head of the other family. “One second he’s laughing, then the minute Dad’s out the room, the guy’s raging over his kids or the people not doing enough work or whatever the fuck else is wrong with that stupid fucking company.”

He turns from your father to your mother, murmuring a warm greeting, then to the row of you, your sister, and your brother.

“Oh, look at the three of you! All grown and radiant,” he says heartily. So far, he doesn’t seem like the demon your younger brother had described him to be. But you know well enough that looks can be deceiving. He opens his arms out to you first, since you’re the eldest of the three. You give him an awkward hug, his hand clapping over your back in a friendly manner. “If only any of my children had the sense to get with you,” he mutters conspiratorially, earning a chuckle from you. He pats your shoulder, before moving on to your brother.

Logan’s wife is next. “Marcia,” she murmurs softly to you, taking you by the shoulders and air-kissing both your cheeks. You return the gesture as she does it, making sure to stay smiling. It’s all a flurry of names you’re sure you’re going to forget the second you need them. Connor, Gerri, Willa, Frank, Rhea. It’s really all just a bunch of letters bouncing around in your head.

Who you’re sure you will remember, though, are the siblings. The younger three. The important ones, your dad liked to call them.

As all of the ‘adults’ convened to chat amongst themselves, like they did when you were children, you and your sister are having a quiet conversation about your work. She’s in the middle of asking you to come out to her office to help you with something when you feel a hand settle on your shoulder. You turn, coming eye to eye with Kendall Roy.

“Hi,” he says carefully, small smile playing on his lips. “I don’t think we’ve met?”

“No, we haven’t,” you say back. “Y/N.” You offer him your hand to shake, like your father expects you to do with everyone.

“Kendall.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say awkwardly. He manages a laugh, withdrawing his hand, his eyes flitting over your face.

“I’m sorry it’s taken me this long, then, to, uh, put your name to your face.”

You’re not really sure what he means, but you don’t think you care that much.

“Move over, Kendall, you’re boring the shit out of her.” His brother comes over, bumping him with his hip. You have to stifle a laugh. “Roman.” You shake hands, offering him a polite smile. “He’s right, though. You’re a bit of a mystery to everyone.”

“Am I?” you ask, laughter seeping into your voice.

“Not to me.” Her voice is firm, clear. “I’m Shiv. I was at the conference you gave the Ethics presentation to. I know your work. My brothers are just stupid.”

You laugh for real this time. “Nice to meet you, Shiv. I’m familiar with your work, too. I’m just not so deep into the political sphere like you are.”

“I can help with that, you know,” she says, expression surprisingly soft. “I’ve been looking for someone that shares my opinions and… moral compass to work with. You need your rock, you know?”

The conglomerate of people slowly transitions inside. Roman and Kendall get roped into other conversations, your sister disappearing off to who knows where. You mill about in the dimly lit sitting room, watching everyone interact. Shiv’s still by your side.

“No offense, but I hate these things,” she says quietly, coming closer to you so you can hear.

You laugh lightly. “None taken.” You glance over at her to find that her eyes are already glued to you. You feel your face heat, her gaze flickering down your body before coming back up to your face. She has a sly smile on, but it’s quickly melting into one of real, soft emotion. You open your mouth to offer her something you’ll probably regret later, but are interrupted by your father clapping his hands together and waving everyone into the dining room. Instead, you give her an exasperated smile and follow the crowd.

Your father eyes you and your siblings as you all slip into your strategically chosen seats, making it so you’d all be surrounded by Roys. Your brother makes a face at you from the other side of the table. You ignore him, instead looking up at Shiv, who hovers by the chair at your left hand.

Almost shyly, she asks, “May I?”

“Please.”

A giddy smile spreads across her face as she sits, and you can’t help but mirror her expression. You look down into your plate, catching your sister’s gaze on you. Kendall takes the seat on your other side, Logan sitting directly across from you, right by your dad.

Roman and your brother are laughing over something as you get served the appetizer, your sister staring off into space while Connor talks at her rather than to her. Your mother speaks quietly with Marcia, and of course, your father and Logan are the loudest at the table, laughing and gesturing around.

Your cousin is on Kendall’s other side, overly-focused on her food. The conversation suddenly involves the entire table, Logan leaving forward. “What is it you do again, Y/N?”

You shrug lightly. “I work in media and risk analysis. Dabble a bit in economics.”

“So like Shiv?”

“Not really,” you and her say at the same time. You gesture with your fork, letting her continue.

“Our work certainly overlaps, and I’m glad it does,” she says, “but I’m more… political, she’s more… corporate.”

“If you dabbled in economics,” your cousin manages through gritted teeth, “we wouldn’t be here.”

“Neither would we if you did,” you retort calmly.

She scoffs. “I still don’t see why all of this is happening,” she says back, barely loud enough for everyone to hear. You look to your father, praying he’ll deal with it himself before she goes on some tirade, scaring off the buyer, but he makes no move. He simply glances at you, his gaze loaded.

Do it yourself.

You wait for a few moments, letting the tension strain the room. Maybe she’ll back off.

She doesn’t.

“The company is leaving family hands because of you, Y/N. It’s going to crash and burn because you refuse to fucking see what’s sitting in front of you.”

Logan’s lips press together into a thin line, and you know you have to recover. “I don’t want the company. Neither of my siblings want it. Don’t you think it’s a little telling you’re the only one lusting after it so loudly?”

“I don’t see what that has to say about me.”

“You want it, and you’re not getting it,” you say firmly. “You’re incompetent. The Roy name is not.”

Dinner is only silent for so much longer. Your brother, at his breaking point, asks loudly, “Why are you even here? You blew the Pierce deal. Fuck off.” Your father hisses something into your brother’s ear. He scoffs in response. “I’m sick of it, Dad. The three of us bust our asses to get this to go well for you and she gets to waltz in, do whatever the fuck she wants whenever the fuck she wants.” He quickly pushes back his chair from the table and makes his way out of the dining room.

Clearly, this is deeper than one stupid comment made at the dinner table. You throw a questioning glance at your sister. She gives a minute shake of her head. She doesn’t know.

Dramatically, your cousin follows your brother out. Roman is trying not to laugh, and all of a sudden, your father and Logan aren’t in the mood they were before.

You turn to Shiv, exasperated. She’s also stuffing a laugh down, and it’s contagious. “Is my juvenile family drama amusing to you?” you murmur to her questioningly, the soft clink of silverware and terse chatter filling the room.

“Yeah,” she says, nearly choking on a laugh. “This is so fucking stupid. How do you deal with it?”

“I never stay home.” You down the rest of the water in your glass.

“Hey, uh, Y/N,” Kendall begins, leaning towards you as you turn to face him. “I just wanted to say, I get how it feels.” He gestures vaguely around. “So if you want to, um, get some air after, I’d love to join you.”

You thank him sincerely, giving him a soft smile. Dessert finally comes out. You’re almost there. You turn back to Shiv, but she’s conversing with whoever’s on her other side, to your disappointment. You eat your cheesecake in silence, Roman catching your eye and giving you a wink. You didn’t know people actually did that, but he pulled it off nicely, you think.

When your father finally gets up, ushering everyone into the sitting room for drinks and chatter, you heave a sigh of relief. You trail behind the crowd, hoping to be able to slip away on your own.

You succeed. You sigh up at the high vaulted ceiling, padding towards the grand staircase up to your room.

“Hey, where’re you going?” comes a soft voice. You turn, Shiv, hurrying after you.

“Escaping,” you say jokingly, pausing on the stairs, letting her catch up to you.

“Can I come?”

“Yeah. You can.”

The sight of her sitting cross-legged on your bed does something to you. It sucks all the air from your body. But maybe that was just the sight of her.

"Your brother okay?" she asks, looking up at you.

"He'll be fine. Everyone's just a bit tense."

"Just so you know, your cousin's temper tantrum doesn't change anything."

"I'd hope it didn't."

"What would change things though," she tells you, "is whether you want to come on once we buy the company."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I was serious when I was talking about how I need someone in my corner."

"What do you mean?"

"It's me. The company gets handed to me."

"Congratulations, Shiv. But really, I want nothing to do with it."

"I'd be running things. You'd just be my right hand woman. The very attractive right hand woman that I see every day."

You laugh, unable to suppress the grin splitting your face.

“My cousin’ll murder me,” you manage to say.

“So? Let her try. Not like you’ll go down or anything.” She smiles up at you. “I think that’s hot. You’re hot.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both of you grinning at each other.

“You’re really pretty,” you breathe, believing she followed you for a reason.

“I’m glad you think so.” Her hands come to cup your jaw in the few instances it takes you to cross the room, slide onto your bed, and kiss her. “God, you’re so… so fucking gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” you ask against her lips, peppering gentle kisses onto them. “Stay the night.”

“I told everyone I went home,” she says, giggling.

Your hand flits to her hip, rubbing soothingly. Your kisses are slow, tender. You’re both enjoying yourselves. It feels so real. It feels like something more.

You slide off of her, off the bed, eliciting a whine from her pretty mouth. “Just locking the door, baby.”

You wake up, head buried in her chest. She’d borrowed some pajamas of yours, the shirt a soft cotton. Her breathing is light and airy, and it’s music to your ears. Her fingers are threaded in the hair at your scalp, her arm thrown over your back.

You drift in and out of consciousness until she wakes up, pressing kisses along your forehead. Shiv sits up, letting you stay settled in her lap. You press a hot kiss to her bare thigh, shorts hiked up her legs.

“You know,” she says, after a short while of silence, “Ken and Roman were drooling over you all night.”

You snort. “Were they?”

“I know them. They were. And here I am,” she says, satisfied with herself.

You let out an airy laugh. “Here you are.”

“I was drooling, too,” she admits.

“Can we stop talking about saliva?”

She pinches your ass, to which you don’t dignify with a reaction, instead smiling into her thigh. “I wanna keep seeing you.”

“I have to fly out to Italy for some work. Maybe I want you to come with me.”

“God, I love women.” Her hand cards through your hair. “Mind if I take a picture? I want to send it to my brothers.”

“Perv,” you mutter, but nod anyway. You smile at the camera from her thigh, pressing a searing kiss to the place where her leg meets her hip the moment she hits the button.

It captures her beautiful face in an ecstatic smile, yours in soft affection as you look up at her, not the camera.

#shiv roy #siobhan roy #shiv roy x you #shiv roy x reader #shiv roy x fem!reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #anon ask #shiv roy oneshot #shiv roy fluff

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

[Chapter 4] The Telephone Game

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Fushiguro!” You knock on the door when Megumi and Toji aren’t out the door around the time that you usually depart. You understand that it’s a Friday, and Toji might not have to work, but he never told you anything beforehand, so you assume that they just slept in. 

A shirtless Toji opens the door, he just wears his briefs which makes your wandering eyes embarrass you. Toji wonders why you’re at his door but then he realizes, a quick apology leaving his lips, “I forgot to tell you… Megumi is staying with some family for the weekend.”

“Oh! That’s nice to know.” You respond before you turn around, and begin to walk away. There’s no point to really say more, if you don’t leave now, you might be late. Today you have to walk, which is something that you didn’t expect. You hear your name and it makes you come to a stop.

“I can take you! Just give me a minute to put on some clothes.” Toji yells, running back inside to find his sweatpants and a shirt to throw over himself as you patiently wait outside. You wonder why he wants to take you but you’ve slowly become closer, especially after the beach day that was two weeks ago. “I’m ready.”

You two quietly walk to his car, and when you get to it, he opens the door for you. You mutter a thank you before getting into the passenger seat. Usually Toji has to put Megumi in the backseat, but now since Megumi isn’t here, he opens the door for you which you didn’t expect. Once he closes the door, he walks to the driver’s side and gets in. 

“Excited for the weekend?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. It’s nice to know that you won’t be babysitting for the weekend– As much as you adore little Megumi. “Any plans?”

“Probably just rot away in my room, something like that. I don’t feel like doing anything. How about you?” You respond.

“Probably nothing too. First time in a while I have him off my hands for the weekend.” He shares, and you wonder why he isn’t going out to have fun since the occurrence is not common. He begins to drive to the place, and you’re both awkwardly silent. It seems like he tried to begin a conversation, and you’re not really returning that energy. You almost feel bad for it, and without noticing, for the rest of the ride you wonder what you’ll say. You don’t even realize that you’re there until Toji announces, “We’re here.”

“Oh– Thank you.” You respond and you open the car door. You’re about to exit the car but you stop yourself and then you look at him, “Do you want to go out for a drink tonight? Since you’re kid free and all.”

“A date?” Toji asks, genuinely curious. Maybe he sounds a little too hopeful, but he hopes he didn’t in your ears, it’d be embarrassing.

“No. Just us going out as neighbors.” You answer, a weak smile coming to your lips. He returns the same energy, and you wave at him before you exit the car and you walk into your job.

At around nine at night, Toji knocks on your door. You open the door, a genuine smile on your lips, having to go out to have a drink. You wear a black corset top, jeans and a jacket; Toji wears something similar outfit and a white tee in substitution for the corset top. “Ready?”

“Yes.” You say before walking out of the door. You make sure to lock it, this time leaving the key under the doormat because you don’t trust your tipsy/drunk-self since you always manage to lose everything. “I was looking up bars, and I found this one that’s maybe like ten minutes away. It has great reviews.”

“Really? Let’s go there then.” Toji says, and when you’re on the first floor, he begins to walk to his car. 

“Toji, we’re walking there. It’s a ten minute walk, not drive.” You share, and he furrows his eyebrows, a bit confused about the place you’re talking about. He thinks of all the places that are nearby, and doesn’t recall a bar being so close. It’s probably a new place that he hasn’t come across yet. “We’re both going to be drinking, it’d be pretty dumb for you to drive.”

“I’m not planning to get drunk.” He replies while he walks over toward you. You wonder if that statement will remain true throughout the night, you doubt it, but then again, you don’t really know Toji. You know he has a son who is way too adorable, but that’s about all you know. “But fine. Tonight’s weather is really nice, and I’m strong enough to carry you back if you have a little too much to drink.”

You both begin to walk, and he follows your lead. You have somewhat of an idea on where the place is, so you don’t bother looking it up. Neither of you talk much while you walk since you have the rest of the night to talk about whatever your heart desires. Plus, Toji wants to stay aware of the surroundings because even though you’re not in a bad part of town, staying aware is always helpful. 

You get to the place in around twelve minutes, and you grab two beers for you and Toji, while he sits. He looks around the place, and he swears bars had a different atmosphere before. It’s been a long time since the last time he stepped into one of these places. He looks around the place until he hears the light thump of the glass of beer being placed on the table. You take a seat across from him and sigh,

“Today was so tiring.” You share, and Toji hums in agreement. You both take a sip of your drinks before you ask, “How was work for you?”

“It would’ve been fine if I didn’t have to deal with a couple of pesky people. Some people just manage to ruin your day.” Toji answers and you nod as you listen. “How about you? Did you have a lot of snotty kids in class today?”

“Too many.” You chuckle. You take a sip of your drink, looking around as you think of what to say next. Then you think of Megumi, “Have you talked to Megumi? I missed spending some time with the little bugger today.”

“I did. He’s having the time of his life with his grandparents. They were taking him to the movie theater tonight.” Toji says, and you smile as you think of the toddler. “I do miss him so much. He’s always by my side. The most time we’ve spent apart is the time he’s in daycare.”

“Yeah… But it’s nice to hear that your parents can spend some time with their grandson.” You tell him. Toji clears his throat before he responds, 

“They’re not my parents, they’re my late wife’s. I don’t talk to my parents.” He confesses and suddenly you have so many questions to ask but you know better than to ask him right away. You’ll have something more to drink before you ask those types of questions. You know that they’ll end up with him asking questions that you’ll answer when you’re tipsy at the bare minimum because otherwise you’ll end up in tears. “My parents don’t even know that I have a kid.”

“They don’t? Why– You don’t have to answer that.” You quickly catch your mistake. You doubt Toji would want to open up about why he doesn’t talk to his parents because it seems like a rather sensitive topic to bring up, especially since you don’t know each other all that much. Maybe it’s a way for you to get to know each other. He gulps most of his drink before speaking up.

“It’s fine. Let’s just say them and that whole family is… Horrible.” Toji answers. He wants to change the topic though, so before you can say anything else, he gulps down the rest of the beer and stands up, walking away to get another one. He comes back and attempts to smile before he changes the topic, “Why did you invite me out? I would’ve thought you had some plans with some other friends.”

“Toji, I told you last time that I don’t have friends.” You have to remind him, and he shakes his head disapprovingly before he mutters an apology. “I would think that you would’ve had plans since you’re childfree for the weekend.”

“Well this pretty girl asked me out for drinks…” He responds, and you feel your face get warm, fighting back a foolish smile because Toji called you a pretty girl. “But I had to turn her down because I made plans with you already.”

You roll your eyes at him and he ends up chuckling in response. “I’m joking. You’re the pretty girl I made plans with.”

“I knew you were joking. I doubt many pretty girls ask you out anyway.” You reply and Toji tries to act offended, but he ends up laughing. 

“What? You don’t think women fawn over me?” He asks in response and you shake your head. “Hmm… By the end of the night one of these women will be on their knees for me, wanna bet?”

“I don’t want to bet on that, because you’d have to prove it some way and I’m not a fan of watching videos.” You answer, and he squints his eyes as he looks at you. You furrow your eyebrows before asking, “What?”

“You don’t want to bet because you know I’m right.” He responds, and you roll your eyes once again. You stand up to get another drink, and he just watches you walk away, biting his lip while his eyes focus on a part that maybe he shouldn’t be focusing on. He has to tear his eyes away and he focuses on finishing his drink. 

“Alright since women fawn over you, you should try to hit on the bartender.” You approach the table with your new drink, and he crosses his arms while his tongue licks his teeth. He takes a moment to think about it before he stands up and walks to the bar. 

You watch him as he begins to flirt with her, how she giggles at whatever he says. It’s pretty entertaining at first, until you get bored and you regret sending Toji over there because you have no one to talk to. Maybe you should approach someone else to entertain yourself, but no one around catches your eye.

Toji is still up there maybe thirty minutes later, and you entertain yourself by drinking and by looking at your phone. By ten you can’t stand up from the table to get yourself more to drink because you had too much in such a small time. You’re not drunk, you just need to sit down and wait for a bit.

You’d leave but you don’t want to just disappear without a word. You wouldn’t want him to think that you’re jealous of him flirting with someone else. That’s the last thing you want him to think. Plus you aren’t jealous, you’re just bored and he was your only source of entertainment, and now you dared him to flirt with someone else.

While you’re thinking of grabbing your purse and leaving, Toji comes back with a small piece of paper and a phone number written on it. He slams it down on the table as if it were some sort of trophy. You slowly clap before responding, “Congrats. It only took you almost an hour.”

“What? Like you can do better?” He responds and you take it to heart. You rise from your chair and look around the bar, your eyes landing on the oldest man that you can find. Toji watches you walk away, and approach a much older man. He furrows his eyebrows, feeling as if you cheated, which you somewhat did. You succeed, not even five minutes later going back to the table with the old man’s phone number. You flaunt it, and he grabs it, squinting his eyes as he reads it. He puts it down on the table before clicking his tongue and saying, “Next time try to hit on someone that has progressed past flip phones.”

“Aw, are you mad that I could get a phone number much faster than you can?” Your tone is mocking, and it irritates Toji. He looks around before he spots a pair of guys that are much younger than the guy you were hitting on. Toji tilts his head their way before he dares you,

“Get one of their numbers. No, no, no. Get both of their numbers.” 

“If that’s what you want.” You answer before getting up and approaching the table with the men. You don’t have to do much. You just bite your eyelashes, put on a sweet voice, flirt a bit, show a bit of cleavage. What confuses Toji the most is the fact that you’re pointing back at him. But when you come back, you have both of the numbers. “Here. I win.”

“Why were you pointing back at me?” He questions and you shrug. You debate on telling him before you decide that you’re just having some fun, so you might as well share. It’ll be a funny story.

“One of them is gay and I was asking if they liked my dear friend Fushiguro.” You laugh, and his eyes slowly widen. Maybe he should’ve guessed something similar, but he genuinely didn’t expect that. 

“So that means we’re tied because the phone number was for me.” Toji says as he makes two different piles of phone numbers. The two for him and the two for you. You shake your head and you grab the phone number that was intended for him,

“Since when is this a game? Also, I got the number so we’re not tied.” You answer, and he takes the phone number once again, and places it in his pile.

“It’s a game since you came to this table and claimed that you won.” He argues, and you chuckle before you get an amazing idea.

“Since this is a game, let’s see who can get more phone numbers by the end of the night… Or are you scared that you’ll lose?” You suggest, and Toji purses his lips together before he stands up and looks for the next person that he’ll be flirting with. You do the same.

By the end of the night, which is around an hour later, you’re both slumping on the chairs, too tired to interact with anyone else other than each other. Luckily, so many people bought you drinks, which is also unlucky for you. You’ve had way too much to drink. Not so much that you have forgotten your little game, but enough that you’re not able to walk in a straight line.

“How many phone numbers do you have?” Toji asks, pulling out all the little papers/napkins with phone numbers that were handed to him. He begins to count his, and you also reach into your pocket to do the same. You’re quiet for a moment as you two try to count to the correct number. After a minute of complete and utter silence, and counting and recounting, Toji finally announces, “Eight.”

“Twelve.” You respond not too shortly after him. He snatches the napkins from your hands and begins to count the amount while also checking that the numbers don’t repeat. And when he verifies that the number you shared is correct, he sticks out his bottom lip and begins to look away. You grab one of the numbers, the one that was intended for him, and put it in his pile. “Here so you’re not such a sore loser.”

“The game isn’t fair anyway. There’s more men here than women.” He points out, making you roll your eyes.

“The game is based on getting phone numbers. You don’t have to actually like anyone. If you flirted with some men for a change, you could’ve won.” You claim, and he crosses his arms. “They could’ve bought you some drinks too. You won’t believe the amount of alcohol I’ve had in the past hour.”

“Lucky you.” He unenthusiastically responds. He stands up and goes to the bar to get another drink, and unluckily for him he has to chat with the bartender that he was flirting with over an hour ago. It seems like she didn’t notice Toji going up to so many women, flirting with them as well. Toji has to talk to her for a bit more than he’d like before he goes back to you.

“So… what do I get as a prize?” You ask him when he takes a seat again. He shrugs in response, clearly annoyed at the fact that he lost the little game that you made. 

“You get the satisfaction of knowing that you won. I think that’s enough.” He answers, making you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. You shake your head in disappointment before you say,

“You’re just mad that you lost~” You drag out the last word, which makes him sigh in annoyance. He focuses on finishing the drink to get out of the place since he isn’t in the mood to stay longer. He really is a sore loser.

“I’m gonna go.” He announces when he finishes his drink, and you stand up to go with him. He furrows his eyebrows and says, “You can say. It’s fine.”

“I’ll be so awkward without you. Plus, I’ve had enough to drink.” You answer and he ends up slowly nodding in response. He watches as you begin to walk away, and he can tell that you’ve definitely had a little too much to drink. At least you don’t seem drunk. 

He catches up to you, grabbing your arm and putting it around his shoulder, while one hand goes to your waist. He makes sure you’re not as unstable as you walk, and he has to admit how awkward everything is. When you’re out of the bar and two minutes into the walk, Toji says, “Not taking the car was a very dumb idea.”

“I didn’t know that you weren’t going to drink a lot. Plus, it’s a beautiful night out.” You point out, and Toji looks up to look at the stars, but instead of seeing the tiny dots in the sky, he’s met with clouds. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that rain would begin to pour soon. There’s no sign that the rain will begin soon, so he doesn’t worry about it. “The weather is nice, plus walking is good for you.”

“Yeah… If we’re going out drinking again, I’m taking the car. It’s not like I get drunk anyway.”  He shares, which is something that he should’ve shared before you began your night. You don’t think about it though. However, you do come to a stop and Toji raises a brow asking, “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

“I want my prize for winning.” You say, and Toji slowly blinks, trying to think of another way to tell you that you aren’t getting anything. You point back at an ice cream truck that you two walked past, a van that he hadn’t noticed but of course it didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Ok, I’ll get you a cone then we won’t ever talk about this little game of yours again.” He responds and you both begin to walk to the ice cream truck. He finds it weird that it’s open so late, but he doesn’t care, as long as he can get the ice cream and pay the prize.

You’re clearly unlucky though because when you begin to walk toward the truck, a couple appears and they get in front of you to order. It’s just ice cream though, so it shouldn’t take too long. Meanwhile, Toji pulls out his wallet and asks, “What flavor do you want?”

“I think–” You begin and you feel a raindrop fall right on the tip of your nose. You aren’t sure if it was an actual raindrop or if your mind is playing tricks on you. But another raindrop falls on your face, and you look at Toji. 

“Do you think you can run all the way home?” Toji asks and you shake your head. He knows that the rain will get heavier soon, and he isn’t sure that you’ll make it home dry. He picks you off the ground and throws you over his shoulder before he says, “I’ll get you your prize tomorrow.”

“Toji…” You say but he begins to run to the apartment complex. You’re surprised at the fact that he can do this. It’s an awkward position for you, but you don’t have to walk home which is a bonus, somewhat. You hear the wind brushing against your ears. You also hear how the raindrops begin to hit the ground, and Toji is trying his best to outrun the rain, but he isn’t successful.

The rain catches up to him, even when he runs his fastest toward the apartment complex. But he gets lost. He has no idea where he’s going because he wasn’t paying attention when you lead him to the bar, and you say, “We’re lost, aren’t we?” 

“A bit.” He responds with a chuckle. He’s out of breath. He’s tired but he doesn’t stop until you’re both under a shop’s roof, and he puts you down. You watch the water that drips down from his hair and your eyes pan down to his frame. The wet clothes emphasize his figure and you feel your face get warm, “We can wait for the rain to die down a bit.”

“We should.” You nod. You smile at him and your eyes search for something to focus on that's not him. So your eyes easily wander to the rain that strikes the asphalt road. It feels like it’ll take forever for the rain to pass, so you try to think of a topic of conversation. You look back at him and sheepishly smile. “I didn’t actually get all those phone numbers. I just straight up told some of them that I was playing a little game with you.”

“Really? So I won?” He asks and you bite down your bottom lip as you try to think about how many people you told about the game. You end up shaking your head,

“Let’s just say it’s a tie.” You respond. Toji can’t help but laugh. He’ll just take it as his win.

“Megumi called.” Toji shares, sitting down on the ground because his legs are tired and he needs a moment to rest. “He’s having fun at his grandparents house. So much fun.”

“Really?” You reply as you take a seat beside him. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Can I share something with you?” He begins and you hum in response. His eyes stare at the rain as he allows himself to be somewhat vulnerable around you. You look at him while you wait for his response. “I don’t feel like I’m a good enough parent for Megumi… When my late wife died, I thought it was best to give him up to his grandparents. But I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Toji, you’re literally one of the best parents I know. Trust me, I would know since I deal with a lot of parents.” You reassure him. He turns his head to look at you. “The best decision you’ve ever made was keeping him with you.”

“You think so? I’m not fucking up too bad, right?” He asks and you wrap your arms around him, unexpectedly hugging him. He needs that comfort, at least that’s what you feel like.

“You’re doing a great job, Toji.” You assure him. You hug him for a minute or so, and he hugs you back. He doesn’t remember the last time he was hugged by an actual adult. He doesn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this, and he wants to seize the opportunity. He doesn’t say it too loud, and he hopes that the sound of the rain drops will fade out the sound. 

It’s faint but you hear his,

“Thank you.”

🏷️ @Instantgalaxysheep @happidiluc @Konekobby @bbqyuyuworld @slut4madara @keithslonelyreadingcorner @Tarajaxx @galactict3a @cloudsinthecosmos @uhremmi @sillyalo @klonisx @sakurasimppp @sunflwrsugar @tojianddabisslut @hiraeth117 @charismaya @megumuro @lilith412426 @violet-19999 @otakusan90s @jumpinjaxx @whatdudtheysay @jjmsg @songbirdgardensworld @t4naiis @waitcries @imvivian @miraes-world @pinksilk @apparentlycursed @spookitapes @sakuralikestars @wiserebelpartypie @elegantpotato617 @lem-hhn @missyasma @dont-ask-me-pls @hnysmut @ryomenswife @spookydaddy01 @iitangerine @Matchamidoriya @sukunababe @faahsung

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #daddy toji #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fic

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Fandom: Night Hunter

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: For @enchantedbytomandhenry; You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Warnings: enemies to lovers trope (not sure if I nailed it though), unprotected p-in-v, creampie, Daddy kink, male tackling female to subdue (if that squicks you, maybe skip this one-it is quick but described)

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist 

Oh, this is great. No, it’s perfect. Not only were you voluntold to work a weekend-long stakeout, but you’d also be paired with Detective Marshall. Yeah, that Detective Marshall. Walter. The asshole who you’ve been competing with for ‘top dog’ since before joining S.W.A.T. all those years ago. 

He was always just ahead of you. Ran a mile half a minute quicker. Got promoted a month sooner. To top it all off, he was tall and drop-dead gorgeous. And he had an ass you could bounce a quarter off.

Wait, hold on. When did that become something you even cared about? 

The way he cockily smiles at you as he exits his truck in the parking lot of the motel is enough to have you clench your thighs together. This should be a fun weekend. 

Friday night into Saturday morning is spent quietly using the listening devices to monitor our suspect. You both just…sit there, using your ears. Walter is usually quiet, sure. But what human doesn’t even accidentally use small talk to fill a quiet space?

During the day, you try and sleep in your separate room but it proves to be difficult. You toss and turn, grumbling to yourself after a couple of hours. Visions of Marshall’s chiseled jawline, beefy arms, and thick thighs are burned in your mind. You abandon all hope of sleeping, spending the rest of the day disassembling and cleaning your sidearm. It keeps your mind sharp and you genuinely enjoy the process.

It’s nearing seven and you’re just getting your things together to head over to the surveillance room when you get a knock at the door. You peek through the curtains and see Marshall as he leans on the doorframe.

You open the door and look expectantly at him. When he doesn’t answer and barges into the room past you, you pipe up, “Come on in, why don’t you?” You close the door behind you and watch as he looks around the room.

He notices your gun cleaning kit on the small wooden table by the window and looks back at you. “You didn’t sleep today. You look like shit.”

“Awesome. Thank you. What do you want?” you snap, already sick of his annoyingly perfect face.

“Go home and get some sleep,” he crosses his arms, standing in front of you, “Got the B team coming in to take over.”

“So, we’re both leaving? Or are you just dismissing me?” you questioned, crossing your own arms.

“Just you,” he deadpans, not feeling the need to explain himself further.

“Well, fuck that. I’m not leaving, so if you’ll excuse me,” you fumed, moving to reach for your sidearm on the table as he moves over, holding a hand out between the table and yourself.

“I can’t let you take that with so little sleep. It’s dangerous for both of us. Trust me, one slip up, and one of us is down,” he warns, holding his ground.

“Marshall, get out of my way. We have a job to do.”

“No, I have a job to do. You’re off the clock. Go home, kid,” he urged, holding his position.

“You’re gonna have to take me out of this mission by force, Marshall. Otherwise, I’m-”

You did not get to finish that sentence before Walter was taking you down on your stomach. A strong arm fully extended holding your left shoulder, while your right wrist is being restrained, would have been enough. But, this was Marshall after all and if he was anything, he was thorough. He straddles your hips, with just enough pressure to keep you down, but not enough to scratch a certain itch.

“I didn’t wanna have to do that,” Walter breathes, winded slightly from the takedown, “but you gave me no choice.” 

“Marshall, get the fuck off of me,” you growl, trying to buck him off.

“Yeah, kid, that’s not happening,” he spits, hooking his ankles over your thighs, “You’re lucky I don’t cuff you to keep you down.”

“So, what? You just looking for a reason to get me to obey you?” you challenge, struggling under his weight.

“As if you needed an excuse,” he laughs, straightening himself above you.

“Please! If you honestly think-”

“Give it a rest, I can smell your arousal from here,” he teased, lowering his hips a fraction and watching your squirm, “And before you say it’s not because of me, why couldn’t I smell it until after I had taken you down?”

“Fuck you, Marshall,” you scoff, trying to hold some semblance of control.

“Yeah, maybe if you did, you could get some fucking sleep,” he offers, his left hand moving from your shoulder down your arm, “But here you are, stubborn as hell.”

You lick your lips, considering his words. You wanted to get some release. You also wanted to sleep. 

Fuck it.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” he queries, slowly starting to release your arms.

“I’m exhausted and I’m horny. But you’re doing all of the work, Marshall,” you say, lifting your hips to meet his crotch.

“That’s a good girl,” he hummed, releasing your arms before leaning up and off of you. You start to raise yourself before you are lifted and all but thrown on the bed and told to strip. Watching as his layers are quickly being shed, you all but rip away your clothing. 

Once fully naked, you look at Marshall where he stands watching you. Cock in hand, he pumps his massive length slowly while his eyes rake over you. “Tell me what you need,” he coaxed, his voice lower by at least an octave.

“Hurry the fuck up and put me to bed, Marshall, before I change my mind,” you threaten, your body thrumming under his gaze.

“You can change your mind at any time, you just say the word and this is over, yeah?” he informs, eyes connecting with yours.

“Heard,” you chime in, opening your legs for him. 

He kneels on the bed between your legs, reaching down to collect some of your wetness that glistens in the low light of the motel room. He lifts his hand to his mouth, sucking your juices off his fingers before plunging them inside you. “Fuck, girl, you are so wet for me. So fucking hot,” he moans, squelching sounds filling the room as he massages your inner bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, Daddy!” you squealed, completely out of your control.

“That’s it, girl, cum for me,” he goaded, his thumb moving to play with your swollen button.

It doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar tightening in your core, and Marshall must be the World’s Greatest Detective™ because he is pulling out his fingers and thrusting his cock inside your wet heat. Fucking you through your orgasm, your tight walls fluttering around him causing him to groan loudly.

“That’s one, let’s see if we can’t get you another, yeah?” he teases, melding your chests together as he wraps his arms around your center. From this angle, he can stimulate your clit while stroking deeply. And he does so at a punishing pace, his teeth nipping and kissing your neck. “Fuck, we shoulda done this years ago, girl. This pussy is fucking made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mewl, that time was completely on purpose.

Marshall leans up, leaving one arm around you while the other hand goes to your hair, baring your neck. “Who’s pussy is this, girl?” he challenges, even though he already knows.

“It’s yours, Daddy,” you whine, legs wrapping around his hips.

“That’s fucking right, it’s mine,” he praised, hips pistoning into you, “And I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else. You’re mine, girl.”

His growled claim of you paired with the way he fucks into you has your legs trembling around him instantly, your second orgasm of the night flowing through you.

“Hmmm, that’s my girl, taking Daddy’s cock so well,” he groans, the sound vibrating through the both of you. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you moan, squeezing your thighs around Marshall, “I love your fucking cock.”

“That’s right you love this cock,” he growls, pulling out and manhandling you onto all fours, “Put Daddy’s cock back in, girl.”

You reach back and line him up, pushing back to impale yourself before moaning out at the angle change. Marshall grips your hips, plowing into you, no doubt chasing his own release now.

“Fucking cum inside me, Daddy,” you whimper, loving the sounds coming from your sodden cunt as it is pounded.

“I’m gonna breed this perfect pussy,” he grunts, hips stuttering until he pushes in as deep as can, cock twitching and painting your insides so full that it starts to leak past your entrance. He pulls out slightly before starting to fuck his cum back inside you. The sensation alone has your pussy quivering around him for the third time before you fall forward on your front.

Marshall laughs as he gets up from the bed, going to the en suite bathroom. You can hear him taking a piss and you know that you should as well to combat any chance of a UTI. But your legs aren’t listening yet so fuck that idea. 

Your eyes are already closed when you feel a wet warmth between your legs as Marshall is wiping down your swollen sex gently before you snuggle into the comforter being wrapped around you. A kiss is placed on your temple and soon you hear the rustling of clothes being put back on.

The sound of your motel room door opening and closing barely registers as you fall asleep.

It is sometime later in the evening and you check your phone on the nightstand as it reads 12:12 AM. No need to make a wish. 

You take a quick shower and get dressed before heading over to the surveillance room. You are stopped outside of the room by a uniformed officer. “Detective Marshall asked me to keep you out. And he wanted me to give you this. That’s all I know, Ma’am.” The officer hands over a note and you step away and read it.

Hey,

I was serious about you getting some sleep. 

Get that ass back to bed.

Daddy will see you soon, girl.

Sweet dreams xx

A/N: So, like I don’t know how I feel about how I wrote Walter here. This is not MY Walter, but I quite enjoyed this version of him.

**Tag List**

@astheskycries 

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz! 😁

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fic #night hunter #night hunter fanfic #night hunter fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #ellethespaceunicorn request fill #ellethespaceunicorn prompt fill

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

COOKIE JAR!

when a new bakery opens up in your small town, both its indescribable pastries and michael kaiser, the ridiculously attractive patissier, become the talk of the town. you love chowing down on a little treat yourself, worn out from your responsibilities, although that comes at the cost of bravely fending off a certain lovestruck pastry chef...

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): patissier au

Life was all about balance. This was a lesson you learned very quickly once you entered the working world, the world of functional adults, the world of corporatism and responsibilities. You never had any real qualms with your job: it paid well, your work was never too much, and your coworkers were all pleasant.

But even then, it still meant that every night you clocked out of your office to go home, fatigue clung to your body in the same incessant way the bitter aftertaste of coffee clung to your mouth in the morning.

Life was truly about the silver lining. The details. The finer things in life. It was the reason why you focused so much on treating yourself for even the smallest things. In the great scheme of the universe and the inevitable march of time, the only thing that truly ever mattered was the joy you could wring out from your drab life.

And that was where Patisserie Munchen stepped into your life.

The newly built bakery had become the talk of the town overnight. You avoided the opening days for a while, knowing that the curious customers would overrun the bakery. You settled for your usual coffeeshop and treats, letting the initial huzzah of the shiny new patisserie wear off before you even stepped foot into it. 

But you still heard a lot about it. Your coworker gushed about how utterly delicious the pastries were, made with a skillfully trained hand that the knock offs at Starbucks simply couldn’t compare to! Even on your lunch breaks, you couldn’t help but peep the flyers boasting the pretty German bakery: a foreign delicacy that was unlike anything in your quaint middle-of-nowhere neighborhood.

What you overheard the most was not about the patisserie’s baked goods nor even the exoticness of it (or at the very least, the most exotic a goddamn German bakery could get), but it was about the owner and the man behind it all. 

The patissier himself. 

“Oh, he’s such a beaut!” Your coworker’s mother had bashfully admitted when you dropped by for dinner one day. “All the women in town are gushing about him! He’s so tall and handsome, with the most gorgeous German accent you’ve ever heard. He’s from Germany, you know. It wouldn’t hurt if a young thing like you were to catch his eye. I don’t think he’s that far off in age from you.”

Geh. You bit back a wave of disgust at the memory. That had been months ago, and your feet now instinctually led you in the direction of Patisserie Munchen the very instant you were done with your work for the day. The night sky hung heavy above you, and when you approached the small building, it was empty and illuminated like a lonely lighthouse in the distance.

And like you did every night, you braced yourself as you opened the door.

“Daaaaaaaaaarling!” A familiar voice broke your peace the moment you stepped into the patisserie. Red hot annoyance shot through your body. If only you weren’t so hooked on the delicious bread here, you would have abandoned this patisserie a long time ago.

“Don’t call me that,” you brusquely grunted. “People are going to think we’re dating.”

“Well, if that’s an issue, we can always start dating. That way it won’t bother you anymore, ja?”

You picked up a tray and a pair of tongs, deadpanning at the beautiful man. The only thing on your mind right now was stuffing some pastries in your face and filling up your very empty stomach before going home to unwind after a long work day. “Maybe in another life, Kaiser.”

Most of the bread boxes were empty at this point, which was customary practice. For a patisserie this high in demand, it was only natural that everything were to sell out before the end of the day. The only things that were left behind were some few straggling pieces of bread and the example cakes stacked high in the display shelves.

Which, also notably, besides a handful of birthday cakes and whatnot, were all stuffed to the brim with exquisitely decorated wedding cakes.

(You asked Ness, Kaiser’s assistant, about the cakes once. 

“You guys sure make a lot of wedding cakes,” you laughed weakly, eyeing the three-tiered cake in the display window. As much as you hated to admit it, it was beautiful. Captivating to the eye and alluring to the imagination, it was evident that a skilled hand had poured a lot of time and love into hand-frosting every laborious detail on the cake. “Is there a lot of weddings happening or something?”

Ness paused, and he thought for a second. “Not particularly. This place is a small town, so if there was a wedding taking place, I’m sure you would know.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Huh. Then is this just for show?”

“In a way.” Ness boasted endlessly about the rigorous schooling Kaiser had gone through. He had graduated as a prodigy from one of the most prestigious baking schools in Germany, and finessed work like this was his specialty. Ness droned on and on about how Kaiser was nothing like those amateur pastry chefs who could only churn out average cakes and that his boss was truly like an emperor in the kitchen, commanding ingredients to become his subjects and crafting them into the stronghold that he envisioned.

You stood there listening to him go on and on, not necessarily having the heart to cut him off. “T-That’s fantastic, Ness!”

“As for the wedding cakes…,” the young man had hummed. He grinned at you sweetly. “Consider it a kind of subliminal messaging of sorts?”

And that was when you knew you needed Kaiser dead expeditiously.)

“Here, darling.” Kaiser gestured for you to come closer to the counter. You eyed him suspiciously until he reached down and brought forth an already prepared tray, stuffed to the heavens with all sorts of different breads and pastries. 

Some were filled with jam and cream, others decorated with generous helpings of cheese and veggies… Just looking at them made your mouth water. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, and Kaiser grinned proudly when he noticed you making a beeline for them.

“I set some aside just for my favorite patron,” he sang, watching you pick out the ones you wanted. “I wasn’t sure which ones you’d want, so I saved a little bit of everything for you. Aren’t I so sweet and kind and perfect husband material?”

You stopped for a moment to glare at him. 

You hated how right the gossip was. You couldn’t deny the fact that Kaiser had a horrible personality: conceited, arrogant, downright rude at times. But he was gorgeous, breathtaking just like his handmade cakes. With hair the same color as silken-spun gold and eyes as blue and refreshing as a sunny day sky, Kaiser was truly like a breath of fresh air in the drab monotone of the corporate life that had a chokehold on you. Even the way he was dressed, with a small apron tied around his waist and a white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top of his chest, was nothing like the colorless business casual that dragged on your eyes daily.

You refused to give into his antics. “How much do I owe you for the bread?”

He winked seductively. “I could give it to you for free in exchange for a kiss.”

This bastard…! You gritted your teeth as heat unconsciously flooded your face, and you pouted as you did your best to keep your cool. You dug around in your pocket to bring out your wallet, and you wiggled in exaggeratedly in his face.

“I’m paying with this. With money,” you stressed. Kaiser shrugged, refusing to let go of the playfulness in his expression. He rang you up, lovingly placing all the bread inside a pretty little bag, complete with a blue ribbon and a small blue rose sticker that complemented the tattoo tracing up his arm and neck.

“For someone who claims to hate me so much, you still visit me everyday,” he added on, handing the bag to you. Your stomach turned at the sickly sweet tinge in his voice, and he leaned over the counter again, posing himself perfectly so that you could catch a generous glimpse of his toned chest and muscled arms. He had bragged to you once about how it was all natural muscle made from years and years of kneading dough. “It almost makes you look like you’re in love with me.”

You almost dropped the bag.

What audacity! What depravity! What indolence!

“Of all the things, you could accuse me for,” you took a deep breath and shook your head, “Falling in love with you is definitely not one of them. As if anyone could fall for someone as annoying as you!”

He shrugged cheekily, his golden hair tumbling over his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’d say I’m pretty popular around these bits. You’ve seen my admirers. I’d say you’re a pretty lucky one, to have a man as in-demand as me chasing after you. C’mon, darling…”

He batted his eyes up at you. Again, your body crawled with a sick mixture of both disgust and desire at the sight. You hated him, and you hated how attractive he was. You hated his stupidly lowered sexy eyes, and you hated the apple-like flush of his milky skin. You hated the cherry-pink color of his lips, and you hated the way his body made your heart jump up to your throat whenever he moved the slightest bit.

No. No—you had to keep your calm! You couldn’t give in, couldn’t let him win so easily. You were a rational person, and it was this level-headedness of yours that had gotten you this far in your adult life. 

“If your bread wasn’t so goddamn delicious,” you muttered, swallowing thickly, “I would have found another bakery to go to. I’ll admit that you’re this skilled. More than anywhere else by a long shot. But don’t delude yourself! If it weren’t for your bread, I would never come here!”

Kaiser hummed at your declaration, and he pinched a lock of his hair in between his fingers, absentmindedly twirling it around his knuckles. You watched with your heart bundling up into a quivering stack of nerves as a coy smile bloomed across his lips, and he laughed at you with a voice so sweet that you could only describe it as angelic.

“Well, darling, if it’s my bread you like so much…,” he chuckled, shaking his head at you as if he was chastising a young child rather than making coherent conversation with a fully grown adult customer. “We really should get married!”

“HUH????????”

“It’s not that difficult to follow, don’t you think?” He gleefully explained. “If we get married, I’ll bake bread for you every day! I’ll feed you a delicious breakfast and package up a pretty lunch for you to take to your cute day job, and when you come home, I’ll welcome you in my arms with a feast fit for a beautiful monarch! That way you get to eat my bread to your heart’s content, and I can quit coveting you and take you up as my beloved darling that I’ll dote over for the rest of my life!”

You gawked at him. “You’re- You’re insane…!”

“All great things come from a bout of madness, sweet love,” he giggled. “Mull it over while you go home, okay? You’re going to come back to buy more bread tomorrow, aren’t you? Oh, don’t make that face—I know you will. I’ll ask you every day until you say yes! And then we can be the happiest couple ever!”

You turned on your heel, unable to stop your heart from pounding wildly against your chest or your face from flushing and heating up uncontrollably at Kaiser’s shameless courtship. “G-Goodnight, Kaiser…! I’m going home!”

He wiggled his fingers at you in a mocking goodbye, smiling all-too-knowingly to himself. “Goodnight, my future love! I’ll bake lots more delicious bread for you tomorrow as well~”

x

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #dont ask me what happened here. i wish i knew too.

[ivymarquis]

Under My Skin

Pairing| Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!Reader Rating| M Content/Warnings| Angst, smut, miscommunication trope, two idiots in love

My contribution to @glitterypirateduck’s Gazfest! Squeaking in at the last second as per usual because nothing motivates me like a deadline

One Shot + “You’re not going out in that”

The setting would be romantic in another situation.

Rain is not at all an uncommon sight, especially at this time of year. All day the weather’s been dreary and drizzling.

Here, now that the sun dips below the horizon as the rain picks up- the dull lighting is cozy and you’ve gone and done the exact same thing you always do.

You’ll never figure it out, will you?

That would require learning from your mistakes, though, and Kyle Garrick is one habit you can’t bring yourself to break.

But when you’re on your back underneath him, knees drawn up as your ankles lock behind his waist-

You can trick yourself into thinking this is more than what it is.

What had started as a one night stand has become a situationship of sorts. He doesn’t tell you the dirty details of his job but his phone can go off at any point and that’s the end of the time you had with him.

His absence gnaws at you far more than you’ll ever care to admit- that would break the rules. Even with him buried as far in you as he can be, the anxiety of knowing this won’t last interferes with your ability to enjoy the present.

Everything you want is tangible and in your hands. You want him, and for tonight- for right now- you have him.

He holds you like he’s missed you over the past weeks.

You both said you wanted to keep this simple with no strings attached. That was before when you hadn’t known him as a person. Before, bit by bit, you learn his quirks and idiosyncrasies.

Simple has, at some point and without warning, packed her bags and runs clear out the door- never to be seen or heard from again. There are most assuredly strings where there should not be.

Fortune favors the bold but you are a coward. Too afraid to ask for what you want- what you delude yourself into thinking you can take in another life.

So you try.

Try to ignore the voice in the back of your head. Try to ignore that little incessant something eating away at you.

Try to enjoy the time you have with him, because you’ll never know if the last time is the last time.

It would be easier, you think, if he was like any number of your prior partners. Greedy. Self centered.

Kyle is giving and kind and attentive.

He reads your body language and verbal cues as easily as a book- knocks the air out of your lung with each stroke once he’s hit his stride. You’re helpless to do much more than cling to him, nails marking up his back in pleasure. If anything the scratches seem to spur him on.

“Kyle please- oh fuck-” your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure as he gets you almost to the precipice.

The rain builds outside much like you do.

“You getting close, doll?” It’s a rhetorical question, surely. Kyle knows your tells at this point, the way your body clutches and clings to his, the way you have to force your breathing to be steady.

“Yes!” Your answer is a wail that, were you in your right mind, would be embarrassing. As it is, your only focus is on the growing knot in your gut, the fire stoked with each wet thrust of his hips against the back of your thighs.

“Come on then, pretty girl,” he goads, one hand slipping between your bodies as the other supports both of your weight. “Cum for me, be a good girl,”

You would do anything for him. If you had a shred of shame or dignity left it would be embarrassing. As it is, he’s got you wound so tight it takes virtually nothing- just a few firm, steady circles of his thumb around your clit- to get you seeing white and clutching to him with a whine.

Your thighs are shaking as he works you through your orgasm, lips locked with yours as his thrusts sharpen for a few cants before stilling entirely as he fills the condom he barely remembered to put on earlier.

He’s always slow to work the pair of you down. You relish in the attention, how his warm hands span the length of your back, roaming down to squeeze the flesh of your hip or cup your bottom before trailing his fingertips back up and leaving you a trembling mess.

It’s later, once the pair of you have cleaned up that you start gathering your things. The rain still pelts down outside- you’ll need to be careful, but you’re certain you can make it home in one piece.

Neither of you stay the night at the others. You have your fun, pray he doesn’t get a phone call in the middle of things, get your clothes, and leave.

“Where are you going?”

You pause, finishing righting yourself after bending over to grab your bra.

“Home?” It shouldn’t be a question. You are going home. You’ve always gone home.

He shakes his head.

“You’re not going out in that.” Decision made, case closed, conversation over. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. That you routinely wait out bad weather with him.

“Here, I’ve got a shirt you can borrow somewhere,”

You stare at him like a deer in headlights. Not that the thought of him being kind to you is such an unimaginable concept.

But there are boundaries- rules of engagement- that the pair of you agreed to at the beginning of this all these months ago. To keep things unmuddled and uncomplicated.

It’s a simple interaction, the way you follow him to his closet. You could easily insist on wearing your clothes- there’s nothing wrong with them.

But there’s a gesture in the way he hands you a shirt that’s several sizes too big for you.

Maybe Kyle wants more too.

#kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #cod x reader #gazfest #my writing #kyle definitely was not watching the weather app and planning in advance for this #he'd never do such a thing