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bambi-slxt · 3 days

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🤍𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ~ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐨𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

previously titled Talk Dirty

word count: 1.7k

genres/tropes: romance, dealer!chris, sturniolo au, slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers

teaser: here

summary: Christopher Sturniolo has built an unshakeable empire in Los Angeles, California. He manages "business transactions" and "cargo export and intake" along with his two brothers, Matthew and Nicolas. One night the three gentlemen attend a high-end nightclub in the more affluent district and are met with a nervous bottle-girl working her first shift. Christopher strikes up conversation in the way only confident men can until an accident causes her to spill a drink on him. In a panic, she drags him to the bathroom to clean him up, and, quite amused, he lets her. Thus, their strange friendship begins.

warnings: drug usage, alcohol consumption, guns mentioned and used (non-sexual context), smut, mature themes and topics

notes from bambi: this is a multi-part series, and updates will be sporadic. lmk if you're interested in this one <3

The year I almost died held more excitement, danger, and tenacity than any one person deserves to encounter. Definitely more than I knew to prepare myself for…I wonder sometimes, as I look back on the events of these last few months, if the choice to go back and change anything is one I would make.

But then, if I did, I would never have met Christopher Sturniolo, and I can confidently say he is worth every moment I spent at gunpoint.

My life as a bottle girl seems so far away now, though at the time, I couldn’t imagine anything more glamorous. Every darkened hour of my shift filled with music and soft neon, running trays of drinks beneath beautiful people on shining poles, weaving past tables covered with swaths of chips and cards and surrounded by only the most elite clientele Orange County, California so graciously offered.

It stands to mention that at the time I felt I had no talent, no prospects, and no education, and therefore would only get so far in life. Until Christopher, I sold myself short in every aspect of my life.

The hour of 2 a.m. always buzzed–the air itself breathed to the rhythm of some unknown heartbeat, all exemplified by the lively hum of the building of vices I called “work”. At 2:07 a.m. three gentlemen in dark suits accompanied by a small entourage were ushered into Private Room 9 and as I only just clocked in, I took them onto my books for the evening.

Pressing my hand on the opaque glass, I pushed the thin, floor-to-ceiling door inward and braced myself for whatever I might encounter. Working in the pleasure business left no room for shock or awe, and though I knew better than to comment on anything I may see, my face hadn’t quite picked up that particular skill.

The entourage caught my attention first. A dark-haired and strikingly beautiful young woman sat primly on a cushion near the darkest corner of the room, running her elegant fingernail along the edge of her empty glass. To one side of her sat a scantily-clad, gorgeously built man with a side shave, his curls tamed into a neat row down the back of his neck, and to the other side, one of the men in suits. I realized then that every man in a three-piece that sat before me also wore the same facial structure–I was looking at identical triplets.

“You look so pretty!” the man with the side shave said to me, reaching over to lay an arm behind the girl.

“Thank you, sir, I try,” I responded, hoping to keep the conversation light and fast to disguise my glaring inexperience. I was rewarded with a simple chuckle–nice job. “How can I serve you tonight?”

One of the triplets spoke up. His voice had a gravelly quality that I made sure to note internally. “Pinot noir for the room, please.” He carried on with his individual order as I kept meticulous, if not shaky, written record in my notepad.

“For you sir?” I directed this to another suited man, this one sporting a deep red tone to his hair.

“Champagne, thank you.”

“Are we celebrating?”

The last triplet, who had up to this point remained silent, cracked a smile in the soft lighting. “You could say that.”

“And you, sir?”

He lounged in the plush couch beneath him as if completely at ease, which rendered me baffled–though perhaps this scene didn’t phase him as it did me. The first shift at a new job has a funny way of making you forget everything you’ve ever known.

“What do you recommend?” This one’s voice flowed like honey, smooth, slow, warm.

I paused, thoughts trampling over themselves in an effort to tumble most ungraciously from my tongue. “...That depends, sir. What taste are you looking for?”

He waved his hand. “Christopher. Call me Christopher. You’re an employee, not a servant.”

The room chuckled along with him and returned to their own conversations.

“Alright…Christopher,” I said, tasting the name for a moment before releasing it. “We have an excellent collection of reds, if you’d like a variety…Though I have to suggest the Oak Knoll Merlot, she has a bit of a plum taste without being too sweet,” I suggested. I clenched my fists slowly in the hope none of them would notice they’d previously been shaking–I really hoped I’d just told him the right shit, because if not, this night was about to go downhill very quickly.

Christopher nodded. “That one, then. Thank you.”

I dipped my head and turned to leave.

“Miss,” his voice hummed, “What was your name?”

I looked back at Christopher and his loosened black tie, laid in such sharp contrast to his white button-down. “Cassandra.”

He smiled again. “Pleasure, Miss Cassie.”

I ducked out of the room as blush bloomed across my cheeks.

My heart thundered down to the main floor and all the way to the bar. With trembling hands I poured the wine, and unsure wrists did their best to support the tray of drinks. Weaving back through the crowd, I managed to keep from any mishaps, but only barely. One misstep and hundreds of dollars would splash all over patrons, staff, and the freshly cleaned floor–and off of my already-measly check. Finally off the social level, I ascended the underlit staircase and made my way toward the private rooms. The music pounded through the walls, our DJ losing himself in the height of his set, and the floor seemed to breathe in time with the sultry bass. Room 1, 3…5, there’s 7, 9, here we go…

I leaned against the door with my hip and entered the room once more. A faint, sweet smell touched my nose, and it twitched of its own accord.

“She’s back,” said Side Shave. “Hey, girl.”

“Hi,” I offered weakly, trying my hardest to focus on the drinks in hand. “Champagne…for you,” I said as I placed the tall flute in front of what I hoped was the right triplet. He smiled, revealing a small gap in his teeth. Dark red hair, gapped teeth…that’s one of them. Now how to tell the other two apart?

“For you…” I murmured to the one with the gravelly voice, and he nodded his thanks. “The Pinoit for the room,” as I placed it on the low center table, “And the merlot for you, Mr. Christopher.”

At that moment, the glass door shattered into a thousand pieces, and I yelped, jumping in shock as the wine went flying all over Christopher.

Christopher's POV:

A man fell unconscious on the floor as bits of glass tinkled down around him. The culprit responsible for the door, I assumed. Looking around, I took note of the lack of injury, at least injury of the physical. Poor Cassandra stood frozen in shock, hands trembling, face drawn, taught with fear. “Matthew. Nicolas,” I said, “Please call security and have this man removed.” My brothers nodded and, after carefully stepping over the slovenly, drunken man on the floor, disappeared down the hall. “Ms. Thompson, take our lovely server to the bathroom please-” Tara stood to lead her out, but Cassandra suddenly leapt into action.

“Your shirt, I am so sorry sir, let’s get you cleaned up, I–oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry, I–” As she rambled, Cassandra took a firm and unyielding hold on my wrist, dragged me up from the couch, and before I could say a word, she tugged me around Tara and Larray, out through the door frame, past the arriving security guards, and down the darkened hallway. I blinked rapidly for a moment as my body ceased to become my own, held captive by the strange woman who led me toward…the bathroom?

Sure enough, she ducked into the Women’s room, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit in apprehension. “What exactly are we doing in the restroom?”

Her breathing had become labored as she gulped oxygen around her stuttered apologies. “Your shirt, sir, it’s going to stain, we’ve got to–here I’ll just…”

My jaw went ever so slightly slack at the sight before me. Cassandra, who only moments before had been a simple picture of nightclub elegance, now furiously loosened my soaking tie, unbuttoned my dripping shirt, slipped them off my body, and threw them into the sink, running the water as cold as she could manage, scrubbing away at the red-stained fabric. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to–You have to know that was an accident, oh god, I’m so sorry, so sorry–”

In her manic cleansing, she failed to notice my hand until it rested on her shoulder, at which point she jumped, and my lip twitched. “My apologies. I don’t think you’re of any use to anyone if you deprive your body of air and keel over dead on the tile.”

She stood stock still, panting from the exertion of the past few minutes, her eyes locked onto mine.

“I know this wasn’t your fault. It wounds me that you think I’d be so unfair,” I said with what I hoped was a comforting smile. “After all we’ve been through together, you really think I’d take something so accidental and make it so personal?” I prayed she understood the sarcasm.

Cassandra cracked a smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared, though I would have none of it. “I saw that smile. There’s no going back now, I’m afraid.”

She looked to the floor and took a moment to breathe, or so I assumed. When she turned her gaze to me again, I saw a pooling of tears at the base of her eyes.

Change the subject, you idiot. “Where did you learn the cold water trick for wine stains?” I asked, hoping to give her time to recover.

Cassandra went back to scrubbing relentlessly at my now-sopping wet shirt. “I know that cold water is best for blood stains, so I assumed it would work for wine as well,” she said quietly, the soft hiss of the water almost beating her out for volume. I snorted. “Do you deal often with blood-stained clothing?” Her gaze snapped to mine, and, realizing my mistake, Of course she does, you dolt, she’s a woman, I tried to recover myself. “Or do you take every man to the bathroom and strip him naked?” And now you’ve accused her of prostitution. Zero for three, Christopher.

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kafkaguy · 7 hours

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why did head (1968) flop so badly, you may ask?

the short answer is: terrible promotion. why the promotion was so terrible is another question entirely. there are two schools of thought: 1) bob rafelson and jack nicholson were being deliberately avant garde and obtuse (maybe to attract a certain psychedelic audience) or 2) deliberate malicious intent from columbia pictures to get rid of the monkees (by November 1968, when the movie premiered, the monkees TV show had been cancelled for 2 months).

(LA Times, 2008)

what exactly was the ad campaign? Well, it was originally supposed to be Bob Rafelson's head displayed for a few seconds smiling at the camera--according to Wikipedia this was a spoof on Andy Warhol's short film Blowjob (1964). but in the end it was John Brockman, even more unknown, and he was just the guy who was supposed to be filming the clip.

from Andrew Sandoval's The Monkees Day-by-day Story (page 210). explains more about why they did this. Micky also says he thinks it was a way to get back at the monkees for striking on the first day of filming when they found out they would get no creative credit for the film and had been "getting ripped off pretty badly" basically for years.

another factor was the critics reviews. obviously Head is not your average film, and loads of reviews looked down on it as psychedelic garbled trash. they didn't get it. there were positive reviews of course, but most people just didnt get it (and you cant really blame them - its at its most enjoyable when you are a) a bit of a freak, b) a total anti-capitalist, or c) substantially aware of the horrors the monkees were going through at this point. no film critic at the time ticked all 3 of these boxes). i think at this point bob rafelson panicked, because he wanted the film to do well, he just wanted it to do well independent of the monkees (hubris). there's a funny story about the night before the movie premiered in new york, he and jack nicholson got arrested for putting up stickers promoting head, after jack tried to put one on a police officer's helmet. and it makes me wonder why he then didn't fight harder for the film to do well.

it's funny (re: sad) how so many things came together to bring about the doom of the film: bob rafelson and jack nicholson's own cockiness about how well the film would do, their complete disregard of the what the monkees themselves wanted, the studio being tired of the monkees/already having cancelled the show, the whole phenomenon dying out a little since record sales had gone down (the last album they put out was in february 1968 - by this point it was november, and the Head album wouldn't be released until December)...

another peter quote because I trust him the most (again from the day-by-day story, page 210)

Mike over the years has said different things, at one point calling Head an assisted suicide (pertaining to his own desires to kill the monkees phenomenon and be seen as a serious musician), at other points calling it a murder (which i think is how peter continued to see it throughout most of his life, while simultaneously recognising its artistic and cinematic merit, and also saying the soundtrack was the record he was proudest of besides headquarters 1967). but here's something Mike said in the Head commentary (some time in the early 2000s) which i find simultaneously funny and devestating:

so yeah. the main conclusion is that nothing was in Head's favour for it to do well. there were conflicting visions, conflicting motivations, a total lack of interest from Columbia pictures, and no one was on the Monkees' side, not even really the monkees themselves. the world just wasn't ready for the crazy anti-monkees monkee movie. their swag was too different. everybody wanted to kill them. but they didnt have to cos they killed themselves it happens right at the start of the movie and again at the end. WATCH HEAD.

#hopefully this makes sense. i love to talk about head #the monkees #head 1968 #op

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theduchessofnaxos · 1 year

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Suddenly had the realization that my ideal relationship dynamic is Han Solo running back into the rebel base on Hoth to check on Princess Leia (me) and make her leave because he knows she'll stay and die in the battle unless someone drags her out.

... Does "wanting a handsome rogue to drag me out of a battle" damage my feminist credentials if I identify as a man also?

But the REALLY concerning part is that I've been using *FrUK* as my go-to "project onto them about my ideal relationship" (according to my therapist) and Han and Leia end up breaking up despite still being in love. Which is a super FrUK thing.

Idk what that says about me but I don't like it 😂

#for the record i am whiskey drunk and packing up my first big boy apartment to move back in with my dad #because he has lung cancer and i am *frightened*#and then in a few months I'm going to go to his undergrad school to do my grad degree #so i am ALL KINDS of emotionally fucked up right now #so if you're worried about the horrendous things this post says about my psyche: get in line 😂#also its super OOC FrUK #it's basically an entirely different relationship/personalities just with the same physical characteristics #i promise i am not trying to get into a dysfunctional relationship like that.#Han and Leia on the other hand...#is a man who's willing to give me up if I'm in love with someone else the WORST a man could do?#also while I'm drunk and ranting: Empire Strikes Back is one of the best movies ever and I WILL KILL ON THAT HILL.#once saw someone say #I won't die on this hill because none of you have the strength to kill me on it #and that is me and Empire to a T.#it is a perfect movie and no one will persuade me otherwise.#(I stg I'm not one of THOSE Star Wars fans. I think all Star Wars is great. Idgaf if Rey is a Mary Sue (she isn't)#or if Phantom Menace sucks (it doesn't)#I just like the Jedi fighting the Sith man #it's a fun series with compelling characters and i will never understand the fanboys who bitch about it.)

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inkskinned · 28 days

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you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

#warm up #spilled ink #writeblr

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buckets-and-trees · 4 months

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What You Want

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x curvy reader #babb2023 #vee's holly jolly challenge #aspen wrote somethinig

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jakedoxxenvasion · 11 days

Text

dr.lee

fellow doctor heeseung! × resident doctor y/n!

warning: MDNI!, unprotective sex (whops) kissing and more?

not in a million years you would think you will do something like this, with someone that you adore so much.. someone that you look up to as a senior to you, someone that you met everyday and formally call him by his surname instead of..

"h-heeseung!"your sinful lips moaning for his name, "sshhh, you want them to hear you?"immediately you bite your bottom lips once getting that warn from him, he peck your lips and smile. "didn't expect you to be so obedient to me, love. such a good girl."you humming to everything he said to you, trying to not moan out his name.

you know what you did is wrong because you're just a doctor resident and he's your senior doctor, it's totally wrong but you couldn't stop him. not that you can't but you don't want to, having him pounding his cock so deep into you in the small store room in the middle of your night shift, the clock strike 3 in the morning as much as you remember when he call for you to help him earlier.

it's all start with you helping him with sorting out papers, and files of patients records and ending up finding yourself here in this room with him doing things that you could ever imagine in your right mind. "just a little more, does it hurt you, hm?"you shake your head, no he doesn't hurt you but the pleasure is too much.

heeseung smile when he kiss your lips, hips still rutting into you. he could feel your wall hugging him tight at each thrust he make, sending him over the cloud but he know that he cannot be loud. "s-shit, you're so fucking tight, love."he let out a low groan, watching how you try to control your own voices and somehow he like the way you did.

liking the idea of doing this in secret, liking the idea that there's an outside world that you try so hard it keep it out, not wanting people to find out about what the two of you did in this room. "fuck- heeseung i'm close ah-"he shut you up with his lips, kissing you so deep, cock still pounding in and out of you.

your fingers tangle with his hair, he push you against the wall, "cum for me, love."he whisper those once he pull away from the kiss, like a cue you could feel the feeling at the pit of your stomach rushing down. heeseung smile, letting you rode out all your orgasm with you weakly leaning on his shoulder, doesn't have much energy left in you.

he thrust into you once.. twice then he pull out from you, only to shot his loads on your stomach. "oh fuck."you watch those thick white liquid spurting out from his cock, messily on your skin. somehow, heeseung has those proud smile after everything that he had done with you. you look at him and he smirk, he peck your lips before he slowly put you down to make you stand on the ground.

"so fucking perfect, love."he caressed your cheek softly then continue to kiss your lips again. when he pull away, he stare into your eyes, "doctor.."your soft voice call for him, which make him chuckle. "that was not what you called me earlier, ms.y/n."your cheeks immediately turn red as his remarks, he continue to caressed your cheek as he stare into your eyes.

but then heeseung take a few step back, you watch him grab a box of tissue at the top shelf behind him and he rip it open before he help you clean up and get dress again. "so.. do i pretend like nothing happen earlier or-" "unless you want more, you can always come to my office, love."he interrupt your words then wink at you, blush immediately creep up your face.

you slowly nod your head, he pat your head then he open the door after grabbing a random file on the shelf. "later, make sure you keep everything in place again, okay? ms.y/n."he said, know it very well he did that on purpose, you follow him from behind after you fix your white coat. "sure, dr."

heeseung turn to look at you just to give you a wink before he walk away.

should i write a longer version of this? cause i kind of like the plot lol

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 4 months

Text

Worth Celebrating - LN

This was a request (asked to be anon), originally for an advent calendar Christmas countdown. but as it was requested on christmas or just after Christmas. I thought maybe make it a birthday countdown just so it could be a year round thing and requester loved it so we're running with that!

It's gonna be a 10 day countdown just because I don't want it to be too long and I am going to be writing a bit for each day of the countdown. Also I'm taking Lando's kind of richness into account, some of these are what I could class as "big" gifts but not all that expensive so I feel like Lando would really buy her just average gifts for the advent and then get her something super expensive and thoughtful for her actual gift.

This might annoy a few people too, but I'm not including the birthday itself. I kind of want to leave that to you guys to decide what perfect gift he would get someone for their birthday as the big gift.

Also guess who is writing this on New Year's Eve after finishing an 8 hour shift at work during she got verbally abused by her manager? Spoiler, it's me. New Years resolution is definitely to get a new job.

Y/n doesn't necessarily hate her birthday. She just doesn't think it's a big deal and now she's an adult, she doesn't think ageing is really something worth celebrating that much.

Lando however? This man would do something to celebrate his girlfriend every day of the year if she'd let him.

Since she won't let him do that, he catches every opportunity he can to fuss over her and let he know just how much he loves her.

Day 1

Lando knew he couldn’t tell y/n ahead of time. He had to strike and catch her off guard. Just to make sure she wasn’t suspecting anything.

"Baby!" Lando exclaims after having spent 15 minutes setting up how he wants each of the gifts to look and what order he wants the numbers to go in. "You can come in now."

Y/n appears looking at him very confused. She has definitely not been thinking about her birthday, because she really doesn't think about it much.

"What the hell is all this?" Y/n questions with a frown of confusion looking at the gifts. "My birthday isn't till like two weeks away?"

"10 days. And this is a 10 day countdown to your birthday. Like...like an advent calendar for your birthday." Lando states brightly while she seems to freeze looking at the pile of gifts. "Come on, baby. Open the first gift."

"This is...Lando...it's too much." Y/n murmurs softly while Lando looks at her for a moment almost falling to the urge of defeat.

"I want to celebrate you, baby. I want to make everything about you especially when it's your birthday." Lando smiles cupping her face. "Please just let yourself enjoy it. Even if it's just for me."

"You are...the best person in the world." Y/n laughs while tears begin to spring from her eyes and she shifts forward, wrapping her arms around him in a tightly hug. "You are the best boyfriend ever. I really don't deserve you."

"You deserve better than the best. That's why I'm doing this, to make you realise that." Lando smiles tucking her hair behind her ear before he pecks her lips quickly. "Do you want to open day one?"

"Yes. Is it ok for me to share it online?" Y/n pouts knowing some things Lando just prefers to keep between them. He nods knowing that she only wants to share it because it's a cute thing, and sometimes she thinks that people are too harsh about Lando when it comes to their judgement of him.

She sets up her phone and manages to hit record in time to capture Lando handing it to her.

"Thank you. Can I have a kiss too?" Y/n smiles making Lando grin and lean down kissing her quickly.

She does explain what's happening and how much she adores Lando for being so positive about something that she's really just so unbothered about.

Y/n tears into the surprisingly neatly wrapped gifts, and upon opening it she gasps in excited.

"No. No, you did not." Y/n beams then rolling her eyes. "You said it was a stupid gift."

"It is, but if it makes you happy then I'll buy it for you." Lando smiles making her grin before she remembers she was meant to be showing the camera.

"Alright, so Lando is the cutest man on the planet. I wanted a Jellycat. Lando thinks that getting one would mess up his space which is barren." Y/n states always taking the opportunity to point out Lando's very empty and minimal style of living. "But he got me the happy little egg. Aww...you softie. I love it. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Lando hums while she beams at him. "Just wait till you see tomorrow." Then he nudges his head into frame, appearing upside down from the angle. "But you gotta wait."

"I'm waiting." Y/n murmurs making him laugh before he moves to her and kisses her softly. "You're the cutest person ever. I don't know how you can say you deserve me. I was terrible for your birthday."

"You arranged a surprise birthday in Vegas. That was one of my best birthdays." Lando smiles then grinning. "Lunch?"

"Yeah, lunch."

Day 2

Lando decided that his approach of giving her the gifts couldn't be the same but since she wants to share the gifts with the world, who have already become obsessed with keeping up with tweets about it being very popular in their feeds by the end of the day yesterday.

"Y/n, baby....wake up, you've got a gift to open." Lando whispers lying half on top of her and kissing her shoulder a couple times while she is lifted slightly from the depth of her sleep. "Do you want to wake up and open it?"

"Ok." Y/n nods slowly sitting up and smiling as Lando shifts to place the gift. "But everyone-"

"I've got my phone recording." He assures her pointing at his phone which is on the bedside table.

"Oh. Hi." Y/n smiles then rubbing her eyes a little and yawning as Lando has her the bed.

Lando watches with focused eyes as she tears through the wrapping then rolling her eyes at today's gift since this was a joke of a gift Lando talked about getting her a good few months ago now. But she's willing to bet he bought it or noted it down to remember for her birthday.

"You got me a toy MCL60." Y/n pouts making Lando grin since y/n has spoken privately, publicly and loudly about her love of the car. Even when everyone else hated it, she seemed to have faith that it would prove itself. Thankfully she was right, even if Lando isn't the biggest fan of admitting she's right. "Wait-oh is it a keyring?"

"Yeah, I figured just having a toy car might not be too interesting for you. Although I'm not so sure about that now." Lando smiles while she tsks and shifts into his lap.

"I'm going to put it on my keys as soon as I remember where the hell I put them...They're probably in my bag, don't give me that look." Y/n tsks before she gasps. "I'm going to put the keyring on my bag. That way I'm not risking losing it when I lose my keys."

Day 3

Admittedly this was one of his lazier gift ideas, but he figured she'd love it regardless.

Y/n has a big sweet tooth which she tries to resist every day because obviously following those impulses wouldn't necessarily be the healthiest option.

She also misses a lot of chocolates that she can get on hand in England that are as quick to get in Monaco.

"I actually think I might steal some of this gift." Lando states as he hands it to her.

"Lando, this is huge." Y/n frowns in confusion as to what it might be that he would want to step it.

Ripping into it she gasps slapping her hand over her mouth before she rips into he cardboard like she's feral.

"You got me chocolate. Ahaha, I love it. I don't think anything is going to be better than this." Y/n grins just beaming over probably the most simple gift he got. "Cadbury caramel."

"It's your favourite and you always complain that we don't have it here." Lando smiles making her move to kiss him a few times. "Can I steal some?"

"Mmm...if Jon says yes." Y/n teases since she knows Lando is not given such a privilege that often. "I'm just kidding, I'll sneak you pieces when he's not looking...but he's almost definitely going to see this."

That's very true but realistically he can only scold Lando for his diet, not actually stop him from deviating from it.

"Oooohhhh you know in the winter break. We need to make slutty brownies just to really make Jon's heart jump." Y/n grins, always loving to help Lando be a nightmare by any means necessary.

"I think he'll allow it." Lando hums then kissing her nose before she smiles, kissing him several times as if to out do him in who can give more affection. "Alright, stop the video before this turns into something you can't share."

"Behave."

"I think that's more you who needs to behave." Lando chuckles then kissing her as he passes her phone to her. "Go on then, post the video. Let the world see day 3."

Day 4

With the next day consisting of Lando needing to fly over to Woking for a couple days at the McLaren tech centre. Of course, he wanted y/n to come with him so he brings her with him.

And that means that the gift gets opened on the private jet.

"I know what this is." Y/n states making Lando look at her with a frown since he put a lot of effort into making sure that these gifts were all wrapped before he even got them in the apartment and hidden before she knew he'd bought anything. "Jesus. Don't look so annoyed. I know what it is from the feel, not because I found it before you gave it to me."

"What is it?"

"...it's…is it a little coin purse?”

Now this is a running thing with y/n and Lando. She always has change rattling around in the murky depth of her bag and while Lando isn’t one to use cash often since most place take card and flashing cash in Monaco impressed few to none. But when y/n uses her coins in England, he has to endure her shaking her bag around till enough comes out for her to pay.

“I’m not telling you.” Lando shrugs though internally he’s cursing her for being so spot on. Even if he feels like he’s made it a bit more unique.

Y/n smiles as she opens the small gift but instead of a beaming grin, she pauses, as if she’s frozen before looking up at him with eyes already leaking tears.

“Baby?” The panic in Lando’s voice makes it break in a bit. “Are these good tears?”

“Did you make a purse from your race boots?” Y/n asks, her own voice wobbling, making him coo at her since the tone is definitely happy just very much overwhelmed and caught off guard by the gift. “I love it.”

“Good. Also don’t worry about it smell sweaty. They were scrubbed clean and the woman who made it promised that it’s never going to fall apart. Plus since it’s made from real race boots, it’s fireproof.” Lando grins earning a beaming smile.

“You are the best. Honestly any gifts after this…I don’t know how you can beat this.”

Y/n is so caught up in admiring her new purse that Lando ends up reaching to end the video before Y/n excited begins to video taking her change from her bag and putting it in the purse.

“I’ve just gained bragging rights for now owning this. It’s got the LN and the orange and blue and-ah baby, i love it so much. I LOVE it.” Y/n exclaims genuinely so beyond excited that trying to contain it would be impossible.

Day 5

Since y/n still doesn’t have the same excitement about her birthday as Lando is trying to instill into her via this birthday countdown. So when he spends the day working and she spends the day with some friends who she only really sees when they come back over.

She’s in London for the day and with him in Woking. They only exchange a few messages.

Then Lando goes to see Max after finishing up work.

“Oh the stream is asking what happened to the birthday countdown?” Max asks making Lando almost knock the seat back. “Hey, that’s my furniture you know.”

“Fuck, I think y/n is already home and asleep. I gotta go.”

“Mate, you must be mad. Y/n will kill you even if you’re giving her a gift. We woke her up once by accident and she didn’t talk to you for 3 days.” Max laughs since y/n isn’t necessarily a grumpy morning person but she is definitely does not appreciate her sleep being disturbed without good reason. “If you live to see morning, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

"Bye, mate." Lando nods giving Max a quick hug before he takes off, checking her has his keys and everything he needs as he makes a quick exit.

Rushing back to y/n, when he gets in the house is deadly silent. Showing she wasn't just ignoring her phone for some unknown reason, and when he finds her soundly asleep, hugging his pillow. As she always does when he's not there when she falls asleep...sometimes even when he is she chooses the pillow over him.

"Baby..." Lando whispers trying to make this wake up as peaceful as possible and nod end up with a vicious attack on his hands.

"No. No. Please don't do this to me." Y/n whines nuzzling down, with her tone actually making Lando wish he just kept his mouth closed. "Did someone die?"

"I might be about to."

Y/n peaks through her eyes which are puffy with sleep thanks to her having clearly bene in a very deep sleep.

"I'm sorry baby, we forgot your countdown gift."

"No...No...you didn't wake me up for that." Y/n nearly cries, her whole body shaking a little as she sort of hiccups. "No, Lando."

"Why don't you just watch and I'll open it for you?" Lando offers wanting to make sure it's opened.

"Ok." Y/n nods tiredly making him pick up the gift since he'd brought it in there trying to make a quick job of it. He also sets up the phone to record and tries to withhold a laugh since he knows his fans saw him on the live making a dive to get home.

Y/n watches him open the gift, smiling as she spots what it is.

"You got me a candle?" Y/n whispers making him nod before he holds it to her. "You got me a candle that smells of you? Self-obsessed much."

"Ok, grumpiness is definitely there. That was today's gift. Hopefully I won't be so stupid tomorrow for her gift giving."

"I like it." Y/n whines poking him with her foot while he smiles at her. "I love it, but can I please sleep?"

"Yes, you can." Lando nods, but not without leaning over and kissing her softly.

Y/n does sort of nuzzle down again and kissing her while Lando places the candle on the side and then climb into the bed with her. Completely happy to go to sleep alongside her.

Day 6

Y/n spend the next day burning the candle while Lando was out and since she wasn't really doing anything, it meant that he didn't have to make a panic dash home.

Though everyone online had completely fawned over his treatment of his tired and grumpy girlfriend who he woke up just so she didn't miss the day for the countdown.

"Alright, I'm back. Let's do this." Lando smiles making her grin as he enters already recording himself. "Go. Go. Go. Open day 6."

Y/n scrambles running to the gifts that they have with them since they didn't bring them all, returning to Monaco the day after tomorrow. Lando practically chases her before they both land on the ground and she pulls the gift into her lap. It's pretty big and very heavy, easy to tell there's something liquid in there.

"I really don't know what this could be. I'm not going to lie." Y/n states making Lando smirk while she groans. "It's heavy. What is it?"

"Open it and find out." Lando shrugs innocently and the grin on his face is just captured in frame as he watches her tear into a 12 pack of Monster.

"You did not just use your new sponsor as a gift." Y/n cackles, laughing pretty hard before she looks at it then pouts a little, though still very much laughing. "Oh, you got my favourite one."

"Yeah, I did. Look closer." Lando states making her frown before she looks at the cans and clicks her tongue, tsking at him while he grins proud and looks at the camera, winking at them. "What does it say?"

"It says happy birthday...even though it's another 4 days till my birthday."

"Yeah, but this is all a celebration of your birthday. The run up still counts." Lando argues making her raise and eyebrow while he grins at her. "I know it's not one of the best. But you do like kiwi-lime."

"-with a hint of cucumber. Come on, baby. If they're your sponsors then you gotta know the flavours."

"Mmm...I think I only need to know if I make my own flavour."

"Feel like McLaren would have to be like papaya flavour." Y/n smiles before a hand slaps over her mouth.

"Don't ruin it." Lando jokes then pushing into frame. "Day 6 documented."

Day 7

Y/n manages to beat Lando to the gift today since he's fussing over some stuff with Quadrant.

"Baby, the day 7 gift?" She smiles while sipping on one of her Monster cans from yesterday while he pauses and smiles since it doesn't matter what he's trying to do. He will happily put that all on hold for a moment to watch her open the gift.

Y/n opens the gift actually having no idea what this might be.

"I did get this one a little last minute. But you were running out and I figured this would be something nice to just buy you." Lando states looking almost nervous. "I don't know if I got the right one."

Oh that's where the nerves are coming from.

After opening the hair oil, she looks at it for a moment while he looks even more nervous.

"You got the right one. You knew you got the right one. You muppet, you looked terrified there." Y/n laughs shaking her head then pouting. "You help me oil my hair all the time and you know you got the right one."

"No, because some of them were sold out so I bought the only one left in a panic." Lando admits making her coo at him a little since Lando doesn't always let such a vulnerable side be on show even to her. "We can oil your hair on the flight tomorrow."

"Yeah, sounds good." Y/n smiles making Lando smile leaning over and kissing her softly. "Alright, get back to what you were doing. I know you have things to do."

Day 8

Lando saved the gift for while he was oiling her hair on the private jet, with her setting up her phone so it's looking more at her and kind of only capturing his hands in frame.

"This is going to make your fans feral." Y/n murmurs before Lando smirks and uses his hands that are doing a good job at massaging her scalp to tug her head back gently, just so he can give her a kiss.

"You can say it makes you feral. I know you're a fan."

"Shut up." Y/n laughs nudging his leg since she's positioned between them. "Can I open it now?"

"Yes." Lando smiles still massaging her head which is honestly working perfectly as a calling to really fall asleep. Not that it would be the first time she's fallen asleep while he's been oiling her hair. But she has to fight it at least until she's done the gift opening.

Lando had already warned her that today might be underwhelming as far as the gifts go. But he had definitely had another nervous expression and while she can't actually see his expression, she knows it's there. She knows that he's watching her with big eyes as she unwraps the gift.

Truth be told she thinks Lando is beginning to worry that these efforts about making her birthday something for her really enjoy and look forward to. He wants her to know that she should enjoy her birthday since from what he's seen, she was more excited about his birthday and making a big deal about it than she was for her own. Meaning he wanted to step up and give her the same experience that she made for him, maybe even make it better. She deserves it in his eyes.

"You got me...oh my gosh, you got me that journal?" Y/n gasps whipping her upper body around in a moment of excited me. "You said it was stupid."

"No, I didn't...I said that you should waste your money on it. I'm allowed to buy you it though." Lando corrects making her realise that maybe he's been working her to not buy things so that he could get them instead. "You wanted it, but I think it's better if you just let me buy it for you instead and I thought it would make a good gift...anyway there's another gift under it."

Y/n frowns shifting the journal on top before breaking into a grin since she had been talking about needing something to document their relationship through all the photos that Lando likes to take, though she does take some photos. He definitely captures more.

"You got a photo album?"

Y/n moves up onto his lap, half out of frame since her phone is only capturing Lando's lap as she sits on it.

"I love you. You are the sweetest and I already know all the photos that are probably going to fill this album already." Y/n smiles with him grinning at her before she kisses him a couple times, though when Lando places his hand on her inner thigh and she jumps at the feeling of his oily hand on her skin. "Ah, baby. The oil."

"It's just hair oil baby." Lando laughs before she gets up and stops her video recording as she smiles at him.

"Put it in your hair too, it'll be good for your curls." Y/n grins which does make him immediately begin to run his hands through his hair with the residue from his hands.

"Do you really like today's gift?"

"Baby, are you joking? When we land, I am going to spend the next like 6 hours sorting out the best order and date order of all those photos we've got printed and put them in this...and you're going to help."

Day 9

"I don't suppose today's gift is just amazing morning sex." Y/n jokes while Lando smiles lazily at her.

"No. Orgasms are all year round, unless you're admitting that you fake them. In which case, just keep lying to save my ego." Lando states earning an eyeball since of course he would make that joke about it. He rolls to kiss her softly before climbing up off the bed. "Let's clean you up, get you dressed then grab your gift and get you on camera."

"Oh god, no I'm going to look like shit." Y/n groans hiding her face in her arms. "Baby, please."

"They like your reaction-ah, sit back down. Last time you got up too quick and you fell over." Lando scolds lightly since that's true, she's never very good on her legs after sex with Lando. Hence why usually quickies in the paddock don't work out well in her favour.

Thankfully no on has caught onto that being the reason he carries her around the paddock sometimes.

Lando does his usual gentle aftercare before grabbing her some clothes and practically dressing her like a toddler before he moves to grab the gift from the living room since that's where the last of the gifts are being kept.

"Alright, camera is ready. Go." Lando smiles from his spot behind the phone making sure she's got the right angle and shot.

Y/n can tell that this is a pair of shoes purely from shaking it and the shape along with the weight of it all.

Now Lando has quite a shoe collection, despite Nike not being a sponsor, he is a big fan of wearing Nike shoes. So when she opens up and sees the iconic Nike tick. She smiles knowing that this is sort of him putting some of his likes into the gifts because he does like to have a little bit of an influence over her style in the same way she has completely boyfriend-effected his wardrobe.

"Just for context, you always say you like these on me. And I thought we could match." Lando states as she reveals the Nike dunks making her beam, nearly shaking before she is pulling the shoes out and taking out the tissue that fills them before pausing. "You want to relace them?"

"Yeah, can you-"

"Yeah." He nods stopping the video while she grins. "I feel like you're going to wear these more than me."

"They're so comfortable. Of course I am." Y/n smiles since she owns other trainers which Lando has got her and he always manages to buy the most comfortable trainers for her. No doubt these will be the same and since they match with Lando. She will probably wear them to death.

Day 10

Obviously the biggest gift is still being kept for her actual birthday which is now tomorrow. But Lando wanted to make her something that is a nice rounding ahead of her birthday. Plus this is something that she has been talking about and he was more than happy to deliver on.

Y/n loves being able to get involved in any hobby that Lando does because she just likes to spend time with him. By whatever means necessary and since he loves being able to teach her everything. He isn't one of those boyfriends who tries to discourage her from getting involved.

Lando had already told her that he had to take her to a specific location for her last countdown gift.

It surprised her to say the least that he took her to a golf course. He has taught her how to play golf and while she's nowhere beyond amateur at best. She does enjoy going with him.

"I'm confused..." Y/n frowns making Lando smile before he manages to look around then spots the gift where he asked for it to be placed.

"I got you your own gold caddy, with all your own clubs. All custom and custom balls." Lando grins moving to pick it up.

The colours being the papaya orange and the light blue McLaren has incorporated onto the car and then some bright pink piping on the seams.

"The club covers match and the detailing on the clubs match too." Lando smiles making her grin at him.

"You are insane...this must've cost a fortune. This is a proper birthday present."

"See if you think that, just imagine how good the actual gift is going to be. Now, come on. Take a look. Especially at the balls."

Of course the balls have "I love Lando" prints on them which he is very prideful about. They did miss getting the moment on camera but Y/n gives a whole unboxing/tour of the caddy and showing that Lando of course made himself a running feature putting both their initials on the clubs and embroidered on the caddy.

"Do you honestly like it?" Lando asks making her nod with a grin.

"I love it. It is...Lando you've just made this the best birthday of my life. I didn't even want you to, but you did it and you...you are just the best thing in my life."

Y/n is very obviously getting a little caught up in her emotions, never having expected to be receiving so much from her boyfriend who has always made it obvious that he loves his girlfriend so much that he'd give her the world and still not think it's enough for her.

"I love you." Y/n whispers making Lando smile hugging her and cooing at her being very much happy but clearly a bit overwhelmed.

"I love you too. That's why I think you deserve all this. You are worth celebrating to me every day but especially when it's your birthday." Lando laughs rubbing her back and kissing her temple.

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luveline · 1 month

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Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!

thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader

“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?”

You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least.

“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.”

“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.”

He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.”

“‘Cos my back’s broken?”

“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?”

He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV.

You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.”

Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise.

“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw.

“Hey, don’t cry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?”

“You keep harassing me.”

“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!”

You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty.

You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead.

“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.”

You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.”

“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.”

He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?”

“Steve, I’m really okay.”

“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”

His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask.

He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.”

You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight.

“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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chipperydoopcg · 1 year

Text

Hey Deltarune Fandom

I know its 3am as I wright this but I think I found something online that might be important- or at least, be something to consider- food for thought and all that jazz-

you see, I was scrolling thought reddit when I came upon a particular post...

it starts of seeming very normal, right? I mean, it's just your average detarune fan asking about equipment advice, right?

but.. somethings... off, to say the least......

Not only is the wording weird when talking about Spamton, (with the phrasing of "Spamton dude" being particularly odd, as to get to Spamton's shop, you need to get fairly familiar with him and his character, but this user seems to be acting like this is their first time meeting him.) But Spamton HIMSELF seems to look... Different than usual. Or, at lease, different than his usual shop sprite that is...

and I was not alone on this sentiment, as the comments noticed too!

which leads to wonder....

... yeah, that...

To which OP provided an... Interesting answer....

D-.... Didn't have the money? But, deltarune is free game? Or, at least, Chapter's 1 and 2 are...

you see, a while back, Toby mention online that Chapters 3, 4, and 5 would all be released together, and, unlike the first two, cost money. (or as a certain salesman would phrase it, cost some [[Sweet, Sweet KROMER]]!!!)

Not only that, but its kinda ironic that this user pirated a copy of a free game, and have the one character who has a history with shady links (or in other words, [[Hyperlink Blocked]]) be the one who's changed... Almost as if this bootleg game has its own bootleg of Spamton... The one character who literally tries to be a bootleg of ANOTHER character in-universe. *Cough cough* Swatch- *Cough cough*

But this also leads to question... are there any other differences in the game? I mean, it is a pirated game, surely there has to be some other differences from the original game other than some seemingly random shop sprite of spamton, right?

luckily, I was not the only one who was curious about this and a user by the name of kuro50 ask OP to quote:

To which OP responded:

how... convenient.....

I mean- don't get me wrong- I get that feeling not having any program to record with (though than again OBS Studio exist)- but even still, all of this seems a little bit too, odd to just let off as something "normal"...

but, than again, its not like there's anything necessary wrong about it either, right? I mean, sure, it weird that someone pirated a free game, but, maybe they're just some gullible kid online?

...Except, a user by the name of ThePotatoPerson510 pointed out a few striking things...

And then... it all stared to click...

I went to check the profile and, just as ThePotatoPerson510 had said,

"u/ThatDudeTobias, Cake day December 27, 2022, made 12 hours ago..." the same hour as the spamton post was made... almost as if the account was made just so they could post this.... (Note: the previous image in this post of the spamton post says it was made 10 hours ago. This time gap is because I have been writing this post for 2 hours straight now- coming onto 3 hours- as such, I give you this screenshot showing both the post and the profile, and thus, showing they were in fact made in the same hour-)

MID WRIGHTING UPDATE: It seems as if there WAS a time gap between the two post, as its 5:24am and I just took THIS screenshot showing the time gap. Take this how you will I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, about the name... It seem kinda... on the nose, to say the least. I mean, Toby, Tobias, seems a little to similar, right? But, at the same time, knowing Toby, he would be the type to use a seemingly obvious while still not TOO obvious name to fuck with us (he DOSE have a history with being a troll when it comes to his games ¬_¬||)

Also, looking back at the spamton image and comparing it to the name "Tobias", they both share one thing in common... They're both SIMILAR to their originals, to the point where you can tell what they're based off of, but, somewhat off...

As for the one other post on the account, well...

its..

... A comment on MeIRL?

Well, what's the original post?

A..... Video of some guy walking up the stairs, only to keep looping up the same steps, unable to get to the end?

Well, that's... anticlimactic..... Sooo.... Is this just some random account then? Was all of this just for nothing? Was it all red hearings in the end? Well, that's what I thought..

For you see, I realized something....

Toby Fox is a well-known fan of anime, but, not just any anime.... specifically, JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE. How do we know this? Well, in undertale, there is an item in the game called a Punch Card

When this card is used in battle, it says, "OOOORAAAAA!!! You rip up the punch card! Your hands are burning!" This increases your attack. "ORA" Is a common phrase screamed in JOJO' when one of the Jostar's are attacking.

Not only that, but in deltarune, main antagonist of chapter 2 is Queen.

her battle theme? Attack of the Killer Queen

Killer Queen is the stand of Yoshikage Kira. The main antagonist of JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Diamond is Unbreakable. Which is the 4th Chapter of the series.

So, what dose ALL of this have to do with the video "Tobias" commented on? Well, you see, in JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Stardust Crusaders, when Polnareff, one of the main protagonist, tries to walk up the stairs to face DIO, the main antagonist, he finds himself in the same loop as the man in the video. Continuously walking up the same set of stares, unable to reach the end.

Meaning, the video that "Tobias", or, as we presume, Toby commented on was in fact...

A JOJO REFFERANCE, AND THUS, MAKES PERFICT SENCE AS TO WHY HE WOULD COMMENT ON IT

...... And so with that last tidbit out of the way, we are left with 3 conclusions that we can come to... 1. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox teasing us about Chapter 3 and or some other upcoming scheme of his he has up his sleaves.

2. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox just fucking with us

and 3. This is some third party not affiliated with Toby but still making something and teasing it (possibly and ARG or something of sorts) .... That or I've just spent over 3 hours of my life typing this up only for it to be a shitpost by Temmie or something :/

either way its 6:41am as I type this and I have not slept all night so I hope you liked this deep dive analysis into this possibly important reddit account that could hold significant lore for the upcoming chapters of deltarune and if you'll excuse me I'm going to go collapse on my couch for the rest of the day :) have a wonderful time zone <3

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earthtooz · 2 years

Text

in which you give bakugo katsuki the silent treatment

warnings: 2.3k words, fluff fic, slight hurt but mostly comfort, bakugo is sad :( he doesn't like being ignored, i wrote this weeks ago i can't remember shit about what i put in this. UNEDITED ASF!!!

a/n: this was not supposed to be a standalone fic, this was actually meant to be a multi-character thing about giving them the silent treatment but that didn't turn out as planned bc i have no time so i only have bakugo ready lol! hope you enjoy

there’s a pair of crimson eyes burning holes in the side of your head and you can feel the gaze penetrating further and further into your skull with each passing second.

you almost have the nerve to ask when bakugo katsuki learnt how to use his armour-piercing shot with his eyes.

but alas, you bite the inside of your cheek and continue ignoring him, fingers tapping away on your keyboard to finish up your report.

it’s now day three of your silent treatment. your boyfriend has endured 48, painful hours of the punishment that he rightfully deserved and he’s been restless for all 48 hours. it’s a miracle that he’s survived this long because you totally would’ve expected him to blow up already.

how ironic that he’s acting sensible now yet couldn’t hold his tongue when you two were taking down the villain.

the event that caused bakugo’s predicament was actually the report you were finishing, a gang of villains - experienced ones, had broken into a high-end jewellery store and stolen majority of their dazzling diamonds and you and bakugo just so happened to be on site.

you were expecting a robbery chase that happened at least every three days. what you weren’t expecting, was that they were good. like, really good.

one of the thief’s quirks kept grazing you and it didn’t help that the communication between you and bakugo was off that day, so when you meet up with him again after splitting up, unconscious villains in tow with a few injuries to pair with it.

he failed to stop the big words that tumbled out of his mouth.

“what the hell was that? you seriously failed to listen to some simple instructions? you might wanna go back to being a fuckin’ sidekick because of how shit that was and you have the nerve to call yourself a pro?” thundered the explosive blond, whose face was getting closer and closer to yours with each passing second.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you took down the villain, what was the big deal? “excuse me?” you muttered lowly.

that seems to tick him off even more, “you heard me! that was embarrassing to watch, kept getting hit and injured by some shitty extra. we don’t need heroes like you to screw things as simple as a robbery chase up!”

bakugo had been ticked off the second he first entered the agency this morning, so you were aware he was in a bad mood and you probably were the final strike to him letting loose of his temper- but that was not an excuse for the venom he was spitting. no matter how desperately you wanted to retaliate, you kept your cool for the sake of your relationship and also because you were in public. you didn’t need anyone listening to realise that it was you that bakugo was shouting at, so with no sound, you turn around and meet up with the police, villains in hand.

that seemed to shut him up pretty easily, thank goodness to your eardrums.

“we took ‘em down,” you said the second the police scrambled out of their cars. you tried to keep the frustration and anger out of your tone but the way you threw the villains with a little more force than necessary against the police car caused the officers to flinch.

a certain blond appears not long after, now calmer and more guilty-looking.

“thanks you two. we dug through our records and found out that these criminals have been wanted for a while. kept escaping under our noses,” one policeman says with a grateful smile. you don’t bother to return it, blaming it on the cut on your cheek.

“no problem. just call us if you ever need us again,” you tell him with a proper nod.

you and bakugo watch the policemen secure the villains, not moving until the last car leaves your sight.

he turns to you and finally says something to break the suffocating tension between you two.

“you should probably get some first aid for those cuts.”

bakugo tries to sound normal- really, he tries, because the second you turned around and left him in the alley, he realised the magnitude of his stupidity and felt his heart drop to his stomach, fearing for the worst.

with a small ‘tch’ from you, you’re gone the next second from his sight, probably flying back to the agency.

you don’t speak to him. even when he spams your phone with check up texts, even when he returns after patrol, even when he walks into your office whilst you rapidly type away at your laptop furiously, making more typos than you’d like to admit.

“hey,” he says sternly, trying to capture your attention with little success. “c’mon, talk to me.”

bakugo rounds the table and bobs down beside you, careful not to aggravate you by touching you even though it was hard to resist the temptation. natural boyfriend instinct.

“y/n, i didn’t mean what i said back there, i swear,” he continues, “i was just, fuckin’ mad at- i don’t even know, and i shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

it’s beautiful how he can say everything beside ‘sorry’.

“please don’t ignore me.”

he’s frowning, and you really wanna look at him and respond, but you don’t and this dance continues for the next two days. bakugo asks if you want coffee; no answer but he brings it for you regardless. bakugo asks if you need help sorting through the mess of papers on your desk; no answer but he cleans it up regardless, in the exact way you like it. bakugo asks if you need him to run by the support gear department to check up on your costume; no answer but he does it for you regardless and tells you all the updates as well. (he’s not doing it for your forgiveness. this is a usual routine you two have so even without your answers, he knows whether you’ll say yes or no.)

now he’s sitting in your office whilst you finish writing up the report you’ve been neglecting for a while because often, to speed things up, you and bakugo split up the paperwork but with you pretending like he, your boyfriend, doesn’t exist, that wasn’t really possible.

at the 67th hour of no speaking, he snaps. now that you two were officially off the clock and could return home or do as you please, bakugo spends no time picking you up from your chair with little to no effort as a noise of surprise slips past your lips.

you want to ask where he was taking you as he glides through the halls with determination and vigour, his shoes clanking against the marble floor with each step he took, keeping you secured in his arms, pressed against his chest.

there’s a string of curses that you could yell at your boyfriend right now and don’t be mistaken, you could very easily take him down, if it weren't for how much you had missed him.

(you feel slightly terrible for keeping up this silent treatment because that pout on his face is growing by the second, but it’s what he deserves and you wouldn’t relent until a proper ‘sorry’ is given.)

in your moment of zoning out, bakugo has reached his car and seated you in the passenger seat, leaning over you to secure your seatbelt. the kiss he places on your face practically radiates with his complacency at getting you safely in his car.

you huff and cross your arms as he rounds the vehicle to the driver’s side. bakugo hands you the aux and you take it, plugging in your phone to find your shared playlist and you don’t miss the smirk he has when he sees the familiar playlist name pop up on the screen.

the drive is painless enough with no words being exchanged, the music muting the silence that still had some tension lingering in it.

bakugo’s taking you back to his apartment and sure enough, the second the car is parked (perfectly), bakugo tells you ‘don’t move’ before exiting and jogging around to get to your side.

you let him pick you up again with a sigh but it’s all for show, especially the way your heart flutters when you notice he’s hugging you a little tighter this time.

he’s probably afraid you’re gonna run off (he’s had that fear since you first started dating).

sure enough, the explosive blond doesn’t set you down until he steps foot into his bedroom and from there, he throws you on his expensive ass bed with ease, clambering atop you before crushing you with all his weight.

a little ‘oof’ escapes you.

“‘m not getting up till you speak to me,” he lazily threatens, wrapping his arms around your middle. “so you can either get comfy or stop messin’ around.”

“i’m still mad at you, y’know,” you murmur, bringing your hands behind your head whilst staring up at his ceiling. the man lying above you stiffens, taking his head out of his chest to look up at you.

“i’m sorry,” he gruffly confesses, unable to look you in your eye when you glance back down at him with your jaw agape and eyes widened.

yes, he should have said the apology ages ago. yes, it’s been long overdue. yes, you were still surprised that he managed to get those two syllables out of his mouth.

above all, bakugo katsuki is stubborn, unrelenting and powerful, and you’re surprised he succumbed without you suggesting for him to apologise.

you sit up on your elbows, recovered from your brief moment of shock to tell him, “you’re not forgiven.”

“what?” he gawks, outraged, “what else do you want from me?”

“it’s been two days! you could’ve said ‘sorry’ two days ago and i would have forgiven you!”

“fuckin’ hell, i didn’t think of that.”

“bakugo katsuki, are you really that stupid?”

“take it back!”

“not until you take calling-me-a-lame-hero back!”

“i’m sorry! i take it back!” he winces, “you sure know how to kill a man, huh? i’m sorry, i didn’t mean what i said, now talk to me again, y/n, these past few days have been torture!”

you can’t help but smile at his desperation. he never acts like this for anyone so you’re going to enjoy these rare moments of vulnerability for a little longer.

“told me to go back to bein’ a side kick,” you huffed, “that’s not a bad idea actually, maybe i’ll listen and apply to be midoriya’s. or todoroki’s. they’re climbing the ranks quite quickly-”

“-y/n!” he’s whining now and you’re afraid you have a manchild lying atop you now.

“i’m joking.”

“you’re mean.”

“oh so now i’m the mean one? what about when-”

“-shut your mouth!”

“is this another one of your instructions? telling me that i’m unworthy of being a hero to the extent that i need to shut my mouth-”

“-stop it!”

you fall back on his pillows in a fit of laughter and as your giggles fill the room, bakugo can’t help but feel his heart ache. this is what he’s been yearning for for the past few days, moments that are so unexplainably, unabashedly you that he realised he doesn’t want to go another day without it. now that you’re back in his arms, he knows everything will be okay, especially with the familiar feeling of your hands carding through his hair.

“i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to be that mean,” he begins after a moment of silence. it takes a few more seconds for him to continue, “i was just freaking out seein’ you get hurt and i was really fuckin’ panicking because those injuries were totally avoidable. i should have protected you and i shouldn't have gone at you for just doing your job. i was scared.”

you can't help but melt a little at his confession, and the way you can feel him frown into your skin whilst tugging you closer, you feel more loved than ever fathomable.

“thank you, katsuki. i appreciate it but you know i can take care of myself, and i know you’re always going to protect me when i need it. i trust you, more than anyone else.”

bakugo closes his eyes in content as he tugs himself closer to you than what should be considered possible. you welcome him for all of his roughness and raggedness. he just might be doomed if he didn't have you.

“we should really move in together,” you suggest.

“yeah, yeah we should.”

after a few minutes of silence, you begin to speak up, “i have my night patrol soon, you have to let me go, babe.”

he squeezes you tighter, “but i literally just got you! i’m getting my three days worth of attention, fuck your patrol.”

“that’s not very heroic of you,” you murmur, “now let me go.”

“no.”

above all, bakugo katsuki loves you.

hai hai :D thanks so much for reading!! if you enjoyed that PLS CONSIDER REBLOGGING!!!! i hope that i didn't fuck anything up too much lul i'm so tired but anyways, YAH REBLOGS HELP OUT SO MUCH SO PLS!!!!! one click 🗣🗣🗣

that's all from me, hope to see you around the blog! - earf

#idk what this was #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader

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getosbigballsack · 2 months

Text

#: Reader Chan gets the belt! Yakuza Gojo Drabble:**

Just the thought of Yakuza Gojo sitting on the the sofa in the main hall that had a few of his men lingering while you're on your knees before him fiddling with your fingers, trying to find the right words to say to him.

You're in trouble again. Your rude remarks towards him, that's strike number one. Hitting him in the face for no apparent reason, that's strike number two. Spending all of your allowance in an hour, that's strike number three.

You've done it all in one day. That's a new record, he thinks. He knew you were a bit of a headache, not the shy baker girl he met all those months ago now. He knew deep down that you've got a bit of temper, an attitude that he has to deal with. You're throwing tantrums when things don't go your way. He used to your temper tantrums at this point, but you've never done anything like this to anger him to that point.

You glanced up at him for a brief moment to see him rubbing the sides of his temple. He had one eye closed, and the other one was open to staring down at your empty bank account. All your allowance is gone.

You bit your lips nervously.

"Out of all the stunts you pulled today, this one, this one has got to be the biggest one yet!" He hissed at you. "Have nothing to say for yourself?"

It made no sense for you to apologise. You did it all on purpose to piss him off, but you never anticipated that he would have been this angry to the point where the veins were very visible on the side of his head and his skin turning visibly red.

"Hold your head up and answer me! Have you nothing to say for yourself?" He shouted at you, and it made you flinch.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head no. He huffed, hand fingers rubbing his temples yet again.

"Go get the belt," he tells you, and that had you looking up at him quickly, lips trembling in fear at the sound of the word belt.

"But daddy..." You tried to protest. You were expecting him to spank you, but with his hands and not with the 'special' belt, he had tucked away for you in his closet. "No, Daddy, please."

In a stern voice, he said, "I said go get the belt and come to me."

"No... please... Daddy, I'm sorry," you cry out, quickly crawling towards and clutching on the pants, but he shakes you off him. He was not about to let you get away with this one. "Please, Daddy, I'll do anything. I don't want it... please."

"The belt, now!"

You scrambled up on your feet and went for the belt in the closet and took off your panty as well, leaving your ass bare underneath the dress that you actually spent most of your allowance on.

You cried as you walked out of the closet slowly with the special belt in your hand. It's made from the most expensive leather, and your name was beautifully craved into it, too.

He held his hand out to you and you placed the belt in his hand. He took and rest it beside him, then reached his hand out for you. With tears running down your cheek, you took his hand and he guided you over his lap. He grabbed the belt and flipped up the end of the dress to see your bare ass.

"Please daddy don't," you cried out after feeling him repeatedly patting your ass with the belt.

"You should've thought about your actions first," he said before lifting his hand and connecting the belt against your ass in one hard blow.

You screamed, "I'm sorry, please!"

"Huh! You're sorry? Is that what you're supposed to be saying right now? Aren't you suppose to be thanking me for your punishment?"

"Dadd..."

"What's that?" He asked before spanking your with the belt once again.

You cried out, "Th... thank you, daddy. Thank you for the reward!"

"That's right, cry out and thank me brat."

That all he said to you before he went on with his punish and his men watched on as their boss's wife received her punishment.

Spanks after after spanks and only on your ass. And ever slap you cried out and though it hurts like a bitch, you thanked him for him because you knew you deserved it.

#gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru

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ruskaroma · 1 year

Text

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name.

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present.

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow.

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows.

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again.

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her.

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him.

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him.

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her.

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!”

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it.

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women.

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep.

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls.

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off.

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

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ctrlsht · 6 months

Text

Fragment of the Past 01

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

chapter summary: As you get to know your patient, Jeon Jungkook, you begin to notice that something is wrong with him, until the day he confesses to you what really happened during the night of the incident.

chapter warnings: mention of PTSD and depression, mention of hatred towards the family, mention of murder. This chapter is the only chapter that isn’t too heavy. word count: 8K

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders and psychology facts. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

"Dr. Y/N, your next patient is already waiting outside. Shall I invite him in?" Soyeon asked while holding the doorknob, your office door slightly ajar. You leaned back in your swivel chair, glancing at the clock hanging beside the door. Soyeon stood patiently, awaiting your response.

“It’s still 2:30 and my next session is 3 o’clock. He arrived early?”

“Yes, he did. In fact, he already arrived at 2. Although he mentioned not informing you since it’s still early.”

You looked at the clock once again and contemplated your decision. You still have 30 minutes before the new session starts but you’re not going to do anything, anyway. Just like your next patient, you’re just waiting for the clock to strike at 3.

“Let him in. We’ll just start early.”

After a few moments, the door opened once again and a tall muscular man entered the room. His movements are slow like he has all the time in the world and when he faced you, his eyes sparkled, and he offered a subdued smile without revealing his teeth. He removed his black ball cap and extended his hand, presenting you with a box of cake.

“Good afternoon, doc. I’m sorry I’m too early from the original schedule but I got you a strawberry cake. Heard that you love them.” He said.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Thank you and it’s nice to see that you’re in a good mood, Jungkook.” You smiled and reached the box of cake that he gave you. He smiled even wider as he removed his leather jacket and you immediately saw his full sleeve tattoo on his right arm. They were beautiful. It perfectly suits him.

“Thanks, doc. I’m happy that I didn’t dream about ‘that’ nightmare and I believe it’s because of the medicine that you prescribe me. You help me a lot.” He responds, sitting on the white sofa facing your desk.

When he is settled down on the couch in front of your office table, you press the ‘record’ button of your phone. You record your session with your patient for your advantage. It helps you review and recall the discussion that you had with them, and it’s useful whenever you’re writing a book. Having the recordings allows you to convey your words more precisely.

Of course, you always ask for their consent to record the conversation. However, there are patients who do not agree with it, and in such cases, you still record them. They wouldn't know, would they?

“Well, that’s good to know.” You said and got the folder placed on the side of your table and opened it. It’s the record of him for you to easily navigate his diagnoses. “Are you still visiting the gym like I’ve recommended to you?”

“Yes I do and it helps me to distract my mind to what happened. Going back to the gym helps me a lot, honestly. It’s hard to push myself to go back at first but as I was in there, it became easier.” His smile is like a pill that can light anyone’s mood. It is so bright and contagious. No one will guess that he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder. He witnessed how his mother died in front of him exactly six months ago and he suffers a lot. He’s unable to talk for weeks after the incident happened and was advised to attend psychotherapy.

Right now, he has made significant progress, and you're glad about it. Throughout your sessions with him, you've observed how he copes with his trauma and understands what's going on in his mind. It's a major trauma for him to witness what happened to his mother. According to studies, women are more likely to develop PTSD than men, and you've handled multiple cases with women experiencing PTSD. However, in your years in this career, he is the only man you've treated with this specific diagnosis. It's a new experience for you, especially since it's your first encounter with a male patient with this condition. You've conducted extensive research, but there are still things your patient does that contradict what you've read.

“During the weekends, I spend all night reading your book, Dr. Y/N and it helps me so much. Plus, it’s good and I love it. I can’t wait for you to release the book that you’re writing right now. When did you plan on releasing them?” He crosses his legs as he looks at you with so much adoration.

“I haven’t finished writing it so I haven’t planned the date of release.” you replied, turning your attention back to the folder in your hand. “I’m glad that my books help you. Do you think that you’ve already overcome your trauma with the event that happened?” You looked at him and the smile that he had seconds ago was gone. His lips were formed into a straight line and he stared at you. It only happens for seconds and he immediately brings his bright expression once again.

“I’m not quite sure about that, Dr. Y/N. I may be happy right now, but later on, I’ll remember the tragic event once again.” He responded.

“It’s okay. It really happens. Healing from your trauma doesn’t happen in a short period of time. But eventually, you’ll be okay. It may not be right now nor tomorrow but one day,” you assured him.

“Will you leave me after I completely heal, Doc?” he leaned forward, his gaze intense. You didn’t respond right away and waited if he’s about to add more with his statement but turns out, he’s also waiting for your response.

“Well, that’s quite the opposite, Jungkook. You’ll be the one to leave me after our final session comes to an end.” You tried to smile. “And as your doctor, I genuinely want you to heal and move on to continue living with your life.”

“Then I’m not quite sure if I’ll be happy for our final session to come to an end.”

You achieved success as a psychiatrist and book author within just four years of your career. Your excellence in your work is a result of the praises you've received from people. You've built a strong reputation and you're determined to maintain it. While you may be at the top now, you know there's still a long road ahead. You're committed to continuing to excel in what you do and to break numerous records..

The day has finally ended and you are still inside your office room as you continue on writing your ongoing book. The paradox of choice. You’ve released three books and this is going to be your fourth one. You’ve been pouring your blood, sweat and tears in every book that you’ve released resulting in its success and you’re confident that this ongoing book will be the same.

You have nothing else to do except to work 24/7. You’ve been doing this for the past four years already and you have no problem with it. In fact, you love everything you do. But there are people who’s against your life cycle.

As you type on your laptop, your phone chimes, seeing a notification from your friend, Taehyung. He's been your friend since you were in diapers.

Taehyung: You’re not at home. Where are you?

You: Clinic. Why?

Taehyung: what the. At this hour?

You didn’t respond because you figured out that he doesn’t have anything to do but to disturb you and honestly, you don’t have the time for that.

Taehyung: Join me for dinner. It’s on me.

You: Can’t you eat by yourself and you have to treat me just for you to have dinner?

Taehyung: You talked as if we’re not friends. Come on, Y/N. I know you love your job but don’t wait until you are the one who becomes a patient.

Taehyung doesn’t understand you. You’re doing what you love and you don’t have a problem with it yet he thought that you were drowning yourself with work. You can choose what you want and you choose to burn yourself from work. You don’t have any problems with it.

You decide to fix your things and get ready for Taehyung to pick you up. As much as you love your career, you also cherish your friendship with him. He's your only friend, and you don't want to lose him. You've come to consider him as family.

“My father is asking me again if I can now run the business in New York." Taehyung said as he got the pork belly from the grill and placed it in his bowl of rice before he put it together in his mouth.

“Tell him you haven't decided." You respond subconsciously while wrapping the pork in the lettuce and eat it.

“What amazing advice coming from a therapist herself.” Taehyung smirked.

"What is your decision then?"

"I don't really know, Y/N." He released a deep breath and continued. "I do want to manage it but I can't. I love what I'm doing right now."

Since his teenage years, Taehyung has been destined to inherit his father's assets, including the family company. However, Taehyung chose a different path and became a successful musician and artist. He's content with his career until his father reminds him of his obligation to take over the family's oil company in New York. He has been wrestling with this difficult situation for years and has yet to find a solution.

“Try to do both.” You suggest while having a mouthful of pork belly.

“I don’t know if you’re fucking with me or what but damn, Y/N. If you’re my therapist, I’ll immediately leave your clinic and find another one.” Taehyung rolled his eyes and you tried not to laugh. "I can't choose both and you know that!"

You do want to help your friend to get out of this situation but the only thing you can do is give emotional and moral support because you don't have control over his family. You do feel sorry for him but you can't do much.

"The conflict between personal desires and altruistic choices has been common in dealing with ethical dilemmas. Choosing a decision between what you want and what your father wants that will be beneficial for the majority is quite a difficult situation and you need to weigh them according to how you see it. Your father has been there for you and in return, he wants you to handle his business not only for the benefit of him but also for you." You pause and take a bite of kimchi before you continue. "But you wanted to keep pursuing the career you have right now. It's a personal gain. It's up to you if you become selfish or selfless."

Many researchers have presented real-life ethical dilemmas and case studies to understand how people navigate decisions that involve personal desires and the welfare of others. These studies often highlight the complexity and context-dependency of such choices which is what Taehyung is experiencing right now.

If you were to decide with his situation, you'd choose to continue with his career that he has right now. Life is too short to become selfless. What society makes people believe can result in each and everyone's failure.

If he chooses to do what his father wants, it won't guarantee success, as he has no clue about running their business. And even if he manages to muster the passion to understand how it works, he might not only fail himself but also disappoint his father.

You ended the night with Taehyung bringing you back to the clinic to get your car. It was nice catching up with him once in a while and hopefully, it won't happen often. Taehyung has known you since forever and he knows that even if you love him, you will still choose your work over him.

You were about to open the door of the driver seat of your car when you felt something. Or more of someone.

You don't hear any noise coming from afar or nearby and you're certain that you're the only one who is at the parking lot in front of the clinic but you feel like there is a pair of eyes that's watching you. You're facing the two-story building of the clinic and catch sight of anyone but the only thing you see is a light coming from the entrance and nothing else.

You slowly turn around to see the surroundings and the only thing you see is a quiet night street illustrated by a few streetlights. There is no one, yet you can still feel that pair of eyes looking at you.

You weren't sure if it's because of overworking or the alcohol you've consumed tonight but you're certain that one of it is the reason why you are having this kind of imagination.

—

“Good morning, Yunjin. You look pale today. What’s wrong?” You looked at your patient that’s seated across the sofa in front of you. Her lips were paper thin and she continuously blinked her eyes. Yunjin is a 25-year old diagnosed with persistent depressive disorder and she's been your patient for a year already. Being diagnosed with depression can cause a lot of factors including imbalances in brain chemicals like serotonin and norepinephrine. These imbalances can occur in anyone, regardless of their external circumstances. In Yunjin’s situation, it’s caused by her genes and hormones and most likely, she inherited from her family.

Yunjin came from a well known family and her life is what every person dreams to have. She already has everything yet she still suffers with depression.

Not because a person has a wealthy and happy life doesn’t mean they do not encounter problems.

“It’s happening again. I’ve lost track of my motivation to continue painting.” She speaks hoarsely. “Last week, I’m pouring all my hardwork and energy into what I’m working on but now, I’ve messed up. And I don’t even know why I am doing this because my work is mediocre in the first place.”

“You know that’s not true, Yunjin. Your paintings are amazing. I love them so much, especially the one you gave me.” You said carefully.

“No, you don’t understand. My works are trash compared to others.” Her voice is already trembling—on the verge of crying.

“Everyone has a unique and creative way to express their works. Not because you think that the works of others are more creative means yours are not. Your paintings are a masterpiece, Yunjin and I won’t get tired of reminding you about that.”

Yunjin is one of your patients who is incredibly transparent. She is consistently honest and open about her feelings, and you have played a significant role in nurturing this honesty. Over your years of being a psychotherapist, you’ve encountered thousands of patients with different problems and diagnosis. You’ve known the ins and outs of them and you’ve mastered the meaning of every action they’ve made and words they’ve said. You also know if they’re telling the truth or not and you can spot it within a single session.

That’s what you’re known—for being an excellent psychiatrist.

However, you’re not yet perfect and still working with your skills. You know that you’re already great but there is still room for improvement.

Not because you’re confident with how you read your patients means that it’s the truth. Sometimes, they deceive you and that’s a case that you have to improve with yourself.

It’s almost five and a few moments from now, you’ll have your last patient for the day. The truth is, you’re already exhausted with all the work you did today and given that it’s friday. Tomorrow, it’s a rest day, therefore, things should be done until today if you want to enjoy the weekend. But in your case, you’ll most probably work with the book you’re currently writing.

Jeon Jungkook is your last patient for the day and hopefully, after the session, both of you will feel relief.

“Hello, Dr. Y/N. You look so tired. Are you okay?” Jungkook asked you as he removed his bomber jacket revealing his full sleeve tattoo. He has a taste in fashion and it suits him so well. With his tall and muscular body, he can wear anything and still look stunning. Beside his body build, Jungkook is handsome. With his beautiful doe eyes and perfect smile, he can captivate anyone. And it’s something that you should be cautious about.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. You don’t have to worry about me.” You slightly smile and insist him to sit on the sofa. “Please take a seat. How are you?” You try to energize your voice to hide your exhaustion.

"Today was supposed to be great until one of my employees messed around at work. His name is Bryan, and ever since he got hired, he's been getting on my nerves. If it weren't for the fact that he's my uncle's son, I would have fired him right from the beginning," he began, settling into his seat.

“What happened?”

“He lost the memory card of the camera I used from the photoshoot yesterday and now, we had to redo the shoot.” His eyebrows scrunch as he tightens his lips.

“Your feelings are valid, Jungkook. It’s okay to feel that way. What you can do to control your emotions when you’re in that situation is to leave and take a break where you can breathe.”

“You’re right. But now, I feel okay. Relief even. I just fired him from being incompetent. Someone like him doesn’t belong in my studio, anyway.”

You take a pause to look at him. He looks at you with a blank stare and when he does that, he’s unbothered or doesn’t care. You admit that he’s not easy to read but you’ve learned to master his gesture and there is something about him that feels off.

“Can you tell me why his action results in you firing him?”

“Because he’s useless and I don’t need useless people in my team.” He responds like the answer is already obvious.

“Don’t you think that he can improve?” His gaze intensifies and after a moment, he smirks.

“My studio is not a training ground, Dr. Y/N. It’s a place where you should already master what you’re doing.” His fingers move in his lips to play with it, eyes still bore at you.

“I’ve established my business from the scratch and I’ve poured my blood sweat and tears just for my business to be in where it is now. Perhaps, I have the right to do anything that's better for my studio. I know what my worth is. Don’t you think, Dr. Y/N?”

He’s full of himself. But you didn’t say that.

“Well, you have a point, Jungkook. But you’re the one who said it. Your studio is made from scratch and perhaps, you know what being in your lowest point feels like.” You try to smile genuinely. “It’s okay to know your worth and at the same time, look back where you came from.” You looked at his medical records and proceeded. “How’s your condition? Are you still experiencing anxiety?”

“30 minutes ago. When I was traveling to get here.”

“Why? What’s running in your mind?” He wiggled his ankle and continued to play with his lips, thinking of the answer.

“I was nervous during the ride. I don’t know but sometimes, you make me feel nervous.” He let out a playful chuckle.

“Why?”

“The fact that you knew everything about me makes me feel something. You’ve known everything about me yet I don’t know a single thing about you.” You don’t understand what's his point so you try to laugh to ease the heavy feeling you feel right now.

“Of course, you knew me, Jungkook. You’ve mentioned that you knew me even before the session started.” You give him a smile and you put down the folder that you are holding right now.

"Yeah, I know you, Doc. Everyone knows you. I'm aware of everything that's public about you. What I want to know is who Dr. Y/N is without her MD and PhD. What do you do during your days off, and what are your hobbies besides helping people with their problems?" He glanced at the wall beside you, where a painting of you hangs. It's a picture of you that people can see in your books, a gift from Yunjin.

You’ve known Jeon Jungkook with his traumas and all however, you don’t know what he’s up to right now. He entered your clinic being a fragile person with his traumas and right now, it felt like you’re talking to another person. Maybe because this is him without his diagnosis.

And you don’t know how to feel about it.

—

It’s a photoshoot day for a magazine featuring you as a doctor and an author as well. It’s a media organization focusing on psychology and human behavior and you’re delighted to be featured for the upcoming magazine. You’ve already featured in some magazine but this time, it’s different because it’s ‘Psychology Today.’

You’re now on your way going to the studio with your team along with your agent, Kim. You seem to look calm and relax but deep down, nervousness is wrapping your insides. It is by far the biggest media organization where you will be featured and it’s another achievement of yours.

As you get out of your car, you weren’t surprised that the location where the photoshoot is going to be held is this enormous. It’s a four-story building located at the center of the city. You’re not sure if the media organization also owns this but as you looked at the name of the building, it looks like it isn’t.

GCF Studio

As you enter the building, you are greeted by enthusiastic guards and staff, which motivates you even more for this shoot with them. The interior is minimalist, with the entire first floor being plain white. When you walk through the glass door, the first thing you see is the reception desk. To the right, there are couches and a coffee table where people can wait, and to the left, there's a cafeteria. You walk straight ahead toward the elevator, and one of your assistants presses the button for the third floor.

As the elevator door opened, you were greeted by a hallway with various doors, clearly indicating it's a working area where the shoot takes place. You walk a few steps before entering through double doors, where you find a bustling room filled with people busy at work. It resembles a dressing room but on a larger scale, with various outfits hanging, and several vanity mirrors where people can prepare for their shoot. It's fantastic.

“Good morning Dr. Y/N. Before we proceed with the shoot, I’d like to discuss with you what look you’ll be having for today. You also have full control of what you would like to look at and we’re here to assist you.” You are greeted by a young male with full of feminine energy. He’s tall and petite wearing a white blouse and a sweater that is hanging on his shoulder. He leads the way and you smile before you follow him.

You’ve thought that this photoshoot will only take an hour of your time but you’re wrong because an hour just passed and they were still dressing you up. You didn’t feel uncomfortable because everyone is approachable and enthusiastic. They made you feel that you’re indeed their client.

After an hour and a half of preparation, you finally entered the photoshoot studio, and once again, you found many people inside. You're not entirely sure about each person's specific role here, but everyone is clearly occupied.

But the atmosphere immediately changed when the door swung open. It was chaotic seconds ago and right now, everyone is silent looking at the person who just entered.

You saw a familiar figure. His tall and muscular figure is very familiar to you. He’s wearing a black slacks and a casual long sleeve polo that’s folded up until his elbow where you can clearly see half of his tattoo while his hair is pulled back.

Jeon Jungkook is undeniably handsome and he knows it.

“What’s this chaos? I told you that once I’ve entered the studio, everything should be ready.” His voice was threatening as he spoke with authority. A side of him that you’re not surprised to see.

What surprised you is the fact that he’s inside of the studio.

What is he doing here?

Everyone works silently as if they were being oppressed in their workplace. They were enthusiastic and approachable seconds ago and it all changed when he entered inside.

“Good morning, Dr. Y/N. It wasn’t obvious how you look surprised to see me here, aren’t you?” Jungkook gave you a boastful smile like he doesn’t look threatening a few moments ago.

A sign of bipolar disorder.

“Welcome to GCF Studio where there is no room for failure.”

You will be working with one of your patients and you’re not even aware of that.

Ethically, there is nothing wrong with working with your patients outside the session but you aren’t fond of that. The idea of working with your patient outside the session doesn’t suit you and particularly with the patient that is in front of you right now.

You haven’t thought of the reason why but you just don’t.

Everything is already set up, and you are now behind the backdrop while Jungkook is holding the camera, ready to capture everything. You're confident in the outcome of this shoot, but at this moment, it feels like everything is crashing down at your feet. Everyone is looking at you with high hopes for the result of this photoshoot, and you wouldn't want to ruin it.

“Smile for me, Y/N.”

—

You don’t know how you manage to end the photoshoot smoothly knowing that Jungkook is making you uncomfortable. You were mad at yourself because you don’t know why you felt that way. He isn’t doing anything but to do his job in taking a photo of you.

Now that you're home, you don't have anything to be distressed about when thinking about what happened during the shoot.

You have to admit that there is something wrong with his words and actions. There are signs that he’s becoming manipulative and a sudden change of mood. He's self-absorbed and lacks remorse for others. You’ve been thinking that there are other diagnoses with his actions and behaviors however, you cannot suddenly show up and tell what other illness he has. You still have to observe your sessions with him.

You have now freshen up and are ready to rest but you decide to visit your office to check your schedule for tomorrow and the following days. You only have one patient for tomorrow and most of your schedules are meetings. Before you log out, you glance at the folder of Jungkook in your patient list and you click it subconsciously.

Jeon Jungkook, 31-year old male who suffers from PTSD, after surviving an extremely traumatic incident.

He witnessed his mother die in front of him and aside from that, he was also shot in his left thighs twice. And it happens in the comfort of their home.

The suspect? A loan shark who’s coming for his mother.

There are a lot of questionable things that happened during the incident and one of them is how come that he always claimed to have a successful business while his mother is buried in debt? He also claimed that he doesn’t know about the debt of his mother. There are several inconsistencies in his story but the bottom line is, the loan shark surrendered and is now in maximum security prison for murdering his mother.

You transfer the recordings you made over the following days to your computer and listen to one of them, specifically the conversations you had with Jungkook.

You have 12 sessions in total with him and you have 5 more sessions left before it finally comes to an end. You don’t count the remaining number of sessions with your patient until now.

—

You love to read books during your free time, However, it most likely does not happen due to your busy schedule. But right now, you take a break from everything and decide to go on a date with yourself. You don’t normally take a break but you’re becoming busier than usual and you don’t want to risk your health because you know that there are a lot of people that need you.

You’re not a fan of going out and you prefer to stay at home and rest but getting out of your comfort zone won’t hurt you. You decided to visit your favorite cafe and do your thing there. You dislike rowdy places, that’s why you went early in the morning where people are still in the comfort of their bed.

You underestimate the morning and how you’re used to people getting up mostly before lunch yet there are people who also like you—waking up at 6 in the morning to get a morning coffee in their favorite cafe.

“Dr. Y/N! You’re here!” You lift your head to see Jeon Jungkook standing in front of you with his bright smile while holding a cup of coffee.

Among all the people you could meet here, you don't understand why it had to be him.

“Jungkook. I didn’t know you’re here.” You try to return the smile and you almost fail when he sits in front of you.

He’s wearing a casual polo shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Unlike the last time you saw him, every strand of his hair is falling into a harmonious arrangement. It looks so soft and suits him well. He looked effortlessly handsome as usual.

“Just grab a coffee and then, I saw you.” He smiles sweetly before he gazes down at the book you’re reading. “I don’t know why I am surprised that you like reading books even for the fact that you’re an author.”

"I read when I have time," you respond. "How are you?" you add, trying to steer the conversation away from yourself.

“I’m doing amazing. I’m continuing to write in my journal like what you suggest. It does help me a lot, Dr. Y/N.” He takes a sip from his coffee as he gets comfortable in his seat. He’s not leaving any moment now.

“That’s good. Journaling really works.” You just said whatever is in your mind because you’re thinking of an excuse to leave.

“That’s right. But we’re not in the session right now, Doc. We don’t always have to talk about me.” He leans backward as he glances at your book once again. “The four agreements. I’ve read that book before. It’s good. You’re really into self-help books, aren’t you? You like to write and read about them.”

“Yes. It does help me to improve my writing. How about you? I didn’t know that you also read nonfiction books.”

“I started to read because of your books, Doc.” He looks at your eyes filled with tenderness, traced the curves of your face as if he's memorizing it.

He’s been looking at you like that lately as if he wants you to drown with the way he stares. The way he looks at you carries an underlying tone, and truthfully, that's one of the reasons why you've become uncomfortable around him.

“I’m glad that I’ve encouraged you to read books.” You answer while looking at your wrist watch hoping that he understands that you wanted to leave already.

“Your photos from the last time were amazing. Our team has already sent you the soft copy. Did you receive it?” You do but you didn’t tell him.

“I haven’t seen it but I’ll check it out later.” You looked at your wrist watch once again.

“Yeah, you should. They were amazing. You’re stunning as always.” His eyes twinkled but you didn’t notice that.

“I want to thank you and your team for working hard on this shoot. I do appreciate it so much.” you smile and look at your wrist watch for the last time. “I’m afraid that I have to leave you right now. I already have to go home.”

“That fast? We haven’t talked a lot, Doc.” He fixed you with a steadfast gaze and you were caught off-guard. You’re thinking of what to respond but you were out of words. After a few seconds, he chuckles. “I was just kidding, Doc. I know how busy you are and I understand that.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “I apologize, Jungkook. There are a lot of things that I have to do. But I’ll see you on tuesday.”

“You don’t have to apologize because I understand. Yes, I’ll see you on Tuesday, Dr. Y/N.”

—

Tuesday came and you just woke up yet you already wanted to end this day. It’s strange that you haven’t properly started your day but you already feel heavy to move forward. Yesterday was exhausting for all the work you’ve done and you didn’t get home until 10pm, however, it doesn’t justify your heavy feeling right now. You’ve experienced worse so you don’t understand why you feel this way.

As you make your way to the clinic, you receive numerous work-related calls, and you're already feeling tired from answering them. However, you have no choice but to attend to them.

“Good morning, Dr. Y/N. Your first patient has already arrived. Do you want me to let him wait inside your office or here in the lobby?” The receptionist spoke on the other line.

“You can let him in. I’m almost there.” When the traffic light turns green, you already move. “Is it Mr. Park?” You asked.

“No. It’s Mr. Jeon, Doc.”

Damn. That’s why the morning feels heavy.

As you arrive inside your office, you spot Jungkook in the corner looking at the frames that are standing in the chest drawers. The air conditioner is already on–Soyeon the receptionist must have turned it on. He immediately turned his head towards you when you opened the door and greeted you with his charming smile.

“Good morning, Dr. Y/N. I thought you'd take longer to arrive because the receptionist already let me in.” He greeted and walked his way towards the sofa–where your patient normally sits.

“I was stuck in the traffic. You know, morning rush hour.” You responded as you placed your things on your office table.

Jungkook is a punctual person. He may arrive early or on time but he is never late. If you count the things that you like about him, you’re counting nothing because that’s the only thing you like about him.

“How are you?” Is the first thing you asked him when you get comfortable with your seat. You press the record button on your phone that's hidden from him.

“Bad. I met my father last night and I wish I didn’t.” He brushed his hair back and slouched on his seat.

It's the first time he mentioned his father at the beginning of a conversation because he never does unless you ask about it. From his descriptions, his father seems like a terrible person. He never fulfilled his role as a father, often creating conflicts with his mother. His family life seems chaotic, and you believe it might be one of the reasons he's become the person he is today.

“Why did you meet him?”

“He just showed up to my house without permission to talk about bullshit. My life is already at peace and he’s ruining it.” His jaw tightened.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your eyes locked into him as you try reading his mind. You know that every patient that walks into your office has different problems in life and they are sometimes hard to predict but this man in front of you is something else. There is something in him that you couldn’t understand.

“No. He’s a waste of time. He’s really… Okay, I’ll talk about him briefly. He’s a horrible person and he doesn’t deserve to be a father to me. I never got to experience the love from a father because the only thing that he gave me is hatred. He always gets drunk and gamble and he cheated with my mom multiple times. I’m not going to be surprised when I find out that I have other siblings from different mothers. He’s the worst person I’ve known.”

You find his explanation vague but you didn’t think much about it and you let him continue.

“Do you have other instances where you see the different side of your father? Something that makes him a person to you?” You asked.

“None. Even during childhood. Especially now that he only wants money from me. He and mother are very similar to each other. Maybe that’s why they end up together. They both pissed me off and even though my mother is not here anymore, I can remember her because of my shitty father.”

You were taken aback with what he just said. He never badmouthed his mother until now. When he discussed his mother, there is nothing else he said rather than how he misses her and how she’s a great mother to him.

But you didn’t say anything about it and let him elaborate what he just said.

“Do you think that your parents do the same thing?” You asked–hoping that he doesn’t suspect your question.

“Yeah. They may be doing it in different ways of being a shitty person but they are the same for being useless parents.” He puts his index finger on his lips and slowly rubs it while resting his elbow on the arm rest, looking at you with intensity.

You’re finding a word to say but you found nothing. You wanted to look away but it would indicate that he caught you off-guard.

You saw a glimpse of his demonic character for a second. His eyes that had once been warm and inviting, now bore into you with an unnerving intensity as if trying to peer into your soul.

He spoke once again and his voice took on a low, whispery, and the words that slipped from his lips sent chills down your spine.

"Maybe that's why she died. Now, I wonder when my father will be next."

—

You're standing on the side of the street embracing the subtle chill in the air as the city lights painted the night with different colors. People are walking by and snippets of hushed conversations drifted on the breeze while the flow of traffic added to the scene with vehicles weaving through the crowd.

You don’t know why Taehyung is taking so long to arrive. You’ve been waiting for him on the sidewalk for 10 minutes already when in fact, he should have been here 30 minutes ago. You’re going to come with him on his event show because he’s been annoying you for the whole week to come with him and for him to stop, you just agreed.

What pisses you off more is that he's running late, and your stomach is growling. You haven't had dinner because Taehyung assured you that he'd swing by the drive-thru to grab something for you to eat.

You're waiting for Taehyung, but someone else showed up in front of you.

“Dr. Y/N, hi!” You met Jeon Jungkook’s eyes with his bright and warm smile. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and skinny jeans that fit him perfectly. You looked in the surroundings of him if he's with someone and it seems that there’s none.

“Hello, Jungkook. You’re heading somewhere?” You gave him a warm smile that hopefully, doesn’t look like it’s forced.

“Yeah. I’m going out for dinner. I was actually in that building,” He pointed out the building behind you and it looked like a law firm office. “I already saw you when I entered there but I didn’t have the chance to greet you because I’m in a hurry and now, you’re still here.” He glances at the road and returns his eyes to you. “You’re waiting for someone?”

“Uhm, yeah. I am.” You looked at your phone to see if Taehyung had a message but there’s none.

“You’ve been here for a couple of minutes already. Are you sure that they are still going to make it here?”

“Yeah. Maybe they—

You were taken aback when your stomach started to growl and heck, it’s so loud that you want the grounds to eat you alive. You were sure that your face was burning red and you couldn’t bear to make eye-contact with him as your gaze fixed elsewhere.

You glance at him as a soft chuckle rumbles in his throat. “I already hate the person that keeps you waiting in hunger. You know what, I’d love to treat you for dinner with me and drive you to your destination afterwards. Or we can just go to a drive-thru.” If he’s someone else, maybe you will consider his offer.

“No, it’s okay Jungkook. You don’t have to do that.” You glance at your phone to pretend that someone messages you. “My friend is already on his way. You can go.”

“Your friend of yours is really something else. What kind of man is he for making you wait for so long on the street with your stomach empty?” His voice took on a sharp edge as his eyebrows knitted together.

“I’m really fine. You don’t have to think about me.” You force a smile as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

“I insist, Dr. Y/N. I really want to treat you for being there for me during my worst days. You help me a lot and I want to get you something to show my appreciation. It’s nothing big and I will be guilty if I just leave you here.”

“I really appreciate your gesture, Jungkook, but I have other plans. Maybe next time?” You smile hoping that he understands that you don’t really want to go with him.

“With the same guy that made you wait in the cold air? Oh come on, Doc. You know better.” He spoke in a pompous tone, as if he proved that Taehyung is a horrible guy.

“You can make up to me some other time. I’m really–

You haven’t finished your sentence when Taehyung’s audi arrives beside you and he instantly gets out to meet your gaze.

“Y/N! I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. The traffic is so heavy.” He didn’t notice Jungkook until he opened the passenger’s seat and slowly glanced beside you. Jungkook released a sarcastic laugh and glared at Taehyung.

“What a surprise that Kim Taehyung–a famous musician and artist let a lady wait in the cold breeze with an empty stomach. I didn’t know that you’re such a gentleman, Taehyung.” He spoke in a mocking tone as Taehyung looked at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“You wouldn’t want to know.” He arched a brow before he returned his gaze to you. “If you really insist on being with this guy, then I’ll leave you already. I just hope that he won’t completely ruin your precious night.” He said before he finally turned around and walked away–placing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. When he’s already out of sight, you turn your head to Taehyung and glare at him.

“What?” You suddenly smack his chest before you hopped in the car.

“Damn you.”

—

It didn't take long before Jungkook was back, sitting on the couch in front of you. You’ve realized that your day always feels heavy every Tuesday of the week and that is whenever you’re going to have a session with him.

You've tried to shake off the discomfort you feel when he's in front of you because you regret thinking of him differently from your other patients, but every time you try, he makes it worse.

“Are you taking your medicines I’ve prescribed you?” You scan his record file that you’re holding.

“Yeah. I consistently take them, Doc.” He responded as he smugly looked at you and before you think of negative thoughts of him, you already returned your gaze back to the folder.

“Are you still having nightmares during your sleep?” He didn’t instantly respond like he’s thinking about the question carefully.

“I do. I still do, Dr. Y/N. But it wasn’t worse, unlike what I have for the last months.”

“Then it’s a good sign. You’re now improving. Are you still thinking about the incident?” You give him a genuine smile while he slowly crosses his legs and places both of his arms on the arm rest.

“Yes, but not as frequently as before. I love my mother so much but I’ve learned to let her go and accept the fate she has. Afterall, it was her fault.” He was looking at the painting that Yunjin had given you as he answered. He doesn’t have much of a reaction but his last sentence caught your attention.

“Why do you think that it’s her fault?” You ask in your soft voice.

“You see, my mother isn’t the perfect mother and she has her mistakes and sometimes, she doesn’t learn from them. She keeps doing the same thing until she has to pay for it and that costs her life.” He responded.

“Do you want to talk about the mistakes that your mother made?” He smiled and played with his lips once again. You’ve noticed that he’s doing that if he finds something funny or there are things that he knows and you don’t.

“But we will take forever if we discuss it right now, Dr. Y/N. But if you’re really interested, we can talk about it over dinner. You promised me last time that you’ll come with me for dinner.” You mentally rolled your eyes with his statement. Here he goes again.

“Not right now. I still have a lot of things to do but we can talk about other things like how great your mother is.” You said and he laughed—as if your statement is absurd. You try to not raise your brows with his action and behavior.

“Let's not talk about that, either.”

You were doing your best to understand his actions and statements but there is something in him that you haven’t seen. Something that will answer everything

“But I will tell you how I see my mother during the incident.” He leaned forward and intertwined his fingers “When my mother is kneeling and begging for her life, I was thinking that ‘damn. It’s really happening, isn't it?’. And when the trigger was pulled, the world stopped. And after a few moments, I felt a sense of relief and before I knew it, I was shot as well.” His voice was soft and light as if he’s confessing something that he should have confessed before.

You felt a shiver down your spine as the creeping horror crawled along your arms, raising goosebumps. You held unflinching eye contact, determined to keep your composure and hide the discomfort and fear you felt.

“Where were you when your mom was being shot?” You asked as you held your breath.

This question is already asked during the investigation. ‘I’m in the living room, 10 feet away from her. When I saw her position and situation, I immediately ran towards her but it was too late because before I even reached her, she was already shot in the chest. It didn’t take 10 seconds of my life before I was shot as well’.

But you still ask him once again. Away from the detectives.

“I was there, I told you.”

“Yes, but in what position?” Your hands are already trembling.

“I was standing,” He took a deep breath before he continued. His next sentence didn’t surprise you because it was something you already expect but trying to deny it to yourself, and it terrifies you, so much that you thought that this may be your last day.

“After I was shot, I collapsed, along with the gun I was holding.”

a/n: I'm almost done with the whole series so I've decided to post the first part. I hope you'll like this new fic because I enjoy writing it! I am open for comments to further improve my works. Have a nice day everyone!

taglist: @iloverubberduckiez-blog @kingofbodyrolls @fangirl-death-rose @looneybleus @softie00

729 notes · View notes

slut4daviii · 1 year

Text

character(s): d.kaminari

pt: 02/02

cw: fingering, cum/anal eating, edging, praise kink(?), daddy kink, brat taming, caught, post-shower sex, mind-fucking, slight degradation, belly bulge, size kink, thigh-fucking (kinda)

your step-brother thought he had a few more minutes before you got out of the shower. he learns the hard way what happens when you’re caught masturbating.

a/n: i hate this shit sooo fucking much. | i gave up halfway through (thats what took it so long to come out. | minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT

title: whatcha up to, sparky?

wc: idefk (prolly 2000-2500)

────────────────────────

he only had another minute or two.

steam rose from the crevices of your locked bathroom; music blaring from the other side.

“[n—name]! ng—ngmh! nhg!….fu—fugk! right there!” the words left his mouth in an unceremonious fashion, sounding more like a broken record; he said it again, and again, repeating himself almost indulgently. a hand ghosted his twitching erection, blazing forth a sleuth of high-pitched moans.

your hands reached for the knobs, twisting it off in one swift movement.

“just a little longer baby.”

I—I can’t…! pl—please [name]! I need to— nghm! cum!” the machinery within his body continued to spear his insides, impaling the deepest depths of his mind. with a steady flow of electrons— curtesy of his quirk, the speed of his ‘toy’ increased drastically, now entailing itself into his stomach.

“mmhg! [na—name]! I—I’m gon—gonna cum!”

he listened intently, already having memorized the audio’s contents. your voice spoke to him, shooting daggers into his body.

“does my good boy wanna cum?”

Denki nodded— phonetically speaking through gritted teeth. “tes! [name] le—lemme cuhm!”

“no.”

his body retreated away from the sound, his head snapping backwards at the edging.

sweat trickled from his forehead, exhaustion clawing at his hips. he pressed your shirt— sweat-ridden and freshly used— further against his nose, inhaling deep breaths of your musky scent, the smell sending him overflowing with lust.

he squirmed against your sheets, moving his hands to slam your pillow over his face. “nmfgh…! [n—name]! mfg—ghm!” he pulled the pillow away— vision still slightly obscured by your shirt.

“aww, I’m hurt… comparing me to something as small as that.”

Denki shot up, his quirk mushing more elegant arcs of electrical surges into the machine— it picking up enough speed to make him lurch to his side. “uhng! wa—wait! wait [n—na]! wait, it—it’s not what—what it looks like!”

your body coupled into his vision, the tranquil curves of your muscles blurring behind the liquid wall of lust coaxing Denki’s body. beads of water rolled over your smoothing skin— the moisture from your shower still sticking to the surface of your body.

“oh? is it not? then what’s goin’ on, …zappy?” the nickname fell from your lips like a satin blanket, dully dressed in the glorious afterglow of pleasure.

the toy inside of Denki was still moving, strongly striking his nerves in mind-blurring fashion. “nnguh! it—it’s because of—of your v—oice! the video you made!”

you smirked, a dark chuckle leaving you. “so you watch my videos? that makes you a perv, y’know.”

Denki fumbled, his facade falter alongside the coiling strings of semen erupting from his slit. “unug—ha!” his moan was spun on the web of a gasp, snatching his body’s actions away from him. “I— uhg! …n—no! that’s n—not what I—nghm! meant!” he gulped back his shame, sitting up against your wall. “I— was j—just…” his eyes traveled everywhere, looking for a plausible explanation as to what he was very obviously doing.

you pushed off the frame of your door, dragging your tongue along the ridge of your teeth. “so what did you mean…Denk?’”

the way the nickname burrowed yourself into his skin make him quiver with anticipation. though he didn’t know what to expect. “anything you wanna say?” the question was laced with greed— almost as if you were teetering on the idea of turning him into a, your slut.

your knee connected with the edge of your bed, your weight dipping the mattress intolerably. the water from your hair dripped down your body, running circles on your torso before making way to your v-line. “I—nghm! I was, just… just trying to…” his eyes lowered. “uh! uhm, well… I guess you— we…!”

“eyes up here, Denk’.”

you brought your hand to his chin— almost in a cliché sense, your eyes locking in a one-sided battle. “so, Denk… what were you doing?”

you were hovering over him, your height difference clouding, if not completely obscuring his perspective. your bulge pressed into the cusp of his thighs.

a shallow gasp escaped you, your head dropping to look at him. his legs were shaking slightly, the skin of his body smooth and perfectly poised. “god, your so beautiful.”

Denki flushed; his eyes darting around articulately. his body was cleansed of its own blood, now replaced and replenished by the torrents of your own; he was bound to you. bound in your spell.

“is this my shirt?” his eyes finally focused, the grey material momentarily filling his vision before you took it from him. “is this where my clothes have been going? on your pervy little curves? helping you masturbate?”

“n—no! I haven’t been d—doing anything, man! I’ve ju—just been low on—NGHM!” Denki’s hands came up to your shoulders: gripping and scratching along the skin. “[n—name]! I—I just said that— ngh! I didn’t st—steal your cloths!”

your fingers intersected themselves in the innermost nerves of Denki’s body. he reflected the feeling of arousal in his eyes— the sensation causing the irises of his eyes to gloss over with tears.

“this isn’t about my clothes, Denk’” you groaned, feeling Denki’s legs press on the head of your cock. “its about you. and what you’re doing in my room. with my shirt over your face, and a fuck machine in your ass.”

you displaced your fingers, rubbing them along his prostate. “so, what exactly are you doing?”

Denki threw his head back— a sound erupting from his mouth in a dysphoric rage of moans. “mmgh! I— I w—was low on—ahgn!” a sharp thrust of your fingers stopped his sentence, his cock twitching with precum.

“stop lying Denk’ you know mom hates that shit.”

your cock throbbed painfully, the towel around your waist falling to your thighs— your cock rubbing against your step-brother’s abdomen. “c’mon Denk’” you almost whined, desperation washing over you in arcs of painful crescent moons. “I’m so… fuckin’ horny.”

your fingers glistened within him— a grandeur sound resonating within him. he audibly gasped at it, trying to move away from you but your sudden grip on his thigh altered his movements, making him slide under you instead.

he gulped, finding himself floundering around at the feeling of your cock against his stomach. it aligned with the skin just above his belly button. his movements were spastic, a jumble of jerks and twist sending molten plasma down your shaft.

“Denk…” your words were cold— rigid with seething but controlled gasp. “if you keep movin’ like that, I’ll cum.”

Denki blushed, a liquid crimson band covering his entirety. his movements momentarily halted, the surges of lust nestling into his stomach, coiling into a warm feeling that tightened with each move of your fingers

however, they left his body in a sickly masochistic way. you brought your fingers to your mouth and slid your tongue along the skin, maintaining a dysphasic tone of eye contact. the look in your eyes heating Denki’s body to an all time high.

your fingers, now covered in a flowing sea of spit and lube reached for Denki’s lips— breaking the surface of his mouth. his heartbeat was in his throat, yet, he still took your fingers into the depths of his mouth.

you played with his tongue, using your index and middle to balance the pink muscle in a titillating, slightly uncomfortable fashion.

you moved once more, shoving yourself into his throat. he choked and gagged, spitting around your knuckles but made no attempt to stop your brutality.

after a few seconds, you took your fingers away from him, letting him breathe.

“what were you doing in my room, Denk?” you asked once more.

“hnah! mng—h! I—I wasn’t doin’ anything, ma—man!”

you chuckled, moving your hand to your cock— stroking from base to tip. with your other hand, you wrapped his torso in your forearm, lifting him to your v-line. “tsk, tsk. mom would be disappointed.” your tip grazed his hole, “first, you have the shameless idea to masturbate in my room, then you lie about it.”

you pushed inward— also grabbing your shirt and shoving it into Denki’s mouth. he moaned around the fabric, his eyes crossing when you had yourself fully excavated within him. “I guess you’ve always needed a little more time to learn things…”

your hips fell away from him, dragging your tip down the ridge of his spine. the afterimage of your shaft was still intact; exhibiting through his pelvic muscles. it was filthy. utterly disgraceful to witness. “but… it’s a good thing you’ve got me.”

not a second later, his catalyst was filled once more, your cock reaching intolerably deep into his physique. his arms slid down your chest— leaving scarlet marks on your abdominal walls.

a hiss left your lips, the sound similar to a snake. you grabbed his wrist with one of your hands, using the other to snatch your shirt from his mouth. “haah! [n—name]! de—deep! c—cock too deep’n me…!”

you wrapped his wrist in your shirt, taking the edges of the bindings and crossing them into his drooling lips— the knot forming a gag. “my what?” you mocked, laughter soon filling your white-walls. “too deep? you were just using a fuck machine, jerking your dick to the smell of my clothes! now it’s too deep?”

you began thrusting shallowly, moving his thighs to your chest and pulling his legs to fall down your back. a swift motion of your hips shook Denki’s body, pushing him into his second orgasm.

he tightened around you, a convulsive throbbing in his cock and rapidly clenching hole gave way to the white twine and muffled moans of your step-brother. he thrashed his hands around— vigorously trying to grip onto anything.

you grinned at this, continuously thrusting into him. Denki felt his consciousness leaving him, his eyes falling lidded and heavy.

you, stuttering over the feeling of your own body, groaned profusely— your hips stinging with exhaustion. “you— mgh! you can’t handle my dick? if you wanna tap out, just tell me what you were doing in here.”

Denki mumbled, not knowing how to form correct words. “I—nguhm! ne— never anyth’ng! do th’ng!” he consulted his eyes, the orange pupils glass-like and heart-shaped. “nghu! FUGKH! m—man! ca—can’t think!”

a skeletal architecture altered into his body, forming a permanent semicircular shape— an arch lifted his body off the bed, rubbing your slit into his prostate.

both of your came— your cock trembling with painful arcs of melancholy emission staining the onslaught of Denki’s organs. his body spasmed with crude pleasure— his eyes rolling into emptiness.

his body went limp in your arms: mouth slack, eyes closed, and breathing shallow.

he’d passed out.

your body heaved, heavily burned from your orgasm. your cock was still deep within him, your semen creating a barrier between the two of you— however his warmth was still surrounding you in surreal relief. it begged you to keep going, begged for you to unload your balls and every drop of cum you had into him.

a gulp traveled intermittently across your tongue, cascading into your throat. you casually slipped your finger onto his waist— gripping the skin in a gentle embrace.

you pushed your pelvis further into him, your tip ramming against the bottom of his enclosure. your head tilted back, eyes closed with plenty more pleasure.

you pulled from him, slamming back against his skin in a single breathless moment. his body rippled through with waves of light. sweat enchanted his body like a giant cloud, puddling on his stomach— entrancing the skin alongside the pool of his cum.

you again thrusted into him— this time harsher. you were transported to another world, blissfully unaware of Denki’s stirring body. he was waking back up, his cock sleek with pre-cum.

his vision was still obscured, the feeling of fabric still plastered over his tongue. he whined, more pre-cum falling from his slit. “mghph— phuhk muh! [nuhmhe]! chaut c—can’t cuhm! n’more!”

you couldn’t hear him. you were completely lost in your own thoughts: the same words repeated throughout the entire time, “fuck him! fuck him until he can’t walk! fuck him! fuck him! fuck him fuck him fuckhimfuckhimFUCKHIMFUCKHIM!”

your thoughts mushed together, a singular statement that dug deeper and deeper into your mind. it burned into your brain, forcing your hips to move internally deeper, milking a third orgasm from Denki. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, he was racked with tears— crying out in ecstay

you were panting heavily, biting down on your lip to keep your sounds of elation. your orgasm was slowly steeping upon you, the feeling setting off a buzzing sensation all over your body.

“fuuhk… Denki, I’m gonna— Imma cum.”

Denki’s legs shook with excitement, another orgasm rumbling through his body. he screamed around your shirt, pressing his hips against yours. spit dripped from his chin, running down his abdomen and onto his maroon shaded tip.

overwhelming coils of heat knotted within you, pushing your hips into an uneven pace

you weren’t aiming at anything, just hitting Denki’s body over and over again. you were chasing after an orgasm that was mere inches away.

sloppy thrust turned to harsh, animalistic tactics— erratically fucking Denki into the soft cloth rubbing against your balls. you were going crazy, the heat from your abdomen shooting into your tip, choking you in a panicked rage.

you leaned down to Denki, ripping your shirt from his lips, quickly replacing the cloth with the chapped skin of your lips. you messily kissed along his face, moving sloppily to his neck. “who’s your daddy?”

Denki moaned— the sound hoarse and cracking. “y—[name]! m’daddy! m’yer slut!”

the words only continued to edge you, your tip twitching inside him, “say it again— fuck… I’m so close to giving you my kids…!” your shaft throbbed at his mindlessness, the moans bouncing like embers from a raging river of fire. “please, say it again…! what’s my name, Denk?”

“daddy! da—duaddy! mngh!… ma’cuhm! cuhm n’daddy’s cock!” again Denki clench around you, his swollen hole screaming at you to keep going— keep abusing him until your name was spelled into his organs.

“fu—“ you couldn’t finish your sentence, a powerful surge of pleasure rushing through every blood cell in your body, energetically jerking your lower body around. like an angry explosion your cum clawed its way through you, pushing out any and everything you had within you, transferring it into Denki.

Denki’s cum was clear— thin and falling onto his pecs, dripping like water onto his face. he shivered at the feeling, not having the energy to move or even breathe correctly.

you sighed, head falling painfully to your pillow, the feeling of Denki’s hair right beside your face annoying the nerve endings of your skin.

you pushed his head away, closing your eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

until…

“[NAME]! DENKI! WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHAT ARE THE TWO OF YOU DOING?!!”

you gulped.

shit.

#dom male reader #gay #seme male reader #top male reader #mha smut #mha x male reader #mha x dom male reader #gay smut #bnha denki #denki x male reader #denki x dom male #denki x top male reader

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fluffyfantasticducky · 6 months

Text

Focus on the Good

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki is overwhelmed dealing with being accused as a traitor, although this time he's innocent. But this time, he is not the man he used to be, and he has you by his side.

☆ Word Count: 5,110

☆ Notes: The relatively awaited part two of Smile for me. Sorry I took so long to post this, I had a creative block and had trouble deciding what to focus on. The traitor plot twist is anticlimatic but I chose to focus more on Loki and his feelings.

☆ Warnings: Loki dealing with self hatred, insinuations and caresses that aren't spicy per se but are a bit more intimate and flirty but it's all sfw.

Frustrating. How else could he call it?

His first mission as a leader was a complete disaster. You had gotten hurt due to his own incompetence. And add some insult to this pathetic situation, now he was being investigated for treason to S.H.I.E.L.D. despite that he was completely innocent.

It must have been some sick twisted joke of fate. He spent years playing with Asgard like a fiddle, getting away with so much, to the point that where he committed treason everyone realized only when it was too late. And now that he had a reason to make things right, be transparent and honest, now he was investigated as if he was some traitor.

The most offensive thing of those implications was that it suggested that Loki was either using you or lying to you. When in reality he would die for you, he’d walk through fire if you asked him. Or that you were complicit of his ‘crimes.’ You, you who were the kindest, sweetest, most righteous person he had ever met.

Every day or two days at most they come to either interrogate you, him, or inspect your shared room which always left them a mess to clean up.

At least the people he cared about knew he was innocent. Thor was constantly arguing with Fury, going over and over about how this was nonsensical and even offering Loki to flee to New Asgard for a few days until things calmed down. Valkyrie had offered him an extra room if he needed. Bruce, while he wasn’t as passionate about defending Loki, agreed that it made very little sense that Loki would betray them now with all he had accomplished. Even the great Tony Stark agreed between sarcastic jokes that he would’ve believed if he hadn’t seen how down bad, he was for you.

You… what would he do without you? You not only got into mad arguments and made abundantly clear your distaste for this decision, but you were his biggest source of support and peace after all the draining routine he was being put through during the suspension from missions. You were a risk taker by disobeying direct orders from Fury by asking Thor, Bruce, Nat, Clint to trade with you during missions as to make a strike until they decided to reintegrate Loki to his normal duties. And for the first week of interrogations, whenever it was your turn… Norns, he felt a bit bad for the director. You were quite loud and fierce when you wanted to be.

But most importantly, all the support he got from you after all the interrogations and room inspections that hurt him more than he’d ever admit.

“I’m sorry…” he sighed, resting his head on your lap.

In between the inspections to your shared bedroom one of the agents had broken a little figurine you collected.

“It’s just a toy, I’ll get another one…” you assured him.

Loki could sense a lie. But he also remembered how excited you had been when you got it, saying it was rare and it had taken you a huge effort to get it.

“You darling prince…” you spoke softly, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay. We know you’re innocent, soon all of S.H.I.E.L.D. will see it too. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

“What did I do so right to deserve such a pretty angel such as you?” he chuckled. “You are unfairly good to me.”

“You keep saying that baby.” You spoke gently, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear. “You sound like a broken record.”

“I might be one” he shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Yeah?” you giggled. “Then I’ll just have to fix you.”

“I thought you said the I can fix him was a toxic mentality in romance” he said cheekily.

“Oh, now you remember my movie rants” you laughed. “But the I can fix him trope is toxic when—”

“…It is used by the abuser who manipulates them into staying as a rehabilitation center. A partner should be part of your support group but never the responsible to fix you, but a motivation and helping hand while you fix yourself.” He opened his eyes to look up at you as he finished repeating your old rant word by word. “I always remember the things you say.”

“Is that so? When is our anniversary?”

“June 9” Loki smiled and noticed you opening your mouth to retort. “And our 1,000 days together is on March 5th year. And yes, I knew you were going to ask that.”

“Smart pants” you smiled.

“You love me like that.”

“I do” you smiled and kissed his lips softly. “Guess you don’t need fixing after all.”

“Glad we agree, I am the most perfect man” he grinned, relishing the way you cringed and smiled at the silly joke.

“I don’t know about that.” You smiled, “But you are perfect for me.”

You pecked his lips and made him smile.

“I don’t deserve you…” he smiled.

“Oh, that’s it!” you laughed and soon your hands where all over his sides.

And sooner than that Loki was laughing his head off.

“Hehe- hey!” he protested between laughs.

You had an annoying charm. Tickling him silly as a pseudo-punishment. It was your shared secret how much Loki enjoyed being tickled. You stopped soon enough, smiling at him, caressing your thumb across his cheek.

“It’ll pass before you notice…” you whisper. “They will see exactly what you truly are. Just like I do.”

Loki chuckled softly.

“I hope not, you are a handful already” he smirked at the offended look on your face due to his comment.

“Oh, you want to talk about a handful…” you growled as you flipped to straddle him. “Let’s see how much of a handful I can be…”

Loki gulped, unable to fight a smile.

“Ahah…” he huffed, “darling, d-don’t… d-dohohohon’t!”

But your hands were already attacking his sides, your fingers skillfully scribbling along his skin, prodding his ribs, drilling along each crevice in the most maddening way.

“Is that enough handful for you, huh?” you asked in a faux anger. “Eh? Is it?”

“Thihihihihihis is cruel!” Loki protested. “And thahahahat doesn’t mahahake sehehense!”

“Mmm, it might have just been excuse to get my hands on this hot bod of yours” you smiled.

Being tickled was already a vulnerable moment for Loki. To the point where only you could tickle him without any resistance. Anyone else would need to overpower him physically or just restrain him. You, on the other side, he would barely fight back. He’d simply squirm in his place, rolling over to the side or on his stomach. Which it gave you more of a sensation that he just wanted you to focus on other spots. Not that he'd ever admit… you had tried.

“Ehehehe! You ahahahaha— wait no!” he protested as your fingers reached his stomach, giving it little pinches and pokes. “Lohohohove, stop!”

“Alright, alright.” You smiled and kissed his forehead as you stopped the tickling. “Is your mood better?”

“Ihi— if I say yes will you stop torturing my stomach?” he smiled at you, holding onto your hips. “You know I can’t take it there.”

The way you leaned against his chest to kiss his lips never failed to drive him wild. And this wasn’t the exception.

“I am aware” you hummed against his lips. “That’s why it’s my favorite spot to tickle.”

“I am, unfortunately, also aware of that” he chuckled.

“If you really minded it, you’d actually do something to stop me instead of just laughing your heart out.”

“I love it when a beautiful mortal has their hands all over me, is that something to be ashamed about?” he grinned cheekily at you.

You rolled your eyes and smiled. “It wouldn’t be if you were still single. But you are stuck with me now and forgive me if I’m not good at sharing my boyfriend. Unless you’d share me with others.”

“That is out of the question. You are mine, and mine alone.” He said solemnly as he held you in his arms. You lifted your eyebrows, expectantly as he felt his cheeks warm up under your gaze. “As… I am yours; I suppose.”

“Was that so hard to say?” you smiled.

“Terribly so” Loki smiled. But then, his face adopted a serious, melancholic expression. “I’m sorry… I should not be dragging you into this disaster. You deserve better, and I fear you will realize that. It would be best for you, but… I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Lucky for you, that’s not something you have to worry about” you assured him, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I am perfectly happy with you.”

One thing that Loki loved about your relationship was that despite knowing you said stuff to made him feel better, it never came off as dishonest, as if those two concepts weren’t mutually exclusive. You said the kindest, most loving things, and he could tell you honestly felt every single one.

It made his heart soar. That honest and kind heart of yours was exactly what he had been craving for. You were what he had been looking for.

It made him want to open his heart to you. You were kind and listened to him without judging or thinking the worst of him.

“What am I going to do?” he sighed. “If I can’t go on missions, soon I will not be allowed to go outside, and then I will be going back to being a high-class prisoner.”

“Actually… you can’t leave the building given you’re under investigation” you said apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Lovely…” he groaned, throwing his head back, rubbing his face with his palms. “I am back to being a prisoner. Might as well get inside a cell.”

“Yes, we could tie you up, and torture you until you confess” you purred, trailing kisses along his jawline, as your hands made their way to play with his hair.

“You’re making it sound appealing” he hummed, relishing the feeling of your lips against his skin. “Mmm~ Keep touching me like that and I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Mm, what a good boy” you giggled, kissing his lips.

He laughed along with you, but mostly because your hands had found his ears and were tickling behind them.

“W-Whahahat are you doing? T-That tickles!” he laughed.

“I told you I would torture an answer out of you” you giggled, tickling the back of his ears. “Now confess, you war criminal!”

“Nohohoho, stohop it!” he squirmed underneath you. “How is thahahat spot so bahahad?”

“Right?” you chuckled, pressing loving kisses along his face. “I found out the other day while we were kissing.”

He grabbed your wrists. “Oh really?” he smirked, and trapped your wrists in one of his hands as he began tickling your ear shell and behind it. It took absolutely nothing to have you giggling like a kid.

“Ehehehe! L-Loki!” you giggled. “Hehehe! I-It tickles!”

“It does, does it not?” he chuckled.

He traced along the outline of your ear. He relished the way you laughed against him, you never tried to get away nor asked him to stop. You loved that closeness as much as Loki did.

“Mmm, that laugh of yours is so lovely~” he hummed as he stopped, tucking a few streaks of hair behind your ear. “It’s my favorite sound in the whole world, you make me so happy.”

“Cheesy” you chuckled, kissing his lips.

“I mean that, darling” he smiled. “Without you I would have gone mad by now. Or worse, I would be a prisoner.”

“You can’t believe that…” you spoke softly.

“What else am I supposed to believe?” he sighed, “what I did to New York is unforgivable. I should be locked up for life, I was going to be… It’s what I deserve. It took me too long to understand it.”

It broke your heart to hear him talk like that. It was a shame that he still punished himself so badly. You appreciated that he recognized his error, but the fact that it haunted him was painful to watch. He was already working on getting better.

“Loki… Your beef with Earth had its particular and complicated circumstances, it wasn’t 100% your fault.” You assured him. “But even if that was, there are other ways to atone for your mistakes… Punishing yourself but you were helping Earth, compensation is another way of redemption. Being an Avenger is a way to redeem yourself.”

“How do you do it?” he chuckled, “How do you manage to look at all the awful things I have done and still somehow see the best in me?”

“Because I’ve also seen how much you regret it, and I’ve seen you trying to prove to everyone, prove to yourself that you are doing better.” you spoke lovingly. “That means a lot, to me, to Thor, to everyone.”

“But why?” he asked. “What I did is…”

“Fucked up, yes. Tony and Bruce created a genocidal robot, Clint was an international criminal prisoner and retook as an assassin, Steve and Natasha were literal war criminals, your brother before you nearly started a war—”

“That I provoked him into.”

“Would you do it again?” you asked.

“For the sake of entertainment—” Loki pondered.

“Loki!” you giggled.

“I’m jesting, love!” he laughed. “Earth is no good in wars like Asgard, we fight to settle disagreements, make alliances, or get respect. But never to destroy.”

“We’re not so bad…” you smiled.

“Not all of you, no.” Loki agreed. “You for once are a wonderful mor— human. Smart, beautiful, funny, kind… It’s the people on the higher power that worry me.”

“It’s as they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely” you shrugged. “That’s what we fight for. For those without power, and against those who abuse it.”

“You say that as I remain locked in here, simply training and withering away” Loki sighed.

“Well… we can find something interesting to keep you occupied—”

“Reindeer games, out now!” Tony banged on the door.

“Not now Stark!” Loki called annoyed.

“You’ll want to see this.” Tony spoke through the other side of the door.

You stood up and Loki followed right after. Everyone was headed to the meeting room so that’s where you went to.

Bruce and Thor had one of the younger cadets, Philip. He was struggling against the two. His blonde hair was a mess and he looked like he had lost a fight.

“We found our traitor, brother.” Thor said firmly, even a bit prideful. “The little rat sabotaged our missions.”

“A double agent?” Steve asked.

“Self-sabotage” Bruce clarified. “He informed the base you were going. Who and when. And exactly how to take down a god. We found a report of the mission sent to an unknown address.”

“I found it.” Natasha stated.

“You?” Clint raised an eyebrow.

“We” she corrected herself.

“With my technology, that is.” Tony added. “In case anyone was wondering.”

“No one was wondering that, Tony” Steve smiled lightly, amused by the genius’ ego.

“But why? You were the only non-Avenger agent Loki chose personally” Thor asked. “My brother trusted you. And it was a wonderful opportunity for you.”

Fury looked… well, furious.

“Philip Crowe, you’re immediately and effectively removed from all S.H.I.E.L.D. work and installations, permanently for treason, espionage, and sabotage to an elite strike agent.” Fury said firmly.

“Elite?! He’s a monster!” the young man protested, struggling to break free from the arm lock. “It’s a time bomb! It’s in his nature! You’ve seen what he’s capable of! It’s a matter of time before we have New York part two! You’ve read myths, what guarantees that there won’t be a Ragnarök on Earth?! He—”

SMACK! He had been cut off by a slap in the face by you. If the stinging in his cheek was not enough to silence him, your cold glare silenced him.

“Take him away.” You said. “I want him rotting in a cell for a really long time…”

“Oh, he will be locked in the dark for a very long time” Fury agreed, “for espionage, and sabotage… And being an asshole as a whole.”

Thor was about to take him away. He was struggling to break free.

“Don’t.” Loki spoke up. “I’ll use a spell to delete his memories, about S.H.I.E.L.D. about the Avengers. Everything will be gone from his mind. He can live a normal life not remembering being an agent.”

Loki walked and looked down at him. Placed his hand on his forehead as the blond struggled. Loki let his Seidr flow and Philip’s body went limp.

“When he wakes up, he’ll be normal, he can have a normal life, he won’t be a risk for S.H.I.E.L.D.” he sighed and left the room.

Flowers bloomed under him as he sat by the lake. Just enjoying the familiar view. But not even that brought him any joy.

“Loki, there you are, honey.”

“Hello mother” Loki smiled. “I was just… thinking.”

“I thought you would be happy to get your naming” Frigga said. “You were excited this morning to receive your title.”

“God of Mischief, mother?” he asked. “Does that mean I’m supposed to cause trouble?”

“Is that so bad?”

“Will father get upset at me?” Loki asked. “Besides, you like annoying your brother.”

“Pranking Thor is different. Why could I be the God of rain, wind, or something, then Thor and I could be gods together.”

“You can’t revolve your personality around Thor. Your godly title is meant to reflect your personality, not your brother’s” Frigga smiled at him gently. “Your father gave you a title that would fit you.”

“Does father think I’m a bad son?” he asked.

“I think your father thinks you’re creative, smart, with good abilities to get away with what you want” Frigga assured him. “All qualities you do have. And you are quite cheeky.”

Loki chuckled weakly. Frigga smiled and picked up a purple flower and wiggled it against Loki’s face. Causing the young god to scrunch up his nose and swat the pretty flower away.

“You know, son. I think it’s time for you to start learning magic” Frigga said.

“But you said I had to wait until I was 500 years old” Loki asked.

“I think you’re ready” Frigga said, “You’re 250 years old already, and you just got your title. You are a big boy now.”

With a few elegant movements the violet on Frigga’s hands turned into a purple frog that jumped out of hands and into the pond. Loki giggled as his mother’s arms trapped him into a hug as she tickled his sides.

“Pretty memory” you looked at him as you sat next to him. “Your mom is pretty.”

“Most beautiful woman in all of Asgard” Loki agreed. “Do you know what Orvokki means?”

“Uhh, it’s a violet, right?” you said looking at the flowers around the lake.

“It can also be interpreted as little orphan. How ironic that it was my favorite flower as a child…” Loki grumbled.

He flicked his wrist and the illusion of his memory vanished. He was no longer in Asgard, he was sitting on the rooftop of the compound’s main building. He wasn’t with his mother. And his eyes were red from crying.

“That was really nice thing you did back there” you congratulated him as you rubbed circles across his back.

“Not bad for a monster, huh?” Loki huffed out, in a failed attempt to fake out a laugh. “Did you see the way he looked at me? The fear in his eyes…?”

“Don’t listen to him…” you said resting your head against his shoulder. “He never gave you a chance to prove how good you really are. That’s his problem, not yours.”

“I can’t blame him… I would not trust me either… I am a monster, I was a monster to my people, to my home…” he sighed.

“What? No, Loki…”

“My birth father abandoned me to die, I was raced by a kingdom that thought my kind were monsters…” Loki sighed, “and I caused so much pain and death to a Realm that could’ve seen me as something quite literally divine.”

You looked at him and squeezed his hand.

“I thought… I hoped I had a second chance, I wanted to believe people were already accepting me. I thought that if I could have at least one agent to trust me… How foolish of me…”

“Stop that…” you scolded him, giving his hand a gentle and loving squeeze. “You’re not a monster. No one sees you as a monster.”

Loki laughed bitterly. While you weren’t lying in the literal sense, you were being too kind, blinded by your affection for the young Asgardian to acknowledge the recent events.

“I mean it!” you said. “You’re so focused on one person thinking you’re a monster, that you fail to see what everyone else did because they believed in you. They all helped in their own way to prove you were innocent. Either tracking conversation, providing resources… Gosh, even director Fury trusted you were innocent.”

“I…” Loki recapped the events from earlier. You weren’t wrong.

“Besides, you know how picky I am when it comes to dating” you smiled, “I wouldn’t date just anyone. Is that not enough for you?”

Loki was silent for a moment, for once he didn’t even have a smart reply for that.

He had seen you turn down a couple of agents or staff members before the two of you started dating. Philip among the lines of the rejected. In fact, he remembered that during that time where the other Avengers noticed his feelings for you, some of them tried to discourage him from courting you, because “you didn’t date.” In fact, they had brought it up, on his face to prove it so. You were, in fact, very picky when it came to dating. Which just made him value your relationship even more. It gave him a huge confidence boost, and the security of not being replaced or overshadowed he so desperately had been needing.

And once again, you were that source of comfort and security. You were his sweet little balm.

“I… um…” he stuttered.

You chuckled and kissed his cheek.

“Tongue tied?” you teased him, making him groan in frustration as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Just… don’t give him power over you, if he didn’t bother knowing you, he shouldn’t deserve such a space in your mind.”

“Thanks, love” he smiled softly. “For… looking after me. And… helping me see that others look after me.”

“Heh… I’m glad I helped” you spoke lovingly as you rubbed your nose against his neck.

He chuckled rested his cheek against the top of your head.

“Should we head inside?” you asked, rubbing your own arms, as you stood up “it’s a bit chilly out here.”

“You can go inside, love” Loki offered. “I need some time alone.”

You looked at him worried, but a gust of cold wind made you shiver, making the idea of going inside more and more appealing. But he saw the hesitation in your eyes, the way you didn’t want to leave him alone made him smile.

“I promise I’ll meet you inside later” he assured you. But you didn’t look too convinced “Make some tea for us, and I’ll meet you in our room before you’re done putting on your pajamas.”

You gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher but you nodded and made your way inside.

He relished the fresh air. But as he mentally prepared to be burdened with his failure, he surprised himself smiling. His mind wasn’t clouded with the young spy that betrayed him.

All he could think was that all the original Avengers, those he had cursed himself for unintentionally helping assemble to defeat him… now had stood up for him. And it didn’t stop there.

His mind was filled with happy memories.

All the times he had gotten a pat in the back from Tony and being called his new favorite for teasing Steve’s righteous stiffness and the way Bucky and Sam snickered at it. As well as his training contests with the super soldiers to test their serum with Loki and Thor’s godly nature. How he beamed with pride at the blond’s praise after a mission. The way Natasha and her little sister acknowledge his ability to infiltrate and swoon targets and even required him specifically. How Clint and his little new protegee had gotten really happy when Loki gifted them his old Asgardian bows for them, despite the teasing when they saw right through his “I don’t even use them” excuse and treated for dinner after. Bruce acknowledging his observation capabilities during some of his experiments. Thor… who despite all the awful things they had gone through never abandoned him, and still saw Loki as his baby brother, and despite they refused to admit it, both still adored each other.

And you. You had stolen his heart from minute one. He had been hopeless before the first kiss or even a declaration. Your eyes brought him to his knees, and he had sworn to be at your mercy for the rest of his existence when he saw you smile. And with that power you had over him done nothing but nourish him. Your payback when he pestered you was always fun and harmless. You made him laugh. You listened to everything he said and always encouraged him to keep talking until he was hoarse. You gave him the attention he had been craving for so many years. You treated him as the most important being of the universe.

Honestly, he didn’t realize when his thoughts had set him in motion. But by the time he was aware of his actions, he was already turning the doorknob of your shared bedroom.

“Liar” you scoffed, throwing a teddy bear to his face as soon as he set foot inside the room. “You said you’d be here before I was done putting on my jammies, but it’s been 5 minutes since I got in bed, and you weren’t here.”

Loki couldn’t help but smile. For a secret agent, you were terrible at hiding your feelings… at least from him.

“I apologize for not keeping my word, love” he apologized as he took off his shirt and searched through his drawer for the pajama he wanted to wear. “I lost track of time.”

“Did you drink?” you asked him.

“I did not. I trusted my favorite thing to make me tea” he responded with an innocent look as he put on his pajama shirt.

“It’s on your night table” you responded with the slightest pout, knowing you it was because he saw right through you.

He walked to the warm mug and took a sip. Of course, you had prepared his favorite tea… and with extra honey, just the way he liked. Everyone always complained there would never be enough for everyone if you kept spoiling Loki with his favorite all the time. You always got more, but it just meant starting the cycle again.

“Thank you, dear” he smiled as he kneeled on the bed to reach and cup your face to kiss your cheek.

Oh, how he wanted to tackle you and cover you in kisses at the way you fought and lost against the smile that appeared on your lovely face along with a light shade of pink.

“So adorable…” he chuckled.

As he was taking off his pants, he saw the way your blush turned even darked. He rushed to put on the pajama pants and dove in the bed, wrapping his arms around you in a loving embrace with his chest against your back.

“You’re in a lovely mood” you smiled as you reached to caress his cheek. “What gives?”

“I just thought about a lovely little mortal” he hummed pressing soft kisses on your nape, “that makes my darkest days bright and cozy.”

“Do you have a fever or something?” you touched his forehead.

“No, I mean it!” he laughed. “I stayed back to think… and all I could think about was your love, your kindness, and this hot body of yours…”

As he spoke that last bit, he reached to caress your sides, making you giggle.

“Loki…!” you giggle swatting his hand away. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“You know I am” he whispered, resting his face against your shoulder. Taking in your scent, closing his eyes as he relaxed. “Norns, what would I do without you?”

“Probably snuggle your pillow tonight” you smiled. “But you’d be fine.”

“I would not…” Loki choked up, as he felt tears forming in his eyes. “I would be lost; I would be absolutely nothing without you. A monster…”

“No, no, baby…” you spoke softly, turning around to face him. “You’ve worked really hard to be better… That’s all you, you are utterly and undoubtedly wonderful…”

The way you always made him feel better was almost scary. Your word was law. If you said he was so good, then… perhaps he wasn’t as bad as he thought.

“I love you…” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“What for?”

“For being my second chance… For believing I was more than the man that caused so much pain to your people…”

“Second chances are earned, Loki” you said. “You’ve earned it.”

He laughed softly when you rose up to sit on his waist, straddling him with your legs as you gave him a pseudo-menacing look.

“Now speak poorly of my sweet cuddly honeybun and you will be sorry…” you said in the worse threatening tone he had ever heard.

He cringed and laughed softly at the overly cheesy pet name.

“Oh gods…” he muttered with a shaky smile as his lips twitched upwards, amused by the situation. “You goofball.”

You let out an offended gasp and started tickling his sides, immediately making him giggle like a child.

“W-Wait! Dahahaharling! I’m sohohohohohrry!” he whined between laughs.

“Nope! Sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time, you insult me, you insult my prince… you deserve being chastised” you said playfully as you tickled his belly, which always made him hysterical.

“NAHAHAHA! STOP! STOP! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” he cackled, soon wheezing. He was so ridiculously ticklish that had had no chance fighting back or think about anything else but the tingles that made him howl with laughter.

But he wouldn’t change this kind of silly fun with his darling for the world. And if he was honest with himself, this was a great thing to focus on.

| MASTERPOST |

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