#it was so incredibly hard to breathe today my chest was hurting so bad and all i was doing was sitting & talking to ppl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sickficideas · 4 months

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start over || skk injury/sickfic

ao3! 5.9k - please refer to the tags and notes in the link for content + warnings!

Dazai is fairly certain he has a few broken ribs, but that’s not an unfamiliar feeling.

He resists the urge to run his hand over that spot on his chest. It’s sore and painful even completely untouched. He’s already gotten used to taking shallow breaths, anything deeper than that makes him cough, makes him only feel worse.

But he won’t see a doctor. He never does.

“I’ll take care of the report. You should go home,” Kunikida tells him. Dazai’s not used to the concern in his voice. They’ve been out all night and day on this case, which isn’t too unusual for them, but Dazai’s exhaustion has hit him much harder this time. It’s visible enough that Kunikida is concerned, but Dazai doesn’t think he has any idea about the condition of his ribs. “Might not be a bad idea to have Yosano check you over before you go, though.”

“She’s in Osaka, isn’t she?” Dazai asks, vaguely remembering the discussion from the night before. He yawns, the motion from his chest proving to be rather painful, but he hides it well from his partner, he thinks.

“She’ll be back tomorrow night,” Ranpo tells the two of them, always secretly listening. He looks like he’s actually busy with something at the moment, typing away on a computer.

“I’ll take you to a doctor, then,” Kunikida insists, setting his stack of reports down on the desk and rummaging through his bag for his keys.

“Nah, that’s alright. I think I’ll just go home, I feel fine,” Dazai insists, regardless of his true situation. Kunikida saw him get hit. He was thrown against a staircase during an altercation against someone who didn’t have a gift, and while Dazai can usually hold his own in a fight, there’s not much he can do against someone highly skilled in physical combat and nothing else.

“Are you sure? You got thrown pretty hard,” Kunikida says with a disapproving frown, setting his bag down.

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll probably just bruise,” Dazai says. He didn’t bring anything with him to work today other than a messenger bag, so he picks that up, and leaves his coat hanging over his chair. It’s far too hot for that today.

“If you’re sure. I’ll take you home, at least,” Kunikida insists, but Dazai waves him off before he can continue his search for his keys.

“I’ve got errands to run. I’ll do ‘em on my way home,” Dazai says. He knows Kunikida will stay here even though he’s scheduled to go home as well. He would rather get his work done than put it off.

Kunikida sighs and waves a hand as Dazai heads for the exit.

…

“He has a few broken ribs,” Ranpo says.

Kunikida lifts his head, eyes darting in Ranpo’s direction. It’s been a few minutes since Dazai left. Ranpo doesn’t elaborate, and he’s not quite sure how Ranpo could gather that just from looking at him.

“Are you sure?” Kunikida asks.

Ranpo lifts a brow. “Am I sure?”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“The way he was breathing. It’s causing him pain,” Ranpo explains as if it was obvious. “And he was hunched over by a few degrees. It’s more painful if he stands with good posture, but also when he sits down. He didn’t put his coat back on either, probably not worth it with the pain he’s in. It’s definitely his ribs.”

“Why the hell would he tell me he’s fine?” Kunikida grumbles with a heavy sigh. He can feel a headache coming on. Dazai is so incredibly -

“Well, I’m not a relationship counselor, I’m a detective. So, can’t help you there,” Ranpo shrugs.

Kunikida resists the urge to throw something at him.

…

Chuuya’s fancy penthouse it is, Dazai decides as he boards the subway.

His chest is starting to hurt a bit more. Going from standing up to sitting is slightly more painful, so he decides he’ll stand on the train instead and hold onto something at waist level to avoid unnecessary pain. He thinks he should text Chuuya that he’s heading over there, but he ends up in his own head, distracted by miscellaneous thoughts and advertisements in his view.

He almost misses the stop.

He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, but he knows it’s Kunikida, and he doesn’t feel like answering. He’s sure Ranpo knows, he’s sure he’s told Kunikida, and answering the phone would certainly mean being harped on for not looking after his health.

Dazai understands his concern, he really does, but he’s fine. As long as he can still breathe, he would rather not see a doctor if he doesn’t have to.

The evening’s rush hour has started to calm down, thankfully. Dazai’s not sure he could handle being stuffed in a train car with that many people, especially now, but he gets out of the station unscathed and only has to endure a few minutes of walking to Chuuya’s penthouse. There’s a moment where he almost turns back around, but he’s already paid the train fare. Might as well finish what he started.

He digs through his bag for the key card he has to get to Chuuya’s floor, and he only manages to find it just when he makes it to the building. The elevator opens for him, and he ascends a few floors up to make it to Chuuya’s place. He takes in a few breaths, disappointed to find it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe. Thankfully, Chuuya’s not as observant as his coworkers.

The elevator opens right to Chuuya’s living room after he's prompted once more to scan the key card. Normally, anyone else would have to be let in by him, but Dazai has stolen this extra key card of his to make it easier for him to get it. He doesn’t care for the extra steps.

He’s grinning when the elevator door opens to Chuuya almost half-dressed and sitting on his couch with a glass of wine, wide-eyed and not very happy to see company.

“Did you steal my fuckin’ key card again, Mackerel?” Chuuya grumbles, standing up from his spot on the couch to take his remote and pause the TV. He’s watching some brainless reality TV like he usually does, that’s no surprise, but Dazai’s at the point where he wouldn’t even mind watching it with him.

“You should wear that more often,” Dazai hums as he hangs his bag on Chuuya’s silly hat rack, something he knows Chuuya hates, but has given up reprimanding Dazai for. He sees Chuuya’s face redden a little at that comment. It’s an almost-too-small tank top he’s wearing with a baggy pair of sweatpants, but he’s got some nice-looking arms. He likes seeing them.

“You always scare the crap out of me when you show up like this,” Chuuya groans, obviously trying to change the subject. “I told you to text me when you’re coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” Dazai jokes, but he’s lost the energy to put any sort of teasing tone into his voice. He trudges over to the couch to sit down, slower than he normally would and carefully as he sinks down, trying to avoid making any grunts to show he’s still in pain.

Chuuya, though, isn’t as stupid as Dazai thinks he is. “You okay?”

Dazai’s still staring at his arms. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Stop looking at me like I have a pair of tits. You’re gross,” Chuuya grumbles, marching over to the kitchen. Dazai pouts, staring at the still-paused television, with no will or energy to get up to unpause it himself.

“Slug, can you unpause it?” Dazai asks, turning his head to watch Chuuya, who has taken his phone from the kitchen counter and sat at the bar, typing away.

“Do it yourself,” Chuuya huffs. “You want somethin' to eat?”

“‘M okay,” Dazai says. He should probably eat, but he’s never really hungry.

“I’m ordering food anyway. You like Chinese food, right?” Chuuya asks.

“Uh-huh,” Dazai nods, turning his head back to stare at the television, which has already moved to the idle screen. Dazai thinks he was watching a singing competition show, which isn’t nearly as bad as his usual choices.

Dazai sinks back into the couch and manages to snake one of the throw blankets over himself, feeling a little cold. He hears Chuuya muttering in the kitchen, always weirdly polite when he’s on the phone, ordering much more than the two of them could finish together.

He breathes in and breathes out a few times, realizing that not only is it not getting better, it almost feels worse. He’s having to take more shallow breaths. Maybe it would be a good idea to at least let Chuuya know, just in case Dazai suddenly can’t breathe anymore, but he’s certain Chuuya won’t handle news of broken ribs very well.

Chuuya returns with a shirt and pajama pants that Dazai left here ages ago, because obviously nothing Chuuya owns will fit Dazai’s tall frame. He lays the clothes over the side of the couch and clicks his tongue when Dazai’s eyes drift over to him.

“You look exhausted,” Chuuya murmurs.

“‘M fine. How long till the food gets here? I’m hungry,” Dazai huffs.

“Now you’re hungry, huh? Geez," Chuuya mutters to himself. "Change into these before you get on my bed.”

Dazai is well aware that he's not allowed to wear outside clothes in Chuuya’s bed and resists the urge to make a comment about the more serious topic of Chuuya's undiagnosed OCD in favor of getting closer to time in a bed. Chuuya's mattress is fantastic. Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy mattresses that give him the most rested sleep of his life. Maybe he can lay down for a little before the food gets here. He just needs to relax, he’s fine.

Chuuya starts to wander off again.

“Slug,” Dazai whines. “What are you doing now?”

“I needa do laundry. You wanna help, or keep up your freeloader lifestyle?” Chuuya calls as he walks off. Dazai doesn’t have the energy to shout back at him. Dazai realizes he didn’t make any solid plans at all to hang out with Chuuya, and that the latter has things he needs to do too, but he wishes he would use his absorbent amounts of money to hire someone to do his laundry for him.

Dazai, instead, starts to change into the clothes Chuuya brought out for him. The sweat pants are easy to slide on as he’s sitting down. It doesn’t hurt his chest too much at all. Taking off his collared shirt and vest isn’t too difficult either, he doesn’t have to pull anything over his head with the buttons, but he realizes he’ll have to with the shirt.

He puts that off, realizing he needs to change out his bandages, too. What a pain in the ass.

“Slug,” Dazai murmurs as he approaches Chuuya’s laundry room. He’s wearing a cardigan all of a sudden. Chuuya always puts something on as soon as it comes out of the dryer, he likes how warm it is. It’s cute. “Do you have bandages I can use anywhere?”

Chuuya finishes folding up a shirt before he looks at Dazai peering in the doorway, his eyes drifting down to his bandages. Dazai suddenly feels nauseous. He knows Chuuya has seen his skin without the bandages, he knows Chuuya doesn’t care, but he hates it. He hates it so much it makes him feel sick.

“Dazai, you know that I don’t -”

Chuuya stops when his eyes meet Dazai’s expression, probably on track to say something about how he doesn’t care about what’s underneath his bandages, but Dazai doesn’t want to have that conversation right now. He just wants to change the bandages so he’s clean enough to lay in Chuuya’s bed.

“There’s some left in the bathroom next to my bedroom. Second highest shelf on the right,” Chuuya says quietly, turning his attention back to folding his remaining articles of clothing.

Dazai wanders over to Chuuya’s bedroom with the shirt he’s supposed to put on folded over his arm, and he locks the door behind him, even with the knowledge that Chuuya can open it whenever he wants.

He starts to peel off the bandages, and he winces at the side of the deep purple bruise blooming over his ribs. That doesn’t look good at all. He doesn’t usually bruise like that. He runs his fingers over the spot, shivering at how his skin feels under the touch of his hand. He’s not sure any of that is real. He thinks he might have a fever. He’s overly sensitive to touch when he’s running a temperature, even at his own hands. But whether or not the fever is from his possible damaged ribs or just exhaustion, he won’t know until later, probably.

He lazily washes his face and runs a damp washcloth over his upper body, anywhere that’s reachable and doesn’t hurt to get to, before he dries off with a dry towel. He should probably shower, but he definitely can’t do that without it hurting right now. He does, however, hold that wet washcloth up to his face. It feels so good. He wonders if ducking his face into a sink filled with water would feel better than this. Maybe he’d drown while he’s at it, too.

But Chuuya’s sink is too low. He’d have to bend over a ton and that would hurt too much. He’s not in the business for a painful suicide.

He starts to wrap his arms back up, deciding to only wrap his neck and arms, and letting the t-shirt do the rest of the covering. He can’t lift up enough to get high on his chest, and it’s too much twisting around his body. He stares down the t-shirt that he’s set on the counter with a deep sigh. He just needs to rip it off like a bandaid. Pull it over his head. It can’t hurt too bad if he’s fast.

Only, it does. It hurts so much that he can’t even pull it over his head. He lowers his arms back down and whines, throwing his head back against the door. It’s so bad that it’s making him nauseous, although he’s not sure if he was feeling sick before that. His chest rattles when he takes in a breath, and he spits phlegm into the sink.

Bad sign.

"What's takin' so long?" Chuuya puffs from outside the door. Dazai almost jumps. He didn’t think he was in here for all that long, but apparently long enough. Dammit, if he opens the door and asks for help, Chuuya will see the bruise on his chest. But it’ll hurt too much to cover it, and then he’ll take even longer.

"Chuuya needs to help me put this on," he murmurs as he unlocks the door, the shirt still pulled up to the sleeves.

"What's wrong, you sore? I have ones that button from the front, if that's easier," Chuuya says, walking off to the closet before he even sees Dazai. “You guys do some crazy stuff today?”

“I got thrown against the stairs,” Dazai groans, leaning against the door frame from the inside, Chuuya’s footsteps approaching again. His arm comes in through the crack of the door with a shirt that buttons from the front, thank god, and his arm disappears once Dazai takes the shirt. He narrowly avoided a confrontation.

“Ow. You get hurt bad?” Chuuya asks, staying outside the door as Dazai shuts it again.

“No, just…sore, like you said,” Dazai manages with a little pained groan as he slips his arms through the sleeves, buttoning the front of the shirt.

“Good. That shit can really suck,” Chuuya huffs. “Actually, I saw Akutagawa curb-stomp a guy on a staircase the other day. Seriously brutal.”

Good to know Akutagawa hasn’t lost any of his violent tendencies, but he finds himself shivering at the idea of curb-stomping someone. Strange how much things have changed. Maybe it's just because of how he feels right now.

Once Dazai finishes buttoning up the shirt, he trudges over to Chuuya’s bedroom, deciding he’ll just lie down for a while as they wait for their food, but the nausea that’s starting to settle in his stomach is making him want to pass up the idea of food.

Dazai decides to just lay down on his side. Chuuya almost wanders out of the room, but he stops and turns around once he’s realized Dazai is lying down. He frowns.

"My tummy hurts," he mumbles.

"You probably haven't eaten all damn day,” Chuuya huffs. Dazai can’t deny that. He’s pretty sure he didn’t eat anything more than a snack yesterday, either, but he won’t admit it to Chuuya. He just whines to himself. “But I’ll get you some Pepto or something if it’ll help you feel better.”

Dazai isn’t sure that will do much for him, but Chuuya is already off to the kitchen before Dazai has anything to say about it. He forces himself to sit up, up and off Chuuya’s too-comfy mattress before he lays a hand on his chest. A deep breath almost has him in tears, he’s wincing so hard that the moment makes it hurt more. It feels like a knife is stuck between his ribs and he thinks if he takes a breath like that again, he’ll throw up. Not a good sign, even worse with how swimmy his head feels once it’s off the mattress.

Chuuya returns with a little medicine cup full of Pepto Bismol and Dazai doesn’t even have the energy to give him a reassuring smile, because it’s obvious that Chuuya is concerned, no matter how much he tries to hide it. His eye twitches as he approaches him, and he reaches a hand up to his cheek. Dammit.

"Shit, Dazai," Chuuya murmurs as he pulls his hand back. "Why the hell are you so hot?"

Dazai wants to make a joke, it's such a good opportunity to, but he can't. He feels awful. He’s considering making himself throw up, but he knows that’s not even remotely related to the root of his problem.

"Tell me what happened," Chuuya growls.

"It's just a few broken ribs," Dazai says quietly, but he’s finding it to be quite painful to even speak right now. He brings his hand back up to his chest.

“I’m calling one of our doctors over,” Chuuya hisses as he sets the cup of medicine on the nightstand.

Dazai freezes at the mere suggestion of that.

“No, Chuuya. Please,” he says, his breath hitching halfway through. His brain is flooded with awful things he doesn’t want to consider. “They’ll report to Mori.”

Chuuya stops in his tracks, his shoulders dropping at the last word Dazai speaks.

Dazai knows he's being paranoid. Realistically, Mori can't get to him anymore. Chuuya would never let him, he doesn't think anyone would, but none of them know the half of what Mori did to him. He would gladly use any opportunity to treat his body like a cadaver, wouldn’t he? Even now?

Even if he wouldn’t, Dazai is so paranoid about it that he’s losing his composure, and that's the problem.

He leans over the bed and gags into his hand, fully expecting to throw up, but it’s just saliva that’s pooled in his mouth. He keeps his hand under his mouth just in case, but now the nausea is pushed to the back of his mind, his brain focused on how much his current posture is hurting his lungs.

“Shit, hey. I won’t call our doctors,” Chuuya murmurs quietly, a gentle but cautious hand landing on Dazai’s shoulder. “Well…what about that doctor at your agency? Can’t she help you?”

“She’s in Osaka,” Dazai recalls. He winces at the concern in Chuuya’s voice. “I’m…I’m fine.”

“Fucking hell, Dazai, you’re not fine,” Chuuya huffs. His voice shakes. Dazai should have known that Chuuya is just as protective as Kunikida, if not worse. He can’t kind from any of them. “I’ll just - I’ll take you to a hospital.”

“You can’t just walk into a hospital, Chuuya," Dazai laughs dryly. He shivers at the thought of going to a hospital, but it’s a far better idea than being found by Mori. It doesn’t make him gag, at least.

“I don’t fucking give a fuck,” Chuuya growls. “You know how serious broken ribs can get, especially if you already have a fucking fever. You’ve probably got an infection. Why the hell would they just let you go home?”

Dazai wants to tell him that they let him go home because he didn't tell anyone he was injured. He doesn't like bothering them if he doesn't have to, and honestly, he prefers to avoid medical treatment of any kind altogether if he can. He was just trying to see how long he could go avoiding it.

"I'm gonna call a taxi and take you downstairs," Chuuya breathes out, turning on his heel and heading back for the kitchen to find his phone.

Dazai is left with his own brain, which is incredibly dangerous. He groans from the pain he’s in, and he’s trying not to think too hard about needing to go to a hospital. Maybe they can just sedate him before they do anything. He’d much prefer that. Is that an option?

He lays down on his side and curls up into a ball, but he doesn’t feel any better, it’s getting harder to breathe and that nauseous feeling won’t go away either, and it comes back with a vengeance. He forces his head up because he knows something is going to come up out of his throat, and he does feel a tiny bit guilty about getting it on Chuuya’s bed, but he can’t avoid it.

Dazai can't breathe. He's not entirely sure what he's coughing up. Foam, phlegm, vomit, maybe some blood, maybe a little bit of everything. He's seen Akutagawa do this on several occasions, actually, but he's never experienced it himself, so he's almost certain this has something to do with his lungs. Maybe the broken shards of his ribcage have poked holes into his lungs.

Oh god, he really can't breathe.

Chuuya's talking to him, but he can't hear a word. He hears his own name, he thinks, but all he can focus on is the sharp, unbelievable pain in his chest.

…

“It sounds to me like he has a lung infection, Dazai,” Mori says to him, expectant. He was waiting for Dazai to agree, to hand his subordinate over and let Mori take care of the rest. But even at seventeen, Dazai was smart enough to know Mori’s true intentions.

“Oh yeah? You’re a doctor now?” Dazai jokes. He’s stalling, only in Mori’s office to take a book or two out of his library that Hirotsu mentioned he needed for something he was working on. Akutagawa is outside the office, waiting. He’s coughing every now and then, coughs that really don’t sound good and that Dazai is well aware of, but he won’t hand him over to Mori.

“Come now, Dazai. Don’t let your subordinates suffer on account of your stubborn nature,” Mori teases.

“I’m not letting anyone suffer, Mori. A little cough never killed anyone,” Dazai says back, mocking that same teasing tone as he pulls out the last book he needs, but when he turns around, he realizes Mori had plans of his own. Elise was busy opening the door to the office and taking Akutagawa’s arm to lead him inside.

Akutagawa looks to Dazai, unsure of what’s going on, what he’s been brought in for, and Dazai is frozen. Dazai has been trying to limit their contact as much as humanly possible, and Mori seems to have become aware of that.

“My, don’t you look awful. How long have you had this cough for?” Mori asks him as Elise drags him closer, but Akutagawa resists the closer he’s brought into Mori’s frame of view. Dazai shakes. He’s been looking for a way to have Akutagawa seen by a doctor that Mori wouldn’t know about, but it’s nearly impossible. It’s something he’s been trying to do for himself, too, and he still hasn’t figured out how to do it. How to get one step ahead of Mori.

“Don’t answer him. We’re leaving,” Dazai growls, glaring at Akutagawa so he knows he’s serious, and Akutagawa shrinks back, still dead silent. Dazai takes Elise’s arm to pull her off of Dazai, and she disappears as soon as they make contact.

“Dazai, really? That wasn’t very nice of you,” Mori huffs. “It’s cruel of you to let your subordinates suffer. You know I would never want that for you, don’t you?”

Dazai takes Akutagawa’s arm and pulls him toward the exit, ignoring Mori’s words. Akutagawa is rightfully confused, but Dazai doesn’t need him to have any more information than he already does. He closes the door behind the two of them, and Akutagawa pulls his arm up to cough into his elbow. Dazai hears his chest rattle. He’s undoubtedly got a fever, too.

“Don’t ever go to him for any of this. Understand? I don’t care what he says,” Dazai bites, audibly frustrated and maybe a little scared, but Akutaagwa can’t pick up on the second half.

“I know,” Akutagawa answers, voice hoarse, “you’ve told me already.”

“Just making sure you listened. You’re not very good at that.” Dazai huffs, leading him down the corridor and back to the elevator.

Akutagawa looks like he’s ready to retort that claim, but he starts coughing again, into his hand, this time - blood and foam coating his palm, visibly startling him, too. He needs to see a doctor, he might even need to go to a hospital, Dazai doesn’t know the extent of his infection at all, but this isn’t normal.

Akutagawa trips when they pass the threshold of the elevator, clearly his head isn’t where it’s supposed to be - he catches himself on his hands and knees and the coughing only gets worse, bright red blood splattering on the marble elevator floor. He takes in shaky and unsteady breaths in between. Dazai just spends a few seconds staring. What the hell is he supposed to do about this?

Akutagawa collapses completely after one heavy breath seems to take all of his remaining energy out of him, and Dazai only thinks about how lucky he is that this happened here, and not in front of Mori. He just stares at his shaking form as they descend the building, and Dazai needs to have a game plan of what to do once they reach the bottom.

“Dazai,” Akutagawa barely manages to breathe out, making a pathetic attempt to get off of the floor, only to crash back down into it. Dazai kneels down beside him. He can’t even carry Akutagawa. Who does he call? What does he do?

“I know. Give me a few hours to figure it out,” Dazai murmurs.

Anyone but Mori. Akutagawa can’t go through what Dazai went through.

…

When Dazai wakes up, he’s stuck in a hospital room, the sterile smell of it all only reminding him how nauseous he is.

He imagines he’s been asleep for quite a while, but he doesn’t feel well-rested at all. He’s never felt that way after a hospital visit. It’s the pain medications they pump him full of, he thinks - they’re the only reason he’s slept at all, probably.

But he can breathe a little easier. There’s a mask over his nose and mouth, probably not a good sign.

There’s a nurse in the room with him, looking surprised to see his eyes meeting hers. She says something to him but Dazai doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying. The mask she’s wearing makes it impossible to even guess. She seems to jot down his vital signs before she scurries out of the room.

He realizes what she was saying to him when Chuuya comes trailing in through the door, his hair tucked into a beanie that doesn't suit him and wearing a hoodie, a black mask and a pair of fake glasses.

If Dazai had the energy to laugh right now, he would probably do it until he couldn’t breathe anymore. Chuuya doesn’t look all that ridiculous, it’s a decent disguise in practice, but it’s hilarious all the same. Only because Dazai knows Chuuya.

A shaky hand of his reaches up to pull down the mask, and Chuuya almost pulls it back over his face once he’s at Dazai’s bedside, but the nurse gives a little nod. She says something to him before she leaves the room, but the sound is muffled.

Chuuya’s voice, though, is as clear as a bell.

“You look like shit,” Chuuya mumbles, brushing his hair back and out of his face, pulling off his own mask once the nurse is out of the room. Not the first thing Dazai wants to hear when he wakes up, but it’s Chuuya.

“You look stupid,” Dazai retorts, his voice so hoarse it almost sounds like he’s lost it completely. He wants to clear his throat, but has a feeling that won’t make him feel any better.

Chuuya grumbles something under his breath before he pulls off the beanie and pushes the glasses up on top of his head, and Dazai’s never been so glad to see that annoyingly bright colored hair before. He’s really kind of gorgeous. Maybe it’s the drugs making him think that.

"I'm sorry I left you," Chuuya murmurs, reaching over to squeeze the hand that’s free from an IV. "I know you hate places like this."

Dazai's a little unsure of what to say. Chuuya's not the type to get so candid with him, and while Dazai truly does despise being in hospitals, he doesn't remember ever telling Chuuya that directly. Then again, his memory of the past has been hazy. He doesn't even remember much of anything after losing his breath on Chuuya's bedroom. For all he knows, Chuuya could have been with him the whole time.

"I'm an adult now, you know," Dazai teases, flashing a weak smile.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Not what I'm talking about. But whatever."

"It's fine, slug," Dazai tells him. It’s not nearly as bad of a fear as it used to be for him. He knows that sometimes it’s unavoidable. He knows he doesn't have to worry about Mori anymore, at least not while in the care of the Armed Detective Agency.

“You scared the shit out of me. Seriously,” Chuuya mumbles. “You’re staying with me for a while once you’re discharged.”

“I have to go back to work,” Dazai whispers. Sure, it’s not the working part he’s concerned with, but he really should pop in every now and then at the very least, so that they know he’s alive. Before Kunikida decides to end his life prematurely.

“Since when you do give a shit about that?" Chuuya groans, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "They're the reason you're in this mess in the first place, aren’t they?”

Dazai’s stomach drops at the notion, because that’s really not the truth. He simply lied to them, just like he lied to Chuuya. It’s what he always does. It has nothing to do with any of them.

They probably would've taken good care of him, too.

“Mm…I think you've got it all wrong, little Slug,” Dazai says, feeling himself start to doze off again. He's exhausted and doesn't particularly feel like explaining any of that to him, even though he's sure Chuuya would at least consider it.

“Don't call me little, you ass,” Chuuya grumbles, squeezing his hand a little tighter, “I'm taking you back to my apartment once you're discharged. End of story.”

Dazai's eyelids start to feel heavy, and he doesn't fight Chuuya's demand. He can always sneak out if he needs to.

But maybe he'll be okay with Chuuya looking after him, for a while.

…

A week later, Dazai thinks he's well enough to slip out of Chuuya's apartment early one morning, to pop into the Agency.

“Healing well from your broken ribs, Dazai?” Ranpo says as he happens to wander past him just as soon as Dazai enters the building.

“Can't keep any secrets from you, can I, Ranpo?” Dazai says, only sounding a little nervous because he can feel Kunikida glaring at him all the way from his desk. It seems the two of them are the only ones here so far, like usual. At least Atsushi isn't here to witness Dazai's inevitable death at Kunikida's hands.

“You know I don't normally air out everything you try to hide, but Kunikida already wants to kill you,” Ranpo says casually on his way back to his desk. “Figured it doesn't matter what I say.”

“Morning, Kunikida,” Dazai says as cheerfully as he can, but Kunikida has already hurled a pretty heavy report collection his way, one that Dazai's head just narrowly misses. He brings his heads up to his face in surrender.

“Don't morning me, Dazai. Where the hell have you been? Obviously you were injured, and I haven’t heard from you in over a week -”

“Aww, Kunikida, were you worried about me?” Dazai teases. His eyes dart over to Ranpo blissfully ignoring everything happening before him, wondering why he didn't give Kunikida his whereabouts when he could have easily figured out where he's been hiding. He just smiles, though. Ranpo keeps hidden what Dazai doesn't want everyone to know about.

“I'm one more incident away from putting a tracker in that damn bolo tie,” Kunikida grumbles, somehow managing to get past his anger and sit back down in his chair. He grumbles something that Dazai doesn't quite understand. He feels safe enough to approach his own desk, and sit across from Kunikida.

“What was that?” Dazai asks, tilting his head.

“Are you okay?” Kunikida says, straightening up a stack of reports on his desks with a heavy huff.

“I'm okay,” Dazai says with a half smile. “No need to worry your pretty little head about me, Kunikida. You know the universe won't let me die.”

“That's not the point, Dazai,” Kunikida grumbles, almost reminiscent of a comment Chuuya made to him at the hospital. These two always insist on worrying over him. “Tell me next time you're hurt. At least send me a damn text so I know you're not bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.”

“Well, I could be, regardless of the contents of whatever text I might send you,” Dazai teases, and Kunikida looks like he might throw the pen he's holding right at Dazai's head, but he refrains.

“Get to work. You still need to finish that report,” Kunikida grumbles, tossing him a blue folder.

“I thought you said you'd finish it for me,” Dazai says, lifting up his head as the door opens, revealing Atsushi and Kyoka, both looking surprised to see him. Atsushi rushes past everyone else as Dazai smiles at him.

“No, you pissed me off. I started it, you do the rest,” Kunikida sighs just before Atsushi sits beside him and starts a string of worried questions and assumptions that Dazai only half listens to, only watches his eyes. Chuuya really does have them wrong, they would never want him in that situation.

Chuuya would definitely like Atsushi, with how much he likes Akutagawa. He might even get along with Kunikida. Chuuya joining them for dinner sometime is some faraway ridiculous fantasy that he could only ever see Oda suggesting, and he just smiles to himself.

“Are you even listening?” Atsushi sighs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dazai says. “Start over?”

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toska-writes · 1 year

Note

i absolutely adore all of your platonic padawan stories, i think the friendships and sibling dynamics you write are incredibly well done. if this tickles your brain, could you write something for Wolffe? i love the “grumpy but only soft for the sunshine” trope, especially for him, i think it was made for him.

much love <3

<3 thank you so much

“Jokers”

Summary: Wolffe is normally closed off to many so it’s the perfect opportunity to try and see just how far you can push the line

Paring: Wolffe x GN padawan Reader (it’s not platonic this time… Just kidding! It totally is!)

Warning: none really- Wolffes there for you

Word count: 938 this one’s pretty short sorry!

Notes: I’ve been watching The last Of Us and omg I’m in love with the dynamic! Yes I did borrow a joke from the show- I spent so long reading very bad jokes

"Ok ok one more I promise." Your laughs broke apart your words while you tried to catch your breath. "I stay up all night wondering where the sun went," At this point Wolffe wasn't sure he would even hear the punch line, "but then it dawn on me."

You paused for a second doubling over laughing without a care in the world. Many passing on this foreign planet gave strange looks but it didn't seem you noticed.

A scoff escaped from the lips of the man that loomed overtop of you. His eyes already reaching to the atmosphere.

"Come on that one was funny!" You tried to reason with him as you whipped your eyes. "Did you not get it or something Wolffe."

He quickly put a hand up while another rested on your shoulder. "Believe me I got it." Wolffe was going to ring the neck of Sinker and Boost for all the jokes they were sharing with you. Maybe it was a conspiracy against him who knows.

You stumbled back from him grabbing your chest dramatically. "I'm hurt that my beloved commander doesn't enjoy my humor"

Wolffe stared at you for a moment. How was he stuck scouting with.... You.

Surely by the time they get back to the camp his eyes would be stuck in the back of his head from rolling them too hard.

You laughed again at the end of your own remark running ahead of Wolffe again.

"Oh come on Wolffe something has to make you smile more than that!"

"Commander we are expected back at 01900" Wolffe picked up his pace to keep up with his overly excited padawan.

It was your time to roll your eyes as you've seen over 1000 times. The thing that Wolffe needed to learn was that he didn't have to be alert and 'at work' all the time, and who better to teach him now.

"Wouldn't master Plo look stunning in a poncho like that?" You stoped abruptly at a brightly colored stall, fabric of many different colors hanged all around. A huge smile still painted your face as you looked up to him.

The poncho is question was one of the most hideous things Wolffe has ever seen and that's really saying something. He met your excited gaze wondering if you were waiting for him to respond to one of your jokes.

For the second time today he let out another scoff giving in to what you wanted. "Maybe on Comet." Wolffe added in a very quiet tone.

The look on your face however was priceless, and maybe that was worth joking around just a little bit.

You continued to weave your way down the crowed streets- clearly it was much easier for you to make your way through than the 6ft tall man with the 80lbs armor kit on.

Wolffe let out a gruff when you got a little too far in front of him. "Commander." He called for a second "Y/N"

Out of the corner of his eye as he continued to walk through the vibrant planet a figure emerged from a neighboring alleyway.

Wolffe couldn't shake the feeling that something was up and his suspicions were only confirmed when the figure spotted you.

The sounds drowned everything out around you, this planet seemed at ease and that was something the entire battalion needed. A person stood close beside you, Wolffe should have been the one at your side but when you looked up in was far from him.

"What-" you started taking a step back from the stranger. Your hand flew to where your lightsaber was hidden under your robes.

The person came closer to you now and was about to say something when a voice sounded from somewhere behind.

“You have three seconds to get away from the them until I have an entire GAR battalion surrounding you. Got it buddy.” Wolffe appeared with a look you’ve only every seen while on the battlefield. A lion of pure rage.

The stranger only frantically nodded a few times before hightailing it out of there. The smile from before was whipped off of your face.

Taking a huge gulp in you quietly said. “Thanks Wolffe.” You walked over and stopped at his side. “Sorry about that.”

Something inside of him twisted. He looked towards you once again, your face seemed blank without the show of your teeth like he was use too.

“Come on sir, I’m sure we can find something in these shops worth taking back to the group.” Wolffe guided you back on path of where you were technically suppose to be scouting.

Your eyes lit up at all the stalls around you as you ran from one to the next searching for something that peaked your interest. Wolffe followed this time more closely on your heels.

As he followed he thought back to taunting words of some of the Wolffe pack. “God what a softy.” “If only the commander was that nice to everyone.” “Turning into General Plo aren’t you?” The comments sounded in the back of his head.

The group was trying to patronize himself before, but watching you now he realized that you mattered more to him than he thought was possible.

“Heyyyy Wolffe.” You called him back from his thoughts, holding up something as you said. “Would you look at this. A joke book! We have to get it.”

Wolffe hoped that the soft spot wasn’t too soft as he stood there for a moment wondering what to say.

Taking a breath in as he joined you by the table he spoke clearly.

“Definitely not”

_____________________________________

Tagliatelle: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu

#star wars clone wars #star wars #the clone boys #clone wars #the clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys #commander wolffe #star wars wolffe #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #wolffe pack #clone trooper wolffe #reader insert

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loserdiaz · 1 year

Text

you'll be okay ( i'm on my way with some time to borrow )

been having kind of a bad day so decided to write some soft emotional hurt/comfort for myself.

Buck buries himself further in the blanket mound. It's not even cold but the weight and the warmth brings at least a little bit of comfort. All his blinds are closed, the loft dark and quiet. Buck doesn't feel like seeing the sun shine, doesn't want to be surrounded by happiness or anything really, he just can't feel it today.

He feels drained, even if he hasn't gotten out of bed since he woke up. Something aches deep inside of him, a strange feeling tightening around his heart and making it hard to breath, a pain he can't quite unfold.

His phone rings but Buck can't bring himself to reach out and answer it. It repeats a couple of times, the annoying song playing over and over again until it stops and then it starts all over again. Ten minutes later it stops all together, whoever was calling apparently giving up. He didn't have a shift so it probably wasn't urgent anyway, maybe Maddie needing a last minute babysitter or something— and while Buck adores his niece with his whole body, heart and soul, he just doesn't have it in him today.

Buck sighs and closes his eyes, a few tears slipping and sliding down his cheeks. Today is just— a bad day.

He's not sure how much time it passes with just him laying there, sometimes crying, sometimes slipping half into unconsciousness. Maybe it's a couple of hours later— or perhaps just minutes, he can't be sure— when he hears the door opening and closing. Seconds later, his boyfriend's familiar voice calling out for him.

"Buck? Baby?" Buck hears Eddie's climbing the stairs and soon enough there's hands running along his messy curls and his forehead. "Hey. You weren't answering your phone and I got worried." Eddie whispers, not judging or mad, just concerned. His tone so soft and loving that it makes Buck ache even more.

He doesn't deserve someone as understanding and as good as Eddie.

Buck wants to smile, to reassure his boyfriend. He wants to lean into Eddie's touch like he usually would do. But that strange ache burns in his chest like a wildfire destroying any sign of life in its wake, and he can't fake a smile. He's exhausted, even the smallest gesture feels like too much.

"'M 'orry." He whispers, practically slurring the words all together, after a few seconds. His voice raspy and low. "I just— you should go. 'M not feelin' good."

"You want me to go? You're not in pain, you don't have a fever, right?" Eddie keeps his tone soft, his hands keep caressing Buck's face, his cheeks..

"No. 'M just... dunno." Buck shrugs and buries himself more into the blankets. He can't describe the feeling, can't explain exactly why he suddenly feels so hollow inside, even though he has everything he could ever want or need.

Maybe it's the couple of rough calls they had last week catching up to him, maybe it's his parents' visit last month that left him so he incredibly drained and sad that it's coming back to bite him in the ass. Maybe it's a combination of those things or maybe it's none of those things at all. Buck really doesn't know, which only makes it worse.

Eddie should walk away. He should get up and leave. Because what would be the point in staying? Buck is broken, overdramatic and drenched in his pain. Eddie doesn't need that.

But it's like Eddie reads his mind, the man pulling away enough to take his shoes off and get back on bed, next to Buck. "I can stay here. I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to." Eddie murmurs softly, lips brushing against Buck's temple. "We don't have to talk or do anything. We can just lie here. Yeah, baby?"

"'Kay." Buck answers, voice small and trembling.

"I love you." Eddie says after a beat, the gentleness and tenderness of the words wiggling their way into the blanket pile and twisting their way into Buck's heart, smoothing the jaded edges just a little bit.

It doesn’t make the heavy feeling in his chest go away. But it eases the ache into something dull, into something more manageable.

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck's waist, presses his lips to his cheeks, to the corner of his lips, to his forehead— to every inch of exposed skin that he can reach. As if he were trying to kiss all of Buck's pain and feelings of inadequacy away. "You'll be okay. We'll be okay."

Eddie whispers sweet nothings, his hands brushing through his curls and playing gently with his hair. It's comforting in a way Buck didn't know he needed— or more like, in a way he didn't know how to ask for.

"I love you. It'll be okay." Eddie says and Buck latches onto those words, holds tight. This feeling will go away, and Buck will be okay. The one thing that isn't going anywhere is Eddie, Buck knows that for sure. Even if he doesn't think he deserves it, even if he believes Eddie could do better— the man loves him anyway, and he chooses to stay.

Buck doesn't think he will ever understand why, but he won't ever take that for granted.

He holds on. Tomorrow will be better.

But for now, he lets himself drift away as Eddie quietly traces his fingertips over Buck's shoulders and back.

For now, Eddie soothes the ache inside of him enough to let him breathe.

They'll be okay. They have each other's backs.

#sorry if there's any typos #i wrote this in one sitting and didn't even reread it so #i just needed some comfort #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie #buddie #911onabc #911 on fox #buddie fic #911 fic #911 ficlet #911 drabble #drabble #buddie drabble #buddie ficlet #my writing #april writes

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cosmic-kaden · 27 days

Text

{breathe me in, calm me down.}

Ship: Matt x Kaden

Words: 1,570

cw: **Mentions of irrational anger. (I hc that Matt has bipolar like me so I'm using my own experiences with it. p r o j e c t i n g but it's not descriptive or anything! this is like.. after he rages and he's just pissy now) other than that WE GET KISSEY! SDLFKJDSLKF

Notes (to Matt!): Happy Birthday baby~ Today was the day that I was suppose to introduce you as my joke f/o, you were going to be a chaotic guy who took over my blog and then promptly exit by the end of the day but I thought about you too much and I actually ended up falling in love with you… and now you're someone so incredibly dear and I love you with all of my heart. I'm glad you're staying with me from now till forever~ <3

Hey, if you don't self-ship please DNI, nothing against ya, I just got anxiety lol || ok 2 rb

Seething. Livid. Mad. Pissed. Angry. He couldn't calm down. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't for the life of him find any type of inner peace, if someone spoke to him he would snap loudly at them, his anger was explosive and no one dared to get into his path when he was like this. There was really no telling how he would react to anything.

Kaden was blissfully unaware of this, that was until one of their co-workers came to them and told them that everyone was basically finding a place to get away from their boyfriend. Kaden was quickly informed that Matt was on a rampage. Something set him off and now there was no calming him down.

Kaden was quick to push back in their chair and stand to their feet. "Where is he?" Kaden had planned on seeing him later but given the situation, they knew it would be better for everyone if they saw him now. They hated seeing Matt so upset or hearing about how upset he could get. It always left a pang in their chest. He had gotten better over the time they started dating but much like themselves, they would have their days where they couldn't be calm.

Their co-worker told them he was stomping around near the medbay and Kaden was quick to drop everything they were doing and headed off in that direction. they walked as quickly as their feet would take them and once they got there, sure enough, there Matt was, sitting down, leg bouncing a million miles per minute, hands balled tightly into fists, he was breathing heavily and his brows were furrowed. He was pissed off.

Anyone who looked at him was in for it, that was the thing with Matt when he got mad, he got mad and he didn't care who it was on the other end of receiving his anger, everyone except one. It wasn't as if he liked acting this way but it was just a reaction that he hadn't learned to really control before, he was always like that but ever since he started dating Kaden, he wanted to try and better himself, not just for Kaden but for him too. He hated feeling like a walking slab of stress and tension.

"Matt..?" Kaden spoke softly as they walked up to him and he instantly stood to his feet, his body tensed and he clamped his jaw shut. Great now he was also feeling anxious, if he ever say something out of anger at them he would never be able to live with himself. The thought of hurting the one person he cared so much for made his stomach turn and his heart hurt.

Matt never wanted to lash out at Kaden so usually when his anger got this bad he would try to find a spot where they couldn't find him until he calmed down unfortunately they were able to locate him which only pissed him off more because now he was wondering who the fuck said something to them and why they thought it was a good idea to send Kaden to him although he was unaware that this was a concious decision by Kaden themselves.

Matt walked forward, his footsteps heavy as he let out a loud puff of hair through his nose, he walked past Kaden or at least attempted to but his attention snapped to them when they effortlessly grabbed his forearm. His eyes narrowed a bit but then softened when they remembered who it was who had him. Kaden didn't grab him tight enough to hurt him but tight enough to make him stop moving.

"No… don't run… Come with me…" Kaden looked up at him. "You don't have to talk, just follow." Kaden stated quickly as they started to pull Matt towards their private quarters they loosened their grip on Matt's arm and trailed their hand downwards, gently grabbing his hand into theirs where they interlocked their fingers. Matt's grip was tight and they took note of how he tensed up. When Matt was mad, he could easily be blinded by anger and when he lashes out it's intense and usually what he says doesn't particularly mean that he means each word that is outbursted. Kaden lifted their interlocked hands to give him a soft reassuring kiss to his knuckles. "It's okay.."

Once they got to Kaden's quarters Kaden walked in with him and locked their door behind them. "Sit," Kaden said, turning to face him, their expression was soft and they had a small smile on their face.

"I'm not a mutt" Matt mumbled quickly and Kaden rolled their eyes, gently bringing their hands up to Matt's chest where they gave him an encouraging little push towards their couch and didn't stop pushing, this yearned a small little half smirk from Matt. His heels hit the couch and he ploped down onto it and Kaden wasted no time in straddling his lap, one leg on either side of him.

"Now that you can't run away from me…" Kaden gently grabbed each of his hands with their own, interlocking their fingers once more and Matt couldn't help the flutter he felt in his chest "I can finally cheer you up~" Kaden smiled at him.

"Doubt it.." Matt huffed, now it was his turn to roll his eyes and Kaden shook their head in playful disbelief. He was stubborn like that but Kaden knew they had some effect on him because his thumbs instantly ran small circles on their hand when their fingers interlocked. Despite his anger with others at times, he really cared and trusted Kaden.

"You sure?" Kaden guided his hands to rest at their waist after letting his hands go, their own hands finding their way to either side of Matt's neck. Kaden had a playful glint in their eyes that didn't go unnoticed by Matt and he sighed.

"Kaden you know it's hard to get me feeling like me again. I got a knot in my chest and it burns, I want to be calm but inside I'm pissed-"

"Are you yelling now?" Kaden tilted their head a little, a small smile creeping up to their face.

"No…" he mumbled.

"Are you screaming and throwing things?"

"….also no but that doesn't mean I'm calm, I'm still extremely pissed off but because you're…you. I won't lash at you..I could never do that to you…ever.." Matt mumbled, his eyes reflecting worry and sadness as he talked about it.

"So you're still upset?" Kaden asked softly and Matt nodded his head.

"Well…" Kaden kissed one side of his cheek. "I guess…" Kaden shifted to the other side, kissing his other cheek. "We're going to have to fix that?" Kaden lifted their head to place a small kiss on his forehead. They trailed their kisses from his forehead down over the bridge of his nose, back to his cheeks and lower to his jawline, kissing from one side to the other. Kaden flicked their eyes up to meet his and Matt was smiling a little.

"Still upset?" Kaden asked.

"If I said yes?" Matt half grinned to which Kaden mirrored it.

"Well we can't have that~" Kaden chuckled softly as they lifted their head before dipping their head forward to capture Matt's lips with their own to which he let out a small hum.

"Now?" Kaden whispered against his lips and Matt let out a small chuckle. "If I keep saying I'm upset do I get more kis-- ah!"

Kaden, gently cupped his face into their hands and started to fevorishly pepper Matt's face with tons of fast small kisses. "Muah, muah, muah! Stop, muah!, being!, muah!, upset! muah~!"

To which Matt laughed fully after Kaden stopped their assault of kisses to his face and he brought them close as he leaned up to hug them tightly, his face burying into the junction of their neck and shoulder. "What did I do to deserve you?" He sighed softly in contentment against them.

"You're just.. you~" Kaden giggled softly, their one hand coming up to run through his blond locks.

"I'm sorry…I've been trying to hard not to have these outbursts.." Matt sighed, his voice holding a tone of dissapointment.

"Don't apologize, I know exactly how you feel..the important thing is you're trying…"

"I love you~" Kaden breathed out softly and Matt tilted his head up to give them a soft sweet kiss, their lips linger against each other for a moment before he pulled away.

"Love you too." He smiled.

"Happy Birthday Matt… I was going to get you a gift later bu--" Matt squeezed Kaden and they let out a small yelp, followed by a giggle as they felt him snuggle into them.

"You love me no matter what side you see.. you encourage me and support me when I want to be better…you make me laugh and you cheer me up like no one else can…I can't have anything better than that…You're the best gift a guy could possibly ask for, nothing and no one else could compare" he mumbled against their skin, giving their neck a soft little peck.

"Okay, now you're just trying to make me cry." Kaden giggled softly as Matt lifted his head once more to place a few lazy kisses on their lips.

"Despite my outburst… Best Birthday Ever~"

Tagging: @ama-ships || @dragonsmooch || @heatobrienswife || @lysandreslittlechatot || @kylars-princess || @retrojem

To others who may read this:

**Do not come at me about his anger because I'm literally using myself as an example, I get like this and I'm trying to better myself. I DON'T realize I get like that until the damage has been done so this in a sense is a comfort fic I guess. This f/o is the only one who I'm projecting my own issues to because it also helps me navigate my own thoughts and feelings about it and how I can view it as someone on the outside in a sense. I'm making no sense tl;dr don't be a d*ck lol

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE GUY WHO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HANG AROUND BUT IM SO HAPPY HE DID! ILU BABY!! <333 #You My Darling;#matt 💞#my writing;

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carbo-ships · 4 months

Note

👀 - @limey-self-inserts

Heeheehee. So. In the "Post Hoc" / Terzo AU, Aether gets territorial/jealous when Ardis comes back smelling like Terzo and bites her to get his scent back on her. I skipped over the details, jumping to the next morning where Papa spots a mark on her neck, but I was originally going to have a bite chapter. I clearly got too embarrassed after writing this much and abandoned it, but this was the build-up:

Ardis squirmed slightly. It had been a while since Aether had been so possessive. They were lying in bed, chest to chest with their limbs tightly intertwined. He'd blindfolded her with his tie so he could take his mask off and had his face buried in her neck. His tail had a vice grip on her hips to keep her close.

"What's gotten into you?" she finally asked, trying to keep her voice steady. It was unlike him to be so aggressive. Most nights spent in his arms were gentle.

"You smell like him," he replied simply, adjusting his hold on her yet again. "I'm trying to fix that."

His answer surprised her. "What? I don't think Swiss has even touched me today."

"Not him," Aether sighed. "Terzo."

"Oh!" She and Terzo had spent quite a bit of time together in the gardens. She supposed that hug must have left a lingering scent on her. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

Aether sighed. "Can I bite you?" he asked.

Her heart threatened to stop. "I— What?" she squeaked.

"I said, can I bite you?" he said slowly, as if she simply hadn't heard him the first time.

"I'm sorry, I... What? Why would you want to do that? I..." Her mind was racing.

"You smell like Terzo," he said plainly. "You should smell like me instead."

"I, um..." She swallowed hard. "I see. And... biting me will achieve that?"

"Yes. It's the easiest way to get my scent back on you."

She took a deep breath. "And, um... where exactly would you— would you be biting me?"

"Your neck, preferably."

Ardis thought she might faint. "Oh." She felt her cheeks warm. That sounded incredibly intimate. "Aether, I— I don't know. Will it hurt?"

"Not too bad. If it does, just tell me to stop."

#limey is of course being given bite content

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diaryoftheunidropout · 1 year

Text

DAY 52

This update is actually about day 51, since it's currently just a little over midnight.

I really need to get today off my chest in all its details because there is no one I can/want to tell about it. So this blog seems my best option. Just so it's a day that's recorded somewhere.

I spent the entire day with a friend of mine who doesn't live in Paris but comes here often. She is someone who has suffered and still suffers a lot, but she is truly one of the kindest and sweetest souls I know and I absolutely love her. We met up at around 10AM, so I woke up at 9AM feeling REALLY SHIT because I've been gettinbg very intense and almost constant vertigo from the brutal absence of antidepressants these past days, small side effects from the vaccine (feeling feverish, shortness of breath when making efforts), and a small cold due to the rapid switches in temperatures. All of this combined, taking into account the fact that I barely slept and not even well, gives... a very miserable me lol. Except I'd promised my friend I'd be there with her and there was no chance I was going to let her down.

So I started my day very tired and dizzy, knowing I was probably going to get home 14 hours later, although that meant being with someone I love, which I can only be very greatful for!

The cool things we did today are going to some sort of tiny... market? Like just people selling their stuff, and I found a cheap card game and those tablets you can use to draw (also very cheap). We also found some dolls we were looking for! We ate nice things at a restaurant, sat down for quite a while at Place d'Italie and laughed. My friend also went to get touch ups on her tattoo with an artist I'd seen before and she was honestly ever nicer than the first time we saw her (if that's even possible), the studio was actually inside her home and she let us play the music we wanted and we chatted about one of her tattoos (which I immediately recognized as being from one of my fav tattoo artists) and it was really cool!

So lots of good things you see. However, I feel the bad ones kind of dominated. This morning I get a text from my mom saying she cancelled her plans for the day (going to the movies and eating out). And then at some point early in the afternoon I get a message from her again saying she ended up getting out of bed because she'd met a guy on a dating app who had lost his wife to lung cancer around the same time as my mom and I lost my dad to lung cancer, and that he had a daughted living in London (thinking of it now, I want to see his daughter because life, what if she's my soulmate and we get married and shit okay sorry I'm totally insane). The point is it really hurt me to see that the only thing getting her out of bed was not the love my dad and I bear to her, all the fighting my dad's done and all the fighting I have done too, but just some random man she's never met and is just soooooo excited to meet and it's like the highlight of her day. It just hurts because I've been so incredibly sensitive about my dad lately like just writing the word dad could get me crying somehow.

Other bad thing that happened might seem shocking because why the hell would I consider this a bad moment, but at the restaurant with my friend I just started laughing hysterically over... I'm not quite sure what? I don't even remember? And it happened again later when we were sitting down in a park while watching some old memes I'd saved somewhere. But when I say hysterical laughter I don't mean like "hahaha I can't stop laughing this is funny", I mean like "I am laughing incredibly loudly and have zero control over my body right now and I am laughing so hard I am choking and actually very much in pain". Now that I think of it, it really felt like those couple of moments in my life I was so full of anger that I felt "out of my body" and just couldn't control anything anymore, except with laughter. I find it quite terrifying.

Then we saw a play that was possibly the best play I've seen in my entire life and it moved me so much I actually cried, but I still had to refrain from crying too much or too loudly in order not to have everyone mad at me or ruin my makeup, so it was just one more moment today having to keep my shit together. Also I had to get up like 10 times before the play started because people kept wanting to get to their seats, and then back to the toilet, and then back to their seats, and then they realized they had the wrong seat, and so on. Very annoying if you want my opinion. The play was still excellent though.

Then I realized I got a message from my ex landlady telling me that she hadn't replied to me earlier although she legally HAD to send me documents by a certain date, because she was busy with [blah blah insert personal life details I literally do not give a single fuck about] and she'd sent me a second email which is basically just some shitty screenshot that ""proves"" how much money I gave her so she would leave me the fuck alone except it proves absolutely nothing and does not confirm she will NEVER ask me for money ever again although she's already stolen thousands and thousands from me that my parents struggled to put aside and it got me so hysterical I became, well, hysterical in front of my friend, and then played it cool and acted like I wasn't going insane.

Then my friend and I sat down near the Eiffel Tower and we got a dozen illegal sellers in the span of 30 mins asking us over and over again if we wanted to buy their stuff, I even got a guy lying down next to me and telling me I was pretty and that I was in love with me although my friend and I kept asking him to kindly leave us alone, and then I got a guy selling roses shaking a rose right into my face while I was comfortable lying down watching the Eiffel Tower, and I just wonder, why the hell are people, especially men it seems, like this?!

And then I received a message from one of my mom's Internet friends whom she got into an argument with and blocked. Did not read the whole message but it was very overdramatic and all like "Adieu dear I shall never talk to you again" and I think that's literally SO fucking shitty of him to go and try to guiltrip a 18 year old girl into telling her mom to talk to him again, like I have my fucking mental struggles and enough shit to deal with, can't you just grow the fuck up (you're almost 50 years old) and leave me alone and deal with your own shit on your own instead of sending a lowkey cry of help to ME?

I again would love to insist on how tired, dizzy, feverish, mentally unstable, and just overall sick, I feel. Or I should say I AM.

All of this is real. I am not a lying. I am not a lier. I do not lie. I wish I could tell someone. I wish someone would listen. My uni best friend asked me how I was and I remained very vague. None of my other friends want to hear about my state. My mother is too fragile for me to tell her all of this without destroying her. My grandparents won't understand or won't be able to do much to help except perhaps guiltripping my mom into telling her she's not doing enough. My therapist listens and she's kind but she's very passive because of course this is my life but spending €50 for 45 minutes of me just saying "well I feel kind of bad" and her saying "okay" is literally so pointless, like why isn't she just giving me some words of affirmation?! She might not realize it but simply saying "I know your pain is real" would be fucking REVOLUTIONARY and instead all she tells me is "okay :)" and "oops, we're done with this session, it's time :)"... when I have made it clear that all I need is someone to say they believe me when I say I'm in pain. And she can't even tell me those words. Maybe because just like the others, she doesn't. Or she just doesn't understand my needs. Or both. I don't know. And let's not talk about doctors and psychiatrists who simply tell me I look "just fine" or refuse to listen to me when I say I have episodes that are NOT depressive episodes.

Right now I feel like I'm going through both (hypo)mania and depression. I am so incredibly sad and tired and I just want to rest in bed because I physically cannot keep up, and another part of me is motivated to try her very best to show excitement and joy and also believes in great things. Like two days ago I spent an hour staring at myself in a mirror and interviewing myself like I was a published author. And then today, as I said, I bought one of those tablets to draw because I'm like, secretly convinced I'll become a great tattoo artist, or the next great YA author with famous graphic novels, or I don't know.

I think as soon as my makeup is off I might bawl. I just want to sleep. Please let me rest.

0 notes

markresonates · 2 years

Text

take it.

summary: Haechan is kind enough to share you with his friends the morning after you sleepover.

pairing: fwb!Haechan x best friend!Mark x new friend!Jaemin x new friend!Jeno x new friend!Renjun x fem!reader

genre: SMUT

trope: college, a lil self indulgent, 6way

word count: 1.8k

a/n: dedicated to the anons asking me about Mark smut!

warnings: rough unprotected sex, oral (male & fem), throat f&cking, voyeurism, lil degradation, lil manhandling, lil choking, hard dom!Mark, soft dom!Renjun, hard dom!Jeno, hard dom!Haechan, dom!Jaemin, sub!reader

You’ve always been a light sleeper, waking at the slightest of creaks in the night and the first cooing pigeon at sunrise. Although today, your morning call comes in the form of several hushed, invasive questions and prying eyes feasting on your vulnerable form in a bed that you quickly realize isn’t your own.

“Why are you guys talking so loud? Are you trying to wake her up?” an accusatory whisper scolds another.

“Us? You're the one who can’t whisper, Jaemin.”

You hone in on the cluster of unidentified voices in the doorway, strategically maintaining your sleeping beauty tactic. Tallying a total of 4 male voices from behind you breeds a deep seated anxiety in your bare chest. On any other day, you would've gladly welcomed the feeling of incredibly soft cotton on your skin, but at the moment the pitfalls of your unforeseen scenario include the material only partially covering your lower half. The sole advantage you have on them is that you’re facing away from their direction, allowing you to covertly open your eyes.

Taking a peek of your mysterious surroundings, you hear, “I didn’t wear her out that bad last night… you'd be surprised, I bet she could take all of us.”

Last night...

Your blurry memory comes into focus, remembering where you are and why you're naked in someone else's bed. You recognize his black and electric blue, leather gaming chair and a handful of empty red bull cans littered across his desk.

“Hm, I don’t know, Haechan. There’s four of us and only one of her. I don’t want to hurt… uhh-”

“y/n,” Haechan reminds his friend.

“Yeah, I don’t want to hurt y/n.” In your head, you picture the owner of this concerned, pretty voice with pure features standing beside the cocky person you fuck from time to time.

Haechan called you late last night, inviting you over and promising you the time of your life, which he delivered, of course. He always delivers. There was a certain arrangement between you two that was established at the beginning of your informal relationship: no strings attached and no holding back.

Did “no holding back” imply there was nothing holding him back from exposing you to his friends? You’re his to pass around and share with whomever he likes? The whole perverted proposal sounds despicable so why does the idea turn you on so much?

“I'm 99% positive she can handle it, trust me,” he boasts confidently. “She can take a lot more than you think.” Your pride swells for some strange reason hearing him brag about your capabilities in bed (or wherever you feel like it on any given day, whether that means fucking you in risky, public places or the comfort of your private apartments).

Silence falls upon the bedroom, leaving you to wonder if they’ve stepped out for further deliberation, which couldn't be further from the truth. Your breath hitches in your throat, choking on the tingly suspense of unpredictability as Haechan drags his hand up the back of your thigh. The pads of his fingers barely brush over your slit.

“Are you up for the challenge, baby?” Haechan purrs seductively, moving his hand to palm your ass lightly. “Stop pretending, y/n. We know you're awake.” You acknowledge his words, humming in response and arching your back to press into his hand. “Want me and my friends to take real good care of you, right?”

“All four of you?” you mumble tentatively.

You twist around to meet his mischievous smile. Something about the devilish glint in his eyes sets your fluttering stomach ablaze. You’ve never had so many hands on you, and to think of how you could be filled multiple times today in some many different ways already arouses you beyond reason. Bobbing your head eagerly earns you a satisfied head pat from him.

“Aw, that’s my good little girl,” Haechan coos. “Or should I say our girl for today?”

“I’m anything you want me to be,” you breathed out, heart running a marathon, thumping wildly in your chest.

His tongue flicks up your lips before retreating from the bed. “Get over here and spread your legs. Let’s get a good look at your cunt before we use it up,” Haechan orders.

You scramble to the edge. The routine sex session from last night wasn’t as rough as usual, begging the question if he had planned this whole arrangement all along. Either way, you oblige readily with haste. Patiently waiting for further instruction, you search the familiar faces of the strangers for their reactions to seeing you bare naked, legs spread and dripping folds on display. You vaguely identify his friends from university but you can't pinpoint any specific interactions with them.

“You wanna feel how wet my girl is?” He nods in Jaemin's direction first. "Go ahead."

He grows closer to you, palming his erection through his pants. Jaemin’s dazed eyes study your slick in awe before touching you cautiously. You keen under his touch, grinding into his fingers for more friction.

“God, she’s so needy,” Jaemin groans. “You’re lucky, Haechan.”

Jeno’s hand replaces Jaemin’s 30 second later. Instead of tracing through your wetness, Jeno’s fingers immediately slide in you, curling up without hesitation. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let anyone near a pretty thing like her. She'd be mine alone.” Getting on his knees, Jeno eagerly licks at your cum, tongue prodding your entrance before diving in.

Renjun’s fingers land on your clit, massaging tiny circles into the sensitive nub. “I guess we’re lucky Haechan’s in a good mood today and felt like sharing,” the angelic boy comments gratefully.

Jaemin wipes off his fingers on his pants and you hear him lock the door.

“Hey, wait, don’t lock it yet,” Haechan calls over his shoulder. You didn’t even notice he was watching your face twist up in pleasure from his gaming chair. “Someone else is supposed to be here any second now.”

“Who?” Jaemin asks, unlocking and stepping away from the door.

The inquirer’s weight brings the bed to wobble and dip in the direction he gets on the mattress. He crawls up the comforter, leaning his back against the headboard for the show to begin. Jeno follows his soulmate's action after he settles.

“You’ll see,” he answers, cupping your cheek. He walks over, nudging Renjun out of the way to stick his thumb in your mouth. Renjun takes a seat on the edge of the bed wanting to be closer to the action that is undoubtedly right around the corner.

“Actually, he happens to be me and y/n’s best fr-”

The door handle to the bedroom dips not a millisecond later. All attention focuses on the shocking newcomer.

“Dude, why did you call me here?” your best friend questions, not bothering to look up from his phone for a moment. After hitting send on a meaningless text message, his attention flicks to you and Haechan, panicked eyes widening as he catches his two best friends together, Haechan fully clothed with his fingers in your mouth. His mouth waters seeing your dripping cunt exposed to him for the first time. His furiously red ears match his flushed cheeks, while his jaw and his phone drop to the carpeted floor.

“Okay, now we can get to the real fun par-” Haechan announces.

“I call dibs on using her first!” Jeno suddenly inserts.

Haechan shoots him a sharp pointed look. He addresses you while simultaneously staring daggers at Jeno. “Hmm… You know what? I’ve got an idea.”

Your gaze hasn’t left Mark’s frozen face since he popped in and a blindingly bright light bulb lights up in his quick witted mind. From his perspective, this intrusion thrust the relationship between the lot of you into a world of exciting, future possibilities. Finally, the perfect opportunity to see his best friends go at it; what a treat that would be before he fucks you raw just the same. “What about you, Mark?”

“I-um, don’t know about this… like, y/n probably doesn’t even want me here and-”

“No!” you blurt out. Sitting up straighter to address him causes some of your wetness to seep from your empty hole and Mark’s eyes are glued to the white-tinted, transparent arousal. “I want you here.” You roll off the bed and cross the room to Mark, dripping down your thighs as you go. “How do you want me?” you ask, volume barely above a whisper.

Whatever remnants of the giggly, dorky christian boy is left in the hall as he completely enters the room and slams the door behind him. He wraps one of his hands around your throat, lowering you to the ground forcefully (not that you wouldn't have done it just as quickly yourself). “On your fucking knees, you slut.”

Moments later, Mark’s sitting on the bed, his pants rung around his ankles, and his cock roughly fucking your mouth. “That’s right, baby, take me down your throat.” He holds your head down on his cock, gripping the nape of your neck sternly for control of your motions. Jeno is the first to use you from behind, giving your walls a mere 10 seconds to accommodate his size before pounding into you with vigor. Mark lasts way longer than you expected him to, finally coming down your throat directly after Jeno came in your core. He stuffed his cum back inside you with his fingers before Jaemin’s cock took his place. Renjun was next up to use your mouth, being softer than your best friend but still controlling the way you bobbed your head. He came in your mouth quicker than Jaemin finished inside you and you opened your mouth to show him you swallowed him gladly.

Haechan finally steps up to the plate with dark lust swirling in his eyes. “My turn. Who can come again right now?”

Jeno and Mark raise their hands together, eager for another chance at using you up to the brink like Haechan had promised.

“H-how do you want me?” you wheeze, throat hoarse, body exhausted but ready to make him and his friends come for as long as you possibly could before they wear you out entirely.

Haechan snickers, amused by your willingness to please. “See guys? I told you she could take it.”

sooo this impulsively written mess was supposed to be like >700 words... what's wrong w me ?? personally, i place most of the blame on the handful of persistent markf anons for making me think about him when i was working on this...

➾my masterlist

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straykats · 2 years

Text

[ five more / seo changbin ]

wc: 0.9k

inspired from given ep.9 post-credit scene <;/3

despite the cold wind that had numbed the tips of your fingers, tricking you into thinking your cheeks were smooth to the touch despite acne and old scars, your body was warm. incredibly warm to the point that one might have thought that beneath the blanket changbin had pulled around the two of you, there was a fire. a little, flickering flame.

the flame of love, changbin would have joked, had you voiced out this little thought of yours.

he sat next to you on the curbside, an arm looped through yours and holding you close. his other arm was crossed over his chest, resting where your arms were linked and rubbing absentminded circles into your hoodie sleeve. that left you tasked with holding the blanket tight around the both of you.

why couldn’t he hold it, you had grumbled some twenty minutes ago, for he had been the one to bring it out.

“can we go in, now? my ears are about to freeze off,” you whine half-heartedly. it isn’t all that bad, really, and sitting next to changbin, the human furnace he is, meant that all you had to do was lean against his shoulder and at least one of your ears would be saved from the grisly fate of frostbite.

changbin turns at your words, blowing ticklish, warm air against your ear and eliciting a quite laugh from you.

“it’s not even below 20; stop being a baby.”

where he had gotten that information from, you had no idea. “it is. i checked earlier today. that’s why i didn’t want to come out in the first place, ‘bin.”

“do you regret it?”

the question catches you off guard.

“coming out here with me,” he clarifies.

a deep breath in; a deep breath out.

“of course not.” you take a moment to nestle closer to him, laying your head down against his shoulder. your hair falls in front of your eyes, and changbin brushes it away like he knew it would happen. “you could ask me to spend all my life waiting for you, and I wouldn’t regret it.”

your gaze is trained on the house opposite you, where closed curtains on the second floor act as the stage for a puppet show. someone walks into frame, leans down and picks up a bundle - a baby, you realise, as they hold the baby to their chest and pace back and forth before the window, hand patting rhythmically on their child’s back.

you feel changbin’s shoulder rise and fall with an exhale. “those were quite some words, y/n.”

“anything for you,” you say, before you can really think about the weight they held - but then again, you don’t regret them either.

“...five more minutes, then.” changbin kisses the top of your head so softly that you question whether he had done it at all. “i want to remember this moment.”

you furrow your brows, though your heart grows soft. “i do hope that your memory isn’t so bad that you’ll so easily forget sitting in the freezing cold with me,” you joke.

“nah, i’ll forget it,” he says, the surety so casual in his voice that it almost hurt. “all that you just said, your head against my shoulder, this blanket around us, i’ll forget it all. watching that person comfort their child, sitting on the side of the road this late at night, even the freezing cold - i’ll forget it all, no matter how many times it happens. i’ll forget it all, eventually. i’ll remember it next week, though, and probably next year. I might even remember it in five years, but... i bet i won’t think about it much in ten. and then i’ll forget it."

changbin's words are spoken into the night, crickets in the distance answering his thoughts. you feel like your breath had caught in your throat, your mind processing the truth in his words. a truth that he had seemingly accepted so easily, and you suppose it wasn't hard to believe - memory faded in and out, afterall, its permanence beyond anyone's control.

“so another five minutes," changbin finally says, "even if it’s cold. maybe five minutes will add another day to however long i’ll remember this moment. and a day might not be much, but it’ll be worth it.”

the silhouette in the window had put the child back down, and you watched as they bent over, their head disappearing below the windowframe. you could only presume they had placed a kiss on the child's forehead.

you raise your head off his shoulder, glancing across at him just as the light in the child's room turns off. changbin's features are doused in the moon's light, soft and warm, and his eyes continute to stare at the now darkened window. they were bright, though, and seemed to hold the same love and wonder they did when he talked about music, talked about his family, talked about you.

"those were quite some words" you quote him, and lay back down on his shoulder. a calmness had settled over you, and the cold was no longer on your mind. warmth had filled you - an intrinsic type of warmth that didn't pay mind to the cold of night. "but alright. five more minutes, then."

---

okay so the below bit:

"i’ll remember it next week, though, and probably next year. I might even remember it in five years, but... i bet i won’t think about it much in ten"

...is taken from given! it's not word from word and i've tweaked it to add a few words and changed it to fit the story, but yes, this is the bit from given that inspired this whole thing! just wanted to give more specific credit as i've had a few people say they liked this bit !!

#seo changbin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #seo changbin fluff #seo changbin imagines #stray kids imagines #seo changbin drabbles #stray kids drabbles #is there meaning behind the silhouette???? idk u tell me #(no there isnt) (but there can be) (the meaning of something is whatever we decide it is)

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pockcock · 3 years

Note

No thoughts. Pussy dwelling on Erwin's fingers edging you until you're a begging mess though. (Because let's face it, we all know the calluses on his hands feel like heaven when his tongue eases the feeling soon after-)

"whore mouth" // erwin smith x f!reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

word count: 2.4k

a/n: Oh god I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG I'M SORRY I'M SORRYYYY :( This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away... Anyways. ENJOY <3

tw// porn with very little plot. impact play. slapping. jealous!erwin. sugardaddy!erwin. dom!erwin. sadist!erwin. edging. cunnilingus. breath play. dumbification. spitting. forced orgasm. slight blood. squirting. clit slapping. slight consensual non-con (reader and erwin have a dom/sub relationship). prey-predator if you squint. usage of "whore, slut, bitch". aftercare.

Erwin isn't the jealous type in your eye. He is a confident man, he is fierce. He is the CEO of the Corps Ltd. after all. He isn't jealous, people are jealous of him.

But the look he gave you at the party made you lose your ability to breathe.

He bought this black silk dress for you a couple of weeks ago. It arrived at your door by his assistant, Armin, a pretty young boy. He reminded you of Erwin, only young and naive. You felt incredible in the fabric, it felt as if the dress was made for you and you only. Everything was right about the dress. But you didn't have any opportunity to wear it. Until tonight.

"Here we are, madam," Armin spoke, his eyes met yours from the rearview mirror. It was obvious that he was having a hard time keeping his eyes away from your beautifully exposed chest and perky nipples showing through the dress. "Mr. Smith is waiting for you inside."

You thanked him and carefully got out of the car not letting your dress go even higher. As you entered the hotel where the party was being hosted, your eyes found your pretty CEO. Surrounded by his close friends Miche and Levi, he was laughing. He was wearing his brand new black Hermes set with a gold detailed Versace tie. Then he saw you, his whole expression changed. The bright, playful eyes turned into loving ones.

"My sunshine," he greeted you with open arms, calling you in. "She is finally here!"

You walked towards him. "Traffic hold me hostage!"

A little laugh escaped his lips as he hugged you. But his words were far far away from his laugh. "Why the fuck are you wearing that?"

You hugged him, hiding your surprised and sad face in his neck. "I-I thought you'd enjoy it..."

He let you go, fixed your hair a bit. Cupping your cheeks, he said: "We'll talk about it when we go home, okay? Now let's enjoy our party." And, uh, what a bastard he is, to put the smile back into your face, he added. "You're looking like a swan."

And the rest of the night was almost perfect. Erwin introduced you as "My cup of sunshine!" to his friends, co-workers, business partners. He complimented you, let others compliment you and he even let Miche steal you for the dance and touch your bareback with his enormous hands. He let Zeke kiss your hand which was decorated by the ring Erwin gave. Everything went smoothly.

And yet, here you were, in front of him. Couldn't even look at his face because of the humiliation and mockery he possessed in his eyes.

"Tell me, princess. Why did you wear that?" he asked, emphasizing the word 'that'.

"I'm sorry-"

Your head went to your right with the impact. Your left cheek was burning and you were in shock. Did he slap you?

"I'm not asking for your apology. I'm asking for the reason."

You lifted your head, eyes filled with fear. "I-"

Another slap. This one hurt more than the other. "Stop this fucking nonsense and answer me." His voice was calm, steady. It contained no anger or fury.

"I thought..." A tear left your eye, you wiped it with the back of your hand. "I thought y-you'd like it."

Another slap. "Did you get the note I sent with the dress? I remember putting it into the box myself. I even attached it to the dress with an anklet. Remember?"

"Yes."

Another slap, you fell onto the ground. "What did it say?"

A sob left your lips. "I-I don't..."

"You don't what, princess?" He kneeled down. He grabbed your chin, lifting it up and looking directly into your teary eyes. "Tell me."

" I don't remember!" You screamed it out. Humiliation now took over your body, making you ache in pain. It was also creating a pool between your legs. "I don't remember, Erwin! I'm so-"

Another slap. "You don't get to say my name tonight." He took his jacket off, then his tie, he threw both across the room. He talked as he rolled his sleeves up. “You don’t deserve to say my name with that whore mouth.”

He yanked your hair making you scream in pain, he slammed you into the wall. The photos fell down, shattered. His rough hands ripped the dress’ straps, making it fall onto the floor, pooling around your feet. “I bought this for my eyes. My pleasure.” He slapped your right breast harshly. “You are mine.” He pinched your cheeks together, making you open your mouth. “That’s what I wrote, stupid whore.” He spitted onto your tongue, it tasted like whiskey and cigar. Then he covered your mouth and your nose, not letting you breathe. “Swallow.”

You did as he said. How couldn’t you?

“Open your mouth, tongue out.” He let go of your mouth, wanted to see your mouth empty. You inhaled in relief, brain too hazy to understand anything. He slapped you again. “Open your fucking mouth.”

“Erwin!” You screamed with pain again.

He laughed and let your hair go, you fell down with the sudden movement. “Your stupid brain can’t understand a word I say, right?” He grabbed you by the neck, lifting your fragile body up. “What are you good for? Oh, right! Being a whore, now I remember.”

You grabbed his forearm, nails digging into his skin. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything. You tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. The worst part wasn’t him being harsh with you. It was him being calm as usual, never shouting, never talking with clenched teeth. Even his damn expression was calm. His damn eyebrows weren’t furrowed. That scared you.

“Stop,” he said, pushing your hands away with a harsh move. You made his arms bleed a little. He looked at you unimpressed. “You never understand, do you?”

He took you to your shared bedroom, threw you onto the bed. You tried to get away, silly you, where could you go. Your makeup was a mess, mascara running down onto your cheeks as your tears left your eyes, painting your face black. Crying loudly, you screamed once more. “Please! Please don’t!” You tried to stop him. “Daddy please!”

He choked you, again, harsher this time. You held onto his arms, wishing he would let you breathe just once. Slammed your weak body into the mattress, he ripped your panties. “You’re begging me not to do anything, yet you’re soaking like a fucking slut.” Without warning, he pushed his thick middle and ring finger inside you. “See? You take my fingers like a slut too!” Amusement coated his tone. “You either want my fingers or my dick. You just want to be my pocket pussy, right, slut?” He was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, wet noises filled the room. “Stupid whore.”

Your eyes rolled back. Everything was too much. Too much pleasure, too much pain, too little air. Your brain was shutting down slowly, you couldn’t think straight. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to beg him to fuck you with his huge cock. Wanted him to take you then and there, without preparation. Yet, the only thing you could do was to moan, like a stupid whore. His voice echoed in your brain. You got closer, his fingers curled inside you, finding that pretty spot. It was too much?

“You’re cumming already?” He mocked, his pace quickened. “You won’t. Hold it.”

Your fingernails once again found the little cuts they made previously, digging even harder as the pleasure built up. You were losing consciousness due to the lack of oxygen in your body. You couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hold your orgasm, couldn’t stop him.

Erwin felt your orgasm before you. He pulled his hands away from you. “Open your legs. Ruin it. Don’t cum.”

You couldn’t.

The pleasure hit you, hit your body like a truck. With the sudden feeling of air coming into your lungs, your legs started trembling. Your whole body clenched, shaking like your vibrator Erwin bought you for your birthday. Your eyes snapped open and you felt something coming out of your cunt, wetting your legs, the bed and Erwin in front of you. You squirted.

“Fuck…” You heard Erwin cursing under his breath. His pants were soaking wet.

“D-Daddy...” You reached out for him, eyes barely functioning after the intense orgasm. “I-I’m sorry, I co-uldn’t hold it… I couldn't ruin it!”

He tsked. “Princess, what have you done?”

Your eyes filled with tears once again. You were slowly regaining your ability to think. “Daddy... I’m sorry…”

He sat next to you, pushed the hair from your face. “Shh, don’t talk…” He cupped your cheeks. “Maybe I was a bit too harsh for you.” He leaned down to kiss your puffy lips. “But you still need to be punished baby.”

Before you could protest, he spanked your clit.

“You were being a whore today.” Spank. “And you were also being a bad girl.” Spank. “You didn’t listen to me.” Spank. “But now,” Spank. “You’ll be cumming from this.”

You did. You didn’t know you could. But you did. And he didn’t stop.

“Daddy! S-Stop! I’ve come already” You tried to close your legs, the pleasure was turning into pain with each slap. “Can’t take it! Daddy I’m cumming!”

“Yes, babygirl,” He whispered. His eyes were locked into your, his pupils had expanded. “You’re cumming again. And you’ll be cumming again. And again. Until I’m done with you.”

“Daddy!”

His spanks became even faster and harder, hitting that sensitive bud throbbing in a mixture of pain and pleasure. When you opened your mouth to moan, he spitted onto your tongue once again. “Don’t swallow. Stick your tongue out, slut,” he said as his other hand caressed your hair. “Let yourself drool like a stupid whore.” His words, his actions… Everything was so complicated. Making you feel even more stupid.

After cumming another four times you were a drooling, dripping mess. You were lost your sight. Everything was spinning, the ceiling, Erwin in front of you, and you. Your breaths were unsteady, you couldn’t even hear your heartbeat because of its speed.

Erwin patted your cheek. “Don’t faint on me now, bitch.”

“D-Daddy…”

He smiled. “Shh, princess. I know.” His hands came down on your face to wipe your tears away. “I’m proud of you.” He kissed your forehead. “Now, I’m going to eat you out, ‘kay? I wanna taste my pretty pocket pussy.”

You squinted your eyes to see him. Your eyes filled with tears once again. Your makeup was already ruined and smudged into the sheets. “Please daddy! I can’t take-”

“Shut up, baby.” He stood up, got between your legs and pulled you towards his face. Erwin loved your pussy so much, he could live in there forever. He inhaled the heavenly scent and licked your slit, drinking everything you offered. “It’s my pussy and I chose to do whatever I want.”

You tried to push him, kick him away. Nothing worked. Erwin Smith, ate your pussy like it was his last day on earth. He ate your cum, drank your juices, sucked on your clit and fucked you with his tongue. His face was sweaty, his perfect hair stuck onto his forehead. His naked chin was now coated with your nectar. He made you cum again, leaving you breathless, sucking your soul out of your body. He made you cum, made you squirt onto his face. He was pussy drunk, couldn’t let you go. Couldn’t stop sucking your clit. He loved the way your legs trembled after each orgasm. He loved the way you screamed “Daddy!” first and when he didn’t stop you screamed “Erwin!”. He loved the way you babble nonsense trying to apologize from him. Stupid slut, he thought. And ate you out until your whole body went numb.

When he was finally done, both of you were panting. You were barely awake, holding onto nothing but trying your best not to lose consciousness. Erwin was tired, tired from eating you out, fingering you and taking your soul away from you. He got up, laid right next to you. He adored this sight; you, completely fucked up and ruined. He did this without putting his cock in you. He was proud.

“Are you with me princess?” He whispered into the night. He was being cautious.

You nodded weakly.

“Good girl,” he said. Kissed your forehead slowly he cupped your cheeks. “Can you give me a color baby?” You were using a color system alongside your safeword. It was for your safety.

“Y-Yellow…” Your voice was hoarse after all the screaming.

He furrowed his brows. He was too harsh on you. “I’m sorry, kitten.” He carefully flipped you onto your side, hugging your back tightly, he kissed your shoulder. “I was too harsh on you. I’m so sorry baby.”

A sob escaped your lips. “But you didn’t cum…”

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. You’ve done so well. I got pleasure from your pleasure. I'm not important. You are. Your pleasure is. You did so well. So well baby. That’s what is important. I got you now, okay? I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I got you. I’ll never leave you.”

You stayed there, tangled together for a long time. Erwin kissed your shoulders, back and hair, his calloused hands caressed your arms. When the extreme pleasure made you clench again, he hugged you tighter, whispering. “Calm down, baby. I got you.” He made sure you were fully okay after your intense session.

“D-Daddy?”

His heart shattered into thousand pieces after hearing that tone in your voice. “You can say my name baby, it’s over now.”

“Erwin,” you said almost hesitantly. “C-Can I go to the bathroom? I need to pee.”

His eyes snapped open. Right, you had to. “Yes baby, let me take you there.” He took you into his arms bridal style. “And we’ll take a bath, I really want to try that lavender bath bomb you bought. Is that okay baby?”

You snuggled into his shirt, it was still wet after your countless orgasms.

After you were done with everything, you were in your marble bathtub with Erwin. A purple color was prominent in the water, making you feel safe. You leaned into his chest filled with little patches of thin gold hair even more. He was your home.

“Erwin?” you asked, melting into his touches.

“Yes, princess?”

“How many times did I cum?” You asked, lifted your head to look at him. You loved that expression. You could see surprise, confusion, calculation and answer in seconds.

“Thirty..” he furrowed his thick brows, he was counting. “Thirty-nine.” Then he realized what he said. His eyes opened up with amazement. “Oh.”

“Yeah..” you said, a chuckle left your chest.

“We broke our record!”

taggings: @maries-gallery @st-arlert (you have to read this baby, no escapes) @azazelles

#impact play tw #dumbification tw #breath play tw #slapping tw #noncon tw #predator tw #erwin smut #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #snk erwin #erwin smith #erwin x you #attack on titan #aot smut #snk smut #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin

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jarofstyles · 3 years

Note

hey besties, pls do a football player Harry (soccer in case ur american lol) and physical therapist y/n !!

I know absolute shit all about football (soccer bc we are American) but we can give it a go!!! Plz don’t be mad I don’t know anything about it cause it’s ✨make believe ✨

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

He was a little shit.

A beautiful, charming, irritating, little shit.

When Y/N has signed on for this team, being the medic was something she had been passionate about for years. Having her own accident and making it so she couldn’t properly play anymore, it was her mission to still be involved in the game so how. Y/N’s own injury and healing process had her become more and more interested in the profession, and here she was.

It wasn’t everything she had dreamed of, as nothing ever was, but it was good. She got to sit field-side every game, close to the action. And every injury she got first look at. She helped the guys with their stretches, their previous injuries and keeping them from Re-injuring themselves, taking care of them and making sure their physical shape was the best it could be.

In general? She was happy. But there was one man who was a thorn in her side and a pain in her crotch.

Harry Styles.

The man who decided it was his personal mission to follow her around like a puppy dog. Popping up in her singular moments of peace during game day. Texting her and asking about very, very small twists of ankles and giving her the ‘🥺 maybe you should come and look at it…’ whenever he did so.

Not to mention his complete and utter want to get into her pants.

Now it wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle a few sexual jokes. Y/N was a big girl and knew 99% of the time, the guys on the team knew their limit. And Harry? Harry, in reality, was a gentleman. Never touched her inappropriately, ever. But the problem was… she kind of wanted him to.

There was no actual clause against staff members and players being together or hooking up. Nope, just frowned upon. Maybe a slap on the wrist. However Y/N knew, she knew that the moment anyone caught wind of her potential affections for any team member or acting on it? It would end with everyone thinking she slept with them to get the job.

Y/N worked long and hard. Tireless hours for make sure these men were healthy, fit, and at their best. She wouldn’t sleep with anyone for any job, and she was actually respected by this team which was something a lot of women weren’t in this field. She could not and would not throw it away for a good dicking.

Fuck, did she want to sometimes.

—-

Harry had these hands. The perfect hands, in her opinion. Big, strong with thinner fingers. Long fingers. A good sized palm, not overly veiny, just perfection in male hand scales. Luckily (or unluckily, whatever way you’d put it) she got to handle them often.

“S’sore today, doc.” He winced, sitting on the table in front of her. Harry’s wrist throbbed. It was rainy, and it was usually a wreck when it was the perfect condition. The ache was annoying, and he knew she had a solution.

Her lips pouted softly as she gently took the hand in place, thumbing over the part of the wrist where rhe injury had occurred. She had learned a while ago where to press, how to rub and get it to lessen before she wrapped it up. “Yeah… old injuries tend to never let you forget.” She sighed, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

Harry never could get over how fucking gorgeous Y/N was. From her nose to her lips, the pretty sparkle in her eye, the curve of her hip… he was obsessed. Not to mention the fact that she was so gentle with him. So kind and sweet, though he knew he got on her nerves with his teasing sometime. She could handle it and he always tried to watch to make sure he wasn’t going too far, but he couldn’t help it.

He was a silly boy with a bit fat crush.

Y/N didn’t bite for any of them. Everyone had attempted when she first came on, testing the waters. Her pretty face was welcome to all the blokes in the team, and there was something incredibly attractive about a woman who could heal. Nonetheless, she never gave in to anything.

In Harry’s case, he knew it was different. He could see her smile at some jokes, see her get the bumps on her skin when he brushed her a certain way. But she avoided the eye contact. Avoided the touches. And it drove him mad.

Of course she wouldn’t know he had actual feelings for him because he was a giant coward most of the time. He hid his affection in the dirty jokes and the teasing squeezes of her waist and teasing. He was a thick skinned man but a full rejection form her would hurt.

Her soft fingers gently massaged over the wrist, making him groan. His head tilted back and he let it out, hissing slightly when she pressed too hard. “Oooh, don’t worry sweetheart. Y’know I like it to hurt a little.” His wide smirk made her roll her eyes huffing under her breath.

Y/N was not having a great day. She had been harassed by an Ex all fucking night over her new job. Making all the damn assumptions that she was getting ‘trained by the team’ in a much more vulgar way, and she had cried half the night. To say she wasn’t in the mood was an understatement, but she was trying.

Harry was not what she needed today, because it made her feel worse. Her blatant attraction to him made her feel guilty. She should be professional and leave it with. The way she had squeeze her legs tighter while he groaned didn’t help her case. The ugly words of how they’ only kept her around for a potential fuck’ was ringing in her head.

Harry though, he was a little oblivious. Her hands were so talented, and he didn’t watch her face for once as she hit a good spot again and he let out another remark.

“Jesus, that’s good. Do those magic hands work everywhere?”

That was the straw that broke her. It wasn’t his fault necessarily, he was just playing. But her eyes watered, hand yanking away as she turned from him, walking over to the bench. Trying to compose herself was hard as the tears burned so hard in her eyes, hands shaking slightly.

Harry startled, not used to that. She never flinched away like that, never ignored his remark and walked away. Usually told him to fuck off, rolled her eyes, something. But the energy in the room immediately shifted and he was uncomfortable. What had happened?

Cautiously, he cleared his throat and stood up from the bench, licking over his dry lips as he spoke again. “Uh… Y/N?”

“S’all I’m good for, right?” She muttered under her breath. Frantically wiping under her eyes she tried to focus on the paper in front of her but she could feel Harry approaching.

He furrowed his brow, not sure if he heard correctly. “Wha-“

Y/N whipped around fast, eyes teary and wet. “I said, that’s all I’m good for right? Only good for my hands and sex and all that pleasure you can get from me?” She hissed. “Only good for a romp in the sheets and a pretty face to heal your wounds and put on band aids. Only good to make you get off and feel good and then what? I’m left here with nothing.”

The tears left her, her hands shaking as she grabbed her bag. Harry felt his stomach drop. Never, ever had he wanted to make her feel like that. Her crying? That wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He felt like he had taken a ball to the gut, hard. Those eyes he adored being full of pain, full of tears was his own personal hell.

“Y/N… wait, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he tried to follow her to the door, stopping abruptly when she lifted a hand up to him. Her stomping had made him nervous. Now she was leaving without talking to him and he felt like a complete dick. It was their normal teasing, but he had crossed a line.

“Don’t. Just…. Just leave me alone. I’m going home.”

—-

As much as Harry had wanted to chase after her, he had already made her cry once. He wasn’t risking it again.

The icky, gross feeling in his stomach followed him all day. He was gutted. Not only has he apparently crossed a line with someone he respected, he had a fucking crush on her. The man was convinced no other feeling was worse than a crush being angry at him. Even if it sounded juvenile to place it like that.

Harry liked Y/N. He never ever wanted to make her upset in any capacity, let alone feeling like a sex object or violated. He prided himself on respecting women. And he had fucking failed. He needed to make it right, and fast.

He had found her address. In her employee file, and he knew that was bad but he needed to check on her. Regardless of what happened beforehand, she was upset by him enough to leave and go home and he wanted to make sure she was genuinely okay.

It was an overstep and Harry knew it. He had to try, though.

He arrived at her door step with a box of cupcakes and some flowers. Gently kicking the floor, he heard the door open and his heart broke a little more.

Y/N standing in front of him with swollen eyes. She had been crying, seemingly a lot. And she looked upset still. Though he expected her to close the door in his face and tell him to fuck off. But she didn’t.

Instead, she broke into tears again, throwing herself into his chest. Her arms wrapping around his waist, he nearly tumbled over but righted himself as he startled. Quickly he found himself recovering, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her. He was able to maneuver slightly and drop the cupcakes on her entry table, flowers as well before having his arms free.

“Hey…. Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He whispered softly, gently placing a hand on her back. Rubbing it up and down, letting her cry into his tee shirt. It was worrying. Whatever happened was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to let that take away from the fact he had added and made it worse.

“I’m sorry.” Her muffled response was sobbed into his shirt. “I’m sorry for yelling… and saying you thought those things, you were playing and I…” she pulled back worth tear streaked cheeks and Harry’s look of pure concern making her lip wobble. “You didn’t do it. It was… he kept sayin’ that all the team wants is in my pants, and you make me feel guilty because you’re so…. Beautiful, and I never slept with anyone to get this job! Never. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone-“ she hiccuped, looking up at Harry as he caressed the back of her head.

“Who, lovely? Who wouldn’t leave you alone?” He asked with a calm tone. Of course he wasn’t. Someone was harassing her. And Harry would fucking take care of it. It boiled his blood to think of someone making her feel less than.

“My ex.” She sniffled again, slowly calming. Harry had that quality, she thinks. “He-He broke up with me for taking the job. Said… said that I was going to be a personal whore for all of you. And not do my job.” She took a shuddery breath. It was embarrassing admitting this to him, but he had been on the receiving end for a meltdown that wasn’t his to fix.

“Well, can I tell you something?” He brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the sticky tears from her cheeks. “You arent. You’re no one’s whore. You’re a respected, talented and intelligent member of our staff. You so happen to be incredibly beautiful, which obviously makes people find you more bewitching… but I know that we all look at you as a professional talent. They may have tried their luck at the beginning but you laid down the law quickly and they all understood.” He whispered.

“Me? I was trying my luck, because you’re incredible. And I think you’re lovely. But that isn’t a conversation for now. Let’s make some tea, hm? Relax. I brought you some cupcakes. I need to properly apologize for being inappropriate to you. Regardless if it was a joke…”

—

He sat next to her on her couch. The poor girl was better now, washing her face and a mug of tea in hand while Harry had helped himself to a vase and put the flowers inside. Carnations. He thought they were pretty, didn’t know the name until Y/N had fawned over them.

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” She said softly, her big sweatshirt swallowing her up. Before Harry could interrupt, she put a finger up. “I know that you were just playing, Harry. I let you flirt with me like that. And I enjoy it.” She could feel herself get warm in the face. “If you’ve noticed, I let you get away with it. I enjoy it. And you didn’t do anything out of line. I was sensitive… I was still raw and I hadn’t had much sleep because he had blown up my phone and regardless he was telling me things he said in person over and over again. So…” Y/N shifted in her seat and used her sweater paws to bring the drink to her lips. “When you came in… I felt guilty for finding you attractive. For liking what you said to me.”

Harry sat for a moment, quiet. So she had liked it…. And felt guilty. Now knowing the context? It made sense. For the life of him he was trying not to hold in to the fact that she enjoyed it, but he couldn’t. It made him excited.

“Okay. That makes sense. Usually.. I do a better job at reading your physical cues. Sometimes I can see something isn’t the right thing to say because you’re tense already. But I was in my own world cause you were making the pain go away and I felt good. It isn’t an excuse, though.” He gently grabbed her hand once she set down her warm tee, thumbing over the knuckles.

“I felt like such a dick. I still do. You know that? And it isn’t because I’m attracted to you. But it’s because I didn’t think about the position I’m putting you in by flirting.” He moved a little closer. “I would never try and jeopardize your job. I’ve been blinded by my own feelings for a while and I was trying to feel it out but I didn’t think to think it was because someone else or a group of people would look down at you for it.” He frowned.

It was so unfair. They wouldn’t care if he slept with her. But they’d ridicule her for sleeping with him.

“I just want to let you know now as well… I wasn’t trying to come on to you to have a hookup.” He hummed. “The feelings I’ve got are genuine. Alright? They aren’t just too get into your pants. And I never want you to feel as though that’s your only purpose. Ever. You have so much worth, and while I’m positive you don’t need me to tell you that, I want tok anyways.”

He was unreal. She really thinks so. How did a man just… be like him. He was a fan favorite and had charm but behind the scenes he was even better than anything they said.

“Yeah. I think I was afraid. Because… I’m the same, you know?” She shyly admitted. “You’re charming and I didn’t want to admit I let your charm get to me, but it has. It has very much. And I like you. I don’t know what to do about it, but I think it’s only fair I admit it myself as well when you’ve put yourself out on the line.”

Harry’s grin grew, dimples pocketing in his cheeks. She liked him back. His heart was ringing in his ears, the shy little look into her eyes making him want to explode. Fucking adorable girl making him feel such intense emotions…. It was incredible.

Thank god. He thought he was going insane.

“We don’t have to do anything in the sense of our job right now. But since we both know… would you want to explore it? I would say privately. Just get to know each other better. Talk. Hang out. Cook food together… maybe kiss.” He smirked slightly at the end, making her let out a laugh. Her laugh soothed his Damn soul.

“I think I’d like that.”

——

Part II maybe? Who knows

719 notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

brat.

| Bucky Barnes x reader | smut |

warnings: smut, mild degradation (not meant seriously), spanking, dom/sub dynamic, general chaos

a/n: I can’t deal with the pressure of my life, I need James Buchanan Barnes to make me let it go

Bucky had been agitated since you had sent him naughty photos of yourself while he was in the middle of a meeting. He had glanced at his phone and immediately turned it face down and continued speaking. After the meeting, he sat at his desk, looking at the photos you’d sent. His favorite was one where you had your tits out, wearing just little black panties, along with a black ribbon tied around your neck.

He’d originally been the one to tie the ribbon around your neck, about a year ago. He’d hooked his fingers in the satin and dragged you forward like it was a collar, making you blush and shy.

Now, you wore the ribbon around your neck whenever you were in the particular mood for Bucky to make you feel owned.

You were always under constant stress and pressure to perform well, having to control and manage everything, both at work and school. The only place where you could let it go, relinquish all control, was in the bedroom with Bucky... or on the kitchen counters, the bathroom of a club, his desk at work, and anywhere else he could get his hands on you.

When you were alone with Bucky, you became playful, soft, and sweet, and it turned him on to no end. Bucky truly thought you were the most gorgeous and hottest girl in the universe, and he practically worshipped you.

That is, except when you were being a needy brat, like today. Sending him naughty photos at work (unprompted) was strictly against your rules, and you knew you played a dangerous game with him. Bucky wasn’t one to play around when it came to testing the boundaries.

Secretly, that was why you did it. You wanted Bucky riled up, to come home and be rough with you. You wanted him hard and unrelenting, to have you screaming and writhing for him. You were tense from your stressful week, and he was too, and there was no better solution in your mind to release that built up tension.

He shut off his phone as his boss walked in, asking him about a project, and Bucky struggled to focus on what he was being told, too distracted by the image of your soft tits swirling in his mind.

“Thanks, Barnes.”

“Yeah, sure.” He called back half-heartedly, picking his phone back up once he was alone.

~you’re going to fucking regret that, baby~

~I doubt it. X~

He was practically seething at your response, ideas of how to get you in line already forming. He was fed up with your bratty attitude, and his annoyance just built over the course of the afternoon.

When he was finally finished with work, he drove home faster than normal. The door smacked loudly against the wall when he entered, alerting you he was mad. Your heart jumped in your chest, and you felt a pang of regret at your insolence.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice echoed, and you nervously walked down the hallway in one of his oversized button downs.

He stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of you. You looked small and meek, innocent in his big shirt. Ribbon was tied around the base of your neck, and your eyes were shining as you gazed up at him.

“Hi, daddy”

He almost melted at the sweet sound of your voice, at the utter innocence you seemed to hold. He dropped his keys in the dish by the door, snapping out of it. He stared at you with a hard gaze, entirely unamused by your earlier behavior. You sank into yourself, taking a step back. He stepped forward, and you continued until he had backed you against the wall outside of your guest bedroom at the end of the hall.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Bucky asked you, waiting for an apology.

I’m sorry daddy, is what you should have said, attempting to win over the last bit of forgiveness he was willing to give you. Instead, you decided to dig yourself into deeper trouble, unable to resist the temptation to goad him by being a brat.

“I could’ve gotten myself off in the time it took you to get home, maybe even more than-” you didn’t even get to finish your sentence before he was on you.

He hooked his fingers into the ribbon, jerking your small body against his. His silver eyes blazed, threatening you to struggle.

“Do you think you’re fucking funny?” He growled, and you stared back at him, suppressing your fear.

“A little, actually.”

That did it.

“Get on your fucking knees, you insolent brat!” He snapped, jerking you downwards so you were kneeling in front of him.

Your knees bit into the hardwood floor, and the ribbon left a faint red ring around your neck from him dragging you by it. His hand went up your neck to your cheek, and you flinched as he sharply tapped your face. It wasn’t enough to be a slap, Bucky would never hit you in a way you didn’t like, but the sharp smack made arousal drip from your core.

You wanted him to run his fingers through your hair to guide you, like he did when he was feeling softer, but you knew that you’d pushed him too far to receive any sort of help.

He grabbed your jaw and forced your mouth open before burying himself in your throat. He did it in one quick movement that had you gagging, choking on his length. Bucky didn’t care about your fight to breathe, snapping his hips at a brutal pace, stretching your throat. You did your best to open for him, but tears slid down your cheeks from your lack of oxygen.

“Y/N, look at you, letting me fuck your throat like a little whore.” His words dripped with condescension and you looked up at him with glassy eyes.

You moaned around him, sending vibrations that pushed him closer to the edge.

“You’re going to swallow, got it?” He ordered and you made a noise of approval, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. He came in thick spurts, his cock deep in your throat. You swallowed his seed as well as possible, gasping as he pulled out of you. You lost your balance and put a hand on his thigh to steady you. He stepped back, letting you fall forward, barely catching yourself.

You whined in protest, and he grabbed you by the hair and jerked your head back to look up at him. Your chest was heaving as you drew in oxygen, your face was sticky with tears, and your mouth was salty with his taste.

"You look so pretty on your knees for me," Bucky's tone was mocking, a slight Russian accent hanging off his words, a silent threat hanging in the air.

"I did so good, sucking you off like you wanted-" you were about to ask if he'd take care of you now, and he just let out a short laugh.

"You think you're getting off?" He spoke as if it were completely ridiculous.

"Yes?" You tried, and he shook his head.

"Then you shouldn't have been such a little brat. Brats don't get to come."

"But daddy-!" You whined in protest.

Your mouth snapped shut when he dragged you up to your feet and tore his button down off of you. You shivered in the cold air, and his fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them down your legs.

"You're fucking soaked, Y/N. Is this just from sucking me off?" He embarrassed you.

"Y/N!" He snapped when you didn't answer, fed up with your disobedience.

"Yes," you breathed, blinking back fresh tears of anxiety.

"I'll give you something to cry about." He threatened and you bit your lip, knowing it wasn't an empty threat.

"Safeword?" he asked, making sure you were able to communicate with him if it was too much.

"Falcon," you answered obediently and he nodded. He took your wrists in his hands, noticing the way your hands were trembling. He kissed your smooth skin, though his gaze didn't soften.

"On the bed. Now." He pointed, and you bent over the edge of the bed, your ass on display for him. You hid your face in your arms, hiding the embarrassment visible on your cheeks from being so exposed.

A shaky whine escaped as you heard his belt snap, fear prickling up your spine. He watched you squirm on the bed. He knew you hated being smacked with the belt, and he leaned against the wall, watching you nearly lose your mind in anticipation. He was curious to see if you'd continue the bratty behavior, or if this was what would finally cause you to break, and his fingers twitched as he ached to turn your ass pink.

As soon as the tension began to leave your body, and you settled on the mattress, he landed the first blow with the leather on your ass. You screamed both from shock, and the welcome pain that blossomed across your skin.

His dark laughter echoed in your guest bedroom, and chills made your body shudder. You were getting what you wanted, this had been your goal from the beginning. You also knew that you were completely safe, that Bucky loved you dearly, and this was just a bedroom scene, not meant to truly hurt you. Despite both of those facts, the fear was very much real. Bucky was incredibly intimidating, especially when he was mad.

"Four more, alright?"

"Yes, daddy."

Dry sobs burned your throat as he spanked you quickly, leaving pink stripes across your fair skin, but light enough they'd disappear by morning. It was more psychological than physical, and it was causing you to nearly shake with arousal. It was dripping down your legs, and Bucky noticed, adding to the shame of just being spanked. He took a step toward you, squeezing your ass in his large hands, making you whimper in discomfort. He slapped your skin, and you struggled to contain your pained yelps. It wasn’t near as bad as the belt, but the sting spread through your skin as he continued your punishment.

You sighed in relief when he finally finished, wrapping his hand around your throat and pulling you up so your back was against his chest. He gave your throat a squeeze, making your eyes roll back. He kissed your shoulder before biting down into your smooth skin. You squirmed in his grip, mewling softly.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, looking up and meeting his gaze.

“I know you are, baby,” He kissed your mouth for the first time, and you melted into his hold, ignoring your soreness.

“Hands and knees for me, doll.”

He released his grip on you, lightly tapping your thigh to get you to climb up on the bed. You moved onto the bed, but your arms were unsteady, so you dropped down to your elbows, letting your back arch.

“Can’t hold myself up,” you murmured apologetically, not wanting him to think that you were being bratty. He kissed your bum, and you sighed quietly at the tender action.

“I want to come, daddy,” you begged, hoping he had softened.

“I’m sure you do.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing that you weren’t going to get what you want. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your hips, holding you steady as he stood behind you. You squirmed as he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, a choked noise leaving your throat as he brushed your clit. You were on edge, but you knew if you spilled over, he would spank you until you were bleeding.

He noticed the shudder it caused, and his voice came deep and threatening.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I won’t!” you promised, wanting to be good for him.

“Better not.”

He thrusted forward, rolling his hips until he was buried all the way in you, making you yell and grip the sheets in front of you. The stretch burned, your body never quite getting used to his size. Usually he eased into you, but he clearly didn’t care about your pleasure right now.

He began to snap his hips against yours, using your body to chase his own release. His hands slipped off of your hips and snaked around to your front, going up to your breasts. He squeezed roughly and pinched your nipples, pulling them between his fingers, making your vision spark. You shrieked at the sensation, and you tightened around him. You held back your orgasm, fighting against the urge to release.

“Your cunt feels so good around me, doll. If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m going to lose my mind,” Bucky murmured, his words getting lost in your mind.

You tightened around him purposely, feeling him twitch before painting your insides with his release. He groaned deeply, continuing with shallow thrusts as he emptied himself into your heat. When he pulled out, he stared at your swollen sex, his release dripping out, and down your thighs. You screamed as he slapped the sensitive area, arching your back. You whimpered out a beg to ease up on you, and he moved you to lay on your back. You were barely there, whimpering out apologies pathetically, and he kissed a line from your belly up to your lips.

“You’re forgiven, doll.” He said, kissing you sweetly.

“Please, I’ll be so good.” You were desperate, throbbing around nothing, and you wanted to release the tension your body held so bad.

Bucky watched you beg, almost inclined to put his head back between your legs.

“Fine.” He sat on the bed, pulling you to straddle his thigh. You looked at him in confusion as he held your hips down.

“You can ride my thigh and get off that way, or you can quit complaining.”

Your eyes widened, and your face burned in humiliation. You hesitated for a moment before giving into your needs, rolling your hips and dragging your core over his thigh. You squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face in his shoulder as he quietly mocked you and how desperate you were. Your thighs started to shake, and he bounced his leg, making you come with a scream as you bit down lightly on his shoulder.

“Daddy, no,” you complained as his hand snaked down to pinch your clit, sending shocks through you.

“Watch your mouth.” He ordered, grabbing your jaw in his free hand, disapproving of your protests. He overstimulated you, turning your pleasure into torture. You struggled to catch your breath as you writhed on his lap, begging him to let you ease up. You swore at him, and he smacked your already stinging core. You yelped at the pain, letting him have his way, too exhausted to protest further.

You could’ve cried again as he finally eased up, deciding you had adequately paid for your misbehavior. After, he spent the entire evening showering you with attention, showing his soft side and loving on you.

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