#› i’m counting on you to be my wings and eyes ; talking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

the many firsts

a/n: you have no idea how many times while writing this first instalment that i needed to take a break, if you know what i meaannn 🫠

summary: “alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.”

warnings: innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, frat!ari levinson, smut, dark content, college au, move in day at university, frat party, alcohol consumption, kissing, virgin!reader, corruption kink, voyeurism, overstimulation, first orgasm, edging, dirty talk, size kink, masturbation, handjob

word count: 8043

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

“Thanks for the ride,” you uttered as Steve’s car finally rolled to a stop in the campus parking lot. Cracking open the passenger side door, you slipped out and trailed back to open up the trunk, “but I can do this on my own, you know,” as the lid floated up to reveal the Tetris-like stacks of both of your stuff, you glanced up at Steve as he rounded the corner of the vehicle as well, “you really don’t have to keep up your end of the deal, our parents aren’t here to see.”

“It’s alright,” his burly arm reached over you to fish out a laundry basket stuffed to the brim with your things, “I know it was just your mom babying you as usual and whispering in my dad’s ear to get him to make me watch after you.”

“She doesn’t baby me, she just cares, a lot…” you shot back defensively, “and I don’t need anyone to watch out for me. I’m eighteen, not seven.”

“Oh yeah?” he let out a faint scoff, “so you wanna just haul all this junk around campus, looking for your dorm, which you have no clue where is yet?”

Your eyes then slowly narrowed in his direction before you muttered, “…well, maybe you could give me just a bit of a hand… just in the name of saving time instead of wasting my first day getting lost.”

And as you filled your arms with as much stuff as you could carry, Steve noted, “hey, I'm not offering to be your fucking tour guide,” as he slammed the trunk shut behind you, “don’t worry, I won’t now try to make you suddenly like me,” he spoke of the ship that sailed away a long time ago.

Arms full, you crossed the crowded parking lot till you reached one of the open gates leading into a lush green area where little paths weaved across the lawns and connected all of the towering buildings.

“Welcome to Highridge University,” Steve breathed as you walked under the gateway, “best fucking years of your life.”

For so long, you had dreamt of this moment, finally being out on your own, away at college, meeting kindred spirits and sipping from the well of knowledge. Glancing around, your teeth clamped down on the smile that rapidly grew and faintly calmed the jittery nerves that still tensed up your abdomen in nauseating butterflies.

“Where are you gonna live, again?” his glance briefly drifted to you.

“Uh…” one-handed, you swiftly scrambled to get out the papers folded up in your pocket, “… Manning Hall, room eight,” you read out loud once you finally found the information on the crumbled piece of paper.

“Manning, alright,” he exhaled, “I started out in Lichfield myself, but I’ve, uh–, dated a few girls who lived in Manning,” his comment promptly caused your eyes to roll in your skull before your feet began to shuffle after him as he led the way.

As you tried to keep up with his long stride, you watched as his gaze suddenly dipped to the contents of the laundry basket he carried before something caught his eye.

“Ah, no way,” he chuckled as he shifted the hamper to free his one arm and snatch up an item, “I can’t believe you brought this with you.”

Glancing over, fury swiftly began to simmer in your chest as you watched him clutch the brown plush bovine visage of Chocolate Milk, an old stuffed animal of yours.

“Hey!” you swiftly snatched the soft cow out of his hand.

But the loss didn’t get to diminish his flame as he only spotted the others buried deeper within the basket, hidden beneath the mass of Chocolate Milk, “oh my god, there’s more!”

“Will you please stop?” you begged as he picked up both an ivory bunny and a caramel-coloured bear, “okay, fine, so I brought a few stuffed animals with me, big whoop!” you screeched in hopes that he would for once show you an ounce of mercy as this was in fact your first time being away from home, so the sense of comfort that those toys brought seemed better than if you’d begged your own mother to stay with you till you settled in.

But even when Steve let go of the teddy bears and settled them back into the hamper, his laughter still continued to rumble in his chest, “oh, you’re so adorable, fuck…”

His laughter had thankfully subsided by the time you reached Manning Hall. Once you’d received your key, your feet began to carry you down the long corridors in search of your new home.

When you found the correct door, it already stood ajar, prompting you to slowly push it open before you peeked your head inside.

On the floor, next to one of the nightstands, there sat a dark-haired girl your age, haphazardly stuffing the small drawer with some of her things.

“Hi,” you gently tapped your knuckles against the open door before crossing the threshold.

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyebrows floated up before she exclaimed, “oh! You must be my roommate!” before she sprang up and rushed towards you, “hey, I’m Kate,” she reached out to shake your hand.

Setting down enough stuff to free one palm, you grasped hers and offered her a timid smile, “nice to meet you, I’m Y/n.”

Coming in behind you, Steve bumped against your side as he squeezed his eclipsing form in through the doorway, “where do you want this shit?”

“Oh,” you tried to get out of the way before his stride tumbled you down, “on the bed is fine, I think,” you gestured to the empty one.

Slipping in past you both, Kate then asked as he placed the hamper down on the small mattress, “is this your boyfriend?”

You nearly choked on your giggle as your wide eyes soared to stare back at her, “him? My boy–, no,” you tried your best to ignore the flutter that tingled deep within your belly at her assumption, “that’s my stepbrother. He’s just already a senior here, so we drove together.”

“Oh,” she exhaled before her face screwed up in immediate regret, “sorry.”

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, your stepbrother briefly glanced down at the screen before muttering, “well, I'll let you girls talk. I'm gonna go grab the rest from the car and then be on my way.”

Offering him a small nod, your gaze shadowed him as he exited the small dorm room, your eyes only ripping away from his fading visage down the hall when Kate soon uttered, “hey, I was about to go get my student ID. You wanna join?”

“Sure,” you nodded, stuffing both of your hands in your pockets, “do you know where it is?”

“Actually, I do,” she cocked her head proudly before sharing, “my girlfriend goes here, so I’ve already been visiting this place for an entire year.”

“Wait, wait, wait, let me readjust my grip,” the frat bro with a buzzcut wheezed to the other guy carrying the heavy beer keg. They were barely halfway up the steps that led to the fraternity’s porch as you approached.

“Seriously?” the one that looked like a Norse god halted with a huff, “you can’t keep pausing every five seconds or we won’t get this thing inside till next year!”

“Hi,” the quiet tone of your voice caused them to drop their squabble as both of their eyes promptly drifted directly towards you, “I’m sorry, is this the Kappa Alpha Nu house?”

“It most certainly is, gorgeous,” the blonde one let his stare take a journey down over your frame, “why? You wanna join?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I'm just looking for someone.”

“Okay,” the other one nodded, “well I'm pretty sure everyone’s inside,” his head invitingly tilted towards the open front door behind them before he added, “except for if you’re looking for Frank or Billy, they haven’t arrived yet.”

Slipping in behind them, the entryway that met you was generous and wide, with a broad staircase off to the side that stretched up to an open landing where numerous hallways spewed forth and weaved deeper into the house. Peeking around, you first poked your head inside the living room that bloomed off to the left, though the room that met you was completely vacant.

Though as you twisted to take your search somewhere else, a figure appeared from out of nowhere, curving around the corner, before you blindly bumped directly into the mass.

“Ow, fuck!” he cursed before you stepped off his toes that your shoes had accidentally stomped down on in the collision.

“Shit, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going–…” your apology then promptly faded from your lips as you blinked up into the blue eyes of none other than Bucky Barnes.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” your stepbrother’s best friend blinked back into your wide eyes before his glance dipped down to the deep neckline of your shirt, “and since when did these stop being mosquito bites?” he teased as a smirk began to bloom on his lips.

As you then tugged at your shirt to cover up more of your cleavage, Bucky only continued to brashly stare.

“Do you know where Steve is?” you avoided his inappropriate comment with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah, he should be down any second,” his brawny arm curled up before he leaned his weight against the wall behind you, “so, how the hell are you? Taken any showers lately?” he briefly wiggled his brows, recalling the time over the summer when he had come over to hang out with his friend, only to naturally walk into your bathroom right as you were washing shampoo out of your hair.

“I’m fine,” you sighed as your cheeks began to burn, “glad to finally have a bathroom door with a lock that actually works.”

But then, before Bucky could torment you any further, three separate pairs of footsteps creaked on the staircase.

“Hey, Buck,” you heard Steve call out before he reached the bottom of the steps, “did you remember to invite the Delta Phi girls tonight, because–,” his sentence then crumbled as his gaze landed upon you. Stopping in his tracks, he blinked down at you with his eyebrows harshly knitted together before his glare flickered to his friend, “what is she doing here?”

Crossing the width of the entryway, you dipped your fingers into your pocket and said, “you forgot your phone in my room,” before you fished the device out and stretched it up towards him.

Finally crossing over the threshold behind you, the two guys hauling the keg perked up, “already trying out the new wares on campus? Nice.”

“What?” you twisted around to glare at them, your heart suddenly thumping in your chest, “I’m his stepsister…”

“Oh…” one of the guys on the staircase beside Steve murmured before turning to utter closer to him, “this is her? Seriously?” though hushed, his voice was still loud enough for each and every person in the room to hear what he said, “that’s your stepsister?”

The clearly lewd undertones of his cadence flew directly over your head as you then blinked up at Steve and asked, “you told them about me?”

“Oh yeah, he has,” the shaggy-haired one on the other side of your stepbrother eyed you a moment before he shifted down the last steps, “I'm Ari, president of this madhouse,” the towering man leaned against the thick bannister before he pointed out each other fraternity members surrounding him, “this is Marc, Thor, Curtis and I'm guessing you already know Bucky.”

“Yeah,” you briefly entertained Bucky and threw a glare over your shoulder at him, “our paths unfortunately crossed back in high school.”

As your eyes fluttered back, Ari, still standing tall before you, tilted his head and asked, “you stopping by our annual beginning of the semester bash tonight?”

“Oh,” you breathed, taken aback by the unexpected invitation, “thanks, but I don’t think I should. I have freshman assembly early tomorrow morning, and anyhow, I’m not really much of a party girl,” your fingers began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve.

But then, before you could share any more of your completely valid reasons, Steve spoke up, “oh, come on,” he nearly groaned, “I was told to take you under my wing, so I can’t very well stand around and let you waste away your college years just like you did back in high school.”

“What’s wrong with how I spent those years?” you scoffed and crossed your arms across your chest.

“Uh, you had no life, no friends, nothing,” he counted on his fingers, “you were basically a nun.”

Throwing your hands up into the air, you exclaimed, “oh, well, I’m sorry we can’t all be the fucking prom king and go to parties every weekend without it affecting one’s GPA!”

“Alright, I’m sorry, geez,” Steve huffed with only a whisper of sincerity, “just come tonight, please? I mean, have you ever even been to a real party before? So how would you know that you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it? Just stop by for a second, and if it’s not for you, then you can just leave, simple as that.”

“Drinks for the beautiful ladies,” Lloyd winked as he and Bucky slithered into the cluster of sorority girls to hand out some beverages. You were leaning up against the nearby wall, shyly only having one foot into the conversation as your new roommate, who now stood with her arm around her girlfriend, Yelena, encouraged you to join in and meet everybody.

“Fuck off, Lloyd,” the redheaded ringleader of the girls barked after she’d seized a cup from him, “I can’t deal with you tonight.”

“Still playing hard to get, I see,” Lloyd only smirked back at Natasha’s scowl.

“Oh, I very much am not,” she uttered coldly.

“See, every party you tell me that and every party, I don’t care. It’s part of our thing,” he briefly waved a finger between the both of them.

“It is not part of our thing, we don’t have a thing, we will never have a thing.”

Though his feet didn’t shift at her warning, as his stare only narrowed to a squint before he concluded, “…so what you’re saying is there’s a chance.”

“Just leave me alone,” she threw up a hand between them to shield her from any more of his desperate attempts, “go flirt with some sad, lonely freshman.”

Though as you watched from the sidelines, you swiftly felt yourself stiffen up as Lloyd suddenly saddled up next to you and flashed you a dazzling grin, “hello… are you by any chance sad and lonely?”

Sucking in a breath, you nervously blinked up at him, “not particularly.”

But before the frat guy could make any other attempts, and make you that much further overwhelmed, Bucky’s palm landed on Lloyd’s shoulder before he offered him a band-aid for the rejections.

“Hey, I think I saw those twins from Callahan’s class out on the dance floor a bit ago,” he leaned in slightly to utter over the booming music that rattled the entire frat house.

“Really?” Lloyd gasped, promptly renewed with vigour before he darted off, leaving Bucky alone next to you.

“He seems… nice,” you tilted your head as your gaze traced him onto the dance floor, briefly flickering to Thor behind them all as he controlled the music and put his own spin on it.

“Ah, he’s not that bad when he’s sober,” Bucky shrugged before shifting to face you, “here,” he then held out a plastic cup for you to grasp.

“Oh, I’m not really much of a drinker–,” you tried to protest before Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved the beverage into your hand, “oh, okay, sure,” you blinked back into his steely blue eyes as he then brought the cup up to your lips and guided you to take a large gulp. The searing sting caused you to swiftly tilt your head back down as you then coughed because of how strong it was, “oh my god, what is that?”

“Just drink it, it’ll help, trust me,” he urged as you stared down into the well of what must have been pure liquor.

Cautiously, you took the older guy’s advice, sipping slowly as you let your gaze wander the space, though as you did, you expected Bucky to leave, but to your surprise, he didn’t shift to move away from your side, which then only caused a timid bubble to ache within your belly as your stare nervously flickered up to him, clueless as to what you should do next.

“So…” you exhaled tensely as you tried to make conversation, “you guys do this kind of thing a lot? Throw parties here?”

“Yeah, pretty much every weekend,” Bucky nodded after taking a sip of his own drink, “although this one in particular, the beginning of the year bash, it always gets a bit wild. Probably because we haven’t seen each other all summer long, so some years it gets a bit out of hand.”

“Oh… like, how wild do you mean? Does it turn into a clue movie?” you half-joked.

“No, nothing quite like that,” he chuckled at your slight terror, “although Scott did almost drown in the pool one time, so…” he shared, pointing to the man erratically shaking his thing in the centre of the dance floor, “he was fine, woke back up, but just don’t get alarmed if anyone pulls something particularly stupid before the sun comes up.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded faintly, “thanks for the tip.”

As your gaze continued to flicker across the expansive space and the drunken students letting loose, his own stayed glued to you before you eventually heard him utter, “so, have you gotten the grand tour yet?”

“What?” your neck swiftly twisted in his direction.

“Of the house,” he faintly gestured to the walls around him.

“…you wanna show me around?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “well, I’m kinda just waiting around for it to become my team’s turn in beer pong, so I’ve got the time to kill.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, your pulse suddenly picking up at the thought of wandering the halls by his side.

“Cool,” he nodded before shifting his gaze to the room you already stood in, “so, this is the place,” he spread out an arm as if you hadn’t just been standing in this spot for twenty minutes.

“Yeah, I already figured that one out on my own,” you chuckled briefly before the palm he slid over your lower back caused it to fade away.

With his hold, he guided you around the corner, into the entryway, “so, the kitchen, dining room and the door to the basement are through there,” he then pointed to the different corners of the abode, “and through there is the living room and this room we use for meetings and shit.”

He then ushered you upstairs, where barely any partygoers had ventured up. Pointing down the various long hallways, he guided your vision to the different doors all down each of them, “so, Frank, Billy, Curtis and Miguel’s rooms are down that way,” he then gestured to the opposite direction, “Scott, Thor, Lloyd, Ransom and Marc are down there,” before his feet then shifted down the last corridor, “and down here is my room,” he pointed to the closed door that had his name on it, “Steve’s, Andy’s and Ari’s.”

Though as he spoke, your eyes fluttered to the door at the end of the hallway, standing slightly ajar. The movement that caught your eye on the other side caused you to swiftly glance to Bucky with a look of alarm, though he clearly couldn’t spot it from where he was standing as he continued to chat, his voice soon fading and flying over your head as your stare wandered back towards the dark room.

On a bed in the centre of the room, there was Ari, hovering and grunting above some blonde girl you didn’t recognise. It took a second for you to realise what they were doing, though when it sank in, a small gasp escaped your lips and caused the leader’s eye to snap up from the whimpering girl beneath him and lock with your own stare through the sliver. You wanted to look away, you knew that you should have, but you couldn’t.

And as you stood there, paralysed and suddenly panting, a wide grin began to bloom upon his lips as he held your eye and began to roll his hips with even more force, causing the chick on the bed to nearly fall off the mattress as each thrust drove her closer and closer to the edge.

Though as you finally managed to snap out of your trance, you nearly coughed as you scrambled to blink back to Bucky, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“I said that I’m gonna go take a leak,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly beneath your shirt, “you good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed foggily, “I think I just need a second before heading back downstairs again…”

“Oh, well, I'm sure you can go hang out in Steve’s room for a bit,” he cracked open the door behind him and gestured for you to slip inside.

Slowly, your feet shuffled deeper into the room, the plastic cup in your hand soon resting on the windowsill as you momentarily cast your glance outside at the people down in the front yard, playing a rambunctious drinking game.

Though as your frame sank down with an exhale to sit on the edge of the bed, your head swiftly burying itself in your hands, loud moans seeped through the wall from the other room as they crescendoed in a cacophony that caused your head to spin.

Or perhaps it wasn’t just the lewd acts that were to blame for why you suddenly felt so dizzy. Ground unsteady beneath your feet, even though you were already sitting down, you noticed how inebriated you truly had become. Not that you had imbibed that much, but as the lightweight that you admittedly were and the minuscule experience your body had with such substances, it didn’t take much to have you feeling more molten than you ever had before.

“What are you doing up here?” you suddenly heard, causing your face to crawl out of its hiding place in your palms. Glancing up, you saw Steve’s shadow in the doorway.

“Steve!” you jumped slightly at his unexpected arrival, “you scared me,” you clutched your chest gently as you watched him shut the door behind him.

Moving over towards the desk in the corner, he briefly dipped down to find a bottle of whisky that rested in the bottom drawer. Casting a glance back at you over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed as he studied your form, “did I just walk in on something?” he asked as he unscrewed the lid, “you waiting for someone to come up here and fuck you on my bed? Kinky.”

“What? N-no! Oh my god, no,” you sputtered, sensing a mortified heat rush up to your cheeks, “I swear, Bucky was just showing me around a bit, and I wasn’t ready to go back to the chaos downstairs yet, that’s all, he was the one who said it was okay for me to take a break in here.”

“Hmm… you’re still sweet on him, aren’t you?” he guessed before tilting the bottle back for a swig, “is that what was happening here? Were you waiting for him to get back? Did I just cockblock you from finally getting that stick fucked out of your ass? If so, then I feel like I have a responsibility to warn you, he is hung like a fucking horse, so don’t be discouraged if you can’t take him.”

“I–, what?” you panted, blinking back at him wildly, “no, I’m not! I-I don’t like him, I’ve never–, what are you talking about?”

“Chill! I’m only joking,” Steve swiftly chuckled at your perplexed panic, “I mean, not about his size, both a blessing and a curse, you know,” he cocked his head, “seriously, you don’t gotta freak out like some innocent little virgin,” he laughed, though his words only caused you to freeze up, a reaction he swiftly picked up on, “…unless you–, oh shit,” growing silent, his stare stayed glued on you as he slowly sat the bottle in his hand down upon the desk behind him, “you are, aren’t you?”

“Well, you don’t gotta say it like that!” you groaned, keeping your eyes averted to the floor, “it’s not some terminal illness.”

“Sorry, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just–… fuck…” he exhaled, “really?”

“…yeah,” you nervously fiddled with the hem of your skirt as you felt the mattress dip beside you, “you know my mom has never let me date anyone…”

“What about like other stuff?” Steve’s tone tickled your hot skin as he now sat right next to you, “you’ve done that, right?” though you only managed to meekly shake your head as an answer, “really? No one’s ever like touched you before? Or you’ve played with someone else?” he pried, and you once again shook your burning face from side to side, “wow,” he exhaled, “well, then I can’t even begin to imagine how much you must masturbate, damn.”

“I–, I–…” you tried to utter, though the truth of your inexperience seemed too difficult to say out loud, rendering you to once again wobble your head.

“Wait, seriously?” his eyebrows soared up even higher, “you haven’t that either?”

“Well, I’ve–, sort of–, I don’t know,” you stumbled, your gaze still hazy on the floor.

“How have you done it?” he then asked, making it that much harder for you to fill up your lungs with oxygen.

“Oh god,” you jaggedly shifted your vision to the ceiling, “this is so mortifying.”

“No, it’s okay, you can tell me,” he pushed in a gentle tone you didn’t think he had in him.

Gnawing at your bottom lip till a metallic taste met your tongue, you hesitantly muttered, “…kinda just, I guess, sit on a pillow or a stuffed animal or something and then–…”

“Shit…” a low groan rumbled in his chest, a sound that shot straight down between your thighs and worsened the throbbing already distracting you down there, “that’s the only thing you do? You just hump your pretty little pillow till you cum?”

“Well, I don’t know if I–, uh, reach that per say, I just kind of rock till it builds and then I’ve always stopped because–, I don’t know…” you uttered, mortified that your inebriated state had nudged you to share such matters, especially with him, “it’s stupid, I know. My anatomy knowledge is great, much better than yours, I know where stuff is and how things technically work, but when I was younger, I know it’s dumb, but it all kind of scared me, like what if I did it wrong and ruined something, and I know now that statistically speaking the odds of something like that happening are really, really low, but–, yeah…”

Steve’s eyes never left you for but a second, merely stared as you shared and eventually, after silence had swept through the room like a crisp breeze, he parted his lips and uttered, “do you want me to teach you?”

Finally, you turned your head to meet his gaze, “…you’re my stepbrother…”

“Yeah, of a couple of years,” he had the audacity to shrug, “and for most of that time, I’ve been away at school, so like, are we really?”

A stunned scoff then bubbled out of your throat, “our parents are married, so yes, that makes up stepsiblings.”

“Well, for now,” he tilted his head slightly, “were you living in the same house as I was over this summer? They clearly aren’t newlyweds anymore…” he stated before leaning in closer, “so, what do you say? Will you let me help you?” your eyes flickered down to your knee as his knuckles slowly inched closer and ghosted against your skin, “I promise, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know…” he nearly whispered as if he was trying to sell you on a drug you’d instantly get addicted to.

“I–…” you panted, “but wouldn’t it be weird that it’s you showing me?”

“No, it wouldn’t be weird at all,” his head gently shook from side to side, “unless you want me to go grab Bucky, I'm sure he wouldn’t mind either–”

“No, no!” you swiftly squeaked, “that’s not necessary,” as sharing such a secret with Steve had been bad enough, the thought of repeating the whole ordeal with someone else made you feel as if you might faint.

“Okay,” he breathed before he slowly began to inch closer, an action you swiftly put a stop to when you pressed a palm to his chest.

“Wait, what if I don’t like it?”

“Then you just tell me, and I’ll stop,” one of his hands floated up to rest on top of your own, still pressed against him, “promise,” he offered you a reassuring smile. Steve’s glance then flickered down to your lips before his eyebrows twitched slightly as he wondered, “so, if you’ve never done any of that stuff before, does that mean you’ve also never been kissed?”

“…well, I've played spin the bottle a few times, many years ago, does that count?” you recalled the awkward pecks in your youth.

“Not really,” the corners of his lips twitched before he asked you, “can I kiss you?”

“Can you–…” you echoed faintly before whispering, “okay,” utterly spellbound as you stared back at him, “what should I do?”

“Just relax,” he then gently grabbed each side of your face with his wide hands, “and follow my lead.”

It simultaneously felt like an eternity as well as only the blink of an eye before Steve had closed the gap and pressed his lips to your own. At first, it was soft and slow, his right thumb briefly swiping against your cheekbone as he kissed you, but then you felt his tongue flicker forth, making you gasp, before he seized that opportunity to slip past your guard and let his tongue dance against your own, the sensation of which caused you to positively melt as you relaxed into the kiss and mirrored his efforts.

You had no clue how much time had passed once you finally parted, and you blinked your dazed eyes back at him.

And in your haze, he first shifted back deeper onto the bed, before he gently manoeuvred your frame to slot you in between his legs, “here, lean back against me,” he drew you closer till your back was pressed up against his chest.

Twisting your neck to look up at him, you were still too stunned to speak, only suck in a shaky breath as he then pressed a peck to your temple.

“You ready?” he murmured against your hairline as his hands slid down atop your own, his fingers swiftly interlocking with your smaller ones.

“I think so,” you uttered nervously.

“So, let’s start off with the basics,” his low voice only worsened the tingly sensation that now roared in your body like a roiling flame, “could you tell me what places you’ve explored before and where you haven’t yet?”

“…well, I guess I’ve touched most places before…” you hesitantly began, “my hands usually run all over my body when I–, you know… but I’ve never put anything inside, and I only touched my–, uhm, clit one time, a really long ago,” your confession began to make you feel so dizzy, you feared you might faint at any moment, “and it was just really intense and–, I don’t know, I was scared that it was too much, so I never tried it again, not directly anyway, just–, you know, pillows and such…”

“Alright,” he uttered, letting go of your hands.

Your eyes grew as they then traced Steve’s touch, first sweeping up to gently cup both of your boobs. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he briefly brushed his thumbs over the pebbles of your nipples, poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. You found yourself barely breathing when he eventually let his palms roam further south till they were at your hips, and his fingers began to hike up your skirt and let it crumble around your waist.

“Let me see…” he murmured directly in your ear as he poked at your bent legs to pry them open, “oh my god, look at you…” you felt the deep groan vibrate in his chest as he caught sight of your panties and the embarrassingly soaked patch darkening the cotton, “you are so fucking wet…”

Steve then slowly slid his touch down over your covered core, merely cupping your lightly, though still making it near impossible for you to breathe. But your whole body twitched as he lightly curled up his hand till only the tips of his fingers still grazed you, before he then began to draw a feathery pattern of circles, tickling your deprived centre.

“How does that feel, huh?” he kept up the ghostly touch.

“I-it’s–, o-oh my god,” you whimpered, doubtful if you could take whatever else he’d dare to throw at you when even such a light touch managed to make you tremble, “Steve.”

Seizing his teasing, his fingers then hooked in the hem of your underwear before pulling them to the side, sticky strings of your arousal clinging to the cotton, “oh, fuck…” he groaned before his instincts overtook him and his fingers caught the waistband before ripping them down your legs till their rushed journey halted at your ankles, resting around them and loosely trapping them together.

Pushing your legs further apart, one hand then traced your inner thigh while he hooked his other burly arm across your chest, just beneath the swell of your tits, occasionally squeezing so tightly that your boobs were pushed up even higher as he efficiently strapped you in, impossibly close to his broad chest.

Painstakingly slow, he slid his touch closer and closer to your glistening core, till he reached the places that you never had the nerve to truly touch on your own.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you gasped as the rough pads of his fingers just lightly dragged through your folds.

“Christ, you’re sensitive,” he kept on peeking over your shoulder as he drew a slow circle over your clit, “look at you, fucking trembling like a leaf, and I've barely touched you yet.”

“Barely?” you echoed breathlessly, “what do you mean–, how is this barely? I-I don’t know if I can–, it’s–, fuck,” you whimpered against his touch, “it’s too much,” your thighs trembled on either side of his wide palm, “I don’t know if I can take it, I think you might have to stop.”

“No, no, no, it’s not too much, you can take it, I know you can,” he urged before he bent his strong legs and hooked them over your own, trapping your wiggly limbs and holding you down and open for him, “just trust me, I’ve got you, all you gotta do is just relax, okay? Just give into it.”

His feathery pressure on your puffy pearl then increased, making your hips buck beneath his touch as a moan rippled out from deep within your lungs.

“Oh, fucking hell, there you go,” he smiled from behind you, “look at that little pussy, fucking crying out now that she’s finally getting some attention.”

Your fingers twitched just beneath his arm, still flexing over your ribs, and a murmur slipped out past your whimpers, “I can’t believe this is actually happening…”

Though as Steve’s touch drove you mad, his fingers slipped down to catch some of the slick that leaked out of your untouched hole, before he went into autopilot and didn’t sweep back up to bully your glistening clit, but instead began to circle your virginal entrance.

“No, wait,” you instantly began to freak out, “n-not there!”

“You sure?” he let himself trace your tight opening one last time, “alright, maybe next time then…”

Once his fingers had swept back up and focused in on your puffy pearl, rolling it firmly beneath his touch, you felt your body reach the agonising point where you’d always chicken out.

“Steve, I–”

“Hm?” he hummed in your ear and kept up his efforts, surely feeling your clit throb beneath his fingers, “you getting close?”

“I-I–,” you gasped, trying your best to fight the feeling, “this is usually when I stop.”

“Oh yeah?” you could plainly hear the smirk on his lips.

“Mhm,” you nodded, staring down at his efforts that barely even paused.

“So, this is what you’d do, huh? You’d ride your pillow and then just stop?” as he uttered that last word, he abruptly took his hand away, “just leave yourself all edged and needy?” your hips bucked after his fading touch, “that’s usually something I’d do to my girls just to be a menace and make them all dumb and desperate, but that’s just what you do to yourself all of the time?” your whole frame quivered against him as you weakly tried to grab for his hand, even as he brought it completely out of your reach, “damn, gotta admit, wish I had known that earlier… I could have sneaked into your room afterwards and lent a hand, helped you go all the way. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it? You just needed your big bro to come in and hold your hand through it because you got scared? It’s okay, I’m here now, I’ve got you, big brother’s got you.”

“You’re not my brother–”

“Damn right, I’m not,” he nearly chuckled before he began to touch you once again, rendering any retort you had lined up to fly straight out of the window as shaky moans instead flowed from your lungs.

Though the cruel pause had given your body enough time to calm down just a tad, it barely took any time at all for Steve to push you back towards that intimidating ledge and hold you there as you peeked over the edge.

“Steve, I don’t know if I can–, it’s–”

“Baby, it’s okay, you can do it,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “just trust me, it’ll feel so fucking good, you don’t even know,” the hand he had plastered against your ribs slid up to grasp one of your tits, denting the softness with his long fingers, “just let it happen, relax.”

Shaking uncontrollably, your face tilted to hide in the bulk of his arm as the most blinding and overwhelming sensation you’d ever felt in your entire life rippled through your form, white-hot pleasure in a dose that you hadn’t thought imaginable.

“Oh, there you go, fuck,” he moaned and tried to draw your very first orgasm out as long as he could, “atta girl, that’s it.”

When his movements finally stopped, his messy hand slipped down to rest against your twitching thigh, hazy whimpers ever flowing from your lungs as you reeled in the staggering sensation.

“Holy shit…” you eventually managed to pant shakily.

“Told you it’d feel good,” he uttered cockily before pressing a kiss to your temple.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he then began to caress your thigh gently, sweeping his touch up and down the goosebump-ridden flesh till your breathing began to slow.

But then as you felt yourself relax even further back against him, wiggling slightly to get more comfortable, you noticed something hard poking your back. Assuming that it was something in his pocket, you shifted once again, but still couldn’t escape it, though with each of your squirming attempts, a low groan was conjured deep within Steve’s chest.

“What is that?” you then muttered, “is it your phone? Could you take it out of your pocket?”

“No, it’s not my phone,” he couldn’t help but chuckle at your innocence, swiftly causing you to freeze up, “you got me hard.”

Gasping loudly as if he hadn’t just had his hand on your pussy, you shot up to a sitting position and swiftly crawled around to direct your wide eyes straight at him. Skirt falling down to cover you back up, your panties however still remained around your ankles as you shifted to kneel on the bed before him.

“Oh my god,” the stunned expression plastered all over your face caused him to melt, “you’re so cute…”

Blinking back at him, you stammered, “that was–… you’re–…”

“Hard? Yeah,” he casually uttered, “kinda impossible not to be after what just happened,” he let his hand drift down to palm himself through his pants, guiding your vision to flutter down as well to finally look at the prominent bulge that strained against the zipper of his jeans. And as his touch slowly rubbed against the mouthwatering hardness, teasingly squeezing it for an ounce of relief, his head then cocked as he continued to stare at you, “can I ask you something?”

Downright hypnotised as you stared down at the overwhelming display of his arousal, you only managed to hum as a reply, “mhm,” as you stayed transfixed on the clothed hardness that somehow both terrified and exhilarated you at the same time.

“Have you ever seen a cock before?”

Meeting his unwavering gaze, you blinked, “…in textbooks and stuff…”

“How about up close?” he asked and you swiftly shook your hazy head, “you wanna see mine?”

“I–… what?”

“Do you wanna see mine?”

“U-uh…” you could barely think as you felt the sore sensitivity between your unsteady thighs somehow blossom back into the same agonising tingles that had taken hold of you before, “okay.”

A sharp breath filled your lungs as you watched him free his dick. Your eyes swiftly grew even wider as he enveloped the hand, still glistening with your juices, around the fat girth. Slick and sloppy sounds filled the room with every leisurely stroke as he began to slowly jerk himself, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together at the show.

“You good?” he chuckled lightly at the way your eyes had gone glassy.

“Mhm…” you foggily nodded, struggling to grasp onto even a single thought, “it’s–… a lot bigger than I imagined…”

“Have you been imagining what my cock looked like?” he relentlessly teased.

“No, no, I mean, just in general,” you fumbled over your words as he kept up his silky strokes, “yours is bigger than I imagined them to be in real life.”

“You wanna touch it?”

“…t-touch?” your eyes fought to blink back up and lock with Steve’s own.

“Yeah, come on,” he then grabbed your hand and brought it towards his length. At first, he let you just graze your fingertips against his dick, guiding your touch as he slowly dragged it across the velvety skin, all the way from the bulbous head, glistening with shiny precum that beaded at the tip, to the fat base where his heavy balls bloomed beneath.

“Oh–,” you swallowed as he then wrapped your fingers around his girth before engulfing them with his own broad hand, still shiny from your wetness, “it’s–, really hard.”

“Yeah, well that’s what you do to me, baby,” he smiled as he tightened his fist around your own, though even so, his girth was still too big for your own fingers to meet on the other side, “this is all for you…”

His free hand then grabbed your chin before he ravenously pressed his lips to your own, kissing you fiercely as he began to move your hand and guide your touch over his throbbing length.

Eventually, as you broke from the kiss, you peeped down at his cock, tight in your grasp.

His fingers kept on clutching your chin, holding you close, as he then purred, “here, like this,” his wide hand flexed around your smaller one, “a little tighter, don’t be scared, you won’t hurt me–, yeah,” he then moaned as you obeyed his command, “fuck, that’s it…” briefly letting his eyes flutter closed as he breathed through the pleasure. Though as he blinked his gaze back open, his broad thumb brushed against your knuckles as he asked, “you wanna try on your own?”

“O-okay,” you uttered before his guiding touch faded and you timidly tried to emulate his efforts, “like this?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” he groaned as you slowly slid your careful touch up and down the length of his cock, “shit, you’re a natural, baby,” his fingers that clutched your chin briefly shifted before his thumb poked up to brush the pad against your bottom lip, “keep going like that and I’ll blow in no fucking time.”

“Oh,” you swiftly ripped your stare away from his dick as you misunderstood his words, “should I stop then?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled before claiming your lips once again, not holding back in the slightest as he let the kiss grow sloppy and desperate.

Rejoining his touch to your own, he began to speed up your actions, making you stroke his thick girth even faster than before. And as he tilted away from the greedy kiss, a glossy string of saliva still kept you both connected.

Panting as he neared the finish line, he cast a brief glance down at his fat cock slick in both of your hands, before he threw his head back and moaned loudly as he unravelled at your touch.

“Fuck…” he panted as he let go of your palm, now sticky with his hot load just as his own hand was as well. Chest still rising and falling rapidly, he caught your frame and tugged you even closer, “come here,” he murmured as he pulled you into a limp hug.

“Was that okay?” you asked in a small voice as you curled into his chest.

Catching your jaw, he tilted your head back enough for you to catch his eye before he uttered, “that was fucking perfect,” and he kissed you once again. As he drew back, his gaze lingered, eventually fluttering down towards your lips before he brought his fingers up towards them, still messy with both your nectar as well as his own load, “open up.”

“What?” your brows knit together as you blinked down at the sticky digits he ghosted against your lips, tilting your head back slightly in confusion.

“Give it a taste.”

“Why would I do that?” you nearly laughed.

“Because it’s normal,” the older guy told you, “most people love cleaning up after their messes, so you probably do too.”

“Seriously?”

“I shit you not,” he said, though you kept on staring back at him in doubt, “what, do you want me to prove it to you? Fine,” he then extended his thumb for him to suck it clean, “there,” he released the dinger from his lips with a pop, “now it’s your turn,” he twisted his hand back down towards your mouth.

And hesitantly, you found yourself parting your lips for him, “there you go…” he groaned as he slipped two of his long fingers inside your mouth, “see? Tastes good, doesn’t it?” his gaze stayed transfixed upon your lips wrapped around his messy digits as he slowly let himself shift his fingers, greedily fucking your face for a bit, “shit…” he cursed as you licked them clean and he pulled them back out, a murmur swiftly slipping from his lips as he continued to stare, “I can’t wait to train this little mouth to do all sorts of tricks…”

“What?” you asked as your mind began to scramble for the meaning.

“Oh, nothing,” he sighed and ignored your naiveté before he pulled you back in for another hug, “nothing at all, sis…”

3K notes · View notes

pellucid-constellations · 1 month ago

Text

The Occurrence

Pairing: Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Based on the ask: "okay period fics are my guilty pleasure but az finding out mortal women get them every month would make him spiral LMAOO"

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Some angst but it's mostly Az freaking out lol, periods

a/n: Thank you thank youuu for this ask this was so fun to write!! Enjoy <3

More Az x human!reader and here as well :)

Main Masterlist ♡

The first thing Azriel noticed was the tang of iron in the air—subtle, but impossible to miss with his training. He was used to this indistinct undertone in the human lands, but not this close to your house, and never so closely tied to you.

The second thing Azriel noticed was that the minimal expanse of your quaint house was actually not very minimal at all. After picking up on the scent and feeling his limbs vibrate with panic, he slammed your front door open and bounded down the hall. His wings clashed harshly against the walls, the space too narrow for his broad stature, but Azriel didn’t care. He needed to get to you.

Azriel played through every possible horror in his mind. You were dead, hurt beyond imaginable, sick internally with no cure—the shadowsinger had to calm his rampant worries most days, but with your blood so obviously near, he let them consume his every thought.

He hadn’t had enough time with you. It had only been a year at most, and that wasn’t enough time. Azriel had considered bringing you to Velaris on multiple occasions, desperate to keep you safe, but he talked himself out of it each time. He had seen the hardships Feyre’s sisters experienced in their transition to Pyrithian, and they had been fae then. He couldn’t put you through that. He couldn’t lock you up in the House of Wind over his fear.

As Azriel pried open your bedroom door with a damp palm, he regretted that kindness.

He braced himself for the worst, prepping his wings to grab you and take off to find a healer, but you were… sitting up in bed and looking at him strangely. You had been sleeping, expression still pressed under fatigue, and that offered him some semblance of relief. It was short-lived—the scent of your blood was even more prevalent now.

Azriel pressed forward, swiping your blankets back and scouring his eyes over your body. There was no visible sign of harm and that only worried him more. You let out a disgruntled sound of surprise that Azriel only vaguely registered. He pressed your shirt up and then ran his hands over both of your arms. When nothing came up, he moved to your head, kneeling beside your bed and taking your face into his palms.

You blinked at him blearily as he examined your eyes, pressing his fingers around your hairline and along the back of your head. Nothing there—not even a lump or a patch of misplaced hair.

Azriel was spiralling.

“What—” you began, stopping for a moment when Azriel brought you to his chest, his hands coming around your back. You spoke into the juncture of his shoulder. “—are you doing? Azriel, why—”

“Where are you hurt?” he demanded. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him last and those were the first words he’d spoken.

You clutched at his leathers as he pulled you back. “Hurt? Az, I’m not—”

Azriel felt like he was choking. If you weren’t even aware that you were injured there were so many possibilities for what could be wrong. Would he be able to smell internal bleeding? Azriel had never wished for a bond more than he did in this moment, because if you were his mate, he was sure he would understand how to help you.

You searched his expression fervently, gaze catching on the deep furrow of his brow. You brought your thumb up to soften the twist but to no avail. “What’s happened, Azriel?”

The gentleness of your tone broke him. He began gathering you to his chest, his movements rushed, uncoordinated. “I’m taking you to Velaris.”

“What? Azriel, slow down. Slow down and—Azriel, I’m not making a suggestion. Stop,” you ordered, and like a dutiful soldier, he paused with you in his arms, his feet just steps from your front door. You huffed in a deep breath. “Thank you. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. His eyes looked forward because he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He would start moving again the second he saw your face. “You are bleeding. Something is wrong with you.”

A pause, and then you laughed.

Azriel considered disbelief at first. And then shock. And then delirium. The source didn’t matter; Azriel was sure now that you must be on the verge of death. He tightened his grip on you and took another step.

“Put me down.”

“No,” he refuted. “You need—”

“I will tell you what I need, Azriel, and it’s not to be paraded in front of your family and then embarrassed for the rest of my menial human life.”

At the laughter in your voice, Azriel shot his gaze down to you. He always hated it when you spoke of the shortness of your life, and he hated it even more now as he felt panic stealing the space in his chest.

“They would not—”

“Azriel, my love, I am just on my cycle. I am not going to die.”

The sentiment should have comforted Azriel. It did not. “You are wrong,” he softly spoke, though his arms around you shook. “You were on your cycle two months ago—when I visited from the camps. This is not your cycle.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, it does happen to be a monthly occurrence.”

“Monthly?”

“Like clockwork.”

“And—that… is supposed to happen?”

“Yes—Azriel, how often do fae women experience their cycle?” you asked, perplexed by his disbelief.

“Twice a year, if they’re lucky,” Azriel answered. He still hadn’t let you go and you weren’t about to part from him with the wild look lingering in his eye.

“Lucky,” you muttered under your breath with a scoff.

Azriel caught it anyway. “Children are rare. Many women pray for their cycles due to that fact alone. But I know that it’s painful.”

“Yes, it’s not the most comfortable experience.”

At that, Azriel let some of the tension melt from his shoulders. He sighed, and then pressed a kiss to the side of your head, eyes closing as he tried to soften the sharp gaze he knew was lingering. You weren’t dying. You weren’t comfortable, but you weren’t dying. He could handle that.

“Allow me to make it more comfortable then,” he said at your ear, his lips pressing to your skin once more.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. This probably isn’t the best time to visit. Last time you came at the end of my cycle so I had more energy and—”

Azriel was already walking you back to the bedroom. The thought of leaving you here alone—despite the fact that you were unharmed and safe—felt unfathomable. Something bit into his peace deep inside, urging him to stay, to protect you when you were vulnerable. He knew that you were fine and didn’t need his help, as you would continue to insist, but the scent of your blood was still in his nose and he couldn’t leave.

“I will stay,” Azriel simply replied, gently placing you back on the bed and drawing the blankets up. “Unless you will me away.”

You hummed. “I would only will you to stay.”

So Azriel stripped himself of his leathers and laid beside you, pulling you close with low, disgruntled murmurs about the absurdity of monthly cycles.

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #acotar #azriel x human!reader

1K notes · View notes

thecoochiefairy · 2 months ago

Text

74. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 14.5K word count. blackfem!original character, onyankopon, basketball player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, oral [f], nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i think i like this one. i’m not sure yet, hehe. inspired by one of my fav comfort movies, just wright. + i think of it won’t stop by sevyn streeter when i think of this fic. love you. bye.

(was having a hard time w/ nasty links this time w/ black couples so sorry for that. you get the point. visual. visual. visual. )

HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY PLAYED ON A LOOP WITHIN HER SPEAKERS. Being stuck under the covers was never the plan for today—but she was in a funk.

Her eyes peered over the olive green plush of her comforter, acrylic nail swiping across the screen of her phone as she mindlessly scrolled on social media. She refused to do what became a habit at this point—but damn, did she want to.

It’s unfortunate that she did it anyway.

Clicking on the previously searched profile, she goes onto the page to see a new picture had been uploaded. That familiar smile, arm wrapped around a faceless figure, dark hair spilling through his fingers as his hand sat on her lower back.

ALL MINE, it captioned.

Her vision locked along the screen, noticing that her sight began to blur. She hated crying. She felt like her tears weren’t deserved, yet she wanted to release them anyways—she felt weak.

When the phone suddenly buzzed, her eyes caught sight of a familiar number. She couldn’t keep ignoring calls. Parting out a sigh, she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Yeah?”

She tried to sound as normal as possible, wiping her eyes with a quiet sniffle. Allergies were her planned excuse if she was questioned.

“I know you’re not crying right now.”

That’s exactly how she expected her friend to respond. But she wasn’t going to give the satisfaction of admitting how embarrassed she was. So she replied with, “Allergies.”

A long, exasperated sigh echoed before the feminine voice replied, “You should know by now that I know when you’re lying”

Ama.

“You’ve been out of it for weeks—Cooped up in your apartment, calling into work. You’ hiding from that nigga or something?”

She rolls her glossy eyes, deepening herself within the covers as she mutters, “No.”

“You can’t stay in bed forever,” Ama sterns, “How long has it been since you ate? Look—I know you’ over there with that cornfed ass, but that doesn’t mean you can’t eat a lil’ more!”

That actually gets a weak laugh from her. She runs a palm along her cheek as she sighs, “I’m not too hungry, Ama.”

“So you’re really not finna’ come to my momma’s barbecue?”

“You want me to come to your momma’s barbecue all sad and shit? Yeah, no. I’m good on’ that.”

“You know my momma gon’ kill you if you don’t show up. So I suggest you get off your ass, fix your face and—don’t make me grow wings and fly into that window.“

She could hear Ama shuffling in the background, meaning she was on the way. Her friend was entirely serious about dragging her out of bed, and Ama’s mom would kill her for not showing up.

She adjusts her body to sit up against the bed, sighing as she replied, “So you tellin’ me I gotta get cute? Who gon’ be there—Lance Gross? Jalen Hurts?”

Ama sighs, “Unfortunately, no. You’d think Usher was coming with the way my momma set shit up. I think she’s all excited for Onyankopon to be back home.”

Onyankopon.

That wasn’t a name she heard too often. Ama made it a habit not to mention her brother, as she spent years behind his shadow, always being known as his sister and nothing more. He was the star of the family. It didn’t help that he was recently signed to New Orleans’ basketball team, and a well known face within the city. She was the only girl that didn’t squeal when Ama mentioned who her sibling was—but it might’ve helped that she also had never met Onyankopon.

She raises an eyebrow, “Your brothers back in town? I thought the Pelicans had a press run?”

Ama sighs, “Chile, they did. But he told me that they’re having playoffs down here in a couple weeks— he’s been craving to play a game in the boot. I’m sure he also can’t wait to tap some southern ass. Slut.”

She chuckles, “Don’t act like you ain’t excited to see yo’ brother, Ms. Fraternal Twin.”

“If I wasn’t driving, I would smack you. You’ always tryna use our bond against me. Point is, you better be standing outside your door in the next forty-five minutes or I will get violent.“

“That’s why I’m finna’ get back in bed.”

“Yeah, okay. Do that and see what happens.”

“Bye, Ama.”

“Bye!”

If one thing Ama was right about, she did need to get out of bed. The time rushed by as Ama yapped while she got dressed, talking all the way up until they made it back to her mom’s place. It was exactly how a family cookout would look—two story house, a baby blue color painted along the wooden roof and walls. The smell of hot dogs, burgers and fries wafted in her nose as she squinted from the sunlight, standing next to the bucket of drinks as she waited for it to be refilled with bottles of water. The longer she went without eating, her stomach growled.

Seeing her friend's family was different from her own—playing card games, from old jams to bounce remixes, to routined line dances—the energy was enjoyable, and she didn’t have the urge to check her phone again. She felt at ease.

“You still ain’t finna’ eat?” Ama questions, holding a plate up to her face as she stood beside her friend, nose deep into a plate of jambalaya.

She shakes her head, “I need water. It’s hot as hell,” she huffs, fanning a hand above her face.

“You’ so dramatic—“ Ama starts, halting as she follows the sound of tires screeching in front of the house, “—Oh, there he go’ with the water.”

Their eyes follow to the blacked out H2 Hummer, large wheels rumbling the ground as it leans atop of the curb. Two bodies step out of the car, her eyes familiar with one of Ama’s cousins, Shaun—but seeing her brother was a different story.

Neatly braided cornows to the back of his head was the first thing she noticed, his lineup as sharp as his jaw. Brown skin shined under the sun like iridescent honey, tattoos cascading across his muscular frame, all the way up to his cheekbones. Love was written in cursive above his eyebrow, full lips a dark pink beneath his goatee and facial hair. Rings cladded along his thick fingers, muscles flexing beneath the fitted white tee he wore with navy blue basketball shorts. 74 glittered around his neck, his number meaningful in every room he walked in—he was fine.

“Took you long enough,” Ama rolled her eyes, “Everybody finna’ die of dehydration!”

He’s already walking towards the cooler, effortlessly dropping bottles into the ice water. A slight smirk curls from his lips as he replied, “You’ aight. Me and Shaun’ was tryna’ roll up before we got back, you know momma don’t play that shit.”

His voice was deep, yet smooth—velvet almost.

“You ain’t supposed to be smoking anyways!” Ama reminds, “You’ got playoffs in a couple of weeks—they don’t drug test y’all?”

“Yeah,” He starts, plopping a few more bottles into the ice, “I got the next two weeks to do that, you act like I won’t be straight by then.”

He glances beside Ama, raising an eyebrow as he questions, “You don’t speak or sum’?”

She blinks in reply, realizing the question was for her. Her eyes travel down to the cooler before she points to herself—“Me?”

“Nah, the nigga standin’ by the tree—Yeah, you.”

His sister then scoffs, “She’s just not used to seeing big ass niggas like you.”

“Bro—stop talkin’ to me,” He warns. His glare stays in Ama’s direction before softening his gaze back onto her friend, “You got a name, you?”

“Nuh-Uh! Nope. She don’t! Don’t be tryna’ push up on my friend. You got bitches all over New Orleans for that,” Ama interrupts.

She scolds in reply, “Ama—lawd, I’m good. Chill.”

She then scans him up and down, noticing how big he was in comparison to her. She’d only seen him on TV, and only ever heard the amount of shit his sister talked about him. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever meet him, and maybe that’s why she suddenly felt so insecure.

But if only she could see herself.

Her bistre skin was like chocolate melting beneath the sun, midnight black hair slicked back into a low bun out of her face—edges styled along her forehead in perfection, small flyaways curled along the back of her neck. Feline eyes tilted above her full lips and freckles he could only notice as he observed her. But the star of the show was her eyes—a deep cobalt, giving her an almost villainous look. But nothing was more pure than her angelic face.

She gives a small wave, wanting to smack herself at the childish gesture as she softly introduces, “I’m Blue.”

Her voice was quiet, but sweet.

“Blue. I like that.”

Ama interrupts the moment, “Don’t be complimenting her, my friend know’ she's bad!”

The way her name rolled off his tongue made a chill run through her spine—she had to pull it together.

Onyankopon steps closer to the cooler, his eyes flickering back to hers as he questions,”You don’t drink?”

“Hm?” Blue raises an eyebrow, “Oh— No, I don’t. It’s easier to drink water. I mean, you should always drink water— If you’re dehydrated, of course. but if you’re hydrated you should be fine—“

She stops herself, realizing that she’s rambling.

Blue clears her throat, playing with a curl along the side of her face as she blows out a flushed smile, “…Yeah.”

God—she wanted to dig herself into the nearest hole.

Blue adjusts herself a bit, now feeling entirely naked under the snug white tee she wears, showing off her midriff and heart shaped nipple piercings, denim washed jeans that clung to the harsh curve of her ass, orchid sandals along her French tipped toes. She was pretty.

“Oh hell,” Ama groans, “I thought you said you wasn’t’ a fan?”

“I’m not—“

Ama shakes her head, “Anyways, Blue’s an athletic trainer—she be around you niggas all the time. So I don’t know why she even actin’ like this. You’ making my friend uncomfortable, Onyankopon!”

Her rambling was cute—refreshing, to say the least. He lets out a small chuckle, finding it a bit endearing as her brown cheeks went warm.

“Oh? You’ an athletic trainer?”

“I just work with college students,” Blue shakes her head, “I’m still working on my masters to move into professional athletes.”

“She used to play ball too,” Ama adds, “Better than yo’ ugly ass.”

He subtly flexes his jaw in annoyance of his sister, but the mention of her playing ball piqued his interest.

“What position?”

“Um—point guard. Like you,” she clears her throat, “It was back before I graduated,” she ends with a weak smile.

He raises an eyebrow, his fingers itching towards the silver piece around his neck.

“Why you’ all shy about it? Don’t be, I like that shit. You was nice onna’ court?”

It seems like the conversation becomes more intimate. As Ama gets distracted with her cousin that walks up, Onyankopon leans closer—Blue has to tilt her head up to get a good angle of him.

His body smells of a cocoa musk, and the scent clings along her senses, almost trying to coax her in. She was never this silent with anyone, her chest feeling heavier by the second.

Blue then replies, “Are you?”

His teeth flash a bit with the question. Her words were just a slight jab, but he appreciated it.

“I’m him, ain’t I?”

His fingers finally make their way to his necklace, pulling the silver up a bit, the numbers glistening in the sun as it reflected into her eyes.

“You tryna’ front like you ain’t never seen my games?”

“Ain’t nobody tryna’ front,” she confirms, “I watch more of the WNBA—you niggas get whatever y’all want even if you play around on the court.”

He shakes his head, a faint grin stretching from ear to ear, “You’ cute. You know that?”

His compliment makes her go stiff. Her lips part open a bit, but she doesn’t speak, unable to find any words to say back.

“You ain’t watching the right niggas,” He smacks his lips, “So what—a nigga gotta’ play for yo’ heart or sum’?”

Don’t get her wrong—Blue enjoyed a little flirting. But just in that millisecond, her mind trails back to someone else charming her with just their words, and that’s how she ended up with her first heartbreak.

She shakes her head, “I heard you got plenty to choose from—you should be fine getting benched by me.”

He narrows his lids, noticing that her expression grew more distant. There was a shift. An airy chuckle escapes his throat, glancing down at her with low eyes.

“You’ cold as hell. That’s cool.”

“I know it is. Can you back up off me now, 74?” she raises an eyebrow, azul vision flickering along his face.

He takes a second, staring at her facial features to memorize them. She was interesting to say the least.

Finally, he steps back, “My fault, Mama.”

Ama interrupts at the perfect time as she calls, “Yo’! Momma wants you to come carry the other grill outside, Ony!—And I told you leave my damn friend alone—fifty feet, nigga!”

“Damn—Fifty feet is crazy,” Onyankopon chuckles, glancing down at Blue, “We was’ just talkin’, huh?”

Blue tilts her head a bit, trying to push down the smile that wants to grow on her face as she replies, “…Mhm.”

“I’m finna’ start counting!” Ama threatens, her hands now on her hips.

“You gotta’ calm down,” Onyankopon groans to his sister, looking back once more, “Let me know when you tryna’ have me as yo’ point guard, Blue.”

Before she could respond, he was already walking away. She’s able to see his full frame—the muscles in his back flexing within his arms, leaving Blue just how she introduced herself—Quiet.

She tries to distract herself for the next hour. Her eyes glanced over to Onyankopon every few seconds, noticing something new about him each time. The open faced grills within his mouth, the stud within his nose, the lyrics and verses along his neck and arms. Fuck.

Her eyes couldn’t help but trail back to her screen, absentmindedly clicking onto social media. That was until her phone was snatched from her fingers.

“Ama!”

“I’m saving your mental, girl,” Ama replies, holding the phone up to her face as she types, “Don’t make me delete Instagram.”

Blue sighs, “You know that nigga is in a new relationship already?”

Ama sighs, tapping on the picture of him with a nameless figure wrapped around his arm.

“He never had loyalty, you know that. Stop fuckin’ with these ball players and find you a lawyer or some shit.”

Blue felt stupid. To have fallen for someone she knew had the reputation of careless acts—what else did she expect? But he made her feel like she was important. That she was different.

“I’d rather be by myself. A lawyer might lie even better than a ball player,” Blue murmurs, digging her fork into the piece of cake she’d had her attention on, Ama finalizing her words as she agreed, “That part.”

Everyone watches as the younger men make their way towards the basketball court within the driveway, Blue’s attention pulling back to that damn smile as Onyankopon’s silhouette moves past her.

He questions, “We finna’ hoop. You gon’ watch yo’ man?”

“Who?” She scrunches her nose.

“You heard me, girl. Quit playin’.”

Blue turns to Ama, “Why yo’ brother won’t get off me? Didn’t you say he got bitches to choose from?”

Ama shrugs, “He tryna’ be cute, and you blushing—I’m mindin’ my business.”

She then stands from the table, a mischievous smile across her face, “I gotta make sure my uncle doesn't break his hip on this court. You comin’?”

“Watchin’ yo’ uncle possibly fall and break all his ligaments? Lemme’ grab my cake,” Blue chuckles, standing with her food as she follows behind.

Everyone crowds around the court as the family game begins, but it’s unfortunate that Blue can’t stop watching Onyankopon—especially when he keeps howling each time he makes a shot.

This was her first time seeing him on the court, and to say that he played how he looked on TV was an understatement. To her dismay, he had bragging rights. The way he easily dodged and maneuvered around the court, his height gave him a slight advantage as he easily made shots to the rim.

“You see me? You like that?” he calls, his attractive face more threatening each time he calls out to her, “You gon’ have a seat right up in the boxes watchin’ me!”

Ama replies back, “She don’t’ see shit but yo’ hoe ass bullying your family on the court. Stop playing like this a championship, stupid!”

Onyankopon smacks his lips at his sister, catching the ball before dribbling up the court again. But the person he was up against this time, was not as easy—the cousin he always played with, who was just as good as him. He had quick reflexes, almost magic as he stole the ball out of Onyankopon’s palms, making his way towards the rim, dunking the ball against it.

“Oh—we playin’ forreal? Aight.”

They’re still playful with one another along the court, but that didn’t make the game any less serious. Both men were good at stealing the ball from each other. The family watched in entertainment, yelling and calling out moves as if it were a real game. Blue couldn’t help the small laugh she released. Damn, he was good.

Everything was going well—until it wasn’t. Onyankopon’s cousin shifted his body a little too quickly into him, harshly knocking his shoulder to where he tripped over his own legs, crashing into the ground before he could catch himself. Everyone knew something was wrong the moment he grabbed his knee, a pained look against his face.

It’s as if Blue sobered up in that moment, her eyes widening slightly as his cousin bent down in front of him with panic, “Yo—Ony, you good? Shit—I’m sorry.”

“Fuck—” Onyankopon groans, clenching his jaw as he attempts to sit up. He wanted to hide the immense burn he felt rushing through his entire leg, but he was in pain— His knee was locked.

The entire court was immobile. It’s as if no one wanted to panic, but panic all at the same time. A single voice called over the silence as Ama exclaimed, “Blue!”, rushing around the court towards her brother.

Blue was right behind her, dropping herself towards the ground as she immediately reached for his knee. He jerked at the touch as she softly whispered, “I’m sorry,” keeping her palms in place, even as he tried to push her away.

“You have to tell me what hurts, Onyankopon.”

“It’s—” He starts, hissing between his teeth as she kept her hand on the swollen part of his leg, “—Fuck, it’s my entire leg. From the top, to the ankle.”

Everyone around them grew nervous. She could hear the worry in Ama’s voice, and she could see tears forming in her eyes as she called for her father.

Blue didn’t need anyone to freak out. She turns towards her friend, “Ama—go inside with Shaun and grab an ice pack, okay?”

If Ama’s panic wasn’t helping the situation, a shriek coming from the front of the house makes it all

the more worse—Onyankopon’s mother tosses the pan of meatballs within her hands, nearly falling down the stairs as she rushes over to the court, “Oh my goodness, my baby! Oh lawd—What happened?—Who hurt my baby?!”

“I did something stupid, Ma’! Quit fussin’. Lawd, I’m fine,” He manages to groan out.

His body was sweating, the veins in his neck going rigid as he fought to keep his composure—each time Blue’s palm slid across his skin, he wanted to scream.

Blue places his arm on her shoulder, huffing as she lifts herself and his weight along her body. She manages to say at the same time, “Just lean on me, okay? Don’t put any weight on it.”

Onyankopon could hear the slight wheeze in Blue’s breath as his mother started to yell, “Get him on the bench! Where’s the ice pack—Where’s Ama?!”

“I can try to walk, Blue—ion’ need you hurting yourself tryna’ help me.”

“What happened to all that flirting you was’ doing earlier—You don’t wanna be close to me no’ more?” She questions, distracting him as she takes another step towards the house.

A painful chuckle pushes from his lips. He had been trying to show off—and look where that got him. It was almost pathetic.

“Your name really Blue, forreal’?”

Her lashes flick up to him, the sunlight cascading within the ocean of her pupils. She then raises an eyebrow, “You’ really injured yourself tryna’ impress a girl?”

It wasn’t supposed to happen—but it did. Onyankopon blushes, the warmth across his face growing with embarrassment as she calls him out.

Finally, he answers, “Yeah, aight. You got it.”

When they finally get him inside, the previous outburst of Onyankopon’s mother turns into an all out tantrum, up to the point where she kicks everyone out. Throughout the chaos, all Onyankopon could think about was the softness of Blue’s hand in his—the way each time he looked back at her, she squeezed his fingers, giving a soft smile. He thought about her as she sat across from him, and even at the hospital when she’d already left.

Why couldn’t he get this girl off his mind?

Standing in front of his condo the next day wasn’t in Blue’s original plans. When Ama told her that his condition wasn’t looking too good, regardless of how overly flirtatious he was—she felt bad. And being the empath she unfortunately was, she was now standing in front of his door, bifold glass seeing right into the tinted foyer of his home as she stepped in.

Sleek black interior accompanied paintings hung above the minimalist styled furniture. Her curiosity came to a halt as she heard a couple of voices at the end of the hall, making her way to where they followed, but slowing down when she heard the conversation.

Onyankopon sat along the bench of his indoor gym, frown locked down to his knee wrapped in gauze as the doctor continued to speak to him.

“It seems you’ve torn your PCL.”

“And what does that injury intel?” His father questions, “Is that the same as tearing your ACL?”

“Not as severe, but still just as bad. With rest and rehabilitation, you could be back playing within the next two months.”

Two months?

His father shakes his head, “Hollon’—He has playoffs in four weeks. He just signed a contract with the Pelicans, he can’t miss that. Two months isn’t plausible—Is there any way we can speed up the process?”

“Pops.”

Onyankopon’s voice is a warning, already frustrated with the news he receives. His father wasn’t helping that.

The doctor sighs, “Well, it’s not that easy. Onyankopon would need extensive physical therapy if he wants to be ready for the playoffs. If he doesn’t take the right precautions, he could risk tearing his ACL, and he’ll have to sit out for a lot longer—or in the worst case, have a career ending injury. If he listens—”

His father cuts him off.

“I’ll get him in the best goddamn rehab in Louisiana—We’ll make it work.”

That’s when they all hear a phone ringing. Blue curses, immediately cutting off the sound as she looks down to her screen. She blows out a breath as she peeks to the other side of the wall, seeing all three men looking over at her.

“Sorry,” she softly greets, “I um—was just bringing Ony something—I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You can come in. It’s aight,” He tells her, his gaze flickering over her form.

She notices a scowl along his face, seemingly irritated from this conversation. She couldn’t help but take account of his shirtless appearance, eyes wavering over the strength he holds in the broad frame of his back, muscles structured beneath his intricate tattoos.

The doctor looks away from his father, looking back to Onyankopon as he questions, “Do you want to take that risk?”

His jaw flexes at the question. He didn’t want to ruin his career by possibly hurting himself more, but he also had a family to be successful for. He didn’t have a choice.

“I’ll be ready by’ playoffs.”

The doctor sighs, unable to argue with his decision. He then says, “We’ll find the best athletic trainer for you. But if you feel your knee worsening—you’ll have to consider sitting out.”

That’s when Onyankopon catches sight of Blue again. She looks as if she’d just come from the gym— indigo baby tee and yoga pants hugging her curvy figure. Square glasses tip on her freckles nose, curls out her face from a matching headband.

That’s when he says, “I want her.”

Her eyebrows raise. Blue frowns, “What?”

Onyankopon looks at his father as he continues, “She used to hoop back in college. Now she works with athletes— I need to play shit safe and get someone good.”

Blue’s frown deepens, “Onyankopon—I can’t accept that. I’ve only worked with college athletes—I don’t even have my masters!—“

“I trust you.”

His voice holds no hesitation, his piercing gaze meeting her eyes as he promises, “I will do what I have to do. But I want you to be the one to get me there—can you do that?”

He can see the hesitance along her face, the baby pink box she holds tightening under her fingers.

Onyankopon looks towards his father as he dismisses, “Lemme’ talk to her, Pops.”

Both men exit, their footsteps growing quiet as they leave them in silence, Blue’s face nowhere near convinced on this idea. But instead of him immediately reeling back the conversation, he scoots off the bench as he questions, “What you’ got me?”

She looks down to the box, now feeling a little childish.

“Oh—um—I knew you were upset with everything that happened yesterday, so—I got you a lil’ cupcake at this bakery by my house. They put a basketball on it?”

She lifts the box towards him, “I just…wanted to make you feel better,” she nervously giggles, lifting the desert towards him.

A grin slowly curls onto his full lips. He chuckles for a second, “You only being nice to a nigga ‘cause he hurt—that’s cold,” He shakes his head, standing to his feet, the muscles in his arms flexing with each motion.

She notices that as he makes his way over to her, Onyankopon places his weight on one leg, limping on the other. He takes the box from her fingers, his hand grazing Blue’s in the exchange, catching the softness of her palm again. Warm. That usual blush appears along her face as he opens the box, staring down at the small cupcake topped with a basketball.

“You should be using your crutches,” she looks behind him, seeing as they lean along the bench.

“C’mon, Mama. I ain’t even hired you yet and you trippin’—quit all that,” he smacks his lips, “I’m tryna’ have you feed me.”

She looks around, “Feed who? The grown man standing across from me?”

“Lawd, here you go with that attitude. I liked when you was playin’ soft,” He murmurs, breaking the cupcake in half, reaching a piece out to her.

She looks down at his hand, sighing as she reluctantly takes the other half from him. Her lashes flutter as she blinks, “You’ serious about this? Me getting you ready for ‘playoffs?”

“Yeah.”

This close, Blue can smell his cologne again—the mixture of spice and cocoa. His cologne combined with his natural musk was intoxicating. He notices how she swallowed her nervousness, his lip tipping upwards for a moment before he asks, “I make you nervous or sum?’”

“Save that for your groupies,” she dismisses, “I’m not here to fuck around with you, Ony. You’re not gonna blame me for making your injury worse, meaning you need to be serious about wanting to be back on the court by playoffs.”

He hums at that, “I like when you tryna’ be all professional. It’s cute. What you’ need me to do? Beg? Get on my knees?”

“The knee you don’t have?” She fires back, “Yeah—aight. I’m gone,” she grabs for her bag, “You’re not taking this shit seriously.”

“Blue,” He calls, letting out a long sigh as she begins making her way out, “C’mon, girl. What I’ need to do?”

“Call your father and have him find you a rehab center.”

She disappears behind the wall—but the front door shutting is what really signifies that the conversation had ended.

“Blue—Yo!”

She was gone.

He groans, sucking his teeth as he grabs one of the crutches in the corner. This was gonna be a long four weeks.

𝓐ᥫ᭡

THE SUNLIGHT WAS PEACEFUL AS SHE SAT ON THE BLEACHERS. Blue was finishing off another week in her work schedule, ending a therapy session with one of her students who was now scattering across the court at practice with the rest of his team. Multiple men passed the ball, talked shit to each other, pushing and shoving along the court as they played an unserious game. Seeing the smile along their faces made her realize how important this sport was to someone like them—how important it was to her.

Her phone buzzes. Ama, as she expected. Blue sighs, pressing the phone to her ear as she greets, “I hope you ain’t calling to cuss me out ‘cause I didn’t take the job your brother offered.”

“I come in peace, promise. I know his big headed ass is hard to deal with,” her friend chuckles, “Are you at work?”

“Yeah. Just finished a session with one of my ball players. He’s doing really good— ecstatic to be back on the court,” a small smile comes to her face. She can’t help but ask, “How’s Ony doing?”

“He’s…okay? Off the crutches, been doing a lot of PT, even shuffled around the court this morning.”

“But?”

Blue could hear the uncertainty in her friend's voice, hearing a sigh come through the phone as Ama continues, “But—he’s not himself. Kinda hurts to see my twin moping around, y’know? Look, don’t get mad but…he really needs you, Blue.”

She sighed, “Don’t start, Ama.”

“I’m being serious!,” She exclaims, “I don’t know how, but…Blue—He’s different since you’ve been around. After you left his house, the nigga started PT that same day! I ain’t never seen him be so on top of something since his Nike had a sale,” She takes a breath, “Please? It’s just for the playoffs. Just three more weeks and then you’re done. My twin is all sad, and if he’s sad, I’m sad, and you don’t want me to be sad, right? ‘Cause you love me. Exactly.”

Blue rolls her eyes, giving a soft laugh in response. She’d never heard Ama be so adamant when it came to Onyankopon, meaning she was entirely serious. She hoped that their last interaction put a fire under his ass, and gave him the encouragement to get himself together in time for his next game. Being there for him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

She finalizes, “I’ll go back over there tomorrow.”

And she did. Blue was up early the next morning, already pushing her way into the glass panel of his front door, two machas within a cup holder as she quietly entered the condo. It was more peaceful in the morning, the sunlight tilting into the windows—but she was distracted by the sound of a bear growling.

It in fact wasn’t a bear, but Onyankopon passed out along the sofa as he slept. Blue thought Ama was exaggerating when she said that her brother was in a funk—but when she saw the open box of pizza beside his head, his pillows fallen all over the ground, and his body wrapped up in a hoodie—she might’ve been right.

Blue glanced over to the TV that played cartoons, looking back down to him as she called, “Onyankopon.”

Nothing.

His snores nearly bounced off the walls, rumbling the bottom of her feet as if he were an animal. She rolled her eyes, leaning down as she shoved his shoulder, “Onyankopon.”

Still nothing.

Okay. She sat the matcha down, going into the kitchen as her eyes searched around his cabinets. Retrieving a bowl, she went over to his fridge as she filled it with cold water, adding ice within the mixture before making her way back into the living room. And without another thought—she tossed the contents on top of him.

“Nigga—”

His voice sounded like a low growl, his large body jolting as he felt the water on his skin. He blinked the moisture from his eyes, slowly becoming conscious as the room came into focus, “The fuck?!”

“Get up,” she demands, raising the bowl as if she were going to toss it, “You better—“

“Don’t you see me up?!”

“No! I see a nigga hibernating on the couch!”

“I was asleep!”

He grunts, shifting himself to sit up before the coldness settles onto his chest. His brows furrow, glaring at the bowl in her hand before he stood.

“You better back yo’ ass up before I come over there.”

“That’s if you could limp over here in time!”

She raises the bowl again, Onyankopon flinching as he says, “Aight! Damn. I’m up, I’m up.”

“You up?” she questions, bucking the bowl one more time.

"Blue—"

He groans, "Get yo' lil' ass out the way with that bowl, forreal. 'Cause if I get over there, imma’ have you runnin.’ Swear to god.”

Blue narrows her eyes, taking a step back as she lowers her hand. She then smiles, “Meet me in the gym after you shower—and drink your matcha!” She calls, disappearing into the hallway.

“This girl here, man.”

After Onyankopon cleans the living room, he quickly takes a shower, making his way towards the gym—music is already humming along the room, catching sight of Blue who stands in the middle of his miniature court. The architecture was a matte black, matching equipment with silver linings all across the floor. His eyes lower to Blue’s ass as she stretches, too distracted to hear him entering.

“You know what you’ doing, Ms. Trainer?”

She turns her head, looking across the entrance as she sees Onyankopon, Nike long sleeve hugging his muscles, his team's sweatpants matching the navy blue top he wears.

She pulls her eyes away from how big he was, reaching for a ball along the wall as she says, “C’mon.”

“C’mon, what?”

“We finna’ hoop.”

He doesn’t budge from his spot, raising an eyebrow.

“You think I’m joking?”

Blue locks her fingers at the edge of her sweatshirt, pulling the oversized material off her body and tossing it on the ground. She begins to clip her hair up in her orchid comb, “They’ told me you’re off the crutches— I wanna see how comfortable you are on the court.”

A smirk curves along his lips when she removes her shirt—the baby pink workout set she wore hugs her body perfectly.

“Yo’ mama know you got that ass?”

The moment he comes closer, she’s quick. She opens her palms, tossing the ball towards him with a tilt to her head, “Quit distracting. Show me why they made you’ point guard.”

Blue takes a step back, squatting herself down a bit. Her eyes watch as he steps forward, but she catches the light limp he does as he begins dribbling.

She points out, “You’ll have to put your weight on it eventually.”

“You gotta’ let a nigga warm up.”

He’s making his way towards the rim—but he was slower—he couldn’t use his speed to his advantage like he usually did.

The moment she’s close to him, Blue snatches the ball from his hands, hugging the object within her fingers. Onyankopon backs up.

She raises an eyebrow, “What are you doing?—I know you ain’t scared to hoop.”

He scoffs, “Nah, it’s just—you got that pretty face. Ion’ wanna’ bump you.”

“I play with niggas all the time,” she re-ties her hair, “C’mon. Play like you forreal’, pussy.”

It was like a switch went off in his body at the insult. Onyankopon gave her a warning, “Watch yo’ mouth, Blue.”

“Come take the ball from me then.”

“I heard you’ the first time.”

He was more focused this time around, hand swiping the ball from her fingers before she could blink. Blue let out a grunt as he easily moved around her, and that’s when he shoved her body to the side— Blue stumbling back, watching as he took long strides towards the basket—But before he could even attempt his shot, her hand interfered, breathlessly swatting the ball out his hand and taking it into her own.

“I thought we was’ playing forreal’?” He retorts.

As Blue begins sprinting, Onyankopon catches the back of her sweatpants, yanking her back as he grunts, “Where you goin’?”

Blue shrieks, dropping the ball as she smacks his hand away, “That’s a foul, dipshit!”

“You on my basketball court,” He replies, lifting his hand to snatch the ball before it touches the ground, “Foul my ass. I thought you wanted to see some real effort?”

He grips her forearm as he pulls her back beside him, turning her body as he places the ball within her palm, “Show me that college ball player shit. You’ wastin’ my time.”

“Oh?” She glares, “Okay—Guard me from shooting then.”

“Ion’ need to guard you,” He steps to the side, leaving the rim wide open, “Shoot. Gon’ head.”

And as soon as she did, he was quick in interfering with her motion, his long arm palming the basketball. She let out a small huff in defeat—but she could be faster. Blue manages to retrieve the ball in time and the moment she turns, her body slams into his.

His towering frame blocked her pathway to the rim as she tried to move in another direction, but her hands couldn't catch the ball—Onyankopon now had it back within his grasp. They both give each other a breathless laugh, and despite this moment being important—they were having fun.

As Onyankopon goes to take another step, he stops, sucking in a breath as he places a hand along his knee. A sharp pain shoots through his entire leg.

Blue immediately pauses, “You okay?”

At first, he wanted to deny, ignore the pain—but it was evident along his face. His voice lowers, “I’m good—I, damn—“

He’s unable to finish his sentence, gritting his teeth as he tries to move towards the bench—but he’s unable to. After another moment, Blue’s shoulder presses under his arm as she murmurs, “Lean on me, alright? We’re both done playing.”

“I’m good,” he brushes off, “I’m tryna’ do some training.”

She kept him leaning against her, even if he was trying to move away. Blue questions, “You sure? We can just play it safe—do a couple stretches, Ony.”

His head tilts down at her, his hand gripping the curve of her shoulder as he answers, “Play it safe for what? I was just runnin’ around with you on the court—I gotta’ be back up in three weeks, Blue. I can’t do safe,” his voice is harsh, “I’m good.”

Blue pulls away from him as she relents, “Okay.”

After a while, they began moving into a couple of exercises—one of them being where Onyankopon had to lay along a yoga mat as he raised his knee a couple inches off the ground, attempting to reach Blue’s finger tips. While that might’ve sounded easy, he was huffing through the tightness within his leg, trying to shove down the uncomfortable position.

Blue’s touch might’ve been a helpful factor to each movement. Her warm palms gripped along his ankle, guiding him in the correct angle.

“Three more,” she promises, “Just gimme’ those, and we’ll move on.”

Onyankopon is quiet during their session, his grunts sounding with each new exercise they’d done. It wasn’t until he was on his feet, doing a movement that called for a slow squat where his groans began.

At the same time, Blue stands across from him as she makes sure his form is correct. She had to stop him a couple times to show the proper stance, squatting herself down for demonstration. She could feel his eyes.

“You’ good at doing that.“

Blue’s sighs, “Focus, please. Let’s try this again—I’ll do it with you.”

There was one thing that Onyankopon hadn’t mentioned in this entire process. In between each set, Blue would glance at her phone. She wasn’t distracted to a point that interfered with her work, but her attention was …diverted.

It wasn’t until he was doing his final exercise that he said something. He sat upright along the floor as a towel wrapped around the base of his foot, both palms grasping the ends of the material as he slowly pulled his leg back and forth.

Blue’s gaze wavers against the screen of her phone, her attention being pulled away as she hears him say, “Who’s the nigga you over there so worried about?”

Her brows furrow at the question. She places her phone down, raising her palm over his, “You’re supposed to be pulling with your hands, your leg shouldn’t be doing the work.”

She then decides to respond, “Who said I was worried about a nigga?”

“You just seem distracted.”

He continues the movement, following her instructions as he grunts, “He must’ve done somethin’ to get all that attention I’m not gettin’. What if my knee shatters right now?”

“Ony,” she flinches, “Don’t say that. I’m sorry, okay? No more phone.”

“I didn’t say to blow off my question.”

Blue blinks at him, annoyed with his pressing. She then says, “You wanna hear that I’m stalking my ex and his new bitch?”

“There we go,” He answers, his leg returning down towards the floor as he begins the set again, “That’s what you should’ve been said.”

He looks up as he questions, “Why is he yo’ ex?”

She doesn’t expect him to be curious. Blue waits a couple moments, not entirely comfortable as she flatly says, “He played ball like you, was better at playing me.”

“I’m sure it’s more than that,” his brow quirks, “Keep talkin’. I’m tryna’ hear your mouth run.”

“And why do you care?” She adjusts the towel under his foot, “None of that matters. He’s in a relationship, and I can’t be mad at that.”

“But you’ mad cause he fucked you over.”

“Did I say all that or were you just listening too hard?”

“You don’t have to,” He counters, raising his leg back down for one final set, “I already know.”

His brows knit together as he grunts, his body tensing as he forces his knee back.

Once he’s done, he continues, “And what you talkin’ bout? He could be the President, don’t matter—the fact you can’t get over it tells me he must’ve hurt you.”

“People get hurt all the time, Onyankopon,” Blue reminds him, “I’m a big girl, I survived. I just—need to get over the situation like he did.”

“And how you gon’ do that?” he questions, sitting back up straight, his hand throwing the towel beside him.

He was looking at her. Studying the way each curl fell along her face, “By being on your phone at every break? Don’t sound like you’ tryna’ get over it to me.”

“Do I tell you how to handle the relationship aspect of your life?” She squints, “You and your groupies have a very close bond—I’m sure. Ain’t nobody tryna’ sit there and tell you how to stop fuckin’ around on multiple bitches.”

“Whoa,” He raises both palms, a soft chuckle coming from his lips as he says, “Aight, aight. Sensitive topic, I see.”

There’s a moment of silence as he stares down at his fingers, “My groupies ain’t the problem. Can’t compare that to your cheating ass nigga.”

“I think sometimes you just like to hear yourself talk,” Blue mutters, “Get in the crocodile stretch so I can massage your knee, please.”

“I like hearing you talk more.”

He scoots down along the floor, using his hands to slowly roll himself onto his chest. He grunts as he continues, reaching his arms above his head and hiding his face within both of them.

Onyankopon’s jaw tenses, his brows pinching together. But soon enough, a small sigh leaves his lips as he feels her fingers run along his knee. She takes her thumb as she digs it into the muscle, deeply knotting her bone into a specific spot on his leg.

Blue then admits, “…I didn’t mean to snap on you. I just—hate that I’m not over the situation. That’s all.”

Her touch was so gentle.

He let out a grunt of relief, lifting his head off his forearms to look back to her. His eyes narrow, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he murmurs, “You gettin’ soft on me, Mama.”

She rolls her eyes, “Are you listening, or is this you just wanting to hear my voice again?”

“Both. Yo’ voice pretty as fuck.”

He sees the glimmer of freckles on her umber complexion, watching the way she nibbles along her lower lip, lowering her lashes. Shy. That’s the word he could think of.

“Are you ever gonna keep it professional with me?” She questions, glancing up to the TV that plays along the wall from across, the smallest smile along her face.

“Don’t wanna’. I can’t lie to you.”

He then catches her smile, and that’s when he says, “See. You know what it is.”

His tone lowers as he questions, “Why you gotta’ be so scared of a nigga trying to get to know you?”

“You beggin’ me now?” she raises an eyebrow, pulling herself back from his leg.

“Damn.”

He rolls over on his back, sitting up straight as he reaches for the towel beside him, wiping the sweat from his chest as he concludes, “Can’t do nothin’. You’ cold again.”

When she glances back up to the TV, she slows her movements as she sees a familiar face—his to be exact, different cuts from Onyankopon’s seasonal journey. He’s rushing across the court at one of his games, smiling ear to ear as he’s being interviewed.

”The star player was just signed to the Pelicans two months ago, and is already facing a career-threatening injury. Will he power through back in time for playoffs?

“I certainly hope so. Otherwise, he’ll be forgotten like anyone else just starting up.”

“Can you turn that off?”

His voice was stern, a glare on the screen as highlights continued playing. Every layup, every block, every dunk—it was a reel of everything he couldn’t do right now.

She reached for the remote as she shut it off, standing from the position she was in, “Earlier when we played—I could tell you were scared to move around the court. You can’t be afraid to do that.”

“Ain’t nobody scared.”

She crosses her arms at that, seeing that he’s growing irritated at her words.

“You can be mad. That’s fine.”

“Why you tryna’ make me mad?”

The frustration was evident in his tone, his eyes narrowing as he continued, “You think you got a nigga figured out when you just met me a week ago.”

“This coming from the same nigga that said he trusted me a day after meeting?” she reminds, “I’m not here to make you feel worse. I’m here because I know how you feel— Nobody is gonna believe in you if you don’t believe in you.”

And that made his expression falter.

He couldn’t speak. Onyankopon stares for a few moments until he lets out a heavy breath, his head shaking as he says, “I’m just mad.”

“I know that.”

Blue scans his face, seeing an uncomfortable sense within it. She then says, “Your progress is better than any patient I’ve had. You love the court, I can see that. You’ll be there by the playoffs.”

He stays silent at that, her words filling his head before he murmurs, “Yeah— Thank you.”

“You also need some milk,” she adds on, “Your bones feel brittle as hell.”

He lets out a low chuckle, staring down at her hands. His large palms could cover both of them. He then pushes back the vulnerable side that wants to come out, “You’ hungry?”

“I am,” she sighs, walking over to the court as she pulls her sweatshirt back on, “I was gonna eat once I got home. You did good today— we can start back up tomorrow.”

“Stay and eat, then.”

She looks back at him, her hand halting along her duffle bag. His smile grows, “Got shit in the kitchen, we just needa’ run to the store for a couple ingredients—I’m more than protein shakes and smoothies.”

“You need rest, Onyankopon. You ain’t finna’ sleep if we’ playing around in the grocery store,” she reminds, placing her duffle over her shoulder.

“C’mon,” He smacks his lips, taking long strides to stand in front of her. His broad shoulders blocked her path to the door, “Tell me you ain’t craving some food-food. What you’ want? Dirty rice, red beans? Let me know sum.’”

Blue looks up at him, the height gap so evident as he finalizes, “You’ll sleep good as fuck after. Promise.”

“This your way of tryna’ get me to stay?” She sighs, “You’ sure you can cook anything without burning the house down?”

He moves towards the double glass of his front doors, “It’s my way of apologizing to you, aight? I was kinda’ a dick head earlier, forreal’—my food’ good as hell, Mama. You gon’ be beggin’ for more.”

“Wrong. I don’t beg.”

They make it to the nearest Whole Foods, Onyankopon protesting as Blue forces him to push the cart, wanting him to have something to put his weight on. She walks slowly as she glances through the aisle, “What you’ in the mood for?”

“You.”

There’s a small smirk along his lips as she glares at him, his tone growing low again as he murmurs, “My bad, my bad. Whatever you want, I’m not trippin’.”

She keeps walking, now ending up towards the produce aisle. She scans the selections, “You’ got enough fruit for your smoothies? I may need to grab some for mine,” she mutters, leaning over as she scans the basket of bananas.

“Are you a banana?”

She turns her head, frowning at the question, “What?”

Onyankopon leans towards her, “‘Cause I find you real’ a—peel—ling.”

Blue’s entire expression drops, “Oh no—We’ve moved into bad pick up lines. Jesus Christ. Please don’t—“

“Ooh, girl. You must be a strawberry or sum’,” He interrupts, tossing the items within the basket, “‘Cause you’re berry beautiful to me!”

“Is this my personal hell? I’m walking away from you!”

“Chill! Chill! I have one more—”

He lets out a laugh as he follows behind her, still leaning against the cart’s edge as he looks over to the section of pineapples.

“If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple!”

“How about you make like them’ bananas you was talking about earlier, and split?”

Onyankopon’s mouth drops open, watching as Blue waltz further away from the basket, playfully twisting her hips with each step she takes.

She turns back to him, “Oh you liked that one, huh? That was good?”

A man walks past the both of them, Onyankopon leaning towards him as he questions, “Nigga—you heard that? How she came back at me with my own puns? You hear them’ wedding bells? Do you?”

She giggles, seeing the man’s frown as she exclaims, “Please ignore him—I’m sorry!”

When they go into the aisle of pastries, a gasp falters Blue’s lips as she speeds around a table full of cupcakes, “You think they have—“

Her eyes search, her face dropping in disappointment, “Ugh—They don’t have them,” a pout almost comes to her lips, deciding to look along the other options of cakes and bread.

“What you’ lookin’ for, Mama?”

She sighs, “They usually have these red velvet cupcakes I like. They have frosting on the inside of them!—“

She halts, realizing she’s a little too excited, “Sorry. Yeah, they’re good.”

“Stop apologizin’. They don’t got’ them?”

“No,” she’s now pouting, genuinely disappointed.

“We can go to every Whole Foods in the city until we find em’. Quit allat’ pouting.”

She rolls her eyes, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You think I’m playin’?” he questions, eyes narrowing at her, “I’ll take my ass to muhfuckin’ Mississippi if you need me to.”

She hates that her heart flutters. Blue then shakes her head, voice soft, “It’s fine—I’ll go look in another aisle, okay?”

She goes to the next area of snacks, trying to find a sweet substitute for her cravings. She ends up finding a pack of Oreos, seeing a red velvet flavor at the top of the aisle, unable to reach it due to her height.

“Hell,” she mutters.

“Need help?”

The voice is…familiar. It’s as if her entire body goes cold, and immediately recognizes the tone without him having to say anything else. When her face turns towards him—there he is.

Hazel brown eyes, only made of the devil if she had a comparison. Light brown skin, his dark hair in waves, as handsome as he wanted to be. Fuck, why were evil men so fine?

To make matters worse, that faceless body that was within the picture she constantly stared at now had a face—she was the complete opposite of Blue. Tan skin, close to an olive tone. Her hair was more wavy than curly, a smaller frame, as if she were able to slip in anything and look good. She was perfect.

“Trey—Uh—hey?”

“Wassup, Blue?”

Something in her body flinched at the sound of him saying her name.

A smirk grows along his lips as he looks down to the cookies in her hand, “I remember these were your favorite.”

His voice was the same, smooth.

His eyes linger on the length of her, “How you’ been?”

How have I been?

She wanted to smack him, get violent. Maybe even smack the woman next to him.

“I’m good,” she pushes out, “Who’s this?” She looks at the woman, giving her best attempt of a polite smile.

“This is Nia,” he introduces, his arm now circling around the woman as he pulls her close, “My fiancè.”

Nia smiles, “It’s really nice to meet you, Trey’s told me so much about you!”

Blue could have cried on the spot. Her face felt entirely warm, and something in her was starting to become extremely upset.

“It’s uh…nice to meet you too. I hope all good things were said.”

Onyankopon turns down the aisle in search of her, finding Blue interacting with two strangers—but just by the look on her face, he knew exactly who they were. You could say he had a flair for the dramatics.

“Yo’, baby, you found what you was’ looking for?”

Blue frowns, “Huh?”

He walks up to her, “Why you’ always tryna’ do shit by yoself’ when you know you got me? C’mon,” he reaches up for the sweet treat, tossing it in the basket.

“Who’s this?”

Trey’s question felt a little sharp. Nia on the other hand, looks entirely starstruck. A blush comes along her fair skin as she swats Trey’s arm, “Honey, this is the new player on the Pelicans—Onyankopon, right?”

Onyankopon nods, his arm now going to mirror Trey’s action of holding his girl by the waist. But instead of going for Blue’s hip, his palm latches onto her ass, squeezing the flesh under his fingers, tugging her closer to his large frame.

“You gon’ introduce me, huh?” Her murmurs, mouth hovering along hers, Blue able to feel the warmth of his breath.

Her cheeks feel detached from her face. She stutters, “U—Um, this is Onyankopon, my—“

“Her husband,” he finishes, “Baby always being shy on shit. She ‘real adamant on getting our rings cleaned every other week, so she can’t show off that rock that be’ on her finger right now.”

His face is centimeters from hers. Onyankopon’s voice is low as he questions, “You’ got everything you need?”

Blue’s lashes flutter, trying to hold her composure as she nods, “Yeah—“

And then, he kisses her.

Their lips smush together, a low groan coming from his throat as she lets him taste her.

Blue tries to pull back, but Onyankopon's hand wraps along the back of her neck, holding her in place as he keeps going. His tongue slides along her own, sinking in and out of her mouth. It sends a jolt all the way between her thighs, Blue lightly panting in a way she didn’t expect herself to.

When he pulls back, she exhales, pressing her hand against his chest as her face went from warm to entirely hot. Her face pulls back to the couple across from them, both her ex and his fiancè shocked at their affection towards each other. They’re almost bothered at the sight.

“Um—“ a nervous giggle releases from Blue’s lips, “It was nice seeing you, Trey. We um, we have to go. Yeah?” She turns her face back to Onyankopon.

He presses one last kiss to her lips, a look of irritation on Trey's face he glares daggers.

Blue was officially red, Onyankopon's arm going around her waist as he said, "I’m hungry as hell. Finna’ fuck around and eat you. C’mon."

She politely waved to the couple, tugging at Onyankopon's arm, dragging him around the corner towards the check-out lanes.

That’s when Blue finally released an actual giggle, the sound unfamiliar to Onyankopon as she whispered, “Why did you do that?!”

“To piss him off,” He answers, “And it worked. I hope that nigga’s jaw is clenched as hell right now.”

He slows down the cart as he then asks, “You aight, though? You look like you seen’ a ghost earlier.”

“I’m okay—I just didn’t expect to see him out of all’ people. Not to mention that he’s engaged,” she places the items atop of the lane, pushing them forward with a soft frown along her face.

“You thought I was gon’ let that nigga just embarrass you? Fuck allat.’”

“Why did you go as far as to say we were married?”

Onyankopon shrugs, “Manifestation?”

And once again, Blue laughs.

Two weeks had gone by. Intense Physical therapy, exercising, and training was the only thing filling Onyankopon’s schedule. His family was shocked to hear how miraculous his recovery was—and he had no one to thank except Blue.

It was now the night before playoffs, Blue coming over to drop off the new knee brace she’d bought for him. She closes the door behind herself softly as he’d told her that he’d be going to bed early, trying to tip toe towards his gym. But when she sees the kitchen lights on—she halts.

She looks along the marble counter, seeing different ingredients from flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and oil. A frown came along her face at the cupcake pans next to the supplies.

She slowly walks forward as she questions, “Ony?”

A figure appears from the bathroom. Her mouth immediately parts open, a palm going over her lips as she sees him shirtless, a chef's hat slanting on top of his head.

She giggles, “What are you doing?”

“You thought I was just bullshitting about finding you them’ red velvet cupcakes?” He questions, going to stand in front of the kitchen’s island, “Imma’ make them for you.”

Dammit. There goes her heart fluttering again. She rolls her eyes as she goes over to him, pulling the hat off his head while wiping the flour along his nose, “Maybe I can help with that. What do you need me to do, chef?”

Spending time with him outside of PT was different. Seeing him go as far as to make the dessert she’d wanted weeks ago, made her realize how much he’d actually been thinking about her.

Blue watched as he stood on the other side of the counter, rolling up a blunt they’d agreed on smoking together. Her eyes might’ve been…drifting at him doing such a simple task, palm slow in mixing the batter.

“You gon’ have to keep them’ pretty ass eyes off me, Blue. Unless you tryna’ have a nigga come over there.”

Onyankopon eyes are still down. His tongue rolls across the blunt, sealing the object.

A small smile comes along her face, placing her focus back along the batter as she replies, “Sorry.”

He chuckles, placing the end between his lips before igniting the blunt—taking a long drag, smoke wafting out his nose as he questioned, “Yo’ momma named you that ‘cause of them’ oceans you got for eyes?”

She softly laughs, “No. I was stuck in the hospital a couple weeks after she gave birth to me—premature, less than five pounds. My mom said I cried like hell in that incubator, and it made her cry. Gave her the blues. My eyes are on the account of my grandfather who had some syndrome, passed it down to me. I guess it just felt appropriate.”

Her voice was smooth. His eyes watched as she moved, trying to keep her composure as she poured her batter into the cupcake liners. It had to be the smoke, or the fact that he liked her, as his mind began to wander on how she’d sound moaning in his ear. He takes another hit, the blunt still between his fingers as he exhales, passing the object over to her.

She reaches over, pressing the brown bud in between her dark pink lips. She then questions, “Why you’ so interested in me? You ain’t got a bunch of bitches lined up to play basketball wife?”

“And I know you got a lot more niggas than me tryna’ talk to you, but who’s the only one making you them’ cupcakes?” He questions, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Still not you. I’m the one mixing the batter,” she points out.

She looks up to see the instant irritation on his face.

He eases up as he leans forward, “Pass that shit back, you blowin’ me. Throw a nigga a bone. Somethin’.”

Her eyes are still against the burgundy contents of the batter, thinking of his words. It was hard for her to open up at times—but she’d spent a lot of time with Onyankopon at this point, and she couldn’t deny the feelings developing for him. It was time to give him some vulnerability.

“I um—I tore my ACL back in college.”

Blue can see the frown that comes to his face. She hates that she can feel a heaviness within her chest, pushing herself to continue, “Had a girl off another team push me the wrong way, and my knee shattered when I stumbled. I mean—I still do something I love, but I loved playing ball more. I think that’s why I tend to be so hard on you about your recovery. You still have the opportunity to play—so play.”

He remains quiet as he digests what she tells him. Going from knowing nothing about this girl, to knowing all of the shit she’d been through—it made him want her more.

She notices his face, releasing her hands from the bowl as she apologizes, “I wasn’t tryna’ fuck up the mood.”

“You didn’t,” he says, his words a low murmur, “All that shit you went through made you who you are now. You tough as fuck, Blue. Selfless as hell, too. Nobody could take that shit from you.”

Her heart beats as he comes around the counter, distracting herself as she steals the blunt from his fingers, “You just sayin’ all that cause I got you ready for playoffs.”

“You hear me, right?”

He was so close, tilting his head down, keeping his face close to hers.

She blinks slowly, exhaling the smoke from her lips as she nods, “I hear you, Ony.”

“So why you actin’ like you don’t believe that a nigga got feelings for you?”

“Cause you’re sayin’ all this when you’re high.”

“I’m barely high,” his eyes wandered down to her lips, “Why you frontin’?”

Her high was now hitting her, creating a buzz along her body, her lids a little heavier than before. She turns towards the counter, grabbing for the frosting bag as she grins, “You ain’t finish making my cupcakes. I thought you said you liked me?” She tilts her head, eyes glowing a slight shade of red.

“I like you like hell,” he grunts, latching a kiss along her cheek, it makes her giggle and push at his chest. He notices the way she relaxes, “How’ you feelin’, Mama—you good?” His tone was sensual, but genuine, “You wanna’ lay down?”

“You think I can’t handle myself?” She frowns, “I’m good, boy. Want some frosting? I hope it’s buttercream!”

She wraps her arms around his neck, “Put me on the counter. My feet hurt.”

He chuckles, grabbing her by the waist as he sits her atop the island, sliding both her legs apart.

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she nods, beginning to rub her palms along the sides of his neck, “You’re so sweet.”

“You the sweetest thing on this island,” he counters, sliding her lower along the edge. He stands in between her legs, palms along her thighs.

“Sweeter than the frosting?” She questions, squeezing some along her finger, wrapping her lips along the tip of her index.

“You playin’.”

Onyankopon’s large hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her finger out of her mouth. He then takes her digits in between his own lips, tongue dragging along the frosting.

Blue takes more frosting along her free hand, plopping some on the edge of his chin. Her giggles aren’t something he’s used to yet. He could replay them over and over. Now seeing her like this—floaty, flirty, it might’ve had his mind elsewhere.

She blows out a breath, eyes boring into his as she pouts, “You gotta re-light the blunt, it went out.”

She was seated on the island, and yet his head was still level with her own. His voice was a low rumble as he continued, “Why you’ worried about that? Youn’ want my tongue instead?”

“On me?”

“All over you, girl,” his voice drops further, lips inches from her own, “Where ‘you want me?”

She searches around his face, lightly pressing her teeth along the plush of her lip. Squeezing out more frosting, Blue swipes it along the side of her neck, her voice soft as she sighs, “…Here.”

“On that pretty ass neck,” he murmurs against her skin, lips dragging as close as possible. His kiss was light, teasing as he slowly made his way back up. Her neck smelled of cinnamon.

She was within his grasp, tongue coating along her skin, the frosting smearing across her throat. Onyankopon could feel a shiver vibrating throughout her spine at the contact, Blue’s thighs squeezing together in response.

Her giggles lessen as his tongue drags all along the length of her neck, softening into breathy inhales. When she goes to pull her face down—his fingers dig into her curls, yanking her head back. Blue’s eyes roll back in response.

“It t—tickles, Ony…”

He chuckles against her neck, his tongue coiling around the inside of her ear. It goes down, gliding past her jawline, lightly rushing across her lips.

The moment she feels his mouth along her own, her entire body tenses, thinking back to the kiss he’d given her in the store. Her palm slides to the back of his neck, breath wafting along his mouth as her thighs repeated in squeezing together. It’s as if she’s anticipating his next move, more needy than she expected herself to be.

She lets it slip out as she whimpers, “Why won’t you kiss me…”

He pulls away, leaving only an inch of space between them, “Thought you didn’t believe a nigga liked you?”

The grip at the back of her curls loosen only slightly, his voice a husk as he grunts, “Open.”

A small giggle falls from her lips as she sticks out her tongue in response, rims of her eyes a dark azure. He lets out a low groan, tongue plunging deep within her mouth, twisting around her own. Their kiss makes her eyes feel heavier, her brain emptier, her thoughts—hornier. The frosting along her skin smudges everywhere as they move together, dropping along her thighs, sliding lower on her legs. Without another thought, Blue’s shriek echoes the walls as he locks her legs around his hips, carrying her onto the sofa.

Her back lays atop of the pillows, eyes flicking over to the mirror giving a perfect view of their bodies—The balls of her feet slide against his chest as she keeps her legs up, Onyankopon hovered above her, pressing the blunt back between his lips, swiping the lighter across his thumb.

Blue’s low eyes watch him. He pulls the bud from his mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of her foot, pecking his lips towards her French tipped toes.

“We were supposed to be baking,” she huffs in annoyance, but yet, she lightly rotates her hips at the sensation of his mouth.

When the blunt is lit, he drags his tongue along her calves.

He then questions, “What were we makin’ again? Tell me.”

Her legs shake as he snatches the skin going up her leg in between his lips, “T—Those cupcakes you promised to make me, Ony…”

“That’s what you want right now?”

She wanted to answer back—she really did. She just couldn’t.

Onyankopon hands her back the blunt, Blue watching how his lips went from the back of her knees, to now meeting at her thighs, tongue gliding across any part of her skin he could reach.

When he drags more upward, there’s a smack when his lips meet her own. He watches as she pulls smoke into her mouth, holding it there until he grunts, “Give it to me.”

She pushes the smoke out, silence between the two as their lips seal together cohesively.

His lips suck against hers, the kiss loud and sloppy. Blue softly whines. Her head nearly falls back to keep up with him, thighs opening, hung along the broad frame of his back. Onyankopon’s head was beginning to fuzz, which coaxed his head to duck down, tongue swirling, dancing along the inside of her thigh.

“Talk to me,” his voice mutters a seductive rasp against her skin, nose and mouth smushing against the warmth, “Whatchu’ thinkin’ about?”

She doesn’t wanna admit to what she’s actually thinking. But with his lips everywhere as he’d promised, smoking, and suppressing the tension she’d felt the moment she’d met this man—she couldn’t help it anymore.

“Want you in me, Ony.”

Her voice is pleading. Blue tugs the fabric of her panties to the side of her pelvic, too impatient to actually remove them, spreading her legs a bit wider.

He groans at the sight. His eyes drop down as he grunts, “Lemme’ see that pretty ass pussy.”

Blue snatches the material farther, showing off the glistening sight of her bubblegum pink core, delectable under the lights of his home.

Onyankopon places the blunt on his glass coffee table, lips moving back up her skin until he meets her own again. He was already tugging down his sweatpants, hand coming up to the back of her neck as he kept her lips locked against his own. His tone was lowered.

“You sure?”

She nods her head, using her own hand to swipe along her pussy. She’s twisting her lower half a bit, “C’mon, Ony.”

The sight of his tip was—not what she expected. It was a darkened pink, weighted, long as it smushed along her wet folds, kissing at the hidden part of her clit— Heavy, was all she could think.

His voice is a grunt while he speaks, “I’m not gon’ fit like that. Lemme’ eat you.”

“Make it fit,” she whimpers, splaying her fingers along the back of her thighs, spreading herself even more.

His jaw clenched at her words. Onyankopon was practically glaring down at her. He grunts into a soft kiss as he leans down, capturing their lips together. He takes her legs, pressing her knees beneath his chest, ankles against the sides of his head as he has her trapped.

The moment she feels herself within this position, she rethinks all of her pleading. But it’s too late—Blue’s eyes lock down to watch his tip sink between her folds, an ache throbbing against her entire lower half. Her hips tense, but as that discomfort wafts through her entire body in waves, another ocean arises— a sense of pleasure meeting with that. Her mouth lightly parts as Onyankopon keeps his face close, Blue quietly inhaling, a long exhale panting from her lips.

She places her hand to the back of his neck, a frown coming against her lips as she shudders, “O—oh shit…”

His mouth covers all of her own, muffling her whimpers as he holds himself by the base, pushing in farther. His words are a low rumble, “You know I wanna hear you. Get loud.”

Blue clutches the back of his head, eyes rolling back as he still hadn’t really moved, yet she felt everything. Their foreheads meet as she gives him another gasp, thighs trembling in response to his words.

“Ain’t no one ever took you this deep?” He grunts, his lips dragging to meet her neck, “Told you’ you wasn’t ready for allat.’”

He presses his mouth down to her throat, Blue’s bottom lip drooping even lower, her eyes screwing shut, feeling a rapture of pleasurable tears wanting to form. He still hadn’t moved.

“You gon’ take me, ain’t you?”

His tongue rolls along the skin closest to her shoulders.

Her legs vibrate in between their bodies, arousal creating a tiny puddle against the furniture, Blue knocking her head back along the sofa, trying to find words—she can’t.

“S—shit, Ony,” she trembles, “Wait…”

“Nah,” he grunts, his voice a low growl.

Deeper.

“You can,” His eyes burn into her own, tip kissing at her opening as he drags out, sopping the warm skin of her pussy.

His voice is taunting.

“This’ what you wanted, huh?”

“Ony.”

He gives a low groan when she says his name, pressing their lips together as hips sinks back in.

When their lips pull apart, his eyes lock on hers, “You so muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama.”

The compliment, his glare—it’s all too much. When she realizes she has no way out of this position, she raises her mouth up in the want of another kiss, her voice soft as she gives him a breathy whine, pouting along her mouth, moaning pitifully against Onyankopon’s lips.

His tongue coils along her own, sucking at each corner of her mouth, “Why you pouting’?”

She wraps an arm along the top of his back, pulling his face closer within her neck, allowing his nose to nudge against the warm flesh. His mouth is directly next to her ear, as hers is equally close to his own. She finds her words in a whine.

“Stretching me, baby…”

She clutches him closer in, her eyes fully rolling back as she hides her face within his shoulder, “So full…” she whimpers.

The sensation had her eyes watering, and it made her shake against his body. Onyankopon lets out a low snarl. Hearing her right beside his ear was driving him insane.

“Look how you takin’ allat’,” he murmurs, giving her a slow grind, lips dragging along her temple, “You’ hear allat’ noise?”

The noise she heard was wet—schluck, schluck, her walls bear hugging the stretch of his dick, practically sucking him farther in.

A moan. It was vulnerable, a pure sound of pleasure. She hides her face within his shoulder, opening her legs a little more, keeping his nose against her throat.

His hips now sling forward, a loud clap resounding as their thighs met. His hand grabs her thighs, pushing them upward, the new angle allowing him to go deeper inside.

“…Fuck,” she groans, placing the back of her palm against her mouth, her other fingers imbedded into his skin, “Ony, baby.”

“Ony nothin’,” he snatches a kiss from her mouth, tugging her face back to his, “Look at me.”

Her face is on fire, but she could care less. Blue’s mouth unlatched from its lock, moaning in repetitions, “Keep going. Fuck me, Fuck me, baby. F—fuck me.”

“You gon’ keep moanin’ for me like that?”

She nods, giving him a soft peck, one that made him lowly laugh along her mouth.

She pouts, “Don’t laugh.”

“Ain’t laughin’ at you, Mama. You’ just cute.”

He brings his hand up to clasp along her throat, keeping himself chest to chest with her, gyrating his hips— It makes Blue shudder, attempting to keep her eyes against his.

“Had all that fuckin’ attitude when you first met me.”

His hand clasped tighter with his words, making Blue clutch her fingers around his wrist that held her throat, whimpering, “Ony.”

“You ain’t believe a nigga when I said I liked you,” he grunts, tugging her face closer, “You got me showin’ that shit.”

“I’m sorry,” she whines, her eyes flicking back to the mirror, seeing her body folded beneath him. Her eyes are low as she’s in a pleasured haze, looking back at him as she says, “I like you so much, baby…”

“You just talkin’,” his abdomen bumps harshly with the back of her thighs, drenched in her own wetness, “We still gon’ have them’ problems when I’m done with you?”

The smack of skin against skin was soaked, Onyankopon going so deep it sent Blue’s eyes back. He could only chuckle at the sight of her, voice a low grunt against her ear, “What you gon’ say?”

He slides one arm beneath the back of her neck, the other hand going along the front of her throat. Their lips pressed together in a kiss as he murmured, “You gonna’ be my girl?” Blue’s lips trembling against his own, “You mine after this?”

It’s a particularly harsh thrust that has Blue gasp, gripping along the top of his back. Her mouth quivers, her legs mimicking as if she’d been tased.

She could only get out, “Y—yeah! Ony…”

His mouth slides down her jaw. He growls, “That nigga wasn’t doing all this to you, huh?”

Now he’s being petty. Her mind rushes to her ex, and she whimpers, “Stop it.”

The pressure from his hands has her mouth open. His low grunts were loud, a clack sounding as he pressed his forehead against her own.

Even deeper.

“You’ doing good, baby. That’s my fuckin’ big girl.”

She doesn’t know what’s happening—what she’s feeling. Her stomach coils within itself, lower body rapturing in a sense of pleasure she’s never felt before, almost to a point where it feels violent. The moan that comes from her lips is louder than she expects it to be, to a point where she grips onto him for dear life, trying to relax her body as she orgasms. Onyankopon leans himself down, capturing her clit within his mouth as he just couldn’t help himself—he eats away at her, letting the gush fall straight onto his tongue, shaking his head between the folds of her pussy to drown in the taste of her.

“Shit tastes better than that fuckin’ icing.”

Blue’s gasping.

But she doesn’t expect what he does next. Throughout her entire body responding to each touch, sound, affection he gives, Onyankopon flips her, to where she’s now on her stomach against the sofa, his chest against her back. He slaps his tip in between the parted space of her ass, nudging it between her folds all while sinking back in—When she feels her ass clap against his hips in the middle of her orgasm, Blue moans, desperately trying to pull away from him, curls falling along her face as he snatches her back.

It was an animalistic motion, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, shoving her face into the corner of the couch.

“You runnin’ from me?”

He’s using his elbow to slam her down, her pussy squelching with each pull. Blue can see herself from the mirror, and it makes her pout, looking directly at Onyankopon, reaching her arm back as she whimpered, “N—no, B—baby…”

“You tryna’ take my pussy away?”

“No, Ony.”

His mouth goes back down to her skin, breath hot against her spine, “You want it slower?”

She adjusts her legs, arching her back as she turns her head to meet his. She begs, “Slower, yeah, need to feel it like that.”

The hand she places along his abdomen, he catches, using that as leverage to give her the slow pound she was looking for. His hips slowly pull back, rocking forward.

Blue hisses, going back to the mirror, “Just like that, baby...”

Onyankopon could feel Blue fluttering around him, he groaned against her ear, “Just like this?”

The question alone makes her nod, his groans making her stomach twist.

“You hear me, Mama?”

Her back arches more, her face shoving into the sofa’s material to release a loud moan that's muffled within the pillows. Her eyes screwed shut as he clutched her hair, tugging her face upwards.

His voice was low, “Look at us.”

Blue’s eyes come open, seeing their frames colliding together. She’s able to tug his upper half down, twisting her body to somewhat face him, wrapping her hand along the back of his neck as she pulls his face close to hers.

“Stay here,” she lightly gasps, “Here.”

One of his hands is tangled in her curls, the other hand clamping her face, lips a mere inch between each other. This way, he could watch her. Blue’s eyes looked over him, and she watched back.

“Spank me,” she whimpered, “Please.”

“I thought you ain’t beg?”

That question.

Her freckled cheeks return to warmth. She gives him a soft kiss, “Please, Ony. Please.”

His smirk grows, Onyankopon slamming his hand against the skin of her ass, shaking the ripping flesh, the sound reverberating against the walls. Blue sultrily giggles, her eyes narrowing, hips beginning to fuck him back, wanting him to receive the pleasure he’d been giving her. He was rocking along with her, hand gripping onto her ass with the other hand pushing against her back.

His voice was low when he spoke, “You know I love how you look at me, right?”

Blue’s eyes were a haze, a small breath coming out while swirling her hips, “So handsome, baby. Can’t help it,” her curls hang along her face, Blue mindlessly blowing them out the way.

“What’ I do to deserve you?”

That’s when he places a foot along the couch for a better grip, keeping Blue’s legs straight below him, once again having her stuck—His hips are dropping down, the sound of her ass applauding back on his dick so loud that it causes her mouth to completely part open. She’s unable to hold herself back, face twisted within the mirror as she released, “Ungh, fuck—baby, Ony…I’m cumming…”

“You ain’t gotta’ tell me,” he hushes, biting down on her shoulder, nearly sinking his entire bottom lip into her skin, “I know. Cum all on this muhfuckin’ dick.”

His palm clasps along her mouth, sounds still pushing out between his fingers, her face drenched with tears, eyes rolling back as she sobbed beneath him. She couldn’t stop looking within the mirror at him, pleasure, an admiration too full to hide.

He made her watch, his hand gripping under her chin, forcing her head upward to watch their bodies connect. It made him grip her hair tighter.

“You watchin’?”

“I’m watching.”

The mirror showed everything—Onyankopon had her in a complete lock.

His toned was breathless as he moaned, “Fuck, I’m finna’ bust.”

Their lips met, tongues tangling together, groans coming from deep within their throats.

Her scream swallows down his mouth, his deep moan hidden under the skin of her throat as he places his face there, the warmth of his cum spurting the tightness of her walls. It felt all the more real, the symphony of their bodies coming together like a song on loop—never ending.

The music humming along the room returns to her ears, the scent of icing all along her skin. Blue tries to control her breathing as she drags his palm to gently hang along her face, glancing around his chest as she sees the scratches against his skin.

“…Sorry.”

Her voice is breathless, wanting to pull him down for another kiss.

“What’chu apologizing for?” His voice is a low husk, eyes piercing into her own, “You got me good.”

Blue’s chest heaved, Onyankopon’s thumb pushing down against the swell of her bottom lip. He grunts, “You need a minute.”

“No,” She’s wiggling, “Wanna’ keep going.”

His eyebrows raise, “I ain’t do you in like I needed to?”

That’s when she gives a tired giggle. She might’ve lied, as her eyes feel extremely heavy. Her palm grazes his chin, “I’m not gonna’ admit to that.”

“Still stubborn as hell,” he murmurs, catching her lips within his.

He scans her eyes, seeing that they’ve become lighter now. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

He then says, “Ion’ think I ever said thank you for helping me out.”

Blue runs her thumb along his mouth, her voice soft, “It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.”

He stares at her, “Nah.”

His fingers sink into her hair, “You had my back,” He continues, “You meant it when you said you was gon’ make sure I was good. I’d never had someone like that before,” His voice is a hushed whisper, “So thank you, forreal’.”

He leans down, pressing his lips along her own again, “Imma’ make sure to have yours, Blue.”

Instead of her heart fluttering this time, it explodes. To think she hadn’t taken this man seriously before, she had no reason to not to take her chance with him.

She gives a soft smile, “You’re such a lil’ sweetie. You wanna go finish baking?”

He shakes his head, “I’m comfortable,” he murmurs, “Just lemme’ be here like this. I’ll buy the whole muhfuckin’ Whole Foods for you when I wake up.”

Her giggle is like a lullaby, pretty, which makes him chuckle.

But of course, Onyankopon had to ruin the moment.

“So you my girl now, huh? I mean—you said it while I was in your shit. You was like ‘Yeah, Ony, Ugnh!’—“

“Onyankopon!”

“Imma’ love hearing that all the time,” he sighs, “Night, Mama.”

#ony x black reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon fluff #ony smut #onyankopon x you #onyakapon #onyankapon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #aot smut

2K notes · View notes

reignpage · 3 months ago

Text

Dog-Eat-Dog World

Synopsis: what life is like with Siberian husky hybrid!Gojo Warnings: 18+ mdni, porn with a little plot, fluffy, cursing, dubcon, established relationship, cunnilingus, blowjob, 69, boobjob, rimming, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, switch!Gojo, backshots, spitting, mention of somnophilia, possessiveness, creampie, knotting, not proofread Word Count: 4.9k

Dating Husky!Gojo means there are rarely ever any quiet moments. He talks a lot. In fact, he never seems to stop. He could talk your ear off about anything. And he certainly does try.

“Y’know, squirrels can be categorised into three types. There are ground squirrels, tree squirrels and flying squirrels. Have you ever seen a flying squirrel? I saw one once and it was so ugly. It had these weird flaps and they look like little rats with wings. Tree squirrels are pretty common. You see them all the time, right? Yeah, there’s no way you’ve never seen a tree squirrel; they’re everywhere.”

Sighing, you ruffle his hair as he lies on your lap, staring up at you with those big blue eyes. Eyes fluttering close, he makes a low growl of appreciation, tilting his head so you can get to that spot by his erect ear that makes his leg twitch.

“Hmm, I love when you scratch me there. You do it really well, y’know? Like, really really well. No one scratches better than you. I’ve tried myself but it’s never the same.” He barks a sudden laugh. “It kinda sounds like I’m talking about something else, doesn’t it?”

Something on the TV catches his attention and he tenses up, head tilting and ears flickering to focus all his energy on the curiosity on screen. But then your nails scrape his scalp, and his eyes are rolling back. He falls down onto your lap and gives you a lopsided grin.

“Sorry. What was I saying? Oh, right. You scratch so good. You could scratch me all day and I wouldn’t ever ask you to stop. If you scratched me for the rest of my life, I would never get bored. Do you want to test that out?”

With a soft smile, you reply, “I don’t think that’s possible, Toru. I have to work, and I can’t take you with me, can I?”

He grumbles, “No, I guess you can’t. But I’m rich. Or rather, my family is, so you don’t have to work anymore, you can just stay with me all day, every day, forever! I get it though, so you don’t need to give me the lecture about independence and the important of keeping busy. I just want to be with you all the time! I hate being alone and waiting for you to come home. You take forever. It’s like a whole eternity passes.”

Husky!Gojo loves being on your lap for reasons other than being able to rest as you give him head scratches. No, he likes how close he is to the source of the best smell he’s ever smelt in his entire life. He loves it so much, sometimes he focuses more on the apex of your thighs than whatever’s playing on the TV.

He shifts his head so he can press his nose right there, burying deeper until he can take long inhales and let your scent engulf his very being. His ears are perked up and his tail is wagging excitedly.

“Satoru, what are you doing?”

He whines at the strict tone of your voice, and with guilty eyes he peers up at you, wincing once he sees your raised brow. His ears lie flat, tail slowing to a halt, and he stretches his neck ever so slightly to bare more of that long length.

“It’s not my fault,” he mutters. “You just smell so nice. Can’t I just sniff you for a little longer? I won’t go further, I swear!”

You roll your eyes. You know if you don’t give in now then he’ll badger you relentlessly until you eventually do. Plus, it’s not as if you were impervious to the pressure of his nose against your clit, through your shorts.

And when you shift under his head, he knows he’s won.

In a clumsy flurry, he’s flying off the sofa, kneeling between your legs and gripping onto the plush of your thighs to spread them. When he sees that wet spot he’s been manifesting, his ears perk up once more and you can hear the way his tail is swishing on the cold floor.

“You always play hard to get and yet we always end up just like this,” he growls, amusement sparkling in his sky-blue eyes. Then, he dives in, using his paws to tear apart your shorts and panties in one swift move. His long, slobbery tongue lolls out and he’s licking from quivering hole to twitching clit. Your hips jolt. “Oh, you taste so good. I love you so much. God, I missed your pussy. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve gotten to say hello.”

It’s embarrassing how wet you got and how quickly, but the way he’s lapping up your juices so eagerly makes you forget all about shame. There are very few things better than the way he lays his tongue flat against your clit, allowing you to hump it for a couple seconds before he gets impatient and rolls the little bud around, loving the way sweat is beading down your thighs, making it difficult to get gripping on your warm flesh.

“Ngh! Toru!” You exclaim. There’s a delicious tingling emanating from your pussy as he laps your essence repeatedly, desperately, like it’s all he’s ever wanted. “Slow down!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you. Instead, he slides his wet, fat tongue all over your tasty pussy with restless abandon — there’s no rhyme or rhythm, it doesn’t even seem like he cares about your pleasure, he’s only seeking to taste every drop of what you’re willing to give him.

“I love your pussy so much,” he moans against your slit, the vibrations making your back tense. “I want to stay between your legs forever. Can I? Can I? Please?”

When you don’t reply, too lost in the pleasure, he snorts and spreads your cunt with his fingers instead, needing to feel more of your sloppy pussy. It’s dripping, practically oozing with your juice and he thinks he’s in heaven. He licks and slurps and probes your tight opening with his long tongue, snaking it inside.

“Wait! Satoru!” You thread your fingers through his fluffy hair, nails scraping against a sensitive spot, and he growls.

“Hey! No fair! You’re trying to distract me!” His voice is muffled, and his canine accidentally nudges the underside of your clit. You clench down on his tongue, and he gets even more irritated. It’s so unfair how, even without trying, you’re making his cock throb so terribly in his pants.

Seeking revenge, he rubs your clit, matching the tempo of your moans, rubbing it in furious circles with his thumb. You cum hard. “Oh, Toru! Fuck! Fuck! Soooo goooood!”

You’re creaming down on his tongue and the sweet taste is making him lose his mind. He slurps at your entrance even faster, licking wide and wet strokes all over, even at the creases of your thighs, spreading your juices and his saliva where he can reach, perhaps unknowingly or perhaps because he wants to make you remember how good he made you feel when your thighs stick together.

“That’s enough, Toru! I can’t take anymore!”

Husky!Gojo ignores you again. He’s still licking, alternating between flickering the tip of his tongue on your adorable clit and thrusting it inside your pussy, curling the appendage up at your walls. Your legs are shaking and he’s trying to keep you still, lest you ruin his favourite meal.

“Oh! Oh! Satoru, fuuuuck!”

You push away from him, nails digging into the armrest, but he’s still licking at your clamped thighs, skimming along your ass and you practically have to shove at his head.

Minutes later, when your consciousness returns to you, you dare look at him, still kneeling, tail wagging and with a shameful layer of shiny juice dripping down his chin. He tilts his head tauntingly. A cocky grin on his face, he asks:

“Did I do good?”

Husky!Gojo is very energetic. He loves to go to the park and run wild. Of course, it’s not uncommon to see hybrids like him enjoy nature, but up North, where you’re stuck in a perpetual season of winter, it seems like he’s the only one who prefers to be outside than inside, where it’s warm and cozy.

For the nth time in a row, you throw the neon yellow tennis ball as far as you can, watching your boyfriend chase after it with excited giggles. He’s a little clumsy, what with his long limbs and tall body, but he’s pretty quick. Following the ball, he snatches it in his hand before he runs back to you, pride glinting in his eyes.

“Did you see how fast I got that? Wasn’t that faster than last time? Do you think I can go faster? I think I can go faster. No, I definitely can go faster. Watch. Make sure you’re watching, okay?”

You laugh at his serious pout before you throw the ball and watch him leap for it. Despite how cold it is, he never seems to bother with anything more than a hoodie and shorts. Whereas you’re wrapped up in a thick coat, scarf, beanie and gloves, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. You’re slightly jealous of his immunity to the weather but you aren’t of his energy.

Simply observing his limitless enthusiasm makes you feel sleepy. But your boyfriend needs daily exercise otherwise he moans and groans until it becomes your problem. He needs to run around or else he’s clawing at the walls, pulling at your shirt and whining in your ears. Once, you told him to just go without you, and well let’s just say, you had to make him buy you five new pairs of shoes after his tantrum.

“That’s your boyfriend? He’s an energetic thing, isn’t he?” A man pipes up beside you.

You hadn’t noticed his approach, but he looks harmless enough. You give him a polite smile. “Yeah, he’s fun.”

“You live around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

“Oh, well you know, I’m not very social.”

“My wife’s just like you. She doesn’t like the cold very much and we’ve been having discussions about going down South, for the kids. That’s them over there.” Just as he points out, there are children playing tag with your boyfriend, giggling with him as he playfully pretends, they’re too fast for him. “My only concern is, the South isn’t as accepting of hybrids as here. And I don’t want my kids to face any kind of trouble.”

Giving him a sympathetic smile, you can’t say much more. Whilst there are laws protecting hybrids and most people are generally very accepting, there are still close-minded individuals who make life difficult for anyone who’s different. You wonder when that will change.

“Who are you?”

Satoru has returned, tennis ball being squeezed in his hand as he eyes the stranger. He sniffs the air, assessing whether he’s a threat or not. His ears are pricked forward and tense, as is the rest of his body. He’s ready to attack.

“He’s just a neighbour.” You give the nice stranger an apology, appreciating the understanding nod he gives you, before you pull your boyfriend away.

Husky!Gojo is quiet the walk back home. He doesn’t say a word even as you attempt conversation, doesn’t react when you pat him on the back, not even when you tell him you’ll let him do karaoke as loud as he wants; he can be very petulant when he wants to be.

But once inside, the door clicking into place, he pounces on you. He buries his face into your neck and makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat.

“You smell like him. I hate it.”

He doesn’t waste any time in tearing off your clothes, even as you’re lying on the cold, hard floor naked. You know better than to argue when he gets in these moods — he needs to feel safe again, and you’ll let him do whatever it takes to do so.

Fishing his already hard cock out, you’re amazed to find him red and leaking; he must have been imagining all the ways he could re-mark his territory on the way back.

“I hate sharing you with anyone else,” he mumbles, giving himself one, two, jerks before he’s inching forward to lay the hot and heavy thing between your tits. He likes the sight of his almost transparent cum already wetting your skin, the way your nipples are pebbled and you’re completely at his mercy. “You’ll take care of me, won’t you? You’re the best owner, right? You’re not going to abandon me like this?”

“Of course not, Toru. Take what you want, sweetheart. Make me yours.”

Satoru growls, baring his sparkling white teeth before he paws at your tits, pushing them together so his cock is squeezed perfectly between them. He moans at the softness, thumb flicking your nipple like he can’t help himself.

He makes quick, shallow thrusts, and you kind of hate how he’s fully clothed — you can’t see the way his abs tense, whereas he can see every part of your body. Somehow, that makes you feel tingly down there.

His salty scent fills the hot air between you, and when you look down your chest, the sight of his red, hot cock disappearing and appearing between your tits elicits a moan from you. The slit is constantly leaking searing cum which he uses to slide better. In a teasing mood, you stretch your tongue out and poke at it when he emerges.

“Ngh! More! Lick me more!” He orders.

Head thrown back, he’s squeezing your breasts harder together, pinching your nipples sporadically. You obey him just this once, puckering your lips so you can suckle at the head when it nears your face. The salty liquid is strong, and you don’t have to touch your pussy to know you’re leaking just as much as he is.

“You’re mine. Say it! Baby, I need you to say it. Please? Oh, fuck! I don’t want to cum until you say it.”

Amused, you throw him a bone, suckling particularly hard, right before you say, “I’m yours always, forever, Satoru.”

He cums pretty quickly after that. Hot spurts of that almost clear cum paints your face in streaks, dripping down your cheeks onto the floor. It’s going to be a pain to clean but neither of you care. Satoru heaves above you, flicking your nipples as his way of saying ‘thank you’.

The sight of your face and chest covered in his cum quickly hardens his softening cock once more and he grins at you. “I can smell how wet you are, sweet cheeks. You’re making a puddle on the floor. Now, who’s the messy one? Guess, I’ll have to take one for the team and get started on cleaning, yeah?”

Husky!Gojo likes to sixth-nine. There’s something about giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously that has his tail wagging.

Spinning around, he dives his face into your pussy, bending your legs back so he can have full access to everything. He’s slurping again -- he really does love to make that noise. Annoyingly, he begins motorboating your pussy, flicking his head side to side in a rapid pace just because he can.

You can’t let him have all the fun.

So, when he dangles his cock over your lips, smearing his salty cum all over it, you don’t hesitate to suck him in, relaxing your throat so he can push in further whilst you fondle his balls. Already, there’s a hard knot forming at the base of his cock. You’ve grown very familiar with it. Circling your tongue around Satoru’s flared, tapered tip, you also run a teasing finger along the knot.

He thrusts down your throat and sucks at your clit harder. You both moan together. His tail is tickling your forehead as he waggles it in the air with frantic shakes like he doesn’t even realise he has such a big tell, revealing how he’s feeling at every given moment.

Cupping his heavy balls, you massage the warm sacks, imagining all the cum he’s got stored for you. Satoru makes small, humping motions, abandoning your cunt as he chases his pleasure. It’s all too much for him. Your mouth is so steamy, so tightyou’re your scent is attacking his senses. And just as your finger wanders upwards, beyond his knot and his balls, and to that puckered hole, just skimming the edge, he cums in your mouth, spraying down your throat with his salty essence.

“No! T-that’s so unfair! Y-you can’t just do that without -ngh- giving me a heads up,” he complains through his orgasm.

Soon after, he makes you cum on his tongue. He lapped up your dripping pussy, digging deep to taste all of your cream, and thumbing at your clit the way that you like as he stretched out your pussy with his tongue. And when, he too ventured beyond, tongue sliding down your slit and to your puckered hole, your legs wrapped around his head.

“Satoru!”

“Not so fun now, is it?” He tried to taunt, but he was distracted by the taste of you. “Why haven’t I done this sooner? Ugh, you’re always so mean, keeping things away from me. Hope you learn your lesson, you mean baby.”

He inched his way in ever so slightly, rubbing incessant circles around your clit, and growling at the splash of cum he felt all over his face as you fell victim to his need to even the scales.

Lying in a heap of sweaty bodies, heavy limbs, and mixed juices, he holds you in his arms, face buried in your neck as he rumbles, satisfied that you smell like him and only him.

“I hate that park now. Let’s never go there again.”

“Whatever you say, Toru.”

Husky!Gojo is a pain in the ass. He follows you around everywhere and he doesn’t understand boundaries.

When you get up from the sofa to go to the kitchen, he’s right behind you. He doesn’t even need anything, not a cup of water or a snack. He’s pressed so closely to your back, he becomes your shadow.

Even when you leave the bed in the middle of the night to pee, you don’t need to look up to know he’s standing in the threshold, sleepy eyes squinting at the bright lights, and fuzzy tail swishing lazily behind him.

“Hurry back,” he demands. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, Satoru. There’s no need to follow me.”

He pouts at that, ears lying flat. And then he’s whimpering. It’s high-pitched and annoying and he knows it. He does it on purpose, knowing that you can’t stand the noise, and it’ll make you rush to get back into bed after washing your hands.

“Alright, alright. Don’t be a dick.”

Satoru always gets what he wants.

Then, once you’re settled, he’s throwing himself over you, pinning you to the bed and acting as if he can’t hear your muffled complaints. He does it mostly because he wants to keep you close, because he loves the feel of your softness lulling him to sleep. But he also does it to make sure you can’t escape again.

“Night night!”

Husky!Gojo is a hungry little thing. He’s never satisfied with his own food. No, he scarfs his plate down and then eyes yours. On his face is an expression of complete innocence but you know better.

“No, Satoru. This is my food.”

Tilting his head, he blinks at you, confused. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” you counter.

He laughs. “You’re always so suspicious. I’m just watching you eat because I love everything about you. Can’t I do that? Is it not a free country anymore?”

Sighing, you stop arguing with him, but when a noise behind catches your attention, you make the mistake of looking back. You don’t hear him move but you know he has. So, when you hesitantly turn back around, you’re not surprised to find your plate empty and he’s sporting a lopsided grin, full of pride and amusement.

“I’m going to kill you,” you threaten.

Satoru laughs again.

Husky!Gojo has very keen senses. He can hear when you’re coming back home before you even show up at the door. He can sniff out where your keys are, where you’ve left your phone, and somehow know when it’s going to rain. He can hear higher pitches than you, and he makes fun of you for it.

“You can’t hear that? Seriously, it’s so loud. Are you messing with me? Baby, are you? Because there’s no way you can’t hear that. Should we go to the doctors? I’m worried for you.”

More often than not, he’s deathly serious, and he’s so concerned over your weak senses, as if one day they’ll be the death of you. But once in a while, when you catch him biting back a smirk at your furrowed brows and straining ears, you know he got you.

“Ow! Ow! You’re so aggressive when you’re being teased. Yeah, okay, I admit, that was a lie. There’s no sound. But there could have been, and you wouldn’t have heard it with your tiny little human ears. Oh, you’re so cute!”

Husky!Gojo has a sixth sense for when you’re extra needy. He can tell when you’re ovulating and it’s embarrassing. He knows before you do. Every time.

Just lounging casually on the sofa, a peaceful calm blankets over you, watching the snow fall from the sky outside. You’re scrolling on your phone, failing to notice, until it’s too late, his approach. His ears and nose are twitching and he’s eyeing your crotch like it’s a curious thing. He creeps up your legs, firm hands kneading your thighs in what seems like a simple massage before his face is burrowing itself in your pussy.

“Satoru! What on Earth are you doing?”

He peers up at you like it’s obvious. Taking a deep whiff, he nods like there’s no doubt about it. “You’re ovulating.”

“So?”

Rolling his eyes, he explains, “So, you’re going to need my services to satisfy this hungry cunt.”

Spluttering about his silly logic, you’re powerless against his determined hands, pulling down your pyjama bottoms until you’re bare for him. And then he’s eating you out once more.

He really loves to do that. He does it whenever he wants — when you’ve just gotten back from work, fresh from the shower, whilst you’re cooking, and even when you’re sleeping. Sometimes he does it not to make you cum but just to taste you, like it’s his favourite pastime.

Suffice to say, it’s no challenge for him to make you cum within minutes, leaving you a sticky mess beneath him. And when your pussy have been stretched enough on his fingers and his tongue, he finds no issue sliding inside whilst you’re barely conscious and having no energy to remind him to wear a condom.

Husky!Gojo hates those things.

Once Satoru feels your warm walls, his instincts take over. He drives his cock inside, spearing you. It’s stealing your breath, the stretch making your jaw drop and he licks your lips in an apology for the sudden pain.

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. Take deep breaths, okay. Then it’ll feel good again. It’s alright. Toru’s got you.”

The pain’s receding and pure pleasure is washing over you instead. Satoru is giving you the fucking of your life, and maybe this ovulation period really is making your cunt hungrier than usual, because you quickly wrap around your legs around him, pulling him deeper.

He makes a low noise of approval. “That’s right, sweet thing. You’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?”

You can feel his cock head rubbing against that spongy spot, you’re left reeling, making desperate gasps for air, and he’s grinning at you. He thinks it’s hilarious how reluctant you were before but now all you can think about is cock. His cock and how he’s making you feel so good.

Satoru can’t decide between staring at your bouncing breasts or the way your pussy is sucking him in, leaving his cock shiny with your juices. Your clit is exposed, and, without much thought, he spits a fat glob onto it, watching the way it twitches so adorably.

Then, as if he’s tired of foreplay, he tears off your clinging limbs and spins you around, wrangling you into his favourite position. Now, you’re on your knees, a hand on your back forcing you down into an almost painful arch. This way he can see everything and when he slides back in, he swears he goes even deeper, his tip kissing your cervix when he bottoms out.

“Oh, Toru! Too deep! I c-can’t.”

He shushes you. “You can and you will. You have before, remember, baby? You love it when I fuck you from behind, don’t you?”

Soon, his relentless pummelling begins again, his heavy balls smacking against your clit, setting your nerves alight. He reaches below, one hand pressing down on that bulge in your lower stomach and the other twisting a nipple between his fingers. Satoru sees the light sheen of sweat on your back and he licks a stripe up your spine.

“Every part of you tastes so good. How is that even -ha- possible?” He growls.

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Instead, you beg, “Harder, Toru! Fuck me harder!”

And so, he does, he drills his pulsing cock inside, rubbing your clit as he pounds you over and over again, forcing your body to dive forward on the sofa, head hanging over the armrest. He’s stretching you out so much you almost can’t believe that he’s really in there, so when you examine your poor, sloppy pussy with your fingers, you can only whimper when you feel his cock undeniably hammering inside.

“Told you this pussy’s gonna -ha- want me to fill her up. Now, who looks silly?”

You also feel the knot making its way in deeper with every thrust and you’re scared. How you manage to take it in every time is beyond you.

You forcibly cum — there’s no way you can’t, not when he’s meeting every sensitive spot inside and outside of your pussy, not when his delirious moans and groans is filling your head like a drug. Through your orgasm, he fucks you like you’re nothing but a wet hole, degrading and humiliating you for his own pleasure.

“Satoru! No more! I can’t take anymore!”

“Nah, just a little -ha- more, baby, please? Take it all for me, okay? I need -ngh- you to take it all. Can’t be that -oh- hard if you’ve done it so many times before, can it?” He laughs, breathy and strained.

Your orgasm sparked in your womb, flaring out to your clit and your tits until your legs begin to tremble and you’re a shaking mess beneath him. And just as you’re about to give out, he holds your hips steady and slams his entire length inside of you, shoving that fat knot in and you’ve never felt so full.

“Fuck! You’re so tight. Oh God, I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you!”

His cum sprays inside of you, cock throbbing along with the pulsing clenches of your walls. His knot swells up, ballooning and stretching you out even more. Your pussy spams as he fills your womb with his cum. There’s so much of it and as he plugs you in, you can’t imagine there’s any space left inside of you.

“Tell me I’m a good boy, baby please. Tell me I’m fucking you good. Please, I need it!”

Groggily, you managed to say a muffled, “You’re such a good boy, Toru. Always so good for me. My best boy.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” He whimpers. He’s not even talking to you, you’re pretty sure. He has a tendency to get so lost in the pleasure he genuinely believes you and your pussy are separate entities. “I love you so much. God, I want to stay inside forever.”

Husky!Gojo slumps against you, pinning you down again. You’re still skewered on his long, fat cock, the knot there keeping you joined for what feels like forever. Both of your bodies are sticky with sweat and mixed juices. But he doesn’t care, in fact, he loves it. He’s making lazy swipes of your neck and your face with his tongue.

“Was I good? Did I do good?”

You wind an arm back, seeking out his fluffy hair, and once you feel its softness, you scratch him behind his ear, hearing his tail whack the sofa in rapid pats. “Yes, Toru, you were good.”

He huffs proudly at that.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, trying to reorient yourself, and in the distance, you can feel the soreness that will creep in, but you don’t mind it. It’s hard to care when Satoru feels so warm and strong over you, encasing you in his love to shelter you from the cold as you both watch the snow continue to fall through the steam fogging up the glass.

“We’ve got probably around twenty minutes before this thing goes down,” he mutters. “Wanna play I spy?”

#Jjk x reader #JJk smut #jjk x you #jjk fic #jjk oneshot #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo oneshot #gojo fic

2K notes · View notes

lilhughesy · 15 days ago

Text

Sunshine Smiles | Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

warnings! slow burn (ish), friends to lovers, mentions of SA (please skip this one if this makes you comfortable!), underaged drinking, fighting, brief mention of blood, toxic ex boyfriend. word count: 13.2k

summary: Luke and Y/N have been best friends after sharing a science class together, and always have been just friends... right? They go through the adventures of high school together, dating other people but it never seems to work out because what if the person they have been looking for has been right in front of them this whole time?

a/n: oh boy, this one has been in the works for a while, especially with having 8 final exams this month! but here we go! first Lukey fic! I hope you like It <3

You and Luke met in sophomore year of high school, you had biology together and sat beside one another in the seating arrangement. The two of you would make small talk at the start of every class, the casual “how are you?” or “did you watch last night’s game?” but not anything more than that. It wasn’t until you noticed him struggling with the genetics unit where you asked him if he needed help.

Usually, the two of you would sit quietly and scribble down notes into your booklets throughout class. Luke with one ear bud in while the teacher talked. He was pretty good at keeping up with the material being taught, but with his hockey season picking up — both the school’s team and his club team, he started slowing down.

You noticed how he would space out about 15 minutes into the lesson, often looking towards a spot on the ceiling rather than at the whiteboard. Minutes would pass before he would snap out of his daze temporarily before slipping back into his daydream. You couldn’t blame him though, biology first thing in the morning wasn’t pleasant.

“Do you want to copy my notes?”

His eyes widened at your question before he nodded, “Please, that would be great.”

“Do you have time during lunch? I assume your schedule is pretty busy after school.” You asked him, towards the end of the period, “I’m flexible for basically anything.”

“Yeah, lunch works for me or after school on like Thursdays and Sundays — I don’t have any practices then.”

You scribbled down your phone number on the corner of your page before tearing it and handing it to him, “Sounds good! Just text me.” You said with an easy smile.

The tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink as he took the slip of paper from your hands. He hummed a small response before turning back to focus on the teacher.

Well, realistically, he was flustered that you gave him your number that quickly. Luke had expecting you to give your Instagram or Snapchat, like any other high school student would do. You weren’t extremely popular in your grade, but that doesn’t mean that people didn’t know you. People knew you as the sweet girl, you constantly wore a smile and treated everyone you talked to like a friend. Everyone was comfortable around you, and honestly no one had anything bad to say about you. Other than the girls who were jealous of your easygoing personality that had different guys talking to you. Anything they said behind your back was typically dismissed, no one actually believed what they had to say about you.

Luke first noticed you in the midst of the fall semester of his freshman year. He saw you standing a few lockers down from his, talking to two of your friends. You laughed, your perfect teeth shining through at whatever your friend told you. One of his own friends, greeted you as he walked past you, “Hey Y/N! How have you been?”

“Hi Dylan, I’m good! How are you? How’s your sister liking college?” You asked back to him. The two making small talk before he waved goodbye and approached Luke,

“Hey Hughesy,” Dylan said, leaning on the locker door next to Luke’s, “Ready for geometry?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded, following Dylan as he lead his way to the math wing. Luke looking behind him once to take another look at you before walking to his class. You looked at him when he did, and you gave him a small smile.

You made it look so easy, to know everyone who knew you. You made people feel seen, remembering small details from past conversations with them that others would have easily forgotten by then. Just like how Luke forgot that he had mentioned how he grew up in Toronto and enjoyed watching the Leafs play during a random conversation during ninth grade. You brought it up about two weeks into your shared biology class, asking him “Did you watch the Leafs game last night? It was a great game!” He was shocked, slightly confused, that you knew that he liked the Leafs. It allowed you two to fall into a short conversation before the lesson began that day.

After you started helping Luke out with catching up and understanding the biology lessons, the both of you became friends — outside of just being seat partners. He found himself texting you more frequently outside of school. Conversation came easy and they never felt forced, which he appreciated. They were never awkward or uncomfortable, it was like you two knew each other for years.

You two had shared two more classes in the spring semester of tenth grade, quickly falling back into routine of being study buddies. He claimed it was to help him stay on top of schoolwork because he was so busy with hockey. In reality, he knew it was because he liked being around you and listening to you talk when you explained the topics to him. He swore that you taught significantly better than any of the teachers he had, something about the way you talked about it made it click in his head. Maybe it was because you managed to make a reference towards sports every time he was stumped, allowing him to grasp a better understanding of it.

Before either of you noticed, you became best friends. Considering how you two would spend your lunches in vacant classrooms to study, whether it be you teaching him or just hanging out together. You appreciated your new friend, Luke Hughes, who had actually took his time to get to know you. Of course you loved talking to other students in your year, but you weren’t blind to the fact that they didn’t really pay attention to you. Conversations often swirled around them and their lives, not so much your own. They never really cared to ask you about your break or the other things going on in your life. You didn’t really mind, you liked to keep to yourself.

Until it came to Luke, who got the time to know you for you. He knew that you also watched the Leafs since your mom grew up in Ontario, or how you would visit Canada during winter break each year to visit family, or even your slight obsession with Harry Potter. Luke learned that you didn’t like to wear your hair up often since you claimed to hate the way the end of your ponytails felt against the back of your neck — yet when it came to really focus on your work, your hair would be tied up to avoid strands getting into your line of vision. The conversations that flowed between the two of you were two way streets, not just the one way street that you had grown accustomed to.

As April came around, his hockey season started to trail to an end. Only allowing you two to have more time to hang out after school. The winter months had you two hanging out for an hour or two at either of your homes, typically working away at assignments beside each other. Now with the warmth of spring and less constraints of his busy hockey schedule, you two could do more together. With his home being significantly closer to the school than your own, you two would often walk to his house together once the end-of-day bell would ring.

He would kick around a rock on the sidewalks as the two of you talked. Sometimes it would be about your friends or his, other times it would be about random questions that you two would think about.

“Do you think that chicks in their eggs gain a sense of like consciousness which makes them want to break free of the egg?” You asked him, causing him to pause in his strides, “Like maybe they get super claustrophobic, you know?”

“What kind of question is that?” Luke laughed, before continuing his movements, “It is a good question though… Or it could be just a natural reaction or reflex to break free.”

You shrugged, “That too.”

Ellen loved having you around, she knew that you were a good influence on her youngest son. Her boys were never the academic type, always drawn towards activities like sports or games in general. She never expected for Luke to tell her about him spending lunches catching up on class notes or having a friend over to work on essays. She was surprised, to say the least, she expected him to be like his older brothers. Always hanging out with friends during lunch, complaining about having to do class work, or having friends over to play on the PlayStation and being typical teenage boys.

You were a bundle of joy and sunshine to her. Whenever you saw her, you would ask her about the book she recently read or ask her about what she was cooking in the kitchen. You were genuinely interested in conversations with her, not talking to her just to make a good impression.

“Hi honey!” Ellen’s voice sang out from the living room as you shut the front door behind you and Luke. He kicked off his beat air forces, placing them on the shoe rack,

“Hi mom, Y/N’s here too!” He told her. You following him towards the living room. She looked up from her phone, seeing her son and you standing in the doorway.

You smiled at her when she saw you, “Hi Ellen! How have you been? I’m sorry I came unannounced.”

She chuckled, placing her phone screen down on the coffee table, “You never have to worry about that, you know that I love having you here. Do you guys have any homework?”

Luke shook his head, “No not really, we caught up during lunch.”

“Wow, good for you two!” Ellen beamed, standing up from her seat, “Can I get you two something to eat as an afternoon snack?”

“We were planning on maybe walking over to the ice cream shop in a bit,” Luke explained to her, trailing behind his mom when she made her way into the kitchen.

“Are you sure? I just went to the store and I loaded up on groceries.”

“It’s okay, mom. Thank you though!” Luke said to her, “We’re probably going to head to my room to hang out for a bit.”

Ellen hummed, waving you two off as Luke led you to his room. He tossed his school bag towards his desk before flopping onto his bed. You placed your bag next to his, settling for his chair,

“So,” He propped himself on his elbows to look at you, “What’s up with you and Josh lately?”

You blushed at the mention of the boy’s name. He was on the lacrosse team at school and was in your shared English class with Luke. Josh knew you since middle school and started to talk to you more recently because of your shared lessons. You liked Josh as friend prior to this year, he was always nice to you and gave you his notes on days you were absent. It wasn’t until this year, when he seemed to have his teenage glow up with him getting a lot taller and growing out his blonde hair, where you started noticing him more than just a classmate.

“Nothing really,” You told Luke, who only raised a single brow, “We’ve just been talking.”

“Right,” Luke chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “So it has nothing to do with his long hair now and his defined jawline?”

Your face turned red, “What?! No, why would- If anything it sounds like you have a crush on him!”

“Who said anything about having a crush on Josh?” He teased, knowing he managed to put you into a corner.

“Wha- I just- I didn’t- I meant,” You sputtered out, before covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, “Okay fine! Maybe I have a bit of a crush on him.”

Luke laughed, his neck craning back, “Oh this is too good!”

“Shut up!” You whined, face still hidden away from the boy, “You act like you haven’t been talking Mallory!”

It was his turn to become flustered, “We aren’t talking though?”

“Yes you two are! I see you checking your notifications every five minutes, you waiting for her snap reply.” You giggled as his ears turned more red.

“I do not!”

“Yes you do!”

Luke groaned in defeat, “Can we call a truce on this?”

“Fine, but if you decide to ask her out, you have to tell me.” You told him and he shook his head slightly as a brief laugh fell from his lips,

“Same goes to you then.” He grinned, you rolled your eyes playfully, “Let’s go get that ice cream now.”

Luke had asked Mallory out a few weeks after. She played on the school volleyball team, and she was what you considered popular in your grade. Her and Luke became the new ‘it’ couple when they became official at the end of April. The hockey star and the cute blonde volleyball player. You were so happy for him, being the one who stood in front of him minutes before he asked Mallory to be his girlfriend — you were giving him a pep talk and hyping him up, giving him the confidence he needed in that moment.

They were a cute couple, he would sit next to her at her table during lunch with all of her friends. Somewhat ditching you to be with Mallory. He had fit right in at the table of athletes, mixed of guys and girls. You never blamed him though, his priorities moved around and you knew that Luke spending every lunch with you in a quiet classroom wouldn’t sit well with his new girlfriend.

You liked Mallory, she’d give you small smiles in the hallway and give you brief ‘hello’s’ when she came by Luke’s locker midst conversation between you two. You gave them space, not wanting to wedge yourself into their relationship.

So you remained as the sweet sunshine girl, talking to new people during lunch hour since you would rather socialize than to sit alone in a classroom. People would come by for a few minutes to talk to you before leaving to be with their own friend groups. You were never a fan of the cafeteria, too much noise and the stereotypical cliques of high school being extremely evident in the large room. Different tables for different groups. You much rather walk around the school, stand in an area with a small group of friends before continuing your way.

One person who seemed to consistently keep you company was Josh, the lacrosse player you had grown to have feelings for. He would stay with you for a good while during lunch, often jogging a few steps towards you with a call of your name.

“Y/N!” You spun around to the sound of his voice, you feel a smile grow on your face when he approached you.

“Hi Josh,” You said, giving the boy a wave, “How were your classes?”

“They’re good! Hey, I was wondering if you were busy after school today?” He asked you as the two of you walked as a leisurely pace by the outdoor track.

You glanced at him, trying to hide your brewing excitement, “I don’t think so, why?”

Josh let out a nervous laugh, his hand running through his hair, “I was wondering if you’d like to come to my game today, and maybe go get food after?”

The two of you had stopped your walk just moments before, him now looking directly at you. Josh’s cheeks were tinted pink as he waited for you to respond,

“Yeah, I would like that.” You smiled, moving a loose strand of hair out of your face.

He beamed, “Awesome! Oh, and you can wear this too!”

Josh quickly moved off one strap of his backpack to rummage through it, handing you a navy jersey. You took it from him, holding it up in front of you to see your school name on the front along with his number and name on it.

“It might be a bit oversized, but I think you would look good in it! But, I guess you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” He rambled on, sort of laughing at himself whilst being embarrassed at his own behaviour.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, “I’d love to.”

After that afternoon where you sat on the bleachers watching him play his game and the two of you going to a diner for a meal. He had finally asked you to be his girlfriend after multiple weeks of talking to each other in school and out of, hanging out together, and him walking you to your classes. You were ecstatic when he asked, feverishly nodding your head and excited giggles when you accepted.

You texted Luke later that night about it, he was happy for you. The two of you caught up for a little, given that you rarely spent time together anymore considering how things have changed. Neither of you seemed to want to talk about the shift in dynamic nor did either of you want to jeopardize your own or the other’s relationship.

Josh had stuck to your side since, walking around school with an arm around your shoulders to show off to everyone that you two were together. He brought you to his hangouts with his friends, where he kept you right next to him the entire time. Josh seemed to be more protective of you whenever you two would see Luke. Always pulling you closer or whispering something in your ear to distract you from the curly headed hockey player.

It was a few days before summer break, and for the first time since you started dating Josh, you were left alone. Given that his family had taken him on a trip, starting his summer break early this year. You stood by your locker at the end of the day, rearranging the things in your bag when a familiar person appeared next to you.

“Hey,” Luke said, leaning his back against the next locker, “Where’s Josh?”

You looked over to him, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Mallory had a doctor’s appointment.” Luke responded, now waiting for you to reply.

“Josh left for his family trip yesterday.” You explained to him while zipping your bag, “How have you been Lukey?”

He chuckled, following you towards the exit, “I’ve been good, I’m excited that it’s almost summer.”

“Me too,” You grinned at him, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm, “Any plans this summer? I’m assuming you have hockey camp like always?”

“You know it,” Luke’s eyes softening slightly at you remembering, “And we’re going to the lake house for the whole summer when Quinn flys back on Saturday.”

“That’s so exciting!” You bumping your shoulder to his, “How have you and Mallory been?”

“Good, she’s really great…” Luke paused before letting out a small sigh, “I’m sorry that we haven’t been hanging out and for me kinda ditching you for her.”

You waved your hand off, falling into your typical easy going mood, “Don’t worry about it! I know you have my back even if we don’t talk every day.”

Relief washed over his face, “Okay good, I was worried you were pissed off at me or something.”

“No, never! Besides I’ve been busy with Josh and being around him all the time, so you also have the opportunity to be mad at me.” You told him, “Are you mad at me?”

“At you?” He questioned, “Never.”

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. You reached the street intersection, both pausing momentarily,

“I would invite you over, mom has been asking about you and it’s been so long but you know…” Luke mumbled, “Mal wouldn’t be too happy.”

You gave him an understanding look, “Don’t worry, it’s not just Mallory who wouldn’t be happy about us hanging out.” You chuckled, referring to your protective boyfriend, “If I don’t see you before school ends, I hope you have a great summer, Lukey.”

He gives you a sad smile, “Thanks, Y/N. I hope you have a good summer too.”

You give him another short glance before heading your way back home. You hadn’t realized how much you missed Luke and hanging out with him. A sigh escaped your lips as you adjust the straps on your shoulders.

Luke watched you from his spot on the corner, seeing you slowly walk away to the direction of your home. In the similar head space, he wondered what happened to your friendship. Curious if neither of you were to be in a relationship, if you two would be heading towards his house in routine. He liked Mallory, of course he did. Though he somewhat hated that it was at the cost of your friendship. Luke knew that at the end of the day, you were always there for him — similar to how you acknowledged knowing that he had your back. He missed you nonetheless, he missed your random questions and the comfort of being in your solace.

He resented Josh, how he now had your full attention at all times. Luke would never say it out loud but he didn’t think Josh deserved you. He barely knew the lacrosse athlete but something about the way Josh carried himself, he knew something was off about him. Luke had just yet to put his finger on it.

Luke went home to see Jack already lounging on the couch, barely paying attention to the game on the screen and was much more interested in his phone.

“Hey Lukey,” Jack called out to his brother, Luke only mumbled a minimal response, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Luke sighed, grabbing his Gatorade bottle from the sleeve of his backpack and plopping into the empty spot next to the seventeen year old.

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed at Luke’s behaviour, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong with Lukey?” A voice asked, Quinn poking his head from the hall and entering the living room.

Luke’s head snapped up, breaking his focus on his water bottle, at his eldest brother’s voice, “What the hell?” Luke letting out a shocked chuckle, “What are you doing here, Q? I thought you were flying in on Saturday?”

Quinn grinned, pulling up Luke by his arm and hugging him, “Glad to know you missed me too.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Luke replied, embracing Quinn, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I got an earlier flight last minute,” He explained to the youngest Hughes, pulling away so the three brothers could sit. Quinn taking the single seater next to the couch, “What’s going on with you?”

Luke shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t lie to both of his brothers, “I don’t even know, it’s just Mallory doesn’t like me hanging out with Y/N.”

“Y/N, that’s the girl who’s been helping you with school?” Quinn asked, making sure he was understanding Luke’s situation properly.

Jack nodded, “Yeah, she’s really cool. I’ve met her a few times. She’d been helping Lukey with school, his grades have never been better.”

“Is she like your tutor?”

“No,” Luke shook his head, shifting further into his seat, “She became one of my best friends. She’s got like photographic memory, so she is really good at helping me with staying on top of everything.”

Quinn smiled, “You’re pretty lucky to have her then.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Q,” Jack said, catching his attention, “Y/N is cute too. She’s got that whole happy-go-lucky personality, Mom loves her too.”

“Oh really?” Quinn, raising his brows, “What, so you like her, J?”

Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I wouldn’t date one of his friends, relax dude.”

The eldest brother rolled his eyes in amusement, knowing that Y/N being Luke’s friend was probably the only reason stopping Jack from shooting his shot. He turned his attention back to Luke, who was still slumping,

“How’s it like being with Mallory?” He asked, changing the subject slightly, “Mom mentioned her once or twice to me, saying something about wanting to meet her.”

“Yeah, is she coming to the lake with us?” Jack added, shifting his posture to face Luke, “I haven’t even met your girlfriend yet, why’s that?”

“I dunno,” Luke sighed, moving his hand to play with the curls at the back of his head, “She hasn’t told her parents yet about us dating and wants to wait to meet everyone until she tells them.”

“Oh,” Jack’s eyes widened, “She’s one of those girls… Didn’t you say she was pretty popular too?”

Luke shrugged, “Guess so.”

“Mhm, one of those girls,” Jack chuckled, leaning back and using one of his arms as a makeshift cushion for his head, “I wish you good luck, solider.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, those girls have been trouble every time I’ve got mixed in with them,” Jack reasoned with his hands raised in surrender, “I, personally, would rather go for a girl like Y/N. She’s smart, she’s nice, friendly, sweet, and she’s pretty.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on Lukey’s best friend,” Quinn’s eyes having a glint of his teasing manner that matched his tone, “Is Y/N coming up to the lake house with us?”

“I didn’t ask her,” Luke told his brothers.

Jack pouted, “Why?”

“She’s probably headed to Toronto this summer.”

Quinn sat up, “Toronto?”

“Yeah, duel citizenship or something. Her mom is Canadian.” Luke said, like it was the most obvious answer.

“Even better, no wonder why she’s so nice! She’s Canadian!” Jack exclaimed, “What are you now going to tell me that she likes the Leafs too?”

Judging off the look Luke gave Jack, his eyes widened, “So, she’s perfect is what you’re saying!”

“Jack” Luke groaned, “Shut up dude.”

“How did you fumble that?!” Jack asked exacerbated, shaking his head as he adjusted the hat on his head, “It’s like you don’t listen to my advice when it comes to girls.”

Quinn, seeing Luke’s face, rolled his eyes, “Alright Rowdy, leave him alone.”

“She’s literally just my friend,” Luke told him, “She has boyfriend too, he’s obsessed with her.”

Jack mumbled something amongst the lines of ‘rightfully so’ under his breath. Eventually going back to his phone.

“So it’s just gonna be Caufield and Z this summer?” Quinn questioned, the middle brother nodding, “It’ll be good.”

Summer turned out great for the Hughes family lake house. The boys all enjoyed going out of the boat, wake surfing, swimming, and drinking then coming back to house in the late afternoon to shoot pool. It was their annual boys trip, taking the time to be around their friends and family while also enjoying off season. They would drive to the nearby arena to practice on days with Jimmy coaching them. Often spending the morning in the makeshift gym in their garage to get a workout in.

You on the other hand, decided to take some summer classes to get ahead on course credits — flying through the material. You also enjoyed working at the local coffee shop, gotten to meet new people and becoming friends with your regulars. Besides, it never hurt to have some extra money in your pocket. Josh came back from his month long trip, revolving around visiting his family, sometime towards the end of July. You two would hang out whenever you weren’t working. Spending time in your home, cuddling on the coach or in your bed, watching movies at the neighborhood drive in, and occasionally going up to his friends’ lake house on some weekends.

It was a productive summer overall, you couldn’t really complain. Hours on your resume plus seeing your boyfriend every day. You loved it. The only thing that was keeping getting under your skin was Josh hinting towards the two of you having yet to sleep together. You were freshly sixteen and you didn’t feel ready yet, you felt too young and you didn’t want to make a decision that you might regret.

Although you hid this from him and everyone else, deep down you wanted your first to be with someone you loved. Someone that you genuinely cared deeply about and had that connection with. It had to be with the right person. He told you he loved you, how he’ll never leave you, and that he wanted to marry you. Josh was nice, he was your boyfriend and you cared about him — but did you love him? You weren’t exactly certain about that yet. You didn’t feel the magnetic pull or the connection that you wanted for your first time. It was also too early, you’d only been together for about five months and dating for almost four of those months.

So, you kept brushing it off every time it was brought up: you had work later, you’re too tired, you didn’t feel well, your head hurt, your parents were on the way home, you’re on your period. The excuses kept coming. Even if you didn’t acknowledge it in your head, but the underlying fact was, you were not going to sleep with Josh.

“I have work tomorrow and I want to get a good night sleep.” You told your boyfriend, who was relaxed on the couch with an arm resting behind you, “I start early.”

“But baby it could help you sleep,” He replied, placing a tender kiss on your lips, “Your parents aren’t even home tonight.”

“I know but I’ve been exhausted from work.”

Josh gave you a small understanding smile, his lips forming into a straight line, “Alright babe, it’s okay.”

You kissed him again, your fingers playing with his dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck, “Sorry baby.”

“I think I should head home then.” He sighed, standing up and stretching his shoulders, “You should get that sleep you’ve been waiting for.”

Your face faltered for a brief second, “Yeah okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Josh only shrugged, “Maybe, might go hang out with the boys.”

He left soon after, leaving you alone in your home. You sighed, heading to your bathroom to shower and start getting ready for bed. The soft scent of strawberries filled the steamy bathroom as you shampooed your hair. The hot water running over your body as you stood under the stream. Your head was hurting, full of anxious thoughts and energy from Josh’s recent behaviour. You gave him the benefit of the doubt that this was just a phase he was going through. That he would eventually drop it and the two of you could continue on without the silent tension that existed between you. You didn’t know how long you stood under the shower head, before deciding to step out. The soft material of your towel patting down your skin before you applied your vanilla body lotion everywhere.

You relaxed in your bed, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire playing on your TV screen as you scrolled through your phone. Unexpectedly, you received a call which you picked up after the first ring,

“Hello?” You asked, still confused from the caller id.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi Lukey,” You said, fully aware that he could likely hear the smile through your voice, “How’s the lake house treating you?”

His voice was low and had a slight tinge to it, “Mallory and I broke up.”

You paused, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

There was some heavy breathing from his end, you knew that this must’ve just happened. You could hear some rustling, assuming that Luke was settling into his bed or the couch by the sounds of it.

“I- uh, I don’t even know.” He sighed, “She just called me and said she found someone new.” His voice breaking towards the end of his sentence before he cleared his throat.

You knew he was either on the verge of tears or was already crying, and your heart broke for the boy, “Oh, Luke…”

“Just wanted to talk to you,” Luke mumbled, “I hope I’m not keeping you or your parents awake by calling you.”

You chuckled lightly, classic Luke always so considerate, “No, not at all. I’m home alone and just watching a movie.”

“No Josh?”

“No, he left an hour or so ago.” You told him, shuffling down to lay on your back with your phone to your ear still.

Luke hummed, “How are you guys doing?”

He could hear you hesitate and how the air hitched in your throat, “G- Good. We’re fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Trying to keep up with the somewhat lie, before deciding that it was only Luke and you could tell him the truth, “Well maybe a bit rocky right now.”

You imagine him having an expression of confusion mixed with some curiosity, “Why’s that?”

“He keeps bringing up the idea of us sleeping together,” You told him, cringing slightly at your own words, “And I keep giving him excuses to not.”

“Sleeping together? Why wouldn’t you? I guess unless your parents don’t like you two sharing a bed?”

You laugh lightly at his innocence in that moment, “No, not like that sleeping together. Like the, having sex, type of sleeping together… Sorry if that’s TMI. And he’s just kinda gets upset everytime I make up an excuse.”

“He’s trying to sleep with you?”

“He’s just been asking about it,” You shuffle deeper into your blankets, “You make it sound bad when you say it like that.”

Luke lets out a brief scoff, a combination of disbelief and a pinch of frustration, “Is it not though? He should’ve just backed off after you told him no.”

“I think it’s just because his friends have been talking about losing their virginities. Can we just talk about something else? Please?”

“Yeah okay,” Luke replied, voice bland, “Just don’t do it because you feel pressured or anything, it’s not worth it.”

You sighed, knowing your best friend was in the right, “Yeah, I know.”

Luke sank further into his own bed, staring out the window as he spoke to you over the phone. He watched how the moonlight danced over the lake and how the stars twinkled in the night sky. He could hear the distant conversations between his brothers downstairs, not paying much attention to the conversation he was missing out on. Luke felt the strange surge of emotion that bubbled in his gut when you mentioned that your boyfriend was constantly asking you about sex. He knew that you were capable of making your own decisions, but it didn’t wave the bad feeling he felt.

School started, the warm September air with its nibble of the Fall breeze in the mornings. Luke had a few classes with you, allowing you to sit with your best friend — without worrying about Josh getting upset over it. Josh was very pleased to hear that Luke would be away all summer. He wasn’t the most keen of you two hanging out, having to ask you to spend less time with Luke and more time with your boyfriend. You promising Josh that you saw Luke as only a classmate, even if that wasn’t necessarily the truth.

You found yourself at a party on a Friday night, mainly because it was Josh who was hosting it. The entire junior and senior year were invited to it. A red solo cup in your hand, cradling it close to your body. Josh stayed right next to you, his hand dipping lower than your waist to squeeze your ass every so often. He kept you no further than an arm lengths away as he talked to his teammates around the pong table. Josh was a couple drinks deep, on occasion his words would slur.

Luke walked into the space with two of his own teammates from the school hockey team. His eyes landed on you, widening at the sight of you wearing a short skirt and a pink tank top. You gave him a small smile as he looked over to you while getting himself a drink.

He looked good. He always did. He wore a flannel over his grey hoodie and a baseball cap over his head of curls. He laughed at whatever his friends said to him, making you wish you were next to Luke at this party rather than Josh.

Josh’s hand toyed with the bottom of your shirt, “Hi baby.” He said to you, his eyes scanning over your figure, “Did I tell you that you look so hot tonight.”

Your cheeks heated up, “Thank you, baby.”

His lips landed on yours, kissing you passionately and pulling your body closer to his front. You kissed him back, placing your hands on the back of his neck. His arms wrapping tightly around your middle as he groaned into the kiss.

“Wanna go somewhere more private?” He whispered into your ear before kissing your jaw, “Don’t know if I want everyone here to watch us make out.”

You giggled, moving your head to give him more access, “Okay.”

Josh pulled away, looking at you. His pupils were dilated and were a bit glassy from the alcohol coursing through his body. His words were slurring together but other than that, he didn’t seem super drunk, “Okay, I’ll go up first and you come a few minutes after?”

You nodded before kissing him quickly, he grinned at you before walking away towards his room. You headed towards the kitchen to get yourself another drink. Weaving through the few bodies to reach the vodka bottle. You poured a bit of the alcohol into your cup before adding juice to it.

“Hey,” You looked to your side to see Luke there.

“Hi Luke,” You said to him, taking a long sip of your drink. Your face cringing slightly at the strong taste of the liqueur that burned the back of your throat.

He moved closer to your side, to hear you over the loud noises, “Where did Josh go?”

You pointed upstairs before giggling, curtesy to being tipsy leaning into your drunken state, “I’m meeting him up there soon.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Three? This is my fourth,” You told him, slurring your words slightly, “Or maybe my fifth. I forgot.”

Luke’s face now wore a small frown, “Are you drunk?”

“Me?!” You exclaimed, your voice louder than you were expecting it to be, “No, I’m not drunk.”

“You’re slurring your words.” He stated, crossing his arms over his chest, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

You huffed, slamming your cup onto the table, “I can do what I want.”

“I didn’t say that,” Luke sighed, “I’m just saying…”

“No.” You interrupted him, putting your finger into his face, “You just want to ruin my fun because Mallory broke up with you.”

You knew that you shouldn’t have said that. The air around you two thickened as you both paused. Your head felt like it was pulsing from the warmth of alcohol in your body. You didn’t even mean to say that, the words coming out of your mouth faster than you could process them. You cursed yourself mentally for saying something like that to Luke, who was only just standing next to you. You saw his face falter at you, an expression of hurt washing over his features for a brief moment before his masked it.

“Alright,” He mumbled, stepping away from you.

“I should go.” You sighed, moving past him. His hand wrapped around your wrist. Your skin tingled at his touch and a shiver ran down your spine. You glanced down at his hand holding you and back up to his face.

His eyes softened when your eyes connected, “Don’t have sex with him while you’re drunk.”

“Luke,”

“Promise me that you won’t.” He said gently, don’t daring to break the eye contact. You stared into his eyes, seeing the silent pleading behind them,

“Okay.”

Luke’s eyes darted over your face before he released your wrist from his hold. He watched as you made your way towards the staircase, seeing you glance over to him one last time before disappearing to the second floor of the house. He looked at his barely touched can, deciding to throw it out. He wasn’t in the mood anymore. Luke rejoined his friends, hoping to take his mind off the fact that his drunk best friend was upstairs in a room with her boyfriend — the boyfriend that kept giving him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey dude, you good?” Dylan asked the boy, giving him a gentle nudge. Luke snapped out of his daze,

“Yeah man, I’m good.” Luke nodded, giving Dylan a tight lipped smile, “Probably gonna head out in a bit, practice in the morning.”

Luke felt conflicted, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave or stay at the party. Part of him didn’t want to stick around, knowing you were upstairs with Josh but the other part of him wanted to stay because you were upstairs with Josh. What if you needed him and he wasn’t there?

He eventually decided on leaving, Jack coming to pick him up, “How was it?”

Luke shrugged, closing the car door and tilting his back against the headrest, “Can we just go home?”

“That bad?” Jack laughed, “I thought you said Y/N was gonna be here?”

“She was.” Luke mumbled while Jack started to drive, “She left with her boyfriend.”

Jack glanced over to his brother, giving him a knowing look. He expected that Luke had feelings for his best friend, it was hard not to like the girl. She was sweet, easygoing, and she was cute. With Luke freshly out of a relationship, Jack expected him to be a lot more down but it seemed as though having Y/N around kept Luke occupied. Jack opted to not say anything more to his younger brother.

Luke kept his distance from you a few days following the party, he wasn’t sure when and why his emotions towards you changed. He avoided your eye contact in class, answering your questions with short and bland sentences, and immediately leaving once the lesson ended. You sighed, closing your notebook as Luke had once again scrambled out of the classroom. You put your things into your bag before slinging a strap over your shoulders.

When you left the room, you spotted Josh leaning against the nearby lockers. You sharply inhaled at the sight of him, mentally groaning of his presence. It’s not that you were upset that he was waiting for you, per se… It just felt like as of recently, the two of you weren’t on the same page anymore. He was insistent on losing his virginity to you, talking about another one of his teammates losing theirs, and how he loved you so much and is wanting to take the next step with you. You on the other hand, would just brush off his words — you didn’t want this. He didn’t seem to understand either, which was the worst part. You often got to take your mind off of your crumbling relationship by hanging out with Luke during classes, but with him ignoring you lately, you didn’t get that either.

“Hi baby,” Josh grinned, immediately slithering an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest and attempted to kiss you.

“Josh, I told you not at school.” You scolded him, pushing him away, “You can do that after school, just not here.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes, “Oh come on, everyone already knows we’re together.”

“I don’t care,” You scoffed, already walking towards your next class, “I don’t like PDA and not everyone wants to see us making out in the hallways.”

Josh was right behind you, “Who cares what people think? I think it’s hot as fuck.” He smirked, his hands once again on your hips.

“Josh, please.” You sighed, brushing his hands off of you. He looked at you, almost with a smidge of disgust or maybe disappointment. You avoid his eye, looking anywhere but at him.

“Fine, have a good class.”

You let out a breath of relief as he turned around sharply, disappearing into the crowd of teenagers in the school hallways. You tightened your grip on your backpack strap, and tilting your head against the wall.

“You okay?” Glancing back towards the voice, you see Luke’s friend Dylan standing in front of you with concern over his features. You slowly nod,

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You told him, hoping that he’ll drop it. Dylan was nice, typical hockey player guy, but he had good intentions. Besides, he knew you were Luke’s best friend so nothing he did was with malicious intent.

“Okay…” Dylan said, still somewhat suspicious, “I’m here if you wanna talk though, Lukey too.”

“Thanks,” You replied, giving a tight smile, “How’s your hockey season going?”

He beamed at the mention of his sport, going onto talking your ear off about the most recent game as the two of you walked into your next class. You tried your best to keep up, but it was hard when you were thinking about Josh. You weren’t sure if you still wanted to be with him, you didn’t think relationships were supposed to be like this. Granted, this was your first 'official' relationship. You've had crushes in the past, been in a few talking stages, but at the end of the day — you were too much of a sweetheart and no guy wanted to be the one to break a sweet girl's heart. You and Dylan eventually make it to your biology class, sitting towards the back of the class waiting for the lesson to start. Luke walked in, right before the bell, plopping into the empty seat next to you. He gave Dylan a single nod before glancing at you,

"Hi Luke." You greeted, a warm smile on your face.

"Hey." He replied, rather plainly before shuffling through his bag for his notes. You wondered if something had happened at the party that caused him to act like this, the fact that you also didn't remember much of the party wasn't much help either. Waking up the next day with a raging migraine was a strong indicator of the amount of alcohol you consumed.

He continued to keep to himself, keeping himself occupied with the starting hockey season. The pressure was on with Jack officially playing for the Devils, and knowing that there were scouts from various colleges that were watching him play. Luke dived deep into his training, ensuring that he was eating and sleeping properly, and always coming early and staying later at practices. Quinn had teased Luke about his recent dedication to hockey as a response to being broken up with, calling it forbidden motivation. Luke only brushing off his brother's comments.

Luke wouldn't lie if he was asked whether he missed Y/N, of course he did. He was a smart person though, he knew he would only cause issues between you and your... boyfriend, if he continued to stick around. Plus you seemed happy, including how you was acting around him at that party.

But Luke didn't know about your second thoughts on your relationship with Josh, Luke didn't know that you weren't exactly happy with the lacrosse player.

"Luke!" You called out after him, seeing him a few feet ahead of you on the side walk. He paused in his steps, looking over his shoulder to see you jogging behind him,

"Oh hi, Y/N."

The two of you fell into a comfortable pace as you walked home from school, "Have you been avoiding me?"

"What?"

You chuckled, putting your AirPods back into their case, "I mean it feels like you're ignoring me, you barely even talk to me in class anymore."

He let out a sheepish laugh, running his fingers through his curls, "I've just been busy with hockey."

"Oh okay... So it wasn't because of what I did at that party a month ago?"

"No, I don't care about that. I know you didn't mean that and I don't care if you slept with him. It's not my business." Luke shrugged, still not looking at you even though you kept your focus on him.

"I didn't sleep with him." You told him, "I haven't yet."

"Good for you?"

"Luke..." You sighed, tugging at the sleeve of his sweatshirt, "C'mon, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing, I swear." He huffed, placing his hat back on his head, "Sorry, I have to go. I have practice."

You watched as he turned at the streetlight, making his way back to his house. You frowned at your interaction with him, still unsure of what was causing the distance between you and Luke.

It was now the weekend before Christmas break and you were yet again at another party. One of Josh's teammates was hosting it and it was packed in the small house. You came a bit later than most of the crowd, given that you had an afternoon shift at your job. You walked in, wearing a tight long sleeve with baggy jeans. Josh was nowhere to be found, so you decided to get yourself a drink.

You grabbed a cooler and poured yourself a double shot, you had to catch up to everyone else — who were all clearly intoxicated. You brought the shot glass to your lips, cringing at the strong taste of vodka running down your throat.

"Hey," Luke said to you, grabbing a beer for himself, "I didn't think I would see you here."

"Hi Luke," You give the boy a smile, "I didn't think that you would be here, given your hockey schedule."

He chuckled, "Yeah, practice was cancelled for tomorrow morning so Dylan asked me to show up."

"How have you been? Are Jack and Quinn coming back for Christmas?" You asked him while sipping from your cooler.

"Yeah, Quinn came back last night, Jack is in Jersey until Christmas. He has a Christmas game." He explained, "I've been alright though, sorry again for ignoring you, I was just going through some stuff."

"It's okay, I get it." You replied, a part of you sad that he was going through stuff and wasn't able to talk to you about it, "I'm here for you if you ever want to talk."

"Thanks. When do you leave for Toronto?" Luke bumping his shoulder against yours. You giggle, already feeling the effects from the two shots kicking in,

"The 26th."

"Y/N!" You and Luke's head snap to the shouting of your boyfriend’s voice, to see Josh leaning against the doorway. You could tell by the way he was standing and the look on his face that he was drunk, "What are you doing?"

You feel your shoulders drop, "Sorry, I was just getting a drink and catching up with Luke."

"Come on baby, let's go upstairs." He slurred, grabbing your arm rather harshly and pulling you behind him. You winced at the aggression, bowing your head as you followed him. You looked past your shoulder to see that Luke had pushed himself off of his leaning position against the counter, as Josh dragged you away.

"Not while you're drunk." He told you, though it was mainly you reading his lips due to the loud music. You nodded, "I know."

Luke couldn't shake the weird feeling building in his gut as he watched you get pulled away from your boyfriend. It was chewing him apart as he stood in his spot, contemplating of his next moves. He hesitated for a moment before he decided to go after you. Luke didn’t like how Josh had grabbed you and knowing that you were intoxicated.

“Hughes, where are you going?” Dylan called out after Luke, “Dude!”

Dylan, more inclined to get Luke towards the pong table followed after the taller boy. Luke’s feet led his way as he was still trapped in his own head, his feet carrying him up the steps when his blood went cold. He could hear your voice, your scared voice behind the door.

“J- Josh! Stop!” He heard you cry, “Get off!”

“Is that?” Dylan paused, glancing over at his friend.

Luke’s facial expression hardened before he used his shoulder to forcefully open the closed door, “What the hell is going on here?” He demanded, not thinking twice of his actions before approaching Josh and pulling him off of you.

“What the fuck man?!” Josh snapped, venom in his voice as he glared at the hockey player, “This isn’t a fucking gang bang!”

In front of him, there was you. You never looked so terrified in your life. Your hands were clutching onto your shirt, trembling. Your eyes were brimmed with tears.

“Get the hell away from her.” Luke told Josh, stepping towards him. Luke had a few inches over the lacrosse player, “Dylan, take Y/N.”

Dylan immediately darted towards you, his arms protecting you, “You’re okay, you’re safe. We got you.” He whispered into your ear as he pulled you away from the bed and into the hall. You were violently shaking in his arms while he guided you outside the house.

He continued his attempts to calm you down, though appreciated, you wanted your best friend.

You don’t know how long you and Dylan were outside, he had guided you towards a more quiet area near his car. Your heart was pounding in your ears, your chest felt hot with the adrenaline and alcohol circling in your system. You kept running your hands over each other, attempting to crack your fingers to sooth the anxiety surging in your veins.

Luke eventually walked outside, clearly still heated from the way his legs carried his body. He was glancing at his knuckles, stretching out his fingers and shaking out his hand. His eyes landed on you and his pace immediately picked up to a jog,

“Oh, Y/N…” He breathed out, opening his arms out for you.

You met him halfway, colliding your body into his — allowing for his strong arms to wrap around you like a shield. His scent, the woodsy musk with a tinge of mint, embedded in his clothes comforting you like a warm blanket. You could feel him place a kiss on the top of your hair when you choked on a few sobs,

“I got you.” He reassured, holding onto your smaller frame, “He’s never going to touch you or ever come near you again.”

“L- Luke,” You whimpered, peering up from his chest to look at him. His entire face softened at your tear stained cheeks, his thumb carefully brushing away your tears.

“I’m right here, sweet girl.” He told you, “I’m right here.”

Dylan had gotten into the car that he and Luke drove in to the party, Dylan also being the designated driver for the night. Luke held you in his arms until you seemed to calm down slightly, no longer crying nor shaking. He carefully helped you into the backseats, without a doubt sliding into the seat next to you.

The drive was silent, the occasional sniffle from you while you rested your head on Luke’s shoulder. He kept an arm around you the entire drive,

“Is your home okay?” He asked you, his tone gentle as ever while brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“I don’t want to be alone.” You choked out. Luke immediately nodded, “It’s okay, you can stay at mine if that’s okay with you.”

You gave him a small smile.

Dylan dropped the two of you at Luke’s house, “Let me know if either of you need anything.” Dylan said to Luke as you two climbed out of the car, “I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke replied, draping his flannel over your shoulders, “Thanks man.”

“No need to thank me.”

You mumbled out a quiet ‘thank you’ to Dylan before Luke led you to his home. He retrieve a few bottles of water from the kitchen before the two of you made his way to his room. You sat on his bed, focused on your lap while he pulled out a shirt and spare boxers for you.

“Do you want a hoodie?” He asked you, looking over at your saddened position. Luke knelt down to your level, taking your hands into his, “It’s over now. I promise I won’t let him ever come near you.”

“Luke,” You breathed out, noticing his already bruising hand, “Your knuckles…”

His gaze dropped from you to his hand, the dried blood over the swelling skin, “It’s not my blood, don’t worry.”

You eventually made your way to his bathroom, where he left the clothes and a clean towel on the counter. The hot water from the shower head ran over your cold skin, the feeling of his hands ghosting over your body. You tried scrubbing away the feeling again and again and again with Luke’s body wash; tears threatening to fall yet again as the skin turned red from irritation.

His clothes were warm when you slipped them on. They smelt so distinctly like Luke. You made your way back to his room where he was lounging on his bed with his pajamas on. His eyes glancing at the redness of your arms from the excessive force you used whilst washing yourself.

“Come,” He invited you, patting on the empty space of the bed. You crawled up to him, curling into a small ball before he handed you his favourite UMich hoodie, “Here’s a hoodie for you.”

You gave him a little smile while you pulled it on. The edges of the sleeves were thinning from the amount of wear and the drawstrings were tied into a small ball. It was well worn and a few sizes too big but it was perfect.

“Are you feeling a bit better? No, sorry that was a stupid fucking question,” Luke quickly apologized, his hand already going to play with your hair in a comforting manner, “Did the shower help at least?”

You hummed out a response, inching closer to him on the bed. He had your favourite Disney movie already on his TV, quietly playing. Luke adjusted the comforter over the two of you, allowing you to relax further into the bed as the two of you watched the film in a peaceful silence.

Your eyes got heavier and it was harder to keep them open as the exhaustion from the night was getting to you. Luke seemed to notice, “Let me know when you wanna sleep, I’ll head to Jack’s room or something.”

You poked your head up from the makeshift pillow of his chest at his sentence, “Can you stay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You confirmed, watching a content expression wash over his face, “Plus, you’re comfy and warm.”

“I’m glad that I’m at least good for one thing.” He chuckled, snuggling his head into his pillow once he knew that he didn’t have to move for the night.

You sighed, content for the first time since leaving the party. You knew you were perfectly safe when you were with Luke. You allowed your eyes to close, your breathing slowing to a relaxed and calm pace. His arm still around you while you used him as your pillow, tucking your body into his side.

Luke replayed what he saw from that room, from how scared you looked to when he shoved Josh against the wall before finally punching him in the face repeatedly. It was completely out of character for Luke to pick a fight, a physical fist fight. But he would do it for you, any day. Josh had no right to be that close to you, to scare you to the verge of tears. Luke felt himself slowly get more upset the more he thought about the situation, but he felt you shift against him. He looked down to see you, cuddled up against his body.

He smiled as he looked down at your figure, carefully using the remote to turn off his TV and grateful for having longer limbs to reach over to shut off his lamp. The room fell into darkness as he settled for sleep.

“Thank you Lukey,” You mumbled against the material of his shirt, “For everything.”

His heart swelled.

“I’ll always be there for you.” Luke whispered into your hair, planting a soft kiss against your forehead, “No matter what.”

And he was. He stayed glued to your side, whether it be physically or theoretically — due to the both of you separating for winter break. Luke texted you constantly, occasionally calling you in the evenings. When school started again in January, he didn’t leave your side. He waited for you at the street intersection every morning, so the two of you could walk the rest of the distance together. Josh only attempted to talk to you twice, which Luke and Dylan were immediately able to shut him down. Not even giving the lacrosse player a chance to even look at you. Luke would hang around you between classes and during lunch, slowly but surely falling back into your old routine.

Lunches spent in vacant classrooms to complete homework assignments together, going over to his house after school until he had to leave for practice. In which he would always drop you off at home, since he didn’t feel comfortable with you walking back. Sometimes you would go to his practices to do your homework in the stands, or just to simply watch him play the game he loved so much.

You were healing.

Luke was helping you heal.

He kept you company by staying on FaceTime on the nights that were harder for you. You two wouldn’t even be talking, just having each other propped up on the screen as you did different things. On some nights, he would drive to your house to pick you up — the two of you going on long drives with no destination in mind. Aimlessly driving down different roads, making turns here and there. His country playlist that you’ve grown to love so much would be humming in the background as the two of you would park in the middle of nowhere to talk. Even though you two were conjoined at the hip everyday, you both had endless things to talk about. It was so easy, it came so easy.

He would show up to your house every Saturday night with his Nike backpack filled with snacks for your movie nights. You two would lay on your bed comfortably, with a random movie or hockey game on the TV. Luke would have a lazy arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side, both of you cracking small jokes or commentating whatever was playing.

Sunday afternoons were reserved for finishing any leftover homework or class notes in the Hughes kitchen. The two of you would sit at the dinner table, writing away in your notebooks. Ellen would bring you two water or snacks on occasion, and remind you two to take breaks. During those breaks, Luke would often drag you to basement to try to teach you hockey. You weren’t great but it was fun to try, and it was better since you could physically see how much fun it was for him. He would wear a constant bright smile and laugh at your attempts to shoot a goal.

Luke Hughes was easily your favourite person, he was your favourite player on the ice. You wouldn’t miss a single game. You would sit next to Ellen and Jim in the stands, an old blanket draped across you and Ellen’s laps. He would wave at you from the ice each time he skated by.

Junior year had its highs and lows but it was by far your favourite so far. There was an end of year party that was coming up and Dylan had been begging you and Luke to go with him.

“Please! Everyone is going, we should definitely go.” Dylan explained to the two of you, “It’s the last one of junior year.”

“I don’t know,” Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair and placing his pencil down, “These parties are always so ass.”

You laughed at Luke’s comment, “I mean, if you really want us to be there Dyl, then I’m sure we can go.” You glanced over at the curly headed boy, his eyebrow raised slightly.

“See! Y/N knows what fun is!” Dylan exclaimed, “Come on Hughesy, worse case if you leave early.”

“Fine.” Luke huffed, straightening his posture, “We’ll go but I’m not drinking.”

“All good with me!” Dylan chuckled, “More for me.”

You, Dylan, and Luke all entered the house together, weaving through the bodies in the hallway to reach the main area of the house. Dylan had immediately gone towards the fridge to get a drink. You survey the crowd, trying to pin point people that you know. Luke stayed next to you, with a light hand on your lower back as the two of you weaved through the drunk teenagers.

You greeted a few people that you knew as you passed by, them being a bit too intoxicated to say anything more than a "hey!". There were people dancing in the middle of the living room, the neon colours from the LED lights flashing, and the music from the speakers pounding your eardrums.

"Did you want something to drink?" He asked into your ear, his posture slouched to near your height. You shrugged, "I'll start drinking in a bit."

You pulled Luke towards a more empty area, where the two of you could stand whilst leaning against the wall. Dylan had eventually found you both, him handing you a Twisted Tea which you thanked him for before cracking the tab open.

"I want to dance." You told the boys, "And I will need another drink."

"Sure, go have fun!" Dylan exclaimed, "We'll keep an eye on you if you want."

"Don't you want to dance too?" You questioned, finishing the rest of your drink.

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Since when have we ever danced at a party?"

You giggled, slowly pulling away from the two, "You can always join me!" You sang out.

"Have fun Y/N!"

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you spun on your heels to grab another cooler. There were a few girls from your English class that you chatted with while finishing your second drink, which the four of you had agreed to take a celebratory shot of tequila for finishing the semester — before you all made your way towards the group of dancing teens. The alcohol was flowing through your body, allowing you to feel the rhythm of the music and move your hips along to it.

"You are the coolest and nicest girl in our year, Y/N!" One girl, Abby, exclaimed with her voice loud to over come the volume of the music, "Like, seriously girl! You're so smart and you're so fun!"

"No literally!" Sarah laughed, placing a hand on your arm, "Like you're so popular but so humble about it! You literally have every boy on their knees for you. Josh completely fumbled with you!"

You let out a small chuckle, attempting to ignore your ex-boyfriend's mention, "I'm not popular, I just try to be nice to everyone!"

You weren't sure how much time had passed nor the number of drinks you've had since you had originally arrived at the party, but between the drinking, socializing, and dancing — you were feeling the exhaustion creeping up on you. You bid the girls a quick goodbye before excusing yourself, pulling away from the crowd. You searched the room for the tall curly headed boy, sighing happily once seeing him against the door frame with an easy smile drawn on his features.

When his eyes landed on you approaching him, his entire face lit up as he tightened the lid of the plastic water bottle. Luke's eyes darted from one of his friends and back towards you. He lifted his arm up, allowing you to tuck yourself into his side. Your smaller figure fit perfectly under his arm, you leaned your head against his chest as he continued chatting with Dylan and their other friends.

"Hey Lukey," You said to the boy, tilting your head upwards to making eye contact with him.

"Hey you," Luke chuckled, brushing a lone strand of hair out of your face, "Did you have fun, drunkie?"

"I'm not drunk." You mumbled into his sweater, "Just had a few drinks."

He hummed, "Yeah, I saw you hammer out those three cans of Mikes and down a few shots with the girls — definitely not drunk." Luke teased, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just getting sleepy."

"Hey Dyl, we're heading out now. You need a ride?" Luke asked Dylan, who was still engaged in conversation. Dylan waved him off, saying something about either finding a ride or taking an uber home later.

Luke kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you out of the house party and towards his car that was parked a little ways away from the party.

"You looked like you enjoyed the party." He told you, supporting your body while you stumbled in your steps.

"Yes! I saw so many people we knew!" You giggled, leaning further into Luke's body.

Luke chuckled, pulling your body to keep you upwards, "You gotta keep standing upright to walk, sweet girl. Keep leaning into me and you're going to be sideways."

"What's the matter with that?"

"We gotta make it to the car." He said back, "We're almost there."

You let out a dramatic sigh, "Can't you carry me? You're strong from hockey and I'm tired."

"The car is right there." Luke laughed, pointing at his car ahead of you.

"Why are you laughing at me?" You whined.

He rolled his eyes at your drunken state, "Not laughing at you, I promise. Come on."

Luke opened the passage side door for you, you climbed into the seat with both of your legs hanging out of the vehicle. He carefully readjusted your body to slide your legs into the car. His hands brushing over your front as he fastened your seatbelt, "You comfy?" He teased as you rested your head on your hand that was propped up on the centre console.

"Mhm, I like this car." You yawned.

Luke placed a light kiss on the top of your hair, "Alright, let's get you home."

He closed your door and slide into the driver's seat, "You wanted something to eat?" Luke asked you as he pulled away from the curb.

"Oo! Can we get McDonald's? I want nuggets so bad!" You exclaimed, immediately sitting up in your seat.

He laughed, lightly pushing you back into your seat, "Okay, we can get food and then I'll drop you off."

Luke pulled into the drive through at the 24-hour McDonald's, ordering your go to along with a Dr. Pepper for himself. He paid for your food, handing you the brown paper bag. He parked his car in the empty lot to let you eat.

You excitedly opened up your box of nuggets along with the sauce, you nearly letting out a moan of satisfaction when taking your first bite, "You're the best, Lukey."

"Oh yeah?" He said while taking a sip of his drink, "You're saying that because I bought you food."

"No, that's not true! You buy me food, you bring snacks when we study, and you drive me to your hockey games. You've always been the best and no one comes even close to beating you," You explained, still feeling the effects of the alcohol as words left your mouth faster than you could process them, "Like, seeing you and hanging out with you and talking to you is the best part of my day. I could be having an absolutely shitty day but the second I see you and your smile and your perfect curls, suddenly my day is not so shitty and is good again."

Luke's eyes widen slightly as you spoke, his body comfortably lounging in his seat as he listened. His drink untouched in his hands. He watched you as your eyes sparkled while you talked, even between bites of your food.

"And you always watch out for me and you listen to me, like actually listen to me. I know a lot of people but no one sees me the way that you do, no one knows me the way that you do. It's like, whenever I'm with you, I just know that everything is going to be okay because I have you. You're everything I want in a person." You told him, your cheeks flushing a shade of red. Your hands instinctively covering your face in slight embarrassment as you sobered up slightly from the food entering your body. The realization of everything that you 'casually' told Luke, who sat in front of you, crashing over you.

"Oh my god," You whisper to yourself, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make this weird or anything. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why are you sorry?" Luke asked, carefully putting his drink into the cup holder. His eyes were still on you, his hands gently moving yours away from your face. His facial features softened even more as he took in your shy expression and rosy pink brushed across your cheeks.

His larger and calloused hands held yours, "You shouldn't be sorry because I feel the exact same way, and I have for a while."

"Really?" You asked, your voice small and infused with the same nervous feeling that was engulfing you.

He smiled, "Really. I think there was always something about you since we first became friends that I was always drawn towards. I thought I could move away from it since I didn't want to ruin our friendship... But when you started dating J- you know who, I got jealous because I wanted to be in his spot."

His thumb brushed over the skin of your hand drawing faint circles, "I think it has always been you. You make me a better person and you always bring out the best of me."

"You're going to make me cry," You pout, the surge of happiness and loving emotions filling your chest as tears brimmed your eyes.

"I mean everything I said," Luke reassured, placing a kiss on your knuckles, "And I don't know what is going to happen next between us but I'll be okay with whatever you want."

"I think I want you to kiss me right now." You replied.

His face flushed as a small smirk drew upon his lips, "Yeah?"

You nodded. One of his hands brushed over your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and bringing your face closer to his. Your chest leaning over the centre console to be closer to Luke, the close proximity of you two allowed you to breathe in his scent that was so distinguishably his. You could see every freckle that was sprinkled across his nose and the flecks of green in his blue eyes. His pupils were dilated as he gazed at your big doe-like eyes and flickered towards your lip-gloss coated lips.

His thumb caressed your chin — tilting your face upwards. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours, fitting perfectly with each other. You let out a happy sigh as you bring your hand to tangle with the curls at the back of his head whilst his hands cup your face. His tongue brushed lightly over your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. Your lips part open, allowing for his tongue to dance with yours.

His hands traveled down to your waist, "Come here, gorgeous girl." Luke mumbled against your lips, guiding you to climb over the console and onto his lap. His hand reached down the side of the seat to push his seat backwards to give the two of you more space. His hands trailed down to give your ass a gentle squeeze, causing a small moan to leave your lips which Luke swallowed up with his mouth.

You kept a hand in his hair, loving the feeling of his curls while the other hand rested on his upper chest. Luke had his hands on your waist, keeping you in place on his lap as your lips moved together. You pulled away for a second to catch a breath, your eyes opening to see his slightly swollen lips and blown out eyes. A giggle slipped out of both of you as you leaned down to rest your forehead against his.

"You're perfect." He breathed out, planting a kiss on your cheek.

"What does this make us Luke?" You asked him, "I don't know if I can go back to being just friends after a make out session that good."

"I would ask you to be my girlfriend right now, but I refuse to you in the middle of a McDonald's parking lot at one in the morning."

"Tomorrow then?" You laughed, pecking his lips.

"Mhm," He hummed, connecting your lips again for a brief moment, "Do you want to spend the night at mine or do you want me to drop you off at home?"

"That's a stupid question and you know that," You teased, feeling his smile against your lips, "Yours tonight."

"Alright, let's get going then," Luke chuckled, "Get back into your seat, I promise cuddling in my bed is much comfier than the driver's seat of my car."

You giggled, climbing off his lap and sliding back into your original seat. His eyes stay on your smiling self, his eyes full of adoration and love as he started his vehicle. While he drove, the two of you fell into an easy conversation as usual. Mainly debriefing the party that felt like hours ago and the drama that you had found out about from the girls you were with.

When he parked, he rushed over to your side of the car to open your door. His hand holding yours as he guided you through his house and to his room. Luke gave you a change of clothes and let you get ready for the night in the bathroom.

You climbed into his bed where he flipped open the comforter to allow you to snuggle up to him. You laid your head on his chest, feeling the strong muscles of his pectorals from working out and playing hockey over the years. His legs tangled with yours and his arms wrapped around your middle.

"My mom is going to be the most excited about this when we tell her." Luke said to you, his voice low and quiet. His hands lazily brushing through your hair, "Or Jack, he's been on my ass since the start... Although for a while, I thought he had a thing for you."

"Really?" You asked, tiredness seeping through your words as the rise and fall of Luke's chest brought you closer to sleep.

"Yeah, always told me how sweet and cute you are." Luke chuckled.

"Jack said that?"

His hand paused in its movements, "That's my brother, relax."

"I'm just teasing," You giggled, "As long as you think the same thing."

"Of course I do." He mumbled, "Good night, my gorgeous girl."

"Good night, Lukey."

647 notes · View notes

mywritersmind · 7 months ago

Text

WALK ME LIKE A RUNWAY - LN4

summary : Lando doesn’t know anything about runways, especially a certain Victorias Secret runway that’s breaking the internet. When he gets the invite, it’s certainly a surprise, but with one old and one new friend by his side, he starts to see the appeal of this whole model thing. He likes it for one reason, and that reason is opening the whole show.

listen up : lando x vsangel!reader 💞✨ a bit long!! will prob be multiple parts if you guys like it!!

word count : 2192

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t know how I got here or why I was invited. But as I sit in my assigned seat as the girl next to me stares at me, I can’t help but think that my invitation was for a reason.

I have a good feeling about tonight, maybe it’s because i’m about to watch pretty girls walk in underwear and wings, or maybe it’s because that girl I mentioned looks like she’s itching to tell me something.

As soon as I look at her, she starts, “You’re Lando Norris.” She's pretty, has a short bob, pale skin, and is examining me closely.

“Yeah…” I nod slowly.

“Sorry. Big fan!” She laughs, “What are you doing here?”

“Good question… I was invited. Actually, my mate Carlos is supposed to-” As if I spoke him into existence, the driver plops down next to me, “Hey!”

He grins and nods at the girl, “I’m Kay! My best friend is in the show!” I like Kay. She’s eyeing Carlos like he’s a piece of meat and it’s hilarious.

“So I don’t really understand… Why this runway is big a deal.” Kay practically scoffs in my face and immediately dives in, giving Carlos and I all the lore. After ten minutes of throwing random facts and stringing the whole story line together, I stop nodding and the lights go out.

“This is exciting.” Carlos nudges me, like he’s some big fan or something. Then again it’s a lingerie company so he’s probably a big supporter. “So your friend, how long has she been a model?”

“Forever!” Kay nods, lowering her voice and talking to Carlos across me, “But this is huge because it’s her first show with Victoria Secret and she’s opening it!”

The music starts and a motorcycle with a girl on it comes up from the stage, she starts singing and everyone is going absolutely crazy for her.

Carlos is basically dancing in his seat next to me and Kay is singing along, clapping her hands together.

I try not to think about awkward interview Carlos and I did on the pink carpet, the woman looked stunned that we were even there.

I focus on the girl singing again, it’s quite fun, I feel like i’m at a concert. The lights go out and the singer and her backups are gone.

Kay hits my arm excitedly, pointing to the stage. That’s when I realize the stage is lifting someone up.

The first thing I see are the wings, pink, sparkly and huge. But then I see her.

Fuck being model pretty, this girl looks like a legitimate angel. She’s got long legs, an insane body that’s being accentuated by the white lace that’s practically dripping off her. She's got long wavy hair that is streaked with highlights, and as soon as she starts walking I understand it.

She’s got confidence, fucking power. The room breaks into screams and applause as she grins, god her smile.

She’s elegant, beautiful, and breaks her model smize as she turns in my direction. She blows a kiss to Kay and the smile she pulls has me catching my breath.

The wings she’s wearing starts to move, almost growing above her. She stops at the end of the runway, poses, then walks back. People are screaming her name and she winks at them, turning back to face the end of the runway, she gives a tiny wave before women on both sides of her amerge.

Carlos hits me in the chest, “Dude!” He laughs, “You star struck or something?” Kay giggles.

“I- Why does everyone know her if this is her debut?”

“It’s her debut as an angel! Not a model! She’s a complete fan favorite!” Kay claps as the girls continue to walk, they’ve all got lingerie on and look amazing.

I can’t quite seem to shake her face out of my mind. The show goes on, the performances are fun and I can tell who’s the most awaited models because the crowd is quite opinionated.

My favorite is definitely the woman with a sick guitar. Who wouldn’t want to see pretty girls walk while rock music plays?

I may or may not fan-boy over Cher. My mum is a super fan so I make sure to take videos. And as that icon is performing, My eyes catch again.

She’s in full red and I wonder why I've never been to a fashion show before.

Kay catches me staring again, “Yeah- you’re definitely meeting her after this.” I laugh uncomfortably, smiling at the shit eating grin on her face.

“Tyra!” Kay screams next to me, I watch a tall woman with very big hair appear from the floor, the panels behind her open and all the models flood in.

I clap along with everyone else, watching the girls celebrate and smile at one another. Confetti falls on us as Kay spins around.

We stand and clap for them, before they leave and a voice thanks us for watching. I’m in a haze by the time the lights come up, “That was cool!” Carlos grins.

“Hey so because Lando was making goo goo eyes at my best friend-” I side eye her, “You two should come to the after party! Y/n and I are hosting some friends!”

I’d be an idiot to say no.

⋆｡‧˚

They share a studio apartment overlooking the city. Carlos grabs a beer before we start looking around and meeting people.

Carlos is off talking to Kay when I walk into the kitchen, looking for some water. There’s a girl standing on her toes, trying to grab a box of what looks like cereal from a top shelf.

I freeze when I realize it’s her. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t even talk to a girl? Come on.

I clear my throat and go to tap her shoulder but she starts talking before I can, “No you can’t have sex in my bed, if you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere that’s not my apartment, and no smoking inside! My landlord will-” she spins around in a little pink dress, looking pissed off.

She clocks the confused look on my face and stops talking, “I’m not looking to have sex in your apartment…” not yet at least. Shit, Lando shut up! “Or throw up. And I don’t smoke.”

She smacks her lips shut before laughing, “Sorry! Like three people have asked me that tonight!” She bites her bottom lip and I realize how close she is.

Now that I'm not twenty feet away from her, I look her up and down quickly. She’s got freckles, is blonder up close, and her half gone makeup fits her perfectly.

She blinks and I realize that I'm just staring at her.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/N’S POV

Why is this British man staring at me?

He coughs as I smile slightly, intrigued by this random man in my home, “Well if you’re not gonna ask me about any of those three horrid topics, what do you want?” I put my hand on my hip, watching his very pretty green eyes glance to the cereal I was trying (and failing) to grab.

He reaches up and grabs it with ease. He's not that much taller than me, I'm still short for a model and without my usual heels, he has a few inches up.

I take the box, “Thanks.” I open it immediately, sticking my hand inside the chocolate breakfast.

“I was just looking for water.” He shrugs, not meeting my eyes.

“I got you!” I perk up and rummage around in our fridge, handing him a bottle. I usually don’t give out our personal chilled stash, but I like this guy.

“Thank you.” He takes it, brushing my hand slightly.

“No problem!” I glance over to see Alex Consani practically in a plant, “Alex! Please don’t hurt Kay’s children!” I stomp away and get stampeded with conversations and questions.

I laugh, “You’ve told me like a million times! But thank you!” Kay knows it’s been my dream to walk for Victoria's Secret since I was little and didn’t even wear a bra.

She squeals, “Oh I gotta have you meet my new friends!” She drags me to the corner where some people are standing, “Carlos! This is my best friend ever, Y/n! Y/n this is Carlos! He’s super cool!” She leans in to whisper, “and super hot.”

I choke on a laugh, shaking the guys hand, “Nice to meet you!”

“Pleasure! Kay’s been talking you up since the show.” He is hot. He’s got a spanish accent and dark hair, exactly Kay’s type.

“Oh you were at the show?” I say, not realizing he was there with Kay.

“Yeah! Me and-” he looks around, “Norris?” He turns and grabs a guy by his collared leather jacket, “Lando!” He spins him around and I realize it’s the guy who I gave water to.

Kay nods excitedly, “Lando and Carlos were totally cheering you on! Especially Lando.” She tries to whisper the last part but fails.

I don’t miss the look that settles over Lando’s face. Lando, hmm. Interesting name. “Hey.” He nods, sipping his water as I smile.

“Hi! I’m Y/n.” I eye his curls, I like his hair a lot already.

“Anyway- They've only been to New York like two times! We’re showing them around this week!” I try to seem interested but I can’t really focus on Kay when Lando is giving me all his attention. “Carlos, I love this song!” She grabs him by the hand and they’re gone in a second.

Lando and I glance at them, then each other, then laugh, “She’s got a lot of energy.”

“It’s the ADHD.” I sigh, standing next to him and looking around my apartment, “So… you liked the show? You don’t seem like the type.”

“I don’t seem like the type to enjoy pretty girls walking in lingerie while a concert is going on?” He raises a brow and I roll my eyes.

“Typical!”

He reaches a hand out, “Hey hey- I’m kidding! I did enjoy you walking, though.” It’s my turn to raise a brow now. “Kay said it was a big thing- opening the show.”

I nod happily, “Huge! Like made my career completely worth everything I've been through and sealed it for me that i’ve made it…” I trail off, realizing I'm telling this to a complete stranger, “Sorry you probably don’t care.”

He frowns, “Of course I do. I get it.” He shrugs and for some reason, I completely believe him.

I tilt my head, “Do you wanna go outside?”

My words land us outside on my balcony, I'm wrapped in a blanket with a beer in my hand. Lando clinks our glasses and looks out at the view, “So what do you do?” I sip my beer.

He sighs, leans his head back on the glass, “I’m a racing driver.”

This takes me aback severely, “What.” I say it so bluntly that he laughs.

“I drive in Formula 1.” My jaw literally drops.

“That’s sick! You win yet?” He looks young, probably a year or two older than me.

The grin he gives me makes me feel nauseous in a weirdly good way, “Yeah. Kinda my ‘I made it’ Moment, too.”

It’s easy to talk to Lando. There’s something about him that makes me comfortable even though we’ve just met. That’s dangerous, especially for me.

He tells me that he lives in Monaco (of course he has to live far), and that he travels most of the time. This is good, I tell myself. I feel like this is going somewhere and it’s perfect if he just leaves after tonight!

I feel this way because Lando’s eyes keep flicking down to my lips.

I explain how I moved from California to New York after modeling for a bit in LA, “I’m Twenty Two.” I shrug, singing the song a big.

“Shit.” He brings the bottle to his lips again as I scoff.

“Right…What are you? Twenty six?”

He almost chokes on the drink, “Twenty six!? Tell me you’re lying!”

I laugh at his reaction, “No! Tell me how old you are!”

He shakes his head, a curl falling onto his forehead, “I’m Twenty four, you muppet.” I slap my hand over my mouth to quiet my laughter.

“Muppet!?” I laugh, my head falling back.

“Yeah, you’ve made me feel all old.” He shakes his head.

“I like your accent.” I just say it. I don’t know why I do, well, when I glance at the bottle in my hand I have a guess.

He smiles, his eyes reflecting the city lights, “Thanks, love.”

“Love?” I eye him, “You’ve got that winner attitude, pretty cocky.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, “Not cocky, just hopeful.” I shake my head, looking away from him and focusing on the night sky. I am so fucked.

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando x reader #f1 fic #lando imagine

1K notes · View notes

storyslover · 27 days ago

Note

plsss can you do one where you’ and lando are both celebs, established relationship on hot ones versus!!!! reader is good with wings and lando we clearly know is rubbish with spice!!! 😭

Heat Check

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (both celebrities – established relationship) Setting: Hot Ones Versus Episode Genre: Humor, Fluff, Realism, Slightly Suggestive Word Count: 5.8k

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

INTRO

The Hot Ones Versus set was exactly as intimidating as it looked on YouTube. A sleek black table. Two rows of sauces. An aura of chaotic pain in the air.

Y/N adjusted her mic and smirked. “You ready to embarrass yourself in front of millions, baby?”

Lando, already chewing on gum to “prep” his taste buds, gave her a look. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I’m mentally prepared. Physically, though? I’m fully expecting to cry.”

Sean Evans laughed from across the table. “This is gonna be good.”

Cameras rolled. Lights came on. The director counted them in.

“Alright, welcome to Hot Ones Versus, the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. Today we’ve got a power couple in the hot seats—Y/N, international superstar and apparently spice queen, and Lando Norris, F1 driver, known for fast laps and a weak spice tolerance.”

Lando raised his hand. “That’s slander. I never said weak, I said sensitive.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and winked at the camera. “Translation: weak.”

Sean grinned. “Let’s get into it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WING ONE – “Classic Hot Sauce”

“You know what’s terrifying?” Lando said after the first bite. “This already has a kick to it.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s literally the starter wing.”

“Exactly. And I’m already sweating.”

“You always sweat when you’re nervous.”

Lando looked at her. “I’m nervous because of you. You eat scotch bonnets like popcorn.”

Sean laughed. “So, question one—how did this power couple begin? We know you kept it low-key for almost a year.”

Lando took a sip of milk and leaned back. “It was at the Monaco afterparty, remember that?”

Y/N nodded, lips curved. “Yeah. You spilled your drink on my shoes.”

“They were white! I thought I’d ruined your life.”

“You kind of did. But in a cute way.”

He chuckled, eyes soft. “I offered to replace them. She said I could buy her dinner instead.”

“And he was too nervous to kiss me until the third one.”

“Because you’re intimidating.”

“Because I could handle jalapeños and you cried at sriracha.”

Sean held up a wing. “And now here you are. Full circle.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WING FOUR – “Los Calientes Verde”

“This one’s tasty,” Y/N said, licking sauce off her finger. “Limey. Fresh.”

Lando was already hiccupping. “I’m dying. Are my ears supposed to ring?”

“Only if you’re a coward.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” he wheezed.

Sean leaned in. “Y/N, let’s talk about your latest album. Critics called it your most personal work yet—how did Lando react to being... heavily featured in some of the lyrics?”

Y/N smirked. “He blushed so hard he looked like a tomato.”

“I didn’t know she wrote that song about the balcony in Ibiza,” Lando groaned.

“Oh, you knew. You just didn’t want your mum to find out.”

Y/N turned to Sean. “Let’s just say he didn’t mind the writing process.”

The corner of Lando’s mouth lifted. “I definitely didn’t.”

She gave him a loaded look. Suggestive. Playful. Dangerous.

Sean raised a brow. “Okay, the room is heating up in more ways than one.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WING SIX – “Da Bomb Evolution”

Lando stared at the sauce bottle like it had personally offended him.

“This is the evil one,” he said solemnly. “I’ve seen the memes. I’m not ready.”

“Baby,” Y/N cooed. “You race at 300 km/h. This is just sauce.”

“This sauce doesn’t have brakes.”

Sean gestured dramatically. “Da Bomb Evolution. The moment of truth.”

They both took a bite.

Lando immediately made a sound between a cough and a whimper. His eyes widened. “I can’t feel my lips.”

Y/N winced slightly, but kept chewing. “That... yeah, that’s aggressive.”

Lando stood up, pacing behind the chairs, muttering, “Why is it bitter? Why does it taste like pain?”

“You okay, sweetheart?” Y/N asked innocently, fanning him with a napkin.

“I think I saw my ancestors,” he whispered. “They said turn back.”

Sean leaned in. “Lando, real talk—what’s harder: hot wings or driving through Eau Rouge in the rain?”

Lando, eyes watering, didn’t hesitate. “The wings. Every time.”

“Spoken like a man in distress,” Y/N said, smug.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WING EIGHT – “Puckerbutt Pepper Company”

Lando was fully slumped in his chair, hoodie half off, eyes glassy.

Y/N, surprisingly composed, dabbed her lips with a napkin. “You good, babe?”

“I’m reconsidering my life choices.”

“You picked this show.”

“You said it’d be fun!”

Sean interjected, “Alright, next versus question—who’s more competitive?”

They both answered at the same time:

“Her .” “Him.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You nearly flipped a Monopoly board because I wouldn’t sell you Boardwalk.”

“Because you only bought it to spite me!”

Sean laughed. “I feel like there's a running theme in your relationship—chaotic flirting and competitive spice wars.”

Y/N smirked. “That's basically our love language.”

Lando turned to her, mouth still burning. “If I survive this, I deserve a back massage. And cuddles. And like... eternal praise.”

“You already get that.”

“Not enough. I’m being a spice martyr here.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FINAL WING – “The Last Dab: Apollo”

Sean held up the final wing. “Tradition says we put a little extra on the last wing.”

Lando shook his head. “Tradition can go to hell.”

Y/N didn’t blink. “Load me up.”

Lando stared at her like she wasn’t human. “You’re not real.”

She leaned in. “That’s what you said last night.”

Lando choked on air. Sean nearly dropped the sauce bottle.

“Y/N!” Lando hissed.

She laughed, biting into the final wing with almost zero hesitation.

He followed, grimacing instantly. “This is... this is a hate crime.”

Sean, through tears of laughter, asked, “Final question. What’s next for you two?”

Y/N smiled through the heat. “More music. More racing. Hopefully fewer spicy sauces.”

Lando wiped his face with a napkin. “And if I survive, maybe a vacation. Somewhere cold. Iceland. Antarctica.”

Y/N leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You were brave.”

He gave her a look. “You are so paying for this.”

“Gladly.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POST-INTERVIEW: BEHIND THE SCENES

In the dressing room, Lando collapsed dramatically onto the couch, still fanning his mouth.

“I will never recover.”

Y/N sat beside him, bottle of milk in one hand. “You were cute. I think Sean’s gonna ship us now.”

He glanced at her. “You mean you weren’t already shipping us?”

“You were very dramatic,” she teased.

“I nearly died for you.”

“Oh? For me?”

He looked at her, eyes softer now. “Always for you.”

And just like that, the spice was forgotten.

Kind of.

Until he groaned again. “My stomach’s doing things. Bad things.”

She patted his leg, laughing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here it is hope you like it . and my requests are open guys . just ask .

#f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln14 #lando x reader #lando x you #mclaren

952 notes · View notes

riddlesrizzler · 30 days ago

Text

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙆𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙖 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣

summary: Don't take raw meat, unless you want people to ask questions.

characters: mattheo riddle. theo nott. enzo berkshire. draco malfoy. blaise zabini. hufflepuff! reader

warnings: none, other than hufflepuff! reader buying from the wizard black market.

word count: 1.3k

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Something was definitely going on with you.

Mattheo had noticed it first. The way you had been acting… odd lately. You were sneaking around more than usual, disappearing at random times, whispering hurried excuses when he asked where you were going.

But the strangest thing?

The raw meat.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. But then he saw it with his own eyes-you, stuffing a bundle of what was definitely raw chicken into your bag at dinner.

And the other day? He caught you swiping a few sausages off Theo’s plate and tucking them into your robes when you thought no one was looking.

The hell was that about?

And it wasn’t just him noticing anymore.

“Alright,” Blaise drawled, lounging on the Slytherin common room couch. “I’m saying it now-your girlfriend is hiding something.”

Theo nodded in agreement. “She’s been acting shady as hell.”

“She literally took my steak at dinner last night,” Draco grumbled. “Just snatched it up and said she’d ‘make good use of it.’ What does that even mean?”

Mattheo ran a hand through his curls, sighing. “I know, alright? I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

“Well,” Enzo smirked. “Why don’t we just ask her?”

So they did.

You barely had time to get through the Hufflepuff common room entrance before Mattheo and the Slytherin boys cornered you.

“Alright, sunshine,” Mattheo drawled, arms crossed. “Talk.”

You blinked up at them, trying to look innocent. “Talk about what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve been sneaking around, stealing food, whispering weird excuses-”

“And hoarding raw meat,” Draco added. “Like some kind of deranged goblin.”

Your eyes widened. “I-what?! I have not-”

“Oh, you absolutely have,” Mattheo cut in, stepping closer. “So what’s going on, angel?”

You hesitated, glancing between them, before sighing dramatically. “You guys can’t be mad.”

“Oh, that is not a good start,” Enzo muttered.

“I mean it!” you insisted. “Promise me you won’t get mad!”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see.”

With a sigh, you grabbed Mattheo’s hand. “Fine. But you have to swear not to freak out.”

The boys exchanged glances but nodded.

And then you led them upstairs.

Sneaking the Slytherin boys into the Hufflepuff dorms was a feat, but you managed. And once inside your room, you turned to them and whispered, “Okay, um… don’t scream.”

That was not reassuring.

But before they could ask questions, you tiptoed over to your wardrobe and slowly opened the doors.

And inside, curled up in a nest of blankets, was a baby dragon.

The boys stared.

The tiny creature was adorable-scales shimmering between gold and green, tiny wings tucked against its sides, its snout buried into a pillow. But as soon as it smelled the food in your bag, it lifted its head, blinked sleepy eyes, and let out a tiny, high-pitched chirp.

“…What the fuck,” Draco breathed.

Mattheo ran a hand down his face. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

Theo looked thrilled. “IS THAT A DRAGON?!”

Blaise, was speechless.

You gave them all a sheepish smile. “Uh… surprise?”

Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sunshine. You’ve been raising a dragon in your dorm?”

You nodded. “His name is Snaggle!”

Draco choked. “You named it Snaggle?”

“Well, yeah,” you huffed. “Look at his little baby snaggle teeth!”

Mattheo groaned. “That’s what you’ve been sneaking raw meat for?”

You nodded, kneeling to scratch under Snaggle’s chin. The dragon made a happy little chirp, flapping his wings.

Theo was still in awe. “This is so cool.”

“This is insane,” Draco corrected.

Enzo finally spoke. “Okay, hold on-how the hell did you even get him?”

You winced. “Um… so, funny story… I may have… found him?”

“Found him?” Mattheo echoed.

You nodded. “There was this really sketchy-looking guy outside Hogsmeade, and he was selling dragon eggs, which is obviously illegal, but I couldn’t just let them be sold to, like, terrible people, so I bought one, and then it hatched, and now he imprinted on me, and I couldn’t just abandon him, and now he lives here.”

The boys just stared.

“You bought a dragon egg off a black market dealer?” Blaise said flatly.

“…Yes?”

Mattheo exhaled very slowly. “Sunshine.”

You gave him your best innocent smile. “Are you mad?”

He stared at you, looked at the dragon, then back at you.

Then he sighed. “Mad? No. Amazed at your sheer ability to get yourself into the most insane situations? Yes.”

Theo clapped his hands together. “Alright, well. No going back now. Guess we all have a pet dragon.”

Blaise snorted. “Oh yeah, because that won’t get us expelled.”

Mattheo shook his head, pulling you into his arms. “You are too much, angel.”

You giggled, leaning into his chest. “But you still love me?”

He sighed dramatically. “Yeah. I still love you.”

Snaggle let out a happy little chirp, and Theo immediately flopped down beside him. “This is the best thing ever.”

Draco groaned. “We’re all going to die.”

But, as Mattheo kissed the top of your head and watched you happily cuddle your forbidden pet dragon, he knew one thing for sure.

Life with you was never boring.

711 notes · View notes

bucksangel · 2 months ago

Text

sugar and cream

pairing: alpha!steve x artist!omega!reader x alpha!bucky (poly) - omegaverse!au pt. 4

word count: 10.6k (i’m sorry😭)

summary: The second thing you notice is the bench seat by the living room window having been cleared off, leaving only a few pillows and a variety of Bucky and Steve's clothes. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, the potent scent of your Alphas clinging to their shirts pulling you in until you can reach out and run your fingers over the red Henley on top. "We, um - We thought you could have a nest... here."

or - you finally mate with your Alphas.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! the amount of fluff in here is unbearable, this is also very smutty, threesome (mmf), knotting, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving and also kinda m receiving), cum swallowing, praise kink galore, consent is sexy, cockwarming, mentions of bonding, mentions of m/m sex, dirty talk, omegaverse, omega is shy and inexperienced, stucky are extremely careful and loving, a slight amount of angst (bucky is insecure about his arm/scars), basically everyone is nervous, switching povs

a/n: part 4 is finally here!!! i want to continue this au so if anyone has any suggestions as to what to write then lmk!! beta’d by the ever lovely @perdidosbucky-yyo and @fandoms-writings <3 and, as always, this is dedicated to my heart and soul: @buckysbarne

milk and honey masterlist | main masterlist | tip jar | ao3

After days of not seeing your Alphas or having much contact with them, it sends a rush of adrenaline straight to your veins when Bucky texts you that they've finally made it home. Over the few months Bucky and Steve have been courting you, they've only gone on a handful of missions, and most only lasted a day or so with only one of them being gone, so you always had one of your Alphas by your side.

This is the first time they've both been gone for almost four days, and while that isn't that long in the grand scheme of things, you've been anxiously waiting for any communication from them that they're safe. And now that you know they are, you can't remember ever being so excited for something. You want to see them, to check them over and make sure their bruises and cuts are taken care of - even though you know they've already gone to the medical wing of the Tower to get everything taken care of.

It's also extremely nerve wracking because tonight is the night. The night you'll finally mate with Bucky and Steve and show them how much you love them with your body and soul. You haven't been with many Alphas, but you've watched a fair amount of porn with men that may or may not resemble yours in preparation for tonight. It was a little... embarrassing at first; you didn't even know what to search for. But the more videos you watch and accounts from other Omegas about their experiences with being with two Alphas you read, you'd like to think that you're ready.

Truthfully, you've been ready for tonight, even before they asked if you were. You've never wanted to give yourself over to anyone more than these men because you know they'll treat you right, they'll take care of you.

So, even though your skin is buzzing with anxiety, you don't dare and try to talk yourself out of grabbing your bags and jumping in your car. Your face almost hurts from how wide your smile is, the happiness at finally seeing your boys combined with tonight's events causing you to let out a little shriek. You can't contain your emotions right now, not that you want to, Steve and Bucky are very vocal about how they love that you've come out of your shell the longer you've been with them.

Just as you're parking, your phone dings with a text from your friend, Tori.

Have fun, be safe, and call me if you need me <3

Two seconds later, another text comes through.

And tell them that they better treat you right or else I'll come for them :)

Rolling your eyes, you quickly type back a response.

Thank you, babe. I'll let them know and call you if I need anything, ily <3

You don't bother waiting for a response before you grab your bags from the passenger seat and climb out of the car. You suppose you should feel anxious walking up their porch, but any and all worries immediately dissipate as soon as you reach the front door, to which it promptly swings open. Bucky is standing there, a wide smile stretched across his face, and a flush on his cheeks.

"Honey," He says, though it's more of a breathy whisper. His eyes sparkle, and you can't stop yourself from ducking your head and nervously giggling, making sure to hold your bag tight so as not to drop it. "Here, let me take that."

You hand him your overnight bags, to which he takes them in one hand and grabs your hand with his other to guide you into the house. It's decorated a little differently than how it looked when you were last here. The first thing you notice is the new large fluffy blanket folded and thrown over the back of the couch, enticing you to collapse onto it and wrap yourself in the fabric.

The second thing you notice is the bench seat by the living room window having been cleared off, leaving only a few pillows and a variety of Bucky and Steve's clothes. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, the potent scent of your Alphas clinging to their shirts pulling you in until you can reach out and run your fingers over the red Henley on top.

"We, um - We thought you could have a nest... here." Bucky's nervous voice makes you turn your head to look at him. Steve has come to stand beside him, lacing his fingers through his mates', and smiles at you with such fondness that it makes you want to drag them to their room right then.

"We thought you could have a nest... here." Saying it out loud is a little scary, but Bucky and Steve want you to know that you're welcome here, that they want you here any time you want to be here - which they can only hope is all the time.

And Bucky feels like he's floating on clouds when you smile at them, then take the Henley and bring it up to your nose. Your sweetened scent permeates the living room, and Bucky thinks he can make out the hint of a grin behind his shirt.

"Thank you, Alphas," You say when you lay the shirt back down, and Bucky is suddenly pulled back down to earth the closer you walk toward them, placing one of your hands on his cheek and grabbing Steve's hand with your other. "I - I'd love that."

If it weren't for the flush on your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes, Bucky would've thought your micro stutter meant the opposite of what you said. But, as it is, he can't find it in himself to doubt you when you step up onto your tiptoes and place a lingering and loving kiss on his lips. And, after days of not seeing you, Bucky feels like he can finally relax and let out a big sigh of relief at knowing that he's surrounded by both of his loves.

Bucky's been on edge for the entire mission - not like Steve fared much better; they were both worried about not being able to keep contact with you. They absolutely know you can take care of yourself, but after months of doting on you and having you love them in return, they got used to it. Even if you didn't see each other every day, they never went long without texting or calling you, so it made both his and Steve's skin crawl at the circumstances.

But now they're back, and both men know that you are what makes their small brownstone a home, which is why they were even more excited to return.

Your kiss grounds him, the glide of your lips against his causing him to sigh into your mouth, and he can't stop himself from licking and then nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to hear that little squeak you let you whenever they give you things or do something that you like.

You'd all kissed before, including a few heavy petting sessions, but nothing further. They respect your boundaries and comfortability, and they'd hate themselves if they were the ones to hurt you like that. But, at their core, they're Alphas, and neither man can deny the rush of adrenaline whenever they're able to bring you even the smallest amount of pleasure.

The kiss comes to an end far too soon for Bucky's liking, but there's something inside him that loves seeing you and Steve together, so he pulls back, trying desperately to not feel bad when you whine and chase his lips.

"Why don't you give ol' Stevie a kiss too," Bucky murmurs against your mouth, smiling slightly when you suck in a breath and nod, your eyes glazing over a little. The look is mesmerizing, and he's anxious to see just how sweet you'll be for them.

When Bucky looks over to his Alpha, he sees the poorly disguised eagerness written all over his face, his puppy dog eyes shining. The brunette cups the back of your head, then disentangles his hand from Steve's so he can do the same to him, then guides your heads closer to each other until your lips are touching.

The kiss is easy and light, a few simple pecks, until they're both surprised by your boldness when you press your body into his and angle your head so that Steve is able to kiss you properly. He can see a peek of tongue slowly prompting you to open your mouth, then licking into it.

And Bucky can tell neither of you know, but your combined scents of arousal are emanating throughout the room and probably filling the entire house. He can feel his cock filling up in his jeans, twitching to life the longer the show goes on until he can't ignore it anymore, having to secretly reach down and grab his crotch to relieve the ache. Even without your mixed scents, he knows both of you are feeling it too by the little whines and gasps.

They'd planned on taking time to settle you into their house, take you on a tour of the rooms you hadn't seen before, maybe let you set up your nest by the window. But he doesn't want to wait; he's too nervous in the best way possible to worship you.

So, he saddles up behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist and resting it on your stomach, then places his other hand on Steve's waist. His movements knock both of you out of your trance, both of you pulling back with gasps and reddened lips, a bright blush covering Steve's cheeks.

"Sorry," Steve says breathlessly, chuckling a little when he realizes he got a little lost in the kiss.

"Don't be, Alpha," Bucky responds, leaning over your shoulder to peck Steve's lips. You whine at the sight, subconsciously squirming between their bodies.

"Alphas." Both Alphas groan, looking down at you with hooded eyes. "I - I'm..."

"Yes?" Steve asks when you don't continue, smiling when you nervously chuckle.

"I'm ready."

"I'm ready." You mean it with everything you have; you're ready to make love with them, to join your bodies, and show them that you trust them, that you love them.

Steve curses softly, gripping your hips as though he's restraining himself from throwing you over his shoulder. He doesn't; he actually puts one arm around your waist and loops his other arm under your knees and swiftly picks you up, carrying you bridal-style and smirking when you squeak.

No one says anything while you all head toward their room, a place you've never been. It makes you nervous, but you know without a doubt that you want this, you want to push through those nerves because you're even more anxious to really be with them.

Steve sets you down on your feet when they reach the end of their bed, letting you get a good look at how they live. Their room is spacious; a large bed with multiple pillows, a window with another bench seat, and a bookshelf that you just know is filled with Bucky's fantasy novels. You're smiling as you turn to look at everything, but your smile grows when you see more of their clothes on the lounge chair in the corner.

"We figured you could make a nest in our bed," Steve says nervously, and even without looking at him, you know he's shuffling in place, aching to reach out for you. "We want you to be comfortable here."

You can't seem to find any words to describe how happy you are right now, joy filling your body when you think about being surrounded by not only their scent, but their bodies too. It takes no time at all to walk over to the chair and look over the clothes, noticing shirts and sweaters and even a few boxers, causing heat to rise through your body and up to your face.

You don't even need to think about it, grabbing everything in the pile and carrying them over to the bed. The smile on your face is prominent with each article of clothing you place over the plush sheets, forming a semi-circle and fluffing it up until you're satisfied. Looking back to your Alphas, your eyes shine with a need to be praised, to be told that you did a good job, and that your boys are proud of you for your arrangement.

They do so very quickly.

"It's beautiful, honey," Steve says, not taking his eyes off of you.

"It's perfect, Omega," Bucky says next, reaching out his hand and beckoning you forward.

You go easily, walking toward them until you're once again sandwiched between them.

"You're really ready?" Bucky asks, caressing your sides and carefully slipping one of his hands under your shirt.

"Y-Yes." God, you're more than ready. But knowing that you're not as experienced as they are makes you question how tonight is going to go. However, they've always been careful with you, so you're at least comfortable knowing that they won't hurt you.

"We're going to go slow, okay?" Bucky asks, and you let out a small sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding.

"If we do anything you don't like, please tell us," Steve adds, cupping the back of your neck with a large hand. Guiding your head up to look at him, the seriousness in his gaze feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. The fact that they're so adamant about pleasuring you sends shivers down your spine.

"Yes, Alpha."

"We'll start with you telling us what you like," Bucky whispers in your ear, just loud enough for everyone to hear, but not so loud to disrupt the moment.

"Oh." Truthfully, you don't really know what you like. You haven't been with many Alphas, so you're not sure what you enjoy when having sex with one, but you have a general understanding as to what you like when you spend some time with yourself. "Well, I - uh. I don't really know, I haven't... been with that many people, so I don't really know. But, I... I like kissing. And I like touching."

"God, you're sweet," Bucky murmurs, kissing your cheek.

"God, you're sweet."

It's true, oh Lord, is it true. When Steve leans down to kiss you, he already knows what he wants to do. And since he and Bucky have talked about this in length, he knows Bucky is on the same page. They both know you're fairly inexperienced, so they figured you may not know exactly what you prefer with other people, but they both know they'll spend all night - hell, all weekend, exploring your body and getting to find out what makes you moan before they even think about their own pleasure.

"How about," Steve cut himself off with a groan poorly disguised as a clear of the throat. "How about we get naked first and get in bed. Is that okay?"

"Yes," You say quickly, leaning up and kissing Steve again. "I - I want that."

"Good," Bucky says, kissing the back of your neck and toying with the hem of your shirt. "We're going to undress you first."

Steve and Bucky talked about it, and came to a mutual decision to direct you through the night's events, telling you what they're going to do so they don't scare you. It also helps them and their primal Alpha urges to take care of you, to settle them into the mindset of giving you as much euphoria as they can without getting lost in their own heads.

Bucky and Steve kiss all over your face and neck, soft presses of lips against smooth skin, occasionally nipping and biting and licking. They pointedly ignore your scent gland, wanting to not only tease you a little, but also not put pressure on you with the idea of their marks. While they love to think about you being theirs forever, they want you to make the decision on if and when it will happen.

They're slow and methodical in taking off your shirt, Bucky working on your pants while Steve's brain short circuits at the sight of your covered breasts rising and falling rapidly with each passing second that their hands caress your body. When his Alpha chuckles, he's knocked out of his trance, kneeling down and steadying your legs to help you step out of your jeans.

Then, you're standing in their room covered only by your bra and underwear. Steve can smell your arousal even more here, the scent of your wetness making his head spin and lean into it. He stops himself before he gets too close, though, not wanting to move too fast. Looking up at you, he runs his hands up and down your thighs, very much enjoying the sight of his mate's hands exploring your torso, stopping to cup your clothed breast.

"Oh!" Your back arches, pressing into Bucky's touch. Steve sees his boyfriend smile against your neck, takes great joy in your little whines, and the way your hips buck up when Steve tugs at the band of your panties.

"Can we take these off, honey?"

"Please." Your begging causes the base of Steve's cock to throb, his knot already pleading to lock inside you.

You stand in place as Bucky works to remove your bra while Steve drags your underwear down your legs, and when he removes them entirely, he's captivated by the sight of how wet and ruined they are. The need to smell them is strong, but he manages to push aside the urge so that he can place his hands on your waist and look up at your face. Your pleasure is evident, but so is your hesitance.

Steve knows it probably shouldn't, but your inexperience turns him on even more than you already do, and he's determined to get you through it to the other side.

"Do you want to lay down, Omega?" Bucky asks, running his hands up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

"O-Okay." Your voice is breathy, already melting into their arms despite the lingering anxiety.

Steve stands, and both men guide you to the bed, a low growl bubbling up in Bucky's throat when you lay down, your legs out straight and spread slightly. They can both hear how fast your heart is racing, they both see the rapid rising and falling of your chest, and they can both smell how absolutely soaked you are.

"She's so beautiful, isn't she Stevie?" Bucky's voice is breathless, like he can't believe his luck at seeing you like this. Steve understands, because he's feeling quite the same. He's so eager to be with you but even more resolved to make this as pleasurable for you as possible, so slow and steady it is.

"She really is, Buck." They're about to crawl onto the bed, but stop when you whine softly and squirm.

"What's wrong, Omega?" Steve's brow furrows, looking over at his Alpha, who appears to be equally concerned.

"Can... Um. Can I... see you too?" Your voice is so small, so timid. The way you fiddle with one of their shirts by your head lets Steve know you probably want to reach out for them, and Steve would never deny you anything you ask for.

"Of course," Steve says, nodding. When he takes off his shirt, he sees your eyes widen, and smiles to himself when you shut your legs together tightly. The hunger in your eyes is evident, but there's also nervousness. "How about we still keep our boxers on for now, and we can finish getting undressed later?"

"O-Okay." Steve smiles at your response, and then looks over to his mate who - oh. Fear is etched across his face, and it suddenly clicks in Steve's brain.

Bucky's arm. While the scars have never deterred Steve from loving and worshiping Bucky the way he deserves, he knows his Alpha is still self conscious about it around other people. He's grown more confident with his body as time passes, but Steve knows Bucky is terrified of you seeing the marred skin on his shoulder.

"Alpha?" Your soft voice says, and you slowly sit up and look at Bucky expectantly.

"Alpha?"

Bucky kind of wants to vomit. He's been so excited for tonight, so eager to finally show you how much love they can give you, that he completely forgot that he would have to be naked too. He knows Steve doesn't mind his arm or scars, has told and shown him countless times that he's loved and desired, but it's different with you.

After all Bucky has been through, he never thought he'd get so lucky as to reunite with Steve, to be with him and love him openly in a way he never allowed himself to dream of back in the forties when being gay was a death sentence and two Alpha's mating was so unheard of it that it was laughable. And now that he can, he feels like he can truly be himself, like he can be, dare he say it, happy.

And then you came along. You, with your sweet voice that invades his dreams and makes him wake up aching to call you. You, with your tender touch that feels like a shot of dopamine straight into his veins any time your fingers so much as brush his arm. You, with your kind heart that has shown him so much love and patience, one would think you were a saint.

You've allowed him to explore parts of himself that he never knew existed; you've shown him how gentle he can be, that he's more than what he's made himself out to be. So, knowing all of this about you, Bucky doesn't think it should be so scary to reveal his torso to you. He knows that even if you did think the scars were ugly, you wouldn't visibly react.

But that's the thing. What if you do think his scars are ugly? Tony gave him some fancy medical cream he can't remember the name of to help make them not so red and angry all the time, but it's still not pretty. And the last thing Bucky wants is for you to look at him and realize you're too good for an Alpha like him.

No. He thinks harshly, chewing on his bottom lip, heat rising to his face as he tries to calm his racing heart. She loves me. I am enough. I can do this.

"Bucky?" Your sweet voice travels up to his ears, forcing his gaze to meet yours. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of - of course - yeah." He knows he's okay, he knows he's safe with you and Steve, but when he finally pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor, he can't meet your eyes, too afraid of what he'll find if he does.

He hears the bed squeak when he doesn't move, and he's so focused on trying to breathe properly that he nearly jumps when he feels Steve's hand land on his flesh shoulder.

"Bucky," You call again, soft as ever, and he can see out of the corner of his eyes that you're now kneeling at the end of the bed, reaching out to touch his chest. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I can put my shirt on if you want," Is what he blurts out, rushed, trying to assure you that he'll do whatever he needs to make you comfortable.

"Why would I want that? I love looking at you." There's a pain in Bucky's heart because you sound genuinely hurt and confused, wondering why he would ever think such a thing. "You're beautiful, Alpha."

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, then, with no small amount of apprehension, turns to face you.

"It's just... I know you probably don't want to see my... my scars, and I know they're ugly, so it -" Bucky's cut off by your lips pressing against his, and he feels his body relax even more.

"Do you want to know what I think of your scars?" You ask when you pull back, and Bucky doesn't really know if he wants to or not. But there's no malice in your tone, no disgust in your eyes, only love. So, despite his better judgment, he nods slowly.

"I think they're a symbol of resolve. You've been through so much, far too much. And they might remind you of all that you were forced to do, but not for me. They're proof to me that you withheld their torment and came out on the other side. They're proof of how strong and capable you are. I don't care if they aren't aesthetically pleasing, they're apart of you, whether you like it or not. And I love you. All of you. And that includes your arm."

Bucky is so focused on you that he doesn't realize he's crying; the tears on his cheeks don't register in his mind because he's too captivated by the sight of your fingers delicately running along the biggest mark on his shoulder. Then, you're leaning forward, placing a few short and sweet kisses along the seam where metal meets flesh, and Bucky won't even deny that the whimper he lets out is downright pitiful. But he can't help it; he doesn't want to ever go without you and your compassion.

"I love you too," Bucky whispers, leaning into your touch. "You... You're sure you don't mind?"

"Baby," You murmur, cupping his cheek in one palm and holding onto his shoulder with the other. "If it would make you feel more comfortable to wear a shirt, then I won't force you not to wear one, but I want to see you, all of you. I don't care if you don't think you're perfect because you're perfect to me. Me and Stevie. You're perfect for us."

If Bucky believed in a God, he'd be thanking them right now, would be on his knees wondering what he ever did to deserve you, but is so grateful that he must have done something right because here you are, in all your glory. Naked and baring your heart and soul to them.

Bucky wants to ravage you. He wants to worship you.

He's going to.

With a resolute nod, he covers your hand - the one on his cheek - and moves it so he can kiss your palm, once, twice, then a final time before he looks over at Steve. His mate has tears in his own eyes, and he's honestly surprised Steve isn't bawling right now, always so emotional.

"Lay back, Omega." Bucky's voice is hoarse, thick with emotion and desire.

And, because you're so sweet, you lay back easily, wiggling until you're laying comfortably with your legs out and spread a little, and your arms resting on the pillow above you. The picture you paint is better than anything in the MoMA. He could write soliloquies about how beautiful you are when you look at him with half-lidded eyes and slightly kiss-swollen lips. You're completely relaxed, and Bucky takes a few seconds to breathe in your scent and cement in his brain that you want him.

"Okay," Bucky whispers, mostly to himself, and gathers the courage to unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper. Looking to you, he waits for your little nod before he actually tugs the garment down, and then turns his head to see Steve doing the same. They're both slow, not wanting to ruin the moment. They've got nowhere to be except here with you.

Once both Alphas' pants are discarded, Steve steps towards Bucky and gives him an encouraging kiss, letting him know that they're in this together. It gives Bucky the reassurance that Steve is on the same page as him, is with him 'til the end of the line.

When they break away, they share a knowing glance. This is a big step for not just you, but for them. They've been together their whole lives; they know each other intimately in ways no one else ever will, and so to allow someone else into their dynamic was a big adjustment.

It's one they're happy to make for you.

"Can we come into your nest, Omega?"

You're not sure why, but there's a pang in your chest at the question. This is their bed you're laying in, these are their clothes you're surrounded by, but to them, it's your nest. They've already given you so much without expecting or asking for anything in return, and now they're giving you this; a safe space outside of your apartment where no one can hurt you, where even they still ask for permission to enter.

"Yes." It's the fastest and easiest response you've ever given, and you can't stop the smile from etching across your face as they crawl up the bed so that they can both lay on either side of you, propping themselves up on an elbow so they can stare down at you.

Now you're really trapped between them, both Alphas' eyes roaming over your body as though they can't believe you're real. Despite the close quarters, your 'fight or flight' senses don't kick in; you know in your soul that you're protected. And that thought alone makes your inner Omega force a submissive whine slip out of your mouth.

"Can I touch you, honey?" Steve asks, letting his hand hover over your stomach as though he's aching to feel you but won't do so without your permission.

"Please, Alpha." You're not sure which of your Alphas produces the deep growl that echoes through the room; perhaps it's both of them; all you know is that as soon as Steve's hand makes contact with your skin, your body is lit aflame. He runs his fingers over to your side, gliding his palm up until he's just barely touching your breast.

Suddenly, Bucky has let his hand rest on your neck - not nearly enough to choke you, just to guide your attention to his.

"Can I kiss you?"

You're not at all embarrassed at the speed at which you surge forward to kiss Bucky; just a few touches and sweet words and you're already putty for them. This time, you can feel the groan vibrating through the Blonde Alpha's chest, and your hand instinctively searches for him, finding purchase by threading your fingers through his hair. You can feel his eyes never wavering from your face, and it makes you burn hotter, makes you squirm because you're not sure what to do about the almost unbearable ache between your legs.

The kiss starts out soft, merely a gentle glide of lips caressing each other. It isn't until one of Steve's massive hands fully encompasses one of your breasts that Bucky's tongue has the opportunity to slip into your mouth - dropped open due to a gasp.

Lips press against your neck, soft sighs mixed in with little nips as Steve breathes in your scent. You're pretty sure it's involuntary, but you feel the hard bulge in Steve's boxers grind against your leg a few times before he seems to come to his senses and stop his movements.

"Sorry, 'mega," Steve breathes out against your skin, tugging at your nipple at the same time Bucky moves his hand down to your stomach. They work in tandem to get you worked up, and you're sure both of them can smell how wet you are.

It's when Bucky's hand reaches the top of one of your thighs that you part your legs as wide as you can with both Alphas surrounding you.

"Can I touch your pussy?" Bucky asks, pulling back from your lips just enough to be heard. He's breathing hard, almost as though he is the one that's about to combust from pleasure.

"Y-Yes, Alpha." It's been so long since you've had someone else touch you like this, and despite being nervous, you want to push through it. You want to join your bodies with them, give them anything they desire.

And even though you're aching and desperate, Bucky doesn't move fast towards where you want him most. He takes his time trailing his fingers to the inside of your thigh, then grips it in his large palm and drapes your leg over his to open you up even further. The cold air hitting your exposed pussy sends shivers down your spine, and Steve covers your mouth with his own to swallow your high-pitched whine.

"Don't worry, honey," Bucky coos in your ear, nipping your lobe. "We'll take care of you."

Pulling away from Steve and looking over at your other Alpha, you smirk a little. "You better," you tease, reaching up and carding your fingers through his hair, relishing in the quiet groan he lets out. "Because Tori wanted me to tell you that she'll hurt you if you don't."

Both Alphas laugh, nodding along.

"Well, we'll reassure her later that we did everything we could to cherish you the way you deserve," Steve says, kissing your cheek. "Right now, though, we have a job to do."

"And that's to prove to you that we can give you everything you need and want," Bucky finishes for him, sliding his hand to cover your dripping core and smiling deviously when you moan and buck your hips up into it.

"I know you will," You say. And you mean it; you mean it with everything you have. You know in your heart and soul that only they can provide for you. Looking between your best guys, you give them the softest smile. "I know."

Both men curse under their breaths, and Bucky looks down at you with that look in his eyes he only gives you and Steve.

"Can I play with your clit?" His voice is gruff, and it's clear he's holding himself back from absolutely ravishing you. It sends a surge of love straight to your heart and causes more slick to pour out of your quivering hole.

"Please."

Bucky nods, and Steve leans down to encompass your nipple, the one that he's not tugging at while your other Alpha taps your clit a few times. He circles it a few times, pressing down and smirking when you once again push your hips up.

"You're so beautiful like this, do you know that?"

It's an automatic reaction to shake your head in denial of his comment. You want to believe that it's true so badly, but sometimes you still have trouble accepting their compliments. It just doesn't seem real that these two Gods see you as beautiful as they say you are, but part of you likes to think that just makes their opinions that much more real. If these gorgeous Alphas think your appearance captivates them just as much as your heart, then you're hoping you're going to believe them one day.

"You are," Steve growls against your skin, and the sound reverberates through your chest. The sternness in his tone makes you whine, but also causes tears to prick your eyes.

"Say it," Bucky demands, rolling your clit between his fingers. "Tell us what Stevie and I already know." When you don't say anything, he continues. "Tell us you're beautiful; tell us that we're lucky to have you, and I'll slip my finger in that cute little hole."

You want his finger so bad, you want it to fill you completely and get you ready for them, but your emotions get caught in your throat. It's so difficult to say what they want you to say, but when Steve lets his teeth graze your breast and Bucky circles your hole teasingly, you know you'll say or do anything they ask of you as long as they continue to play with your body like this.

"I..." Bucky raises his eyebrow, then softens his expression, and leans down to kiss your forehead. With a deep breath, you look up at him. "I'm beautiful."

"And?" Steve says, releasing your breast and causing you to tremble when the cold air hits your exposed and wet nipple.

"You - You're... You're lucky to - to have me."

"Damn right we are," Both of your men say at the same time, and you'd laugh at their synchronicity if it weren't for Bucky's finger pressing against your opening.

You're wet enough that it doesn't feel that uncomfortable when the very tip of his finger dips in, but your body involuntarily tenses when he tries pushing in deeper.

"It's okay, honey," Bucky coos, and Steve cups your cheek to guide your attention to him.

"Just relax, Omega," He says, kissing your lips briefly. "It's okay, we won't do anything you don't want."

"But..." You trail off, heat creeping up to your face. "I - I really do want it. Just... Just go slow, okay?"

"Of course," Bucky says, Steve nodding in agreement, and the hunger in his eyes doesn't put you off. It actually emboldens you and further cements in your brain that they crave you the way they claim to. "We'll go as slow as you want, sweet girl. We don't have anywhere to be except right here with you."

"We won't even think about our own pleasure until you're completely satisfied," Steve adds, and that alone makes you want to cry.

How did you get so lucky?

"We told you, we are the lucky ones." Bucky's comment makes the heat in your cheeks flare up because you realize you said that out loud.

"So am I, though - oh!" You get cut off when Bucky manages to push his finger in even more until it's halfway inside. "I - I love you, and you love me, and it just - oh God."

Steve doesn't let you finish your sentence because he quickly pecks your lips, and you let his tongue invade your mouth when it asks for entrance by running along your bottom lip.

"We're supposed to praising you, Omega," You hear Bucky say, wiggling the finger inside you. You can't see him, but you're sure he's staring down at your entrance, no doubt aching to feel you fluttering around his cock.

The thought makes you clench down onto his finger, but then immediately relax your body to allow him to push all the way in. It stings, and you kind of wish you prepped yourself a little before coming over, but another part of you loves that they're the ones doing it, that they're more than willing to do the work.

Bucky wiggles his finger again, letting you get used to the feeling. Other than that, he doesn't move his hand, not until you break your kiss with Steve and nod at him.

"You - You can move."

He's slow as he pulls his hand back, though he doesn't allow himself to fully pull out. He gives you time to take a few deep breaths, then pushes back in, repeating the motion leisurely for a while until you're moaning and nodding again.

"Can you... give me another?" His fingers are big, one of them being thicker than two of your own, so you're sure it's going to be a little painful, but you're ready for it. Ready for them.

"Of course, honey." This time, he does pull out of your hole, tracing two of them around your entrance and smiling when you whine pathetically. "Just breathe, okay?"

"Yes, Alpha."

Bucky wants to combust, is going to implode with how much love he has for you. When you call him 'Alpha', it does things to him. It sends the primal part of his brain into overdrive, making him want to wrap you in his arms and give you the world.

Your body melts into the bed, and he manages to push two thick fingers into your core, stopping as soon as you hiss softly.

"It's okay, honey," Steve whispers into your ear, running his own hand down until he can press down against your clit. "His fingers are big, aren't they?"

"Uh huh," You mumble, wiggling your hips and taking steadying breaths. "So big."

Now, Steve knows from personal experience how big Bucky is, his cock and fingers included. And he knows that Steve can take it - oh boy can he take it, but Bucky knows he needs to be careful with you, no matter how strong his urge to simply take you is.

Steve continues to rub and play with your clit, allowing you to relax your core until Bucky can slip his fingers in further. It takes a little longer to fit both of them fully inside you, having to spread his fingers and go slow as he opens you up so that he's able to press in all the way. The fluttering of your hole makes his cock throb, eager to feel it around his cock, but wants to take his time so that you can actually enjoy it.

"Alright, Omega," Bucky breathes out, having to close his eyes and will himself to pull his fingers out. "Can you take another?"

"Yes!" Your enthusiastic consent forces a rumble from his chest, making that Alpha growl that he knows you like.

"Okay, don't fret, honey," Bucky coos, leaning down and giving you a nearly filthy kiss before pulling back. "Now, this may hurt. Just remember to breathe and relax."

He waits for you to nod before he presses the tips of three fingers against your hole. He goes even slower when opening you up this time, and he doesn't mind that it takes longer to be able to finger you properly. It seems like it takes a lifetime for him to be able to move faster, but he doesn't mind, not in the slightest. He's willing to age twenty years until you're truly ready. The glazed over look in your eyes makes him want to cry with how absolutely sweet you are, your scent of arousal filling his nostrils as he inhales deeply.

"Can I ask you something?" Bucky asks, and he wasn't planning on it, but when he pulls his hand away and looks at his glistening fingers, he knows he needs to taste you.

"What is it?"

"Have you ever had your pretty pussy eaten out?"

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide and your hips involuntarily wiggle. “Um, no - no one’s ever… done that.”

“Can I be your first?” Bucky is practically salivating at the thought of burying his face between your legs, and he can feel his knot throb as he imagines the moans you’ll make.

“Oh, oh - um. Yes, you can... do that.” You sound caught off guard, and for a moment Bucky thinks you might be complying simply because he asked, but then you thrust your hips upwards and whine “Please.”

Bucky can’t help the cheshire-like grin that envelops itself across his face, and he quickly nods, then looks at Steve.

“How about you get behind her and sit her on your lap; it’ll be easier that way.”

His mate nods eagerly, and they both look to you for your consent, which you give them with a nod of your own. They both lean back; Bucky helping you sit up so that Steve can shuffle to sit behind you. Bucky lets you scoot back so you can settle against Steve’s chest, and Bucky just can’t stop himself from staring at you both for a few moments. You’re just so beautiful, and seeing Steve’s hands holding your waist makes him desperate to watch you two make love.

But first, he has a job to do.

Bucky maneuvers his body so he can lay on his stomach between your legs, and he takes one of your calves in his hands. Slowly, he trails kisses from your ankle up to the inside of your thigh, then lifts it so he can lay it over Steve’s leg. He does the same with your other leg, though this time he gives you a few nibbles, which he licks after to soothe the mild sting.

Once both of your legs are spread, your glistening pussy is on full display, and Bucky doesn’t even want to stop the groan he lets out, he needs to let you know that he’s enjoying this almost as much as you are.

Leaning forward, he inhales your scent where it’s strongest, and he moans even louder, unable not to spread your lower lips to fully view your most intimate parts. Looking up at you, he gives you a gentle smile, then delicately kisses your clit.

“If you want me to stop, just let me know.” At your nod, and a smile of your own, he dives in further, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit several times and relishing in your shocked gasp.

Flattening his tongue, he licks a long stripe from your leaking hole back up to your clit, then wraps his lips around it and suckles, giving you time to adjust to the feeling. But soon enough, his hunger overtakes him, and he dips his tongue into your loosened hole, sticking it in as far as he can so he can drink down your essence. He keeps his eyes on your euphoric expressions, watching carefully to find out which of his actions makes you tremble the most. And you seem to be more than okay with what he’s doing, especially when he licks back up to your clit and teases your entrance with the tips of two fingers.

“Oh! Alpha, yes!”

Your begging sends shivers down Bucky’s spine, and he groans into your pussy, taking mercy on you and fitting them inside you. He continues to lick and suck your clit while simultaneously picking up the speed at which he fingers you, though he’s careful not to overwhelm you. He watches as Steve covers one of your hands with his own and threads your fingers together, then guides your other hand to grip Bucky’s hair.

“Does she taste as good as we thought?” Steve asks, his voice gruff.

“So much better,” Bucky says, leaning back just enough to be heard. His admission must have done something to you because you thrust your hips against his face and whine, high-pitched and loud.

Bucky might actually die; he feels as though he is dead, has passed over into the afterlife, and is now on his way to heaven. The way you grind your hips against his face makes his cock throb, makes him want to hump against the bed to relieve the ache - he won't, though, because he knows he'll cum too soon if he does.

“Buck,” Steve says some time later, out of breath as though he was the one who couldn’t breathe because he was devouring you.

“What, punk?” Bucky asks, pulling away and practically glaring at him, annoyed that he was stopped when you were on your way to release.

“Are you gonna let me have a taste too?”

“So needy,” He chuckles, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a smirk at the same time he rolls his eyes.

Bucky surges up, ignoring your whine as he leans over your body so he can immediately lick into Steve’s mouth. Your slick covers Bucky’s chin, and once your taste is almost gone from his mouth, Steve starts cleaning his Alpha’s face with his tongue, groaning deeply.

“You were right, jerk,” Steve says when he’s done, then turns to find you’ve been watching them. He pecks your lips, then smirks at you. “You’re delicious.”

“Alphas, please!”

“Please what, honey?” Bucky teases, taking your hand out of his hair and kissing your palm. “What do you want?”

“I…” You pause, chewing on your lip in a nervous gesture. “I want you… inside me.”

Both Alphas curse, and the men share a look before turning back to you.

“Both of us won’t fuck you tonight,” Bucky starts, cutting off your disappointed whine with a brief kiss. “We don’t want to overwhelm you. So, we’ll let you choose.”

“Oh.” You look conflicted, eyes flicking between both men as though it’s an impossible choice to make. And after a while, Steve kisses your temple, rubbing your sides.

“How about Bucky takes you first? And then we can work up to both of us later.” Steve’s offer seems to please you, and you turn to look at him over his shoulder.

“Are you sure, Stevie?”

“I’m sure,” Steve assures, bringing up your joined hands and kissing your knuckles. “As a matter of fact, I want to watch you two. I can take care of myself, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“Okay, honey. We’re going to take off our boxers now,” Bucky says, and both of them carefully extract themselves from your body so they can stand next to the bed. Both of them take a deep breath, keeping their eyes on you while they peel off their underwear and let them fall to the floor.

“That’s not going to fit.” Your blunt statement makes them both laugh a little, and Bucky shakes his head.

“We’ll make it fit, Omega. But…” Bucky trails off, glancing at Steve and seeing his reassuring smile. “How about you just sit on it for a little bit? It will get you used to the feeling.”

You squirm in place, your hands twisting in the bed sheets you're laying on as you contemplate the offer. Finally, you nod, sitting up and shuffling around so Bucky can sit on the bed with his back leaning against the head board. They both help you straddle Bucky's lap, kneeling above him as he holds your hips. He hisses when Steve grabs the base of his sensitive cock, relishing in the grip as his mate positions the tip at your entrance.

"Are you ready, honey?" Bucky asks, looking up at you. He can hear how fast your heart is beating, can practically feel you vibrating in place with anxiety. He's not sure if it's good or bad, and you have a hesitant look on your face, but you nod anyway, leaning down to quickly kiss him.

"Yeah, just..." You trail off, chewing on your lower lip briefly. "Go slow?"

"Of course, honey," Bucky assures, squeezing your sides affectionately.

"We've got all night," Steve adds, pressing a kiss to your temple. "If you want to stop or take a break, just let us know. There's no need to rush, okay? We'll take this at your pace."

"Okay," You say, taking a deep breath. "I trust you both."

You have no idea what that simple sentence does to Bucky. You trust him? Him? Bucky Barnes? The Winter Soldier? He understands Steve; he's Captain Fucking America; of course, he can be trusted to protect you. But sometimes it's still wild to Bucky that you trust him to do that as well.

It's something he'll never take for granted.

"I trust you both."

You mean it when you say it. You trust your Alphas with your life, taking solace in the fact that they'll care for and covet you, so you're not worried about that. It's just... You've never felt like this towards anyone; you don't think you'll ever feel so much love and adoration for another man, not that you want to. You fully intend on bonding with them and marrying them, creating a future together filled with happiness and joy. In fact, you're not actually sure what you'd do if you didn't spend the rest of your life with them.

You refuse to find out.

They're careful when helping you sit, Steve keeping his hold on Bucky's knot while snaking his other hand down your front to your pussy. Spreading your lower lips, you shiver at the touch, anticipation building in your core and heart as they remind you to take deep breaths.

It's been a long, long time since you've had sex, so the initial sting isn't surprising. What is surprising, however, is how quickly the pain dulls, fading away to pleasure. Steve's finger lightly toying with your clit also helps, forcing more slick to drip from your hole and practically soak Bucky's cock. Despite feeling like he's already deep in your stomach, you look down and find that he's only about halfway inside you, and you continue taking deep breaths.

It takes a few minutes for you to feel ready enough to sit down all the way; loud moans and whines fill the room. It's overwhelming in the best possible way - Bucky rubbing your waist to soothe you while Steve continues flicking your clit.

"Fuck." Even you are shocked at your exclamation, you rarely curse; it's just not in your nature. But it's the only thing that comes to mind, and your internal filter is practically nonexistent at this point. Your head is filled with thoughts of how much you love your Alphas, how much you crave them, and how you know you're immediately addicted to his cock. You won't take Steve tonight, but you're sure you'll become obsessed with his too.

It's just too good. Feeling Bucky's cock pulsing in your pussy sends shivers down your spine, electricity thrumming throughout your body and causing fuzziness in your mind.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, continuing to rub your nub and moving his hand from Bucky's cock to your breast, softly tugging and tweaking your nipple.

"Better," You say breathlessly, turning your head to look at him. "So much better than okay."

"Good. That's good, Omega," Bucky grits out, and you will applaud him later for his strength and willpower to not immediately fuck you. You know you're tight, squeezing his member as though you never want to let him leave your body - which, to be fair, you don't. You'd live happily for the rest of your life like this, surrounding and filled with your best guys.

"Are you okay, Buck?" Steve teases, and you smile a little at the smirk he gives the other man. "How does she feel? Tell me." The huskiness in Steve's voice gives away his eagerness, and it leaves you feeling disappointed that you won't take him tonight while also anticipating for when you finally do.

"Like fucking heaven." Bucky tightly shuts his eyes, breathing steadily through the intense waves of pleasure. "Our Omega is so tight, so fucking wet. Don't ever want to leave her pretty pussy."

The way they talk about you like you're not even here gets you even more soaked, unable to stop the pathetic whimper that escapes your lips. Nor are you able to stop yourself from wiggling in place, heat flooding your veins as Bucky's cock shifts inside you.

"He's so greedy, isn't he, honey?" Steve asks you playfully, chuckling to himself when you nod, clearly loving your dazed state. "Not that I blame him. We've both dreamt about you, how perfect you'd be for us. We'd wake up hard as hell, desperate to call you so we can get off to your voice. We didn't know how you would feel about that, though, so we'd take care of ourselves. But you're what we think about when we have sex; we moan your name, imagining you here with us so we can love on you too, give you everything you need."

Steve's endless praise lights you on fire, your hind brain going feral over how soft his tone yet how filthy the words he's spewing is.

"I -" Pausing, you squirm again, moaning at the jolt of pleasure. "I think about you too. When... When I t-touch myself." The admission doesn't scare you like you thought it would; you're too in love with them to be embarrassed about being so vulnerable.

But your admission makes Bucky's hips stutter upwards, causing you to bounce slightly. Everyone moans, and you feel Steve's painfully hard erection rut against your backside, and you take great pride in knowing that they're clearly pleased.

"God, you're just perfect, aren't you?" Bucky sounds out of breath, like he's just ran a marathon and hasn't recovered yet. He raises his eyebrows when you start to shake your head, taking you by surprise when he lightly pinches your side - not nearly enough to hurt, just acting as a warning.

"Say it, Omega," Steve urges, rubbing your clit a little faster. "Tell us that you're perfect, and then we'll let you ride Buck like I know you're desperate to."

"I'm... perfect." You don't really believe it, but you know you'll say just about anything in order to get what you want. And, judging by the looks on both of their faces, they don't believe that you mean it either.

"One day you'll see yourself how we do; the sweet, perfect Omega that you are. And we'll be right here when you do."

Steve's words make you want to cry; they bring tears to your eyes and a surge of love through your heart. How did you get so lucky?

You don't get much time to dwell on that because Steve squeezes your breast tighter at the same time that Bucky grips your hips and guides them to grind down on his lap. More moans emanate through the air, focusing on how good it feels to be loved by these perfect Alphas, how good you feel being filled to the brim with cock.

Before long, Bucky takes your hands and places them on his shoulders, his breath hitching when you delicately rub your thumb along the scars. You know he can't feel much of it, but you hope he understands the gesture when you lean down to kiss the marks. It doesn't take but a few minutes of gyrating until you voluntarily raise up a few inches, then sink down in one fluid motion, squeezing your eyes shut because you can feel that you're about to cum but you're pleading with your body not to let you, not yet. You don't want this to end just yet.

You lift up again, then sit down with a little more force, relishing in your Alphas' groans. You feel powerful like this, taking what you want with more and more determination until you position your lower half in such a way that the tip of Bucky's cock presses into that special spot deep inside your core.

"Alpha!"

"Is that it, Omega?" Bucky asks through a clenched jaw, his pupils blown wide as he stares down at where your bodies meet, entranced by the sight of his soaked cock. "Did I hit your spot? You feelin' good?"

"So - oh!" You can't stop riding him even when the burn in your hips increases, and you know you'll be sore tomorrow, but you couldn't care less right now. All you care about is getting off and making your guys feel as good as you do. "I'm gonna cum!"

"Do it, 'Mega," Steve says, rubbing your clit furiously, smirking into your neck when he ducks his head and licks and sucks the skin around your scent gland. "Cum for us, show us how beautiful you are when you fall apart. Show us how sweet you are for us."

You can tell Bucky is close too based on the rapidity of his chest rising and falling, the flush covering his body, the tensing of his abs. But you can also tell that he's holding back until you break first, and your inner Omega preens at the display of restraint, knowing that he's strong enough to please you first before he allows himself his own release.

"Cum."

You're not sure who ordered it, but you don't really care. Your body tensing and your pussy clamping down on Bucky's knot as it locks inside you, waves of ecstasy washing over you until tears start streaming down your face. It seems like forever but also no time at all before you slump forward into Bucky's chest, aftershocks of your orgasm causing you to quake when you feel his own cum flood your hole, getting locked in by his fully blown knot.

You're still whimpering and crying into Bucky's chest as you come down from your high; too many positive emotions swirling in your body and mind that it can't help but pour out of you.

"Honey?" Someone asks, clearly concerned, and you shake your head.

"I - I'm okay," You assure them, focusing on the hands caressing your body. "I just... I just love you both so, so much."

"We love you too, Omega." You recognize the voice as Bucky's, your cries dwindling into sniffles until you try to sit up, but fall forward almost immediately due to how weak you feel.

"It's okay, just stay like that, honey," Steve says gently, moving from behind you to kneel at your side and rub your back. "Rest."

"But..." Breathing deeply, you feel a sense of guilt when you look down and see that Steve is still hard. You want him to get off too, eager to see him lose himself, wanting so badly to touch him and give him his own orgasm. "You didn't..."

"Oh, honey," Steve coos, smiling at you sweetly when you trail off and don't continue. "You're worried because I didn't cum?"

Shyly nodding your head, you force yourself to maintain eye contact, slowly reaching out for him.

"Can - Can I... I wanna -" You're cut off by both Alpha's groaning, squeaking a little when you feel Bucky's cock twitch.

"You wanna touch our Alpha?" Bucky asks, kissing your forehead. "You can if you want. Touch him all you want."

"It's okay," Steve coos, shuffling forward until your hand is mere inches from his twitching cock. "Go ahead, honey. Touch me. Make me cum."

Even though it's phrased as an order, you know he's not demanding it; he'd never pressure you to do anything you don't feel fully comfortable with. And that's why you finally take his cock in your hand, positive that you want to make him feel good.

It takes no time at all before the base of Steve's cock grows, only allowing you to pump it a few times before the telltale signs of his orgasm crescendo into a full body shudder. He's clearly so worked up that he can barely last a minute with your hand on him, and it makes you feel like the luckiest Omega alive.

Bucky takes you by surprise when he wraps one arm around your back, steadying you against his torso while gripping one of Steve's ass cheeks in his wide palm, leaning forward and taking the tip of his dick in his mouth as soon as the first spurt of cum leaks out.

You're entranced by the sight of your Alpha swallowing your other Alpha's cum, and you're almost a little jealous that you're not tasting it, but the sight alone is enough to make you want to watch Bucky really suck Steve off. Images flash through your mind of them teaching you how to take them in your mouth, and you shiver at the thought but decide to keep it to yourself for the meantime.

Once everything is said and done and everyone is satisfied, Steve lays back against the headboard next to Bucky, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Yawning, you all chuckle a little, soothing hands rubbing your back and sides as your eyes start fluttering with the need for sleep overtaking your mind.

"Go to sleep, honey," Bucky whispers against the top of your head, tilting your head up so he can kiss your lips. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay," You whisper back, accepting Steve's kiss then resting your head against Bucky's chest once more. "I love you both," You murmur, your eyes shutting completely, letting the happiness settle into your bones and succumbing to the exhaustion.

"We love you too, Omega."

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, dreams filled with a little house and a home art studio, excited for the future.

m&h masterlist: @the-ginger-fairy-artist / @supernovatardis / @kandis-mom / @wandaneedstherapy / @bigcreatorwombatdreamer / @venusfly11 / @clownsbf / @matsumama / @thornsnvultures / @sadboiabby / @lily-excal / @alright-i-guesss / @blondie-bluue / @loveforreading / @marvel-wifey-86 / @wheezy-stucky / @exposition-belongs-somewhere / @stuckysbike / @starkblackwolf / @caitlink26 / @dreaming-potato / @emeraldfairy23 / @lethargicluv / @perfectlyboring / @monicachic13 / @akmenia / @hc-kerr / @iamfandomwasted / @wizardofstories / @emerald-writes / @matchat3a / @mollygetssherlockcoffee / @normalgirlnextdoor / @lolitsbuckybarnes / @rippedpiece / @lauratang

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @heytheredelulu / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader #stucky x reader imagine #alpha!bucky #alpha!steve rogers #alpha bucky barnes #alpha!stucky #milk and honey #my writing #my stuff

650 notes · View notes

zaynessbeloved · 29 days ago

Text

A Duke's Promise

Synopsis: In a world of whispered expectations and carefully arranged futures, your life was meant to unfold quietly beside your sister’s—until the man promised to her began to look at you instead.

The Duke of Ravencourt was meant to be hers. Courted her with duty, danced with her out of tradition. But slowly—delicately—his eyes began to wander. To you.

Content warnings: Regency Era AU, Regency Romance, Slow Burn, Forbidden Love, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tender Romance, From Courtship to Marriage, First Time Feelings, Mutual Pining, Letters as Love Language, First Kiss in a Garden, Longing Across Ballrooms, Dancing as a Love Language, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Night, Honeymoon Seclusion, Flash Forward Epilogue, Loving Marriage, Reader is Pregnant in the Epilogue, First Time, Consummation After Marriage, Fingering (implied), Oral (female receiving), Breeding Kink (soft & emotional), Table Sex, Library Sex, Bath Intimacy, Hand Kisses through Gloves, Stolen Glances.

Pairings: Rafayel x reader

Word count: 6.5k

A/n: This story began with one idea: what if Rafayel existed in a Regency world of whispered courtships, candlelit ballrooms, and dangerously improper strolls through the gardens? And then… well, then it became everything. The fan fluttered. The heart raced. The gloves came off. Literally.

If you love yearning, poetry, burning touches behind closed doors, and the kind of romance that leaves you sighing into your teacup—then I hope you enjoy every soft, scandalous step of this journey. Prepare for aching glances, stolen kisses, and perhaps a few gasps behind a fan. Because this is the Season, after all.

With all my heart, —Lex

Chapter 1

The manor had not known this much noise in years.

Maids fluttered between corridors like startled birds, arms burdened with ivory silk, pearl-dotted gloves, and lace-trimmed slippers. Somewhere in the east wing, a heated debate arose about whether the new French ribbon complemented or ruined the eldest daughter’s gown. In the drawing room, their mother fanned herself with a fluttering hand and sighed dramatically into the air, as if managing two debutantes had taken five years from her life already—and it was only the first day of the Season.

And you? You sat near the window, watching the grey spring clouds roll across the sky, utterly untouched by the chaos. Or at least pretending to be. Your reflection in the glass looked pale, thoughtful, expectant. As if even you weren’t quite sure what you were waiting for.

“Would it kill you to act excited?” came a voice behind you.

Your sister. Eleanora glided into view like a well-practiced scene in a stage play—tall, elegant, every curl in place. Her dress had already been fitted days ago. Pale rose, delicate embroidery, soft gold accents. The kind of debutante gown that said: look at me, then look again. Her confidence wasn’t arrogance. It was simply… inherited.

“I am excited,” you replied without looking at her, chin resting in your palm. “I’m vibrating with anticipation. Can’t you tell?”

She rolled her eyes and sank gracefully into the seat beside you. “Mother’s convinced I’ll receive a proposal by the second ball.”

You blinked slowly. “That’s optimistic.”

“She’s not wrong,” Eleanora said, half-smiling. “There’s already talk. Lady Whitcombe swears the Duke of Ravencourt will be at the Astor Ball. And he—well, you know how long the arrangement has been in place.”

Ah. Him. You’d heard the name whispered since you were old enough to understand what betrothal meant. Rafayel Vale, the future Duke of Ravencourt. Promised to your sister since they were both children, in one of those quiet family agreements made with wine glasses and sealed with handshakes and fortunes. You’d never seen him. Never met him. But you’d heard of him.

They said he rarely came to town. That he’d been abroad for years. That he was... peculiar. Brilliant, but peculiar. That he collected ancient art and turned down nearly every social invitation. That he had no interest in courtship, except the one already chosen for him.

Your sister’s.

“I wonder if he’s dreadfully boring,” you mused aloud.

Eleanora snorted. “He’s a duke, darling. I’d hardly be expected to love him. Only not embarrass myself at dinner.”

You turned to face her then. “Do you mind it?” you asked quietly. “That you’ve never met him. That it’s all been arranged.”

Her expression softened, then faltered. Just for a second.

“I mind being married off like a trinket. But… I also mind not having a choice,” she said. “And choices, these days, are only afforded to girls who marry well.”

A pause. “You’ll have more freedom, you know,” she added lightly. “You’re not promised to anyone.”

No. You weren’t. Not the eldest. Not the heir-maker. You were the afterthought in pearls. But freedom felt like such a fragile thing when it was wrapped in expectation and painted in powder and rouge.

There was a knock, then the door creaked open.

“The carriage is ready, Misses,” said a maid, curtseying low. “Your mother says the ball waits for no lady.”

Your sister rose in one graceful sweep. You followed, smoothing your skirts and forcing a smile.You did not know it then. Not as you stepped into the carriage, nor as the first ballroom doors opened before you. Not as your name was announced or champagne touched your lips.

But somewhere in the city, a man named Rafayel Vale had also dressed for the evening.And the Season had already begun.

The ballroom glittered like a dream dipped in gold. Chandeliers bloomed overhead, throwing crystals of light across silk gowns and polished floors. Laughter curled around the violins. Perfumed fans fluttered like butterfly wings. It was the first ball of the Season, and every eligible family in London had come to play their part.

Your mother had insisted on white for your debut—soft chiffon, pearl beading at the waist, sleeves just off the shoulder. You felt like a porcelain doll being paraded across a chessboard. But Eleanora? She was art. A single glance at her, and suitors flocked like moths to a flame. Her rose-colored gown shimmered with every turn. Her laughter fell in just the right places. She danced as if she’d been born to do it.

She probably had. You didn’t mind. Not really. You sipped at your champagne near the edge of the floor, nodding politely to a young gentleman who’d just tripped over his own shoes trying to reach her before the next waltz began.

“She’s rather enchanting, your sister,” came a voice beside you.

You turned. A tall, freckled young man smiled at you, slightly flushed with wine. “But I find myself curious about the other debutante at her side.”

Your brows lifted. “Curious, or drunk, My Lord?”

He laughed, unoffended. “Both, perhaps. May I have the next dance?”

You hesitated—then took his hand. The music rose, and so did you. You danced. Twice. Once with the freckled gentleman—Lord Daniel something—and again with a kind-eyed viscount who fumbled through small talk but smiled at your wit. You laughed. You curtseyed. You did everything you were meant to.

But it was impossible to ignore how the room revolved around Eleanora. She hadn’t left the floor. A new partner every song. An admiring audience wherever she paused. You caught glimpses of her between turns—her eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, posture perfect. And then… a whisper.

“Did you see? Lord Ravencourt is here.”

The name slipped between fans like a secret.

“I thought he wouldn’t come.”

“He never does. But this Season—well, everyone knows why.”

“He’s to marry the Everleigh girl, isn’t he?”

“The older one, yes. They say it was arranged when they were five.”

“And is it true he—”

You turned too fast, looking for the voice, the source. But all you saw were swirling gowns and smiling mouths. No sign of him. Your heartbeat kicked just a little faster, for reasons you couldn't name. You’d heard the name all your life, but now… he was here. In this room. Breathing the same air. And yet—You couldn’t find him.

Eleanora laughed again, a musical sound that carried across the dance floor as she twirled in the arms of a dark-haired gentleman you didn’t recognize. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps not. You watched. And listened. But Rafayel Vale, Duke of Ravencourt, remained as elusive as his reputation. Just a name. Just a whisper. For now.

Another glass of champagne was placed in your hand—your third of the evening, perhaps fourth. The effervescence prickled pleasantly against your lips, the sweetness refreshing but not enough to cool the flush that had crept across your cheeks after so many turns about the ballroom.

You’d danced with no less than six gentlemen—each perfectly polite, each thoroughly forgettable.

“You dance with such elegance, Miss Everleigh,” said one. “Your sister is lucky to have you by her side,” said another. “Might I call on you this week?” asked a third.

You smiled, curtsied, responded with the appropriate level of civility. But your mind had long since drifted elsewhere—pulled by curiosity, by the weight of a name that kept brushing past your ear like a breeze you couldn’t quite catch.

Rafayel Vale. The Duke of Ravencourt. And still, no one pointed him out. No introductions. No dramatic arrival. You were beginning to suspect he hadn’t come at all—despite the whispers, despite the excitement that had rippled through the room like a pebble dropped into still water.

You were about to take your leave from the floor when you caught the flicker. A subtle shift. The orchestra hadn’t stopped. The conversations hadn’t paused. And yet— It was as if the air had gone still. You turned. There, just beyond the far end of the ballroom, near the top of the grand marble stairs, stood a man dressed in midnight black.

No one announced him. He didn’t need it. He stood with one hand loosely gloved, the other resting against the gold edge of the balustrade, and surveyed the ballroom below with the kind of expression that didn’t demand attention—but commanded it nonetheless.

He was beautiful in the way storms are beautiful—elegant, distant, dangerous. His hair was tied loosely at his nape, the soft wave of it brushing against the collar of his coat. His eyes, from what you could see across the distance, were sharp. Watchful. His jaw cut clean beneath the candlelight.

You didn’t need to ask who he was. You knew. The Duke of Ravencourt has arrived.

“Ah, there he is,” someone murmured near you, confirming it.

Your heart fluttered unexpectedly. He descended the stairs unhurriedly, greeted no one, and walked with the ease of someone completely uninterested in impressing. And yet, every head turned.

Even Eleanora’s. You watched her gaze snap upward, watched the moment his eyes met hers—just for a breath. Then, with unflinching grace, he crossed the ballroom and offered your sister a bow.

“Miss Everleigh.” His voice was low, velvet-draped steel. Refined. Controlled.

Your sister curtsied perfectly. “My Lord.”

And for the first time in your life, you stood mere feet away from the man who had, without even knowing it, been promised to your family since before you could spell his name. Rafayel Vale.

You didn’t speak. He didn’t look at you. But something inside you stirred—a thread pulled taut, a chord struck too suddenly. So this is the man my sister is to marry. So that was him. The man whose name had been sewn into the fabric of your family's future like gold thread. The Duke your mother spoke of in hushed tones. The one your sister had been destined for before she’d learned how to flirt or curtsy properly.

And yet, you didn’t linger on the sight. You watched long enough to see Eleanora extend her hand. Watched him take it with a bow too shallow to be entirely respectful, too intimate to be entirely proper. Interesting. But not your concern. So you turned away.

“Miss Everleigh.” You faced the gentleman with a smile just sharp enough to cut through the fog of champagne.

“Lord Renswick,” you greeted, dipping into a curtsey. “You’ve finally decided to brave the dance floor?”

He grinned sheepishly. “It’s hardly bravery when the reward is a turn with the loveliest debutante of the evening.”

You tilted your head. “Flattery, my Lord? We haven’t even danced yet.”

“I’m hoping to improve your opinion before I embarrass myself,” he said, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You allowed him to lead you into the next waltz, your slippers barely whispering against the marble floor. You danced. And laughed. And when he stumbled, you teased. Another gentleman approached you before the music faded. Then another. The evening passed in a haze of pleasantries and compliments, silk gloves and careful steps, and smiles that never quite reached your eyes.

You were being seen. Not just as Eleanora’s sister—but as yourself. And still, somewhere behind the swirling figures and murmured invitations, you caught the occasional sound of his name.

“The Duke hasn’t danced with anyone else.” “He spent nearly the entire evening in conversation with her.” “They’re to be married before summer, I hear.”

You didn’t seek him out. But you noticed. He didn’t hover near the punch. He didn’t court attention. He simply existed, like a line drawn in darker ink than the rest of the room.

Eleanora had his company almost exclusively. They spoke often, heads bent slightly toward one another. She laughed in that polished way she’d perfected since finishing school. He only smiled once—or maybe you imagined it. He offered his hand to two other ladies for a dance. Out of courtesy, not interest. Both looked dazed when returned to their chaperones.

By the time the final waltz played, you found yourself near the windows again. A gentle breeze filtered through the open panes. The sky outside was deep and velvet blue, dotted with the promise of rain.

You pressed your fingertips to the glass, cooling your skin. Behind you, the ballroom glittered on. Your sister was still dancing. With him. So that is the man who will be her husband. You didn’t envy her. Not truly. He was distant, unreadable. A mystery, yes, but not yours to solve. You were only curious. Just a little.

The ride home was quiet at first. Outside the window, London twinkled beneath the night sky, gas lamps glowing like stars trapped in glass. The carriage wheels clattered softly over the cobblestones, a rhythmic lull that always came after a long night of dancing.

Inside, you sat across from your sister, your gloves resting delicately in your lap, your fan still tucked in your hand—more habit than necessity now.

Your mother sighed for the fifth time in ten minutes, fanning herself furiously though the carriage was hardly warm.

“Well, I’d say that was a successful beginning to the Season,” she declared. “Eleanora, darling, you were radiant. Simply radiant. And you, dearest,” she turned to you, “were charming. I heard Lord Pelham compliment your wit, you know. Wit, my love, not just your appearance. A rare thing.”

You offered a faint smile. “How generous of him.”

Eleanora chuckled softly, her face half-lit by the carriage lantern. She looked pleased—no, content. A strange softness in her expression, one you didn’t often see outside the confines of private moments like these.

“Six dances,” your mother continued. “Four requests for calling hours, and—oh! Did you see Lady Renswick watching your every move?”

“I did,” Eleanora murmured. “She nearly dropped her fan when the Duke took my hand.”

Your mother’s fan stopped mid-wave. Her expression turned reverent. “Ravencourt. Good heavens. I still can’t believe he came. I truly thought we’d have to drag him out of some crumbling estate by force.”

“He was...unexpected,” Eleanora admitted, her gaze turning briefly to the window. “Not at all what I imagined.”

You looked at her then. Not sharply, not with envy. Just with interest.

“What did you imagine?” you asked softly.

Eleanora tilted her head, thinking. “I suppose someone older. Colder. Not so… sharp. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it’s never empty.”

You hummed. “And?”

She smiled—small, knowing. “He watches everything.”

You raised a brow. “Even you?”

A shrug. “Especially me.”

Your mother gave a delicate gasp of delight and resumed fanning herself with renewed vigor. “Well, it’s settled then. We’ll expect him to call within the next two days. Perhaps earlier, given how much time he spent at your side.”

“I don’t think he’s the sort to follow expected schedules,” Eleanora said, almost absently.

You didn’t say it aloud, but you agreed with her. You leaned your head against the side of the carriage, watching the lantern light flicker over your gloves.

The Season had begun. Your sister’s future—the one stitched in gold and promise—was unfolding. And in the shadows of it… a man made of silence and storm had finally stepped into the light.

——

The garden smelled of lilacs and early rain. Sunlight spilled over the hedgerows in gold-tipped strokes, catching on the edges of your teacup as you sat beneath the shade of the wide ivory parasol. Bees hummed lazily between the roses. A soft breeze stirred the hem of your skirts, carrying with it the faintest echo of music from last night’s ball.

You swirled the honey into your tea absently, listening to the soft murmur of your sister and mother seated nearby. They were reading from The Society Pages, lips twitching with every name mentioned.

“Lord Eastmere danced four times with Lady Henrietta—that will certainly be remarked upon,” your mother sniffed.

“And here—‘Miss Eleanora Everleigh glowed in rose silk and grace, receiving the attention of none other than the elusive Duke of Ravencourt.’”

“They flatter,” Eleanora murmured, though her eyes gleamed over the rim of her teacup.

You didn’t comment. You let the sound of the page turning fade into birdsong and breeze. The first caller arrived before noon.

“Miss Everleigh,” the butler intoned with perfect composure. “Lord Renswick requests a moment of your time.”

You rose, smoothing the folds of your skirt, and offered a pleasant smile as the young Lord was shown into the garden.

He bowed. “Miss Everleigh. Might I say, the morning pales in comparison to your presence.”

You didn’t roll your eyes—though it was a near thing. “Good morning, my Lord. How kind of you to visit.”

He spoke of the ball. Of your dancing. Of how he hoped to see you again. You responded with grace, with interest even—but something inside you remained still. Unmoved. He wasn’t unpleasant. None of them were.

A second gentleman came not long after. Then a third in the late afternoon, with a bouquet of spring blooms and an awkward compliment about your voice. Each caller was welcomed, each given your attention, your politeness, your laughter in the right places. And yet…

With every charming smile and gloved hand pressed to yours, you found your thoughts drifting. To silence. To shadows. To eyes that hadn’t yet sought yours. By the time the sun began to lower, streaking the garden in amber light, the butler reappeared once more.

You glanced up, brushing a stray wisp of hair behind your ear. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat gently and bowed. “No further callers for the day, Miss.”

You nodded, not disappointed, not expectant—only thoughtful. “Thank you.”

You returned to your tea, now gone cool. Across from you, Eleanora had set aside her book and was absently turning the stem of a rose between her fingers.

“He hasn’t called,” she murmured.

You looked up. “The Duke?”

She nodded once. “Not that I expected him to arrive the next morning with a bouquet and a poem, but... he did say he’d be in town this week.”

You sipped your tea. “He doesn't seem the type to rush.”

“No,” she agreed. “He isn’t.” Her voice held no bitterness. Just observation. Eleanora didn’t chase affection—she expected it to arrive, eventually, on its own terms.

You glanced toward the garden gate. The warm breeze rustled the hedges, but no footsteps came. Still. It was early. Much too early to assume anything. By evening, the callers were gone. Your mother was content. Your sister, thoughtful. And you?

You were content to watch. To listen. To wait—not for him, but for the Season to unfold as it always did: slowly, elegantly, and with its own peculiar sense of order. If the Duke was to be part of your sister’s story, he would arrive in time. And if he didn’t? Well, that too, would be telling.

——

The gown was periwinkle this time, threaded with pale silver and pinned at the shoulders with clusters of tiny sapphires. You had said nothing when your maid fastened it, only watched your reflection in the mirror with mild detachment while she smoothed the folds. Your sister had gone through three dresses before settling on one.

“Do you think he’ll be there tonight?” she asked, not looking up as your mother arranged curls at the crown of her head.

You knew who she meant. “I imagine so,” you replied simply. “It is Lady Warwick’s ball.”

That was the third time she’d asked this week. He hadn’t called. Not once. Not even a letter. After all the glances, the evening spent in her company, the conversations in corners and near the card tables, the dance others noted… and still, nothing. The Ton had started to notice. Even the papers had commented on it, their tone careful, but curious.

Your mother tried to stay composed, but the tension in her voice betrayed her. “He’s a duke, darling. He’s dreadfully busy, I’m sure. Arrangements, estates, affairs of business—men like him do not spend their days penning sonnets and waiting in parlors.”

But it wasn’t poetry Eleanora wanted. It was certainty. And he, with all his poise and polish, had offered none.

Lady Warwick’s ballroom was suffused with gold light and the scent of blooming orange blossoms. The crowd was lively, the musicians sharp and practiced. By the time you arrived, the dancing had already begun.

You made your greetings. Smiled when expected. Allowed a young baron to compliment your hair. You even laughed once—genuinely, this time. Eleanora remained composed beside you. Her gown was elegant, her posture perfect. But you knew her well enough to see the flicker of restlessness in her eyes. Where is he?

You saw it the moment he stepped into the room. He was dressed in dark navy and silver this evening, a sapphire brooch pinned at his collar. He didn’t linger at the entrance. He didn’t pause for greetings. He moved straight through the ballroom, parting the crowd with nothing more than presence. And then, there he was. Standing in front of your sister.

“Miss Everleigh,” he said with a bow deeper than the one he’d offered last time. “I owe you an apology.”

Your sister turned. Blinked. “My Lord.”

He reached into his coat. From his gloved hand, he drew a small, velvet-wrapped box and placed it delicately in her palm.

“For my absence,” he said simply. “I assure you, it was not meant as discourtesy.”

You didn’t look away—but you didn’t move, either. A quiet statue at your sister’s side. Eleanora opened the box slowly. Inside was a brooch—silver filigree shaped like a crescent moon, a pale gemstone set in its center. Not extravagant. Not loud. But tasteful. Rare. Beautiful.

“You needn’t have,” she said, voice softer now.

“I did,” he replied. Then, “May I claim a dance, if you haven’t promised it?”

She hesitated—but only for a moment. “Of course.”

You stepped back as he offered his arm. She took it. They moved to the floor once more, the crowd subtly turning to watch. And you? You remained at the edge, untouched by the drama, your fingers gently clasped, your thoughts still clear.

He had returned. He had apologized. He had done what was expected. Nothing more. And yet, somewhere—deep in the space between music and silence—you felt the first ripple.Not interest. Just…a shift.

You didn’t watch them dance. Not because it hurt—it didn’t. Not because you were jealous—you weren’t. But because watching felt unnecessary. Predictable. Rafayel Vale had returned, and he’d returned to your sister’s side. As he was meant to. As he had been for years, in name if not affection. So you turned away. And smiled when another gentleman bowed before you.

“My lady,” came a smooth voice, warm like polished amber. “You’ve been standing far too long without a partner. Might I correct such a tragedy?”

You lifted your eyes. He was striking. Not in the brooding, storm-swept way the Duke was. No, this man wore charm like a perfectly tailored coat. Light brown hair, elegantly curled. A golden signet ring on his right hand. A smile that curled ever-so-slightly at the edge—like he knew something you didn’t. And his title?

“Lord Wessex,” he said with an elegant bow. “Second son of the Marquess of Clarendon. Though I’m told I’m the more tolerable of the two.”

Your brows lifted, amused. “You’ve quite the opinion of yourself.”

He grinned. “Only when justified. May I?”

You placed your gloved hand in his.

Lord Wessex was a skilled dancer. Not just in form, but in conversation. Where others had asked the same tired questions—What are your hobbies? Do you enjoy embroidery?—he inquired about the books you read. The places you wished to see. The way your eyes lit up when speaking of the sea, despite never having seen it.

He kept you laughing. Thinking. On your toes. And when he led you to the refreshments table, he didn’t hover or smother. He offered you a glass, nodded at your thanks, and kept the conversation moving like a current pulling you along.

“They speak of your sister and Ravencourt as though the match is already sealed,” he said at one point, gaze drifting toward the couple in question.

“It was arranged,” you replied lightly. “A long time ago.”

“Arranged,” he repeated. “That word always leaves such little room for choice, doesn’t it?”

You glanced at him. “You don’t believe in arrangement?”

“I believe in lightning strikes, not family bargains.”

You tilted your head, a little smile tugging at your mouth. “Then I suppose the Ton must frustrate you endlessly.”

He laughed. “You’ve no idea, Miss Everleigh.”

By the end of the evening, you’d danced with him twice more. Once by request. Once by invitation. Both times left your cheeks flushed and your thoughts pleasantly tangled.

And while your sister ended the night with the Duke beside her—the talk of the room once more—it wasn’t his presence that lingered on your skin as you stepped into the carriage. It was Lord Wessex’s voice in your ear, still echoing,

“Lightning strikes when you least expect it, Miss Everleigh. I do hope I’m standing close when it happens.”

——

The sun had barely settled above the rooftops when the butler arrived in the parlor, his expression neutral, but his voice carrying just enough weight to make the room pause.

“Lord Wessex and the Duke of Ravencourt have both requested to call this morning.”

Your mother nearly dropped her embroidery. Your sister froze, her teacup held midair.

You simply blinked. “Both?”

The butler inclined his head. “They await in the front drawing room, Miss.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then your mother clapped her hands together as if summoned by divine will.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Eleanora, you look lovely. That gown is ideal. And you, dear—yes, you’ll stay. It would be rude not to.”

You almost laughed. Rude, of course.

The drawing room had been polished to near-blinding shine. Fresh flowers in the vases, just slightly overdone. The maids had barely finished arranging the tea service before the two men were escorted in.

Rafayel Vale entered with the same quiet command as he had at the ball. Dark coat, silver cufflinks, gloved hands behind his back. He bowed with effortless grace, and his gaze settled on Eleanora with a soft nod.

“Miss Everleigh,” he greeted. “Thank you for allowing me the visit.”

Eleanora curtsied, serene as ever. “You are most welcome, my Lord.”

And beside him—light, where Rafayel was shadow—stood Lord Wessex. Smiling, charming, a pale waistcoat and a sunlit presence. His gaze found you immediately.

“Miss Everleigh,” he said warmly. “I feared you might have forgotten me since last night.”

You raised a brow. “That would’ve been quite the feat, considering how many times you stepped on my slipper, my Lord.”

He grinned. “A bold accusation. Perhaps I should call more often to defend my honor.”

Tea was served. The Duke sat beside Eleanora. Their conversation was soft, low, and polite. Words about estates, travel, the architecture of Bath.

You and Lord Wessex? Laughter. Playful remarks. A small joke about your mother’s over-watered lilies. And a question about your favorite poet, which—unlike others—he actually listened to. He watched you speak with a kind of gentle interest that was easy to receive, easy to enjoy. The Duke, for his part, never once looked your way.

——

The party was held on the sprawling estate of Lord and Lady Pembroke, beneath cream-colored canopies and strings of flowers that fluttered like silk ribbons in the breeze. There were games set up on the lawn. Plates of sugared strawberries. Lemon water and delicate ices passed on silver trays. You walked beside Eleanora, both of you fresh-faced in pastels. She wore a lilac gown. You wore blue. And they were there. As they always seemed to be, now.

Rafayel Vale, tall and composed in a dark grey coat, standing close beside your sister beneath the shade of an old ash tree. Listening as she spoke. Offering a quiet smile when she made some soft remark. And across the lawn—your suitor. Lord Wessex, lounging like he belonged in every summer painting ever created. When he caught sight of you, his expression lit up immediately.

“Miss Everleigh,” he called, rising with one graceful movement. “You’ve saved me from the tortures of idle company. Walk with me?”

You glanced at your sister. She gave you the faintest nod. And so you did.

You walked the gardens with him, spoke of travel and philosophy and music you weren’t supposed to enjoy. He offered you a wildflower he plucked from the hedgerow. You laughed and told him it clashed terribly with your gloves.

And when you paused to rest beneath the roses, you found yourself glancing across the lawn. Rafayel was still there, standing just a few steps behind your sister now as she spoke to another couple. But his posture had shifted slightly.

His gaze was no longer on Eleanora. It was on you. Not direct. Not rude. But unmistakable. A flicker of awareness. A moment caught like a breath between pages. And then, as if realizing it himself, he looked away. Just as Lord Wessex turned to say something clever that made you laugh again.

The grand hall was glowing. Every window draped in silk, every chandelier lit to bursting. The air shimmered with perfume and warm anticipation. Music poured from the raised platform where a quartet played their first waltz of the evening.

You had barely stepped two feet beyond the threshold when he appeared.

“Miss Everleigh.” Lord Wessex. Handsomely turned out in dark green, his cravat pinned with a gold brooch shaped like a fox. His smile was brighter than the chandeliers. “I was hoping to steal your hand before some other poor soul got the chance.”

You lifted your chin. “You assume I’d say yes, my Lord.”

He bowed low. “I rely entirely on hope and your mercy.”

You let out a soft laugh—and extended your gloved hand. “Very well, Lord Wessex. Just this once.”

He looked triumphant. The dance was effortless. You moved together as if you’d done it a hundred times before. You knew he’d make a joke right before the turn. That he’d lean in slightly before the dip, just close enough to make your skin warm. But never improper. Never forward. He was a gentleman with a wild spark.

Afterwards, he offered his arm and guided you to the refreshment table, refusing to let a single foppish Lordling cut in. You spent the next hour beside him—talking, sipping chilled wine, laughing so hard once you had to hide your face behind your fan. He made it easy. He made you feel seen.

Across the ballroom, the Duke stood by Eleanora once more. They spoke in quiet tones. He escorted her to a dance. Then another—not hers, but another lady’s, whom he partnered with as expected. His face remained unreadable. His words careful.

But every time your laughter rang out or your gown brushed past the edge of the room, his eyes found you. Just for a second. A flick. A pause. A look. Not interest. Not longing. Not yet. But curiosity. Not because you demanded it. Not because you tried to steal it. Only because you were there—and something about you lingered, even when you were no longer in the room.

Lord Wessex offered you another dance before the night ended. And you accepted, with no hesitation. The Duke, for his part, asked none of you. But watched—just once more—as you danced away, your laughter drifting like perfume behind you.

——

The bell above the door gave a soft chime as you stepped inside. It was cooler here. Dimmer. The thick scent of paper and aged wood pressed gently around you like a familiar shawl. Shelves towered around you, heavy with worn spines and leather bindings. A world apart from ballrooms and fans and powdered smiles.

You pulled your gloves off delicately, tucking them beneath your arm as you wandered. Most ladies preferred the modiste. The milliner. Or the tea room on Hanover Street where the windows let in perfect sunlight. But here? Here, you could breathe.

You found yourself in the poetry section—of course. One gloved finger brushing the titles, searching for something half-remembered. Brow slightly furrowed. Alone with your thoughts. Until a soft shift of leather soles caught your ear. You turned, expecting a clerk. And froze.

He stood not three paces from you. Dressed in deep blue, no cravat, no gloves. Simpler than usual, though no less composed. The Duke. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The absurdity of it made your lips twitch—of all places. He regarded you with that same unreadable expression. As if trying to make sense of something.

“Miss Everleigh,” he said at last. Voice low. Measured. “This is… unexpected.”

You curtsied ever so slightly, regaining your composure. “My Lord. I might say the same.”

A pause. His gaze flicked briefly to the book in your hand—Keats, you realized. Then back to your face. “You favor poetry?”

“On quiet days,” you replied. “And rainy ones.”

Another pause. He nodded, almost to himself. “A fine choice.”

You waited, wondering if he would say more. He didn’t.

“And you, my Lord?” you asked, a touch of amusement laced through your words. “Are you here for poetry, or politics?”

His lips curved just slightly. “Neither. I prefer philosophy. Or… anything with weight.”

You arched a brow. “Is that so, my Lord?”

He looked at you for a long moment—still distant, but not unkind.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he said finally. “But I’m not displeased.”

Your heartbeat ticked once. Then twice.

“Nor am I, my Lord.” you said simply. “But I should let you return to your… weighty thoughts.”

He inclined his head. “And you to your verse.”

You curtsied, slight but proper. He bowed in return. No lingering glances. No breathless goodbyes. Just two names exchanged, two minds acknowledged. And a silence that somehow said more than the words themselves.

——

It was one of those warm spring afternoons where everything felt too golden. The garden terrace was filled with soft laughter and the rustle of silk skirts. Ladies fanned themselves under shade trees. Gentlemen clustered near the wine table, discussing horses, Parliament, and who had worn what at last Thursday’s dinner. You arrived beside your mother, your carriage late by fifteen minutes—one of the wheels had needed adjusting.

“Smile, darling,” your mother said as she adjusted your glove without asking. “Your sister may be absent, but you mustn’t let that reflect poorly on the family. A touch of color in your cheeks wouldn’t hurt either.”

You smiled. You nodded. You adjusted. Eleanora had woken feeling unwell—no fever, but pale and weak, and your mother would never allow a less-than-perfect appearance at a public affair.

“You’ll attend in her place,” she had said. “Just be seen, dearest. And speak kindly if anyone asks after her.”

So now you stood in her shadow—only without her beside you to cast it. You moved through conversation with practiced ease. Three ladies asked after your sister. One older gentleman mistakenly called you by her name. You corrected him gently, no sting in your voice.

And then you excused yourself, moving toward the edge of the terrace where the rose-covered trellis offered a moment of quiet. You were just reaching for a glass of water when a familiar voice drifted behind you.

“Miss Everleigh.” You turned. There he was. Rafayel Vale. Alone.

Not at your sister’s side. Not deep in conversation. Not scanning the crowd for another lady to dance with. He stood a respectful distance away, one hand loosely behind his back, the other holding a glass of white wine.

“Your Grace,” you greeted calmly, offering a curtsy. “I’m surprised to see you without company.”

His lips twitched. “It seems the pattern of surprises between us continues.”

A pause. His eyes studied your face—not in a way that lingered, but in a way that noticed. “Your sister is not attending?”

You shook your head. “She’s unwell, my Lord. Nothing serious, only a passing fatigue.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” His voice was quiet. Smooth as ever. But beneath it—something unreadable. Again.

“I hope you don’t feel... obligated to entertain me in her absence, my Lord” you added, careful. Light.

“I don’t.” The reply came quicker than expected. Not curt. Just honest.

Your brows lifted, amused. “Then what brings you to my corner of the garden, my Lord?”

A pause.

“Curiosity, perhaps,” he said. Then added, almost like a confession, “...You have a talent for appearing where I least expect you.”

You blinked. And then—smiled. Just a little. “I assure you, my Lord. I don’t do it on purpose.”

“Pity,” he murmured. “It’s becoming a habit I rather look forward to.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Because someone was calling your name—Lord Wessex, of course, waving from the edge of the terrace with that signature grin.

You turned back to the Duke. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord”

He inclined his head. “Of course.”

You curtsied again. He bowed. And you walked away—toward the man who wanted you, and away from the one who had only just started to wonder if he should.

“Was that the Duke I saw you speaking with?” Lord Wessex asked, offering his arm as you returned to the center of the terrace.

“It was, my Lord.” you replied, fingers brushing the embroidered edge of his sleeve as you accepted.

“And how was His Grace this fine evening? Did he frown at you with poetic intensity?”

You smiled. “Polite. Curious, perhaps. But no frowning.”

He clicked his tongue, mock-disappointed. “How dull. I had hoped for at least a glower.”

You laughed, soft and warm, as he guided you toward a quieter corner of the garden path, where lanterns hung low and glowing between branches of wisteria. You walked in companionable silence for a moment. Then—

“You always find me,” you said lightly.

“I always look,” he said without hesitation. That stilled you—just a fraction. Not because it was dramatic. But because it was true.

The conversation drifted easily, like it always did. He asked about your favorite lines from the bookshop. You asked about his childhood summers spent on a windswept estate in Devon. He made you laugh with an imitation of a distant cousin who once proposed to a woman mid-faint.

It was easy, this thing between you. Not dull. Not predictable. But certain. And when he asked you for a dance under the stars, you said yes without thinking twice. You danced in the soft evening breeze, the music from the terrace drifting down like petals from above. His hand was steady. His eyes never left yours.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured as you turned.

“Apologies, my Lord. I hadn’t realized.”

“Quieter than usual. Not unhappy, I hope?”

“No,” you said truthfully. “Just… present.”

He smiled at that. “Then I’ll consider myself fortunate.”

Somewhere on the terrace, the Duke danced with another lady. He did not fumble. He did not charm. He did not smile too wide or step too close. He was composed, as always. Fulfilling his role. Bowing when required. Saying the right words. But when your laughter drifted once more across the lawn, his eyes—just for a second—turned toward the sound. And lingered.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST HERE AND ON MY AO3.

.ᐟ✧ translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!

side note: credits for two pictures used for the banner go to their original creators.

taglist: @syluslittlecrows

next part

#love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x you #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel x mc #love and deep space #lnds #loveanddeepspace #qi yu #rafayel regency era #rafayel duke #regency era au

448 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

i dare you

a/n: for all of you hoes who are also hot for teacher, bon appetit, bitch ♡

summary: “no, I was thinking a little something else,” a mischievous grin slowly twisted up his lips, “how about, if we win, then you have to make a move on that professor,” he goaded, “but if you win, then we’ll–, I don’t know, what would you like?”

warnings: professor!peter parker x innocent!reader, smut, dark content, college au, polyamory, student/teacher relationship, forbidden romance, age gap, dilf!peter, babysitting, alcohol consumption, kissing, corruption kink, car sex, semi-public sex, voyeurism, panty sniffing, dirty talk, hair pulling, masturbation, fingering

word count: 3611

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

Staying back, you watched in your periphery as the other students slowly filtered out of the lecture hall, though your gaze stayed glued to the teacher as he packed up his things down by the wide chalkboard.

Professor Parker’s back was turned to you as you neared, and a murmur quickly rolled off your tongue, “professor, I just wanted to–,” but then as he whirled around, unaware of how close you had crept, his frame bumped directly into yours, and the half-empty cup of cold coffee in his grasp jostled in the clash and splashed down upon the both of you.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as his eyes first flickered down to the large stain on his shirt before they blinked up to discover who was to blame.

“I am so sorry, oh no…” you gasped as you stared back at his ruined button-down, the sodden state of your own clothing not seeping through your guilt yet.

“It’s–,” the flash of anger that had momentarily sparked was swiftly squashed when his gaze fell upon you, “it’s alright,” he exhaled as his shoulders relaxed, “I have some spare clothes in my office.”

“Really?”

“Habit of being a dad,” he shrugged as he picked up his leather satchel, “this is not the first time I’ve spilt something on myself. Come, you can borrow one as well. I’m guessing you don’t want to walk around campus like that,” he faintly nodded to your t-shirt as his eyes fought not to stare.

“What?” you finally glanced down at yourself and noticed how the soaked coffee stain had turned the thin cotton of your shirt nearly transparent, “oh…” heat swiftly began to rise in your cheeks for a different reason other than just the mortification of the clumsy collision, “oh my god…”

Though you only shrugged on the button-down he handed you once you stepped inside of his office, merely covering up the sheer state of your shirt enough for you to get back to your dorm and change, your heart began to hammer in your chest as he absentmindedly stripped off his ruined shirt and didn’t realise what he had done till half of the buttons on the fresh one was fastened.

“So,” he swiftly cleared his throat as you struggled to blink away from the sliver of his chest that he hastily covered back up, “what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Hm?” you hummed, fearing drool might be leaking down your chin by now.

“When I walked into you,” he reminded your foggy head, “you started saying something, so what was it?”

“Oh, that…” an airy chuckle puffed out of your lungs as you averted your gaze, “it’s so silly now…” and you tugged open your backpack and reached into it before you uttered, “I know it’s cliche, but I brought you an apple…”

“Oh,” a smile warmed up the older man’s features as you plucked the fruit out of your bag and held it for him to grasp, “that’s cute.”

Once in his hand, he twisted around to place it delicately in the middle of the cluttered desk behind him.

“You know, now that you’re here,” he began before he turned back to face you, “I wanted to talk to you about maybe looking after Benjamin again.”

“I dare you.”

“What? No!” you shrieked at Andy as he cracked open another beer for himself, “he’s my professor!”

“So? That shouldn’t stop you,” he cocked a brow, “go ask Billy, he’s screwed more faculty members than I can recall,” he nodded to the frat guy currently propped up against the far side wall, chatting up some girl as the party buzzed around him, “come on, you said you have a crush on him.”

“Oh my god,” you swiftly buried your head in your hands, “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Well, then maybe don’t play truth or dare if you’re gonna be such a baby about the things you share,” he only chuckled in return.

Marc then draped an arm around your shoulders and boomed over the music, “you should go for it!”

“Stop, I’m not gonna seduce him,” you crawled out of hiding with a groan, “I’m not some siren.”

“No, but you are a hot little freshman, which is pretty damn close,” Marc smirked as you met his gaze.

A head then poked through the open doorway before it swivelled to find you, “hey, there you guys are,” Scott waved a hand, “we’re up.”

“Oh, finally,” Andy exhaled before you all began to shift into the room in the fraternity where the beer pong table was permanently set up in, “who won last round?”

“Curtis and Bucky,” Scott cocked his head as you settled in beside him on one end of the table while the two others migrated towards the opposite side.

“Aw, man…” Marc swiftly sighed, “they’re probably gonna take the crown again…”

And as you all prepared the table for another game, lining cups up in triangles on either end, Andy’s voice then found your ears as you grasped the small ping pong balls in your palm, ready for your first toss.

“Wait, how about we make this a little more interesting?”

Furrowing your brow, you shifted the lightweight sphere from one hand to the other, “interesting how? I don’t wanna put money on this, if that’s what you mean. My stepfather, and by proxy Steve, may be rich assholes, but that doesn’t mean I am…”

“No, I was thinking a little something else,” a mischievous grin slowly twisted up his lips, “how about, if we win, then you have to make a move on that professor,” he goaded, “but if you win, then we’ll–, I don’t know, what would you like?”

“Oh, wait, I get to choose something?” your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the temptation.

“Yeah.”

Mulling it over, you then uttered, “…well, my notes for pretty much all of my classes are really messy… so, if I win, then you guys could organise them all,” you pointed at both of your competitors with a smile, “rewrite them in nice legible handwriting, colour code it and everything.”

“Seriously?” Andy promptly squinted at you as a look of disappointment washed over his features.

“That's what I want.”

“You know you could have had anything, or anyone, as a prize, and you chose that?”

“What?” you blinked back at him as if you were a puppy, “it’s what I want.”

“Alright then,” a chuckle slipped through his sigh, “game on.”

“Oh, hey. You’re back,” you uttered as you picked your nose out of the textbook cracked open on your professor’s dining table and glanced up to spot him waltzing in through the door. He was slightly wet from the brief trek up the driveway and into the house as rain had begun to hammer against the windows.

“Yeah, that fundraiser dragged on for an eternity…” he sighed as he hung up his coat. Stepping closer to where you sat, he asked, “how did it go here? Is Benji down for the night?”

“Yep, he’s asleep,” you nodded, “we played outside in the garden,” you smiled as you reported, thinking back to how you and the six-year-old had played hide and seek, “he helped supervise while I made dinner, by the way, there’s still some left over in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet,” you briefly pointed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, “and then we started reading Ronja, the Robber's Daughter as a bedtime story, and just as a fair warning, he is hooked. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up tomorrow morning with a burning desire to run into the woods and pretend that he is the daughter of a viking.”

Your collective giggles about the child filled the air a moment before it simmered down once more and Peter’s eyes drifted to your homework on the table.

“And what’s this now?” he planted a hand close to where you sat and leaned in.

“This is the assignment for your class, but don’t peek yet!” your fingers swiftly grasped the corner of the notebook in front of you before you tilted it mostly shut to hide the scribbled words from his view, “that’s cheating! You’ll just have to be patient and get it next week along with all the others.”

“I’ll try my best,” he chuckled as he gazed down at you.

And as you met his eye, your vision soon flickered down to the buttoned-up collar of his shirt before you remembered, “oh hey,” and you dipped down to slip a hand into the backpack you had leaned against the leg of the dining table, “I forgot to give this back to you earlier.”

“Oh, thanks,” his eyebrows floated up a tad as you handed him the shirt you’d borrowed, “I almost forgot about it,” before his fingers drifted up to push his glasses back into place.

A crack of thunder then ripped both of your attentions to the broad window behind you.

“Wow,” you murmured as you watched a bolt of lightning split through the darkness of the late evening, “it’s really coming down out there…”

“Yeah…” Professor Parker hummed before his glance shifted to you, “wait, was that your bicycle out front? You can’t ride back in this weather,” his head faintly shook from side to side.

“Oh, well, you live so close to campus, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense, I’ll drive you,” he pressed.

“You really don’t have to, it’s already so late.”

“Young lady, I am giving you a lift and that’s final,” he captured your timid gaze, “I can’t have my best student get sick or struck by lightning.”

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you breathed, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Let me just go put this away,” he raised the shirt in his hand up slightly, “and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Great,” you smiled before it promptly dropped as he slipped out of the room.

It had been the guys who had talked you into shimmying off your panties the next time you were here and placing them on his bedside table to enjoy, though you had all but forgotten about the lack of coverage currently beneath your skirt right until you watched your professor waltz right into the lion’s den.

“W-wait–,” you tried to stop him, but by the time you parted your lips, he was already long gone.

And before you even realised it, you had risen from the chair and your feet had begun to tip-toe after him. The dark hallway swallowed you whole as you crept through it towards the open doorway into his bedroom.

Hiding yourself in the shadows with your fingernails digging into the doorframe as you peeked inside, a silent prayer left your lips as you hoped he’d not notice the tiny ball of folded-up, pastel-blue cotton on the nightstand, at least not while you were still under his roof.

Though when he’d tossed the shirt into the hamper by his closet, his footsteps faltered when he turned to exit the room. As he stared at the small bundle, it wasn’t till he reached the bedside table that he realised what exactly it was.

Picking it up, he turned it over in his hand a moment before your palm soared up to clasp over your mouth and silence a gasp as he then raised the pale fabric up even higher till it reached his nose.

Though you knew that you should have, you just couldn’t tear your stare away from him, even after his free hand had squeezed the growing bulge in his pants, after he had freed his fat cock, and even after soft grunts began to tumble up his throat as he let his eyes flutter shut and his tight fist began to stroke his length.

And once he’d gotten himself off, his cum now staining your panties clutched tightly in his grip, he then crumbled them up and stuffed them into his pocket.

Scrambling to rush back to the dining room, you tried to ignore the throbbing between your thighs and the arousal that had begun to leak down them as well from that sinful display.

When you heard his footsteps echo down the hallway, you packed up your things as quickly as you could, tossing them into your backpack as you tried your best to pretend that nothing had just happened.

Clearing his throat as he entered the room once more, he then murmured, “you ready to go?”

“Mhm,” you twisted around to face him, however noticed how he refused to meet your eye.

Though you both tried to be hasty as you went out into the storm, strapping your bike to a rack on the back of his car, you were both still completely soaked when the vehicle’s doors closed behind each of you, low exhales acting as punctuations after the slams.

You tried to recall the long list of tips and tricks your stepbrother’s friends had pushed on you, but your mind went completely blank as all you could think about was the vision of your teacher touching himself before your very eyes.

And before Peter’s fingers could slip the key in and turn on the engine, you found yourself, in your flustered frenzy, leaning in to press your lips to his own.

The kiss was rushed and rather clumsy, but you stayed frozen, long enough for your tense shoulder to begin to thaw, though when you finally felt him slip from his stunned state, he only kissed you back for a split second before his hands grasped your shoulders and he tilted you away from him.

“What are you doing?” he demanded breathlessly as his grip stayed at your upper arms to keep you at a distance.

“I’m sorry, I just–,” you gasped shakily, “I think I might like you…”

“Oh fuck…” a long sigh slipped from his lungs as he bowed his head and closed his eyes, “this can’t be happening…”

“I’m sorry, I should have asked first, I just kind of panicked,” you tried, hearing your voice tremble embarrassingly.

“No, you shouldn’t have asked, because none of this should have happened in the first place,” he swiftly grumbled before he let his touch fade from your arms, “this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have crossed this line, opened my home to you and let you see me as something other than your superior.”

“Professor,” you shifted in your seat, “I’m sorry that I kissed you, I just thought that you might–”

“Kissed me? Oh, this isn’t just about you kissing me,” a soft scoff bubbled out of him as his head faintly shook, “miss Y/l/n, you can’t just leave your undergarments around for your teacher to find.”

Averting your gaze, you found yourself muttering just beneath your breath, “…well it didn’t look like you minded…”

“What?” he nearly growled, “what did you just say?”

“I–…”

“Were you spying on me?” he accused heatedly.

“I–, well–,” you panted, “I can explain, it wasn’t my idea–”

“So, what–, this is just some game you’ve got going with your little friends? See who can sleep with a teacher first or something?”

“No, it’s not,” you frantically shook your head before you had to tilt it in shame, “or well–, some people I know found out about the dumb crush I have on you and then they kinda dared me, gave me some suggestions on what to do…”

“Oh my god…” he exhaled slowly and averted his gaze, “…okay…” he then enclosed his fingers around the steering wheel, “I am gonna drive you back and then we will both forget that any of this ever happened, you got it?” he said firmly, though the hurt in your eyes he then spotted as you blinked back at him swayed him to take a step back and choose his next words very carefully, “look, you’re a very sweet girl, and I’m flattered, truly, but you don’t want me,” he faintly shook his head as he gazed back into your glossy eyes, “you should go be with someone your own age…”

“Should I?” you innocently uttered in a heartbreaking tone, “just like you shouldn’t be getting off to the thought of your students?”

Checkmate.

Slowly, you inched closer to his frozen form, “it’s okay,” you whispered when you leaned so near that your noses nearly touched, “I promise, I won’t tell anyone…”

And then as if something inside of your teacher snapped, he huffed, “fuck…” before he closed the short gap between you both and kissed you fiercely.

It felt as if he was trying to devour you whole as you began to make out in his car, rain still thrashing against the outside as his tongue fluttered against yours for a taste of your youth.

Your fingers soon drifted up to tangle his soaked tie in your grasp and you found yourself purring meekly against his lips as his own touch floated up your frame, ghostly against your sides, before he cupped your jaw.

But just as quickly as he had shattered, he once again pulled back, just ever so slightly to murmur, “this is wrong…” his hot breath fanned across your flaming cheeks, “you’re my student…” before you tilted up to steal another peck from him, one so sweet that it prompted him to crumble even further, “h-how old are you? You’re eighteen?” he asked breathlessly before you offered him a faint nod, “you’re eighteen…” he panted through his conflict, “holy fuck…”

You then kissed him again till his hands gradually began to gain more confidence as they raked across your frame. His touch was bold as it captured your tits, palming the softness through the wet clothing that clung to your curves, making you whimper into his mouth, a sweet sound that caused him to smirk faintly against your lips before he deepened the kiss even further.

“You can touch me, professor,” you panted as one of his hands soared up to weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, “it’s okay, I want you to.”

With his grip rooted in your hair and keeping you close, he held your eye as he then let one of his palms slowly wander down between your thighs till your skirt gathered around the watch on his wrist and his touch crept up to brush against your bare core.

Studying the reaction that flashed across your features closely, he groaned, “holy shit…” as your needy nectar soaked his careful touch, “is this for me? Really?”

“Mhm…” you struggled to nod as his fingertips swept up to graze against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck…” he shared your breath, “you really had me believing that you were just a good little girl who’d never pull a stunt like this…”

“Well, maybe I am,” you uttered raggedly as his caresses caused you to tremble with every rub and flick he granted you in his exploration of your haven, “maybe I just have some really bad influences in my life.”

“Yeah, well then lucky me,” two of his long fingers promptly swept down to slip inside of you, making you gasp at the sudden stretch before you squirmed, your legs instinctively wiggling further apart for him, “keep that devil on your shoulder if this is what it gets you.”

Loosing himself completely, it was as if he was possessed as the kind hearted professor you once knew was no longer the man sitting in the car next to you, certainly not the older doctor who soon began to fuck you with his fingers, making your pussy sing for him, and weep against the leather seat below, as he greedily rocked his digits inside of you.

Tilting down, he let his lips flutter against the collum of your neck as he murmured, “what else did your friends say you should do to get me to fuck you, huh?”

“They–, they–…” you tried to recall, but simply couldn’t as the sensation of his fingers, dragging in and out of your dripping cunt, rendered it an impossible task to accomplish, “fuck… I don’t know, I don’t remember…”

“You don’t?” a low chuckle rumbled in his chest at how flustered he’d made you.

“N-no,” your thighs trembled on either side of his hand as it momentarily withdrew to slip up through your soaked petals to offer your puffy pearl a brief rub, before his touch once again soared down to fill you up, “fuck, please don’t stop, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he pressed his nose against your cheek as he gazed down at your pussy, the front of your skirt now pushed up so high on your hips that one merely had to glance to catch sight of the leaky mess now on full display, “you gonna cum?”

“Mhm,” you nodded frantically as your eyes too fluttered down to peer at his fingers, shiny as they pumped within you, and your eyebrows knitted tightly in pleasure as the overwhelming high threatened to come crashing down upon you like an avalanche.

“Then do it,” the grip he had on the roots of your hair flexed as he then tilted your head slightly for him to capture your hazy gaze, “give me something to think about when I get myself off,” he groaned breathlessly as he kept up his ruthless pace, “cum all over my fingers like a good little girl.”

And as your cunt clenched down around his digits, your loud moans bounced off the car’s walls, “p-professor–, o-oh fuck!”

#lea’s writing #take her under your wing au #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker smut #professor!peter parker #doctor!peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker au #marc spector x reader #scott lang x reader #andy barber x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut

1K notes · View notes

pellucid-constellations · 9 months ago

Text

Trial and Error (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Very small mention of blood

a/n: I am lovinggg writing this and I can't stop so don't ask me to 🏃‍♀️

Read part one | part two | part four

Main Masterlist ♡

Azriel had been by the apothecary four times since his first visit. That wasn’t an unusual number by any means, but it was alarming that he was supposedly going through his headache tonic so quickly. You would give him a week’s worth and he would return for more within three days.

Melanie had begun to expect him and had taken to examining his wings each time he walked through the door. She would run and stand atop the counter—much to your dismay—and Azriel would unfurl them from his back just a hair so she could get a better look. Her comfortability with him scared you. You’d spoken to your daughter about stranger danger and had emphasized it a million times, but with Azriel, she held no reproach.

Azriel didn’t seem to mind. You had apologized countless times for Melanie’s staring and her invasive questions, but Azriel would only wave you off with a glint in his eye. He always chalked it up to being an uncle, but you’d had an uncle and he was nothing like Azriel.

None of your family was like anyone you’d met in Velaris.

Still, there was a lingering pit in your stomach each time Azriel would ask you a question about yourself or smile at your daughter. It didn’t feel safe to make too many friends, and Azriel was a particularly unsafe friend to have.

The Shadowsinger.

You’d learned of his position within the Night Court’s inner circle after Melanie had asked yet another question about Azriel and his shadows.

“I’m a Shadowsinger,” he had explained, your daughter spinning in circles around him, tugging his shadows along with her. A small smile graced his face as he spoke. “My shadows tell me secrets so I can ensure everything is going okay in Velaris.”

A cold sweat broke out along your skin as he spoke the words, but you only continued to smile and focused on keeping your breath even.

He would be the one to find you out—there was no doubt about it.

But something told you the closeness could be a good thing. Perhaps, if he knew you, he would take pity on you when he found out. Perhaps, if he knew you, he wouldn’t feel the need to dig into your history and ask questions.

At least, that’s what you were hoping for because Azriel didn’t show any sign of staying away from you or Melanie—a truth made even more apparent at Melanie’s open house.

“Melanie does so wonderfully in all her subjects,” her teacher gushed, a clipboard held tightly at her chest. “She especially loved our cooking unit. She loved the burners and heating things up.”

You raised your brows and grinned. “I’m so happy to hear that. She talks about school so often. I’m glad her enthusiasm is reflected in her work.”

An obvious avoidance—an attempt to curtail the subject away from your daughter’s affinity for flames.

Her teacher did not seem put off. “It is! I know she began in the middle of the school year, but she has caught on so quickly. I can tell she has a lot of support at home. Big family?”

Perhaps her teacher wasn’t as oblivious as you had hoped. You fought the twitch in your eye, dreading that this woman would know more about you. Five years of careful isolation and suddenly you were thrust into the public eye.

“No, just the two of us. But my work is quite flexible so she’s never alone. I always have time to help her with school.”

“That’s so great to hear. I have to ask, just for the sake of my student, her father—”

“Hello, Ms. Fern.”

Azriel’s voice startled you out of the panic rising in your chest. You turned to find him rooted in his spot behind you, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze flicked down to you for a brief moment before settling back on the teacher.

“Azriel!” Ms. Fern delighted. “I didn’t expect you today. I saw the High Lord and Lady earlier so I assumed it would just be the parents.”

Azriel hummed. “I wanted to come by and see Nyx’s art. You mentioned he painted the family.”

“You didn’t need to do that! I know you’re so busy. What a wonderful—“

Azriel slowly edged in front of you, hiding you from Ms. Fern’s watchful eye. You felt a slight push against your hip and held in a laugh as Azriel reached behind him and ushered you off without ever looking away from the teacher. You quickly scampered away and made yourself busy examining the art around the room. Upon closer inspection, Nyx had painted a troll—not his family.

It took about 10 minutes of lingering before Azriel joined you, his shadows giving him away. They slinked around your wrists and traveled up to caress your neck.

“Apologies for their familiarity,” Azriel said in place of a greeting. “They seem to have grown comfortable with you.”

“And Melanie,” you added. You rounded a table and meandered out to the hall. Azriel followed. “They love to chase her around the apothecary. Sometimes I wonder if you keep coming by because they’re making you.”

Azriel bit back a smile but it still formed into a bashful expression. “Perhaps that’s why.”

In the hall, you found yourself alone with Azriel—utterly and completely alone. Melanie was with one of your neighbors as the teacher made it clear no students were allowed at the open house, and no one else occupied the space. You leaned your back against the wall and looked up at Azriel, a shyness overtaking you.

You were never really alone with him—Melanie was always right around the corner.

“That was some maneuver earlier,” you commented, fidgeting with your fingers at your waist.

“She was prying,” Azriel replied. You watched the way he carefully trailed his gaze down to your fingers. “I certainly wasn’t going to let her know more about you than I do. Not when I’ve put in far more effort.”

“I thought your shadows were the reason you came,” you teased.

“Right, my shadows.”

You pressed your mouth into a line, feeling small under Azriel’s never-ending gaze. His eyes never left yours as silence blanketed the hall. It was as if he saw through you, understood you in a way that didn’t make sense.

Maybe you could tell him.

No, that was ridiculous.

Was it?

“Where’s Mel?” Azriel asked, startling you out of your internal strife.

The words didn’t comprehend, the jumbled mess of your mind intensifying as the Shadowsinger knocked his head to the side and asked you questions.

“What?”

“Melanie,” he clarified, brows bunching. “I was going to offer to watch her for this but I didn’t want to impose. I know I’m still mostly a stranger, but I don’t know if you have family in the area and I just…”

He trailed off. You never mentioned any family because that was one of the topics you strayed from each time it was broached. Family, your origins, Melanie’s father; he never brought any of it up directly, but he’d hint at it. And you always changed the subject.

“I—I don’t,” you revealed. You broke his gaze and stared down at your fingers, picking at the skin around your nails. “Have family here, I mean. But I have neighbors that Melanie likes. They’re watching her.”

“Do you trust them?” Azriel asked, an edge to his tone.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t leave her with anyone I didn’t.”

“Good,” he grunted out.

“And I would never ask you to watch Mel. That—I know you’re probably busy and she's kind of a handful..”

Azriel started speaking before the last word left your mouth. “She’s not. And I would never be too busy for that.”

Another silence fell. You picked harder at your nails.

“Azriel, I—“

“I want you to feel safe with me. To trust me.”

His admittance shocked you into silence. You weren’t actually sure what you were going to say to him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Everything you had ever thought exited your brain.

You opened your mouth to speak but no sound escaped.

“I mean—I just mean that I want to be a person you can trust Melanie with. That you can trust to… to share more with. I don’t know what you’ve been though, or how you ended up here in Velaris, but I want to be something safe for you.”

It felt as if something was pressing against your chest. When Melanie was around, he never looked at you with such intensity—he never said these things with so much devotion to back his words.

A sharp, hot feeling pricked your fingers. Azriel’s hand immediately covered both of your own, his warm touch pulling your fingers away from each other. You’d drawn blood—a terrible nervous habit.

With all of the shock you missed the fact that this was the first time Azriel had touched you with such intentionality.

“It’s like you’re living in survival mode—you and Melanie. I want you both to feel like there’s someone looking out for you.”

“Why?” you whispered, the word still sounding entirely too loud. “Why us? Why me?”

Azriel hadn’t removed his hands from yours. He offered a small squeeze to your fingers. “Why not you?”

Something broke in you. Something pulled.

You wanted nothing more than to open your mouth and let everything out. You wanted to trust him—to be able to trust anyone—but there was so much danger to that.

You could be forced back home. You could be forced to marry that man. You could lose Melanie.

But Azriel was looking at you as if he’d place his life before any of those possibilities. His gaze was beseeching, almost desperate, and something was urging you to trust him. Something intrinsic. Something that felt right.

Your lips parted.

“Rhys, I told you, Azriel isn’t here.”

“I saw him leave just after us, darling. He came.”

“He came to Nyx’s open house? What could he possibly have to gain?”

The conversation down the hall startled you. You yanked your hands from Azriel’s grip and whipped your head to the side in anticipation.

Rhys, Azriel, Nyx; you knew who was about to enter the hall, and reality came crashing down on you as soon as you made the connection.

“I have to go,” you rushed out, eyes widening. “I—Thank you, Azriel, but this isn’t—this isn’t safe for Melanie. Not… all of this. I have to—”

You left, and Azriel stayed.

You heard your name as you went, heard it echo down the hall, but you still left.

And Azriel still stayed.

part four

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

acoazlove · 6 months ago

Text

A New Place | part four

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of the dinner brought on a conversation with someone you didn't expect.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: angst, and a little bit of fluff (kind of)

─────────────────────────

The past few days felt like you were watching in from the outside. Not leaving your apartment on your days off like you normally would. Usually, you liked to be down in the bar while your friends worked, just to spend time with them.

But after that night, you can’t talk to them. Won’t talk to them. Benny set the whole thing up and didn’t give you any warning, or even ask you in the first place.

Now, back at work, you stay silent, not a single word being uttered to your coworkers.

“Y/n,” Benny’s voice comes out softly, cautious almost. As if talking to a wounded animal that’s about to bolt. Acting as if you didn’t hear her, you continue to shine the glass in your hands. Silently wishing a customer would appear in front of you and order something, so you don’t have to deal with whatever Benny wants.

A huff leaves her when she realises you’re ignoring her. “I need to talk to you.” Voice still soft, placing a hand on your shoulder. You harshly shrug off her touch, placing the glass on the bar top and pushing past her into the kitchen.

Footsteps follow closely behind you. “What, Benny?” You snap.

”I’m sorry, I just wanted to help. I thought if you just talked to them-“

”Stop. Just, stop.” Running a hand through your hair. “If I wanted to talk to them, I would have.” Turning away, taking a deep breath. “It should be on my terms.” A deep breath is released behind you. Footsteps scuffing, shifting on her feet. “y/n-“ her blue form appeared in front of you suddenly. “I am truly sorry. You’re right, It should be on your terms.”

Your gaze moves to the back door, “I need some air.” Eyes meeting hers. Understanding took over her features, a nod of her head, taking a step to the side. “Talk to me when you are ready. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or anyone else.” Waving a hand towards the doorway leading back into the main area of the bar. “But just know we’re here if you need anything.”

With a curt nod, you pull the door open, stepping out of the bar. Fresh air fills your lungs, and a deep sigh leaves you. Eyes flutter closed as the afternoon sun kisses your skin. Brows pulling together, mind unwantedly drifting to the thought of how you and your sisters used to bask in the sun after a long winter transitioned to warmer seasons.

Eyes open with a start as the cool breeze brushes your ankle. Glancing down, you find a smoky tendril swirling around your feet. You frown down at it. Lifting your gaze to find the owner, knowing his shadows don’t typically stray too far from him. But you find no sign of him, no feeling of eyes on you. No glimpse of large wings in the moving fae on the streets. The tendril moves up to your wrists, a gentle tug causing you to stumble forward a step. Seemingly pulling you, guiding you.

Arm moving to shake it off, but fail miserably, the little thing intent on moving you in a certain direction. “Go away.” You mumble. “I’m sure he doesn't want anything to do with me.” Voice hesitant as it tightens around your wrist softly. Tugging you forward once again. With a sigh you decide to let it pull you away.

Footsteps carefully along the uneven stones of the streets of Valaris. It doesn't take you long to realise what direction it was pulling you to. The townhouse. You stop in your tracks, harshly pulling your wrist away from the shadow. “No.” You growl. The dark tendril moving to brush against your face, trying to comfort you.

A sharp breath leaving you. Running a hand down your face. Why is this happening to me? The question crosses your mind, rubbing your eyes almost aggressively, turning on your heel, and planning on making your way back to the tavern.

Only a few steps forward you run head-first into a hard wall. No. Not a wall, a person. Cheeks blazing, pulling your hands from your face. “I’m so sorry-“ meeting a familiar pair of hazel eyes. Gaze widening as you take a hasty step back. Eyes darting to the side, trying to find a way to escape the questioning gaze of the shadowsinger.

More shadows join the one swirling around you brushing your skin. A huff leaves the male in front of you. Meeting his gaze to find him frowning at them. “I’m sorry.” He mutters, his cheeks tinting a soft pink at failing to reign them in.

“It's fine.” You find the words leaving you without your permission. Your cheeks heat up in response. A silence settles over the two of you as you both avert your eyes. The quiet was surprisingly not uncomfortable but felt far too long.

It seems Azriel agrees with your thoughts, clearing his throat softly. You feel his assessing gaze on your face, reading you far too easily. “Are you okay?” He asks finally, almost gently, as if worried he’ll scare you off. As if finding something in the way you're standing. The way you refuse to look at his face.

You feel a cool brush of a shadow on your cheek. Hands quickly wiping your face. Feeling a slight wetness under your eyes. Rubbing your face as fast as you can, probably far too aggressively. When did you start crying? “I’m fine.”

Sidestepping him, trying to leave as swiftly as you can. “Do you want me to walk with you?” His soft voice was barely audible from how far you’d moved away from him. You glance over your shoulder, finding him looking at you tentatively. “Of course, it's your choice, but I thought you might like some company.” His wings twitch at his back. “Sorry if that offer is stupid. I shouldn’t have asked.” He hastily added on, taking a small step back, clearly expecting you to reject him.

It takes you a moment before you answer. “Sure.” Your answer is quiet and unsure. But after the past couple of days, you felt lonely. Azriel had been the only one to check in on you. Giving you a choice. Not expecting anything from you.

He gave you a curt nod before striding up to walk by your side. You turn, hands wringing as you amble along past some shops. A comfortable quiet settles between you as you slowly make your way in a different direction from the bar. Not wanting to be back there for a while. Not ready, despite it being halfway through your shift. Benny shouldn’t mind.

��I’m sorry for the other night. I shouldn't have said what I did.” A deep breath passed his lips. “You deserve to have time to decide what you want, especially after how we made you feel.” We? “No one should have made that choice for you. To show up out of nowhere, with no warning.”

a heavy breath leaves you. “y/n, you don’t deserve any of this.” You find you've made your way to the Sidra. Stopping by the bank. “Az-“ frowning from the weight of his statement. “Azriel, you’re the only one who didn’t forget.” Your eyes meet his hazel ones as you pull a necklace from the collar of your shirt. His eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, but his shadows fluttering around his wings gave him away.

“I could tell it was from you, despite not being told.” The steely blue stone in the pendant glimmered in the late afternoon sun. “The look on your face that night told me enough.” Gaze drifts to the glittering water of the sidra as your mind drifts back to your outburst. Internally wincing at the memory.

The feel of his stare burns through your skin. You tuck the necklace back under your shirt before meeting his gaze once again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to them.” His voice filled with subtle regret. A quiet humourless laugh escapes you. “They should have remembered on their own.”

”Still, you deserved to have a nice birthday.” The sincerity in his tone tugged at your heart suddenly. “Thank you.”

His mouth opens then closes as if unsure if he should say his next words. “Nyx misses you. He keeps babbling about his aunty.” A quiet humour in his voice. A snort leaves you. “I miss him too.” Your lips pull down, eyes lowering to the ground.

You hate that you miss the rest of them. They don’t deserve your forgiveness. You know that, but they are still your family. Azriel somehow seems to know where your thoughts slipped to. “They don’t expect your forgiveness. They know they don’t deserve it, especially not anytime soon. They made the mistake of thinking you needed all that time. Not realising how that made you feel.” His body turns fully towards you. “They didn’t forget about you. They’re just upset with themselves. I promise I’m not trying to make excuses for them. Or myself.”

You meet his gaze, giving him a small nod as you process his words. The pink tint that blankets the scene around you makes you realise how long you've been talking. “I should get back to the bar.” A nod of his head as you turn back to the street.

He stays by you the entire walk back to the tavern. No words passed between you. The weight of your conversation running through your head.

He stops a couple of steps back from you as you stop outside the bar. Heading towards the stairs to your apartment instead. Your shift is already finished anyway. A few steps up, you turn, “Thank you Azriel.” He dips his head. “I needed that.” You decide to add on before turning away and making your way up the rest of the stairs.

─

Azriel watches you close your door behind you, then turns to leave, towards the river house.

The look on your face as you talked lingered in his mind the entire way back. The heartbreak, the tears in your eyes. A subtle sense of pain and sadness pulls in his chest. His shadows swarm his ears, whispering your words in his ears repeatedly. Your voice echoes with each word they utter.

Finally standing in front of the house, his family’s voices drifting through the open windows. Far quieter than they were three months ago. The heaviness of your absence straining each of them. Your sisters are still unsure how to handle it. Guilt weighing on every single one of them.

He hopes you’ll forgive them with time, but he’d understand if you didn’t. Your conversation makes him understand you need company, he’ll be there if you decide it's his company you want. Hope fills him, he’d be grateful if you did want that. He shakes his head, shoving that hope away. He doesn’t deserve it.

Shuffling up the pathway to the front door, softly pushing it open, stepping inside, finding himself feeling lighter than he has in months.

─────────────────────────

a/n: I actually hate this. It didn't come out how I wanted. I'll probably end up changing and fixing it later on. There may be some spelling mistakes, let me know if you find any. Its slowly but surely coming together. More confrontation to come, as well as more romance lol. I hope you like it regardless. <3

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #a new place

822 notes · View notes

valentina-writes · 2 months ago

Text

The Distance He Keeps - Part 2

Azriel x Reader

summary: Finally, you confront Azriel about why he is avoiding you. Later, you find yourself inside his mind, revealing a deep secret about your relationship (I'm really bad at summaries, it's been so long ugh)

warnings: drinking, slight hurt/no comfort, suicidal thoughts if you squint, swearing

word count: 3.4k | part 1 | part 3 | masterlist

A/N: I'm honestly so incredibly happy that so many of you liked the first part! Now, I love men who have the ability to just shut tf up, but Az brings this to a whole other level. So... uhm prepare for some frustration. I promise, he's not an asshole, just incredibly tortured. Anyways, I hope you like it and come back soon for part 3! xx

There was something drawing me towards the roof. A silent calling, a sixth sense attuned to him. Like the air was vibrating softly, showing me his direction. It had been a week since the dinner, since I had last seen him. But still, I was sure that this was new. Maybe I was going insane. It wouldn't surprise me.

I stepped outside onto the small roof terrace. It was near midnight, the sky above Night Court seemingly endless. Millions of stars twinkled down on me; I would never quite get used to the beauty of the nights here. A cool summer breeze hit me and the humming of Velaris reached my ears, the sounds of countless people moving through the streets. But I hardly noticed any of that.

Because there, sitting on one of the two chairs that barely fit on the tiny terrace, was Azriel. His shoulders were tense, his wings half unfolded as if he was about to lurch out of his seat and into the night. His shadows stayed close to him, as if they were trying to guard him. Aloofness was not rare to him, but vigilance like this, I had never seen on him at home.

How do I start? I asked myself. What do I even say? ‘Hey, you’ve been ignoring me and I miss you and I’m in love with you, please come back and stop this bullshit’? How pathetic. I had no plan. The past nights, I had tossed and turned in my bed, imagining our encounter. The only conclusion I had come to was that whatever I’d say, it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Hopefully.

"Don't mind me, I'm leaving in a second", he spoke out, still not turning around. His posture stayed rigid. There was no other indication of him noticing your presence.

Without thinking, I countered: "Oh, so now you're speaking again?". Azriel’s neck tensed. That came out a little meaner than anticipated.

He sighed. "Maybe".

I took the few steps to the other chair and slid into it. Hesitantly, I turned my head towards him. He still wouldn't meet my eyes. Azriel looked tired, his eyes half closed with bags underneath them. His long fingers were clenched around the armrests of his chair. It was evident that he was severely unwell. How long had this been going on for? Maybe I should have pressed harder when he started ignoring me, I realized, and not folded in on myself.

For a while, we sat in silence while I studied him. Then I couldn't bear it anymore. I swallowed the anxiety that had welled up inside me for weeks, tried to calm my flaying nerves. "What is going on, Az, are you okay? Please, we can talk about whatever happened. I miss you”, I pleaded, the last words only a whisper. I quickly shut my mouth before more words could escape my lips. Come back, I thought, come back to me.

The muscles in his jaw tensed and he dropped his head into his hands. "Don't say that. Don't make it harder than it already is".

Desperation grew inside of me. Even if he did not love me back, I would not bury our friendship without at least putting up a fight. “We can work it out. Whatever it is, we can face it together”.

His face twisted in a pained expression. “Cauldron boil me, I wish it were that easy”

"Is this about starfall?", I asked. Finally, our gazes met. Azriel looked defeated. "So it is?". He didn't deny it, so I assumed I was correct. "You're embarrassed at what happend, or what? Do you want to take back what you did and said? Is it because you're scared?". The shadows drew in closer around him, pooling around his chest and neck, as if to guard him.

His voice was agonized when he replied: "You don't understand. You just don't understand and I can't even be mad at you. But I can't be around you like this". Azriel had always been a man of few words, but frustration hit you hard. Why couldn't he give you at least some insight? "Then fucking explain it to me, Az! I can't take this anymore."

There was no hesitation in his voice this time. "Maybe I shouldn't have kissed you."

This felt like a blow to my stomach. All air was knocked right out of me. This day was the happiest I had been in years. I thought about it before falling asleep, in the bathtub and over breakfast. Again and again, I replayed this moment to make sure I hadn't made it up, to hold onto it. And now he was destroying it, crushing it, with a single sentence. Tears welled up in my eyes and I fought to not let them roll.

I hated myself for the crack of my voice, when I asked: "Was it that horrible? Did I disgust you much that you can't even look at me anymore?". Even if he didn't love me -

"Don't you ever think about yourself like that", he practically growled, "you, out of all people, have no business believing that". He was angry now, as if he couldn't even understand how I could think that. His words confused me. One second he said he shouldn't have kissed me and now this?

"Then what is it, Az? What happened to 'I will always find you'? Talk to me please. Make me understand", I begged. My hand reached out to thread through his fingers, but he escaped my grasp, stood up and leaned against the terrace fence.

There was a long pause. I almost thought he wouldn't answer. Then, quietly, almost desparately: "Can't you feel it?"

What did he mean? Why did he always have to be so cryptic? "I feel that you're drifting away from me and I can't get ahold of you. LIke I'm reaching out and begging and with every try, you float further away".

His hands gripped the banister so tightly his knuckles turned white and a sad smile crossed his face. "That's how I feel about you as well."

"What did I do wrong? Please. I'm right here, you're not losing me". I would plead on my knees before letting go. There was nothing I wouldn't do to get him back. Even if he regretted the kiss, I would not lose my best friend. My better half.

When he glanced back at me, the look in his eyes broke me. The spark in them was gone, the glint I had come to love dimmed. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault". The sadness seeped out of him, his shadows now concealing almost every part of him, except for his face. I had never seen him like this. "Please, give me some space. I - I'll tell you. Just this once, please". Without waiting for my answer, he jumped over the low fencing around the rooftop terrace and flew into the night. And left me alone with my thoughts. Only then did my tears start to run.

How did it go?

Fuck off, Rhysand

I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat dry, my heart hammering.

"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

The words that left my mouth weren't my own. Neither was my voice. What was going on? I still felt half asleep.

"I thought Y/N would figure it out herself. It was so painfully obvious in her memories, but she just didn't connect the dots. Pretty ironic considering her job". I couldn't focus on my surroundings, still only half conscious. All I could register were the big violet eyes staring at me.

Anger flared up at the other person's words, but it wasn't mine. I could feel it, but it was somehow...foreign. Rhys was talking to me, I realized. But it wasn't me, really. The body I was in was taller, the angle I saw everything from was wrong. And the hands that were brought up to sweep the stray hairs out of my eyes were tan, scarred and surrounded by shadows. I was inside Azriel's mind. Suddenly, I was wide awake. Why was I here? How did I even get into this situation?

"What was she thinking about?", Azriel asked. Rhysand gave me - no - Azriel a long look. Azriel was back at the townhouse and they were speaking about my previous talk with Rhys, it seemed. Curiosity took over the confusion within me. I longed to know what Azriel would say about me. Would he tell Rhys the reason for his behavior?

"I think you know. I'm not telling you. She screamed bloody murder at me that I had violated her thoughts like that". Disappointment lapped at me from within him. But there was something else entirely, too. Affection. Concern.

There was a long pause. Azriel started pacing the room. "You could make her some food", Rhys offered, "That should clear it up. Apart from the rather obvious method". Az' wings rustled behind him. He was uncomfortable. Blurry images of our entwined bodies came into his mind. They came and went fast, he quickly shoved each one away behind thick barriers. What did that mean?

"I'm not going to force her like that. She should decide for herself. And the "obvious method" as you called it, is not really an option to me right now". An image of me, naked in his bed blazed through his mental shields. By the Mother, what were they talking about? He breathed in deeply and vanished this product of his imagination. I grew restless. Why was he thinking about me like this, when only a few hours ago he had made very clear that he didn't even want to think about the kiss? Did he lie to me?

Azriel started pacing. His mind was racing. Shards of conversations with me came flying from his thoughts into my own. Dozens of made-up scenarios of him iniciating conversations that ended with me rejecting him. Which was weird, because why would I-

Rhy interrupted my - our thoughts: "Can you feel her? As her mate you should be able to have some insight into her mind".

All thoughts left my mind. Mate mate mate mate mate mate mate echoed through me. Azriel was my mate. My whole worldview shifted as I thought about our last conversation. Why didn't he just tell me? Somewhere far away from here I felt the blood rushing through my veins, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Mate.

"Not really, so far. Every now and then I can feel something, but hearing her thoughts or even seeing them... that only happened once". I longed to see what he had seen, but he had regained his composure. There was nothing slipping past his wards. A million questions raced through my head. Why couldn't I feel the bond? And since when did he know about this?

"Can I have a look? Maybe I can feel around and find out what the problem is", Rhys offered.

I felt him before I could withdraw from Azriel's mind. I didn't even know how to withdraw. Where was the path back to myself? Where did Azriel end and I begin? How had I even ended up here? I didn't know.

Soft claws stroked my consciousness - no, Azriel's. It felt nearly the same. Rhys dived into Azriel's brain, pulling me down into his thoughts with him, and sifted through memories, feelings, everything Az would let him see. Big parts of his brain were walled in, impenetrable.

Something here is different. He carefully dove through Az' brain and before I knew it, his invisible claws were stroking at my own walls. Interesting. Until he found what he was looking for. A tiny, softly glowing, thread, bound tightly to my thoughts, winding straight into the heart of Azriel's sectioned-off memories.

Go back, and for Cauldron's sake, talk to him, Rhys purred at me.

Azriel POV

I would never get used to the feeling of my brother combing through my brain, even after over 600 years. He was gentle and respected the heavy wards I had built over time, protecting my most vulnerable memories. The size of the walled-in part had grown considerably over the past years. But he was kind enough not to comment on that. Rhys moved along the outskirts of my brain until I could barely feel him anymore. But he was still there, somewhere. Somewhere... foreign. At the edges of my consciousness, a claw hit heavy walls. Walls that weren't my own. And then: a claw lightly stroking a thread that was welded to the essence of my being. A mating bond. Thin and fickle, not yet accepted. But it was there. And that meant that on the other side, behind thick walls... was her.

"Did you feel that?", Rhys asked after he withdrew from my mind. My shadows swirled around me, as if they had sensed something as well. They seemed elated, tugging at my hands and wings to get me moving.

"Yes", I breathed out, "thank you ". The smallest spark of hope ignited within me. I quickly shut it down. If it hadn't snapped for her yet, who was to say it ever would?

"The bond is most definitely not one-sided", Rhys explained, "I could feel her on the other side, but it has not fully snapped. Maybe because you've known each other for so long. What happened after you kissed at starfall? Maybe it takes a little more... closure.", he winked, sporting a wicked grin.

A low growl escaped my lips. He had no business thinking about my mate like this. She was my mate. Mine. The half-finished bond inside me flared up at his words, roaring with anger over his insinuation. If he ever so much as thought of her like this again, I would-

"Easy, man. Remind me to grant you a long vacation after you mate fully. You’re in desperate need of a good fuck". I breathed in deeply, trying not to tackle him to the ground.

It took all of my willpower to stay calm. "Can I stay here tonight?". There was no way I could sleep next door to her tonight.

"Always".

I left him there, went to the room I sometimes shared with Cassian and dropped onto my bed. As I stared at the dark ceiling, my thoughts circled back to another night.

I was drunk off her. She was beautiful everyday, I could barely take my eyes off her when she wore pajamas at breakfast. But today was a wholly different calibre. The dress she was wearing perfectly accentuated her eyes, and the glitter in her hair made her sparkle like she was a star herself.

"I will find you, no matter where. I promise". The words left my lips before I could think them through. She was too close to me. I had one glass of wine too much. Or maybe I was just sick of pretending.

"And I will find you", she replied. Her lips were slightly opened, the look in her eyes so vulnerable. A mirror of my own feelings. My shadows tugged at my suit's lapels, their whispers in my ears were delighted. This was it, the moment I had been waiting on forever.

Without my doing, my wings unfolded around her, shielding us off from the world around us. A breath later we were outside on a vacant balcony.

My ringed fingers shook slightly as I brought them up to her cheeks, cradling her face. Starlight reflected in her beautiful eyes and I wished I could drown in them. Her hands drew me in closer, her eyes closed. "Az - I...", she whispered.

Before I knew it, my lips touched hers. They were velvet on mine. Her hands threaded into the hair at the nape of my neck and she arched upwards. The only thought on my mind was her name, repeating like a prayer, while my lips moved softly on hers. Slowly, savoring every second, I parted her lips with my tongue. The moment our tongues touched, it was like a spark had been ignited inside me. A white hot feeling rushed through my veins and reflexively I moaned into her and pulled her closer. It was like a supernova inside me. Like something that had been missing from me my entire life was crafted with enormous force. And then I felt her. Her desire and wanting crashed down on me, amplified my own. My mate.

My knees threatened to buckle and the shadows swirled around her in ecstasy, threading through her hair, touching her arms and face.

And then the kiss ended and reality came crushing down on me with a force that knocked the wind out of my lungs.

She looked happy. Nothing more. There was no sign that she felt what I felt. No recognition that the Cauldron hat just welded our souls together, fused our entire beings into one. All my hopes shattered. My insides turned to ice and for a split second I wished I were dead.

Internally, I tried to reach out to her and tug at the string binding us together. But it was too thin, too unstable. There was no way for me to get ahold of it. Everytime I reached for it, it slipped from my grasp. I drew her into a hug to keep from breaking apart. But it was of no use. My hands started shaking against her back and my breath caught in my throat. I needed to go.

I pressed a kiss onto her forehead, before I withdrew from her embrace. Mumbling an excuse I barely registered, I forced myself to turn around and leave. With every step I took, I could feel my soul shattering into more and more pieces. In my room, I ripped my suit jacket off and threw it in a corner, didn't even bother to unbutton my shirt and instead tore it in two and threw it right after the jacket. I could still taste and feel her on my lips. In hopes of ridding myself of it, I tried to wipe her off of them. My hands came back red with lipstick.

The bond, still fresh, pulsed inside me and I felt her everywhere. Hell, I saw her in her mirror, through her own eyes, pulling off her dress and getting ready for bed, only a door away. I felt how tired she was, how happy she was. How fucking unaware she was that she was now the center of my world.

My shadows escaped from me, slithered underneath the door. They were agitated, longing for her as much as I was. Now, I felt how they pooled against her door, begging to be let in. I had just enough power over them to stop them from rushing into her room.

There was only one thing that would help now. I dug through my dresser. Mindlessly, I threw everything in my way into a pile on the floor. Until I found what I was looking for. A sinfully expensive bottle of very strong alcohol Cass had gifted me for solstice. Without thinking, I uncorked the flask with my teeth and drank until I gasped for air. And then I drank again. Anything to dull the ache inside me. The ache for her. Until I wouldn’t care anymore.

What a fucking mess. She was one of the few truly good things in my life and now that had been stolen from me too. Sometimes I felt like my life was one big single joke. No matter what, I never got what I wanted. I longed and pleaded and burned, but not once had life been playing fair with me. Maybe that was my curse. To give and give and never get anything in return.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear the voice of my father, long gone. Did you really think you deserved her? You are nothing, boy. And I knew he was right. How blind I was to believe that I was good enough for her. How fucking naïve.

There was nothing I could do. The bond ached inside me, mocking me for my delusions. I laid down and hoped the world would go away.

series taglist: @tele86 @francesababyd0ll @rcarbo1 @willowpains @i-am--infinite @paintedbyshadows @mellowmusings @ashduv

479 notes · View notes