#I don’t think she could have since we never talked before but maybe I had some kind of reputation?

[fancyfeathers]

Burn It All Down

(Yandere!Justice League & Yandere!Young Justice)

Based on Yandere!Justice League with their darling!children AU

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Five, Shadows -> Next Chapter

This chapter is told from the perspective of Bruce Wayne's Daughter!Reader

Each chapter will be the perspective of the reader but as the different children since when I originally had this concept they were all darling/reader characters.

You sat in the living room of the safe house you were all staying in after you picked up Diana’s son. Barry Allen’s daughter was going to meet you all in San Diego. It was not exactly a safe house but a villa, a vacation home on the west coast, just north of Santa Monica, that belonged to one of your sponsors, it was the nicest place you have stayed in for a while. You were dressed casually, in black sweatpants and a black sports bra since you had just finished your own personal training in the backyard of the place. “Hey, Songbird.” You heard a voice call out to you, and you glanced up to see the son of Diana Prince walking into the room, he was dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, and his hair was wet, most likely having just gotten out of the shower. That owl he named Athena was flying after him and landed on the back of the couch that you were sitting on. “She almost followed me into the bathroom, she has not wanted to leave my side you found me waking up in that alley.” 

“One of the same reasons I don’t like owls, no offense Athena, it’s a personal thing, nothing against you.” You replied to the bird and you were hesitant at first when you reached out a hand to pet her, but she finished the rest of the way, putting her feathered hand under your head. “Smart bird.”

“Which bird are you talking about, Songbird?”

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes before adjusting your position on the couch, throwing your legs onto the cushions so you could keep on petting the owl. “Speaking of my alias, what about you? We can’t actually call you by your real name, it will only get us caught.”

“Like a superhero name?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, then yes.” You replied to him as he came to sit down in an armchair beside you. “I go by Songbird on the field, before that, I went by Nightshade on my old team in Gotham… actually I need to check on my old teammates, one of them is going through surgery any day now- that besides the point, Kent’s kid is going by Supergirl and Zatara’s son, you’ll meet him later, is going by Hex.”

“Like how my friend, Barry Allen’s daughter wants to go by… oh what was it again- Ah yes, Blitz?”

“Like that, yes. Do you know what you would like to go by?”

“My hero name… I never thought about it…” He paused in his words, looking at the owl as if she was going to tell him, but last time you checked owls cannot talk, they are birds. “It feels rude to name myself after one of the heroes from the stories as I believe that they were alive once a long time ago…”

“Maybe something of Greek origin or perhaps Latin?” 

“I remember my sister took an English history class-”

“You have a sister?”

“My birth sister… she died when I was six.”

“Ah… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s fine… anyway like I was saying, I remember sitting her in her room while she was studying for a test and I remembered something.” He hesitated for a moment, no doubt his mind remembering an unfortunate incident, you guessed it was how his birth family passed away. “It was the old English word for hunter… I think I want to go by Huntian in her memory.”

“That’s sweet, but I also think it suits you well.” You smiled at him, your hand slipping away from the owl’s feather which caused the owl to fly over and land on the armrest of her owner’s chair. “I have an old friend working on suits for you, Supergirl, Blitz, and Hex. I’ll get him in touch with you.”

“Him?”

“His name is Mark Austen, he is the benefactor who is supplying this safe house for us, he also supplied all the equipment for me when I worked in Gotham with my old team and he designed all my suits.”

“Mark Austen? Isn’t he the CEO of some technology company?”

“Yes, but he’s also a brilliant scientist and a very good friend.” 

“Hey guys, what’s up?” You heard a new voice chime into the conversation, you both turned to another doorway in the room that led to the kitchen and spotted Supergirl standing there, carrying a pack of what looked like Oreo cookies, or at least the off-brand version that you all bought. She was wearing a set of pajamas, pink and white plaid pants with a black tank top. There was only one problem with her entrance, the fact that she was floating a foot off the ground. 

“Um… you are.” you pointed to the gap in the space between her and the floor and she immediately turned red in the face as she floated back down under her feet and touched the ground. 

“Sorry… still getting used to finally having powers.” She laughed nervously as she now walked into the living room and sat down on the couch beside you, setting the pack of off-brand Oreas on the coffee table between the bunch of you. 

“Trust me, we understand, at least I do.” Your other new friend with a new name, Huntian, spoke up. “I think I can turn invisible now, it’s only happened once though.”

“Noted, I’ll look into that.” You replied to him and you reached over to the coffee table, grabbed one of the cookies, and popped it into your mouth in one go. “Just so you know, while we are doing this whole thing for personal reasons, grudges, what have you. We help people first and foremost, no matter how much you want to prove someone wrong or expose someone, no one dies.”

“Of course.”

“Without a doubt.”

“Good, I-” You cut yourself off, something was wrong, very wrong, you knew this feeling, you were being watched. You stood up from the couch, walking around to the back of it to the long row of windows that lined the wall behind it, your eyes narrowing out the window, trying to see if there where was anything or anyone out there. “Everyone, get upstairs, we’re being watched. I need to get my suit-”

“That will not be necessary, my dear.” You jumped when you heard a voice you never wanted to hear again. You instinctively grabbed the nearest and most dangerous thing to you, a knife that you were using earlier to cut an apple as a post-workout snack. You threw it as you spun around, hoping to hit the intruder between the eyes. You should have known better, but your fight response kicked into full gear when you heard his voice, you realized your mistake when you saw the knife you threw caught in the hand of the man you tried to attack, Ra’s Al Ghul. You felt your stomach drop as you heard the sound of the knife clattering to the ground as he dropped it. “Now you know better than to behave like that, do you not?”

“What do you want-”

“There is no need to use that tone, no one will get hurt as long as you listen.” You watched him gesture to where you were just sitting, a silent command for you to sit and so you listened, sitting down on the plush couch. He glanced at your friends, his eyes narrowing at the owl before looking back at the owl’s owner. “As for you two, what we discuss is none of your concern-”

“I think it is.” Your eyes went wide as Huntian stood up, almost trying to stare down the Demon’s Head but you grabbed his wrist and looked up at him with pleading eyes and only shook your head, silently begging him not to. He tugged his wrist out of your grasp before taking a deep breath in and out before slowly turning to the door and walking upstairs. “C’mon, Smallville… let them talk.”

You watched as Supergirl hesitantly stood up and followed after your mutual friend out of the room. You were left alone in a dark room with one of the most dangerous men on the planet, in a house that was no doubt surrounded by deadly assassins, and all you had was a most likely powerless son of an Amazon, a half-Kryptonian with barely any control of her powers, an owl, and yourself, honestly, you think the owl had the best chance of winning out of your bunch.

“I see you have been busy, my dear. Making friends, hm?” You watched as he sat down on the couch opposite of where you sat. You took another glance around, and you spotted two assassins in the house with you, one just peaking behind the kitchen door and the other was in the mud room of the house. “I believe I asked you a question.”

“Sorry… yes… I’ve been busy…”

“Your cheek, you have a new scar.” You watched as his eyes narrowed at the barely visible scar on your face. He beckoned you closer with a finger and so you scooted to the edge of your seat and leaned slightly forward over the coffee table. You felt his hand reach out to run across your face, his fingers gently tracing the scarred flesh just beneath your eye. 

“It was from a rescue mission, a girl was kidnapped and the kidnapper took me by surprise when I got there.”

“If he angled just a bit higher, he would have taken out your eye.” You took a sharp breath as he dragged his thumb on the flesh just below your waterline. “That would have been such a shame since you do have such beautiful eyes, just like your mother’s eyes.”

“Why did you come here?” You questioned, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempts to cover it up. You felt his hand slip away from your face, allowing you to slip back into sitting back on the couch. 

“I am here to make a deal since you refused my offer-”

“You sent an assassin to break into my hotel room-”

“I believe I told you to mind your tone, my dear.” His voice snapped back at you after you cut him off, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat as you spotted the assassins in the corners of your vision resting their hands on where their weapons are, so you forced yourself to find a spot to stare at on the coffee table, not moving your eyes from it, not moving a muscle unless spoke to. “Since you refused my previous offer and my colleagues have rescinded their interest due to your behavior, I have a deal. You may continue whatever you are doing here with your… friends, but the moment you fall or give up the mask, you will come back to me, my daughter, and your mother…”

“What?” you raised your head to look him in his eyes, Ra’s Al Ghul was many things, but a liar was not one of them but the last time you checked, your mother was in Gotham with your father. Talia had always had eyes for both of your parents, but to do something like kidnapping your mother. It was an insane thought, but you remember she has done that before along with some other things to her that you would rather not think of. “You… you have my mother?”

“Yes, we do but do not worry about her, she is being well taken care of and protected.” You wanted to bite back at him, after all, they kidnapped your mother and you knew that they were willing to do what was necessary to get the job done, to get what they wanted. “Now if you refuse my offer, we will bring you with us as we leave here, the choice is yours, my dear.”

“Say hello to my mother for me, but I am not abandoning my friends when I already have brought them this far.” 

“Your loyalty is one of your strongest traits. Let us hope that your loyalty is to the right people.”

“I know it is.” The witty comment about why you refused his original offer went unsaid since you were never going to be loyal to him or take his side on anything. Also, you did not want to wake up, god knows where in some base in the middle of nowhere with no one able to rescue you. “Is there Anything else I am able to help you with?”

“No, but I do have a gift for you, my dear.” 

“I am not sure I want it since the last time you gave me a gift it was something that ruined my relationship with the person who was probably going to be the only love of my life-” You suddenly shut out your mouth when he stood up from where he sat, reaching into his pocket as he walked over to stand in front of you, gazing down at you. He pulled something out of his pocket, a necklace you presumed. You did not move a muscle as he picked up your hair, sliding it over your shoulder so he could do the clasp around your neck. “A necklace?”

“Not quite, my dear.” You stiffed up as his fingers traced down your neck and to the charm that rested just below your collarbone, tracing the outline of a bottle. “Water from the Lazarus Pit, think of it as your one free pas on our deal.”

“By if I fell… you meant if I died… you would restore me in a Lazarus Pit.”

“That would be correct, my dear.”

“Noted… are we done here?”

“Yes, sleep well, my dear.” You watched as he stepped aside, resting a hand on the small of your back and pushing you to stand up, gesturing with another hand to the staircase across the room that led to the upper floor where your friends certainly were waiting. “You will need your rest for what is to come.”

[bcacstuff]

Hi BC,

After reading your posts and others regarding Sam and Vicky in Mexico, something came to mind. No one except Sam and Vicky truly knows what happened there—we’re all just discussing assumptions. Since we can’t say for sure if any of them are true, please take mine with a grain of salt.

After the SS tour, like many of you, I was sure there would be a vacation—but not a "fukation." Why not a "fukation"? Because I believe that after 2023, Sam has gone through a shift in his life, especially emotionally. I won’t get into that part here, but I do understand why he walked with that woman and why he took Alice to that match. So, I was certain he would take a vacation.

When news about Vicky surfaced—especially after the mutual following—I thought I had been wrong in my assumptions. However, after seeing photos of Sam with fans yesterday, I got the impression even more than before that he was actually there alone—just exercising, drinking, and relaxing. I believe he was in Sayulita by himself. When the first fan photo was shared, he was already gone. Maybe he met Vicky for just one day. Their relationship seems to be more about adventure than anything serious. We know they went camping and kayaking together. Sam can sometimes do crazy things, but I think he has certain red flags when it comes to relationships with some people, and I believe Vicky is one of them. If he had been with an influencer or model, I would have been more convinced that it was a "fukation." However, I doubt he would get into a relationship with a co-worker—I think that’s a boundary he wouldn’t cross.

Regarding the private account following, I agree with much of what you’ve said, but I see it a little differently. I think the reason Sam and Vicky didn’t follow the hotel—despite it being expected if they were both staying there—is because Sam was never at that hotel at all.

This is what I believe: On Saturday, Sam and Vicky were on some kind of nature adventure. Maybe they met Pedro there and became acquainted. Maybe they had some issues, and he helped them, or maybe he was simply part of a nature tour they joined. It’s possible they got to talking, and Pedro invited them to visit that hotel next time they were in Mexico. If Sam had actually stayed at that hotel, wouldn’t he have followed its account like he usually does? And if Vicky had a special experience there, wouldn’t she have followed the hotel instead of Pedro? I don’t think she was ever at that hotel.

As for the voice in the video, a lot of us had problems with the accent and speed of speech. Since they were in Mexico, it could have been a tour guide or even Pedro speaking English with a Spanish accent. Hispanic people who are bilingual in Spanish and English often speak English very quickly.

These are all just assumptions—thanks!

Yes, there's just a waterfall (still hours away), a voice which nobody can 100% take as proof for anything, and a follow which would be a very huge coincidence. I'm quite baffled how people can take their fantasy so far about these 3 small things and make up a whole story about it. Like they stayed in the same hotel and more. You simply can't!

I don't know about the shift, I really don't see any change. Ending OL surely has an impact. I can't tell what happened to him and all these women we saw last year, maybe some sort of dealing with insecurity as he saw OL ending and not knowing what's gonna be next. But I still see the more likable guy in the UK, I loved the Everest adventure, he was just spending Xmas with family and took a skitrip. Nothing out of the ordenary. But as soon as he's a while in the US, and even more when with AN who wants to put him an image out to be the big HW star, he becomes less likable, somewhat arrogant maybe. I've seen it many times now, and I'm sure many saw the same thing happening over again and over again with me.

I agree to some level about the just meeting up for a day or maybe even less. Yes we speculate, maybe AN's kids were over for a some days, maybe Vicky asked him for some tips on Mexico as she planned a trip to Mexico, maybe Sam wanted to meet this Pedro Fernandez del Valle, a raicilla expert and distiller who founded the family-led brand Aycya, we know S has his friends in the region and surely this name would have come up. And maybe it's a combination of this all. See there are many options.

I disagree on the red flag for Vicky. It's not his first rodeo, and I'm not only talking about it being a young girl. It's happened before with a, uhm co-worker you say? Hmm well whatever you wanna call it. It's the power and financial imbalance really that is here at stake and even could turn into a risk for him. That's why I don't really like to post about it (in the other occasion I never did, and wont do it now either. A few know and even less know her name)

I also disagree about the hotel. Little research learns you, Pedro is the owner of the hotel and as said and expert and distiller, things we know interests him. I don't see why he would also need to follow the hotel, it was the man he was interested in and to get in contact with. If Vicky stayed there, no idea, she was there though as she followed the man as well.

Even more, if you take a look at where these fan pics are taken, you will easily find that they're taken right next to the hotel and the tattoo shop all 3 tattooers work at, they're close on the same road.

Just take a look at the addresses

if you look that up on Google maps you'll see this

Him walking with that smoothie right there tells me he stayed at the hotel got himself a smoothie and it looks like he was gonna run, or just finished a run and got himself a smoothie afterwards on his way to the hotel. So there is that.

Well I leave things at that, enough about this subject already. He's already bored in LA and Vicky, gosh wherever she is or what she's doing, I hope she has fun on her trip.

[z-eel]

Stick with me here.

A modern au set in America. James football player regulus runs track. This is Trans regulus au as well. Sirius already ran away, but they go to the same school they don't really talk. Regulus is super close with Pandora he stays over at her and Evans alot they are twins in this au. Nobody is super rich in this au. Ok, the plot is Regulus and James start dating they keep it on the down low only Remus and Pandora know. Then, one day BOOM Regulus gets pregnant he's freaking out he finds out with Pandora he was staying over. She's like you gotta tell James so he tries telling James, but he sucks at it, so James makes it sound like he NEVER wants kids with regulus. So Regulus is like I gotta get rid if this baby so he tells Pandora but their state doesn't allow it so they are like we gotta go out if state and Evan just so happens to over hear him and he's like dudes Barty has a truck he'll take us. So they all leave on a road trip to go to a clinic. Back at school, Dorcas is catching Marlene up on what is going on, and Marlene is like that probably why James is freaking out that regulus isn't messaging him and stuff. So she let's it slip to sirius, who really freaks out, and long story short, James group goes on a road trip to catch up with regulus group becuase regulus group won't answer their calls.

And all sorts of wacky stuff ensue. I actually came up with this idea after taking cold medicine while in a bath.

this is everything to me right now, i wish i could just give you 50k words of this right now, but since i am incapable of doing I instead present you with a snippet of what I have in the works...

-☆-

“Now we wait.”

Three minutes, that’s all he had. That was all the time he had left to think about every possibility under the sun. Stupid box with that stupid maybe cat, Schrödinger's Cat, that’s all he could think about. He was that stupid cat.

Never in his life has he hated cats more than he did in this exact moment.

“How would you feel if you were pregnant?”

Now that was the question, how would he feel?

He’s never met a pregnant person before or at least he didn’t know them personally. His cousin had been pregnant five years ago but he didn't have many memories of what it was like, or any questions he might have asked. He did remember the swell of her stomach and the way she would hold it so lovingly. Nothing like the harsh words his mother would tell him. Nothing like the look of disgust in her eyes when she manges to find a picture of herself while she was pregnant.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel as long as my mother doesn’t find out it was even a possibility.”

“Regulus.”

“No, Pandora, she'd have me hanged, and who knows what she would do to James. He’s got that scholarship he needs to worry about, I can’t let my mother ruin that for him. So, no, it doesn’t matter what I want, I just need to make sure I don’t mess things up for James.”

Pandora took in a breath. She clearly wanted to fight him on it.

“Has it been three minutes yet.”

“It’s barely been a minute Regulus.”

Fuck, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do it.

“Please distract me.”

“You can’t just avoid talking about the possibility Reg.”

“No, I don’t have to think about anything because there’s a chance that all of this is pointless and I made a big deal out of nothing.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m scared Pandora. I’m scared that I’ll have broken my promise to my mother. I’m scared that I’ll have forced James to stick by my side, ruined his chance to do something with his life. Scared that he might leave me. Scared that I don’t want this. Scared that I do want this. Scared that I’ll have my hopes up and it would have been for nothing.”

His breathing was too fast, the air entering his lungs but having a hard time coming back out. He was scared of having his hopes up. Fuck.

[manmadeandbeyond]

[your other you] // a seth milchick x reader fanfic, chapter 07

🐐 SYNOPISIS: Petey is gone and the new girl is making you think about the day you woke up here – empty, unfinished. And everything you have done ever since. ⚠️TAGS: Heavy Themes, Sexual Situations, Dubious Consent (due to severance dynamics), Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Existential Dread, Liminal Horror.

previous chapter // masterlist

CHAPTER 07 — But What’s Puzzling You, It’s The Nature Of My Game

“Is Petey dead? Am I getting killed as well?”

Milchick lets out a small exhale, like he’s been asked something childish.

“I explained already,” he says smoothly, not breaking stride. “Peter is not dead. His Outie is fine. And why on earth would anyone try to kill you?”

You hesitate. “Because… well. Because I’ve been misbehaving.”

That slows him, but only a little.

“If you mean the note, that’s in the past,” he says, voice clipped but polite. “You apologized. You’ve been exemplary since then.”

The thing is, you don’t remember apologizing for the note. But he is right, since then, you’ve been too afraid to do much of anything.

“There’s something else,” you continue.

He stops fully this time. You’ve been trailing him for the last few minutes – something he never usually allows, but today, he seems distracted enough not to notice. Until now.

His eyes sharpens. “What else have you done?”

It stings, the disappointment in his tone. He’s always treated you like someone above reproach. You’ve been letting him down lately, over and over. You swallow.

“I’ve touched myself,” you say quietly.

He blinks. Shakes his head once, as if resetting. You push forward before you lose your nerve.

“In the bathroom,” you add.

Another shake of the head. He starts walking again, fast, like putting distance will fix this. You follow.

“Thinking about you.”

That stops him cold. For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, a breath. He recomposes, like sliding a mask back on.

“Well.” His voice is smooth again, unnervingly even. “I’m happy to hear how deeply you regret this. And that it won’t happen again.”

Again, you never said that. But he always knows how to phrase things in ways that make disagreement impossible. You half-hope he’ll crack, raise his voice, reprimand you properly, argue, spank you. But he only places a hand gently on your shoulder, steady, professional. Not the touch you want, not the kind of touch you’re craving.

“Today is a special day,” he says. You look up, still searching for something in his expression. Anything. “You’re getting a new coworker.”

He guides you back toward MDR, conversation ending on his terms. You scramble for something to keep him talking, trying to stay in his presence for a little longer.

“You know… Petey was my best friend.”

You try to sound sad. Vulnerable. Maybe he’ll soften.

“Nonsense.” His smile is immediate, too bright. “Dylan G. is your best friend.”

He gestures to MDR, holding out his hand just long enough.

“Now,” he says, like punctuation. “Back to work, shall we?”

Helly is red.

Not just her hair – though that’s the first thing anyone notices – but her entire presence feels red. Bright and impossible to ignore. She moves like she’s always one second away from setting the whole place on fire.

At first, you have a hard time looking away from her. She’s fascinating. Beautiful, even. And so... different. Different from you and from everything you know in your entire life. It’s like someone cut a hole in the white walls of Lumon and she’s what’s on the other side. It’s been a while since you’ve had a female coworker. You think maybe there’s a chance that you’ll find a friend in her. Someone you could talk to, confide in. But it becomes clear quickly: Helly is not interested in you. Any of you. And she doesn’t hide it. You’re taking your first group picture when she says:

“I just think I’m not gonna work here anymore. Sorry.”

It’s not surprising, really. Getting initiated wasn’t easy for any of you. And with Mark S, of all people, in charge of training her it’s no wonder she’s struggling. Still, something twists in you when she says it so plainly. You feel sorry for her. You know better, though. You know how it works. The rules here don’t bend for anyone. That type of choice is not hers to make. Helly R comes back to work the next day, and the day after. Just like the rest of you.

It gets you really thinking about it, remembering what it was like waking up on that table, not being a person yet, completely empty of meaning and voice. And everything you’ve been doing since that day to fill in that hole. Looking at Helly, you realize you haven’t been doing much. There was a time you longed for meaning, but over time, like everyone else, you just stop thinking about it. You get used to it. You make it work. Learn how to live around the giant hole in your brain.

Helly gets sent to the Break Room way too soon – especially considering you’ve never been there yourself, and that Carol B was only sent a couple of times. You’d always assumed they went easier on women. But when Helly comes back, Mark asks:

“How many times?”

“1,072,” she answers.

You’re shocked but try hard not to show it. Everyone’s acting cool, normal even, and you’re terrified that if you say anything, you’ll expose yourself. You can’t shake the fear that they don’t see you as one of them. The fact that management’s never punished you only makes that gap wider.

“What are you staring at?” Helly asks. She rarely talks to you, probably because you rarely talk to her. You quickly drop your gaze, eyes looking around the room for something else to focus on.

“Milkshake’s got a crush on her, that’s why she’s never seen the Break Room,” Dylan G says to Helly.

Your stomach drops. You shake your head in horror, but Helly just looks startled, then something softer, almost pitying, as she looks at you and says:

“That’s fucked up.”

“That’s not true!” you blurt, too loud. “He doesn’t!”

“He totally does,” Dylan shrugs.

“Stop it. I’m serious!” You can feel yourself flushing, burning.

Helly just hums like she’s already lost interest, turning back to the others. “What about the voice behind the door?” she asks, and the conversation moves on without you.

But you’re still thinking about Helly’s red – her hair, her face, her anger – as you, still blushing, quietly get up and slip away. You find yourself wandering the halls, looking for Milchick.

When you finally spot him, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Please, not again,” he says immediately, exasperated. You freeze. Confused, he must see it on your face, because he tries to explain, but it sounds more like a scolding. He steps in too close, closer than he’s ever been before. If you were already blushing before, now you’re burning up when he leans in, voice low in your ear:

“Have you been touching yourself again?”

You gasp, louder than you mean to. “What? No! Why would you –? What the hell?”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice stays soft, terrifyingly calm. “I know the face you make when you’re aroused.”

It knocks the air out of you. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, but he’s not really talking about you. You know that. The realization hurts so much that you step back, lightly pushing him away.

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.” You take a breath, steadying yourself. He looks like he’s about to apologize, lips parting, but you cut him off.

“I came here to ask you something,” you say, “But forget it. I don’t care anymore.”

You turn and walk back toward MDR, ignoring the sound of him calling your name down the hall.

[qui-gg]

whats your opinion on basebulb

Basebulb was a really interesting talking point for me around the time of ii15 releasing, I think it can work really well I LIKE IT!! In terms of what’s going on with the both of them and the implied fact they’d share a room in the hotel I was always considering things like well, they’re both the leaders of their respective teams but Lightbulb is here reuniting with her crew while Baseball doesn’t exactly have a united team to return to, and no one would be very excited to see him but Nickel. He’s feeling a lot of guilt at the moment for being a poor team leader after how things were left with Suitcase. And I’d love Lightbulb noticing this and since they have to spend so much time alone she lets him in a bit and they start talking more, and her inviting him to hang out with her friends to show him there’s more than the show and no one truly hates him for how he lead more than himself. Lightbulb herself had so many qualms with leadership since season 1 where she was a bit too laissez-faire with her style until it got her eliminated, then she made a better effort and season 2 gave her the chance to really prove herself but her methods were so undecipherable to her teammates that someone else felt like they had to pick up the slack. And this identity as a leader has been something so close to her identity that she let it internalize and destroy her through the course of ii2 12-14 as she lost more and more teammates, then it all came to a head in 15 where she was too afraid of disappointing anyone to lose the game when what she really wanted was to be with her friends again. So that entire message speaks a lot to baseball who probably hasn’t considered her feelings too much before 15 and clearly cares more about them after, since we see theyre a bit closer in the movie. I think they have a lot of interesting concepts to work with, though it’s hard for me to actually picture them romantically atm? I think I’d need to see it done but I love the idea of it, could be very good for them.

I think they have a fun dynamic that i don’t see explored enough!! I like Baseball being caught up in her nonsense and getting overwhelmed and they both help each other slow down too. I like that he’s someone capable of seeing beyond her front and respecting her as a smart person. I even like the idea of them being super mean to each other in s1 tho. Bc that’s an immature version of themselves and no wonder Lightbulb began seeing them as rivals after becoming team captains, I LOVE how they revealed to each other they didn’t really see it that way anymore.

I actually started making a basebulb centered comic after 15 at the meetup but never got around to finishing it. Based on all these concepts and dealing with moving in together! Idk if i’ll continue work on it but Maybe

[bunnliix]

The Invisible Strings that Bind us - Chapter Ten

I'm finally back with another chapter! I know this one isn't long, however it felt a bit clunky when I added more to it, so I decided to keep it short this time! The next chapter will be longer, I promise!

Pairing: Stray Kids x reader  Summary: Y/n has a conversation with her parents, and gets a call from someone. wc: 897 AU: soulmate au  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: disapproving parents, anxiety, not a great parent/child relationship, y/n is having a rough time in this chapter, I think that's it? masterlist Note: Thank you @skzdust for helping me with this chapter!

Walking up the stairs, she finds her parents in the living room. They’re seemingly waiting for her, having seen that she had come back home. Her mother was sitting upright in her chair, having turned it around from where it normally faced towards the back of the room, seemingly expecting her arrival. Her father still faced away from her, though she could see by his posture that he wasn’t happy. His shoulders were tense, and his foot was tapping the hardwood floor impatiently. There were a few seconds of silence, before her mother started to speak. “Where have you been?” Her mother asked. “I went on a trip, it was short notice,” Y/n replied. “A trip where?” “To Montreal, for a job interview,” She said, “I’ll be moving if I do get the job.”

“What, you really think that you’d survive out in the world?” Her father interjected, having turned his chair around right before he spoke. “What about your schooling?” Her mother interrupted, her hands coming to rest in her lap, but y/n could see that she was tensing and relaxing them, a sign that she was unhappy with her daughter’s decisions.

“I’ve already gone and sorted that out, I just returned from campus.” Y/n answered, her hands gripping her top to try and contain her nerves. She knew this conversation was never going to go over well, her parents were of the opinion that she’d never do well without them holding her hand. 

“My job would include a place to live, and would accept pets, so as long as I get the job, then I don’t have to worry about any of that. I’ll be fine, and wouldn’t you be happier if I wasn’t living at home?” She explained to them, knowing that at least one of them would protest this, though more than likely would protest not being told about this beforehand. But y/n herself was coming up with this on the spot.

Y/n wasn’t telling her parents about her soulmates, for a few reasons. Her parents weren’t soulmates, and they didn’t fully believe in the whole ‘soulmates are perfect matches thing.’ They also would be upset with her moving across the world to live with eight men she ‘barely’ knew. Well, to them at least. She thought she knew them at least better than just ‘barely’. But they were her soulmates, and though maybe it was a bit stupid to move this quickly, what other options were there? She didn’t think it was smart to be stuck halfway across the world from her soulmates. Plus the issue of their schedules and the time difference meant being so far away would be much harder. “Well, there’s nothing more to say for now, until I know if I get it or not,” Y/n stopped any further discussion. She reached to grab her phone out of her pocket, letting her new bodyguards know that she would be staying in for the rest of the day, so they could leave for now. “I’m going back down to my room, I’ll talk with you later,” she said, smiling at her parents to hide any unease or anxiety that was swirling in her stomach.

Returning to her room, she flopped on her bed, tired from everything she had done. She laid there for who knows how long, until her phone started ringing. She answered it, the ring tone telling her it was likely one of her soulmates.

“Hello,” Seungmin’s voice rang out from her phone’s speaker.

“Seungmin, hi,” y/n replied, “Why are you calling?”

“We wanted to check in on you, since you’ve been there for a couple of hours now.” He explained.

“I’m doing okay, it’s been a busy but tiring day.” She said, sighing as her body still had yet to relax, her muscles tense.

“We’ve been busy here today, Chan-hyung found a new apartment for all of us, and we’re trying to get it ready by the time you come back at the end of the week.” Seungmin told her, “That’s also why I called, to let you know.”

“Is it really enough room for all nine of us?” She asked, curious as to how they found something so quickly.

“It will be a bit of a squish for some of us, but we’ll make it work,” Seungmin admitted. “Don’t feel bad about it, yeah?”

Y/n pouted, unsure of how the younger man figured out that she was going to feel bad about it.

“You’re similar to Han and Felix. And you might want to not speak out loud,” was what she was told, blushing as she realized she spoke out loud.

“Oh.” Y/n said in reply, unsure of what to say next as her cheeks continued to heat up.

She heard a faint, “Seungmin-ah! Come on!” come through the phone, indicating that it was time for their call to end.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I have to go. Talk to you soon.” Her soulmate told her, and she said goodbye to him before the call ended.

Laying her phone down in her bed, she decided to try and sleep a bit, suddenly feeling exhausted. Curling up under her blankets and pulling her knees close to her chest, her last thought before she slipped into sleep was how she wished to be back with her boys already.

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@thegingerthatwaited @hyunmikim @pheonixfire777 @sapphirewaves @yukichan67

@palindrome969 @bethelighthalazia

[queenofhawkinshigh]

OOC:

It actually drives me so crazy (derogatory) when people say Chrissy wouldn’t get into metal whatsoever.

Aside from the more popular songs, I wasn’t really familiar with it prior to S4, but I’ve been going through the albums the bands on Eddie’s battle vest came out with in 1986 and before and I truly believe there’s something for everyone who’s genuinely willing to listen! While I don’t think she’d be a secret metalhead and she’d have to be introduced to that world, I do think she’d be openminded to it—out of curiosity for herself as well as care for Eddie and his number one passion. I can’t get behind Chrissy seeing him smile so big he dimples and not wondering what about it gets him so fired up… and not understanding after he tells her and, more importantly, shows her.

It’d give her a chance to explore parts of herself she’s kept locked up inside. The bad, sad stuff people in that day and age would discourage talking about, I’m finding metal artists did. In a befittingly brave in-your-face kind of way! That kind of encouragement would be new and different and maybe even scary at first, but good. She’s never had a safe place to look at the way she grew up, at her mother’s cruelty and her father’s neglect, and scream about how unfair it was and how it hurt and still hurts. She’s lived her life never being able to let those feelings loose, so even some of the harder, wilder stuff could and, I think, would reach her heart.

Speaking of her heart, she’s a hopeless romantic—and there are actually so, so many romantic metal songs from that time period that fit Hellcheer to a T! She can listen to and love Steal Away (The Night) by Ozzy Osbourne and Fever by Judas Priest AND listen to and love Belinda Carlisle and Cyndi Lauper and ABBA. Why should she only love one or the other? Why not metal and pop?

Just imagine her excitedly taking the sleeves off a white denim jacket, dyeing it pink, and wearing it to the metal concerts she goes to with Eddie, buying a new patch or pin at the merch table to add to it. With! With her pastel candy stripe dresses underneath.

And just as excitedly taking Eddie to Billy Joel, both of them going nuts when he does Uptown Girl.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I do think it’d be the most awful thing ever for her to completely change—her hair and makeup and clothes and self—to fit in with Eddie and his friends. I don’t want that! The Eddie we know and love wouldn’t want that either. If he’s had a crush on her since middle school, he’s been crushing on her pink and peppy and poppy.

I just think she can be herself and enjoy being a part of something new—something she can deeply connect with—too!

Let my girl go crazy (complimentary)!

[tqlepatia]

Hi, umm, can you write about being arranged married to Sevika? Perhaps you both haven't shared an intimate contact with each other or just a mere kiss on the lips, and you just can't take it anymore, so you confronted her about it, and Sevika is just blushing the way you look and what you were talking about, and maybe a wee bit of smutty smut, wihihi. But if you are busy, you can just skip this one. Tysm, love your works. Have a nice week ahead of you

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𝒜rranged 𝑀arriage.

⌞tw : smut, dirty talk, strap on, dumbfication (only a little, i swear), angst ( i think?), arranged married⌝

It had been months since you and Sevika got married—an arrangement that was all about family ties, obligations, and strategic alliances. Your parents had met Sevika at some high-end party in Piltover, and when your dad found out she had money, he acted like it was no big deal, casually offering you to her like you were some kind of asset. On paper, you were wife and wife, but in reality, you were basically strangers to each other.

Sevika, ever the stoic and unreadable force, treated you with distant respect, never crossing any lines but never stepping closer either. She was dutiful, protective, and yet… untouched.

Not once had she kissed you, not once had she reached for you beyond the casual brush of hands when passing by. The tension had become unbearable.

And tonight, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You stood in front of her, dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown, your heartbeat hammering in your chest. The candlelight flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls, making her sharp features look even sharper. She sat at the edge of the bed, metal arm resting on her knee, her dark eyes flicking up at you.

“…What?” Her voice was low, cautious.

You swallowed, gathering the courage that had been bubbling inside you for weeks. “Are we really going to live like this?”

Sevika frowned. “Like what?”

“Like we’re strangers.” You took a step closer, bare feet pressing into the cold floor. “Like this marriage is just some contract we signed, nothing more.”

She exhaled heavily, running her flesh hand over her face. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I want,” you admitted, voice softer now. Vulnerable.

Sevika tensed at that, as if unsure how to respond.

“I want you.”

Her eyes snapped to yours. You saw the hesitation in them, the way her shoulders stiffened, like she was holding herself back from something.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she muttered.

You took another step, close enough now that you could feel the heat of her skin. “I do.” Your fingers reached for her jaw, hesitating for only a second before gently tilting her face up. “Sevika… kiss me.”

Her breath hitched. She stared at you like she was searching for something, an escape, a reason to say no.

But she didn’t.

Instead, her metal hand found your waist, pulling you between her legs. The warmth of her breath ghosted against your lips as she whispered, “You don’t want me like that.”

“I do,” you insisted. “I’ve always wanted you.”

And then, finally, she kissed you.

It was hesitant at first, as if she was unsure if she should, but the second you melted into it, Sevika lost control. Her lips were warm, demanding, her grip tightening on your waist as she pulled you onto her lap. You gasped softly against her mouth, and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours with a desperate kind of hunger.

Her hands, one warm, one cold, roamed your body, learning, feeling. When her lips left yours, they trailed down your jaw, pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck, making you shiver.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” she murmured, but the way she held you told another story.

You threaded your fingers through her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. “Then show me.”

That was all it took for her restraint to snap.

You don't know anything, not even what time it is, what day it is, much less how many times you had an orgasm, for God! You just discovered that your wife is very insatiable or she is some goddess of sex.

Each thrust into you was a trip that your eyes took inside your head, you never felt so good, and fuck, you could cum again just from the words that came out of her mouth.

"Look so pretty baby, taking so good like the little wife you are, hm?"

"s-..mhmp! ...so pretty, i shoud take a picture of you and hang up on the biggest frame, mhmp!... fuck, in our house"

"Ooh, the little slut likes to be praised, huh?"

"She's almost swallowing me, she's greedy like u."

"shhhh doll, don't let your little dumb brain distract you, yeah? just focus on cum for me baby."

Your bodies moved together, skin slapping against skin as the room filled with the erotic sounds of their lovemaking. Your legs wrapped her legs around Sevika's waist, She could feel her climax building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in her pussy.

Sevika leaned down to capture one of the your nipples in her mouth, suckling and biting the hardened bud. Her other hand snaked between their bodies to rub tight circles around your clit. That extra stimulation was all it took to send you hurtling over the edge.

You came with a loud moan, with your cunt spasming almost violently around her dick. An white anel forming around it, soaking the sheets beneath your both. Sevika fucked you through your orgasm, drawing out her pleasure until she collapsed back onto the mattress, boneless and sated.

Sevika let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing into the mattress as she reached over to the nightstand, opening the drawer just enough to slip off her strap and tuck it away. The soft sound of wood scraping shut filled the quiet room, followed by the rustling of sheets as she rolled onto her back. Without hesitation, she pulled you on top of her, guiding you into her arms like it was second nature.

You melted against her, pressing your cheek against the warm, sweat-slick skin of her chest. Her heartbeat was slow and steady now, a comforting rhythm beneath your ear, her hand found your back, her fingers tracing lazy circles.

Neither of you spoke at first, just basking in the warmth of each other, in the quiet intimacy that followed. The scent of sex still lingered in the air, but beneath it was something softer, the faint traces of whatever soap she used, mixed with the natural musk of her skin. It was intoxicating in a different way, grounding you after everything.

"You okay?" Sevika murmured, her voice low, edged with that rare gentleness she reserved just for you.

You hummed in response, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "More than okay."

She huffed a soft chuckle, her chest rising beneath your cheek. "Good."

A comfortable silence stretched between you, her fingers never ceasing their slow, soothing movements against your back. You felt her shift slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, then another against your temple.

But still, something lingered in your mind. A weight.

You bit your lip before finally speaking, voice quieter now. "Sevika… do you even like being married to me?"

That made her pause. Her hand stilled against your skin, her metal arm tensing slightly around your waist.

She didn’t answer right away, and for a brief moment, you worried that maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

But then, she exhaled, her grip tightening just a fraction. "Yeah," she admitted, voice softer than you expected. "I do."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. The dim glow of moonlight streaming through the window caught the sharp angles of her face, the scar on her cheek, the soft furrow of her brows.

"Then why haven't we…" You trailed off, feeling suddenly shy. "You know. Before tonight?"

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. Instead, she reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was surprisingly tender.

"Didn't wanna fuck it up," she finally admitted. "Didn’t wanna… push you into something you weren’t ready for."

You blinked, surprised. "But we're married, Sev."

"I know." She sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. "But that doesn't mean you owe me anything."

Your chest tightened. You hadn't expected that from her.

Sevika. rough, blunt, sometimes distant, had been holding back all this time, not out of disinterest, but out of respect. Out of some quiet, unspoken fear that she’d mess this up before it even had a chance to be something real.

The realization made your heart ache.

You leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her jaw, then another at the corner of her lips. She let out a slow breath, her grip on you tightening.

"You never had to hold back with me," you whispered. "I wanted this. I want you."

Sevika’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her gaze searching yours. Whatever she found there must have reassured her, because she finally allowed herself to relax again, her hands settling on your waist.

"Yeah?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

She exhaled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Good."

You rolled your eyes at her, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade.

Another stretch of silence settled between you, but it wasn’t heavy this time. It was… easy.

"Tell me something about you," you said suddenly, resting your chin on her chest.

Sevika raised a brow. "Like what?"

"I don’t know. Anything. We’re married, but I feel like I barely know you."

She let out an amused huff. "That so?"

You nodded, grinning. "What's your favorite color?"

She snorte, planting kiss in the top of your head and taking some strands of hair stuck to your forehead. "That’s what you wanna ask me right now?"

"Yes," you said, poking her side playfully. "Answer."

Sevika rolled her eyes but relented. "Blue. Like the ocean."

You blinked. "Didn’t take you for a poetic type."

"I’m not," she said flatly.

You smirked, shifting so you could prop yourself up on your elbows. "Okay, next question. What’s something you hate?"

She thought for a moment before shrugging. "Ice cream."

Your face twisted in exaggerated offense. "What?"

Sevika smirked at your reaction. "Yeah. Don’t like it."

"How do you not like ice cream?" You sat up, straddling her waist now, looking genuinely distraught. "It’s literally one of the best things ever created."

"Too cold. Hurts my teeth."

"That’s such an old person answer."

"I am older than you," she reminded you, smirking.

You gasped dramatically. "Oh, so you admit it now?"

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Shut up."

You grinned, leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. It was soft, lingering, filled with all the affection that words couldn’t quite convey.

When you pulled back, you whispered against her lips, "I'm making you try ice cream again. You just haven't had the right one."

Sevika hummed, her hands trailing absentmindedly along your thighs. "And if I still don’t like it?"

"Then I’ll just have to keep trying until you do."

She shook her head, but there was a rare, genuine smile pulling at her lips. "You’re relentless."

"And you secretly love it," you teased, resting your forehead against hers.

Sevika exhaled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on your skin. "Maybe."

You sighed contentedly, letting the quiet stretch between you again. It felt different now—not empty, not distant. Just comfortable.

For the first time since your marriage, you weren’t just two people bound by obligation. You were two people discovering each other, piece by piece, in the quiet intimacy of the night.

And now, That felt like the start of something real.

[catadromously]

one time at summer camp I was on a bus with a bunch of other kids and this girl I’d barely talked to plonked down next to me, folded her hands, and launched into the tale of how she was the greatest beekeeper her town had ever seen. by sheer coincidence I happened to be in the middle of a massive honeybee biology hyperfixation, so I could tell she was bullshitting, however through some combination of social awkwardness and curiosity I didn’t manage to call her out on it. I just kept yes-anding and she kept escalating until she was trying to convince me that she was breeding mutant neon superbees in her backyard and could sell them to me if I could raise the cash. (we were 11.) and to this day I’m 100% certain that not only did she know I knew, she knew that I knew that she knew I knew, but neither of us would break, so we just locked eyes and played it out til the bus got where it was going. I don’t even think she had an endgame, I think she was in it for the experience. our groups split after that bus ride and I never saw her again. scam apiculturist 11 year old if you’re still out there I’ll never forget you or your bees

we all go on about the intimacy of the single-day childhood friendships struck up with strangers at the shore or the playground or what have you and yeah you’ve gotta love it. but I think we’re missing something compelling in the phenomenon that is. the opposite of that.

[vunblr]

What if...?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Slight Angst.

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

Word Count: About 7.9k.

She knew exactly who he was the first time they bumped into each other when she ran toward the stairs of her apartment building, and he suddenly emerged from them, lost in thought. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and the glint of metal was pretty noticeable when he reached out to grab her elbow to prevent her from falling backward. The touch was brief, since he retired his hand promptly when he was sure she would not fall, and his blue eyes revealing something akin to regret.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered in a low voice as he retracted his hand, tucking it into his jacket.

“Oh, don’t be,” she responded, lifting the corners of her lips just slightly as she waved her hand dismissively. “I should’ve been more careful. The elevator’s out, and I was in such a hurry… ugh. We always tell the kids not to run in hallways and stairs because accidents can happen, and here I am sprinting-" She cut herself off, realizing she was rambling, and gave an embarrassed smile. “Anyway… hi. I’m Y/n, I just moved in yesterday.” She declared, offering her hand.

He reached out in a firm but gentle grip. “James Barnes, but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, and as she straightened her nurse uniform, she bit her lip. Handsome. The cute wrinkles that creased the corners of his striking blue eyes, were the kind that hinted at a man who had both smiled and seen more than his fair share of hardship, and it was hard not to notice. His body was the epitome of perfection. She mentally slapped herself for staring. “Well, Bucky, I’m running late for work, so I need to go, but I’ll see you around. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

He nodded, watching as she hurried down the stairs, her uniform swaying slightly with her steps. He just stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment longer than he should have, replaying the soft smile on her lips.

The days after that encounter passed in a blur of awkward run-ins. Each time, she greeted him with the same soft smile and each time, Bucky found himself lost in thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself in years.

It started with a polite nod, maybe a fleeting smile. Then came the casual exchanges—small talk about the weather, their days, even the occasional joke about the quirks of their shared building. Before he realized it, those brief moments had become something he looked forward to. It felt so easy to talk to her, and her laughter always seemed to come just when he needed to hear it. Sometimes, he’d catch her gaze lingering on him a second too long before she looked away, and it was enough to make him wonder if maybe, she felt the same pull that he did.

-----

One evening, as they both stood waiting for the elevator, she quirked a brow at him. "You know, Bucky, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were following me." She teased.

He blinked, caught off guard, but the playful glint in her eyes made him relax. He let out a small chuckle. "Well… I could say the same about you." She laughed, and once again, the sound made him feel almost normal.

His therapist had been telling him for months that he was alone, and isolated, and that he needed to socialize, and form connections. She had even suggested dating, but every time he tried, it hadn’t gone well. The interactions felt awkward and forced, and he often found an excuse to leave early, or worse, sometimes he didn’t even bother with an excuse, just walking out of there without a word.

There was something about her that set her apart, mostly the ease with which their conversations flowed. He wasn’t the type to talk much, often keeping things curt and to the point, but she had this way of making the silence between them feel comfortable, never pushing him to share more than he wanted. He didn’t have to try so hard to keep up with standard appearances.

But the attraction wasn’t just about comfort. No, he wanted her.

He caught himself watching her more often than he cared to admit. She was exactly his type—soft, curvy in all the right places. And he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to touch her, to trace his hands over her body, to feel her warmth beneath his fingertips.

But every time he got close to asking her out, fear crept in, locking the words in his throat. Fear of rejection. Of being too damaged. Of her seeing the parts of him he was ashamed of. And so, he always stopped himself.

Tonight felt different, though. There was something in her playful approach that made the fear feel less suffocating, less overwhelming. The elevator doors opened, and as they stepped inside, Bucky turned to her with his heart hammering in his chest. He could barely believe he was about to do this.

"Can I ask you something?" he murmured.

She glanced at him. "Yeah?"

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment as he stood before her, and almost panicked. This wasn’t something he was used to. He could fight gruesome battles, survive impossible odds, flip a fucking armored truck with a tug of his arm… but asking someone out? That felt like a whole different battlefield. It was terrifying in a way those other things weren’t.

For a moment, he almost backpedaled. His mind scrambled, desperately searching for something else to say, some way to deflect his intentions and change the subject. But nothing came. He was stuck. He’d already opened his mouth, and there was no way to retreat now without looking like a fool.

So taking a deep breath, he jumped.

“Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?” The words came out gruffly. For a second, the doubt crept inside his brain, making him wonder if he’d just made a mistake.

But her eyes widened in surprise before lighting up, and the smile that spread across her face eased the knot on his stomach.

“Oh, I’d love to! It’d be fun to do something outside the building for a change. We run into each other so much, that I actually have thought about asking you to hang out, but you always seemed rushed, like you couldn’t wait to leave... I’m glad that’s not the case.” She leaned in slightly, and her voice dropped to a playful whisper. “You know, we can be neighbors and friends. There’s nothing in the building rules against it.”

Bucky blinked, and his heart sank at the word friends. He forced one of the practiced, uncomfortable smiles his therapist suggested. Friendzoned -a term he’d only recently discovered- wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he hadn’t spelled it out, either. Of course she thought he was just trying to be friendly, he hadn’t given her a fucking hint of his real intentions. He hadn’t flirted, hadn’t made even the slightest move to swoon her.

The old him would’ve had no trouble conveying his interest. He would’ve been smooth and confident, knowing exactly how to charm her and make his intentions clear. But he wasn’t that guy anymore. He hadn’t done this in decades, and the rules seemed to have shifted in ways he didn’t fully understand. Hell, he had shifted. He sighed. 

“Um-” he started, hesitant. “Just to be clear…” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to hers. “I meant it… as a date. Not just neighbors or friends grabbing a bite.”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, still processing his words. And then, something clicked. Heat crept up her neck as her smile turned thoughtful. He wasn’t asking because they lived in the same building or because they ran into each other so often. He wanted to spend time with her because he was interested.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize… I mean…” she stumbled with her words, “I didn’t know you meant it like that." She has had her fair share of men in her life but being honest with herself, in a million years, she wouldn’t have guessed someone like him would be asking her out. Not Bucky, the quiet, handsome, brooding neighbor with the sharp jawline and the weight of a thousand untold stories in his eyes. For months, she had brushed off the little moments between them as neighborly interactions, and nothing more. It had been easier that way. Safer, maybe. But now, standing here, the truth of his intentions was undeniable.

Her smile softened, "Well, I’m glad you clarified." she finally said. "And yeah, Bucky. I’d like that, a lot."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if he’d been holding his breath and had just now allowed himself to exhale. A faint smile crept onto his lips, one that actually reached his eyes, softening the hardened edges he usually carried.

"Great," he murmured. "I’ll, uh, figure something out."

They shared one last look before the elevator doors opened, and as they stepped out, his heart was still racing but this time, it wasn’t from fear.

------

The first date had been simple. He brought her flowers, a small, hesitant gesture that made her eyes light up. They went to a bistro and talked about life, interests, and the kind of things you only share when you feel a certain sense of safety with someone. Bucky never said more than necessary, but she learned to read the way his eyes softened when he listened, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when she said something that caught him off guard. It was as easy and comfortable as their previous interactions, and yet, in the back of his mind, there was always the whisper: do you even deserve this?

The second date was at the small café on the corner of their building. There had been more laughter this time, and the conversation flowed even more easily. As they sat across from each other, their knees brushed under the table. It was subtle, almost unintentional. When it happened again, neither of them moved away.

They walked back in a comfortable silence. When they reached her door, she turned to face him and for a moment the space between them felt heavier, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

His hand hovered just near her lower back, not quite touching, but close enough that she felt the warmth of his body through the fabric of her dress. For a brief second, she thought he might pull her closer to break that last sliver of space between them, but he didn’t. His hand lingered for just a moment longer before falling away.

Bucky’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips, and his brows furrowed slightly before looking away, almost as if chastising himself. His old-fashioned upbringing, perhaps, held him back and kept him from making the move she half-expected, the one she wanted.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, in a rougher tone than usual. His tired eyes lingered on hers just a little too long, as if he were still debating, still fighting the pull to act on the desire he was clearly feeling.

She nodded, trying to ignore the flutter on her chest and to respect his boundaries, even though her hands itched to reach for him, to pull him closer and start what he wouldn’t. “Goodnight, Bucky,” she replied softly, her own voice betraying the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

They stood there for a heartbeat longer, and the short distance between their doors now felt like miles. He gave her a small, almost hesitant smile, then turned toward his apartment, and the silence between them somehow felt louder now.

By the time the third date approached, Bucky’s nerves were starting to get the better of him. He didn’t want to ruin this. The cocky Sergeant Barnes -the man who hadn’t yet turned into a walking nightmare- would’ve laughed at him. That version of himself had been bold, self-assured, the type of man who could sweep a woman off her feet without a second thought. He’d have taken the lead with ease, knowing exactly how to handle the situation. But that man was long gone, buried beneath the weight of all he had done, all he had become.

Before leaving for the date, he poured himself an imperial pint of asgardian ale. Just enough to give him a buzz, to take the edge off. Standing there, glass in hand, he caught his reflection in the window and sighed. Could she see it, the darkness? The scars left behind from being Hydra’s puppet? And even if she didn’t... how long until she did?

You don’t deserve this, the voice whispered again, unrelenting.

------

That night, after dinner, they found themselves in her living room, two untouched coffee cups growing cold on the table beside them. The dim light softened the space around them, creating an intimate cocoon that made their conversation flow effortlessly. Yet, beneath the easy chatter, Bucky’s doubts lingered. He couldn’t shake the feeling that any move forward could shatter the delicate balance between them.

He’d been raised with a sense of propriety, a rhythm to follow when it came to courting. There was a dance to it, an unspoken set of rules about when to advance and when to hold back. The trouble now was figuring out how much to let himself move forward, how far to let this go before the weight of his past dragged him under again.

As their conversation naturally ebbed into silence, he noticed her gaze flicker to his lips, lingering just a bit longer than usual. His pulse quickened. She was giving him a sign, even if she hadn’t meant to. For a brief moment, he hesitated, but the look in her eyes, and the ale still running through his system urged him forward.

He leaned in slightly, and their knees brushed. The warmth of her body drew him closer. His hand hovered near her arm, and she responded getting closer, parting her lips ever so slightly as if inviting him in without saying a word.

Slowly, deliberately, he closed the distance between them, as his heart pounded in his chest. The kiss was meant to be soft and chaste, but all restraint flew out the window the second their lips touched.

His hand slipped to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and the kiss grew hungrier, more urgent, as if months of longing were unraveling in that single moment. With a gentle, almost teasing flick of his tongue against her lower lip, he urged her to open her mouth. She complied, parting her lips as she allowed him in, and things turned molten. His tongue slid against hers, and the heat spiraled when she let out a quiet, breathless moan. The sound sent a jolt of desire straight to his cock, pushing him further. His metal hand remained firm on her back, pulling her as close as possible, while the other slipped into her hair. She responded eagerly, gliding her fingers up his chest and tangling in his now messy hair, tugging him closer as if she couldn’t get enough. The kiss was all-consuming, urgent, and messy, as months of tension finally broke free. Eventually, they slowly pulled apart, their heavy breaths mingling in the charged air between them. His gaze dropped to her lips, now swollen and flushed, and he felt the undeniable pull to dive back in.

Then he noticed it.

His vibranium hand had slid down to her waist and was gripping harder than he intended. Much harder. He swallowed and looked at it, realizing what he had done. His hand, still gripping tightly, could have harmed her. He sighed, as the frustration and self-reproach tugged at him, unable to find a balance between his longing and his fear of hurting her.

She caught the sigh, and her eyes followed his downward gaze until they landed on his hand, still gripping her waist. And then it clicked, she understood. It wasn’t just the pressure of his hand; it was everything behind it. The strength he was constantly aware of, the control he had to maintain, the fear of hurting someone he cared about without meaning to. It wasn’t just about this moment, it was about everything he carried with him.

Instead of pulling away, she did the opposite. She shifted slightly, pressing closer into his hand, reassuring him. With that small gesture, she was telling him she trusted him, she wasn’t fragile, and she wasn’t going to break. He didn’t need to hold back with her.

He exhaled softly, and a question escaped his lips, one that had been lingering in his mind for far too long. “Have you ever thought how things would have been if we had met under different circumstances?” he wondered.

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Different how?” she asked, leaning in a little, searching his eyes.

Bucky took a breath, and his gaze drifted again as if he were caught somewhere between the past and the present. “I mean… if I hadn’t been…” He trailed off for a second, a shadow crossing his expression. “If I didn’t become what I am. If I’d been just… me.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, as though speaking the words out loud might break something fragile between them.

She stayed quiet, giving him the space he needed, her hand resting gently on his arm, a subtle reassurance.

“I think about it sometimes,” he admitted, and his eyes were distant, fixed on a point somewhere beyond her. “If we’d met before all the... before everything.” His lips pressed into a thin line, guilt flickering behind his blue eyes. “Maybe in another time, I could’ve been just a guy. Someone who didn’t have…” He paused, still pressing his vibranium hand against her back. “Someone that wouldn’t have been so messed up. Someone normal and approachable.”

Her heart clenched at the weight of his words. “Bucky-“ she started, but he shook his head slightly as if to wave off her sympathy.

“I don’t know,” he continued. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve…” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

Without hesitation, she entwined their fingers, squeezing gently. “You do deserve this,” she said firmly as she met his gaze. She wasn’t going to let him retreat into the dark place where his self-deprecation lived. “You deserve to be happy, Buck. You’re a good man.” She sighed and shifted beside him, resting her head against the couch as she considered his previous words, and then, an idea popped up.

“Let’s see… if I had been born before 1920, I’d probably still be a nurse.” Her lips curved into a small smile as she looked at him sideways, eyes gleaming in the dim light. She watched his reaction closely, and her heart thumped a little faster as she waited. “I’d have enlisted to work in a field hospital. And… who knows, maybe we could have met when you were serving.” She let the thought linger in the air, light and playful, hoping it would lift the mood.

Bucky’s brows lifted slightly, and then he tilted his head, with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He shifted closer to her without even realizing, with his hand still resting lightly on her waist. “You would’ve been responsible for making sure I was fit for duty,” he mused, his tone was a little lighter now as if the idea of an alternate history didn’t seem so bad. “Keeping an eye on me, seeing my injuries, maybe even patching me up yourself.” He added with a playful edge, allowing himself to immerse in the scenario.

She grinned, shaking her head, eyes twinkling as she imagined the scene. “Oh, from what I heard about you, I doubt you would have visited the hospital very often, Sarge,” she teased, nudging his knee with hers playfully, a grin tugging at her lips.

Bucky chuckled, as his thumb began tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, a gesture she was growing fond of. “Probably not,” he agreed, leaning in slightly, “But I would’ve noticed you from afar. Even if I had no reason to be there, you would’ve stood out.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as her fingers absentmindedly brushed the back of his hand, and a smile played on her lips as she waited for his answer.

Bucky glanced down at their intertwined hands, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against her softer ones. He looked back up at her. “Because you’re beautiful,” he said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

She blinked, caught off guard. “Beautiful, me? Pfft!” She laughed softly, with a playful spark in her eyes. “But... now that I think about it, pin-up girls were a thing when you were serving, weren’t they?”

Bucky leaned back into the couch, pulling her with him, wrapping his arm firmer around her waist, with a slow grin. “Yeah, well, nurses were definitely included in the ‘interesting’ category too,” he teased. His eyes flicked down, tracing the curves of her body as his hand tightened slightly around her waist, making her feel self-conscious. “Especially ones with curves like yours.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head, but before she could say anything, Bucky continued, his voice lower now, with a bit more serious tone. “You’d have been popular among the guys in camp, you know. They’d have been lining up, falling over themselves to get your attention.” He paused, flicking his gaze back to hers. “But trust me, I would’ve noticed you first. And I wouldn’t have let anyone else have a shot.”

Her cheeks heated as she tucked her legs beneath her, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, so you would’ve asked me out?” she teased.

Bucky turned slightly toward her, sliding down slowly the hand resting on her arm, brushing her skin in soft, teasing strokes. “Oh, I wouldn’t have just asked,” he said with a smirk. “I’d have made sure you had no reason to say no.”

She felt her heart quicken at the subtle heat in his voice, the playful edge giving way to something more intense. Her breath hitched slightly, and she bit her lip as she gazed up at him. “Is that so?” she murmured. “And how would you have done that?” She leaned in a little, brushing her shoulder against his, closing the small space between them. “How was the game back then? Brought flowers? Invited me to dance?”

“Both, probably,” he murmured, resting his hand on her thigh, grazing the fabric of her dress with his thumb in slow, deliberate motions. “Flowers, because they’re classic... and dancing, because it’s intimate.”

“Well,” she whispered, leaning her head toward him, lips just inches from his ear, “I guess I would’ve let you court me, Sarge. Tell me about a date with you.”

Bucky’s hand tightened slightly on her thigh, just enough to make her heart race. His stubbled cheek brushed against hers as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Saturday night,” he whispered, barely grazing his lips on the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, “dinner at the Officers’ Club, followed by a slow dance... and then back to my quarters for a proper goodnight kiss.”

Her breath hitched, and her pulse quickened as the warmth of his breath and the weight of his words settled in her brain. She could feel the tension thickening in the air, and then, with almost a trembling voice, she teased, “Only a kiss?”

Bucky smirked against her skin, hovering his lips near her ear. “Maybe more than just a kiss,” he rasped, low and full of promise, “but only if you wanted it too.”

She arched an eyebrow, curving her lips into a teasing smile. “Hmm, I dunno, Sergeant Barnes... things were done more properly back then, right? No sex before marriage, and all that stuff?”

He let out a low chuckle, already inching his hand higher up her thigh. “You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, with a teasing edge. “I would've waited until our wedding night…” His hand slid beneath the fabric of her dress, fingers grazing the soft skin of her thigh. “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have thought about it. Every. Single. Day.” He leaned in again as he whispered. “How you’d look... how you’d feel... imagining all the ways I’d finally get to touch you.” His breath was warm against her skin, and the words, heavy with tension.

“Is that so?” she murmured, sliding her fingers up his chest, gripping his collar just enough to keep him close. “You think you could’ve waited?”

His hand tightened again on her thigh. “I would’ve tried... but I don’t think you would’ve made it easy.” Bucky’s playful tone faded into something more serious, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Would you have let me… let me have you like that?”

She swallowed, gripping his shirt tighter as she looked up into his eyes, feeling the pull toward him in a way that left her defenseless. “I-” her voice faltered, but she managed to find her words. “Yeah, Bucky... I would’ve.”

Bucky’s vibranium hand, firm but tender, climbed from her waist tracing a slow, deliberate path up her spine. He then reached upfront for the little buttons at the neckline of her dress, being careful and bold as he unfastened them, one by one. Each undone button revealed more of her skin to his darkened gaze, and the way he looked at her made her feel exposed in a way that went beyond the physical. “I would’ve taken care of you,” he murmured, brushing his lips on her collarbone. “Made sure no one else got close to you.”

Her body leaned instinctively toward him, craving the closeness as her free hand ran up his arm, tracing the firm muscles beneath his shirt. “No one else would’ve mattered,” she whispered.

With a swift, deliberate motion, the hand on her neckline slid down and snaked behind her, grasping her ass and pulling her fully into his lap. She gasped as her hips pressed against his, feeling exactly how much he wanted her. “Every night,” he growled with need, “I would’ve made sure you were mine.” His eyes were ablaze with raw desire as he tightened his grip holding her firmly against his groin.

Her pulse raced, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them, and his mouth crashed into hers in a searing kiss. His other hand slid higher up her thigh, teasing the edge of her panties, brushing the soft skin. A soft moan escaped her lips, muffled by the kiss, and when he broke it, his lips found the curve of her neck.

“So only one kiss, huh?” she chuckled in a breathed tone, and her voice trembled with anticipation as her hips instinctively rocked against his.

Bucky inhaled deeply against her skin, trailing hot kisses toward her breasts. “Well, I would've kissed you every chance I got but believe me, that wouldn’t have been enough...” His words were thick with promise, and his breath was hot against her skin. He pressed his erection harder against her, slipping his hand between them, tracing her slick heat over her underwear with his fingers. The breathless gasp that escaped her was all the encouragement he needed. “… that wouldn’t have been fucking enough.” he whispered against her skin, his voice low and filled with hunger, as his fingers moved with purpose, leaving no doubt about what he wanted.

She bit her lip, and her voice was soft but laced with playful intent as she fed into the fantasy they were weaving. “Well, if we had ourselves a little house with a white fence, I’d have waited for you to come home every day in a frilly apron,” she locked her eyes onto his, and a teasing smile tugged at her lips as she added, “with nothing underneath.”

The image she painted made Bucky’s breath hitch, and his grip tightened around her ass. His eyes nearly rolled back, his imagination spiraling into wild possibilities. “Damn.” His voice was laced with lust. “If I could’ve had you waiting for me like that,” he murmured, gripping her tighter, fingers digging into her skin as his restraint began to falter “I’d have come home early every damn day just to take advantage of you.” His lips brushed the swell of her breasts, and the heat between them spiraled as his imagination ran wild, pulling her impossibly closer while teasing over her soaked panties.

Her gaze flicked from his lips back to his darkened eyes. “Oh yeah?” she challenged, in a sultry whisper. “Right there on the kitchen table?”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, and the raw desire in his eyes nearly swallowed her whole. “Hell yes, right there on the kitchen table,” he growled, his vibranium hand gripping her ass harder, possessively. “I’d bend you over it, flip up that little apron, and bury myself inside you until you screamed my name for the whole damn neighborhood to hear.” He confessed without a hint of shame or remorse.

Her body reacted instantly, pressing her hips hard against the teasing hand hovering over her clothed pussy. A soft, almost desperate whimper escaped her lips. His hand answered her need by slipping her panties aside, slowly sinking his fingers into her pussy, stretching her with deliberate, agonizing precision.

She let out a shaky breath, and her playful tone faltered as her body betrayed her. “How kinky,” she managed to tease, biting her lip as she met his gaze.

Bucky inhaled sharply, savoring the way she responded to him, moving his hand with more purpose now. “Kinky enough to have you blushing for days,” he growled, grazing his teeth up to her jawline before dragging his lips slowly up to brush against hers. His fingers kept sliding deeper inside her with slow, deliberate strokes. “And when the milkman came the next morning…” The hand on her ass squeezed the supple skin harder, pulling her even close against him, while the other continued its relentless torment between her legs. “...you’d be so sore from the night before, you wouldn’t even be able to stand straight. Couldn’t look anyone in the eye without blushing, remembering just how loud you screamed.”

She moaned at his statement, totally immersed in the fantasy. “Fuck, that sounds… so good, Buck.” She managed to say, as her voice trembled with want. She bit her lip again, locking eyes with him and starting to ground herself shamelessly against his fingers, as the pressure built quickly inside her. “But... would you only fuck me at the kitchen table when coming back? What about… other creative places? Like the back porch, under the shade of the bindweed?”

Bucky's eyes closed as her suggestion sparked a flood of heated thoughts. “Absolutely," he growled. He pushed his fingers knuckle-deep inside her, while his thumb circled her swollen clit, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. “I’d lift that sexy little apron right up, spread your legs wide open, and fuck you right there under the bindweeds," he murmured, brushing her ear, each word laced with dark promise. "And you'd moan my name, scream it, while everyone else thinks we’re just having a quiet afternoon tea."

The combination of his filthy words and the relentless pressure of his fingers sent her body trembling with anticipation, and her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. "Bucky…" she moaned softly, tightening her grip on him, desperate for everything he was giving her. Her hips bucked uncontrollably against his hand, and her breath hitched as his fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot that sent waves of pleasure radiating through her body. The pleasure kept building inside her, tightening, and coiling until every nerve in her body felt alive.

He felt the signals and growled, moving faster now, each stroke deliberate and calculated as his forehead pressed against hers. “I’d made sure no one could ever touch you the way I did,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive. "Every inch of you, mine." He punctuated the last words with hard, rhythmic rubs at one side of her clit and that was all she needed for the climax to hit her, a wave of intense pleasure crashing through her entire body. Her moans turned into soft cries as she buried her face on his neck, trembling violently as his hand continued to work her through it, prolonging her ecstasy.

When her body came down from her high, Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers. Panting, she looked at him and saw the raw, unbridled desire burning in his blue eyes. Without hesitation, she leaned in, finding his stubbled jaw with her lips, trailing soft, hungry kisses down his neck, nipping and sucking against his skin while her hand wandered lower and lower on his abdomen, finally unbuttoning his pants with deliberate slowness, venturing inside his underwear.

The moment her fingers brushed against his cock, he tensed and groaned. “W-wait,” he rasped, thick with need and restraint. His hand held hers firmly, keeping her from going further.

Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, her lips still hovering near his neck. “Why?” she murmured, “I want to make you feel good too. You deserve it, Bucky,” she whispered, her words full of tenderness and desire.

Bucky let out a low, shaky breath with a hint of frustration. He knew he had to come clean. “I want it too, trust me,” he muttered, strained. “But it’s been so long... too long. If you touch me now…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “Let me lead,” he whispered. He leaned in to kiss her, deep and slow, pouring all his pent-up desire into the kiss.

She sighed softly, pulling back just enough to reach for the hem of her dress, slipping it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric lifted away from her body, leaving her sitting in only her bra and panties as the dress was tossed to the side of the couch.

Bucky’s gaze darkened as he took her in, and his hands instinctively roamed over her bare skin. But then he groaned again softly, almost painfully, pausing as his grip tightened around her waist. “What happened to let me lead?” he rasped with restraint.

She parted her lips to respond with a half-hearted apology, but before she could, his hands were already sliding down her body, reclaiming control. His fingers traced her bra straps, slipping them off her shoulders with excruciating slowness. “I need to do it my way,” he murmured in a low growl as he leaned in, brushing her ear with his lips. “If you don’t behave... this ends before we even begin.”

The meaning of his earlier words hit her then. He wasn’t just leading to take his time with her; he was fighting to keep from losing control, from coming right there in his pants. Her teasing grin faltered, replaced with a softer expression. “Oh,” she whispered with understanding. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…” Her fingers gently grazed his cheek. “I didn’t mean to push you.” And then he saw the guilt on her face.

Bucky tensed slightly, inwardly cursing himself for letting his vulnerability slip. His masculine pride stung. Great job. Way to cool the mood. He forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers in an attempt to brush off the tension. “It’s alright,” he muttered, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. His fingers dug into her hips just a little, “I just... got worked up faster than I expected.” He exhaled shakily, trying to ease the tension. Then he started to move.

As his fingers worked at the clasp of her bra, slow and deliberate, he broke the silence with a low murmur thick with desire. “You know… I liked you from the moment we bumped into each other on the stairs,” he confessed, meeting her gaze. “I still remember the way you looked at me, even after I knocked you off balance and grabbed your arm. No gloves, metal hand out in the open… but you didn’t flinch.”

When her bra fell away, his gaze dropped to her exposed breasts, and a low groan rumbled in his chest. His flesh hand cupped her gently, brushing his thumb over her nipple in a slow, teasing motion.

“I loved how your uniform looked on you then,” he continued, as his tone grew huskier and his vibranium hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer. “I still do. Every time I see you in it, it makes it hard to focus on anything else.”

His thumb continued its slow teasing, but then his expression shifted, and a flicker of doubt crossed his face. His voice dropped, and a hint of regret slipped into his words. “I wish I’d asked you out sooner. The old me… he would've handled this better. Would’ve known exactly how to-”

“Stop,” She cut him off before he could finish, threading her fingers through his hair as she pulled him closer. “The moment of ‘what if’ has already passed. I don't want the man you used to be, Bucky.” Her lips brushed against his jaw, “I want you. Not someone I never knew.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them fixing his gaze on hers. She wasn’t looking for the version of him with the effortless charm and swagger. She never did. She wanted him, baggage, scars, and everything else.

A slow, shaky breath escaped his lips, “You don’t know how much that means,” he muttered, brushing his lips against her jaw, then down to her neck. His movements were soft at first, but as her nails scrapped softly at his scalp, urging him on, the hesitation melted away.

His mouth found hers again, kissing her hard, moving his hands with more confidence again. “I’ve wanted this... you,” he rasped, his breath hot against her skin. “For so damn long.” She responded with a moan, arching into him as he took full control.

He groaned, unable to hold back any longer. He gently shifted her off his lap, laying her down on the couch, leaving his hands on her hips for a moment before he stood. His breathing was heavy, and though his chest tightened with familiar insecurities, especially about his arm, he pushed forward.

His fingers moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. As the fabric fell to the floor, his eyes darted to her face, half-expecting some flicker of hesitation or doubt. Instead, her gaze roamed over him, dark with desire as her eyes took in the hard lines of his chest. “Damn... you’re perfect.” Her voice came out breathy and soft. Swallowing hard, Bucky quickly slid his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, kicking them aside. Now fully bare before her, he stood there, chest rising and falling as her gaze lingered on him. He could see her eyes focused on his size for a brief moment, her lips parting as she let out a soft, breathless sound. The way she looked at him -no hesitation, only hunger- made his insecurities, the doubts about his scars, his arm, everything, to retract to a far corner of his mind.

Without a word, he climbed on top of her, positioning himself between her legs. His hands trailed down her sides, gripping her hips firmly as he pulled her closer. Slowly, he guided his cock to her slick pussy, teasing her as he coated his shaft with her wetness. A low, rumbling groan escaped his lips as he playfully rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit.

She reacted instantly, writhing beneath him. “Bucky…” she moaned softly, tilting up her hips toward him, aching for more.

He moved slowly, sliding inside her inch by inch, pausing as soon as he was fully sheathed, giving her a moment to adjust. Her body clenched tightly around him, and a gasp escaped her lips as her nails dug into his shoulders as he waited. Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, the feeling of his cock filling her was completely overwhelming.

He pulled back slightly, then pushed forward again, slowly and deliberately, testing her response. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut as she struggled to find her breath, her thighs trembling around his hips with each thrust.

“Fuck, Bucky,” she managed to whisper breathlessly, her voice barely audible but heavy with surprise and awe. “You’re big. I’ve never- oh, God!”

Her words sparked something deep within him, the mixture of pleasure-pain igniting a fire he could barely contain. A low growl rumbled in his throat as his control began to slip. His hands moved to the back of her thighs, gripping them firmly just beneath her knees, then in one swift motion, he lifted her legs, spreading her wider as he started to thrust deeper, hitting spots that made her eyes fly open, a strangled moan escaping her lips. “Bucky… oh my God,” she gasped again, her voice trembling as she struggled to take all of him.

Encouraged by her reaction, he picked up the pace, thrusts growing harder and faster, losing himself in the haze of lust that overtook him. He pulled her thighs higher, spreading her wider, driving into her with relentless force. Each thrust was deeper and rougher, and her moans quickly turned into desperate, breathless cries of pleasure.

The sound of her moans, the way she cried out his name, only fueled him further. “You like that?” he growled, in a low and ragged voice as he thrust into her again, deeper, harder. Her slick heat gripped him tighter and pulled him deeper with every movement, making his pulse race. “Look at me, Doll. You like it rough?”

Her body arched beneath him, her hands scrambling for something to hold onto as the force of his thrusts tore through her body. “Yes! Bucky… fuck! Don’t stop,” she moaned, her voice breaking as he kept his relentless, punishing pace.

“Oh, I won’t stop,” he growled, pulling out of her with a slick sound, only to flip her over onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips roughly, pulling her ass up and positioning her on all fours before she had time to catch her breath.

Before she could process the shift, Bucky slammed back into her, filling her completely. She gasped, and her fingers clutched at the couch cushions as he drove into her from behind, with an unrelenting pace. “Is this what you wanted, hm?” he rasped, his flesh hand sliding up her back before grabbing a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back slightly as he rammed against her, thrusting deep and hard.

She let out a scream of pleasure as he pounded into her. “Yes! Oh God, yes,” she cried, her body helpless under his rough control.

Bucky grunted with each powerful thrust, tightening his grip on her hair, digging his metal fingers into her hip, guiding her back onto him. The angle allowed him to go even deeper, kissing her cervix with every heavy push of his hips. Her broken moans only spurred him on, so he kept the rhythm of their bodies frantic and primal, skin slapping against skin in a lewd symphony.

He released her hair and grabbed both her hips, yanking her back onto his cock with force, losing himself in the haze of lust. “Come for me,” he growled, his hand coming down on her ass with a sharp smack, making her gasp.

Before she could recover, his fingers slid between her legs, finding her clit. He circled it with firm, deliberate pressure as he leaned over her, thrusting still deeper. “I want you to fucking come all over me, Doll.” The moment his fingers touched her, her body responded, hips bucking involuntarily as her breath hitched. The pressure building inside her hit its peak, and with a loud, desperate moan, she shattered beneath him, trembling violently as she came.

The tight, pulsing grip of her body sent Bucky over the edge. “Fuck,” he ground out, as his muscles locked when the pleasure slammed into him, sharp and all-consuming. He buried himself deep with a final, shuddering thrust, thick warmth spilling inside her as his body tensed and jerked, caught in the force of his orgasm. A ragged gasp left his lips as he pressed his forehead to her back, riding out the aftershocks while the last tremors of pleasure rippled through their bodies.

The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing, their bodies still trembling, slick with sweat as they tried to come down from the high. Bucky stayed inside her a moment longer, moving his fingers in slow, lazy circles over her clit, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure as her body pulsed beneath him.

But as the haze of bliss began to fade, his mind caught up with his body, and a flicker of doubt creeping in. Had he been… too much?

Slowly, he withdrew, and the sudden cool air contrasted with the heat their bodies have shared. His hand slid up to her shoulder, gently, almost hesitant. “Are you okay?” His voice was low, uncertain.

She turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek into the cushion as her hooded eyes found his. “Better than okay,” she murmured. “That was... perfect, Buck.”

He exhaled, feeling the tension in his body ease a little, but as always, his mind refused to quiet. What if she was trying to play it cool after being on the receiving end of nearly eighty years of pent-up frustration?

Sensing his unease, she shifted, sitting up on the couch. Her hands cradled his face, gently brushing her thumbs against his skin. He looked almost miserable for someone who had, minutes ago, been nothing short of a god of intercourse.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky,” she said. “I meant it when I said it was perfect. Stop overthinking. It was the best I’ve ever had.” Her cheeks heated as she realized the weight of her words, but she didn’t back down. “I mean it,” she added, as her gaze dropped for a moment.

The tension in his body slowly began to melt away as he absorbed her words. His breathing steadied, and the storm of doubts in his mind started to quiet. He looked down, feeling a pang of guilt for letting his insecurities creep in precisely in that moment. Running a hand through his messy hair, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to ruin… I just- I get in my head sometimes.”

She gave him a gentle smile, brushing her fingers on his scruffy cheek again. “You didn’t ruin anything, Bucky, not even close. If anything, the only thing you’ll have to atone for is setting the bar pretty high.” she winked.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile and he exhaled deeply, feeling how the weight on his chest finally lifted. Without saying anything else, he reached up, gently cupping her cheek, brushing softly over her skin in a silent gesture of gratitude.

They stayed like that for a while, comforted on each other’s caresses. The silence between them wasn’t empty; it was full of understanding, unspoken promises, and the certainty that, somehow, they were exactly where they were meant to be.

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

@ravenclawmarvel @noididnotsignupforthis @comicalivy  @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @madstyles3204 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[mattscoquette]

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ too hot to handle (송민기 ♡ s.mg)

your neighbor has more to give than you bargained for.

style: bullet drabble pairing: non idol!mingi x fem!reader word count: 1.8k tags/warnings: smut, pwp, light fluff, neighbor!mingi, fem!reader, big dick, like monster cock level she can't do anything with it, sub!mingi, like super sub, dom!reader, teasing, praise, heavy use of good boy/perfect boy etc., makeouts, grinding, oral f!receiving, face riding, lots of dirty talk, dick on clit action, controlled orgasms, edging and overstim, eventual piv notes: this has been on the brain for longer than i could ever tell you so hopefully it's a fun one x

[masterlist]

The problem with your neighbor isn’t that he’s hot. It isn’t that he’s funny and charming, and it definitely isn’t the crush bubbling between the both of you. Those would be normal problems, problems you tell your best friends about. 

The problem with your neighbor is that his dick is too big. 

You find that out at the same time you find out this giant who lives next door to you with the deep voice and a penchant for calling you “pretty girl” is actually not the dominant you assumed he would be.

Mingi is actually shockingly, surprisingly submissive. 

And you shockingly, surprisingly, love that more than you ever could have guessed. 

You figure that out while you’re straddling him on the couch, and when you roll your hips just right you feel the impressive hardness of him and hear the neediest whimper you’ve ever heard from a man at the exact same time. 

It takes you thirty minutes more of making out and shedding clothes for you to get a good look at his cock, and when you do it grinds the whole almost-fuck to a stop.

And -

“I know,” He breathes, his eyes softening, “it’s okay if you don’t want to keep going.” 

You blink at him, unable to hide the trepidation in your eyes, “It’s not that I don’t want to try,” 

“It’s okay,” He sounds dejected, but also like this has happened to him before and that fills you with nothing but sharp determination. 

“Hang on,” You lay a hand over his bare chest, still straddling his lap, the impressive length and girth of his cock standing between you. 

“Listen,” He sighs, “I get it,” 

“Mingi,” You interrupt him, “I’m not kicking you out,” 

“You’re not?” His eyebrows raise. 

“No,” You smile, “I do think we should maybe… work up to things,” 

“Of course,” He rushes to agree, his hands sliding up and down your bare thighs. 

“It’s just,” You grimace, “I haven’t had sex in a long time, like a really long, kind of embarrassing amount of time,” 

“That’s okay,” He soothes. 

“I’d be lying if I said I thought I could take you,” You sigh, “but Mingi, I’d really, really like to work up to it,” 

“Yeah?” He grins like he just won the lottery. 

“Uh-huh,” You swallow a little nervously, “just maybe not tonight?” 

“Right,” He nods, “anything you want,” 

“Is that okay?” You check, sliding closer to him, his bare cock brushing against your abdomen. 

“Okay?” He nods, “Of course, it’s… I mean, I like you. I want to do whatever you want, that’s what I want,” 

He’s a little flustered, still walking a nervous line like you might change your mind, or he’s worried about coming on too strong, and you take him in for a moment. 

Somewhere inside, you find the boldness to ask the question you’ve wanted to ask since you heard his first whimpered moan, “Mingi,” You murmur, “is that what you’re into? Doing what I want?”

His eyes flick over your face, but you don’t miss the way they darken up at the idea and he nods, “If you’re into that,” he says, “but I can take over if you need me to,” 

You wonder how many girls have begged him to be more dominant. How many girls have pushed him to go to a place that isn’t entirely comfortable for him, when he clearly wants the opposite. 

“I’m into that,” You tell him, “don’t worry,” 

You both click together like kinky little puzzle pieces, and despite the fact that you’ve never had his dick properly inside you, you’ve been having sex for weeks. 

You get creative. 

Mingi and his giant cock seem to love nothing more than making you feel good, especially when you use his big body to get yourself off. 

The first few times you hook up it’s the basics, getting to know each other, getting to know each other's bodies and what makes each other tick… but by the fourth time? The fifth? 

The fourth time you’re a horny mess, probably a breath away from ovulating and ready to climb his tall ass like a tree, and so all the hesitation you’ve had about being too much for each other flies right out the window. 

With him pinned to your bed you ride his thigh like it’s a pillow, barely looking at him as you get yourself off, and when you’re done all he can do is beg you to do that again, but on his face. 

He whimpers when his tongue first slips inside your folds, when he feels the weight of your body sink onto him. His hands grip your ass and between sucks and moans he begs you to ride him, to fuck his face and never stop. 

With your hands on the headboard you take it just like before, eyes closed, head thrown back, your moans spilling out into the room . 

He comes untouched that time, ropes and ropes of his hot cum painting his chest and stomach, panting apologies into your thighs, and that’s when everything changes. 

Now you tell him when to come. How to come. Where to come. 

You discover that he loves to be edged and you love to be overstimulated. 

A perfect combination of opposites. 

You make him beg for things, ache for things, his cock leaking against your lips as he whines. 

“Please, please, just a taste, just a lick, please, god, please,” 

And sometimes you let him have it, but most of the time you don’t. 

He seems to like that even more. 

Mingi and his big cock have found so many other ways to get off that you almost never want to give into having him inside you, because what if your dynamic changes? The anticipation is the delicious part, the denial, the almost-almosts. 

The way he begs when he’s on his knees between your splayed thighs, his shaft rubbing against your slick folds, sliding over your clit - that’s when you almost break. 

“You f-feel so good,” He shudders, thrusting his hips slowly back and forth so that his cock slides up and down your aching center. 

“Mm,” You sigh, relaxing into the mattress, “good boy,” 

His cock twitches at that, “Thank you, thank you,” 

“Go faster, baby,” You beckon him down with a come-hither motion, “fuck me like you mean it,” 

He freezes, “I-inside?” 

“Did I say inside?” You counter. 

“No, no, of course, I’m sorry,” He stumbles past that assumption and shakes his head, a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. 

You nod, a silent push to get him to move faster, and he scrambles to comply. 

He braces himself over your spread form on the bed, your hips slotting more tightly together, and then he braces his forearms on either side of you and starts to thrust. 

“Faster,” 

His hips speedup. 

Every brush of his shaft over your swollen clit makes you want to writhe and moan beneath him, but keeping control is the fun part for him, so you stay focused. 

“That’s it, baby,” You brush your fingers through his shaggy locks, “such a good boy,” 

He moans, but keeps the pace. 

“Mm,” You sigh through an almost moan, “baby, your cock feels so good inside me,” 

His hips jerk, a stammered groan on his lips. 

The tease was meant for him, a reminder of where his cock isn’t, but heat spreads through your belly at the idea of what he might feel stretching you open for real. 

“Say it,” You open your legs wider, angling your hips to get the sensation right. 

“Your pussy feels so good,” He pants. 

“Don’t stop,” You direct him again. 

“So tight,” He whines, “so wet,” 

“More, baby.” 

“S-so perfect,” He shudders, his eyes tightly closed, “thank you for l-letting me fuck you,” 

“Oh,” You murmur warmly, “that’s my good boy.” 

He chokes, his thrusts getting harder, a relentless rut of his wet cock against your dripping pussy and you bite down on your tongue at the impulse to beg him to fuck you for real. You’re dizzy, orgasm drunk, and your nails dig into his hips to hold yourself steady. 

“Please,” He pants suddenly, eyes flashing open to find yours, “please, may I come?” 

You’re too close for that, “Hold it, baby,” 

His expression tightens in tense control, “P-please,”

“I’m close,” You tell him, “hold it,”

Tears prick at his eyes and you feel the wet string of his precum on your belly, but he listens. 

A moan pulls free from your chest then, your pleasure fast approaching, and you breathe in hot fits and starts. 

“Come on my cock,” He begs, pleads, “I’m so good for you,” 

Your orgasm crashes into you sideways, the relentless stroke over your clit sending you into pleasured little shakes. 

“Please, I c-can’t, I can’t hold it,” He fists the sheets, his voice a thready wet pant. 

“Come,” You give him all the permission he needs, “come inside me, baby, fill me up,” 

He shudders, thrusting hard twice more, and with groaning moans he spills his release all across your belly, spattering you both in hot cum. 

He’s shaking, trembling, but you run your fingers through his hair and soothe him soft like always. He’s your good boy, your perfect boy, your most obedient boy. 

In the aftermath, when you both come down from your messy, full body pleasure, you find each other in the sheets. 

With kisses across his knuckles you nuzzle into him. 

“Next time, I want you for real,” 

He’s hesitant at first, but you’re ready, you’re sure. 

The next time, you play softer. You’ve learned each other so well, but this time it’s your turn to be vulnerable with your body and he doesn’t let you down for a second. 

It’s a slow process, full of sweetness and foreplay. He’s learned how to make your body sing over weeks and weeks of hookups, and he knows he can make you wet enough, relaxed enough to take him. 

The stretch is achingly delicious. 

And once he’s finally inside you for the first time, your bodies connected in every possible way, you realize he was worth the wait. 

And you fit together in more ways than one. 

As it turns out, your boyfriend’s big dick isn’t such a problem after all. 

[starkeynation]

Is it casual now?

Content : angst, a bit similar to the scene where Sofia overheard Rafe saying she’s not his girlfriend, inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan (may or may not be accurate)

a/n : sorry in advanced i know Chappell is for the girlies also idk if im proud of this but your likes and reblogs will always be appreciated🤍

Part 2

── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ──

It has been exactly 4 months since you met Rafe Cameron, the kook king you never knew you would fall so deeply for. The first time you met him, you were nothing but a blur in his world. A passing figure and a random pogue that was at his party. But Rafe, you saw something in him the moment you met his sparkling blue eyes. You couldn’t exactly tell what it was. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so handsome even under bad lights, or the way you could listen to him forever every time he speaks. At that moment, you were ready to risk it all.

You made your move that night. The way you charmed him may have made him realize you both were something more than strangers passing through each other’s lives and ever since then, you were both inseparable. Although he said “No attachment,” the first time you both hooked up, you still went along with it, hoping it could be real one day.

Sometimes when you’re hanging out with your friends outside, you would hear some rumors saying you’re just a girl that Rafe bangs on his couch. The pogues call you a loser for still hanging around him but you ignore them and the rumors because most of the time he treats you as if you were someone he couldn’t lose. Just two weeks after knowing each other, he invites you to dinner with his whole family. The way he fucks you in the bathroom while his parents are still at the table, the way he brings you to the country club and shows you off, the way he’s eating you out in the passenger seat, and mostly the way he talks to you, so gently and sweet that got you thinking maybe this isn’t just some dumb love.

You’re at the pub where you agreed to meet Rafe. The sky on the way there was already turning a heavy blue slate, signaling that rain was on the way. You enter the pub and recognize Rafe’s back immediately standing on the other end accompanied by Topper and his foul girlfriend Ruthie. As you are about to approach them, you hear his voice, “She’s not my girlfriend okay, it’s just…casual. No strings attached.”

You freeze. The words land like ice in your chest, sharp and cold. If that isn’t enough you then hear Ruthie say, “You sure about that Rafe? How do your parents feel that you’re living with a pogue,” she smirks, her eyes gleaming with sarcasm.

“I’m not fucking living with a pogue okay,” he says annoyingly.

You have to steady yourself. You could feel your stomach churn as you’re processing what you’re hearing. You can’t believe it. You both never had a “talk” about being exclusive, but you thought you were starting to matter to him and close to making it official.

You hide behind a column in the middle of the pub, trying to decide what to do. Part of you wants to walk away, leave without saying a word, and let him figure out what he’d lost. But you couldn’t just let it go. So you make your way to the table, keeping a neutral face, and try to hold back your tears.

“Hey, there you are,” Rafe smiles, as you approach him.

“Hey,” you say, your voice steady, though it takes everything you have to keep it from shaking. “We need to talk.” Before he could say anything, you grab his hand taking him outside the pub. As you stand outside, it’s already drizzling.

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Can't we talk inside? It’s raining,” he asks, his voice full of confusion.

You let go of his hand and go silent for a moment. He looks at your face that is now about to cry, “Baby what’s wrong?” he says.

“Don’t call me that if you don’t mean it Rafe,” you mutter.

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” your voice loud now. “Telling them we’re not dating? No strings attached? Seriously Rafe? After these past few months? Is it casual now?”

Rafe’s face shifts, the unease creeping into his features. He clears his throat, trying to smooth over the tension. “Look, I thought we’re on the same page here-“

“Same page? What same page are we talking about?” You cut him off. “I thought you were starting to look at me differently now Rafe.” You fluster. “Oh and not to mention calling me a pogue? I thought we’re WAY past that..”

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “Ok about that I'm sorry kay’. I didn’t mean to call you a pogue just, you know…Topper and Ruthie, they caught me off guard. And you never really talked about anything more serious, so I figured we’re just not together.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest. “I never talked about it? Oh so now I’m the one to blame? Are you serious?” Your eyes narrow.

He pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. “I just…I’m happy with the way we are right now. I’m not-“

“Not what? Not ready to be in a relationship? That’s bullshit.” You cut him off again, not wanting to hear any excuses. “How can you stand there and say you’re okay with this? After all the plans we made, the endless nights we spent?” you continue, meeting his gaze that looks unbothered. “You know what…I can’t…yes, I tried to be the chill girl who holds her tongue and gives you space but not anymore. No, I’m done,” you say, trying to walk away.

The rain is getting heavier now, and both of you are soaking wet. “Wait,” he calls out your name. “Just wait okay…I’m sorry I hurt you, yes I would be lying if I said this doesn’t mean something but just give me time okay, I just…I can't do relationships right now,” he says, grabbing your wrist trying to stop you.

“No Rafe,” you shake your head, a tear runs down to your cheek. “I’m done waiting. It’s hard Rafe…It’s hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser and it’s definitely not casual when I’m always on the phone talking to Wheezie like I’m her sister,” you swallow, biting your inner cheek trying to keep your emotion in check.

He gives a small dismissive wave, like I’m overthinking things. “Well I did warn you no attachment, y/n,” he says, with such cold detachment, as if his words are nothing more than a simple fact, devoid of any emotion.

You look at him with disappointment crawling up to your throat. He isn’t even trying to make it work, not even pretending to care about how you feel. You hate the fact what he said is true, he did warn you not to get attached and you hate yourself even more for dragging this on for so long. You stare at him for a moment longer, “Fuck you, Rafe,” then you turn and walk away to your car. There is no use in arguing with someone who has no intention of changing their mind. If this is how Rafe sees you, then he is not the guy you think he is.

Maybe he is okay with keeping things casual but you deserve more than that. Rafe Cameron can go to hell.

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 📚 THE PERFECT PAIR !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. college au, fluff, angst (kinda but not rlly), minor profanity, jisung is the cutiest pie ever oml 𝔀ords. 2.3k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — omg, i just realized i haven’t posted an actual written fic on here in FOREVER that’s crazy, we need to change that. but n e way, this is actually for @sta4, i’m so sorry this took a gazillion years (pls forgive me) and i rlly hope you liked it <3

“Be honest… do you think she noticed?” Jisung looked visibly in distress, his face drained of all color as if he’d just witnessed a paranormal sighting in his own dorm.

“Dude she definitely saw it, you blew it. Big time.” Jeongin states matter-of-factly, as if it were the end all be all.

Jisung slumped backwards, sinking into the mattress, dark brunette strands tumbled haphazardly over the pillow as he stared up at the ceiling. He’d been overthinking and analyzing every little detail for hours since that fleeting encounter you had with him in class this morning. He didn’t want to believe a word his friend was telling him, still latching onto a sliver of hope that you hadn’t took a peek at his laptop screen before he slammed it shut the second you walked up to him.

He grimaced at the thought of you taking note of his Goku wallpaper, everything happened so fast, he wasn’t given much time to react— though he’s almost 99% positive you hadn’t caught sight of it.

You approached him with a confident stride, your head held high, even adding a little wave which he barely registered as being directed towards him. He thought he was hallucinating from being so sleep deprived, staying up all night playing video games might’ve finally took a toll on him— but as he blinks again to snap out of his ‘dream’, you’re still standing right there.

Jisung was more than confused why you of all people would want to talk to him, praying by some miracle you couldn’t detect how much of a nervous wreck he was on the inside, forcing a stiff smile as he tried his best to play it off like he totally wasn’t losing his mind.

The strong scent of your perfume lingered in the air, making it even more of a struggle for him to breathe, let alone speak, but he couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. If you knew how much of a weeb he truly was, he’d probably never show his face around you or on campus ever again.

“Okay, maybe there’s a possibility she may have seen it, but only for a split second! Otherwise, I think I played it cool.” He recants, brushing off his friend’s lack of verbal support, “I was in the middle of an intense game of Tetris and she asked for my notes!”

Jeongin shrugs, “Okay, so..? That doesn’t suddenly make her interested in you.”

“Yeah it does, because she asked me specifically out of everyone else so that’s gotta mean something, right?” He reaffirms, the hopeful tone in his voice laced with sheer desperation.

Jeongin shifts slightly, leaning further into the comfort of his gaming chair, not even bothering to pause his game of League of Legends to entertain his friend’s delusions. He didn’t mean to crush Jisung’s ego with his cynicism but he had to be realistic.

“You sound like those giddy high school girls who just interacted with their crush for the first time.”

Well, he wasn’t lying, he surely did feel like one. Ever since you spoke to him earlier all he could think about was you— nothing else occupied his mind. He couldn’t concentrate on a single thing, couldn’t retain any of the information he read as he studied, or even play League which was his favorite game of all time. He was deeply, utterly infatuated and his thoughts were scattered all over the place.

Jisung sinks his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing an unnecessarily thick lump that’s been sitting in the back of his throat, “Look, all I’m saying is I don’t think I totally blew it. She even winked back at me when she left! She’s into me, I can feel it.”

Jeongin chuckles at his friend’s sudden newfound confidence but still remains unconvinced.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow when she ignores you and forgets that you even existed.”

+

The next day in class, Jisung is doing everything he can to try and maintain a nonchalant demeanor but it wasn’t working— at all. He’d completely thrown his ‘cool’ act out the window the minute he accidentally locked eyes with you, not even noticing how he’s been anxiously bouncing his leg underneath the desk.

He could’ve sworn you were an otherworldly being, he didn’t even feel adequate enough to be sitting in the same room as you.

You had sat a couple rows ahead of him, he preferred to always sit in the back along with Jeongin. He couldn’t help but stare, you were simply nothing short of perfect— lost in a trance as he watched you absentmindedly twirl the pencil you had borrowed from him along with his notes from the day before.

You had jotted down a few things in your spiral notebook, but it seemed as though you weren’t paying much attention to the lecture, copying most of your friend’s notes who sat beside you, every so often you’d be giggling at something she whispered to you— having been shushed by the professor more than once already.

Class went on as usual— it dragged on slower than it normally did, but maybe that was because Jisung kept zoning in and out. He didn’t take very many notes since he already knew most of the material like the back of his hand, but he still pretended to anyway, scribbling nonsense in the margins just to keep his hands busy, not even realizing that he’s wrote your name several times with hearts surrounding it, flipping the page immediately before Jeongin could notice what he’d been mindlessly up to.

Once class was officially over, everyone scrambled out of their seats to rush out of there as quickly as possible. Jeongin had one more class left that took place in ten minutes, bidding his goodbyes before he dashed out the classroom. Jisung slung his bag over his shoulder, getting ready to leave— until you appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, the sweet scent of your perfume infiltrating his senses once again.

Holding your notebooks flat against your chest, your delicate, freshly manicured hand tapped his arm lightly— just enough to get his attention. As if you didn’t already have it given to you on a silver platter.

He froze in place, still recovering from the shock of the events that unfolded from yesterday.

“Hey Jisung, I was wondering if-”

“Yes.” He blurts without hesitation before you could even finish your sentence, instantly regretting everything— oh how he wants to bash his head against the wall repeatedly at this very moment..

You could see the desperation seeping through his pores, but you don’t point it out. It was honestly kind of cute to you and you found it endearing how timid he’d act around you, a stark contrast from most of the frat boys you’d often interact with.

He attempts to save himself by quickly rephrasing his words, only to come off as more socially inept than he already is. “S-sorry.. it’s been a long day for me. Uh, what did you need..?”

You giggled softly, “I was wondering if you could help me with statistics? Unfortunately I’m not doing very well and can’t afford to flunk this semester, so I was hoping you could tutor me?” Your eyes beamed at him as if they held a million galaxies in them.

“Y-yeah, sure. I can help!” He awkwardly responds, adjusting his thick framed glasses by pushing them up with his index and middle finger.

A smile spreads across your face upon hearing that, “oh, awesome!” You weren’t expecting him to readily agree on the spot, but it worked out in your favor perfectly. “So, what days are you free?”

24/7. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. He would simply rearrange his whole life for you.

“Usually I’m free on Tuesdays or Thursdays, sometimes Wednesdays but it depends,” he answers, trying to sound as if he’s been asked this a million times before. “But.. if none of those days don’t work for you, I can work something else out.”

That was a total lie. There was nothing he needed to work out.

“Oh and weekends are kinda iffy for me,” he added.

Yet another lie. He was quite literally always free.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays works out perfectly for me, actually!” You take up his offer right away, “how does tomorrow after school at my place sound?”

You spoke so casually, completely unfazed, as if you weren’t actively flipping his entire world upside down. He simply nodded. Somehow managing not to freak out instead of dropping to his knees in front of you like some lovesick puppy.

“Cool! Wanna exchange numbers?” You calmly suggest while pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

Jisung nervously gulped, his throat going dry yet again as he slowly feels himself about to have a mental breakdown.

You wanted his phone number?

Now he’ll really get the last laugh when he rubs it in Jeongin’s face that he’s got one of the prettiest and most popular girls at school’s number. You switch phones and he adds his contact information into yours to which you do the same for him.

Once you gave it back, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees the contact name you set in his phone: ‘y/n <3’

+

“C’mon y/n, we only have four more problems left.” Jisung is doing all he can to try and motivate you, pointing his finger at the next problem he urged you to solve but you groaned in response.

You invited him over to your dorm while your other roommate would be gone for a couple of hours, opting to study in your room rather than the common area. Your room was on the smaller scale, but still had a warm and cozy atmosphere to it. Movie posters and fairy lights lined the walls of your side, along with dozens of little random trinkets you’ve collected over the years as decoration, and succulent plants sat on the window sill. The vanilla candle you burned added a nice touch, it was calming, tranquil— exactly how Jisung imagined it to be.

“I can’t do this anymore..” you draw out a heavy sigh, looking at the equation as it were in a third language. Math has always been your Achilles heel, it was your least favorite subject and you barely passed by the skin of your teeth each time.

“My brain’s going to explode if I continue this for another minute,” you couldn’t even force yourself to power through, you were beyond over it. Yes, you were being a little overdramatic, but you got the point across— you needed a well deserved break.

His hand accidentally brushed up against yours to grab a colored pencil, “okay, if you really need a break then let’s take one and I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming you in any way. I’ll finish the problem for you and we can stop for a while.” He writes the rest of the equation down on the worksheet and turns to you to hand the colored pencil back, hoping that you don’t notice his flushed exterior.

You lean your arm against the desk, resting the side of your face inside your palm, “can’t believe this is my life now.. studying for my stupid stats exams instead of having fun with my friends.”

Jisung couldn’t help but take some pride in himself for that, sure you may be just using him as a personal tutor but at least he’s getting to spend one on one time with you.

“So you chose studying with me over hanging out with your friends?”

He still couldn’t believe he was even here, he almost had a heart attack when you texted him first that same day you asked to exchange numbers. He would spend minutes contemplating over every little word, every punctuation, and if he wasn’t sure how to respond, he’d simply send you some weird meme that he found while scrolling on Reddit. His phone used to be drier than a desert, but now he’s checking it every 5 seconds in case he gets a new message from you.

“Yeah, I mean I could always see them another time but I refuse to retake this class again over the summer,” you shrugged, “plus you seem pretty cool, I like hanging out with you.”

Was he hearing things correctly? Did one of the most popular girls on campus just say that she likes hanging out with him? He truly felt like he was dreaming— yeah, he had to be dreaming.

“I didn’t think you hung out with guys like me..”

Your brows furrowed, glancing over at him as if he’d just said the most absurd news you’ve ever heard. “And what makes you think that?”

“Uh- I dunno.” He stammered, his eyes darting across the room, looking everywhere but at you.

Curse him for being so damn awkward… and curse you for being the prettiest girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I actually think you’re really cute,” you confess, choosing a less subtle approach about expressing your feelings, “you’re nice and super smart too, which most guys aren’t.”

The two of you stayed in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he grew the ability to choke up a response, his ears burning the deepest shade of crimson, “Well.. thank you.”

“I mean it.” You solemnly replied, “Also, I think your Goku wallpaper is really cool.”

So you did notice it after all. But you didn’t care, you took interest in him because he was authentically himself, you liked him exactly for who he is— he’s never pretended to be something that he’s not.

Before you even gave him the opportunity to speak, you decide to lay it all out on the table. Harboring no regrets. “I like you a lot, Jisung.”

He paused, still trying to process everything that’s been thrown at him in a matter of seconds, but he could no longer deny the way he felt. The corners of his lips curled upward, his gummy smile making an eventual appearance, knowing exactly where this leads after he says those final words.

“I really like you too, y/n.”

it’s literally 3 am and i am SO SLEEPY, but i had to finish this for you guys <33 pls lmk if you liked this, likes/comments/reblogs are much appreciated tysm !! ( *ﾉ ▽ﾉ) ✧･ﾟ