#I’m sure they added him to go: look! another twist

[supercalime]

If you’re an Ethan Landry fan I hate you with a passion

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[littlelamy]

could you do one where rafe and reader have known each other since they were kids. where they played pretend marriage and rafe has always believed it was real even when they were kids and some girl tries to come between that but it doesn’t happen.

love your writing

a/n: thank you so much! I hope you enjoy it! 💗🤍

rafe cameron had always been a part of your life. from the time you were toddlers, running through your backyard with imaginary crowns on your heads, to the moment you both said your pretend vows underneath that old oak tree. you were six, maybe seven, and it had been all fun and games—at least for you. rafe, on the other hand, took the "marriage" very seriously, even as kids. "you're my wife now," he’d say with a grin, tugging you along whenever someone tried to play with you. you always brushed it off as rafe just being rafe.

but now, as you stood at another one of toppers' parties, you noticed something had shifted. maybe it was the way rafe had been more possessive lately, a hand always at your waist, or the way he’d glare at any guy who got too close. then there was jessica—new girl, pretty, and definitely interested in rafe.

“so, are you and rafe, like, together?” she asked you casually one day at school, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. there was something smug in her tone that made your skin crawl.

“we’re just friends,” you said, even though the words felt wrong coming out of your mouth. were you really just friends?

"oh, that’s good to know," jessica had smirked, and you knew she had plans.

tonight, you watched from the corner of the room as she slid up to rafe, placing a hand on his arm and laughing a little too loud at something he said. your stomach twisted, but you told yourself it didn’t matter. you and rafe were just friends—childhood friends with a long history of playing pretend, but that was it. still, your feet started moving before you could stop them, weaving through the crowd toward them.

“hey, rafe,” you called out, slipping into the space between him and jessica like it was the most natural thing in the world. his eyes lit up when he saw you, that same boyish smile he’d always had whenever you were near.

“there you are,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder like it belonged there. and maybe it did.

jessica’s expression faltered for just a second before she plastered on another smile. “oh, hey. i was just telling rafe we should go out sometime. get to know each other better.”

before you could even process her words, rafe chuckled. “yeah, i’m gonna have to pass on that.”

jessica blinked, clearly thrown off. “what? why?”

rafe’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair. “i’m already married,” he said, his tone light but firm.

you froze, heart pounding. "rafe—"

"we got married when we were seven," he added with a grin, not giving you a chance to finish. "i’ve been off the market since then."

jessica laughed awkwardly, clearly not getting the joke. “wait, you’re serious?”

rafe shrugged, pulling you closer. “dead serious.”

it took everything in you not to laugh at the confused look on jessica’s face, but the truth was, you didn’t know if rafe was actually joking. he looked so calm, so sure of himself, like this was the most natural thing in the world. like he really did believe you were his wife, even now.

“uh, okay. whatever,” jessica muttered, clearly flustered as she backed away, shooting you a look before disappearing into the crowd.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at rafe. “what was that?”

he raised an eyebrow. “what was what?”

“you just told her we were married!”

rafe grinned down at you, his blue eyes sparkling. “because we are. or did you forget?”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “rafe, we were kids. that doesn’t count.”

“it counts to me,” he said, his voice softening. “you promised, remember? you said you’d always be mine.”

your heart skipped a beat. “we were pretending.”

“maybe you were,” he shrugged. “but i wasn’t.”

you stared at him, unsure of what to say. all these years, you thought it was just a silly childhood game, something you both would laugh about when you got older. but rafe... he had never stopped believing it.

“rafe…��� you started, but he cut you off, stepping closer so that his forehead nearly touched yours.

“you’re mine,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “and i’m yours. it’s always been that way.”

suddenly, the party seemed to fade away, the sounds of people laughing and music blaring becoming a distant hum. all you could focus on was rafe—his words, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

and maybe you were.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[strcwbrryklss]

Could u do a fic similar to ur mustang fic, but the storyline being she moves next to him and her brother and him get close cos her mum begins to become friends with his mum so she has to come over a lot and ends up being obsessed with him

୨୧﹕ privacy .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , brother’s best friend , tension. a/n ; 1980s alternate universe where nicholas is a rich kid. summary ; after y/n’s family moves house, her neighbour (and brother’s best friend) catches her eye.

THERE’S SOMETHING SO attractive about a man who is forbidden. maybe it’s the fantasy of it: the yearning for something that is just out of reach. it’s almost as if you’re looking at him through a glass wall, but all you can do is look.

y/n laid on her bed in front of her window, looking into the house next door. coincidentally, nicholas’ bedroom window was opposite her’s. she wasn’t sure he realised yet, but she sure did, and the lack of curtains on his end didn’t help.

she’d glance outside her window for a moment sometimes and be met with the sight of him and a girl, a different one every time. and it’s not that y/n was nosey, but what type of jerk brings a new girl home every other day?

whatever, it was none of her business. her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair as her mind wandered. suddenly, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the peaceful haze of her afternoon. she groaned, tossing the magazine aside, and reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was always a race to answer the phone before someone else picked up or, worse, before the answering machine clicked on. downstairs, she heard it ring again, and she bolted for the hallway.

her feet hit the marble steps, carefully rushing down them in order to not slip (trust me, she’s learned her lesson) as she took them two at a time, and she reached for the phone just as it rang a third time. the long, coiled cord dangled like a snake as she brought the heavy receiver to her ear.

“hello?” she sighed.

“hey, y/n, it's me,” her brother's voice crackled through the line.

the girl rolled her eyes. he had been out all day, probably hanging out with his basketball friends from down the street. “what do you want?”

“i, uh... i left my watch at the chavez'.”

“okay?” she leaned against the doorframe, already regretting picking up the call.

“in the bathroom,” he added sheepishly. “i kinda need you to go get it for me.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you want me to go to the neighbors' house and ask them for your stupid watch?”

“please?” he sounded desperate. “mom’s gonna freak if she finds out i lost it again. it’s the one grandma got me, remember?”

y/n sighed dramatically, twisting the cord around her fingers. she hated doing her brother’s errands. “why don't you go get it?”

“i'm, uh, not really around right now.”

“not around?” she scowled, though she knew he couldn't see it. “what, are you in another dimension or something?”

“i'm at the arcade,” her brother admitted. “and i can’t leave right now i’m with someone”

y/n gasped jokingly before mocking him, “you’ve got a girlfriend, you’ve got a girlfri-”

“shut up” he responded.

“why don’t you ask nick?” she moved on.

“if i call their phone his mom might pick up and i’ll have to explain and then she might tell-” he rambled before being cut off by the annoyed groan of his sister.

she could practically hear the grin on his face, knowing he'd dodged responsibility again. she thought about arguing but decided it wasn't worth the effort. “fine,” she huffed. “but you owe me.”

“alright, thanks bye!” her brother said quickly, relief flooding his voice before quickly hanging up on her.

with that, she made her way across the manicured lawns toward nick’s place. his family’s house, a massive mediterranean-style mansion, was just a short walk away. she’d been over a few times for pool parties and get-togethers, but it was always when his parents were throwing some lavish event. now, though, it was quiet, and she wasn’t sure if anyone was even home.

the front door was open slightly, and y/n knocked, stepping into the cool air-conditioned hallway when there was no answer.

“nicholas?” she called out, but was greeted by silence, except for the distant hum of music playing from somewhere upstairs.

the girl figured he must be in his room or something, so she headed up the grand staircase, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom her brother had mentioned. the marble floors were cool beneath her feet, and the whole house had that expensive, freshly cleaned smell that only rich homes seemed to have. don’t get me wrong, y/n was rich, but not this rich.

as she reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, steam seeping out into the hallway. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood nick, freshly out of the shower, a towel hanging loosely around his waist, his skin still glistening with water droplets.

y/n froze.

his eyes widened, clearly just as surprised to see her. his hair was damp, hanging messily over his forehead, and the sight of him standing there, looking every bit like a golden god, left y/n momentarily speechless.

“y/n?” he said, his voice smooth but amused. “what are you doing here?”

she swallowed, trying to find her voice. “um, my brother… he left his watch here earlier. i came to get it.”

nick chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, his towel shifting dangerously low on his hips, revealing his very noticeable v-line. “ah, the infamous watch.” he nodded back toward the counter inside the bathroom. “it’s right there.”

she glanced past him and spotted the watch sitting next to the sink. but her eyes didn’t stay on the watch for long, not with nicholas standing right in front of her like that, all muscles and damp skin. she could feel her cheeks heating up, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“thanks,” she mumbled, stepping forward to grab it, but not before catching the faint scent of his aftershave. it was intoxicating.

just as she reached for the watch, he shifted, his arm brushing against hers. she couldn’t help but look up, meeting his eyes, which were gleaming with that signature smirk of his.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here for that. i could’ve brought it over later.”

her heart was racing now, and she tried to play it cool. “i didn’t want to bother you”

nick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “bother me? y/n, you’re never a bother, you’re my best friend’s sister after all.” his gaze lingered on her for a moment, the air between them thick with tension.

she quickly snatched the watch off the counter, stepping back. “well, i’ve got it now, so I’ll just…go.”

the boy chuckled, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “you don’t have to rush off. why don’t you hang out for a bit? i was about to make some food, and i could use some company.”

she hesitated, the idea of staying here, alone with nick, both thrilling and terrifying. the way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the room that mattered — made it hard to think straight.

“i don’t know,” she said, biting her lip.

he grinned, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “come on, y/n. stay.”

it wasn’t really a question.

and before she could talk herself out of it, she nodded.

[angelkhi]

friend of a friend - b.b, s.r

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader x bucky barnes

summary: steve’s girl is feeling needy, maybe bucky can benefit from it too.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral (m+f), masturbation (m), wet humping, cum play, praise, steve calls her a whore like once? language, exhibitionism, voyeurism??? slight oral fixation on readers part??? yeah okay that’s it.

word count: 2.7k

a little note: i missed the boys and felt particularly unhinged. also endgame ending doesn’t exist. anyway, it’s fuckin nasty and i’m going to hell xo

You like seeing Steve like this. Boisterous and carefree, sipping a beer on the couch. It's normal. He deserves it.

Bucky sits across from him, detailing his recent mission with Sam. Their weekly chats often turned out like this, in between a short period of reminiscing and talking about whatever game had been shown that week, it always comes back to work. There's a hint of longing in Steve's voice when they talk like this. You know he misses it, how couldn't he? Its all he's ever known. But he insists he's done, and you believe him.

You're not entirely sure where their conversation is now, having zoned out some time earlier. Sat between Steve's legs, head rested on his thigh your mind had easily drifted.

You can't help your slight obsession with Steve's thighs. Even in a simple pair of joggers, the stiff outline of his toned muscles are fully on display. Each expertly sculpted ridge shifts between your cheek each time he moves or laughs. It's distracting, more than that.

You often find yourself nuzzling into the soft material just to get closer to the part of him you love so much. Steve’s fingers catch a lock of you hair, twisting and pulling on it every now and again, the action both soothing and adding to the deep tension threatening to boil over in your stomach.

His booming laugh filters through the room, his thigh flexing beneath you once more. It’s not normal, you think to yourself as you not so subtly press your skin against him, the fabric swallowing your helpless whine.

You sit like this for most of the afternoon, until it slowly turns to evening. Desperate and whining quietly to yourself. Your thighs clench periodically, and you have to stop glancing at the clock, secretly hating yourself for wishing it was time for Bucky to leave.

You’re so wrapped up in keeping your arousal at bay, in the warmth of Steve’s thighs you don’t notice the slight lull in conversation, nor do you notice Bucky leave the room to get another beer.

Steve strokes your head for a moment, his fingers igniting your skin as they slowly trail across your jaw. He tilts your head until you’re looking at him, a small knowing smile on his face.

“You doin’ okay down there?” He smiles, his thumb strokes your chin ever so gently, but the touch alone is enough to make you want to cry. Your need for him is far beyond your control and at this point, you’d take what you can get.

You nod, sandwiched between his calloused fingers and warm thigh. He tsks quietly and releases your chin, shifting back in his seat to widen his thighs. He watches quietly as your wide eyes glisten, immediately fixating on his clothed crotch.

“I’ve been neglecting my girl.” He shakes his head a little, smile turning to a smirk as he marvels in how transfixed you are. “Does my baby need some attention?”

His thumb traces your bottom lip, your mouth opening instantly desperate to taste him. You nod slightly, lips wrapped around his thumb, fingers clutching his calf tightly. He pushes down on your tongue, slipping deeper into your mouth, groaning quietly when your throat vibrates around his digit as you moan.

That slight bit of relief is enough to calm you for a moment, but your need rears it’s desperate head and you know you need more. Steve doesn’t move when Bucky walks back in and hands him a fresh beer. He just thanks him, eyes never leaving you.

Bucky isn’t phased returning to his chair without question. The idea of Bucky spectating your desperate state should be embarrassing enough to make you snap away from Steve. Instead you suckle on his thumb even harsher, looking up at him as he sips from his beer like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Steve pulls his thumb free, pressing it against your shining lip and more leans forward, the malted beverage heavy on his breath.

“M’gonna fill that pretty mouth up, just like you want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Surely he isn’t being serious. Not with Bucky watching you both. Somehow the thought doesn’t deter you as much as it adds to the growing arousal, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Your eyes flick to where Bucky is now seated. You'd believe he's as relaxed as Steve if it weren't for the beer bottle clutched between his white knuckles. His lips are slightly parted in curiosity, pretty blue eyes dark with promise, watching you and Steve.

“Go ahead.” Bucky says it so simply with an encouraging nod, taking a languid sip from his beer.

“You gonna show him how good you are for me?” You nod hurriedly, watching as he puts his beer down, and does only that.

“Gotta hear the words honey.” His hand rests on waistband of his sweats, waiting.

“Please.” You speak through your the foggy haze clouding your brain. “Let me suck your cock, Stevie.”

“Attagirl.” He pulls down the elastic, letting it rest just below his knees. He knows how much you love his thighs, and secretly loves the way you mark them up, claiming another part of him that he gives to you so willingly.

Unsurprisingly, you press your lips to his inner thighs the first chance you get. The light dusting of golden hair tickles your lips when you suck dark bruises onto his unmarred skin, lightly tracing them with a light scrape of your teeth, earning an illicit moan from him.

When you’ve had your fill of his broad thighs, they’re littered with tiny marks and the slightest indent of your teeth in certain places.

Your finger lightly traces the underside of his cock, trailing up to the head and stroking over the slit. It shines brightly under the dim light and you actually salivate knowing you get to taste him. You marvel at Steve’s dick each and every time you see it, it’s curve feels perfect inside of you, the slight girth stretching you out so fucking good, length hitting all the right spots.

You wrap your hand around him in a tight fist, squeezing at the base just how he likes. His head rests back on the couch cushion, exposing his neck. His muscular chest begins to rise and fall slightly quicker as you stroke him.

Finally, you sink your mouth onto him, not bothering to tease him any further, this is for you after all. He’s letting you suck him off in front of his best friend to satisfy your needs, the least you can do is make it worth while.

You bob your head, alternating between long slow strokes and quick harsh suckles. Your hands tug at him, twisting around what you can’t take, revelling in his slight reactions. The way his thighs tense beneath your fingers, the way he sucks in sharp breaths and shudders out increasingly loud groans.

You wonder for a second if this isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. It spikes a sense of jealously in your chest and you swallow him down even further, not caring that it burns your throat. Pride blooms in your chest when he grips your hair, holding you in place, groaning deeply.

"So good. So good to me." His hips flex, pushing himself against that spot again. "You gonna be this good for Buck? You gonna suck his cock like a fuckin champ?"

You moan around him when he speaks, doing your very best to take him as deep as you possibly can. Your throat closes around him as you gag slightly, the slight brush of his hair ticking your skin.

"That's my girl." His hand rests over yours, hissing when your nails dig into his exposed thighs. He thrusts slowly into your warm mouth, hitting the back of your throat softly, watching as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

His thrusts grow harsher, as does his grip on your hair, but that hand covering yours, the way his thumb strokes reassurance into your skin keeps you grounded. You feel that familiar twitch in your throat as you prepare to take his load, but then he’s tapping you hand and pulling you away from him ever so gently.

You find yourself pouting, desperate to have him fill your mouth again, but then he looks behind you and speaks.

“Go see Buck, looks like he could use some help.” He swipes his thumb through the spit on your chin, and nods to his friend.

The carpet is plush beneath your burning knees and you find yourself crawling between the other man’s thighs. Bucky strokes himself slowly, watching you quietly with that predatory gaze.

He’s not as long as Steve, but where he lacks he makes up for it in girth. Soft veins protrude from beneath his weeping head and you’re sure if you look close enough, you’d see them pulsating with need.

You cover his hand with your own, watching him twitch in your palm, stroking him a few times in a tight grip. You lean forward and swipe your tongue across the rosy head, eyes solely on him. He sighs, shoulders relaxing, his cheeks flushed all sweet and red.

Your tongue is so warm and wet against him as you swirl it across his skin for a few moments before you finally take him in your mouth. It’s vastly different to Steve, the way your mouth stretches wider around him. His head prods the back of your throat slightly quicker, but the thickness has the same effect on your gag reflex.

You get lost in the unfamiliar taste, the slight musk that’s just so Bucky. Steve comes up behind you, tugging at your leggings, keeping you steady with one hand as he pulls them off with the other. He swipes them down, taking your ruined panties with them, discarding the soaked cotton and gripping your thighs, spreading you wider.

“God Steve, she’s a fucking pro.” Bucky’s usually deep voice is instead breathless when he speaks Steve over your shoulder. Steve chuckles knowingly, his hand caressing your bare skin.

“You hear that honey? You’re being so good for us.” You hum in acknowledgement, the praise going straight to your core.

For a moment he just stares at the slick coating your thighs, drawing small patterns across your skin. The moment is strangely intimate, made so by Bucky’s thumb brushing your cheek as he slowly starts to thrust into your mouth.

You feel Steve’s hands resting on your ass before he spreads you open, cool air against your warm wet heat causing you to sigh. He licks a single stripe from your clit, right to your dripping hole, pausing to hear you moan around Bucky’s cock before he does it again and again and again until he’s nose deep in your pussy.

You brace your hands on Bucky’s thighs. breath coming in short pants out of your nose. Steve’s lips wrap around your swollen nub, suckling harshly as he shakes his head, the friction making your eyes roll. His nose prods at your hole, and your nerves are on fire.

You suck harder on Bucky’s cock, alternating between stroking him whilst you lick and suckle on his heavy balls. You feel the ghost of Steve’s fingers against your slit, whimpering when he slides a single finger in right to the knuckle. He works you open slowly, stretching your wet cunt around his finger before adding a second, hooking them inside of you.

Between Bucky fucking your throat and Steve lapping at your cunt like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, you’re not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You want to whine when he pulls his mouth away from you, but the fullness of his fingers satisfies your simmering need.

“Look at you, letting my friend fuck your throat right in front of me.” His fingers don’t let up, bordering on the sweet side of harsh.

“Stevie, fuck that’s so good.” You sound as desperate as ever, lost in Steve and Bucky’s touch.

“Bet you’d let him fuck this pretty cunt if he asked, huh.” Of course you would. The thought alone is wildly arousing. Steve chuckles through his quiet grunts when you clench around him, curving his fingers ever so slightly.

“My pretty little whore.” He half chuckles, though it’s mostly a groan.

He sucks at your clit once more, fingers hooked inside of you and you’re a goner. You pull your mouth away from Bucky, stroking him instead as you gush slightly against Steve’s face. Bucky thrusts up into your hand at your loud moans that only spur Steve on, the orgasm so intense it makes your body slump against Bucky’s thigh.

You find the energy to take Bucky back into your mouth, letting him thrust against your tongue, taking what he needs.

His hips jut harshly, prodding the back of your throat. His hand moulds around the curve of your skull, fingers threaded through your hair guiding your movements. He’s quiet compared to Steve, not speaking unless it’s a quietly muttered fuck, or so good. Sometimes he’ll groan, deep and guttural, but others he’ll catch himself on the edge of a whimper.

Those are your favourite. Making a man as stoic and quiet as him whimper is soon to be your greatest triumph.

You brace yourself on his thighs, shifting one of your hands to wrap around his thick shaft. You work quickly against him, twisting and flicking your wrist, running your thumb just below his weeping head, pressing stray kisses to the bulging veins.

“Buck, put her on your lap” Steve speaks from behind you, squeezing your thigh before Bucky helps you up, manoeuvring your near boneless body on top of his thighs. The bright tip of his cock, smooth with a mix of precum and your spit, nudges your sensitive slit.

You flatten your palm on the underside of his dick, caging him in, grinding your slick cunt against him. He thrusts against you, chasing his release, resolve depleted as he whimpers into your neck. The sound alone is enough to send you over the edge. You keep your eyes on Steve as he watches your cunt writhe against Bucky. There’s a new hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never quite seen before.

Steve sits back on his calves, his fist working over his pretty dick as he watches you cum for a second time, only this time it’s against his best friends cock. He looks so pretty, with his hooded eyes and flushed cheeks all traces of his dominant nature drowned out by his desperation.

Bucky’s whimpers grow louder and his teeth brush against your skin. The hold he has on your hips tightens as his thrusts grow sloppy, and his teeth dig into your shoulder, a truly broken moan shattering through him as he cums. Ropes of white land on your mound, dripping down your slit. You can’t help but moan when he thrusts one final time, his sticky spend and your slick making a near diabolical sound

Moments later Steve, pushes himself up onto his knees, fucking his fist harshly, pushing himself over the edge with a deep, almost growl. You watch through tired eyes when he cums all over your messy cunt, faint droplets of white mingling with Bucks.

He leans back, taking in the sight of your ruined cunt, chest heaving. His fingers prod at your puffy slit one final time, swirling around in the mess three of you had made before he extends his hand to your already open mouth. You suck at them like a woman starved, tongue lapping at the digits until they’re instead slick with your spit.

A silence stretches between the three of you for a moment, before Steve stands, and ticks himself into his sweats. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So proud of you. You did so well.” His large hands cup your face, eyes searching yours for any discomfort. He finds none.

You watch him leave to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom whilst Bucky presses small kisses to your marked skin and thanks you. You hum, too dazed to speak. When Steve returns, Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a few moments, returning with three bottles of water.

As you slump against the chair, Steve running a warm cloth over you and Bucky holding the water bottle to your lips, you look over at the clock again watching it tick, willing it to stop, hoping that Bucky doesn’t have to leave.

i think we all know by now everything i write sets back feminism a few hundred years. i’m very sorry and i will do it again.

[fastandcarlos]

Bracelet Making : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: to prepare for the concert you're busy making friendship bracelets to swap, only for charles to suddenly decide he wants to join you too

Your eyes widened in confusion as the puzzled expression on Charles’ face shocked you. The endless number of beads that you had was more than he could have ever imagined, unable to take it all in. There were so many different colours, designs and letters, you had plenty in front of you to keep you both entertained for hours. 

“What do you think?” You chuckled as you picked up the elastic, taking some scissors and cutting two lengths of it before tapping the space beside you on the living room floor, inviting Charles to take a seat down beside you. 

He did as you asked, his eyes still wide. “How many bracelets do people actually take to these concerts? We’re going to be here all night making bracelets for tomorrow love,” he commented. 

“But it means we can swap them with other people there.”

Charles took the elastic from you, stretching it a couple of times. He followed your lead as he watched you tie one end so that the beads couldn’t fall off when you beaded them together, getting himself into a little bit of a tangle. 

“What’s the point of making these bracelets if we’re just going to give them to other people?” Charles pondered, running his fingers through some of the beads to get a good look at them. 

When Charles told you that he had managed to get tickets to Taylor Swift you were beyond excited, and as the big fan that you were, you wanted to make the most of the experience. Charles thought you were joking when you suggested making bracelets, but now he found himself with no way back. 

“Where do I even start?” Charles questioned as he picked up one red bead and threaded it through the elastic, watching it hit the bottom where he had tied up his knot. 

“Just make it look nice, trust your instincts,” you tried your best to tell him, “It’s fun being able to swap because loads of other fans will have made bracelets too, it’s a thing to swap them to show friendships amongst all of the fans.” 

Charles nodded as he listened intently to you, “that’s quite a sweet reason. I’ve seen a couple of fans doing this at the paddocks before but I never realised that was the meaning behind it,” he then added. 

The room fell silent as Charles looked through a few of your beads and placed them onto the elastic. His eyes looked closely at what he had done, tipping some of the beads off and rearranging the pattern again so that he was happy with what he saw. 

“You seem to be taking this quite seriously,” you laughed, nudging Charles’ side. His head nodded as he picked up another bead to make sure that his pattern was still followed. 

Once it was on, his eyes turned to look at you. “If I’m giving them to other people then I’ve got to make sure that they look nice, I can’t be given people a lazy bracelet that doesn’t look nice.” 

Charles had watched you for the past couple of days as you began to make bracelets for the concerts, dismissing it pretty quickly.

However, as he saw how focused you were whilst doing it, he began to pay a bit more attention, finding himself interested. When you offered the chance for him to do it with you, he soon said no, but it didn’t take long for you to twist his arm. 

“Do I have to give all the bracelets away or do I get to keep some of them for myself?” 

“You can do whatever you want Charles.” 

Charles hummed in acknowledgement as he reached out for another few beads, threading them on with ease. “I think the first bracelet that I make I want to keep for myself, well, I think I want for the bracelet to be yours rather than anyone else’s.” 

Your eyes flickered to what Charles was doing, noticing that he’d picked up a couple of your letter beads. “What are you writing on that bracelet?” You quizzed, putting your own down for a second to concentrate on him. 

“It’s for me and you,” he proudly smiled, twirling it around so that you could get a better look. “So that anyone who looks our way tomorrow knows that you’re mine.” 

Although Charles had managed to get you into the VIP section of the stadium, he still had concerns. He’d seen the way some fans had treated you at races before, and didn’t want for the same to happen at the concert, especially when you were there to enjoy yourself too. 

He’d seen how you played with some of your bracelets before when you got nervous and knew you’d love to do the same with a bracelet that you knew was made by Charles too. 

The silence that stayed between you both had Charles worrying, concerned that he’d done the wrong thing. “If you don’t like it, I can make it to give to a fan instead, I’m sure you’ll end up with hundreds of bracelets tomorrow night anyway love.” 

Your head immediately shook as Charles spoke. “No. I’d love to wear it. I just didn’t think I’d be the first person that you’d think about when making a bracelet.” 

“You’re always the one occupying my mind,” Charles mused. 

Your eyes rolled as Charles’ attention turned back to his bracelet, determined to make it perfect for you to wear, and hopefully want to show off too. 

It was fascinating for you as you watched the concentration on Charles’ face, a look that you had only ever seen before when he was behind the wheel and fighting for that P1 position. 

After a few minutes, and a bit of a mess from Charles as he tried to tie his bracelet together, he was done. He proudly called your name, stretching the bracelet so that you could slide your hand into it, letting it sit perfectly around your wrist. 

Your smile was wide as you turned your wrist to admire what Charles had made. “This is beautiful Charles; I don’t think I’m going to need any more bracelets for tomorrow now.” 

“Don’t be silly,” he laughed, relieved to see how impressed you were by what Charles had made. “I bet there’s some awesome bracelets that you’ll be given tomorrow, I barely know what I’m doing with all of this.” 

“But none of them are made by you,” you reminded him. 

Charles leant across and pressed a kiss to your cheek, only for your head to come down and rest on his shoulder, forgetting about what you were doing for a few moments. 

“You should make some more of these, I bet they’ll be a few of your fans there tomorrow who would love to have a bracelet from the hottest F1 driver in the world,” you teased. 

Charles’ eyes widened again as you spoke, poking against your cheek. “Maybe one day when I retire I can just go into the bracelet making industry, set up a stall at the entrance to the paddock or something.” 

A chuckle came from you as you listened to Charles’ suggestion, “you’d make a fortune, I bet. I’d say that the bracelet that I’m wearing right now is probably worth a million pounds.” 

Charles’ smile turned up as he watched you fidget with the bracelet that you wore, exactly like how he expected you to. “Come on, we’ve got more bracelets to make, I want to exchange as many of these as possible tomorrow to make some people smile.” 

“How are you somehow more enthusiastic about bracelet making them I am?” 

Charles shrugged, “I’ve got the bug now, I get why you enjoy it so much.” 

“By the way, Taylor would be proud of you making all of these.” 

“I bet she doesn’t even know who I am,” Charles protested. 

“Everyone knows your handsome face, trust me.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[rabbidbunwy]

🔞Hawks x reader| Minors DNI| NSFW WARNING!!! 🔞

You handle Keigo as he's on breeding season [again] but with a twist,he's going to get you pregnant (,,¬﹏¬,,)

Contents: Hawks x Anon! reader-both adult-explicit content-crampie-moaning-breeding-consensual-smut-cumming-hard-getting pregnant-impregnation-l'ots of pet names by Keigo[sunshine,birdie etc.] cute-fluff-aftercare-teasing-cuddle-whines-teasing-lots n' lots of cuddles towards the end-cheesy-needy and cuddly Keigo

The reader doesn't talk a lot here,too busy about being breed (๑/////๑ " )

I'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

Please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s: this is supposed to be the second writing of my breeding series? idk but the second of my writings with my FAVORITE bird man

i love my birdie so muchhhh ughhhh ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)

!! (°□°)☝️ Again don't read if you found it unconfortable with the subject/context

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive @ponderingmoonlight

Keigo other hand moved down to your hip, gripping it as he began to get rougher. “I’m gonna try so hard to breed you, my good little birdy” he repeated, letting out low whimpers and gasps as he spoke. “God, the thought of seeing you pregnant with my baby just…it drives me god damn insane, sunshine.”

His pace increased as you were flipped onto your stomach, and he let out another low moan. “I’m going to breed you so good, darling…” “You’re gonna take my baby so deep inside you, sunshine” he continued “I’m gonna give you so many little baby birdies, sunshine” he repeated. His breathing was coming out in short, labored gasps. “And I’m gonna make sure every one of them is a little copy of their daddy.”

“Wanna watch your belly grow nice and big, gonna fill you up so deep-” he grunted as he spoke, his pace getting faster and more desperate. “My good little birdy…I’m gonna fill you up so much-" he groaned loudly “You want to have my baby that badly, my good little birdy?” His thrusts began to get even quicker, his breath coming out in pants and gasps.

“You want the children of a birdie that bad?” “God, I can’t wait to see you all big and swollen with my baby…you’ll look so beautiful like that, sunshine. My little birdy…” he groaned, one of his hands gripping your hip harder. You cried out strangled gripping the bed "f..fuck mhnn K..keigo-"

With your back completely pressed against his chest, he could reach even deeper. His hands tightened on your waist as he thrusted up, a low groaned moan falling from his lips “Mnh…yeah, that’s it sunshine” he panted out between breaths. “Gotta make sure I breed you nice and good, now, huh?” “Gotta make sure my birdie baby gets planted in you” he added, his breaths coming out in pants. “Gotta make sure I get you all knocked up and pregnant, huh, my good birdie?” His pace began to get a little rougher, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he tried to go even deeper. “Gotta make sure you have my babies, darling.”

More moans

“Mmm…gotta make sure you’re a good pregnant birdie, huh?” His pace was getting more sloppy, his hands beginning to shake.

“You want that…you wanna be all heavy and swollen with my babies, darling?” He grunted out, struggling to get the words out between breaths and moans. “Want me to fill you up so deep, sunshine?”

You gripped Keigo shoulders as you moaned loudly "ah-ah Keigo-"

Keigo grunted as you gripped his shoulders, the feeling of your hands giving a sort of encouragement to him. “Yeah…yeah, that’s it, sunshine…just like that..” “Just like that, darling…God, you’re so good for me, huh?” He mumbled out, his pace getting rougher and more sloppy. “Such a good birdie for me, sunshine..letting me breed you like this…”

“You want me to give you my babies deep and proper, huh, birdie?” He asked between breaths, his pace picking up just the slightest. “My beautiful sunshine birdie going to let me knock you up nice and good?” You moaned in response feeling closer and closer "nghnn Keigo…I'm.. "

“Yeah…yesss…come for me, birdie” he panted out “Come on, sunshine, let me fill you up nice and good for me” he panted out, his breathing coming out in heavy gasps at this point. “Come for me, darling…please-” You moaned at every word he spatted out feeling closer and closer as you mewed and moaned

“Yeah…mmm…that’s it…come for me, sunshine…let me knock you up so good-”

He gave another low, drawn-out whine, his pace continuing to pick up as he got more desperate. “Come on…come on-”

“Come on, birdie, be a good birdie and come for me…need you to, birdie..” he panted out, getting more impatient. “Need to fill you up…”

“That’s it….mmm..good girl, birdie…such a good birdie…” he groaned, the feeling of you tipping over more than enough to drive him over the edge, too. “Just like that…yeah…just like that-” He let out another low whine at the feeling of you gripping his shoulder, his rhythm picking up and getting rougher, his gasps more labored. “Oh..oh, yes…yes..yesyes…oh my god-”

“Oh my god…oh my god, I’m so close….oh god, birdie…oh my birdie….yesyesyesyes-” he repeated, his voice getting higher and more desperate as he got closer.

“Almost….almost…oh my god, birdie….yesyesyesyesyesyes…oh my birdie, sunshine-” he was almost babbling by then, his pace getting sloppier and more rough as he reached the very edge. “Oh..oh, birdie, birdie…” he whined again, his hands gripping your hips so hard he might’ve been bruising you. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna-”

“Gonna give you my baby….yes….yes…YESYESYES…..oh my god…oh my birdie….yesyes…yes…YES YES-” He gave another whine, his back arching towards you, his whole body going tense as he finally, finally came. You cried out,your legs squeezed his waist as you camed too

When he finally came, he let out a long, high, drawn-out groan, keeping his hips pressed against you, his body giving a sharp twitch. He collapsed on top of you, a tired sigh falling from his lips. “Oh..oh, birdie…my good birdie….”

He stayed like that for a moment, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his labored breathing falling on your ear as he came down from his high. “My birdie” he repeated, his voice a little raspy. “My good little birdie…my birdie bird…”

"you're too needy" you pouted blushing “Oh, and you weren’t being needy?” He asked in response, lifting his head to look at you. “You wanted me to knock you up just as badly as I wanted to do it, birdie.”

“You’re not innocent in this, sunshine. You wanted my babies just as badly as I wanted to give them to you.” He spoke playfully, lifting a hand to brush against your cheek.

"is it bad?" you asked feeling guilty “Is it bad you want my babies?” He asked, a bit surprised at the question. “No, of course it’s not, birdie. I want nothing more than to give you my babies”

“You know that, right?” he asked again, his face softening as he saw the guilt in your eyes. “You’re allowed to want my babies, birdie. We both want it, after all, yeah?”

You nodded snuggling against his chest "will they have your quirk?"

“That would be up to chance” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him. “Though I wouldn’t mind them being little birdie baby feathers like daddy.”

“They’ll be perfect, regardless” he said quietly. “Just like their mommy.” He added on, turning his face to kiss your forehead.

“They’ll have your eyes and your smile, I imagine.” He spoke, resting his chin on the top of your head, and sighing. “They’ll just be the cutest little birdie babies.”

You cooed snuggling against his chest,like a baby "i love you Key" you mumbled “I love you, too, birdie” he said, his hand coming up to brush against your hair, pushing his fingers through the strands.

He was silent for a moment, just focusing on the small gesture, before he spoke again. “What do you say we go get some sleep, huh?” He started to lean back, pulling you with him so he was lying flat against the bed, but still holding you to his chest. “We could both use a nap, I think” he said, still fiddling with your hair a bit, the motion seeming to keep his hands busy.

Then you caressed his wing "it's so soft" you mumbled When you caressed his wing, he gave a small shiver, a small, pleased sound falling from his lips. “Careful, birdie. You know how sensitive my wings are” he said, his voice going a bit playful.

“You keep touching my wings and I might get turned on again" he said, the words tumbling out a bit faster than he would have liked. “And I don’t think I have it in me for a second round right now.”

"the other time you breed me for five times" you pouted looking at him “Yeah, I was a lot more energized that time” he said, wrapping one of his wings around your body, pulling you closer. “I’ve definitely lost a bit of steam this time around.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, shifting around a bit as he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I think you’ve definitely managed to wear me out, sunshine. I’m beat.”

“I’m exhausted, birdie” he mumbled, his words starting to slur a bit. “I don’t think I have the energy to go another round…I’m going to need a nap a good, 12-hour nap, now.”

He let his head rest on the pillow, holding you closer against him. “I’ll need one helluva good sleep before I can take you again, birdie” he said, his eyes closing as the exhaustion started to set in.

"finee" you pouted snuggling into his chest making the little spoon "wing" you asked

At the feeling of you snuggling against his chest, Keigo let out a small huff as he adjusted a bit. When he heard you hint for his wing, he immediately let the large appendage wrap around you, the feathers brushing against your back.

He nuzzled his face against the top of your head when his wing was wrapped around you, giving a bit of a hum. “Comfortable, birdie?”

He held you a bit tighter, wrapping the wing around you even more, almost like he was cocooning you in his wings. “You’ll sleep well like this, yeah?” You nodded cooing "night night" “Mmm…good night, sunshine” he mumbled back, burying his face into your hair again. “Rest well, pretty birdie.”

He let out a long, satisfied, tired sigh, nuzzling his face against your head again. “I love you, birdie. And we’re going to have the best birdie babies, I just know it.”

✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧˖°🌷📎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

me meanwhile writing this:

[joemama-2]

nanami kento has always been a patient man. he’s respectful and doesn’t talk to unless spoken to. he doesn’t like most people, might even hate some. but you’re not the type of person he would exactly hate, unlike a certain someone. he thinks you’re kind, polite, you always bow respectfully to your seniors, you diligently complete every task that’s asked of you. there’s also one more thing about you….he just cant put his finger on it. maybe you’re just tolerable, yeah that’s it.

you’re not a sorcerer, at least not a very good one. it’s why you’ve opted to be an auxiliary manager like ijichi and akari. “as long as i get to help the sorcerers in battle, i’m fine with whatever position i’ve been assigned.” you would say with a big and warm smile, innocently, naively. he thinks you’re too good for such a rotten society, something like that will get people killed. and he doesn’t want you on that list.

when he first met you back in high school, he didn’t think much of you. you weren’t a special grade, you didn’t have any awesome technique, you were just simply there. maybe you have connections, he thought. because there’s no way someone like you was admitted into tokyo jujutsu high. to this day, he doesn’t know how you did it. maybe you have some super cool talent that you didn’t like showing, maybe you just won over everyone’s hearts and they felt pity for you, he’ll never be able to find out. that’s one of his many regrets.

his other regrets are letting himself grow attached for no reason. no matter what, his eyes had a mind of his own, searching and scanning any room or environment for your figure. he chalks it up to protectiveness, you weren’t strong like he was and he didn’t want to see another comrade die. because thats all you were, a comrade. a comrade. a comrade. he chants this mantra into his mind every morning.

nanami didn’t know how it happened, but one thing led to another and he was always alone with you. comfortable silence was what he loved the most. you two could sit together for hours in a flower field you came across one day, just watching the sky and clouds form random shapes. you liked when they made hearts and little animals. although he always argued that they’re just clouds.

but, clouds almost reminded him of you. free, soft, floating around from place to place, and residing high in the sky. because he knew, no matter what, you were one of the few people who would go to heaven in this sick world, sick society. you belonged in heaven, you looked like an angel, acted like a goddess.

“let’s go to malaysia together.” you told him randomly one day, seeing an ad pop up about a beautiful vacation spot. kuantan. he didn’t take you too seriously. malaysia? out of all places? he didn’t see the hype.

all these thoughts flood his brain when he sees your body, looking lifeless and bloody, next to ijichi. you two have huge stab wounds in your mid-section. however, you have a bit more than your co-part, clear signs of your fight. even when you know you don’t have the upper hand, you won’t hesitate to fight back.

it’s hard as he carries you two, having to make sure ijichi doesn’t fall off his back while simultaneously holding you close to his chest. his heart twists and turns, stomach churning the entirety of the slow walk he does to bring you two back to ieiri. his mind is running rampant, constantly looking down at you. you can’t be dead, he thinks. neither of you two are dead, he can’t see more comrades die.

it’s almost weird to him how his throat tightens, tears stinging at his eyes. you don’t move, head lolling to the side as barely a sign of a breath is escaping your lips. your skin is pale and bruising. he hates it, hates how you look, hates how hurt you are, hates how he wasn’t there to stop it and protect you.

he sets you down first once he reaches shoko, handing the passed out ijichi to her. finally, he kneels down, taking in your appearance. nanami rarely gets mad, at least not seriously. but this time, he’s absolutely furious. silently seething as he breathing gets heavy. his fists clench by his side, nails drawing blood into the skin.

he gets up, no being able to stand how you look. but, he forgets you’re a fighter, forgets that no matter what, you look out for the sorcerers. out for him.

“kento….” you straggle out, hand weakly clutching onto his. you can barely keep your eyelids open. you mutter out the next few words. “…man….blonde……ponytail……s-sword….”

ah, he thinks. that’s his target.

he gulps, simply nodding. but your hand stays clutched onto his. using all your strength, you open your eyes wider, and he hates the tears that form in them. “….come back to me please…..”

he feels like crying with you. but he can’t, not now at least. he kneels down again, bringing the back of your hand up to his lips to press feather light kisses to each knuckle. his other hand gently uses his thumb to wipe your tears, treating you with utmost care. “kuantan,” he murmurs. “when this is all over, i’ll take you.”

you weakly chuckle, more tears falling at this point. “..p-promise..?”

he hesitates, but you notice. “promise.“ he says back, leaning down to give your forehead a kiss, sealing the promise. he places your hand back to your stomach before getting up to leave, not before sparing you one last glance.

and as you watch him leave, you don’t even know that it’s the last time you’ll ever see him, last time he’ll ever see you. because you trust his word, trusted that he’d come back to you.

nanami leaves with a heavy heart, staring death in the face and yet all he can think about is you. there’s many regrets he has.

he broke your guys’ promise, he hopes you won’t stay mad at him.

he won’t be able to take you to kuantan.

he won’t be able to see you, hold you, talk to you.

and finally, he wasn’t able to confess that he loved the simplicity. that he loved you.

he’ll see you again, in heaven and in another life. until then, he’ll watch over you. because nanami kento has always been a patient man.

[pucksandpower]

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader - Social Media AU

formulagossip added to their story

f1wagupdates

Liked by lightsoutmax, verstappenupdates, and 152,836 others

f1wagupdates Max Verstappen spotted leaving his hotel with a mystery woman this morning after celebrating winning his third World Championship last night. According to sources, the two partied together with the team and friends at a club following his victory before heading back to the hotel. Her face is hidden but rumor has it this could be a new romance for the World Champ. Looks like Max is enjoying the spoils of another successful season!

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lightsoutmax probably just a random groupie, max isn’t the relationship type

dutchlioness no way that’s a groupie

f1wagupdates i’m inclined to agree, they look pretty serious!

formulanone am i crazy or does that look like y/n leclerc to anyone else?

redbulletin you’re crazy

gridgossip i mean i wouldn’t be surprised. i bet this has been going on for a while between them! it would explain how she got the CTO job out of nowhere

f1girlie or she got it because she’s qualified and was literally trained by adrian newey to take over for him? it’s 2024, leave the misogyny at the door

maddermax i don’t think max would get involved with someone from his team

circuitqueen she looks so familiar but i can’t place her! it’s driving me crazy

verstappenupdates whoever she is, i need more details! our world champion’s love life is suddenly looking very interesting 😍

survivetodrive you need to learn how to stay out of drivers’ business

rblover for real! let the man live

maxverstappen1

Liked by y/n_leclerc, redbullracing, and 2,094,617 others

maxverstappen1 Five World Championships!

This one feels extra special because I get to celebrate with the love of my life who has been by my side for over three incredible years now ❤️

So I want to dedicate this championship to Y/N

Seeing Y/N thrive as Red Bull’s Chief Technical Officer and pursue her passion for motorsport after everything she has been through has been so special. Her brilliance and determination inspire me daily, both on and off the track. And her contributions to the team have been invaluable to our success. I am so lucky to have such an incredible partner to share these championships with

Winning races and championships is great but sharing my life with someone as smart, driven and caring as Y/N is the greatest gift I could ever ask for. I truly am the luckiest guy in the world. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us both. Here’s to many more years of continuing to chase our dreams together!

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redbullracing our world champion found his perfect match! wishing you both continued success and happiness 🤩

christianhorner so proud of you two. the ultimate power couple!

danielricciardo i knew something was going on there. congrats you two!

maxverstappen1 you don’t have to pretend like you didn’t know about us

y/n_leclerc you literally third-wheeled our last date night … and the one last month … and the one over summer break

y/n_leclerc i love you with all my heart, champion! thank you for always being my biggest supporter. so blessed to have you in my life 🥰

charles_leclerc how could you do this, y/n? after everything our family did for you?

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verstappenupdates our guy is all grown up 🥹 you two are goals!

f1wagupdates omg! when did this happen??? why has it been a secret for so long?

lightsoutmax pretty sure they got together the year before y/n was hired by red bull

redbulletin and they probably kept it a secret because people would have found a way to twist it into something negative

officialorangearmy relationship goals to the max! you two are perfect together 🧡

y/n_leclerc

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 473,825 others

y/n_leclerc What a season! Winning a double championship for the second time feels so surreal. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my incredible team at Red Bull Racing who made this possible through their tireless hard work. We did it 🏆

And most of all, I am grateful for my incredible partner. Max, you’ve supported me every step of the way, encouraging me to follow my dreams and become who I was meant to be. You showed me what true unconditional love feels like

I am where I am now because of you. Your spirit pushes me to achieve greatness. Your kindness lifted me up when I needed it most. Your smile keeps me going on tough days. I couldn’t ask for a better teammate in life ❤️

The future is so bright for us. I can’t wait to see what we create together next. I love you! Let’s keep aiming for the stars ✨

View all 2,196 comments

maxverstappen1 you make me so proud every day! loving and winning with you feels incredible. can’t wait for the rest of our lives together ❤️

redbullracing the ultimate teammate on and off the track! you two are unstoppable 👊

christianhorner red bull is lucky to have such a power pair leading our team. more glory to come!

danielricciardo you guys are relationship goals! congrats champs

charles_leclerc how long until you throw away this “fairytale” like you did our family?

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y/n_leclercfanpage our inspiring queen found her king! you give us hope that dreams do come true

f1girlie not me literally crying tears of joy 😭 they are so perfect together

womeninmotorsport seeing powerful women thrive in f1 gives me life 👏

[deliciousangelfestival]

He's The Sweetest

Summary: After discovering his secret and coming to terms with it, she faces an even bigger challenge—dealing with her family.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Author Note : This is a second part of He's The Killer

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky sat in a dimly lit office, the tension thick as he faced his boss, Jake, who sat behind the desk. The room felt cold, sterile, just like the life he’d been living for years. Jake leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as Bucky’s voice cut through the silence

“Accept my resignation,” Bucky said firmly.

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly not pleased. “It’s difficult to let you go. I’m serious.”

As if on cue, Bucky’s phone buzzed. He glanced down, his hardened expression softening ever so slightly as he read the message.

You: “Can Alpine stay at my place today? I have another panda toy for her.”

Bucky stared at the screen for a moment, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. He quickly replied, his thumb hovering awkwardly over the heart emoji before hitting send.

Bucky: “Of course. 💕”

He chuckled to himself—never in his life had he thought he’d use that emoji. But this was the first time you had offered to bring Alpine, his beloved cat, to your place. Why? A small knot of concern twisted in his chest.

His lighthearted moment shattered as he tapped into his surveillance feed from the secret lair in his apartment. His eyes widened. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

On the screen, he saw you standing in front of his hidden room, eyes wide with shock. His heart dropped. This was why he needed his retirement approved—quickly.

Taking a deep breath, his mind racing. His entire life had been a bleak mix of exhaustion, bitterness, and emptiness. He’d been a hitman for so long, it had swallowed him whole. The thrill, the violence—it used to be all he knew.

But that had started to change the day he found that baby panda.

It was during one of his missions—his target had been involved in the black market and owned a panda as a pet. Bucky remembered seeing the fluffy little creature, terrified and out of place, and for the first time in a long time, something had stirred in him.

He’d cradled the baby panda in his arms, its softness grounding him in a way nothing else had. He couldn’t leave it behind. After eliminating the target, he made sure the panda was sent to a sanctuary where it could be safe. That same panda had grown and was eventually sent to the zoo where it could be with others of its kind.

Since then, pandas had become more than just animals to him. They represented innocence, something he hadn’t felt in years. It had started with that baby panda and, unexpectedly, it had continued with you.

Meeting you had been a complete surprise. You were the first stranger who had ever willingly helped him. That day at the zoo, when you’d offered him your umbrella in the pouring rain—it wasn’t just an act of kindness, it was something more. You worked as a nurse, saving lives, the complete opposite of what he did. That contrast between your worlds fascinated him.

And now, you’d found his secret.

Jake’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re really not changing your mind, huh?” Jake said, leaning forward, his hands resting on the desk.

He started typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard. After a few moments, he pointed at the screen. “Here. Done. Everything’s erased.”

Bucky glanced at the screen, relief flooding him. "I’ll return the weapons," he added.

Jake shook his head with a dry laugh. “Keep 'em.”

“No,” Bucky replied, shaking his head, especially after the look of shock he’d seen on your face. “I’m done.”

Jake studied him for a long moment, leaning back in his chair again, arms crossed. “You’ve changed, man.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “I’ve decided to change.”

With a low whistle, Jake stood and offered his hand. “Well, congrats. You’ve graduated from an ice block into a normal human being.”

Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he shook Jake’s hand.

Jake handed him a letter. “Here. With this, you can work as a contractor anywhere you want. Consider it a gift.”

Bucky took the letter, folding it neatly. “Thanks, Jake.”

With a final nod, Bucky turned to leave, his hand on the door. “Goodbye.”

“See you around, Barnes,” Jake called after him, his tone softer now.

Bucky walked out of the office, his mind already on you, on what you’d seen—and on how he was going to explain his life, his past, and everything he wanted to leave behind for you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky made his way to your place, noticing how quiet the street was as he walked up to your building. When he reached your door, it seemed like no one was home. He frowned, but just as he was about to knock, your neighbor, the sweet elderly woman from down the hall, spotted him.

“Ah, James! How are you, dear?” she called out warmly, shuffling over with a small box in her hands. “Could you give this to your girlfriend? I made her a lemon cake. I heard she’s home.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. ‘So, you’re home?’ he thought, glancing back at your door. “Oh, thanks, Gladys,” he replied, accepting the box. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The woman smiled, patting his arm. “Thanks to her for helping with my hip pain. She's a blessing.”

He nodded, offering her a kind smile. “Glad to help. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Turning back to your door, Bucky knocked softly, his heart pounding. “Y/N? Gladys made you a cake.”

There was silence for a moment before he heard soft footsteps approaching the door. It cracked open just slightly, and through the small gap, he could see you, holding Alpine in your arms. Your face was hesitant, guarded.

Bucky immediately sensed your fear. He felt a knot tighten in his chest, knowing he was the reason for it.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice low, trying to reassure you.

You didn’t reply right away, just staring at him with uncertainty.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked gently, his hand still holding the box of cake. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

You hesitated for a moment longer, but then, with a small nod, you opened the door wider, stepping back to let him inside. You didn’t speak, still standing a few feet away from him, clutching Alpine to your chest as if she were a shield.

Bucky took a deep breath, setting the cake down on the counter. He turned to face you, his eyes soft but serious. “I know what you found,” he began. “The weapons, the surveillance… I need to explain.”

You stayed quiet, watching him closely, your grip on Alpine tightening.

“I used to be a hitman,” Bucky admitted, his voice steady. “For years, that’s what I did. I was… good at it. But it made my life empty, and I became someone I didn’t even recognize anymore.”

"Two years ago, I got hurt badly. I almost died." He paused, reflecting on the memory. "It was a miracle. Because a nurse didn't give up on saving me."

Your eyes widened slightly at the confirmation, but you didn’t move, just listening.

“After that, I didn’t want that life anymore. Even before I met you, I’d already started planning to retire,” Bucky continued, taking a step closer to you. “Meeting you… it just made me want to hurry up and leave it all behind. You were the first person who made me think I could actually be someone else.”

You shifted slightly, lowering your gaze to the floor for a moment, processing everything he was telling you.

“I get if you don’t want anything to do with me after this,” Bucky said quietly. “But I’m not that man anymore. I don’t want to be.”

There was a long pause before you finally spoke. “So… you’re retired now?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I’ve left that life behind for good. Everything’s been erased.”

You looked up at him, still holding Alpine close, but something in your expression softened. “That means… you could protect me, right?”

Bucky blinked, surprised by your question. “Protect you?”

You bit your lip, looking a bit sheepish. “I mean… it’s not like I need someone to, but… it’s kinda reassuring knowing you could, if anything ever happened.”

A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of Bucky’s lips. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you. “I’d never let anything happen to you,” he promised.

You finally smiled back, the tension in the room starting to dissolve. “I believe you.”

There was a moment of silence, but this time it wasn’t awkward or heavy. It was peaceful. You placed Alpine gently down on the couch and walked toward Bucky, resting your hand on his chest. “I guess that’s just another part of you I’ll have to get used to.”

Bucky exhaled, the weight of the conversation lifting off his shoulders. “Thank you… for understanding.”

You smiled, a bit shyly this time, and then you led him to the bedroom. The night was quiet, and as the two of you settled into bed, you rested your head on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. It felt safe, comforting, like you were finally where you both belonged.

Alpine curled up at the foot of the bed, and Bucky pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been for a long, long time.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming the room. You stirred slightly, still wrapped in Bucky’s arms, feeling a rare moment of peace. That is, until you heard the front door creak open, followed by your mother’s voice echoing from the kitchen.

“Y/N, honey! I brought some food for your fridge!”

Your heart dropped, and you shot up in bed, wide-eyed. 'Oh no. Mom's here. I'm not ready for this!' You frantically glanced around the room, then froze when you heard another voice—a second, more cheerful one.

“And we’re borrowing your bathroom!” your aunt chimed in from the hallway.

Your eyes widened even further. 'Damn it, Aunt Margaret too?' You turned to Bucky, who was still blissfully asleep beside you. Leaning over him, you shook his shoulder with urgency. “Wake up!”

Bucky blinked, still half-asleep, his brows furrowing as he mumbled, “Huh? What’s going on?”

Panic surged through you. You glanced toward the door and back at him. Without another word, you grabbed the blanket, quickly wrapping it around him as you began pushing him toward your wardrobe. “Just get in here!”

Still groggy, Bucky allowed himself to be shoved toward the wardrobe. “Are we under attack?” he muttered, half-dazed.

“Oh, it’s way worse,” you whispered harshly, yanking open the wardrobe door.

Bucky immediately tensed, his training kicking in. “Who?” His voice was low and serious now.

You glanced nervously toward the hallway. “My aunts.”

Bucky blinked, confused. “Your—”

Before he could say more, you stuffed him into the wardrobe, quickly closing the door. You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, throwing on a hoodie and rushing out of the bedroom.

In the kitchen, your mom, Sophie, was already busy rearranging food in your fridge, humming to herself as she worked. She turned when she heard your footsteps. “Oh, hi, sweetie. Hope you don’t mind me coming over. I brought some meals for the week.”

Behind her, Aunt Margaret stood with a small smile. “We didn’t want to bother you, but we need to use your bathroom real quick before heading to the spa. Hope that’s okay.”

You forced a smile, trying to stay calm. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Smile more, don’t be rude,” your mother reminded you, placing another container in the fridge.

“Mom, I just woke up,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

Suddenly, a sharp gasp came from behind you. “Oh my goodness, who’s this?” Aunt Margaret exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement.

Your stomach dropped again as you turned and ran back toward the bedroom. You barely made it through the door before you saw Margaret standing by the wardrobe. She had, of course, snooped her way in, and now she was staring wide-eyed at Bucky, who was still awkwardly wrapped in the blanket. His muscular arms were exposed, and he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hello,” Bucky said, his voice deep but sheepish, as he pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

Your mom and Aunt Margaret were utterly speechless, their mouths hanging open as they took in the sight of him. Sophie blinked several times, trying to process what she was seeing. “Who… is this?” she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling your face flush. “Uh… this is my boyfriend.”

Both your mom and Aunt Margaret gasped in unison. “Boyfriend?” they exclaimed, their eyes lighting up with disbelief and excitement.

“Oh my goodness!” your mom clapped her hands together. “You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend!”

Margaret, still grinning, rushed toward Bucky, looking at him like he was the most exciting thing she’d seen in years. “We’re so happy for you, Y/N! And such a handsome one, too.”

Bucky, clearly out of his element, nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a small, awkward smile.

Your mom, still beaming, clasped her hands together. “You both have to come to dinner on Sunday. The whole family will be there. We’d love to get to know him better.”

Bucky straightened up, still holding the blanket around him. “Of course, ma’am. I’d be happy to.”

After what felt like an eternity of pleasantries, your mom and Aunt Margaret finally left, their excitement palpable as they discussed plans for the evening family dinner. You closed the door behind them, letting out a long, exasperated breath.

Bucky emerged from the bedroom, running a hand through his hair. “So… dinner?”

You turned to him, shaking your head. “Prepare yourself, Bucky. It’s going to be dreadful.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “You don’t like family dinners?”

You sighed, sitting down on the couch. “It’s not that. It’s just… a lot.”

Bucky sat beside you, looking thoughtful. “I’ve never really done the whole family dinner thing,” he admitted quietly.

You glanced at him, surprised. “Never?”

He shook his head. “Nope. This is new territory for me.”

A small smile crept onto your face. “Well, get ready. My family doesn’t hold back.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand resting on yours. “Guess we’ll face it together then.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah. Together.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It was a quiet Sunday evening when you and Bucky arrived at your family’s house for dinner. As soon as you stepped inside, all eyes turned toward Bucky. It was like he was some rare, exotic artifact on display. Every relative, from your cousins to your elderly aunts, stared at him with wide eyes and hushed whispers, as if they couldn’t believe you had brought someone with you, let alone someone like him.

Bucky, dressed neatly but clearly out of his comfort zone, politely nodded and shook hands as he was introduced to everyone. He kept his posture composed, but you could tell he was uneasy by the way he kept glancing at you, searching for some sort of reassurance.

At the dinner table, the seating was predictably divided—men on one side, women on the other. You sat with your mother, aunts, and cousins, while Bucky sat with the men, looking slightly out of place as they tried to make small talk. You caught his eye across the table, and he gave you a small smile, as if to say, I’ve got this.

But then, it happened. One of your nosier aunts, Aunt Margaret, leaned over to you with a curious glint in her eyes. “So, what does your boyfriend do for work?”

You took a breath, bracing yourself. “He’s a contractor,” you replied casually, hoping that would suffice.

Aunt Margaret wasn’t done. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Does he have a home?”

“Yes,” you said, your tone firm. “He has his own place.”

“Well, that’s good,” Aunt Margaret said with a sniff. “So much better than your father. He had a medical degree, but what good did it ever do him? Useless.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest. Your father had always done what he could. He might not have used his degree, but he had made sure you had a roof over your head, food on the table, and your school tuition paid. When your mother needed surgery, he borrowed money to make it happen, and he paid it all back. In your eyes, he had been a good father, despite his flaws. But finding out about his infidelity at his funeral—that had shattered you.

Before you could respond, Aunt Margaret continued, oblivious to the hurt in your eyes. “Well, at least your future is secure now. You could just set the wedding date. The family has already met him, after all.”

You clenched your fists under the table. “Why is everyone so obsessed with me getting married? Are any of you planning to pay for it?”

Aunt Margaret looked taken aback. “It’s just—well, why wait? Especially at your age.”

You felt your temper rising. “If you’re not donating or paying for my wedding, you have no right to give me orders.”

Aunt Margaret gasped, her hand flying to her chest. She stood abruptly and left the table in a huff.

Your mother, always the peacemaker, leaned toward you. “Don’t be mad, sweetie. They only want the best for you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “The best for me? Mom, I’ve seen enough of the marriages in this family to be scared out of my mind. Maybe they just want to see if I’ll have a better marriage than they did.”

Your mom sighed softly. “You don’t know how it will be until you go through it.”

“Mom, please,” you said, shaking your head. “I know you want the best for me. But the one who will actually live the marriage is me, not them.”

Your voice softened as you continued, “I do want to get married. I want to be with the man I love, to stay by his side for the rest of my life. But I need to be sure it’s what I want, on my terms.”

Your aunt, having recovered from her earlier offense, decided to pipe up again. “Well, you’re not getting any younger. Why waste time?”

That was it. You snapped. “Almost all of you have been in terrible marriages! Domestic violence, cheating husbands—and him!”

You pointed across the table at your uncle, whose face turned a shade of red. “You’re the worst of all. You cheated on your wife while she was sick, stressed her so much it led to her getting breast cancer! While she was going through chemo, all she ever wanted was for you to apologize, and you couldn’t even do that. No wonder your kids hate you.”

The table went dead silent. Your uncle glared at you, but he couldn’t deny what you had said. The truth hung in the air like a dark cloud.

“You’re rude!” one of the other aunts muttered under her breath.

You let out a humorless laugh, throwing your hands up. “I’m the bad guy? Fine. It’s not a family gathering if there’s no drama, right?”

Your voice dropped, filled with contempt. “Look, even though we’re family, there are still boundaries. And you’ve crossed them.”

You could feel the tension in the room rise, but you weren’t done. Glancing at Bucky, who had been watching in silence, you reached for his hand, gripping it firmly. “Oh, and if anyone here thinks they can push my mom around, remember one thing.”

The entire table leaned in as you gave them a deadly serious look. “My boyfriend is a hitman.”

Everyone gasped, eyes widening as they looked between you and Bucky. Bucky himself seemed surprised, his eyes blinking as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said. He didn’t deny it, though, which only added to the shock.

You continued, undeterred. “I’ve seen his weapon collection. So if any of you think about messing with us—don’t.”

Your aunts and uncles exchanged nervous glances, clearly shaken. One by one, they started to gather their things, mumbling hurried excuses as they filed out of the house. Only your cousins lingered behind, giving you discreet thumbs up as they left, clearly impressed by your boldness.

As the last of them disappeared, you turned to Bucky, letting out a long breath. “Well, that went well.”

Bucky gave you an amused smile. “Guess I don’t have to return my weapons after all.”

You laughed, feeling lighter now that the tension had lifted. “Guess not. But I think we’ve officially scared them off for good.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You were amazing back there.”

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of victory. “Yeah, I was.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As the dust settled from the family dinner, only three of you remained in the house: you, Bucky, and your mother. You felt the weight of the awkward silence pressing down, and when it was finally time to leave, you slipped into the car first, not ready to face your mom. You knew she would defend her sisters and brother, no matter what.

Through the window, you caught a glimpse of Sophie, your cousin, glancing your way. Her expression was a mix of concern and curiosity as she exchanged whispers with your mother. Sophie was aware of your feelings, but she had brushed them off, just as she always did. You had confided in her about your trauma, about how her mother's words had cut deep, yet she had chosen to ignore it. In that moment, you realized what you were holding in was like a ticking bomb, waiting for the right moment to explode.

Bucky noticed Sophie’s gaze and turned to her, curiosity etched on his face. “So, was it true what she said? Are you really a hitman?”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “I used to be.”

Sophie was taken aback, her eyes widening slightly. “Well, I guess she likes strong men,” she said, forcing a nervous laugh that felt strained in the tense atmosphere.

“Ma'am, may I have your permission to marry your daughter?” Bucky asked, his tone respectful yet playful.

Sophie raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and delight crossing her face. “I won’t ask her now; I’ll wait until she’s calmed down. But I do need your consent.”

“Of course,” Sophie said with a genuine smile, her eyes softening. “I give you my blessing.”

As you drove back home, the tension in the car was palpable. You sighed heavily, breaking the silence. “Urgh. I’m so embarrassed.”

Bucky glanced at you, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you show so many emotions.”

“No…,” you protested, feeling your cheeks flush with heat.

“I’m not kidding. Instead, I’m amazed,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Really?” you asked, a flicker of surprise igniting in your voice.

“Yes. In my former job, I used weapons to take out my targets. But you…” Bucky glanced at you with admiration. “You wield words like weapons. It’s not just a triple kill; I saw them lose it.”

His gaze held you captive, and you felt the truth of his words resonate deep within you. He would never put you on the edge; the ending was obvious: you would win the argument. “If you became a lawyer, you’d have a 100% success rate,” he added, grinning.

You looked down at your hands in your lap, feeling a warmth spread through you. “You know, the reason I was brave back there is that you were by my side.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and he reached out, holding your hand gently. “If you want me to,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I can make them disappear. Especially your uncle. Just say the word.”

His grip was reassuring, and for the first time since the dinner, you felt a flicker of safety amidst the chaos.

Bucky glanced over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "By the way, I’ve got an extra ticket to see the pandas. Want to go?"

Your face lit up immediately. "Of course!" you replied, barely able to contain your excitement, already picturing the fluffy pandas in your mind.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Extras:

In the stark, sterile environment of the emergency room two years ago, chaos reigned as doctors and nurses hustled to save a critical patient. The man lay on the gurney, his body battered and pale, a deep stab wound in his abdomen oozing crimson, soaking the sheets beneath him. His eyes were vacant, and the beeping monitors signaled a disheartening rhythm that reflected his fading pulse.

“Time of death,” the attending physician announced grimly, his voice heavy with the weight of finality.

“Y/N, stop it. He’s gone,” one nurse urged, her expression a mix of concern and resignation. She stepped back, crossing her arms tightly as if trying to shield herself from the painful reality.

“No. Let’s give it one more try,” you insisted, your heart racing with adrenaline and determination. You positioned yourself beside the patient, refusing to back down in the face of despair.

With steely resolve, you pressed your hands against his chest, starting compressions with calculated urgency. “Come on, just one more time,” you urged, your voice steady yet filled with hope, as if willing him to respond.

The seconds felt like an eternity, but suddenly, the monitor emitted a series of frantic beeps, and you felt a faint pulse beneath your fingers. “I’ve got it! I’ve got a pulse!” you shouted, your heart soaring with renewed hope.

A wave of relief washed over the room as the team rallied around you, working swiftly to stabilize him. You squeezed the patient’s hand, your grip firm and reassuring. “I’m glad you didn’t give up,” you murmured softly, your eyes locking onto his as a connection formed in that fleeting moment.

As the medical team continued their efforts, you noticed the scars etched into his skin—marks of battles fought and survived. Leaning closer, you brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, your heart swelling with empathy. “You’ve been through a lot. Get some rest,” you whispered gently, a comforting smile breaking through your worry as you remained by his side, willing him to pull through.

The room, once filled with despair, now held a fragile glimmer of hope, and you knew that as long as you believed in his fight, miracles could still happen.

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[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + nineteen

authors note: this one has....some surprising twists and connections. that's for sure....

cw/tw: angst, fluff, and characters using dark humor to discuss mental health

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist + story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

Roman’s never been the type to really push things off. Not important things, at least. And seldom in his life has his to-do list ever really consisted of non-essentials. There’s always something to be done, a task to be handled, body or bodies to drop. 

But always at the top of the non-essential list has been his appointments with Dr. Michaels. They’ve always been more annoying than anything, annual routine check-ups that are required with his role as the Tribal Chief. To make sure he’s healthy and equipped for the job. Appointments the Elders are sure to stay on top of, which is also a large reason he hates them.

The Elders tried so hard at the beginning to stop and prevent him from taking his rightful place at the Head of the Table once he turned 18. Questioning his readiness, his eligibility (largely to him being afakasi), and even more, his capability. 

To be honest, it’s a major reason as to why Roman will never really respect them. For men who are supposed to uphold tradition, they seemed to throw that out the fucking window and jump through every available hoop to prevent him from fulfilling his father’s role. To stop a generational dynasty. 

It’s largely why Roman was so focused and dedicated at the beginning of his reign to prove them wrong. To prove them all wrong. 

Something he continues and will always do.

A knock on the door is followed up with the entrance of the man Roman could go the rest of his life without seeing. “Well, congratulations.” Roman maintains his bored expression, mentally going over the next items of his to-do list rather than entertaining his doctor. “You have the sperm count of a man in his twenties.”

That’s another annoying thing. The yearly tests to continue to monitor his ability to reproduce. Something he, like most things in life, passes with flying colors. 

“I’m sure the Elders will be thrilled to hear that.” Probably. Not that Roman gives a flying fuck. “What I’m not pleased with is your blood pressure.” Roman is slightly more present and engaged in the conversation at that. “Your numbers came back even higher this time, Roman. And while you’re not in the danger zone just yet, you keep this shit up of not taking this seriously, you will be.”

Yeah, the attention is fully present and focused now. Roman maintains a leveled voice while asking, “what the hell does that mean?”

Dr. Michaels sighs heavily, moving to sit on his stool, explaining carefully. “You have hypertension. It’s chronic, so it’s not going to go away by avoiding it. You have to take your medication as prescribed. That’s the only thing that will keep it managed.”

Roman looks away, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t fucking take it.” And that’s the truth. When Roman remembers, he does. Or when he actually cares enough to, he’ll pop the pill in his mouth and down it with one of his energy drinks. 

“Every day?” Roman doesn’t bother with a reply, growing irritated at being scolded like he’s a fucking child. “Continue to fuck around with this, and you’re putting yourself at high risk for heart disease or stroke.”

Those two things seem almost impossible, like they shouldn’t even be used in the same sentence or paragraph as him or anything related to him. Roman is in excellent shape, works out at least twice a day, eats relatively well, doesn’t smoke or do drugs. Rarely drinks. All the good shit. 

All the healthy shit most medical providers recommend. Isn’t that enough?

It’s like the old man has uninvited access to Roman’s thought process, adding, “Hypertension is hereditary. Your dad had it. Your uncle had it. So, it only makes sense, especially with who you are and what you do, that you got it as well.” Jaw clenching, Roman refuses to comment on that. Refuses to discuss anything regarding his family. “You were technically in the prehypertension stage before, hence why I put you on meds to keep it from progressing. But, now you’re in the stage one hypertension range. Do you really wanna know and see what stage two would look like?”

Thankfully, Shawn doesn’t wait for a reply, continuing his long ass spiel. “You take such good care of yourself physically, but this one thing seems to be an issue for you?” When Roman still says nothing or even makes eye contact, Dr. Michaels goes for a different angle. “If you’re not going to do it for you, at least do it for that wife of yours.” That is when Roman’s sharp gaze lands back on his doctor. “She was a nervous wreck that night you were shot. Imagine what something happening to you that was avoidable would do to her.”

Damn him. 

For all intents and purposes, Roman does an excellent job at hiding the fact that Dr. Michaels found it. Found the thing that truly catches Roman’s attention. Solana always worries so much about him, especially this high blood pressure shit. He doesn’t even want to think about how she would react if she knew his numbers had gotten worse, that he’d slacked off a bunch on medication adherence since she’s been gone, since everything went down. 

She’d freak the fuck out, be an emotional mess, and it’d be all because of him.

Roman can’t have that. 

He won’t.

With a newfound purpose and reason to actually switch this topic from irrelevant to relevant, he relents, “fine. I’ll take the damn medication.”

“As prescribed?”

Smiling without an ounce of humor, Roman nods, reminding himself that it’s probably not a good idea to kill the doctor he’s had since he was 14. Michaels can be annoying, but he’s effective and hasn’t been a problem for the Tribal Chief. For the most part, at least. “Yes.”

Dr. Michaels chuckles. “Thank you.” He then stands up, looking down at his tablet and starts tapping around. “Unfortunately, because your numbers have jumped as much as they have, I need to up your dosage. I’ll send the script over to the pharmacy and make sure they have it filled today so you can pick it up today. Start tomorrow morning. Not next week. Or next year. Tomorrow. Alright?”

Not bothering to reply, Michaels walks over to him, smile almost sympathetic. “Good seeing you, big guy.” Roman scowls with borderline disgust at the light pat on his shoulder. “I’ll follow up with you in a month.”

Roman’s irritation spikes again. “A month? Why so soon?”

Hand on the door, Dr. Michaels shrugs and explains. “Gotta start monitoring your numbers more closely now.” He smirks a bit, taunting almost. “See if you’re as good at following directions as you are at giving them.” 

It’s when the door closes that Roman releases the heavy sigh. Always fucking something. Yet another thing added to his list. 

Of course. 

Roman stays annoyed, even as he’s escorted back into his office, the only thing keeping him from being completely vexed is the reminder that pops up on his phone. 

Visit with Sol

He’s scheduled to drive down to the treatment facility and spend the evening with Solana this evening. Something he’d never openly acknowledge to anyone other than her that he’s been looking forward to all week. 

Today marks two weeks since she transferred to residential treatment, and despite much more lax policies regarding personal items and even visitation, this will only be his second time seeing her.

And not because he hasn’t wanted to. 

No. Solana herself requested they stick to visits once a week versus more. Citing she wants to do this “on her own” as much as possible. The initial wording concerned him. He never wants her to feel like she’s alone in anything, but her follow up explanation provided him clarity on just what she meant. 

“You believe in and support me” A light shrug of her shoulders and gentle gleam in her pretty brown eyes as she adds with a determined nod. “I have to believe in and support me too.”

He checks in on her throughout the week, of course. And she keeps him updated on things like her individual and group therapy, even sharing photos of art she creates during down time. It helps that she’s allowed her phone this time around. Not that it would have made a difference if she wasn’t. There’s no way in hell he would allow her to be that far away without a way to directly communicate with him. Sure, Bautista is there, but still. 

Not enough.

But, it’s as Roman walks back into his office, any excitement at the thoughts of seeing his wife in person, being able to hold her and kiss her is dashed away. 

Replaced with well-hidden shock and irritation.

“What the fuck are you doing here?

There are two people in his office. Two uninvited people. One sits in his chair at his desk. The other sits on the edge of his desk. He recognizes one of them, but not the other. It takes a second for that recognition to dawn. It’s been years since he last saw him. He looks older, obviously, but outside of that, not much has changed.

Including his disrespectful ass disposition. 

A broad smile appears on the bearded face of the man who just doesn’t know today is the absolute wrong day to try to surprise Roman. To surprise a man who hates surprises in the first damn place. 

“Good to see you too, capo.”

There is nothing good about this. Roman already has seven million other things on his plate. He doesn’t need anything else thrown at him.

Especially this.

“Why are you here?” If there was anyone to come and pop up from the Cosa Nostra, he would have bet any money it would be Dwayne. And that would be a much better option than the bastard before him.

The woman on the desk chuckles. Roman can at least acknowledge her beauty. Breathtaking. Her features are almost too perfect to be real, her deep complexion free of any markings. A fine woman. Not Solana. Not in the slightest but still beautiful. She looks over at her co-intruder and speaks in Italian. “While the resemblance, physically, is undeniable. Personality wise is where it stops. Thank God. His bedside manners leave a lot to be desired.”

If she wasn’t a woman, Roman would have her laid out by now. To speak ill of him is one thing, but to do it in front of him is entirely different. Truth be told, if he wasn't already having a shitty day, a small part of him might be impressed at her balls. But, it’s not a good day. Far from it, so now he has to push back thoughts of murder.

Glare focused on her, he switches to Italian. “You have 1 minute to get the fuck out of my office, or else the only way you’ll be leaving is in a body bag.”

“Careful, Roman.” Matteo’s voice is light and surface level calm, but Roman knows better than that. Knows that it’s also a warning. If only he cared. “This is my wife.” 

“What makes you think I give a fuck?” Is Roman’s leveled reply. “I want her gone. Now.” Roman can’t decipher why this man would bring her in the first place. This doesn’t concern her. 

Matteo is smart, whispering something to long legs as she kisses his cheek and plops off the desk. Her smirk pisses him the fuck off as she walks past him, completely unbothered, remaining silent even as the door closes behind her.

Smug ass, prissy bitch. 

Roman doesn’t waste any time jumping back to the topic at hand. “Answer my question. Why are you here?”

Matteo sighs and sits forward, shaking his head. “Some things never change, huh?” Roman is just about to lose his shit at having to repeat himself when Matteo smartens up. “Dwayne sent me.”

Roman eyes him. “What?”

Matteo sighs, shrugging and rolling his shoulders. Roman’s mind quickly travels back to his last conversation with his cousin just a few weeks ago. Outside of the usual asking when he’ll fly out to Italy, he gave no indication that something was wrong. 

And yet Matteo, who Roman hasn’t seen in years, who is second to only Dwayne and lives in Italy full time, sits before him saying he was sent. 

“It’s as Dwayne has been telling you. The Administration grows restless of a leader who lives in a completely different continent.” 

This is nothing Roman hasn’t heard before a million times, but each time, his already limited patience continues to wane. “Is the business not successful?”

That’s an easy answer. “It is.”

Well then. “So why the fuck am I needed there?”

“Because they’ll do and find anything they can to delegitimize your reign.” A sort of frown falls on his face as he adds in a lowered voice. “To create a case.” 

Roman’s gaze narrows, his nose snarling as he catches on to what’s being shared. “They want you to clock me?”

Matteo nods, asking, “you remember our cugino, Luca?” Roman also nods, still trying to settle his anger that these bastards actually have the audacity to want him followed. “Well, he’s not that same scrawny punk anymore. He’s older, stronger, clever. Sadistic. They think he would be better suited to lead.”

It’s not that Roman cares, he’s just trying to get into Matteo’s head, see where his thoughts are. That’s the only reason he asks, “do you?”

Matteo doesn’t appear to think about his answer, which Roman finds a bit surprising. It’s almost as if he’s being honest. “No. Not at all. He doesn’t have the strategic mind to be capo. He leads with his emotions. Is irrational and strong headed. Even more hot headed than you are. He’ll run the business into the ground.”

It’s been years since Roman has spoken or interacted with his cousin, but the description provided seems aligned with everything he’d already pegged. Luca isn’t fit for this role. The weight that comes with being the boss. 

He would most definitely ruin the empire.

“How long are you here for?” 

“Not sure.” Matteo shrugs, running his hand through his hair. “That’s why I brought the wife and kids.”

The wife thing briefly took Roman off guard, but the kids thing especially surprises him. Not that Matteo is even remotely close to being someone he’s close with, it still stuns him a bit. Then again, most men around their age have a family of some sort by this point. So, it really shouldn’t be that much of a shock.

Matteo must catch on to Roman’s expression. “Three of them. Set of twin boys and a girl. Not exactly something I broadcast. Safety reasons and whatnot.” And that, Roman most definitely gets. Matteo looks down, an almost bitter scoff leaving his mouth. “We both know how they feel about us mixed breeds.”

Another thing they can relate on. In more than just the obvious way. Roman’s mother’s racist ass side of the family hated his father being Samoan but ‘accepted’ him, arranged the union solely because of who he was. Because of the Bloodline. But, Matteo’s Turkish father, an essential commoner, never stood a chance.

His mangled, tortured remains that were pulled from the bottom of a lake was an outcome that was always bound to come. 

Roman shakes his head. “And you wonder why the fuck I don’t want to be around any of them?”

Matteo chuckles darkly. “Not at all.” He grabs a paper weight on Roman’s desk and starts tossing it up and down. “You should be lucky it’s me here and not someone else. Dwayne had to fight tooth and nail for them to select me to spy on you. As I’m sure you already know, yet probably don’t care about, there aren’t many on the Administration who are exactly…..fans of yours.”

“And they never will be.” 

Matteo lifts his chin, calmly adding. “Of either of us.”

Silence. 

It’s not uncomfortable. Not comfortable either. Just….silent.

Until Matteo places the paper weight back down and stands up, slowly walking over to Roman. 

“Roman…..” Right away, the Tribal Chief knows he’s not about to like wherever this conversation is going. “I know….I know we’re not close for a lot reasons, but that doesn’t negate the fact that we are brothers—”

Yeah…..as always, he was right. 

He doesn’t like this shit at all. 

“We are nothing,” Roman snaps, practically growling, Matteo managing to tap into such deep rooted insecurities and so carefully tucked away traumas. “Sharing the same mother makes us biological siblings, but it does not make us brothers.” 

For the briefest second, there’s something that flashes in Matteo’s brown eyes. Something akin to hurt. But, it’s quickly pushed away, shoved to the back of the bus. He lifts his head and instead takes a step closer. 

“Whether you believe me or not, Roman. My loyalty is to you. You are the rightful capo. The Capo di tutti capi, and I will fight for and with you to the death.”

Roman says nothing, because he has nothing to say. Nothing he wants to say, at least. The statement lays heavy, joining the other pile of weights that have seemed to settle and make themselves comfortable in his head.

And his heart.

Matteo extends a hand, placing it on Roman’s shoulder, giving an almost comforting squeeze.

“You are mio fratello.” The word being repeated, however, is enough to make the Tribal Chief ready to resort to violence when Matteo, wisely steps back. “As I’m sure you’ve figured, while I’m here, I will need to be present for any and all meetings or discussions regarding the Cosa Nostra.”

Yes, Roman’s not a dumbass. Of course he has to. He needs something to report back to those bitches. It’s just how much of the actual truth will get relayed that he’s unsure about.

Roman continues to stand there, anger and twenty different other emotions boiling as the older man walks toward the door, readying to leave, but not without one final departing statement. 

“See you tomorrow, brother.”

—-------

“Is it true he’s packing an almost 10inch dick?”

Solana nearly chokes on the water she was in the midst of downing at the most unexpected, wild, flabbergasting question she’s almost ever received. 

And her expression of complete and utter shock is shared with the other two women who sit with her. 

Cam is the first to speak though, instantly chiding the other woman, “Mickie!”

“What?” Mickie, however, doesn’t seem to see the issue. Pulling one leg up on the sofa, she shakes the bottle of nail polish and starts applying the pretty lilac color. “Remember my ex-friend Layla? She fucked him one time and said it was the biggest one she ever had. That he could barely fit it in.”

“Mickie, for the love of God, shut up.” Melina cuts in, her voice less shocked and more irritated. She motions to Solana with her free hand, the other one in Solana’s lap as she designs the butterflies for her. “That’s her husband.”

“Well, she has to know he’s a hoe. Or used to be?” 

Cameron shakes her head, finishing up her own nail polish application to her short nails. “Seriously, Mickie, you’re out of line.” 

“It’s okay.” Solana finally decides to make her two cents known as she caps the bottle and places it back on the sofa beside her. “I—I know he….he had a reputation.” That seems like the nicest way to say it, the nicest way to acknowledge that her husband has probably slept with more women than she’d like to ever know. 

“That wasn’t an answer tho—ow!” Mickie winces when Melina punches her in the arm. “Bitch.”

Melina just chuckles, focus back on Solana as she jokes. “You see why we’re all here?”

It makes Solana smile.

To anyone else, the scene would be quite difficult to fully understand. Four young women chatting and joking amongst each other like they’re not all currently admitted and receiving treatment at a residential facility for women. They should be sad, moping, disconnected, unstable. And they have been all of those things, hence their current placement.

But, they’re also so much more than that. They’re human beings who hurt and feel like everyone else. They’ve just been hurt a lot more than some other people and have not responded or processed or even healed just yet. 

Emphasis on yet. Another thing Solana has picked up in therapy. 

“Did you guys do your assignment for Lilian?” Solana asks, partially wanting to redirect the focus from off herself and Roman’s…..anatomy, but also genuinely curious about their experiences completing the homework provided in group therapy.

Cam is the first to answer, shaking her head. “Yeah. It was…..not the best time.”

“Agreed,” Mickie chimes, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I tried to not be too depressing but ….considering I’ve tried to, as the kids say, unalive myself three times now, there wasn’t a lot to go off of.”

Solana winces. This is something she’s still getting a bit used to, if she ever fully will. How sometimes dark humor is so easily weaved into conversations. She’s seen and realized it’s a type of coping mechanism, but it’s still a bit difficult, nonetheless. 

The assignment being discussed consisted of the ladies being tasked with coming up with at least 10 chapter titles to represent their lives. Five from the past and five for the future they hope to have. Solana can agree that the ones for the past were a bit challenging and definitely sad, but her future ones managed to feed that hope she’s determined to not lose this time around.

“I kind of cheated and used song titles for some of them,” Melina admits with a chuckle.

“I used songs for all of them,” Cam counters with a small, sly smile. Of the three women, Solana seems to relate closely to her. They’re the same age and have the same quiet disposition that’s only shed away ever so slightly once they become more comfortable.

Which, clearly, has already started to happen.

“Have ya’ll ever heard Mama’s Hand by Queen Naija?” Almost everyone says no or shakes their head to signify no being their answer. Melina goes on to explain, “it’s this really pretty song she wrote about her son. I used some of the lyrics for my titles for my son.”

Solana, who was just about to switch to a different skin marker to start on the next butterfly, pauses. “You have a son?”

Yes, they’ve all grown rather close over the past few weeks, starting with their simultaneous hospital stays to where they all now room only doors down from each other in residential treatment. However, Melina having a child is news to Solana.

She nods and pulls the arm back that Solana was drawing on to reach in her back pocket, pulling out a folded photo. Considering Melina only reaches it to her, Solana takes a guess that Mickie and Cam already knew. Makes sense.

A smile naturally falls on her face at the sight of the curly haired little boy playing in the sand. 

Melina also smiles, though hers is clearly weighed down with sadness. “I took that just two months ago. We went to Isla Mujeres to go visit Santos aunt. She lives down there.” 

“He’s beautiful, Melina. What’s his name?” The mention of the island also captures Solana’s attention. “Roman and I were just there not too long ago, actually. He took me for my birthday.”

“Santos. Go figure.” She rolls her eyes, as Solana giggles. She thinks it’s actually cute he was named after his father. “And really? It’s so beautiful.”

Breathtaking. “It is.”

“Thank you.” Melina’s smile deepens as she takes the photo and tucks it back into her pocket. “We had a good time there. It almost feels too nice to be unreal, huh?”

Solana nods. “My mom used to tell me about it all the time, which is why Roman took us. He bought us a house there, so we can go back and visit.”

“Damn, what’s it like being married to someone so rich?” Mickie almost moans, head thrown back for a second before she gasps. “Could we do like a girls trip there or something? You know, assuming we don’t all get locked up again on grippy sock trips for trying to kill ourselves.” 

Cam rolls her eyes but admits, “outside of the suicide joke, that does sound kind of fun.”

“We can stay at your house,” Mickie suggests to Solana. “If Roman is okay with that, of course.”

Solana thinks about it. Something tells her he wouldn’t protest. Not if she really wanted it. He’d probably stay somewhere else, not wanting to be around a bunch of women, but she can’t see him saying no. Matter of fact, it kind of aligns with the idea she had brought up to Roman before the incident. An idea of a girls trip with Naomi and Bayley, who she still needs to talk to actually. 

She hasn’t interacted with them since that night. And not for any reason other than wanting to make sure she’s emotionally ready for that, no doubt, heavy ass conversation.

There will definitely be a lot of tears.

“I could talk to him,” she finally answers, looking over at Melina. And she will. It could actually be really nice having all of her now friends together for a nice getaway trip. “You should bring your son too.” 

Melina looks surprised by this. “Really?” She then looks down, chuckling sadly. “That’s if Santos trusts me enough.”

Given that their rooms are right next to each other, both here and at the hospital, Solana has found herself talking with and to Melina more than Mickie and even Cam. Melina is also Mexican, fluent in Spanish, which allows them to sometimes converse in the language only the two of them understand. But, in some of those conversations, they’ve gotten deep, which is why she’s slightly surprised this is the first time she’s hearing about a child.

Melina had disclosed a lot of her relationship with Santos Escobar. How they’ve known each since they were kids, shared some of their best and worst moments with each other, how he’s loved her through it all. 

Solana can still remember the heartbreaking look in her teary eyes as she shared, ‘he just wants me to love myself as much as he loves me’. And Solana related to that so deeply. It made her think of Roman and how he could never love her back most likely but how the way he cares about her and takes care of her probably feels just as good.

She knows what it’s like to be with someone who thinks the world of you when you can barely find reasons to justify as to why you even exist. 

They relate a lot in that regard. 

It’s why Solana reaches a comforting hand and places it over Melina’s hand, voice soft but sure. “You’re gonna get better, Melina.” She looks over to Cam and Mickie. “We all are.”

There’s a comfortable silence among the group that is welcomed and moving. A silent agreement between women who were once strangers and now friends. Sisters, even.

Mickie caps the bottle of nail polish and carefully places her foot back on the ground while reaching for Solana’s water bottle, lifting it up as if giving a toast. “To mental stability and finding rich men with big dicks to spend the rest of our lives with!”

“Mickie!”

—-----------

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Solana’s soft voice manages to snatch Roman away from that sunken place in his head where he’s sat deep in his thoughts for a variety of reasons, largely all due to the unexpected things that have been thrown at him.

He’d tried his best to put all of that into his visit to Asylum where he continues to extract his gruesome vengeance against her family and rapists. And it did help. A little, but clearly not enough where he’s able to hide the fact that he has a lot on his mind. 

“Come here.” Roman motions her over from where he sits propped up in the middle of her bed and she stands at the edge of the bed, notebook in hand. He watches the almost nervous way she places the book down on the bed and climbs over to him, Roman helping her straddle him. Kissing her exposed shoulder, he murmurs an apology into her soft skin. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes shut when she moves her hand to his hair, fingers almost massaging his scalp. “You want—do you want to talk about it?”

He can’t help but chuckle. The irony. “Isn’t that a bit counterproductive?”

She shakes her head, continuing to provide him soothing relief like nothing else can. “No. I—I told you before, you can talk to me too.”

It’s strange. If the situation was different, if he wasn’t still cautious regarding her mental health and the state of it, he might….he might take her up on it.

The Matteo situation though…..it’s complicated and layered and messy, and she doesn’t need any of that.

“I know.” Roman moves his hands to her hips. “But, I’m fine. Just a long ass day.”

Her eyes light with something. “Wasn’t your appointment today?” Shit. “How did it go? How’s your shoulder? What did he say about your blood pressure?”

Roman hates lying to Solana. He really does. She’s probably the only person in his life he’d prefer to not keep secrets from. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s been through more than enough shit to not deserve it.

But this…..he has to lie. 

Roman can’t think of one good thing that’ll come from telling her the truth. Solana seems to be doing well at this place, gradually improving day by day. Laying this on her will only hinder that progress and make her freak the fuck out. He doesn’t want that for her. 

He refuses to contribute to any type of regression.

Thus leaving him with only one option.

“It was fine, Sol.” To lie. “Shoulder’s practically healed. Numbers were fine. I’m good.”

That last part isn’t a lie, because Roman is determined this time around to actually do what Michaels said. To take his medication as he’s supposed to. 

For Solana.

He owes her that much.

She sighs, clearly and visibly relieved. “Good.” Roman feels like shit lying to her, but it’s for her own good. “C–can I show you something then?”

“You can show me anything, Sol.” Anything to take them off this damn topic is more than welcomed. 

He’s also reassured by the relieved smile on her face as she reaches back for her notebook, opening it, clearly looking for a certain page while talking. “One of the things I’ve been working on in therapy is goals. Like….setting goals for myself that are attainable and doable.”

“Okay.” Roman doesn't really know where she’s going, but right off the bat, whatever she needs might as well already be done. He’ll make it happen. 

“I…..” She trails off, biting down on her bottom lip, most likely trying to figure out how to say it. “I made a list of things I want to do when I get home. Some….some sooner, and some later.” Handing him the notebook, he starts reading off her neat handwriting, slightly taken back by the first thing on the list. 

Get back into training 

“Solana…..”

Roman is not opposed to Solana continuing to train. He thinks she should. Believes it’s been good for her. He just doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that it’s the number one thing on her list. Her mental strength, in his mind, should be the priority. 

She must detect and pick up on his hesitancy, eyes traveling to meet his. “He tried to take my life, Roman.” She cuts him off, her voice much lower and quieter than before. “In….in more than one way.” Roman can tell there’s another story there, but he won’t push it. Just keep it in mind the next time he’s hacking into her piece of shit father’s body. “He told me that because—because he wanted to break me, but I won’t—” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “He didn’t. I’m not going to let him take away all the progress I’ve made. I know I—I regressed, but I am going to get better. I am better.” 

He respects that. Respects her so immensely. It hasn’t been the easiest thing for Roman to see her go up and down as much as she has over the past month. She’s had her highs and her lows, the lows being so much heavier than most people’s. 

And that’s just been for him. He can’t imagine how it’s been for her having to actually deal with all these things.

So, while a part of him wants her to just focus on her mental health, if she truly believes getting back into training will help aid that. He’ll support it. 

“Okay.”

She smiles, adding on, “did you—did you find a man for me to train with?” He did. In fact. He just hadn’t thought she’d want to jump right back into that either. “Also, I—I wanna learn how you do that thing you do.”

It’s the way she words it, the almost nervousness in her voice that makes him smile a bit. “Thing?”

She nods, shifting a bit on top of him. “You did it at WarGames. When you like…..ram into people. You knocked out whoever that was unconscious with one hit.”

It’s the added sentence that makes him realize what she’s referring to. “A spear?” And Solana nodding only widens his smile. Her innocence at the whole thing is adorable. “Baby, who you trying to spear?”

She shrugs, pushing some of hair back, cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. It just….it just seems effective.”

“It is.” When done correctly and done with proper training. It’d take her a while to get there, but if it’s what she wants, he’ll support it. “If you really want to learn though, I’ll teach you.”

Her smile is genuine and appreciative. Roman stealing a second to take it in, take in her happiness in this moment before moving onto the next one.

Host welcome home party 

At this second goal, Roman frowns, emitting a giggle from Solana. He looks up at her, clarifying, “does this mean you want people at the house?”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Yes, Ro, I do.”

It was going so well. Training. He could get with. A bunch of people at his house though? Hell no. “Who exactly do you want to invite?”

“Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, Bayley, Melina—”

“Who the hell is Melina?” So far, there’s not a person listed that he’s in agreement with. “Baby, you know I hate people—”

“I know, but…..” She moves her hand to the bottom of his shirt, crumpling it while trying to plead her case. “They’re our friends….our….our family, and that….that means a lot to me.” Fuck. She’s too good at that shit. Tugging at his heartstrings. “Gail has been teaching me a lot about trauma and how it works. How connection is the way to heal. And that….that makes sense because you have been the biggest part of my healing, my connection with you, my—my love for you.”

Roman closes his eyes. Of course. Of course she would drop that word on him. The love word. The word that he can never voice to her and about her but feels with everything in him.

Taking in her heartfelt words, he nods, slowly. “Okay. Just…tell me when you want to do it and what you need. We’ll make it happen.” Thinking about something else, something important, he stipulates. “Jey’s not bringing them bad ass kids though. Or Nicki.” 

Solana rolls her eyes again. “Ro…..”

“Solana, I’m not about to have those failed Plan B’s destroy our house. And Nicki is a fucking arsonist. She’ll burn the place down.”

His wife pouting almost as she crosses her arms would make Roman chuckle if not for the fact he’s thinking about the last time Jey brought all his mistakes over to the property. Those little assholes caused over $50,000 in damages. Sure, it was of no financial consequence to him, but it was annoying as fuck to have to have people in his house doing the repairs. 

But, of course, his sweet saint of a wife lives up to her reputation. “Roman, that’s mean. They’re just….they’re just kids.”

“No, they’re vermin.” And he means that with everything in him. But, the minute Solana leans over and lays her head on his shoulder, a soft, desperate ‘please?’ leaving her mouth, it’s a wrap.

Damn her persuasiveness.

Or maybe it’s just his lack of resolve that seems to disappear when it comes to her.

Sighing against her, he mutters, “you know I can’t say no to you.”

Solana giggles, hugging and kissing him on his cheek. Meanwhile, Roman makes a mental note to have a shit ton of them kid leashes and fire hydrants ordered ASAP. 

Roman grunts as Solana murmurs a ‘thank you,’ and he moves onto the next one.

Get tattoos

This shifts the conversation a bit as he asks, “really?”

Nodding, she gestures to her inner right forearm where the colorful butterflies remain. Something she seems determined and focused to keep up. “I want to get the Hummingbird. For my mom.” She ghosts her fingers over her truly impressive artwork. “Butterflies. And….a semicolon.” Roman is grateful when she explains the last one on her own volition. “It’s….it’s for people who’ve survived depression and trauma and….and suicide.” She swallows, adding. “Something comes after a semicolon just like something comes after our darkness.” And before Roman can even comment on that, voice his agreement, she continues. “I want a lotus too. That’s for….for sexual assault.” 

She doesn’t say anything beyond that, and he doesn’t push it. Just brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. “Just tell me when.” He’ll reach out to his tattoo artist and get her scheduled the same day if that’s what she wants. Whatever she needs. 

Solana smiles, licking her lips. “I—I want one for you too. I just—haven’t figured out what exactly.” 

She’s just full of surprises tonight. He understands all of the desired tattoos that she’s listed thus far. They all have such deep, profound meanings, so for him to be included in that list feels almost wrong. For her to want to put something permanent on her body for him seems wrong. “Solana, you don’t—”

“But, I want to.” 

He doesn’t know how to feel about that. Everything else she described was fine and made sense, but this one is a struggle for him. Regardless, he doesn’t push it further. Doesn’t question her.

He just continues to read through the list, the rest, for the most part, presenting no major issue. Things like continuing to work on her confidence, going back to Isla Mujeres, taking up pole dancing (he definitely wants the backstory on that as well as see if it can be moved up the list), moving all of her journals and books into the home library, etc.

However, Roman is a bit confused when he reaches the last numbered item that’s written in Spanish. She knows he doesn’t speak or understand practically any of it.

10) un bebe o una bebe

His confusion is evident, and it grows slightly when Solana almost gently takes the notebook from him and carefully places it on the bed beside them. She swallows, eyes focused on him as she moves her arms around his neck. “Roman…..I….”

Seeing her trepidation, he moves his hands to her hips, holding her. “Solana, talk to me.”

The reassurance seems to help, as she nods and blows out a deep breath. “Just…..promise me you’ll think about it before you give me an answer?”

This, however, doesn’t help him much. It only makes his curiosity grow at just what she’s talking about. Still, he won’t deny her request. “Okay.”

She moves even closer, gaze falling down to her lap. “When…..when I get better and….and more stable, I—” She lifts her eyes, voice steady and soft. “I want to have a baby, Roman.” Fuck. “I want us to have a baby. I—I want to be a mom.”

Of all the things to come out of her mouth this evening, some more than surprising, this has to take the cake. It’s the last thing he expected to hear her say.

Ever.

“Solana….”

“We have to make an heir anyway. I know….I know you’ve been taking care of that for us, but—but we can’t take forever, and—I’m ready. I know I need to focus on my mental health, and I am. I will, but…..Roman, I really want to have a baby with you.” She adds on, almost desperate and needing him to have all of the information so he can make the best decision. “And I talked to Dr. Stratus. She said all of my medications are safe to take while pregnant. We might have to change something if I decide to breastfeed, but she said that won’t be a huge issue either.”

Well, shit. Roman finds himself asking in a low voice. “You already talked to someone about this?”

She nods, almost nervously. “I just—I needed to know what she and Gail thought. If….if I’m stable enough for it.”

“What they say?”

She looks down, chuckling a bit, eyes watering. “They think I’d be a good mom.”

There’s something almost sad about the way she seems almost surprised by this. Like she didn’t think she’d be good at it until receiving their approval.

When, in actuality, he thinks she’d be the best damn mom a kid could ask for. But, she’d have to be…..with him as the father. 

Roman is not….he’s not built for that life. He doesn’t know or understand the first thing about kids other than they need and deserve all of the things he can’t and doesn’t know how to give. That’s why he’d have to lean so heavily on Solana, on her soft and gentle nature. And how would that be fair? To give her a child that she more or less would have to raise by herself because any overt involvement from him would probably increase the chances of the kid ending as fucked up as Roman is.

“You would, baby.” He finds himself agreeing, voice still low, gentle almost, even in the midst of such self-loathing thoughts. There’s so many things Solana is insecure and self-conscious about still, but this shouldn’t be one of them. “Amazing.”

The way her expression softens so deeply does something to him. “Really?” Her eyes watering is the icing on the cake as she grabs his hand, tracing the lines on his palm. “Y–you really mean that?”

He’s not sure he’s ever meant anything more. “Of course.”

Solana throws another curveball at him with the next soft admission to leave her mouth. “I think you’d be an amazing dad too.”

Fuck.

Keyword of the day it seems. 

Because just what in the hell is he supposed to do with that? How does he tell her that she’s wrong as hell? That someone like him really has no business being anyone’s father. That he’d just fuck up any kid of theirs. That despite recurrent dreams he’s been having about this, about fatherhood, that Roman in the dreams has to be someone else.

Can’t and could never be him. 

He’s good at a lot of things, maybe more than the average person, but that?

No.

Just…..no.

But what difference does all of this make when Solana is right about the fact that he has to have an heir. A child needs to be produced, whether he wants to or not, and this discussion is making him realize that while he’s spent his whole life feeling indifferent to fatherhood, the entrance of Solana, of having her be the mother to his kid, has thrown a wrench into everything. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck to think now. 

So, he expresses as such with as much carefulness as he can.

“I just…..I gotta think, Solana.” About more than just this. About everything. This day has been….a lot, to say the least.

“Of course.” She nods. And if she’s disappointed by his answer, she does a great job at not showing it. Roman welcomes her when she moves her body to lay on top of his, her face pressed against his chest. “I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

It’s a statement that stays with Roman for the rest of his visit, oscillates in the back of his head as he sits in the middle of the SUV while being driven home.

Everything feels like it’s all been happening at once, almost too fast, like the speed is something he’s somehow unable to keep up with. Newfound territory for the man who’s always prided himself at always being so in control.

But, he’s not. 

He’s not in control of damn near all the things right now, his emotions, namely. And it’s fucking miserable. 

His love for Solana that he can’t act on because he doesn’t know what the fuck that would even mean.

Not being able to help her to the extent she needs and not being there for her when she needed him the most. Not being there to stop her the night she tried to kill herself.

Not telling her the truth about her father and leaving her to find out in the most traumatic way.

Now there’s the matter of his health, his blood pressure that he once thought was insignificant, now a moderate to major issue. 

Couple on the unexpected reintroduction of his mother’s firstborn re-entering his life.

And to top it all off, Solana wants to have a baby.

With him. 

Fucking hell.

It’s not until mentally listing all of these things that Roman becomes aware of a tightness in his chest, a sensation he hasn’t felt in years. Not since….not since his last panic attack.

Fuck.

Realizing what’s about to happen, Roman rolls down the tinted windows and uses the passing, speeding cars as the source of distraction. He picks the color red and starts counting how many he sees, and when that’s not enough, he switches to cars vs SUV’s, mentally listing those off. 

He continues to do that until that dastardly feeling entirely dissipates. But, it’s only when he rolls up the window that he punches the headrest in front of him.

This can’t happen again. Roman has too fucking much on his plate and stands to lose way too much. He can’t experience his own kind of regression. But, that’s exactly what’s happening. The thought of which allows him to acknowledge for the first time, in a long that, that he’s overwhelmed.

Roman feels overwhelmed. 

It’s just too fucking much. His head is cloudy as shit, and he needs to just get away from it all.

Grabbing his phone, he puts Rikishi, Jimmy, and Jey in a group text and types out a message. 

Roman: I’m going to see her this weekend. 

Less than two minutes later, the phone dings with a reply. 

Rikishi: I’ll make the arrangements.

Expecting that answer, he moves to the next part of his messages. 

Roman: Jimmy, I need you and Naomi to keep Dulce for me. I’m gonna put you and Jey down as emergency contacts if something happens with Solana while I’m gone. 

Roman: And if it’s not in regards to my wife, don’t fucking bother me.

Roman switches to his thread with Solana, uninterested in anything else anyone has to say right now. He just needs to communicate with Solana.

He can’t tell her the truth, of course, but he does need her to know he won’t be as readily available. 

She deserves that much.

Roman: A work situation came up, so I have to go out of town this weekend. I’m going to leave Dulce with Jimmy and Naomi. If you need anything, call me, and I’ll come back home.

Roman places his phone on the seat beside him and tilts his head back, running his hand over his face. 

Then his phone goes off.

Solana: Roman….

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t have to do that. I’m safe. I’m….I’m feeling happy again. Just focus on yourself. You have so much on your plate right now. I can tell. I wish you would talk to me, but I get it….

Solana: Just please take care of yourself. Be careful.

Roman reads over her texts at least three times, really honing in on the ‘I wish you would talk to me.”

He’s starting to wish he could too.

He really is.

Solana: I love you. ❤️

Another ding, and he swallows. It’s getting harder and harder to have her be so vulnerable with him and not be able to reciprocate that. It feels cruel to ignore her, to say nothing when she tells and gives him everything.

It’s why after going back and forth in his head for a good two minutes, he eventually says fuck it and sends out a simple but telling reply.

Roman: ❤️

[priyajoyyy]

Tangled

Clarisse la rue x repunzel!pesephone!fem!reader

Reader spent their entire life hidden away in a tower to protect her from the outside world wanting her for her powers, its only when a certain daughter of ares finds her scared and confused, that she finally gets to see the outside world like she always longed to.

Warnings:

Toxic parents, yandere!parents, oblivious!, Clarisse being stubborn, overprotectiveness, cannon typical violence, readers not got the best survival instincts 😭, reader is blonde, more to come maybe

Gods had a weird way of protecting people. And while you could confidently say they your parents were never intending to harm you or your siblings. They definitely went about it in weird ways.

Of course you never realised this, being locked away in a tower your entire life was all you even knew. You didn’t understand that your life wasn’t normal.

You didn’t realise you weren’t the only child your parents had hidden off in magical locations to protect them from Zeus and the dangers of the world in their own twisted ways.

And so you stayed where you were, waiting in your tower for the days that your parents would come and visit or the few creatures of the forest you had befriended came to your window.

With not much else to do but paint or read everyday in the same walls. Your hair growing and failing to ever stop, getting to the point of it being constantly in the way.

🍊☀️🪷

Clarisse was beyond confused.

She was 150% sure they had come the same way they had 100 times before. She was convinced. And yet there had never been a giant tower int he middle of the path all the other times they had taken this route.

Her brother suggested that maybe they took a wrong turning, surely they were just lost.

But Clarisse refused to acknowledge the idea she could even being wrong, no she was curtain they came the right way.

Besides they needed somewhere to camp out for the night anyway, so she took off towards the tower.

“Clarisse what are you doing?” Her brother shouted after her, the girl from the Hermes cabin turning to give him a look of annoyance.

The two followed after the girl, watching for a while as she searches around for some sort of entrance before giving up and turning back to them.

“Come on, we need to find a way up” Clarisse tells the two, not being able to find any sort of entrance other than the window near the top of the tower.

“Why?” The blonde girl asked in annoyance, “can’t we just go find somewhere to settle for the night?”

“Yeah clarisse it’s getting late, we can find our bearings in the morning” her brother added.

“This is somewhere to settle for the night” Clarisse stated plainly, rolling her eyes when the two stared at her in confusion, “it’s a giant tower in the middle of nowhere with no doors…no one’s living up there”

“I don’t know Clarisse…I mean this is meant to be a satyr trail, surely someone’s up there” the boy tried to reason.

“Aren’t you curious?” Clarisse asked, “I know we came the right way, this part of the route is blocked off, there is literally no way we got lost”

She was right, this small section of the trail was hidden away, you could only get in and out through two small entrance/exits, covered by plant life to hide it off.

They had been through the secret path a million times and never once was the tower there.

“Well how do you expect we get up?” The girl asked in defeat.

Clarisse looks around for a moment, before grabbing the bag off of her back and pulling out two daggers and holding them up to the two.

“No” the elder boy stated, to which Clarisse turned and made her way towards the walls of the tower, grabbing onto the vines to test their strength, “no no no Clarisse stop it right now”

The girl ignored him, stabbing the dagger into the wall inbetween the cracks and using both of them and the vines to begin to pull herself up the wall.

“I swear to god Clarisse get down right now!”

“I’ll see if there’s another way to get up once I’m up there” Clarisse calls down to them as they stare at her dumbstruck.

“I’m gonna kill you when you get down!” he called up to her.

“I hate your sister” the blonde said to the boy nonchalantly, collapsing to sit on the floor and wait for the ares daughter to be done you her adventure so they could get to bed.

“Tell me about it” the boy replied glaring up at her as she made her way to the top.

Clarisse made her way up, using the, surprisingly strong vines and plants growing off of the tower as her main support on the way up.

Once she made it to the window she pulled herself up on to the ledge, looking down to see her quest mates sat on the ground talking, rolling her eyes at the sight.

She quietly forced the shutters of the large window open, stepping on the flower bed as she climbed through into the room.

🍊☀️🪷

You hadn’t heard anything while Clarisse had been climbing up the walls, busy in your room painting as she entered into the main room of the tower.

Your hair was laid around the different rooms, leading through doors and hanging from ceilings in an attempt to keep it out of your way, something Clarisse stared at in confusion as she quietly wondered around the room.

She was clearly wrong about no one living in the tower, there were candles and lights lit across the room, and a fire lit int he fireplace.

The kitchen was full of food and everything was relatively clean. And not to mention the yards and yards of hair laid across the place.

That’s what confused Clarisse the most, surely no human had this much hair.

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she stepped backwards, tripped on some of said hair and fell onto the floor, alerting you in the other room.

You heard the noise and turned around quickly, your hair curling round you slightly causing it to tug, getting caught underneath Clarisse and yank on your head slightly. Making you squeak in shock.

Clarisse heard this from the other room, her eyes widening as she looking towards the doors that someone clearly resided in.

Both of you grabbed your weapons, Clarisse clutching one of her daggers, and you running to grab a vase off of a cabinet. Inching your way towards the door that separated the two of you as Clarisse stood up.

Clarisse started to walk up the stairs towards the door as you walked down the hallway, both of you stopping at the door before Clarisse decided to push through it suddenly.

You screamed as the mystery girl collapsed on top of her, hair covering your face as you flailed about, trying to get her off of you as she try’s to find the dagger that she lost on the floor.

“Get off of me” you grunted, pushing the hair out of your eyes and attempting to push her off of you, “who are you?”

Clarisse finally finding her dagger, held it to your throat, causing you to stop fighting back, breathless and staring at the weapon in her hand with wide eyes.

“Who are you?” Clarisse retorted, glaring down at the girl as if she wasn’t the one breaking and entering.

“You’re in my home” you say back in shock, frowning at how the knife gets closer to you.

“And I’m holding the dagger…see how this works?” Clarisse tells you with a smirk, flipping it in her hand as she kept it near your throat.

“I-I’m y/n…” you replied slowly, not knowing what to tell her. Looking at her with wide eyes as she huffs in realisation that it wasn’t the most helpful question to ask.

“Well why do you live here?” Clarisse asks noticing the way the girl looked confused and adding, “I mean you’re in the middle of the forest in a tower with no doors…”

“And I mean what’s going on with your hair, it’s so long” Clarisse continued, “and who uses a vase as a weapon?”

You didn’t really know what to say to any of that, looking at her blankly.

“I…don’t know” you answered eventually, adding in a small voice, “can you please get off of me”

Clarisse sighed, getting up slowly but still holding the dagger pointed towards her as she did.

“Why are you in my house?” You asked meekly, staring at the dagger in fear. Clarisse rolled her eyes noticing your wariness, putting the dagger down to her side to try calm you down.

“I’m not gonna hurt you unless you try anything ok?” Clarisse stated, “I was just looking to see if we could stay the night in here, I didn’t realised anyone lived here or anything”

“We?”

“My friends, well not really my friends but, well they’re just outside” Clarisse told you, “why are you in a tower by yourself exactly? And seriously what’s going on with your hair”

“I just live here…I don’t know what you mean” you answered, “and I guess it’s just my hair…my mum says it’s special”

“Your mum? Special how what do you mean”

“I don’t know it just is” you said, “w-wait, no, I’m not meant to tell anyone that”

Clarisses eyebrows furrowed at that, looking at you as though you were an idiot causing you to blush at her.

“Why can’t you tell anyone about your hair…” Clarisse asked.

“Mummy said not to” you said hesitantly.

Clarisse smirked at that, only seconds ago you said you couldn’t tell anyone and yet here you were continuing on with the subject.

“And mummy is?” She asked condescendingly, something you didn’t pick up on as you went to answer.

“Ummm Persephone…” you responded simply.

“What?” Clarisse asked in confusion, looking at you like you were mad. Sure, she knew you couldn’t be mortal, but a demigod?

She supposed the flowers and plants in full bloom in autumn made sense by that, it didn’t quite explain the hair but she was sure it had something to do with that.

“You’re a demigod?” She asked in confusion.

“What?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at her, “what’s that?”

Clarisse stared at you for a moment, you felt like she was scrutinising your entire existence as she looked you up and down.

Suddenly she grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the door, you stumbling as she continued down the stairs towards the main room of the tower and leaving you stood in the middle.

You watched her as she made her way to the window, opening it again and shouting down at her ‘friends’ she told you about earlier.

“It’s all safe” Clarisse shouted, before turning back to you, “do you have any rope?”

You looked at her in shock that she was just inviting people inside your home, speaking when she sent you a look of annoyance, “no?”

Clarisse looked around the room for a moment before settling on your hair that hung around the room, turning back to you with a new look in her eyes.

“You sure?” Clarisse asked, leaning down to pick up your hair and hold it up for you to see.

“W-what? No you can’t use my hair!” You told her, rushing forward to remove it from clarisses hands leaving you stood right in front of her.

She looked down at you with a smirk, taking the hair back, “come on, they won’t hang from it or anything, they just need something to hold for leverage to get up”

You rolled your eyes with a pout at that, looking up at her before walking towards the window, looking down at the two on the ground, who were now beyond confused at the blonde girl appearing.

You leant over to reach the walls of the tower then, Clarisse running over to hold on to you as you stumbled slightly, “be careful!”

You blushed feeling her hands on your hips, shaking yourself out of it and leaning down to touch the plants and vines attached to the stone.

Clarisse watched as the plants grew, covering the side of the wall all over and bits of vines hanging down for the two at the bottom to hold on to.

Once it was fully grown you turned back around to Clarisse, underestimating how close you both were when you did so.

You smiled up at the shocked look on her face, proud of yourself for figuring out a solution to the situation, hearing clarisses brother begin to scale up the side of the wall as you and Clarisse faced each other.

Taglist:

@slaggylemon @yourmom-25s-blog @l0veshellarcelia @asvterias @ashisabitgay

Wanna rewatch tangled now 🤩

Pretty sure this is shit but oh well

[ggsbooks123]

Memory Garden

peeta mellark x female mc (Jude Slone)

summary; you made haymitch promise, if it came down to you or Peeta that he’d save Peeta. And he did. But now you’re back from the Capitol with one thing certain, Peeta Mellark is the one true enemy.

warnings: angst angst angst, mean thoughts ab peeta beloved and honestly just a lot of writing i didn’t need to do

———

Peeta did this.

The mantra floated through my head, as I yanked on the restraint again.

He’s the reason everyone you love is against you.

Another yank.

He blew up District 12

“Jude, feeling hungry yet?” Haymitch’s voice breaks the static but the mantra just quietens but doesn’t stop. My hand drops the bind.

“What do you have?” It was a better response than i’d given lately. What if Peeta tried to kill me and poisoned my portion… I couldn’t risk it. “No, I don’t want it”

He sighs, still coming towards me with the tray “I promise you, Peeta doesn’t want you dead. You know that, think”

I scowled, “I know what I saw. I know what he did. He’s a monster, Haymitch. Don’t make me, I dont want his filthy blood on my hands” He scoffed, dropping the tray onto the table next to me.

“Let’s hope lover boy comes and feeds you bevause I’m not putting up with this” And with that he leaves the room.

I glanced at the tray, tomato soup with toast coated in possibly cheese, but it’s not the delicious toast that catches my eye, the soup, it’s not red. They’ve added ingredients to make it appear more orange… Not bright orange.

A sunset.

“I still remember that Christmas he brought me that green sweater. Green doesn’t suit me” I say, the air was brisk and I hated walking in the Winter but I couldn’t turn Peeta down when he came to my door.

“I refuse to believe you look bad in anything” I scoff, glad it’s cold knowing he might take that as thhe reason my cheeks are now red. “What is your favourite colour?”

I raise my eyebrow at him “I’m sure there are better things to talk about then my favourite colour”

He watches me as we walk for a moment “I don’t see anything more important” It makes me slow to a stop, “Tell me, please. I want to know”

I look to him, his kind blue eyes and blond hair that looks incredibly soft without all those products they use during interviews, he looks beautiful.

“It used to be red but I think i’m leaning towards purple” I shrug, “It’s only fair that i’ve revealed that secret you tell me yours”

He smiles before looking up at the sun, it’s setting letting the streaks of orange paint the sky “Orange, right there. It’s the second most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen” I glance at him unsure as to why he’d say second until I see the look in his eyes.

My head snaps at the memory, cruel and unforgiving. That’s what Peeta was, and he would hurt me so I had to kill him before he tried first.

His face twists in the memory as I replay it over and over again, he doesn’t look like himself, Hatred flared in a moment that was full of pure adoration. I see it now like i’m looking through a camera at the two of us.

He looks like he loves me… Then his eyes lose their spark like a snap and he’s spitting awful words at me, one’s ill never forget.

I’ll never forget he’s the reason i’m like this.

—

The food goes cold and I go another day without eating and under sedation after I nearly come out of binding when they try to insert the needle into my arm to get food into my body.

I awake in an empty room but there’s a buzz in the air, I look to the mirror across from me. I look better than I did the first time I looked inside, I’d look better if I ate proper food but I can’t, he wants me dead and he won’t fail again.

The door hisses open bringing my attention away from my strangely hair, Katniss stands at the door, tears in her eyes.

“You need to eat something” She whispers but the room is so quiet i’m not surprised if she can hear my blaring thoughts or the alarm going off in my head.

“Get out” I spit, turning away from her. Katniss was close to Peeta, never too close for respect of me which I hated now, she should have stopped whatever was forming between the two of us. Now it’s this. “I don’t want to see you.”

“It’s been months, I thought-“ She tries to speak but she stops when my head snaps to her aswell, her eyes are searching my face. I still look awful, I know that and it seems she still hasn’t come to terms with what I had gone through. Why don’t they see it’s his fault? Always.

“He’s the reason this happened to me, Katniss. And you’re still going to side with him. If you don’t kill him then he’ll kill me Katniss, Don’t you see!” I scream, her back hits the door and it hisses open and my heart stops.

There, he is. He’s not expecting the door to open, the surprise on his face is evident as those blue eyes bore into mine and I steel myself preparing for the hatred, his attempts to end my life.

But neither happen, he watches me with nothing but sadness and his hands are empty, just slack at his sides as he takes a step forward and I’m frozen, It’s not making sense.

He keeps coming closer and my heart is beating out my chest. Run! He’s going to kill you! My head screams but he doesn’t look like he will kill me, he looks like he wants to be next to me and holding me through this, possibly the one feeding me the tomato soup like Haymitch suggested.

“Jude… Please, I’d never-“ He seems to choke on his words as a tear slips down his cheek “Come back to me” Come back and trust me so I can kill you, I hear instead. The words make me flinch, the movement is so large the whole bed moves with me, screeching.

He backs away, the door hisses open again but he doesn’t move to get out “You’re just here to kill me!” I cried, wishing him out of the room.

Get out. Get out. Get out!!!

I must’ve screamed the last time because he’s gone and finally the screaming in my head stops and I fall to the bed, the thought of food or anything fades, only the want to be far from him stays.

—

I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd hunger games, i’m from District Twelve and Peeta Mellark does not want me dead.

I repeat in my head over and over again, as the truck rolls over cracks and bumps, my body jumps at each bit of debris we hit and I hit the metal seat hard each time but the pain is real. Which is hard to say about a lot lately.

Peeta Mellark wants doesn’t want you dead.

I shake my head, thst one was the hardest to remember and at times, it was no where reachable and all that would sustain me in that moment would be his blood on my hands.

Finally the truck pulled to a stop, I straightened my shoulders. I’d been taken by the Capital and my memories have been distorted, my first thought may not always be the right one.

With that final word of encouragement I let the anxiety slip from me as the back door opens and I’m led out. The sun blinds me for a moment, I’d only seen it for a moment when they made me leave base but only to be stuffed back in the van.

Now I could see the destruction. His fault. No, no, no. I took a deep breath, before turning to seeing the loving welcome party at the front of what seemed to be an abandoned building.

Katniss with her bow, Gale with his crossbow and the five members of their squad had their guns trained on me, including Peeta. My heart hammered but I kept upright as I took the empty gun from the guard before waltzing my way towards the group.

I am Jude Slone, I won the 73rd Hunger Games, I am from Distrisct 12 and None of these people want me dead.

“What is she doing here?” Katniss is the first to speak and though her eyes are trained on me, i know she doesn’t want me to answer.

“Coin wants her to be shown on screen, the victors fighting on the same side” A dark man, who screamed military spoke and he was the only one besides Finnick who hadn’t raised their gun at me. “I don’t like the gun”

“Cant have me fighting with my bare hands on screen” I mutter, before shaking the weapon “It’s empty”

The tension seemed to ease slightly in the group but while half of them had lowered their weapons, Peeta, Katniss and Gale hadn’t. I had to remember what I’d been like this past month, I wouldn’t trust me either.

“I don’t like this” Peeta. His words cut deep and I deflate at them before the military man waves everyone to come inside, not before a solider by the name of Jackson, she told me, quietly instructed me that i’d be restrained for their safety.

“I understand, but I’m not a child”

“No just someone who went through a lot of shit” Finnick says behind Jackson, and my eyes dart up. I didn’t know where my mind stood with Finnick, I didn’t feel like killing him but I hadn’t felt like killing Peeta a moment ago but we all knew it would come.

It was why I was being restrained in the first place. I nod at his words, unsure of how to respond before they lead me inside. The wall along the door was made of glass and I watched as the van that stopped me off, vanished in the distance.

I was stuck here and I didn’t know if I would ever leave this ruin of a city. I kept my distance from the group as they moved into the centre and I took a seat beside the window.

“We’ll have to set up an around the clock guard on her, we can take shifts” Military man said, turning to look at me. “I’ll take the first shift, Names Boggs.”

I preferred Military man but I nodded all the same, “I want a shift” Peeta’s voice is small compared to Boggs but it silences the room all the same.

“Not happening” Jackson speaks up this time, confusing me on who’s in command.

“I can do it!” Peeta argued back, standing from his seat “It’s not her… The Capital killed her and whoever they sent back to us, i’ll be happy to put a bullet in its head” I flinched, turning my eyes down to my hands. Clenching them, was I dead? The girl I was? I shake my head, I am Jude Slone and I did not die in the Capital. They broke me but I am not unfixable. I am broken not unfixable.

I am unfixable.

“I’m not sure seeing as a mutt helps” Jackson declares but Boggs cuts her off

“Give him a shift, Katniss too.” There was no room for argument as Jackson nodded and began to schedule the guard clock. I wanted to be more helpful, tell them that maybe they could go an hour and they could all rest, but I didn’t even trust myself to do that.

Instead I kept silent, letting the rest of them discuss our plan while I watched the day pass by through the glass. “How’re you feeling?” Finnick’s voice from beside me makes me jump. I turn to him and he looks almost glowing, I’d heard something about him and Annie.

I knew I would feel happy for him if I didn’t feel so disconnected. Finnicks memories that came to mind now only brought warmth, nothing haunting. Which was relieving, he was a breath of fresh air.

“Away, I feel like everything’s happening and I’m not really here” I try to explain and he seems to understand. “I don’t want to be a problem, I don’t know why they sent me here… I’m not ready.”

He frowns, “I think you’re where you need to be, normally whenver Annie gets confused she asks me, and I promise you, you’ll find nothing but the truth here” I glance over to the group who had begun to seperate and close their eyes.

It must be Finnicks shift. The thought made this whole encounter turn cold but still, I took in his words as my eyes trained on the baker boy. “Peeta was the reason this happened to me… Real?”

He shakes his head, “You made Haymitch swear if it came down to the two of you that he’d get Peeta to safety” Finnick explained but my mind screamed at me that he was lying. Why would I ask that? Peeta and I didn’t get along, no, we did and we’d almost- I didn’t know what we almost did or if he hated me or loved me and it made me want to rip my hair out as my thoughts banged against my head.

He was not the reason you went to the Capital, you chose this. You didn’t want him to go through this… That felt right, staring at him now, I would never wish upon him those nights in the Capital.

“I know it must be hard. Annie went through a lot but they know that the Capital never left you alone, you were their main priority.” Finnick places a hand on my shoulder, bringing my fully to the present for what felt like the first time. “None of us blame you at all for what happened.

I forgot how long it’s been since someone had been gentle with me. Skin to skin, human contact. My body released its pressure, relaxing in my seat. “Thank you, Finnick”

He smiled before sitting up straighter, and we together sat in silence watching the night sky slowly fall upon us as the rest that were awake finally knocked off

“Get some rest” Finnick muttered to me softly, tapping my leg as he got up. I could see his eyes dropping a while ago but he still stayed and it relieved me that he was finally putting himself first.

I nodded, I would not be sleeping tonight. Each time I closed my eyes another memory would wash over me, I’ve started to get better at knowing if it’s real or not without verification.

Like the one of Peeta and Is confession of our favourite colours, it was easier to picture him smiling at me now instead of anger and whenever it did dissolve to the image it was almost too perfect, his freckles gone and the scar he got from the 75th games vanished, as did the dark circles under my eyes and the few strands out of place were perfectly flat. Too perfect.

I watched Finnick rouse Peeta and point over to me. Of course, I could only get so lucky. I heard someone clear their throat before they took a seat across from me. I didn’t look up. I didn’t know where my mind would jump to.

And he seemed to take the message, he didn’t try to speak to me either. She asks me. I promise you’ll find nothing but truth here.

Finnick was right, I couldn’t close myself off and hope I’d be able to fix myself. If it was that easy, I’d be normal again. “Finnick told me that whenever i’m having trouble differentiating real from not real I should just ask…”

I glanced up at him, in the darkness it was hard to make out his uniform but his blonde hair and pale skin were easy to spot and it made my body tingle as I registered just how close he was and I didn’t feel like wringing my hands around his neck. Relief.

“Shoot away” I raised an eyebrow “Not literally” I smiled softly at that before cycling through my head and I settled back into his favourite colour. What if I asked and his favourite was blue or something? Sunset orange was just another lie they filled into my head. Ask.

“Your favourite colour. It’s sunset orange, real? Not real?” I clench my fists, please. please.

“Real… Yours used to be red but after the hunger games you couldn’t stand it” He explained, and he was right. I used to tie a red bow into my hair everyday until my reaping now the colour reminded me of the slaughter in the 73rd Hunger games.

“But you said you were beginning to like purple… I remember that day, I told you the sunset was the second most beautiful thing i’d ever seen… And the first was right in front of me” I stiffened, though the confession didn’t shock me, looking back I could’ve seen it if I looked hard enough in the moment “And it’s killing me, bevause you’re right in front of me again but you’re like the stars I can’t reach. I… Can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do. And it feels really, really shitty, knowing we might never get through this”

He stands abruptly from his seat “I can’t do this” And he storms out, but I’m clenching my fists too tight to stop, swearing at every god to let this memory stay and not be corrupted by fear. I can adore you from afar but that’s all I can do because if I came closer you’d kill me. Was the truth.

— — —

do we want a part two?!?

part two out now!

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 24

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Poorly written smut; pregnancy hormones absolutely get a warning

A/N: I kinda love this chapter.

There was a chill in the house without a fire being burned overnight. Too many walkers made the light a liability. You had your leggings and a pair of sweats, a long sleeve shirt and a sweater, your two pairs of socks, and your jacket. Carol was going to sleep next to you while Daryl took his turn on watch that night. The woman was the complete opposite of your partner. She was a human icebox. “Jesus, Carol, your hands are freezing!” You could feel the frigid skin beneath the fabric of her gloves. “Here, put them inside my coat.” She was shaking her head even as you guided her hands under either of your arms, shivering from the sudden cold where you were much warmer. Maybe you’d tell Daryl she was staying next to you when he came to lie down. Sure, he’d grumble and groan, but he’d never let Carol freeze.

“Thank you.” The other woman sighed, moving a little closer to you. The archer had tucked the blankets around you before you had invited Carol to share.

“You’re welcome. Do you have enough of the blanket?” She nodded and snuggled against you, full on laughing when the baby gave her a swift punch to the midsection. “Yeah, sorry. Thumper is lively tonight.” You twisted your head around as far as you could manage to ensure no one had been disturbed.

“Don’t apologize. Probably just knows I’m not daddy and isn’t happy about that.”

She was absolutely right. At 34 weeks, the baby seemed to sense when Daryl was around, just as he seemed to know just when to put his hand over the swell to calm them. Moving from place to place was getting harder and harder for you. The groups of walkers seemed to be everywhere, each town full of the people who had tried to persevere, only to become one of the dead. Sometimes you would find a place, settle in, only to run two hours later. You were exhausted, physically and mentally, and Thumper could feel it. The baby would move relentlessly, only adding fuel to your anxiety and making rest impossible.

Until Daryl would intervene. 

It started the same night he had first taken the weight of the baby for you. 

Daryl stood there with you for at least an hour, bracing you against him and giving your bones and muscles a well deserved break. When he began to tire, he simply walked backwards to lean against the wall. It wasn’t until you were nearly falling asleep, he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroll, an extra blanket on top of it to give your body some support. He was expected to take watch soon but they would come collect him when it was time. So he crawled under another blanket with you, molding himself around your back, still without a single word. You were warm and felt safe, but once you had tried to sleep, Thumper became restless; rolling and kicking until you were nearly sobbing with exhaustion.

“Baby, please, mama’s so tired. Please, just—”

“Listen, kid.” You had barely registered that Daryl had moved at all, holding himself up on one hand while he leaned over your side, the other hand planted firmly on your round abdomen. The tone he used was one you hadn’t heard from him before: soft but serious, no nonsense but comforting. “Ya gotta give your mama a break. World ain’t great out here right now, an’ she needs to sleep. I promise ya ain’t gotta be scared or—or nervous. M’gonna make sure you an’ your mama are safe.” You didn’t say anything, didn’t move, barely breathed. While the baby didn’t go still, the movements calmed to flutters and ripples. “There ya go.” When he started to lie back, he caught the look on your face and flushed, ducking his head. “Book says they can hear ya. Thought it might help.”

His damn books. You could kick yourself for how frustrated you’d get with him when he only ever used the knowledge for your benefit. “It did. My god, you’re the baby whisperer.” You smiled, snuggling against him. “You’re gonna be the best daddy, Daryl. I hope you know that.” You were met with nothing more than his breath against the back of your neck. “I love you.” There was a flex of his fingers on your stomach, proving he was awake. You never said it with the expectation of him saying it back. It was simply part of your process to continue reassuring him that this was his family. He had a partner and a child, both who adored him. With your hand on top of his, the three of you slept.

No one woke him for watch.

He talked to the baby constantly now. Not one of those dads that used your bump as a pillow and had full conversations with the fetus, but would check in, let the baby know what he was doing. Whether a boy or a girl, Thumper definitely already favored their daddy. That was something with which you were fine. You wanted their relationship to be special. You weren’t afraid of not bonding with your child, but worried that Daryl feared he would never do so himself. That he might even let that fear sabotage him. 

As if keeping time inside your womb, the strong movements intensified, Thumper now expecting the presence of their father; demanding it, even. With a sigh, you opened your eyes. Carol wasn’t asleep, but smiling tenderly, finally having found some warmth even if it meant cage fighting with your unborn child. 

“S’this?” Came a rough whisper from above. You simply rolled your head to meet Daryl’s curious gaze and caught Carol’s elbow when she immediately tried to remove herself from the equation. 

“Carol’s cold and Thumper says you’re late.” To the other woman, the archer probably looked angry but you knew that look. The furrowed brow and squinted eyes. 

“Well, ya gonna make room or what?”

He didn’t like the idea of Carol in his space. He didn't need to vocalize that, and he didn’t. Carol removed herself almost completely but didn’t attempt to find somewhere when she found you watching her. You knew she’d try if only to ease Daryl’s discomfort. You weren’t thrilled that he’d be ill at ease but Carol needed to be warm and the man was literally a walking fireplace. You’d be between them, looking at him, while the three of you shared warmth. 

It took a good amount of effort—and Daryl’s assistance—for you to roll over. The woman now at your back was whispering apologies at not being the one to move when you waved a hand at her. 

“Just lay down, Carol.” You laughed as quietly as you could manage. “Snuggle as close as you can to me, okay?” Her blue eyes lifted to Daryl, now propped on his elbow in front of you. He gave her a nod before you felt the blankets being arranged and her front against your back. Her presence didn’t bother you at all. And you could have told her that Daryl would have never let her lie where he was anyway. It would mean there was a door behind you and he never let there be a way for a threat to get you without going through him. You were too tired and ready to snuggle into a warm chest. You could tell her the next day. When everyone was settled and still, you smiled tiredly at him. “Hi.”

He didn’t get to answer before practically your entire stomach shifted with Thumper’s movement. “S’like watching a fuckin’ alien movie.” Daryl grunted, fingers working down the zipper of your jacket enough to slip his hand inside and splay his fingers open across your belly. 

“Don’t say that.” You whined. Your nightmares had been plagued with imagery of a walker baby gnawing its way from your womb. You hadn’t told him about the dreams, didn’t want to put the idea in his head that it was even a possibility. True to Dixon form, however, he surprised you.

“I think ‘bout it too.” He whispered, his hand gliding back over forth over your abdomen. “Wouldn’t be no heartbeat when Hershel checks ‘em though an’ s’there. Everyday.” You sighed deeply, smiling like a lovesick idiot and snuggling against his chest while your baby already began to settle beneath his palm. “What?”

“Just thanking my lucky stars, as my daddy would suggest at this moment.” 

Daryl snorted. “What for?”

Carol shifted at your back and hummed in her sleep, her body already warm against you. “You. Thumper. This little family.” You wanted to be closer to him but without crawling under his skin, it wouldn’t be possible. And yet you were wrong. Daryl moved, angling his hip toward you so the weight of the baby could rest on him instead of pulling toward the floor. From that position, you were able to press almost flatly against his chest in complete relaxation. “Goddamnit, Daryl Dixon, I fucking love you.”

He hummed, nuzzling his cheek against your head. “So ya keep sayin’.”

“And I’ll keep saying it, too. Get used to it.”

Another day, another drive. It was cold. The breeze from Daryl’s window wasn’t helping anything, but you dared not speak it. Even with the ventilation, all you could smell was the burning tobacco. Why the man would be smoking after pneumonia nearly killed him was something you probably would never understand. Regardless, he was considerate about it. He always made sure the smoke was never blowing in your direction. It wasn’t even something that you found unappealing. Quite the opposite. Daryl made smoking look like less of a habit and more of something that was just a natural part of him. Even with your super senses, the smell didn’t bother you. It never had.

And it wasn’t bothering you at the moment either, but that didn’t matter. He was. 

“You realize that you nearly drowned from fluid in your lungs just a few weeks ago, right?” It was a jab, unnecessary and was meant to make you feel better, but couldn’t have been further away from that result. Absolutely no one would have missed the way he clenched his jaw, barely relaxing it enough for the next drag.

“Ya realize that bein’ pregnant ain’t a excuse to be a bitch all’a the time, right?” There was an immediate spasm of regret in his expression, his hand tightening on the wheel. “Didn’t mean that. M’sorry.” Kudos to Daryl for not holding in an apology after snapping, even if the apology wasn’t need because he was 100% correct. You slumped down in the seat. One hand rubbed your itchy belly while the other reached for his forearm and squeezed it gently until his grip loosened. 

“Don’t apologize. I deserved that.” You knew full well that you were being unbearable, even if it was something beyond your control at points. You had laid into the poor man for commenting that he should go through the bags and grab you a larger sweater because you looked uncomfortable in the one that now had to stretch to accommodate the changes in your body. He hadn’t argued when you called him an inconsiderate dick and spewed off anger and insults that you couldn’t even recall.

“Nah.” He flicked the cigarette out the window. “Don’t ever deserve me or anyone else talkin’ to ya like that, pregnant or not.” Those pretty blue eyes were catching the sun just right to give them a crystal shine as he watched the road. You didn’t miss the way they flitted down to your hand still on his arm, nor did you miss his left hand start to move toward it but retract. 

You gave him a smile, one that he began to fidget underneath. With a jerk upward of his arm, he prompted you to let go. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable so you looked away, picking absently at the front of the oversized sweater he had dug out for you regardless of your tantrum.

Five and a half weeks left before you’d be roughly around forty weeks, which meant you could safely go into labor after the next week or so. While you were thrilled at the prospect of meeting Thumper, you were terrified of giving birth. So much could go wrong and there just wasn't the available equipment to ensure either comfort or safety. The thought of battling through without even the option of pain relief was daunting. You’d seen the movies, and though Lori had assured you they were all on the dramatic side, she did warn you that contractions were not still not fun. She refused to go through her birth story, wary of aggravating your nerves even more. She did add that every woman’s body was different and she couldn’t tell you much more than that. 

So what did you do? Naturally, you grabbed up one of Daryl’s books. You had placed it back in his bag after only two pages, fear doubling with anxiety to tag team in constricting your chest. He wasn’t any help, having no time to read lately. He was going by Lori’s advice and what he was learning from your cues. He was doing the best he could and you were thankful for him, even if you didn’t always show it.

Glancing over at him, slouched behind the wheel with his left thumb dragging back and forth over his bottom lip, you felt a pulse between your legs. Even with that god awful poncho, he was so fucking attractive. You’d barely let him touch you recently. He never seemed upset about it, always just pulling you closer after the initial don’t touch me had worn off. He never tried again, never questioned. Just rolling with the punches to ensure you had what you needed.

And at that very moment, your body was screaming that you needed him.

“Daryl.”

“Hmm?” He didn’t look over but your tone was level, seemingly unbothered. 

“I need you to pull over.” You licked your lips but he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did. The man had an eagle eye and an elephant brain. He glanced at you and then back to the road.

“Gotta piss again?”

Charming. “Yeah.” He always went with you now, standing on the other side of the tree so you didn’t feel like he had followed you into the bathroom. If he continued that trend this time, you’d beg him once out of sight and earshot of the group.

“One sec.” He blew the horn once, the signal to the group, and maneuvered the truck to the side of the road, just shy of the ditch. “C’mon then.” He got out and shut his own door but you didn’t move. Just as he knew your routine, you knew his. He rounded the front and opened the door for you, offering his arms to lift you from the seat and place your feet on the ground. There was a bit of strain on his face, but you tried to ignore it. The weight was from pregnancy. It’s the baby, it’s the baby. Don’t think about your weight right now.

“Thank you.” You patted his cheek and placed your hands on the small of your back, pushing your belly outward. “It’s fine.” You chuckled without even looking at him. The door had yet to shut which meant he was watching you instead. “Just stiff. Come on, I really have to pee.” Lie, lie, lie. You really needed his fingers stretching you open, his thumb against your throbbing clit. Maybe his mouth. 

“Jesus, woman. Slow down.” He huffed, having no trouble keeping stride with you. He was, of course, concerned that you’d fall in your haste. You stopped at a large oak, biting your lip with a nod. A glance back revealed the group was beyond visibility, but you’d have to be quiet. That was going to be difficult with how wound up you were. “G’on. I’ll be right here.” His back was already against the rough bark. You were suddenly reminded of the bite against your skin the day he came inside you for the first time.

Daryl reached for his knife, intent on toying with it, cleaning from underneath his nails with the sharp tip but your hand halted him from even unlatching the sheath. With a frown, he looked you over. You watched the slow process toward realization.

“Don’t really need to piss, do ya?”

“No.” You were already dragging your sweats and leggings down to your knees, taking hold of his wrist and all but slapping his hand against your damp panties. “Please.” Using your grip to hold him still, you ground your hips down for friction that would surely bring some sense of relief. “Please, Daryl.” With a sigh, he stepped forward and turned you so that your back was against his chest. He must have been feeling frustrated. How many times had you nearly had his digits slipping inside you before your body changed its mind? God, your poor partner likely had balls as blue as his eyes.

“S’alright. Y’should know by now that I’ll do whatever it is thatcha need.” And then he was pushing your underwear down one-handed and his middle finger was dipping into your entrance, your body clenching around the intrusion before it began to pulse and pull him deeper. “Fuck.” Daryl dropped his forehead to the back of your head with a groan. You were nearly dripping but this time, the burning ache for his touch wasn’t going away.

“Please.” You said again, rolling your hips, letting out a squeak when your clit pressed into the heel of his hand. “I swear it won’t take long. I just—dear god, I need you.” 

“I gotcha.” He whispered into your hair, pumping the digit in and out of your greedy cunt a mere three times before stretching you further with his index finger. The wet sounds accompanying his ministrations were absolutely filthy. “Christ, Y/N.” He was growing hard against your ass, the press of him against you nearly toppling you over the edge then and there.

“No.”

Another sigh from behind you and he was withdrawing with a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. “Better get back. They’re probably already—” The look on his face would have been hilarious if you weren't vibrating with a carnal need for him. It took all of three seconds for you to work open his pants and pull him free. There was a delectable hiss that you wanted to snatch with your teeth and bite into as if it were a living thing. Daryl’s hand shot out to brace himself against the tree as you fervently stroked him. 

“This. I need this.” You were absolutely going to implode if he didn’t touch you soon. Time was limited. Rick would bring Glenn and T-Dog to search for the pair of you if you took too long. It was time to see if Daryl was even capable of a quickie. He’d always somehow managed to fuck you for what felt like hours. You spun and placed your hands against the tree trunk, jutting out your ass, your hip bumping into the head of his cock. The moment his hand squeezed just one hip, you knew you’d need to hold on tight.

One thrust and he was bottomed out, the stretch of it painful and exquisite. Just what you needed. He wasted no time, pounding into you like his life depended on it. He was likely wound just as tight as you were. You had never been intentionally teasing him, just reacting to the will of your indecisive, hormonal body.

Thank god that same body was craving what he was giving you. 

His left hand slid around to support your belly, ever considerate of your comfort despite the frenzied state of his mind in that moment. Your clit was throbbing, begging for pressure and friction that you granted yourself for once as he skillfully plunged in and out of you, the head of him tapping that soft spot inside you that had you rising onto your tiptoes and bending as far as you could manage to open yourself up for him.

Daryl growled, an almost feral sound from deep within his chest, his thrusts growing sloppy. He was close but you were closer, already seeing stars with each stroke of your fingers. You continued to get lost in the way he was making you feel, forgetting to keep your own rhythm going. Fuck. He was going to throw you off the precipice without the need for your aid. “Right there! Oh god, Daryl—I’m gonna—”

“Ssh!” He released your hip in favor of bowing over your back to cover your mouth. He knew you too well. When his teeth bit down just to the right of your spine to muffle his own exclamations, you fell apart. Your walls clamped down on him, pulsing and squeezing until he shouted against your flesh, his hips stuttering against your ass. There was a rush of warmth inside you, welcomed and satisfying. After the spasms slowed in their intensity, Daryl gently, lazily thrust into you a few more times to ensure you rode every single wave. He didn’t slip out of you until you slouched with a contented sigh.

“God, I needed that.” You hummed as he pulled up your panties and leggings, adjusting them to be comfortable before doing the same with your sweats. “Thank you.” You whispered breathlessly, turning to face him as he tucked himself away.

“Ain’t never gotta thank me for somethin’ that’s yours, crazy girl.” The archer froze in the middle of securing his belt, staring at the ground somewhere between your boots and his. You found yourself unable to move as well, just blinking at him, wondering if that meant what you thought it did. His head was down but you could see him glancing back and forth between you and the dirt. When his hands released the leather, his right one circling your wrist, you held your breath. “Y/N —I, uh—”

“Hey!”

Glenn was one of the sweetest men you’d ever known but at that moment, you had never wanted to murder someone more in your entire life.

“You guys okay?”

Daryl grunted and let you go. “C’mon. I guess, they’re sick’a waitin’.”

You sighed but the words, the expression, the moment kept replaying as you followed him. Was he about to tell you that he loved you? It was such a strange feeling to somehow know that he did but feeling like that was made null by his unwillingness to express it. None of this was easy for him. I love you was something he had likely never heard in a way he could believe, from anyone who hadn’t at some point caused him pain. You’d wait. You’d wait forever if you had to.

They always said actions speak louder than words and his actions were absolutely roaring. You just wanted to hear it. Just once. Just wanted to be able to pluck the words from the air and lock them away in your heart to call back when you needed them during the times he couldn’t say it. 

You were nearly back to the truck when it hit you and you stopped with a heavy sigh that had your partner twisting at the waist to glance back at you. “Ya alright?”

With a wincing smile, you begrudgingly admitted: “I really do have to pee now.”

[malfoys-demigod]

"So... care to tell me who that was?"

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

A/N: I figured maybe one or two more last fics on Logan before my little break is over and things get so busy for me! // Y/F/N = Your friend's name Summary: A jealous friend (Logan) who sees you with a guy friend of yours in your classroom. [A very short but simple fic!]

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Logan had just wrapped up his last class of the day, feeling lighter than usual. The history lesson had gone smoothly—no ridiculous questions or headaches—and now, with the weekend ahead, he was in an unusually good mood. It was Friday, after all, and that alone was reason enough to be cheerful.

He had been thinking about how the week had kept him so busy that he hadn't had much time to spend with you, his closest friend at the X Mansion. Maybe he could make up for it now, take you out for the weekend, or at least hang out for the rest of the day. It would be a nice way to unwind together.

As he walked down the hallway, heading toward your classroom just a few doors away, he heard your laughter. That sweet, infectious laugh that never failed to make him smile. It was one of his favorite things about you, even if he’d never admit it.

But as he got closer, another laugh joined yours—deep and unfamiliar. Logan’s pace slowed as he reached your door and glanced inside. You were laughing, your hand resting on the shoulder of a tall, attractive man. The sight made Logan’s stomach twist, the good mood he’d been in quickly souring.

"Well, someone clearly missed my jokes," the man said, his voice smooth and dripping with confidence.

Logan’s jaw tightened. He was about to step inside, ready to interrupt, but before he could, the man leaned in closer to you, said something Logan couldn’t quite hear, and then straightened up, giving you a warm smile as he left the room.

Logan watched as you waved goodbye, still smiling. His mood darkened even further. He stepped into the classroom, trying to keep his voice casual. "So... care to tell me who that was?"

You turned, still smiling, but now it was directed at him. "Oh, that was Y/F/N! We go way back—haven’t seen him in years."

Logan nodded slowly, though the mention of "way back" did nothing to ease the knot in his stomach. "He seems... friendly."

You chuckled, clearly not picking up on his tension. "Yeah, we used to get into all sorts of trouble together. Actually, he’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow night. It’ll be fun to catch up."

Logan’s stomach dropped. "Dinner, huh?" He tried to keep his voice light, but the jealousy was creeping in, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. "Sounds... nice."

Before you could respond, another voice cut in. "Hey, Logan, didn’t know you were into eavesdropping now."

Logan turned to see Scott leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk plastered on his face. "You must’ve been really interested in that conversation."

Logan glared at Scott, who clearly enjoyed seeing him squirm. "Mind your own business, Summers." For someone who was calling out Logan's eavesdropping, Scott seemed to have been doing the same, right?

Scott just laughed. "Just saying, didn’t expect to see you looking so... tense."

Logan clenched his fists, trying to ignore Scott's taunts. "I’m not tense."

"Right," Scott replied, still smirking. "Well, have fun dealing with that dinner date, Logan. I’m sure it’ll be a breeze."

Scott’s teasing only added fuel to the fire, but Logan couldn’t exactly punch him—not with you standing right there, oblivious to the real reason behind his mood. Instead, he forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace, and turned back to you.

"Guess I’ll catch you later, doll," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the thought of you having dinner with Y/F/N was gnawing at him.

As he walked away, Scott’s laughter echoing in his ears, Logan couldn’t shake the image of you laughing with Y/F/N out of his mind. He’d have to figure out a way to deal with this... and fast.

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Extra Credit - Rafe Cameron One Shot

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeProfessor!Rafe x CollegeStudent!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, praise kink, ownership kink, creampie, cum play, older Rafe

📖 College Student Reader is close to a C and decides to ask her gorgeous professor for some extra credit.

✨ This - This is a man. Sure, I’ve been with plenty of boys, but this is divine. I can tell that he knows what he’s doing: how to kiss, how to touch a woman. I need him. All of him. ✨

3.1 k lightly edited (<- mostly smut) I'll be adding part 2 soon :)

“I'm so close to a C,” you grumble, eyes rolling as you hold yet another Econ test between your fingers; D+ scrolled in blood-red ink. “Another fuckin’ D.”

“A D+, actually,” your friend teases, tapping the top.

“Well, would you look at that?" You sass, readjusting yourself from your slumped state, eyes drifting ahead, matching Professor Cameron’s. He represses a smile, running his palm against his lips.

"Do they do extra credit in college?” You whine, leaning into your friend, resting your head on her shoulder as you continue to sulk.

“Professor C? No fuckin’ way; the guy’s a hard ass.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” You look his way again, just missing his eyes. “He looks sweet,” you whisper.

“He’s hot as fuck,” she adds, making your cheeks flush pink. “Is he married? I don’t see a ring.” She studies him a little further, trying to get a better look.

“Why does it matter?” You ask, narrowing your gaze on him.

“Meh. It doesn’t, but it makes it easier. You said you wanted extra credit, sunshine.” She wiggles her eyebrows, elbowing you playfully.

“Just tell me what you’re getting at,” you huff. “Class is almost over, and I need to figure this shit out.”

“Jesus Christ, babe. You want extra credit. He's not married. And he already looks at you like he wants to devour you.”

“Eat me?”

“If that’s what you’re into, or you could suck him off, I suppose," she giggles as you let out a little gasp. ”Ugh… Stop clutching your pearls. If he was lookin’ at me like that, he’d be blowin’ my back out every day of the week.“

”So, you really think he likes me?“ Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you turn in his direction. He’s not looking at me…

"Just give it a second," your friend breathes.

Professor Cameron thumbs through the remaining stack of tests, handing another small pile to his teacher’s assistant before snagging his school bag and coffee cup. Your stomach floods with butterflies as he matches your gaze, walking toward the lecture hall steps.

”Just fucking do it,“ she groans. ”Even if you don’t get the extra credit, at least you’ll get somethin’ out of it.“

"Something?”

“Dick… Seriously. What the fuck, girl?" 

"Stop bein’ mean,” you whine. ‘What if he doesn’t want me?“

”Sure,“ she laughs.

You walk down the hallway, heading toward the faculty offices. Wandering slowly as you skim the name plaques, searching for his.

Professor Rafe Cameron

Rafe? You bite back a nervous smile. I’ve never met a "Rafe” before. You lift your fist, giving the door a soft knock.

“Come in," he calls from behind it. You twist the handle; Rafe’s blue eye expands slightly, along with his smile. It quickly fades. Maybe he doesn’t want me here. Maybe I need to go.

”I’m sorry. I… Well, I didn’t make an appointment,“ you babble, twirling your hair nervously.

"No - No. It’s alright,” he assures, the corners of his lips curling as he says the words. “Take a seat. Please.” He gestures to the leather chair across from his large desk. You walk over taking a seat, smoothing your little skirt before matching his eyes. He addresses you by Miss, surprising you when he uses your last name, falling from his lips with ease. You’re taken aback, frazzled at the moment that he knows you by name, out of a lecture hall full of students.

I’m clearly not an exceptional student. There are students with perfect scores in my class. Maybe he’s just thoughtful. Maybe he remembers everyone’s names.

“Are you alright?" He asks as he leans back in his chair slightly, adjusting in his seat.

"Umm… Just a little nervous," you let out a flighty laugh as he gives you his full attention.

"I don’t bite," he smiles, crossing his arm across his broad chest. You watch as his linen shirt stretches across his strong arms. You study him a little more, taking in his features. You’ve never gotten to see him this close: perfectly quaffed locks, just the right amount of stubble on his chiseled jaw. He’s loosened his tie since you saw him last, Rafe’s top button drawn open as well, a peek of a gold chain matching his ring-adorned fingers. He guides your attention back to his eyes, using your first name this time, making your heart race.

"So, is there anything I can help you with?” He asks you again with a softer tone, just trying to pull any sort of answer out of you.

“Sorry… Umm. I’m not doing very well in your class. I just - I’m not used to doing so poorly.” His eyes soften on yours as you continue to spin your sob story. “I seem to do well on my papers, but, I do really bad on my tests.”

His lips tug to the side, brows knitting tight. “Well, that’s because I grade your papers,” he hums as he turns his swivel chair toward his computer, pulling up the gradebook. “My T.A. is on a little bit of a power trip this semester. And it does not help that you’re stunning. Think someone’s a little jealous,” he chuckles. You feel heat spread across your cheeks as you take in his compliment. “We’ll see if we can work something out.”

Professor Cameron matches your smile, lingering a little while before returning to his screen. “Alright…” He takes a deep breath, squinting slightly before taking out some black glasses. “Let’s see what we’re workin’ with.” He scans the numbers, writing down a few things on a little Post-It note. “So it looks like lesson 5, 6, and 8 tests were all D’s.” You nod your head in acknowledgment. “Well, you can retake these if you’d like. And, I can regrade them for you; skip the middleman.”

“Really?” You bubble.

“'Course,” he breathes. “There’s no reason those tests should be that low given what you know. I’m very impressed with your written work.”

“Yeah?” You expel a sigh of relief.

“Yeah… I would bet that you could finish the course with at least a B.”

“Wow, Professor Cameron. Thank you so much. At least… So, I could maybe get an A?” You smile, sweetening your tone, just playing around, doing your best to lighten the mood.

“Maybe,” he chuckles, relaxing back in his chair. “I don’t see why not. And we can always talk about extra credit if you’d like.”

“Extra credit? That would be really nice, Professor Cameron.” Your eyes fall to his thigh; two thick fingers moving ever so slightly, tracing the sleek black material, making your mind wander as you think about what he could do with his hands, if he was rough or gentle. He looks like he’d be rough.

“Yeah, extra credit,” he hums; you follow his gaze, eyes lost in your cleavage, hidden slightly by your oversized jean jacket.

“What can I do for you, Professor Cameron," the words leave your lips before you can think them through. "F-For extra credit, that is," you recover quickly your cheeks shifting from a pretty blush to a deep red hue.

He fights off a smile, rapping his ringed finger against the wood desk a few times."Whatever you’re comfortable with," he breathes. Rafe raises his hand, brushing away his smile just as he did in the classroom. This time, more of a smirk.

Whatever I’m comfortable with… He wants me to? Maybe?

Grabbing your jean jacket, you pull it off your shoulders, exposing your pink top, black lace peeking out."I’ll do whatever it takes to get an "A,” Professor Cameron.“

"You will, now?” he sighs, sinking in his seat slightly, widening his thighs, making himself a little more comfortable. “You sure about that?”

“Mhmm," you breathe as you lean in closer, giving him a better view of your breasts. He lets out a sinful laugh, loosening his tie a little more than before, his icy blue eyes darkening along with yours.

”And, you’d do anything it takes to get that “A." Huh?" He mumbles as you work the satin straps over your shoulders, letting it fall around your waist.

"Anything.”

“Shit," he draws out the word, snatching his glasses off his face before rising in his seat. He’s tall, far taller from this angle, towering over you as he walks around the desk, designer dress shoes shuffling along the floor.

"Are you married, Professor Cameron?”

“Nah… I’m not. I’m single. And, you can call me Rafe if you’d like," he rasps, pawing his tie the rest of the way off. ”Are you single? Anyone taking care of you.“

"Just me," you whisper, your innocent eyes set on his.

"Just me. Huh?" He echoes. You nod as he grips the armrests of your swivel chair, towing you closer. "These boys not cuttin’ it for you, princess?" You shake your head 'no’. You can see the print of Rafe’s long, thick cock; pressing against his slacks. "I’m gonna take care of you." He takes hold of your chin with a heavy hand.

"Okay, Ra-” He steals your words, claiming your lips against his. Rafe catches your moan in his mouth, answering with his own. You let out a little gasp as he lifts you to your feet, bringing you closer. The two of you work on what little clothing remains between sloppy kisses, tearing it off each other’s bodies until all that’s left are his black boxer briefs.

Rafe groans as his rough fingers glide down your smooth skin, tracing the small of your waist, massaging and pressing your breasts together as his eyes roll back. He lifts you effortlessly, taking you into his strong arms. You hold on tight as Rafe swipes his palm across the desk, making the items tumble to the floor. He lays you on top, lips barely losing contact, kissing you roughly.

Your hands drift down his chest, journeying lower and lower. You rake your hands back up, feeling his muscles, resting on his chest, feeling his heart pound underneath. You dig your nails into his skin, making him hiss out a breath.

You feel the chill of his rings against your hot skin as he squeezes your tits, shoving them together. “Jesus fuck, baby girl,” he mutters, locking down on your nipple, swirling and flicking, leaving you a whimpering mess. “You look good… So fuckin’ good,” he groans, running two thick fingers between your thighs, skimming your slit. “How are you so wet?” He growls.

You take in his scent, rich and delicious, amplified by the warmth of his bare skin. You reach for him desperately, pulling him to your lips as he rocks into you, thrusting languidly, stroking your aching pussy with his clothed cock. His gold chain sways, with each roll of his hips brushing against your cleavage.

“Please,” you whimper, desperate for more.

“Want me to eat your pussy, angel? Hmm? Bend you over my desk?”

“Yes, Rafe. Fuck," you whimper.

He lowers himself between your legs, looping his arms under your thighs, pulling you toward his face. Rafe spreads your legs, kissing you deeply, marking you in a way that’ll surely leave a bruise, teasing you as his digits slip closer. You take a grip on his sandy-blonde hair, pulling him nearer as you buck your hips, craving more friction between the two of you. Rafe breathes warmly against your clit, making you melt into the table.

"Rafe-" You beg, your words turning into a breathy cry as he plunges his tongue deeply, drawing out slowly, licking a line to your clit that has your body quaking. He sucks your bud, releasing you with a pop. Doing it again and again, leaving your thighs trembling uncontrollably. He brushes his tongue side to side on your clit, making your vision blur.

Rafe slings your legs over his broad shoulders, working deeper than before. You grip the edge of the desk; teeth clenched, muscles firing hot as you hold back your cries of pleasure. ”Cum for me...“ He grunts, driving his fingers into you as you nod rapidly.

"Y-Yeah,” you shudder, chasing your climax as he pounds into your dripping cunt.

“Do it.” Rafe curls his fingers inside of you, tension snapping as you moan his name. “Fuck… Say it again. Say my name again," he groans, looking down at you in a drunken haze as he works you through your orgasm.

"Rafe," you breathe. He slips between your legs, cleaning the mess he made with his tongue.

This - This is a man. Sure, I’ve been with plenty of boys, but this is divine. I can tell that he knows what he’s doing: how to kiss, how to touch a woman. I need him. All of him.

"Tastes so fuckin’ good," he mumbles. "Anything?" He asks again as he tugs at the elastic of his boxers.

"Anything," you mewl.

”Need to be inside you,“ he mutters as he pulls his boxers off his body. ”You want that. Don’t you?“

"Yes.”

He gives you a few experimental thrusts, watching you jolt in your sensitivity every time his rock-hard cock nudges your clit. You look at the slight space between the two of you, letting out a desperate moan, yearning to be filled. Rafe’s long, thick dick curved toward his stomach, glistening with precum, smudging against his tight stomach with each rut.

“Fuck me," you plead.

You let out a gasp as he stuffs his cock in your pussy; hips flush with your ass, balls deep; pushing even further. ”R-Rafe...“ You whimper, tears running down your cheeks as you feel the pressure in your guts. 

"Goddamn…" He grunts. ”You’re so fuckin’ tight. Shit - Pussy feels so good.“

”You’re so big,“ you whimper as you press your hand against your tummy.

"You okay? Takin’ me so well…”

“Yeah. M'fine. Feels so fucking good.”

“Been hopin’ you’d walk in my office since the first day I saw you." He brushes your tears away with his thumbs as he kisses your lips, dick buried deep. ”Who woulda thought you be such a slut for your professor. Huh?“

BANG. BANG.

"Hey, Rafe. Are you free?" His colleague yells from outside the door, causing the two of you to freeze. Rafe snares your hips, holding you in place. He draws a finger to his lips, demanding your silence.

"Wanted to see if you could look over something for me.”

Rafe grinds his hips slowly, not wanting to stop, cupping your breast in his hand. He leans down, giving you a soft bite, eyes focused on yours.

“Rafe?” The male tries again, making Rafe roll his eyes in annoyance. You watch as the shadow shifts underneath the door, walking away.

“Fuck, that was close,” he breathes, kissing his way up your stomach. “Come over tonight?”

“You want me to come over to your house?” You whisper as you smile against his lips.

“Need to fuck you in a bed. Want you to ride me. You want that "A.” Yeah?“ He asks, his voice deep and dark.

”Yes, Professor Cameron,“ you smile as you flutter your lashes, your angelic tone contrasting his wicked one entirely.

"You’re a pretty little thing. Fuck. You’re gorgeous," he praises as his swollen tip presses against your entrance, stretching you slightly, making your lips part in a soft "o.” He groans as he nudges himself a little further, rocking into you nice and slow, teasing you with the first few inches and his fat cockhead.

“Rafe… Pl-" Your plea turns into a gasp as he pushes himself inside, bottoming you out completely. Your back arches off the desk, nipples grazing his chest.

Rafe thrusts at a rapid pace, skin striking skin. Knocking you deep in your core. "Such a good girl f'me," he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough thrust leaving you trembling.

You let out a moan that has him rushing to silence you, sealing your mouth with his broad palm, each muffled sound more fucked out than the last.

"You’re killin’ me," he mutters against your neck. "Gonna let you be real loud tonight. Alright? Gotta big fuckin’ house. You can scream as loud as you want." His hand works between your thighs, brushing quickly against your clit; making you dig your nails into his shoulder blades."If I move my hand, are you gonna be a good little whore? Keep that mouth nice and quiet, f'me?”

“Yeah-”

“If you can’t, I can stuff it full for you. Keep you real fuckin’ quiet.”

“N-No. Wanna cum… Fuck, I’m gonna-” His focus falls to the sound of your body gushing, squirting onto his cock and thighs as he continues to pound you into the wooden desk.

Your body clutches him, muscles pulsing. “That’s it, baby. Fuckin’ squeeze me." He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, trying his best to thrust. Rafe doesn’t give you orders, simply forcing you right where he wants you. Gripping your hips, turning you a moment later, lifting your ass in the air as you take a hold of the desk. You look over your shoulder, watching as he winds up to smack your ass. Stopping himself with a smirk and a raspy laugh. ”I’m gonna ruin you tonight.“ His voice sends chills down your spine. Rafe grips your skin tightly, bunching it up in his hand as he coaxes his dick back in.

He ruts his hips deeply, fingertips driving into the fat of your ass as his hips clap against your skin. "Rafe," you blubber, trying your best to steady yourself on whatever you can grab. You can feel his tip kiss your G-spot with each stroke, working incredibly deep.

"Almost there… Want you to cum with me," he groans.

"Let me cum. I can’t-”

“You will…”

“Please-”

“M'gonna cum, baby," he grunts, hand weaving into your hair. He yanks it back, pulling your orgasm out with it, blanketing your mouth as he silences your cries. You flutter wildly around his cock as he fills you to the brim with his climax. Rafe draws out slowly, letting your releases drip from your cunt; rolling down your inner thigh. He grips his cock in his fist, collecting your shared release, swirling his tip around your entrance before stuffing it deep inside again.

"Goddamn," he mumbles. Swiveling his hips slowly, jagged breaths are heard as he continues to move, completely overstimulated but loving the feeling too much to quit. "Mmm… You’re gonna ride me tonight. Bounce on me; tits in fuckin’ face. This wet fuckin’ pussy is mine..." He moans, already desperate for more, as he palms your soft skin.

You reach for air, doing your best to catch your breath, riding a euphoric high. ”Shit… Did I get an A, Professor Cameron?“ You laugh breathily.

"A” fuckin’ plus, princess.“

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