#NEXT we go to dry the clothes and it also wants to run it for an insane amount of time. so we click it anyways (horrible decision)

[soni-dragon]

Never ever EVER buy household appliances with ai in them. Most ridiculous things I’ve ever encountered

[icewindandboringhorror]

... how am I meant to get any sort of restful sleep when it's like 85F indoors in my bedroom at NIGHT .. hhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[heathermason6060]

Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep

Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon

Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.

First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.

Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.

The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.

“Get those windows boarded up.”

Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.

“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.

That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.

Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.

“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.

He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.

“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”

You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.

The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.

Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.

You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”

“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.

“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.

Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.

He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.

At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.

There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.

“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.

“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.

Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.

“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.

He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.

“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.

“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”

Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.

“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.

The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.

It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.

“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.

“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.

Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.

No other reason, promise.

For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.

Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.

“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.

“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.

He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.

You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.

Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.

You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.

You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.

Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.

The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.

Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.

Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.

Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.

Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.

A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.

His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.

Then you whimpered.

It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.

Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-

Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.

Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.

As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.

Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.

You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.

He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.

Maybe he wasn't awake.

A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.

You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.

A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.

The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”

He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.

Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.

You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.

Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.

If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.

Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.

His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.

You could've screamed.

You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.

Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.

His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.

Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.

You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.

Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?

You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.

He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.

You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.

You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.

In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.

“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.

Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.

Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.

You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”

You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.

Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.

You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.

There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.

You moaned.

His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.

It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.

Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.

Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.

His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.

Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.

You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.

Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.

The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.

Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.

His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.

When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.

Your eyes shot open.

Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.

Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.

You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?

The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.

You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.

Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.

It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.

Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.

God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.

He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.

“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.

He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.

Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.

Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.

You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.

“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.

Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.

You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.

You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.

Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.

It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.

He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.

Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.

Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.

You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.

“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.

You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.

The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.

“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.

Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.

It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.

Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.

He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?

Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.

“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.

“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.

You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.

“Touch me, please.”

You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.

Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.

He just wasn't good at sharing.

The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.

Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.

Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.

“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.

Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.

He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.

The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.

He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.

You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.

Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.

You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.

There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.

He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.

Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.

“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.

“What we did-”

“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”

“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”

“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”

He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.

“Pst.”

You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”

You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”

“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”

“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”

You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @jinx-nanami

[iateyourparents]

red kisses | j.w.

pairing: jake webber x fem!reader

summary: you got a new lipstick and you just had to prank your boyfriend with it.

warnings: nothing really, just bad writing and grammar(sorry, english isn’t my first language).

an: i got this idea from tik tok but i unfortunately couldn’t find this girl:((

pictures are from pinterest:)

You got a new lipstick. But not any lipstick, it was a color changing lipstick.

At first it was in neutral color and then after few minutes it was starting to get red and redder until it was bloody red.

So of course you had to use this on your lovely boyfriend.

You already pranked him with normal red lipstick and he wasn’t mad but well, now he was making sure you doesn’t have red lipstick on when you kissed him before he was supposed to go out.

Currently Jake was in shower so you quickly took your phone deciding to share this prank with your viewers on instagram later. You recorded a quick intro telling them about your purchase and plan.

Then when you heard that water stopped running you pretended that you still were on the couch with your phone.

„Hi baby.” Jake smiled at you and sat next to you.

„Hi love.” you also smiled at him opening your arms and he gladly laid half of his body on yours and snuggled into you.

You stayed like that a few minutes.

“Go dry your hair babe, we don’t want you to get sick and you have to go in few minutes.” you reminded him. He was supposed to be out with Johnnie in thirty minutes so that was perfect opportunity for your prank.

Jake sighed but did what you said and went to bathroom to use dryer.

„Baby, can you do my hair?” you heard Jake asking.

„Sure.”

Few minutes later he was sitting on the floor in front of you with you brushing his hair. You styled it the way you knew he liked and then he was almost ready to go.

„I’ll go change. I’ll miss you.” he pouted and you giggled quietly kissing the top of his head.

„I’ll miss you too but i’m not sure if Johnnie will be happy with that reasoning.”

„Stupid Johnnie.” you heard Jake muttering under his breath and you only shook your head with small smile while he was getting up from the floor.

He went to yours room and you quickly started recording on your phone and you put on your new lipstick. As you expected, it was almost clear like a lipgloss. You quickly hid your phone and not five seconds after you were done with hiding, Jake was back from the bedroom in new clothes.

You acted like you were taking something from a cabinet in kitchen.

„I have to go.” you didn’t have to look at him to know he had a pout on his lips.

You smiled at him and opened your arms and he quickly ran to you and was snuggling into you.

Few seconds later he took his hands from your back to grab your waist and lift you onto the kitchen counter.

You giggled and took his face in your hands and kissed his lips, he gladly deepened kiss.

When you disconnected your lips you also left kiss on his left cheek and side of his neck. You made sure to press your lips a little harder to leave a lipstick in those places.

„Don’t keep Johnnie waiting.” you lightly patted his ass and he smiled at you.

“I’ll be back soon.” he promised at kissed your forehead and then nose “Bye love.”

“Bye baby, have fun!” you waved at him and he got out.

You took your phone from its hiding spot and you stopped recording.

You waited few minutes and then updated your video with how your lips and places Jake kissed were almost bloody red.

You waited for some message from Jake about your prank but got nothing so you waited for him to be back home.

Finally, some time later when you were watching a film you heard a keys jiggle on the other side of the door so you quickly started recording and pointed phone camera on the door.

Jake came in with wide smile and red lips shaped spot remaining on his neck, but the ones from lips and cheek were gone.

“So I noticed your prank.” he accused pointing his finger at you “How the hell it appeared after I was out?”

You laughed and explained “I bought color changing lipstick.”

He gasped and came to sit next to you.

“I was so shocked when Johnnie told me about lipstick stains because you had no lipstick on.” he pouted and you giggled, but then he smiled widely and pointed at the kiss on his neck “I kept this one and I think I should make a tattoo like this one with your kiss.”

You smiled at him because well, he for sure looked good with this kiss.

“You definitely should.” you nodded and stopped recording to start kissing him and he gladly accepted this.

“But be careful.” he warned when you disconnected your lips “I’ll have my revenge!” he laughed mischievously and you only nodded with small smile.

“Sure love.” and you were back to kissing him.

[excusemyobsessions]

A Silent Poem

Zayne x MC/You

Genre:  Smut, One Shot, Afab reader POV

Word count: 4700 words

Little note: This is basically a transcript of the A Silent Poem audio, filled out with what I imagine is happening all throughout plus a little extra bit. That audio altered my brain chemistry and I really needed to get this out of my system because it was all I could think about. (Not sure if you can listen to the audio while you read it but if you try it, let me know!) Tags below!

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, sensual(?) massage, dry humping, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby/babe/honey/my love)

(Also posted on AO3)

Minors please do not interact.

You didn’t hear Zayne come in, nor into the house nor the bedroom.

Originally, you’d intended to wait for him, especially since you were at his house. However, exhaustion had taken over and you’d found yourself dozing off on his office chair.

After a text from him apologizing and saying he’d be home late, you’d given up all together and slipped off into bed, telling yourself you’d spend time with him in the morning. Maybe you’d make him cook breakfast.

It wasn’t all that bad, in fact. The pillow smelled like his shampoo and you found that quite soothing.

You fell into quite the sound sleep, only to be disturbed by the sink of the mattress when the weight of another body was added, and the feel of gentle lips against yours.

You stirred then.

“My apologies. Did I wake you up?”

Zayne’s hushed voice gently reached your ears and you forced open your eyes, blinking them a few times. He was smiling at you, lying next to you still in his work clothes, head propped up on his hand.

“You’re home,” you mumbled, shifting your position just a little, to face him.

“Yes, it’s been hectic at the hospital as of late. Every night I had to return home in the middle of the night…” he explained calmly, watching you get closer. “You were sleeping so peacefully. I couldn't resist the urge to kiss you.”

Over the covers, Zayne slipped an arm around you, resting his head on your pillow, his face barely a few inches away from yours. When he sighed, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheeks. He smelled of mints, his woodsy cologne and a faint scent of disinfectant, so characteristic after his long shifts at the hospital.

“Aren’t you tired? Go shower,” you whispered, one hand reaching out to rest against his chest.

“Let me hold you for a bit. This helps me chase away my exhaustion,” he responded.

He clearly had no intention to move for a while.

Backlit by the gentle glow of the moon coming in through the open blinds, you could see the outline of Zayne’s broad shoulders. The tension in the muscles after a long day of work.

You moved your hand higher, letting your fingers run over the line of this shoulder, up to rest on the side of his neck. You felt sorry for him, for the long hours, for how he was so busy he barely had time to relax. Such was his life, and you knew that from the start. But you couldn’t help wanting to provide a gentle place where he could relax, a warm embrace where he could rest.

“We should relax more,” you whispered out your thoughts, your fingers hooking around the nape of his neck.

The gentlest chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“We should relax more?” he repeated back, voice laced with mirth. “But how exactly… will you help me relax?”

There it was, the shift in his tone, the underlying challenge. You knew exactly where his mind had gone, yours too was directed down that same path along with his. Yet, you couldn’t help but want to mess with him just a little bit. Take away his tension before anything else.

You slipped out of the covers, hands hooking around his shoulders to push him down in the process, staying on your knees right next to him.

“You…” he let out in surprise.

The moonlight shone on his handsome features and you could see the raise of his eyebrows, the slight widening of his eyes looking straight up into yours. You gave him no time to react as your hands made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, and soon you were helping him out of it, tossing it away in whichever direction. 

You realized he was holding his breath when you finally laid your hands on his bare skin. You let your fingers hook around his shoulders, digging in your palms with just the right amount of pressure to hear Zayne let out the air trapped inside his lungs along with an appreciative hum.

“I think you need a massage, your shoulders are too tense,” you told him, your voice laced with mirth.

You dug in a few more times, working your fingers along the muscles of his shoulders, from their very edge all the way to his neck. He responded to your touch with soft, appreciative hums, his hot breathing so very audible, laced with little sighs.

“Mmm… Massage, I see…” he whispered. “I thought…”

Oh, you were aware of his thoughts.

“What?” You blinked, feigning an amount of innocence you did not possess.

You could see the sudden embarrassment wash down on him. He averted his gaze, very lightly clearing his throat.

“Ahem, never mind,” he answered.

You continued massaging along his shoulders and when you made motion to move on to his neck, Zayne lifted his head for you, letting your fingers slip around the back of his neck. You hit a very specific spot at the nape and he responded scrumptiously, with an open mouthed gasp, followed by a shuddering breath.

“My eyes aren't as tired as they were before, and my neck and shoulders feel so much better,” he mumbled, clearly lost in the feel of your hands.

You could feel one of his hands come up to rest on your thigh, the comfortable warmth and weight of it through the fabric of your pajama pants.

You adjusted your position, when your legs began to feel a little dormant from the way they were bent under you. Zayne noticed, his fingers running over your thigh ever so lightly.

“Just sit on me. It'll be easier for you,” he whispered, most deliciously.

Butterflies took off in your stomach and you could feel your breath hitch in your throat. As thoughtful as it sounded, he knew exactly what he was doing with how he lowered his voice just like that. And your body responded instantly. Like he knew just what string to pluck to drag out the most beautiful melodies.

Holding on to his shoulders, you got on your knees again and swung one leg over him, stradling Zayne’s hips. When you put down your weight on him, the delighted hum that rumbled from his chest resonated deep within you. With your legs wide open you were very much aware of your own arousal, of how wet you already were. And he was very much aroused too, you could feel the outline of his length against you, through the fabric of both your clothes.

He leaned up just a little, fitting his head right next to yours, temple to temple.

“I feel much better already,” he purred in your ear.

You had to suppress a little whimper that almost let itself loose. But he was keen on pushing you further.

“It's more effective than the strongest, most soothing medicine in the world,” he told you.

His hands moved up to circle around the back of your knees, fingers running all the way up the back of your thighs and outlining your buttcheeks. You couldn’t help the way your breath trembled out through your lips. His hands stopped at your hips.

“Your lips are dry,” he noted, “Do you want some water?”

What you desperately wanted was a caesura, a moment to collect your already fleeting thoughts.

“Will you give it to me?” you mumbled, unsure where that request came from.

Zayne chuckled, a soft and low rumble.

“You haven't learned to drink it on your own yet?” He teased you.

However, his hands did move away, onto the mattress to prop himself up, making you slip just a bit further down, straight onto his lap. No sound left him but you could see how his eyes fluttered for a fleeting moment at the shifting of position.

You watched him as he reached for the jar of water at the bedside table and poured it into a cup. Cup half full in hand, he turned back towards you.

“Here.”

With his free hand, he lifted up your chin a little bit, and led the cup to your lips. He tilted it carefully, aiding you as you took a sip of the cold water, basking in how it slid down your throat. His eyes were focused on your lips and you could feel the blood quickly rushing to your face at how attentive and intense they were.

“Steady now…” he told you when in your bashfulness you forgot how to function.

The hand that was on your chin shifted to fully grip it, between his index finger and thumb, gentle but firm, tilting your head in the right direction so the water wouldn’t spill.

But it did anyway and he chuckled.

“Don't rush, it's spilling out.”

Was he aware of what he was doing to you with that hushed tone and his firm grip? It felt so obscene you wanted to melt right there and then.

He caught part of the water that dripped down your chin with his thumb but it still dribbled down your throat.

He turned to set down the cup and you wanted to whimper at the sudden distance, as if you weren’t still very much seated on his hard dick.

“It’s a mess now, look,” you noted, lifting a hand to push your loose hair away from your wet skin.

“All right, I'll help you clean up,” he responded, turning back to you.

Big hands came up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs caressing the skin right under your eyes when your eyelids fluttered close. The lips that met yours were soft and gentle, the kiss was warm, dragged out. First he kissed your lips then your chin, right where the water had dripped down. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He teased you.

Oh, but you’d had enough of his teasing. 

You pressed your hands against his shoulders and pushed him down onto the mattress again, following the motion, keeping the distance between you. Well, in fact, you closed it further, stealing a kiss from his lips.

“I knew it… You want to do this… to me again…”

His words were interrupted by your assault, kiss after kiss stolen from his lips to which he responded gently. He held your face in place and kept you there, mouth on his mouth, breathy kisses disrupting the silence.

“You’re… taking advantage… of the situation…” you accused him, arms circling his neck.

“What do you mean… I'm taking… advantage… of the situation?” he responded, feigning an innocence he too did not possess.

What a silly thing this was, accusations and defences being let out between kisses. You couldn’t help but smile into his kisses, fingers slipping into his hair, holding him in place, against your lips.

“Aren’t we just… helping each other relax?” he reminded, still part of his defence.

Oh, but he was far from innocent. Especially with how his hands began a slow travel down your shoulders and shoulder blades, continuing further down your sides. One of his legs also lifted, knee bent, his thigh causing you to slip just a little, right onto his hard-on. He let out a shuddering breath.

“You were… helping me clean up…” you observed, letting your hands slip away from his neck, further down to rest on his chest.

It took him a few heartbeats to answer. Clearly, the weight on his lap was making it as difficult for him to think as his cock pressed up to your wet core and his hands exploring down your hips.

“Well…” He paused for a kiss. “It's clean now.”

It was said in such a matter-of-fact way that you couldn’t help but want to punish him for so much teasing. You parted your legs just a little further, adding just a little more pressure onto his lap and he responded with a long, drawn out sigh. The hand that was tracing down the contour of your ass suddenly groped at the very junction between thigh and ass and you let out the most undignified little yelp.

“...Sorry, did I hurt you?” he asked, so very gently, alarmed.

“I… was just surprised.”

The alarm in his eyes gave away to this softness that seemed to be reserved just for you. His hands moved back to your waist, a gentle but firm grip.

“It's been a long time since we last saw each other… I missed you,” he confessed in the most earnest way, so candid under the dim lights.

The moonlight traced the contours of his face, made his eyes glow in just the most beautiful way. You could see the love in them, the raw need for you.

He was being so honest, so unreserved. The butterflies in your stomach would not settle down. That or the heat between your legs.

You pushed yourself up with your hands which rested at his chest and grounded your knees. He’d lined up your hips just right with the earlier shifting of his leg so all you had to do was grind down against him. A long, slow movement, dragging your wet core over his length. You basked in how he shuddered and his breath hitched.

“Does this also need to relax?” 

There was a little smile on his face. You wanted to tear away his ability to tease you, to turn him into a little puddle of incoherent thoughts.

You ground down your hips again. The friction was delightful.

“You look so tired, I want to help you,” you told him.

You lowered your upper body again, closing the distance, barely a few inches away from his lips.

“Of course. I understand you only want to help me feel less fatigued,” he whispered, eyes glued to your mouth.

Ah, yes, that was exactly what you wanted. His eyelids slowly drooping in each movement of your hips, his breath growing heavier, the sweet sounds he couldn’t contain. His darling hums and little grunts mingled with your own little sounds, the little hums you couldn’t hide, the occasional quiet moan when you angled your hips just right. You could feel your underwear stuck to your drenched pussy.

“Different muscle groups call for specific massage techniques… Sometimes… Being skillful is what really makes a difference,” he was mumbling incoherently now, and you weren’t really sure he was aware of what he was saying.

It was awfully cute.

When he leaned up, you eagerly accepted the kiss he planted on your lips and leaned further down to deepen it. He breathed heavily against your mouth and moaned into it and suddenly your head was spinning. It was his hot kisses and the friction and how his hands couldn’t stay still and how they slipped under your shirt, feeling up every inch of skin.

“I think it's… getting more tense now,” he confessed, between a kiss.

Indeed it was. He was harder, that was for sure. You could feel it through the fabric. You wanted to feel it without it.

You moved your hands down to unbutton his pants, never stopping the rhythmic movements of your hips, so consumed by how he responded so beautifully.

“Perhaps… you could add a little more pressure?” he requested in such a small, hesitant voice.

You couldn’t help biting your lower lip, watching that sheepish look in his eyes as he gazed at you.

“Oh, honey,” you breathed out.

You finally pulled down his pants and let out his hard cock. Truth be told, there wasn’t an inch of this man that wasn’t beautiful. The same could be said about his cock, firm, heavy, with a hint of precum already glowing on the head. You took it in your hands and pressed it down against his stomach, perfectly lined right between your folds which were unfortunately still covered up by your clothes. But it didn’t matter because you saw his eyes roll back when you ground down your hips against his cock again, now with far less layers between you two.

One of his hands flew up, hooked around the nape of your neck and pulled you down against his mouth. The kiss was far more urgent this time, his grip harder, more desperate for contact, security. His tongue was in your mouth and you could taste the mint clearly now.

Suddenly, he took hold of your hips and tossed you down onto the mattress, rolling over and kicking off his pants and underwear in between. You loosely slipped your arms around his neck. He was shaking in your embrace, still lodged between your thighs.

When his eyes met yours, he broke into a gentle smile, accompanied by a soft chuckle.

“I wonder… How long were you planning to pull this stunt on me?” he mused, clearly amused.

You grinned, quite proud of your endeavor and the reaction you had earned from him.

“I just… really missed you,” you confessed, capturing a strand of his dark hair between your fingers and giving it a little twirl. “Did you miss me?”

Zayne was busy dragging off your pants and underwear. You heard the dry sound they made, falling on the floor somewhere in his room.

“Yes, of course. I missed you too,” he responded earnestly.

His eyes and hands slid down your body, fingers soon busy pushing up your shirt so he could freely run them down the extent of your now exposed skin.

He was earnest, but far too distracted for your taste.

“How much did you miss me?” you whispered, right in his ear.

“How much?” he repeated, a little surprised.

His eyes returned to yours and he seemed to quickly catch up on the underlying impatience behind your words. There was a sudden hint of amusement in his fiery gaze.

One of his arms came down to circle your waist, supporting his weight and lifting up your hips just a little. His other hand continued further down to wrap around his length and angle it correctly. Holding his cock, he gently rubbed its head right up against your hard clit, easily teasing you, sliding it back and forth a few times because of how wet you were. It stole a precious little moan from you, one hand flying up to your lips. He chuckled.

“From another perspective, I suppose I'm also your special dose of medicine,” he whispered.

He dragged his cock further down and slowly thrust it forward, inch by inch into you, lowly humming his appreciation, eyelids fluttering. He didn’t quite go all the way in, just halfway. It was enough to have you arching up into him, holding back a moan by biting your lower lip.

“Rest in my embrace… Just like this…” he whispered into your ear, nuzzling your earlobe.

He shifted a little, just to slip his other arm around you, encasing you in his warm embrace, so utterly connected even your hearts were beating to the same rhythm, to the same cadence.

“Now…” he began, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “Let me tell you…” Another kiss. “How much I missed you when we couldn't see each other.”

Zayne hummed into another kiss, slowly pulling back his hips then pushing them forward again, burying himself in you just a little further. And then he did it again, the same slow motion, pulling back and then pushing in again. He kept your mouth busy, kissing you deeply, any sound you made melting on his tongue.

“Relax,” he told you.

His hand caressed your hip which indeed seemed to be more tense each thrust of his hips. You gripped onto his neck tighter, seeking more contact and he tightened his grip on you. You could feel the weight of his body on you, constricting yet soothing.

He rolled his hips back and buried himself deeper in your drenched hole. The sudden and overwhelming sense of fullness, made you shudder and whimper into his mouth.

“I'm sorry,” he responded instantly, pressing an apologetic kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

He dragged his hips back, and you found yourself shaking, whining at the loss.

Zayne himself seemed a little lost, sheepish, pressing yet another kiss now to your cheek.

“Does it still hurt?” He was just so genuinely concerned, stealing a quick kiss from your lips.

You wanted to reply but soon he was angling his hips differently yet the result was the same when he thrust back into you. You were just so full of him. Your breath hitched, fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

“What about this?” A hot kiss. “Do you feel better now?” Another hot kiss.

This man was just so careful, so attentive. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable no matter what yet he was clearly frantic, unable to stop his hips from rolling back and thrusting back in, clearly so lost in the feeling of you.

“Or… do you want to change positions?” he asked, attentive eyes scrutinizing every little reaction from you.

You were overwhelmed, by his questions, by the feeling of him. You needed more and he was being so slow, so careful.

“Babe, just do it and stop asking questions,” you snapped, gripping his hair to make him stop and look at you.

You saw the very clear shock of your reaction flash across his features even in the dark. How he blinked, how his mouth was slightly agape. He was dumbfounded for a few heartbeats and then his lips curved into a smile. Amusement flashed in his eyes yet again.

“What do you mean… ‘just do it and stop asking questions’...” he repeated, the grin very clear in his voice.

You opened your mouth to speak, attempting a response but all that came out was a “Just- hmmm… ah…”

Zayne rolled back his hips and thrust deep into you and all coherent thought shattered into little pieces. And he had the audacity to keep teasing you while keeping that delicious pace, his scorching cock slipping almost out then fully back into you, the most obscene wet sounds coming from where your bodies were connected.

“Didn't you ask me how much I missed you?” he purred.

He captured your lips again and drank up all the sweet sounds you made. He seemed quite lost in it too, his tongue dancing with yours, his hips relentless. He pulled away from your lips after a bit.

“So much time has passed, no? Don't you want me to say something?”

He was fully into this whole teasing mode. From the way he rolled his hips to the way his voice was coated in honey which dripped with every word.

The duvet was bunched up right next to you so reached out to hide your face with a corner of it. It also muffled a moan which slipped through your lips.

“I swear…” you threatened, really not threatening at all with how your body shuddered when he plunged back in.

“...Tired already? You want to sleep?”

He deliberately dropped his voice. It resonated within you just like it had earlier and made you tense up. You could feel your walls squeeze his cock and he shuddered on top of you. He shifted his position and you heard his breath right next to your ear.

“We're not done here. Quitting halfway isn't something I would do.”

You could hear the smile in his voice.

“The night is still young. We have plenty of time to learn from each other.”

Zayne was right. When you two got tangled it felt like a new experience every time. A learning curve. A trial and error. Every time you'd find new keys to press, new strings to pluck. You’d learn how his body was in fact quite sensitive, how his hands were gentle but firm, how they were in fact quite talented. And everytime he’d learn new ways to make you squirm, to make you blush and to make you wet.

A big hand came to drag the duvet away and his lips captured yours, urgently. Like he was trying to communicate something words simply could not. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes locking onto yours, burning with unspoken desire, unresting tenderness.

“Let me hear your voice,” he pleaded.

He rolled his hips in deep and drank up the moan that fell from your lips straight onto his tongue. He shuddered above you, tensed shoulders, arms gripping you tighter. 

He was done teasing.

Every moan that slipped through your lips added flame to the fire, and had him grow more restless, more desperate, the thrusts of his hips more erratic.

“Right now, just like this,” he mumbled, coherent thought seemingly slipping through his fingers yet again.

He kissed you, deep, teeth clashing, his tongue exploring your mouth as if to taste you, like he could suddenly forget what your lips felt like, what your mouth tasted like.

“Say my name…” he breathed out.

He was begging for it, as if his name on your tongue was all he ever wanted to hear, all he ever needed.

“Zayne… baby… ahh…”

He moaned against your mouth, thrusting harder into you, burying himself in so deep your back arched and your head fell back, giving him full access to your neck. And he buried his face right up against your throat, planting open-mouthed kisses over it, suckling at the skin, breathing heavily against you.

He picked up his pace, the most filthy squelching sounds echoing throughout the room, mingled with his grunts and heavy breath and your unhinged moans which you could no longer control.

You slipped your arms around his neck again and held onto him tight, fingers dug into his shoulders, needing support and contact and to feel the wild beating of his heart right up against yours.

“Zayne, baby, don’t-don’t stop,” you begged of him.

Your hips lifted to meet his thrusts again and again and Zayne moaned deliciously onto your skin. He moved his head again, to suck at your earlobe now, his fingers dug into your hips.

“You feel so good, my love, so so good…” he mumbled into your ear.

You deliberately squeezed his cock when he pushed it back in and he shuddered in such a way that had you moan ridiculously against his shoulder.

You were just so lost in each other, nothing else mattered.

Zayne was shaking above you but so were you, his thrusts slowing down just a little so he could savor the feeling of slipping his cock deep into your hot pussy, the heat just so dizzying, so addicting.

“I’m close,” he breathed out into your ear.

“Come for me, baby, I want… I want to feel you… I’m close too,” you told him.

Zayne moaned. He ground his hips in so deep it was almost overwhelming again. Yet, you tightened your grip and held him there, meeting his thrusts to encourage him.

He pulled back just enough to capture your lips once more. He rocked his hips slow but deep, hard enough to make you sure you were going to be sore the next day. But it didn’t matter. He moaned against your mouth, sloppy kisses replacing tender words, hot and breathy.

And he pushed into you again and again until he was holding onto you like a lifeline, rolling his hips yet again to bury his cock deep inside, the loud squelching sound and his breathy moan sending you over the edge.

Zayne’s head fell on your chest while yours dropped back onto the mattress, back arched as he filled you up to the brim, riding out his height along with yours.

When both of you came down from heaven, Zayne could no longer hold himself up. He crashed down onto you, both of you panting, and sweaty. You moved your hand to run your fingers through his damp hair and he hummed against your chest, exhausted, glowing in content, satiated.

“I love you,” you whispered down to him.

He shifted, turning his head so he could look up at you, eyelids clearly far too heavy on his bleary eyes.

“I love you, too” he whispered back, with the most tender smile on his features.

One of his hands moved up to slip into yours, fingers tangling with your own. With your free hand you pulled the covers over you two, bending your neck to press a kiss to his forehead.

The shower could wait.

Thank you for reading!

[darknight3904]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.7𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

I love you too.

Logan swears he's hallucinating as he drives back into the city, with you riding shotgun next to him. He rests his hand on your thigh as he drives, the windshield wipers squeak a bit as they push the water off the windshield. 

“What's going on up there?” He asks, noticing how you're rather quiet since he pulled away from the school.

“Thinking about how we just ditched Wade and Laura at a stranger's home.” You say 

“They're not strangers. Wade seems very familiar with Colossus.” Logan says 

You snort, “More like two steps away from being murdered by him.” 

“They're fine, bub. You worry too much.” He says, nonchalantly.

“Tell me something I don't know.” You sigh 

Logan watches as you look out the window at the trees and greenery that zip by. Their color looks more washed out than normal thanks to the rainy weather. 

All he can see though is you. His mind replayed how you looked when he admitted what he wanted to say after that night at the club, how he loved you, how he was in love with you. He feels his chest tighten, and now you know. 

“I’m also thinking about how I'm soaked to the bone.” You say, cranking the heat up on your side.

“Don't worry, I'm gonna keep you nice warm when we get home.”

You look over at Logan, wondering if he even heard himself right now. 

“Not like that.” He backpedals, “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

“Yeah, okay Logan.” You laugh 

Logan unlocks the door to the dark apartment and the two of you stumble in, you nearly trip over a dog toy Mary has left behind. Logan's big hands loop around you and he presses a warm kiss to your neck and mumbles something about getting dry clothes and running a bath before disappearing into his room.

The apartment is silent as you clean up the dog toys that nearly ended your life a few moments ago. You toss them into the bin that Wade decorated with stickers for Mary before glancing at the closed bedroom door that Logan was behind.

"Wait!" His voice calls as he scrambles to pull his boxers on when you push the door open.

"Nice ass." You compliment as he yanks them up just a second too late

"Pervert," Logan grumbles, walking over to you, still missing his shirt and pants, reaching out to pull you flush to his chest.

"You love it." You mumble with a smile

"You should get out of those wet clothes." Logan gestures to you, "Gonna get sick like that."

"You're right, I will." You smile coyly, "Help me take 'em' off?"

Logan's hands pull the fabric off your wet cardigan off your body. His eyes roam the exposed skin as your hands fumble with the buttons of your jeans. You pull the uncomfortable wet denim from your skin and kick them off, leaving you in a mismatched bra and panties. Had you known you were going to try to seduce him tonight, you might've broken the Victoria's Secret out.

Logan's lips met yours for the second time this evening, this time hot with want and desire as his hands began to roam your body.

"Gotta warm you up, pretty girl." He whispered in your ear, “I'll run you a bath. You like that lavender stuff in the water right?” 

“Don't want a bath.” You sigh, gently pushing him towards his mattress. You know what you want, and so does he.

He chuckles as he sits on the bed and pulls you on top of him, sitting in his lap, straddling what his boxers were doing a terrible job at hiding.

"You sure?" He asks softly

You nod excitedly and he laughs a bit at your eagerness.

“Let me hear it.” He orders sternly 

“I want it, Logan. I want you.” You say 

Logan smiles and presses a warm kiss to the back of your hand. 

"Let's take these off then, hm?"

His hands ran over your bra and then one came down to deliver a feather-light touch to your clit through your panties.

The last of your clothes disappeared onto the floor as Logan spun you around so your back was resting on the mattress. One big hand snuck between your legs as his mouth remained locked on your neck, whispering dirty things into the skin there.

His thumb brushed over your sensitive slit while two fingers slipped into you.

"Thought of you like this." He admits into your skin

"Yeah?" You breathlessly answer, distracted by his fingers

"Mmhm. All spread out for me." He mumbled, "So pretty."

His fingers at the spongy spot that was deep in your cunt and your hips arched off the bed.

"Logan..." You gasp, your hand wrapping around his wrist, unsure if you want him to stop or keep going.

"All mine." He whispers as you cry out, your orgasm washing over you quicker than you expected.

"Fuck." You sigh as he moves away from you, letting you come down.

"You alright?" He asks softly

"I'm good." You say, "Great actually."

"I aim to please." He jokes

"Can we keep going?" You ask, looking over at his handsome face

"Course we can." He smiles, going to sit back up, only to be stopped by you gently pushing him back down

Logan shook his head a bit as you pulled his boxers down, letting his cock out. The hiss he let out when you ran your fingertips along the head had you practically dizzy with lust.

"Stop fucking teasing." He rasped, pulling you onto him, forcing you to straddle his muscular form.

You move to line him up with you and tense up when you begin to lower your hips.

"Go slowly." Logan softly says, rubbing circles into your waist

Your face scrunches up as you slowly drop down. Fuck he was big. Your ass finally meets his hips and you let out a small gasp, trying to adjust.

Logan isn't much better under you as he bites at his lip, his hand coming up to play with your chest that you have practically shoved in his face.

"If you want we can change positions. I don't want you to hurt-"

A loud moan cut his sentence off as you suddenly lifted off him, only to drop back down. One big hand held you steady as the other drifted down to your clit while you rode him.

"Fuck..." He groaned into the heat of your neck, you were going to be the death of him

Your knees were digging into his things as you groaned when his fingers played with you just right. Below you, Logan's hips lifted up, matching your hips with his own thrusts.

"M' close." You whisper

"Yeah?"

The cocky smirk that plays on his lips has you pressing your own to his. Always so egotistical.

Your body shook above his and you broke the kiss, his swollen lips moving to attach themselves to your chest.

"Let go, hon." He said into the flesh, "M' right here, c'mon."

You groaned as your orgasm rolled over you, your eyes slammed shut as Logan sucked another hickey onto your chest.

"Your turn." You whisper into his ear running your tongue along the skin.

"My turn." He parroted before flipping you over and pressing your marked chest to the mattress.

Big hands rubbed at your ass as he pushed back in, cursing when your cunt let him in again.

"So fucking warm." He mumbled as he shallowly thrust into you

His tip was just barely in you as you groaned below him. Despite just getting off, you were greedy and wanted more from him.

"Logan." You sigh nerdily 

"Hmm?" He responded, fully aware of what he was doing to you.

That piece of shit knew exactly what you wanted.

"Faster. Deeper." You groan

"You sure you can handle that?" He laughs

“Please.” You mumble into the sheets below you, your sanity was slowly withering away the longer he had you like this.

“Begging? I must be good.” He laughs cockily

"Logan!" You yell, upset with his teasing

"Sorry." He says, a tilt of amusement filling his tone

You know he's not sorry but his hips speeding up have you forgetting your anger. Electricity shot through your spine as the sound of the rain against the window tried to drown you and Logan's moans out.

"C'mon..." Logan grunted from behind you as his hips shifted

His cock brushed that spot inside you and you let out a muffled whine into the mattress.

"Found her." Logan cockily said, "One more, can you do that?"

You find yourself nodding into the soft sheets as he goes even deeper.

Overstimulation had tears dancing in your waterline as Logan's groans filled your ears. His big hands held your hips as moved against you.

"Close." He warned you

One hand left your hips and fell to your clit. His thumb brushed over the overstimulated nerves and you were done. A loud moan left your mouth as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Good girl." Logan praised as he fucked you through the orgasm.

Vaguely, you feel him pull out and let go all over your back, moaning your name as he did so.

The bed shifts as he moves away from you, you feel the soft fabric of what's probably a t-shirt cleaning your back before it dips lower and runs between your legs. Your hips wiggle away and a small whimper leaves your mouth.

"Shhh." Logan says "It's a mess down here."

Semi-clean and fully exhausted, you bury your face in the pillows as Logan lies down next to you, he tosses an arm around you and pulls you close so your sweaty skin is touching his. Both of you lying on your sides, staring at each other full of bliss.

"You okay? Not in pain?" He asks, clearly concerned

"I'm great." You admit, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Good." He laughs, "So am I."

You take in his handsome features up close and run a finger down the bridge of his nose. Your legs are entangled with his as he lets his eyes close, enjoying your touch.

"M' sorry about earlier." He says, "For making you think I wanted Jean."

"I was being stupid." You admit, "You can talk to whoever you want."

"No, I knew what you had been through in the past and I ignored you anyway." He says, opening his eyes again to look at you

"I forgive you." You smile, your nose brushing his

"You sure?" He asks, "You're not going to turn me into a blood stain in the middle of the night?"

You smile and shake your head, "Who said I was spending the night?"

"You honestly think I'm going to let you go back to your own bed after all that?" Logan scoffed, referring to the mind-numbing sex.

"Dunno, My bed is memory foam. Pretty comfortable if you ask me."

"You're staying right here, with me." Logan said, tightening his hold on you, "You're all mine now."

"I always have been." 

Warm sunshine wakes you up the next morning. The bed is empty as you stretch and push your tangled hair from your eyes. 

Where was Logan? 

Better yet, where were your clothes? 

You pull yourself out of bed and pull Logan's drawers open, finding an “I survived NYC!” shirt, you slip it on and step back into your discarded panties. 

The scent of breakfast has you hopeful you'll see a shirtless Logan Howlett over the stove making something delicious. 

Much to your disappointment, there is a shirtless man there, just not your shirtless man. 

“Morning, slut.” Wade greets, “Eggs?” 

You flash Wade the middle finger before walking off to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower. 

Hot water steams the bathroom up as you step into the stream, closing your eyes as it runs down your back. You can't help but wonder where Logan is as you shampoo your head. Perhaps it regretted it all and was running off.

No. He wouldn't do something like that. Would he? 

Worry fills your stomach as you dry yourself off, ready to sneak back to your room for some fresh clothes. 

You pull the bathroom door open and peer into the kitchen, hoping that Wade is gone. 

To your dismay he's still there, this time eating his food. Surprisingly another person is there too. 

“Logan.” You greet, tiptoeing into the room, still wrapped in your towel. 

“I was hoping you'd still be asleep when I got back.” He says, crossing the room to hand you one of the coffees in his hands. 

You take a long sip of the liquid, and a welcome warmth spreads across your chest as you do. 

“Duke’s.” You smile, “You remembered my order.” 

“Course I did.” Logan leans down and presses a small kiss to your cheek, “Go throw some clothes on and we can get back in bed and drink coffee together. I even stopped at a bagel shop on the way back.” 

You nod and scurry down the hall to your room in search of clothes. 

Laura is already awake, watching some YouTube video on her laptop. 

“Morning.” She greets 

“Good morning.” You say 

God, you feel so awkward talking to her. Why did you feel like you were the teen being caught with her boyfriend when she was the kid and you were the adult? Wait, did she even know about you and him? Was she even going to be okay with it? She had said to be friends with him, not to sleep with him! You were a terrible parental figure. 

“I know about you and Logan,” Laura says looking up

Oh. 

“I'm sorry.” You're unsure how to approach this with her 

“Why apologize? You two are happy together. And I'm happy seeing you together.” She says 

“Really? It's not weird?” You ask 

She shakes her head with a smile, “I think it'd be weirder not seeing you two together.” 

You nod and slip into pajamas, relieved she approves of it all. 

“What I don't like is how you ditched me at the school last night.” Laura chastises “That Scott guy drove us home and he and Wade argued the whole time.” 

You cringe at the thought of the ride she had to suffer through while you were with Logan. 

“Can I make it up to you by promising not to ever ditch you again?” You ask 

“That. And I want more closet space.” Laura says 

“Ugh. Fine.” You groan “Toss my sweaters on my bed, I'll find somewhere else to store them.” 

“How about in Logan's room?” She teases as you leave the room with a groan of embarrassment. 

Wade approaches you just before you push the bedroom door open to Logan. 

“I’ll let you have your little love nest today with big yellow. But just so you know I am not sleeping with Al again tonight.” Wade says, “Her farts smell like rotten eggs. Did you know she even tried to dutch oven me last night?”

“Thanks, Wade, just what I wanted to hear.” You groan 

“You’re welcome. I’m hoping that sets the mood for you.” Wade laughs 

You enter the bedroom to see Logan already back under the covers, white wife beater doing nothing to hide the rippling muscle underneath. A wrapped-up bagel comes flying at your face as you stand there ogling him. 

“You’re drooling,” Logan says as you catch it with ease 

You shuffle into bed beside him, climbing under the covers and scooting so you’re close to him. 

“Can’t believe you just threw a bagel at me.” You sigh with faux sadness 

“Next time I’ll be sure to hit you with it.” 

“I’ll shove it down your throat and watch you choke.” You counter 

Logan turns to you and looks at you like you’re crazy. 

“Hypothetical situation.” You shrug, taking a bite of the food. 

“You’re twisted.” He shakes his head 

“You love it.” You smile 

“Do I?” He says

He turns his head but you catch the small smile that plays on his lips. 

Logan pulls Wade’s laptop onto his bed and opens Netflix up. 

“When did you learn to do that?” You ask 

“Just because I’m 200 doesn't mean I don’t know how to work a computer, bub.” He sighs, scrolling through the options 

“Yeah, but last week you cursed out Laura’s Nintendo Switch when it wasn’t connecting to the TV correctly.” You say, “You threatened to toss it out the window.” 

Logan lets out a grunt of acknowledgement and clicks on quite possibly the saddest movie in the world, Marley and Me, “How about this one?” 

“This one is ridiculously sad.” You groan, thinking of the last time you watched it.

“It doesn’t look that sad. Look, they're running on a beach with a dog.” Logan points to the screen as the preview plays 

“Hit play then.” You shake your head, he was going to eat his words in two hours. 

You know what made you such a great dog, is you loved us every day no matter what.

You shift in your spot from where you had been tucked into Logan’s side, gauging his face for any reaction to the movie. This was the saddest scene in the movie and the man was as stoic as ever. He was insane. He had to be legally insane. 

“This is sad.” Logan comments suddenly 

“If it’s so sad, why aren’t you crying?” 

“I don't cry over movies.” Logan huffs, gaze still stuck on the screen.

“Heartless bastard.” You mumble, leaning back into him just in time to watch the beloved Marley close his eyes 

“Are you crying?” Logan asked 

“No.” You lie. 

“I can feel the tears on my arm.” 

You glance down to see that some of your tears have rolled down your face and landed on the arm he has secured around your waist, keeping you pressed to him. 

“You’re delusional.” 

“Thanks.”

Later, you stand over the stove, watching the grilled cheese simmer in the pan while Al sits at the table to tell you about her day and how Wade dragged her around some shopping mall. 

“And then the motherfucker left me in the back of Spencer’s holding a dildo bigger than my arm.” She says 

“You should’ve bought it and beat him with it when he came back.” You say 

“That shit was nearly forty dollars! I’m not buying that when I can beat him for free with one of those wooden spoons in the drawer.” Al explains, gesturing to the drawer on your right. 

“Fair point. Want one now? I’m pretty sure he’s watching Love Island on the couch with Vanessa and Laura.” 

“Later. I’ll get him when he’s sleeping tonight.” Al brushes you off, “I bet Laura will help me draw something on his face.

You want to tell her that Laura will most definitely help her but never get the chance as big arms snake around your waist and Logan’s face is suddenly buried in your neck from behind. A litter of kisses is pressed to the delicate skin and Logan whispers to you, 

“Y’smell so good.” 

“Ugh! Gross! Go procreate somewhere else!” Wade gasps as he enters the kitchen, “Where’s the fucking Clorox? We need a wipedown over here!” 

“Stop that,” Vanessa says, nudging him as Logan lets you go, opting to lean on the counter beside you. 

“They’re literally about to reenact Fifty Shades and you’re telling me to stop? I don’t think Ana told Christian Grey that one when she was tied up on his-” 

“You’re really annoying.” You cut him off with a sharp glare

“Thank you, I’m here for the rest of your life.” Wade bows 

Logan pulls the fridge open and retrieves beers for himself, you, and Vanessa, popping the lids off with ease. 

“Alight, fuck me, I guess.” Wade scowls, going to get his own beer 

“I only get beer for people who don’t annoy me,” Logan says indifferently 

“I do not annoy you.” Wade says, “You’re literally the Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell, Peanut.” 

You flip the sandwiches, ready to toast them on the other side and Logan pulls you into him, tossing an arm around your shoulders. 

“So, for all our lovely readers out there, I think we need to slap a label on this puppy, go on tell the audience, Peanut,” Wade says 

You look at Logan in confusion, neither of you had any idea what he was saying. 

“God, you guys are two dense peas in a pod, made for each other. Labels, I’m talking labels people! What are you guys now? Certainly, we’re done with the enemies-to-lovers arc. Now we need to define the relationship!” Wade groans

Logan looks down at you and you up at him. You’re not sure what he wants to call it. You’ve never truly been one to label relationships, after all, your last one had failed so miserably. 

“She’s mine,” Logan says suddenly, tightening his hold on you, like Wade was going to whisk you away and he’d be stuck here with Al, Laura, and Vanessa. Oh, and of course little Mary. 

You smile up at him, you like the sound of it. 

“Fuck yes! Finally, thought I was never going to see the end. Y’know I can only sit on the tag list for so long before I get antsy.”

Logan shrugs as the two of you and Vanessa watch Wade talk to his hands which are mimicking the way one would hold a cell phone. 

“Those Tumblr bitches are going to love this chapter. HA! It’s even got the 18+ label slapped up there in red!”  

Logan leans down and presses a kiss to your ear before going to whisper in it, “All mine.” 

“Yours.” You whisper back 

That night, you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms in his bed once more. Wade is across the room, a sleep mask on his eyes that says “Fuck Off!” is illuminated by the street lights that shine through the curtains. You had pinky promised the Merc with the Mouth that you and Logan would absolutely not have sex while Wade slept in his own bed tonight. 

That led to where you were now, unable to sleep, still a bit dialed up from the idea that you were being spooned by Logan of all people. Seriously, it was like a fanfiction come to life. 

You shift your legs beneath the covers again, your body is tired yet your mind refused to shut off. 

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked softly 

“Can’t sleep.” You whisper back 

“What’s on your mind?” Logan asked, shifting onto his back and pulling you with him so you were resting your head on his chest. 

“Dunno, lots of stuff. Like how Australia is wider than the moon.” You say 

“Really?” Logan asked 

“Yeah, Laura told me she learned it in Science class the other day. Apparently, crocodiles can’t stick their tongues out either.” 

“Strange.” Logan sighs, “What else do you have up there?” 

“When you type the word Alaska, it’s the only state that can be typed with one row of a keyboard.” 

Logan stays silent for a moment, rolling the thought over in his mind. 

“Shit, you’re right. Where’d you learn all this?” He asks 

“I had a lot of time in Maine after the Professor asked me to leave.” You shrug, “Spent time on Google.” 

“You’re like a walking fun facts book,” Logan says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, content with listening to you talk.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Four Months Later

It’s a cold February day as you unload boxes from the moving truck into your new apartment. It was only a block away from Al and Wade’s but the cold winds had made it impossible to just carry things up and down the sidewalk. 

“I think this is the last of it. Besides the couch.” Laura says as she places three large boxes on the ground. 

You curse her super strength. Why couldn’t you do that, you had been stuck making multiple trips while she and Logan carried multiple boxes at once with ease. 

“You should probably go down there and referee. I think they’re going to kill each other, or well try to.” Laura says as the sounds of Logan and Wade arguing drift up the steps and into the apartment. 

“Of course they are.” You sigh, “Can you put some of the kitchen stuff away?” 

Laura nods and moves to open a box marked ‘Plates’. 

Three flights of steps later, you find Logan and Wade arguing over how to hold the couch to get it up the steps. Vanessa stands behind them, one hand on her hip, the other holding a beat-up lamp that has Logan’s claw marks in its shade. It must’ve been collateral damage from an old fight between him and Wade. 

“Move your hands to the right,” Wade says, his voice full of annoyance for Logan.

“I’m holding it just fine.” Logan growls 

“Oh really? Then why am I doing all the heavy lifting? What good are all those muscles if you don’t pull your weight? Do you know how disappointed I am in you? Those Hawaiian rolls are nothing but for show huh? What are the readers going to think, our movie comes out on digital on October 1st according to Canadian Superstar Ryan Reynolds' Instagram. Peanut, you are letting them down by not doing this shirtless I'm telling you.

“Stop fucking talking.” Logan grunts, "It's the middle of February I'm not doing anything shirtless."

"Nothing except, Pumpkin apparently." Wade glances up at you on the next landing and waves at you, "Tell me how big is it?"

"Bring the couch upstairs and then we can talk dick sizes." You groan

"Uh oh." Wade snorts, "Sounds like someone's got a micropenis. Don't worry Honey Badger, it's perfectly normal."

The sound of the couch slamming to the ground and the skirt of six metal claws appearing have you groaning. This was never going to get done.

"It was a joke, Loagie. I'm a humorous guy." Wade shrugs, undeterred.

Somehow, the couch makes its way up the steps and into the living room. Wade receives a pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek from Vanessa as payment as Logan returns to your side, stinking of sweat. 

“You smell.” You point out

“He gets a kiss, and all I get is that I smell?” He asks 

“Sorry, buddy.” You pat his bicep, “Honestly is important in a relationship.” 

You yelp when Logan takes a tea towel from one of the boxes and gently whips your ass with it. 

“Kinky.” Wade calls, “Invite me over next time!” 

You spend the rest of the day with Laura, helping her decorate her new room with the various knick-knacks and lights she likes. 

“Bet you’re glad to have your own space.” You say as you put a framed picture of her and you onto her dresser. 

“Yeah. I’m glad it's not sharing a wall with the two of you though.” She says 

Why the hell was she so blunt? Your face burned in embarrassment. 

“Sorry…” You say 

“I expect noise-canceling headphones if you two are going to be doing…that while I’m home.” She says 

“Or, we’ll just be good adoptive parents and restrain ourselves.” 

“Doubtful!” Wade laughs as he passes Laura’s room while helping Logan with a bedframe. 

You groan and shake your head, “We’ll go out to get the headphones tomorrow.” 

That night, you lay in bed while Logan slips back in and dries himself off from a much needed shower. You had an idea pop into your mind while he was in the bathroom and desperately needed to ask him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks looking at you

“Nothing.” You lie 

“You haven’t made one comment about my ass yet. Something’s wrong.” He discerns as he stands at the foot of the bed 

“Sorry,” You laugh, “You, Logan Howlett have an amazing ass.” 

“Thank you.” He nods, “Now, spill it. What’re you thinking about?”

“Do you think that we’re together in other universes?” You ask 

“I’m sure there’s gotta be a few out there. Why?” He asks 

“Dunno. It just didn't work out for either of us the first time. And in Laura’s universe, her versions of us had a terrible fate.” You say 

“You worried we’re going to be ripped apart by some evil force?” Logan asks with a chuckle, slipping his boxers on.

“No, I was just thinking about it. Like, I wonder how many other lives there are out there where we’re together.” You explain 

“I don’t really care about those other lives,” Logan says, getting on the bed and crawling under the covers beside you. 

You scoff, “Thanks for that. It was just hypothetical.” 

“I don’t care about those other people, the other life they’re living, doesn’t matter to me.” He says, “I’m focused on this one here in front of me. The one with you.” 

A warm fuzzy feeling dances across your chest at his admission. He truly was something.

“Promise?” You ask, teasing him.

A small smile stretches across your face as Logan presses a kiss to your lips, a deep laugh escapes, followed by a groan rumbling across his chest when you pull at his hair. He breaks away from you and rests his forehead against yours. Your breaths mingle together in the silence as he speaks again,

“Promise.”

The End

Extra Part: Is It New Years Yet?

Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story.

My parting gift? Ash pictures of course ;)

I hope to see you all in the one-shots, if not that's okay, I'm not going to make you read them.

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[writing-mlm]

The line we toe

Summary: Why can’t you ever just have Clark? Why is there always a reason he’s only there in your memories and why did he have to ruin your birthday? Pairing: Clark Kent x NFL!Male reader Wc: 14.5k tags: hurt/comfort, not enough Clark groveling IMO, mutual masturbation, needy!Clark, dry humping, reader is also a witch, religion but its not negative, homophobia but its a misunderstanding

If there’s something small towns were known for it's their churches. They held out hope for their religion, spending every weekend in their Sunday best, listening to the preacher go on for hours. But Smallville was different, it always had been. 

Church for the town wasn’t some big event where you come in button-ups, slacks, and polished shoes. Most dressed however they pleased, saving their good clothes for special events. It didn’t go on for hours, one and a half at most. It also wasn’t every weekend, although the priest always went, no one was shunned for not going. No one spoke in whispers because they missed their Sunday service. 

But for most, the service provided the calm that they needed. When business got tough, when the farms didn’t provide enough crops, and things seemed bleak, the pews filled townsfolk. 

You sat in the front, messing with the cross on your rosary as your father preached. Your mother and sister sit next to you; your mother's floor floor-length black dress sweeps over your shoes and her white lace gloves holding your free hand. You don’t know what he’s saying, you never have but you don’t like being alone in your home

so you go to church with them. 

Your connection with God isn’t one you understand through words or through the scripture. It’s more… Flyleaf’s All around me than shouting and claiming you can hear someone speaking to you. Your faith is one to yourself but you can appreciate the church's amens and their hymns. Admittedly you like the hymns, even if they’re different from the ones you’re used to, often lacking the umph you’re used to in New Orleans. 

When church ends, you stand with your mother and find him in the crowd of people deciding if they want to leave or talk to your father. You find him easily, standing with his parents as they head out of the church, smiling as he talks to one of the older men about helping with their yard. Clark Kent. You’d always been drawn to him, somehow you’ve always been in the same class as him. He’s always the first person you see at school. 

Ducking your head, you grab ahold of your sister and head outside through the back door. The field behind the church has a small playground that she and the other kids tended to frequent during and after service. It’s nothing elaborate. A sandpit, swings, a jungle gym, a seesaw. Your father and uncle had built it one summer after he noticed some of the families couldn’t have a good time when their kids wouldn’t sit. 

“Good,” Your older brother groans as you get close. “I’ve had to piss for an hour!” While he heads inside, you see Clark getting into the family truck. His eyes catch yours and he smiles, giving you a small wave. You wave back, your hand barely higher than your hip as the truck pulls off. His blue eyes imprinted into your mind and his smile—

Holding your cross again, you stop the bubbling feeling in your stomach. Instead, you focus your attention onto the kids playing until it’s time to go home. 

At home, your parents start dinner while you finish up your homework. Your brother runs his drills in the backyard while your sister watches, he gives her a whistle so she can feel useful but you think she likes the power the whistle holds. 

“Hey, hun,” Your father enters your room and you look up from your textbook, the cross falling from your fingers and into your chest. “Dinners ready if you are.” He holds onto the doorknob as he smiles. Outside of church, he’s relaxed, more often than not he’s walking around in a white tank and old sweatpants that are probably older than you are. 

“Okay,” Getting up, you see your mother calling in your brother and sister, rushing him into the shower. He runs past you, nearly knocking you down the stairs and you hold onto the banister, glaring up at him. Feeling the cold metal against your fingertips, you continue into the dining room.

The table isn’t set yet, your mother is finishing up her tarot reading and your father is adding the final touches to the dish. Your mother tsks as she flips the final card, the reversed death. She holds the deck in her right hand and you watch as the cards fly into place before it zooms through the house and into the barn. 

It’s probably some lame joke. A priest and a witch getting married on a rainy day. But by the way your father wears her protection spell jar you know their love isn’t a joke. 

She smiles at you, the tension in her face dropping as you help your father set the table. The placements find their spots as you carefully recite the spell, your sister watches through giggles, touching the sparkles that encase your spells. “You’re getting better,” She smiles, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Remind me to add more spells to your grimoire.” You nod and settle down in your seat. When your brother comes down from the shower, everyone starts to eat. 

“I think I’ll make quarterback this year,” Your brother announces as he piles the chicken alfredo onto his plate. He’s mostly been a running back but he thinks being a QB in his final year will help with scholarships. Besides, he’s been encouraging you to be the running back but football isn’t really your thing. But you’ll try out to make him happy. 

“I don’t doubt you,” Your father grabs the garlic bread bowl and takes out two pieces. “Hey, why don’t you and your brother run through old plays before school tomorrow? Get him ready for the season.”

“Sure,” Looking at your brother, you wonder if it’s illegal for someone his size to be a quarterback for a high school team. 

—

“Hey, you okay?” Clark catches up to you as you rub your shoulder on your way to your shared first period. You nod, still rubbing it. Tracing sigils, you feel the pain starting to go away.

“I was running drills with Angel,” You explain. “He wants me to try out for the football team.” Clark smiles at that and you look away from him, grabbing your cross again. 

“You should. I bet you’d make the team.” The way his voice carries such hope, not an inch of taunt in it makes you sick. That stupid feeling in your stomach rises again. “I’m actually the assistant coach for the team.” He continues when you don’t say anything, the awkward pauses feeling like torture for him. You probably shouldn’t try and make the team, then. 

You stare at your classroom door as the halls clear out, not knowing what to say. “Cool, I guess I’ll see you during tryouts.” He smiles, walking away with a pep in his step. Watching him leave, you tear your eyes away as the bell rings. Still fumbling with your rosary, you enter the classroom as the lights in the hallway blow out, sparks flying about. 

Sinking into your seat, the teacher checks the hallway and rushes to pull the fire alarm. Apparently one of the sparks had caught onto a banner that quickly spread to the other posters and banners. 

“Way to go,” Angel punches your shoulder as everyone stands in the parking lot. “Totally missing out on a test cause of this,” Out of three children you’re the only one to have manifested powers. It’s a gene that skips a kid every time and you picked the winning straw by being born second, lucky you.

In the corner, you see Clark covering his ears as the fire alarms continue to blast and the fire trucks approach. He has to walk away, still plugging his ears as the sirens only get louder. No one else notices, watching as the fire ravages what you think is the math room for 11th grade. You haven’t even had that class yet and you destroyed it. Great. 

As far as first days go, this isn’t the worst. Classes still continue and you’re eventually dragged to tryouts by Angel. He forces you into the gear and lugs you the whole way to the field. Coach and Clark are standing next to each other, Clark’s eyes light up when he sees your heels dragging into the turf. 

“Hey, rosary!” Coach calls and you stand up straight, grabbing the rosary you’d tucked into the pants of the uniform. “Give it here, the boys will rip it apart.” Nodding, you hesitate before giving it to him. The cold metal slips from your fingers and you’re suddenly antsy. Bouncing between the balls and heels of your feet, your eyes dart across the field. 

Older kids play tackle each other and toss the football between themselves. Your brother talks with his friends and the freshmen awkwardly stand to the side. You don’t have any football friends, but you know them through your brother. “Rosary, get on the field!” Rushing over to your brother, the coach laughs while Clark offers you an apologetic look. 

Coach runs a test game and you stand behind Angel, wiping your hands on the pants before the ball flies to him. You run ahead and he tosses the ball at you, catching it, you look for a second before you remember. Running back. You gotta run and he points in the direction you go as the others head towards you. You manage a couple of yards before you’re eventually tackled to the ground. Your head bounces and your teeth clamp together as you roll onto your back. 

“Hey, need a hand?” Clark asks when your eyes open. Accepting his hand, he pulls you up and you stumble forward. He catches you with a chuckle. “That was good, you have a good chance of getting on the team.” That’s not what you wanted to hear, but your brother clasps his hands on your shoulder and cheers. According to the others, you made it a good distance. 

Try-outs continue for another hour before it’s time to go home. Your brother takes a shower first but you’re not so sure you want to shower with a bunch of men and get in the bed of your dad's pickup truck. While you’re waiting, Clark rushes over and leans on the edge. 

“Uh, between us, you made the team.” He smiles and then shakes his head. “But I came here to ask if you wanted to come to a Soul Asylum concert? Me, Pete, and Lana are going. Thomas was gonna go but he got grounded and I noticed the patch on your bag.”

Lana. His girlfriend. The thought makes your throat tight and you cough into your fist. “Um… I’ll have to ask my parents. But… I’ll let you know what they say.” 

“Cool… er… here, take my number.” He digs through his bag for a piece of paper and one, scribbling the house number to the Kent’s on it before folding it and handing it to you. “It’s next weekend, we’re meeting at Lana’s at six.” Taking the paper, you thank him and watch him leave. As he’s running away, your brother runs over and slaps the side of the truck. 

“Pop! He’s totally making the team.” Angel climbs into the truck, his praise dying as the door slams shut. The truck starts and you jerk as it moves forward. Riding in the bed isn’t anything new, your father even built-in handlebars for when people do. You catch your father looking back at you after every turn, making sure you’re still on the truck. 

When he parks the truck, you head upstairs to take a shower before joining your family in the living room. Your mother is wrapping her sage bundles and you happily join her as you talk about school. 

“Oh, Clark Kent invited me to a Soul Asylum concert,” The smile that graces your face makes your mother smile. “It’s next Saturday and they’re meeting at Lana Lang’s place at six. I think Pete Crushing is going to drive.” Your parents exchange glances for a minute, their conversation unknown to you and Angel.

“Okay.” Your father nods. “No drinking, no drugs, and you’re tending to the farm this weekend.” The farm has a variety of crops and an apiary with nearly a thousand bees, it’s mainly so your mother and you have easy access to materials for spells and such. Agreeing to the terms, you shake on it and you’re off to your room. 

—

At five forty, you make it to the Lang’s place inside of the town. Your mother does a quick protection spell over you and slips a protection sigil into your jacket pocket before you’re able to leave. She didn’t tell you at the time but she’d done a reading for the night and something was going to go wrong. But she knew you were going to be okay, so she still let you go. 

“Hello,” Clark and Lana are waiting in front of her place. They’re holding hands and your jaw tightens at the sight. “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Had a weekend of farm work, but yeah.” Laughing, you join them and wait for Pete to arrive. The whole time the two giggle at each other and you try your best to ignore it, messing with your rosary. 

“Oh, right. Congrats on making the team,” Lana smiles over at you. “Clark says you’re an amazing running back. Must run in the family, right?” 

“Yeah,” A car pulls up and you nearly sigh in relief when it’s Pete. You take the passenger seat at their insistence and listen to the latest Soul Asylum album. It’s nice. And when you get to the venue Lana runs ahead, already scanning her ticket. 

“Right, here you go,” Clark hands you the spare ticket, his fingers brushing against your own. You snatch your hand away and thank him. He just smiles and meets up with Lana, leaving you with Pete. You get it, they’re a couple.

After the concert, you’re drifting off against the window when the car swerves off of the main road. You shout, gripping your seatbelt when you see that Pete had outright knocked out behind the wheel. The car careens and you close your eyes, scrambling for a spell and haphazardly spitting one out. Feeling yourself on the grass, you open your eyes and see the car smush in a ditch, Lana and Pete waking up beside you and Clark rising to his feet. 

A car stops and you turn, seeing it's a state trooper radioing for an ambulance and backup. Clark explains what’s happening as you grip your cross, heart beating out of your chest. The car is wrecked beyond recognition, tipped over, and bent under its own weight. 

When the ambulance and another cop come, you’re all driven back to Smallville where your mother is waiting on the porch with a blanket and cup of warm tea. 

“Hello, ma’am,” The cop nods his head. “Your son was in an accident coming back from a concert. Glad to report there are no injuries.” She pretends to be shocked as she pulls you in for a hug, stroking the top of your head. 

“Thank you, officer,” He nods and leaves, taking Clark back to the Kent’s farm. “Hun, are you okay?” Nodding, she checks on the protection charm and finds that it’s cracked. It did its job, good. “Come on. I made you grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

— 

In the weeks after the accident, Clark constantly checks on you and somehow you’ve been indoctrinated into his friend group. It’s nice since your old friend group has been slowly moving away since middle school but you don’t like being around Clark. He’s nice but he makes you nervous. You know why. But you can’t bring yourself to admit it. 

You love your parents, truly you do, but you don’t think they’d love you if they knew the truth. 

“I saw those damn two again,” Your mother sneers as she does your sister's hair for school. Your sister simply watches the Land Before Time DVD for the hundredth time while eating bits of granola and honeycomb.

“Jane and Betsy?” She groans at the mention of their name and you hide in your cushion. Jane and Betsy are the town's black sheep, they live together in a one-bedroom apartment and Jane has a clean-shaven head. Betsy has an assortment of tattoos and they don’t hide the fact that they’re not roommates but lovers. 

“Honestly, they need to hide their activities from the youth.” She continues on. “Forsaking the rest of us to see them. You know I talked to the Williams and they said they’re planning on opening a business.” Your father makes sounds of disapproval and you head upstairs to continue packing your bag. 

When you go back downstairs, you meet Angel and his friend in their car before heading to school. Once more Clark is the first person you see, although you see Lana not far away. They’re making a point to not look at each other, which makes it a bit awkward when Pete calls out for both of them. Lana looks at Clark before scoffing and walking towards Pete. 

“Hey,” Clark jumps, turning to see you. 

“Hey,” He doesn’t smile as he greets you, but he tries to. “Hey, um… I’ll see you during football practice, yeah?” Nodding, you watch as he walks away from the school. Sighing, you head in for your first class of the day. It’s not like you don’t have the same exact classes. Right. 

Clark doesn’t show up for practice that day or the next day, he’s barely in class but then he shows up and pretends as though the past couple of days hadn’t happened. 

“Want to be partners?” He asks, setting his lunch box in front of you. Choking on your water, he laughs and apologizes. “For the science project.” He clarifies, opening the box. “I know you’re pretty good with bees and stuff, I’m surprised no one has snatched you up already.” In truth, they had but you’d planned on working on the project alone. At least until he asked. 

“Yes. Yeah, sure,” Capping your thermos, you glance around. “So, we’re doing it on bees?”

“If you want,” He adds. “I just figured since you know bees and I’m good with football plays we could do some sort of… bee football game. Now that I say it out loud it does sound stupid.”

“No, it sounds nice. Unique. Uh, do you want to work on it at my place or yours?” 

“My parents are going out this Saturday to prepare for the Harvest Festival, so it’ll be quiet at my place.” He offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan.”

Saturday rolls around and Clark lets you inside, his hair pulled into a pigtail at the base of his neck but some pieces had fallen out and blocked parts of his face. It basically begged you to fix it. But you don’t, instead, you take your shoes off and follow him up to his room. You’d expected to work in the living room, maybe the dining room but being in his room was new. Intimate in ways you didn’t like. 

“You can sit on the bed,” He laughs when you stand at the door, messing with your rosary. Sitting on the bed he laughs again. “Get comfortable, you’re about to fall off.” He drags you back but forgets his strength and suddenly you’re on top of him. He’s still holding your wrist, his barely there grip makes goosebumps run down your spine. Naturally, his other hand had found your back, keeping you in place while you held onto him, clutching his sides. With wide eyes, you scramble off and apologize. 

“It’s okay, it was my fault. Let’s just… get started, yeah?” Waving his notebook you agree and the two of you begin to work on opposite ends of his bed. Eventually, there’s a call from the house phone and a knock on the door. 

“It’s probably my folks checking on me,” The two of you head downstairs and you open the door, finding your mother with a solemn look on her face and her death shawl over her shoulders. At the same time, you hear the house phone drop, clattering on the ground, and Clark staggers into the dining table. 

She drives Clark to the hospital to see Mr. Kent before it’s too late. She told you in the car he only had three hours left, that death was already in his hospital room waiting. She was right, of course. Mr. Kent is pronounced dead three hours later. 

The funeral is held at your church and the entire town attends wearing black. Mrs. Kent and Clark sit in the front, you’re a row behind them listening to your father talk about the life Mr. Kent had lived. His legacy. His family. Eventually, the procession moves to bury his body as it begins to pour down. 

Shifting your grip on your sister, you watch as your mother talks to Mrs. Kent and your father talks to Clark. You don’t know where you fit in all of this. What you’re supposed to do, if you’re supposed to do something. You’re Clark’s friend, his only friend since Lana and him broke up and Pete is trying to pick up where they left off, you should do something. Right? Talk to him at the very least. 

Passing your sister over to Angel, you start towards him. 

“I need some space,” He tells you when you get close. He walks away and you stand there, watching as he walks down the muddy road back towards his house.

—

Some time later and it’s summer break and you’re invited to a bonfire that’s being held by one of the cheerleaders. Angel quite literally drags you along by your neck, tossing you into his friend's car kidnapping style before they speed off. 

Once you’re there, your gaze naturally finds Clark’s. Following the funeral, he hadn’t spoken to you for two weeks. Not even for the project because the teacher automatically passed the two of you due to Mr. Kent’s passing. It was two agonizing weeks where you spent most of the time hating yourself for being upset he wasn’t talking to you. Hating yourself more because he was in your dreams and in them, you were more than friends. It made the silence and the guilt in your body all the more painful. 

You were back to normal now, well as normal as Clark could be following the death of his father and as normal as you could be after having fourteen dreams where you kissed him. 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” You admit, taking a seat next to him. He shrugs, looking at the fire in the trash can. Clarks never really gone to one of the parties but you’ve been to nearly all of them since you entered high school. Even if it is to just be a wallflower the entire time and so you can sober Angel up when it’s time to leave. 

“Ma thought it would be a good idea to get some air and I figured you’d be here,” He pushes his shoulder against yours and you nudge his back. “Can I ask you something?” Nodding, you watch as his eyes dip down to your rosary. “I’ve never seen you take it off, why do you wear it? You said you don’t like church,”

“I’m still vaguely religious.” You shrug, holding the cross. “And it was a gift from my aunt. She makes rosaries and made this when my ma was pregnant with me. It just means a lot to me, I guess,” Your hand drops and you see his hand begin to hover. “You can touch it, you won’t burn.” The two of you laugh but he grabs it, gently rolling his thumb over the intricate metal. Gulping, you watch him, eyes darting between his own before he drops it. 

“It’s pretty,” He says after a minute and looks towards the party. It’s loud, speakers all around, and shouting teenagers always makes Clark wince. 

“If you wanna go somewhere more quiet, there’s a creek some ways behind us.” He takes the offer and you guide him towards the creek beyond a small clearing of trees. 

The two of you settle on top of a rock. It’s clear that someone had already been there because there’s a blanket and two empty cans of beer below the rock. Neither of you mind as you flip the blanket and settle down, now sure there’s no bodily fluids touching your pants. “I’ve never been here before,” He said after some time had passed with the two of you spending it watching the water. 

“I come here every bonfire. It’s nice. Most people go the other direction to make out and stuff.” Kicking your foot, you see Clark turn his head towards you. Looking at him, your heart races. Even with the shitty flashlight at the bottom of his rock, you can see his stupidly pretty blue eyes and his smile that he’s slowly getting back. “Not what we’re… gonna… make out,”

He chuckles, looking to the creek for a moment before looking at you again. You’re still dumbstruck, staring at him and his eyes dip to your slightly parted lips. He hears your racing heart pick up when you notice and look back at you, your eyes darting between his. “Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong,” He mutters and leans in. His lips brush against yours and you lean in, closing the little distance. 

Your chest does tricks as you kiss— it feels so right that this couldn’t possibly be wrong. There’s no way this isn’t what you’re meant to do, that this is the wrong path. It’s new but it feels so familiar, kissing him. Across the creek a tree breaks but neither one of you seems to care, you think Clark doesn’t even notice. But when you hear a twig snap you pull away and jump down from the rock, holding your mouth. Clark frowns as he watches you mess with your rosary, hearing you muttering prayers. 

“Ready to go?” Angel slurs against a tree. You basically run to him, dragging him away from the creek. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” When you leave, you don’t look back at Clark but he hears your heart hammering and the way your rosary beads hit each other when you kiss the cold metal he’d touched.

—

That Sunday during church you’re watching the children, listening to the sermon through the open windows the parents use to keep an extra eye on their kids. You’re still thinking about the kiss, hating yourself for how you let yourself fall into temptation. Biting your tongue, you fix your clothes for the umpteenth time and pace about. Angel isn’t there to help, he’s gone off to college to play football across the country. Not that you mind, he’s gotten into a D1 on a full ride. Besides, at least he’s doing better than you are.

In the distance, Clark watches you. His mother had started going to service more often since his father's passing but this time he’d ask to go. You hadn’t talked to him all week, not answering the phone, your mother said you weren’t home whenever he asked but he knows you were inside of the barn with your father. He saw you. Heard you talking about keeping the bees safe for when the cold starts to come around again. This was the only place he could think of to talk to you. 

He excuses himself during prayer, it’s easier to leave that way and heads out towards the playground. You’re helping one of the boys learn to swing when Clark makes his appearance. “You’re a good teacher,” He nearly gets kicked by the boy and takes a comically large step back. You blink, not looking at him as your heart rate increases. “Can we talk?”

“Sorry, I’m busy.” Walking away, you stop a disagreement about toys before going to the edge of the playground again. He follows, dodging running children and stray toys. 

“I just… I’m sorry,” He says once he’s close enough. Your breath hitches and you inhale. 

“We were intoxicated, it’s fine.” Never mind the two of you hadn’t even had a sip of water. Not a pill, not a drink, nothing. Solemnly, he agrees to the lie and walks away. You watch him with a heavy heart, holding your cross as your chest tightens. You want so desperately for things to be different, for this feeling to go away. 

But you can’t. You return to watching the children, the ache never leaving.

That behavior continues as school comes around again. You feel bad, of course you do. It wasn’t a mistake, you’d wanted to kiss him. The issue is you liked it and you want to do it again— Clark liked it and he wants to do it again. He tries to talk to you time and time again but you’re fast and somehow manage to evade him every single time. It’s hard, considering you’re never not around him. 

He continues to show up during church, helping with the kids even when it’s only your sister playing around. She likes him, says that he’s the best at her tea parties that you’ve started to refuse to play whenever he’s around. Clark doesn’t mean to ambush you every Sunday but it’s the only time he can hear your voice. The only time he can be around you for longer than a second before you run away. 

And it’s slowly chipping away at your resolve. 

One day he’d tried seven separate times and you’re glad when you’re home. Angrily kicking your shoes off you turn to head upstairs when you see your parents talking on the phone while holding a card. You recognize their voices, they’re friends from when you lived in New Orleans, and they used to attend service. 

“You’re right on time!” Your mother smiles as she beckons you further inside the house. “You remember Mickey and O’Neil, right?” You nod and your father smiles. It’s nice to be remembered. “We’re planning on flying back to New Orleans for their wedding, they want your father to officiate it, do you want to come? I know you’re back on the football team and everything but I know you miss it there.” 

Your eyebrows cross as you look at her, a wedding— a gay wedding that your father approved of? Your chest tightens as your world spins. You can’t manage a single word as you nod. What was different about them and Betsy? Did they not like gay women? 

“I thought…” You trail, lips pinched shut. “They’re homosexuals.”

“Surely are,” Your father smiles. “Unless one of them transitioned and we haven’t heard yet.”

“You don’t like gay people.” Sharing a look, your parents turn to you. Your chest rises and falls quickly and they can hear you breathing. 

“Honey,” Your mother's head tilts as she grabs your hand. “Why would you think that?” She pulls you down onto the couch and you thread your fingers over your hair. 

“You always talk about Betsy and Jane and how they’re bad people.” Your face twists as you try to understand what’s going on. What are they talking about?

“That’s because they tried to burn down the diner.” Your father explains, the diner your father owns. He does church on the side. “Jane got fired and the two of them decided to try to destroy it. It’s why Mr. Leon is in the wheelchair.” Your shoulders slump as you realize their hatred was never centered around who they loved. 

“So, you don’t hate gay people?” The waiver in your voice carries the pain you’re holding and your parents' hearts ache for you. 

“No, honey. Love thy neighbor. Only God can judge,” Your father presses his lips to the top of your head as you begin to cry. The two of them hold you as you cry, clutching their clothes for reprise. The floors shake as you cry and their grip on you tightens. “We’re sorry that you felt any different.” 

After some time, you pull away and wipe your face. They’re hesitant to let you go, but slowly they unwrap you from their arms and let you stand up. You feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as you walk away. They watch as you go, squeezing each other's hand as a silent promise to each other.

Halfway up the stairs, as all of this dawns on you, you remember. 

Clark. 

You huff a laugh and turn around. Running down the stairs, you stuff your feet into your shoes and run the distance from your house to the Kent’s. 

Your feet bash against the dirt road, ignoring the pain in your calves and the cold air invading your lungs. You’re laughing the whole time, skidding to a halt when you see their mailbox. The lights are on and you see Mrs. Kent in the kitchen. 

Running up to the door, you’re panting as you knock on the door. Mrs Kent opens the door for you with a smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel. 

“Hey, sweetie. What’s going on? Is something the matter?” She asks and you shake your head, holding your knees. 

“Hello, ma’am. I’m here for your son,” You struggle to get out but she lets you in without any fuss. “Thank you, ma’am.” Taking your shoes off, you climb the stairs two at a time before opening his door. He’s on his bed, doing homework, and sits up when he sees you. He doesn’t notice the door closing on its own, not when you’re smiling like an idiot while rushing towards him. 

“I am so sorry,” You say before kissing him. He smiles, holding you close as you continue to kiss before needing air. Holding his face, you can’t stop smiling and admiring him. 

“What changed?” He doesn’t want to ask that, to ruin the mood but he needs to know. It’s been two months of this cold shoulder, of him doing everything short of coming to your home with flowers and screaming your name to the heavens. 

“I might’ve assumed my parents were homophobic,” You laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “Can we start over?” He nods, leaning in for another kiss, lowering himself onto his bed when his mother walks in. 

Jumping off of Clark, you stare at Mrs. Kent with wide eyes while Clark hides his embarrassed face. You peel yourself from him, sitting on the edge of his bed while pinching your lips closed.

“Let me know if you’re staying for dinner, sugar,” She smiles at you. 

“No, ma’am. My parents are expecting me back soon,” She nods and gives Clark a look before leaving. The door stays open and he starts laughing. 

—

Being a witch, you have certain little traits. You mix cinnamon into your coffee filters on the rare occasions that you drink it, you always have your mini grimoire on hand, and as of late, tracing protection sigils into Clark’s arm. 

You’re at your place after football practice because despite your brother no longer being there to drag you to tryouts, you’ve found you do enjoy the sport. Continuing your role as the best running back with Clark’s plays. 

You and Clark are in the living room under the blanket watching a movie he’d picked out. He’s no stranger to your home, so much so your family has gotten used to finding his shoes neatly placed next to yours. But they’re all out of town picking your brother up from the airport, so the two of you are free to do whatever for the next… you squint at the clock, three hours. 

Sometimes you think about telling him but your mother didn’t tell your father until they’d been dating for three years and it sounds like a solid plan to you. Besides, it hasn’t even been seven months of dating. You’d be foolish to tell him now. Especially when things are going steady. 

Sometimes you worry he’s going to wander into the barn or the basement, finding the assortment of items, and run for the hills. He has this weird way of always knowing where you are when he’s around. Pinpointing you in the crowd as if you’re the only person around. 

“Do you believe in aliens?” He asks as the movie credits begin to roll. 

“I’d be stupid not to,” You hum, turning the TV off. It’s too much work to pick out another movie. “Do you?” With a nod, he sits up and lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s cut his hair, it rests around his ears nowadays but he keeps the front longer so there’s one particular curl that rests in the center of his forehead. It’s cute. 

“What if we could travel to outer space? See the stars and the planets like the astronauts do,” His eyes are still cast to the ceiling, darting about as if he’s imagining it. “Would you like an alien?”

“Whaddya mean?” Shifting, you sit with your legs tangled with his. He looks at you, leaning up on his forearms. 

“Would you date an alien?”

“It depends,” You grin, tugging at his pants leg. “Are they as cute as you?” He laughs and lays down again. 

“You hungry? Ma made lasagna last night.” Despite it being your offer and your house, Clark drags you into the kitchen and tosses the dish into the oven. Had he been someone with less restraint he would’ve heated it up himself but instead the two of you sit in the kitchen. You’re on the counter while he’s between your legs, staring up at you. You’re talking about anything and nothing, planning dates for the winter lights show a town over, talking about how much work your teachers had given for the winter break. 

Once the food is reheated the two of you eat like that. Still talking as Clark does the dishes next to you. You cringe as he does them wrong but he looks so happy so you let him. He eyes the bundle of spices above the sink and you try to see if you’ve left anything notably witchy out. Your tarot cards are still on the dining table and you send them down to the basement before he turns back to you. 

He wipes his hands on your sweater before you lean down and kiss him. He holds your legs, pulling you closer and the door opens. This is the fourth time the two of you have been caught, you’d think you would’ve gotten better at hiding it. 

“Woah!” Your brother shouts when he sees you two. Groaning, you look over at him. “Ma, you let them kiss in the house?” Clark dips his head down as you get down from the counter, crossing your arms as they all head inside. 

“Stop teasing your brother,” Your mother shakes her head. “Hi, Clark.”

“I gotta go…” Clark trails. “It’s getting late and my mom—“

“It’s okay, want me to drive you back?” 

“No, it’s okay. It’s only two miles.” He kisses you, a quick fleeting kiss that makes Angel snicker. “Er… see you Mr and Mrs (L/n).” He gathers his stuff and leaves, giving you one last wave before the door closes. 

“Come on, Angel!” You groan, tossing an apple at him. He catches it and takes a big bite before he farts and goes upstairs. “You know, the month before he left he’s the one who spilled all of moms homemade tomato paste.”

“You snitch!”

—

All good things must come to an end. 

Two years, well almost. You started dating in eleventh grade and now it’s the summer before college. The two of you knew that this was going to go one of two ways, long distance or breaking up. You’d gotten into the same D1 college as your brother and Clark was going off to Metropolis to pursue a journalism degree. What you didn’t think would happen was Clark having a completely different opinion from yours.

“There are phones and I have a car now,” You ramble, looking between his bleary eyes and red nose. “There are holiday breaks and long weekends. I’ll be traveling for games and stuff. We can make it work,”

“I can’t.” His lips wobble as he looks away and your breathing skips. “You deserve someone who can be there for you.” Lately, he’s been bailing, leaving dates early and sometimes he doesn’t even show up. Sure, but you’re sure there’s a reason for that. You’re sure of it. You’re willing to put in the work to keep the relationship going, you don’t care. You just want him. And for Clark, that’s the issue. He’s becoming Superman, he’s going to be unavailable and that’s not something you deserve. 

“Please,” Your voice cracks, holding your cross. “I want to be with you, I don’t care—“

“I’m sorry,” He stands and you follow him, desperately reaching out. “This is for the better.” 

“Don’t leave me,” You beg, watching as his jaw tightens. “How can you leave me— us? It can’t be that easy!” You reach for him but he moves away, his eyes flickering to the ground as he apologizes but stands firm on his decision. Clark leaves and you turn around, heading into your house with a heavy heart and a tight chest. 

That night your father holds you as you cry, riding out your first heartbreak while your sister calls your brother; telling him everything. 

Clark doesn’t see you when you leave for college, you don’t expect him to. Considering he’d left the day before. Mrs. Kent apologized for him, explaining that he was having some emotions he needed to process. It didn’t help you, not one bit. 

You spend the flight to school doing readings and getting strange looks from the old man next to you. Each one only makes you more and more frustrated, all of the signs pointing that this is the best course of action. This is how it’s meant to be. You’ve never doubted the cards before, especially when each reading is so similar but you explain it by assuming it’s because you’re so high up. So, you do one as you’re in the car with Angel. 

It’s the same fucking thing. 

“Stop doing those damn readings,” He huffs, waving his hand over the cards but he doesn’t touch them. “Clark broke up with you, so what? You’ve gotten a full ride to the best football college in the nation! You’re a witch! That fuck ass country boy will come crawling back when you’re in the NFL, trust me.”

“I miss him,” You frown, packing the cards back into the tin. Angel groans and smacks your head. 

“You’re not gonna miss him when you see the guys at college; there’s a bunch of Clark Kent’s in this world.” He says that as you look out the window, doubting his words. There is no other Clark Kent. “Even so, I know a couple gay guys. They’d be your type.” 

—

College football, ranked third most popular sport in the US after professional football and basketball, is an extremely taxing thing. Your days start early, running before the sun is up, drills, training until you can’t anymore, ice baths that you’re sure will kill you one day, practice, going to away games on top of maintaining a good GPA. 

You’re running in the cold, wearing shorts as you see your breath leaving your body in a foggy smoke. But hey, Angel was right. You had a couple of flings during college. A couple of DL’s, of course, maybe a single relationship that lasted a month but nothing of substance. You hate that you’re still hung up on Clark; it's ridiculous. You dated for less than two years during high school. He’d gotten over Lana in less time and you’re sure he’s off at school getting with some girl or whatever. 

“Happy birthday!” Angel shouts as the team all sit in a restaurant slash bar, celebrating the fact that the season is over and your school has won nearly all of their games. Plus, one of the guys' birthdays. You’re old enough to drink, but you stick to your water all the same. It’s a bad look for a star athlete to be caught drunk, which is why the team hadn’t gone to an actual bar as intended. 

Your eyes flicker across the restaurant and you catch a guy sitting at the bar. He’s drinking something brown, not even letting the ice have a chance to melt, and pretending he likes his drinks watered down. His eyes catch yours and he grins, turning in his seat to stare at you. You smile and look away, returning to your conversation. 

Sometime later, a waiter comes by and hands you a glass of… something brown. 

“I didn’t…”

“It’s from someone else,” She explains before walking away. Immediately, you find the guy and he raises his glass. Raising yours, you take a sip and you’re pleasantly surprised that it’s just sweet tea. Your brother snickers and nudges you out of the booth. The other guys encourage you and you agree, taking a fry before heading to the bar. 

“Hey,” You smile, slinking into the seat next to him. “I’m (Y/n),”

“Bruce,” He responds, shaking your hand. You shake his hand as you take him in, deciding to pursue whatever it is with Bruce. Even if it’s just because he’s nearly identical to Clark. 

Things with Bruce didn’t last long, sadly. Only around six months. He went awol after a bit but you weren’t angry by it. He was nice enough, and surely spoiled you a bit, too. Angel loved that part. 

“Get up,” Angel grumbles as you’re lying on the couch, staring at the Metropolis news channel, waiting for him to appear. His eyes move to the TV and he grumbles, snatching the remote away before changing the channel to ESPN. You grumble back and sit up, watching as he plops himself down, his girlfriend shyly waving at you. You wave back, resting your head on the armrest. 

“Ignore him,” He stage whispers to his girlfriend. “He’s moping about a boy from high school.” She wants to laugh, you can tell, but doesn’t for your sake while he sure enough does. 

“Eat a dick,” You reach behind her and smack his head before heading into the kitchen. 

“Why don’t you hit up that guy from that English class you had? With the red hair, he was cute.” He calls. 

“‘Cause,” You shrug, grabbing a bottle of juice. “Last I heard of him it was because people around campus got crabs from him. It was like thirty people,”

“Oh my god,” She gasps. “James? James uhh… Richmond?” She snaps her fingers and you nod.

“Yeah,” You laugh into the rim of the bottle. “I knew him before the crab's thing, still got tested, though.”

“This is the first I’m hearing about this,” Angel sits up, looking between the two of you. 

“Because you’re not on the men's side of school drama.” You shrug. “A lot of guys on campus get passed around. Especially James,”

“No, yeah, it was gross. My friend hooked up with him. It wasn’t just crabs.” Her face scrunches and you make a similar one. “He also gave her brother crabs and gono.” Tossing the now-empty bottle into the trash, you shake your head. 

“That’s so…” Walking away, you flop onto your bed and pretend to do homework. Instead, you spend your time doom scrolling on your phone. Facebook sure is a strange place.

—

You’d been there when your brother got drafted to the Kansas City Chiefs two years after things ended with you and Bruce. You’d watched from the waiting room as he stood on the stage, accepting the draft pick and getting the jersey number 55. Of course, he became the star quarterback by the time the season was over, cementing his spot on the team. 

This year it was your turn, you’d gone through the NFL combine, painstakingly trying your best to reach the qualifying numbers before getting confirmed you were going into the draft. That in itself was such a relief you literally collapsed onto your bed and cried. Currently, you’re sitting with your family minus your sister in the waiting room, your leg bouncing as you watch the other teams pick their drafts for this round. It’s still the first round of drafts and there are three teams left, so you’re not nervous that your name hasn’t been said yet. 

But man, are you terrified that your name hasn’t been said yet.

Angel laughs the more antsy you get— he thinks you got this in the bag, your father prays next to you and your mother rubs lavender lotion onto your hands. 

The commissioner heads to the stand as the Chiefs lock in their pick in record time. 

You listen as the commissioner reads from the card, your jaw drops as your brother jumps up and cheers, punching the air as your name rings through your ears. You stand, hugging him tightly as your parents join the hug. They damn near suffocate you before your brother pushes you towards the stage. 

Wiping your tears, you rush up and take your jersey, bouncing around with it as people cheer. The announcers talk about the fact that your brother is on the team as he rushes out and tackles you once you get off of the stage. 

“You fucking did it!” He shouts, crying. He pulls you close as you both stumble about. There are some technical difficulties as your excitement reaches the peak but nothing anyone could bring back to you. You don’t doubt someone had managed to get that on video, though. 

That night you sit awake, wondering if Clark had been watching. What would’ve happened if he was there at your side. How he would’ve held you; kissed you. Maybe he’ll text you, you haven’t changed your number since you’d gotten it. Your Facebook is the same, too. You’re still friends on there, he likes your posts sometimes. You look at his but you never interact with them.

But he doesn’t. He reports on the picks because it’s his job, you watch it with headphones on because somehow Angel can always hear when you listen to his reports. The way he says your name crushes you, he says it as if he doesn’t know you, as if you hadn’t spent years together and Angel shouts that you’ve blown out the lights again. He takes your phone away because he knows the lights are always a Clark issue. 

—

After four years of being on the team, you head back to Smallville for Christmas. You’d missed Thanksgiving due to the games (which you of course won) and are more than ready to lay in some snow for a while. Not to mention finally being home for a holiday.

You’re in town, doing some last-minute grocery shopping alone when you see him. He’s in the section of the store you absolutely need to go to, with your brother's wife pregnant she’s been craving nothing more than bacon-wrapped hotdogs dipped in Rotel cheese with pickles. It doesn’t sound half bad, so it’s a family food now. 

You stare at him, taking in his appearance for the first time in eight years. God, eight years. Angel is right, you should be over him by now. But you take him in as your walk slows until you’re standing behind him. He’s bulked up since the last time you saw him, he stands taller too. That shirt looks awfully tight around the arms and when he reaches up to grab a pack of meat the shirt tightens around his back. 

You blink away from him, looking down the empty aisles before you put your big boy pants on and continue to the meat section. Walking next to him, you grab the first three packs of hotdogs you see and turn to leave when he grabs you by the elbow. He softly calls your name and you stop, turning to face him. 

“Hey, Clark,” You greet, your heart pounding in your ears. He says your name again and it falls so nicely that you swear you almost crumble right then and there. 

“I’ve seen your games. You’re amazing,” He smiles, pushing his glasses up his nose. Never mind the fact he’s gotten tickets to six of your games and flown over two others. Not to mention he’s put himself in charge of all football complications at work. 

“Thanks. I heard you’re at the Daily Planet now,” Heard. You found out the day he posted it. Stalking his page like a madman between drills and games. Your TV’s default station is the Daily Planet and you have a monthly subscription to their newspapers. 

“Yeah, it’s great.” There’s a silence that hangs and you go to walk away but he stops you again. “Can we meet up soon? I’m free tomorrow if you are.” The hope in his eyes almost makes you give in but you pick yourself back up and grab another two packets of hotdogs. God, do you even need five packets of hotdogs? Probably not, but you can’t just put them back. It’ll look weird. 

“Maybe,” You shrug. “I’ll see you around, Clark.” Rubbing his face, Clark decides to keep on shopping; his ma doesn’t need much else anyway. He passed you at the checkout. You have all five packets of hotdogs, a gallon of eggnog, various snacks, and about three boxes of Rotel cheese. He doesn’t know it, but you spent extra time getting items hoping you’d see him again. Although he’s ashamed to admit it, he waits in the sky as you leave the market and get into your car, following you the entire way home while you listen to whatever the radio is playing at the time. 

He watches as you enter your childhood home and slowly drops down, standing at the window as you hug your parents. His heart nearly drops when he sees a pregnant woman hug you but he’s relieved when Angel kisses her cheek and she kisses him back. Your head begins to turn to the driveway and he takes off, leaving his footprints in the snow as the only proof he was there. 

You blink at the driveway, sure that something was watching you but your father calling your name drags you back into the house. 

You don’t bring it up when you get back to your family home but your mother knows something is up. Of course, she’d done a reading. But she doesn’t mention it. There’s other topics to talk about, like her upcoming grand baby, your sister making the debate team, your father's retirement, and your latest games. 

Spending time with your family is nice but you’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. How his hair looks better in person, his stupid glasses that kept slipping from his face, his fucking smile. You go for a walk after dinner, not wanting to blow up any more lights than you already have.

You walk behind the barn and stare at the vast spread of land your parents own. You know you’d hidden something somewhere along the property but it was so many years ago you’ve since forgotten. You hope it wasn’t something awfully important. 

“Hey,” Angel calls as you're walking aimlessly in the snow, hoping to remember the spot. “Ma’s worried about you getting sick. Come inside already,” Noddining, you take one last look out before heading inside. 

—

Week eighteen, the final week for the NFL season. It’s the last game before the Super Bowl in February, although you already know you’re a shoo-in for it. You’re up against the Dallas Cowboys, sitting in the locker room laughing and joking before pre-game interviews happen. 

You’re next to Felix Anudike-Uzomah, talking about something that happened in a previous game where Leo Chenal tripped over thin air and went flying into the coach. Leo, somehow hearing from across the locker room, sucks his teeth and tosses a towel at the two of you. 

“Interviews,” The coach announces, entering the room. Everyone settles down, watching as a group of five reporters and five cameramen walk inside. There’s a pair from NBC, Fox, CNN, ESPN, and the one that makes you and Angel look at each other, The Daily Planet. 

Clark stands in the most dorkiest outfit you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing him in. A red bow tie, a pressed blue button-up under a darker blue vest, brown slacks, and a nice pair of loafers. His glasses are resting on the tip of his nose and you can tell he’s put in extra time doing his hair. 

A light blows out above him and Angel smacks your leg, silently warning you to get a grip.

“You’re booked for Rosary,” Coach tells Clark after reading from the chart. Your heart skips a beat and you look at Angel but he just sighs, holding his head. Clark’s eyes find yours easily in the crowded locker room that suddenly feels so stuffy. 

No. You’re upset with him. 

He’s just another reporter you’ll talk to for five maybe ten minutes. Not the guy you’ve been practically obsessing over for eight years. Highly embarrassing for a grown man who pays taxes and has constant offers from very handsome men who would worship him. 

Never mind that, you’re plastering a smile as you shake hands with Clark. No introductions are necessary, but you do meet the cameraman. Clark says he’s working as a fill-in for the usual cameraman, his friend, Jimmy Olsen. He waves, shouldering the large camera on his shoulder. 

“Big game today,” He smiles, the microphone in his hand doing nothing to obscure that bright smile he puts on for the cameras. “How are you feeling about it? You don’t seem nervous.”

“Yeah, sure is.” You nod, looking just under his eyes. It’s less intimate that way. You can’t see his stupid eyes that way. “It's always a bittersweet moment with the guys before the last game of the season. But, you know, we got this in the bag so I’m not sweating it.” He laughs, nodding. Shit, you hadn’t heard that laugh in years and it makes you weak in the knees. A light blows out and Angel looks at you from where he’s being interviewed, you look down to avoid his gaze. 

“Clearly, you haven’t lost a game in nearly thirty games. That’s impressive, recording breaking, in fact.” He says and you swear for a second, his eyes meet your lips. You look away, nodding. He’s making the interview so difficult for no reason, absolutely no reason at all.

“That’s such a blessing. I don’t want to say too much about it, I don't want to jinx anything.” He nods.

“Me neither,” He smiles. You stare at him, waiting for the next question but he just stares for a second before he inhales and composes himself. “There’s a rumor you’re settling down, is that true?” Oh lord, you pocket your hands and shake your head. This time you don’t look at him as you answer the question.

“Definitely not settling down. Maybe put on babysitting duty but nothing personal. I’m not rushing anything.” 

“Taking things slow,” He nods and you nod back. “Well, I think that’s everything. Good luck, (Y/n),” Jimmy puts the camera down and goes to clean the lens but Clark doesn’t stop smiling at you. He doesn’t even walk away.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” He says and you clear your throat, looking along the room. “We didn’t meet up last time.”

“No,” You agree. “We did not. I wasn’t free.” That’s technically the truth, your sister-in-law had given birth and then there were some personal issues you had to attend to. 

“How about—“

“I think coach wants to talk to you. Probably your next interview,” You interrupt and he looks like a damn picked puppy it makes you feel bad when he leaves. 

“You’re a lost cause,” Angel sighs upon seeing your crestfallen expression. You shove him and leave the locker room to get some fresh air. 

“Wait, (Y/n)!” Clark follows after you, his microphone and Jimmy left inside the locker room. You pretend to not hear him, choosing to wander the cold and damp hallways of the stadium before he catches up to you. “Please.” He whispers, unaware he’d caged you between himself and the wall. A corner, at that. 

“What?” You ask. 

“I just want to talk,” He promises. “One conversation. Ten minutes,”

“The game starts in five,” You point out and he huffs, checking his watch. “Bullet points?” His hand drops back to your forearm and he thinks for a second before he smiles. 

“Just this one.” He breathes and kisses you. 

You feel like a fool when you kiss back without any hesitation. There’s not even a seconds delay as your lips move with his, your hands finding his hair and his hands finding your thighs. His fingers press to them in this nearly bruising pressure and you get the hint easily enough. 

While, sure, you’ve kissed plenty of men. You’ve taken men to bed and they’ve taken you to bed. But you’ve never had a guy lift you up before and you imagine if they had, it wouldn’t have been as easy as it was with Clark. 

He holds you in place so well, so secure, that you’re sure he has an insane workout routine. But when you feel his muscles, you know that for sure. His bench press but be insane. 

God, you’re thinking about working out while making out. 

His blunt nails dig into the tights of your uniform and you hiss, opening your mouth in his. Gripping his well-groomed hair, your fingers thread in the dark strands before there’s a throat clearing from the end of the hallway. 

The two of you break apart like magnets and you stare at Angel. 

“Dude,” He sighs and you have to blink in the darkness to see him properly. “Come on, we gotta be on the field in three.” Nodding, you don’t look back at Clark as you run back into the locker room, fearing the earful Angel is going to give you later on. 

To say you won the game would be an understatement. You absolutely demolished the other team on their home field. It was such a sweep that you stopped playing halfway into the game and just had fun with the guys. During every break you’d see Clark in the press pit, watching you with a soft smile. 

“C’mon, gay boy.” Angel grabs you by the helmet and pulls you into the locker room while some teammates do their post-game interviews. It’s empty when you get inside and he’s thankful for that. 

“Making out with Clark is such a low,” He says, holding a hand up before you can start talking. “I get it; first loves are hard. But he dumped you and didn’t even say goodbye. It’s embarrassing that you’re won back so easily. Did he even say sorry?” His foot taps as he waits for an answer but you’re sure he already knows. 

“No…” You trail and he scoffs loudly. “He wanted to talk but I said the game was about to start.”

“Oh, so you skipped the apology and shoved his tongue down your throat?” He scoffs, crossing his arms. 

“I didn’t mean to!” You shout. 

“You didn’t mean to wrap your legs around him and hold his head? That seemed pretty intentional to me!” He shouts back. 

“Angel,” You huff, head in your hands. He sighs and sits next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“I get it, you’re a big boy who can make big-boy mistakes. This is a pretty big one, though. It’s just you’ve spent years trying to get over him and he’s sucking you back in. I don’t want to see you crying over him again, 'cause next time he does I’m getting ma to put a hex on his ass.” You laugh and shake your head. “I’m serious!” He laughs, knocking your head with his knuckles. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid, yeah?” He asks, his hand running over your shoulder to hold his own hand. 

“I won’t,” You promise. “It was just… heat of the moment.”

“Good. Now let’s go, we have a victory to celebrate!”

—

Heat of the moment— you’re a fucking idiot to believe that. To have believed that even, for a split second, that you weren’t still absolutely enamored by Clark Kent. Like some stupid, hopeless, idiot. 

Following the game Clark had messaged you on Facebook— a simple text, a simple congratulations text. You kept it to yourself, texting him on and off as the weeks progressed. Texts turned into photos; nothing scandalous. Pictures of food, selfies showing off his friends at work, your treadmill— simple things. Photos turned into calls. Maybe five minutes long, nothing of substance. 

Five turned into twenty, turned into an hour and suddenly your text and call logs were filled with C.K. 

Ashamed, you didn’t mention it to Angel. You don’t live together anymore, he lives in South Carolina while you moved to New York, closer to Metropolis than to Gotham, though. 

Even more ashamed, you noticed how even through your hundreds of hours talking, there was never an apology. Never an explanation. Nothing. You felt stupid every time you hung up, every time you replied so fast to his text only to be left on delivered for hours at a time. 

So, you started agreeing to dates. Your friends, teammates, and even Angel and his wife would set you up with guys. They were nice enough. Kind men who definitely made you happy, never too eager for something you didn’t want, never too fanboy, and you thought, for a while, that you could be happy with one of them. 

It was six months with him; a great, long six months of getting to know Thomas. He was a little older than yourself, in his mid-thirties. He was absolutely useless when it came to football and you loved trying to teach him. 

“Babe,” He called one day, in a tone that made your heart sink as you rose up from the kitchen island, ignoring the tomatoes that needed dicing. “There’s flowers for you.”

“From who?” He stands at the door with a vase filled with elaborate flowers, colors so vibrant you’re sure it’s fake. He grabs the card and flips it open. 

“I know it’s early, but I’m hoping this gets to you at midnight. Happy birthday, I’m sorry I missed the last eight. Expect more. Love, Clark. Who’s Clark?” He turns to you, shoving the vase into your arms. 

“An old boyfriend,” You blink, setting the vase down to follow after him. 

“You’re seeing him?” He asks, arms crossed, the card between his fingers as he reads over the words. “Expect more, Love, Clark.” He repeats and you sigh, running a hand over your rosary. 

“No! I haven’t seen him in like eight months. He’s a reporter and he came to a game and interviewed me. I haven’t seen him since high school.” 

“So, he’s just some stalker then?” Thomas asks and you bite your lip.

“No,” You drag out, wanting to be open with him and he goes to turn away but you quickly add. “I haven’t spoken to him since our first date. Honest, you can check my phone.” Taking what you say at face value, he puts the card down and purses his lips. 

“How does he know where you live?”

“I actually don’t know,” You admit. “I mean, he could’ve asked my mother. But, I don’t know.” He inhales and then caresses your face, his knuckles brushing against your jaw. 

“Okay,” He smiles and kisses you. “But you’re not off the hook. You didn’t tell me your birthday is in an hour!” You laugh, resting your forehead on his shoulder. 

—

“How’re things with Tommy boy?” Angel asks, pulling you aside as your birthday party rages in your backyard. It’s the day after your birthday and despite yourself, you didn’t cancel the already existing fake surprise party they’d planned for you. 

“He…” You sigh. “We broke up yesterday.”

“He broke up with you on your birthday?” He echos and you nod, eating a piece of cake to drown your sorrow. “Why?”

“…Clark,” He gives you a look and you snort. “Clark kept sending me gifts throughout the day, I kept telling him that I haven’t spoken to Clark in months but he stopped believing me after Clark sent me a signed jersey from that hockey player I like.”

“You only just started getting into hockey, though.”

“That’s what he said; so he thinks I’m still texting him. Broke up with me,”

“I hate to ask,” Angel trails off, face twisting with guilt and you huff, setting the plate down. 

“I haven’t said a word to Clark in ages. I don’t know how he got my address, how he knows these things— I… I don’t know but he just ruined my first good relationship since him.” 

“You think he’s stalking you?” 

“I’ll check later today; I asked mom to help with a reading and then a protection spell. But I really want to get drunk right now.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that, let’s go! Aunty Tiff brought her special punch.”

—

Magic is… finicky. Especially when you’re bordering on black-out drunk, stumbling into everything in your bedroom after Angel and forcibly brought you there. The party had since ended, everything was cleaned up and most people went home. 

You stayed up, embarrassed to admit you were drunk texting (and calling) Thomas that nothing was happening between you and Clark. He ended up blocking you and you just laid down, wallowing in your own self-pity before getting up and going for a walk. 

You don’t remember thinking about that teleportation spell, but you did remember suddenly being in the snow, barely able to stand up until you got the alcohol out of your system with another spell. You recognized Smallville and walked around for a bit, you could use the fresh air anyway. 

You don't realize that you’re at the Kent’s until you see the red barn. It just makes you angry and you brush your cold hands against your face, wiping away the angry tears. Turning around, you jump when Clark is in front of you. 

“Can we talk?” He asks. Dressed poorly for the weather, you stare at his red nose and then his eyes. It’s always those damn eyes. Blinking, you look out to the sky and then back at him.

“Fuck you,” You spit, brushing past him before you spin around and shove him. “How’d you get my address anyway? Know about that hockey shit?” 

“I asked your mother and I saw you’d posted it last month,” He explains, eyes flickering between yours. “Was I not supposed—“

“I got dumped on my fucking birthday because he thought I was cheating with you! With you! Oh my god, why can’t you just leave me alone, it’s been almost a decade and you’re still here!” 

“Ma lives here…” He trails and you shout, running your hands over your hair. 

“Here!” You wave your arms around and it clicks for him. “I finally stopped thinking about you and you just swoop back in, ruining everything, again!” 

“I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to show you that I still care.”

“You should've left me alone. You should’ve declined that interview, you should’ve left me alone when I walked out of the locker room. I should’ve ignored your texts and your calls.” You ramble. 

“Is that what you really want?” He asks, standing tall and you mimic his stance. 

“It’s better than whatever the fuck this is!” You shout. “You leaving without a trace and then reappear without an explanation. Expecting me to just go along with it and I fucking do because I’m holding onto some stupid childish hope that maybe you’ll change. Like this is some stupid story!”

“Let’s talk then,” He suggests. “I’ll explain everything— everything. I’ll answer any question you’ll want me to. And if you still feel like that then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fine.” You huff. He smiles and takes you into the barn. To his credit, it’s incredibly warm inside. The Kent’s don’t own any more animals since Clark left and Mrs. Kent couldn’t tend to them anymore so it’s void of the animal smell you’re used to. 

He closes the door with a gentle thud while you lean against a pillar, watching as he walks in front of you. 

“I’ve wanted to say this since the day we broke up,” He starts. “I love you. I haven’t stopped. But…” Your heart drops as his face falls. “At the time I was coming into my own shoes. It took up my entire life. And it wasn’t going to be fair to you, you don’t deserve a back-burner relationship.”

“Were you doing drugs or something?” You ask, honestly confused out of your mind. This is fucking Clark Kent, a resident good boy who became a reporter. Not Timmy who tried to make meth in the chem lab a week before graduation. 

“No… I—“ He takes a step back and removes his hat. “I wanted to tell you so many times. But I was afraid,”

“You know I don’t like these cliffhanger conversations, spit it out.” You groan and he laughs before clearing his throat. 

“Fine.” He stands up tall. “I’m Superman.” Squinting, you make a noise. You have no idea what he’s talking about. Great. His biggest secret and you’re clueless. “The hero…?”

“Oh!” You gasp and nod. “The one from Metropolis?” Since graduation, you’ve been busy with football. Embarrassingly, you get your news from his Facebook and Angel. 

“Yes, that one.” He chuckles, watching as your face goes from one of realization to shock.

“You have powers, too?” Spluttering, he blinks. 

“Too?”

“I'm a witch,” You trail. “Not nearly as cool as being an alien, but I have cooler powers. So you dumped me to become a hero?” Looking between his eyes, he shakes his head and then nods, unable to form a proper sentence. 

“It’s complicated. But let’s get back to your thing. You’re a witch? Your dad is a priest!” He takes a step closer while your back is still to the pillar. 

“And my ma is a witch. We're from New Orleans, that’s a pretty common pairing. You’re the alien! Are the Kents also aliens?” 

“No, I crash-landed here when I was an infant. Your mother is a witch, too?”

“Yes, it’s a family thing. Your folks hid this for years!”

“You hid this for years!”

“Because it’s a family secret!”

“So is mine!”

The two of you pause, staring at one another. Holding your cross, you don’t know where to go from here. Sinking to the floor, you stare up at him while he slowly gets to the ground too. 

“I don’t want to lose you again,” He grabs your hand. “Please, can we start over? With everything on the table, no more secrets. No more running.” 

“Clark,” You wince and he falters. “I can’t go back to us if you’re going to run away again. And I really liked Thomas.”

“You said you liked him,” He grins as though he’d discovered the secret loophole in destroying the bad guy. “Does that mean you’re over him?”

“It’s been a day, asshole. And you didn’t respond to the first part.”

“No-no! I won’t, I promise. We can start slow but I’ve spent nearly a decade missing you. I just need to be close to you.” He pleads with this desperate look on his face that makes you melt. All of your resolve goes flying through the window when your eyes dip down to his lips, red from the cold. Leaning in, you kiss him. 

You’re not clear-minded, this is the years of missing him coming back. It’s because you don’t like being called a liar or being dumped on your birthday so you might as well kiss Clark now that Thomas is gone. You’re acting without thinking, even as he kisses you back and holds you so tenderly. 

He climbs on top of you, caging your legs between his thighs, and keeps you close. Licking his bottom lip he doesn’t waste time in opening his mouth, moaning at the feeling of your tongue touching his. Gripping his head he hisses and pulls away, fumbling with your jacket. You follow his lead, maybe stupidly because you’re eager to get him out of his jacket and then his shirt. He tosses his plaid shirt to the ground and realizes his lips have been off of yours for far too long. 

“Shit,” You hiss when he slams his head into yours, pushing your head against the wooden pillar. He apologizes but you hardly hear it over the kissing and him damn near dry-humping against your stomach. You can feel the wetness through his thick jeans and it gets to a painful point where he takes off his belt. Technically, he rips it off, snapping the belt into two, and undoes the button in a blissful haze.

He shifts on your lap, putting one of your legs between his, and grinds down. His knee presses against your own and you suck in a breath, holding his thighs to keep the pressure there. 

“Can I- fuck,” He pants, moving his hand to his boxers, palming his erection. “I need you,” His eyes find yours, the glasses barely hanging on the tip of his nose. His face is a rosy pink, and flushed and his eyelashes wet. Taking his glasses off, you send them onto the tractor and move your left hand from his thigh to his hard-on. 

“Like this?” You ask, touching him through the wet fabric. Your thumb moves over his tip, using gentle motions that make him whimper against you. His head drops to your shoulder and his hips buck into your hand. 

“Please,” He whimpers, his shaking hand grabbing your own. “Touch me, please.” Shoving your hand into his boxers, he crushes a part of the pillar behind you when your hand wraps around his dick. It splinters and you mutter a spell to fix it while taking care of Clark. 

He’s huge, unnaturally so, it’s probably why he wears such baggy jeans now that you think about it. Smearing his precum against your hand, you start to stroke up and down the shaft. Your other hand starts to work on your own pants but he shakes his head, fumbling with your pants. In his haze, he rips your jeans open and you huff a laugh. 

He apologizes before kissing you, his moans dying inside your mouth while you feel his hand working the outside of your boxers. Your dick twitches in his hand and he uses his free hand to move your waistband low enough that your dick springs out. Glancing down, he spits onto his hand and starts jerking you off. 

“Clark,” You moan, head tilted up while he starts kissing your neck. The noises in the barn are pornographic, the slicking sound of the two of you working on each other, the loud kisses he’s leaving across your body, and the moans you’re both doing nothing to hide. He says your name as his eyes squeeze shut, his hips bucking erratically. 

“I’m close,” He heaves. “Keep doing that, please,” Working his dick, his hand slips from yours but you’re focused on him. Focused on the way his chest rises and falls with each moan, how you can see his moans mixing into the air, how his face is red and his hair is starting to stick to his forehead. He leans back, staring at you as he cums. It sprays, landing on your hand, chest, and neck. He continues to shoot weak spurts that slide down your hand and his dick, coating his boxers and pants. 

But his dick doesn’t go flaccid. 

“‘M sorry,” He pants, watching as your eyes close when he returns to your dick. “It’s the alien DNA… it doesn’t— just let me take care of you,” Nodding, you focus on the feeling of his hand working your dick, how he squeezes every so often and peppers soft kisses against your neck. It doesn’t take long before your back arches and you spill onto his hand. 

Coming down from your high you watch as Clark cums again, this time into his fist. The two of you pant, staring at each other before kissing again. He wipes his hands on his jacket before guiding your hands to his hips.

Yeah, you definitely needed this. 

He walks you home after sneaking you into the house to clean up. You teleport back home, Clark still attached at your hip but a little woozy from the reporting. The two of you catch up while not quite holding hands. It’s a ridiculous sight between two twenty-nine-year-old men but, hey, no one is around to judge. 

“You remember when we went to the Soul Asylum concert?” He brings up when he’s about to leave, finding excuses to stay close to you. 

“Yeah, I saved us,” You nod. He stops walking and you look back at him. “I said a protection spell.”

“I pulled everyone out of the car.” He tells you. You squint. 

“I said the spell first. Maybe it compelled you to pull us out,” You shrug. 

“A spell didn’t compel— yknow what? You’re right,” He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We’re going to Smallville to see the lights at six tomorrow,” You offer, barely hiding your smile.

“It’s a date.” Watching as he flies away, you laugh and head inside. 

“You fucked Clark Kent?” Angel asks once you’re inside the house. Your parents, niece, and sister are already upstairs asleep, it’s just him and his wife watching Hallmark movies. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug, leaning against the archway frame. 

“Really? Because you left this house with white a t-shirt and your pants are open,” Looking down, you see the blue jeans with a busted button and plaid button down you’d grabbed and licked your teeth. 

“Maybe you forgot what I was wearing,” He inhales, leaning back on the couch. 

“Mm, so we won’t be seeing Clark around?”

“Who knows,”

—

The next day you meet Clark in town, he not so subtly walks up behind you and places his hands on your hips to get your attention. You smile but don’t look away from the lights and squeeze his hands as a form of recognition. Your folks notice but don’t comment on it. 

The light show is lovely and you don’t blow any of them up by accident. Which your father thanks you for just before you leave with Clark. 

“So, this is real?” He asks, eyes darting between your own. He bites his bottom lip as he waits for your response and you nod, rolling your eyes when he cheers and leans in for a kiss. He peppers kisses along your face and you laugh, holding his neck with your eyes shut. “I promise I won’t hurt you again.” 

“You better,” You sigh and cross your arms. “I heard Superman is allergic to magic.” 

“Maybe a little,” He whispers, forehead pressed against yours. “You’re my weakness, huh?” He chuckles and you snort, pulling away from him. Holding your cross, you find your family walking along the stalls but your brother keeps an eye on you the whole time. 

Clark grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together and the two of you enjoy the lights and the food for the night. At some point, you end up back at your church. It’s the same as it was when you left, although there’s a pride flag hanging off of the window. Your parents didn’t want anyone to get the wrong message ever again. 

Heading inside because your father never locks the doors, you and Clark settle in the pews and you lay your head along the back of the pew, staring at him. 

“What’s it like? Being an alien?” You ask. “Have you seen the stars?”

“I have,” He smiles, brushing snow from your shoulder. “And it’s… I don’t really feel different. Aside from the x-ray vision, heightened senses, heat vision, and other stuff.”

“Are you a Martian? Is that racist to ask?”

“No, it’s not. I think— I’m the only alien I've ever met. But I’m a Kryptonian, my planet blew up and my birth parents saved me.” He explains. “I’ve never known anything other than Earth, but…” His eyes light up as he realizes something. “My pod had this… crystal and I discovered so much about my heritage. It’s around the time I started pulling away. I have this place in the Arctic, if you’d like to see it.”

“I would,” You nod. “We should go soon, before I have to head back.” He agrees, removing his glasses now that he doesn’t need to keep up appearances. It's more than the glasses, he’d later tell you. Superman stands taller, speaks with more authority than Clark Kent, and a host of other minor differences that add up. It sounds horribly complicated. 

“What’s it like being a witch?” He asks and you huff, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It’s such a process. Did you know— I know you don’t, don’t worry— that every single witch has a prophecy?” You laugh. “My mother was that she’ll become the reason the wolf becomes victorious.”

“The wolf?” He squints. 

“The Chiefs mascot is a wolf,” You explain and he laughs. “Yeah, her prophecy is the reason I’m in football. Her brother's prophecy was he’d become a zookeeper. Some of them are really mundane.”

“What’s yours?” He asks and you shrug. 

“Something about becoming a red witch. I think it was a rose, or maybe a scarlet. I’m not sure. It’s been years since I’ve read it.” 

“What’s a red witch?”

“Honestly, I have no clue. But, when it happens, I’ll know.” You wave. “It’s probably harmless, the Chiefs are red, so I guess it’s that. I dunno. But aside from that being a witch is cool. I have all these powers that I can do whatever for,”

“I hate to ask,” He cringes. You huff, knowing the question. 

“No, I don’t use them to play football. Only a minor protection sigil so players don’t get injured. It’s engraved on their helmets.” He nods. “Don’t go reporting that, though.” You tease.

“It’s off the record,” He laughs and it slowly dies out. “What about us?” Us. There’s an us now. You stare at him and shrug, slowly smiling as an idea creeps in the back of your mind.

“It would be cool if we announced it at the next Superbowl. Like I win and run and kiss you.” You laugh. “Or you’re interviewing me post-game and we kiss.”

“That’s so corny, we should.”

[blythesarchives]

Rinse Cycle.

summary: Bucky pulls his arm from the dishwasher and you love how warm it is.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | TB*!Bucky | Fingering | Dirty talk | Swearing | Groping | Nipple play | Teasing | Orgasm denial (you do finish in the end hehe)

a/n: Thunderbolts* trailer has me feral af. I have so many ideas I want to write, but this is a start. I didn't mean for this to get so long but maybe that's just Bucky pulling more passion out of me. I need him. We don't know how he's going to act in the movie so I just sort of winged it from what the trailer provided. Unedited. ;; wc: 5.8k

It was chore day. You hated chore day.

The monotony of it all felt suffocating, an endless cycle of tedious tasks that seemed to pile up endlessly. Dishes stacked in the sink, laundry overflowing from the hamper, bathroom in dire need of scrubbing, kitchen counters cluttered with remnants of meals past, and trash threatening to spill over - it all felt like an insurmountable mountain of responsibilities.

The weight of these mundane tasks pressed down on you, a constant reminder of the adulting you'd been avoiding. But there was no escaping it any longer; you had procrastinated to the very limit of what was tolerable.

You tried not to be too hard on yourself about the state of things. Both you and Bucky struggled with mental health and that often made seemingly simple tasks, like washing dishes or tidying up, feel overwhelmingly difficult. You both understood this struggle and did your best to help one another out. You developed a system and worked together, splitting household chores as a team when possible. But you both had your days where you couldn’t contribute as much, so it was up to the other to carry it.

With a heavy sigh, you began the dreaded process by gathering the scattered laundry. Your movements were deliberately quiet as you crept into the bedroom where Bucky was currently taking a heavy nap. His face, usually etched with worry lines, appeared peaceful for once. You couldn't help but pause for a moment, taking him in, his features and how beautiful he was to you. It was a stark contrast to the terrorized nights you'd both endured, filled with his restless tossing and turning.

Thankfully, the relentless nightmares he suffered from had become less frequent since you'd started sharing the bed. It had been a slow process, watching him migrate from the cold, hard floor, to the slightly more comfortable couch, and finally to the warmth and safety of your shared bed.

You often slept with him before his migration, napping on the floor during the night or on the couch while he remained on the floor. You both laid together on the couch, but you also slept separately. Now, you were just glad he had finally moved into bed with you.

He was curled up in bed, his form a picture of peaceful slumber. His messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearing, boyish look. His mouth was slightly open, soft breaths escaping in a gentle rhythm, and his metal arm was absent from his body. It wasn't an uncommon thing, as he occasionally removed it when he slept, he said sometimes it feels better without the weight of it straining his back muscles when he laid down. Bucky really only did this when he felt truly safe and secure in his surroundings, aka, only around you and in your shared home. The missing prosthetic wasn't on the bedside table where he usually placed it, so he must be cleaning it.

You gathered the scattered laundry from around the room so you could leave him to his nap, creating a neat pile in your arms. Making your way to the laundry area, you passed the kitchen and saw the rinse cycle on the dishwasher, figuring his arm was in there. You threw the dirty clothes into the washing machine when you reached it, setting it to run. There was a load of dry clothes waiting to be dealt with, so you folded these items and set them aside for later. Your next task took you to the bathroom, where you began the process of cleaning and tidying. You finished scrubbing just in time to come out and see Bucky standing at the dishwasher.

Bucky looked absolutely precious when he woke up, despite his usual brooding when you fawned over him so sweetly, his tousled hair framing his face in a messy halo, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. His expression was one of endearing drowsiness that only comes from a deep slumber. When his gaze finally focused on you, a flicker of realization crossed his features. In an adorable attempt to appear more presentable, he quickly turned to the sink, fumbling slightly with the faucet before running his hand under the cool stream of water.

"Hey doll..." he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for longer than an hour." His hand continued to run through his disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly strands. The water caused his dark locks to stick up at odd angles, somehow making him look even more endearing. "Guess I needed it more than I thought..." he added sheepishly, a small, apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You've been pushing yourself so hard lately, Bucky. Your body was probably crying out for a break," you replied softly, your voice filled with understanding and affection. You made your way around the sleek granite counter, each step bringing you closer to him. A warm smile spread across your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement at his disheveled state and hurried attempt to tame his hair. He decided to grow it out a while ago, he liked having you play with it, and his shorter hair didn’t feel as satisfying when your fingers carded through it.

"So..." you began, your tone taking on a playful lilt. "I see you put it in the dishwasher again, huh?" A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gestured towards the kitchen appliance, your eyes dancing with mirth. It was a recurring joke between the two of you, one day he forgot to tell you about his arm and you were shocked to find it in there.

He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack, his eyes immediately drawn to the peculiar sight of a metallic arm nestled beside two off-white ceramic plates. The sight of the advanced prosthetic among mundane kitchenware was both amusing and slightly absurd to you. "Do not tell me you ran a whole cycle and there were only two plates in there..." You groaned softly, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief coloring your voice. Your reaction elicited a low, rumbling chuckle from him, the sound warm and slightly mischievous.

"Maybe." Bucky's response was accompanied by a playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached into the dishwasher and carefully retrieved his steaming vibranium arm, the advanced metal still radiating intense heat from the cleaning cycle. The heather black surface of the arm was a striking contrast against his skin, with intricate gold accents peeking through the articulated plates, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow.

As he deftly maneuvered the prosthetic towards his shoulder, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. The arm's sensors flickered to life, bathing the immediate area in a soft, ethereal violet glow. Bucky aligned the arm with his shoulder socket, and in one fluid motion, it locked into place with a satisfying click. The plates of the arm began to shift and recalibrate, the movement reminded you of a living organism adapting to its environment. You remembered once you had made the comparison to a caterpillar squiggling across a leaf.

He threw his arm in a quick, fluid motion, the circular movement causing a sudden surge of heat to radiate through your core. The soft grunt that escaped his lips as his arm swung through the air didn't go unnoticed by you. You found yourself moving closer to him without any sort of cause, your body responding instinctively to the simple action.

The arm still retained the warmth from the cycle it ran through, you could feel the radiating heat even from a short distance away. Vibranium was notorious for holding and distributing kinetic energy, this also applied to heat and cold. Unable to resist, your fingertips delicately grazed over the smooth, metallic surface. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the temperature of the arm in comparison to your cooler skin.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed your every movement, his eyes immediately drawn to the telltale flush that had begun to spread across your cheeks. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he observed your reaction.

"Ah...what's wrong, sweetheart..." he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that unmistakable teasing tone that you had come to recognize all too well. It was a tone that never failed to set your heart racing, a prelude to the passionate encounters that often followed. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, you shuffled in place and felt your legs squeeze together for some kind of friction.

"Nothing..." you huffed out, your voice much quieter than anticipated, barely above a whisper. "Your arm is just... so warm. It feels nice…"

"Does it?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the gentle lilt in his voice made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

Your mind began to wander, racing with vivid thoughts of how his arm would feel against your body. You imagined his strong hand tenderly caressing your back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns as they ran down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The mental image continued, his touch ghosting over the curve of your ass, his hands gently massaging your thighs, kneading away any tension and replacing it with a tingling sensation that spread throughout your body.

Or simply Bucky holding you close, his warmth enveloping you completely when you felt a little chilly, providing not just the physical comfort you craved from him but also a sense of safety and belonging, something you had always struggled with before you met.

He had done all of that countless times before, yet for some reason, with the arm radiating a warmth significantly more intense than its usual room temperature coolness, a deep, tingly sensation began to stir deep within your core. You found yourself swallowing hard, your gaze slowly lifting to meet his.

You guided his hand towards your neck, Bucky's eyebrow raised ever so slightly at your action. But, he wasn’t stupid. He unfurled his palm, allowing his fingertips to caress your skin with a delicate touch. The feather-light contact sent shivers down your spine, once he felt your body give him that little shiver, he encircled your throat with his fingers, maintaining a loose yet unmistakably present grip. His voice was low and husky, leaning down a bit until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. "What do you want, babydoll?"

"I...want...to feel your hand." You rasped in response, your voice thick with desire. A wave of heat coursed through your body, pooling between your legs as his voice sent shivers down your spine. Your body responded to him instantly, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you shuffled closer to him, your hands splaying across his broad chest. The fabric of his shirt did little to mask the warmth radiating from his skin, and you found yourself growing more desperate with each passing second, craving the feeling of him close to you.

Bucky chuckled, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against your palms. His scruff tickled your cheekbone as he leaned in, laying a hasty but tender kiss to your temple. The brief contact left your skin burning, yearning for more, like a drug being given and suddenly taken away. His metal hand moved down your body with agonizing slowness, the fucker did it on purpose to tease you more. He gently teased the sensitive skin just above your shorts, his fingers dancing along the waistband before sliding beneath your top.

While your skin was feverish, the touch of the very hot vibranium felt electrifying against you. Normally, the touches from his hand would tickle, raising goosebumps in their wake from the cold metal. But now it felt incredibly comforting and arousing all at once. The warmth spreading through your body was addictive, a delicious heat that you couldn't get enough of. He continued caressing you with a gentle and possessive touch, you arched into his hand in response, silently begging for more.

You couldn't suppress the soft whimper that escaped your lips as his hand continued its tantalizing journey across your abdomen. His fingers danced along your skin, deliberately brushing against your sensitive sides, making you quiver. His trail was agonizingly slow, but his touch ascended, finally reaching the delicate area just beneath your breasts. Your breath was caught in your throat, and he stopped moving his hand completely, having it instead rest still on your skin and the area turning a bit red from the heat.

"You want more?" His voice, low and husky, cut through the tension-filled air. His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing through to your very core. There was amusement dancing in those glacial depths as he observed your flushed face and quickened breathing. He was clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, reveling in the way your body responded to his touch. Bucky was always super cheeky when it came to making you like this, he took great pride in turning your legs into Jell-O.

You weren’t able to form coherent words, your mind clouded thickly with desire. His mere presence was intoxicating, and the light caresses he had bestowed upon you were enough to reduce you to that quivering mess he was so eager to see. You were putty in his hands, desperate for more of his touch and he had barely begun.

Already, you were teetering on the edge of losing all self-control.

"Bucky, please, I can't handle this teasing anymore," you whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your breath had become increasingly rapid and shallow as waves of adrenaline coursed through your body, setting every nerve ending alight with anticipation. The mere thought of his hand, that powerful, yet gentle hand, exploring your most sensitive and intimate areas made you feel increasingly wet.

Bucky's fingers found the hem of your top and he paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. At your almost imperceptible nod, he began to lift the fabric, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of your skin. The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed flesh, adding to the sensory overload you were already experiencing. He pulled the garment completely over your head and carelessly tossed it aside, where it landed in a forgotten heap on the floor.

Now bare from the waist up, you felt a moment of vulnerability as Bucky's intense gaze roved over your exposed chest. His stormy blue eyes darkened with desire, drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if committing it to memory. The weight of his stare ignited a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you entirely.

Bucky's hands slowly and deliberately roam upwards, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your skin before finally reaching your breasts. He gently cups them in his large hands, beginning to massage and caress them with a tender yet passionate touch. Bucky's ministrations quickly begin to urge you on, your legs flexing together to create some kind of pressure between your legs.

The vibranium hand was still hot, it distributes those waves of heat through your body in a much gentler fashion than how you’ve seen in other circumstances. You’ve seen his arm break through concrete, crush otherwise impossible to damage objects, choke the life out of aliens. And here he was, treating your body like precious, tender treasure with the same limb.

You can feel your skin tingling …the dichotomy between his two hands - one warm flesh, one hot metal - adds an extra layer of sensory stimulation. A feather or an ice cube couldn't compare to how he made you feel.

The pure captivation in Bucky's eyes made the butterflies in your belly swarm even more, how he eyes your breasts makes you want to pull him in and push them against his face. His movements become more focused when he senses your desires, kneading and massaging with a rhythm reminiscent of a contented feline. The gentle yet insistent pressure of his fingers elicits a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

Unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of playful teasing, you murmur breathlessly, "Mmm... you learned from Alpine?" The reference to his beloved white ragdoll brings a flicker of amusement to Bucky's intense gaze. He responds with a dramatic eye roll, clearly torn between exasperation at the interruption and appreciation for your attempt at humor.

"Shut up..." he growls softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. The playful admonishment is accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his hands, your eyes widened as you let out a gentle mewl.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, but he doesn't kiss you fully, no.

Bucky Barnes is the master of teasing.

He maintains his playful demeanor, reveling in the way you squirm and moan for him. That signature cocky smirk of his spreads across his lips as he watches you shuffle and attempt to press closer, seeking more contact. "Ah, ah... patience, doll. Stay still for me," he commands, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Bucky..." You drawl out his name, elongating the syllables into a desperate whine. Your body trembles with need, silently begging for more of his touch. You're acutely aware of his penchant for teasing, knowing all too well that he's unlikely to give in to your pleas so easily.

If anything, your desperation only seems to fuel his determination. Knowing Bucky as you do, he'll draw this out, savoring every moment of your mounting desire until your legs buckle beneath you.

His fingers begin to tease your sensitive buds, eliciting those exquisite sounds he so deeply adores from you. Those needy, desperate noises that eloquently convey how incredibly good he makes you feel, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. His skilled fingers pinch lightly, gently tugging and rolling, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your right breast is noticeably warmer and more flushed from the recent contact with the hot metal, though it didn't cause any discomfort or burning. The sight of your reddened, sensitive skin makes him groan softly under his breath, his desire for you growing rapidly.

"Ugh...look at you. You're drivin’ me crazy," Bucky whispered, his voice husky with desire. He nudged his knee between your legs, effectively pinning you in place. Your back pressed firmly against the cool counter, leaving you delightfully trapped between the unyielding surface and Bucky's warm, solid body.

"Please, don't tease me anymore..." You begged softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and desperation. You didn't truly expect him to relent, but a small part of you hoped that he might show mercy. Your plea, however, only served to amuse him, eliciting a low, throaty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

His thumbs continued their torturous dance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the very peaks of your sensitive buds. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp and squirm. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into his skilled hands, silently begging for more despite your earlier words.

You were already teetering on the edge, your composure crumbling with each passing second. You always liked to think you were more hardy against him but…damnit could he get you to break. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had reduced you to this quivering mess, and he had barely begun. His touch had been confined to your breasts alone, yet you felt as though your entire body was on fire.

"I've got you...m'gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart..." His voice was low with a promise that made your heart race even faster. With a fluid motion, he grasped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back firmly against his broad chest. The heat of his body seeped through you, adding to the inferno building within you. His hands, those wonderful, torturous hands, began a slow, teasing journey down your body, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake.

Slowly, he pushed your underwear down, as the fabric inched its way to your mid-thighs, he paused, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Sticky strands of your excitement formed delicate bridges between your core and the fabric. The underwear continued its descent, finally coming to rest just above your knees, leaving you exposed and trembling.

"God, look at you," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Just from me handlin' you a little, you got this wet for me?" Bucky whispered directly into your ear, his hot breath fanned across your skin, his scruff tickled your sensitive flesh as he spoke. The slight abrasion only served to heighten the ever-growing need you felt in your core.

He tilted his head closer to you, lips barely grazed your temple as he placed teasing kisses there. Suddenly, his knee moved, gently but firmly knocking against your legs. The silent command was clear, and you found yourself widening your stance, your body responding to his unspoken desires.

The tension that had been building within you reached a crescendo. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a whine - a needy, desperate sound. Your voice so thick with desire, managed to break through those desperate noises, "Bucky..." you pleaded, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. "Please," you repeated, your body trembling with the effort of restraining yourself. "I can't take it anymore..."

The scorching metal continued its relentless journey across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Your body quivered involuntarily as it inched closer to your most sensitive area. The heat radiating from your cunt rivaled that of his arm, but nothing could have prepared you for the jolt that surged through you the moment his fingers made contact with your intimate folds. The sensation was so intense that you barely managed to stifle a scream.

"Bucky!" His name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp as his skilled fingers found their target with unerring precision. They danced teasingly over your bundle of nerves, easily locating the center of your pleasure and lavishing it with gentle, circular motions. Each swirl of his fingertips sent waves of loud ecstasy coursing through your body. Your sensitive bud throbbed and pulsed under his expert touch, responding eagerly to every caress. The flood of need that washed over you was so potent that you could feel it trickling down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s fingers ventured lower, drawn to the source of your wetness and he probed your entrance. He held you still as he swiftly slid two fingers deep inside you. The sudden intrusion into your velvety depths caused your eyes to roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the sensation of his still very hot fingers inside you. You let your head fall heavily onto his shoulder, a loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips as his fingers began a gentle yet insistent rhythm, pumping in and out of you with a practiced ease.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Bucky let out a deep, guttural grunt of pleasure as he listened to your soft whimpers and moans. His voice was thick with his own desire as he continued, "How's that feel, hm? My fingers exploring every inch of this needy little hole of yours. You were practically dripping before I even laid a hand on you, weren't you?" His skilled fingers deftly navigated your cunt, searching for that one spot that would drive you wild.

Suddenly, his fingers found that elusive sweet, spongy spot deep inside you and curled up against it. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You couldn't help but let out a desperate, keening mewl as your hips instinctively bucked into his hand, seeking more of that friction. But your eager movements only resulted in Bucky withdrawing his fingers slightly, denying you the intense stimulation you craved.

"No, no, doll... stay still for me," he rasped into your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. "I know you can do that. Be good…" His voice was a horny mix of command and encouragement, leaving no room for argument.

His fingers resumed their steady movements after seconds of stillness, but now they purposefully avoided that sweet spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago. The deliberate teasing had you trembling with need, but you weren’t shocked by it. Bucky loved watching you like this, he wasn’t satisfied unless you were shaking and begging through your pretty tears. He had you caught between the desire to obey and the overwhelming urge to chase your pleasure.

The Wakandan metal radiated an intense, penetrating heat that seemed to seep into your very core, like having smoldering coals nestled within your body. It didn't burn, of course - the sensation was far more nuanced than that. Besides, if his steaming arm burned you, he wouldn’t ever put it on your skin.

It instead felt like an overwhelming surge of warmth, akin to the comforting embrace of a steaming bowl of soup on a cold winter's day. The heat consumed you, leaving you feeling inexplicably full and satiated. You tried, your fervent attempts to remain still were failing, the mounting pleasure proved increasingly difficult to resist. He was acutely aware of your struggle, reveling in the power he held over you.

Your body cruelly betrayed you as your hips instinctively jerked upward, responding to the touch of his fingers as they grazed your most sensitive spot deep inside your cavern. Bucky, surprisingly, permitted this small transgression…but he was far from ready to grant you the release you so desperately craved.

He continued to curl his fingers relentlessly, expertly manipulating your body until he could feel the telltale tightening of your inner walls around him. Your voice, thick with need and barely above a whisper, managed to form the words, "I-I'm close, Bucky I...-"

Just as your body tensed, poised on the very edge of ecstasy, Bucky abruptly withdrew his fingers, denying you the climax you had been building towards. The sudden loss of stimulation made you release a pained, desperate cry from your lips, a sound that reverberated with raw frustration and unfulfilled desire. You attempted to crane your neck, seeking to make eye contact with him, silently pleading for mercy.

He was so unfair.

"Not until I say, baby...you know that," he whispered against your ear, his fingers thoroughly coated in your essence. You caught sight of the glistening strands of your unmistakable arousal dripping from his hand. The sight made you blush deeply, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you as you whined softly, your body instinctively squirming against his other arm that held you firmly in place.

"Please...I need to..." you started, your voice trembling with need, a shiver running through your body as you felt the sudden loss of his warm, skilled fingers against your sensitive flesh. The absence of his touch left you aching, yearning for more, trying to get closer to that hand just inches away from you.

Bucky let his hand return to your folds, deliberately spreading your arousal across the delicate skin. The slow, purposeful movement of his fingers sent more addicting pleasure through your body. He began to tease your precious clit once more, his expert touch reigniting the fire within you.

His fingers warmed the pink flesh to a deep, blushing red, each caress bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy while still keeping you teetering on the brink of release. He did just enough for you to feel those shocks, but not enough to push you over.

You couldn't contain yourself, your passionate cries echoing through the room with such intensity that you were convinced your neighbors would surely lodge a complaint later. You didn’t really care, and neither did he. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding desperately against his hand as he expertly pleasured you.

His organic hand slowly traced its way down to your entrance, teasing and tantalizing with feather-light touches, then plunged deep inside you, curling over and over against your g-spot. His metal fingers continued their relentless assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled between your slick folds, your clit at the mercy of his ministrations.

His voice was so deliciously deep and husky with arousal, it cut through the haze of your pleasure as he spoke to you. "You gonna finish for me, doll?" he growled, his own hips now moving in tandem with yours, the friction adding another layer to your mounting pleasure as you felt his hard cock grinding against your ass. "Hm? You gonna make a mess on my hands?"

The raw need in his tone, combined with the skillful ministrations of his hands, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment.

You felt an overwhelming surge of sensation wash over you, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your mouth fell open, ready to cry out in ecstasy, but at first, only a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips. Every muscle in your body tensed, your inner walls clenching tightly around his skilled fingers.

His hand continued its relentless assault, moving in circles around your sensitive bud, alternating between gentle pinches and teasing tugs. Your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate when he pinched your clit, his gentle tugging made the blood rush straight to it, the sensitivity increasing.

The climax washed over you, your passionate cries for him echoing through the empty kitchen. His name tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, your voice raw with need. Tears of intense pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes and your legs gave way beneath you, unable to support your weight any longer. But he was there, strong and steady, holding you up as you shattered in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he murmured encouragingly, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go for me. Don't hold back. I want to see you make a mess, make a fuckin’ mess for me..." His words were a siren song, coaxing, commanding you deeper into the throes of ecstasy.

Bucky's touches never ceased, fingers working tirelessly to prolong your pleasure, pushing you higher and higher until you thought you might lose your mind. What felt like mere seconds stretched into an eternity of blissful agony, your body alight with sensation, trembling and arching against him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Your vision blurred as tears pricked your eyes, cascading down your cheeks while you completely soaked his fingers. The intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. As waves of pleasure coursed through you, your mind went blank, consumed by the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

As your cries died down, your orgasm began to subside, having run its course through you. Your once rigid body slowly relaxed, muscles unwinding one by one, mirroring the gentling of his touches. He held you securely by your hips, his strong arm providing much-needed support to prevent you from collapsing. Even with the counter in front of you, you weren’t sure if you could even stand right now.

The aftermath left you in a state of blissful delirium. It felt utterly incredible, as if you were floating on cloud nine, your senses still reeling from the intense experience. You remained dazed, barely able to process the lingering sensations coursing through your body. Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers, the movement eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

His touch became so tender and affectionate, traced a path along your skin as he placed gentle, reverent kisses on the back of your shoulder and the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath caused goosebumps to rise all over your body as he murmured words of praise against your skin. "So good for me...so perfect, babydoll. You did so good for me," he whispered, his voice held soft adoration and satisfaction.

"I... I can't... feel my legs," you managed to say, your voice coming out in a raspy whisper as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest heaved with each labored inhale, the exertion of your intense orgasm still evident in your flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips were pressed, sending a shiver down your spine despite your exhaustion. His gentle hands supported your weight, helping you regain your balance until you were able to stand somewhat steadily on your own, though your legs still felt like jelly beneath you.

"My bad, doll," he replied with a cheeky grin, that familiar smug smile spreading across his face as his eyes roamed over your disheveled form. There was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he took in the sight of you, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you. His eyes lingered on the places where his metal hand had touched, tracing the patterns of blotches and handprints that now adorned your skin in various shades of red from the heat of the vibranium.

"S'pretty, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. His eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and cherished. His gaze held vibrant, burning embers of lust that were still very much alive, but also a deep well of affection and love that made your heart skip a beat.

Bucky leaned close to you, his eyes softening as he gazed into yours. He caressed your cheek with his organic hand and gave you a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. Your hands were still slightly trembling from your overwhelming release, but they found their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs traced delicate circles on his cheekbones, savoring the feel of his skin and scruff beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace. The world faded away until there was nothing but the two of you, you cherished the moments like this, when it was just you both enjoying a sweet moment together. No worries, no stress, no fear. When Bucky finally pulled away, that familiar cheeky grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes with mischief and affection.

Your eyes narrowed in response, growing suspicious thinking about the many possibilities he could be up to. "I gotta wash my arm again," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the plates of vibranium still coated thickly with your orgasm.

Your cheeks flushed and you groaned softly, rolling your eyes. "Put the pan on the stove this time," you replied, your voice equally soft but tinged with playful exasperation. "I am not hand washing that thing."

Thanks for reading - em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[potatomountain]

CIY CH 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Sharp Words" 📍WC: 3.2k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark romance, poly romance 📍Warning(s): mentions of torture/r@pe, mentions of minor character death, a few punches, angst 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @yourfatherlucifer, @flurrys-creativity , @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts and occasionally @daemour 📍AN: just like a little warning, these last few chapters will be emotionally packed and quite angsty. While there is comfort, there is also the characters each reacting to what happened in their own way and it has made me cry a lil. While it is made obvious what has happened to reader in this chapter, once more no details were given just a brief description of the damage of her body. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable or you just dont feel up to sharing these emotions with these characters atm, that is perfectly fine- please take the time to read this when you feel up to it. It's not going anywhere i promise! 📍dividers and banner made by me! ageless blocks will be blocked immediately if you interact with this post

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Somehow, despite Yunho’s speedy driving, you fell asleep by the time they arrived at their shared home: a small industrial building on the south river that was repurposed as their base of operations. It was also Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s main residence.

Hongjoong had Jongho take you right to the master bathroom, which he followed. Jongho didn’t want to set you down to undress you, so with the hot water running from the multiple shower heads, they both stood fully clothed as they washed you up. Jongho was careful to keep the water from hitting your face, turning you slowly and as carefully as he could while Hongjoong was just as gentle cleaning the blood - and dried semen - off your body. 

It was an effort to remain calm, both freezing up when you made any movement to wake. How you managed to sleep through the entire shower, which was not quick by any means, only had them concerned. While it made sense you didn’t sleep during your time held hostage, it still hurt.

Stepping out of the shower they were faced with the dilemma of getting you dry despite both in their soaked clothes. A knock on their door drew their attention, Yunho freshly changed and standing in the doorway. “Hwa sent me as back up.” 

As if handing off a fragile valuable, Jongho gently handed you over to Yunho and into the towel he had. He didn’t take his eyes off you, pain burning brightly in them. Hongjoong did the best to comfort their youngest, patting his back to avert his attention. “Let’s change and then regroup with everyone. She needs her rest. Is the doctor here yet?” Yunho nodded, already leaving the bathroom. “I’ll send her in once I put Butterfly down. She said it was best to keep her naked until after she examines her. I’ll stay with her to put her in something comfortable after.” “Good. Clothes- ah thank you.” Hongjoong trailed off as Yunho pointed to two piles of clothes on the counter before leaving with you.

Once both men were dressed in clean clothes, and Hongjoong was sure there was no more blood on him, they left to join the others downstairs, passing the doctor Haru sent on the way.

Seonghwa had changed and cleaned up as well, standing behind the large sofa that both Yeosang and Mingi were sitting at, San pacing off to the side. There were no remnants of the rescue mission on any of them: no blood or dust or dirt. As if reading his mind, Seonghwa spoke up. “We didn’t want any reminders of what happened in case Angel woke up and saw us. Is she…?” “She slept through the whole shower and is now being checked out by the doctor. Yunho is going to stay and get her comfortable after.” With a deep breath, Hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest. “Let’s make this quick, I want a debrief.” “Now?” Mingi gawked, swallowing any other retort at Hongjoong’s glare. “Right. Um, Yeosang?” Yeosang glared at him for throwing him under the bus, but sighed and relented. “She never left the safe house.” He knew what they wanted to know the most, how you had gotten caught. Why you hadn’t been safe. “After Seonghwa let her go and joined you to fight off the Blood Hounds, she tried to find you both.” He swallowed hard, remembering what he had seen on the screen at the time, the pride he had felt followed by the fear. “Some had stayed behind after you both gave yourself up. You were barely in their van when she… she killed one of them, and then got caught. They had her in a different car.” “By the time Yunho and I got there, she was long gone.” Mingi added on, looking up at his leader. “Yunho thought it would be a good idea not to let the others know right off the bat, considering San was knee deep in Viper territory and Wooyoung was the middle man for some negotiations. He didn’t want to risk either of them getting too emotional.” “You didn’t tell me until the day of!” San swiveled on his heel as he snapped at him. “I could’ve been out looking for her sooner!”

“San, he has a point.”

“Don’t give me that shit Seonghwa! She was held hostage and tortured, and the fact no one told Wooyoung is-” “You haven’t either.” Yeosang chimed in nonchalantly. “He just knew about Captain and Hwa.”

San however looked away with obvious guilt on his face, broad shoulders somehow getting even more tense. “Of course I didn’t. He would’ve-” “And you would’ve too.” Hongjoong brought the attention back to himself. “Both you and Wooyoung will act first, plan after, especially if it would come to her. So if we wanted her back to us alive, Yunho made the right call.” That was the reason he was third in command. He made smart and logical decisions even in the middle of chaos. There were times both Hongjoong and Seonghwa had needed Yunho to keep them levelheaded even, especially when it came to you. “But we will have to tell him now. Once she’s a bit more rested.” “You know… it was shocking how Jongho reacted.” Mingi pointed out, drawing attention to the youngest who had been silent behind Hongjoong. “You volunteered to work on it, looking around the area the van was last spotted at well through the night.” Jongho was visibly uncomfortable at the topic, swallowing hard. In fact he was avoiding everyone’s gaze. “I thought they were going to kill her.” Silence fell over the room, a solemn tension as they each thought of how they would’ve felt if the Blood hounds had actually killed you. Would it have spared you from the torture? No, chances are they would have tortured you until you died. That just left how empty they would have felt with you gone, the guilt that would eat them alive.

They were still wrestling with those thoughts as Wooyoung strutted in up the stairs, letting out a sigh of relief. “You’re back!” He ran over with the intent of hugging them, but slowed once he got to San, noticing his body language and how the bigger man seemed to shrink away from him. “Sannie? What happened?” No one wanted to be the one to break the news, but they couldn’t hide it. Seonghwa and Hongjoong shared a look while Yeosang pulled out his tablet to look through the camera’s; he probably had one Junghoon on surveillance back at the precinct so he could be here for you. Mingi very obviously avoided looking at Wooyoung, even Jongho couldn’t hide the guilt on his features. Wooyoung looked at each of them, expression hardening as he realized quickly they were keeping something from him. Before he could question however, the door to the closed off loft, Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s area, opened and down the steps the doctor descended. Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the woman. “Dr. Handong?”

The woman adjusted her glasses as she stepped forward, adjusting the bag over her shoulder. “I finished my examination, it’s just like you had said. Most of the cuts done were pretty shallow, but there were some older ones that were pretty deep. My best guess is due to struggling.” She had ignored most of the men and spoke directly to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “No broken bones that I could make out, though her ankles and wrists are swollen from the binds she had been in. I left some painkillers and instructions for her care with the one upstairs and I can send over a female nurse to oversee her care for about a week?”

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on? She’s not talking about our Goddess is she? Why would she be all banged up?” Wooyoung’s voice rose an octave as he barked out questions, a tremble that grew with each word. “Wooyoung…” San reached out for him, but the man dodged him and stepped more in the room. “I think you know why.” Hongjoong moved to block Handong from Wooyoung’s view, needing this taken care of first. “Is there a reason a female nurse needs to be present? We can take care of her can’t we?” “No offense, but from my experience women don’t tend to lean on men after one has assaulted her in this way for days. She’s torn up pretty bad there, and it’s going to hurt and be uncomfortable for her to use the restroom, maybe even sit. It’s likely she’ll prefer female company, and a nurse would be able to make sure she is properly cleaned so no wounds get infected.” Handong replied coolly, unaffected by the reactions of the men. “You can leave the decision up to her, call me should she request one. My lady also extended the offer to have her recoup with us.”

“She’s not going anywhere!” Wooyoung’s shout startled Hongjoong enough to glance back, not at all surprised to see the fury and pain on his features. “Her home is with us and we’ll take care of her. My mom knows that.” He hissed out, pulling his arm from San’s grip and marching past the others. 

Mingi stood up to try and stop him, but Wooyoung was nothing if not quick. Jongho however grabbed him, yanking him back from the stairs. “Will you stop, she’s sleeping.” “Oh now you give a damn about her? After all the shit you said, you care how she is?” Wooyoung snapped out, struggling against his grip. “Let me go! You all did a fine job taking care of her after all.” “Wooyoung that’s not the case and you know it.” Hongjoong followed him in an attempt to help Jongho pull him away. Seonghwa had swept in and was seeing Handong out, the others rushing in to also keep Wooyoung from disturbing you. But he could be a force to be reckoned with, especially when it came to you recently. He climbed over Jongho and onto the stairs, both of them scrambling and beginning to fight. Somehow Wooyoung was on top, connecting a fist to Jongho’s jaw and giving up on passing him. Instead, he released his anger out on him. “Stop keeping me from her!” “Woo!” San reached for him again, just to be elbowed back. The stairs were too narrow for them all to intervene. “Shut up San! It’s his fault! If he hadn’t been so dead set on keeping her out just because of his hurt pride she wouldn’t have been there! We could have kept her safe better!” He brought his fist down again, Jongho catching it and rolling them over and held him down. “Will you shut up! She’s sleeping!” Jongho hissed out, pinning his arms above his head but that didn’t stop Wooyoung from squirming under him. “Like you give a damn with your ‘I hate all women now that I was two timed by one’ mentality! Seriously get over yourself! You’re just fucking pissed your ego got hurt.” He spat out, earning a punch from Jongho that had his head hitting the concrete stairs. “You don’t have room to talk, throwing a fit she didn’t fuck you first.”

Suddenly Jongho was yanked off, surprisingly by Hongjoong, and pushed back into the others that held him still. “You two, enough. We can bitch about who’s fault it is all day but that does nothing to help her right now. It happened, she’s hurt, right now she needs-” “Don’t tell me what she needs, Captain.” Wooyoung hissed out as he sat up, glaring at Jongho intently. “San and I both told you all how well she fits. How perfect she is for us. But you didn’t want to believe it, insisting she was going to play us just like that bitch did you. She’s dead now, would it take her dying in your arms to get through your thick skull that she’s not like that?! Is that-” “No!” Jongho’s broken cry interrupted him, shoulders falling as he vehemently shook his head. “She might as well have when I caught her today. I knew she would get hurt if she got wrapped up with us and she did! I was-” “Right? Are you happy you are?” Wooyoung wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, staring him down. “It was going to end up this one way or another. Either we killed her off or she ended up as one of us. Captain said so, Jongho! But you kept fighting! Every time we made a vote you insisted no, and this was an all or nothing decision!” Jongho winced at his words, looking away and fists clenched at his sides. “I know… I-” Yeosang stepped up to him, taking his hands in his for silent comfort. Just as he did, San made his way over to Wooyoung, hesitating to see if the man would even let him approach.

Wooyoung did, reaching out for him. “Am I wrong Sannie?”

Instead of answering, the man pulled Wooyoung onto his lap and held him. “Let’s not fight. Please? She needs us right now and… I need her to be okay.” He buried his head in the crook of Wooyoung’s neck, breathing him in as he held on tight. Wooyoung softened significantly, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him closer. “Oh baby, you’re right. I’m sorry… I can’t imagine how this feels for you.” Now that it seemed Wooyoung was calming down, focusing more on finding comfort and giving comfort with San, Hongjoong let out a long sigh. He moved to offer comfort as well, just to wobble and lean against the railing. “Shit…” They had been so concerned with you that Hongjoong had forgotten that he too had suffered torture, even if it was no where near as extensive as yours. It had been days since he ate or drank anything after all, and then somehow finding the strength to pull Jongho off Wooyoung? He was starting to crash from the adrenaline, now in the safety of his home, all of his lovers safe and secure.

Mingi was the one to catch and support Hongjoong when his legs gave out, having been silent the whole time. The man had his thoughts on the situation, but no one was in a condition to listen. “Should we get takeout?”

The simple question had a few of them laughing, food on no one’s mind but definitely on their stomachs with the few growls that resounded. 

“No need, I’ll cook.” Wooyoung lifted his head, voice strained from the silent tears he was finally letting slip. “I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon, Sannie and I can take care of our baby girl upstairs.” “That’ll be good.” Seonghwa called out from across the room, finally rejoining them. “Joong and I will eat and then rest down here. We all can take turns sitting upstairs with her in case she wakes up. We don’t want her to be alone.” Hongjoong nodded, leaning into Mingi and thankful for the support. “We’ll need some of you to be out on the field, but we can rely on Minjae and the others to oversee the Pirates main functions for now. Wooyoung can do a lot of work from here as can Yeosang so…” “I’ll have Yechan bring me some things from my place at the precinct, I don’t want to leave.” Yeosang chimed in, his entire focus still on Jongho. “You want to stay too, right?”

Slowly he nodded his head, leaning into Yeosang. “My jaw hurts.” Yeosang cracked a smile while Wooyoung laughed. “Good! My strength training is paying off. Soon I’ll have San sized muscles!” “Oh please, like we need more muscle.” Yeosang teased, taking Jongho over to the couch. Mingi also took that as a sign to start helping Hongjoong over to one of the couches around the large open spaced area. After setting him down, he helped Seonghwa. Wooyoung and San had gotten up and made their way to the open kitchen with the intention of feeding and taking care of the others. San started grabbing drinks while Wooyoung put all of his energy into cooking. Were any of them really okay? No. Silence fell over them as they busied themselves with whatever task, but every single one of them constantly glanced over at the windows of the loft, the black curtains hiding the room and any sound inside. They fretted over when you would wake up, over what your reaction would be, and so forth.

Wooyoung made a small feast and had it laid out on the coffee table so Hongjoong and Seonghwa could eat easily, the others also digging in with uncharacteristic silence. No flirting from Wooyoung or fight stories from San. No old man jokes from Jongho or mom and dad moments from their Captain and Vice. No teasing Mingi, or shenanigans that usually surrounded them when they ate together in this place.

Nothing but a heavy weight on their shoulders that didn’t feel any better with each bite. Wooyoung finally convinced Hongjoong to let him take food up to Yunho and for you, the man rushed up the stairs with a tray after he fretted over making it pretty for several moments. Stepping into the room he held the tray tightly so as not to drop it, but his heart felt like it fell through the floor. Yunho was on the bed with you on his lap, sobbing as he rocked back and forth gently. He looked up when Wooyoung entered, making a motion to keep quiet, but it drew your attention.

You lifted your head just as Wooyoung set the tray down nearby. Seeing the tears run down your swollen and red eyes hurt, but not as much as when you dislodged yourself from Yunho and lifted your arms up to Wooyoung.

The man burst into tears, easily sweeping you into his arms as he sat on the bed next to you. “It’s okay baby girl, you’re safe now. We aren’t going to let anything like that happen again.” You sniffled and sobbed, burying your head into the crook of his neck. “Wooyoung- don’t leave me.” The broken tone just tore at his heart even more and he sobbed silently into your hair that smelled of Seonghwa’s shampoo and conditioner. “Course not Goddess, how could I leave you? Never again you hear? I love you too much for that.” His own voice trembled with the confession, hands rubbing up and down your back, recognizing one of Mingi’s shirts that he kept here. They all had some clothes kept here and it was a joy to see you in them, to have you smelling like them and holding onto him like this. He just hated how it came about. 

His confession seemed to relax you, the soft touch of your dried lips on his neck sending a shiver down his spine as you breathed him in. “I love you too.” Just as his words had eased your mind, your confession eased his. He moved to lay you down under the blankets, continuing to hold you close and comfort you as best he could. 

He’d keep on his promise, never again would he leave you.

Taglist- in reblogs!!

AN about the Taglists: So to make sure that when Case: It's Us has a taglist of readers I know are reading and interacting, I will be redoing the taglist for Case: It's Us. To apply for it, I'll have special instructions on the last chapter of Case: It's You to do so. SO if you are part of the Case: It's You taglist, keep in mind it won't be carried over unless you follow the instructions I give. And considering that Case: It's Us won't be posted until late Janruary-Early March (the exact date isnt decided yet, i have a busy end of the year so i do not want to make promises), it will be best to be put on that Taglist so you know when it's available. If you have ao3, I recommend following CIY on there, in which I will make an announcement on CIY when CIU is up on ao3 and you can subscribe to it for notifications that way. I post the ao3 and the Tumblr versions usually the same day or back to back days (its easier to post on ao3 as opposed to here where i need the warnings and tags for each chapter. Thank you for loving and following along to Case: It's You! Hard to believe two more chapters after this! If you've read the note, I would appreciate in the comments or in your reblog which of all characters of CIY are your favorite! As well as which one you would like to see more of! (yes I know Jongho please don't hate me) With Love~ Doom

[konjiang]

Cumplane AU: SQH/art student SY

Sy was already stressed about finals, and the art model's lateness for their session was not helping. He stared at the clock as he heard noises outside.

'He's finally fucking here!' Sy rushed to the door and threw it open. In front of the door stood a cute, attractive guy; he looked scared and unsure about everything.

'This mousy dude is my art model? God fucking damn it. The universe wants me to fail.' Don't get him wrong, his messy curls, long eyelashes, and red lips look perfect for the art project SY was looking for. It was that this guy radiated anxiety and would probably pass out at the poses SY needed him in. 

"What are you doing? We are low on time, get the fuck get in!" SY shouted at the guy as he grabbed the guy's bag and placed it somewhere near Sy's.

"Wait, I'm—" The guy tried to stop Sy and talk about something, but Sy was running around trying to get everything in place. He needed to finish and catch up on the newest chapter of PIDW.

SY turned around, and the guy was still fully dressed, twiddling with his thumb.

"Why the fuck are you standing there? Strip! I swear to god, the art models these days have to be told to do everything!" The guy turned red and slowly started to take everything off. 

'He's definitely new.' SY felt like paint would dry faster than this guy stripping. It was not going to cut it for SY. He uncrossed his arm and sped walk over. 

"Hurry up, I have shit to do!" The guy flinched as SY started taking off his clothes. 

'Why is he so sensitive? This guy is not cut out to be an art model." Being touched and moved around was a part of the job. He would file a complaint when he was done with his work. 

His skin was so flushed and hot that SY worried his model might be sick. 

"You good?" Sy asked as he ushered him to the set.

"Uhmm, yes?" That was all Sy needed to hear.

The guy sat down and did exactly what sy told him to. He was pretty good for the rocky start they had. He was able to concentrate and finish his positions quicker than he thought. It was partially forced by the deadline, but it also helped that the guy was exactly what he envisioned the perfect man to be. Sy could admit when a guy was attractive. If he had more time, he would want to look and draw every part of him. It didn't matter; he could always require the same model the next time. 

"Good work, bye." He didn't have time for a lengthy goodbye. He needed to turn in this project today. 

"Wait-" The guy yelled at him, but sy was already out of the building, so he only heard some wind blowing past his ears.

--

The project was a success, and Sy was finally free of all the major assignments. Now that he had time, he wanted to look at the guy more closely. 

He opened his laptop to request the art model when he noticed an email. 

"Hello Shen Yuan,

The art model was canceled, and he was unable to make it. Please request another one. Our systems are currently unable to reassign a new model automatically based on the number of requests we have been having."

'Huh?' Who was the guy that modeled for him last time? There was no way that SY dragged a random student from the hallway to be his model, right? RIGHT?

"Oh no, oh no, ah fuck." That was why he was so hesitant and nervous! Sy made him strip and model when the guy had no experience of modeling or had mental preparation for being naked in front of another person.

---

SQH was looking around for an empty room to study and crank out the next couple of chapters of PIDW when he stubbed his toes against a table. He tried not to be too loud, but he was pretty sure everyone heard him, evidently, by the door next to him flying open. 

‘Oh shit, he’s hot,’ SQH thought as he scrambled for a hot minute to find the words to apologize. 

"What are you doing! We are low on time, get the fuck get in!" The guy shouted as he snatched SQH bag from his hand. 

"Wait, I'm-" SQH couldn’t get a single word in and was suddenly forced to strip in front of a hot guy. Not only stripping but the hot art student taking off his clothes. 

‘Am I dreaming?’ Time passed at a weird speed as his body continued to heat up from the intense staring from the guy. 

In the end, he didn’t even leave SQH his number. 

‘How could he use me and leave me like that? I didn’t even get paid!’ SQH thought as he walked back to his apartment. The art department in their school was small, so SQH knew he would run into him again if he continued using the empty art room as his personal writing space. 

[reccyls]

Victor’s Episode 0 (LINE Campaign)

Do note that this isn't his Episode 0 story as sold in-game. This is a separate thing for a pre-release promotional campaign.

This is kind of like a CYOA of how Victor and Kate first met. I rearranged the choices to try and make it easier to follow, with the “wrong” (non-canon) choices coming first.

––––––

The sound of a music box echoes. Amidst distant, almost entirely forgotten memories, the curtains just barely rise on act 1 of a time from long ago.

A glimmering music box is reflected in a tear-filled gaze. As you listened to its gentle melody, your tears began to dry. You lifted your gaze. The person who played the music box for you, who wiped away your tears. You no longer remembered a thing about them.

Part 1: The Day I First Encountered Death

Your beloved cat had died. To make sure that the cat went to heaven, you went to church. As you cried and prayed, a young man called out to you.

???: Why are you crying?

Choice A: Don’t stop crying, don’t look up.

Kate: Nothing happened.

He gently touched your shoulder, and then walked away.

???: Until you can smile again, I will always watch over you.

Fin.

Choice B: Explain what happened.

Kate: My cat died.

With his gem-like eyes, hair like the night, and his neat & proper clothes, he looked like a prince from some faraway country. He sat next to you and listened as you explained, occasionally commenting and responding to your words. But the more you spoke, the sadder you became, and the more your eyes began to well again with tears. What eventually stopped your crying was the sound of a music box, echoing in the empty church.

???: Listen, this is what it sounds like.

In your faint memories, his eyes were as bright as jewels.

Episode 2: The Ruined Church

You were now a postal worker. At the post office, news that the church was looking for some volunteers to help with work reached your ears. Hearing the name of the church, a sense of nostalgia washed over you…

Choice A: Don’t volunteer

Kate: There’s a play I want to watch that day! I’ll have to pass…

Fin.

???: That we don’t meet again is also fate. But if… ???: …If one day you choose to share your fate with me, the darkness will gladly welcome you.

Choice B: Volunteer

Kate: It’s been a long time. I should go.

You spent the day playing with children and helping out at their bazaar. You got especially close to one orphan boy, to the point where he was willing to sit next to you and smile. Now it was time to go back home.

Choice B1: Leave immediately.

Kate: If I don’t leave now, all the eggs will be sold out!

Fin.

???: That you can live a happy and peaceful life is all I could ever want. I’ll always watch over you.

Choice B2: Take a detour home.

Kate: There’s a bakery I’ve been interested in trying out nearby…

Fin.

???: May all your days be filled with such happiness.

Choice B3: Say a prayer before leaving.

Kate: (Please, let tomorrow be a happy day for the children, too.)

BOOM

One moment you were praying. The next, a sound so loud it threatened to burst your ears filled the air, and the world was full of smoke.

Choice B3-1: Run.

Kate: (I have to get away!)

Fin.

???: I hope that what happened today won’t continue to haunt you. ???: Go somewhere safe. You belong in the light…

Choice B3-2: Freeze in fear.

Kate: (I-I can’t move… What do I do?)

???: Get up! Run!

You didn’t know the name of the person who pulled you away, nor what they looked like. All you knew was that large hand, a lone beacon of safety amidst the ruins of the church around you.

Episode 3: Towards That Fateful Night

You’ve been working for a long time. One day, the postmaster asks for your help to fill in for someone on the night delivery staff.

Choice A: Decline.

Kate: Sorry, I won’t work overtime…

Fin.

???: It’s wonderful that you can say ‘no’. Know your boundaries, and enjoy your life to the fullest.

Choice B: Accept.

Kate: I’ll do it.

You were headed to…

Choice B1: A bookstore called Kingsley Books

Kate: (No one’s here. Should I come back tomorrow?)

There was a book fallen on the floor by your feet.

Choice B1-1: As you went to pick it up–

Kate: (What book is this?)

At that moment, someone appeared beside you and snatched the book away before vanishing just as suddenly.

Fin.

???: You shouldn’t touch this book yet. ???: May you live a life of freedom.

Choice B1-2: Pick up the book.

Kate: (How did a book get here?)

As if pulled in by some unknown force, you opened that title-less book. A strong gust of wind blew through the air and you were surrounded by blinding light.

???: Welcome to the world of fractured fairy tales… ???: We have one new guest, ya~~yyy!!!!

And so you set out on a journey across the world of fairytales to find the “missing piece”.

???: Kate, did you know? ???: That book you first held that day, that was mine.

(Victor’s 95k bonus story for part 2 of the dark if event for the full thing)

Choice B2: A stately mansion.

Kate: (Hm? No mailbox…)

You gently placed your hand on the metal gate, which swung open with a creak. Drawn in by fate, a love that you would never return from was waiting just ahead.

???: Come here. I will always continue to reach out for you, just like this, from the verge of death.

(Note: Victor uses 'ore' here instead of his usual 'boku'/'omae' instead of 'kimi' for Kate)

[snoringkitty1]

Aventurine boyfriend Headcanons

TW: Fluff, not proofread, Mildly suggestive content. Enjoy <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

Aventurine at the beginning of your relationship is a flirty bastard, he'll tease you to high hell and leave you high and dry for his own amusement.

There is 0 initial affection, he's only in it for his entertainment or because he has something to gamble or get from you.

Kisses you with his eyes open, atleast at the start.

But gradually, when you realizes you won't be leaving because of his lack of effort, he might just soften up and start to let his guard down a little.

Though of course this is after a while, but you'll start to see the more vulnerable and faint side to him.

He'll become more affectionate gradually the more he begins to trust you with his feelings, though, it still might take a while. Patience is key.

He's still flirty no doubt, but now there's actually feelings and meaning to his words, and they aren't bluffs anymore.

His sense of fashion may or may not rub off on you..aka he forces you to wear matching clothes, it makes him feel special.

"Do i really need to where this..? Matching outfits are so tacky." You grumbled and adjusted the hat on your head before sighing and taking it off, running your fingers along the rim and raising a brow. "Well, you don't need to, but i would love you more if you did." He joked and fixed a few details on your jacket before taking the hat from your hands and setting it on your head. "You don't love me enough already?" You pouted and looked up at him. He smiled and shook his head, pulling you close for a kiss, his hands holding tight onto your waist as he trapped you in a kiss. "I love you~" He cooed softly and leaned back, "Some matching clothes won't change that." he assured and rubbed your cheek before stepping back and putting his hands in his pockets, "now~ shall we?"

The king of shopping dates, if you don't like shopping though, then the two of you will probably be having at home dates most of the time.

But don't think for a second he isn't buying the most delectable (and expensive) food he can find, because to him, if its clothes, food, hair, nails, you name it. He thinks you're a worthy investment (he just likes to spend money on you.)

Speaking of giving presents, thats simply his love language, because i reckon he feels like if he gives enough, then he won't have to worry about you leaving him.

That being said, he'll need a bunch of reassurance to stop giving random super expensive presents. He'll still give you some regardless but he'll tone it down significantly.

He comes off as the kind of guy who only gives or takes longer kisses, to me atleast.

He might use this to his advantage if he perhaps gets jealous, which i think happens pretty often.

But i think there's also a chance of him just absolutely demolishing you once you two are home behind closed doors.

Switch energy, but can and will top when he feels like it.

He'll let you decide the pace though, he doesn't want intimate moments to feel transactional.

Afterwards, i Dunno i feel like he'd just fall asleep with you, then take of you the next morning.

You rolled away onto your stomach..or tried to, the tight grip of a certain blonde kept you from moving too far away. When you let out an uncomfortable grunt though, Aventurine was quick to let go and sit up to check on you. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, smiling a little before closing them again, "I'm fine, i'm fine.." you mumbled softly, but that didn't deter him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek before getting up, you opened your eyes and sat up on your elbows to watch him, he disappeared into the closet briefly and returned with one of his shirts. "Here you go Darling~" he cooed softly and held the shirt out from you, his messy bed head framed his face nicely. "ah..thank you-" you smiled and put it on before flopping back again. "Anything else i can get you? I can order food, or make bre-" He paused when you pulled him close all of a sudden. "Just cuddle with me for a little bit.." You muttered softly, and He nodded, pulling you close again..and like that, you two were cozy and asleep in minutes.

Thanks for reading.

[lookahotman]

Tied Up!

Sylus x Female reader

My contribution to the sub Sylus trope. I am so done with reading stuff where he would dominate the MC like come on y'all, have you not seen his cards, he would be the perfect Malewife.

tags: NSFW (It's not full on sex but whatever), Dom!reader, sub!character, sylus is handcuffed (from the bond moment),use of swear words(oh no!),dry humping, clothed sex

Also, this is the first time I have written anything, even smut, I promise I write better than this but you can also see this as me tweaking out cus there is not even sub love and deepspace content out there. Oh and this is also in first person POV cus I don't see that either.

One of these days I will surely kill Sylus.

The guy has made me run around for the past day just to find some stupid brooch I will need to attend the auction for protocores. He could have just put it in my hand and saved us both the trouble but no, everything seems to be a fucking game for him.

I have searched every nook and cranny, being caught by Sylus four times in the process, and yet that brooch seems to be nowhere. I am so exhausted, Time is a luxury right now, and I am running out of ideas for all the possible hiding spots

Does this brooch even exist or is he just fucking with me?

After Sylus throws me out of his room, claiming that he is 'going to bed', I just sit down and start doodling shit.

"Bastard! Now I get it. He never intended to make a deal with me in the first place!" I scream as I scratch the demonic sylus doodle I drew when suddenly Luke and Kieran start speaking from a distance, making me turn towards them.

"you're pulling your hair out over this, huh? If you want to do something, maybe we can help you." Oh please enlighten me, what could this guy possibly do? Steal the brooch from Sylus? He is literally his henchman. "what do you mean?" I ask, biting back my insults.

"if you want to conquer our boss's heart, you'll have to use a different approach. Luke then picks up a book and starts reading something "For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest."

Oh? Would Sylus really like that? Now I get curious as I walk over to the twins and take the book called 'Humanity and Conquer' from his hands.

"When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go. In other words…"

I raise an eyebrow at both of them. "Go on." the twins gave each other a glance and scream, startling me. "YOU STRIKE WHEN THEY ARE OFF GUARD!"

"Boss is the least guarded when he's sleeping, you only have one shot so don't waste this chance, just do it." Luke says, tossing me some evol sealing handcuffs and a Tranquilizer gun. He is right, My time limit is close to its end, I have to act now.

And that's how I end at up in Sylus's bedroom at midnight. Currently I am starting to have a lot of thoughts as I sit next to him and watch him sleep. "Man's gonna kill me the moment I pull this shit" "COME ON Y/N you are already here you can absolutely NOT back out now" "That's a very uncomfortable position to sleep in is he stupid he is going to get neck cramps when he wakes up" "He looks very hot while sleeping." Fuck. Denying it is probably of no use at this point. Something about Sylus makes me fucking weak in the knees. Is it his voice? His ridiculously handsome face? His body? Or the way he tests my damn patience. I am not sure. Seeing him like this though, how calmly he is breathing. How his exposed chest keeps expanding as he inhales, how those pecs flex while he is doing that, how vulnerable he is looking right now, It's stirring something within me. I want to devour him.

sylus…sylus? I slowly call him, ensuring he is asleep. This is not the time to be thinking about bull shit like that. get your head back in the game y/n. The aforementioned doesn't make any noise, completely oblivious of my presence as he keeps on sleeping, I take this chance and cuff his hand to the bed. "This is exactly what you get for all the terrible things you do." There. I cuffed his hand. Now what? Before my hand could even touch his body, he grabs my wrist and brings me closer to his face. Shocking me. I probably look like a deer caught in the headlights right now.

"Showing up uninvited at this hour… want me to tell you a bedtime story?" Wow. What a cocky bastard. well, not for long. "Don't talk to me in that tone mister, if anything you should be the one to figure out what's going on here, these handcuffs nullify a person's evol for an hour, so no matter how powerful you are, you are helpless as of right now." I say as I pin him down on the bed, his hand still cuffed to the nightstand. From here I can see how Sylus's chest starts falling and rising a bit faster than usual. Maybe I should tease him a bit.

"Really? what do you plan to do then since I have become your prey?" Did he actually just ask me that? Is he trying to provoke me, test the level of self control I practice? Oh well. I never had much self restraint to begin with.

"Hmm.. Let me think… How about.. This." I hear Sylus audibly flinch as I wrap my left arm around his torso and squish my left cheek on his left pecs. Comical. I had no idea I would enjoy riling him up this much. "What? A thorough body search is necessary don't you think? Or do you want me to stop? I ask, already aware of what his answer is going to be. After taking two long breaths, he chuckles, pretending to still be in control of the situation. "H-help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do." With that I use my free hand that's not trapping his body to grab his face. He immediately starts melting in my palm. I use my fingertips to give light touches to his cheek, chin and slowly rub his ear. His breathing seems to be getting heavier by the minute. I move closer to the side of his face. "Panting already? I have barely even touched you yet." I whisper, and then lick a long stripe across his earlobe, he is blushing so hard and even starts trembling a little bit as I proceed to give kisses down his neck. He is so cute. "Y/n…" He moans out softly unable to look into eyes and hold my gaze, to embarrassed to do so I guess. "What is it 'sweetie'?" He whimpers a bit at the word that he usually calls me. "P-Please…." "Please what honey? Use your words." "please!… please Kiss me." He says in such a meek voice, body hot to touch with all the flushing and blushing. And who am I to refuse such a polite request? I lean down and smash my lips to his. It was a hot makeout with our tongues rolling against each other, his mouth opening to give my tongue more access as I bite his bottom lip and yank his hair in the kiss, making him moan, again. God, He is driving me crazy. I can feel his hand tugging the handcuffs, he wants to break from it so bad. Although I doubt he won't be able to free himself. I release our mouths harshly, figuring that he must be out of breath by hearing his pants. His eyes are all hazy, blush creeping to his neck and chest, my god he looks so fucked out already. I slowly trace his chest with my fingertips and then all of sudden I feel something hard beneath his robe. "Would you look at that? You kept the brooch with you all along. It's as if you wanted me to touch you." Sylus starts chuckling at that. "I did." He replies, smirking, leaving me dumbfounded and speechless. "What?" "I did keep it with me. It was to see how far you were you willing to go to find this brooch, But mostly I wanted to do this just for you to touch me. Which is exactly what you're doing right now." Hearing that I put the brooch on the bedside stand, and then use my body to pin him down again. "So you did all this… just to grab my attention? My, my Sylus I didn't know you were such a slut." His breath hitches again, it seems to do that whenever I insult him. "What are you going to do to me y/n, will you punish me?" he says, while being all smiley. If a punishment is what he wants, Then it's a punishment he shall get. "Stop talking." I sit on him, cunt pressed to that raging boner he has gained, than I bit down his collarbone while grinding on his dick. "h-haah… Y/N! oh my god…a-ah~" If his breathing could get any heavier, then it just did, his eyes are starting to get watery, he starts thrashing around the bed but I don't let him go until I have made a nice reddish- blue mark on his collarbone. "Don't hA~Ah.. Don't tease please.." He exclaims shakily making me sit straight which probably added more pressure on his cock as I see his eyes roll back and back arch a bit. "Darling, can't you see I am punishing you? you cannot make demands here." Sylus tries to thrust up to get more friction but I block him, I am not going to let him finish him so early. What would be the fun in that? "lay still." Sylus infact does not lay still. He keeps moving, thrusts shooting jolts of pleasure through my body as well. I steady my breath, I am still the one in control. "LAY STILL SYLUS!" I slap harshly across his nipple, which seems to shock him. His eyes widen a bit as he lets out a loud whine and tears start falling from his eyes. And that's when something snaps within me.

"I-I am sorry, y/n… plEASE- aaagh~" His voice now a tad bit higher as I start twisting and rolling his nipples in my fingertips. "Oh my.. I didn't know you were this sensitive here." I then bend down and take one in my mouth, softly sucking on it and flicking the other one. I can feel his body turning into mush as I look up at him, Sylus is unable to hold my gaze, soft gasps and groans escaping his swollen lips, he looks so cute like this. I then release his nipple with a lewd pop and give the other one the same treatment, and while massaging the other pec, I grind on down him again. "T-tOo much. this is TOO MUCH! please let me hahh! pleaSE LEt me mOvE." I can literally see the hearts forming in his eyes beneath the puddle of tears. Maybe I should go easy on my poor baby. I place a gentle kiss on his cheeks and wipe his tears that were rolling down . And then I start riding him, or you could say humping, Sylus throws his head back on the bed, adam's apple bobbing and fists clenched. "Haa~! thankyou so much a-ah~ I'm.. yeah please use me just like that! thank you y/n THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUUU~" He starts to ramble incoherent words, a series of broken 'please' and 'thankyou's' and random chants of my name, it's all adding to the pleasure as the heat pools in my stomach, ready to be released any second. I feel like he is close to his release too. "I-I am ugh.. I am close y/n Please! please let me haaH~ Please let me…" "Go ahead baby. Cum for me." That's all it takes for him to cum in his robe, making it completely dirty below. I ride him throughout his orgasm and then lie on top of him again, head resting on his shoulder. We lay like that for quite some time when sylus starts speaking "Are you satisfied now? Please uncuff me Miss. Or I will do it myself." "I know you can. But you wouldn't dare." "oh yeah? why so?" "Because I haven't cum yet Sylus. You will only leave when I tell you to." I can feel Sylus twitching beneath me again.

This is going to be a very long night.

..............................................................................................................................

AU: kill me

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 4

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N comes to after being attacked and formerly meets the inner circle. Cassian and Y/N finally begin training, and he shows her around what he calls the heart of the Night Court.

Content Warning: Nightmares, flashbacks to under the mountain, Fluff

Word Count: 4.1

Chapter 3 Masterlist

A/N I want to take this moment to say thank you for all the love and support on this story! I am so grateful for you all! It honestly makes my day with every like and comment and reblog that I see! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we finally get some good Cassian X Reader quality time!

The Naga approached the sound of them slithering close causing me to whimper. One gripped my bound arms tightly from behind me, its dry tongue sliding up the column of my neck. The other gripped my breast tightly eliciting a shriek from the back of my throat. “A delicious treat, brother. Just for us.”

I begged for Rhysand to help, prayed he would make it in time. As the creature in front of me gripped my face puckering my lips as he pressed his to my own. I thrashed against them as hard as I could, but they were stronger than me.

Rhysand’s voice came clear as day but instead of sending help it was just my name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Wake up, Y/N.” My eyes blinked open and violet eyes came into focus. Calloused hands grazed my damp cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was just a Nightmare, Angel.” I sat up as he released my face and moved toward the edge of the bed. I looked behind him to find the chair Cassian was sitting in the night before empty and I tried to dampen my disappointment that he had left sometime after I had fallen asleep. Rhys looked to me, “Shields up, Y/N.” I jolted him and worked on building that wall around my mind as the High Lord continued, “I sent Cassian off this morning to run some errands for me. He put up a fight about before he left though.” He gave me a smile.

There was a comfort knowing that he stayed with me, but other thoughts whirled in my brain I sighed and rubbed my face, “Rhys, what happens now? Also where are we?”

“You’re in my townhome, this is where I reside normally. You were staying in what we call the House of Wind.” Rhys’ smile fades, “As for what happens next, there are two options we can take due to the fact you’re still human. The first, would be that we can send you back to the human lands and you would be able to be with your sisters.” I bit my lip as he prattled on, “Or option two, you become a member of the Night Court as my human emissary.” He grips my hand, “In my opinion, not that you asked for it, I would hope you would like to pick option 2. I would pay you well and you would be able to see Feyre every month. Not to mention, I like having you around.” I gave him a small smile and his eyes held unspoken emotion. “You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.” A tear slid down his perfect cheek.

I squeeze his hand, and with my free on wipe the tear from his cheek, “She must have been really special, if just mentioning her has this reaction. One day when you’re ready I would love to hear more about her.” I pause, “Especially all the reasonings as to why she would love me.” He laughed a boisterous laugh, and I was happy to take his sadness away.

When he stopped, he asked, “One day huh? Does that mean you would like to stay?”

“Yes, I would like to stay.” My stomach rumbled.

“We can discuss logistics and details on your position after we have gotten food in your stomach.” He rose. “There are clothes in the closet, Mor has already claimed you for the afternoon to go shopping.”

I quirked a brow, “So you knew I would say I wanted to stay?”

“No.” He opened the door and gave a playful smirked, “I was, however, hopeful that you would want to. Get dressed and come down to the stairs I’ll introduce you to everyone, formally.” With that he closed the door. I took a moment to look out at the window and gasped at the beauty of the city I am staring at. The sunrise coated the city in various shades of pink and orange the sun glimmering on the river as soft waves flowed down stream.

I got out of bed and discarded the nightgown I was gifted and put on the Teal sundress that had sheer sleeves and flowed down to my knees. I placed my hair up in a simple bun and walked down the stairs. Laughter erupted and I followed the sound I found a dining room that has almost every seat filled all for one that was in between Mor and Azriel. There was a short female with short black hair and mesmerizing silver eyes that rolled her eyes at the laughter and her eyes met mine. “Well, well, well, appears someone is awake.”

The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn on me and I rub the back of my neck, “Hi.” I whispered. Mor shot up and ran over to where I was and almost tackled as she wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.

“I’m so happy you’re staying with us.”  Mor squeezed causing a squeak to come out of me.

“Mor, let her go you’re going to crush her.” The low timbre of Cassian caused me to meet his gaze and he gave me a smile and a playful wink as Mor released me mumbling the word asshole under her breath. She led me to the seat next to her and I gave Azriel a smile, he simply nodded his head.

“Okay as promised, formal introductions. You know Mor, obviously,” He points to Azriel, “This is Azriel, the Night Court’s Spymaster and our very own shadowsinger,” I looked to Azriel whose shadows swirled around him as if a part of him and he puffed his chest slightly a sense of pride of his High Lord’s words. “The tiny angry looking one over there is my Second in command, Amren.” She doesn’t look phased by how she’s introduced and raises her goblet to me and takes a sip. “Last but certainly not least, the General of the Night Courts armies, Cassian. Though I believe you two have been acquainted.” My head snaps at Rhys’ who gave us both a shit eating grin.

“Sorry, Princess, I may have told them about that night we met.” My eyes met the General’s hazel ones his face had a flush on them as he smiled.

I grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of me and took a bite, and gave him a smile, “That’s alright, General.” I took another bite as two puzzle pieces clicked together and I ask, “Are you still willing to train me?” I avert my gaze and pick at the pastry.

“Any reason why I wouldn’t want to?” He asked, the table has fallen to an uncomfortable silence awaiting my answer.

Flashes of last night whirl through my head, of how I couldn’t even push the Naga away from me. Before I’m able to catch it, a tear falls then another, and sobs unleash until I can’t stop them. I cover my face and let it wrack out of my system. I feel Mor’s hand rubbing my back and can feel a talon on my mental shields of Rhys trying to get me to let him in. Then there is the scraping of the chair, sound of large boots. Mor’s touch vanishes as my chair is gently pulled back. Large hands grip my wrist and give them a light tug as the sobs continue, as I meet Cassian’s face, there was no judgement or pity, if anything there was an underlying rage there. He grips my hands tightly as if to remind me that I’m safe and that nothing would harm me. I look at the table and everyone gazes hold the same sentiment.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Cassian softly ordered, I face him once more and his thumb is rubbing soothing circles and my heartrate spikes. “I promise, I will make sure that you will never feel powerless again. You were ambushed last night; you were wounded and left out to fend for yourself, no one here thinks that you are weak because of it.” He wiped the tears from my face. “Would you like to start today?”

I nodded my head, and he gave me a beautiful grin, “Wonderful, we can get you some training gear and you can meet me outside after we eat. Okay?” I nod again, and he squeezes my hands before letting them go and instantly missed the warmth they provided.  As he stands pushes a free strand of hair from face and tucks it behind my ear, “You know what happened last night wasn’t your fault right?”

I bit my lip, “Maybe if I wasn’t so confrontational with Tamlin.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Girl,” Amren spoke for the first time since I entered the room, and everyone stilled. I met her gaze it was as if her irises were swirling with silver liquid, “Tamlin, is a coward and fool. He feeds off feeling superior over the weak.” Her red lips formed a smirk, “You weren’t willing to bend to him and challenged him. He simply used the one thing he had on you. The simple fact that your human. Make no mistake that Tamlin is the worm here.”

I tilted my head at her, and let her words really sink in and I blurted out, “You’re Stunning.” Heat immediately racing up my cheeks. Amren’s eyes widened a fraction as the table filled with laughter at the immediate shift in mood.

Amren smiled and tipped her head to me, “Likewise, girl, I think you’ll fit right in.”

Breakfast went on, and Rhys shared what my duties at Emissary would be, and he provided me with some fighting leathers that hugged every curve of my body. I made my way outside to find that Cassian was stretching, in his usual leathers with those gems on across his body. With the mid-day sun, he looked like one of the old gods long forgotten. He was beautiful, and the way he moved as he practiced made him lethal. His wings twitched, and his spine went rigid. He turned in my direction, “Right on time.”

I walked toward him, feeling disoriented by the heavy boots Rhys had given me. “What are these gemstones? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled and I decided that I would never get tired of him smiling, his whole face lit up when he did the gesture showing genuine happiness there. “They’re called siphons they harness my power to make it easier to control. They are earned during this thing called the Blood Rite, an Illyrian tradition but I won’t bore you with the details about why we do it, or their backwards beliefs of them. Not today anyway.”

“Well, another time, I’ve never heard about Illyrians before. They are not talked about much in the history of the fae we’re taught back in the human lands.” I walk past him to where he was practicing, “I’m also a sucker for a good story.”

“Well, when I can steal you for more than an hour. You can ask me all the questions you would like.”

I crossed my arms, “Why would you have to steal me?”

Cassian quirked a brow, “You have met Mor, correct? She has not shut up about wanting to spend time with you.”

“Hmm. Well, I will need someone to show me around. Where are we exactly? As I know this is Rhys’ town home, but I’ve never seen a city as beautiful as this. Well, I’ve never really ventured far from our small cottage anyway.”

Cassian made a few strides toward me, “We’re in Velaris, the city of Starlight. I personally think it’s the heart of the Night Court.”

“I can’t wait to explore.” I was acutely aware of how close Cassian had gotten, leather and sandalwood infiltrating my nose. “So will you show me around?”

“Sure. Though you’ll break Mor’s heart.” Cassian joked and caused me to smile, “Alright, Archeron,” I turned to him and gone was the playful face is gone. Replaced with the serious gaze of a General. “Let’s get started.”

Cassian had me show him what Rhys had been teaching me and showed me some more stretches before he asked me how I would punch someone. I clenched my fist and Cassian immediately shook his head. “No, Princess, you hit someone like that you’re going to hurt yourself more than your opponent.” He came up and grabbed my hand. He opened my hand he began folding my hand where the tip of my fingers was tightly placed in the base of my palm. He then places my thumb over my index finger. “There, this will protect your fingers and give you the best chance of hurting someone instead of yourself.” He walks behind me and raises both fists and nudges my legs with his own to get me in the perfect stance my heart was racing at the mere touch and proximity of him. “Tomorrow we’ll go over exactly the best stance to throw a punch and keep your balance but standing like this,” He whispered in my ear and chills ran down my warm body. He moves my arm in a punching motion, his other hand on my waist twisting to move with the punch. He does it a few more times and after the fifth time he releases his grip and has me do those movements on my own. I could feel his eyes on me as I kept repeating the motion until he held up his hand. “Very good. I think we’ll call it for the day.”

I nodded and he walked over to hand me some water. “Thanks.” I sipped the water, and he drank some from his own cup. He grabbed my cup and placed it down with his. He pointed to the floor, “On your back, Princess.”

My face heated and I’m sure my cheeks were pink, “Why?”

Cassian smirked, “I’m going to help you stretch, its important to stretch the muscles so you’re not sore tomorrow.” He crossed his arms, “What were you thinking about?”

I huffed and followed his order to lay on my back. “I was thinking about nothing, grow up.”

Cassian knelt his hand rubbing my calf with a smirk, “I’m quite grown up, thank you. I’m over 500 years old.” My eyes widened at the fact as he bent my knee and pushed my leg toward my chest, the muscles stretched, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan.

“That feels divine.” I whisper and I hear a low chuckle as the General moved to the other leg. He met my eyes as he pushed back my leg, and I could not hold the moan this time. I covered my mouth as he placed my leg down and massaged my calves. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian looked like he wasn’t breathing his eyes holding something like yearning there but shook his head and waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Princess. It’s a natural reaction,” He pat my legs and rise to his feet. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it he lifts me up with ease and releases my hand. “Good job today, we’ll pick up tomorrow.”

Rhys walked outside and tucked his hands in his pockets, “Mor, sadly had to go do her job and has left for a few days. So, your shopping spree has been put on hold.” Rhys shrugged, “I could take you around, and give you a tour of the city if you would like.”

I looked to Cassian, “If you don’t mind Rhys, could your General take me?” Cassian smiled and draped an arm around my shoulders. “If you don’t mind, Cass.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian looked at Rhys, “Do you mind if I steal her?”

Rhys smirked, “Not at all. Have fun you two.”

The two of us parted ways to bathe and change. A midnight blue top and matching pants were prepped for me as I came out of the bath, and I placed it the top on used to the slight mid drift. I placed my hair fall in its natural curls and placed it on moon pin in my hair and slipped on a pair of silver slip on shoes. I walked down to the front door to find Cassian, wearing a casual shirt with a leather jacket and pants. His wings were relaxed and tucked close behind him and his hair was in a half up bun.

He looked up as he heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, “Well you clean up nicely,” I teased elbowing him. He smiled and rolled his eyes at me.

 Cassian’s eyes lingered on my outfit and back up to my eyes. “I could say the same about you, Princess.” He opened the door, and the late afternoon breeze tickled my skin, “Ready to go?”

I nod, and he lays a hand on my back and guides me out of the front door. Once he shut the door behind me, we were off. Cassian and I walked the busy streets of Velaris. We went into various shops looking at clothes and different works of art. I stopped when we were at a vendor selling various paintings. My heart sank, Feyre had not painted in months, and I doubt after yesterday she’ll ever want to. I would do anything if it meant that she would want to paint again. If I ever see her. Calloused hands grazed my neck and brought me out of my thoughts, “Where’d you go?”

“I want Feyre to paint again,” I whispered, “She loved to paint after we came out of Under the mountain she just wouldn’t. Now with last night will I be the reason she never paints again?” I cross my arms and I walk past the paintings, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if that were the reason.”

Cassian gripped my elbow, “Y/N, Feyre has her own healing journey to take, her reasons, for doing or not doing something are her own, you don’t need to shoulder responsibility for someone else’s grief.”

I give him a small smile and give his hand a pat, “Thanks Cas, but my job was always to protect her, and I took pride in securing that small ounce of peace she would get when painting. I would sneak money just to make sure she had enough paint.” I kept walking Cassian meeting my stride his wing flared and wrapped slightly around me almost protectively. “I was like that for Nesta and Elain I always made sure anything they wanted books for Nesta or plants for Elaine, tensions were high a majority of the time, I just tried to keep the peace and made sure everyone was happy and safe.”

Cassian was quiet as we approached a bookstore, and I gripped his arm with an excited squeal, “Can we go in here?” Cassian nodded and opened the door for me, and the smell of books and a thin layer of dust fills my nose and i couldn't contain my smile. I walk up and down the aisle, looking at all the stories. Cassian was a silent yet steady presence behind me. There was a portion of the store that had various leather-bound notebooks.”  

“What about you?” I turned to Cassian my brows furrowed. “Feyre has painting, Nesta reading, and Elain had gardening. What did you like to do?”

I bit my lip and shrugged, “Protecting my sisters I guess.” I grazed the top on a journal, “I never really had the time to do anything, if I wasn’t chopping wood, or helping Feyre hunt, or trying to make money. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”

Cassian frowned and guilt washed over me for taking his smile away, “If you did have the time what would you have liked to do.”

I lifted a Journal and flipped through the blank pages, “Don’t laugh.” I looked at him, “I would have loved to write. Even if I didn’t know how to write, I would have loved to tell stories. The kind of heroes and villains and romance things that Nesta would read to me when I was small.” I placed the journal down and shrugged. “Just a silly little dream.” I give him a smile one to hide the lingering sadness. “Enough about that, I’m hungry.” Cassian’s frown deepened clearly seeing my deflection.

“I’ll be out in a minute. Rhys ironically enough wanted me to see if they had a book in stock. “ I nodded my head and walked out of the store. I looked out at the river and quickly walked over and leaned against the railing to stare out at the sea. The sun is beginning to set and enjoy the scenery around me. Soft waves crashed amongst the bridge, and the scent of the water spray filled the air. It was peaceful and serene.

I was entranced by its beauty that I didn’t even hear Cassian approach, his hand on back caused me to jump and turn. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”  He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for being a little jumpy. Did they have the book you needed?” I asked as he offered his arm for me to take, leading us to a little restaurant in an area he called earlier the rainbow.

Cassian shook his head, “No but I did find something else that piqued my interest.” He grabbed out of his pocket the leather-bound journal I was holding in the store and handed it to me, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“Cassian-“

He interrupted me, “You may find that you have more free time here, you have worked hard to make sure your sisters were able to keep their hobbies. You should be able to explore something that interests you.” He gave you a smile “Plus I know there is one person for sure who would love to read whatever stories you come up with.”

I stopped, tears pooling in my eyes, “Cassian, I can’t repay you for this.”

Cassian also stopped, his hazel eyes warm and shining bright, “It’s a gift, Princess. Nothing to be repaid.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Cass.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me. “You’re welcome, now let’s go get something to eat.” He pulled away and looped my arm with his once more and led us to dinner. At dinner he shared some stories of how he and Rhys met and how they met Azriel how they have been friends for centuries and in turn I told him of all the trouble Feyre and I used to get in before we lost our fortune and when it was over we fell into comfortable silence on the walk home.

Music played on the bridge, and it caused me to pause in my tracks. I gripped Cassian’s arms as my mind went back to late nights under the mountain.

Feyre had fallen asleep after sobbing, and I was still in the corner tears stained my face. The feeling of hopelessness taking over. I wish I had told Nesta and Elain how much I loved them before we left. I tucked my head into my knees and sobbed. Beautiful melody flooded my eardrums, something that held hope and happiness. Images flashed against in my mind of a beautiful orchestra on a bridge over river. The night sky was breathtaking as if they were swirling and dancing to the melody of the music. My eyes grew heavy as the melody hit the crescendo. I laid my head back and let the music sweep me into a peaceful slumber.

My breathing was labored, “Hey, hey, hey,” Cassian’s hand cupped my cheek, “what is it?”

“Rhys...he played this music in my head to help me sleep Under the Mountain.” Tears were streaming down my face clutching the journal Cassian bought me, “He was letting me know I wasn’t alone when I was convinced Feyre, and I weren’t coming out alive. He was showing me this band a piece of his home.”

Cassian eyes gleamed silver as well, “He’s annoyingly a good friend like that.” He looked over at the band as I chuckled, “Would you like to stay and listen for a little bit?”

“Please.” I whispered and he lowered his hand from cheek, but I reached out and laced my fingers with his. He tucked his wing around me to block the wind as we stood and listened to the music that kept me from breaking under the mountain.

Chapter 5

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.6. ROWDY TEENAGERS

"the pavement moves so quickly, flying high. i'll be there soon. i'll be next to you."

from new song by lowertown, left in sakai, osaka

CONTENT WARNINGS: one use of the phrase "attention whore" in a joke, one "what if i kms" type joke, mentions of hyperventilating/a panic attack, mommy/family issues, lots of comfort <3 we love found family!! but also if you don't feel comfortable reading it, that's ok!! it's not incredibly important to the plot, and i would recommend skipping everything after the tweets after the written part of this chapter :)

when the door chimes open and she hears two sets of laughter and the rain pouring outside before it quickly closes shut again, she’s quick to peek her head out. it’s eleven at night and there’s an hour until closing, which oftentimes meant her only customers were rowdy teenagers stumbling into the only place left open for a quick bite.

she smiles at the sight of the two pushing each other, trying to get the last laugh. they definitely act and look like rowdy teenagers, but they’re her rowdy teenagers. they’re breathing hard and water is dripping from their clothes like they’ve been running through the rain for hours. she grins as they take off their coats, hanging them on a nearby rack before sitting down at the counter. “you guys are sopping wet, what've you been up to?” she asks, tone light and teasing.

they share a look that only spells trouble before they burst out laughing again. “atsumu got the police called on us,” suna answers once they've calmed down while she places mugs in front of both of them.

osamu comes around the corner at the same time, drying his hands with a towel and a raised brow, “what did i just hear you say?”

a smile ghosts her own lips, the energy of the two boys in front of her rubbing off on her as she pours them tea. “thanks,” she hears suna whisper with a smile towards her before he joins atsumu in recounting their story to osamu.

“seriously? and you decided to come here? if someone comes in looking for either of you, i’m not hiding you guys,” osamu shakes his head in disappointment at the retelling. despite his words, they all know he’d cover for them if needed and they all laugh again before atsumu sneezes.

“do you guys want towels to dry off? one of you are bound to catch a cold,” she chides pushing off the counter when they both nod their heads eagerly.

she comes back and osamu is still scolding the two boys for something. she passes by him to hand a towel to atsumu first, who gives her a wink in thanks. and when suna’s hand brushes past her’s as he takes the towel, she has to hold in a breath to keep herself from reacting. her heart tightens as if she's overwhelmed, looking at him in the moment. his normally combed-out hair is damp and slightly flattened down, and the mischievous glint in his eyes is something that’s only increased throughout the years. 

perhaps it had come with the way they’d grown closer together, but she felt like she could read his emotions better, now. she could see the way adrenaline was still flowing through his veins, the way his pupils had dilated and the wide grin across his face. it was an urge deep inside of her that made her want to just come around the corner and dry his hair herself, to tell him she’s loved him since the first time she saw them. 

but instead, she only interrupts the boys’ conversations to ask if they were going to order anything, already knowing the answer. and with how frequently they came, she could already predict their orders. she disappears behind the counter into the kitchen leaving the boys to talk before she comes back out, carrying a plate and bowl.

in her absence, osamu has brought over two stools for them to sit on behind the counter. he’s sitting across from atsumu, resting the side of his cheek against his fist while he listens to his brother talk. she places the tonkatsu ramen in front of atsumu and the curry in front of suna before taking her own seat, absentmindedly picking at her fingers as she listens to the blond. she doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she feels a tap on her hand and turns back to the boy in front of her.

“you’re shaking,” he points out and she examines her own hands, watching the way they tremble.

“oh,” she says, dumbfounded, “that’s weird. i don’t know why they’re doing that.”

“i saw your twitter,” suna mentions. “something about a hike, right? and you’re working on top of that. have you eaten?”

the question surprises her, as she has to wrack her brain to even try and remember her own day, and when she last ate something. “i don’t think i’ve eaten something since this morning…”

suna raises a brow, checking his phone, “it’s almost 11:30 now.”

“yeah,” she presses her lips into a thin line at the realization. “i should probably make something for myself.” she moves to stand up before a hand on her shoulder keeps her where she is.

“stay here,” when she looks up at osamu in surprise, he only smiles, “i’ll make you something.”

she lets out a sigh of relief, “thank you, ‘samu, you’re the best.”

when he walks away, it goes silent for a moment before atsumu speaks up, shoving food into his mouth. “how come you went on a hike again?” he asks.

“i have a photography exhibit coming up soon,” she explains, playing with her apron to keep herself from picking at her skin. “it’s an assignment for one of my classes with akaashi and kenma, so we all decided to hike up a mountain to take some pictures for what we’re doing.”

“did they turn out good?” suna asks, and she tries not to fall apart under his gaze. she doesn’t want to ramble on too much about her own work, but he’s looking at her as if he’s genuinely interested in what she’s talking about, and it makes her feel a little better.

“yeah,” she says with a small smile towards him. “i posted some pictures of the flower field on my twitter, but i’m not using any of those. i have a specific theme i’m going for and we set a swing on fire for it. that one turned out pretty cool, and i actually got another picture i’m planning to use, too, but i think i’ll leave that one untitled.”

“fire?” he echoes with a perplexed look on his face.

she laughs, “we had a fire extinguisher handy and i think we had permission to do it…i kind of left that up to kenma. but i’ll show it to you later. i'm gonna mess around with the saturation before i dodge and burn it.”

he nods, “does that mean you're go back to the darkroom again? can i join you?”

she can’t help the way her lips curve into a bigger smile at the question, “yeah, i’ll be in there again but in case you come to my exhibit, i want the photos to be a surprise. do you think you'll come?”

he doesn't have the chance to respond before a plate is placed in front of her and her face lights up. it’s the same kind of curry as suna’s, and it’s one of her favorites. “thank you, osamu!” she looks up at him and he only chuckles.

“don’t mention it. it's the least i can do for my favorite employee,” he says, sitting back down while she turns back to her plate in time to see suna stealing a bite from it.

“hey! you have your own. it's the same thing,” she scolds, fighting off his spoon with her own.

he hums in response with a small smile on his face, “no, yours is better.”

she takes a bite of her own curry as she responds, “well duh, osamu’s the professional here.”

“no, i mean the one you made for me is better,” he clarifies and she freezes, her face immediately warming.

“wow. i’m right here, suna,” osamu scoffs, but shrugs playfully when she sends him an apologetic look.

“well i have credibility as a fellow chef, and i think your curry is the best i’ve ever had, ‘samu,” she defends.

“oh please, you don’t have to appease me. everyone has their own opinion, that’s just the way food is,” osamu responds, but gives her a smile in thanks for the compliment.

“you probably just think his food is good because he makes it with love,” atsumu chimes in, looking towards her while still eating his ramen, “but for me, he probably spits in my food. i like your food too, y/n. ‘cause you actually care about me and give me discounts.”

she rolls her eyes at his words before suna draws her attention back to him, “when’s your exhibit?”

“it’s exactly a week from now,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. even the reminder of the event makes her feel exhausted, thinking about all the work she has to do between now and then. “honestly, it’s a problem. i don’t even have all my shots yet. i still need to find somewhere that i can set up the last one,” she explains further before stopping, “sorry, you didn’t ask about that.”

“that’s okay,” he reassures her, “i like hearing about the process. and i’ll be there—at your exhibit. just make sure you take care of yourself. you won’t be able to do it if you’re on the verge of passing out.” she’s sure her cheeks have flushed red at his words again, and she can only nod silently while he checks his phone, “‘tsumu, you ready to go? they’re gonna close soon, we shouldn’t hold them up.”

atsumu looks over from his conversation with osamu, blinking for a moment as he processes the question before he responds, “oh, yeah. i’m good.”

she stands up, meeting them by the register while osamu takes their trays away. she rings up atsumu first, who slips her a few notes with another wink that makes her roll her eyes. as suna is paying for his order, atsumu looks over his shoulder and gasps, “how come suna gets a bigger discount than me?”

she shrugs at his exclaim, “company policy.”

osamu comes up from behind her, following up, “i have a dedicated discount for you, ‘tsumu. you get 25% off.”

suna looks at his total, trying to do the math before he asks, “how much of a discount are you giving me?”

she turns red as osamu looks at the register screen and whistles, “damn, 75% off.”

the smile suna gives her only makes her more embarrassed and she’s quick to rip his receipt from the machine and give it to him, “see you later, rin.”

she slaps a hand over her mouth immediately as it slips out and he’s looking at her in surprise, “i’m so sorry, it just came out– i was looking at the receipt–”

“no, it’s fine. really. i don’t mind,” he cuts her off, taking the receipt and leaving a tip in her hand as well before the door chimes, signaling the exit of their last customers.

she’s left standing there with osamu at her side, her hand still reached out, the yen sitting in her open palm as she tries to process what just happened. she turns to osamu once she pulls herself together, “sorry, i can pay for suna’s food if that was too much of a discount, i promise i only do it for him.”

he laughs, shaking his head. “no, don’t worry about it. i know that’s what you always give him. akaashi eats here for free because we like him so much, so i really can’t fault you. i even put up with talking to my brother so that you guys could have a conversation. just make sure this all goes somewhere,” he pokes her forehead playfully, breaking her out of her trance as he walks past her. “now, let’s get out of here soon. do you wanna close back or front?”

she finally lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in and feels the weight lift from her shoulder, “i'll close front!"

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

SORRY FOR ANOTHER LONG CHAPTER </3 i didn't want to split it into two parts and drag it on

y/n and suna teamed up on atsumu to bully him back after his initial tweet which y/n didn't think much of. she just thought atsumu was being annoying again

hmmmmmmm i wonder who owns a convenience store and would get FLY spray painted onto it

UKAI APPEARANCE IN LOVE NOTES!!! DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT LOCATIONS in this smau he's retired and he owns a convenience store in osaka now and it has a little garage door with "fly" painted onto it now <3

while y/n and suna were off in their own world talking <3 atsumu talked to osamu instead bc my boy likes to yap and needs someone listening at all times

and osamu put up with it for y/n <3

osamu and y/n also have a very close sibling bond if that wasn't obvious

i stole akaashi's "bye cruel world" post from pinterest. i wish i was that funny. but nothing bad happened to him, he was just stressed out and wanted to pass out

y/n was NOT supposed to have a panic attack but then i almost did writing this so it happened

"mei" is short for "meimei" which is chinese for little sister but it's a term my family uses because i'm the youngest daughter so i put it in here bc i was influenced by how cool @cr4yolaas' use of filipino culture in their smau mezzo forte is!!! (shameless plug <3)

also a really silly thing but i colorcode my phone contacts into people i don't like (yellow) and people i do like (brown) through their pfps (like everyone has a brown or yellow pfp, or an animal/their face if i really like them) so i just did the same thing here but made blue the pfp picture of anyone y/n doesn't like lol

y/n has met kuroo before from when he visited kenma previously and they hit it off super well so they're always asking kenma how the other is doing

to which he always replies "why can't you guys just ask each other? 😐"

their response?

"bc it's more fun to ask you!!! ❤"

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta

[runningupthatvecna]

the law of seat partners | the sequel

eddie munson x fem!reader

masterlist

summary: your grand return to Hawkins after your little field trip isn't exactly what you pictured it as, since your new boyfriend wants you all to himself. like, immediately. 9k.

cw: new relationship, this eddie still has abandonment issues and lets you see them, a tinge of angst that quickly gets resolved, 18+ smut mdni, car sex, softdom!eddie because he's my weakness, eddie is very ... talkative (meaning if you don't like dirty talk, this really isn't for you) and also a little pervy but we don't mind, unprotected vp, cumming inside, soft aftercare, lots of fluff, reader has a vulnerability kink bc i said so. this is straight up filth because eddie is down baaaaad and these two just went from cinnamon in part 4 to feral and unhinged real quick, whoops. both reader and eddie are at least 20, reader's appearance is mostly unspecified except being afab, no use of y/n.

a/n: i couldn't let these two off the hook just like that so this is a sequel to my most prized law of seat partners, but can also be read as a stand-alone. would recommend reading the whole thing though for more context since the build-up to this will probably be worth it .. yeehaw. also this took me for-fucking-ever because life was lifeing so hard and bc english isn't my first language i got upset 583 times at myself for not knowing more diverse vocab. anywho, i so appreciate everyone reading, reblogging, leaving comments and all that sweet stuff, your words mean the world to me ok love you all byeeee <3 if you see any typos, no you didn't.

lovely divider by strangergraphics-archive

The parking lot was filled with cars, cars, parents sitting in said cars, more parents and more cars.

Heavy rain with clouds hanging as low as everyone's mood welcomed you back, and you hadn't missed it in the slightest.

Fumbling for your car keys in your bag to make your transition from bus to another roof over your head as smooth and dry as possible, you sighed as you looked out the window for a few seconds as the bus came to its final halt.

For the last hour or so, Eddie's (still very warm) hand had been resting on your bare thigh, slightly calloused fingertips rubbing up and down softly every now and then, a silent reminder of what was running through his mind like an unstoppable train.

It had been building ever since he had woken up next to your sleep-doused body in the early morning, display of softness dancing over the slivers of skin he'd gotten a first taste of – which, if he was honest, only amplified this seemingly insatiable urge to be close to you in him tenfold – unallowed to take things back to where you'd left them the night before.

Mainly due to a lack of time, but also: privacy.

And your (re-clothed) exit after dawn had left him high (on oxytocin) and literally dry, destined to spend the last few hours at the camp inhaling breakfast and chaotically throwing his belongings into his bag again, all with only one thing on his mind, and it was far from new.

You.

You, you and your light.

A few kids had left the bus already to go hide under their parents' umbrellas or disappear behind the rear doors of their respective cars, and after waving hasty goodbyes to everyone in the aisle of the bus, Dustin had eagerly climbed the passenger seat of his mom's old mercedes in anticipation, since the two of them had further plans to visit family over the weekend.

Joyce had come to pick up Will and Jonathan, and well, Nancy since she'd let everyone know that she'd be spending the following days at the Byers house, while Robin and Max and Lucas would be driven to their respective residences by mother Steve in his beamer.

Your initial plan had entailed to drive that car of yours home and bury yourself in bed, the time away from each other with the intention to recharge the social batteries being the general consensus of your friend group.

You'd all meet again the following week anyway.

Something you hadn't calculated into that plan though was returning from a trip of this kind with something as foreign to you as a relationship, so naturally, you'd looked at Eddie a bit puzzled when you felt his fingers find yours and sneakily intertwine, palm to slightly smaller palm, as you both stood in the aisle while the bus got emptier, waiting for Harrington and Buckley to yeet their asses out of the back door one final time.

"What?", he inquired about the very prominent question mark on your face at the feeling of him not wanting to let go, "I got word just this morning that the sacred and powerful seat law council has gathered to discuss potential extensions to um, vans, .. in-in case no one told you, yet."

Eddie sheepishly grinned as he remembered your words from last night with a vividness only a dungeon master could have, the mere thought of you in that utterly blissful state he'd been dreaming for so long to fuck you into sent a tinge of want straight to his dick, giving your hand a light squeeze before pushing his black leather jacket into your chest with a ringed hand.

The gesture itself an outpour of affection, a simple reminder that he was looking out for you.

Even if it came down to something as simple as you not getting rain-soaked, and as a result, end up sick in bed.

While observing the pores, lines and muscles in your face closely and interpreting the confusion displayed there – added your obvious speechlessness – as uncertainty, Eddie started wondering if this was the moment in which you were finally realizing the gravity of your decision.

The impact that last night at the camp really, truly had.

"Unless you just want to go home of course and be all by your pretty self .. in peace", he spoke again, big brown doe eyes starting to resemble the shape of full moons as they soulfully pierced through you, "I need you to know though that this circumstance would very much feel like a dagger through the heart and I would most likely perish from the absence–", a nervous chuckle escaped him as he cut himself off, "no seriously, just say a word and I'll let y–"

"Eddie", you interrupted him with a soft reciprocation of his gaze, which he had already expertly averted towards the top of the seat that you were leaning yourself against.

A desperate attempt to avoid you hearing the loud, uneasy thunder processing through his mind.

A sign he was getting in his own head about your hesitation, which wasn't even hesitation in the first place, but to the very convincing irrational anxiety-driven part of his brain, nervous system on full alert preparing for the familiar inevitable, it certainly looked like you were just reevaluating the situation he had soooo selfishly maneuvered you into.

The situation of being seen more frequently now with Hawkins' one and only local head of the freaks. Obnoxious nerd. Too dramatic for his own good, should be avoided at all costs.

Eddie felt a sting in his heart region.

"I'd totally let you go home, I could drive you even, but then you'd have to get your car at some point, or no, wait! I– I could get it for you later mayb–"

"Eddie!"

It was hard for him to look you in the eyes.

Instead, he squeezed his own shut as he cupped the back of your hand that was still entwined with his other and brought all three of them up to press the back of yours against his chest.

His free one softly grabbed and wrapped around your forearm, visibly trying to hold on to you.

In hopes that it would lead to you holding on to him in turn, and prevent the all too painfully familiar default he had learned to accept at a time he was too uncomfortable about to recall for too long.

There was so much body heat seeping through that shirt.

"It's– I mean, it's no big deal if you don't want to be around me any longer than you had to, I would totally get that and I wouldn't even bother you anym–"

"Eddie!"

Boisterous demeanor long gone with you, the doubt in himself creeping back up into his consciousness tugged at your heartstrings.

Your hand squeezed his, softly. One of his eyes carefully opened slightly, corners of his lips pulled back, face squished upwards as if he was awaiting the verdict. You could tell that the boy was even holding his breath.

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't stand to see you perish. What I really, really do want though is spending the weekend with you", you smiled at him with your warm eyes as you slightly leaned further into his space.

Feeling your body closer (you also booped his cute nose), his eyelids fluttered open, face relaxing instantly, his lungs releasing the stored air in a huff.

"Where's this coming from?"

"It's just–", he sighed breathing out through his nose, eyes darting to the ceiling as if he was going to find the courage to open up about his traumatic childhood troubles there, before those full moons returned to you, "you looked a little confused and I .. I miiight have read that as disinterest when I proposed for you to uh, take a seat."

Those warm brown orbs, to die for.

They made you melt once again, swimming in that deep ocean of him for a second before you scrambled for an explanation with a valley between your eyebrows, "oh Eds, that's not at all– that's not what I wanted you to think. I was just in my own head because this?", you paused to gesture the index of your free hand between yourself and him, "is not what I thought was gonna happen. Like, at all", you shook your head, "it’s so new to me and no one's ever been so eager to spend time with me like that, it's just.. it's confusing me out of previous experience, or better said lack thereof, so I just didn't expect this, and I'm sorry it came across as me feeling indifferent or even uninterested, because–because I'm not."

Ding dong, you've reached Eddie's cortex.

"No no, I'm sorry", he paused to take a breath as his head was slightly turned to the side, eyes not quite daring to reciprocate your gaze yet when instead they observed the scenery outside the bus, "I can get a little needy when someone doesn't shove me away from them and my head can be a bit mean to me sometimes."

Gut wrencher.

The internal tug at his confession was overwhelming, urge to kiss all those bad thoughts out of him and away for good creating another wave of awareness for your feelings, hence why you took a deep breath before speaking, "don't ever think you need to apologize for having needs, sweet bean", your thumb with the ring on it swiped over his own before you took a step closer, wrapping your free arm around his back in an attempt to convey your intentions more clearly, "when I said I'm all yours, I meant it."

You'd stay with him. Of course you would. Your Eddie.

His hands squeezed yours again.

"And I'm all yours, always been."

Smiling, you pressed yourself against his body lightly, the urge to be as close to him as physically possible coursing through your entire system, all the way into every single nerve ending your skin encased.

It made the bridge of your nose kiss his jaw and the tip rub up towards his cheek to where you then dipped it.

Taking him in.

Eddie's arms showed their temporary decor, as he allowed his guard to drop and felt the goosebumps spread.

There were so many more things he wanted to let you know. So many things he wanted to tell you, explain to you. He didn't determine the bus aisle to be the perfect location for that conversation, though.

This sweet moment of him allowing your light to shine through the cracks of his armour, filling the few existent gaps between the both of you, adding onto the events of the past few days, made it real difficult for you to go home and leave him to his own devices anyway.

Probably even more so now, back in Hawkins and at home, with no teacherly scrutiny looming around the corner.

"Let's obey the law then, hm?", you let your nose bump against his softly, a surge of hot and heavy feelings for him spreading through your entire system once again as you noticed him observing you intently, before your head nodded towards the exit.

You decided right there and then that you would always make him and his wellbeing your first priority.

Eddie decided right there and then that he couldn't be more madly in love with you.

You made each other feel so seen.

Without letting go of your hand he lead you to his van as you shielded your head with the leather, clutching your bag to your chest while the boy just let his casually dangle down from his shoulder.

It looked like you were pretty much alone in the parking lot now, and since Eddie had noticed this fact as well, he wasted no second longer to have his warm lips back on the skin of your neck and his hands on your cheek and hip with a low, almost relieved sigh from the depths of his chest as he squished you between the wet metal of his van and his hot and very bothered body.

Yours was getting more hot and more bothered by the millisecond.

The memory of the way it had been held by him last night had already recoded every nerve ending.

His soft touch, the care he'd bathed you in.

Skin abundantly ablaze from the thought alone.

Gently attacking your lips next, his arm dropped his bag onto the asphalt carelessly, dark curls already soaking wet due to the rain, hands instantly back on your bare waist underneath your shirt, ringed fingers digging into the plush warm skin as small droplets ran down the bridge of his nose, landing right where the tip of it was nudging your cheek softly.

The need to feel each other again so very prominent in every cell of your being.

And Eddie's, apparently.

Without any care in the world about anything else.

The nudge soon turned into an up and down rub from your jaw to just below your lower eyelid, another pleased and relieved hum escaping his lungs through smiling lips, before they returned to your own, warm and wet and all yours, a little out of breath he broke the kiss then to pull away just enough to be able to speak, "do you want to– fuck, is this okay?"

"Very okay, yeah", you replied instantly, minding that now existent gap between your faces way too much.

Eddie's touch starvation fervently groaned into your mouth as if to say thank you. For letting him be close to you. Do this to you.

Letting him surround your senses, make you feel good, be your anchor when you needed to feel safe.

Yearning incarnate.

A soft squeeze to your hip followed when you lifted his jacket, extending it over his head.

Slotting your lower lip between his again with a whimper, granting his tongue access after your hands had found their way into the mop of his sopping curls, one of them parked in the back of his neck to caress his scalp softly, the other slowly coming around to cradle his wet cheek.

With this sense of urgency, lovingly demonstrated by the bulge in his pants which you could definitely feel, his hips pinned yours against the backdoor, behind his back another empty SUV, parked a meter or so away, shielding both of you from potentially any bypasser's periphery.

Breaking apart for another second, dark brown hues were scanning your face and finding infatuation there, before returning home, goosebumps spreading over your arms now as well, and you could feel your chest tighten at the way he looked you in the eyes, dimples making an adorable appearance.

He was stunning.

So fucking pretty you thought your heart was going to burst if he'd stay close to you like this for just another second.

The hint of stubble that decorated his jaw and chin and the space between nose and lip was now even more visible than last night, because he just hadn't been able to find the nerve to shave this morning either (if he was honest, it was because he hadn't wanted to borrow Steve's razor again just because he'd simply forgotten his own shaving supplies on Wayne's side of the bathroom cabinet in the first place).

Wet rosy cheeks, which you thought looked very underkissed, a mix of rain and spit almost dripping from his lower lip, mouth hanging slightly open to get the oxygen refill you had kept him from inhaling.

A brush of your thumb over his cheekbone caused his eyes to slowly close, just for a bit more than a second.

Eddie wanted to savour each and every moment in your presence and copy and paste the feeling of you surrounding him, of you actually liking him into every cell of his existence.

That bit more of a second, it was time enough for him to let out a content hum and for your heart to basically combust in your ribcage.

His warmth and softness, the way he just was with you – it was simply said driving you nuts.

The grip on your waist loosened just for his eager hands to teasingly slowly continue the journey upwards, pushing your shirt along with them until his thumbs reached the underside of your tits, releasing another pleased hum through smiling lips, an acknowledgement of you having sat hours and hours next to him without any fucking bra on.

A detail his observant gaze hadn't missed in the morning when you'd floated down that bus aisle, straight towards him, the sight of softly pebbled nipples through the cotton being the reason for his jeans to already feel a little tighter.

Thrill of being touched again now, receiving Eddie's attention, vibrated through your entire system, heat of the moment making your eyelids flutter shut.

And of course Eddie noticed.

As if he wanted to learn and study every atom of your very existence, consume you, his eyes wandered over the peak of your cute nose, the soft lines around your closed eyes and your eyebrows, the soft rosy apples of your cheeks that were wettened from the rain, that cute cupid's bow sitting above your pillowy lips, a rain drop that had gathered on the edge of your chin.

The raindrop he was itching to kiss away.

He thought he was gonna lose his goddamn mind over you.

"Eddie, please", you breathed out in a whiny tone, desperate to have his lips back on yours and for his hands to continue their expedition.

Pulling back, he looked at your worked up expression wistfully once more.

It was so foreign to you, being perceived like that, by someone like him, it turned every single nerve in your body into live wires and messed with your sense of reality.

"Please what, hm? What do you want, baby?"

Already grinding himself against your hip in slow rolls, Eddie decided to reattach his mouth to yours after you gave him the answer he wanted to hear you say, sucking lightly on your lower lip, hands finally reaching further up to fully grab your tits and roll your hardened nipples against the sides of his index fingers with the pads of his thumbs, soft whimpers and moans and subtle twitches from you only spurring him on.

The rain was loudly thudding against the leather of Eddie's jacket, dripping down onto his shirt, your shirt, soaking the both of you further anyway as you left it hanging over your heads.

As though it didn't really serve Eddie's intended purpose, it did have the effect of keeping your faces really close together, noses digging into each others' cheeks as you explored each other with your tongues, your hands still cradling his face, before one of them slowly wandered down over his chest, his belly, continuing its journey until your fingertips reached that familiar handcuff buckle.

They even dared to dip a little lower, ghosting over the very noticeable bulge protesting against its confinement, making the boy in front of you hiss after you both broke apart.

It fed your ego, being the compelling reason, and it reignited that spark of curiosity in you about all the other reactions you'd possibly be able to elicit out of Eddie.

You made it your mission just like you had last night, attaching your lips to his neck, kissing, licking, sucking on the tendons and muscles and slightly salty skin between his jaw and junction of throat and shoulder, hidden underneath the dripping wet curtain of dark waves.

"Mhhm baby, you're driving me insane, .. ngh, fuck, need you .. s-so bad", Eddie moaned out in almost only a whisper, one hand leaving the warmth of your tits to reach behind you, pulling the back door open and throwing both your bags in, before leaving the roof you'd created and blinking at you through his dark, wet lashes, holding five fingers and a palm out to you.

Ever the gentleman, huh?

It was quite dark in there since the windows were tinted and you had to move around with a ducked head.

Random papers, a box of tissues, a few empty cans and items of random blankets, clothing and even a carpet were spluttered around on the floor, reflecting the chaotic aspect of Eddie's personality perfectly.

You didn't mind the mess at all.

There was a small box with guitar picks somewhere in the mix, a black bandana tied to the passenger seats' headrest. The chain of a pair of handcuffs dangling down from the metal bar holding the headrest.

The sight made you swallow on instinct.

A bunch of dried wildflowers stuck out from the slit between windshield and dashboard, a black and white sticker of The Hideout reminding everyone that sat in the front of the metalhead's preferred whereabouts on his Tuesday evenings.

An open can of coke – hopefully empty – sat in the drink holder patiently, alongside a wild and varied collection of tapes surrounded by random clutter in the middle console.

"Don't even say anything, it's cleaner than usual."

You chuckled at him before he shut the van's door behind his back, not even intending to comment anything, since your body and brain were practically buzzing with the thrill of getting to be with the boy in front of you again like you'd been dreaming of for so long.

"I couldn't care less right now, to be honest."

Eddie chuckled.

"Thank fuck."

Increasingly bothered by the lack of his lips on yours, you decided to fist your hand into the wetness of his shirt covering his chest, pulling him back towards you as you reconnected, and soon, his hands were everywhere.

Heated breathing into each others mouths, barely able to break apart for even just a second to rid each other of your shirts, just to pull each other back into an oddly bent embrace with kiss bitten lips as you reached for his belt buckle, while Eddie let the back of his index finger slide down your chest, featherlight touch against one of your freed nipples, peaks standing to his attention from the chilly air.

The soft moan slipping through your lips was swallowed by him, fuel to the fire burning for you somewhere in his abdominal region.

Facing your back, he let himself fall onto the backseat after unzipping his rain-splattered jeans and letting them pool around his ankles.

Those ten hours (turned into eleven, thanks to the traffic jam just outside Chicago) had already felt like a lifetime, and it had taken Eddie at least seven points of damage having to keep his hands to himself for most of the ride, so naturally he allowed himself some forthrightness now that he had the chance to get you alone.

Being manhandled into his lap hadn't been on your bingo card for the day, but you really couldn't say that you minded, either.

That familiar heat, the need for him had been pooling between your thighs and crawling up your spine, spreading through your entire system ever since he'd fallen asleep on your shoulder on the bus in the morning.

So yeah, there was no more time to be wasted.

Eddie had you leaning against his chest, lips already pressing kisses to the junction of neck and shoulder, while his ringed hands went home, roughly kneading your bare tits, an occasional slap against them making your eyes roll and your back arch.

You could feel his eyes burning holes through your skin as he ate up your reactions, pulling you against him so his lips could start nibbling on the skin below your ear as your eyes fluttered shut at his gentle roughness, your back now flush against his heaving chest.

He knew exactly what he was doing and it surely was having the desired effect.

A) getting you impossibly soaked for him

and

B) also finding out, learning more about what you liked to be done to you.

"Mhh baby, you're such a dream, letting me have you like this", a low voice hummed against your ear as his left ring clad hand stayed on your right tit, kneading softly while his other slowly trailed over your belly, straight towards the fire pit between your thighs, and suddenly the whole inside of the van felt like a sauna.

"Not even able to wait until I get you home, hm?", a gentle lick and bite to your neck as he let the flesh go with a small pop, "it does make me wonder", the whispery ton his voice had just dropped to driving your senses to capitulation as the tip of his nose nudged the hinge of your jaw, "if I go just a bit lower", a small peck landing right below your earlobe, while his warm breath trickling down your neck was doing the rest, "are you gonna be wet for me?"

A small chuckle escaped you, surprised at your own ability to even get anything out in your current state, "you'd like that, wouldn't you, Munson?", your gaze meeting his own as you craned your head, not even awaiting a response to your rethorical question but since it was Eddie's lap you were finding yourself seated on, he didn't waste the chance to say something in return, "damn right, I would in fact die for it, sweetness."

Dramatic ass.

Another small peck on your cheek a delightful juxtapose to the nature of the grip he had you in.

You also let out a soft whimper at his words, the pet name, the tantalizingly raspy sounding voice he uttered them in, and a thrilling shiver ran down your spine as he let his middle finger slowly feel over the wet patch that had formed on the fabric of your panties.

A smug hum from the depths of his lungs met your neck and acknowledged the sensation, "you wanna know about all the countless nights I thought about this, about you, sweet stuff– like this", Eddie paused, the same finger now finding its destiny behind the cotton, the fabric being pushed to the side as he let the digit softly gather the slick and rub back and forth over your already swollen clit skillfully, making you wince at the sudden direct contact and your pussy clench around emptiness.

Another soft moan from your lungs made him continue his tale of vulgarity, "with my hand wrapped around my rock hard dick, thinking about how fucking hot you'd sound, how perfect you'd feel, all the filth you'd let me to do to you."

As if on cue, that finger slowly dipped in, your breath getting stuck in your throat as he traced it back up in the same speed, slow circles over the swollen nub along with his whispery confession making it hard for your brain to process any thought at all.

"Oh my god, Eds", his touch was clouding your mind, and with the high he was causing you to experience, you couldn't help yourself but respond with bucking your hips against his hand, a soft and desperate plea for him to give you more, more of his body, more of his love and with that, keep you safe in his arms.

"Yeah baby? S'good?"

"Mhm", you nodded quickly, "feels s-so good, you're so hot, fuck!"

The dark haired boy behind you let out a warm and deep hum against your neck at your soft, vulnerable admission and the feeling of having your warm juices coat his knuckles, the feeling of him solely being the reason for that stickiness gathering between your legs.

Eddie was eating it up, having that effect on your body and you letting this happen.

The exposed state, the trust you graced him with.

You on the other hand felt the hardness digging into your lower back with every squirm over his lap and the way goosebumps arose on your skin at the thought of giving yourself to him again.

Letting him do these things to you.

Feeling like you could let yourself fall, trust him. After imagining it for so many nights, you had stopped counting months ago.

"Eddie, please", you breathed out into the warm, slightly stuffy air inside the van, one of your hands had found a life of its own by caressing Eddie's forearm draped across your torso.

Every sense in your body so alert that you could feel his arm hair tickling your fingertips.

"Yeah, needing me that bad, hm? Wanna ride me, sweet thing?"

"Mhm yes", you whined, hips intuitively grinding down, adding emphasis to your response.

"Fuck", he groaned into your ear without any hesitation as his hand left your slick folds, shimmied your panties down and off quickly and grabbed his cock, letting it glide through your heat in an agonizingly slow pace, making sure you'd definitely feel that silky head nudge your sensitive bundle of nerves.

The mere thought and anticipation of getting filled again made you even more dizzy with want, soft caress turning into a grip of the arm that was still slung around your waist as it held you in place while still giving your nipple some love.

Eddie couldn't believe his fucking luck either. He had you spread out and open for him on his lap, a sopping wet mess, light grinding of his hips causing the purply red tip of his cock to catch your clit deliciously over and over again.

And you were all his. By far the best thing to come out of this trip.

The bestest day of possible best days in the Munson books.

"No idea how I just survived sitting next to you for ten hours without getting to touch you like this, shit."

The metalhead buried his face in your neck, lips pressed tightly to your soft skin while he let the tip of his cock breach your entrance.

You welcomed him with tightness and a sinful moan, the incredible feeling of fullness you'd been missing since last night spreading through your abdomen like a warm wave.

"Want you to fuck me, baby, please."

Eddie chuckled, his need for you evident in the way he was gripping your flesh, passionately trying not to blow already as he felt your cunt adjust to the welcome intrusion.

"Jesus christ, gonna make me cum already if you're gonna say stuff like that, fuck."

Time stood still.

Just for a glimpse, a fragment of the situation, and it made you realise just how much you'd been missing having someone in your life this way.

It made you want nothing more than to make the boy underneath you feel good. Make him feel loved and appreciated and worthy.

Eddie let his hand rest on your mound as you started slowly grinding your hips down into his, answering the gentle bucking of his own, the lewd sound of your wetness filling the space around the two of you.

"Mhm, yeah baby fuck me back, god you're doing soooo good", he raised his head a little to nuzzle his nose into your cheek as his lips brushed against it with a smile, "taking me so well, perfect little cunt just made for me."

"Yeah?"

You craned your head towards his face as it was lolled back and resting on the top of the seat behind him, lips almost touching his, which were pulled into the widest smile.

"Yeah."

The Prince of Metal closed the gap.

A sickeningly sweet moment blossoming between the both of you as you slowly melted into each other.

The smile so contagious it made breaking apart again almost impossible.

And then, in true Eddie fashion, his tongue darted out to lick up a broad stripe from the dip of your shoulder up to your jaw, tasting the thinnest sheen of sweat and rain on your skin before coming down again to suck a deep purple bruise into the tender flesh of your throat.

It made your head fall back against the headrest again, having him express his desire in such an indecent way.

Letting him mark you, his need for you on display for all of fucking Hawkins to see.

And it made your cunt clench around the hardness that was still slowly pumping in and out of your drenched walls, eliciting a deep breathy moan from Eddie's lungs.

Eyes half lidded, he brought his hand up from between your thighs to have you suck the stickiness off his fingers and the sight and feel of your warm tongue connected to his skin like that made Eddie nearly bust, so naturally, he did the next logical thing.

Collaring your throat and giving it a brief squeeze before travelling down south, the twitch of your legs imminent when two of his fingertips reestablished contact with your throbbing clit, rubbing soft circles over it, setting every cell of your existence up to burst into flames at any second.

"Feels so good Eds, you f-feel so so good", you breathed out under more soft whimpers, head facing him again so he could get a good look at your needy expression.

It drove him mad. It was like a switch had been flipped.

"Yeah, s'that how my girl likes it?"

You were pretty sure your eyes just hit the back of your skull.

My girl? Did you even hear that right?

And he was far from stopping, those skilled fingers slightly increasing their speed instead as he released a guttural moan at the way you were clenching around him once more, "shiiiit baby, gonna let me fuck you all weekend, yeah? Gonna fuck you so good and so deep, gonna make you feel so good around my cock ... yeah, that's what you want, isn't it baby? God you're so f-fucking tight and so beautiful and so warm and wet and all for me", Eddie paused his breathy responses to your sweet whimpers, the hand that was still on your chest pinching your nipple hard at the sensation of your pussy throbbing around him eagerly, a lewd moan ripping though your vocal cords as he continued, "see what you do to me baby, feel how fucking hard you got me? This is all you, for you only, s-shit."

His hips thrusted upwards at his last sentence adding emphasis, and you let him take control, set a rather harsh pace while the attention he gave to your most sensitive spot remained the same, a beautiful contrast to the way he was pounding your sopping cunt in his lap, accompanied by the lewd deep grunts and groans coming from his lungs.

Entirely incapable of forming any coherent word at this point, you just let him make you feel good and use you for his pleasure.

Anything spilling over your lips in this moment would have probably been utter nonsense.

Every nerve felt like a live wire, his words adding onto a neediness you didn't know you had within yourself.

Instead, his comments on your little noises continued. You couldn't deny your surprise at his talkativeness, but you were also eating it up.

"Yeah baby? Like how good my cock feels? You like how fucking hard it is for you, yeah? God you look so fucking pretty soaking it for me, feels so f-fucking good", something close to a whisper gently invaded your ear and it sent one of your hands grabbing at the back of his neck and pull on his hair a little, holding him right there.

"Ye-yeah, love your pretty dick Eds, f-feels so good getting u-used like that", you babbled out, every cell of skin on fire as he helped you grind down into his lap.

Eddie was about to lose his mind.

He was also wondering how on mother earth it was possible for him to hold out this long. Fucking you like this and hearing the filth and praise spill from your lips without having blown his load through your abdomen yet.

Another pinch of your nipple had you whimper out his name followed by a string of unholy profanities, the carnal need to feel him this way being satisfied was sending your brain into another dimension.

"Wanna cum Eds, wanna cum for you, please", you moaned out into the air, the inside of the van still feeling more like a sauna to you. Due to your .. activities.

"Mh fuck– god that's so hot, such a good girl using your words like that, turn around baby, wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

With a slap to the side of your ass, cause for the fat of it to jiggle from the impact, Eddie's bucking hips came to a stall, the trance you'd found yourself getting fucked into slowly fizzling out.

You did as you were told once your brain registered his unholy instruction, trying to stand up on really fucking wobbly legs and turning around just to admire the view for a second.

Legs spread with you between them and his ass near the edge of the seat, dark curls still birthed small rivers onto his heaving chest, only for them to turn into subject to gravity as your infatuated gaze followed their trail.

The sheen of sweat on his skin accentuated the tattoos that you'd swore yourself to examine more closely in the near future.

Eddie's face popped a downright naughty smirk that had all the abilities to melt the north pole, and the only difference between the cherry tone of colour in his cheeks and his dick was that the latter was additionally glistening with your juices while it rested on the soft expanse of his belly right along that happy trail which also presented itself sticky with sin, and your eyes couldn't help but take in the beads of your arousal that had already dripped down onto his balls and decorated his trim of the dark thatch sitting around the base of his dick.

It was like he had emerged straight from your hottest wet dream, and your brain was currently making you very aware of the damp emptiness between your own thighs as your gaze took in the vision.

"Like what you see, huh?", said vision commented the desire written all over your facial features, and without breaking eye contact nor that lethal smirk he leaned forward, fingertips softly grazing the outsides of your plush thighs in an upward motion and towards the backs of them, further up to grab at your behind, while he let his searing gaze cascade down over your pebbled nipples, flushed chest and stomach, decorated with droplets of rain, until it arrived at your belly.

"C'mere sweet thing", he nuzzled his face into the softness of it by pulling you another step towards him with his ringed palms right below your ass, an attempt to convey his pure intentions with you, confirmed by a soft kiss right above your belly button.

Eddie leaned back while pulling you further, making you straddle him as he then helped you guide his soaked, rock hard length back to where you both needed it to be.

Moaning in unison you lowered yourself back down until he was fully seated inside of you again, the new angle causing your clit to rub along the top of his cock with such delicacy, you knew it wouldn't take long for you to see stars.

"God fucking damn it baby", it spilled from his lips as he felt the wet warmth envelop his dick again, "can't believe this is real, fucking love your pretty pussy."

It felt like you were floating whenever you were around him. Literally.

"'Fuck, f-feels so fucking good, Eds", you whined into his hair as you grappled with balance, instinct to slowly grind yourself over his lap, that hunger for him taking over, his strong arms coming to wrap around you protectively, pulling you further into his chest.

Holding you as close as possible.

Needing you as close as possible.

It made shivers run down your spine, overwhelming need to engrave this moment and all these feelings for him into every cell of your being.

You'd never felt this safe.

Eddie buried his face in your neck, nipping at your slightly salty skin followed by soothing licks over the blossoms of purple he'd left earlier.

He didn't mind the wet strands of your hair sticking to his cheeks.

And then, his hands ventured out to travel once more.

Grabbed your ass again, gave it a generous spank, making you hiss in return, before his fingertips slid up over your waist and back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He slid them all the way around your figure just so his thumbs could catch the underside of your tits, moaning your name over and over again as each grind of your hips over his own caused him to nearly see stars with how turned on he was.

"That's it baby yeees, use me juuust like that, fucking love seeing this side of you come out", he commented the pleasure slowly building behind your eyelids, the steady bounce of your slick pussy on his used swollen cock, and just when you steadied yourself with your hands on the seat behind him, he seized the opportunity to catch one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking on the bud eagerly as the symphony of your whimpers combined with his muffled moans returned to fill the inside of his van.

Wayne had given it to him as a present-slash-reward for not failing driving school, and for the past couple years he had undeniably rocked it into the condition it was today with selfless help from his bandmates, but never in a hundred centuries had he expected to ever use this space to fuck you senseless.

How he ended up here right now was beyond him, but he also wasn't really in the headspace to question it, not while your sweet wet cunt was happily wrapped around his dick, bouncing and bouncing relentlessly while his dark round hues were glued to your facial features, needing to soak up your reactions to his actions like a sponge.

It didn't take long for you to reach the peak from here, your hips finding a mind of their own as you chased that euphoric feeling, speeding up while he kept swirling his warm, wet tongue around your sensitive bud and his moans transpired into your skin, "gonna cum Eds, oh my fucking god", you mewled, the head which you had thrown back a while ago coming back up to look the metalhead in the eyes through heavy lids as you pulled him off your tits.

Hitting the headrest, he was hotly out of breath, patterns drawn on his neck with wet strands of dark hair, and you couldn't tell anymore if it was the rain or sweat that caused his beautiful skin to glisten.

He was biting down on his lower lip, that dark pair of eyes fixated on your own, fully in the moment with you as one of his hands moved back down and between your bodies, sinfully rubbing over your soaking wet clit again to help you along.

"Yeah pretty baby, that sweet warm cunt getting me so close, oh shit– c'mon, lose it for me", Eddie's voice echoed through your lustclouded mind like a prayer as he instinctively bucked his hips up into you, following your rhythm and pace.

And with this intense combination of stimulations you were receiving from him, that spot inside you being nudged over and over and over again and his eyes on your own, you sensed that it wouldn't take much more for you to finally feel those hot white flashes quake through your system.

"Inside, w-want you i-inside", you muttered out into the air with all your senses on fire, one of your hands coming around the back of his neck to bury your fingers in the mess of damp curls once again as you added emphasis to your words by giving him a few sloppy grinds over his sweat-sticky lap.

"Shit, are you s-sure?"

"Yeah I'm f-fucking sure, go on baby, fuck I'm gonna cuuum", you huffed out, entirely out of breath, just before the build up reached its peak and the most mind-numbing pleasure ripped though your being, vision going blurry and all as Eddie's dark eyes watched you fuck yourself into a trance until he furrowed his brows, a first hint at the announcement of his own release, and verbalized in soft repetitions of your name.

With a softly mumbled "so fucking filthy, so good for me sweetness, gonna make me– oh shit" and a guttural groan he imminently followed your lead, the vibration and rhythmical clench of your cunt along with those sweet whimpers of his name doing enough to send him over the edge right with you as he let you ride out both your highs, accompanied by a few little oh fucks as his ringed hands helped keeping your hips from stuttering.

It was so easy to just let yourself fall.

With him.

Not long after you both caught your breath, his arms sneaked around your figure wordlessly, gently pulling you into his embrace, hot breath fanning your shoulder, lips releasing a satisfied little hum as it stuck to your warm skin.

Cheeks flushed a bright rose and half lidded dark brown orbs gazed warmly at you from underneath his damp bangs, the infatuation with your being embellishing his face, chest heaving with the aftermath of his climax.

A sweet moment spread through the inside of the van, full of serenity and bliss, everything that existed on the outside already long forgotten.

"Didn't realize you could have such a filthy mouth on you, Munson", your hand reached to grab his face once you came back down to earth, pulling his chin up slightly to press your lips against his again, grinning widely as an eyebrow quirked up at you.

"Oh yeah? I know yesterday you mentioned dreaming of me, but– a-are you telling me that you also thought about what I'd be like before?"

The smirk spreading over his lips and mild twitch of his dick at the thought, which you definitely felt, doing absolutely nothing to hide the effect of your words.

"I might have imagined a thing or two, yeah."

If you were totally honest, the question of what he'd be like in bed had been the main content of most of your daydreams.

Not to mention those at night.

Eddie chuckled smugly, the newly acquired knowledge pouring oil into the fire that had already set his humble ego aflame.

"Didn't realize you could get even hotter than you already are, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes with a smile dancing over your face.

One of his hands that had lazily massaged your ass came up to cup your face, pulling you towards him again as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips followed by a smile against them, thumb softly stroking the skin.

Another peck to your forehead before he gently let you move down and rest your head on his collarbone with your nose tucked just below his jaw, snuggle into his embrace.

Comforting silence. A minute or two to breathe. With each other.

"Thank you", voice coming out as gentle as you'd intended, you lifted your head and placed a kiss on his neck before humming against it.

"For what?"

"Making me feel safe? You're the first person to ever succeed at that, you know?"

His chest rose and fell from a deep breath.

Draped around your figure, Eddie's arms squeezed you to his body.

"Sweetness, I am honoured. I'll always keep you safe, I promise."

"So will I."

Another peck landed on the same spot and your hand cradling the other side of his head felt his cheek push up.

God, you loved him.

Meanwhile, Eddie considered himself as lucky as someone who'd won the lottery.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since you both had successfully escaped the rain, inside of your mind still fuzzy from all those feelings for him and the remnants of that head spinning orgasm he'd just given you.

Eddie didn't know either since he had most certainly left his last couple braincells on that bus, and to be fair, he also couldn't find a care in his body.

A lifetime with you wouldn't be long enough.

What he did care about though were the noticeable goosebumps that had spread over your arms, your back and your thighs, that familiar urge to keep you safe which had kept him up for countless nights crawling back into his conscience, "wanna get you home and under a warm shower, and then we can order pizza or something. How's that sound?"

A soft sigh spilled from your lips, stuck in between the promise of a warm shower and the torment of having to get off of him, losing that skin on skin contact you both were so drawn to.

Touch as the love language, huh.

A nod and a smile.

To your own displeasure, that empty, dull feeling returned instantly once he slipped out of your swollen cunt as you got up, followed by the equally unpleasant attempt to get redressed.

Not that you didn't like clothes on you, it was just that literally everything was soaked from the rain at this point, and you only noticed this totally surprising fact once you started rummaging through your own bag of pieces to wear.

The extra pair of panties you had quick-wittedly packed and a shirt you'd worn on day three of the camp had survived the flood outside, and the metalhead who was crouched down next to you in search of anything dry faced a similar fate.

He did have to put his damp boxers back on though, unfortunate but bearable considering the short ride to the trailer park.

Just like the heavy rain had on the way, the tape that had played over the stereo during the ride stopped abruptly as Eddie turned the engine off, mere seconds after he'd put the vehicle in park right outside the Munson trailer.

"Wayne's left already so we've got the space to ourselves and all the time in the world, babe. Well, at least twelve hours until he comes home", Eddie whipped his head around to you, sending those dark damp curls flying before he flashed his teeth at you in an adorably goofy grin.

Slipping out of the driver's seat he stood in the open door as he fumbled with the seatbelt that had wrapped around his left arm, inwardly cursing the dumb thing, while you got up to climb out of the van a little more gracefully.

Your eyes fell to the space where you'd sat as you were about to shut the door, instant heat creeping into your cheeks and mouth going completely dry at the sight of what had come into your periphery.

This was irreversible. You weren't sure if your body was frozen from the chilly post-storm air or the realization of your mistake.

"Uhm, Eddie?"

Everything else you intended to say died in your throat.

He stopped in his tracks with a gleeful yes, sweetheart?, gaze coming up to eye you curiously, totally unaware of your discomfort about the situation presenting itself to your eyes.

Only when you didn't give him an answer he tried to follow your line of sight from the point he was situated at, eyebrows disappearing behind the bangs.

"Oh fuck, .. that's really hot", with an amused chuckle he commented the small patch of your mixed cum that had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of the passenger seat.

Your brain was short-circuiting.

"You're– you're not mad?"

"Mad?", Eddie slapped his door shut and practically speedwalked around the front of his van, and when he arrived in front of your slightly shivering body, he pulled you against him, making sure the view of your backside was shielded by the open door, "baby no, why would I? This is perfect. You know what this means?"

It came out as a soft almost whisper to your ear, his stubble scratching the side of your face as his jaw moved.

Shaking your head, you shot him a questioning look, the nervousness in you floating away as quickly as it had risen, as he reciprocated your gaze with another goofy grin.

"It's a commemoration of our bond. Because now we'll literally be seat partners forever."

The sentiment made you snort.

Eddie grabbed the bags before escorting you to the trailer door, silly grin decorating his silly face for another silly hour.

Your car stayed in the school's parking lot for the whole week.

––––

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