#So they like to keep a close eye on her when she crosses into their territory

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe was so hot this season. Need more of him plsss Can you do Topper sister reader getting caught touching herself and then they start sexting and she ask him to fuck her? reader is 18, of course!

I have a few more Rafe requests in the work. Please keep them coming, I miss this man (and JJ!!)

Warnings: 18+, smut, brother’s best friend, sexting, daddy kink, protected p + v, 

—

Rafe never bought your sweet and innocent bullshit you put up in front of people. He knew that under your appearance, under the preppy clothes, the big doe eyes and the angelic laugh, you were anything but innocent. 

Him and Topper have been friends for over ten years, and have been hanging out almost everyday. He watched you grow two feet taller, and when your little girl body turned into a woman’s. He saw you. He studied you. 

It wasn’t until that afternoon the boys came back from the golf course that Rafe had his confirmation. Topper told him to use your bathroom since the main one was being reconstructed, thinking you weren’t home, but when Rafe walked into your room, he saw you naked on your bed, humping your pillow. It wasn’t just any pillow. It was the one with the face on it — a pillow pet, you had called it. The nose of the turtle was rubbing perfectly on your clit, drawing out the softest whimpers and mewls. 

He watched for a few seconds in silence as you rocked down on the pillow back and forth, a smirk curling on his lips. 

‘’Having fun here?’’ he said in a teasing tone, snapping you out of your bubble.

‘’What the fu—’’ You turned around, startled, and saw Rafe standing in your doorway. ‘’Rafe! What are you doing in my room?’’ 

‘’Just needed the bathroom,’’ he explained. His eyes trailed down your body, seeing it for the first time. ‘’Didn’t know you were busy.’’

You threw a plushie at him, hitting him square in the chest. ‘’Get out!’’ 

Rafe laughed and obeyed, closing the door behind him. ‘’If you want to do some naughty things and not get caught, you should lock the door.’’ 

୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

Since that afternoon, Rafe couldn't help but shift his eyes to you whenever you were around. Now that he knew what was underneath the skirts and girls tops, his imagination had free rein. He was careful, though, making sure your brother never caught on —Topper would kill him if he knew the things he was thinking about you. He made it crystal clear to Rafe and Kelce: you were off-limits.

You didn’t care about your brother’s rule though. Rafe was your brother’s hot best friend. Every girl in Kildare was begging to get in his pants — and now you got it too. But it didn’t cross your mind until the other day when he walked in your room. Maybe it was because you’d always known him, seen him as a kind of second big brother. But now? That image had changed, and there was no going back.

One evening, Rafe was hanging in his bedroom, ready to go out with nowhere to go since Kelce had bailed on him for a Tinder hook up. The asshole. Rafe was annoyed, but there was nothing he could say to make Kelce choose beers over sex. To be fair, He would choose sex too.  

He had texted Topper, but he was at Ruthie’s, which meant Rafe was completely on his own tonight. He’ll probably smoke a bit of weed and watch some porn later, a cozy evening. But Wheezie was still home and Rafe promised her he had quit smoking. 

As he waited, his phone buzzed on his bed where he left it. Rafe picked it up, confused when he had received a picture from an unknown number. It was a faceless girl in a delicate sheer pink cami, and her tits looked fantastic. He frowned as he typed ‘who’s that?’. Must be a mistake.

A reply came five seconds later.

You: You don’t recognize my tits Rafey?

Instantly, he knew it was you. It was a nickname you gave him when you were younger. No one but you called him that — Rafey. 

Rafe: How did you get my number?

You: Stole it from Top’s phone 🤭

Rafe: Naughty girl 

You: Did you like it?

Rafe: Like what?

You: My pic! 📸

You: [picture attached]

It wasn’t the same picture. Not exactly. This time, your sheer cami was pulled up and your tits were completely out. 

Rafe cursed and ran a hand through his hair. How did that happen? It was clear that you sent this picture with the intention of initiating something with him. But why was this happening now? What made you go and send him a picture of your tits tonight? You never flirted with him before, or showed signals that you were interested. 

He reached down to rub himself over his pants as he typed a reply. 

Rafe: Fuck those are nice 🥵 

You: They’re cold…🧊❄️ Can you come warm them up? 

Rafe had to do a double take when he read your message to make sure he hadn’t misread it. Can you come warm them up? It was right there on his phone screen. He looked down at his pants, tented and tight, and groaned. He wasn't sure if he should go through with this or not. Did he want to go to you? Absolutely. Should he break his best friend’s trust for a good fuck? 

Rafe: As long as you warm me up too. 

He sent a picture of his tented pants, which he was incredibly hard under.

You: Waiting for you 💕 

 ୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

When he arrived, Rafe turned off the truck’s headlights and made sure the neighbors didn't see him. The lady that lived in front of the Thornton house was a country club member and loved to spread gossip around. It wasn’t unusual for him to be at the Thornton’s, but Topper’s truck was not in the driveway. 

The last thing he needed was her spying through her curtains. 

You were sitting on your bed in a pair of panties your mom didn’t know you owned and your pink cami, waiting for Rafe to show up. Tannyhill was seven minutes away, he shouldn’t be long.

‘’Hi, Rafey,’’ you greeted with the most innocent smile and doe eyes.

Rafe shook his head, tsking. ‘’Uh, uh. Don’t play that game with me.’’ 

Your lips curled into a smile. ''Took you long.''

He rolled his eyes. ‘’What’s the hurry? Are your parents coming home soon?’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’I’m just so fucking horny.’’ 

Rafe laughed out loud. He never heard you speak like that, so raunchy and bold. 

You stood on your knees and lifted your cami off, leaving you topless. Your nipples were peaked and pretty, as if greeting Rafe. ''Are you gonna come and warm them up?''  

No need to ask twice. Rafe pulled you onto his lap and put his large hands on you, groping and playing with your tits. His calloused fingers kneaded into the soft flesh expertly. He found your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, causing you to whimper at the sensation. 

‘’You like when I give your tits attention, uh?’’ he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, shifting so your needy cunt would come in contact with Rafe’s rock hard erection. He noticed what you were trying to do, and a smirk played on his lips before he attached them to your neck. 

‘’Can't get enough?’’ Rafe asked between kisses. ‘’Didn’t know you were such a needy little thing.’’ His hips rocked up into yours, grinding his thick cock against your clothed cunt. 

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you whimper and cling to his shoulders. ‘’Rafe.’’ 

‘’I'm going to fuck this sweet cunt until you can't walk straight,’’ he promised darkly, nipping over the sensitive spot where your pulse raced, making you gasp and arch into him. 

You’ve thought a lot about Rafe touching you these past days. You knew from overheard conversations with the boys — and talks around the island — and that he was experienced, that he knew how to please a girl. He had a reputation. And goddamn he didn’t disappoint. 

One of his hands left your breasts to slide down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to rub over your folds...which were slick with arousal. Rafe groaned. ''Fuck, you're already soaked.'' He rubbed slow circles over your clit, feeling how swollen it had gotten. ''Did you grind on that turtle of yours before I arrived? Turtles are an endangered species or some shit, can’t torture them like that.’’ 

A laugh bubbled out. ‘’Rafe…’’ 

‘’What?’’ 

‘’Don’t want you to make me laugh. Want you to fuck me,’’ you said, looking right into his blue eyes. 

Rafe raised an eyebrow, holding your gaze. ‘’You want my cock, babygirl? Want me to fill this pussy up real good?’’ His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside. 

Your walls clenched around him. 

‘’Rafe…’’ you whined again. 

‘’Okay, okay.’’ He kissed your jawline sweetly, then removed his hand from your panties and swiftly stripped them down your legs. ‘’Might keep these as a keepsake,’’ he joked, holding your lacy thong.  

If you hadn’t been so horny, you would have argued with him to get it back — you didn’t have many and you really liked this pair  —, but all you could think about was the beast in Rafe’s pants pounding into you and making you scream. He could get you on your fours like a dog or fold you like a little pretzel if he wished. 

You just needed him.

You reached for his belt and worked to unbuckle it, but Rafe pushed you back and told you to bend over your vanity. His request surprised you, but you complied. The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver. You never tried that position before. 

You could hear the sound of Rafe undressing — the rustling of fabric, the undoing of a zipper and the clinking of his belt buckle on the floor. You wanted to look at him — at his cock, more precisely —, but he was already behind you, a hand on your back, making you lean down lower, and nudged your legs further apart. 

The air leaked out of your lungs in a squeaky rush when he pressed the tip, gently tearing through your tight walls. The sensation had you gripping the edge of your vanity. 

‘’You okay, baby?’’ he asked with genuine concern in his voice. 

You nodded. ‘’Y-yeah.’’ 

Once the first uncomfortable thrusts passed, you forgot about the initial pain and felt the pleasure flow through your body. Rafe gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your soft skin as he picked up pace. The vanity creaked, a rhythmic beat that matched your increasingly frantic movements.

Your tightness enveloped him like a vice as he pounded into you mercilessly. Christ, you felt incredible. Each deep stroke dragged a gasp from your lips, and he reveled in the sounds of pleasure you made.

''You feel so fucking good, baby,'' he grunted, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. ''Is this what you wanted when you stole my number through Topper's phone? For me to fuck your tight cunt?'' 

Tears were pricking your eyes, your mouth hanging open while wanton sounds kept spilling out. ''Yes, Daddy!'' you uttered out.

The word slipped without noticing, sending a jolt straight to Rafe’s cock, making him throb inside you. ‘’That's it, baby,’’ he growled, even more turned on. ‘’Let Daddy know how much you love being fucked.’’

He pistoned into you harder, the force causing your breasts to bounce with each thrust. The obscene slapping of skin against skin echoed through the room, adding to the soundtrack of your other sounds. It looked like a scene straight from a spicy booktok romance.

Rafe brought a hand around your neck, forcing you to look up. “Look at yourself.”

You lifted your eyes to the reflection in the mirror. It was a view that was erotic. Seeing yourself nude and flushed along with him, and feeling it at the same time was nearly mesmerizing. The look on your face was hazy, strained, and blissful, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. You locked eyes with Rafe through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear.

Behind you, sweat was sticking to Rafe’s smooth chest, but he didn't slow down. He must have really good stamina. You locked eyes with him through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear. 

‘’Are we putting on a good show?’’ he asked, his voice hoarse and low. His words made your cunt clench around Rafe like a vice. He threw his head back with a groan, his whole body tightening. ''Fuck, you're gonna cut my blood flow if you keep squeezing me like that.''

You wanted to stop, but you couldn’t. You had lost all control of your body, gasping and clenching and rutting hard against Rafe until you came with a drawn-out moan. You shivered through your orgasm and Rafe's steady thrusts. 

When he started to shake, you swallowed hard and found your voice. ‘’Come on, Rafey. Fill me up. Cum deep in my pussy, Daddy!’’ 

That pushed him over the edge, his whole body spasming, cock forced all the way in and filling up the condom. Your chest heaving, trying to catch a breath as he rode out the high, grunts and groans leaving his lips. 

You've never heard anything sexier. 

When he was finished, Rafe pulled out and stepped back, leaving alone on your wobbly legs. You started to lose balance, and quickly grabbed the vanity's edge.

‘’Shit, you good?’’ Rafe asked, his tone hovering between concern and smug satisfaction.

You gave a small nod. You just needed to sit. 

His eyes scanned slowly down your body. ''Fucked you that good, uh?'' he said with a smirk, teasing. 

You shot him a playful glare, going to sit on your bed. ‘’Fuck you, Cameron.’’ 

Rafe laughed as he removed and tossed the condom in your trash. ‘’Just did, Princess.’’ 

God. Could he be more exasperating?

He checked on the way back, reading something that made him frown. ‘’Eh, I gotta go.’’

‘’Now?! We just fucked.’’ 

Although this was a casual fuck and that it’s usually how it ends, you didn’t want him to leave right after. You didn’t expect him to cuddle, but you had hoped he would stay a little. To talk or watch something on Netflix. 

Rafe dressed quickly, explaining that Wheezie needed to drive her to her friend’s house because Rose’s car was not starting. 

Before exiting your room, he called your name. ‘’You sound so pretty when you cum.''

Your cheeks flushed and you hid your face with a pillow. ''Rafe...'' 

The corners of his lips curved into a smug smile. He wasn’t done. ‘’Oh, and I liked when you called me Daddy. It's hot.''

—

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[imaginespazzi]

Part 11: Free Fall

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

How many nights did you wish someone would stay? (Lie awake only hoping they're okay?)

(In which an angst writer makes her comeback in more ways than one)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint?

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing (that's probably it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Y'all are the sweetest people ever for being so patient with me but it's finally here! I'm hoping that I don't put y'all through this again but it is almost finals season so...fingers crossed. While you read this chapter, I'd like y'all to keep in mind how much you love me and how much y'all wanted a new chapter and of course my favorite phrase: for the plot! I tried to edit but I hate reading my own work back and so it's not as thorough as it should be and there's probably typos so lemme know. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely week my angels!

May 2025 

It’s her first ever WNBA game -Dallas Wings vs Washington Mystics- and the first thing Paige notices as she steps onto the court is that the two courtside seats right by the Mystics bench are empty. The sound of music streaming through the speakers clashes against the raucous crowds; the lights are dimmed and there’s a riveting thrum of energy swirling the arena in anticipation for a generational talent’s professional debut. Paige has spent the days leading up to her first game immersed in basketball. Since training camps, she hasn’t let herself think of anything except how to make sure the ball went through the hoops, how to make sure the person in front of her didn’t score, how to win. 

It’s easier that way. Because then she doesn’t have to think about how empty and cold her bed feels at night, doesn’t have to think about how much she craves to press call on a number she knows she should have blocked, doesn’t have to think about how the pieces of her shattered world are barely bound together by a tape of pretend. Paige can’t think of any of that and so she’s spent every second awake, clearing her head of all potential distractions and focusing on preparing for this moment. 

Except, the moment is here now. 

And all Paige can fixate on is the empty courtside seats. 

The memories come back to her in waves; the two of them in those seats, pressed together -as close as it could be acceptable for their façade of best friends to be- as they weaved dreams of it being their turn on the professional stage. If she listens closely, Paige swears that amidst the chaos, she can still hear the echo of a promise that had once been made casually in conversation. 

“When you play here for the first time, I’ll be right here cheering you on. Every single time.”

Another broken promise. 

The truth is that the last few weeks as much as it’s felt like Paige is walking on a carpet of roses, there have been countless sharp thorns woven through the petals. She’s tried to avoid them -focusing on what she had, instead of what she’d lost- but they’d found a way to perforate through her skin anyways. And Paige knows she’s bleeding but she can’t scream, so she swallows the pain away instead. Memories of the past are piercing her feet and it feels like she’s leaving a trail of it feels incomplete without you behind her as she navigates the journey through her present, stepping towards a future that would be nothing like the one she’d imagined when she’d been a naive girl sitting in those courtside seats. 

The courtside seats that are empty tonight. 

Really it’s exactly what she should’ve expected. And there’s something so final about this moment, like the last flicker of a candle that had burned in secret. Paige hadn’t even realized she was still holding out for something but as she drags her eyes away from the seats and towards her father and brother who are practically vibrating with pride, she can feel the tautness of the string that she’d held onto. Because she hasn't told them; hasn’t told anybody about the breakup. 

Something about vocalizing it had felt just a little too real and Paige had evaded any potential situation that would warrant her having to reveal the tirth. But it hits her now, looking at those damn empty seats that should've been -in another life would’ve been- filled by her other family, that the words she’d been too scared to say out loud -for fear of them being enshrined into reality- had already probably been spoken into existence by someone else. And it hits Paige now, that maybe she’s desperately holding onto a rope that has already been let go of. 

“You good Bueckers?” she whirls around to find Arike looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern. 

“I’m fine,” Paige lies; she’s gotten so incredibly good at that, “just thinking a lot of thoughts.”

Arike nods in understanding, “fair enough. But you got this dude,” she reaches out a hand to squeeze her rookie’s shoulder, “whatever you’re thinking, when you get on that court, none of it’s gonna matter. All that matters for 40 minutes is the game and that we come out of it with a win. You gonna help us win Paige?”

“That’s the fucking plan,” Paige smirks, earning her a matching one from Arike before the shooting guard saunters onto the court, ready for tip-off.

All that matters is the game. 

Paige sucks in a deep breath, letting herself look over at the courtside seats one more time. This is her reality now. There’s no point in waiting for a regretful phone call or a surprise midnight knock on her door because it’s not going to happen. She feels a sense of hollowed acceptance as she finally turns away from the seats, plastering on a confident smile as she takes her place in the Dallas Wings starting five. And Paige is faced with the same truth that she’d learned at a far too young age; that people would leave her but the game never would. 

***

Dallas wins the game by 17 points. Paige’s statline is 21 points, 6 rebounds and 8 assists with 2 steals and a block. It’s a respectable statement from the rookie and her teammates are overjoyed. She’s surrounded by them as they celebrate winning their first game of the season and there’s a sense of hopeful excitement about how the rest of the season could go. Her eyes go over the top of them to find the cute Dallas local reporter that Paige had befriended shooting her a congratulatory wink and she blushes a little bit, looking away bashfully. In the distance, Paige can make out a small crowd of people decked in custom Wings #5 jersey, whistling in excitement. Despite the home fans, their celebration still echoes around the stadium and the loudest cheer comes from her brother who stands next to her father, both of them beaming with pride. And It’s almost enough to prevent her eyes from wandering back to the empty courtside seats. Almost. 

***

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. With the quick transition from the college season into the draft, Paige hadn’t had found time to go home inbetween. And so when the Wings had been making hotel arrangements for DC, she’d opted to stay with her dad and Drew in Maryland instead. But as she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at a wall filled with pictures that are an ode to the past - collages that are practically a shrine to her broken relationship- Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room. 

Paige’s life can be split into two parts. There’s the Before Azzi and then there’s the With Azzi. And the truth is that there isn’t much from the Before Azzi left in Paige’s life. Every inch of her current life has been touched by the brunette, illuminated by her presence and now, it’s tainted by her absence. Especially in Maryland. Since she’d met the Virginia native, the DMV area had always been synonymous with the Fudds for Paige and she can’t remember a time when she’d been here -when she’d been in this bedroom- and not had plans to see them- to see Azzi. 

She takes a hesitant step inside, eyes gliding over each photograph and it’s like she’s being transported through time. The memories are as vivid as ever, bursting with color as they ellipse her mind. Paige can picture every moment like she’d lived it yesterday. She can still hear their laughter echoing through the air, can feel the softness of their hands -their bodies- brushing against each other, can still taste the lingering sweetness of their lips meeting halfway as they breathed silent promises against each other’s skin. 

A silent sob wracks through Paige’s body as she brushes her fingers over the most recent image of them from December -the last photograph she’d had time to print out. It’s one that Drew had taken of them in the kitchen- Paige propped up on the counter and Azzi in between her legs, one hand on the counter with the other resting right against Paige’s heart. Neither of them had even noticed the little boy, too wrapped up in each other; they were in their own world like they often had been. Azzi’s head is thrown back in laughter -probably at some ridiculous joke her girlfriend had cracked- and Paige has that goofy - just for Azzi- grin on her face as she gazes at the brunette with nothing but adoration. 

The picture is from barely six months ago but they look so young to Paige, so innocent, so naive, so fucking happy, so completely unaware that in a couple of months, one hesitantly spoken word would dissolve that happiness into a puddle of rubble. 

No. 

She thinks that one simple word is destined to echo through her ears, like that unpleasant screech of nails scratching against a chalkboard, for as long as she still has the ability to hear. Paige hadn’t even really heard it at first; it had been said so softly, so quietly, so brokenly and she’d barely seen Azzi’s lips move. For the briefest moment she’d tricked her mind into believing it was just the sound of the wind around them. But then there it was again. 

Louder. 

Stronger. 

No.

Paige’s hands instinctively clasp around her ears, fingers tangling tightly through her blond hair, because she can still fucking hear it. Here in this bedroom, where every corner still holds a little part of Azzi -holds a little part of them- the sting of rejection is louder than it’s been since it had first hit. Because it’s not just the pictures. It’s all the little pieces of them they’d left scattered over Christmas break, thinking they’d come back to it together.

 It’s a set of Azzi’s earrings -one Paige vaguely remembers picking out for her when they’d gone shopping a couple of weeks before- placed delicately on Paige’s dresser. It’s the pink sweater -that neither of them are sure who it originally belongs to but like most of their clothes, is basically a shared item at this point- haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s that stupid book they’d started reading together -Paige lying across her girlfriend’s lap, toying with her curls as Azzi read the story out loud- still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be finished. 

Despite being alone in her room, Paige finds herself rapidly shaking her head. Because she can’t do this. Can’t spend a night in this room that had barely ever been just hers, had always felt more like theirs. She can’t sleep on that bed, no when her last memory of it is being tangled in the sheets with Azzi on a cold wintry morning, their legs intertwined with each other as they’d giggled to themselves in between languid lazy kisses. And maybe it’s pathetic of her but she can’t find it in herself to unmake the bed, not when her last memory of the two of them in this room is her leaning against the wall, shamelessly checking out her girlfriend as Azzi neatly made the bed, chiding Paige for the nth time on the importance of tidiness. 

“When are you gonna learn how to make your bed,” Azzi had sighed. 

Grinning, Paige had wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, slotting her face into the crevice of Azzi’s neck and brushing her lips against the patch of skin, “I know how to make my bed. I just never have to because I’ll always have you to do it for me.”

Except for the last few weeks, Paige has had to make her own bed and she fucking hates it. 

Breathing sharply, Paige slowly backs out of her bedroom, gently pulling the door shut. She leans her forehead against the cool mahogany frame, trying to calm herself down. There’s been a nonstop dull ache in her chest since that night but tonight feels different, like the cold hands of the past have managed to dig under her ribcage and squeeze her heart  -something sharp digging into her arteries- so hard that it hurts just to exist. Paige gives herself a couple more seconds, creating half-moons as she digs her nails into her palms, before she finally pulls away from the door, heading towards her brother’s room down the hall. 

“You know you really should start knocking before you come into my room,” Drew says with a mock annoyance that’s betrayed by his large grin, as Paige slips into his room, “I’m almost a teenager.”

Despite the heaviness that’s still lingering between her lungs, Paige suddenly finds it a lot easier to breathe. Her little brother’s bedroom is dark, save for red LED lights and dim glow of the TV. Drew is reclined on his bed, gripping a white gaming controller between his hands. 

“You’re always gonna be a baby to me Drewski,” she teases, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair, laughing when he ducks her hand and shoots her an irritated glare in response. 

“Not the hair,” he whines and then groans as his eyes flicker back to the screen, towards the game he'd been playing, “damnit Paigey you just got me killed.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t blame me for your incompetence,” Paige chides. 

Drew rolls his eyes, before reaching over to hand over the other controller, “you wanna play?”

Paige shakes her head, gently pushing his hand away, “nah I just-” she chews at her bottom lip, shuffling her feet with uncharacteristic nervousness, “I was just uh- just wondering if I could stay in here tonight? We could have a sleepover? Like old times? Just you and me.”

It’s heartwarming the way her little bother’s eyes light up -like he’s still the little boy that used to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, not almost a teenager who’ll eventually be taller than her- as he nods excitedly, scooching over to give his older sister space on his bed. Paige crawls gingerly onto the bed, hesitating for a second, before she lays her head on her brother’s lap, curling into herself. Drew is warm and inviting and familiar and for a second she almost forgets that serrated pain shooting through her nerves. But then it all comes rushing back and Paige has to swallow harshly to keep herself from giving into the fresh new set of tears that are re-emerging on her waterline. 

“Paigey,” Drew whispers softly as he runs his finger through her delicate blonde hair, clearly sensing something’s wrong, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine Drew,” she means to keep her voice strong but it comes out as broken as she feels. 

“Paigey,” the little boy’s voice is more worried now, “should I call Azzi?” 

This time the whimper escapes before Paige can stop it as she tightly closes her eyes. She knows her brother means well; know that Drew doesn’t really remember Paige without Azzi- doesn’t remember a time before his sister knew how to heal without the brunette’s touch. He’d watched Paige celebrate all her victories with Azzi and he’d seen the same hold his sister in all her tragedies, putting her back together every time she broke with promises of you’ll have always have me. From the moment Drew was old enough to understand his sister’s feelings, he was also perceptive enough to understand that Azzi was always what she needed, no matter how she was feeling. And it’s still true, Paige thinks; she wants nothing more than to say yes, wants nothing more than for Drew to call Azzi, so Paige can tell her how much she fucking misses her- how much she fucking needs her. 

Perhaps it's pride or maybe it’s fear, but Paige doesn’t say what she wants. Instead she vigorously shakes her head in her brother’s lap, “n-no it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s late and Azzi’s busy-”

“Azzi’s never too busy for you,” Drew says indignantly, “I’m gonna call her.”

“Drew stop,” Paige’s voice is much firmer this time as she wraps a strong arm around her little brother’s knee, stopping him from moving, “we’re not calling Azzi.”

She could tell him now. After all, she’s going to have to when he inevitably asks why he hasn’t seen Azzi -why he hasn’t seen the girl who’s been a part of his life for more than half of it- in so long. But even though the words sit scratchily on the tip of her tongue, she still isn’t quite ready to spit them out; isn’t quite ready to confront reality. 

“Why not,” petulance coats Drew’s tone. 

“Because I’m fine and I don’t need- I don’t want to talk to her,” Paige lies. 

The little boy scoffs, “you always want to talk to her.”

He doesn’t know the way that simple sentence turns the cracked pieces of Paige’s heart into dust as she tightens her grips on his leg, “Drew please- please just let it go.”

“Why,” Drew argues stubbornly, “why can’t we call her.”

“We just-” Paige’s voice breaks, as she scrambles to wipe her tears before they can wet her little brother’s shirt, “we just can’t okay?”

And there must be something in her voice -the anguish that no amount of trying is able to hide- that Drew pieces together to understand that this isn’t a battle he can win, no matter how much he and Paige might both want him to. The young boy slowly droops his body back to its reclining position, his fingers returning back to Paige’s hair as he begins to stroke her head again. 

“It’s gonna be okay Paigey,” he whispers with all the hopeful innocence of a blissfully naive little boy, “everything gonna be okay.”

And god does Paige want to believe him. But the courtside seats were empty tonight. And she’s in the DMV with no plans to see the Fudds- to see Azzi. And she’ll never know the ending to that stupid book on her bedside table. 

She wants to believe Drew but Paige isn’t sure how anything’s ever going to be okay again. 

***

May 2033 

It should be a joyful moment -the three most important people in her life congregating together- but instead as Paige quietly observes the scene in her living room -Drew silently seething, Azzi fidgeting nervously with her thumbs and Stephie babbling away amidst it all- she feels suffocated by this heavy gray cloud of apprehension lingering above her head. If she’s honest with herself, she’s been on edge for a couple of days now, since training camp had begun to be precise. Since she’d moved to the Bay Area, everything else in Paige’s world had been eclipsed by Azzi and Stephie. The mother-daughter duo were all-consuming and if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been more than happy to let her thoughts -and her heart- be consumed by nothing but the two of them. 

It had been so easy to forget everything else and the tentative verbal three-way deal she technically had with the Valkyries and the Liberty had pretty much ceased to exist in her thoughts. That is until Angie Davis -the lynchpin in this agreement- had been selected, just as everyone had predicted, to the Valkyries. The Stanford PG had shown up to training camp with a shy smile and an eagerness to learn that all the rest of the vets on the team had warmly embraced. But all Paige saw in the girl was the ticking time bomb of a decision she’d forgotten she’d have to make. And it isn’t just the reminder of the decision that has Paige feeling at unease; it’s why she has to make this decision in the first place, the reason behind why she’d agreed to this deal in the first play, why she’d been so adamant for Talia to make sure she didn’t get stuck here. 

Eight years ago, Azzi Fudd had broken her heart and Paige has spent every moment since, trying to collect the shattered pieces and reassemble them. 

And the last thing Paige had wanted to do was give Azzi the hammer to smash her barely fixed heart again. 

That’s what it had felt like when Talia had first brought up the Valkyries offer. It wasn’t that she and Azzi hadn’t been in each other’s orbit the last couple of years -it was impossible not to- but since the breakup, they’d never been around each other long enough, never quite been in the right situations, for that opportunity to present itself again. But Paige had known that if she came to the Valkyries, it would be an inevitability. That belief had only been strengthened the day she’d visited the Bay Area. She’d been adamant from the second she’d gotten on the flight that she couldn’t be persuaded to join Golden State, no matter how much she respected the organization and how well she’d fit into their system; no matter how much she adored the city and its love for her favorite sport.

But then she’d met a little girl who had an identical smile to the one that had held her captive since she was fifteen and barely knew what love was. And if Stephie with her doe-eyed wisdom that Paige would look great in purple wasn’t enough, then there was Azzi. Paige had expected Azzi to tell her to decline the offer. In a way that’s what she wanted; the masochistic need to feel the sting of that rejection again so she wouldn’t be tempted to burn herself in the fire again. But the brunette had done the opposite and Paige had known by just how quick her resolve had succumbed, that she’d been right to fear the inevitability. And it was that fear that had prompted the verbal agreement with the Liberty; an escape plan she’d forgotten she’d devised. 

Because escaping had been the last thing on Paige’s mind the last few weeks. 

All of Paige’s fears and apprehension had seemed to take a backseat the moment Azzi had smiled -hesitant but real- and said she was ready to try, the moment Stephie’s tiny hands had fit perfectly into her own. 

But she can feel it all coming back now, bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over like lava, wiping out this paradise she’s been in with Stephie and Azzi. It had started with the reminder of the Liberty deal but it’s Drew’s presence -his scowl directed at Azzi that feels like one of a brother still betrayed on his sister’s behalf- that had heightened it. Her little brother’s anger, and the genuine hurt that lingers behind it, feels like a dark reminder of Paige’s own heartbreak. 

Suddenly she feels like she’s 23, playing her first WNBA game and instead of celebrating a solid debut, she’s sobbing in her little brother’s lap over the girl who had walked away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige looks down to find Stephie crawling into her lap, “are we ready to order the pizza now?”

The little girl’s arms wrapping around her neck eases some of Paige’s discomfort as she smiles down at Stephie. 

“I’ve been ready for ages. You were the one yapping away,” she teases. 

Stephie pouts, “I don’t yap,” she turns her body towards Azzi, “Mama I don’t yap do I?”

Azzi’s own tense body seems to relax a little as she smirks at the two of them, “you definitely yap Stephie-”

“Mama,” Stephie protests, looking betrayed. 

“But not nearly as much as your Miss Buecks yaps,” Azzi’s eyes twinkle with mirth as Paige splutters, jaw dropping open with mock offense, “between the two of you, it’s a miracle my poor ears haven’t fallen off.”

“Just for that I’m not adding veggies to the pizza,” Paige sticks her tongue out, causing Stephie to giggle and Azzi to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity. 

Paige slips out her phone, pulling up their usual pizza place on doordash and quickly plugs in her memorized orders for everyone in the room as Stephie gets herself comfortable on the blonde’s lap. The five-year old leans her head back against Paige’s chest, who instinctively wraps her free hand around Stephie’s waist, keeping her securely in place. 

“So uncle Drew,” Stephie says with a grin, slightly leaning forward as she addresses the man sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, “did Miss Buecks yap a lot when she was younger too.”

“Be careful how you answer that,” Paige warns with a good natured glare in her brother’s direction, trying to lighten his mood. 

It works to an extent as a small smirk slips onto the edges of Drew’s lip, “oh she was a chronic yapper.”

“What does che-ronic mean?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.

Drew laughs, eyes glittering with mischief, “it means she didn’t know when to shut up.”

“Drew Thomas,” Paige guffaws, “you’re supposed to be my little brother, protecting your older sister’s honor and all of that.”

“Hey,” Drew raises his hand in surrender, “my older sister taught me to never lie, especially not to children.”

“Did you really talk that much?” Stephie asks, turning to Paige with wide eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him Stephie-bean,” the blonde says, brushing her hands through Stephie’s curls, “it’s all bullsh-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately as the older woman bites her lip to stop the curse word from escaping. 

“Bullsharks,” Paige amends, “fake news. False advertising. I was a calm and quiet kid for sure.”

Drew snorts, leaning back into the sofa and Paige lets out a soft sigh of relief at seeing her brother relax. Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, feeling a sense of calmness when she sees the younger girl’s nervous fidgeting has stilled and there’s a tentative smile on her face. 

 “You weren’t calm or quiet,” he says pointedly. 

“Was too,” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Yes you were,” Drew presses, “Stephie if you don’t believe me, ask your Mama,” he turns to Azzi, “tell her Azzi. She literally yapped your ear off into becoming your friend.”

Azzi blanches, clearly shocked at having been so cavalierly addressed, and even Paige is a little surprised by the expectant “agree with me look” that Drew is giving the brunette after having spent the last moments practically glaring at her. But really it probably shouldn’t be that surprising. Because Drew and Paige are cut from the same material and letting Azzi into the folds seems to just come naturally to both of them. And it’s so familiar to when they’d all been years and years younger -two college students and a little boy - so familiar to the countless nights spent in Minnesota and DC and Connecticut where several silly arguments like this between Paige and Drew had ultimately ended with them both turning to Azzi -the forever moderator- in hopes that she’d side with them. 

She’d always sided with Drew -much to Paige’s chagrin, though she’d been secretly enamored by the relationship between her girlfriend and her brother- and this time is no different as Azzi shakes off the shock, replacing it with a cheeky expression. 

“Didn’t shut up for 14 whole hours,” she laments, her voice filled with teasing but she smiles at the blonde as if she’s reminiscing it, reminiscing the moment that began it all for them and Paige can’t help the hopelessly sappy smile she gives her in return. 

“14 hours? You talked for 14 whole hours, Miss Buecks?” Stephie’s eyes are comically large as she echoes the number. 

“Of course not,” Paige defends, eyebrows creasing as she glares at the other two adults in the room, “this is bullying. Stephie,” she whines, nuzzling her head into the little girl’s neck, “they’re ganging up on me.”

“There there Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently as she pats at the older woman’s cheek. 

“We’re just telling the truth,” Drew shrugs. 

“Exactly,” Azzi nods solemnly, “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

She grins, reaching her hand out for a high five and Paige watches as Drew raises his own hand, ready to reciprocate. For a second it feels like everything is coming together; like the past could just stay in the past. But then he stops midair. The easy smile fades from his face and the previous tautness comes rushing back. He pulls his hand back, turning away from Azzi, who’s face slowly falls back. The lightheartedness from mere seconds ago is replaced by the tension from before and that burden of all that’s happened between us returns as a heavy weight pressed against Paige’s heart. 

“Paigey used to yap a lot,” Drew says slowly, “like I said you couldn’t get her to shut up and then one day,” he pauses, angry eyes darting towards Azzi, “one day she just got quiet- she shut up- she stopped yapping all the time.”

“Why?” Stephie asks softly, her tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity. 

Paige’s arm tightens around the little girl in her lap as she shoots her brother a pleading look, “Drew-”

“Because someone-” there’s so much venom in the word that it makes Azzi visibly flinch and Paige wants to soothe away the creases forming in her forehead, “someone broke her heart. And it took years- it took years to get her back to normal, to get her yapping again. To get my sister back to who she was.”

There’s pindrop silence as Drew seethes at his own words and Azzi rapidly blinks back tears, until Stephie turns around in Paige’s lap, tiny hands cupping the blonde’s face as she tries not to let her emotions show in front of the little girl. 

“Someone broke your heart?” Stephie looks so upset by the idea that Paige wants to vehemently deny it, “how could anyone break your heart Miss Buecks?”

She means well -just a child concerned for one of her favorite people- but she has no idea of the dagger she’s just twisted in her own mother’s heart as a faint whimper escapes Azzi’s lips. Paige opens and closes her mouth, hopelessly looking at the brunette who’s digging her fist into the sofa, despair embedded all over her face. 

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say. 

“Don’t worry kid,” Drew cuts in instead, his voice steady and firm, “it happened once but I won’t-” his eyes burn with fire as he looks at Azzi, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Stephie,” Paige says quietly after a moment, her gaze transfixed on Azzi whose doing her absolute best not to let her emotions show in front of her little girl, “sweetheart how ‘bout you show Uncle Drew around the house.”

“I don’t want to see the house,” Drew says petulantly as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest

“Yes. You. Do.” Paige grits out, trying not to curse when her younger brother rolls his eyes at her. 

“C’mon Uncle Drew,” Stephie says cheerfully as she slips off of Paige’s lap and reaches a hand out for the man instead, “Miss Buecks has a really cool house and maybe we can go steal some of her cool clothes.”

Drew sighs but he’s not immune to Stephie’s infectious energy. A hint of a grin sneaks through the cracks as he accepts the little girl’s offer. Stephie starts to pull him towards the staircase but the perceptive girl stops for a second in front of her mother, a cautious look on her face as Azzi musters up a grin to mollify the little girl's concern and Drew adamantly averts looking at the other woman. 

“Go on bean,” Azzi urges softly, keeping her shaky voice under control, “go show him the house.”

Stephie nods before gently pressing her lips against Azzi’s cheeks, eliciting a deep breath from her mother, before she practically drags Drew towards the staircase, already speaking a mile per minute.  

There’s a pause, filled with a combination of the quiet rumble of Stephie blabbering upstairs and Azzi’s uneven breathing. Then the tears that the brunette had been trying so hard to barricade behind her eyelids starts cascading down her cheeks and Paige almost trips on her own feet as she moves towards her. She falls to her knees in front of Azzi, gently brushing her against her cheek, before wrapping her hands around her tightly formed fists. 

“Baby don’t cry. Please I hate it when you cry,” Paige whispers softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “he’s just-”

“He’s right,” Azzi cuts her off, shaking her head. 

“Az-”

“He hates me-”

“He doesn’t-”

“He does,” Azzi presses, her tears falling faster now, “and he should. Paige I did break your heart,” they both flinch at the blunt statement, “and he doesn’t trust me because of it and he hasn’t forgiven me for it. I haven’t forgiven me for it.”

“Baby,” Paige echoes again, unsure what else to say. 

“Have you forgiven me?” 

The question lingers in the air as Azzi looks expectantly at her and Paige stumbles over her words, trying to find the right ones. She doesn’t really know how to answer the questions; hadn’t been expecting to be confronted with it tonight. Paige wants to say yes; she wants to take away Azzi’s guilt so fucking bad. These last few weeks had been so perfect, Paige had convinced herself she was over what had happened almost a decade ago. But if she’s honest with herself -if she’s honest to the memories of every night she’d spent sobbing into her pillows, missing the girl in front of her and resenting her for walking away- Paige doesn’t really know if she has forgiven Azzi. 

“Paige?” Azzi ask again, her voice breaking on the one syllable. 

Paige’s face crumbles as she looks at the girl defenselessly, “ Az, I-”

The doorbell rings at the exact moment and Stephie comes excitedly barrelling down the staircase as the two women scramble away from each other, trying to compose themselves. 

“Miss Buecks, Mama,” the younger girl hollers, “pizza’s here.”

Paige looks at Azzi who’s rushing to wipe away the remnants of her tears. She opens her mouth, desperately willing herself to find something, anything that could offer the girl in front of her some comfort; that could take their relationship away from the precipice of this cliff they’ve somehow found themselves on. But the right words don’t materialize and instead Paige closes her mouth and turns away, slowly heading towards Stephie as Azzi’s question continues to wreak havoc in her mind. 

And she wishes she could rewind the clock and freeze them where they had been just a couple of hours ago, freeze them in a moment where the past hadn’t weighed so heavily on the present. But perhaps the past had always been there and they’d simply just done a marvelous job ignoring it. Except tonight, they can’t seem to ignore it anymore. 

***

Paige thinks pizza has never tasted so terrible in her life. The mood at her basically unused dining table is numbingly sober; even Stephie has stopped her chatter, the little girl clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere around her as she quietly nibbles away at her slice of pizza. It’s in stark contrast to the innumerable dinners they’d had in the last three weeks; the three of them -Paige, Azzi and Stephie in between them- at the table or the counter or sometimes even the couch, raucous with laughter and smiles. Paige doesn’t understand how moments can shift like this; how last night could have been filled with giggles and grins and tonight is filled with nothing but a silence filled with too many unspoken words.

Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, who’s making a concerted effort to keep her own everted from both Bueckers siblings. The brunette’s question from before feels like a loud horn blaring in Paige’s ears, one that she can’t seem to find the off-switch for no matter how hard she searches for it. They’re barely a couple feet apart, sitting opposite each other with Drew next to Paige and Stephie next to Azzi, but the width of the table feels like it stretches for miles. Paige misses the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against hers, misses the sly brush of their hands before their fingers would inevitably curl around each other’s underneath the table where Stephie couldn’t see. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige swallows, trying to shake off the feeling of is this us crumbling again, as she diverts attention to Stephie who’s smiling at her with that cheeky grin that means she wants something. 

“What’s up Stephie-bean?” Paige asks and she’s convinced there’s magic in the little girl’s existence because despite the tightness she still feels in her chest, having Stephie close feels like a reason for her to breathe through it. 

“Can I have a soda?” Stephie asks, using the palm of her hands to frame her slightly tilted face as she juts out her bottom lip in a pleading. 

Paige grins, ready to concede as she often is with the little girl but Azzi speaks first, “no soda Stephie.”

Stephie pouts, “why not?”

“Because I said so,” Azzi says bluntly and Paige is taken back by the sharpness of it. 

“Mama please,” Stephie begs, “please, please, please.”

“No Stephie,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s tone but Stephie doesn’t pay much heed to it continuing to plead and the irritation on her mother’s face -clearly exacerbated by other things- gets more and more apparent. 

“Please Mama. Pizza just doesn’t go down right without soda,” the little girl argues, “can I please just have a little bit. Just a teeny tiny bit Please, please pretty please please-”

“Stephie, no” Azzi repeats, pinching the bridge of her nose as Drew and Paige exchange nervous glances. 

“Stephie, yes,” the little girl argues, stubbornly crossing her hands over her chest. 

“Ste-”

“I want soda. I want soda. Please, please, please, plea-”

“I said no Stephanie,” Azzi all but yells, startling Stephie into being quiet and making both Drew and Paige flinch. The little girl is wide-eyed for a second -not used to anything but her mother’s normally gentle way of dealing with her occasional brattiness- before her lips begin to tremble and big fat tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She scrambles out of her chair, beelining towards Paige and climbing onto her lap as she burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, wetting her shirt with tears. 

“Shhh, shhh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige whispers to the little girl, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as she strokes her hair. 

She glances at Azzi, who’s adamantly looking, her face stone cold but regret gleaming in her eyes, “Az-”

“No,” the younger woman says immediately. 

“C’mon,” Paige says exasperatedly, “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“If it’s about giving her a soda, I don’t wanna hear it,” Azzi warns, “you can’t just give into all of her demands all the time, you have to learn to say no and she needs to learn to hear it.”

“I hear you but Az it’s a Friday-”

“Paige-”

“A tiny bit of soda to start the weekend can’t hurt. In fact,” Paige smirks down at the little girl in her lap as she coaxes Stephie’s face out of her neck so she can wipe away the tears on her blotchy red face, “I think a little soda to start the weekend is probably good for you.”

She feels her heart soar when it makes Stephie giggle, letting out a couple teary hiccoughs in between as she clutches onto Paige. 

“I think so too Mama,” the little girl echoes, looking back at her mother with a timid grin. 

“Give in Azzi,” Paige matches the pleading smile on Stephie’s face as she turns her focus onto the brunette, “she deserves a little treat 

“I know what she deserves. I think I know what’s good for my daughter,” Azzi says steely and Paige feels something cold squeezing through her ribcage, “no soda Stephie. End of discussion.”

My daughter. 

The thing is Paige doesn’t even really think she has the right to be upset over Azzi’s statements. Really, it’s nothing but the truth. Stephie is Azzi’s daughter and Azzi definitely knows what’s good for her daughter. So why does it sting like this? Why does it feel like little shards of ice piercing into her heart, leaving deep gashes that have her whole body feeling like it’s freezing over? Paige knows why, knows that these past weeks had been enough to trick her mind into believing the mirage that Stephie was hers. But now Azzi’s flicked her fingers against it causing the whole fantasy to come crashing down and Paige feels herself slowly getting buried under the rubble of it. 

“Right," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady, “she’s your daughter and you know best,” she ignores the tinge of guilt in Azzi’s eyes as she turns to Stephie who looks like she’s ready to protest again, “you heard your Mama Stephie. No soda tonight.”

“But Miss Buecks-” Stephie whines. 

“No sweetheart,” Paige says gently, shaking her head. 

The little girl narrows her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan as she slips off of Paige’s lap. She loudly stomps her feet, glaring at all the adults in the room before she angrily storms upstairs. It’s so unlike the usually even-keeled little girl that Paige thinks it’s probably a reaction to the tension she can sense between the adults. Her eyes drift over Drew -who’s chewing at his lips in a similar manner to how his big sister often does- before locking with Azzi’s and she feels that familiar guilt of there’s always collateral damage for our mistakes pooling at the pit of her stomach. The brunette breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh before she follows behind her daughter and Paige lets her face fall into her hands, 

It feels like everything’s in free fall, like during an earthquake when everything shakes and the books -the complicatedly tangled stories of the past and present- go flying from their shelves. Paige rubs at her eyelids, trying to make this helpless feeling go away. Her fingers are coiled tightly around a rope, just like they had been on that night eight years ago and just like that night, she can feel the tips of them starting to bleed. She can feel Drew’s gaze fixated on her; can tell he’s contemplating whether to say something or not. Swallowing, Paige pulls her face out of her palms to look at her brother, a decisively defiant expression on her face. 

“Something you wanna say?” she asks him, cocking her eyebrows as if she’s daring him to speak. 

Drew hesitates for a second before an almost identical expression crosses his face, “what the fuck are you doing Paige?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replies airly. 

Drew narrows his eyes at her, “seriously?”

“Seriously,” Paige shrugs. 

“This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement Paige,” Drew says, ignoring the way his sister flinches at the reminder as he drops his voice lower so they can’t be overheard, “you were supposed to be with Golden State for one season, hopefully win a championship and then you’d be off to New York at the end. That was the plan but clearly all of that has gone flying out the window. You’re getting attached to this city, this life, to them.” 

A barely believable “of course I’m not,” flutters weakly off of Paige’s lip as she blinks rapidly at the accusation. 

“Oh for fucks sake,” Drew curses, “Paige your bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, in days. There’s almost no groceries in your fridge or your pantry. From what I saw of the garden, it’s basically been left for dead. Your closet is half empty and it sure as shit isn’t because they’re all in the laundry because as Stephie puts it, Azzi says that their laundry basket is three times heavier than it used to be with all your clothes.”

“I-I don’t-” Paige stutters, “that- that doesn’t- doesn’t mean-”

“It’s been two months -if even that- two months Paige and I think you're in even deeper now than you were the last time,” Drew spits the last two words out bitterly like their flames on the tip of his tongue and the sparks of it singe Paige’s skin. 

“That’s not- I’m not-” she tries to justify but it sounds hollow to her own ears. 

“You are,” Drew says exasperatedly, “what are you gonna do when she walks away again? When she lets you go again, what are you gonna do Paige?”

Her little brother isn’t cruel but Paige swears she’s never heard anything more aimed to hurt than these perfectly directed arrows he’s launching straight at her heart. The defense of she’s not going to leave me stays stuck in her throats, battling against the harsh thoughts of she already has that are taunting her. 

“She- I- you- this- I don’t- you can’t-” Paige doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say; she feels like a fish spluttering outside of the water, desperate to breathe air that seems to kill her the more she inhales it. 

Drew looks away, his face crumpling slightly, a mixture of sadness and guilt gleaming in his eyes, and Paige can tell that he hates himself a little for being the one to cause her this torment, the one to make her face the darkest possibility of her reality. 

“I was there Paige,” he says softly, “I was the one who watched you break in ways that I didn’t even think you were breakable,” his voice snaps, “and I was the one who watched how hard you had to work to put yourself back together. I don’t wanna see any of that again.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers. 

“And it wasn’t just her,” Drew continues, “you lost her family too.”

Paige gulps at the reminder, “they were still there. They came to games. They were at my wedding.”

Drew shakes his head, “but it wasn’t the same and you know it. You lost her and you lost them and this time,” he bites his lip, like he wishes the next words weren’t sitting on his vocal chords, waiting to spill out, “this time, if you lose her, you’ll lose a lot more.”

“What do you-” Paige heistates, unsure if she even wants to ask, “what do you mean?”

Her little brother pauses, mouth opening and closing like it’s painful to speak, before his eyes drift towards the stairs and Paige feels her heart sinking even before Drew says the words she knows he’s about to say. 

“You’ll lose her daughter. You’ll lose Stephie.”

“No,” the whispered syllable is out before Paige can even stop it, “no, no, no, no-”

“Paige-”

“Stop it Drew,” the blonde says louder than she wanted to as she clutches at her heart, trying to keep it whole as the tears overflow over her waterline. 

“Stop what Paige? Stop saying things you already know deep down but are choosing to ignore? Is that what you want me to stop doing?” Drew asks harshly. 

“Drew-”

“There’s a reason you didn’t want to commit to the Valkyries and you know it. There’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season.” her younger brother says firmly. 

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know.”

Drew’s eyes soften, “stick to plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”

Paige bites her lip so hard, she can taste that morbid taste of iron on her lips as she opens her mouth to say something. She’s not sure if it’s to argue with Drew or to agree and she doesn’t get a chance to find out. Instead there’s a sharp intake of breath and then a quiet, timid voice laced with accusation and Paige feels the blood drain out of her body as she slowly turns around to find Stephie and Azzi -their faces ashen with identical expressions of betrayal- staring at her. 

“Miss Buecks, you’re moving to New York?”

[richardsgraysons]

speak of her over my grave (and watch how she brings me back to life)

Make no mistake; Jason Todd will crawl back to you with blood frothing in his mouth, beaten and bruised. He will crawl back to you like a stray dog who has learned the touch of kindness from a gentle hand.

He crawls back to you like a stray dog, like something worth loving. He crawls back to you with hope in those violent eyes of his because when he runs rampant every night in that cold air, all he dreams of is you.

These hands are stained with violenceㅡhow can you love them?

It’s not impossible if it’s you. If it’s you, I will.

I will cross a thousand rivers for you; and I have. I will fight a thousand men to keep you safe; and I have. I will defend you to my dying breath; and I have.

He does not regret going to that warehouse instead of you. He does not regret that ‘J’ carved in your face for you. 

Because he knows that when you thought he had left you permanently, you wrecked havoc on the world. You screamed for a thousand men, you screamed when no one else did. Clambering his weary bones out of that green pit was worth it.

As he lays in the bed, holding you in his arms, he looks down. His green eyes, once forest green, now violent neon, stare youㅡhis beloved, his reason for living.

You contain eons in the quiet way you slumber. You bring down empires with your soft nestlings. And when he holds you, he feels warm again. No longer does the cruelty of the green embrace him. All he feels is warmth.

When he holds you in this bed, you crawl inside his rotten heart where you nestle between the stains. He holds you a little tighter and it his way of beggingㅡlove me there, where I am most ruined. Haunt me in the places where there is no light.

Jason knows he doesn’t deserve such kindness.

When he closes his eyes and all he can see and hear is the Joker, when any noise and sound reminds him of that damned warehouse in the Middle Eastㅡwhen his arms tighten you so hard that you cannot breathe, you accept him for the man who he is.

There are places where his heart darkens. He goes beyond the edge of the earth. He goes where you cannot follow yet you pick up your pace anyways.

You go where he goes.

That is the way it’s always been.

He holds you a little tighter because he knows of the pains of this world. He experiences them daily. Every night, when he adorns that hood and wears those weapons, he stares death in the eye again.

And he comes home and his sins are cleansed by your smile.

You who holds the sun; you who bring him back to life every morning.

[puck-luck]

14 of hearts with Quinn 🙏 they finally talk about starting a family after being at a team event where the reader spent the whole night with the kids and after the families with kids leave she gets sad…and a little drunk

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, breeding kink, PDA WC: 578

You have a slight problem. You’re tipsy and there’s a baby in your arms. You’re drunk enough that you’re not sure exactly who the baby belongs to, but Quinn had been carrying her awkwardly, so you’d scooped her up and decided to dote on her. Of course, you’d had to cross the room to get to him and the baby, your vision tunneling as soon as you spotted him. 

Turns out, Quinn was only holding her so that her parents could wish the hosts goodbye without a tired baby in their arms. She’s taken from you far too soon, which you act gracious about, but inside, you’re pouting. You love babies. They’re so cute and so precious and you love the idea of watching a tiny little human, that you made with the love of your life, learn how to be a person. 

Once the parents are gone, taking your new favorite little friend with them, you pout at Quinn outwardly. “I want one,” you whine petulantly.

Quinn rolls his eyes, but he smiles at you fondly. “You’re drunk,” he says.

“Only a little,” you reply. “And that doesn’t change anything. I still want a baby. I want you to give me one.” You bring your hands to his sides and wrinkle the fabric of his shirt in your hands. 

Quinn covers your hands with his own and removes them from his clothing. He fixes you with an unimpressed look. “We’re in public,” he reminds you.

“Then take me home.” You bring your arms over his shoulders, plastering yourself against his front. You touch his nose in a brief Eskimo kiss, ghosting your lips over his. “We should practice.”

“Practice what?” Quinn asks, playing along. He hugs your middle, keeping you close. You’re both toeing the line of acceptable PDA, especially when you’re at an event with Quinn’s colleagues, but you can’t be bothered. You’re horny and you want to make a mini-Quinn. You’ve seen his baby pictures– he was adorable. 

“Making a baby,” you sing-song, toying with his hair. He hasn’t cut it since the start of the season, so it’s growing nice and long. He also hasn’t shaved in a little while, so his facial hair is your favorite length. “I’ll let you come inside me as many times as you want.”

“Tempting,” Quinn laughs. “But, again, baby– you’re drunk.”

“I’m horny,” you correct.

“You’re horny because you’re drunk,” Quinn says. He pecks your lips. “I promise, as soon as we’re both sober, we can do every little dirty thing you could ever dream of.”

“You’re no fun,” you tell him with a frown. 

Quinn allows one of his hands to drift lower and pat your ass. He kisses your cheek, then puts his mouth right next to your ear. “We can have a lot of fun tomorrow,” he mutters. “When you’re sober. I want you to remember every second when I try and knock you up for the first time, baby.”

You straighten your posture a bit, reacting to his words. You sway with him a bit like you’re slow-dancing. It’s certainly out of place in this environment, to be holding your boyfriend so close for this long, but you don’t care. You want to be touching him and you like what he’s saying.

“Gonna look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you, sweetheart,” Quinn continues. “But I’ll have to make sure it stays inside somehow. We can’t take any chances, can we?”

[romugh]

HISTORY IN THE MAKING - nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, gp!bottom!natasha, handjob (n rcv), blowie (n rcv), missionary, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie? muaha... shy daddy!nat UGHH, kind of orgasm control & slight edging if you squint

wc- 5.4k

a/n- drabble turned fic as i worked my way through these exact history shenanigans a few days back... in the same INTIMATE STUDIES universe! might make this a cute lil thing :) this is very much NOT my best work, i might rework it a little bit just to make it flow a lil more! apologies if there are any repetitions, i tried to catch them, but my brain is fried :/

synopsis- natasha's helping you study russia's history, and the rest is history?? idk it's too late rn guys i'm going to sleep

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches, @lizziewitchy ❀, @simpforlizzie, @riyaexee

You’re sitting cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, staring down at a jumble of Russian history notes that you’re certain might as well be in Cyrillic themselves. The words swim on the page, stubbornly refusing to click in the way chemistry formulas or physics equations do. You press the back of your pen to your lips, glancing over at the figure hunched over the desk in the corner of the room.

Natasha is fully engrossed in her game, brows furrowed in concentration as her fingers fly across the keyboard. The light from her monitor casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek and the gentle bite of her lower lip. She’s wearing a simple white blouse tucked into a plaid skirt, her usual attempt to dress professionally for class long since abandoned in favour of cosy socks and a messy bun.

You can’t help but smile a little. The contrast between Natasha’s outward shyness and the intensity in her focus has always been something you found endearing. You met in the class you were currently trying to study for, back when you’d shown up late to Russian history, fumbling through an awkward introduction as the professor sighed and directed you to sit in the last free seat beside her. It had taken a few study sessions for you to get past her initial stammering, but now, you could ask her about anything and her eyes would light up, eagerly launching into whatever story or fact you were struggling to understand. But right now, that focus is directed entirely on her computer screen.

You clear your throat. “Natasha?”

“Hm?” She barely looks up, eyes quickly darting back to her screen.

“Nat,” you repeat, with a hint of a smile. “I need help with the comparison of Russia until 1917 and the West-European’s Ancien Régime. And… pretty much all the details, too.”

She gives a little sigh, half-distracted. “Mm. Yes, the parables are… very interesting, baby. Give me one second. I’m doing really well.”

You hold back a laugh. “Right, but I’m failing Russian history. Melina and Alexei will both kill me. So can you take a break?”

Her eyes don’t leave the screen. “I will, I promise. Just a few more minutes. I’m close to beating this level.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at her single-minded dedication. Her stubborn innocence, the way she always seems to be pulled between her gentle nature and her intense focus, has you mesmerised. But she can’t honestly think you’re going to wait forever.

“Natasha,” you say softly, standing and crossing over to her desk. Her gaze flicks up to you on her side, her big, doe-like eyes widening with an almost bashful look as you lean against the desk. “You’re seriously not going to help me?”

She blushes, biting her lip. “I really want to help,” she whispers, almost apologetic, “but, really, just a little longer? Please?”

There’s something about the sweet innocence of her pleading that has your heart racing. Her earnestness always has a way of drawing you in, those wide, round eyes like they’re begging for permission to keep playing, and her lips slightly parted in concentration. You tilt your head, taking in every detail of her—the slight blush dusting her cheeks, the faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, and the way her fingers clutch the keyboard just a little tighter, like she’s holding onto the game but secretly hoping you’ll take control.

You smile softly and reach for her chair, turning it around so she’s facing you. Her hands hover in the air, a brief look of panic on her face as she loses her place in the game. She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can say anything, you’re sliding onto her lap, straddling her, feeling the warmth of her strong thighs under you.

“Wait! You made me fall off the map!” Natasha squeaks, her voice a mixture of exasperation and a hint of excitement. Her hands instinctively find your hips, holding you as if she’s afraid you might slip away.

You give her a gentle smile, leaning in so that your faces are mere inches apart. “I thought you were going to help me study,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a soft, coaxing tone. You press your hands to her shoulders, letting your fingers trail along her collarbone, feeling the way her heartbeat quickens under your touch.

“I… I was,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep pink, and you catch the slight tremble in her voice. “I just… my game.”

You tilt her chin up, making her meet your gaze, and she blushes even deeper, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips as her eyes grow wide, almost vulnerable. “Natty,” you say, your voice laced with playful patience, “I really need you to focus on me now. History, please.”

Her mouth opens slightly, as though she wants to argue, but all that comes out is a breathy whisper. “Okay.”

You hold Natasha’s gaze, the intensity in her eyes gradually overpowering her initial shyness. Her fingers rest on your hips, hesitant and yet possessive, as though she’s still trying to find some control in this position. Her breath catches each time you shift even slightly, and you can feel her heartbeat racing beneath your touch, each little change in her demeanour making her even more endearing.

You run your thumb along her jawline, feeling the delicate skin beneath, and she lets out a soft breath, her lips parting as she unconsciously leans into your touch. Her eyes flicker from yours to your lips, as if she’s desperately waiting for some kind of signal, a sign that she’s allowed to give in completely.

“Natasha,” you murmur, bringing your face close enough to feel her breath mingling with yours, “what are the key similarities, and how do the t<o regimes differ?”

She hums, her cheeks a soft shade of pink, but words seem to fail her. The hand on your hip trembles slightly, as though she wants to pull you closer but doesn’t dare to, not without permission. You feel the tension building, a mix of her nervousness and desire, and it only makes you want to pull her in even more.

Finally, you press a feather-light kiss to her cheek, just next to her ear, and whisper, “Come on, Natty. Think, please. Need your pretty self to explain it to me.”

She shivers under your touch, swallowing as she tries to remember the words. “Um… right, the… they didn’t have religious freedom,” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. The fingers on your hip dig in just slightly, a mix of nerves and need as she fights to keep her focus. “Orthodoxy– uh, there were lots of violent riots… against Muslims, but mostly Jews. Those were called pogroms and… oh…”

Her wordds trail off as you tilt her chin slightly, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her blush deepens, and you feel the way her body responds, her tension giving way to a faint tremor as she tries to keep talking.

“You’re so good at this,” you whisper, guiding her with gentle encouragement. “But I’m going to need a little more focus from you if we’re going to get through all this history.”

Her breath catches, and she nods, biting her lip as she tries to concentrate. “I can focus,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. Her gaze stays locked onto yours, her wide eyes full of innocence mixed with a yearning she can’t quite hide.

Her fingers finally slide up your sides, settling on the dip of your waist with a delicate grip, as though she’s terrified of doing too much, yet completely unwilling to let go. You smile softly, placing a hand over hers, squeezing in silent encouragement, and her blush deepens, her eyes darting away for just a second.

But you don’t let her break eye contact for long. Tilting her chin back to you, you brush your lips over hers in a kiss so soft it’s barely there, and she lets out a faint sigh, melting into the touch. Her grip tightens again, and you feel her breath hitch as you deepen the kiss just slightly, enough to make her toes curl beneath her chair.

“Tell me more,” you murmur, pausing just inches from her mouth, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating between you. “About the razzias. I want to hear you explain it.”

Her lips part, her mind clearly racing to catch up, but she manages a shaky breath. “They just were um, a…,” she stammers, her voice a mix of strained focus and barely-restrained excitement. Her hands start to relax, as though she’s finding confidence in your guidance. “They… uh– it’s a reckoning against religious ideals.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in approval, your thumb tracing gentle circles on her cheek. “And then the revolution happened?”

Her eyes flicker down to your lips, and she swallows, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were two revolutions, technically. First, the February Revolution, and then the radicalised October Revolution.”

Her words start to blur into soft breaths as you lean closer, the warmth of her skin against yours heightening with each delicate touch. You feel her legs shift under you, and a soft gasp escapes her when you shift your weight in her lap, pressing yourself against her in a way that’s both innocent and electric. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes grow hazy, the careful focus she was trying to hold onto slipping with each passing second.

“Good girl,” you murmur, your voice soft and affectionate. Her lips part in a faint, breathless smile, and you feel her chest rise as she takes in a shaky breath, her grip on you tightening just a little more.

You tilt her head back, keeping her gaze locked on yours, letting your fingers trail down her throat, feeling the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your touch. Her eyes widen, a mixture of awe and anticipation in them as she watches your every move, her hands moving under your sweater like she’s trying to ground herself.

“Do you want to keep going?” you ask softly, running a finger along her jawline, watching the way her breath catches in response.

She nods, unable to find words, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her eyes hold that same innocent, almost pleading look, as though she’s begging you to take control, to guide her wherever you want.

You smile, letting your hand drift down from her jaw, fingers grazing along her collarbone, before you slowly trail down to her chest and stomach, where you can feel the rise and fall of her shallow breaths.

“Okay, baby,” you murmur, your words soothing yet commanding as you press a gentle kiss to her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickens under your lips. She shivers, a barely audible whimper escaping her lips, her wide eyes softening as she watches you, her gaze full of innocent trust.

“Natasha,” you whisper, drawing out her name like a gentle caress, “let me help you focus.” Her breath catches, and she gives a shaky nod, her hands tightening their grip on the chair. You slowly lower yourself from her lap, letting your hands slide down the smooth skin of her thighs, feeling the way her body tenses under your touch only to relax as you continue, inching her knees apart.

Her blush deepens, and you can feel her shyness mingling with anticipation as her skirt rides up, revealing the growing hardness pressing against the fabric of her boxers. You let your fingers trace along her inner thigh, watching the way she trembles slightly at each delicate touch. Her wide eyes remain fixed on yours, that blend of vulnerability and desire making your own heart race as you take her in.

“Relax for me,” you murmur, running your hands gently along her thighs. You reach up to brush your fingers over the fabric straining to hold her in, and her lips part in a soft, involuntary moan, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she squirms in her seat.

With slow, deliberate movements, you slide her underwear down, watching the way her member springs free, her blush turning crimson as she looks away for a moment, a mixture of nervousness and excitement flickering across her face. You press a gentle kiss along her inner thigh, easing her legs further apart and taking in her reactions, savouring each shiver, each small gasp that escapes her lips. When you move your mouth closer to her length, you look up at her, waiting until her gaze meets yours.

Once it does, you bring your mouth to her, pressing a feather-light kiss along her shaft, and her reaction is instant—her hips jerk slightly, and she lets out a trembling breath, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair as she tries to stay still. Her breath hitches with every movement, her wide eyes looking down at you, filled with both awe and that same sweet shyness that makes her all the more endearing.

Slowly, you take her into your mouth, your tongue gliding over her, humming at the way she gasps, her fingers gripping the chair so tightly her knuckles turn white. You can feel her body tense under your touch, the warmth of her length in your mouth, and the way she squirms with each gentle movement. Her breathing becomes ragged, her cheeks flushed as her lashes flutter, struggling to keep eye contact.

“Just relax, Natty,” you murmur between gentle caresses, pausing only to offer soft words of encouragement, letting her feel the warmth of your breath against her sensitive skin. “You’re doing so well.”

Her eyes soften further at your words, her lips parted in a soft, breathless smile as she gives a faint nod, her entire body melting under your touch. She lets out a quiet, shaky moan as you continue, her hips shifting involuntarily, her breath hitching each time your mouth moves a little deeper. The look in her eyes—vulnerable yet trusting—only fuels your desire to take her further.

You increase your pace just slightly, watching the way her eyes grow hazier with each passing second, her fingers now reaching out, finding your shoulder as if she needs something to hold onto. The desperation in her gaze, the slight whimpers that escape her lips, all signal how close she’s getting. You pause, pulling back just enough to look up at her, watching the way she struggles to catch her breath.

“You’re so good, Natasha,” you murmur, words muffled by her heat in you, enjoying the way she shivers under the praise. “But don’t let go just yet. I want to take my time with you.”

Her blush deepens at the command, and she nods, swallowing hard as she holds back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to control herself. You press a soft kiss to her length, smiling at the way she bites her lip, her fingers still clutching your shoulder as she gives herself over to your touch.

With her breaths growing more ragged, you let your hand slide down her thigh, resting at the base of her length as you ease back, switching from the warmth of your mouth to the gentle grip of your hand. Natasha whimpers softly, her lashes fluttering as she watches you with that wide-eyed, innocent gaze. Her hands grip the arms of her chair for stability, her cheeks flushed and lips parted as you begin to stroke her slowly, savouring each reaction.

“Does that feel good, Natty?” you murmur, watching the way her eyes flutter closed for a moment as she nods, her entire body leaning toward your touch.

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a need she’s struggling to hold back. You watch the way her chest rises and falls, each shuddering breath making her more vulnerable, more open to your every move.

You increase the pressure slightly, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that has her toes curling, her wide eyes looking down at you with unguarded adoration. You can see how close she is, her face a mix of tension and awe as she clutches at her chair, her mouth falling open in a soft gasp when you switch back to your mouth, taking her in once again.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling, barely audible. She shifts in her seat, her grip tightening as she fights to stay composed, though the desperation in her voice betrays her.

“You want more?” you murmur, pulling back just enough to look up at her, letting your breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She nods frantically, her gaze pleading, as though she’s ready to beg for you to keep going. Her vulnerability makes your heart race, and you lean back in, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her length before taking her in your hand again.

Each change between your mouth and hand drives her closer to that edge, her quiet, broken moans growing more frequent as her body responds to your every touch. You take your time, alternating between gentle strokes and teasing kisses, watching the way her resolve unravels completely. Her hips move instinctively, seeking more, her breath shallow and desperate.

Finally, you slow your pace, watching the way she shudders in response, her gaze hazy and her body fully at peace yet trembling in your hands. “I told you, Natty,” you whisper, pausing to press a kiss to her thigh, “I’m taking my time with you.”

She lets out a shaky exhale, her hands falling from the chair to clutch at your shoulders, her breathing still erratic as she tries to hold herself back. But you can see the way she’s teetering on that edge, fully surrendered to you.

As you continue to alternate between using your hand and mouth, her wide, vulnerable gaze grows more unfocused, her lips parting as her body instinctively responds to you. But just when you think she’s letting herself fall into your pace, you feel her fingers tangle in your hair, firm but trembling, gently pressing down, silently urging you to take her deeper.

The sudden assertiveness surprises you, but you comply, letting her guide you, feeling the way her grip tightens slightly, the desperation in her touch almost pleading. Her quiet whimpers grow louder, echoing in the room as she watches you, her gaze dark with fascination, completely enraptured by the sight of you surrendering to her need.

“Oh, please…” she murmurs, her voice a breathy whisper, barely containing herself. You feel her body shiver as you take her deeper, her soft gasp filling the air. Her eyes, usually so innocent and shy, are now dark with awe, wide and almost worshipful, as though she can barely believe what she’s seeing. She bites her lip, her face flushed, her expression somewhere between a plea and an apology, completely mesmerised by the sight of you.

Finally, feeling your control slip in her grasp, you tap her thigh, and she releases her grip on your hair immediately, looking down at you with that same innocent gaze, as if wondering if she’s overstepped. Her cheeks are flushed, her gaze shy once again, as she watches you with bated breath, clearly unsure of your next move.

Standing up slowly, you meet her gaze, your eyes smouldering as you reach down and slip off your underwear, letting the fabric fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Natasha’s eyes widen, her cheeks a deeper pink as her gaze travels from your face down the length of your body, lingering on the hem of your sweater as if transfixed by the contrast.

Before she can fully take in the sight, you reach for her, your fingers tangling in her hair as you tug her up from the chair, her body following your movements without hesitation. She gasps softly, her breath catching as she’s pulled to her feet, her wide, adoring eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Strip for me,” you command, your voice low, leaving no room for argument. You release her hair, your touch lingering for just a second as you make your way to her bed, settling yourself atop her scattered history notes, the crinkling of the papers the only sound breaking the silence. She watches, her blush deepening, clearly entranced by the sight of you lying there, completely at ease and in control. Her hands go to the hem of her skirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she begins to undress, her gaze never leaving yours.

Natasha’s fingers tremble slightly as she slides off her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her shirt soon follows, revealing the flushed skin of her chest and the slight rise and fall of her breath as she finally stands in front of you, completely exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker between your gaze and your body sprawled out over her history notes, her cheeks flushed with both shyness and desire. You stretch out comfortably, your sweater rucked up just enough to tease her, watching her with that same confident, hungry look that’s left her at your mercy all evening.

“Come here, Natty,” you murmur, your voice firm but soft. She steps forward, her movements hesitant but her gaze locked on you, and you guide her down onto the bed until she’s hovering over you, her body settling between your legs. Her breath catches as she takes you in, her wide, adoring eyes drinking in the sight of you beneath her, looking up at her with that unwavering, confident smile that’s made her melt all night.

As Natasha hovers above you, her body fitting perfectly between your legs, you can feel the nervous tremble in her limbs, her cheeks flushed as she takes in the sight of you lying beneath her, waiting. Her wide eyes, so shy and adoring, sweep over your face and then down, drinking in every inch of your body, as though each glance leaves her more entranced. Her lips part slightly, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she steadies herself, hands resting tentatively on either side of you.

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands and guiding her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling the heat radiate off her skin. She melts into you, her body instinctively pressing down, filling the space between you as her lips respond, moving tenderly yet hungrily, every kiss leaving her more breathless. With a gentle nudge, you guide her hips forward, feeling her length brush against your entrance, and she lets out a soft, broken gasp, her face flushed a deep pink as she begins to press into you.

You hum, running your hands through her hair, tugging gently to pull her closer, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. She gasps against your mouth, her lips parting as you deepen the kiss, feeling her shiver as she responds, her body pressing eagerly into yours. She lets out a soft, desperate moan as she slides inside, her hands gripping the sheets beside you.

“Oh,” she murmurs, barely above a whisper, her eyes fluttering shut as she feels the warmth of your body surrounding her, enveloping her in a way that leaves her trembling. Her breath hitches, and she clutches the sheets beside you, her hands forming tight fists as she adjusts to the feeling, her gaze filled with wonder as she looks down at you.

“Good girl,” you whisper, watching the way her face softens at the praise, her body shuddering as she begins to move, her hips rolling forward in slow, tentative strokes. You feel each careful movement, each deliberate inch of her body pressing into yours, her lips parted in a quiet moan, her eyes half-lidded as she loses herself in the rhythm, her shy gaze growing more intense with each passing second.

With every thrust, her body trembles, her gaze filled with a raw vulnerability as though she’s giving herself to you completely, utterly. She clutches the sheets even tighter, her breathing quickening, her eyes never leaving yours as she moves deeper, her breath coming in soft, desperate pants.

“That’s it, Natty,” you murmur, running a hand along her cheek, feeling the way her breath catches at your touch. “Just like that.”

Her lips part in response, a soft whimper escaping her as her hips begin to move faster, her body pressing into yours with a growing urgency that she can barely control. She shivers, the need and intensity in her gaze building with every touch, every whispered word of encouragement. Her lashes flutter as she looks down at you, her cheeks a deep shade of pink, her expression vulnerable, almost pleading, as though she wants more but can barely bring herself to ask for it.

“Right there, Daddy,” you murmur, your voice soft, just loud enough for her to hear. The word slips from your lips easily, and you watch the way her entire being responds—the tremor in her hips, the widening of her eyes, the soft, desperate whine that falls from her lips. Her face and neck flush a deeper, unmistakable red, and for a moment, she looks at you with pure, unguarded awe, her expression caught between disbelief and overwhelming need.

Her hands tremble, her hips stuttering as she takes in the title, her body pressing instinctively deeper as though the sound alone draws her closer to the edge. “Daddy,” you whisper again, watching her face as she loses herself in the word, her expression filling with a blend of shyness and barely contained desire.

“P-please…” she stammers, her voice trembling, almost breaking as she holds herself back, her body trembling with the strain of it. “I… I need…”

You reach up, running your hand through her hair, guiding her gaze back to yours. “It’s okay, Natty,” you murmur, your voice soft, coaxing. “You don’t have to hold back.”

Her wide eyes fill with a deep, unrestrained need, and she lets out a soft, shaky exhale, her hands sliding from the sheets to grip your waist, holding you as though grounding herself. Her movements grow more erratic, her hips pressing deeper, her body responding to every encouraging word, every touch, as though completely under your control.

As she moves, you see the way she loses herself in each thrust, her face flushed, her mouth open as her breath comes in ragged, desperate pants. She looks down at you with that same innocent, adoring gaze, but now, there’s something more—something raw, a hunger she can barely contain. Her hips press forward, filling you completely, her body shuddering as she reaches the edge, her wide eyes pleading, searching your gaze for permission.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, and you feel the way her body reacts, her grip tightening on your waist as she shudders, her hips jerking forward in a desperate, trembling thrust. Her eyes close as she gasps, her head falling forward as she loses herself completely, spilling into you with a soft, broken moan, her body pressing close, clinging to you as though she’s never felt anything so intense.

As Natasha trembles on top of you, her body pressed close, you feel every soft, shivering breath she takes, the weight of her against you as she finally lets go, spilling into you. Her head dips forward, eyes tightly shut, her lips parted in a quiet, desperate gasp as she comes, the warmth of her release filling you, a slow, deep pulse that seems to steal the breath from her lungs. Her grip tightens on your waist as if she’s clinging to you, grounding herself in the sensation, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

You can feel her chest rising and falling against you, her breaths ragged and shallow as she lets out a soft whimper, the vulnerability in her voice making your heart swell. Her hips press forward with each wave, as though she wants to be as close to you as possible, feeling every inch of her warmth, every pulse, spill into you, marking you in a way that’s both intimate and utterly consuming.

Each pulse of her release sends a shiver through her, her breathing shallow and uneven as she slowly comes down from the high, her eyes fluttering open, looking down at you with a dazed, awestruck expression. She looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and worship, her cheeks still flushed, her lips parted in a soft, blissful smile.

You brush a hand along her cheek, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as she takes a deep, steadying breath, her hands still holding you close, as though she can’t bear to let go.

“Natty,” you murmur, running your hands through her hair, guiding her face up to meet your gaze. Her eyes open slowly, her lashes fluttering as she looks at you, her gaze soft, overwhelmed, filled with a raw, unguarded adoration that she can’t hide. Her face is flushed, her lips slightly parted, her expression completely mesmerised as though she can barely believe you’re here, beneath her, accepting every bit of her.

A soft, blissful smile tugs at her lips, her hand moving up to gently cradle your face as she leans in, pressing a delicate, lingering kiss to your lips, her breaths still heavy, warm. She holds you like this, savouring the closeness, the feel of you wrapped around her, the warmth of her release settling within you.

Finally, she shifts, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes wide, her breath still uneven, as though she’s only just starting to come back to herself. She looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing your jawline softly, reverently.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammers, her face flushing deeper, her shy gaze flicking away for a moment.

But you smile, reaching up to cup her face, bringing her gaze back to yours, your voice soft and reassuring. “Natty… it’s okay,” you murmur, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I wanted this, too. I asked.”

She lets out a soft, relieved exhale, her body relaxing as she sinks into you, her arms wrapping around you, holding you as though afraid to let go. You feel her heartbeat gradually slow, her warmth enveloping you, her gaze still soft, full of that same innocent awe as she watches you, completely lost in the moment.

As Natasha catches her breath, her fingers lingering on your skin as though afraid to break the closeness between you, she finally shifts to pull out, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping her lips. She watches with wide, almost mesmerised eyes as your bodies separate, and her gaze drops to the way your mixed warmth slowly begins to spill out of you, the evidence of everything you’ve shared glistening in the low light.

Her lips part, her cheeks flushed as her gaze stays fixed, almost transfixed, and she can’t hide the blush that rises as she takes it all in. She’s caught somewhere between admiration and disbelief, her wide eyes drinking in every detail as though this might all disappear any second.

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer, Natty,” you tease, your smirk playful, voice soft, cutting through her daze. She looks up, startled, blinking as she registers your words. But after a second, she lets out a quiet, breathless laugh, her blush deepening as she reaches over to grab her phone, still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. She snaps a quick picture, her gaze flicking between the screen and you, clearly savouring every second. The reverence in her expression makes your heart skip, a feeling of pride filling you as you watch her.

Once she’s put the phone aside, she reaches over with a soft, sheepish smile, helping you sit up and adjust yourself. Her gaze softens, that shy, affectionate look taking over as she wraps her arms around you, holding you close, savouring the warmth that lingers between you both.

And then she glances at the bed, a small, nervous laugh escaping as she spots her carefully scattered history notes—now crinkled, a little rumpled, with more than a few slightly smudged edges. Without missing a beat, she moves to gather them, straightening the papers, her cheeks still a warm shade of pink as she moves to tidy up.

a/n- apologies if this is the worst piece i've written LOL i've been surviving on a few hours of sleep for the past few days- big thanks to jess for somehow helping me get through this, i'll let you keep your ps5. sigh. i'd still build a princess castle tho.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 9

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.5k

Note : I've been writing a lot lately because I have a week's worth of break lol. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

"Ticking Time Bomb"

Monday.

The next morning, you joined the team in the training gym. 

Bucky woke up early. When you got there, he was already there, casually leaning against a stack of weights, his ever watchful eyes tracking you across the room. He gave you a subtle smile that only you would notice, and the sweetness on his lips brought back his gentle touches and lingering kisses he gave you last night. It made your stomach flip.

You tried to focus on the training exercises.

You really did. 

You kept your stance right, threw your punches with precision, and were careful with your footwork, but Bucky’s presence remained a wonderful distraction. Every time your eyes met, you felt that same giddy rush, the kind that made it nearly impossible to keep your head straight.

It didn’t help that he was teasing you a little, too. During sparring practice, he’d tap your elbow to correct your form, his fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary. His hand would trail over your shoulder as he passed, a little reassuring, a little flirtatious.

Finally, after wrapping up another session with Clint and Scott, he pulled you aside to a quieter corner of the training room under the pretense of adjusting your technique. His voice was soft and he was close enough that you felt his breath against your cheek. “Need to keep that elbow higher,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to rest gently on your arm, guiding it into place.

But it was obvious neither of you was paying attention to technique.

“Right here?” you whispered, your voice playful as you met his gaze. You leaned into him a little, taking in his vanilla aftershave.

“Mmhm,” he replied, his tone softening. He leaned out of the corner quickly, seeing Clint and Scott excuse themselves from the gym to go to dinner together.

In one quick, brave moment, you leaned in and kissed him, a sweet, simple kiss that had grown frequent in the days leading up to this. Bucky’s hand came up to cradle your face as he deepened the embrace.

It was intoxicating. His lips, warm and steady against yours, had become another anchor in your life, a new memory blooming from nothingness. Every time he kissed you. everything around you started fading away.

a and you didn’t mind.

As you pulled back, still lost in his gaze, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eye. 

Yelena stood in the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the dim light behind her. Arms crossed tight over her chest, looking like a storm was brewing over her head.

You studied darkened the cut above her eyebrow, a stale bruise turning her cheekbone purple beneath the skin.

You caught yourself wondering if the marks were from her last sparring session with Bucky. They were of a similar intensity, but unlike him, Yelena didn’t have the luxury of a healing factor. Every pain of hers was so devastatingly human. 

As her gaze locked onto the two of you, her spine straightened. Her eyes, cold and unblinking, struck like daggers, dissecting the scene before her. 

And it made her stomach knot.

She didn’t say a word, not yet; she simply watched. Her expression was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating from her like waves crashing on the hull of a ship. 

There was a hint of fierceness in her eyes— something between anger and disappointment. Then, without a single word, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the door swinging shut behind her.

She had slammed it shut so hard that some of the weightlifting bars rattled.

You stood there in stunned silence. Your heart pounded as you glanced up at Bucky, who seemed just as tense. 

He tried forcing a calm look on his face, But you could feel the shift between you, a subtle tension lingering in the air, a crack in the heat of the moment you’d found together.

You stared again, at the door where Yelena had disappeared, a knot forming in your stomach. Her reaction lingered, simmering like a quiet echo of something you couldn’t quite place. You turned to Bucky, your tired eyes narrowing in confusion. 

You had told her how you felt about Bucky in the museum.

I’m happy for you, she had said then, you sound at peace with him.

She had not been disapproving then, why was she so disapproving now?

“Why is she so upset?” you asked. Your voice was soft, a note of worry beneath it. 

Bucky’s expression shifted so slowly, almost imperceptibly. His mouth pressed into a thin line. He was usually good at being unreadable, but in that moment, his face gave away more than he probably intended.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said, his tone careful. It's as if he was choosing each word with precision. He reached out, his hand landing gently on your arm again. “But it’s not something you need to worry about. I’ll talk to her.”

“Bucky,” You searched his eyes, waiting for him to explain further, to give you a hint of whatever knowledge was lingering just out of reach, “if there’s something I should know…”

He shook his head, his thumb absently brushing along your forearm. “This is my responsibility,” he murmured. “You and Yelena… she’d always been protective of you. I’ll talk to her.”

His voice was steady, comforting, but the knot in your stomach didn’t ease. You trusted him, but something in your gut told you this wasn’t a simple misunderstanding. 

Still, you nodded, letting out a small sigh. “Ok.”

“She just cares about you.” His lips hesitantly curved into a small, reassuring smile. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You gave him a hopeful smile. But as he pulled away and walked down the hallway toward where Yelena had gone, the question still echoed in your mind, unanswered.

—

Bucky found Yelena down the dim hallway, her back against the wall, arms crossed. Her jaw was set, eyes colder than a December blizzard in Moscow. As soon as he stopped, she fixed him with a stare that sliced through him.

She didn’t waste a second once he approached, her voice low and sharp. “Have you told her?” she demanded, voice low and sharp.

He hesitated, a beat too long, and the silence was telling enough. 

Her laugh was quick, bitter. She shattered the illusion like breaking glass. “Of course you didn’t.”

“I—”

“You can’t just act like everything’s fine, Barnes.” Her voice, barely controlled. It sent a chill down his spine. The edges were raw, each word dipped in into her own pain.

“Yelena, listen—” he started, a warning lacing his voice. He was desperate, but she didn’t flinch.

“She deserves the truth, Barnes.” The words hissed from her, venomous and guttural. “Every time you look at her, every time you lie to her face with that perfect little smile of yours, you’re keeping her in this prison of her own head.” Her voice cracked, but her resolve did not.

A mask of defiance slipping over his darkening eyes. “It’s better this way.” He forced the words out, gaze fixed somewhere over the former Widow’s shoulder. “I’m here for her now. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

“Better? Better?” Yelena’s lips curled, disdain twisting her face. “You think letting her believe that you’ve always been this perfect guy is better?” Her voice had risen, words lashing out. It felt like she was striking him with another punch, the memory of her drawing blood from his lips echoing in his mind.

The accusation sliced through him, and his defenses faltered. His eyes dropped for just a moment, a flicker of shame surfacing.

“This doesn't erase how you were before,” she pressed, her voice lowering to something almost tender, almost pitying. “It doesn’t erase what you said.”

He tensed, grief flickering behind his eyes, but Yelena pushed on, relentless. 

“She told me, Barnes.” She took a step closer, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “The night before everything went to shit. She told me you said you didn’t want her around. That you felt like you couldn’t breathe when she was near you.” She let the words hang, sharp, brutal, watching each one sink in and striking the target with lethal precision.

Bucky went still, his expression cracking open as if her words had ripped the scab from an old wound he thought had healed. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he was utterly, devastatingly silent.

“I…”  he managed, “She told you that?” his voice barely a whisper. His face was haunted, raw, like she’d peeled back every layer he’d built up.

“Of course she did,” Yelena’s voice softened, saying it as if she was obvious.

“She came to me that night, shattered.” Yelena continued, but there was not a single hint of mercy in it. “She told me how she kept breaking herself apart for you, piece by piece, waiting for you to see— and then you broke her heart because you wouldn’t admit you loved her then.”

His hands clenched at his sides. His face was a mix of guilt, regret, and self-loathing. “I thought I was protecting her.” His voice was barely audible, frayed at the edges. “Keeping her safe from… from me. I didn’t know how to handle what I felt for her then.”

“You might’ve convinced yourself that you did it for her, but we both know it was for you.” Yelena let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. Her Russian accent was thicker now, her voice colder, harsher, as if she was trying to bury whatever part of herself might have sympathised with him. “You pushed her away because you were afraid, and now you’re lying to her because you’re still afraid.”

She was right, and he couldn’t deny it. Every instinct in him told him to protect you, to keep you from the truth. But each lie he told, each omission, was building a fragile illusion that he knew couldn’t last forever.

But he wasn’t ready to let go. 

Not now.

Not ever.

“One week, Barnes.” Yelena’s voice was like steel, her gaze piercing. “You have one week to tell her everything.” She took a breath, but it was laced with fury, eyes blazing with a dangerous certainty. “Or I will.”

“Yelena… don’t do this.” Bucky looked up, his eyes pleading, voice cracking. “Please—”

“One week.” She spat the words, leaving no room for negotiation. No room for debate.

There was a cold finality that seemed unbreakable. 

Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. 

Bucky now stood alone, desperate to keep what he had.

—

You cornered Bucky in the kitchen that evening, his back to you as he pretended to focus on cleaning up.

You could see the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t been himself since the conversation with Yelena; something was up.

“Bucky,” you started, gently but firmly. “What’s going on with Yelena?”

He paused for a fraction of a second, then kept scrubbing a plate that was already clean. “What do you mean?” His voice was too casual, his face too carefully neutral.

You tilted your head, studying his movements. “Did something happen when you talked to her?”

“No. Nothing happened.” He forced a shrug, his tone dismissive. “She’s just being protective. You know how she is.”

“Bucky.” You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “I know when you’re hiding something. I can tell.”

He let out a deep breath, setting the plate down. “Yelena’s just… she worries too much,” He finally turned to face you, forehead creased with tension. “She’s your friend, and she wants to make sure you’re okay. Sometimes she goes a little overboard.”

“That’s not what this is.” You crossed your arms, frustration building. “There must be something specific she’s upset about. She barely looked at me when she left. Did I do something to hurt her–”

“No, doll, of course not,” He shook his head, a hint of guilt in his eyes, but he pushed it down. “She’s just… overthinking things.”

You took a steadying breath, unwilling to let it go. “Can you please tell me if it has something to do with me?”

He looked at you, a spark across his ruggedly handsome features. For a moment, you thought he might open up. But then he quickly shut it down, his voice firm with fake conviction. 

“Yelena’s got her own stuff going on,” he said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

“Darling,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, searching for his eyes that wouldn’t yours. “Whatever it is… just tell me.”

Your eyes— loving, unwavering, filled with a warmth that wrapped around him like a promise. Your touch, it felt like a hand reaching out to pull him from the darkness he used to live in.

He couldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t. Not now, not with everything still fucked up and tangled inside him, not when the truth might shatter that beautiful, fragile trust of yours.

He held your gaze for a moment, but then he shook his head, his expression hardening. Instead, he lied, “It’s nothing you don’t know.”

He knew the lies were going to pile up, each one stacking higher, heavier, until they would threaten to crush everything he was trying so hard to protect. He’d known for a while now that things were slipping, spiraling out of control like a freight train without any breaks. What started as harmless omissions, things he told himself you didn’t need to know, had twisted into a web he’d tangled himself in.

He hadn’t meant to lie to you. 

But here he was, watching himself dig a hole so deep he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to claw his way out. With every false reassurance, every carefully hidden truth, he could feel the ground shifting beneath his feet, pulling him further into his living grave.

And you? You could feel the distance building between you, a wall he was desperately trying to keep up, and it left a hollow feeling in your chest. “I just… I feel like something’s wrong, and I can’t help but feel like you’re not telling me the whole story.”

Bucky’s whole posture tensed. He forced a smile, a half-hearted attempt to reassure you. “I told you everything, okay?” He lied again, the words stumbling over each other as he tried to reassure you. “Yelena’s just being Yelena. She’s overprotective. Don’t let it get to you.” 

He sighed, noticing how… aggressive he had been. 

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there. It was almost as if he hoped the gesture alone would somehow close the crater between you. 

“Let’s just… focus on us, alright?” he whispered, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. His words sounded sweet, but they were thin, unconvincing. Even as he tried to comfort you, there was a wall you could feel but not quite see.

You could sense it— something he kept just out of reach, a small fortress of secrets he wasn’t ready to share. 

And yet, even with all the tension, all the unspoken fears, you trusted him anyway.

You loved him anyway. 

Maybe it was the way he looked at you, as if he was terrified of losing you, or the way he always reached for your hand, a silent plea to believe in him just a little bit longer. 

-To be continued

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[endereies]

FREEDOM OF SPEECH

No Nut November - Day 10

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels

It was obvious that tensions were high. Anyone could see that. After being friends with the triplets for so long, you felt like things couldn’t change, yet you found yourselves proving that wrong. You saw the way he looked at you, only because you were looking at him too. 

Everything, down to the way you acted and dressed revolved around him. You just couldn’t help it. You wanted, no, needed him to notice you, to see you.  

Yet after what felt like years, his behaviour didn’t seem to change. You tried to convince yourself that he was just excellent at hiding his feelings towards you but if anything, they were on show. 

“Yeah, this is y/n! She’s my best friend, the one I told you about.” A shudder crept up your spine as he introduced you. It shouldn’t have bothered you, but you just couldn’t help it. That’s all you were to him, a best friend. You tried to be grateful, after all you were friends with the fucking Sturniolo triplets. And here you were, pitying yourself because you wanted more with one of them.  

You just couldn’t get over it, over him. How was it fair that he had total control over your mind. The little moments you used to fawn over just turned into self-deprecation. Any other girl you knew that had caught Matt’s eye wasn’t like you. They were prettier and had mastered the art of make-up. Their hair was styled and flawless even after the hours of a party. It was just something you couldn’t do. 

Yet, his hand would still drop over your shoulder, rubbing your skin as you watching a film. He’d insist you borrow his jacket when it got cold, goose bumps rising to your skin. A few of them ended up in your persona collection after he denied the return saying, ‘keep it, they look better on you.’ There had to be something, right? 

Months of trying felt pointless, flirting fell flat and as far as you were concerned? Matt still thought of you the same. You weren’t going to sit around anymore just pining over someone who obviously didn’t feel the same.  

So, when another guy stood in front of you, a hand stretched out as an invitation for a dance, how could you say no. Gawking at Matt wasn’t going anywhere, and you didn’t want to never endlessly pray that he’ll pull you close. Why get your hopes up when an attractive man is stood in front of you now? 

Although, when you placed your hand into his, Matt’s eyes were on you. He liked you, hell that man loved you. He didn’t miss anything you handed out to him. His anxiety just stepped in front whenever he wanted to act upon it. No amount of talks with his brothers fixed that. 

He wasn’t dumb, he saw it burn in the man’s eyes. Lust. He only wanted a quick fuck, he wasn’t a newcomer. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent your time staring at Matt rather than scanning the crowd.  

He tried to ignore it, he really did. But as much as he shared the feeling, he hears your laugh through the group of people. He heard everything. The flaunting, the flirting, and the way you let yourself giggle at any small thing he did. 

After about ten minutes of his eyes tracing where his hands met her body, he’d had enough. He couldn’t believe it took him until you were in the arms of someone else to make him see just how much be didn’t want you to be with anyone else. 

Before either of you knew it, his hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the man.  

“Hey! Matt?! What’s your problem” He didn’t listen, he only waited until you both were secluded. 

“don’t go and dance around him, he’s just in it for a fuck.” 

“Maybe I wanted that.” You crossed your arms, pouting like a small child. 

“As if, you aren’t that type of person.” As much as you wanted to admit it, it felt wrong. You were leaning into another part of yourself. It hurt both of you. 

“Oh really? As if you care about what I do.” Every sour thing came up your throat before you could stop it  

“Excuse me? “His tone changed significantly as he etched closer, his hands now crossed over his chest. 

“You haven’t batted an eye at me in months.” 

“I have.” The more he spoke, the more be admitted things he wasn’t proud of. 

“Hm. When then, name one time.” You wanted to believe him, but if you did. Could you bring yourself to trust him. 

“Literally every night since I realised, I love you.” 

Shit. Now he HAD fucked up. 

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[kaivenom]

Supernovas Victory prize

Summary: Foursome with Luffy, Law and Kid after the Wano battle. A little plot. a lot of porn.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (tap it before you wrap it please) , rough sex, dirty talk, creampies, explicit sex, pussy drunk, weed, foursome.

A/N: this is a request made by someone so it's not really a character x reader so, i leave her some of the info about the OC: her name is Kyna. she is on luffys crew she is a traveler/singer, childhood friend and fuckbuddy with Luffy, before Marineford she became friends with Law and Kid and started being FWB with them too, but none of them knows that she is with the other. She is shameless and carefree, 2 moths younger than Luffy, a switch. Pale skin, Green eyes, afro black hair, medium tits, hour glas. She id 5ft (1.5 m) and has ADHD (so unlimited fuck energy).

The person who request it, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Masterlist

Kaido was finally defeated and your captains and friends were finally healed so that leds to only one thing... party.

Wano organized a really big party for his saviours and even with Luffy not wanting to be rewarded, they still managed to stay and drink.

If someone told you two years ago that now you will be feasting and drinking with the three supernova captains you would laugh like crazy... you weren't even a pirate, just a traveler and singer.

But now the party on the streets was over and every pirate was now on the Sunny... still drinking and taking weed?

The night is starting to turn weird but you accepted the weed that Killer gave you and drinked more. The looks of the three captains were on you, from the distance, unsure if to approach you or not, but you were too lost on the weed and Brook's music to care.

Somehow you moved to the sound of the music and decidede to acompany the skeleton. Your voice raised from the multitude and everyone started to cheer.

You can keep the image of my butt as a souvenir.

That line catched the look of some red haired giant, who was sitting with his legs spread and a big jug of booze, eyes sparkling with something dark.

Please, don't think that the sex is gonna cloud my view.

Now you looked at the tall dark haired one, who almost looks like blushing and maybe even a little embarrased or maybe it's just the blunt on his lips.

My body's not an object or dessert, I am not your bitch

The strawhat, your somehow captain and childhood friend, wasnt having his ussual smile. Seems like the atmosphere is weird with this three. So, you crossed eyes with the green haired one, Zoro, the man you've became friends this weeks and know, you dance partner.

You continued singing but now you get down of the improvised stage and came to the muscular men. He started to approach and you both began slow dancing, bodies close and hands getting frisky. You both smiled and danced a little more, until you started to feel really tired and decided to head to your room. You said good night to the swordsman and dissapeared from the lights, but you had the sensation that someone was following you.

"Hey afro girl." an angry voice sounded behind you and you recognized the red head.

"Hey, big boy, what you want?"

"You know what i want." his hand was on yours, making you open the door while pressing his massive body against yours.

Now in your room, he lifted you from the ground to easily kiss you, being so short means that to kis Kid he would have to bend and apparently he is not on the mood to doblegate himself to you. A big slap landed on your ass and made you moan on his mouth, which he smiled and trowed you on the bed.

"So..." he started getting all of his clothes off, "someone was getting a little slutty with Zoro, guess what, i dont like that and now you will pay for it."

Someone who heard that from outside may think that he will hurt you, but you know he is not like that, so you grined and took off your green dress.

"Are you sure you are capable of making me pay?" his eyes sparkled, he loved when you get like that, challenging him to give you all.

Just when his hands were to touch you breasts, you weren't on the bed anymore. You looked to the cause of your teleportation and of course, Trafalgar Law appeared on the scene. Kid started yelling about how "law doesn't have a bussiness there" but you hid your face cause you know its false.

"Right now, giant idiot i see a problem, apparently you had something with this little brat girl, well, i have something going on with her too."

"That's not true" he said but instantly regret it seeing your blush and hidden face, but he wont demostrate weakness, "thats not true cause i fuck her better, we are on different levels."

"What you said..." now Law's honour was hurt and that made both of them starting to yell, leaving you abandoned on the floor, half naked.

"I had anal." "I made her cum three times on a road," "She squirted with me." "We fucked on the forest."

You were starting to get annoyed and cold on the edge of the door and sudently a cold pressence got on your shoulder.

"Why are they yelling those things?" you almost jumped at the voice of Luffy.

"Well, they are arguing about who... fucks me better."

"I dont judge who you play with but, arent you the supposed to say who makes you feel better?" that phrase made you think "And, i can make it into the votation?"

You smiled and yelled to the other men, waiting for them to turn around to put Luffy's hands on your breasts. Their mouths dropped to the floor.

"The one who fucks me better it's Luffy, the first one to do it and well, none of you two can strech his dick... and he is the best at oral."

You heard a little laugh out of your captain and decided to turn and kiss him. He smiled and grabbed your ass with a lustful look, perfectly knowing that the other two are there and his looks are on your butt. His tongue entered your mouth when he pressed your bodies abruptly, instantly feeling his poking erection.

"That's unfair." you don't even know who of them said it.

"Then come here and prove wrong." you answered while Luffy unclipped your bra, they both looked surprised.

This time, it was Law who made the first move, he made room and get you two on bed while getting your last piece of clothing away, your thong.

"Well, he could me better at oral but nothing compares to the fingers of a good surgeon." that it's true, and his tattoes only make it better.

His fingers circled around your clit with anticipation while the other two started to look intrigued and get close, like if it was a show... somehow it is for them. You moaned when his feather touch got to your clit, you wanted him to do more but you are on clear disvantage here. His other hand grabed your head and pulled you to a sloppy kiss, he clearly is showing off. One of his tattoed fingers finally entered your insides with a puffed moan on his mouth from your part.

"Open your eyes, look at the mess you are making." wet noises are filling the air, but the new thing is that you are being watched by two men that are palming their erections thru their pants, "I bet you like this view, since you slept with all three of us, i think you would enjoy it."

You nodded and gasped while another finger was inserted and the movement of Law's hand became fast and mercyless.

"Use your words, Kyna." that whisper sent shivers down your skin, the fingers pumping your insides are not helping to keep your composure.

"Yes, i like being watched." a new sensation was included to the combo, something on your nipples.

"What do you think you are doing Mugiwara?"

"You cant expect to put her tits in front of me and not lick them, it's my favourite dessert."

You knew that right, Luffy loves sucking your tits, and now, the overstimulation of Luffy sloppy licks, Law tongue kisses and fingers inside you, is making you start to tremble. The ussual knot on your stomach is forming and you started to moan louder.

"Say the name of the one who is making you feel this good."

"Lufffy... Law." in reality, you couldn't chose cause the combination was killing your senses.

With a abruptly shake, your body released a powerfull orgasm, leaving you panting and leaning your wieght on Law's chest.

"You did really good, Kyna." Luffy said while getting down to lick your juices and making you cry from overstimulation.

"Yo, mugiwara-ya, this was my achievement. You don't get to say anything."

"We did more that Kid right there." Luffy puffed against your cunt, vibrations sending you shivers.

You opened your eyes and saw Kid for the first time, massive boner poking thru his pants and a lustful look. You are finally coming down of your high so you decided to lift your leg and point at him, like you were challenging him to finally do something.

With an incredibly speed, he took Luffy and Law of your body and got rid of his clothes. His big arm rolled you over to get on four and a big slap echoed on the room.

"So you are finally doing something."

"You know i am big, really big, i wanted you to get your pussy prepared, cause i am going to fucking break it."

You looked at him, just to see his big cock finally free and red, leaking precum. A few pumps from his big hand and he finally entered you, with a grunt from both of you. His big figure blocked you view from everything and his tongue licked your neck seductively.

"If its hurting you a lot, tell me to stop. Now i am going to move... and i am going to make you cum a lot."

You smiled, even though he is so big and grumpy, he still cares about not hurting you, how cute. Who would say that he cares for you when his cock is now burried deep inside you and your spine is vibrating with every thrust. His strong arms are stoping you from falling of the bed, which is cracking under both of your weights. His metal arm is buzzing from time to time near to your pussy and that makes you chuckle.

"Look at them, i want you to fucking look at them while you are moaning with my dick inside you."

You forced yourself to open your teary eyes and look at the other two, while suddently Kid's pace became brutally fast.

"You saw that losers, your cocks are nothing compared to mine."

That's when you noticed that now Luffy is fully pumping his dick at your view while Trafalgar is still clothed.

Your orgasm was close again but suddently Kid slowed his pace.

"Fuck, your pussy is so thight, if i keep moving i will cum." he said with a grunty voice and a glad look?

"Fucking bastard, i was almost there, dont stop now." you dont usually show this side of you to Kid but you are desperate. "if you dont move now, i would squeeze your balls until i breaks them."

You thought for a moment that he would stop fully to punish you but a hard thrust made you lose balance and almost fall, completely robbing your hability to breath.

"If you want it then get it, what you were saying? you were almost there, then lets cum together." a little laugh and more slaps came to your ass.

The pace was unbelievable so soon enough you rolled your eyes and toes, i little string of saliva came down your mouth and finally you got to your high.

"Fuck, that was good. I think i am going too now, i hope you dont mind inside."

A wimpher came out of his mouth, he always does that when he is cumming, and the hot cum painted your insides. He laid on the bed next to you and gave you a final playful slap.

"That was good." a breatheless smile came out of both of your faces and you kissed his red lips.

You took a moment to breathe and a bottle apeaped in front of you.

"Drink it, we dont want you to pass out." you smiled at Law's action while Luffy and Kid looked jelaous.

Soon enough you got yoru energy back so you managed to get up and walk to Law's chair. His eyes followed you all the way till you got to your knees. You didn't break eye contact with him while you undo his belt, and free his cock. A smile appeared on his face and went down to kiss you and finally getting rid on his clothes.

A few pumps from your hand and you sit on his lap to sink on his cock with a moan from you two. You hid your face on his neck and felt his hands press your butt to start moving you slowly.

"Aahhh god, your pussy feels so good. We havent done this in a long time, i almost forgot how well you feel while riding my cock."

With the help of Law's hands, you can reach a new level of rythm. Your arms are around his neck and you get the oportunity to kiss him with tongue.

You smiled and increased your speed to reach your high. Your pussy was hot from all the overstimulation but you have the energy and the need.

"Don't let me fall, or your dick would break." you tried to sound as logical as posible and he let out a small laugh.

"If you break my dick i won't care that much, but i prefer to cum inside you." his hands secured your tights and you could finally reach full speed.

Law was close too, you can sense it cause he is blushing a lot on his head was falling backwards. With a suddent move he circled your waist and inmovilized your moves, now thrusting himself into you.

"Fuck..." you scratched him back while finally cumming, both at the same time.

You gave him a little final kiss and got up, now the cum dripping down your legs. You pointed Luffy and he finally got up, it's his time. He went to you and kissed you, one of his hands streching to your cunt and puttign all the cum back inside you.

Now that Kid got out of the bed, you laid there and openned your legs for him to see.

"You are always the best food." he got on the bed inserted himself on you, "sorry, i am really needy for you... you dont know how crazy you make me."

He hid his face on your neck and started to slowly thrust into you. Something on your stomach started to feel weird.

"Luffy, are you really stretching your dick right now?"

"What a better moment to do it than this?" you laughed while his thrusts became faster.

"Ouch, dont strecth it that much."

He kissed you in a sort way to say sorry, and you sense his decreasing a little. His lips are puffing your moans or sucking your tits.

His sweat and body temperature became too much to handle, scratching his back with your nails while you are finally getting at your limit.

His dick exploded inside you, and you could feel how the cum dripped down your legs. You cant are exhausted and decided to finally go to sleep. Your eyes closing without any warning, finally the efects of the weed taking your body.

----------------

You woke up on the middle of the night with the bodies of the three of them around you, your head on Kid's chest, Law being the big spoon and Luffy's head on your ass. You smiled remembering everything, they aren't ussually this rough or passional, your body is bruised cause of that... maybe they took the same amount of weed as you, you thought, cause you didn't saw them as the type of men to share a girl. But you couldnn't care more cause you felt asleep again.

----------------

Morning came and you woke up, this time with your full energy again. And you realized that they left you alone on the bed, but they cleaned you up so not bad. You couldn't be mad at them, they are captains so, they cant stay in bed that much.

"Morning." the door oppened and Luffy came inside with food.

"Morning" you answered seductively, he got the message instantly.

"My head is spinning from tonight and you still have the energy to fuck again?"

"You know i always have energy, especially for this."

You smashed your lips together and made him come to the bed, but this time you had another plan. You separated your lips and got to his boxers, putting your naked ass on his face.

"Since you are tired we can do this. But if you cant then i will go to..."

Inmediatly he pushed your hips down and started to lick like a starved men. You decided to start sucking his dick to make it hard and massage his balls. Soon enough his member got really hard with pulsating veins. Moaning on his dick was inevitable and the vibrations only made him chuckle on your pussy. Small bites and playfull licks made you go crazy.

"God, your pussy is so sweet and delicious, i could be here all my life. It's so red and juicy."

How it's not going to be red from tonight activities? you thought. You manage to deepthroat him and he finally came. His tongue entered your pussy while you were swallowing his cum, but that didn't stop the orgasm that drove your body to tremble.

"Oh, fuck, you do this so good, and seeing all the marks on your body just makes it better" he said with a smile moving you to sit on his chest, licking the remanents of your juices on his chin.

His belly made some noise and it was clear that you had some hunger too.

You finished eating and dress up, passing thru the mirror you clearly saw that the slaps and the bites made their marks on your body.

So you went to the yellow tank, proudly walking on a top and shorts, meeting eyes with Law, that now it's really flustered.

He pushed you to his room and you laid on the bed, leaving your ass up.

"What do you think you are doing? you want me to pass out on the deck?"

"Dont lie to me and yourself, we both know you love this marks." you lifted your ass a little more, "maybe you can make more?"

His face was surprised, tempted, not believing the situation or how you still have energy.

"You are such a fucking brat, gosh, why i can't tell you no."

You smiled while he unzipped his pants, just to free his cock that is alerady hard.

"Look at you, i said that you were really turned on."

He grunted and put his hands on your wrists, keeping you from rolling over and looking at him.

"If you are so eager to lif your ass then do it now for me."

In this position of prone bone, he entered slowly, almost saying something cause you are already wet and dilated. But he didn't say anything just started moving really fast, knowing that wont hurt you. Sloppy sounds filling the room and mixing wtih both of your moans. A couple of minutes later, his cock twitched inside you and the release came again.

"Fuck, i was planning of lasting a little but god, this position and your ass and fuck... yesterday, i am a little exhausted." you almost oved to get out, sad that you didnt reach your high but his legs locked your. "i didnt say i was over."

His thrusts were erratic due to him still being on his high, pushing his cum inside of you again, and that sensation made you orgasm soon after him.

"Thanks, my surgeon." with a breathy moan you started to dress up and kissed him, "i will see you around."

"You are unbelievable."

"That why you come back to me always."

You smiled and got out with your final stop on mind. You got to the deck of the Victoria Punk and to the kitchen, where you saw Kid chugging a lot of water.

"You know that only works directly after drinking, right?"

"Shut up." you smirked and sat on the table, getting off your shorts and moving your pants to the side.

"Kid..." you almost singed to make him turn around, the jar almost dropped at the view of your cunt.

"My god, you only got presents for me."

He unbuckle his pants and got his boxers down to his feet. His big cock was a littly fluffy, which you looked funny at him.

"Not everyone has such a high sex drive. WHy dont you help it woke up?" with that order your hand traveled to his dick and started to pump it until it stiffen on your fingers. "gosh, your hand works wonders on me, every time."

With two fingers he tested how streched you were, making a sarcastic grin when it entered so easily and got out painted in white. His metalic arm holded your leg on his shoulder. And finally his cock entered on you.

"Fuck, you are really wet you needy girl."

He didnt waste time on foreplay or cute things, he directly started to pound into you at a monster pace. His cock was filling your insides so much that breathing was difficult sometimes. Moaning really loud was inevitable and you wished that nobody came inside the kitchen.

The feeling on your stomach was starting to get strong again.

"Fuck, your fucking pussy, i am going to..." you both cummed at the same time, with a broken moan and a low groan.

He pulled out and the white liquid spread to the floor, which you looked at him worried and shaking.

"Don't worry, Killer will clean it."

"No i wont." Killer's voice sounded from the other side of the kitchen's wall and Kid became a red tomato.

"Hello Killer, sorry, Kid will cleaned." you looked at the embarrased redhair, now his face is the same colour as his hair. "good morning big boy."

You kissed his neck, cause you coudln't reach higher even on the table, and decided to finally go an take a shower.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 48

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 45, part 46, part 47

Everyone forms a circle in Steve’s living room. Sitting crossed legged on the floor, waiting. Some people are missing, El wanted to stay with her dad, and Jonathan’s still avoiding Nancy at all costs. There’s a walkie in the center of the circle, open to the same channel. If El needed them, she could listen.

Steve, Robin, and Nancy are talking in the kitchen. Probably getting a little bit drunk. Coping in a way that they won’t let the rest of them. Trying to be the strong ones, when they don’t have to. Tonight’s going to be rough for all of them, they could break just once without consequence.

It’s almost time, Dustin goes to get them.

“Nance,” he hears Robin say, “he won’t come. He’s still pissed at you.”

“And me,” Steve adds.

A glass gets placed hard on the counter. “I don’t care. Before all of this, he was my friend.” He hears their steps move toward the front door and the rustle of keys. “We were there for each other when this started, we’re going to be there for each other as it ends.”

“But if he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Steve tries to reason.

“I don’t care.” There’s a slight waiver to Nancy’s voice. Dustin’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry over this. Seen any of them cry over this. “I don’t know how I can get through this without him, and I’m not going to find out.”

Dustin walks to the hall as the front door opens. Jonathan’s behind it, looking like he was in the middle of a debate with himself. He doesn’t look good. Eyes red rimmed and drooping. Clothes rumpled and looked like they were a few days old.

“Hey,” he says with a hollow voice.

“Hi,” Nancy responds.

He clears his throat. “I’m still pissed at you, but—” he trails off.

“I know.”

The clock on the wall ticks five minutes till nine. “Guys,” Dustin calls down the hall. “It’s almost time.”

Steve’s head nods, solemn. “Let’s go.”

Eddie’s there when they return to the living room, sitting on the floor. “Kids said I could join,” he says to Steve. Something unreadable in his eyes. “Is that ok?”

“Course it is,” Steve says as he sits next to Eddie. Closer than Dustin was expecting.

The circle closes and they join hands. Tangible proof that everyone is still here. Dustin is between Robin and Erica, with Steve just on the other side of Robin. Right there. Alive.

Right on cue, the fireworks start.

Dustin squeezes his eyes shut with the first boom. Sparks visualize in his mind. Red arms of flesh swinging at him. He takes the fireworks and throws it. They win, but at what cost.

Erica tightens her grip on his hand. He squeezes back to show her he’s alive.

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

“Still alive,” he responds. Voice wet.

Dustin feels her shift closer to him.

He forces his eyes open, forces the visions to stop. Those of the group who have their eyes open meet his gaze. All of them in a state of fear or grief. They are all in this together. The fireworks continue to boom.

Nancy keeps looking over to Mike to make sure he’s there. Before nodding at each of them, counting heads. Jonathan’s legs are pulled up to his chest. Will keeps flinching his one arm, ready to feel the eeriness creep at his neck. Lucas moved his arm around Erica’s shoulders, holding her close.

He looks at all of them and knows that he isn’t alone. He isn’t alone in his pain, or his wishing things could be different. As Mike and Nancy look at each other again, he knows they spend so much time wishing the other wasn’t a part of this. As Max can’t hold in her cries anymore, he knows that Lucas wishes he never told her about the upside down that day.

As Steve mutters out a quiet, “I work at Scoops,” Dustin wishes he never dragged him into this.

But the past can’t change. It’s already been written. Dustin can hope and wish and pray that things played out differently. He can blame himself for the rest of his life, but it won’t change anything. Because their paths would have always converged in the same way. Always leading them here.

The radio crackles in the center of the circle, El’s voice comes through. “Almost over.”

He knows that he’ll always probably blame himself. That he will always wish that things were different. That he’ll wish the nightmares were normal ones about his teeth falling out in class or forgetting he had a test. He’ll wish that time was different, that his life never had to change like this. But maybe he can make peace with the fact that it will never change.

Maybe he can make peace that these people don’t blame him for this. They’ll wish the same as him, that they never got involved, but it was inevitable. That night when Will went missing, it changed the paths for everyone in this room. Choices were made that can’t be taken back, and they’ll regret some of them for the rest of their lives.

But, with each other, they can move forward from this as one and finally heal. The last fight has been fought. Been won. As the time moves forward, so can they. Together.

“Brace yourselves,” Dustin whispers, knowing what the big finale is like. They all wait for it to end.

He used to love fireworks. Would beg his mom to bring him to the fair every year just so he could see him. And when he was old enough, he would bike there with the party and just stand there in awe. The perfect mix of science, his greatest love, making art in the sky.

As the last boom of the night rings through the air, Dustin hopes he can enjoy it again someday. He promises himself that one day, he will.

No one moves for a few minutes after they end. Sitting still to calm the beatings of their hearts. They made it through.

Almost in synchrony, they all start to move. Standing up, wiping the tears from their eyes. Returning to normal. Finding themselves again.

“Steve?” Eddie asks softly after Steve doesn’t move. Sitting there rigid.

He nods. “I’m ok.” He straightens his back, revealing the wet trail of tears down his cheeks. “You ready?” he asks Robin.

“Yeah.”

She gets up first, holding out her hand for him. They go in two different directions. Robin getting a bag from the hallway, while Steve grabs a bottle of alcohol from the cabinet and a box of matches.

Dustin follows them as they go outside. “What are you guys doing?”

Steve places the bottle of alcohol, what looks like expensive tequila, next to the fire pit. “After that night, we made a pact. A year from then, we burn our uniforms.”

“To prove that we made it out,” Robin continues, her voice sounding dry. “To prove that we never have to go back.”

She hands Steve the bag and he dumps the uniforms into the fire pit. The blood and sweat soaked uniforms ready to be set ablaze.

Steve unscrews the tequila and pours it over them, wasting more than he probably should.

“You want to do the honors,” he asks Robin, handing her the box of matches.

She takes it with shaky hands, striking the match and tossing it into the pit. The fire starts instantly.

Robin sobs as she falls into Steve. His cries are silent as he wraps her in a hug. Holding each other as they watch the outfit from the worst night of their lives burn to ash. Dustin walks back inside, letting them have this moment to themselves.

Eddie is watching from the sliding doors. “What are they burning?”

“Their Scoops uniforms, they were wearing them when it all went down.”

Nancy walks up to the door. “I never knew what happened to them that night, every time I try to ask, they avoid answering it.”

She looks at Dustin for answers he doesn’t even know the whole of. “I think they were tortured. When we went into that bunker, we got separated. They held the door closed so me and Erica could escape into the vent. After we rescued them, Steve’s face was beaten up and they were tied to chairs, and drugged. I never got any confirmation, but I knew.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes out. Still staring out the glass. His arms held close to his chest.

“Do you remember their faces when we went into that vent,” Erica asks from behind them. “They were scared, but they still chose to save us.”

Dustin turns, seeing the group that had formed behind him. All watching the fire outside. He nods. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

“There are so many things from that night that I won’t forget,” Max speaks up.

“There are so many things from the last four years that I won’t forget,” Mike adds.

Will reaches to grab his hand. “Yeah.”

“We should go back to the living room,” Nancy says. “So we’re not just staring at them.”

Eddie is the last to leave the room, still staring at them through the door.

“He’s been acting weird all week," he explains as Dustin hangs back. “I knew it had to be something bad, I just didn’t imagine that.”

“No one wants to imagine half the things that we’ve been through.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They rejoin the group in the living room. Jonathan grabs his keys and fills his car with the people who want to go home. Him and Nancy talking before he leaves. She hangs around, making sure everyone left is taken care of.

Eddie just sits on the couch, looking out of place. But he’s waiting for something, Dustin can tell.

“Hey,” Mike nudges Dustin’s shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re going over to my house for the night. Just in case you didn’t want to go home.”

Dustin thinks about it. He was going to see if he could stay the night here. Be close to Steve. But he might be ok. And by not being here, Steve could worry about just himself for a night. Not Dustin as well.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Eventually, Steve and Robin come back inside. Robin nods at Nancy before climbing the stairs up to Steve’s room. Steve and Eddie share a look when they pass. He stops and places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug, before following Robin up the stairs.

Before Eddie can get to his room, Dustin stops him. “I’m going over to Mike’s, call me if anything happens.”

Eddie nods. “I got them, don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

Nancy waits by the door. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin follow her out to the car. They drive to the house is quiet. Everyone is still reeling from tonight.

Jonathan’s car is parked out on the street when they get there. Will, Max, and Erica coming out with their bags.

“You could stay too, you know,” Nancy says to Jonathan. “No one should be alone tonight.”

“I thought about it, but I think it’s better if I go home.”

Nancy nods, accepting.

“See you around, Nance,” he says before getting back in his car.

“You could stay in the basement with us,” Mike offers, “if you need to.”

Nancy nods again, blinking away the tears in her eyes. Following them inside.

The basement floor is covered in blankets and pillows. Everyone finding a spot to lie down comfortably. Dustin stares at the ceiling, waiting for the tired fall of his eyes. So he can wake up tomorrow and feel better. Feel less like pure dread.

Slowly, he can hear the people around him start to fall asleep. Tomorrow will be better than today, he repeats in his mind. Peaceful sleep taking over.

the notes you guys left on my last post literally made my day, you have no idea. hugs for all of you.

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[kurokawaia]

❛ RAGE HASHIRA ❜

Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Reader

WC; 500+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW ::

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Hi there! I love your work and was wondering if you could please write Giyuu x fem!reader who is the Hashira of Rage? She’s known to be very rude and brash with everyone but she acts super sweet and lovesick around Giyuu because she has a huge crush on him? Bonus points if he’s clueless about her feelings for him! (I love my dense king 🤞) - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

It's the end of a hard worked training day with the cadets. Your presence was scary, is what the cadets say and you knew. Your eyes are sharp, your tongue is sharper and your patience? well, that was little to nothing. 

But there was one exception.

Across the courtyard is where your eyes trailed to, Tomioka who stood alone, And in an instant, your heartbeat rose up dramatically. I guess that's what happens when you're in love. To which, you are still surprised about, he's so calm, so patient (you suppose) and you're the opposite, complete opposite.

Opposites attract you guess...

He's so beautiful, you thought you would melt and you do melt, whenever you're around him, you melt into a puddle. 

"Hey, Rage Hashira," a voice sneered, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Sanemi smirking at you, arms crossed. "Didn't think I'd catch you daydreaming. What's got your eye today, huh?"

Your glare was instant. "Mind your own business, Sanemi, unless you're begging for a spar you know you'll lose."

Sanemi's smirk faltered, and he huffed, walking away and you roll your eyes. God, he's annoying. You turned back to Giyuu, your expression softening once more. He was looking at the koi pond now, lost in thought. 

"Giyuu," you called, your voice unnaturally soft compared to how you spoke to everyone else. He turned to you.

"{Y/N}," he acknowledged. No more, no less. He blinked an owl-like stare that made your stomach flip. He never spoke much, but his presence was enough for you.

"I... uh... saw you out here and thought you might want some company," you said, trying to keep your tone from trembling. 

Giyuu nodded slowly. "That's... fine."

Your lips curved into a smile—one that would have shocked the entire corps if they saw it. "Thanks," you said, your voice full of warmth that you had reserved only for him.

You sat beside him, close enough that the fabric of your haori brushed his. Silence settled between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. 

He glanced at you, brows knitting slightly. "You're quieter than usual today."

You let out a laugh, light and genuine. "What, do you miss me yelling at everyone?"

His lips twitched—just a bit, not enough for anyone else to call it a smile, but you'd take it. "No," he said simply. And then, after a moment, he added, "It's... different."

The words warmed you more than a compliment from anyone else ever could. You were about to respond when Sanemi's earlier comment rang in your mind. Your jaw tightened. Maybe it was time to test the waters.

"You know, Giyuu," you began, "I've been told I'm softer around you."

He blinked at that, head tilting slightly. "Softer?"

"Yeah. Maybe it's because I... I like having you around."

It was the closest you'd come to confessing, and your chest tightened.

"That's good," he said, turning his gaze back to the pond. "I like having you around too."

And a hopeless smile spread across your face, your head burying itself to your knees as a red blush coats your cheeks. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[bunniesanddeer]

Hate: Part Two

Part two to this fic: Part One

Pairings: Alastor X Reader, (Hints of Angel Dust/Husk)

Warnings: Reader still hates Alastor, Reluctant enemies to enemies with benefits, angst, so much angst, Angel is a good friend, SMUT

Word Count: 5,109

MINORS DNI

Everything was awkward, now. You couldn’t look in any direction without being faced with evidence of his existence. He was absolutely everywhere, and not always in person. His coat folded neatly over the arm of a chair. The spices in the cupboard that he got specifically for when he made dinner. The red radio in the library. His scent lingered in your bed, even after the sheets had been changed twice. The bruises had stayed for weeks, dull green marks pressed into the dimples of your hips. 

Sometimes, when he spoke, you had such a visceral, subconscious reaction. Your body would jolt, your ears pricking and swiveling. It was embarrassing how obvious it was, but thankfully for you, the worst was over. Your heat had long ended, and you had made it a goal to avoid ever interacting with him again.

Alastor, being the bastard he was, made it as difficult as possible. It seemed that when you told him that nothing would change, he made it his goal to continue to piss you off as much as possible. He would be outside your door when you woke up on the weekend, and would insist on walking you down to breakfast. If he was at the table, he’d pull out your chair, and dare you to deny him in front of Charlie. (How could you? The puppy eyes she gave you whenever you turned to take another chair could kill someone). So you’d sit, and he’d give you the most shit-eating grin every time. It made your skin crawl. 

Alastor would find time to ask you about whatever you were doing. He’d ask insane questions, and he’d follow you around if you tried to ignore him. You’d be talking to Angel, and Alastor would leer over your shoulder, getting impossibly close without actually touching you. You quickly learned how to keep your expression flat, but your conversation partner, often Angel or Husk, would always react, making it harder. 

There was one line, however, that he never crossed again. He never went inside your room. On multiple occasions he’d asked, but you’d firmly said no, (if a “fuck no, die,” was a firm no). He’d take your answer, and mosey on his way. 

And so you suffered under his strange attentions for several weeks. Charlie did her best to give him tasks to keep the two of you separated, when she could, but he was eerily efficient, all in the name of bugging you some more. Vaggie, on multiple occasions, had offered to skewer him with her spear, but you’d denied, the thought of Charlie’s dismay stopping you. 

Angel, nearing his namesake, (not the drug, thank Lucifer), was always close at hand when he wasn’t at work. And one night, seeing how stressed you were, he decided it was time to let loose. 

“C’mon babe! You know you want to-”, Angel crooned, swinging the bottle of liquor in front of your face. Husk huffed in the background, shaking his head lovingly. “Come onnnnnnn. Let loose with me, an’ ol’ Husky!”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, and shrug your shoulders. “Alright, you bitch. Fine. Pour me one.”

Angel pumps two of his hands in the air, and then just hands you the bottle. You stare flabbergasted at the bottle, and he just laughs. “Oh, you can down that straight! I’ve seen you. Don’t even lie to me right now.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter as you take a swig. You immediately wince. Whatever Angel handed you burns like hell, and you can’t help but take a glance at the label to try and figure out what it is. It’s written in French, and unfortunately tastes like licorice. “God, what is this?”

“It appears to be absinthe, my dear,” Alastor’s voice drawls from above you. You jump, nearly dropping the bottle. Your heart is pounding, and all you can think to do is glare at him. His smile wedges wider, and you want to punch his ugly yellow teeth in. 

Without responding, you whip your head around and glare at Angel. “You gave me fucking absinthe? What’s the fucking — what’s the alcohol percentage?” You peer down at the label, and struggle to find the percentage. Alastor’s claw taps at small numbers underneath the name. 

“74%. Definitely French, although how you got that down here, my friend, I would very much like to know.” Alastor peers down at the bottle with renewed interest, and you can’t help but agree. This is from the mortal plane, and goods from there are rare. Someone had to smuggle it, and there are only so many that have access. You hum, and then the shock hits you.

“YOU GAVE ME THIS? Oh my goodness! Angel! Do you know how much this must cost?!” You rush to set it down on Husk’s bar top, and back away from it. “Dude! Not cool.” Your ears pin back, and you give Angel a light swat. He just keeps laughing, and Husk seems to be joining in.

“Figured you could use the stress relief, kid. It’s all yours.” Husk says it like it means nothing, still cleaning up behind the bar, but your eyes go wide. Husk is so rarely nice like this, and it makes your chest ache. You have friends. You have friends and you absolutely love them. 

Your eyes are on the verge of tearing up, but you swallow it down. “Aw, I love you too!”

Angel laughs, pointing a finger at Husk, and hugs you with his extra arms. “We love you too, doll! Now let’s get drinking!”

You can hear a scoff come from the demon behind you, but you ignore it. Who cares what he thinks? You ask for a shot glass from Husk, grab the bottle, and settle in on one of the couches. Unfortunately, Alastor follows, and settles in the armchair across from you. You settle a glare on him, and then pour yourself a drink. You are going to ignore him, you can do this.

Husk and Angel settle on the other couch, and Angel points at you. “We’re gonna play a game! To spice things up. So, tell me toots, what’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?”

You cock your head. “Mortal, or down here?”

Angel’s face scrunches up as he thinks. “Mortal,” he decides. No one has really shared much about their mortal lives, so it’s relatively interesting. 

“Well, if we’re talking about something I survived, then probably dislocating my shoulder. Most intense pain I had ever felt. Boyfriend had grabbed my armed and pulled a little too hard. But, if it’s not surviving that matters, probably how I died.” You don’t think on it too long, the pain flaring in your shoulder as if it had just happened. It had really hurt, too.

Angel leans forward, and even Alastor’s ear prick up. You try to keep from letting your gaze slide to him. “Ooo! How’d you die? C’mon! Tell me. You’ve gotta!”

Angel’s excitement nearly makes your eyes roll out of your head. Of course, he’d be interested, the bastard. 

“I’m not gonna give you all the details,” you start, downing the shot and ignoring his sad ‘aw’. “But I will say, that the other guy got worse. Bet the asshole is drifting around down here.” You can’t help the sour look that passes over your face. You’d been in your late twenties, and some guy went and screwed over everything. 

Alastor cocks his head, clearly intrigued. The look on his face tells you he very much wants to ask a question, but is restraining himself. The ‘why’ itches the back of your skull, but you just feel annoyed with yourself. You keep glancing over at him. 

“Anyway. My turn. Uh. Husk. How much can you drink in five minutes?” Your face burns, and you just want this annoying feeling to go away.

“We don’t have enough to prove it.” His tail lazily twitches behind him, and his face is the epitome of boredom. You and Angel just blink at him. Laughter bursts out of the two of you, and a smile twitches across Husk’s face.

“Wowza! Was not expecting that to be yer answer, babes.” Angel wipes a tear from his eyes, and leans back. “Your turn.”

Husk hums and glances at Alastor before turning back to Angel. “Would you eat a cockroach for fifty bucks?”

“Wha— no? They’re like, basically my cousins babe! That’s fuckin’ gross!”

Your whole body lurches, desperately wanting to laugh, but your brain is halted, trying to process his answer. A glance across from you, and Alastor’s eyebrows are hitched nearly to his hairline. He glances back at you, and you can’t help it. You laugh so hard that it hurts. Your belly aches, and your ribs have a stitch growing in them. Your ears pin back as you try to calm yourself down, but it’s all so absurd; your friends, the asshole in the room. Everything is just so screwed up right now. (If you don’t laugh, maybe you’ll cry, and that’s so much more embarrassing). 

“Sorry,” you start to say, taking a swig directly from the bottle. “Just, thought it was funny.”

All three men in the room are giving you strange looks, and you want to shrink in on yourself. God, could they not look anywhere else?

“Your turn, Angel,” you say, gently prodding him to start the conversation back up.

“Oh! Right. Hey Al, what’s your favorite position?”

You and Husk stiffen, and turn your attention to Alastor. His brows are pressed together, and his fingers twitch.

“What ever could you mean?” You can’t tell if he’s genuinely confused or if he’s annoyed. He’s always so good at shadowing one emotion with another, or maybe you are terrible at reading him, You never could discern between his expressions.

Angel laughs, and waves a hand. “Oh, come on, Al! You know, in bed. What’s your favorite position in bed?”

“Asleep,” Alastor bluntly replies, and it draws a snort from you. His eyes meet yours for a second as his grin grows. You stare at the floor.

“No, no! For sex, Al. What’s your favorite sex position?” 

You cringe, and from the corner of your eye, can see Alastor’s leg twitch, shifting when he’s normally so still. 

When the quiet pause lasts longer than you thought it would, you look up, and Alastor is staring straight at you. His gaze is intense, and his smile is as close to being flat as it could be, (excluding that night. The line of his mouth, the softness in his eyes), and he’s just staring at you. His brows furrow and smoothen, and the corner of his mouth twists. 

“I think I prefer it on all fours.” He cocks his head, and his sharp smile grows wide. His eyes narrow, and you feel like prey, caught in the claws of its demise. Your ears flatten back as he speaks, “I like them on their belly.”

You stand up, setting the bottle down on the coffee table, and point at him. “FUCK YOU!”

Husk and Angel watch on, eyes wide. Angel settles a hand on Husk’s knee, and squeezes.

“Fuck you Alastor! You came to ME! Not the other way around!” You clench your teeth together, trying to force down your shaking. You’re so fed up.

“Wait, what?” You hear Angel mutter, but Alastor is standing up, and it’s all you can focus on.

“Yes, but it was you who needed me. Don’t pretend like you did not like it, my dear! Nothing can change that it happened. There’s no point in pretending it didn’t.” He sounds so calm, and it infuriates you. He doesn’t get to pull this shit with you. You want him down on your level.

“Oh-ho. No. I told you nothing would change. I was EXPLICIT with that fact. I hate your fucking guts. Just because Hell decided your dick was the only one my body wanted, doesn’t change that. You don’t get to just be a goddamn puppy now, constantly begging for my attention! Why are you like that? Stop following me around! I hate you! You hate me! Get the fuck over it!”

His eyes are narrowed, and his ears tipped back. “So presumptuous, ma douce. You think to understand my motives, and you barely understand yours.”

You bare your teeth at him. “You snuck into my room, for my attention. You’re so damn desperate. Is that what this is? You want me to like you that bad, that you’ll fuck me to get it?”

Alastor’s expression screams that he thinks you’re stupid. “Oh, you know nothing, do you, dearest?”

“Fuck you.”

“You already have.”

Angel stands up, setting himself between you. You hadn’t even noticed that the two of you had stepped closer to each other. “Whoa, whoa. Calm down.” He turns to Alastor. “You went to their room? You told me you were leaving for the night!”

Alastor answers without missing a beat. “I lied.”

You want to scream. You pull at your hair, and turn to the side, trying to slow your breathing. This insufferable bastard. 

“I’m going to bed,” you finally huff. You take off towards the stairs. You just want to go to bed. Fuck everything. All of them. He makes your head hurt. 

Halfway to your room, you notice the static. He’s following you. Great.

You turn around, and glare at him. “What do you want?”

His expression is strangely open. His smile is smaller than usual, and he keeps glancing behind him. Why is his behavior always like this? So back and forth. You can never understand him.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” He finally says. His brows pinch together, and he opens his mouth, but shuts it again.

“I have. It’s easy.” You lie. It’s such a lie. When you are in bed at night, you can feel the ghost of his hands trailing your thighs, your neck. You can feel him cradle your head as he presses a strange kiss to your shoulder. It’s an ache, but the deep burning hatred is stronger. It burns the ghosts to ash, and it leaves you feeling empty. 

Alastor seems hurt by your words, but almost as if he expected them. “I want to do it again. I want—” He stops himself, hesitating. You just want him to get it over with so you can go to bed. It’s all so exhausting. “I want to touch you again, ma biche. I have been trying to get you to spend time with me, so I could bring it up naturally, but I have not been able to find the time or the words appropriate.” He swallows, and shifts, and you can feel his static swell. “I have never wanted someone before. It’s normally an urge that is easily handled alone, but you are different. I want to know why. And I want to get rid of this feeling. It’s hard to concentrate.” He coughs, and avoids your gaze for a moment, before staring back at you.

You fucking knew it. This asshole. Of course, this is what it is. He just wants his dick wet again, now that he’s had you. You scoff.

“Is that all this is for? Are you kidding me?” You frown at him and shake your head. “This is ridiculous.” You take a deep breath. “Will you leave me alone if we have sex?”

His expression twitches, and for some reason you feel like he is about to lie. “Yes, I suppose I can do that.”

You want to scream. You want to drag him to your room. You want to throw something. You settle on asking, “My room or yours?”

The two of you go to your room. He mutters about not having your scent in his room, and you shrug. You’re closer to yours anyway. 

When you enter the room, you start to strip off your clothing, anger clouding any shame. You can hear his noise of surprise, but make your way to the bed, ignoring him. Down to your bra and underwear, you sit on the bed, looking over him. 

“How are we doing this?” You want to poke at him over his comment from earlier, but decide not to. 

“I believe that I would like you in my lap. I’ve been having… dreams about it.” Alastor struggles to say it while unbuttoning his shirt. You quietly watch while processing his request. You’d have to be facing him. Can you do that? Would looking at his face prevent orgasm, or would it not matter? You hum, and nod.

“Alright. No kissing though.” He acquiesces, and settles onto the edge of the bed, shucking off his pants. His briefs are loose, and black. 

“Where should I be?” His question is asked softly, and it makes you hesitate to be mean. You decide to just focus on the act, and not who he is. It’s better that way, isn’t it? 

“Do you want me riding, or actually in your lap? If you want the former, just lie down. For the latter, sit up, settle against the headboard.” You gesture with your hands, and stand up to remove your undergarments. He eyes your motions as he sits against the headboard. You internally sigh. You really wish that isn’t what he wanted. 

He’s still wearing his briefs when you settle into his lap. His legs are bony, and they press awkwardly against your ass, so you wriggle to get comfortable. Alastor’s hands, thin and graceful, and incredibly sharp at the ends, settle on your hips. (You have to beg your mind not to focus on the fact that you’ll likely have a new set of bruises, overlapping prettily with the last set). 

Alastor’s head is level with yours, the tall bastard, so you turn yours into the crux of his neck, and sigh. Alright, you’re doing this again. You can do it. It doesn’t matter that you really want to punch him. His dick is kind of nice. You can do this. 

You roll your hips against him, starting a gentle rhythm. His fingers squeeze you, and you can tell he’s holding back. His grip is soft, and his thumbs rub back and forth, tracing a lazy pattern into your skin. You take a deep breath in, and immediately regret it. His scent is incredibly strong at his neck. It feels overwhelming, and you have to blink repeatedly to drive the dizziness away. 

The gentle rhythm of your hips eventually makes it clear that he’s getting hard. His thumbs hesitate every couple of thrusts, as if the feeling was too much for him to even lazily move his fingers back and forth. His cock rubbing against you, even through two layers of fabric, is kind of nice, you have to admit. Alastor feels nice, and the warmth of him is enjoyable too. You can’t tell if you are trying to convince yourself, or if that is how you actually feel. You don’t get to find out, because his hands grip down harder.

“Can I rock your hips, dearest?” His voice is rough, and the sudden noise makes you glance at him. His gaze is fuzzy, and he seems unfocused. The look wrecks you; he’s being vulnerable, the bastard, and you can barely look at him. You barely manage a nod, but his sharp grin is your reward.

His tight grip on your hips shifts just a little lower, to the crux of your hips and outer thighs. He presses you down onto his erection, and rocks you against him. The easy way he moves your whole body reminds you of the strength in his lithe body. You can’t help the admiration you feel, although it is quickly drowned out by the rocking of your body.

“Ma bichette, you feel so good,” he whispers. He presses you down rougher, and it feels as if he’s trying to slide into you through the scraps of fabric dividing you. “I want to feel you, dearest. I want to fill you and hold you. Je veux vous faire plaisir, mon cœur. You are so good for me, let me make you feel good.”

You rear up, pressing your hands against his chest as your eyes widen in shock. He absolutely pushed too far. That upsetting feeling from your heat is back. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes again. He is being far too nice, but you love it. You want him to make you feel good, want him to call you nice things. The anger that festers in your belly, that ever present loathing is blanketed by desire for him, and you give in. 

“Okay,” you quietly reply. Alastor’s eyes flutter, and then he is lifting you up on your knees, and attempting to remove your underwear. You assist him, and then sit back to let him remove his own. You settle back in his lap, your naked sex against his cock. The heat lifts a groan from you. You look at him, take in the mess of his hair, the set of his eyes, and you frown. “No kissing,” you remind him. You can’t let him cross that boundary. You’ve only kissed people you loved, and you hate him. Obviously. 

There’s a twitch of his brows, but he assents. His large hands settle back on you. One sits flush against the front of your thighs, and his thumb brushed against the hood of your clit. You gently huff, and roll your hips against him. Alastor’s hips twitch, and he groans.

His touch is perfectly coordinated, his eyes settled on your flushed, and quickly growing wet, sex. His teeth separate, and you can feel his hot breath fan across your face. It doesn’t smell the way you thought it might. 

“You are a sight, my dear. So pretty. I want to fill you, and see how far that blush of yours spreads.” His eyes flick up to your face, briefly, and then he's focused on the tight circles of his thumb on your clit. 

You don’t have the time to think of a response, because he’s pressing harder. White noise fills your ears, and with a single sharp thrust of his hips against yours, you feel your body clenching down on nothing. Your head tilts back, and your hands reach out, trying to grasp onto anything. You find purchase on his shoulders, and dig your blunted claws in, letting out a cry. You can hear Alastor’s grunt, but can barely focus on it. He just keeps circling his thumb. 

“Yes! Ma douce! Cum for me, dearest.” His other hand presses you down against him, and he thrusts up against your wet heat. 

You let out a harsh breath, his name slipping from clenched teeth. “Alastor – please!”

He lifts you, just slightly, your thick slick stringing between the two of you, and he uses one hand to guide his cock. “Just a moment, my doe.”

And finally, his erection is pressing into you, your slick letting him slide in with only just a bit of resistance. When your bodies finally sit flush, you both let out sighs. You forgot just how full he made you feel, and it hadn’t even been terribly long.

You take a deep breath, barely making eye contact with him, (how can you? He’s got this expression that’s nigh on impossible to name), and then you lift your hips. It’s that first drag that nearly knocks you over. You can feel his cock dragging against your velvety insides. Even with how wet you are, the friction is overwhelming. 

Your breath comes out in stutters, and your thighs shake with the effort to not just drop back down on him. Your hands on his shoulders clench, and then you settle back down. His resulting groan makes you clench. You’re still so sensitive from him getting you off first, so you shake with the effort to keep riding him. 

“Dearest,” Alastor says, his hot breath fanning across your face. “Would you like some help?”

You lock your gaze with him and drop on his dick rather harshly, and his eyes flutter. His hands flex, claws lightly grazing your skin. He’s being so careful, and it bothers you. 

“What does ‘help’ look like to you?” You ask, your residual anger tinting your words. Are you not going fast enough for his liking?

His hips thrust up, just enough to spear you further, and you rock your hips in response. The heat, the fullness, it keeps knocking the breath out of you. It’s so unfair. You need him just as off-kilter as you are. (But isn’t he already? Your head is fuzzy. You aren’t thinking straight).

One of his hands reaches up and cradles the back of your head, and then the world is shifting around you. Your thighs are slotted over his hips nicely, and the hand that had been holding your head is propping him up. You’re on your back. (How did he do that so effortlessly? He seems so experienced – it’s a thought that suddenly makes you unhappy). 

“Worry not, dearest. You were spectacular, but I’m losing my marbles.” He rolls his hips against yours, and you clench your eyes closed. It’s overwhelming. The heat is pooling in your navel, and there’s this fuzzy feeling to your hands and feet. You can practically feel his static scattering over the surface of your skin. “Yes, you are very good, mon cœur. I cannot get enough.”

His words make your eyes open, just a touch, and you gaze up at him. His eyes are already searching for yours, and the soft smile he’s giving you – you feel like you’re going to throw up. How could he do this to you? He doesn’t get to be such a dick, then go on and fuck you within an inch of your sanity while praising you. It’s not fair. 

Alastor starts thrusting his hips, his ears bouncing just a little at the effort. He’s on his knees, and the hand on your hip squeezes every other thrust. You can smell the musk the two of you make, and it has you dizzy. It’s a nice smell, but you know it’ll never wash out of your sheets. You might have to just change rooms when all is said and done. 

He suddenly shifts, settling further back on his knees, and both of his hands are lifting you up. “Is this alright, my doe?” He asks as he lifts your knees to his shoulders. 

Your eyes widen. He’s going to hit spots in you that you’ve probably never felt. His cock is already large, but this position is going to ruin you. However, you just can’t say no. You aren’t sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the fact that you’re barely in your own head. With a rough swallow, you nod. 

He pants, and then you’re folded in on yourself, your slit snug against him, thighs cradling his head. His arms framed your head, and his weight pressed down on you. Each breath the two of you took was hard, and they mingled in the space between you. His forehead pressed against yours, and he kept your gaze as he began his rhythm again. 

Your hands could no longer be kept in check. What little of him you could reach was quickly grabbed onto for dear life. You were panting, and every drag of his cock had your walls quivering. 

For a moment all you could hear was the wet sound of your bodies rocking together, and the harsh breaths each of you took, but then you heard it. He was muttering to himself.

“Al- Alastor, what?” You asked quietly. Another harsh thrust of his hips and you moaned, your mind briefly dragged away from the thought. 

“Just singing your praise, dearest.” His left hand lifted just slightly, and his thumb rubbed against your cheek to the rhythm of his snapping of his hips. “You are wonderful. I just adore this with you. You are ever so soft, and tight, my doe.” 

You startle, eyes locked back on him. His smile is crooked, and he looks so genuine. That deep, angry ache is back in your chest, and it nearly clouds the lust and the wonderful sensations he’s flooding you with. 

“Je te veux. Je ne veux personne d'autre que toi. Je veux que tu aies envie de moi. Pourquoi ne le fais-tu pas?” He whispers to you in words you cant understand, but his eyes are fuzzy, and his smile is small, and soft. Alastor cups your face ever so softly, and he rocks his hips roughly against yours.

Suddenly the pace he sets is incredibly fast, and you can feel that tightness building again. You scratch at him, barely able to get air into your lungs. You can’t focus on much more than the deep heat beneath your navel, and the furrow of his brows. (Some small part of you wants to ease it with your fingers). 

His grip on your face tightens a smidgen, and then he rolls his hip and takes his right hand to rub at your clit. His thumb is in tight circles again, and he’s clenching his teeth and all your limbs go tingly and–

Everything is white-hot. There are lightning bolts zipping down your spine, making your back arch. Your mouth is open, but the buzzing in your ears makes it impossible to tell if you’re making any noise.

He’s still moving, but he’s reaching for your face, too. He cups it, his large hands holding you still as his cock continues slamming into you. Alastor is muttering again, but you can only tell from the movement of his lips. His mouth opens, a harsh pant leaving him before his body stills suddenly. His teeth clack shut, and he curls into you, the head of his cock brushing your cervix. You’re still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and can barely comprehend the feeling. It’s nearly too much. 

He’s breathing hard, and he just barely sits back. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. His thumb brushes the skin just underneath your eyes, and there is a wistful smile on his face. He seems so far away, and you can’t comprehend why. Isn’t this what he wanted?

You’re about to ask when he slots his lips over yours. He’s warm, and his lips are soft. It only lasts a moment, and then he’s gone. 

You’re left empty, messy, and alone. 

You sit up in the darkness of your room, glancing around. 

“Alastor?”

I will post on my blog, giving an update. Feel free to check it out if you're wondering what's been so long.

[himluv]

Ok. Here's my first attempt at writing Lucanis and Spite. This isn't my favorite piece of DA fic I've written, but I had to get it out of system.

Also, I am writing Lucanis as demisexual. That is my accepted headcanon, and I am writing it from personal experience.

Enjoy, I guess? 😂

(below the cut because spoilers?)

Lucanis leaned into his palm where it pressed against the stone just above Rook’s head. He felt drawn to her, pulled across the floor until there was just a feather’s width between them. It was such an infrequent feeling – this wanting – that he almost hadn’t recognized it the first time. Now, the thrum of desire through his body was unmistakable.

But did she feel it too?

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, offering her a convenient escape route.

She smiled. “Sometimes the bad ideas are best.”

He couldn’t help smiling at that. It seemed she always knew just what to say. Like that night at the cafe. He’d felt a slight thrill at the table, a rush at how easily the conversation volleyed between them. It wasn’t until much later that night, replaying her voice in his head, that he’d ached with realization. She’d been talking about much more than how she liked her coffee.

“You like walking a little too close to the edge.” Again, a warning. He would push, gently, until she saw reason. Because, surely, once she looked close enough, she would turn away.

“So do you.”

She reached for him, and for a moment Lucanis thought she might hook her finger through his lapel chain and tug him toward her. His stomach flipped, his smile widened, and he couldn’t avoid glancing at her lips. Mierda, he wanted to taste her.

But she did not touch him, her hand hovered there at his sternum and a desperate flash of want pulsed through him.

This was dangerous territory. She had no idea just how close to the edge they were. How easy it would be for her to push him off this cliff, and Lucanis would fall helplessly in love.

He looked right at her, his gaze heavy. “At least I know when I’m doing it.”

At the edge of a cliff…

What if he chose to jump?

He closed his eyes, tilted his head and leaned toward her, felt her do the same –

– Crisp air, sunlight on water, smells like trees and magic. Arlathan.

Lucanis’s eyes snapped open and he pulled back so quickly that Rook gave him a startled look.

“I… need to clear my head,” he said. As if he could do such a thing with Spite taking up so much space.

Space, he needed space. Between him and Spite, but also between him and Rook. He needed to breathe. Why did his chest feel so tight?

He stepped away from her, his palm now pressed to his waistcoat as he gave her the tiniest bow. “Excuse me.”

Then he turned and hurried out of the room, ignoring the weight of her gaze on his back. He brushed a hand through his hair, tugged at his waistcoat. Lucanis was not a tall man, but it took surprisingly few strides to cross the dining room and step out into the courtyard. He took a deep, shaky breath and quelled the urge to rub at the constant itch behind his eyes.

This wasn’t like him. He felt jittery, out of control. Perhaps all the coffee mixed with the sleep deprivation had finally gotten to him?

She makes you nervous, Spite sneered.

Lucanis said nothing. There was no point lying to Spite, it would only encourage the demon to keep talking. Instead he headed toward the library balconies – they were the closest thing the Lighthouse had to a rooftop. He needed height. Needed perspective.

Surprisingly, Spite was quiet until Lucanis stood staring out at the blank expanse of the Fade and his heart rate had settled some in his chest.

Finally, the demon asked, why?

Lucanis sighed. “Why what?”

Spite growled, irritated at having to explain himself. Rook. Makes. You. Nervous. WHY?

Lucanis winced as the word rebounded inside his skull. “You don’t have to shout.”

Spite made an unconvinced noise.

“And besides,” Lucanis said. “You know why.”

Make it make sense. We. Like. Rook.

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. “A little too much.”

Ahhhhh. Spite sniffed, as if savoring something delicious in the air. Scared.

Another truth he’d have to let lie between himself and the demon.

Let her in and get cut deep. See inside then turn away. Won’t want you. Oooh, or worse, she does want and then she di–

“Enough!” The word echoed out into the Fade, silencing the demon. “Enough,” Lucanis whispered. He didn’t need Spite to help him overthink all the ways kissing Rook could go wrong.

Want more than that.

The most surprising truth of them all. Lucanis could count the number of people he’d felt genuine attraction for on one hand. The only one he’d ever tried to pursue had misread him so completely he’d just given up.

As much as he longed for romance, he just wasn’t good at it. Love was something meant for characters in novels, or people like Teia and Viago. Not him.

Not love. What?

Before the Ossuary, Lucanis would have had an answer to a question like that. The Crows. House Dellamorte. Mediating peace between Illario’s ambitions and Caterina’s wishes. He liked being a Crow. He was good at it, and had never wanted more, a fact that had vexed Illario and pleased their grandmother.

And it was all gone.

Caterina was dead. In his current state, Lucanis was not fit to take her place as she’d desired. Illario would become First Talon, like he’d always wanted. If Lucanis somehow survived this contract, perhaps House Dellamorte would allow him back. Perhaps the future he and Illario had fantasized as boys might actually come to pass. Perhaps he and Rook…

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! Bah!

Lucanis sighed and shook his head. Then he and the demon walked back to the dining hall in silence. And in that silence was another, terrifying truth.

For the first time in his life, Lucanis Dellamorte didn't know what his future held.

[that-one-ostrich-friend]

Late Night Chat

sirius black x reader - late night chat

word count: 1k

summary: just a little blurb about a late night chat after exam week with non other than the sirius black

warnings: none :)

a/n: why is ben barnes so fineeeeee

     The night was still, save for the soft rustling of leaves from the trees surrounding the edge of the Black Lake. Hogwarts, nestled under a blanket of starlit skies, seemed peaceful for once—no looming threats, no hidden dangers, just the quiet hum of life that came after a long day of classes and before the chaos of whatever trouble the Marauders would surely cause next.

     Tonight, there was a different energy in the air. One that made y/n’s heart race in a way that didn’t quite feel like anxiety—more like anticipation.

     She sat by the edge of the lake, feet dangling just above the water, trying to lose herself in the moonlit ripples. She’d been coming here more often lately, especially after a particularly grueling week of exams, hoping the silence would calm her mind. 

     Sirius Black had been hovering around more often than usual, appearing when she least expected him. At first, it was always with the Marauders—James, Remus, and Peter—but slowly, over the past few weeks, he'd started showing up when the others weren’t around. And lately, he’d been staying longer.

     Y/n weren’t sure how to feel about it. Sirius Black had always been the charming, reckless prankster. He was the kind of person who could turn heads with a smile, or cause an uproar with a laugh. He was magnetic in a way that made it impossible to ignore him. And yet, when it was just the two of them, he seemed different—more focused, more... genuine.

     Tonight, she sat there, eyes on the dark waters of the lake, hoping her heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it felt. She’d promised yourself she wouldn’t let your mind wander. She wouldn’t think about how his voice sounded just a little more tender when he asked if she was okay. Or how his grin made her forget everything else when he leaned a little too close.

     But then, she heard it.

     The snap of a twig behind her.

     Before she could turn, a voice, as familiar as the sound of her own breath, called her name softly.

     "Y/n," Sirius's voice was warm and inviting, and she could feel the smile in his words, even without turning around. "You know, you’ve been here a lot lately."

     She smiled to herself. It was a little ridiculous how easily he made her feel seen, even when she didn't want to be. "You know, you’ve been lurking around me a lot lately,” she mocked, “ It’s almost like you’re stalking me."

     He laughed, the sound echoing across the empty grounds, and she turned to see him leaning casually against a nearby tree, hands in the pockets of his robes. His dark eyes twinkled in the moonlight, his hair messy and windswept.

     "You make it sound like a bad thing," Sirius said, pushing off from the tree and walking over to where she sat. "I’m just... looking out for you. Someone’s got to keep you from brooding out here all alone."

     She scoffed lightly but didn’t move to argue. "I don’t brood," she said, though she was well aware of the frown that had crossed her face when she’d first arrived at the lake.

     Sirius sat down next to her, his thigh brushing her as he gazed out at the water. There was a brief, comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward—not with Sirius. Not anymore.

     "You’ve been a bit quiet lately," he said, his voice quieter now, softer. "Everything okay?"

     She blinked, surprised by how perceptive he was. Sirius was known for being reckless, impulsive, sometimes a little too much of a show-off—but he wasn’t wrong. She had been quieter than usual. There were things on her mind, things she hadn’t quite figured out how to say, or maybe things she was afraid to.

     "I’m fine," she replied, her tone casual. "Just... thinking."

     "About what?" Sirius pressed, nudging her shoulder with his.

     She glanced at him, meeting his gaze for a moment. There was no judgment in his eyes—just that unwavering sense of understanding, like he knew more than he let on, but wasn’t about to push her to tell him.

     "I don’t know," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "Everything feels so... complicated sometimes. People, life... it just feels like things are changing too quickly, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it."

     Sirius turned his body slightly toward her, his expression softening. "Change sucks," he agreed, his voice low and serious. "It feels like you’re just barely hanging on, but you don’t have any control over it."

     She nodded, grateful that he seemed to understand. She had always appreciated his candor—he was blunt when he needed to be, but it was never in a way that made you feel small or dismissed.

     "You know," he said after a long pause, "you don’t have to go through all of it alone."

     She turned to face him more fully, slightly startled by the sincerity in his voice. Sirius wasn’t known for his deep conversations, much less his vulnerability. She had seen glimpses of it—small cracks in the façade he built for everyone—but this... this felt different. This felt real.

     Before she could say anything, Sirius continued. "If you need someone to talk to—or even if you just need someone to sit here with you—I’m always here." His voice was steady, unwavering, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes stayed locked on hers.

     There was an unspoken understanding between them now, something that neither of them needed to name. She didn’t need to tell him her fears, her insecurities—he was offering a quiet reassurance without pressure. And it was enough.

     She smiled, a little more genuinely than before, as she leaned her shoulder against his. "I think I’d like that."

     For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, watching the ripples in the lake, letting the night air fill their lungs. It was peaceful, but it wasn’t empty. Not anymore.

[bloatedandalone04]

Dirty Little Secret

➪the one where you and tyler are in a secret relationship.

Warnings: smut, fluff, oral (both f & m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, hair pulling, dirty talk, lowkey pain kink

Word Count: 2.4k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Yours and Tyler’s relationship was rather simple. 

You and he were together, officially, but secretly.

In an attempt to not make things super fucking awkward or weird for the others, you and Tyler decided to keep your relationship a secret, and for the most part it was working quite well. 

Originally, you started out as just friends. You were both content with that for a while, until it became very obvious that it wasn’t nearly enough for either of you. So you tried one date with him, and the rest was history. 

With that being said, the crew were all very close to each other, but no one had crossed romantic boundaries. Except for you and Tyler, but no one knew. In fear of things going wrong or the two of you breaking up (though it was becoming more and more clear that you and Tyler were in this for the long haul), the decision to have a secret relationship was a mutual one.

But, fuck was it hard to do sometimes. 

-

Another day, another successful chase. 

Tyler had been in the truck for a good portion of the day, so he was happy to stretch his legs as he stood in the lot with you, Boone, Dexter, Lilly and Dani in front of him. Ben had already gone off to his room at the motel, since the way Tyler drove had made him sick or something like that. 

His eyes met yours for a brief second before he looked over at Lilly. “How were the numbers today, Lil?”

Lilly scrolled through her phone as she read the statistics of their most recent stream, a sly grin on her face when she looked up. “One of our highest watched streams yet,” she answered, giving Boone a fist bump as the two of them fell into a conversation. 

Tyler nodded, a content smile on his face as everyone wandered off towards their respective rooms. His hand brushed along your lower back as he passed by you on his way to his own room, a knowing look on his face that was similar to the one on yours. 

Once he was in his room, the countdown was on. You and he had a plan; wait for everyone to go their separate ways, wait exactly seven minutes because five was too soon, then you would quickly knock on his door four times so he could let you in and ravish you all night without the peering eyes of the others. 

Tyler shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the chair before leaning against the desk, his eyes on his watch as he silently counted down the minutes until he would hear your knock, then have you back in his arms - where you belonged.

Exactly seven minutes later, four quiet knocks sounded on the other side of the door, and Tyler was already moving. He swung the door open and pulled you inside immediately, kicking the door shut behind you. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, reaching for your hips as he pushed you against the wall beside the door. His lips found yours in a deep, heated kiss that pretty much showed you just how much he had missed you today, despite being near you the whole time. Pretending like you were just his friend was a fucking hard task. “I’ve been waitin’ for this all damn day. Missed you so much.” 

His fingers slid the bottom of your shirt up a bit before his hands grabbed the skin of your waist, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip as he pressed you more firmly against the wall. 

“I know we can’t show it out there, but in here? Fuck, you’re all mine,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your back under your shirt.  

You moaned softly against his mouth and tangled your fingers in his hair. “Technically I’m yours out there too,” you murmured, “Just secretly.” 

Tyler groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he ground his growing erection against you. “I love you so much, baby,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses along your jawline, down your neck and on your throat as he pulled your shirt off, tossing it aside carelessly. “You’re so goddamn perfect, sweetheart. I wanna show you off to the world, but this works too.” 

You grinned against his lips when he leaned back in and kissed you deeply, his arms wrapping around your body to unclasp your bra. “I love you too,” you said back, threading your fingers through his hair as his hands groped at your bare chest. “Take me to bed, Ty.”

Tyler’s hands reached down and gripped your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly and carrying you over to the bed. His lips trailed all over your chest, his tongue running along your nipples before he moved lower. His fingers unzipped your jeans and tugged them down your legs, your panties following quickly after as he groaned at the sight of your dripping core. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmured, teasing your folds with his index and middle fingers as his body settled between your thighs. “Want me to taste this pretty pussy?”

You whined, propping yourself up on your elbows as you looked down at him. “Yes. Please,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers brushed along the undersides of your breasts as you subtly bucked your hips closer towards his mouth. “Please.”

Tyler smirked up at you, his mouth pressing soft kisses all along your thighs. “So fuckin’ hot, baby,” he grunted, leaning in to kiss your clit as his tongue poked out to lick at your folds. When your familiar taste coated his mouth, he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs as he buried his face between your legs. He flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit, circling it and sucking on it as he devoured you like a starved man. “Mm, fuck yes.” He mumbled against your quivering slit, his fingers digging into your soft thighs as he focused his attention on your puffy bundle of nerves. 

“Ty,” you gasped, falling back onto the bed as you spread your legs wider for him. Your fingers tugged on his hair, gently pulling on the light strands as he touched you and tasted you in the way you’d been craving all day. When he sucked harshly on your clit, you moaned rather loudly as you slowly ground against his face. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

Tyler groaned against your pussy, his tongue working overtime as he lapped at your sweet taste. “You taste so perfect, sweetheart,” he praised, the sting of your relentless tugging on his hair going straight to his cock. Two of his fingers slipped inside your core easily, pumping them in and out of you as his lips brushed along your lower stomach. “That’s it, baby.”

“Fuck, just like that,” you cried out, pulling harder on his hair as your back arched. “You’re so good at this, Ty…fuck, I’m so lucky.”

Tyler grinned against your skin, feeling the way you tightened around his fingers. “Gonna make you cum so hard, sweet girl,” he mumbled, curling his fingers deep inside you. “Wanna feel this tight pussy squeeze me.”

Your moans grew louder at his dirty words, and he knew they would. In the many months he’s been with you, Tyler had discovered that you had a thing for dirty talk, and he had a thing for coaxing those sweet sounds out of your mouth, so he was more than happy to indulge in your fantasies. 

When your thighs began to shake, he knew you were there, so he sped up the pace of his fingers and sucked on you a bit harder. “Cum for me,” he mumbled against your clit. “Wanna taste you.”

“Fuck…fuck,” you cried out, giving his hair one last tug before you came hard. Your back arched even more as your eyes squeezed shut, your moans growing louder to the point where Tyler wasn’t entirely convinced your secret relationship was still a secret. 

Tyler moaned at your taste, cleaning you up greedily as he worked you through your high. “There you go, baby. Cum all over my face,” he cooed and didn’t stop until he felt your body go limp, your breathing heavy and ragged as you tried to catch your breath. He pressed a final, much more gentle kiss to your overstimulated clit before standing up from the bed, keeping his eyes on yours as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean. “Best fuckin’ taste in the world.”

You whimpered as you weakly pushed yourself up and leaned in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips as you reached down to pull off his belt. Your fingers hastily unzipped his jeans and shoved them down his thighs, along with his boxers, moaning softly at the way he kissed you a bit harder. 

Your fingers brushed along his abs through his shirt as you pulled away and moved to lay down on your stomach, your head at level with his hips as you looked up at him. “Take this off, baby,” you mumbled before gripping the base of his cock and wrapping your lips around just the tip.  

Tyler’s hands quickly grabbed the end of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside to find later. His chest was heaving a bit, his abs tensing as he tangled his fingers in your hair, his palm resting against the back of your head. “Fuck,” he muttered, the feeling of your warm, tight mouth around his throbbing dick making him let out harsh breaths. “So fuckin’ good.” 

Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head up and down, coating him in a thin layer of your spit as you looked up at him through your lashes. Your hand stroked what couldn’t fit into your mouth, your other one gripping his hip and silently encouraging him to thrust gently.

He let out deep groans, tightening his hold on your hair as his hips started to thrust shallowly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted, refraining from just fucking your face like he wanted to. “Your mouth is fuckin’ perfect.”

When you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, Tyler knew he wouldn’t last long. He gently guided you off him, his thumbs stroking your jaw as he leaned down and kissed you sweetly. 

“I wanna fuck you, baby,” he mumbled, helping you to your knees before he spun you around and bent you over the bed. Guiding your legs apart, Tyler gripped your hips as he slowly pushed inside of you. He groaned at the tight stretch of your soaked core around him, giving you a few seconds to adjust before he pulled nearly all the way out, only to thrust back in again. 

“Ty,” you gasped, fisting the sheets as your body jolted forward once he set a hard, fast pace. Your hair was a mess, your eyes rolled back as he fucked you from behind. It was more than clear that you both needed this after going the entire day without so much as a brush of your hands. 

Yours and Tyler’s love language was touch, so having to be around each other all day but not be able to touch? Yeah, that resulted in exactly what was happening right now in this motel room. 

The bed creaked under the fast pace of Tyler’s hips, but he had to go hard, because you were gripping him like you never wanted to let him go. “Fuck, you’re so tight. So perfect,” he grunted, tightening his hold on your hips to hold you in place. He leaned over you, pressing his chest against your back as he kissed all along your shoulder and jaw. When one of his hands reached around you to brush along your throbbing clit, you moaned a bit louder, and Tyler smirked. “You like that, baby? Like when I fuck this tight pussy?” 

Your head fell forward, your face pressing against the comforter as you nodded helplessly, murmuring a slurred chant of ‘yes’. The headboard knocked against the wall and mixed well with the sound of Tyler’s hips hitting yours over and over again. “I love it,” you finally managed to say, your legs shaking despite you being completely supported by the bed. “God, Ty…harder. Please, I need it.” 

Tyler groaned, fucking into you even faster and deeper than before. “Are you gonna cum for me again?” He rasped, rubbing harsh circles on your clit in time with his thrusts. “Come on, sweet girl, give it to me.”

You let out a soft, quiet scream as you cum for the second time, your moans muffled by the sheets. Tyler didn’t relent, his hips hitting yours as he fucked you through your high. His fingers were gripping you so tight, holding you firmly in place as he felt himself get impossibly closer, and a few seconds later, he was there too.

He grunted deeply, weakly thrusting in and out of your pulsing pussy as jets of white painted you as his own. “Fuck,” he whispered, leaning over you again as he panted against your neck. “Christ, baby…” 

A soft laugh left your mouth as you let him practically crush you against the bed. “I guess you can say I kinda fucking missed you,” you offered with a lazy smile, still trembling a bit. 

“I think that’s an understatement,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses to your damp skin. “I missed you too, sweetheart. I swear, I’ll never get enough.” His words were sweet now as he slowly pulled out of you, cradling you against his chest as he moved to lay down on the bed. 

“You better not,” you grinned, cuddling against him as the motel room fell quiet again.

“I won’t. Promise,” he said quietly, rubbing your back as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “By the way, you were kind of loud. Do you think they know now?”

You hummed and shrugged, tangling your legs with his. “Do you want me to not be so loud?”

“Fuck no,” Tyler answered quickly, holding you a bit tighter. “Just…be prepared in case these walls are super fuckin’ thin, because I have a feelin’ we won’t be a secret for much longer.” 

And he was right, because as soon as he saw Boone’s smirking face the next morning, he knew there was no hiding it anymore. And secretly, Tyler was really fucking relieved.

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Smut

A/N: Tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

He laughs. “Sometimes. But he does it so well that it’s hard to be annoyed for long, because you end up looking so good.” He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. She turns to face him, feeling suddenly shy now that there’s only a few inches of space between their bodies. “Do you want me to stay out of it?”

Suguru is so good at keeping his face neutral; she can’t tell what he’s thinking at all when he asks. “Stay out of it?”

“Mmhm.” His gaze flickers from her eyes, moves down her body, and then back up to meet her eyes again. “If you want to be alone with Satoru, that’s perfectly okay with me.” 

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Chapter Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Oral (f. receiving), Squirting

Chapter Eighteen: Love's Acolyte

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Suguru looks at her from where he’s standing in the doorway of her room, arms crossed over his chest. “It suits you.”

She looks back at herself in the full-length mirror. What Satoru laid out for her is a set, made of lace and in almost the same shade as the dress she’s just changed out of. “Does it ever annoy you, this uncanny skill he has of finding things that look good on you?”

He laughs. “Sometimes. But he does it so well that it’s hard to be annoyed for long, because you end up looking so good.” He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. She turns to face him, feeling suddenly shy now that there’s only a few inches of space between their bodies. “Do you want me to stay out of it?”

Suguru is so good at keeping his face neutral; she can’t tell what he’s thinking at all when he asks. “Stay out of it?”

“Mmhm.” His gaze flickers from her eyes, moves down her body, and then back up to meet her eyes again. “If you want to be alone with Satoru, that’s perfectly okay with me.” 

She hasn’t actually thought about it, and once he poses the question, she realizes she doesn’t actually know. A hot bubble of apprehension inflates in her chest, and she looks down at her feet. “I’ve… never been with two men at once.”

He puts his hands on her shoulders, his palms warm against her skin, and leans down so he can look her in the eye. “You don’t have to be if you don’t want to - not in that way,” he reassures her. “If you don’t want me there, I’ll let you be alone with him. If you want me there, but you just want me to watch, I’ll do that, too.” He smiles down at her, and it’s just as kind as it always is. “And if you say you’d like me to join in, well… I’d love to do that too - but when and how will be totally up to you.” 

Somehow, he always knows just what to say to alleviate her anxiety. “Your knack for finding the perfect words to ease my mind is as good as Satoru’s knack for finding clothing that looks good on me.” 

“Hm,” he hums with a grin. “Does it annoy you as much, too?”

“I can’t say that it does.”

“Good.” She doesn’t think it’s her imagination that he sounds just a little bit smug.

--

Many have loved you with lips and fingers And lain with you till the moon went out; Many have brought you lover’s gifts; And some have left their dreams on your doorstep. But I who am youth among your lovers Come like an acolyte to worship, My thirsting blood restrained by reverence,  My heart a wordless prayer. The candles of desire are lighted,  I bow my head, afraid before you,  A mendicant who craves your bounty Ashamed of what small gifts he brings. -Elsa Gidlow, Love’s Acolyte

--

“You look like a gift, wrapped up just for me,” Satoru tells her. She’s in his lap again, pressed up against him with his hands on her hips. “Suguru… how come you don’t wear this color more often, too?” “You know why,” Suguru murmurs. He joins them in bed and rolls over onto his side, his head resting in his hand as he watches them. “I look terrible in that shade of blue.” He reaches up and lets his fingertips dance gently down the path of Lia’s spine, making her shudder, arching her closer into Satoru. 

And the way Satoru looks up at her makes her skin flush hot all over, because it’s not just lust. It’s not just some half-baked desire that’s sprung up out of nowhere… it’s a different flavor of the longing he looks at Suguru with. She leans forward because she wants to kiss him, again and again and again, and so she does. 

Deeply enough to feel like she’s drowning in him, deeply enough to worry that she’ll go lightheaded if she doesn’t come up for air soon, deeply enough to make her start squirming into him because it feels like the only way to get the friction she so desperately wants. 

“Easy, Princess,” Satoru laughs quietly, when she breaks the kiss to breathe. “I’m right here.” 

“Stop teasing her, Satoru.”

“Me? Teasing her is the last thing on my mind.” Lia believes him, because she can feel how hard he is beneath her - the thin, soft fabric of his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide the evidence of his desire. She can’t tell anymore if the wet patch on the lace panties she’s wearing is from her or him. 

She supposes it doesn’t really matter anyway. 

She reaches between them, wanting to feel him. Wanting to wrap her fingers around him, to gauge his shape and size with her hand. “I want…” The words come out barely louder than a whisper, and they don’t even begin to encompass all of the thoughts that fall under the umbrella of that phrase: I want. 

“Hm?” He nudges her chin up with his finger, so he can look into her eyes. How does anyone resist these eyes? She wonders. Maybe they don’t. “What is it that you want, Lia?” 

“You.” The word spills out of her without any hesitation. There is no shame, no pride in how quickly she answers his question. Her hand finds purchase between them, fingers closing around the base of his shaft. Her stomach flutters at how full her fist feels when she tries to get her fingertips to meet the tip of her thumb, and she draws in a quiet little breath. 

Satoru hears that sharp little inhale, sees the surprise on her face, and it makes him chuckle. He cups the back of her head, bringing her face close to his so he can nuzzle her cheek with his nose. “Why don’t you let me open you up a little first, yeah?” --

Lia still remembers with perfect clarity every single second of the way Suguru put his mouth on her. 

She remembers the way he alternated between using his mouth and using his fingers, the way he kept his gaze on her when he sensed she was getting close to her orgasm, how closely he paid attention to the signs her body gave him and used those signs to dictate what he would do next. 

It had indeed left her speechless, but this is something entirely different. 

The mouth on Gojo Satoru - it makes her wonder, is his tongue fucking battery operated?

The way he’s slurping and sucking and licking, three fingers buried as deeply into her as they can go, massaging her walls - it has her shaking and sweating and biting her fist in order to muffle the sounds she’s making. 

It isn’t Satoru that reaches up and pries her hand out of her mouth. “He wants to hear you, pretty girl,” Suguru coos, pressing a kiss to her palm. “How else is he supposed to know he’s doing a good job?”

Again and again and again, Satoru brings her to the edge over and over, only to pull her back when she’s close. Until she’s seeing stars, until she’s almost in tears, until she’s absolutely incapable of anything other than incoherent babbling. 

Satoru thinks she’s so pretty, with those big tears clumped on her lashes and her swollen lips and sweat-slicked skin. She’s a goddamned work of art, and he’s about to make it better. 

He brings her to the edge one last time, and then takes her over, and it’s so satisfying watching the way she gushes for him… but what’s even more satisfying is the look on her face, the look that lets him know that this is her first time ever being able to do that. 

“What a mess,” Suguru teases her from his place next to her. 

They don’t let her cover her face. Satoru is so, so warm. He finally puts her legs down and drapes himself over her, chest to chest, his soft, wet lips dragging along her collarbone. “Messy girl,” he smirks, exchanging an amused look with Suguru. He lifts his hand, the one that was just inside of her, to Suguru’s lips. “Isn’t she delicious?” Said between kisses, his mouth slotting over Lia’s so she can also taste herself on his tongue and his other hand snaking between their bodies to lightly caress her swollen labia. 

“Just as delicious as I remember,” Suguru agrees. 

“Did you know, Lia? Did you know you also speak a lot with your eyes?” 

She glances over at Suguru, who’s still sucking on Satoru’s fingers. “I’ve been told that once or twice,” she admits. 

“I bet you have.” 

Lia marvels at it - how all the anxiety she felt just a little while ago is gone now. How these two have managed to take that nervous ball of energy that was in the pit of her stomach and turn it into something else entirely. Something that has her wanting so much more, something that brings out of her a greed that she’s never felt the likes of before.

She wonders if a little of that is showing on her face. It must be, if the way the two of them are looking at her is any indication.

“Are you tired, Lia?” Satoru asks. 

“No.” 

“Good,” he grins, shifting a little, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, pressed against her thigh. “Because I’m not quite done with you yet.” 

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[nausicaamusiclover20]

Black album Jason having a massive crush on reader who is the lead guitarist of the opening act. The boys tease him about it and confesses to them.

This idea is so cuteeee, I hope you like it💕

Soundcheck crush

It’s another soundcheck, and I’m back on the sidelines, bass in hand, pretending to be preoccupied with the controls. But really? My focus is locked on her—Y/N, the lead guitarist of the opening band. She’s up there shredding through her solos, completely lost in her music, and I’m transfixed. Every time she closes her eyes, lips pursed in concentration, I swear I’m about to lose it.

I can’t even begin to explain what it is about her—maybe it’s the way she looks so effortlessly at home up there, the way she seems oblivious to anyone watching. There’s no denying it, though: I’ve got it bad, and it’s getting harder to hide.

And then, of course, James appears beside me with a smirk, arms crossed like he’s been waiting for me to slip. He’s grinning, eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene. “Checking out the opening act again, huh?” he teases, his tone loaded with barely disguised amusement.

I try to keep it cool, shrugging like I’m totally unbothered. “Just making sure the levels are good,” I say, though I can feel my face warming. “You know. Professional courtesy.”

“Oh, really?” Kirk joins us now, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You’ve been awfully dedicated to this ‘professional courtesy’ all week. Especially when it comes to watching Y/N.”

Lars sidles up, crossing his arms with a smirk of his own. “Jason, man, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know you’ve been staring at her, like, every single day.”

They keep at it, nudging me and making side comments, and I’m about to come up with some excuse when Lars raises his eyebrow. “Admit it, dude. You’re crushing on her, right?”

I let out a sigh, feeling my face heat up even more. The guys know me too well, and the way they’re looking at me, I know there’s no point in denying it anymore. I groan and rub the back of my neck, finally letting it out.

“Alright, fine!” I say, laughing a little despite myself. “Yeah, I like her, okay? She’s… she’s incredible. Not just her playing—she’s got this presence, you know? Like, I can’t stop watching her. She’s just… different.”

There’s a beat of silence before the guys burst out laughing. But it’s not the mean, mocking kind; they’re just surprised, probably glad I finally cracked.

James slaps me on the back, grinning. There it is. Finally, some honesty from our man here. So what’s stopping you? Go talk to her. She’s not gonna bite your head off.”

I shake my head, still embarrassed but relieved to have gotten it out there. “I don’t know, man. It’s… not that easy. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I’ve been secretly watching you every night’? That’s just… weird.”

Kirk chimes in with a laugh. “Or, you know, you could just tell her you like her playing. Give her a compliment, say something. Anything would be better than staring her down from across the stage.”

I laugh and roll my eyes, but I know they’re right. The truth is, every time I get anywhere near her, my brain just… short-circuits. It’s like I forget how to form sentences, and that’s if I’m lucky enough to remember my own name.

And then, of course, here comes the opening band, just wrapping up their soundcheck. Y/N’s leading the group, her guitar slung over her shoulder, her face still flushed from playing. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and she walks over, giving me this warm, friendly smile.

“Oh, hey, Jason!” she says, stopping in front of me. “Didn’t realize you’d be hanging around for our soundcheck again.”

I scramble for something smooth to say, but my brain decides to abandon me. “Uh… yeah! I mean… I’m, uh, a fan. Of… music. And your band. And… you.” As soon as the words are out, I know I sound like an idiot, but I can’t stop myself from turning red.

She raises an eyebrow, laughing a little as if she’s trying to decode what I just said. “Well, thanks, I guess?” she says, chuckling. “Nice to know I’ve got Metallica’s bassist as a fan.”

“Totally,” I manage, forcing a smile. “I mean, you’re… really good. You’ve got an amazing sound and… you, especially, you’re just, uh…” I trail off, mentally kicking myself as I struggle to finish a coherent sentence.

She looks at me with a soft, amused smile, tilting her head slightly. “Thanks, Jason. That’s really nice of you.” She gives me a quick, friendly nudge on the shoulder, sending my heart racing. “Guess I’ll see you out there tommorow?”

“Yeah,” I managed, still dazed. “For sure.”

With one last smile, she heads off with her bandmates, and I’m left standing there, feeling like I just ran a marathon. As soon as she’s out of earshot, the guys completely lose it.

“Oh man, you nailed it!” Lars says, cracking up. “‘I’m a fan of… music. "So smooth,” he mimics, clutching his sides from laughing so hard.

“Seriously, Jason, I thought you were gonna pass out!” Kirk adds, wiping away a tear. “I’ve never seen you that red in my life.”

I let out a groan, rubbing my face. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. At least I actually said something this time.”

“Yeah, yeah, baby steps,” James says, grinning. “Maybe by the end of the tour, you’ll actually be able to have a full conversation with her.”

They keep poking fun, but it feels different this time. I’ve got this stupid grin on my face, and even though I stumbled through every word, there’s a part of me that’s just… happy. She talked to me, laughed with me, nudged my shoulder, and she didn’t seem to think I was too much of a mess. 

For now, that’s more than enough. But next time? I might just take a real step forward.