#Still a few more things to do in the next few weeks ))

[giannaln4]

Lucky Bracelet

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Making friendship bracelets was one of your favourite things to keep you entertained during race weeks, and you just had to make a special one for your boyfriend.  (1.5k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, a couple sexual innuendos

a/n: guys look at me! two posts in one week? crazy. i'm honestly trying to clean up my inbox since i still have a few requests from before my break 😭 so if you sent one, i'm getting there, i promise! now, this is a little bit cheesy and there are a few weird time skips so I apologise for that, but i really hope you like it! pls let me know what you think 🫶🏻

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Being constantly surrounded by hundreds of people and the double amount of cameras was not something you liked, but it’s something you had to put up with given the amount of attention your boyfriend got; it was something you have learnt to deal with. Not that you were fully used to it now, but at least it didn’t make you as anxious as it used to when you first started dating.

At least now you found something that helped you get your mind off the intense atmosphere that surrounded you during race weeks: making friendship bracelets. You made a few when you went to see Taylor Swift in concert late last year, and it stuck with you since then.

You travelled with all the materials you needed: colourful beads and cotton threads, tape, scissors — the whole deal. It wasn’t like you made an insane amount of bracelets every time you accompanied Lando to a race, but if you were bored or overwhelmed, you knew you had something to do.

Today was one of those days; Lando was specially busy today, and given your shy and quiet personality, you didn’t know that many people around, so you decided to lock yourself in Lando’s drivers room and get to it, carefully picking the letters and colours you would use.

Lando hated to leave you alone. He was aware of the many things he had to do, but he didn’t expect them to take that long, so as soon as he got a little bit of free time to catch lunch, he went looking for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted one of the mechanics. 

“Hi mate, how is it going?”

“All good, thanks. It’s a bit hot outside but still nice.”

“And yet, you are wearing a hoodie.” He teased him.

Lando let out a laugh, well aware of his reputation. "Well, I still have to keep it in style, don’t I?”

“You do, we know.”

“Anyway, have you seen Y/N?” 

“She must be in your room. I haven’t seen her since the two of you got here this morning.”

He smiled, knowing exactly what you were up to if you hadn’t left the small space all day. “Thanks.”

Lando made his way to his room, carefully knocking on the door before coming in. He didn’t want to scare you and make you drop all your beads, which has happened more times than he would like to admit.

“Come in,” he heard you yell from inside.

He opened the door and gave you the sweetest smile you have ever seen. “Hey, I’m back.”

“Hey, what took you so long?” You dropped everything you were doing to direct your attention at him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know we would have to be there all morning, but I’m back for lunch.”

“It’s okay, and thank God, I’m starving.” You took a piece of tape to hold your bracelet in place and started to get up.

“What are you making here?” He asked you as he got closer to the small table, analysing what you had on display as the bright-coloured beads caught his eye.

“No, it’s a surprise.” You responded, quickly hiding your unfinished creation with your hands. 

“A surprise you say?” He came behind you to wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your head. 

You melted into his embrace and hummed in response, using one of your bags to hide it instead so you could hug your boyfriend back. “You can’t see it until you win this race.”

“Mhm, I see. What if I don’t win? When do I get to see it?” He questioned, not wanting to jinx his weekend, but he was still curious. 

“The next race you win.” You said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Got it. In that case, I’m gonna have to win this race.” He grabbed your hips to turn you around, kissing you on the lips once you were facing him.

You went to eat your lunch together as you normally did, enjoying each other’s company as you talked about anything you could come up with. Before you knew it, he had to go back to his duties, and even though you tried hard to act normal about being left alone so he wouldn’t feel guilty, he still noticed. He knew you better than you knew yourself, anyway.

“You can come with me if you want, that way you don’t have to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I know there are millions of people and cameras when you do these things."

He couldn’t help but feel guilty; he knew you were there to support him, so he hated to be apart from you when you did. “I’m sorry, love. I know you don’t feel comfortable when there are a lot of people around. You know you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, you could always stay home.”

“If you don’t want me to come, just say that,” you joked.

“No, it’s not that,” Lando replied immediately. “I do want you here, I always do, but I hate that you feel like you have to hide.”

“Lan, I’m not hiding. Sure, I do prefer to stay inside, but it’s not because I want to hide from the world. Besides, that’s why I always bring something to entertain myself with. I’ll be fine, I promise,” you reassure him.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. “But if you want to go back to the hotel, that’s okay.”

The rest of the weekend went on a lot quicker, even though he was just as busy. Qualifying and race days were a lot less boring since you got to see the cars from the garage, enjoying the full wag experience. 

As the race went on, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and excited at the same time. Lando started from pole (which made you assure him the night before he would get to see the bracelet after the race), but you still had the need to crack your fingers every once in a while. There were only a few laps left, and he had led the entire race so far, and with the gap becoming bigger, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

Once he finally crossed that finish line with a 21-second margin, everyone in the garage cheered and jumped, celebrating Lando’s achievement. A lot of people gathered outside to see him get off the car and celebrate his third win himself, shouting his name and patting him in the helmet to congratulate him.

When it was time for the podium, you decided to go get the finished bracelet you kept in your purse and held it close to your heart, feeling extremely proud of Lando for the amazing race he just had. You couldn't stop the few tears that left your eyes; it made you so happy to see him accomplish his dreams. 

The whole thing was finally over, and you waited for him right there so you could finally express how proud of him you were. 

“Congrats, baby,” you said, hugging him as if you hadn’t seen him in months. “You did amazing.”

“Thank you.” Lando couldn’t erase the big smile off his face as he hugged you back. 

“That’s a cool trophy you got back there.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care about that.” He said, puling away and looking down at you. 

“You don’t?” You asked confused.

“No, I’m still waiting for my real reward.”

“Oh… we can go back to the hotel-”

“No!” He interrupted you, laughing loudly at the fact that your mind went there. “I mean my bracelet, didn’t you say I would get it if I won this race? Well, I did, and now I’m claiming it.”

You laughed, your cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. “Right, uh- it’s not that great compared to your trophy.”

“I’m sure it’s better than any trophy I could ever get.”

Man, he really knew how to be the sweetest boyfriend in the entire world. You pulled the bracelet out of your pocket, hiding it in your fist before dropping it in his hands. 

The colours were the first thing that caught his attention. Fluoro green and black beads. He inspected these first, until he got to the little letters that read ‘MY WINNER’. He almost couldn’t contain his tears; he was so endeared by you and how much you supported his passion.

“I love it,” he whispered, lifting you up and kissing you emotionally before putting you back down and sliding the bracelet in his wrist, admiring the way it looked there. “Thank you.”

“See? I told you you would get to see it today.”

“It must be a lucky bracelet, then. I’m never taking it off.”

You giggled at this, loving how Lando reacted to the bracelet you made with much love, but you still thought he was just messing with you. “You must be tired.” You teased him.

“Mhm. Now, about my other reward-”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes as you let out a loud laugh, holding his hand as you made your way to the car.

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Online Meeting 🖥 pt.2

Alexia Putellas x Reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

pt.1

summary :

Over the following weeks, fans begin piecing together clues about your relationship, culminating in paparazzi photos of you and Alexia kissing, confirming the rumors.

The days following the interview were… strange.

At first, the questions from Alexia’s fans had been mild curiosity. Comments under the interview video ranged from playful speculation to downright conspiracies. Fans were, after all, a dedicated bunch—especially when it came to someone as beloved as Alexia Putellas. But neither of you could have imagined how quickly the rumors would pick up.

It started with screenshots. Sharp-eyed viewers had gone back to the recording, capturing the exact moment Alexia's expression changed. Her fleeting smile, the sudden softness in her eyes—it all became fuel for countless fan theories. Some were harmless guesses, others more pointed, as people tried to dissect who could possibly cause the Alexia Putellas to break her professional façade.

Then came the tweets.

*Okay but can we talk about how Alexia got distracted during that interview? Who is she hiding??*

*#WhoWalkedIn ?! I'm convinced Alexia has a secret partner 👀*

*Alexia smiled like that for someone off-screen...what do we think, fam?*

Fan accounts began circulating theories. Old videos, subtle interactions, and even past social media posts were dug up and scrutinized. Someone even pointed out how Alexia had been using the word cariño more often in interviews, but only when talking to someone off-camera or when she was distracted.

You and Alexia didn’t talk about it at first. It was easy to brush off the initial stir as just the nature of her fame. People were bound to overanalyze every little thing. But as the weeks went on, it became harder to ignore.

The two of you were spotted at a small café one evening, trying to keep a low profile. You sat across from her, laughing at a story she told about one of her teammates, and it felt just like any other quiet moment. But as you left, a fan had caught sight of Alexia. Despite her hoodie and sunglasses, she was still recognizable to the most dedicated. She signed a quick autograph, and you both hurried off.

You thought nothing of it until the next morning.

Photos of Alexia at the café began circulating online, and while most fans focused on her casual outfit or her rare public outing, a few of the eagle-eyed ones noticed something else—you. The photos were grainy, taken from a distance, but they were enough. One fan even circled a reflection of your face caught in the window and posted it side by side with blurry images of you from other occasions, piecing together what looked like a shadow of the truth.

Pinterest : sadlittleheart

*Who is this girl with Alexia? She’s been spotted with her "before".*

It wasn’t just the café outing either. Someone found an old photo from months ago, where you and Alexia had been standing too close at a team dinner. The initial photo hadn’t caused any waves back then, but now, with the added context of the interview slip-up, people were connecting the dots.

And then, it happened. The moment neither of you had anticipated but also knew was inevitable.

You and Alexia were walking through a park late one night, trying to escape the bustle of the city. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the quiet paths. It had become your ritual—those late-night walks where no one would bother you, where she could just be Alexia, not the icon or the footballer, but just your girlfriend.

But as you neared a secluded part of the park, Alexia pulled you into a brief kiss, her hand gently cradling your jaw. It wasn’t long, just a sweet, private moment that would have gone unnoticed—except it didn’t.

The next morning, headlines broke across sports and gossip sites alike.

Paparazzi Shots of Alexia Putellas and Mystery Woman Kissing!

The photos were splashed across every major platform, your faces blurred in some, clear as day in others. The intimate kiss, the way her hand lingered on your cheek—it was all out there now, the quiet truth of your relationship exposed.

Fan accounts exploded.

*GUYS IT'S HER. THE GIRL FROM THE INTERVIEW.*

*Alexia has a girlfriend?? She’s so cute with her omg!!*

*We knew it! The way she smiled during that interview—this makes so much sense.*

The shift in public perception was sudden. Where before it had been speculation and conspiracy theories, now it was a full-blown revelation. Fans flooded Alexia’s social media, some supportive, others surprised, but the general consensus was one of excitement. People loved that Alexia seemed happy, even if some had been taken aback by the suddenness of it all.

As the storm swirled around you, Alexia stayed calm. She always did. One morning, you woke up to find her scrolling through her phone, reading some of the more amusing comments with a soft smile.

“They’re really invested,” you muttered, peeking over her shoulder.

Alexia chuckled, leaning back into you. “They always are. But as long as you’re okay…” She turned to you, her eyes searching yours.

“I’m okay,” you assured her. “Are you?”

“I am,” she replied, pulling you closer. “Now that it’s out there… I think I like not having to hide anymore.”

You smiled, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders. The world might know now, but in this moment, none of that mattered. It was just you and her, and that was more than enough.

[tpwk-formula1]

Omg hi. I just found you and cheered. I have a order.

Lando Norris, Thick Crust, Red Sauce,

Cherry Tomatoes, Root beer, Mango Smoothie,

Aftercare

If you could maybe make it a dizzy, inconcent reader where people flirt with her and she dosnt now and flirts back and Lando thinks the only way for people to leave her alone would be if she pregnant with his child. And he definitely has feelings for her. 🤭

✨️THANK YOU ✨️

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thick crust sugar daddy red sauce rough sex cherry tomatoes "I can't wait to watch you swell with my babies" root beer daddy kink mango smoothie baby trapping dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Lando x Ditzy! reader

AN: Okay! So I am so sad that I had to close my requests early but in a week I got over 100 requests which is fucking amazing and I am so happy for them but I want to make sure requests are coming out in a timely manner so I will be completely all requests within the next few weeks and once the Pizzeria is back open it will be a rebrand... So if you have any prompt ideas, kinks, or overall things you want to see get added to the menu just send me a message and I'll see what I can do!

TW breeding kink, baby trapping, pregnancy, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie, jealous Lando

WC 1200+

Y/N POV

"Danny! You can't just say things like that," I laugh loudly with the Australian in front of me. I can feel my cheeks growing red from the sexual joke Daniel just cracked.

I can feel a hand on my lower back making me look over my shoulder to find Lando making my smile grow more before I lean up and place a kiss on his cheek.

"What are you two up to?" Lando questions with a slight edge in his voice.

"Was just telling, Y/N about my summer break," Daniel says with a smile. I watch as Lando's face grows in a smile before he's ushering us towards the bar.

"Don't wander to far," Lando tells me making me look up and smile.

"Okay, babe!" I say when I place a kiss on his cheek.

"Are you okay?" I ask Lando softly making him nod his head before flagging the bartender down and ordering both of us drinks.

As time passed I found myself talking with Charles and Ollie.

"Charles! You'll have to invite me over sometime!" I tell Charles as he finishes telling me how he finally got Leo to stop peeing in the kitchen.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt but I'm just gonna steal her away. We have early morning plans so I gotta get this one off to bed," Lando says randomly interrupting making me raise a brow before trying to speak.

"Say bye," Lando tells me before I can even say anything.

I just turn back towards the two men waving a good bye before following Lando out of the club.

"I literally told you not to wander off," Lando snapped when we finally hopped into our Uber.

"Lando, I could see you the whole time," I reply back softly not understanding why he was so mad.

"Could you? Cause there was a solid 5 minutes where I was wandering around to find you," Lando tells me roughly making me huff and turn my back on him to look out the window.

Lando and I sat in silence for the rest of the car ride when we finally pulled up to his apartment building instantly making me get out and march to the front doors not waiting for Lando.

When we get into his apartment I lock myself in his bathroom still not wanting to talk to him, but eventually I had to face him and when I walked out of the bathroom I was changed into a silky sleep dress while Lando was sitting in bed in his boxers.

"I don't wanna see you entertaining men anymore. You're mine," Lando says not even looking up from his phone.

"Last time I checked, you were the one who was adamant we were nothing more than sex and money," I reply back while climbing into the bed next to Lando.

"Do you see the way you walked into my home like it was yours? How you climb into MY bed like it was yours? The way you have half my closet full of your stuff? That's all because you're mine, whether it has been a discussion or not, you have come into my life and fucked up any prior deal, so fucking sue me if I set a boundary with you," Lando finally snaps back making me look around his room realizing that over the year of us hooking up for money I had basically moved in. I had made his home our home and I didn't even realize.

"Lando, I think we should have this discussion when we are both fully sober," I tell him softly. I knew what I wanted sober or drunk I wanted Lando to be mine but was this just some drunk game Lando was playing.

"No, I'm barely fucking tipsy., I didn't even realize you didn't realize you were mine. I thought it was unspoken," Lando tells me softly before turning towards me and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Do you know how many men want to fuck you?" Lando questioned with a raised brow making me laugh slightly.

"Lando, you're the only man who wants to fuck me," I reply back with a roll of the eye.

"You're mine," Lando said moving topics again and pulling me in for a heated make-out session.

I quickly climb into Lando's lap and grind my bare pussy against his briefs making his groan slightly.

"I'm gonna put a baby in you," Lando tells me softly making me sit up and stare at him in complete shock.

"The fuck are you on about now?" I ask Lando before he pulls me back into for a kiss where he flips us over so I am now under Lando letting him grind into me backing me whimper.

"You're mine and when you walk around that fucking paddock in 6 months everyone will fucking know you're mine," Lando said while trailing kisses down my neck making it clear he was marking his territory.

"You're insane," I whisper back but it quickly turns into a moan because Lando is leaning down and taking a soft lick out of my clit.

"Daddy," I moan when Lando starts sucking on my clit while lightly teasing my soaked hole with his fingers.

"Oh fuck," I scream out when Lando slips 2 fingers in and finds my G-spot.

"I want you to cum on my fingers," Lando says while speeding his actions making me feel the band in m stomach start to grow tight letting me know I was close to cumming for Lando.

"Daddy," I scream out when the band finally snaps and I'm cumming all over Lando's fingers. Lando helped ride my orgasm out before he's pulling his briefs down and roughly shoving his cock deep into my pussy.

"Oh! Daddy," I gasp still not fully recovered from my previous orgasm and can already feel a second one building up.

"Fucking hell, so damn needy already gonna cum for me," Lando said with a smirk while bringing his hand down to my clit and giving it a rough rub bringing me closer to the edge.

"Daddy," I whine when I feel myself reach the point of no return, cumming all over Lando's cock with a shout. I was shaking and so long in my own pleasure, I don't feel Lando's hips shutter as he fills my pussy full of his cum.

"I can't wait to watch you swell with my babies," Lando groans with a smirk while slowly pulling out of me.

"Lando, I probably didn't get pregnant from one time," I tell him softly with a laugh falling from my lips.

"I'll fuck you until you do," Lando says with a shrug. That night we fell asleep tangled in each other's arms.

6 weeks later

"Fucking hell," I gasp while staring down at the positive pregnancy test.

"I told you, you were gonna have my babies," Lando said with a proud smirk.

"Lando, what the fuck are we gonna do?" I ask starting to panic.

"Hey, calm down! It's all gonna work itself out," Lando tells me softly while pulling me into his chest.

"I can't wait to see everyone's face when you show up to the paddock supporting a bump caused by me baby," Lando tells me making me laugh lightly.

I knew we would figure everything out. It wasn't how I pictured myself getting pregnant but boy am I happy it's how it happened.

[rcmclachlan]

fanclub dues (bucktommy, tommy & maddie friendship)

Buck's just pulling into the parking lot when the realization that he left his recertification paperwork on Tommy's kitchen counter hits him like another lightning strike, and he drops his head to the steering wheel with a whine. His cert expires today and absolutely has to be postmarked by noon or else Bobby's going to decapitate him, or worse: be really disappointed in him.

His first instinct is to call Tommy, because Tommy's starting a lovely stretch of 72 hours off, and if Buck called him he would absolutely drive the packet over.

Except Tommy's spent the last week reminding Buck to mail the stupid thing before the postmark deadline. If he calls and asks, Tommy won't say I told you so, but he will pause for a second like he's thinking about it before he tells Buck it's no problem. Which is in the exact same pantheon as Bobby's disappointment.

So, he does the next best thing.

"Actually, that works out, because I'm going to be in that area anyway," Maddie says. He can hear the rush of wind and traffic over the line. She must already be driving. "You know how we got on the waitlist for that kindergarten I was telling you about? Looks like a spot is going to open up next year and they asked me to come in for a tour."

Buck frowns. "You're already talking about kindergarten?"

"Jee's four, Buck," Maddie says long-sufferingly. "Kindergarten starts next year."

"That's insane, and also illegal. Tell that girl to stop growing or else she's getting arrested. I know a cop who would absolutely do it, no questions asked."

Maddie laughs, which makes him grin at his reflection in the rearview like an idiot. It always feels like he's won something when he manages to make her at least crack a smile, even when they were kids.

He thanks her profusely, texts her Tommy's address, and then rides that wave of joy right into the station, which continues to carry him through the first couple of hours of his shift.

Around 10:00, his phone chimes with a message. Just pulled up! Front of the house looks great! :-) :-) :-)

Buck smiles down at his phone. He helped plant the flower beds last weekend, and even though he's still finding bits of mulch in weird places because Tommy had pressed him back into the dirt and kissed him filthy in broad daylight in full view of his street, until their smiles got in the way, he can't argue with the end result. They do look good.

This little handoff probably will only take five minutes. Tommy still feels a little awkward around Maddie for reasons Buck cannot fathom for the life of him. Maddie is the kindest, coolest person on the planet, and she's so happy that Buck is happy and Buck is happy because of Tommy, so there shouldn't be any sort of weird vibe. But this is the first time Tommy's ever been in a relationship that made it to the stage where he gets to meet the family and he's so terrified of leaving a bad impression that it's translated into him acting like a robot whenever she's around.

It's maybe a little mean of him to send Maddie to Tommy's literal doorstep. He can just picture the deer-in-headlights look on Tommy's face when he opens the door, but Buck figures exposure therapy can only help. The more Tommy sees Maddie, the more he'll hopefully relax. Small moves.

Maddie will probably send a text in another few minutes about her ETA, but then the bells go off and Buck doesn't give it another thought until a few hours later when they're climbing into the truck to head back to the station.

Unearthing his phone, Buck is expecting a Looks like you're out on a call. I left your stuff on Bobby's desk. See you later!

He's not expecting a video.

Blinking, he checks the timestamp of the message—not twenty minutes ago—and feels the first nibbles of worry in his gut.

What if something happened at the station? What if Gerrard made an unexpected appearance, hoping to, like, challenge Bobby to fisticuffs to get his job back but found Maddie there instead? What if he says something to her, or tries to burn the building down while she's still inside? Maybe she took a video as proof before the ceiling caved in—

He nearly drops the phone trying to press play, and Chim slides in next to him just in time to see Maddie fill his screen.

But instead of evidence of their bitter ex-captain committing arson, it's a selfie video of her in a pair of sunglasses and a cap dancing and singing along to a song Buck doesn't recognize. He does recognize the kitchen behind her, though, because he'd eaten breakfast in it just this morning. There are two bottles of wine on the counter, one empty.

And after a moment, Buck realizes the sunglasses are Tommy's aviators and the pilot cap is the same one Buck accidentally stumbled upon in one of the upstairs closets and made Tommy wear a few nights ago.

But before he can process any of that, Tommy cha-chas his way into the background holding a plate of what looks like sandwiches. He's singing along too. Maddie turns around to look and starts laughing hysterically, the entire screen shaking like they're in the middle of a 9.1 earthquake, when Tommy starts hip thrusting.

Buck's jaw drops. "He said those dorky-ass dance moves were for my eyes only!"

"Wow, I never realized there was a patron saint of FOMO, but here I am sitting next to him. What an honor," Chim says with a laugh, but something in the video must click because his grin is suddenly swallowed by sheer outrage. "Wait, are they having a George Michael dance party without me? Maddie knows how much I love George!"

"What's your definition of dirty, baby, what do you consider pornography!" Maddie and Tommy shout gleefully at the camera.

Chim gasps. "Oh, divorce!"

"What was that about FOMO, Chim?" Hen asks sweetly, but she's grinning so wide at the video—even from her upside down vantage point—that the dig doesn't stick the landing.

Buck looks over at Eddie, who is watching the video serenely, like he's not shocked to see his cool friend full-on shimmying his chest while shoving a grilled cheese into his face.

"Are you not surprised by this at all?" Buck demands.

Eddie shrugs. "If you ever came to karaoke like we keep asking you to, you wouldn't be either. I don't know what you want me to say, Buck. Your man's a dweeb."

He's so annoyed that this is something Eddie's seen so many times before that it doesn't even warrant a reaction that Buck almost forgets to be upset about Maddie and the aforementioned dweeb day drinking and bonding without him. He's oh so glad to see Tommy got over his fear of impressing Maddie enough that he thinks he's allowed to do the fucking running man while in the same room with her.

"C-c-c-c-c-come on!" Tommy howls. Off screen, Maddie cackles and whoops like she's at a rodeo show.

Buck turns to Chimney and says grimly, "After this? You totally get me in the divorce."

Chim makes a face. "Can I contest that?"

"No," Buck says, swiping out of the video before he throws his phone into the street. Almost immediately it chimes with a new text. In a new group chat.

Faxed ur stuff bc ur bf still has a FAX MACHINE and CONNECTIONS at the dir!

Yes and arent uoy glad???1? EVan youre all set baby

BABY lmao gross Going to Jees school now tell u how it goes

When Bobby hauls himself into the front seat, he looks back at them and pauses. Buck doesn't know what his face is doing, but by the dubious expression on Bobby's face, it's nothing good.

"Everything... okay?"

Buck shrugs. "Other than my niece being destined for a career of slinging burgers at In n' Out because my drunk sister and boyfriend are about to get her blackballed from the Los Angeles public school system? We're copasetic, Cap."

'Copasetic,' Eddie mouths, then starts snickering. Buck kicks his foot.

"Hey." Chim smacks him in the chest. "Don't diss fast food workers, they're the backbone of our society. You're just mad you're not cheating Jee out of an education with said sister and boyfriend."

"Aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm well-actualized enough to simply rise above the betrayal," Chimney says easily.

Hen rolls her eyes. "He's not. Between the two of you, we're going to be hearing about this for the next four years."

"Sorry, Maddie and Tommy are doing what?" Bobby asks slowly.

The corners of Chim's mouth twitch downward. "Dancing to I Want Your Sex. Without me, might I add."

Buck's head turns so fast he hears something pop in his neck. "It's called what?"

"Oh god," Hen mutters. Eddie looks like he's ready to start dozing off.

Buck's gearing up for a really good rant when his phone goes off again, and when he opens the message, it's a selfie of Maddie and Tommy pressed together in someone's backseat—hopefully an Uber's—and grinning so hard it almost looks a little painful.

Jealousy starts to rear its head like a snake, but before it has a chance to strike he clocks the name of the group chat.

The Official Evan Buckley Fan Club.

Be safe out htere! We love you!

"I'm just saying," Chim gripes to a visibly unsympathetic Hen, "Maddie wasn't even a George Michael fan until I made her listen to Hard Day!"

Buck turns to Eddie and kicks his foot again. "Want to join The Evan Buckley Fan Club?"

"Dude, I've been treasurer for like seven years," Eddie says without opening his eyes. "And I cast the deciding vote when Tommy ran for president at the end of last year."

Once upon a time a there lived boy in Hershey, Pennsylvania who never dared to conceive the idea that multiple people might someday love him enough to start a fan club over it.

"You over it yet?" Eddie asks.

Something warm and sweet wells inside him and he ducks his head around a pleased laugh. "Yeah, for now."

He does make a mental note to have a serious talk with Tommy about the proprietary nature of those hip thrusts, though.

[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 27/Sept/2024 

I’ve finished the base writing for Chapter Four, and I’ve almost finished the first edits!!

As you might be able to tell, it’s been a very productive week, hehe! :D

Chapter Four came together sooo smoothly! There wasn’t as many scenes, which helped, but also a major chunk of it was just the MC and another character, which obviously helps keeps variations of scenes to a smaller amount with so few characters—though I still had to put a good amount in to account for some very important choices with this very important character…

But there was a really specific line I wanted this chapter to end on, as I finally got to write it I was like vibrating with excitement, lol! :D It sets up not only the next chapter on a fun, if intense, note, but also the rest of the story!

After I finished writing, I dove straight into the editing! There was an important bit of ‘mirroring’ I really wanted to get into this chapter at the beginning and end for the romances, so getting to read back through and make sure that was clear but also subtle was great to check on!

The romances really are progressing now, and although I want that to be obvious through dialogue and actions, I also want it to be there in the subtler, quieter moments too. I think that’s where deeper feelings can really shine the most! More of an instinctual thing than something the characters are actively doing.

Next week, I will easily finish of the edits and rewrites for this chapter, and then move onto social media days.

Social media days will take a bit longer as I have the Autumnal Scenario Specials for Patreon to write, which is really going to get me in the autumnal mood…before jumping back into the heated summer going on for the next chapter, hehe! :D

Hope you all have the most amazing weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll update you all again next week! <3

[pitchsidestories]

all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!”, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.  

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

[gregrulzok]

But as much as I make fun of Daniel... God, I get it.

I Get It.

Ohhh do I Get It.

Because at the start he's a 32 year old man, and he's got a barely paying job that (to be fair) he's very passionate about, and he has a budding alcohol problem, and he has presumably got little contact with family and few friends. He's drifting, unsure, untethered.

And any little semblance of normalcy is suddenly, violently, ripped from him. He learns that vampires, eternal, powerful creatures actually exist all around him. He's forced to go on a cross-country rat race to escape a vampire stalker that's literally playing chase with him for his own amusement, and in the process, he presumably loses contact with everyone. He's ready to die by the end of it, tormented and scared and having felt like prey for YEARS, but instead he's made to drink vampire blood and OH, for the first time in a long time he feels POWERFUL. And now he's hopping country-to-country again, going out only at night, only at the discretion of his stalker - his stalker, his lover, the only one that can make him feel that powerful again and yet still, he's infinitely more powerful than Daniel anyway - and for years and years he doesn't see the sun, sleeps away the day to get ready for the next night of God-Knows-What.

And Armand leaves him sometimes ! Disappears for weeks or months. He has no control over him, no sway, he doesn't understand him, can't comprehend his world, won't have it explained to him.

He knows only ecstasy or agony.

And now he's 30-something or 40-something, and he's addicted to vampire blood, to the torment of others. He's been travelling for years, he doesn't go out during the day, he's got no one other than Armand. And he's been complicit, so many times, in death - he knows his lover kills every night, he knows their pain - how is he even supposed to look at other people now? And he's been cuddling and kissing and intimate with the corpse of a 17-year-old boy, and he knows that's technically still a living being, but FUCK if that won't mess with your perception of yourself. He knows that not normal, he's aware that if anyone knew he'd be locked up by now, but he can't stop now because where will he go? He can't talk to humans normally anymore, not ever.

And Armand is all he has, Armand is all he can cling to - because he makes him feel powerful, yes, but also because he loves him. He loves him so much, it's his only anchor in the world, his only salvation.

And Armand is composed where Daniel is disheveled. Beautiful where Daniel is scruffy. Powerful where Daniel is weak, wise where Daniel is ignorant, energetic where Daniel is lethargic.

Eternal, where Daniel is painfully, painfully mortal.

Armand is all he has, and he doesn't know why Armand wants him, and he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's going to die soon and Armand will forget about him.

Eventually, sure. After years, maybe even decades, maybe even centuries of grief, who knows?

But eventually, Daniel will be nothing but a distant, half-remembered, fond glimpse of Armand's past.

Because if things don't change, if they continue to be where they are, then compared to Armand, he really is nothing.

...

I FUCKING GET IT.

[soulofapatrick]

Sleep, I've Got You - Liam Mairi x Female Reader

Summary: you haven't slept in two weeks and two people are pushing you to seek Liam's help

Warnings: none

Words: 2.3k

Y/N's POV

The training room is filled with quiet conversation, but I linger in the doorway, unnoticed. Violet is stretched out on the floor with a book in hand, Bodhi and Garrick are watching Ridoc and Sawyer debating something trivial. Liam is just listening along, breathing air through his nose  when either of the goofs say something even more ridiculous than the other but he’s fiddling with a dagger in his hand. Xaden is in the corner, brooding as usual, his dark eyes occasionally flicking up to meet mine before drifting away. 

“Go to him.” Draighanmúr’s, or Draighan as I call him, voice rumbles in the back of my mind, firm and gentle. His presence is soothing, as always, but his suggestion catches me off guard, feeling his silent urge for me to move from where I’m still hovering in the doorway. He doesn’t say who the ‘him’ is but I know exactly who he is on about. 

I shouldn’t be here. My body is heavy with exhaustion, my thoughts fogged by the lack of sleep that’s haunted me for days. I know I should turn around and head back to the dorms, crawl into bed and pull the duvet over my head and try to get a single wink of sleep. Something, or someone, keeps me rooted in place, Xaden’s eyes flicking over to mine again once more before he goes back to brooding. 

The shadows around me seem to come to life, curling around my ankles like tendrils, their touch cold and almost tangible. There’s a light pressure at the back of my legs, an insistent nudge that makes me take a wobbly step forwards. My breath catching in my throat as I realise what’s happening—these aren’t just ordinary shadows. They’re Xaden’s. 

I glare at my wingleader instinctively, annoyance flickering in my chest. He’s the only one who could be doing this, the one manipulating the shadows to push me out of the safety of the darkness where I’ve been hiding. His eyes meet mine briefly, and there’s a knowing look in them, an acknowledgment of what he’s doing. He doesn’t say anything, though, just tilts his head slightly as if to say, You know this is for your own good.

Draighan chuffs in the back of my mind as if agreeing with Xaden’s silent comment, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and agreement as he tells me You need rest, and you know who can give it to you. His presence is warm, comforting, but it doesn’t take away the frustration bubbling inside me. Xaden and Draighan unknowingly conspiring against me. 

With a resigned sigh, I continue to shuffle forwards, my movements somewhat sluggish and uncertain—things you don’t want for a dragon rider. Every step feels heavier than the last, and I hesitate again, my body instinctively trying to resit the pull. But I can feel Xaden’s eyes boring holes into the side of my head, a silent pressure that refuses to elm me retreat. It’s as if his gaze alone is propelling my forwards, leaving me no choice but to keep moving until I find myself standing next to the group of boys. 

Ridoc glances up at me, a mischievous grin on his face which would have me worried if it were anyone else but Ridoc as he asks, “You joining us?” His tone is light, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes, like he’s surprised I’ve wandered over to them and not Violet. 

I just nod, the motion feeling more like a reflex than a conscious decision. Without saying a word, I sink down the wall, near Sawyer and a few steps away from Liam, close enough to feel the warmth of Liam’s presence but far enough that I don’t feel complexly exposed. 

The golden evening light streams into the training room, casting a warm, ethereal glow over everything it touches. Liam sits bathed in that light, his soft light-blond hair catching the glow, making him look almost ethereal. His tall, muscular frame, as built as Dain, is relaxed as he fiddles with a dagger, the blade catching the light as it twirls effortlessly between his fingers. His blue eyes are focused on the conversation, a soft, thoughtful expression on his face as he listens to the banter around him. There’s a rugged handsomeness to him, emphasised by the prominent nose and the sprawling rebellion relic that begins at his wrist and disappears under the sleeve of his tunic. When he smiles, a dimple appears, adding a touch of warmth to his otherwise stoic demeanour.

My heart tightens in my chest as I watch him. He looks like he belongs in this light, like the strength and calmness of it are just extensions of who he is. There’s a quiet confidence about him that draws me in, and I can’t help but feel my crush on him swell, massive and overwhelming. I’m head over heels for him, and it’s a feeling that terrifies me as much as it thrills me. 

Draighan’s presence in my mind is a steady, reassuring hum, bolstering my resolve. I scoot closer to Liam, my movements slow and deliberate as I inch toward him. My heart races as I reach out, nudging his right arm from his lap. He looks down at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything as I lay my head down where his arm once rested.

I tense, my whole body stiffening in anticipation of some kind of backlash or teasing comment. I’m ready for Ridoc’s sharp wit, for Sawyer’s playful jabs, or even for Liam to shift uncomfortably and pull away. But none of that happens. Instead, there’s a beat of silence, and then I feel Liam’s hand find its way into my hair. His fingers are gentle, tentative at first, before they start to move in slow, soothing strokes.

Liam's fingers begin to move through my hair, the touch light and careful, as though he’s afraid of hurting me. He smooths out the knots with practiced ease, each motion gentle yet firm. The tension I’ve been holding in my scalp and neck gradually starts to dissolve under his deft touch, the soothing strokes lulling me into a state of relaxation I haven’t felt in days.

As his hand continues to comb through my hair, he leans forward slightly, tilting my head to the side so that our eyes meet. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and alert, soften as they take in the exhaustion written across my face. There’s a quiet understanding in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of how tired I am, how much I need this moment of comfort.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and tender. “Sleep.”

The warmth in his tone wraps around me like a blanket, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the noise of the room, the worries in my mind. It’s just him, his voice, and the steady rhythm of his fingers in my hair. He lets go of my face, leaning back against the wall as he continues his soothing ministrations. Before he settles, though, his fingers briefly brush against my cheek, a tender gesture that sends a warmth spreading through my chest. Then, his hand returns to my hair, the steady, rhythmic strokes coaxing me closer to the edge of sleep.

As I begin to drift, I catch Ridoc’s eyes from across the room. He’s been watching quietly, his playful demeanour momentarily subdued. He mouths a single word at me, a question: Nightmares?

I nod once, softly, the motion barely perceptible. It’s all I can manage in my state of exhaustion, but it’s enough. Ridoc’s gaze softens in understanding before he turns back to his banter with Sawyer, Bodhi, and Garrick, picking up the conversation where he left off.

The world around me fades into the background as Liam’s fingers continue to move through my hair, the gentle rhythm pulling me closer to sleep. Draighan’s presence hums softly in the back of my mind, a comforting reminder that I’m safe, that I can finally let go. My breathing slows, and before long, I succumb to the exhaustion, my body sinking into the warmth and comfort of Liam’s lap.

————

I slowly drift back into consciousness, the heaviness of sleep gradually lifting as awareness returns. The first thing I notice is the softness beneath my head—a pillow, not the comforting firmness of Liam’s lap where I last remember resting. I shift slightly, feeling the warmth of a blanket draped over me, its weight soothing against the cool air of the room. There’s another weight too, heavier and more solid, resting across my waist. It takes me a moment to realize it’s an arm, strong and steady, holding me close.

I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. The training room is gone, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through a small window. The familiar scent of leather and something distinctly Liam fills my senses, grounding me as I take in my surroundings. I’m not in the dorms, not in my own bed. My heart skips a beat as the realisation sinks in—I’m in Liam’s bed.

I take a slow, deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of the warm body behind me. His presence is solid, comforting, and undeniably familiar. The heat of his body seeps into my back, and for a moment, I just lie there, processing the unexpected but welcome reality of where I am.

Carefully, I roll over, shifting beneath the weight of his arm until I’m facing him. The room is quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of the blanket and the steady rhythm of Liam’s breathing. My eyes trace his features, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. His spiky blond hair is tousled, a few strands falling across his forehead. His sharp, blue eyes are hidden behind closed lids, their intensity softened by the calmness of slumber. His prominent nose and the faint shadow of stubble on his jawline give him a rugged look, but there’s a gentleness to him now, a vulnerability that makes my heart ache.

As I lie there, taking in every detail of Liam's serene face, I feel an overwhelming tenderness swell in my chest. His usually intense blue eyes are softened by sleep, his features relaxed in a way I rarely get to see. I can’t help myself—I lean in and press a gentle kiss to his jawline, just where the faint shadow of stubble begins. His skin is warm and slightly rough beneath my lips, the contact filling me with a quiet sense of intimacy.

The soft press of my lips causes him to stir, his brow furrowing slightly before his eyes slowly flutter open. For a moment, he looks disoriented, but then his gaze finds mine, and a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"How'd you sleep?" he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

I begin to answer, my voice still soft and laced with the remnants of sleep, "Better than I have in days—" But before I can finish, I notice his eyes flick down to my lips, lingering there for just a heartbeat before he moves.

In a fluid motion, Liam closes the small distance between us, capturing my lips in a kiss that feels like the culmination of something we’ve both been wanting for far too long. His lips are warm and firm against mine, moving with a gentle urgency that takes my breath away. His hand, still resting on my waist, tightens slightly, pulling me closer as if he needs to make sure I’m real, that this moment is real.

The kiss is slow and tender, but there’s a depth to it that speaks of unspoken emotions, of the comfort we find in each other. His thumb brushes over my cheek as he deepens the kiss, his touch both loving and reverent. I lose myself in the sensation, in the way his lips mold perfectly to mine, in the way his warmth seeps into every corner of my being. It feels like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I didn’t know was missing.

When we finally part, it’s with a shared breath, both of us a little dazed but undeniably content. His forehead rests gently against mine, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

"Maybe we should get a little more sleep," he whispers, his voice a soft murmur that makes my heart flutter. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, one that I can’t help but return.

"Yeah," I agree, my own voice barely more than a sigh as I shift closer, tucking myself against his bare chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear is a comforting rhythm, lulling me back toward sleep. His arm wraps securely around me, holding me close as his other hand continues its soothing motions, tracing gentle patterns along my back.

As I drift off, the warmth of his body enveloping me and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my head, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. With Liam holding me close, sleep comes easily, and I let myself surrender to it, knowing that for now, everything is exactly as it should be.

Fourth Wing Masterlist - To be made Comment to be added to tag list

[storiesfromafan]

What's Mine Is Mine - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: woke up to the news of Dame Maggie Smith's passing. So I did a little something in memory.

Prompt: “I'm not the jealous type, but what's mine is mine. End of story"

“What do you think you were doing!?” Boomed the loud voice of Professor McGonagall. “Fighting another student! And breaking his nose! Mr Riddle, it will be detention for a month for you!”

You looked to your boyfriend, a hard look on your face. As you were also mad at the Slytherin boy. Yet he didn't looked faze, maybe a little proud of himself more so. You didn't know why he had to attack the Gryffindor boy.

“And you" McGonagall swings around to you look at you, still mad but a little softer. “You will get detention for two weeks!”

“W-what?” You sputtered. “I-I did nothing, other then try to break them up!?”

“When I came upon the scene, it didn't look like you were breaking it up Miss (Y/L/N). Two weeks detention, another word from you and it will be more, understood?”

You bit your tongue and nodded your head, casting a glare to Mattheo. Who looked quite pleased with himself.

The Professor sighed. “Alright, back to your house you go".

You both got up from your seats in McGonagall's class room, and began to walk to the room's door. Before you even took two step's, the Professor asked for you to stop and wait a moment. She sent off Mattheo, who didn't like leaving you, but he reluctantly left the room. You turned back and moved to stand before McGonagall at her desk.

“Yes Professor?” You asked calmly.

She looked at you with a soft, pointed look. “I am not one to meddle in the lives of students, but are you sure Mr Riddle is the right suitor for you? He is hot headed and easy to anger, that to me is not a good thing".

You understood her concerns and felt touched the women cared, but she did not know Mattheo like you did. No one did. They only saw what he showed them; cocky, tough, smartass and anger issues. But what you have seen of your boyfriend was loyalty, kindness, sweet and passionate sides. Slytherin boy's protected and coveted what was theirs.

“All due respect Professor, you don't know Mattheo like I do" you replied with a confident voice. “He might be what you have said, but you don't know him like I do. There is more to him then just that. Am I free to leave now?”

Professor McGonagall gave you a surprised look before dismissing you. You weren’t one to necessarily speak up like you did, and be rather rude to those in authority. But part of her admired your loyalty to Mattheo Riddle. And she hoped you were right about knowing him well.

You walked from the classroom with a sigh. This is not how you wanted your afternoon to go. You didn't want to have to step between your boyfriend, who had came across a Gryffindor classmate asking you for your notes from Snape's class, and another student. Alright, Slytherin and Gryffindor might not get along, but with Henry, you had a mutual respect for each other and your studies.

But Mattheo came upon you both, having a laugh, and looks to have thought Henry was flirting with you. One minute you're laughing, the next Mattheo had grabbed Henry and pulled him away. They exchanged words before Mattheo punched him. And began their fist fight. You moved to break them up, which was hopeless. Soon Professor McGonagall came across you three, as well as the crowd of on lookers. And, well you know what happened next.

“What did she want?” Asked Mattheo, as you came upon him leaning on a wall.

You kept your mouth shut, choosing to ignore your boyfriend and continue walking to the dungeons. A few more times did Mattheo try to talk to you, but you still kept your lips shut tight. Your anger slowly boiling below the surface. When you both descended the stairs to the dungeon did he try again.

“Come on love" he half sighed, half whined. “Talk to me!”

You stopped suddenly – which halted Mattheo – and turned around to shoot him a sharp look. “What can I say to take back the last hour, Theo? Nothing. So what's the point!?”

He flinched at your raised voice. “Come on love" – he stepped up and grabbed your hand, which you withdrew from him a few seconds later – “don't be like this".

“Like what?” You questioned while crossing your arms over your chest.

“L-like this" he moved his hands up and down, gesturing to your stern presence. “This stern figure, when you're not".

You scoffed. “I wouldn’t have to be stern if you hadn't attacked Henry".

Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Henry. God his name is worse then his shit fighting skills".

You studied your boyfriend. And after taking in his annoyed tone, agitated roll of his eyes and the fact he'd beaten up your friend but not friend. You concluded one thing about your boyfriend.

“You were jealous" you proclaimed in amusement, having to hold back a chuckle.

Mattheo shot you a glare. “I'm not the jealous type, but what's mine is mine. End of story”.

You smirked. “You answered that a little too quick, love” you laughed. And began to head for Slytherin house.

Mattheo sputtered out words, trying to defend himself before finally letting out a frustrated sound. “I was not jealous!” He called before storming after you and your cackling frame.

[doeidawn]

☁︎ — see you next saturday

a night at the bar turns interesting when a masked stranger crosses your path. he's far from approachable, but something about him draws you in until you're coming to the bar every weekend just to see him. he's enigmatic and exciting—exactly what you needed to interrupt the monotony of life. 11.2k

⟢ pairing: ghost x f!reader

⟢ tags: MDNI/18+; author is american and apologizes in advance—this probably isn't how bars in the UK are, sorry; ghost is unnamed for 95% of the fic but it pays off; alcohol consumption (no one gets drunk, it's just some sipping); awkward first meeting; slow-burn??? idk sex doesn't happen til the very end; implied size difference; biker!ghost; semi-public sex; fingering; table sex; praise; unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it); oral sex [m receiving]; facial

Another excited cheer from the table behind you tells you that one of the football teams on screen has scored. Though you couldn’t care less about the game, you catch a glance at the television hung on the wall near the bar to watch the score rise. Aside from sipping on the same drink and watching people filter in and out all night, you didn’t have anything better to do, anyway.

A night out at the bar probably wasn’t the most efficient use of your time, or your money, but after a week of grueling work and the ever-increasing stress of life, it felt nice to ignore everything for a while. As long as you didn’t drink enough to hate yourself the next morning, who were you to deny yourself some fun? Well, as fun as watching drunk people mingle could be. A cheap local bar wouldn’t give way for much excitement.

You were almost thankful for that. The wrong kind of excitement only would’ve added to the weight on your shoulders. Yet, a part of you still yearned for something more than the monotony of asking the bartender for another round while your eyes scanned the crowds. Only two drinks in and already you were practically praying for an interesting face to look your way and add something that resembled anticipation to your life.

You set your glass down on the bartop with a sigh. Another cheer comes from your left, drawing your attention towards the table of patrons with their eyes glued to the television wearing their excited smiles. It’s only a momentary glance, but with your head turned in their direction, you notice the first interesting face you’ve seen all night.

Rather, it was the lack of his face that drew you in. Just a few seats down the bar stood a tall man, dressed head to toe in dark clothing, sliding an empty glass toward the bartender. Perhaps the most notable thing about him is how his hood sits on his head and a mask covers the bottom half of his face. Is that skull print on the fabric?

Whoever he was, he didn’t seem too keen on letting other people know. Part of you was surprised he was even allowed to be served. To say he looked suspicious would be putting it mildly. 

But there was something about him that caught your attention and wouldn’t let go. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the air of mystery that clung to him, or maybe it was your desperate need for excitement. At this point, you couldn’t quite tell what the reason was, but his presence was magnetic. 

His head turns slightly to look up at the television mounted near the bar. For a split second, you thought he had noticed you somehow. You don’t know why it affected you enough to make your heart leap into your throat, but it was enough to make you stop staring out of fear you’d come off rude.

Your leg bounces nervously on the barstool, itching to walk you over to him. But, Christ, you’ve been out of the game for a while, and you have to assume his…unique sense of attire was to wade off any unwanted conversation. What would you even say to a guy like that? Compliments aren’t easy when you can’t see any part of the man’s face. 

Your fingertips run over the edge of your glass and you can’t help but bring your eyes back over to him. Still focused on the game. 

“What’s with the mask?” The words leave your mouth before you can give them a second thought. You regret it almost immediately, hoping that maybe between the music and the surrounding conversations that he couldn’t hear you. 

There’s a slow turn of his head in your direction. His eyes meet yours, but instead of curiosity you find nothing but a piercing gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but you swear his gaze moves over you before he turns his attention to the bartender.

Bummer. Well, it was worth a shot…even if you think you’ll have to order another drink to prevent yourself from cringing on the memory later. 

You huff another sigh and swirl your drink, watching the liquid move in the glass. If nothing else, at least you got a good night of people-watching and paid enough attention to the game to know what your coworkers will talk about on Monday. The next sip burns your throat as you swallow. 

“Tactical advantage.” A baritone voice—suddenly very close to you—comes from your left and startles you, making you jump in your seat. 

Your eyes dart to the side, wide in panic, meeting a masked face looking down at you. You curse under your breath, unsure whether it’s appropriate to feel relieved.

“Pardon..?”

“You asked about the mask,” the man gestures vaguely towards his fabric-covered face as he moves to sit on the barstool next to you. The old material groans under his weight. “Tactical advantage.” 

You couldn’t help but continue to stare at him. You could tell he was a bigger guy from far away, but, Jesus, he was even bigger up close. Not just tall, but his shoulders were broad and his hands practically dwarfed the glass he was holding. He was, objectively, terrifying.

Yet, you couldn’t help but smile at his simple, concise words. “Yeah? And what advantage is that?”

“To hide my face.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt at comedy. “Well, I coulda guessed that.”

“You asked.” He looks over at you and instead of the piercing gaze from before, there’s something much warmer in his eyes. You wish you could see if he had a smug smile to accompany his words. 

“That I did.” You take another sip of your drink, hoping it’ll continue to keep your nerves settled. “So why d’you wanna hide your face?”

He’s silent for a moment, looking down at the bar as he folds his arms and leans against it. You faintly hear him sigh before he shrugs his shoulders. “No need to show it.”

“Gotta be hard to drink with a mask, no?”

“Not if you lift it up.”

“Or you could just…take it off.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“‘Cause then I’d get to see what you look like.”

His eyes—you make a mental note of the deep brown color they are—narrow at that. “Oh, I dunno if you want that.”

“I think I do.”

The stool beneath him creaks with his weight as he sits up, straightening his back and reminding you just how tall he is. His chest expands against his hoodie in another deep breath. “Determined, aren’t you?”

Another smile creeps its way onto your face. “C’mon, I’m curious.” You want to lean in, to tease him with your proximity, but you withhold yourself.

Those blond eyebrows that peek out from the rim of his balaclava raise slightly. His eyes move over you in a movement he doesn’t seem to bother being subtle about. Though the gesture makes your heart skip a beat, his silence is deafening.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, hands up in defeat. “I get it. No face.” He makes an affirmative sound at that.

“Smart girl.” He says it so fast, a one-off comment that told you to not bother pressing him for any more information, but something about it makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You have to look down at your drink when you feel your cheeks grow warm. Even though it was nearly gone, you certainly didn’t have enough liquid courage to flirt openly. You wanted to ask his name, to ask where he’s from—what if he lived close by?—but if he wasn’t even willing to show you his face at the bar, you knew the chances were slim. 

From the corner of your eye, you see him shift in his seat again. He digs in his pocket, pulls out his phone, and barely looks at it before he starts to stand. Was he leaving already? Why?

“Where you goin’?” You ask before you can really think about why you cared so much.

“M’needed elsewhere.” 

Blunt, simple, and vague. That seemed to be how he operated. 

“Oh, a popular guy, are you?”

“You could say that.” Your eyes follow him as he moves, but he doesn’t look your way when he stands. Christ, he was a big lad. 

“You didn’t even touch your drink.”

“It’s not mine.” He moves the full glass down the bar until it clinks against your own. It’s then you notice it’s the same color as your drink. Same glass, same serving. Did he really buy you a drink?

“Have a nice night.” You look back at him to see his eyes meeting yours. Maybe it was the last drink still swimming in your system, but you weren’t able to form the words to respond. “Get home safe, yeah?”

And with a nod of your head, he weaved his way through the room until he was out of your line of sight. Despite his size, he was easy to lose in the crowd. You turn back to the bartop and stare at the two glasses. The one on the left—the one he’d bought for you—was invitingly full.

You reach out, fingertips skimming the rim before you bring the glass to your lips. It was the same drink you always ordered when you went out—your favorite. Only somehow it tastes sweeter on your tongue this time.

You’ve never made it a habit to go out and drink. As stressful as life could get, it just wasn’t an outlet you ever turned towards. It was expensive as hell, and you weren’t stupid enough to ignore how much it sucked to be hungover. 

But despite that, you found yourself back in that same barstool when the weekend came around. And for the first time, it wasn’t because of the overpriced liquor.

Only a few sips into your first drink of the night and you were already looking around in hopes that you’d find a skull-patterned mask looking back at you. Desperately you tried to tune out the chatter of people around you, hoping you’d be able to pick out his voice. Maybe it was stupid. It was definitely wishful thinking. 

For all you knew, he wasn’t even in town anymore; you figured he probably wasn’t the type of guy to stick around one place for very long. And, hell, he left so abruptly last time, who’s to say he’d even want to see you again? You hated the tightness that built in your chest at the thought of that. 

Well, you might as well enjoy your drink since you’re here. You tried to pay attention to whatever sport was on the television this time, tried scrolling on your phone, but nothing held your attention. Every sip of your drink tempted you to house the entire bar. But you didn’t figure yourself that pathetic. Still, you were pathetic enough to keep looking over at the entrance, hoping you’d see that tall figure slinking through groups of people.

But you never do.

Fuck. It was stupid to hope anyway. You curse yourself under your breath, rubbing at your temples like it’ll help clear your head. With a huff and a sigh, you finish the last of your drink. It doesn’t taste as sweet as it did last time. You’re more disappointed than you wanted to allow yourself to be.

You decided rather quickly that you’d rather mope and feel sorry for yourself in the comfort of your own home. It wasn’t worth wasting money on another lonely drink.

There’s a chill breeze outside that cuts through you, making you shiver as soon as you walk out the door. You cross your arms, trying to preserve some body heat, as you make your way down the pavement. A still-lingering part of you doesn’t want to leave but your legs don’t stop carrying you further away.

You eventually come to a stop, leaning against a light post as you dig out your phone. Even though you’re supposed to be looking up the rideshare to get you back home, you can’t help but look around last time. You think yourself too desperate for your own good until you see a tall figure just a few steps away.

Standing next to a motorcycle that you can only assume is his, the hooded figure drops a cigarette to the ground, his boot grinding against the pavement to stomp it out. You thought it might be too good to be true, but then he turns just enough for you to see him pull that skull-patterned balaclava back over his mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice you—a fact you quickly want to remedy.

“Hey, big guy,” you call out to him, the nickname a subconscious one you immediately cringe at yourself for. Fucking ‘big guy’? Yeah, that’s not gonna go over well.

But it certainly gets his attention. His head turns in your direction, if only barely. He does a double-take before stopping in his tracks and staring back at you. You have to hope and pray that he doesn’t think you’re crazy as you walk over to him. Luckily, he didn’t move away from your advances. Instead, he turns towards you as if to welcome your approach, dark eyes raking over you in that same conspicuous motion.

It’s when you’re face-to-face with him—well, more like mask-to-face—that you realize you didn’t quite know what to say. You were too sober to be making a fool of yourself like this. After an awkward beat of silence of you taking in once more just how tall he was compared to you, you finally manage to conjure up something.

“I just wanted to say…thank you for buying me a drink the other night. I…I appreciated that.”

“Course.” You’d almost forgotten the gruff sound of his baritone voice. “You leavin’ already?”

You hesitate for a moment, a lie stewing on the tip of your tongue. No, no, I was just hanging out in the cold, what a coincidence, right? How much you wanted to spend time with a man you barely knew was almost pathetic. You resign the thought with a sigh. “Sorry, you’re too late. I already had all my fun.”

“What, waitin’ f’me?” 

You didn’t know if he was just confident or if he somehow truly knew that was what you were doing. Either way, it made you feel like he could see right through you, like he knew you found him interesting. “Maybe I was hopin’ you’d come by.” You bite your lip, gaze hitting the ground before looking back up at him. “You were the most entertaining thing at that bar.”

He takes in a deep breath at that. “M’sorry I missed it.” Yeah, me too. “Can you get yourself home?”

“Yeah. Well, a rideshare can.”

“How ‘bout I take you home?”

The suggestion makes your heart skip a beat, staring up at him, frozen and probably looking half-crazed. The rational part of your brain was sounding every possible alarm. Why would you ever trust a man you met in a bar who never takes off his mask to take you home unless you had a death wish? And yet the winning part of your brain was the one that was extremely curious about his implication.

“Ah, take a bloke I barely know back home? How drunk d’you think I am?”

He looks over you again in a beat of silence. “You aren’t. That’s why I’m askin’.” Knowing he didn’t want to take advantage of you eased some of the lingering anxiety in the back of your mind. But, as if he could sense that anxiety, he continued, “You don’t gotta let me in, I jus’ wanna make sure you’re safe. I’m cheaper than a rideshare, anyway.”

“Well, can’t beat that, I suppose.” You move around him to approach his parked motorcycle. You didn’t have to know much about bikes to realize it was a nice one. Sleek, but not flashy. Your fingers glide over the leather of the seat as you eye the streetlights reflecting off of the shiny black body. “I’ve never been on a bike. People say they’re dangerous.”

“They can be, if you don’t know what you’re doin’.” You hadn’t noticed how close he was—moving as silent as ever—hovering just behind you as he grabs the helmet strapped securely to the bike. Holding it out towards you, he gives you a nudge. “Here.”

You take the helmet, holding it carefully like you’re afraid to leave your fingerprints all over it. You could already tell it’d be too big, but the consideration was nice. “I trust you know what you’re doin’, then?”

“Most of the time.”

Well, wasn’t he quite the comedian.

You slot the helmet over your head with a roll of your eyes. As you guessed, it was certainly too big, tilting forward over your brow and obscuring your view. A bitterly sweet smell floods your senses as you clasp it in place; you can only assume it’s his sweat, mixed with a faint air of tobacco, embedded into the foam lining.

A heavy hand rests on the side of the helmet, holding it steady while he slides the visor up. His head tilts as those dark eyes of his greet you. “Bit big on you, innit?”

“Yeah, just a li’l.”

“How far we goin’?” You should have been a little hesitant before telling him your address, but you don’t even stutter. He spoke like he had to know, like ordering people around was what he did for a living. An affirmative hum comes from behind his mask as he slides the visor back down. “You’ll be alright.”

You struggle to balance both yourself and the helmet long enough to swing your leg over the seat. You were thankful that the helmet obscured your face to shield some of the embarrassment, at least. Then you feel that same heavy palm on the small of your back, trying to keep you steady, only to make your body tense up. The helmet swings lazily on your head as you finally straddle the seat.

Once you’re situated, after asking if you’re comfortable, he slides his hand off of you. He has no problem getting himself sat, taking up the front half of the seat as he slots in the space before you. He turns his head and, though you have to lift your head awkwardly to see him through the visor, you hear his voice say, “Hold on tight. Can’t have you fallin’ off.”

What, did he plan on speeding out of here? Hesitantly, your hands find purchase on his waist. It was gentle, barely enough pressure to feel his hoodie under your fingertips, let alone his body underneath.

You think you hear him scoff. “I’m sure you’re stronger than that.” His fingers wrap around your wrists, guiding your hands forward until they rest on his chest. The movement shortens the gap of space between your bodies as your arms hover awkwardly around him. “I promise you won’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re afraid of. C’mon, tighter than that.” You strengthen your hold, closing the distance between your chest and his back, practically hugging him. “Atta girl.”

Your face heats up at that, and you were thankful the helmet obscured the sheepish smile that had painted itself on your face. 

The engine suddenly roars to life, loud enough to surprise you. The power behind it vibrates through the leather seat and seeps easily through the padding of the helmet. Though his takeoff was as smooth as it could’ve been, it didn’t stop you from tightening your hold around his body. 

The cityscape passes by in a blur of vibrant lights and towering buildings. The hum of the motorcycle’s engine overpowers the surrounding cars, echoing off of the asphalt and thrumming a rhythmic hum during the ride. The already-cool night air bites at your skin as it whips past. 

Though you have no reason to, you find yourself gripping him tighter on every take-off after a stop. And despite the chill on your skin, you felt the heat rise to your face as you realized you could feel how rigid and tough he was under that hoodie. 

There was a thrill, you realized, that ran through you and made your heart race. Not only because you were on a bike for the first time, but because of how close you were to the man in front of you. Holding on tight to a stranger whose name you didn’t know so he could bring you home safely sounded like something out of a novel. The smell of him embedded in his helmet and filling your senses, your body close to absorb some of his heat, the pure generosity of even offering to drive you home: everything made you want to abandon all self-respect and invite him in when you arrived.

The internal battle you fought over that distracted you for the rest of the ride.

You could barely see out of the helmet without cocking your head awkwardly, but you could tell when the trip was nearing its end. A pit formed in your stomach—a part of you unwilling to let the ride end just yet. It wasn’t until he slowed down enough to pick out your building that you realized how difficult it was to see over his broad shoulders. With a point and a nudge in the right direction, you guided him to your stop.

He pulls the bike up to the pavement before parking it. The sounds of the neighborhood replace the monotonous hum of the engine as he turns it off. Your movements are hesitant as your hands slide off his body, something you quickly regret and hope he hadn’t noticed. He helps you off the bike just as he had helped you on, reminding you of his gentle touch, thankful yet again for the helmet obscuring your shy smile.

You don’t ignore the sense of disappointment you feel knowing that he has to leave. Just taking off the helmet was enough to make you miss him and ache for something more, even when he stood right by you on the pavement. You knew it was strange to feel close to a man you barely knew, but he gave you more comfort than most. He made you feel intrigued in a way no one else did. 

“So,” you start, dreading the awkward silence, “do I get to know the name of my chauffeur?”

He pauses for a moment of consideration. Your heart beats faster, something akin to excitement making you hope for an answer. Finally, he looks up from the pavement. “Maybe next time.”

Initially, you felt more disappointed than you wanted to allow yourself to be. Surely his name was the one thing he could give up? But then you find yourself clinging on to that phrase. Maybe next time…Did he expect a ‘next time’? Should you expect a ‘next time’?

As you walked up to your door, he didn’t follow, staying true to his words from earlier. He kept a respectable distance to not crowd you, as if he didn’t want to make you nervous. If only he knew everything about him made you overthink your every move.

There’s a beat of silence when you grab your keys. An invite inside sits on the tip of your tongue, fighting with the rational part of your brain, consequences be damned. But his voice beats you to the punch as he breaks another long and empty silence.

“So d’you go and drink every Saturday?”

Your fingers toy with the keys in your hand as you debate your answer. “No, I don’t,” you admit after a beat of silence.

He hums a deep sound that you can’t quite identify the emotion behind. “So just a coincidence, then?”

You don’t respond to that. Instead, while fighting your sheepish smile, you look back at him. 

“Thanks for takin’ me home.”

“‘Course.”

“Maybe next time you should drink with me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest when the words leave your mouth. Eagerness didn’t seem like such a shameful thing anymore. Not when you were sharing body heat with him just a few minutes ago. Not when he knew where you lived because he cared enough to make sure you were safe. Maybe it was too hopeful to expect him to want to see you again, but when your eyes meet his under the streetlight, you’re confident the hope isn’t unfounded.

His eyes rake over you in a slow one-over as he nods. His voice is low in that same charming gruff timbre when he responds, “I’ll see you next Saturday, then?”

Fighting off an over-excited smile proves to be the most difficult thing you’ve done in a while. You sigh, calming your racing heart. “If you’re on time.”

“It’s a date.”

It wasn’t actually a date.

Surely he couldn’t have meant it literally. Still, it was enough to have you barely managing a flustered goodbye before fumbling with your keys at the door. Even after you were in the comfort of your home your face felt hot, your body practically vibrating from adrenaline. All from a stranger. The faint sound of the revving engine of his motorcycle moments later only served to remind you of his voice, the warmth of his body, and—hopefully—the promise in his words. 

You had to remind yourself constantly, every time your mind wandered throughout the week, that you were hoping for too much. You were daydreaming about a face you hadn’t seen yet from a man whose name you didn’t even know. And, God, that made you feel more pathetic than ever.

It was just a night out, spending time together over a drink, nothing more. Maybe you could learn his name if he was feeling generous enough. But to hope for anything more—a follow-up or anything deeper than friendliness—was foolish. Still, your mind kept wandering back to his words. It’s a date. 

No, this wasn’t a date, you scold yourself in the mirror, shaking your head as if it’ll dismiss the thought faster. That was just a throwaway line, something to draw you in to make sure he’d see you tonight. Nothing more, nothing implied, nothing to hope for. You knew that by now, practically drilled it into your own head. 

So why did you spend way too long looking at yourself in the mirror, obsessing over every little detail you could nitpick? Why did you drudge through your entire closet to make sure you picked the “right outfit”? Why did you stress about what perfume to wear and what drink to order? It wasn’t a date after all. 

Right?

It was too late to fight yourself on it once your rideshare pulled up. The implication of his words was irrelevant at this point; your heart seems to beat quicker with every turn of the wheels that brings you closer to the bar. Despite the cool air making you regret choosing to wear a skirt, you felt hot and stuffy—just downright nervous. Christ, you nearly felt like you could throw up when you saw a familiar tall silhouette outside the bar. 

He was on time. And he was waiting for you.

Every insecurity you nitpicked before comes to the front of your mind the moment you step onto the pavement. You force the thoughts away with a sigh and, for the first time in your life, your steps towards the bar are hesitant. His eyes meet yours as you approach and you almost wish you could see his reaction under that mask. But the more you thought about it, maybe you were better off not knowing.

He straightens up, pushing himself off of the wall, looking down at you with a face obscured by shadows and fabric. “I was startin’ to think I came too early.”

It was a huge relief to see him here, waiting and willing to see you again. You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. “Well, lucky for you, I like an eager man.”

His steps are confident as he makes his way towards the entrance. “That’s definitely one way to describe me.” You barely hear the sentence when he utters it, which only makes your heart beat faster. He pulls the door open, holding it for you to make your way in. 

The bar is as crowded as it is every Saturday. Plenty of people scattered around, watching whatever team was on the television this weekend, drunkenly shouting overtop of the music. It never fails to overwhelm you when you walk through the entrance. A hand rests on your back, grounding you and making you all too aware of your posture, slipping to your waist before guiding you through the bustle of people.

Your date—it still felt weird to call him that—guides you towards the bar, towards the backend where fewer people crowded the space. His presence was comforting despite his silence. Not to mention how perfectly his hand slotted against your waist, a thought that had you too nervous to bring attention to his sudden touchiness.

The stools squeak and groan as the two of you settle into your seats. The bar is anything but quiet, yet an awkward silence hangs in the air between you. Something told you he wasn’t the type to care about the awkwardness, but you were far too sober to not overthink every thought that popped into your head.

You clear your throat, hoping it’ll boost your confidence to speak. “I wasn’t actually sure you’d show,” you admit. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You weren’t sure how to respond. He raised a good point, one that spit in the face of your insecurities and anxiety. “I dunno…guess I worried I wasn’t exciting enough for you.”

“Well, you’re no mask-wearin’ bike rider.” He leans in your direction and nudges you with his elbow. “But I think you’re plenty excitin’.” You look up at his eyes just fast enough to catch his wink.

Flustered, you avert your eyes to the bartop as you laugh. “You don’t know me well enough, clearly.”

“I’d like to. That’s why I’m here.”

That brings your eyes back to his. You may not have been able to see his face, but those eyes told you everything about his sincerity. There shouldn’t have been any doubt left in your mind after that. The man admitted to having an interest in you—in getting to know you—and it surely set your heart on fire. 

“Well, that and to drink, I’m sure.” Your smile is an attempt to distract from the way you stare at him. It was like you had yourself convinced you could make out his features if you just studied him long enough. 

“Ah, that’s just a bonus.” He gestures for the bartender with a simple wave of his hand before fishing in his pocket for his wallet. 

“So what’s the drink of choice for a bloke like you?”

“Bourbon.”

You aren’t sure why that admission surprises you; of course a big guy like him would drink whiskey. Something about that fact makes you feel warm inside. You request one for yourself, an excuse to have something in common with him. 

Your eyes follow the bartender as they move, but your mind is far from the alcohol. Everything was going well—probably the best it could’ve gone meeting someone who could still classify as a stranger for the third time. But there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind, festering insecurity and uncertainty.

“Can I ask you something?” You almost surprise yourself with the lack of hesitance with which the question leaves your mouth.

“Shoot.”

“That night we met, when we spoke for the first time, you left awfully quick.” Your fingers tap against the bartop in an anxious rhythm. “What was that about?”

From the corner of your eye, you see him shrug. “Wasn’t my choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was work. It asks a lot of me sometimes.” Work calling at such a late hour was hard to believe, but the way he said it—a layer of exhaustion sullying his words—had you convinced. “Trust me, I would’ve preferred staying to talk to you.”

You believed that, too. 

“What do you do for work?”

He pauses, taking in a deep breath, like he’s thinking about how to phrase his response. You’ve started to learn how deliberate he was with his words. “A lot of dangerous shit.”

That definitely piques your attention. You hear the two glasses clink against the bartop, but you were more concerned with him than the alcohol. “Yeah? What kind of shit is that?” You didn’t have a lot of hope that he’d open up any more than that, but the curiosity ate at you. 

He reaches for one of the glasses, sighing as he moves. “The kind of shit that makes you want to drink to forget it.” He lifts the glass in your direction. “So let’s drink, yeah?”

Even if he didn’t completely open up, it was a sentiment you could sympathize with. You may not know exactly what he spent his time doing but you knew enough to hope he saw your company as comforting. You reach for the other glass and lift it until it clinks against his own. “Just don’t drink enough to forget me.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be forgettin’ you anytime soon.”

You smile at his sentiment, taking a sip of whiskey to wash away the anxiety-borne tension in your throat.

It’s done in a split second before you notice it, but he lifts the bottom of his balaclava over his mouth, resting the hem on his nose. It gives you a view of the blond scruff that dusts the sharp angle of his jaw, of those peach lips that look surprisingly soft as he raises his glass to take a drink. The way his mask sits makes you aware of the crook in the bridge of his nose—a sign of cartilage broken multiple times over. He’s rugged and rough underneath the soft cloth, far more attractive than anything you could’ve conjured up in your own mind. And that was without seeing his entire face. They were features that any other man could have, but he hid those features from the world for reasons you couldn’t fathom. Maybe that was what made him so alluring.

“You’re starin’.”

It takes a moment for his words to register in your head. You only realized he was speaking because you could actually see his mouth move. You scoff, brows furrowing as you finally blink for the first time in a while. “I wasn’t starin’.”

He grunts in response. You didn’t have to hear him speak to know he doesn’t believe you. Hell, you didn’t believe yourself. You roll your eyes at the sound, taking a sip of your drink and averting his intense gaze by catching a glimpse of the television behind the bar. You didn’t care one bit about the scores on the screen.

Especially when you suddenly felt the warmth of his hand on your thigh. There was no way he didn’t notice the way your muscles tense, flinching at the sudden contact. It’s indescribable the way it makes you feel. His rough and calloused touch barely underneath the hem of your skirt to feel the smooth and tender flesh of your thigh sends a jolt down your spine, a heat coursing through you that you haven’t felt in a while.

“You’re a terrible liar.” It isn’t lost on you the way his voice deepens when he whispers to you, leaning in close and quiet so he can make sure you hear him.

Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your face hot and your heart racing. “Piss off. The…bourbon’s just strong.” You force the words out in a half-hearted tumble as you bring the glass to your lips. 

His grip tightens ever-so-slightly, gently squeezing your thigh. Something about it tells you he doesn’t buy that lie either. “Ah, s’that what it is?” 

The sarcasm in his voice makes the whiskey burn as it slides down your throat. You take in a breath to try and combat the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. Squirming in the stool, you press your thighs together to quell some of the heat pulsing through your veins. Nerves and excitement battle for control over your body. 

“I didn’t take you for a touchy lad.” Your own voice quietens to a whisper, almost too nervous to acknowledge his bold move.

“Usually m’not.”

Setting your glass down, you’re almost disappointed to find the mask is settled back over his face when you finally make eye contact again. “Mm. You must like me, then?”

The question wasn’t really meant to have an answer, but he didn’t hesitate to give you one. “Was that not obvious before?”

“The confirmation is nice.” You force the words out before you can think too hard about his reply. 

He liked you. One of the most enigmatic, confusing, intriguing people you’ve ever met—who should’ve made you feel scared—actually liked you. It was relieving and exciting and terrifying all at once.

You look down to see his hand on your thigh. The sight is enough to turn excitement into something much stronger that pools in your core. You run your fingertips over his knuckles, the discolored skin telling you they’ve been wounded multiple times over. You didn’t have the guts to ask. The contact makes his grip tighten slightly, his thumb slowly brushing gentle strokes against your skin.

The whole thing had your mind running wild. You certainly didn’t have enough to drink to excuse the images that flashed in your mind. But seeing his hand on you—feeling his touch—in a way you could only describe as intimate had desire pumping through you. You don’t know how good a job you’re doing at hiding it, either, but you’re certain he can feel when you squeeze your thighs tightly together.

“So,” you start, clearing your throat as if to excuse the rampant thoughts in your head, “do I get to know your name yet?”

You look over to see his eyes lingering absentmindedly on the television. “Depends on how this night goes.”

Well, it wasn’t a ‘no’.

You scoff, feigning annoyance. “What, y’gonna wait until I’m too drunk to remember it?” Your hand moves to your glass, raising it in his direction before taking a sip.

“Oh, I’m not gonna let you get drunk.” He says it so matter-of-factly that you couldn’t argue if you wanted to. Then, his hand moves carefully, readjusting his grip until the plush fat on the inside of your thigh is squished between his fingers. “Can’t have any fun if you get yourself plastered.”

At least now you knew you had no chance of embarrassing yourself in a drunken stupor. But your mind was far more preoccupied with that word—fun. Sure, he could have meant it literally; maybe he planned on taking you somewhere more exciting than a cheap bar after this. You silently scolded yourself for being disappointed with that reality. 

“I suppose you’re right…” The words came out breathlessly into your glass. You didn’t know if he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. He seemed like the type of man to be dead set on whatever he was determined to do. You just hoped the ‘fun’ he had in mind was the same type that had your heart pounding whenever you thought about it.

His hand slides off you and—God help you—you almost whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes follow his movement, watching him slide his mask up enough to take another drink. You didn’t think you could ever forget what he looked like. It was a sight you swore you could spend the whole night staring at, but you looked away before he had the chance to tease you about it.

“Y’know,” he says with a voice quiet enough that only you could hear, “if you need somethin’, you can just ask.”

Your eyes dart over to him with an unconscious, wide-eyed look of guilt and confusion. There was no doubt in your mind that you needed something from him, but you hadn’t intended that to be obvious. A bewildered “what?” is all you manage to force out while you try to convince your rapid heart to slow.

“If you need somethin’ from me, you can just ask me for it.” He speaks slowly this time, looking in your direction with brown eyes so dark it was like his pupils had blown wide. Fuck, did you look like that too? He sets his glass down with a sigh when you don’t respond with anything more than a confused scoff. He leans in close, so close you could feel his breath on your ear and a whiff of tobacco and musk in your nostrils. “You were practically humpin’ my hand.” You swear he growls the words. “That makes me think you need somethin’.”

That immediately shot down any hope you had that you were doing great at hiding your wandering thoughts. Excuse after excuse ran through your mind, trying to justify why his touch made you squirm. But…was there really any point in denying something he so clearly had picked up on? He read you like a goddamn book—not that you were difficult to read—and something about that only made the desire heavier. And, most importantly in your mind, there was no sign that he disliked it.

Your lips quiver as they part, hesitation making your mouth run dry. “Maybe…maybe I do need somethin’...” It feels like your heart has jumped in your throat. But it wasn’t nerves that made your skin run hot. “Are you…offerin’ me somethin’?”

He straightens in his seat and pulls the balaclava back over the lower half of his face. From the corner of your eye, you watch him tap his fingers against his glass. Just before you think he’s going to end the conversation there, you hear the rumble of his voice from behind the skull-patterned fabric. “There’s a storage room in the back hall, last door on the right. Hardly anyone goes back there.” His tone is almost conspiratorial. “If we go one at a time, less chance of being noticed. We could have some privacy there.” There’s a pause before he looks in your direction, not bothering to be subtle when his eyes move over you. “That’s what I’m offerin’.”

Holy shit.

There was no reason to think he was joking, but you still couldn’t believe it. You also couldn’t believe that you were so desperate that turning him down didn’t even cross your mind. “You’re serious? Here? In the bar?”

He shrugs like the thought is obvious. “Well, you said it yourself: can’t take a bloke you barely know back home.” He leans in again, eyes boring through you. “I promise I’m worth all the hassle.”

Somehow, you didn’t doubt him one bit. You play off the disbelief and hesitation with a scoff, shaking your head. “Yeah, you better be.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a moment. You wish you could hear his thoughts or see his face, get some inkling of an idea of what was running through his mind. 

Then he sits up straight, cocking his head in the direction of the back hallway. “Go on, then.”

Truthfully, his impatience had you relieved; at least now you wouldn’t have to be the one to initiate. But that didn’t mean you wanted to be the first to get caught sneaking around the back of the building. “Why am I goin’ first?”

“So I can make sure no one follows.”

“Is that your specialty?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You weren’t sure how to feel about that confession. Just how much sneaking around was a guy like him doing? “Go on.”

You’d marinate the thought later. With a sigh, you slide off of the barstool. Looking at him you find his eyes on the television screen once more. With no reassuring glance or even a flirtatious wink, you set your sights on the hallway in the back of the bar.

You’re relieved to find that no one was waiting in a line outside the bathrooms. At least that would make the sneaking around part a lot easier. You felt ridiculous, like a teenager trying to avoid their parents when they snuck out. But the promise of what could’ve been awaiting you was enough to will you to walk down the dim hallway.

There was a door towards the end of the hall, on the right side, just past the bathrooms. Just like he had said. You didn’t have time to wonder how he knew it was here, or how he knew it was a storage room. But sure enough, after slinking past the bathrooms and quickly pushing the door open, you were greeted with a room full of boxes, cleaning supplies, and old furniture. The smell of mildew made your nose crinkle as you stepped further inside.

It was then you realized he didn’t tell you how long to wait. Your thoughts spiraled from there; What if he flakes? What if an employee comes back here? Each second felt like an hour, your anxiety mounting with every moment you were alone in the stuffy room. You move to an old table shoved in the back corner. A thin layer of dust coats your finger when you run it along the trim.

Your heart jumps when you hear the door click. You were prepared to play the part of a drunken fool looking for the bathroom in case it was an employee, but you’re relieved to see the large figure you’d come to recognize slink through.

“Hey,” you call out to him, casually greeting him like you hadn’t snuck in here under the implications of sex.

His steps are slow as he moves towards you. “Hey.” That gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. The room feels smaller with every step he takes in your direction.

“So,” you sigh, “do you take all your dates to storage rooms?”

“Only the lucky ones.”

He stops just in front of you, closer than he’s ever stood before, making your breath catch in your throat as you look up at him. “Suppose I should feel lucky, then.” You don’t mean to sound breathless, but you weren’t too concerned with appearing composed.

“I’d hope so.”

“I will if you take off that mask.”

You think you hear something resembling a laugh from beneath that skull-patterned fabric. He tugs at the mask and, for a moment, you think he’s actually going to remove it. But the hem only moves to the bridge of his nose, taunting you by not revealing any part of himself he hadn’t already. You must look expectant, or disappointed, because he gives you an incredulous look in return. 

“What? You seemed plenty happy with this earlier,” he gestures towards the lower half of his face, earning an eye roll from you. He scoffs, leaning in and tilting his head to follow your gaze. “If I remember, you couldn’t stop starin’ at me.”

“Fuck off. I liked what I saw.” His teasing made your cheeks feel hot. That same heat thumps in your veins when your eyes meet his again. “...Still do.”

You barely feel the warmth of his fingertips as they graze your skin, tracing your jaw. He was gentle, exploratory, like he was waiting for your approval. When all he got from you was a sharp intake of breath, his thumb ran gently over your bottom lip. 

“So do I.”

You’d chastise yourself for leaning in if you were any more self-conscious. You’d blame the eagerness on the alcohol, or the way he seemed to pull you closer with his hand, but there was no denying the want stirring in the pit of your stomach. Nothing else mattered except making your lips meet. And when they do, all you find is gentle hesitance and the taste of whiskey. 

It was soft and careful, yet completely consuming. His lips were as soft as they looked and moved perfectly against your own. You couldn’t stop yourself from sighing into his mouth and inching your body closer, bringing your hand to his chest and feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie go taut as you curl your fingers into a fist. Afraid he’d move away if you didn’t, you kept your grasp firm and pulled him closer. 

He was the one to close the gap between your bodies. It was like he was waiting for that confirmation that you wanted this. His hands move to your waist as his groan vibrates against your lips. Gentle kisses slowly turn more desperate as both of you breathe heavily. The taste of cigarettes and alcohol is sickeningly sweet on your tongue.

Strong hands move down your body and over your hips. You half expected him to grope you and leave it at that. And while you would’ve been fine with it, you’re surprised when you feel his hands move down to your thighs to lift you off the ground. The sudden movement makes you yelp and gasp into his mouth, fingers clawing at his hoodie to keep you balanced while he haphazardly sets you on the edge of the dusty, wobbling table. 

It’s brash and hurried but it’s exciting. The type of exciting that makes you forget about the dust on the tabletop and the possibility someone could walk in. Nothing else mattered when his mouth was on you, trailing over your jaw with hot and wet kisses that took your breath away. 

“You’ll tell me if I’m too much, yeah?” The rough sound of his voice surprises you, grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations. 

You nod, running your hands over his shoulders to try and feel the rigidity under his clothes. “Y-yeah, course.”

“Good girl.”

A small kiss is planted on your neck before he pulls back enough to look you over. As your hands fall from his shoulders, he hastily rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie. Not only does the sight of sinewy muscle hidden underneath make your blood pound in your veins, but the intricate sleeve of tattoos on his left arm catches your attention. In any other scenario you’d ask him question after question about each line and symbol. But right now his hands are running up your thighs and under your skirt, the muscles in his arms flexing as he kneads the fat between his fingers. 

The way he groans at your softness makes you throb. He nudges your legs further apart—a movement you would have done on your own volition—and pushes your skirt up as he moves to hold your hips. You lean back on your hands and watch mesmerized as his eyes lock onto the sight between your legs. 

“Pretty pair,” he mutters as his thumbs rub circles against your hips. It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your panties. “Makes me think you were hopin’ I’d see ‘em.”

Seems like it paid off to overthink every part of your outfit. “Maybe I was.”

“Yeah? Hopin’ I’d see how soppin’ wet they are?” His thumb moves inwards, running over your slit through the wet fabric. The fabric clings to your sensitive skin, proving his point, as does the way you whimper and buck your hips.

“Yeah, that too.”

His fingers hook into the strip of fabric covering your cunt, pulling the garment to the side with a forceful tug. And you swear, even in the dim light, his pupils dilate at the sight. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Two fingers drag through your slit, through that slick that told him just how much you wanted him. His fingertips are rough but his touch is gentle. You gasp when he finds your clit and toys with the swollen bud by circling it teasingly. His lips find yours again with bruising kisses that swallow your sounds as you pant into his mouth. His fingers spread you open, gliding over your cunt and teasing every inch, gathering your slick as he circles your entrance.

Even though he moves slowly, the stretch of his thick fingers is certainly more than you were expecting. You whine as they curl and pump in and out in a rhythm that makes your cunt flutter and squelch with each push. Your head falls back with a moan when he hits something deep inside that sends shockwaves through you. 

His mouth moves down to your now-exposed neck, marking your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” his voice vibrates against you. “This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You hum a broken “mm-hmm”, unable to focus long enough to form a proper response. But it’s that confirmation that has him moving faster and harder until your hips are jerking forward to meet his movements. 

“Yeah, y’couldn’t sit still ‘cause you were achin’ for it.” His free hand cups your face, gently squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark with desire and something desperate that bores into you. “Just needed your pretty pussy fucked, huh?”

Your cunt flutters around his fingers at the praise, heat building in the pit of the stomach. Your pants turn into a moan as your breath catches in your throat. “Yes, I need it. I need it so fucking bad.”

His hand picks up speed as he coos a soft “I know, baby,” against your lips. His fingers curl and push just right, hitting every soft spot that makes your toes curl and your cunt tighten. One of your hands flies to his chest to claw at his hoodie as your body begins to tremble.

“Fuck,” you groan, barely able to get the words out, “d-don’t stop…”

“I won’t, love. Not ‘til you cum for me.”

For him. He wanted to see you fall apart under his touch and cling to him like he was the only thing in the world. You’ll care more about the sweetness of the thought when you aren’t stuffed full and moaning in the back of a bar. 

Whether it’s that thought or his touch or the heady mix of both, it’s not long before the muscles in your thighs go taut. Your breathing turns heavier as your moans and whines grow louder on each exhale. If it wasn’t for your subconscious fear of being caught and his need to feel your lips against his own you’re sure you would’ve screamed until the sound echoed off the walls. 

But even if your sounds were restrained, the sensations surely weren’t. That heat stirring in your core spilled over and your cunt clenched around his fingers until all you could hear was soft squelching as he pushed your slick cum back inside. Your thighs trembled and your chest heaved with the effort to catch your breath. It wasn’t until you could see straight against that you noticed the sweat along your brow and the ache in your back.

His fingers slid out, their girth just enough to leave you feeling loose. Before he could even take his hand off of you, his mouth was latching onto your neck for another set of rough and wet kisses.

“Turn around,” you barely hear his gruff instruction over the sound of your own breaths, “bend over.”

Still, you aren’t one to disappoint. You land on shaky legs after sliding off the table, using his sturdy form to balance yourself as you turn around. Your forearms rest against the table as you bend over the wobbling piece of furniture. 

You feel your skirt flip up, the fabric resting along your waist, before his large palms run over the swell of your ass. They’re warm and heavy and you can feel each callous as he kneads the fat in his grasp. He’s not rough, but it’s like he wants to savor the softness he finds.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” That was enough to make you twitch, but then he runs a finger over the cum-slick fabric of your panties. “Think you can do it again for me?”

You barely muster a nod and an “mm-hmm” before his fingers hook into your panties and pull them down to your knees. His impatience was only riling you up, especially when you felt him spread you apart and groan at the sight. 

“Christ, look at you…” you hear him mutter, the sound accompanied by the jangle of a belt buckle coming undone. 

You could practically feel his stare boring into you, branding your skin with his gaze. You think you hear him spit before a hand rests on your ass to knead your skin again. That hand moves to your hip, holding you firmly in place while the head of his cock glides along your slit and stops at your entrance. He isn’t even attempting to push in and it already has you whimpering. You can feel it—thick and warm and heavy—waiting to split you open. 

“Breathe for me, baby. Just relax.” His voice is soothing, deep and soaked in desire, and it makes your body obey without thought. 

A few deep breaths later and your mouth is falling open in a loud gasp as he pushes in. He moves slow, pausing every time you whine to mutter soft encouragement through clenched teeth. And while his voice was soothing, it didn’t exactly ease the stretch that had your cunt pulsing around him. Nothing had made you feel so full before.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the way he groans when he’s fully seated inside you. Both of his hands hold your hips tight as he mutters a curse under his breath. Slowly, he starts to move, pulling back only to push in deep. You swear he hits deeper every time, every push forcing the air out of your lungs in a desperate moan. 

“That’s it, you can take it.” His voice was somewhere between gruff and breathless, tense beneath clenched teeth and restrained moans. Your back arches and your hips push back to meet his movements halfway to encourage him to speed up his steady rhythm. “Oh, good fucking girl.”

All you can manage is broken strings of curses and moans. Between his constant praise and the fullness of his cock, you couldn’t think straight long enough to focus on anything except the pleasure shooting through your veins. If your nails were any sharper, you might’ve left claw marks on the table beneath you as you held on.

“Fuck me. H-Harder.” You knew you were being greedy, aching for more every time you accustomed to his pace. But you were still so sensitive from your recent climax; you knew it wouldn’t take much more to hit that high again, especially when his cock kissed that spot deep inside that made your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, you need it harder, baby?” He put up no argument as he moved his hands to your waist for a better grip. He pounded into you with a force that made your legs shake, his hips meeting your ass with an obnoxiously loud sound that you couldn’t care less if anyone heard. “Goddamn, this cunt’s perfect.”

Underneath your squeals and whines are his own moans and growls, each one making you clench around him just to draw another one out of him. Knowing he was as lost in pleasure as you were filled you with pride. 

His hands move up your body, snaking under your shirt, feeling you tense and tremble underneath him. Strong palms find and grope your chest, kneading you eagerly while he bends over you. His thrusts don’t cease even as his lips find your neck.

Soft bites and hot kisses only add to the sensations wracking pleasure on your body. You almost don’t hear him when he mutters against your skin, “Simon.”

“...Huh?”

“Simon.” He repeats, moving his mouth to your ear so there’s no doubt you’ll hear him. “Say it.”

“Si—fuck…Simon…” The name comes out in a moan, something he seems to enjoy judging by the receiving growl in your ear. 

“Atta girl. Now you know what to scream when you cum for me again.”

Your panting lips curl into something resembling a smile. Simon. You were too far gone to recognize the implication of trust behind his sudden openness, but you did know how sweet his name felt in your mouth. And, evidently, it wouldn’t take long for you to mutter it incoherently as your body begins to tense.

Heat and pleasure and everything warm builds in your core with each hit of his cock. He—Simon—mirrors your heavy breaths with his own. He must feel the way you tighten; his fingers dig into your skin so tight it’d probably hurt if your mind was less hazy.

“M’gonna cum—shit, you’re gonna make me cum, Simon.” Your eyes flutter shut, all your focus narrowed to the pleasure between your legs. 

“I know, love. Cum for me, let me feel you.”

His rough and steady pace makes the build-up all the more sweet. When your climax hits, it hits hard. White-hot pleasure shoots through you, making your hips twitch and your legs shake, a breathless cry that you try (and fail) to hold back ripping through the room. Your cunt pulses around his cock, sucking him deeper while he fucks you through the high with much gentler strokes. The obscenely wet sound is accompanied by his groans on every push. 

“Fuck, y’gonna make me cum squeezin’ me like that…”

That was enough to snap you out of your haze. Perhaps a much less restrained version of yourself would’ve let him finish inside you right then and there, but you’ll entertain the thought another time. Still trembling and panting, you force yourself to sit up. “Wait, wait. Pull out, hold on,” you urge, pushing him back with your hand.

He follows your movements, his hands sliding off of your body as he leans back. The emptiness that follows as his cock slips out of you leaves you feeling gaped in the best way possible. Your body aches, sore from the rough treatment and the wobbling table underneath you, as you stumble to your knees in front of Simon. Your eyes immediately land on his cock, a dumbfounded grin you’re sure looks ridiculous painting itself on your lips.

Fuckin’ hell…that was inside you?

It was every bit as impressive as it felt. Thick and heavy and so damn hard you could practically feel it throbbing with the need to cum. No wonder he needed to prep you, and no wonder you felt so stretched regardless. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?” Simon’s voice startles you, bringing your mind back to reality.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth as you lean in. Licking a slow, wet stripe along the underside makes him hiss and twitch against your tongue. You could taste yourself on him, your cum mixed with his musk, and the heady combination made your head spin.

Your eyes flicker up at him, at that mask still obscuring half of his face. “Dunno if I can take all of you,” you admit as your hand glides up and down his cock. “You’re a big lad.”

Simon curses and you watch his jaw tighten as his cock twitches in your hand. “Don’t worry about it. After the way you felt around me, I’m not gonna last long anyway.”

You flash him a smile—a cheeky one that, no doubt, showed how proud that made you feel—before closing your lips around the head of his cock. His musk hits your tongue and fills your nostrils and you can’t help but groan at the taste. The rest of his cock fits in your hand, throbbing under your palm while you stroke. 

“Christ, that’s good, sweetheart.” One of his hands lands on the back of your head. He doesn’t push you down or force more into your mouth, he just rests it there, watching you through heavy eyes. “Real fuckin’ nice…”

You swallow around him, taking more of him into your mouth. His hips buck involuntarily in a movement that makes you gag when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat. He mutters an apology that you ignore, groaning around him as your head bobs and your tongue swirls.

“Fuck, I can’t…” Simon’s other hand flies down to his cock, replacing your grip as he wraps it around the base. “M’gonna cum, baby.”

The way he growls the words makes you hum, the sound vibrating through him. You give one last firm suck as your mouth slides off of him. “Cum on my face,” you utter before you can even catch your breath.

“Y-you sure? Your makeup—”

“M’not askin’, Simon.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He can barely get the words out as he strokes himself, fisting his cock with a lewdly wet sound thanks to your spit and cum coating his sensitive flesh.

You can hear his breath grow heavy, slowly turning to moans as his body tenses. All you can focus on is his face—what parts you can see—watching his mouth as he pants and seeing his brows furrow in pleasure. You think you’d give just about anything to see him like this without that mask on.

His hand stills on his cock just before he mutters a curse and spills onto your face. His cum lands in thick, warm globs across your skin, and you’re thankful he seems to have enough awareness to avoid your eyes. He taps his cock against your lips, spreading his cum just to revel in the sight. 

Simon’s growling breaths steady out as he comes down from the high. “You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he sighs, peach lips curling into a smile.

Your tongue darts out to clean your lips, tasting the unique saltiness that painted them. “You’re not too bad yourself. Simon.”

He offers you a hand and pulls you up to your feet. His thumb brushes against your cheek, collecting some of his spend before bringing it to your mouth. You gladly accept his digit into your mouth, moaning around it as you suck it clean. With a growl and a curse, he pulls you into a rough kiss.

“Next time,” he starts, still panting as his breathing steadies, “how about we go to your place? Then we can have a proper go at it.”

Your heart skips a beat. ‘Next time’…he wanted a ‘next time’... 

“As long as you’re a gentleman and drive me there.” You pat his chest before pulling back enough to readjust your clothing. There wasn’t much you could do about the smeared makeup and tousled hair, but you weren’t the only person in the bar who looked a little worse for wear. 

“Deal.” You can hear the shuffle as he refits his own clothes. Thankfully, the mask doesn’t come back down. “You fancy another drink?”

“Uh…m’not sure, why?”

“‘Cause if you don’t, I can take you home right now if you’d like.” You meet his eyes and he matches your smile with one of his own.

“Deal.”

[gothicrazor]

Anything for you

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me 😔

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

[lucy90712]

Ruben Dias fluff!! Any thing you want, I trust you

Having kids is the most stressful and rewarding thing I've ever done but I wouldn't have it any other way. The biggest downside is that Ruben doesn't get to be around as much as he's like to as he's always got training or matches but when he's around he always spends every second helping me or playing with our oldest son Milo even if he's tired he treasures every second he gets to spend at home with us. 

Since I gave birth to our daughter Ruben has barely been home he got a couple of days off training and then it's been all go since. There has been matches every weekend and then champions league during the week so he's hardly been home which makes life difficult. Caring for a newborn and entertaining a two year old on little to no sleep is exhausting but Ruben helps where he can and he even gets his brother to come over when he's not around which is a great help. 

This weekend Ruben finally has a few days off after such a packed schedule Pep gave all the players a couple days off training to rest and recuperate ready for the next run of games. Rest isn't a thing in our household right now but I don't think Ruben minds he just wants to be home and actually spend time with the kids. I know he feels awful that he hasn't got to bond with our daughter Alice as much as he'd want to as he's not here during the day when she's awake and looking around but I always send him pictures and videos so he feels like he's involved too. 

Just like every morning I expected to be woken up at the crack of dawn by a toddler screaming in the baby monitor and a newborn crying right next to my head. When I woke up and saw that it was nearly 9am I freaked out and then when I saw that the baby wasn't in her bassinet I nearly had a panic attack. That's when my sensible brain took over my mum brain and I realised that Ruben also wasn't in bed next to be so he must have Alice and that made me feel so much better. After I calmed down I got out of bed and headed downstairs where I could already hear the chaos which is weirdly nice to hear. When I finally made it downstairs I saw Ruben in the kitchen holding Alice while trying to make pancakes and with Milo at his feet. I took Alice from him quickly so he could focus on breakfast but before I knew it I was also holding Milo as he's definitely a mama's boy and he doesn't like to leave my side when I'm around. 

"Thank you for letting me sleep in you didn't have to do that I know you're tired too" I said 

"You don't have to thank me I know you don't get much sleep and you need it to deal with those two I get to sleep when I’m away for matches so it's only fair that you get to have a lay in" he said 

"Well I still appreciate it I feel like a new woman now" I laughed 

"Good and I've got breakfast all ready for you" Ruben said while handing me a plate of pancakes 

We ate breakfast as a family or our version of eating as a family which is taking a bite of our own food every few minutes after having to cut bits up for Milo and sometimes having to feed it to him when he refuses to eat. Then more often than not Alice seems to sense when I'm eating and all of a sudden wants feeding so I have to eat with just one hand. Ruben had managed to get Milo to eat all of his pancakes while I still had a mostly full plate as I was feeding Alice so Ruben switched his attention to me and cut my pancakes and fed them to me like the perfect husband he is. 

To spend some quality time together Ruben suggested we go to the park and seeing as I've got him to help me I had no reason to disagree. He took care of getting Milo ready while I got Alice ready and we made it out the house as a family of four for the first time which sounds crazy as Alice is three weeks old now but Ruben's been around so little we haven't had the chance to go anywhere all together yet. Leaving the house is never easy but eventually we got out the house with me having Alice in the carrier and pushing the stroller while Milo walked as he refused to get in the stroller. 

The walk to the park isn't a long one so we got there pretty quickly and when we did Milo took off and made a beeline straight for the slide as he loves going down the slide. Ruben followed close behind while I found somewhere to sit with Alice as she was due a feed before she naps again. Watching Ruben play with Milo made me a little emotional hearing Milo laughing as Ruben chased him around the park is exactly how I pictured parenthood there is no better sound than hearing your child laughing it always fills my heart with joy. Milo can be difficult at times which I think comes down to missing his dad but I couldn't care less about that when I get to see the two of them happy and playing together. 

"Mama come play" Milo said as he ran over to me 

"I would love to play with you buddy but mama's still recovering I can push you on the swing if you'd like though" I said 

"Yeah let's go mama" he said running off again 

I gave Alice to Ruben so I could push Milo on the swing which he thoroughly enjoyed he wanted to go higher and higher until I physically couldn't push him any higher. As he was swinging Ruben started to pull faces at him from across the park which only made him laugh more. This is exactly why I think Ruben is the best dad he has always been so great since the moment Milo was born our kids just love to be around him as he always makes them happy. It wasn't long before Milo wanted to get out of the swing so I got him out and he dragged me off to the rest of the play equipment which I wasn't going to go on as I'm only just three weeks post partum but I just can't say no to him. We climbed up the climbing wall and ran around the little castle type thing it brings you to before going down the slide which was more than enough for me. 

We stayed at the park for a while longer until Milo had run out of energy and climbed into the stroller himself. Ruben took the stroller which now also had Alice in too and held my hand as we walked back home. Both kids fell asleep in the stroller so Ruben and I kept walking even when we went past the house so they'd known stay asleep and we could have some peace. We decided to walk into town and got some fresh bread and other things to make lunch when we got back home. As soon as the stroller stopped Milo woke up and wanted to get out so Ruben unbuckled him and off he went to play with his toys. 

Our afternoon started out much the same as our morning with us trying to get Milo to sit still long enough to eat lunch and then we went straight back to playing. As a family we all played with Milo's trucks and cars in the little world he's created where they all have a role. The things kids come up with is just fascinating their little minds are so creative. Before Milo was born Ruben and I spent countless evenings wondering what kind of personality he would develop but I would've never predicted that he'd be such a character he's always making me laugh with the things he comes out with but he's also such a kind little boy he always thinks about me and his sister. 

After a long day of running around and playing the kids were definitely tired and of course right after dinner Milo cuddled up to my side and fell asleep while Alice slept on my chest and Ruben had his arm around my waist as I leant against his shoulder. We took a few moments to just relax and enjoy the calm as that doesn't happen often. Eventually Ruben picked up Milo and took him to bed and I was going to put Alice in her bassinet and grab the baby monitor but he told me to stay put and he'd do it and I wasn't going to argue. He did exactly what he promised and then he came back to bring me upstairs as he'd started to run me a bath. 

I enjoyed my bath very much it was so relaxing I could feel the tension in my muscles that had built up over the last few weeks just disappear in the warm water. When I got out Ruben had pyjamas ready for me on the bed which I changed into and joined him in bed. He pulled me into his arms and started to press kisses all over my face which I've missed so much as I either sleep alone while Ruben is away or we don't get a moments peace as Alice has always been fussy at night. Tonight everything was quiet and it was amazing Ruben and I could enjoy some quality time together which we haven't had in a couple months. 

"I don't know how you deal with this all day everyday I'm exhausted" Ruben said 

"You get used to it some days they are calmer than others I think Milo was just excited you were around" I said 

"I'm sorry I haven't been here more I know the kids miss me but I can tell you miss me too even if you want say it" he said 

"It's ok I know why you aren't around it's not like you're out with friends while I'm here with two kids and yeah I miss having you here but that's selfish so I don't mention it" I admitted 

"Its not selfish you're allowed to feel like that and wish things were different I understand that things are hard and you'd like me to be around to help more that's not selfish I promise" he said 

"Everything is worth it though when we get moments like today and when Milo gets to watch you play on tv the hard moments don't matter anymore" I said

"I can't wait for Alice to come to her first game even if she doesn't remember I still remember when you first brought Milo along that was up there with one of the best days of my life" Ruben said 

"Maybe once we've both had our six week check up I'll bring her along to a game but we'll need to get her some little ear defenders" I said

"Of course but remember if you aren't ready you don't have to stick to that I'd much rather wait until you'll actually have a good time as it's supposed to be a good memory for all of us" he said 

We talked for a bit longer before Ruben turned a movie on and I knocked out within a few minutes as I didn't realise how tired I was but I fell asleep feeling completely happy and fulfilled.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 2

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,530ish

Summary: You get to know your new teammate James. Stryker's team goes on a mission. (The Reader will continue to call Logan, James throughout the Origins movie and here and there throughout the rest of the series.)

Warnings: violence

Notes: I really couldn't help myself, posting two days in a row. I'm just so excited for this series! The next chapter will be out next week! Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! Also, help me decide the endings!

You had basically stayed clear of your new teammates in the week they had been there. You weren’t exactly the welcoming type, focused on not being homeless again. You spent most of your time in your room or working on your abilities. Stryker had made sure there was a firepower room in the facility so that you had a safe place to practice, which others rarely entered.

Fire filled the room as you practiced your powers: throwing the fire, heating and melting items, as well as building walls for protection. As you practiced, you failed to notice James slip into the room. He had gone looking for something to light his cigar and he followed the smell of smoke. When he opened the door and saw you maneuvering the flames, he was mesmerized. James hadn’t known what to think of you, especially when you were clearly avoiding him and Victor. You were a beautiful woman but there was a fire inside of you that he wanted to know more about.

Still not noticing that you had an audience, you shot flames out of your hands at the wall that James was leaning against.

“Shit!” James exclaimed as he jumped away from the fire, his shirt getting singed. With a twist of your wrists, the flames around the room disappeared. “You may want to watch where you're shooting those flames, sweetheart.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t see you. I normally don’t have an audience.”

“Clearly.” James pushed himself off the wall and headed towards you. You noticed the cigar between his fingers and lit it. A flash of surprise went across James’ face. “Thanks.” He took a drag of his cigar before letting the smoke billow out of his mouth. The earthy smell took over your senses and you didn’t mind. “I wanted to apologize for Victor.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

You tilted your head slightly as you studied James. Just from the few interactions you had with him, it was clear that James was constantly picking up after his brother. You wondered why.

“You’ve got some ability,” James commented.

“It’s come in handy from time to time. Do you have an ability? I assume you do because Stryker’s really only interested in mutants.”

James held up a fist as three bone claws extended from his knuckles. You couldn’t help but reach out and gently touch them. James watched in wonder. No one had ever looked at his claws the way you were currently, with awe and not fear.

“Is it the same on the other hand?” You asked, fingers still running over the claws.

“Yes,” James responded. When you finally pulled away, James retracted his claws.

“Does that hurt? When they break through your skin?”

James was taken even more back now. No one had ever asked him that. No one had ever cared. “Every time… Does, uh, do the flames hurt your skin?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Well, as long as they come from me.”

James nodded, not knowing what to say next but he did know that he wanted to get to know you more.

“I’m going to go clean up,” you tell him. “See you around, James.”

He nodded, watching you slip out of the room.

~~~

James may not know you well, but he did know one thing. He hated it when Wade was around you. Wade was constantly propositioning you or being incredibly inappropriate. Victor occasionally joined in as well. You simply ignored the comments while James was growing furious.

“Maybe if we both take our shirts off then she’ll—“

“That’s enough,” James growled, cutting off Wade. You were sitting close by, trying to ignore the men by reading a book.

“You want to get in on this Howlett? Or are you just jealous that we have the balls to—“

“I said that’s enough!” Suddenly, James had his claws at Wade’s neck.

“Calm down there, kitty.”

“James, it’s alright,” you told him, standing up. “Let Wade go.”

“Listen to your master, kitty.”

James shoved Wade with a grunt as his claws disappeared. Suddenly, Wade’s hair burst into flames. He began to freak out as you laughed, leaving the room. James followed, the anger still controlling him. You entered your room, leaving the door open for James. He found you and leaned against the door frame. 

“You don’t need to fight by battles, James,” you told him as you tidied up.

“They shouldn’t be talking about you like that,” his voice was still rough and filled with anger.

“I’m used to it. People talked before Stryker found me.”

James had never heard about your life before this and was interested to learn more. He stepped into the room and closed the door before leaning against it.

“I was homeless for years,” you continued. “I used my abilities to steal but that never gave me a bed to sleep in. So, sometimes, I would sell my body for money and a bed for a night.” James inhaled sharply. “Sometimes there were multiple men and women involved. They often talked about my body like I wasn’t even there. I just ignore it.”

“I’m sorry.”

You looked at him curiously. “What for?”

“You shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that and continue to deal with it.”

You shrugged. “The price I pay to meet my basic needs.”

“Doesn’t make it right, sweetheart.”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do to change that… This life is better than homelessness.”

James hated how right you were and how okay you were with the way the others treated you. He wished so badly that he could fix it and he would do his best to try.

~~~

While the other men continued to talk the way they did, James made sure to continue to be sweet and gentle with you. He tried to not make it obvious, saving some things for when the two of you were alone. You wouldn’t admit it, but your interactions with James were making you feel things you never thought you would. You enjoyed how sweet and caring he was, always looking out for you during missions and making sure you were okay afterward. The two of them began training together, eating together, and even just sitting in silence together. You would be reading while he puffed at a cigar. It was nice. The closest thing you could get to domestic bliss in your life. 

James hated flying, which you quickly realized on his first mission with the team. That is why you were currently sitting next to him on the jet. He was leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, with his hands together, almost like he was praying. You were sitting close enough that your thighs were brushing each other, hoping that the small touch would help.

“You know, I love this weapon more than any other thing in the whole wide world,” Wade said as he sharpened one of his swords. “Do you wanna know why?”

“No,” Victor replied.

“It’s memorable. Sure, it’s a little bulky, tough to get on a plane. You whip out a couple of cowards at your ex-girlfriend’s wedding, they will never, ever forget it.”

“That’s funny, Wade. I think you confuse me with someone who gives a shit.”

“Right, it’s probably not as intimidating as having a gun or bone claws or fire. Or even the fingernails of a bag lady.” Victor’s claws grew out while Wade gripped his sword tighter. Wade held up his sword filer. “Manicure?”

“Victor,” James tone was one of warning, “easy.”

“Fred got a new tattoo. I’m concerned.” Wade was always one to jump from topic to topic.

James looked past you to see the new tattoo on Fred’s arm. “Oh, geez, Fred, you just met her last night.”

“I love her,” Fred said, getting emotional.

“You love her after one night?”

“She’s a gymnast.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” you told Fred, patting his leg.

“Bradley, take her down,” Stryker ordered. The jet began to descend with a turn.

“Oh, God,” James groaned, leaning forward again.

“Are you gonna puke?” Fred asked, taking a bite of a protein bar.

“If we were meant to fly, we’d grow wings.”

“Don’t worry, Nancy,” Zero said. “More people die driving than flying.”

“How about from impaling?”

“Hey, be nice,” John told James, “or be your approximation of nice. Would you like a bucket?”

“No,” James grunted as he tried to calm his stomach.

You placed a hand on his back, rubbing small circles on it. You could not care less about the others watching you and James. 

“Gentlemen, Y/N, wheels down in Lagos in five,” Stryker announced.

~~~

Stryker led the team to a taller building at the edge of the city. It was heavily guarded with tanks and armed men.

“Why are we here?” James asked.

“All in good time,” responded Stryker. “Zero?”

Zero stepped up, getting all the guns aimed at him before he started firing. He flipped over the large fence as he fired and defeated the men he could see. 

“Having fun yet?” Victor asked you and James before he ran over to the gate Zero had just opened.

Victor ran to the building and began using his claws to scale it. The team heard a tank arm up nearby.

“Fred?” Stryker called.

“The tank?” Fred wondered.

“The tank.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

Fred came over to the tank and punched his fist into it before the controller fired. The shot hit Fred’s fist before backfiring, exploding the tank. Stryker led the rest of you into the building and onto the elevator. Bradley, Wade, and John were standing in front, near the doors, while Fred, Stryker, James, and yourself were in the back. James made sure that you were in the corner so that he could cover you if needed. The elevator was playing office music before the power was cut and it stopped.

“Great,” Wade said. “Stuck in an elevator with five guys on a high-protein diet and a fiery bitch.”

“Watch it, bud,” James growled.

“Wade,” Stryker warned.

“Dreams really do come true.”

“Just shut it! You’re up next.”

“Thank you, sir. You look really nice today. It’s the green. It brings out the seriousness in your eyes. Though the black really brings out Y/N’s—“

“Oh my God. Do you ever shut up, pal?” James could never stand Wade for long periods of time.

“No. Not when I’m awake.”

“Bradley? Top floor, please,” Stryker requested.

Bradley quickly used his powers to bring the elevator up to the top floor. As soon as the elevator reached the top floor, James pushed you further into the corner and covered you. Stryker moved to stand between you two and Bradley. The doors opened and gunshots immediately followed. Wade twirled his words around, effectively preventing himself from taking a bullet. It wasn’t long until everyone was dead beside the boss at the front desk.

“Okay. People are dead,” Wade announced.

“If you didn’t have that mouth on you, Wade, you’d be the perfect soldier,” Stryker stated as he walked out of the elevator and toward the sole survivor. 

James made sure that you were at his side, always ready to jump in to protect you at a moment’s notice. The sole survivor reached for a gun from under his desk but John teleported, quickly stopping him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, brother,” John warned.

“Take the diamonds,” the man said. “They’re yours.”

“I don’t want your diamonds,” replied Stryker. “I want this.” He took a piece of rock that was sitting on the man’s desk.

“But that is nothing. A souvenir.”

“Where did you find it? I want the source.”

“A small village, far inland, three days from here.”

~~~

Mere hours later, the team was in that small village. The villagers had been gathered up, kept close together by a ring of fire you were controlling. Stryker was holding up the stolen rock to the village leader while Wade was there translating.

“I don’t like this,” James muttered to you. The heat you had created had forced him to take off his shirt, leaving his white tank top.

“Me either,” you responded. You glanced around as Wade and Stryker talked to the village leader. The villagers were all terrified and you hated that you were a part of that.

“He’s telling the truth,” James tried to vouch for the leader.

“You don’t know the language, Logan,” Stryker dismissed.

“It’s a meteor fragment.”

“I know what it is. I’m asking him where he found it.”

“Sir,” Bradley called, “base wants to know our location.”

“Shut them down.”

“Yes.”

Stryker leaned toward the kneeling leader. “Tell him everyone here will die unless he tells me where he the found rock.”

Wade quickly translated and received a response. “He says that it’s sacred.”

“Okay, fine,” Stryker stood up straight and turned to Victor. “Victor.” He placed a hand on the mutant’s shoulder before walking a few steps away, keeping his back to everyone.

Victor quickly killed the reader, causing the villagers to cry out. You extinguished the circle of flames as the other members of the team began killing the villagers. You stumbled back at the sight forcing James to steady you. In all your time with this team, you had never gone after innocents. James ran towards Victor grabbing his wrist before he could kill another innocent man.

“Victor!” James roared. “Don’t even think about it.” You noticed that your other teammates gripped their weapons tighter, prepared to fight each other. “We didn’t sign up for this. Put him down.”

Victor let go of the villager as he ripped his wrist from James’ grip. “What are you doing?” Victor questioned through panting breaths. “We finally got a good thing going here. Don’t you screw this up.”

“Enough. That’s enough. We’ve done enough.”

“Who do you think you are? This is what we do. Maybe you’d rather be rotting in a hole somewhere till they figure out a way to do it to us. Is that it? Huh?”

“I’m done. You coming?” When Victor didn’t give an immediate answer. James turned and walked to you. “Y/N. Come with me.”

“I—I can’t,” you were terrified of losing the comfort you had found.

“I promise that you will have a bed and food and clothes. I will take care of you.”

“Don’t do it, Y/N,” Stryker said, taking a step forward. “He can’t make those promises. You’ll be back on the streets.”

“I will never let that happen.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”

You briefly looked past James to see Stryker angrily staring you down before you focused back on James. With a shaky hand, you reached out and took James’. He squeezed it before he began leading you away.

“Jimmy!” Victor yelled, causing James to stop and turn. “We can’t just let you two walk away.” James ripped off his dog tags before throwing them to the ground, you quickly did the same.

James made sure he had a good grip on your hand before the two of you disappeared into the forest, Victor calling after James. 

next chapter >

[lailawinchesterr]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ dean winchester liking someone tough…

gn!reader, masterlist

dean winchester meeting you and he just can’t get through to you. sammy accepts dean’s love easily and the gestures and his sweet words (if he ever gives them), you don’t accept a cup of coffee unless you pay him back and it gets on his nerves. 

you hunt one time with them— total accident, and he just thinks, wow, most gorgeous person he’s ever see — and you’re asking sam if his brother has issues because he’s been staring & you don’t wanna bring it up.

sam kinda laughs, dean kinda wants to throw himself out on the highway. sam assures you his brother just likes you, you scoff and walk away— dean wishes he could burn his eyes out. being rejected is one thing, being treated like that? totally other thing he’s never dealt with and is not ready to deal with.

the rest of the case is fine and thankfully, you’re a research kind of hunter so you spend most of it with sam. he’d think with all that… whatever you’ve been doing, you’re more hands on. (whatever you’ve been doing being not flirting with him, what’s wrong with you?)

“sammy, they give you their number?” he asks when they get in the impala to head back to the bunker and his little asshole of a brother nods. nods like it’s so damn casual. it isn’t. you didn’t offer dean your number.

so he shrugs it off but he knows it’s not over. sam does too, unfortunately, but he can’t focus on his embarrassment for now. he heard you saying something about visiting a city when you’re done with the hunt so this man spends hours looking for cities that start with the letter ‘g’ that might be anywhere near the vicinity of pennsylvania. he finds a few, tosses a coin, does some research, and great, a couple of hearts went missing a few towns over from where you’re staying.

he rushes sam out of the bunker two weeks later and on the drive to god knows where with the werewolf problem, he stops at a motel.

“you— you need to stop? are you serious?”

“a man needs his rest, sam.”

“not you.” dean shrugs like he’s not shocking his brother to next week and they set up in a motel for the night. he finishes brushing his teeth before making a noise like he just had an idea. 

“sammy, remember the hunter from the wendigo case?”

“…yeah it’s only been two weeks dean. you remember their name.”

“sure. whatever. we should call them, right? we’re close by.”

“how would you know—”

“i just do—”

“dean just call them yourself, man. i have their number in my cell.”

“no no, they gave it to you.”

“yeah, ‘cause you were in the car. just call them—”

“fine! god, you’re annoying.” and he slams the bathroom door so sam doesn’t see the sweat running down his face. he’s not scared— okay maybe a little intimidated, but you’re so… put together and you know what you want and if you didn’t give dean your number then surely you meant to do it, right?

when he’s out of the bathroom he uses sam’s phone to call you. it’s an honest accident. in his hurry to not back out, he forgot to switch phones. “hello.” your voice comes through when the call connects and he’s thinking of— “sam? you there?”

“h—hey. yeah, no, not sam.” he clears his throat and he hears you laugh and he thinks his heart melts.

“dean? hey, how are you?”

“great, ‘m good. just, we were, y’know, workin’ on a case nearby—”

“near where?”

“where you are, and i thought i’d call, ask if you wanna join us.”

“sure. but where’s that again?”

“geneva.”

“dean, i’m not anywhere near geneva.”

“what? but you said—”

“i said genesee.” he shuts his eyes aggressively, panicking, trying to think of what to say. “but it’s— i didn’t know you listened.”

“yeah apparently i didn’t do it well enough.”

“‘s fine, i can be there in a few days if y’all are still having trouble with it.” he perks up, sighing in relief.

“yeah, yeah, that sounds good, we’re on our way so it could take us a day or so.” and when you promise him you’ll call in a few days he can’t help but hang up with a smile on his face. and a middle finger thrown to the grinning sam in the corner.

he tells sam that he wants the day off when he wakes up and sam’s thisclose to calling everyone he knows to ask where the real dean is. but he already gets it. dean likes you, he doesn’t want to finish the hunt early in hopes that you’ll join them again and honestly sam looked at the facts and the werewolf is as much of a threat as a vacuum cleaner.

seeing as he’s frickin locked up in jail like any normal murderer. not that they know he’s not normal— the point is, sam saw that and gaped at dean like he was crazy. he drove them six hours (there still four more to go) for a werewolf that’s already locked up and if he hasn’t escaped yet then it’s because he’s stupid enough to stay locked. they don’t need to go kill him.

but dean insists and sam kind of doesn’t mind the vacation from the stuffy bunker. dean enjoys the day, eats, looks around, makes sure they’re not needed and they spend another night before heading out. when you meet up with them another day later sam notices dean’s shaved two days early and he combed his hair. his brother, dean winchester, combed his hair.

“hey,” dean greets you with a wave and you move in to hug sam first then him. deans surprised, not taking you for the type, but it seems he’s been very misinformed about you.

“so, what’s up? i didn’t actually get to read anything on my way here.”

“oh, it’s—” sam’s about to tell you it’s nothing, the guys locked up but dean cuts him off.

“we should get breakfast first, we’ll talk about it then?” you nod, ready to get back in your car when dean speaks up, “we could drive you. it’d be easier if we’re all in one car.”

when you decline his offer, saying you can’t go anywhere without your girl, he thinks he just fell in love. he’s blushing out of both embarrassment at the rejection and the adoring look he knows is painting his face at hearing how much you care about your car.

at the diner you’re about to order before dean groans, slamming his hand on his thigh and tsk’ing, making you frown across from him. “they locked him up. the guys locked up, looks like he wasn’t much of a threat.”

sam barely holds his laugh in. that’s why he didn’t want him telling you? he’s lying his way to a date with you? sam can’t wait to see it go down.

“oh. that sucks, we came all the way here for nothing. i can take care of it, i know you guys have been on the road longer, lebanons a long way from here.”

dean shakes his head quickly. “nah, we’ll go, you just got here today.” you tilt your head in confusion.

“you’ve been here for more than a day? and you didn’t find out he’s been arrested?”

dean’s eyes narrow like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. he’s about to ask for clarification before the waitress comes and he thanks the heavens above. strictly looks at his menu while speaking to her so she doesn’t get the wrong idea like he eh us usually do, and ignores sam the entire time he’s asking you about anything and everything.

halfway through you notice you’re mostly talking and ask sam some things, he happily replies through gritted teeth since dean is kicking him under the table.

after breakfast you thank them and you’re about to get back in your car, since there’s clearly no case here, before you turn around. “dean?”

he hums in response, and sam takes it as his cue to scream into the impala, you walk over to dean, both hands on his biceps, “how about next time you just ask me out? you didn’t need to drive all this way.”

dean blushing is the understatement of the century as you slap his chest twice and walk away. he memorized your plates.

idk what this is but yay! it’s done! hopefully it pulls me out of my block because i can’t write anything good for the life of me.

also guys ugh i wish i could describe it better and if you have any ideas tell me but the narrowing his eyes thing was me trying to describe the look he gave jody when she was talking about sex and ‘wha’ face SO CUTE

[3amfanfiction]

Bath Time with Simon

Hurt/no comfort, MDNI, dead dove do not eat (seriously check trigger warnings)

You’ve been held captive by Simon for weeks when you get to take your first bath.

Cw: Hurt/no comfort dark fic, drowning, noncon, unrealistic sex, abuse, implied kidnapping, implied torture, bodily fluids, peeing yourself, Simon is mean in this one folks—I’m not joking

~~~~~

Simon pulled you into the grimy bathroom just as the sun was setting.

You watched him fiddle with the taps as the tub began to fill, doing your best to avoid looking at the mold growing where it met the wall.

The whole room was nasty—soap scum stains along the bottom of the bath, rust spotting all the metal fixtures and a sour smell filling the air.

You had only had showers in the weeks you'd been here. Often times perfunctory, sometimes not, and the thought of soaking—even if only for a few minutes in a disgusting tub—sounded too good to be true.

Seemingly satisfied with the temperature Simon finally turned around.

“Strip,” is the gruff command, the look in his eyes bored.

It's just you and him in this house; you haven't seen another person in weeks. The isolation doing as much damage to you as the physical things Simon seemed to enjoy.

It had been . . . rough when you first woke up here after a night out drinking with your friends. The cuff around your foot leaving no doubt as to your forced confinement.

When he had initially stepped into the room you had woken up in you'd nearly passed out in fear. He was large, thick all around, and had a mean look on his face from the start. His cold eyes watched you cry emotionlessly, only truly lighting up when you stepped out of line.

What followed was days of 'training'. Like you were some pet that couldn't learn not to piss on the carpet, one who was always chewing on things. Simon had a heavy hand and he made it known he didn't put up with attitude and as much as you wanted to snark in those early days, you knew what lay at the end of that road.

And you hadn't resigned yourself to that fate yet.

You shiver as you pull your sweater off, just as much in fear as due to chilled air dragging its fingertips over your skin.

Was it still November or was it December now? Surely it wasn't January already. Please don't let it be January.

Are people still looking for you?

Why did he take you? What did he see in you that made you a good candidate for this fucked up situation? Share with the class so that it can be excised.

You quickly remove your pants when you notice his eyes narrowing, not wanting to piss him off any more than normal, and fold them neatly—making a pile with your sweater next to the yellow tinged sink.

Shuffling slightly on the cold laminate, your feet ached, chilled and tender where the bruises along the bottoms press into the floor with your weight.

You wait for the tub to fill, trying your hardest not to look up at him. You know he's staring at you, he's always staring at you. His gaze feels like a physical weight, brushing over your skin, peering into every crevice, seeing every weakness.

At the sound of a zipper being lowered your shoulders hunched. So it would be one of those baths then.

Your eyes flick up, taking in his figure where he’s leaned against the wall—feet kicked apart with his jeans pulled open, his cock and balls cradled in the v of his pants.

You watch him spit into his hand, a thick foamy dollop landing in his palm before he reached down, giving himself a slow stroke.

He rarely bothers with things like lube. He's made it knows that spit, blood, or spend are all the slick you're going to get and you should be grateful for it.

In the quiet you notice his gaze is focused on your chest, where your nipples have pebbled with the chill. You slouched even further in avoidance while still staying semi-upright. He didn't like when you hid from him and you weren't about to mess up this bath.

His gaze moved down to the curls hiding your mound, his hand maintaining the steady shlick shlick rhythm of strokes, using your body as nothing more than a visual aid.

After an eternity of being leered at, playing with himself all the while, he reached over and closed the taps—the squeaks bouncing off the tiled walls until only dripping water remained. A snapped finger and gesture towards the tub is all the direction you’re given before he crosses his arms over his chest, cock still standing proudly between his legs.

Edging closer cautiously, limping slightly with each press of your foot, you lean down to dip your fingers into the gently steaming water before committing to the step in.

As soon as your hand submerges you yank it back sharply. Turning to Simon, you open your mouth and you know it’s the wrong thing to say, even as the words form on your tongue but you're incapable of pulling them back. It's as if you'd been set into motion, on a runaway rail car with no way to brake.

It's too hot.

You don’t register his movement as it happens. One second he’s leaning against the wall, pants unbuttoned and unzipped with arms crossed—the next you’ve been slammed painfully onto your knees, the cold tile and grout pressing harshly into your skin which stings from the fall, a throbbing in your kneecaps following along momentarily.

Before your brain makes sense of its new position you feel Simon press up against you from behind, wide chest keeping you pinned between him and the tub, straddling your calves. Your breathing quickens in impending panic.

He's big. That was one of your first thoughts when you initially saw him. This hulking mass of a figure was a giant and he was very comfortable throwing his weight around.

These last few weeks have been a testament to your resolve to stay alive, walking the fine line between keeping what agency you could and not making Simon so mad that he played so rough he broke you. He'd come close at times and it took you a while to find the line. You would carry the scars from those first few weeks for the rest of your life.

“Can’t even be properly grateful, can you, slag?” He grumbles disdainfully, ankles hooking around yours to spread your legs as you tensed further, a softly babbled sorrysorryimsorry falling from your mouth as you tried to brace your hands against the side of the tub pushing sharply into your abdomen.

“Such a fucking princess, complaining about all the nice things I do,” he gets enough room between your legs to slam his semi-damp cock home, sinking to the base in one rough stroke.

You yelp at the painful drag of him pressing into your cunt, your hole still tender and puffy from lunchtime.

“I’m sorry Simon,” you gasp, sobs starting to creep up your throat. You knew he'd been hoping to get to punish you, that was his favorite part of the day. And he wasn't opposed to creating infractions if you didn't misstep naturally. “I didn’t mean it! Thank you, thank you, it’s perfect.”

Please please please

“Nah, too late for all that now,” is the response as his hand threads through the hair at the back of your scalp, palming the back of your head.

“Simon, ple—,” is all you're able to say, heart racing, breaths coming in gasps, before water covers your face, sound going dim—muted—as you're fully submerged.

Simon groans above you as you tighten and thrash in panic and pain, hands slapping at the water, attempting to push away from the bottom only to lose traction and slide out from under you.

Your cunt squeezed vice-like as your whole body spasmed. Riding your bucking hips, he keeps you pinned between him and the tub a pleased groan rumbling through his chest at the sensations.

The water was too hot when you dipped your fingers into it. The heat making them sting and prickle. Now that the sensitive skin of your face is immersed, it feels like you’ve been pressed against a hot stove. The water rushes into your nose, burning the sensitive lining and filling your ears as you’re fully submerged, almost bent in half over the rim of the tub.

You open your mouth in a subconscious effort to get air which allows the hot water to fill the cavity as you jerk back and forth, still trying to buck Simon’s weight off of you in a panic. His forearm pressed between your shoulder blades keeps you in place as he palms the back of your head, his front to your back and his legs pin yours against porcelain and tile, his cock barreling into your cunt, slamming painfully against your cervix with every thrust and deep grind.

Just when your vision begins to haze out around the outside edges—panic muting, heartbeat slowing—he pulls you back up to breathe. As the chilled air slams into your sensitive face you attempt to gasp and cough at the same time. The resulting hacking makes you convulse, squeezing his cock tightly with each spasm.

You had no breath to sob despite your face feeling like it was on fire—your body was triaging what was needed.

The heat from the water inflamed the nerve endings, the delicate tissue around your eyes and ears feeling like a someone had scraped you raw and then doused you in lemon juice.

Your body was concerned with getting as much air as possible during the reprieve, your vision coming back into focus as your ears picked up Simon groaning behind you in fervor, your body jostling while he maintained a punishing rhythm of thrusts. His cock harshly pressing into your cervix with each stoke.

Simon pulls you back by your hair, your eyes finally catching up and starting to stream tears to mingle with the water left on your cheeks.

"Fuck me, but there's a good slut," he breathes into your ear, coming around to trail his tongue up your cheek, tasting salt.

You flinch away in hurt as his teeth catch your skin, pain magnified to the nth degree.

Your coughing is only barely coming under control when you feel the pressure on the back of your skull again.

"Nonono Sim—" heat, almost worse than before now that your skin was already throbbing. Your mind blacked out as you thrashed like an animal, bucking at your captivity to try and reach freedom.

Elbows slammed painfully into the porcelain, body rocking back and forth as if to gain leverage that wasn't there, feet kicking and flailing where they were pinned to the floor. Your writhing was instinct, no higher thought engaged.

Simon rides your bucking hips with skill, keeping you pressed close to him, unable to move forward or back no matter how much you squirm. His cock throbbing with every spasm and clench of your channel where he was slotted as deeply as possible, head pushing painfully against the opening to your womb, causing it to bow inward with every press.

He pulled you back up sooner this time, not that you could tell.

"Thaaass it sweetheart, let it all out," he croons to you, holding you upright against his chest as you cough and heave, attempting to expel the water.

The cold air burns on your face as his fingers tighten in your hair once more.

"Poor little thing just can't catch her breath, can she?" he mocks from where he's pressed to your ear, rumbling his words directly into your brain, "Good toys need to learn how to take what their owners give them and be thankful for it," his tone changes to a growl as he pressed upwards into you punishingly.

The yelp you let out seemed to amuse him because he set out to pry the sound from your mouth again, pistoning his hips into the fat of your ass, his hipbones leaving bruises to develop where they were making violent contact with you.

When you don't say anything he gives you a hard shake with the hand fisted in your hair, frowning down at you, "where's my fucking thank you?" he grits, muscles tensing where they have you caged to the floor.

"Th'nk—" you cough, throat feeling like sandpaper, "—thank you sir," accommodating, hoping to soothe.

It's not nearly enough for him and he reintroduces you to the water.

You're not sure how long this goes on for. Some parts standing out in stark relief and some fading to the background. You couldn't tell how many times you were submerged in the tub, Simon fucking into you with abandon, enjoying your body's involuntary reactions—but it felt like years.

Simon didn't appreciate the way you were beginning to go away, hiding deep in your mind. So he course corrected to bring you back into alignment with him.

SMACK

Pulling you to the side, he delivered a strong slap to your cheek. The pain echoed through your whole body as if you'd been electrocuted, a shocked scream bursting out of you.

Your face which had been in and out of the hot water was on fire, sensation magnified beyond reason and Simon wasn't one to pull punches. Or in this case, slaps.

The pain reverberating around your brain echoed, bouncing off the inside of your skull, magnifying with each distortion. It felt like shards of glass, slicing every corner they could reach, shattering further, grinding in deeper.

"You back with me, pet? About lost ya for a second there," he asks, derision dripping from ever vowel.

Reaching down to pinch and pull at your clit, he laughs when you squeal and continue to buck, this new pain added to the symphony already playing in your body.

You know you'll be hearing his cruel laugh in your dreams for the rest of your life, however long that is.

When he moves to dunk you again the tub jabs harshly into your tender torso, causing you to expel a large portion of the breath you'd just caught.

Before you get a chance to pull it back in you're underwater again. Your thrashing was cataclysmic in nature, violent upheavals and furious rocking, searching—constantly—for a way out as your lungs burned, tightening with each heartbeat, oxygen depleting.

There had to be a way out of this, right?

Were you truly going to die here? Pinned under the body of this man while he used you for his pleasure? No more warm breakfasts, no more books on rainy days, no more shopping with friends. No more. Was this going to be your last moments? Pinned under a man while he held your head underwater?

You don't mean to but you pee yourself in fear.

You can't hear it at the times, but as the warm liquid shot out of you, coating Simon's balls and both of your thighs, he just laughed, continuing his punishing pace while bringing you back up to breathe to prolong your torture.

Swallowing great gulps of air as your heart pounds, your lungs ache. It feels similar to when you get the wind knocked out of you, chest constricting and spasming, not allowing any air to inflate them, adrenaline pumping with no outlet as you desperately try to breathe to no avail.

This time, there's hope. When his thrusts begin to lose cohesion you have a sharp spark of relief. Its almost over, it's almost done.

You're gasping in as much air as you can, lungs finally no longer seizing, as Simon gives you a brief respite before he utters damning words.

"Take a big breath baby, you’re not coming back up until I’m finished," barely allowing you a chance to follow directions before pushing you back into the hot water.

You're so tired. No matter how much you try and catch your breath when you're above water, it always seems to run out far too quickly once you're immersed. This time is no exception. Your lungs are on fire, chest tensing and muscles locking tight. This is it, you're not going to make it through this. It's almost a relief to feel that, as Simon thrusts behind you, body slamming into the side of the tub, knees being raised off the floor slightly with the strength of his thrusts.

You distantly note the bruises that are likely forming where the edge of the tub is being pressed violently into your torso with each thrust. Fragile skin pressed between bone and porcelain.

His arm was still a bar across your shoulders, fingers tangled in the soggy, knotted mess of hair at the back of your scalp. The size of his palm giving him complete control of your movements.

As you thrashed in the hot water, all your muscles tensed, attempting to lift you from the water, kicking your feet where they were pinned. Simon groaned as he rode out your spasming. You were milking his cock, the way you fluttered around him.

Things were going dark again. He was going to drown you, water filling your lungs, weighing you down to press wetly into the earth where he'd bury you. He was going to do it this time, you were sure of it.

Would anyone ever know what happened to you?

When you're positive there's no surviving, Simon slams home with a low groan, flooding your channel with come, throbbing as he continues to pump into you, slowly losing momentum.

The moment his grip on your head loosens you're yanking your head up—water, saliva, and vomit trailing from your mouth as you heaved, trying to clear your airways.

Simon moaned at the added stimulation, grinding deeply to press against the back of your cunt painfully, his tip kissing your cervix, the press of him spreading it apart ever so slightly.

Once he was finished he pulled away completely, using your shoulder to help himself stand up with a satisfied groan as his spend dripped down the inside of your thighs, chest still heaving with each gasping breath, the air feeling like razor blades dragged down your throat.

Stepping to the front of the tub he reaches in to remove the plug, allowing the water to begin draining while he picks up a stiff, rough looking towel crumpled in the corner.

He uses it to vigorously wipe himself off, from his cock to his balls, between his ass cheeks and down his thighs. Walking over to you once he's done, he huffs a sardonic laugh as you flinch back.

He grabs the top of your head, holding you still as he drags the towel harshly over your sensitive skin, rubbing firmly in long strokes, maximizing your discomfort, smiling as new tears began pouring down your face.

You were right, it was a rough towel.

He takes great joy in rubbing his wetness across your face under the guise of cleaning you up, eventually pulling back to stand straight.

Wadding up the towel, he throws it against your chest where it drops onto your legs, splayed open from where sprawled.

“Clean up your mess. I can’t believe you pissed on the floor like a dog.”

You didn’t want a bath anymore.

Next

Story Repository || Main Repository

[milliesfishes]

Hi my love!!! I just absolutely love your writing 🥹 The way you write all the characters is just so unique and good 🤌 I was wondering if I could request something with Alex pls ? Something where the reader is like a pre-medical student and just stressed over classes and stuff and doesn’t think their good enough for it and Alex is just there to comfort and motivate them ??? I’ve been so stressed with classes and everything and you writing something like this would just make everything 100x better ❤️

(to both anons MWAH🫶🫶🫶🫶) ꣑ৎ౨ৎ𝓪𝓵𝓮𝔁 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵꣑ৎ౨ৎ 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓪𝓵𝓮𝔁 𝓷𝓲𝓵𝓼𝓮𝓷

The words on the page in front of you were blurry but you pushed through, able to make out the fundamentals. Your handwriting had become progressively messy over the past few hours, and you knew you'd regret it when it was time to study later. In between paragraphs you debated filling your empty coffee mug but your feet remained tucked underneath you, sleeve of your sweatshirt covering your fingers as you leaned on your hand.

It was a gorgeous Saturday that you wouldn't know anything about since you hadn't left your room all day. There were people coming and going all around your apartment, chattering loudly but you paid them no mind. Your phone had buzzed about a thousand times where you'd left it on the counter, and you ignored that too. No distractions. This was a study day.

Truthfully, all the thoughts in your head were making it terribly difficult to focus. They raced a million miles an hour, rattling off endless lists of things you still needed to do. And with each lap, the pit of dread in your stomach grew heavier. There was an essay due next week, reading that needed to be done the next day. And to top it all off, midterms were in ten days, poking at your back like a hot poker.

You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. Just a few more minutes, just a few more pages. And then maybe you could do something relaxing, like highlight your notes. Yes, that would be good motivation. Opening your eyes, you stared determinedly at the book, scanning and rereading paragraphs. Not much information was being retained, and you found yourself stuck on the same page as before.

A frustrated noise escaped you, and you picked up the book, setting it upright. Maybe the new angle would make things better? You stretched your legs out in front of you for a second before putting them back where they had been before. Finally, you were able to turn the page.

There was a knock on the door but you didn't look up. "It's open!"

The hinges creaked and you heard heavy footsteps enter the room. Still, you kept at your reading, even when an arm wrapped around your collarbone and a kiss was pressed to your hair. "Hi," you greeted absentmindedly.

"Hi baby." Alex knelt beside you, reaching a hand up to your cheek to turn your head in his direction. He smiled when you met his eyes, raising his eyebrows and giving you a look. Recognizing it, you dutifully leaned forward and gave him a brief peck, turning back to the textbook immediately.

You could practically hear the frown in his voice. "How long have you been like this today?"

"Awhile," you murmured, blinking tiredly. "There's a lot going on."

"Hmm." His hand was on your thigh now, warm through your leggings. "I feel like you've been studying nonstop since school started."

"Me too." You turned to him, clenching your jaw to avoid crying. For nearly a week you'd constantly been on the verge of tears, suppressing it for the sake of productivity. But the concern in his bright blue eyes nearly sent you over the edge. Looking away again, you stared at the page number of the book. "It's fine."

"Uh huh." Alex didn't sound convinced. He was rubbing your knee now, the gesture soothing. You melted a little, risking a look back up at him. He reached for your hand with his other one, clasping fingers together on the desk. "Maybe you should take a break. Aren't you...?" He furrowed his brow in thought. "You're on your period now, right?"

"I haven't gotten my period yet," you said quietly.

"Tomorrow's the first."

"Yeah."

Looking at your joined hands, you inhaled softly. You could only imagine what you looked like right now. It'd been days since you'd showered and you hadn't bothered to do more than finger comb your hair today and then pull it back. The sweatshirt you were wearing happened to be one of his, but it was the third day in a row you'd thrown it over your leggings, his scent comforting you as you studied.

Alex flattened his lips together, squeezing your hand lightly. "Maybe you should take a break. We could go grab some dinner. When's the last time you ate?"

"I can't stop now, I've only got twenty pages left," you protested, turning away and ignoring the fact that you hadn't eaten anything other than a few granola bars scattered between assignments. "I'm fine."

"Baby, you're stressed," he tried, squeezing your hand again. "C'mon, let's-"

"I can't stop!" you burst out, yanking your hand away. "There's too much to do and I'm behind and I don't even know why I'm studying because I'm gonna fail anyways and-" you swallowed, feeling tears rise in your throat. "And..." water was welling up in your eyes and you blinked rapidly, feeling the corners of your lips turn down fast as a landslide.

He was pulling you into his arms just as quickly, sitting up on his knees and wrapping his arms around your waist. You sniffled, sliding from your chair to the floor with him and burying your face in his neck, feeling all the emotion you'd put off come flooding back. Now you were crying and you didn't know how to stop.

Alex rubbed your back, kissing your hair and starting to rock back and forth. "Shh, I know, I know."

"I'm gonna fail," you sobbed, practically shaking in his arms.

"You've been working so hard," he murmured, smoothing a strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail. "You're gonna be okay."

That only made you cry harder, and he started rubbing your back again. "You're gonna take a break for tonight, okay? How's that sound?"

"I can't," you said miserably, hiccupping on your own words. "There's too much to do."

"It'll all still be here when you come back," he assured you. When you looked up, he smoothed your hair and gave you a little smile. "It's okay to take a break. In fact, I think it's highly encouraged by medical professionals."

You sniffled again, lightly nudging his chest. "You're not pre-med."

"No, you are." His smile was warm, and you felt a little of the weight alleviate. "And you can stop looking at pictures of insides for a few hours, I promise. The supreme doctor of the universe isn't going to come find you."

That got a little giggle out of you through your tears, which were staggering now. You reached for his hand again, nuzzling into him. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"You're under pressure right now, I get it," he murmured soothingly, fingers gliding slowly up and down your back. "But you still need to take care of yourself."

It had been a long time since you'd heard that, and even longer since you'd told it to yourself. You took in a sharp breath, nodding hazily and croaking, "Okay."

"Atta girl." Alex thumbed your chin. "D'you wanna go get dinner? Or we can bring it to my place?" You noticed how he didn't say to bring it back here, and there was a little spark of warmth in your heart. He wanted you to get out of the space intoxicated with your stress and let it clear for awhile.

"Your place," you decided, turning and kissing his chest. He stroked the top of your head affectionately and started to stand up, bringing you with him.

"Alright, let's go!" Alex lifted you up in his arms, spinning you around once and starting to walk away.

You laughed, holding onto his elbows. "Wait, I wanna shower first."

"Nope! You can shower at mine." Tugging you to the door, he only put you down to let you squish your feet into your shoes and grab your phone, putting it in his pocket. "C'mon. You can shower and I'll go pick up dinner."

True to his word, Alex dropped you off at his apartment with the promise that he would have food in twenty minutes. You felt much of the pressure alleviate as you stepped under his showerhead, washing your hair with his soap and just letting yourself relax/ The more time you spent here, the more you realized why he hadn't let you stay where you'd been. With your homework in the next room there wasn't any way you'd be able to calm down.

It was miraculous how well he knew you, better than you knew yourself.

He arrived bearing rustling takeout bags that smelled like Chinese food as you were toweling off. Poking his head into the bathroom, he smiled at the sight of you, hair wet and clinging to your cheeks. "Hungry?"

"Starving," you countered, tucking the end of the towel under your arm. He stepped fully in, big hands finding your cheeks as he kissed your forehead and you swore you had never felt more at home.

Ten minutes later you were nestled into a fresh sweatshirt of his and a pair of his boxers, munching on an egg roll. It was the happiest you'd been in a long while. You were on his couch under his arm, careful to catch any crumbs on your plate. The silence was comfortable, like a cat curling up all warm beside you.

"Want to put a movie on?" he asked casually, taking a bite of chicken. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, nodding. It'd been quiet so long that now you were thinking about all the stress from before again, and how you could be doing homework right now, and-

Alex took your plate from your lap, setting it beside his on the coffee table and pulling you into his lap, legs over his thighs. He took the remainder of your egg roll from your hand. "Open." You let your mouth fall open and he popped it in, waiting until you swallowed to push you against his chest so your head was on his shoulder.

You mumbled, "The food's gonna get cold."

"I'll make the whole damn apartment smell like sesame chicken microwaving it if I have to," he retorted gently, rubbing your back. "Just let me hold you for a minute."

Whatever thoughts of dread for the upcoming weeks you'd had dissolved as he trapped you in his warm embrace. Leaning back and forth slightly, Alex whispered, "You've been doing such a good job staying on top of things. You deserve a rest." His words nearly brought tears to your eyes again.

You snuggled into his chest, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your life was always on the go, never time to stop and look around. He put your world on pause, let you just be. That was how it had always been.

"I can rest," you repeated, looking up at him.

Alex stroked your hair lovingly. "You're always 'on' for other people. Let me be the one you don't have to be for." He kissed your nose. "I love you. Every version of you."

A smile started at your eyes and spread to your mouth. You pushed his hair back and his eyes sparked with adoration.

"Alex Nilsen, there is no world where I couldn't love you."