#a few hours and just . filled the prompt list

[nightlark100]

The List

I had an idea for a silly fanfic about the teen wolf pack making a list of rules for their pack to follow but i never got beyond the list itself and a tiny bit of story. So i thought i'd post it here.

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It had started as a joke. After another brilliant Scott plan gone wrong, Stiles had scribbled 'SCOTT IS NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE PLANS' in big letters on a piece of paper which he then stuck beside the front door.

"This is ridiculous," Scott protested, moving to take it down. "My plans aren't that bad"

"Yes they are. And no touching the paper! That is an official document"

"What."

Derek, drawn by the discussion, hovered in the doorway to the living room.

"Stiles… what is that and why is it on my wall?"

"This is the official Hale pack list of rules. We must all abide by it."

Scott scoffed and looked to Derek, expecting the alpha to side with him. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes before nodding.

"Alright"

"What?! But… Derek!"

"Sorry Scott. It's on the official list of rules, we have to follow it. No more plan making for you"

Scott is not allowed to make plans

No one mentioned the list again for a while and when they did, it was in a teasing way whenever Scott tried to suggest something, whether that something was what they should do that weekend or how best to combat a flurry of pixies in the preserve. The reminder of the ‘no plans’ rule was met with a good natured groan and an eye roll from Scott but little else.

One day however, Stiles was brought out of his latest research binge by the lid of his laptop being sharply closed. He looked up, blinking a few time as his eyes adjusted to the room after hours of staring at the bright screen.

“What the hell?”

The rest of the pack was sitting nearby, having been occupied by their own activities, with Isaac hovering uncertainly beside Stiles’ chair with a sheepish look on his face.

“Isaac?” Stiles prompted.

“Sorry Stiles but you’ve been researching for a day straight.”

“And?”

“Well… i mean… it’s on the rules.”

“What rules?”

“The official pack rules. By the door.”

Their conversation had drawn the attention of the others, most looking confused. Stiles set his laptop aside and went to the door. There beneath his scrawl was a new addition. 

2. Stiles' laptop and phone must be taken away after 24 hours of continuous research.

“Who put that there?” he asked. The others stayed silent. Scott looked slightly smug but Stiles knew that wasn’t his writing. He let out an irritated noise and fished his phone from his pocket, intending to retreat to his room. If Isaac wouldn’t let him back on his laptop, he could still access his work that way.

Derek reached over and plucked the phone from his hand.

“Sorry Stiles. It’s on the list. You can have them back tomorrow.”

“Derek! Come on!”

He moved to grab at the phone but was struck with a wave of dizziness that sent him stumbling. Hands reached out to steady him, he wasn’t sure whose.

“Stiles, when did you last eat?” Lydia asked.

“Ermm… breakfast maybe?”

“Today?”

“No… yesterday…”

“Hmm. And drank something? That wasn’t full of sugar?”

“Errr…”

“Kitchen. You’re going to eat, drink some water and then you are going to get some sleep.” She guided him out of the hall with a firm hand, pushing him into a chair at the kitchen table while Isaac retrieved some leftovers from the fridge and filled their largest glass with water.

Both of them stayed in the kitchen with him until he was suitably fed and hydrated, then Lydia took him upstairs and put him to bed, giving him a dark look as she promised that if he got up to get one of his books instead of sleeping there would be consequences.

Stiles reluctantly obeyed.

He wouldn’t admit it but he did feel better the next morning. Until, as he headed downstairs, he noted a new line had been added to the paper by the door. 

3. Stiles must be made to eat something and drink water after 6 hours of continuous research

After the first few additions, it seemed that some kind of dam had been broken and the rest of the pack didn’t hesitate to implement their own rules (although no one would admit to putting the limits on Stiles’ research time)

4.  Newly turned betas are not allowed to partake in team sports until they have proven they can control themselves (e.g. no eye flashing, no claws, no fangs, no doing backflips over other players or any other feats of sudden athletic ability that may draw attention to the pack)

5.         All of Derek's dates must be vetted. THOROUGHLY

“That's it. I'm putting a ban on Derek dating” Stiles said, picking chunks of viscera out of his hair. “This is the third time! At this point it's just negligent of us not to investigate anyone inviting you out.” A thought occured and he spun around to face Derek. “oh my god. You're a Xander!”

“What?”

“A Xander! Right Peter?”

“I would have to agree. He does have Xander like qualities when it comes to dating.”

“Again I say… what?”

“Buffy the vampire slayer. Peter and I have been watching it together.”

“Really Peter?”

“It's good!”

“It has its moments”

“Yeah you're just mad cause they got rid of Ethan. Who is 100% you. Just in it for the chaos.”

“Would that make you the Giles?”

“No! Why?”

“Oh come on, they were definitely a couple.”

“If i’m anyone, i’m willow.”

“Wouldn’t Lydia be Willow?”

“No, Lydia is Cordelia.” he glanced around, fearing the redhead would appear and yell at him. “On the surface, superficial cheerleader type. But goes through a bunch of character development and has a power that sucks.”

“Flawless logic. Why are you Willow?”

“Magic. Bi. Brief fall to the dark side. And then Scott would be Xander,”

“I thought I was Xander?”

“No, you’re just Xander when it comes to dating. Scott’s Xander the rest of the type.”

“And I suppose Allison is Buffy?”

“Noooo… Allison is Faith. "

6. Peter and Stiles are not allowed to watch Mythbusters anymore 

“Really Derek?”

“Yes. Really. Last time you watched that show, you ended up building a trebuchet.”

“I believe it was just Stiles who built the trebuchet.”

“Yes but you helped load it.”

7. No Sex in the common areas! Erica this means you! (poor Isaac)

8. When offered a boon by a faerie BE SPECIFIC

9. Stiles is not to be left unattended in the vet clinic

10. Stiles is not to be left unattended around witches

11. Stiles is not to be left unattended around magic users

12. Stiles is not to be left unattended

13.  Lydia and Peter are not to be left alone in a room together.

14. In the event that Stiles is transformed into a small furry animal, he is to be given into the custody of the Sheriff or Derek. Or Peter. Most importantly, Erica is banned from going near him (OH COME ON! YOU LOOKED INSANELY CUTE IN THE BATMAN COSTUME)

15. The Notebook is a great film and whoever keeps hiding the disc will stop immediately. OR ELSE. I think the or else was implied here Stiles…

16. Stiles is not to be given coffee

17. Stiles is not to be given extra Adderall

18.  Anyone who gives the Sheriff food not on the approved list will face the wrath of Stiles

19. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Melissa McCall

20. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Chris Argent

21. ~Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Stiles Stilinski~ (Stiles objects to this rule)

22.�� When throwing items at people, do not throw any of the books or Peter will eat you

23. No Stiles, having sex with a male werewolf won't get you pregnant. Even if it's an alpha. (That we know of)

24. No one is allowed to drive the Camaro except Derek

25. No one is allowed to eat in the Camaro

26.  Alison is not allowed to take her crossbow to school

27.  Alison is not allowed to take her knives to school

28.  Seriously Alison, stop taking weapons to school!

29. Stiles is not allowed to touch any of Alison's weapons

30.  If you bleed in the jeep, you are responsible for cleaning it

31. Do not enter the kitchen when Stiles is cooking. (This is for your own safety)

32. If you enter the kitchen while Stiles is cooking, do not attempt to steal food he is preparing. Werewolves cannot regrow fingers

33.  If Stiles declares someone is evil, he is probably right and should be taken seriously.

34.  If someone new starts working at the school, they are probably evil

35.  If Peter offers to kill someone for you, he is not joking and it is not okay (no matter how tempting it is)

36. Do not ask Derek about dating Cora

37.  Do not make dog jokes, especially to Derek, Stiles! (Not my fault he has no sense of humour)

38. ALWAYS CALL STILES FIRST IF YOU FIND A BODY

39. Stop asking where our eyebrows go when shifted

40. Stiles is not allowed a pet dragon

41. Stiles is not allowed a pet griffin

42. ~Stiles, stop trying to adopt baby mythical creatures~

43. Peter stop leaving dead animals on Stiles porch seriously dude, my dad thinks I've got a budding serial killer after me ~well, I wasn't technically wrong…~ minus the budding part

44. Stiles is not allowed to use his PowerPoint when telling people about werewolves (I don't care how many slide transitions you put in)

45.  No Stiles, giving your PowerPoint to Peter or Lydia to present is not a loophole (oh come on! I even put a bibliography at the end! it's not my fault you're technology adverse!)

46.  Derek is not allowed to lurk around abandoned buildings. It really doesn't help with the serial killer vibe you give off

47. If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back! We shouldn't kill people at all! I said IF! ~Stiles, please remember I'm an officer of the law~

47B. AMENDMENT TO THE PREVIOUS: If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back AND make sure you dispose of the body so that dad doesn't have to do extra paperwork

[izzy-b-hands]

Just when you think we're done with fic links, you remember that I'm nearly two days late in publishing the first few pieces of my own homemade fictober prompt list!

That said, here's Day One, for the prompt 'name.' Some light stizzy, with implied ftm Izzy (am I working through feelings via fic about how long it took me to finally find all the names I actually want to use for myself and how one of them is in fact. fucking. I can't even type it out but if you've checked my description in recent days you've probably noticed the change and Understand my faffing about here ANYWAY SORRY LINK INCOMING)

[screampied]

POKERFACE! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. gojo gets nominated for his fifth grammy. you being his plus one, he takes you—yet right before he’s prompted to go on stage, instead of getting an award though, he gets a…boner.

wc. 4.9k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, semi-public, degradation, praise, hair pulling, oral, unprotected sex, overstim, implied multiple orgasms, spit, creampie, fingering.

an. stream 'it guy' on all platforms for a cheap price of $69.69!

“and the award for best solo pop artist goes to...” there’s a long abrupt pause as the female emcee gently peels open the red-encased envelope. the audience grew quiet. you could hear a pen drop at the sudden anticipation for who would win. “satoru gojo—toru!”

gojo lets off a dramatic gasp. the cameras pan towards him and he tugs on his tie. everyone starts to clap inside the filled up arena before he turns towards you. holding out his hand for you to take, he mutters out a, “oh please. i’m not going up there alone, c’mon girl.”

you didn’t expect for him to drag you along too, the press were already speculating things about you two—yet you still placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his palm as he flashed you his cheesy popstar signature grin before ushering up towards the stage with him. bright lights throughout the scenery nearly blinded you as the both of you walked. amid the background played one of gojo’s most recent blown-up pop songs that topped the charts for seven consecutive weeks straight.

“heh. wow. uh. this is actually crazy,” gojo starts off, taking the small awkward, cupping it in his hand before leaning into the mic. “fifth award of the night. for once, i’m speechless,” and then he pauses to snicker. “….that’s a joke. you guys are supposed to laugh...”

the crowd goes into sudden forced laughter and you sigh, meeting eye contact with various a-list celebrities. you tug on your dress before feeling gojo bring you close to him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“eh. but anyway, i just wanna start by thanking her,” and there’s sudden confusion. you glance at gojo before he grins straight at the audience, dimples poking near the corners of his mouth. “yeah. her pussy. it’s gotten me this far, and most celebs thank their fans or parents, but why not thank the most important thing?”

that….was hours later.

everyone was buzzing about how gojo ended up getting canceled for his famous, ‘thankful for my assistant’s pussy! speech.’

it made various article headlines—yet as of now, hours before that scene happened, you were currently in his dressing room with gojo for reasons you don’t even remember why.

“this is fucked,” he whines, pacing back and forth. you sat in one of his chairs. watching the pop star have his sixth outburst of the night, here he is complaining why he can’t go on stage. this was a regular thing, and by now you started to become used to it. “…i’m supposed to be on in five but i— i can’t do that.”

“any reason why?” you muttered, tracing a nail over your thighs, brushing against the fabric that ran against your skirt. “is it your stage freight again, ‘toru?”

“pft. that’s not funny,” he glares. “and no, it’s something more serious.” he trods his feet towards you, a few white strands racing down the sides of his eyes — it’s a cute unintentional look that makes you smile at him, seeing him up close. in this cute panicky state, gojo’s bright blue eyes remained on yours before his lip quivered. “it’s embarrassing.”

right before you were gonna speak, you glanced down at your phone, the text from one of gojo’s managers signaling how he should be preparing to be walk on stage in a few more minutes.

“uh huh,” you nodded, eyes fully darted away at your phone and not him. he frowns, glancing down himself before bringing two hands towards your shoulders for you to fully look at him.

the popstar had a long designer suit on, eye-catching in the least with various rhinestones pressed against specific spots. you picked out his outfits, a thing he doesn’t mind you doing.

“look at meee…it’s serious,” he pants, and you stare into his eyes, and it takes you a moment before you finally realize. “is this…what you call a uh.. wardrobe malfunction?”

“oh,” you mumble, not realizing how quickly your pupils averted toward his bulge. you prayed gojo didn’t notice, mainly due to how embarrassing not to mention unprofessional that’d be…staring between your clients’ legs.

“oh….” you repeated, watching gojo’s face flush entirely. a smile tugs against your lips before you furrow your brows, his hands still gripped onto your shoulders before you query, “satoru, do you have a boner?”

“ . . . ”

you giggle at his silence, and he only gets more abashed and flushed. your eyes continue to linger on the pop star. he removes his hands away from your shoulders as you stand up to face him. “is that why you can’t go on stage? because you’re hard?”

“don’t…say it like that,” he grumbles, a cute pout curling against his lips. you watch as he digs his hands into the holes of his pockets, having a staring contest with the marble ground before clearing his throat. “and yeah. it’s your fault so you need to help me uh.. you know.”

“how’s it my fault?” you play along, tilting your head.

“look at your outfit,” he whines, and he says that purposely just to take a second to check you out, which he does.

gojo’s eyes roam towards your body, the pretty long dress you wore — the color matched gojo’s outfit, it wasn’t anything too revealing but it was enough to make gojo suck his teeth. the structure of it made your curves, the physique of you entirely show off, and it made him bite his lip in such want.

“ever since you came in here, i felt all hot and um.. hard. just wanted an excuse to rip your dress off instead of attending this stupid awards ceremony.”

“well,” you whisper, bringing two fingers towards his tie, giving it a kittenish pull. gojo looks down at you, and he’s so flustered you could visibly see. the way the tips of his ears perked, he was panting a bit from feeling so tense. “what are you waiting for then?”

“you’re a really bad assistant,” he murmurs, his hands starting to trail up your waist, quickly unraveling the ribbon look that went against your back. “and a really fuckin’ bad influence.”

he snickers at the concluding part of his words before you feel the popstar’s warm lips press against yours.

you kiss back, and a finger of his lifts your chin upward. he tasted sweet, honeyed even.

gojo’s hands gingerly meander all over every inch of your body, he presses into you. so close to where you feel his bulge prod and prod. he moans into your mouth, strands of his hair tickling against your forehead. you run your tongue over his, tasting the sweet tang of what appears to be wine.

he was so needy, you could tell practically from his breathing patterns. a small grunt leaves his mouth once he leads you towards the sofa. gojo’s hands roamed all over your body, his touch made you flutter in response. 

gojo strokes a tress of your hair before a smile tugs against the corners of your mouth. you ran a hand down to give his slacks a playful pull, his boxers were just about hanging out. 

he moans into your mouth, and it’s shaky. your touch made both tips of his ears grow to a feverish hot. as your nose brushed against his, he then suddenly pulled away — gasping for air before his lip trembles. 

“f-fuck, i can’t wait anymore. i need to feel your mouth,” he pants, bringing a hand to his face to cover his embarrassed state. the pop star was so impatient, that his body language showed entirely. he was the embodiment of the saying, ‘is it hot in here or is it just me?’

you giving him that cute doe-eyed expression only made things ten times worse — the bulge forever growing and throbbing achingly in his pants made his bite down on his lip. 

“don’t be so loud,” you tease, and he’s still recollecting short breaths as he watches you make your way down on your knees. 

gojo’s eyes linger down toward you, and he is already envisioning your mouth. just sinking straight down on his length, drool running down your chin — he couldn’t lie to himself.. ever since you started working with him, he’s had quite the imagination. 

the thought of his pretty little assistant with her mouth all full, he’s gone down on you at least twice, but the image of you returning the favor made his mouth water. 

“princess, i don’t wanna…rush you or anything, but make it quick, yeah? i do have a g-grammy to win after all,”

he swallows, watching you slowly start to unzip the fly of his pants. your stare did things to him that he simply couldn’t formulate into words. gojo brings a hand on top of your head, stroking a few strands of your hair before breathing. “if i’m late, ‘m gonna blame it on you.”

“you’ve gotta be the most unprofessional person i’ve ever worked with,” you roll your eyes with a sass.

a cold sweat runs down gojo’s neck once he watches you tug his black slacks down, leaning in to kiss the white print of his boxers.

once your eyes met with his bulge, you giggle, gradually lolling out your tongue to lick the hardness that was tucked underneath the fabric. 

“f-fuckkk,” he breathes, keeping his eyes on you for the entire duration. he was so pent up, gojo’s boner made you lick your lips, purely from the intact sight.

as you traced your tongue all over his bulge, tasting the blandness of the fabric—you part your lips, slowly starting to peel his boxers off with your teeth. “dirty girl. you’ve been thinkin’ about this too, huh?”

you shake your head and he lets off a pouty frown. “don’t lie.”

a smile spreads amongst your lips again, and once his boxers were finally peeled off with the help of your teeth. you meet eye contact with gojo’s lengthy cock. just a quick second glance and your tongue was already salivating from pure zeal.

gojo was long, of course, he was well-trimmed.

yet, he had a few specks of white hair scattered near his base — it was sexy. your eyes stared at his body, the way his undershirt from his tuxedo was slightly lifted.

you could see his abs clenching, his happy trail that ran down…

“l-look what you did to me” he huffs, and his tone sounded entirely whiny. he had somewhat of an upward curve. you lean in to give the soft plump tip of his a chaste kiss. 

a few remnants of pre-cum smother against your spit-glossed lips. gojo’s jaw tightens, watching you roll out your tongue unsteadily, swiping it against his frenulum. “just…just like that.”

a sharp breath gets caught in his throat, you looked so pretty like this — slowly lapping your tongue against his smooth cockhead.

his pre-cum barely had a taste to it. despite that, you’d still describe it as purely sweet. lashes of yours fluttered as you continued to taste him before starting to leisurely sink your mouth lower and lower. 

“…damn,” he grunts, feeling his own eyes start to flutter. your mouth was so warm, it made gojo tighten the grip he had on your hair just a bit more. he tickled against your scalp with a ring that was thrown on his finger. 

the pop star quickly started to grow obsessed with that tongue of yours, the way you playfully swirled it around the inner part of his tip—you knew the exact spots to reach. he shivers, feeling both temples of his cheeks burn with such intensity. 

“keep lookin’ at me,” he murmurs sheepishly, raising a thumb against the side of your face to stroke your cheek lovingly. “stare at me while you’re gettin’ a good m-meal, yeah.”

your eyes flicker towards gojo, and he says that yet could barely hold eye contact. your gaze made him so flustered that he looks away. you simper, further inches going down your right throat. 

he felt you roll your lips around your teeth, strands of spit already starting to seep near the corners of your mouth. gojo’s just groaning and whining in the distance—you were so good with your technique, it had him at a loss of words. 

“spit on it,” he suddenly says, pulling your head up to look at him again. “i— i wanna make you a messy assistant for me. can you do that?”

you nod, skimming your tongue around his tip before breaking away, gathering a reasonable wad before spitting on his shaft, going back towards it to lap it up with such filthy ease. 

“nasty girl,” he starts to pant, his right thigh bounces before within moments later…you go back to your original place. gojo’s got a bit of thickness to him, so you gag about two times before he’s fully reached down your throat. he whines, feeling his eager tip prod against your uvula — and that’s when you start to bobble your head. “with a throat like this, you’d be such a good fuckin’ singer, y’know.”

gojo starts mumbling seductive words at you left and right whilst your mouth’s being occupied. it starts to make you throb from underneath…

so much so that you can’t help but reach between your thighs, past your fishnets, and touch yourself. 

“…this could be a good vocal training reflex actually,” he adds, and your lips remain enclosed over your teeth. he finds it hot especially how you don’t even use your hands, just your mouth—you had him swallowing imaginary lumps in his throat. 

while you’re still abiding inches up and down your throat, his abdomen curls. he lifts a part of his shirt that’s tucked underneath his tux just so you can get a brief view. his biceps were forevermore swollen. you moaned, feeling him keep such a gripping hold on the crown of your head. 

“s-shit,” he cursed, starting to chase his breath as if it was some kind of race. he was in love with how sloppy you were.

strings, an entire glistening cobweb of spit slithered down the corners of your mouth—all down your chin. “how’s it taste? ‘s good for you?”

again, your response was a nod, and for a concise moment you sink yourself all the way down.

breathing through your nose, gojo grunts, stroking underneath your chin that was smeared with nothing but your saliva before he pulls you back up again. 

“goddamn,” he throws his head back, and he’s starting to stutter. each time your tongue swiped across his sensitive tip, near the entrance of his frenulum, he whined. he leers before that’s when you feel him starting to thrust right into your mouth. he couldn’t help himself. “pretty mouth was just askin’ to get fucked a l-little.”

your jaw opened a bit as you happily took him into your mouth, your eyelids were half-lidded and you stared right up at gojo. 

he returns the stare, flashing you a cute abashed grin, uttering a, “h-hey princess.”

your nails dug into the thin layers of his pulled-down pants, feeling him thwack and thwack against the very back of your throat. gojo’s hips were so erratic, thoroughly sloppy that you just craved for more. 

“keep suckin’ me l-like that, ‘n i’m gonna make such a mess down that nasty throat of yours.” he whimpered, feeling the way his abs tightened. all from a few kitten licks of your tongue running against him, taking him fully with that most intense eye contact imaginable. 

he shifts his feet a bit, and that’s when his phone starts to buzz. gojo grunts, reaching into his pocket before taking out his phone. 

with stubby fingers, he uses his same passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ and his eyes widen, murmuring out, “aw man,” you briefly look up at him — confused as to what happened before he scrolls, still having another hand gripped on your head. “my nudes got leaked again?”

…again? 

with your mouth full, you kept up a pace, and whilst keeping his attention focused towards the bright blue-lit screen, he makes you suck him off just a bit harder. with a groan, he lets off a snicker. “oh well. at least i look good. i wonder if sugupoo saw..”

he was so unserious, probably the most unserious man you’ve ever met — let alone had to work with for a living. 

gojo notices your cold stare and he nervously chuckles, “what? i didn’t say anything,” and then he fakes a moan, moving your head back and forth, an obnoxious grunt. “sorry…i mean uh. fuckkkk. right there, ‘m gonna cum.”

you give the pop star a deadpan before he meekly smiles at you, yet that’s when he moans for real once your tongue cursorily brushes against the scar tissue that resided near the underside of his tip. 

“f-fuck. ‘m sensitive there,” he heavily pants, and the nerves throughout his body. his cock that was shoved deep down your throat, you felt your breaths leave through your nose. gojo’s head goes back before he groans, his orgasm feeling like a wave. an abrupt riptide. 

once he came, it was so much — it trickled right into your mouth, thick velvety strings of ropes that coated all over your tongue. to halt your gagging, you squeezed your left thumb into a fist, still holding onto his thighs. 

gojo’s lip quavered, and his face flushed. with swollen, varicose veins that briefly popped out displaying on his body, he sighs. 

“s-so much to give to you, princess,” he slurs, completely out of breath. he was taken aback, watching your cheeks become cutely hollow. gojo’s dick remained in your mouth before he tapped your left temple, whining out a, “say ah. i wanna see.”

immensely, you loll out your tongue, showing him the paint of his cum that stuck in your tongue, how it sprayed all inside.

he groans. gojo rubs his sensitive achey tip near the flatness of your tongue, it turns into short slaps on your tongue and you moan. 

“mmh. i read somewhere that if you swallow cum it strengthens your overall vocal performance,” he cheeses, and a droplet of sweat races down the side of his forehead. you sat on your knees, already taking his warm cum down your throat. 

gojo was obviously joking…or he wasn’t. you could never tell with this guy.

as he’s calming himself down, catching his breath, the top part of his teeth gnaws down on his lip — he’s too eager because within seconds, he’s got you pinned down on the spare sofa. 

“i- i need to be inside you again…” he whispers in a needy tone, and you’re already laid flat on your back. he didn’t even have the decency to take your dress off. 

with a single hand, he pulled it up, taking a glimpse at your laced panties. he runs a finger against the thin strap of it, making you shudder before sprawling your legs open. 

“you’re supposed to be on stage,” you giggle, watching his lips curl into a pout. he’s so handsy, gojo starts to peel your panties off slowly, licking his lips before a pant exits his mouth. “you’re not gonna hear the end of it from nanami.”

“don’t care,” he whines, grabbing ahold of his length. gojo swallows, such a hungry gaze was presented at you—it made you start to pulse a bit between your thighs.

“couldn’t go onstage like this,” and his voice briefly cracks, it’s cute. gojo brings his fat swollen tip towards your slick entrances and grows quiet once your cunt hums out a squelch. “they can wait. i c-cant.” 

the pop star’s eyebrows come together, and once he starts to gradually go inside you—you moan, feeling the immediate sensation of him stretching you out. 

“of course y-you can’t,” you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping your arms around his collar. gojo stares at you and for a split second, his gaze seems romantic. 

full of nothing but lust.

he looked like he was about to say something, but he turned away, disregarding it. it was cute, you pulled him in for a kiss and he only moaned right into your mouth. 

his fingers traced all over your jaw as your tongue ran against his. his breath was heavy against yours, and the feeling of his body pressed on you made you whine. gojo’s thick cock continued to make its way inside, you were a bit drenched earlier, soaked practically. 

gojo couldn’t pinpoint his feelings towards you.

he didn’t know what this thing was. he adored you, he’s always rambled to you about how you were his favorite assistant, whilst being his only assistant ever.

you wanted to ask him if this thing was just a fling or something more.

but…you were far too shy to ask, you figured he was just having fun. which you didn’t mind entirely, yet—you couldn’t help but be curious. 

as your lips parted, you felt your legs start to wrap and lock securely around his waist. strands of gojo’s hair pokes against your forehead, and he feels a strong wave of tingles race down his back. 

“fuck…i need y-you,” he murmured between kisses, and he was such a perfect fit. the moment he was fully inside, you moaned, giving his bottom lip a sudden bite. 

once he started to move, just a single thrust was enough to make your head spin. gojo delivered such a sloppy thrust, that your legs tightly hugged him—and your breathing started to hitch. 

he always had such a sweet taste to him, whether it was candied or a rich tang of alcohol to it, you craved it every time. 

gojo brings a hand down towards your tummy to lightly press on it, curving his thumb against your bare skin before breaking away for a split second. his nose rubbed against yours before he gives you a cunning sly smile. 

“you always have this look on your face,” he whispered in a teasing tone — gojo traces a finger by your lips, pulling your bottom lip down before sliding a finger into your mouth. you willingly suck on it, and he stares intently. “pretty girl. you drive me insane, y’know that?”

his fingers were always made with such length. so slender…

gojo starts up a pace, and the way his hips start to snap against you—you moan a muffled moan. the way your thighs recoil from a single slam against you, it had your mind going in circles. 

“always grippin' on me,” he huffs, leaning into the inner part of your neck to lightly sink his teeth. “f-fuck, fuck the grammys. i just want you.”

you wondered if he really meant that. 

it was no secret with gojo’s problematic love life, he often gets around… but he’s never had an actual decent relationship. well, he’s had one. 

he often doesn’t like to mention it, but it was all over the press. 

you wanted to ask him about it, it was far before he became famous — some other a-list celebrity, but he’s always avoided that particular topic. 

gojo probably doesn’t even know the true meaning of love.

but you’ve had thoughts that perhaps, just perhaps. maybe you could change that. as unprofessional as it was, the industry was always strict with gojo.

and ever since he stumbled upon you, he’s always felt a bit better. you never treated him any different, and he’s forever liked that about you. 

whilst you’re deep in thought, you get brought back to reality once gojo’s covering your neck with visible marks. he’s moaning all into your neck, and he sounds so sweet. melodic moans. 

“f-fuck,” he huffs out, kneeling a bit between you. this was the perfect position for him to stare deeply into your eyes. you moan, feeling his lips ghost against the inner part of your neck. his tongue softly dragged against your neck, and the way he rocked his body amongst you made you bite your lip. “look at me.”

your eyes meet his, and he notices a pretty glint in your eye. embarrassment washes over his face as not even two seconds pass, and your stare gets him flustered immediately. 

“dunno what i’d do without you,” he huffs out, and he genuinely had such neediness in his tone. you felt a strange string at your heart. 

gojo’s always been somewhat protective of you. being so close to him like this, his body weight just barely hovering over you…

his dick reached you deep, you felt the perfectly angled stretch…

the curve as your legs trapped his weight tightly. gojo was gentle, yet a bit rough to make your eyes just about go back. he leans in to sneak kisses near the corners of your lips before murmuring. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum soon.”

he was so warm, you got chills from his body let alone — his rhythm, it was so slow.

simply perfect and precise. for a moment, you drowned everything out, being entrapped into your own thoughts. 

you started to wonder if you got together with gojo, maybe he’d finally be happy.

not having to worry about faking a dumb smile for the industry. perhaps you were a bit delusional, but you genuinely pondered about it. 

the two of you always did have chemistry.

was it love … or just a game?

the moment gojo cums for a second time, then a third time, then a fourth… it made him moan against your neck. his moans were high-pitched, droplets of sweat racing down the edges of his forehead. 

you took his breath away every single time. the way your pussy clung onto him, through and through—each time he’d dump such a thick load into you.

 he’s panting heavily, huffing and puffing while leaving you full of nothing but his cum. 

it stuck against your thighs, and he became so obsessed that he just kept fucking you—you whined, the back of your ankle, the pretty anklet that wrapped around your foot brushing back against his skin. 

gojo never fails to leave kisses all over your body, he nips at the corners of your neck before letting off a low sigh. 

“s-satoru,” you’d mumble after a while, feeling his hips come to a certain slow pause. it’s been various positions…and even for him, his legs were just about to give out.

the tips of his ears heat up before he grunts, feeling you continue to clamp down on him. you were now on his back—facing the opposite way, grinding against him and he was pulling you closer. “gonna cum too, ‘m gonna cum.”

“bet you are,” he whispers against your neck. you’re moving back against him in such a slow way it makes him groan—you’re being held with him having a hand playfully wrapped around your throat. his middle finger tickles the middle part of your neck whilst you squeeze his relaxed knee. “give it to me, pretty.”

your eyes meet the very depths of your head, and then you feel yourself start to dramatically spasm. 

his cock prodded right amongst your g-spot, not once but a few times…and you let off a whimper once he kept hitting there again and again…

such bundles of nerves continue to build up and up.

your breath gets caught in your throat to where it’s almost like whiplash. gojo tugs on the fabric of your dress, sucking the tender skin of your neck. 

“let go for me,” he utters in a soft tone, his tongue deducting trailing up your neck. he knew just how to make you squirm on his lap. “thaaaat’s it, relax.”

his words warmed their way straight down between your legs, he started to guide your hips with his hands, peppering a kiss near the corner of your ear. “make a mess on me ‘n i’ll clean you right up.”

you moaned, feeling that familiar coil in yours snap before you came, by now, you can’t even remember how many orgasms he’s coaxed out of you. “f-fuckkk.” you spat, slumping your head back against him. 

“so good for me,” he pants, bringing a hand towards your tummy. he toys with the string of your panties that was lazily moved to the side before he nervously cheeses, realization washing over his face. “o-oh shit. the awards...”

and yet here you were, currently standing alongside gojo as he was accepting his fifth award. 

the minute he announced to probably millions of people across the words that he was thankful for your pussy, the entire arena went dead silent. 

all you could hear in the background was some lady screeching out, “you need to leave!”

“…satoru, you can’t just say that on live television.” you leaned in, whispering to him with clenched teeth. 

“oh yeahhh…you’re right,” he sheepishly said, turning back towards the mic. he cleared his throat before grinning, holding up his award with the most unserious expression. “uh. i mean, i wanna thank my team, my uh…”

he goes mute for a moment before concluding his speech, finishing with a, “thank you a lot though! i am tooootally grateful. and also, don’t forget to pre-order my new single, ‘it guy.’ only $69.69. if you ask me, that’s not that bad of a deal, hehe. seriously, stream it. please?”

you spot nanami in the distance shaking his head in utter disappointment. he could already predict the current headlines about to roll out. 

gojo brings you towards his limo after the awards, quickly rushing you so the both of you can avoid the paparazzi.

they were probably just itching for a reaction. once the two of you made it inside, he was saying something to you before he leaned in for a kiss. 

you kiss him back, teasingly pulling his tie closer towards you, and he goes up between your legs, eager to finish what he started earlier. prints of your lipstick were all over his collar, and gojo even autographed your ass with his signature. only to smack it, making it smear all over. 

you moaned, squeezing his hand before pulling away, panting—out of breath before you smiled, only to pause. you and him make direct eye contact, and he’s so close to your lips, so close to kiss you again but he waits for you to speak, do something. 

he figured you were gonna kiss him again, but instead without even thinking, you whispered out a, “i- i think i love you.”

“…you what?”

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[nickfowlerrr]

everybody talks

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut, fluff, a bit of angst. unprotected p in v. dirty talk. nipple play. if i’m missing something that needs to be tagged, pls lmk!

words: almost 7.7k

notes: happy halloween 👻 so i had an idea for reclusive neighbor!bucky meeting reader when she stops by his house with a group of kids for trick or treating, and this is very much not that but i think it still works lol. also, i wrote this in a day? i don’t think i’ve ever written more than like 4k in a day before so, yay me!

i wanted to participate in @witchywithwhiskey’s horror movie hoe-a-thon but i decided so last minute and then thought the deadline was the 31st, but i absolutely read the guidelines wrong bc it was actually yesterday and i missed it lol. i’m linking her event still though bc i did use a quote prompt! 🖤

The loud shaking of the wobbly cart you grabbed in your hurry precedes you as you make your way through the ridiculously crowded grocery store. Normally you would have been mortified - probably would have left the cart and ventured off to grab what you needed sans basket - but you don’t have the time to be concerned about the looks you’re getting as you walk fast down the aisles. 

When your sister asked you for help organizing a family halloween party, you didn’t realize she meant an actual little community family friendly party for the street she lived on.

You had gotten two frozen pizzas, a bag of candy, a case of soda, and some random bags of chips you were sure your nieces would love, just last night. That would have certainly been enough for you, your nieces, and both your sisters, but unfortunately, that wasn’t where the guest list ended. 

The look on her face when you showed up to her house with just those few things would have been funny if she wasn’t already on the brink of a breakdown.

Her husband was out of town for work and she was doing all the halloween prep for Sid herself, thus why she enlisted your help with the party and your younger sister’s help for the trick or treating plans.

Before she could snap and completely lose her cool on you, you were already rushing to the front door, keys still in hand, promising you’d be back within the hour and she had nothing to worry about.

That’s how you found yourself among the crowd of the woefully unprepared this afternoon. 

You loaded the cart with six more frozen pizzas, three family servings of the deli’s hot and ready fried chicken, two packs of halloween cupcakes, two more cases of soda, an extra case of water, and three boxes of capri suns before you started filling the cart with the halloween party snacks you found in the holiday section. 

You were getting a workout as you pushed the basket, less shaky now thanks to the added weight, heading to the candy section to grab a few bags of whatever they had left.

You were distracted by the end cap display as you turned down the aisle and didn’t see the man standing right in front of you, accidentally running into him. Though, running into him sounds like an exaggeration. With how heavy your basket was, and how sturdy the man before you was, it was more like a bump - a love tap. He didn’t even really react to it aside from looking over briefly to you and your basket.

Even still, you apologized profusely, rambling an apology about not looking where you were going before you finally got an actual look at your victim. 

Your words stopped almost abruptly when your eyes met with crystal blues. His stare was icy, but not cold, moreso piercing.

He blinked and broke your trance, offering you a shy smile before he looked away.

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” he said, eyes fixed back on the shelves of candy.

He was dressed in dark denim jeans and a black crewneck sweatshirt, his hair was dark and down to just above his broad shoulders, and the stubble that lined his strong jaw suited him well. You didn’t realize you were staring again until he looked back up at you.

You forced yourself to smile then, ignoring the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and rising to your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you offered with a nervous laugh before you forced the cart behind where he stood to go onward. 

You could have sworn you saw a blush rising to his cheeks as he smiled to himself, avoiding your gaze, but you weren’t entirely sure. 

And you definitely didn’t have the time to ponder on it.

Instead, you began your own search of the shelves to find not only your nieces’ favorites, but your sisters’, too. 

They were both working hard to make their kids’ halloween a good one, they deserved a little treat themselves when all the work was done. You, on the other hand, still single and child free, were planning on treating yourself all night. You were there to help, sure, but most of the work wouldn’t be done by you. You were looking forward to seeing them off to trick or treat and plopping down on your sister’s couch to watch movies for the rest of the night - handing out candy, of course, should any kids come by.

Once the party was set up and over, you’d be free for the night and you couldn’t wait.

You were lucky to find most of what you were looking for, but couldn’t seem to find the last kind of chocolates you wanted to get. 

As your eyes scoured the shelves, you found yourself looking back over to where the handsome stranger still stood. His brows were furrowed as he held up two boxes of full size candy bars, seeming to be debating between the two.

The look of concentration on his face was endearing, you could almost chuckle at how serious in thought he seemed to be over candy.

You smiled to yourself, returning to your search. As your eyes left the man, traveling instead to the rows of candy in front of him, that was when you saw the bag you needed. In the section right where he was standing, because of course they’d be there. 

He huffed in exasperation before you watched him drop both boxes of candy into his cart. He turned to head down the aisle in your direction and his eyes widened slightly when he saw you still standing there.

“Oh, sorry, I’m in your way, aren’t I.”

“No, you’re fine!” You assured him as you left your basket, walking closer to him. “I just needed to grab this,” you said, looking up with the bag in hand. He hadn’t moved from where he stood as you approached, so you were inadvertently in his personal space - but he didn’t make any attempt to move from you. In fact, he looked almost frozen. 

His bright eyes were on you, one hand on his cart, the other clenched by his side. He seemed to go a bit ridge at your proximity, like he didn’t want to make any sudden movements, but he relaxed after a second after seeing your soft smile, blinking at you as his cheeks burned. 

You quickly backed away, hoping to not make him more uncomfortable and to not embarrass yourself further.

You grabbed onto your cart and looked his way once more, meeting his eye again as his sights were already on you. 

You smiled shyly, “Sorry, again, for hitting you,” you offered, “happy halloween.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but he did give you a small nod of acknowledgement.

Your smile grew tighter before you turned and made for the check out, sighing as you rolled your eyes at yourself, mentally chastising yourself for being such an awkward inducing mess. 

The lines were long and as you waited, you had to field a call from your sister, promising her you were checking out and would be back at her house soon.

You finally got through the line and were on your way out the sliding door when your cart almost crashed into another. You gasped as you pulled at your cart to stop, the heavy weight carrying it forward, its momentum causing it to almost ram right into the cart beside it.

The doors were only big enough for one cart to go through at a time, so you looked up to offer whoever it was you almost crashed into the lead.

It was your turn for your eyes to widen as you once again were met with those piercing blues.

“I am so sorry, I’m not doing this on purpose, I swear,” you laughed nervously, backing up a bit so he’d have room to go through the doors. “Go for it,” you said.

He shook his head, “Please,” he gestured for you to go in front, “ladies first.”

Had you not been in a hurry, you would’ve argued that he should go ahead, but seeing as your phone was lighting up with messages from your erratic sister, you smiled and pushed on forward. “Thank you,” you breathed.

You were trying not to pay attention as he followed behind you, but when you got to your car, halting your basket at your trunk, you couldn’t help but notice as he stopped next to you.

You looked over at him, and he looked over at you. He smiled this time, popping his trunk, “What are the odds?”

You tittered, not knowing how to respond. You couldn’t help your smile though as you turned back to your trunk and started putting the bags in.

He himself didn’t have much in the way of bags, and was finished putting his stuff away and taking his cart back by the time you were halfway done putting your stuff in your car.

You saw as he approached his door from your peripheral, and looked up and over in his direction as he abruptly stopped just before he was about to pull open his door.

For a second, he looked like he was about to turn around but then thought better of it, reaching for the door handle again before pulling away once more. 

He squeezed his car keys in his hand before he turned back around, completely this time. You blinked at him, in a bit of a stupor as he came up to you. You waited for him to speak as he opened his mouth before quickly shutting it, taking a breath, then anxiously licking his lips.

“I’m Bucky,” he introduced himself a bit stiffly before his lip quirked up in a nervous half smile. Your brows raised of their own volition before you gave him your name in turn.

He seemed to be relieved by your reply, as if he was worried you would have ignored him, before he took another step closer to your car. “Can I give you a hand?”

“Oh, uhm, sure. That’d be great, thanks.”

“Big plans for the night?” he asked as he slid the packs of soda and the water into the car.

“My sister is hosting a little halloween party for the families on her street before they head out trick or treating tonight, I’m helping her out with setup and food. But after that,” you sighed, putting a few more bags in, “I’m planning on just watching movies between trick or treaters. Nothing crazy. You?” you asked, looking over to him.

“I’m planning pretty much the same. I don’t know how many trick or treaters to expect, I’m new to the neighborhood and… maybe haven’t been the friendliest neighbor,” he cringed to himself as he grabbed the boxes of juice. “But I got the full size candy bars, so…”

“Sprung for the full size, huh? I’m sure those kids’ll love it. You’ll be the talk of the block,” you joked.

His chuckle had you smiling so hard you had to bite your lip to keep from looking like an idiot.

Bucky took the last of the bags from you and set them carefully down before he closed the trunk for you. You were hanging onto the cart, waiting to say bye before you walked it to its home, as he turned, shoving his hands in his pockets before he spoke. He had that anxious look on his face again, his eyes down at the ground while he licked his lips mindlessly before he met your eye.

“I, uhm,” he seemed to register where his hands were then and took them out of his pockets, “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me, but, did you maybe, want to exchange numbers?” he asked, bright blue eyes bearing into yours.

Your lips parted unbidden, eyebrows raising in surprise, or more like shock, as your eyes widened.

“You- you want my number?” you asked stupidly. You didn’t give him a chance to answer though before you continued, “Uhm, yeah,” you nodded, “sure.”

The delicate smile on your lips grew as you reached for your phone.

You exchanged numbers and said your goodbyes before you were finally headed back to your sister’s place.

You were smiling like a fool as you drove, a sense of giddy taking over you. This kind of stuff never happened to you. You were still in a bit of disbelief as you pulled into your sister’s driveway, calling her to help you unload but deciding against telling her about your little grocery store meet cute. At least until the party was underway and her stress levels came down.

—

Grumpy. 

That’s the word you would use to describe your current state.

This was not how tonight was supposed to go. You should be lounging on a couch watching scary movies with a bowl full of candy right now, not clopping down the street in your wedges - a last minute costume thrown together as your niece held your hand and pulled you along with her while your sisters and baby niece strolled behind.

Sidney had thrown a fit when she learned you wouldn’t be coming along for trick or treating and only calmed down when you finally relented and agreed. But of course, you couldn’t just go out in what you were already wearing, no, that would be too easy. You absolutely needed a costume. 

At your sisters’ and niece’s goading, you were forced to put something together. 

You were already in all black, so you snagged the leftover cat ear headband your sister had and made your already done eye look a little more exaggerated. You all left soon after, your niece’s jubilance as she skipped out of the house easing your annoyance at the change of plans. As you started down the driveway, you were cursing yourself for not having brought your sneakers, and your sisters for both having smaller feet than you.

You walked up to house after house with your niece, taking turns switching who was going up to the door every two or three houses. In between houses, you finally told your sisters about the guy you met at the store earlier, how attractive he was, how he helped you load your car, and how he asked for your number before you went your separate ways.

It was nice to be able to talk with them about it, it had been a long time since it had been just the three of you together - no obnoxious boyfriends or overly talkative husbands to interrupt your conversations. You had to say, you were starting to feel a bit more grateful for your niece’s insistence on you joining them.

As you talked to your little sister while she held her daughter, you both watched as your niece tugged on her mom’s hand, refusing to go up the pathway of the house you were now at. As you looked around, you realized everyone else seemed to be avoiding the house, too. You weren’t sure why, though. The porch light was on and there was a cute, though solitary, ghost decoration that would greet you as you walked up the path to the house. 

“What is up with that?” you asked aloud.

As your older sister walked back over, she answered your question. “She doesn’t wanna go, she says it’s haunted.”

You fixed your niece with a look, “What do you mean haunted? Who told you that?”

“Evan and Fifi. They said the metal man lives here and he kills anyone who tries to come in.”

“The metal man, huh? Well,” you said, making a point of looking all around the front of the house, “it looks to me like whoever lives here is ready to pass out candy to anyone brave enough to knock. The lights are on, and did you see the ghost up front? They’re probably just as excited about Halloween as you are.”

“No.” she responded flatly.

“No?” you scoffed. “Ohhh, okay,” you exaggerated, “I get it, you’re too scared to go. That’s all you had to say, Sid, no shame.”

“I’m not scared,” she argued, her face scrunched in annoyance at your insult.

“Really? If you’re not scared then why won’t you go knock on the door?”

She floundered for a second before she narrowed her gaze at you. You wanted to laugh at the low growl that radiated from her but held it together. 

“We’ll all go,” she finally decided, looking all three of you in the eyes to make sure you were all ready to accompany her.

—

It had been two hours since the trick or treaters had started their nights. 

Bucky could hear the laughter and screams of playful fright as family after family and group after group of friends passed by his house. 

The bowl of king size candy bars sat on his coffee table untouched as It played on his screen. 

Every now and again he’d get up and look out the kitchen window, hoping to see a dead street to make himself feel better about the lack of trick or treaters, but only found the streets full of people.

The more time that passed without a single knock or ringing of his bell, the worse he felt. 

He could lie and say he didn’t know why he was taking this so hard, he wasn’t one to complain about his solitude, but truthfully, he knew why.

He had heard the neighbor kids talking about him the other week, telling tales of horror about the metal man who lived next door. If seeing his arm was all it took to spur their tales and ignite their fear of him, God, he didn’t even want to know what would come if they found out even a little bit of his past. 

And if it wasn’t the kids starting their own urban legend at his expense, it was the adults who would gossip about him at their backyard barbecues. The mysterious man who lived alone and kept to himself was an easy target for lowly neighborhood gossip, and the few people who had pieced together who he was seemed to be tight lipped about it. Anytime they saw him in public, their eyes would bug and they would quickly avert their gaze, like they were scared what would happen if he knew they knew. It’s not like his identity was a secret, but he wasn’t planning on striking up a conversation with them to let them know that. Especially not when they looked at him like that. Like he was some kind of monster.

Even still, he didn’t want to be the social pariah on the block. He hated to think that anyone was scared or weary of him, though he knew most of them were.

He sighed heavily as he checked the time once again. 

So much for that ghost helping to dispel his bad reputation. He’d be requesting the money he spent on it from Sam later, it was his idea for him to get halloween decorations in the first place. He should have known it wouldn’t have helped.

As his phone unlocked with his FaceID, he was tempted to send a message to the woman he’d met earlier in the day. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he hadn’t felt so disarmed by someone in a very long time. And the fact that she was gorgeous, and didn’t seem the least bit frightened by him, was a nice feeling, too. 

But she was probably watching movies and relaxing by now, he didn’t want to be a disturbance. Tomorrow, though. He’d definitely be messaging her tomorrow.

Another sigh left him as he locked his phone again, tossing it on the coffee table before making his decision.

Bucky paused the movie before he stood, bowl in hand, prepared to take it to the kitchen and shut his porch light off on his way upstairs. It was only gonna get later and he had to accept that no one was going to trick or treat at his house this year.

But just as he was setting the bowl down on the table, he froze.

Was someone actually coming up the porch?

He swore he was just hearing things…but then came a knock.

—

“You can’t just stand there, Sid, you have to knock or ring the bell, pick one.”

“No.”

“Ugh,” you exaggerated with an eye roll, turning to look at your older sister, “you live with this everyday?”

“Everyday,” she replied.

“Sid, if you don’t knock, you don’t get candy,” you told her.

“If I don’t knock, I don’t get murdered.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll do it myself,” you shrugged, adjusting the cat ears on your head.

You raised your arm to knock on the door, but Sid stopped you, pulling it back down.

“I don’t want you to get murdered, either!”

“Sidney,” you laughed, kneeling to get on her level, “I promise you, no one is going to get murdered. This house isn’t haunted and a murderer doesn’t live here.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” your little sister chimed in, earning a glare from you before you couldn’t help your laugh, shaking your head before turning back to your niece.

“I just met Evan and Fifi at the party, and I know for a fact they were just trying to scare all of you guys. I doubt they’ve ever met whoever it is that lives here. Now, do you trust me?”

Her reluctant nod was your answer.

“Okay. Then I’m gonna knock on the door, and we’re gonna get some candy. Cool?”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” you nodded with a smile before standing back up.

Sid inched back to stand in front of her mom, pulling her arm to hide herself behind as you once again went to knock on the door, this time following through.

You knocked and heard footsteps from within, smiling as you waited for the homeowner to open the door.

Once it opened, though, you found yourself completely taken aback. 

Your breath caught in your throat as a newly familiar pair of brilliant blue eyes met yours.

Bucky stood at the open door, bowl of full size candy bars in hand. He looked just as surprised to see you there as you were him. 

He tilted his head at you, a lopsided grin spreading on his face.

“Trick or treat!” Sidney yelled, seeing the big bars and coming to stand in front of you.

Bucky looked down, smiling as he showed her the bowl, “Happy Halloween,” he said, allowing her to pick which one she wanted.

“I know how this looks, but I swear I’m not stalking you,” you promised.

“I don’t know, it seems like a lotta coincidences for just one day,” he smirked, cooly leaning against his door frame. “Nice costume,” he complimented.

“Ha, thanks,” you smiled, touching the cat ears once again. “Nice ghost,” you nodded toward the lonely decoration, “Really livens up the place,” you teased. 

“That was the intention,” he laughed, a little too glumly for your liking. “You guys are actually the first trick or treaters I’ve had all night, so I guess it didn’t really do its job.”

“Sorry, you guys know each other?” your sister asked.

“Yeah, uh,” you turned briefly, “this is Bucky,” you said.

“Bucky from the grocery store, Bucky?” your little sister asked.

You gave her a look you hoped Bucky didn’t see before answering, “Yes. That Bucky.”

Your sisters introduced themselves to him and as he switched the candy bowl from his right hand to his left, extending his palm to shake their hands, you noticed a glimmer coming from  his left side.

You moved over a bit to allow them room to shake hands and as you looked closer, you realized that, peculiarly enough, his left hand wasn’t made of flesh. 

You scoffed a laugh to yourself at his “metal man” moniker. That made some sense now… In fact, a few things were clicking into place. Bucky, you thought…Bucky Barnes? The Bucky Barnes. You wondered how you hadn’t noticed earlier, not that it mattered, but you were staring, like kind of a lot, at him when you met at the store, and even when he was helping load your groceries. You really must have been distracted by just how gorgeous his face is.

Now that you were really looking at him again, you noticed just how built he was. Strong arms, solid chest, nearly six foot tall if you had to guess. 

Your sister’s laugh brought you back to reality as you followed her gaze to Sid who was now taking a bunch of bars from Bucky’s bowl as he held it out for her again.

“I doubt anyone is coming my way again, so please, take what you want,” he offered to all of you.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you smiled as your sisters each took a bar of their own. “We’ll uh, let you get back to your movie,” you said, remembering his plans for tonight.

“The movie, yeah. I think I might have to start it over, actually. I went on my phone for a minute and looked up to see a blood covered bathroom but I have no idea how they got there,” he huffed a laugh at himself.

“Oh, what are you watching?” your little sister asked.

“It,”

“It? No way, that’s so funny. That’s the movie you were gonna watch before we left tonight, isn’t it?” your older sister asked knowingly, a smirk no one but you and your younger sister would ever catch flashing for a microsecond on her lips as she looked at you pointedly.

“Yeah,” you swallowed thickly, “it is,” you said, trying not to let the awkwardness that was eating at you consume you entirely.

“You should stay and watch it,” your little sister suggested, to your complete and utter mortification. Your eyes shot over to her, and you swear, if looks could kill. 

“I’m not just going to invite myself-”

“Come on, like he minds,” she turned to look at Bucky then, her hands still on her stroller holding her baby, “you don’t mind, do you?”

You peek over at Bucky, unsure of how you would even react if you were in his position. He met your eye and his lips quirked in a soft smile. “Not at all. If you wanted to, that is,” he added, offering you an out.

You looked at him a moment before looking over to your smugly smiling sisters and your niece as she tore into one of her candy bars, standing safely between the two of them. You inhaled sharply before looking back to a waiting Bucky. 

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Sounds…fun.”

“Great, well we were heading back anyway. So, see you later?” you sister bid. 

“Or not,” your little sister added teasingly before she shot her gaze over to Bucky once more. “But we do have her location, just so you know,” she added seriously, a hint of a warning in her words.

“Ooo-kay,” you said, breaking the forthcoming tension, “I will text you guys when I’m on my way back,” you told them, urging them to get going.

“It was nice to meet you, Bucky. I trust my sister will get home safe,” your sister said directly.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he responded gallantly while your face felt as if it was literally on fire.

What was this, it was like your parents were dropping you off for your first date in high school. But somehow worse.

She nodded, “And thank you for the candy. Sidney,” she called, getting her daughter’s attention, “what do we say?”

“Thank you! Happy Halloween!”

“You’re very welcome,” Bucky smiled. “Happy Halloween.”

—

It wasn’t long before you found yourself sitting on Bucky’s couch, a glass of water you had desperately needed sitting before you on the coffee table and Bucky sitting to the left of you, but keeping a respectable distance.

“I’m really sorry about my sisters, by the way. They can be a lot,” you huffed a laugh.

“Don’t be,” he brushed off, “It’s nice to see, honestly.”

You looked over at him, he seemed a bit forlorn before he came back to himself. 

“You know, my niece was almost too scared to come to your door. She said this house is haunted, that ‘the metal man’ lives here and kills anyone who tries to enter.”

“Ah, I see word travels fast when it comes to children.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of like their own urban legend.”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as you laughed, lifting a leg up to cross under your thigh as you turned to face him on the couch.

“What?” you asked, “Don’t you want to be an urban legend?”

“Not really,” he laughed with a shake of his head, turning to face you better as well. “Especially not when it leaves me with bowls full of king sized candy bars no one seems to want.”

There’s a pause before he continues,

“Honestly… I don’t like knowing people are scared of me. I mean I’ve known, for a long time, that they are, it’s just.. Different when you can see that fear on their faces, in person.”

You didn’t even realize you were moving as you scooted in closer to him while he spoke.

“I thought the city was bad, but ever since I moved out here, it’s all so much more intimate. The stares are a lot more pointed.” He laughed humorlessly at himself, “I heard a couple kids talking about my arm a few weeks ago and tried to tell myself I didn’t care, but I’ve been wearing nothing but long sleeves every time I go outside now. 

“I’m not ashamed of it,” he said quickly to clarify, “I just, I don’t want them to have to be scared of me.”

“They shouldn’t be scared of you just because you have a prosthetic arm,” you argued, knowing they surely knew nothing else of who he was, “and their parents should probably be leading by better examples.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “what can you do?” He swallowed the lump in his throat that was forming at your defense of him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring all this up-”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s on me. I am incredibly skilled at killing conversations before they even begin.”

“I don’t know about that. You don’t know me well yet, so you don’t know how big of a deal this is, but, I like talking to you,” he smiled. 

You had to look away from his gaze, breathing a laugh as you did. 

The movie was playing on screen, but neither of you were paying any attention to it as you continued talking.

Each time Bucky laughed at your lame jokes, you swore you felt like you were flying. You talked about everything and nothing. You got to know each other better, asking questions about life and preferences and favorites and what-ifs. The conversation flowed so easily, you never even really had to think about what to say next. That definitely wasn’t usual for you, and you liked it. You liked him.

Somewhere along the way, the conversation turned flirty, and again, it was completely effortless. 

Your knees were pressing against one another as you sat across from each other, almost side by side on the couch.

You laughed in unison at a cheesy line Bucky tried on you before a jump scare on the screen had you quite literally jumping. Without thought, you leaned into Bucky, and he had no qualms about it as you hid your face in his shoulder.

He laughed lightly, his arm coming around you and gently rubbing your back before you forced yourself to pull away. His warmth was so nice and welcoming, but if you didn’t back up, you would’ve tried to nuzzle right into his side - you couldn’t risk the embarrassment.

As you turned back to sit next to him though, he kept his arm around you and tugged you in a bit closer. 

You briefly wondered if he could hear your heartbeat, because you definitely could. You thought it might beat out of your chest at any moment as his warm cologne invaded your senses.

“Sorry, I guess I just assumed you liked scary movies,” he laughed.

“Ya know what’s funny is I actually hate scary movies,” you told him, “the It movies are some of the very few that don’t scare me.”

“Oh, that was you not being scared?” he smirked with a raised brow.

“That was- it just, it caught me off guard,” you defended with a smile, absentmindedly leaning more into his hold.

You had never gotten so close to someone in such a short amount of time, emotionally or physically. 

It was foreign, but you enjoyed it. It may have been sudden, but it didn’t feel rushed. 

“You get scared easily?” he asked.

“I’m the biggest scaredy cat I know,” you admitted. “I’m not hard to get a jump out of, I get scared of literally everything,” you laughed at yourself.

You turned to look at him when he didn’t say anything and felt your breath catch in your throat for the second time that night. He was so close to you now, and his eyes were piercing as he took you in, lingering on your lips and sending a chill through you.

The energy between you seemed to shift from something light and playful to something more charged, deliberate.

Your eyes drifted to his lips despite yourself, too.

He leaned in just a touch closer to you and your lips were mere inches away as he spoke,

“You’re not scared of me,” he said, though you weren’t sure if it was a question or not. Still, you responded as if it were.

Leaning in, brushing your lips against his, you breathed, “No.”

His hand was on your head then, keeping you close to him as he pressed his lips against yours, it was fervent, yet delicate, as your lips moved against one another. 

You moved a hand to hold onto his left shoulder and he tugged your body to move you completely over his lap while he continued to lead the kiss.

His metal hand found its way to your plush waist as he held you, squeezing you lightly and inadvertently causing you to sink down lower into his lap while your upper body melted into him.

His hand slid from your waist to your ass, grabbing you through your leggings, kneading your ample flesh in his large palm.

You moaned into his mouth and that seemed to spur him on because in the blink of an eye you found yourself being flipped onto your back as he pinned you beneath his large body.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were both panting, your hands fisted in his sweatshirt as his wandered your curves. 

“Do you have a bed?” you breathed, pulling him back down to be closer to you, wanting desperately to have his lips on yours once more. He nodded.

“Glad you asked,” he returned, voice low and husky.

You yelped as Bucky lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you with ease while you clung to him like your life depended on it. If he dropped you, you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover from the embarrassment. But as he began up the steps and his hold didn’t falter for a single second, you realized maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about.. He held you like you weighed nothing and honestly, it sent a new wave of arousal through you as he reached the door of his bedroom.

He tossed you down on his bed carefully, but stopped you before you could begin tugging your leggings down your thick thighs. 

You looked at him, confused and with a touch of worry you were about to be rejected.

“I’m sorry,” he began, “I should’ve said this before I brought you up here,”

That did nothing to ease your worry…

“I really like you. And I think there could be something real here between us, I don’t want to ruin that. So if you were only here for one night,-”

“I really like you, too,” you cut him off, eyes gleaming into his, “And I think you’re right, I don’t wanna ruin it either. I wasn’t planning for this to be a one night stand, but if you want to take things slower, I don’t have a problem with that.”

“No, I’m good with where we were heading, I just wanted to make it clear that I don’t want this to be just tonight.”

You nodded, a little breathless as you smiled up at him. 

“Same page, then.”

“Good,” he grinned before pushing you to lie back on his bed as he descended upon you. 

His lips were on your neck and as he sucked on your sweet spot, you couldn’t contain the soft moan that passed your lips. 

His hands found the waistband of your bottoms and he pulled them down as much as he could manage before you lifted your hips and wiggled a bit to assist him in getting them off of you. 

You pulled impatiently at the buckle of his jeans, earning a chuckle from him before he got to work taking them off. 

While he got rid of his jeans, you pulled your shirt up and over your head, catching on the cat ears you had forgotten you were wearing. You threw them all to the side, unclasping your bra as Bucky shrugged his sweatshirt off over his head in turn.

He was back on top of you in an instant, pulling your bra off of you and tossing it to land with the rest of your discarded clothes off the side of the bed.

His large hands immediately went to your breasts, admiring the soft, heavy feel of them in his hands while he palmed them, squeezing slightly as he felt you.

You mewled under his attention, eyes closed in delight as his touch only added fuel to the fire burning in your core. 

When he leaned down and took a pert nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking on your tit, your hand found his hair as you gasped at the sensation, holding him to you, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on your breasts.

You could feel the wetness growing between your legs as he continued to have his fun, unconsciously rutting his thick cock against you when you’d moan for him.

As he traveled down your body, his hands following your curves and his lips kissing every inch of you that he could, he paid special attention to your tummy before he traveled even lower. 

You were a writhing mess as you felt his warm breath on your folds. When your hips bucked up into his face and you felt his lips brushing your cunt, you whined obscenely at the feeling. Bucky laughed tauntingly, holding your hips back down as he poked his tongue out past his plump lips, lightly licking your folds and your sensitive clit as you gripped his hair and urged him closer, wanting, needing more.

He finally took mercy on you after a long, torturous minute, spreading you open for him before he ate you out like a man starved. 

His tongue glided all over your slick cunt, dipping in and out of your tight entrance, before coming back up to flick your clit. 

He drew figure eights over the sensitive bud and you swore you were about to come undone from that alone, but when he sunk his thick digits into your dripping pussy, curling them just right, rubbing against that special spot perfectly, you were seeing stars as your thighs threatened to clamp around his head while you shook from your orgasm. Your walls clamped down on his fingers as you came and he moaned at the feeling as he worked you through the high, more than ready to finally get his cock inside you.

“Doll, you look so gorgeous like this,” he admired as he held himself above you, “naked and sweaty beneath me. Like a fucking goddess,” he praised, grabbing his erection and positioning himself at your entrance. 

“You sure you’re ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked, running his cockhead up and down your dripping slit. 

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you moaned pathetically, spreading your legs as wide as you could for him.

“Mm, I love the way you say my name, doll,” he groaned as he pushed just his tip inside your tight cunt, moving in and out of you as you whined for him.

“God, please, Bucky, please fuck me! I want it so bad,” you whimpered. “I wanna feel you fill me up, please.”

The growl that left his throat had your pussy fluttering, squeezing around nothing before he finally gave you what you wanted.  With one hard, deep stroke, he was fully seated inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you gasped sharply, your hands gripping onto him wherever you could as he began to set his pace. With every thrust of his hips into you, he was hitting deeper and deeper inside your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried.

“There you go, sweetheart. Take all ‘a my cock inside this tight pussy, taking me so fuckin’ well,” his hands were tight on your hips as he fucked into you. “This what you wanted, doll?” he panted, his pace never faltering as he fucked you harder, the slapping sound of skin on skin and his balls hitting your cunt with his every thrust filled the room, mingled with your moans and whimpers and his grunts and growls. “Wanted this big dick to stretch you out, huh? Wanted to feel me fill you up with my hot cum til I’m dripping outta you.”

One of his hands left your hip and instead went to grab at your breasts again, his large hand palming your tit as he squeezed and kneaded, flicking his thumb over your nipple and only adding to the pleasure threatening to send you over the edge.

“God, yes! Please, fucking yes, Bucky, please, please, please, please” you begged pathetically, reaching a hand down to find your clit, working your bud in circles as your walls tightened around his thick cock. 

Your eyes were about to roll into the back of your head as you moaned senselessly, Bucky’s hand leaving your chest and nudging your own away from your clit. He replaced your hand and circled your clit perfectly as he continued rolling his hips into yours, his pace growing more erratic and the words leaving his beautiful lips growing filthier the closer he got to his own end. 

With one perfectly angled thrust, you were crying as your body shook at the intensity of your orgasm. Wave after wave of nerve tingling pleasure lighting you up as you rode out the high. Your toes curled, legs wrapped around him as much as they could be while he grabbed at your body, falling down closer to you as he moaned, holding your body tighter as he pumped his hips, “Fuck,” he growled as he pushed himself as deep inside of you as he could, his eyes squeezing shut, holding himself there as he came, his body shaking some as he attempted to thrust once more. 

You moaned at the feeling of him painting your walls, your hands in his hair as he buried his face in your neck, holding him to you. He stayed inside of you for a long minute as you both panted, trying to catch your breath, while he ensured he got all of his load out before he finally pushed himself up off of you, gently sliding out of you.

He flipped over next to you, laying on his back before he pulled you into him. Your hand rested on his chest as you laid in his left arm.

“Holy fuck,” you breathed, your fingers playing in his chest hair mindlessly as you worked to catch your breath.

His hand was running up and down your side soothingly as he moved to try and meet your eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’m better than okay, honestly. That was…amazing.”

“Good, I’m glad,” he smiled, “but still, I’m sorry if I got carried away. I tend to run my mouth when I’m, uh,” he fumbled with his words, “ya know, in the moment.” 

He looked so bashful, you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his expression.

“You just said all of what you just said, but you had trouble with that?” you tittered, rubbing his chest before turning further into him, laying on your side as he stayed on his back, propping his right hand under his head as he relaxed into the position. “But really, Bucky, you don’t have to apologize. I don’t know if you could tell, but…I really liked it,” you simpered sensually.

Bucky smiled at you as you leaned up to meet his lips in a soft kiss. 

“It’s probably way late now, right?” you asked as you pulled away from him. “I should probably head back.”

Bucky sat up after you, “Do you have to?” he asked softly.

You looked back at him, his blue eyes set on you. You nipped at your lower lip before shaking your head lightly. A new, sweeter excitement washing over you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you could stay for the night,” he offered. “I was hoping I could take you for breakfast in the morning?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes as he waited for your response. That giddiness you felt earlier came over you once again as you held his gaze.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

[rootedinrevisions]

Cowboys & Angles (Kinktober 2024: Day 3)

SUMMARY: After years of playful flirting and a deep-rooted friendship, you and Tyler Owens find yourselves crossing the line between friends and lovers when he returns home for the fall. What starts as a fun, teasing night at the local bar quickly turns into something more when Tyler finally takes his shot. But as feelings are laid bare, both of you must confront what this means for your relationship—because for Tyler, you've always been more than just a friend, and he’s ready to prove it if you let him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: When I first decided to do Kinktober, I was planning on doing a bunch of drabbles (my goal is for them to be at or under 1k words). But kind of like with yesterday's, as I was writing this one it kind of just took off and I kept going and now here we are at over 5k words! So I think Kinktober is probably going to be a mix of both shorter drabbles and longer fics! I will also be mixing up characters/fandoms so Kinktober will have a mix of my Glen Powell characters as well as some WWE/Wrestling, and I may be introducing a few new characters I haven't written for yet too!

PROMPT: "I'm already dying to take you right now. Don't tempt me."

KINK: Cowboy Hat / Cowboy Hat Rule

WARNINGS: Teasing. 18+ SMUT. (P in V Sex.)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly  I  @alipap3  I  @dudinhastuff I  @lunatygerqueen  I  @hookslove1592

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The bar was quieter than usual for a Saturday night. The usual hum of conversation was replaced by a few scattered groups of locals enjoying their drinks in the dim, amber glow of the overhead lights. You leaned on the counter, wiping down a glass as the front door swung open with a faint creak. The familiar sound made your heart jump before you even saw who it was.

Tyler Owens.

He strode in with that easy confidence, his tall frame filling the doorway for a second before he glanced around the room, spotting you instantly. A slow grin spread across his face, and he tipped his cream-colored Stetson in your direction before making his way toward the bar. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since he’d been off chasing storms across the country, but it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Well, if it isn’t Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler himself,” you teased as he reached the bar.

“Back in town for a little while. Thought I’d drop by and see what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into.” His voice was smooth, that southern drawl rolling off his tongue like honey, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Amber, the other bartender, had been subtly hinting that she could use the extra tips if you wanted to take the rest of the night off for the last half hour. The bar wasn’t too busy, so you figured now was as good a time as any to give her the extra tips and catch up with Tyler. Setting the glass down, you unhooked your apron.

“Amber, you’re up. I’m clocking out,” you called over your shoulder. She practically beamed at you in response, already moving to take over.

Sliding onto the stool next to Tyler, you felt a familiar warmth wash over you—not from the two drinks you had in front of you, but from the easy energy that always existed between the two of you. You’d known Tyler since high school, and while your friendship had always teetered on the edge of something more, nothing had ever come of it. Flirting was just part of your dynamic.

“So, you’re back home, huh? Storm season finally winding down?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, things are quietin’ down. I thought I’d stick around town for a bit. Y appreciate the peace and quiet without me stirring things up?” He teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Oh, sure. It’s been so peaceful without you around,” you replied with a playful eye roll, though the truth was you’d missed him more than you wanted to admit.

After another round of drinks, your inhibitions softened but far from impaired, you reached out and plucked the Stetson right off Tyler’s head. The hat had always been his signature look, and you couldn’t resist the urge to mess with him a little. You placed it on your own head, adjusting it with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know there’s a rule about wearin’ a cowboy’s hat, don’t you?” His voice was low, but there was something underlying it now, a challenge.

You feigned innocence, leaning in slightly. “Oh? And what rule might that be?”

His eyes darkened ever so slightly, his gaze flicking to your lips for just a second before he leaned back in his chair, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“Never mind,” he said, his voice huskier now, “you wouldn’t be interested.”

But you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear. “Oh, I know the rule, Tyler. I just wanted to see what you’d do about it.”

There it was—the shift. His expression hardened ever so slightly, but that teasing smirk was still there, hanging on the edge of something more. He didn’t say anything, just gave you that look, the one that always sent a spark straight through you.

Without breaking eye contact, you stood and made your way toward the corner of the bar where the old mechanical bull sat. It hadn’t been used much recently, but it was still in working order. Tyler’s eyes followed you, curiosity piqued. You glanced over your shoulder, the Stetson still perched on your head as you grinned mischievously.

“Start her up,” you called to one of the other employees, hopping onto the mechanical bull. You adjusted your seat, settling in comfortably as the machine started to hum to life.

Tyler's gaze was locked on you now, his arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his chair as if to say, Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.

The bull started slow, rocking gently, but you handled it like a pro. With each buck, your eyes stayed locked on Tyler’s, never wavering. You could see the way his jaw tightened slightly, how his hands gripped the beer bottle in his hands every so tightly as the intensity of the ride increased. His hat sat firmly on your head, and you couldn’t help but grin as you imagined the thoughts running through his mind.

Finally, the bull jerked sharply, and you were thrown off, landing on your feet in a flurry of laughter and adrenaline. Without missing a beat, you sauntered back over to where Tyler sat, your steps light and confident.

“So,” you teased, pulling his hat off your head and spinning it around on your finger, “what was that rule again?”

Tyler’s eyes were darker now, his gaze intense as he reached out, plucking the hat from your hand and setting it back on his own head. He stood up slowly, towering over you, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, lips close to your ear.

“I’m already dyin’ to take you right now,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your heart raced at his words, your playful bravado wavering for a split second as the tension between you thickened. But you couldn’t help yourself—you were never one to back down from a challenge. You met his gaze head-on, your lips curving into a daring smile.

“Well,” you whispered back, voice full of teasing confidence, “maybe I’m countin’ on that.”

The playful tension hung thick in the air, the space between you and Tyler charged with unspoken desire. His hat back on his head, Tyler’s eyes lingered on yours, darker than before, filled with something new—something inevitable. He stepped closer, and before you could say anything, his hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, the kiss firm yet unhurried, like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you cared to admit. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, one hand gripping the edge of his flannel shirt as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The years of playful back-and-forth, of near-misses and flirtatious glances, melted away into this one moment of pure, electric connection.

Around you, the few regulars left in the bar had noticed. A couple of whistles and cheers rang out, a playful acknowledgment of what everyone in your small town had suspected for years. But their noise faded into the background as you ignored them completely, lost in the feel of Tyler’s lips on yours.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb still gently stroking your cheek. “You good?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper, eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You nodded, breathless but smiling. “More than good.”

He gave you that signature grin, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the door. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, the warmth of the bar replaced by the crisp breeze of the fall evening. Tyler didn’t let go of your hand as he led you to his truck, parked just out front, the red Dodge pickup outfitted in storm-chasing gear that you’d ridden in countless times before. But this time felt different.

Tyler opened the passenger door, turning to you with an extended hand to help you up. His touch was gentle, but there was a quiet intensity in the way he guided you into the seat. Once you were settled, he made his way around the front of the truck, climbing into the driver’s side and turning the engine over with a low rumble.

As he shifted the truck into gear, he glanced over at you, his lips curving into a smirk. “So, where to? Your place, or mine?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yours.”

The smirk deepened into a grin. “Good choice.”

With that, he pulled out onto Main Street, the quiet stretch of road that ran through the heart of your small town. The familiar sights blurred past as the truck rumbled westward, toward the outskirts where Tyler’s place sat nestled among the trees. You leaned back in the seat, the thrill of the night coursing through you, heart racing as anticipation built with every passing mile.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it only made the air more electric. Tyler’s hand rested on the gearshift, his knuckles brushing yours every so often, the simple contact sending a rush of warmth through you. You glanced over at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his focus stayed steady on the road, but there was an undeniable tension in his posture, like he was holding himself back.

The drive out to Tyler’s place was familiar but felt brand new in the charged atmosphere. Every turn in the road, every familiar landmark, passed by in a blur until finally, the gravel road leading up to his house came into view. The soft crunch of tires on gravel filled the quiet as he slowed the truck, pulling up beside the small, rustic house you’d been to more times than you could count.

But tonight, everything felt different. Tonight, it felt like everything had been leading to this moment.

Tyler parked the truck and turned off the engine, the silence of the night settling in around you as he turned to face you. That smirk was back, but now, there was a fire behind it, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to make the next move.

Without a word, he opened his door and came around to your side, opening it for you and offering his hand once again. You took it, heart pounding as you stepped down from the truck, feeling the solid ground beneath your feet but still floating on the rush of what was about to happen.

As the door closed behind you, Tyler tugged you gently toward him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours again, this time slower, softer, like he was savoring the moment. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard in the stillness of the night. His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper, as he asked, “You ready?”

You nodded, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his flannel, your voice soft but steady. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Tyler’s lips brushed against yours one last time before he pulled back, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. You barely had a moment to wonder what he was up to before his hands slid down to your waist, fingers gripping with a possessive but playful strength. 

With a quick, effortless motion, he hoisted you up and over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. A squeal of surprise escaped your lips as you suddenly found yourself looking at the world upside down, your hands instinctively grabbing onto the back of his flannel to steady yourself. 

“Tyler!” you protested, half-laughing, half-scolding as you kicked your feet, trying to wriggle free. “You’re going to fall if you keep carrying me like this!”

His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he tightened his hold on you. “You think I can’t handle it?” he teased, his voice laced with humor as he started up the stairs toward his bedroom, his stride steady and sure. “I’ve carried heavier stuff than you during storm season, sweetheart. You’re light work.”

You squirmed again, the sensation of being tossed over his shoulder making you feel both thrilled and embarrassed, but the grin on your face was impossible to hide. “You’re gonna regret it if you drop me!” you warned, trying to sound serious but failing miserably as laughter bubbled up from your chest.

“I’m not dropping you,” he assured, his tone dripping with confidence. “But keep squirming, and I might just have to remind you who’s in charge here.” Tyler just laughed, one arm hooked securely around your legs while his free hand swatted playfully at your ass.

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Oh, please, Tyler. You think you’re so—”

Before you could finish the sentence, he gave your ass another playful smack, the sound echoing off the walls as he continued up the stairs. This one was a little harder than the first. 

“That’s for doubting me,” he quipped, his voice teasingly low, the heat between the two of you rising again despite the lighthearted moment.

You huffed, still trying to act indignant despite the butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Alright, alright! Just get me upstairs in one piece, cowboy.”

He chuckled again, finally reaching the top of the stairs and carrying you effortlessly down the hallway toward his bedroom. The door creaked as he pushed it open with his foot, the room bathed in the soft, dim light of a single lamp in the corner. 

Tyler walked straight to the bed, carefully lowering you down onto the mattress as if he were laying down something precious. Your heart was still racing, your skin flushed from the thrill of it all. You looked up at him, catching your breath as he stood there, grinning like the devil himself. 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the playful glint never left his eyes.

You smiled back, your heart still pounding, but now for a different reason entirely. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter, more breathless. “I’m okay.”

Tyler leaned down, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch lingering against your skin for just a moment before he gave you a wink. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The playful spark in Tyler’s eyes softened as he leaned over you, his hands resting gently on either side of your body, caging you in without making you feel trapped. His gaze locked onto yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was anticipation. 

Slowly, he lowered his head, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that started soft but deepened with every passing second, the heat between you building once again.

His hands, large and warm, began a slow exploration. He started at your hips, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist before moving up to your sides, sending a shiver through your body. His hands stopped when they reached the bottom of your shirt.

He pulled away from the kiss for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering there. You knew what he was asking without him needing to say it. You nodded, giving him your permission with a soft smile.

Tyler’s lips twitched up in a small, relieved grin as his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up gently. You lifted your arms to help him, your heartbeat racing as the fabric slid off and hit the floor. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat coming from Tyler’s body as he leaned back down, his hands now roaming over your bare skin, igniting every nerve he touched.

Your hands moved up to his chest, and with trembling fingers, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt. As you worked your way down, Tyler’s mouth found the delicate skin of your neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your throat. His lips were warm and gentle, but when he bit down lightly, your breath hitched, a small, involuntary sound escaping your lips.

That sound—small but full of need—seemed to drive Tyler wild. His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and playful bites. Each time his teeth grazed your skin, you couldn’t stop the soft moans that spilled from your mouth, your body arching slightly into him. 

His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible but enough to make him pause for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned softly.

“You keep making sounds like that, and I’m not gonna be able to control myself,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with need. 

His hands slid down your sides again, fingertips skimming the waistband of your jeans, but he paused, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to. When you didn’t, he met your eyes again, waiting for your nod before his fingers deftly began undoing the button and zipper, tugging the denim down over your hips.

You took a deep breath, your fingers still fumbling with the last few buttons of his shirt, finally getting it open enough to slide it off his shoulders. The moment his shirt hit the floor, your hands were on him, running over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms. Tyler groaned again, his hands continuing their exploration, mapping every inch of your body as if it were the first time.

His mouth was on your neck again, trailing lower now, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone and further down. Every touch, every kiss, sent a wave of electricity through you, building a tension in your core that made it hard to think straight. The intimacy between you felt more intense now, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something that made your heart race and your breath come faster.

Tyler pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your hips again. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concern flickering in his eyes despite the heat between you.

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat for a second before you managed to breathe out a soft, “Yeah... more than okay.”

His lips curved into that familiar grin, but there was something different in it now—something softer. He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. 

As his hands continued their journey over your skin, you could feel the shift between you, the playfulness melting away into something intimate, something more raw and real.

Tyler’s lips were on yours again, soft but hungry, as his hands roamed over your skin, pulling you closer, deepening the intensity between you. There was a new urgency in the way he touched you, the last of your clothes falling away, leaving nothing between you but heat and desire. When you finally pulled back to look at him, you noticed that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, tempered by something softer, almost reverent, as he took in the sight of you.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to tug at the waistband of his jeans.

Tyler grinned, the playfulness returning for just a moment as he sat back, undoing the button and zipper with quick, fluid motions. You watched as he kicked off his boots and jeans, your eyes following the movements of his hands as he finally tugged off his boxers, leaving him completely bare before you. You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved—every flex of muscle, every shift in his body.

You moved toward him, but Tyler caught you by the waist before you could get too far, flipping the two of you gently so that he was the one lying on the bed beneath you. His grin was still there, but it softened as his hands rested on your hips, pulling you down on top of him.

"Now that’s a view," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin as you straddled him, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, your bare skin pressed against his.

For a moment, you just hovered there, the tension between you thick and electric. But then Tyler’s hand slid up your spine, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the moment. 

“Before we go any further...” he murmured, his voice low but serious. His eyes met yours, searching. “We need to talk.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. The chemistry between you was undeniable, but that didn’t mean you were going to be reckless. 

"I’m clean," you said softly, feeling a little breathless as you admitted it. "I’ve been tested."

"Me too," Tyler replied, his voice steady but filled with the same tension that ran through your body. “But...” He gave you a sheepish grin as he reached out, fumbling in the drawer of his nightstand for a moment. His fingers finally closed around what he was looking for, and he pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up between the two of you with a little chuckle. “Just in case.”

You smiled at his awkward fumbling, appreciating the way he was handling this—respectful, but still maintaining that easy, familiar chemistry you had with him. 

“Good thinking,” you teased, watching as he ripped the packet open, his movements still a little clumsy in his eagerness. He rolled the condom onto himself, his eyes never leaving yours. His breath was heavy, and you could feel the tension building again, stronger now that you’d both cleared the air. 

You reached for his Stetson, which had somehow ended up on the bed, and with a grin, you placed it on your head, the brim casting a shadow over your eyes. Tyler’s gaze darkened as he watched you, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something, but no words came out.

Slowly, you positioned yourself over him, your legs straddling his hips. His hands came to rest on your thighs, his fingers squeezing lightly as you sank down onto him, a gasp escaping your lips at the sensation. The Stetson tilted slightly on your head, but you didn’t care. All that mattered at that moment was the connection between you and Tyler—the heat, the closeness, the way his hands gripped your hips like you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

Tyler let out a groan, his grip tightening as you adjusted to him, your body leaning forward slightly, pressing your chest against his as you both took a moment to breathe. His hand slid up your back again, this time tracing your spine with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers through your body. He tilted his head up, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was slow as if he had all the time in the world to savor this moment.

"God, you look so damn good," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough, filled with that raw desire you’d only ever seen glimpses of before.

You smiled, breathless, your forehead resting against his. “Wearing your hat and nothing else?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mmhm.” Tyler’s hands slid back down to your hips, guiding you as you began to move slowly against him. “You have no idea what you do to me...”

Tyler’s breath hitched as you settled against him, your bodies moving in sync, slow and deliberate, as if the two of you were savoring every second. His hands never left your skin, sliding from your hips to your waist, then down your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you. Each movement sent a shiver up your spine, your body reacting to the way his fingers traced small circles, grounding you in the moment.

The slow rhythm between you grew more intense with every passing second, but Tyler kept his focus on you, his eyes locked on yours, the smirk on his face softened by the emotion behind it. He shifted slightly beneath you, a groan slipping from his lips as he tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you in your movements but still giving you control.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as the sensation built, but you didn’t rush. There was something almost sweet about the way you moved together, like you both understood that this wasn’t just about the physical connection. It was something deeper, something that had been simmering for years between flirty glances, teasing remarks, and late-night conversations.

Tyler leaned up, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one softer, more tender, as if he was trying to tell you something without words. His fingers threaded through your hair, gently tugging, tilting your head back just enough to expose your neck. He pressed his lips to your throat, kissing his way up the sensitive skin there, and you couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to every little touch.

You felt his grip on your hips tighten again, pulling you closer, your bodies moving together with more urgency now. The feeling between you was electric, your heart pounding in your chest as his kisses grew more desperate, more hungry. But even in the midst of it, Tyler’s touch remained careful, measured, as if he was constantly checking to make sure you were okay.

You didn’t mean for it to happen but your orgasm hit you faster than you expected. You felt your walls squeezing around him as your thighs started to shake. You let out several moans into Tylers mouth as he bucked his hips up to work you through it.

When you finally broke away from his mouth, breathless, Tyler leaned his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your lower back, holding you close. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you—just the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of your hearts.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with concern as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He exhaled, a relieved grin spreading across his face. “Good.” His hands slipped down to your waist again, his grip firm but gentle. “Because I’m not sure I can handle you looking like that in my hat and not lose my damn mind.”

You chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss him again, feeling the way his body responded to the smallest touch. The teasing from earlier was still there, but it was mingled with something else now—a deep sense of care and affection that had always been beneath the surface.

As the tension built between you again, Tyler’s movements became more urgent, more deliberate, and his grip on you tightened in response. His groans were low and quiet, but the sound of them sent a surge of heat through your body, making you move faster, more eagerly, craving every reaction you could pull from him.

Tyler’s hands roamed your back, sliding up your spine and then down again, before settling on your hips once more, guiding you, helping you keep the rhythm even when it became harder to focus as your second orgasm crept closer. His mouth found your neck again, biting down gently in a way that made you gasp, your body arching into him as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Every touch, every kiss felt electric, like the two of you had been waiting for this moment for years. And as the intensity reached its peak, you couldn’t help but feel the emotion behind it all—the unspoken bond you shared, the connection that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface of your friendship.

Finally, as the tension broke and the two of you found your release together, Tyler pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you collapsed against him. His body was warm and solid beneath you, his heartbeat strong and steady as you both came down from the high of the moment. He held you there, his hands still tracing gentle patterns on your skin, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing as you lay in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath. Tyler shifted slightly, his hand sliding up to brush through your hair again, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice soft and filled with that familiar concern.

You nodded against him, your body still tingling from the intensity of what had just happened. “Yeah... more than okay,” you murmured, echoing your earlier words.

Tyler chuckled quietly, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you closer. “Good,” he said, his voice warm and filled with affection. “That’s all I ever want... to take care of you.” His fingers trailed along your back in slow, soothing strokes as he held you there, the warmth of his body surrounding you like a cocoon of safety and comfort.

The warmth of Tyler’s body still enveloped you as you lay there, your head resting on his chest, his hand gently running through your hair. The room was quiet now, just the soft sounds of your breathing mixing with the faint creak of the old house settling around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. You could feel Tyler’s steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, and it grounded you, but there was something else—a nagging thought that you couldn’t quite shake.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head to look at him. “Tyler...” you began, your voice soft, but tinged with uncertainty.

He looked down at you, his brows furrowing just a little, concern immediately flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “What... what does this mean for us?” you asked, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you. “I mean, is this... was this just a one-time thing?”

Tyler’s expression softened instantly, and he reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently brushing over your skin. 

“A one-time thing?” he repeated, his voice almost incredulous. “Are you kidding?”

You averted your gaze, feeling a little silly for even asking, but Tyler didn’t let you look away. He gently guided your chin back toward him, making sure your eyes met his.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers,” he said, his voice low but steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world to admit. “I just... I didn’t think I had a shot in hell with someone like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in slowly. “Someone like me?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping your lips despite the serious turn of the conversation. “Tyler, you make it sound like I’m some kind of angel.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb still brushing along your cheek. “Well, that’s what you are to me,” he said with a grin. “An angel. I mean, come on... a guy like me? A cowboy who’s been out chasing storms and kicking up dust for most of his life?” His eyes sparkled with humor, but there was something deeper behind them—something genuine. “I didn’t think I deserved a shot with someone as good as you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at his words. “Cowboys and angels...” you teased, the playfulness returning to your voice. “Seems like a pretty good combination to me.”

Tyler laughed, the sound warm and rich, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Turns out, they go real well together.”

For a moment, you both lay there in the quiet, the weight of his confession settling over you. It felt like everything had shifted between you, but in the best possible way. The years of friendship, the playful flirting, the unspoken connection—it had all led to this, to a moment that felt as natural as it was surprising.

You smiled up at him, the worry that had been gnawing at you now completely gone. “So... we’re doing this?” you asked softly, your hand resting over his heart.

Tyler grinned, his eyes full of warmth as he leaned in, kissing you tenderly. “Yeah,” he whispered against your lips. “We’re doing this.”

And with that, the uncertainty melted away, replaced by the deep, undeniable certainty that this was where you were meant to be—wrapped up in the arms of the man who had loved you all along, even when you hadn’t realized it. The cowboy and his angel, right where they belonged.

[gottalovesae]

Morning Call ☠ Feitan Portor

Characters: Feitan Portor x fem! reader

Prompt: Somnophilia (Kinktober week 1; day 1)

822 words

Warnings: NSFW 18+, p in v, excessive use of "baby", unprotected sex, Somnophilia (consensual), Cunnilingus (f. receiving), Cock warming, cumming inside, nipple play, morning sex, grammar is all over the place, etc.

Yours truly: This is my first time writing smut, and it's not that great but I truly hope you enjoy it.

Tag list: @regu1ar-huh

Feitan Portor is a very busy man. Most of the times you see him it's late at night. You never know when he'll show up since he's always out dealing with Phantom Troupe business. You would usually stay up waiting and hoping he shows up, but today was a long day for you. Once you got home you took a shower, changed into one of your boyfriends shirts he left behind, a pair of panties, and instantly fell asleep.

A couple hours into the morning you are woken up with a wet and hot feeling in between your legs. Even though your mind is still drowsy with sleep you instantly knew what was happening.

"Fei?" Shuddering, you slowly open your eyes to the view of your boyfriend shoving his tongue into your pussy. He has you on your back and your legs thrown over his shoulder. His pace was slow and lazy.

"Hi baby." He mumbled as he looked up and gave you a small smile before he dove back into you, circling your clit with his tongue with much more energy than before. At the same time, he inserts two fingers into your dripping hole.

"Fei—" Your hands quickly grab his hair as a familiar feeling already starts settling in your stomach. As he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you, he sloppily licks and sucks your clit into his mouth. You were basically melting into him. He lets out a small, muffled whimper when you tug on his hair.

"Oh fuck baby keep going I'm gonna—" your thighs start quivering and close around his head as he picks up his pace. Breathless you gasp and tilt you head back loudly moaning his name as you tip over the edge reaching your first orgasm. Helping you through it he leans back on his knees now slowly pumping his fingers in and out.

Getting overstimulated you lazily swatted at his hand whispering "stop...'s too much." Leaning down towards you, he pulls you into a lazy, but deep kiss as you taste yourself on his tongue. Resting your hands on his bare chest you start toying with his nipples. He breaks the kiss to let out a moan and grinds his clothed cock against your clit.

Leaning into your ear he whispers "missed you...sorry I woke you up. Couldn't wait. Needed you so bad." He then hurryingly helps you slip his your shirt off and throws it somewhere. He kisses down your neck to your breasts when he pops a nipple into his mouth as he plays with the other one squeezing and pinching it.

"Mmm me too Feitan...been so lonely without you." You whimper gasping when he bites down. Stopping with his actions he holds your face looking into your eyes noticing the hazy look in them. Feitan couldn't tell if it was sleepiness or lust, maybe both.

"Tired baby?" He asks. Nodding and humming in agreement, you whine and push yourself against his erection ready for him to fuck you back to sleep. Draping your arms across his shoulders you say, "need you to fuck me please."

"Easy. just relax for me baby. I got you." He quickly takes his pants off and switches your positions till you're both laying on your sides with him behind you. He raises your leg and drapes it back on his. Grabbing his dick Feitan gives himself a few pumps before he leads his leaking slightly red tip against your hole. Slowly, he pushes through and you both sigh out. "You're so tight baby fuck" he says through gritted teeth. The stretch is so delicious it has your eyes rolling back when he finally fills you up to the hilt.

"Mmm fuck baby I need you to move please" you moan out and he grants your wishes. At first, he starts off strong but slow almost pulling out completely before pushing back in with one motion. "oh fuck faster fuck me faster baby please!" Screaming you fuck yourself back into him as he moves faster. The sound coming from where you two are connected filled the room with a fwap fwap fwap sound. It was absolutely sinful the way he was fucking you as he hits all the spots that has you seeing stars. "Fei I'm I'm—"

Feitan knows your close with the way you're squeezing his cock like a fucking vice. "I know baby fuck...cum for me cum all over my cock" he hisses out. Your legs start shaking and your toes curl as your climax approaches you so quick and sudden you're seeing white. Feitan is right behind as he stills inside and pumps you full of his cum. Coming down from his high Feitan notices your deep breathes signaling that you're asleep. Chuckling, he kisses your cheek, wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer, closing his eyes, and falling into dream land as he leaves himself inside you.

[nina-ya]

NINAAAAAAAA!!! MAY I REQUEST: " i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile" FROM THIS PROMPT LIST PLS WITH LAW OR POST TIMESKIP ZORO (istg he stopped smiling as widely as he did b4)

A/N: HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO YOU MY LOVE I do hope it's a great one I love you dearly!! Pairing: Law x Reader CW: None, fluff WC: ~800

It was during these quiet moments that you often found yourself drawn to Law. You found yourself leaning against the railing, your eyes following the sun’s descent as it slowly gets swallowed by the ocean while painting the sky in hues of fiery oranges and yellows. Law stood beside you, leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the breeze subtly ruffling the tufts of raven hair that poked out from beneath his spotted hat.

Law wasn’t always so serious. A playful glint in his eyes often revealed itself when he was being particularly mischievous. He wore that smirk more often than not, his humor sharp and always ready with a quick and witty counter during moments of chaos- whether that be in battle or in more lively moments on the submarine. But a soft, genuine smile, the kind born from hours of shared laughter or the quiet contentment of being in the presence of someone that you love, those were the smiles that you rarely saw. The ones that you wish to see more of and the ones you were determined to pull out of him.

You turned to him, drawn to the way his amber eyes fixed on the horizon. His lips flushed and slightly chapped from the sea breeze, were set in a contemplative thin line, hinting at the thoughts that ran through that mind of his.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, your voice carrying a subtle playfulness as you turned your body towards him.

Law glanced at you, that usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he replied in a teasing tone, “That’s all they’re worth?” 

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge underlying your features. You brushed off his last comment and jumped right to the point. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Like really smile. Not just those little smirks you give when you’re being cheeky.”

His gaze shifted, easing into something more introspective. It was almost as if he was carefully considering your words. The longer he stood there in thought, the more his facade cracked, and you could see something beneath all of that outer shell.

“Maybe I just need the right motivation,” he murmured, amusement laced in his tone as he shifted, turning to face you more fully.

You decided to take matters into your own hands and you reached out and gently poked the side of his torso, testing the waters. At first, his brows furrowed in confusion as he merely shot you a skeptical look, but as your fingers continued and danced along his torso, his lips twitched, and he let out a few huffs of laughter despite himself. 

“Stop that,” Law protested, taking a step backward to escape your assault, yet you stepped right forward and continued, each poke sending ripples of laughter through him until he finally broke, the sound of his snickering filling the air.

You grinned in triumph, your laughter filling the air alongside his. It wasn’t long before Law had to physically restrain you, capturing your wrists in his larger, inked hands to halt your tickling. As you looked up at him, it occurred to you how unusual it was that he had resorted to physically holding you back rather than using his devil fruit abilities. Law had the power to simply teleport either of you away from the other, to escape the situation with the twist of his fingers and the incantation of the word “shambles”. Yet, here he was, gripping your wrists and laughing, his touch unexpectedly tender. It was an odd choice that hinted at something more than what’s on the surface—perhaps a desire to remain connected to you, to experience this moment fully with you rather than having it slip away. The two of you paused, breathless and heaving, the proximity leaving you two staring into each other’s eyes, smiles born from laughter lingering on your faces. 

“There it is,” you said softly, breaking the silence. The satisfaction of seeing him smile with such a rare and genuine expression was something unlike any other and you attempted to commit the sight to memory, afraid that it would be lost just as soon as it appeared.

Law’s grip on your wrists relaxed, and he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You something else,” he said, the tone of voice and his words making it seem like the words were more of an admittance of something he had felt for a while but couldn’t quite articulate properly. 

Whatever it was, whatever unspoken words remained, it created layers upon layers of complexity that you wish to peel one by one as the days passed. For now, the tension was masked by the warmth of your smiles, and the silence filled with an intimacy that spoke louder than words could ever convey.

[bloodiedrogue]

I CARE FOR YOU (6)

SUMMARY: After an unexpected moment of intimacy, you admit your growing feelings for Astarion.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,768

WARNINGS: Fluff, cheesy gross rotten fluff filled with more realized feelings.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can't tell whether or not I hate this chapter so uh, please be nice to me. I'm very tired and just :')

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

You’ve been drinking for a while now. Sharing a bottle of ale Astarion had nicked off a merchant outside the myconid colony. While speaking to her about the issue of her missing husband, he somehow managed to snag it unseen, along with a couple of potions and some coins that he shared with you.

At first, you were surprised. Sure, you and Astarion had become increasingly close over the last few days, spending practically all hours conversating or plotting —overall just enjoying each other’s company. But he’d always been firm about earning your keep. Typically for him, what you earned was solely yours alone and vice versa but when you asked him about the merchant theft he just smiled and pinched your cheek, thanking you for the distraction. 

It made you blush —uncontrollably so. The feeling of his fingers taught against your skin before their disappearance. As you moved alongside him, making your way back to camp, you had to compose the need to squeal, feeling your stomach flip while your heart wreaked havoc against your chest. 

Now that you were drunk such feelings had subdued. Lost to the clouded headspace of inebriation that has you lazily staring at the fire, a small grin plastered across your face as you continue to drink. 

Against your tongue, it feels warm and bitter, forcing you to smack your lips in slight disgust every time you swallow it down. “Gods, this is rancid,” you say, and Astarion nods, reaching for the bottle. 

He tips his head back to let it cascade down, cringing ever so slightly. “I swear I haven’t had a decent drink in months,” he complains, passing it back —letting the tips of his fingers brush against the base of your knuckles in the process.

You roll your eyes, feeling that nervous jump of nerves hit your stomach before shaking your head. “That tends to happen when you’re camping beneath the surface.” 

“It was shit before then too, I’m afraid,” he sighs. “Even at that grove party they were basically serving up bottled piss.”

“At least it was free.” 

He shrugs knowingly, agreeing as he watches you take another sip; scrunching up your face in disgust. It’s not good by any means but it’s the first drink you’ve had in days —and again it’s free— so you try not to complain too much. 

“I miss wine.” Snatching the bottle back, he takes another sip and groans, immediately giving it back. “Good wine.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had good wine.”

Immediately, he looks at you like you’ve just slain his mother. His eyes are wide and full of pain before they narrow to a point, prompting him to lean in close, peeling the bottle from your hands. “I’m sorry, what do you mean you’ve never had good wine?”

You shrug, reaching for the bottle only to have him raise it into the air, gripping the neck tightly. “Hey!”

“You grew up in Baldur’s, did you not?”

Ignoring his question, you roll onto your knees, placing a hand on his shoulder as you reach for the drink, groaning when he raises it out of reach again. 

“What’s the best wine you’ve had?”

You grumpily move in closer, maneuvering one of your knees to rest between his outstretched legs, feeling his arm snake around your waist when you inevitably stumble from the alcohol. Audibly you gasp and look down at him, watching his lips twitch into a smirk. 

“Give the bottle back, you ass!” 

His fingers fan across the fabric of your shirt, applying a bit of extra pressure that has you fighting. Resisting the urge to give in as he pouts at your words. 

“Ass? And here I thought you and I were starting to become friends.” 

That feeling from earlier returns. The one where your stomach tangles up and your chest begins to ache, longing for something you know you shouldn’t even think to entertain. “We are friends.” 

His brow shoots up. “Are we?”

Despite the constant attention you’ve been offering one another, you realize then that you’ve never actually discussed what the two of you are. How he makes you feel happy and loved and, above all else, safe. On more than one occasion you’ve thought about letting it slip. During the night when you wake up from your nightmares only to find him already lying next to you, you’ve thought about opening up.

It’d be hard. Seeing as neither of you is the type to fully express how you feel, the idea of verbally admitting that you care for him far more than you should could be detrimental. The kind of conversation that could potentially ruin everything you have going, knowing that he’s…

Well, he’s him. He’s guarded and cautious and deceptive. A man so unwilling to trust that even the simplest of gestures have you questioning his intentions. Wondering whether or not the side of him you get to see is truly real or not. 

You assume in some cases it is. Mostly because no one else has offered you that kind of courtesy. The others are nice. They care for you in their own little ways but something about Astarion’s kindness is different. More developed. It isn’t surface level in the way that Shadowheart heals you after a tough battle or how Lae’zel offers to help you cut vegetables at dinner. There’s something else that lingers. Something warm and tender that makes your ever-growing feelings fight through the ongoing suppression of your mind. 

A suppression that dwindles the longer you look at him —the longer you kneel, half straddling his thigh while your hands sit awkwardly in the air, begging to be touched. 

“I mean, acquaintances don’t do the things we do for each other.” 

You see his throat bob as he swallows. “And what sort of things do we do for each other, hm?”

His voice, despite sounding as confident as it usually does, feels different. Instead of teasing, there’s a genuine curiosity that forms, hanging onto every breath that filters through your lungs.

“Nice things.”

He scoffs. “Care to provide some examples, my dear?”

Instead of responding, you let your hands fall to his shoulders, feeling the sudden tenseness underneath your fingertips as you slide them up toward his neck and move forward. After that, there are still no words that are spoken. Only breaths that catch in your respective throats as Astarion’s thigh shifts towards the innermost parts of yours, pushing against you gently. 

Pressing your lips together, you ignore the feeling that presents itself when he does that, focusing on his face. On the way, his mouth opens up with bated breath —the way his eyes soften and his other hand drops the ale and moves throughout your vision to place an even softer touch against your cheek. 

Without even thinking you return his gesture from the other night, letting your lips press against his thumb as you close your eyes, realizing you want this. Whatever it is that he’s willing to offer. Whether it’s strictly friendship or more or even something in between. At this point, he could offer you the dirt beneath his feet and you’d take it. Bottle it up as a reminder of all that he’s done for you. All the words he’s said to make you laugh. All the hands he’s held to calm you down during your most anxious moments.

He could take and take and give absolutely nothing in return and you’d accept it with open arms if it meant you could stay like this. If it meant you could feel the brush of his thumb gliding back to cup your head and pull you down. 

“I know you’re not the most articulate friend I have but I’d still appreciate a bit more effort.” 

The sudden presence of his breath makes you open your eyes. Your foreheads are practically touching and by now your arms have fully tightened around his neck, further supporting your hold. 

“I don’t know. I, uh, I suppose you care.”

“Do I now?”

“I think so.” 

He hums. “What makes you say that?”

You purse lips, trying to wrap your head around the closeness of it all. The intimate touches mixed with the potential confession rising up your throat. “You do things that the others don’t.”

The hand that rests against the back of your head runs through the roots of your hair, gripping them slightly as he laughs. “You really are bad at elaborating, aren’t you, darling?” 

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin; not surprised that even in moments like this he still manages to withstand his arrogance. “I just mean that it feels like you actually care about me as a person rather than just another helping sword in a war.” 

When he doesn’t respond right away you’re worried you’ve lost him. That you’ve scared him off somehow. Sometimes that happens when you’re in the middle of a conversation. Everything will be normal and somehow you’ll manage to fuck it up by asking something too personal, causing his retreat. 

It hasn’t happened in a while. Not since that night, he held you in your tent but you still assume it’s coming based on the way his gaze shifts, moving from place to place —completely avoiding your eyes. Usually, that’s the first step when he separates. Either he’ll look away or his eyes will go out of focus, leaving you by yourself to wonder how to fix it. 

Reluctantly you slip from his grasp, releasing his neck with shaky hands, feeling the way he tightens up but makes no effort to stop you.

“Sorry, I, uh, I know you’ve got your own… stuff going on.” You clear your throat, relaxing your hips against his thigh before you remember that you’re trying to give him space, prompting you to sit back up again. “Wouldn’t want to complicate that or anything.”

After that, there’s a nervous laugh that escapes your lips when you attempt to crawl off of him. One that grows the second the hand he still has on your back moves to grip your hip, pulling you back down with a rough tug. It forces the breath right out of you. Ripping through your lungs, it feels like instead of blood, Astarion’s taking your air, forcing your mouth to open in such a desperate way you almost whine out loud. 

“I do care —for what it’s worth. Despite the complications.” 

He says it so quietly you barely hear it against the crackling of the ongoing fire and the echoes of the Underdark. As it hits your ears, it sounds like the faintest whisper ever uttered. A quiet secret so safely tucked away that even the mention of its mere existence has you reaching for his face, cupping his cheeks with careful hands that wish to make sure he’s okay.

“You make me feel…” He trails off, letting out a frustrated sigh while closing his eyes. 

You can tell then that he’s fighting the barrier. Allowing its presence to overthrow his thoughts, fearing what might happen if he’s honest. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him it’s okay —that anything he says will be cherished not exploited. Appreciated to the highest degree possible. But then there’s the other part. The one that knows that what you say doesn’t matter. That in the grand scheme of things, words are merely facades we tell each other to hide the truth. 

You want to tell him the truth. More than anything you want to utter every hidden admiration over and over again until he believes you. Until he’s forced to hear the cadence in your voice breaking at the realization he believes that he’s untouchable. 

“I care for you, Astarion.” 

The words come out more broken than you intend. As it exits your lips, it’s coarse against your ears, making you internally cringe and close your eyes, taking a moment to breathe because you finally did it. You finally said something.

All you receive from it is a hum of acknowledgement. One that fails to give you any sort of relief. 

At first, it shakes you. Makes you regret even thinking you could earn anything other than a snide remark. But then you open your eyes. And you see him. The way he’s staring at you with confused eyes and open lips, begging you for more. 

“I don’t know what it all means yet. I just —I just wanted you to know that your friendship means more to me than you know.” You glide both thumbs across his cheeks, feeling the coolness of his skin wrap around the warmth of your own. “I know I don’t know a lot about your past. I don’t know how or what level it’s affected how you perceive your self-worth but I know you now. And I know that regardless of the shit you went through whether it was of your will or otherwise, that you deserve to be cared for.” 

That you deserve to be loved. 

By the time you’re done, you’re weightless. A feather of freedom dancing in the wind as it awaits its downfall. 

Glancing between Astarion and the space behind him, you find there’s no regret in what you’ve just said. No fear of rejection. No shame for admittance. All that’s left is the feeling of relief. One that grows once you hear him clear his throat and pull you close, moving his forehead to yours. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says, but that doesn’t stop the smile that pulls at your cheeks. 

“It’s okay. Neither do I.”

“I don’t know how to be what you want.” 

You inhale heavily, looking down to see the worry grace his face. “Do you even know what I want?” 

He opens his mouth but quickly stops, making you laugh. 

“I want you, Astarion. That’s it. Whether it’s you at your best or you at your worst, I just want you.”

“Me.” He repeats it as a statement. As an affirmation that makes your stomach flip. 

“I know you’re difficult to deal with. You’re stubborn and unforgiving and crass but I’m also incredibly patient.” You squeeze his cheeks, uttering patient through clenched teeth that make him snort. 

“I’d argue that most of the time you’re not but—“

You shush him, earning yourself an eye roll. “I’ll wait for you. With you. If that’s what you want.”

And you do. Pressing yourself further into him, you breathe and wait, letting him piece together all the words you’ve just displayed. Letting him sit and process the weight of them all in the form of nervous fingers that tap your hips before they slowly begin to slide. 

By the time they hit the centre of your back, he’s releasing his hold with one and snaking it beneath your outstretched arm to grab your face. 

“Can I share something? With you?”

You nod your head and feel him pull you down, immediately slotting his lips over yours in a way you’ve never felt before.

Somehow it’s soft while still remaining hungry. Deep beneath the careful movements he inflicts, there’s a desperation that has both of you moving your arms to further wrap around the other, forcing your chests flush. Against your mouth, he breathes new life into your soul —ripping the old away as he nibbles the edge of your bottom lip, eliciting a moan that makes him grin. 

“You taste better than I remember.”

Silencing him with another kiss, you move your hands to his hair, running your fingers along his scalp, feeling the way he shudders beneath your touch before pulling away. 

Both of you are gasping for air then. Staring at one another with blown-out pupils that make you look away in embarrassment. 

You’re not sure how to feel now. Before it was easy to pine —to think about the potentials and long for something more because it wasn’t real. It was merely a desire fuelled by curiosity so now that you have it, you have no idea what happens next. 

“We should probably talk, right? About things?” 

You can’t help but brush his curls from his face as he nods, giving you a knowing look that has you feeling worried he still might backtrack. “Things, as in?”

“The past. Both of ours. When you’re ready.”

Despite the reluctance you feel radiating off of him, there’s also a sliver of acceptance. An inkling of something new and warm that filters through as he nods his head, uttering a thank you before pulling you back in again. 

-

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[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Birthday Fail

-> Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader

-> Requested by: @hamburgers101

-> Prompt:  No. 15: “This is not how it went in my head.”

-> Warnings: none.

-> Word Count: 526

-> Requests: Closed

-> Tag List: Open. Send me an ask or fill out this form - Tag List Form.

500 Words Event M.List | Seungmin Masterlist | Stray Kids M.List

Hearing the keys in the door, Y/N panics hanging up one of the decorations she’d gotten to celebrate her boyfriend’s birthday. She hurries to the door, throwing herself at it to prevent him from entering her apartment.  

“What is going on?” Seungmin’s voice travels through the door, a mix of shock and confusion. 

“You can’t come in just yet,” she replies, her voice slightly breathless. “I’m still working on your surprise,” she adds, glancing around the room. Unfortunately, things haven’t gone as planned with the decorating, which is why she’s running late. If only the decorations had cooperated, she would have been done half an hour ago. 

The balloons, which she had envisioned floating against the ceiling, had stubbornly refused to inflate properly, leaving her with a mess of balloons on the floor. The banner she had made with her niece refused to stick to the wall, and the cake she had ordered was still sitting in the fridge, waiting to be unveiled.  

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s concerned voice breaks through her thoughts. “Do you need some help?”  

“No! I mean, yes! But not from you!” Y/N stammers, her heart racing. She can’t let him in yet; the surprise has to be perfect. “Just give me a minute, okay? I promise it’ll be worth it!”  

“Just let me in, Y/N,” he sighs, not wanting to be standing in the hallway looking like an idiot to her neighbors. “The surprise doesn’t have to be perfect,” he adds as though he was reading her mind. “Being here with you is perfect enough.” 

Y/N feels her heart flutter at his words, but she shakes her head, even though he can’t see her. “No, Seungmin, this has to be special! You deserve it,” she insists. “Please, just a few more minutes,” she pleads, as she stares at the half-finished decorations that seem to be mocking her effort in making her boyfriend’s birthday a little more special. 

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I really don’t care. I just want to be with you,” he pauses for a moment. ”And, I really need to pee.” 

"Okay, okay, okay," she says and opens the door enough to stick her head through it. "Just promise me you won't laugh at my failed attempt to surprise you." 

Y/N takes a deep breath, her heart racing as she finally opens the door wider, allowing Seungmin to step inside. Her head is bowed so she can’t see his reaction. 

“You did all this for me?” he asks, his voice not giving away his feelings.  

Y/N bites her lip, embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “I wanted it to be special,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is not how it went in my head. I swear it looked better in my mind. I think there was a mix up with the balloons and the tape wasn’t that sticky. Bora helped me make the sign.”  

“I love it,” he replies, his smile brightening the room. He reaches out, gently squeezing her hand. “You really went all out, huh?”  

“Just a little,” she replies, trying to downplay her efforts as he pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly. 

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[princessmisery666]

Didn't Know Then What I Know Now - Part 3 of 3

Series Summary: You and Jake have been dancing around each other for a while. The Dagger Squad set it up so that the dancing stops, but a case of miscommunication could ruin it all.

Summary: With the help of the Dagger Squad, Jake sends you on a personal scavenger hunt. He’s sure you’ll love the idea, and then you’ll have to forgive him. Right?

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, fluff, 

W/C: 4.8k

Characters: Unnamed female reader (you/she/her), Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado. Small Parts/Mentioned: The rest of Dagger Squad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and Penny Benjamin. 

Pairing: Hangman x Female Reader. Phoenix x Coyote.

Challenge/Bingo: Prompt/Square Filled:

Notes: Reader has a call sign. 

Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch - thanks for saving the smut section 😄 // all mistakes are mine. Special shoutout to @writercole

Graphics: made by me on Canva.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

I do not give consent for this or any other of my works to be reposted/reworked or translated on to any other account or platform.

The first available flight will get you home only a few hours earlier than you would have before, but you no longer care that your credit card will be taking a massive hit for this weekend. This added expense is worth every penny. The thought of sitting next to Jake the entire flight home is too much to bear.

Seething anger rolls through you in waves the whole journey home, and you can’t bear to face the Daggers, knowing they know more than they should.

You go directly to see Captain Mitchell, suitcase and bags in tow, and request a change in assignment. 

“Take a couple of days,” Maverick suggests, “think about it.”

“All due respect, Captain, there’s nothing to think about,” you counter. “We are all aware Lieutenant Seresin isn’t the easiest person to work with, and I feel I’ve served my time.”

“That may be so,” he nods, “but you are a good team, whether you like it or not.”

You can’t argue that because it’s a fact you are aware of.

“Put the request in writing,” Mav tells you, “I’ll see what I can do.”

You thank him and lug your bags back out the door, kicking the wheel to get it to go in the right direction. You don’t look up until you crash into someone. Phoenix, accompanied by Coyote.

Perfect. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, carrying on your way. 

“Wait, Cosmo,” Natasha says, catching up to you. “Why are you back so soon? Your flight doesn’t get in until later. What happened?”

“Exactly what I thought would happen,” you say, “and I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Oh, Cosmo,” Phoenix sighs, knowing exactly what your fears had been.

“Don’t,” you say, holding a hand up to silence her. “I don’t want your pity.”

Coyote senses the hostility in your tone and changes the subject. “What were you doing with Mav?”

“Requesting a reassignment,” you say. There’s no point in hiding it. They’ll find out eventually. 

“But,” Phoenix starts, doing the mental math. “The only other person to fly with would be Harvard.”

You shrug, “So be it. I gotta go unpack and shower.”

“Wait,” Phoenix says, rushing to stand in your path. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you snap, “least of all to you.” 

The hurt on her face breaks your heart a little, but you’re hurting too. You want to take it back, but the more she looks offended, the more you remember this is partly her fault, and Coyote’s, for that matter. They both stuck their noses in your business when it wasn’t needed or wanted. 

“All this,” you wave your arms as wide as you can with your bag, “is down to you two. Jake and I were fine the way we were, but you two had to meddle.” 

Coyote pleads, “Cos, we were just…” but you cut him off, holding your hand up. 

“Save it,” you growl. Coyote shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you turn an accusatory finger at Phoenix. “You knew,” you accuse, “you knew how I felt, all my reservations, all the ways I thought it would go wrong, and you still set me up!” 

“I didn’t think anything bad would happen,” Phoenix defends, “Javy told me how much Jake likes you, and I knew how much you like Jake and how conflicted you were about it all. But I thought if you could just have some time together… so I nudged you in the right direction. I thought I was helping you out, being a good friend.”

You scoff, aggravated, and hurt. “Well, maybe you’re not a good friend.”

“Hey,” Coyote chastises, “don’t put this on her. We all played a part.”

“Yeah, you did,” you sigh, tears filling your eyes and tingling the end of your nose. “Because, like I always suspected, you're more Jake’s friends than mine.”

You don’t give them time to respond by walking away.

Jake hopes you’ve checked into another room or a different hotel. He repeatedly called, but you rejected every one of them.

He leaves one voicemail but doubts you’ll listen to it. “Cosmo, please. Don’t shut me out. I know what it looked like, but I promise I can explain.” 

On the way to the airport, he prays you're still on the same flight. A few hours of being unable to escape would be enough time to explain himself. He starts to lose hope when he checks out and finds that half of the room service bill has been paid. He finally admits defeat when he doesn’t see you in the seating area near the gate.

Still, when the flight is delayed, he roams the airport, searching for you. His search proves futile, but he continues to check the boarding queue as he shuffles forward with the other passengers. 

He bounces his leg the entire flight like it will magically make the plane go faster. The only good thing about the empty seat—your seat—between him and the other passenger is that it probably keeps him from being punched for the annoyance.

He’s exhausted by the time they land, and the cab ride from the airport to his house is deafeningly silent. Finally, as the car pulls away from the curb, he gives in and messages Phoenix. 

<Hangman: I know I’m probably outside your good graces, but at least tell me she’s home and okay.

>Phoenix: She’s home. And you’re not on my shit list. I’m on hers. 

He begins typing a reply to question that bit of information, but a message from Coyote interrupts him. 

>Coyote: If you define ‘okay’ as requesting to be reassigned, then yeah, she’s great!👍🏻

The sarcasm seems unnecessary, but he ignores it. There’s a bigger battle to be fought.

>Coyote: What happened man? One minute you were gonna tell her you liked her and the next she’s getting reassigned. 

<Hangman: Just a bit of miscommunication and if I could get her to talk to me I could explain it.  

He needs to do something. Calling isn’t working, and he knows if he shows up at your door, you’ll likely slam it in his face. Besides, this is bigger than an apology. 

<Hangman: I’m gonna need your help.

>Coyote: name it. 

The following morning, you wake early and wash off the residual anger in a hot shower. By the time you're ready to face the day, the outrage has subsided, and you’re left feeling foolish, humiliated, and a little betrayed. Despite your reservations about Jake, you trust him. He’d never done anything to make you believe you shouldn’t - until now.

You shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been witness to and on the receiving end of many of his sexual encounter stories. He’s not someone to keep intimate secrets.

“Urgh, stop!” you berate your reflection in your bedroom mirror. You need to stop thinking about it. Going over it repeatedly in your mind isn’t helping. 

Some retail therapy and blasting your favorite music on the drive to the mall will help. You dress in jeans and a nice shirt, put on your jewelry and then spritz yourself with perfume. 

It brings tears to your eyes. Jake bought you a bottle, and now you won’t be able to smell it without thinking about him. “Fuck!”

You hear the squeak of the door opening, and shortly after, Phoenix sings, “Honey, I’m home.”

It’s an olive branch to let you know she’s disregarding yesterday’s outburst. She understands you didn’t mean it, and don’t blame her for anything. You know you were becoming insufferable when it came to your assigned pilot, and Natasha was always on the receiving end of it. 

“Glad you’re back,” You smile, jogging down the stairs. 

“Woo, where’s the fire?” she asks, kissing your cheek when you reach the bottom step.

“At the mall,” you say, “I need to find a new perfume I like.” 

“So you forgot,” brow raised high, she reminds you. “Tuesdays are jogging and bagels?”

It’s usually more bagels than jogging but you don’t mention it because you had forgotten. Stupid Hangman, messing with your head. “Shit, sorry. I did forget, but a run might help clear my head. Give me five minutes to change?”

She waves off your apology. “Nah, it’s fine. Let’s skip it. I drank way too much last night. The last thing I wanna be doing is running around in the heat.”

You laugh, remembering that yesterday was the last Monday of the month, which meant, “Karaoke night?”

“Karaoke night,” Phoenix confirms with a firm nod and regretful sigh.

Of course, the Daggers can’t make it a normal sing-a-long. Someone, you don’t remember who, bought a decibel meter. Whoever gets the least applause after a song has to do a shot and a song of the squad’s choosing. Of course, Rooster is always the sober one. Maybe it was him who bought the meter.

“If you wanna join me, I’ll treat you to a breakfast burrito on the way,” You offer.

Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Yessss!”

Natasha insists on driving, and as you get into the car, she tells you that she left her wallet in her dorm, and ‘just in case’ Apple Pay doesn’t work, she needs to pick it up before going shopping. You offer to spot her, and she can pay you back later, but she refuses. 

The radio is playing quietly, and it’s a pleasant ride with not a lot of traffic, but when Nat leans in and turns off the radio, you know the pleasantness is over. 

“Ready to talk about it?” she asks. 

No. 

But now is as good a time as any, and it’s rare these days to get her alone without Javy nearby eavesdropping.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t already know,” you sigh. 

“I know Jake’s side of it,” she admits, “but I wanna hear your side.” 

“I made a fool of myself. I thought Jake would be different with me, but I was wrong. Plain and simple.”

“It’s not plain and simple, Cos. You asked to be reassigned. That’s not nothing, so tell me what happened, specifics.”

You explain everything. The weekend arrangement, the promise to not let it affect work or to tell anyone. Crashing the wedding, the gifts, the pillow talk. 

“I can’t explain how he made me feel,” you exhale sadly, allowing yourself a moment to reign in your emotions. “From the moment he touched me, it was like the world didn’t exist. The things he did to me, wow.” Your eyes widen to emphasize the WOW because you really don’t think she gets it. “He made my body react in ways I never knew it could.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” Nat offers, “you don’t get an ego the size of Hangman’s by being mediocre in bed.” Quickly adding, “Don’t ever tell him I said that.”

You mimic locking your lips and throwing the key out the window. “But confirmed. There is nothing mediocre about him.” You laugh, but the jesting tone is short-lived. “I caught him staring at me a couple of times, and the way he was looking at me… It was… I don’t know, but I swear my heart skipped a beat.”

Phoenix huffs a knowing chuckle. “The small moments that are really the big moments.” 

“Exactly! He asked me to stay a few more nights, and I thought it might have been to… Urgh,” you growl, sick of trying to analyze Jake’s thoughts and feelings. “It doesn’t even matter. I was an idiot to believe it would be anything but a fun memory to recall when my serotonin was low. He couldn’t even respect my privacy. He had to go shoot his mouth off to Coyote.”

“He didn’t,” Phoenix explains. The defense of Jake is so surprising you stare open-mouthed at her as she gives your ID badges to the gate staff. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s probably something in all you said that we can hate him for, but if all this is a reaction to him talking to Coyote, you’ve got it wrong.” 

“What?”

“He wasn’t bragging about sleeping with you,” Natasha explains, “He was asking for advice.”

“Advice about what?” 

She shakes her head, “That’s for Jake to tell you. I get why you jumped to the conclusion that you did. I’d have done the same ‘cause, let’s face it, it’s Hangman we’re talking about. But, and I hate to say this, in Jake’s defense, you overreacted, and if you had let him explain, you wouldn’t be feeling foolish.” 

“So what? You’re saying I owe Jake an apology?”

“I’m saying you should at least speak to him.”

You momentarily impersonate a fish, opening and closing your mouth while trying to understand everything she’s said. 

“But later,” Nat continues, “I need breakfast.”

Natasha drags you along the corridor, tugging on your hand while your eyes dart around, peeking into windows of closed doors, hoping Jake isn’t back on base yet because you aren’t ready to face him. You haven’t quite digested Natasha’s revelation. You need more time. 

You bounce on the balls of your feet for the whole twenty seconds she’s gone, jumping at the slightest sound, expecting Jake to stalk around the corner like some serial killer.  

Natasha emerges from her room, waving her wallet. She takes your hand again, which stops you from rushing away like the scared victim of a horror movie. “Do you trust me?”

You eye her suspiciously, and your stomach drops when she winces, preempting your less-than-happy reaction. “Jake was the last person to ask me that, Nat, and look where that got me.”

“I know,” she says, “but you know I wouldn’t do anything that I thought could potentially hurt you.”

“Natasha Trace, I swear to the all-mighty God Icarus, if Jake is about to walk around that corner, I’ll make you feel like you flew too close to the sun.” 

She holds her hands up, palms out, full surrender. “I swear he’s not here, and you don’t have to talk to him.”

“Can we just go shopping?” You whine but refrain from actually stomping your foot. “Forget Jake, forget men exist for a few hours, and definitely forget setting me up again ‘cause it worked out so well the last time.”

Phoenix shakes her head, “Sorry. No. The whole Coyote text thing at the hotel is a complete misunderstanding, and if I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Fine,” you practically growl. Forcing an overly enthusiastic smile, you say, “Curtains up on this shit show!”

“The show must go on,” She laughs but pulls you along as she makes her way to the mess hall.

Javy is in position, and Jake has a perfect view of the mess hall doors. Now, he just has to wait. He doesn’t doubt Natasha’s powers of persuasion, but he does doubt your willingness to allow her to set you up again. You’ll have figured it out. You won’t be fooled twice.

The phone is jostled, and then Javy’s face fills the screen. “My arm hurts,” he complains.

“Suck it up,” Jake says.

“How long before she arrives?”

“Are you questioning your girlfriend's ability to get someone to do what she wants? I’m telling Nat you doubted her skills.”

“Don’t you dare,” Javy points into the phone. “If anyone can convince Cosmo to give you a chance, it’s Phoenix.”

“So suck it up and turn me around.”

He does so barely in the nick of time. When the phone stops jiggling and focuses, the door opens, and Phoenix literally drags you through the entrance. You spot Javy first, and when you see him holding his phone out and Jake on the line, you begin shaking your head as Phoenix draws you closer. 

“He’s not here,” you sneer at Nat. “Nice deception.”

“Wasn’t lying,” she sings, kissing Javy’s cheek.

You sigh heavily, and Jake can tell from your expression you’re already over this whole thing. You aren’t going to stick around long, and he knows he’s running out of time.

“This is the first place we met,” Jake begins. “I remember it was a Thursday. You were talking to Harvard. I clocked you the second I walked in. I interrupted, and you rolled your eyes before I even said a word. ‘Hangman, I presume.’ That was the first thing you said to me. You didn’t even give me a chance to reply, ‘I’m Cosmo, your new WSO, and if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go somewhere else so you can’t hit on me.’ I was shocked and intrigued,” he chuckles fondly at the memory. “That was when I knew I’d do everything possible to ensure we were friends.  And yes, I was hoping for more than friends. But I didn’t know then what I know now…” 

There’s no opportunity for you to react before Coyote ends the call, as instructed.

Jake blasts out a relieved breath. You didn’t turn away and ignore him, so that was a good start. Now for part two…

Finally, you’re en route to get your breakfast burrito. You ask the loved-up couple what it is that Jake didn’t know, but they both smile smugly and, as if they had practiced, in scary synchronization, tell you - “all in good time.”

You don’t have the mental capacity for games, so you let it go after Coyote promises the breakfast burritos are on him to apologize for the text misunderstanding. Though he still hasn’t explained what exactly you misunderstood.

The all-night diner always has customers. It’s the place the locals flock to for the coffee and chilled atmosphere. But at eleven on a Tuesday, only a few people sit in the booths near the windows. Natasha enters first, Javy covering your six and you're suspicious that it could be to block your exit because Jake is waiting for you.

It’s not Jake, though. It’s Bradley - floral pattern shirt over his white tank, aviators tucked in his collar, and that boyish smile with a hint of an apology. He gives a small wave, then turns his phone, holding it up to your eye level to show you Jake again on a video call. 

Jake is smiling, but you see his chest puff with a deep inhale. You wonder if he’s nervous because your friends are listening or he fears your rejection, maybe both. With a soft exhale, he begins, “This is where we came to escape Rooster’s awful murder mystery night.” 

“Hey!” Bradley complains.

You grimace. “Sorry, Rooster.”

“No, it’s fair,” Bradley shrugs, “it was pretty bad.”

Jake chuckles but continues, “You picked Fanboy to partner up with, and I was so damn jealous. I got stuck with Harvard, but after an hour, you convinced me to ditch it all, and we snuck off here. We spent the whole night talking. We never came up for air, we just kept swapping stories and getting to know each other. I told you about my family’s ranch back home, and you said you’d love to see it.” 

“I remember,” you say, half smiling. 

His smile grows. “For months after, I kept trying to work out how to make it happen. I spent most of my time daydreaming about introducing you to my family, but I didn’t want to do it as my coworker or friend.” he pauses and sighs, “I think I had some idea then, but I still didn’t know what I know now…”

Rooster turns the phone and ends the call.

So this is it, you realize, this is your grand gesture. This is the moment in your story where you get the big speech and happy ending. But maybe you shouldn’t let your hope get the better of you. 

You roll your eyes. “I swear if what he knows now is some sexual innuendo or anything shy of I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him, you’re all in big trouble!” 

They all laugh, and you try to hide your smile, but it’s not easy. 

“You still owe me a burrito, Javy.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks and walks to the counter.

You sit at the usual table the Daggers have adopted as their own. You don’t want to be that annoying person who fishes for information because A, you know they won’t tell you, and B, you need to be in the moment and enjoy it, so instead, you ask for a rundown of Karaoke night.

Bradley animatedly tells you about each of the Dagger’s very unsuccessful attempts to beat his record as Javy brings the food over. Seven burritos are stacked high on the serving tray, and before you can ask who the extra ones are for, you feel a hand on your back.

Mickey is smiling down at you, holding a single red rose. “This is an apology for the Laura incident,” he says, handing you the flower and dipping to kiss your cheek. 

Reuben follows, doing exactly the same but stating, “This is an apology for the Nicole incident.”

Finally, Bob follows suit and explains, “This is an apology for the Kate incident.”

You laugh to hide the well of emotion that brings tears to your eyes. Jake is genuinely taking this seriously, and for all he knows, you might not be on the same page. He’s taking a considerable risk. 

“So you’re all involved,” you say. 

“Yep,” Fanboy says, sitting across from you. 

“And just like Jake said,” Payback smirks, “we can see how much you hate that we know what’s going on and you don’t.”

Immaturely, you sneer mockingly at him, “Ooo, you all know a secret,” you say, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. But despite the jests and your outward irritation, something a lot like affection blooms in your chest as you realize how well Jake knows you. 

Apparently, Natasha is helping with whatever is happening next because as she quickly swallows the last bite of her breakfast, she announces she has to ‘run an errand’ and leaves you in the capable hands of the guys.

You ride with Javy in his 1968 Chevy C10, realizing the next part of this scheme must be a big deal because he only brings out the deep red glossed vehicle for special occasions.  Bradley follows in the Bronco with Bob, Mickey, and Reuben, and you honestly have no idea where you're headed or why everyone is tagging along. 

The drive takes you out of the city. Desert and cacti are the only scenery for a while. The conversation is light, Javy mostly being a fanboy over Natasha, and it’s beautiful and endearing to hear how he talks about her. He’s completely besotted. 

You see the small cluster of hangers up ahead, and you know that's your destination before Javy pulls off the road and makes his way to the furthest hanger.

“Why is this a team outing?” you ask as he drives across the airfield. 

“It doesn’t need to be,” Coyote laughs. “But if all goes to plan, Bob agreed to drive Jake’s car back to town. And if it doesn’t, the others…well, they’re here to watch Jake burn-in.”

“So Jake’s here?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” Javy nods, pulling into a hanger beside an old P-51 Mustang. 

“Mav’s?” you ask. 

“You know it,” he smiles, shuts off the engine, and turns to face you. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll drive you out of here right now. Take you wherever you wanna go. But Jake is my boy, and I’ll be the first to admit he’s got a shitty track record.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “But I promise, he’s different when it comes to you and deserves a chance to show you.”

You inhale deeply, holding it in for a loaded pause. “Okay,” you exhale, “but get the guys out of here. I don’t want an audience.” 

“Done.”

Coyote hops out of the car, and slowly you follow. The guys grumble at being ushered away while you walk around the plane admiring the pristine condition, wondering how Maverick keeps it up with everything else he has going on.

Your step falters as you round the front of the plane. Jake is standing a few feet away, one hand behind his back with a bashful smile.

“I hear I owe you an apology,” you say.

“We both made some mistakes,” he shrugs.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you sigh. “I should have listened to you or at least given you the chance to explain yourself. I truly am sorry.” 

He strides toward you, a man with a purpose, and cups your cheek with one hand. He draws you to him as he dips to kiss you softly. It’s short but tender, and he pulls away, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “But I wasn’t sure you’d ever let me do that again, and I needed to…” 

You cut him off with a searing kiss, deepening it with a swipe of your tongue and a hand around the back of his neck.

Way too soon, he mumbles, “Wait, wait,” against your mouth.

Reluctantly, you release him, taking a half step back to be able to see him better.

“I have this whole thing planned out, and you're ruining it,” he admonishes playfully. 

You chuckle. “Sorry, I’ll stop kissing you.” 

“Please,” he says, nodding, then quickly correcting himself, “but only for a minute or two.” He sweetly pecks your lips and pulls a single red rose from behind his back. 

You accept, bringing it to your nose to inhale the sickly sweet aroma. “So, who’s this an apology for?”

“Not a who,” he says. “It’s an apology for me breaking the rules and going about this all wrong. When I suggested a weekend pass and promised it wouldn’t affect our work, I didn’t know what I know now.”

“Which is?” 

“I know now that a weekend with you will never be enough. I know that at the time, I was willing to take whatever I could get. I wanted you in any way I could have you, and in true Hangman style, I didn’t think, or maybe care, about the aftermath.”

“Neither of us did,” you admit. You had thought about the consequences, but the idea of being with Jake, even for the briefest time, outweighed the negatives. 

“I know now that I don’t want you for a weekend, Cosmo, and I don’t want you to be a secret I have to keep. I want to tell the world you’re mine, and I’m yours. I want you as more than a friend and colleague. I want to be with you for a lifetime or as long as you’ll put up with me.”

You smile, “a lifetime sounds like a good place to start.”

He snatches the flower from your hands, throwing it over your shoulder before grabbing your waist and tugging you into him. “Can I kiss you now?” you jest.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Butterflies do cartwheels in your stomach, his hands hold you tightly, and every brush of your tongues feels like a promise for the future.

Jake groans, and you melt into him. An approaching car engine is ambient noise until applause and wolf whistles drown it out. Jake doesn’t release you until Coyote slaps him on the back.

Natasha steps out of the car, smiling happily, and Javy greets her with a sweet kiss.

“You missed it,” you tell her as she approaches. 

“Didn’t miss a thing,” she smirks, shaking her phone and showing you she’s connected to a video call with Javy. 

You should have guessed. You yank her into a too-tight hug, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispers, kissing the side of your head. “But you might not want to thank me yet.”

She walks back to the car and around to the trunk, where she pulls out a suitcase that Javy kindly takes from her and carries over to Jake. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, suspiciously. 

“I wanted more time with you at the hotel,” Jake explains. “I wasn’t ready for it to end, and I hate that it ended the way it did so,” he draws the word out, a hint of nerves in his tone. He slaps the front of the plane before flinching immediately. It takes half a second to realize that Mav is probably watching from somewhere - or at the very least, Jake can hear your commanding officer chewing him out for the inappropriate treatment of his aircraft. “What do you say to a week on my family’s ranch?”

The fact that you're standing beside Maverick’s P-51 means he’s already got the leave approved.

“I say,” you pause, keeping your face neutral just to mess with Jake a little longer. “Take me away, Cowboy.”

Jake’s smile beams brighter than you’ve ever seen. “My family are gonna love you.” 

End.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

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[scary-grace]

the crying game - a shigaraki x f!reader oneshot

You gave up on love a long time ago, but you keep getting invited to weddings, and after eleven receptions spent at the single's table, you're almost at the end of your rope -- until first-time wedding guest Shigaraki Tomura asks you to show him how it's done. (5.7k words, modern AU, no quirks.)

This fic is for @arslansenkai, who saw my milestone post and requested the prompts ‘holding hands’ + ‘listening to the other’s heartbeat’ + ‘whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin’ from this list. Thank you so much for the prompt! I really enjoyed writing it and I swear all three of your prompts made it in here or there.

You hate weddings. You don’t remember when you started hating them, but you know why you started – right around the time when you realized that you’d never have another one of your own, that you’d always be attending someone else’s, and doing that all by yourself, too. Add in the cost of a new dress and new shoes (God forbid you wear the same thing twice in one year) and travel accommodations and a wedding present, and weddings become a big, expensive, depressing waste of a weekend. No matter how much you like the people who are getting married.

And you do like them, this time, even though they’re the twelfth couple from your department at Ultra, Inc. to get married in the last three years. Ochako and Himiko are the kind of couple who shouldn’t make sense, but somehow do – the kind of against-all-odds couple who’d make you believe in love if you didn’t know better. You were rooting for them, you’re glad they’re together, and getting their save-the-date still made you want to drown yourself in the toilet. You opted to drown in vodka instead. You need help.

You need help, and you’re going to get it. After this wedding. So you can figure out how to say no the next time you get an invite. Because out of all the indignities about going single to a wedding, getting stuck at the same table at the wedding reception as the other people who couldn’t snare a date is possibly the worst.

Most couples have at least a few single friends, but Himiko and Ochako are the last of their respective circles to couple up. Or almost-last. The singles table at their wedding included exactly five people at the start of the reception. You, an older woman named Magne, a guy your age whose place-card says Todoroki Touya but insisted that he goes by Dabi, another guy your age whose place-card says Takami Keigo but insisted you call him Hawks, and one more guy your age whose place-card says Shigaraki Tomura and who barely looked up when you introduced yourself.

It wasn’t the worst singles table you’d ever sat at, at the start. Then Magne bailed to sit with somebody she knew at a different table, and Dabi and Hawks hit it off and then snuck off to God knows where, and then it was just you and Shigaraki sitting at your table in the far back corner of the reception hall. That’s how it’s been for an hour, and the only interaction the two of you have had is when you’ve passed the table’s bottle of champagne back and forth, filling your glasses and then draining them out of sync. It’s depressing. After going to eleven weddings in two years, you can hang in there with the best of them, but you’re pretty sure you’re about to crack.

Your glass is empty, and when you reach for the bottle, you find that it’s empty, too. You want to get more, but you’re not going to look like a lush in front of your weird tablemate. “Hey,” you say, and Shigaraki looks up from the screen of his Switch. “This is empty. I’ll go get more if you want it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shigaraki says. You raise your eyebrows. “This will suck just as bad whether I’m wasted or not.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “But then you’ll be able to pretend it sucks because you’re wasted, not because you’re stuck at the singles table yet again.”

“Yet again? Sounds like you’re projecting,” Shigaraki says. You shrug. It would hurt more if you hadn’t heard the same thing from at least one person at the last three weddings you went to – usually towards the end of the reception, usually when everybody’s getting weepy and ridiculous. You’re ahead of schedule this time. “Sure. I’ll take more.”

Two tables over, a group of happy couples have abandoned their champagne bucket in favor of the dance floor – or the photo booth, or something. You swap your empty bottle for their full one and come back over, hoping Shigaraki will have gone back to his game and forgotten you existed. No such luck. He’s sitting up, watching you, as you sit down, fill your glass, and slide the bottle back across the table to Shigaraki. “Yet again,” he repeats. You down half your glass in a single swallow. “I’m only halfway through the first one of these stupid things I’ve been to and I’m already done. How many times have you put yourself through it?”

“Eleven,” you say. Shigaraki’s red eyes widen. “No, that’s just people from work. If I count friends from school, it’s, uh – sixteen.”

“If you’re this miserable, stop going.”

“Is that what you do?” you challenge. “When your friends invite you to celebrate the happiest day of their lives, you just don’t go?”

“My friends know better than to invite me to shit like this.” Shigaraki copies you and drains half his glass in one go. “I wouldn’t have come to this one, except Toga critical-hit me with this guilt trip about how we’re her family and she needs her family to be here –”

You did notice a conspicuous lack of parents or relatives on Toga’s side of the aisle. “And I said I’d go if I didn’t have to go alone,” Shigaraki continues. “Dabi was supposed to be doing time with me. Figures he’d score a hookup and bolt.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you say. They barely talked when Dabi was sitting here. “How do you know Himiko?”

“Juvie,” Shigaraki says, and you’re not sober enough to keep the surprise from showing all over your face. He snickers. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head. “Is that where you know Dabi from?”

“And Spinner,” Shigaraki says, pointing out a purple-haired guy at a different table. “And Twice. Magne was a peer counselor or something. If I hadn’t met them I probably would have killed myself in there.”

You can’t stop your surprise from showing this time, either. Shigaraki grimaces. “Don’t read into that.”

“No promises,” you say. Shigaraki snorts and lifts his glass partway, then drains it. “So you’ve known each other for a while.”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re friends with the girlfriend. Wife.” Shigaraki refills his glass again, but leaves it alone for the time being. “How long have you known her?”

“Work,” you say, then facepalm. You’re lucky you manage to do it with the hand not holding your glass of champagne. “Two years or so. I already worked there when she was hired. I kind of watched the whole thing with Himiko from the sidelines.”

That’s how you always watch relationships play out at work, or anywhere, really. Pretending to be happy, really being happy, and still feeling like you’re pulling a tarp over the sinkhole in your chest. “So the wife invited you and you showed up even though you knew you’d hate it,” Shigaraki concludes. “You’re crazier than me. I’m never going to another one of these things again.”

“Not even your own?”

“Do I look like the kind of person somebody marries?” Shigaraki finishes his whole glass in a single swallow. You were thinking about trying to keep up with him, but if you try that, you’ll throw up all over the dress you had to buy, which is probably dry-clean only or something worse. “I don’t get why anyone goes to these things.”

“They’re supposed to be fun,” you say. You feel bad picking on Ochako’s wedding. It’s not Ochako’s fault that you’re single, bitter about it, and this close to drunk on alcohol she paid for. “But they’re usually only fun if you go with someone.”

“I went with somebody. He ditched me to hook up with a guy who named himself after a bird.”

You snicker at that. “I meant a date,” you clarify. “If your date ditches you to hook up, then you’ve got bigger problems than whether you’re having fun at a wedding.”

“He’s not my date. I’m not gay.” Shigaraki looks up. “Did you think I was gay?”

“I really didn’t – think,” you admit. You didn’t come to the wedding looking for a hookup. If you had, you’d have tried to put a move on Hawks before Dabi could. “The activities are more fun with a date.”

“Activities?” Shigaraki asks. “Like games?”

“Uh, sometimes,” you say. You know Ochako set up lawn games outside, and the sun won’t set for a while. “Sometimes there’s an art project you’re supposed to do for the couple, as a keepsake or something. I went to one last year where you were supposed to write a good wish, fold it into a paper crane, and then hang it off a branch of this tree they’d bought.”

“Too much work. What else?”

“Dancing,” you say, although you felt like that was pretty obvious. “And Himiko and Ochako have a photo booth.”

Shigaraki’s nose wrinkles. “Why?”

“As a keepsake for the guests, I guess,” you say. “Again. More of a couple thing.”

“Huh.” Shigaraki pours half a glass this time but still finishes it in one swallow. Then he stands up. “Let’s do it.”

You freeze in the act of pouring yourself another glass. “What?”

“I’m never coming to another wedding. You’re bored and drunk –”

“I’m not the one who’s been treating glasses like shots.”

“So let’s do it,” Shigaraki says, like you didn’t say a word. “If this is the last one I go to, I want to get my money’s worth. Do you have something better to do?”

You were this close to taking out your phone and opening up Tinder. You shake your head. “Finish that,” Shigaraki says, and you finish the half-glass you just poured and get to your feet. “Where’s the stupid photo booth?”

You lead the way. Even in heels, you’re faster than Shigaraki – he’s meandering a little bit, possibly due to all the champagne. You reach out and grab his hand to pull him back on course. He jumps, stumbles into an empty table, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”

“You wanted the wedding date experience. Holding hands is included.” At least you think it should be. If you had a real date you’d want to hold hands with them. Shigaraki follows you a little more closely than before as you make your way up to the photo booth. “It looks like they have props. Should we use them?”

Shigaraki hasn’t let go of your hand. He picks up a fake mustache on a stick. “Who would use this?”

“Me, maybe?” If you had a wedding date, you’d want to be spontaneous and fun. You lift it out of his hand and hold it up to your face. “What do you think?”

“No.” Shigaraki takes it away, puts it back, and picks up a flower crown. “Here.”

“No, that’s for you,” you say. Shigaraki argues, but you pluck it out of his hand and settle it on his head anyway. “See? It looks great.”

“If Dabi sees me wearing this stupid thing –”

“He’ll be jealous,” you say. The crown would look stupid on Dabi’s spiky black hair, but the pastel shades of the flowers look nice with Shigaraki’s blue-grey hair. “Okay. Now you can pick one for me. I’ll even do the mustache.”

“No,” Shigaraki says again. He sorts through the props and comes up with a headband with bunny ears. “This one.”

You two are going to look ridiculous. It’s hard not to laugh, and you haven’t even seen the full effect yet. You put on the headband, thankful that you went for a low-effort hairstyle that’s easy to fix, then pull the curtain on the photo booth and wedge yourself into it. Shigaraki follows you in.

It’s a really tight fit. You were pretty sure the photo booth was a couple activity, but now you’re sure – you love your friends, but you wouldn’t want to end up most of the way into any of their laps. You have to stop holding hands to try to get situated, and while you’re still trying to figure yourselves out, the photo booth takes the first picture. Shigaraki grimaces. “Wait. That probably looked stupid. Where –”

The booth takes the second picture while he’s talking, and you snort. There’s about a ten-second interval to get positioned correctly. You manage to face front in time, but your elbow lands on Shigaraki’s thigh as you’re trying to steady yourself, and he flinches away. You drop out of the frame as the booth snaps the third photo, and it occurs to you that the only part of you visible in the picture will be the bunny ears. Based on the location of the ears in relation to Shigaraki’s body, it’s going to look pretty compromising. You hope no one sees that picture. Ever.

Shigaraki’s snickering as you sit up. “Nice one. I want a copy of – hey!”

You’ve elbowed him on purpose this time, just in time for the fourth photo. The fifth photo’s probably going to be blurry. You’re both lightly shoving each other, trying to get each other out of your personal space without pushing either of you out of the photo booth itself. The sixth photo’s probably the only one that’s worth anything, and it won’t be very good, either – Shigaraki’s flower crown is off-kilter, and you’re pretty sure your headband’s falling off. The printer begins to whir, and the two of you sit in silence as the booth prints out two sets of photos. You pick one up. Shigaraki takes the other. A second later, you’re both laughing.

The photos look even worse than you thought, and somehow that makes them better. The photo where it’s just your ears in the frame features Shigaraki staring down into his lap, looking all kinds of startled, while the photo where you’re pushing each other is blurry enough to be a still from a found-footage horror movie. In your opinion, the first photo is the funniest. “We look like that meme with the cat,” you wheeze. “The one with the loading circle over its head.”

“The last one looks like a mug shot,” Shigaraki says, his laughter so raspy that it borders on a witch’s cackle. “After a bar fight –”

The idea of getting in a bar fight in your wedding outfit sets you off. You slump sideways at an angle and end up with your head against his chest for a few seconds, surprised that you can hear his heartbeat and surprised at how fast it’s beating. “Which of us won?”

“We both lost,” Shigaraki says, and you laugh harder. The two of you look disheveled as hell, and not from anything fun. “Number two is the worst one. You look good and I look like a dumbass.”

“You just had your mouth open,” you say, wiping your eyes. You’re probably smearing your makeup, but who gives a shit. You didn’t do that good of a job on it anyway. “Anyway, that’s the wedding photo booth experience. What do you think?”

“I want to go again,” Shigaraki says. This time, you manage to turn to stare at him without throwing any elbows. “For good ones. No way do people’s girlfriends let them leave with just the stupid ones.”

You would, but then again, there’s not a big enough difference between how you look in bad photos and how you look in good ones for it to matter. “We can do one more,” you agree. “Let’s lose the props.”

Without the flower crown and bunny ears, the silliness factor drops significantly. Now you look less like a couple of drunk clowns pretending to be a couple and more like two people who could actually be together. It weirds you out, but you promised the whole wedding date experience. In the seconds before the first flash goes off, you tilt your head onto Shigaraki’s shoulder.

Shigaraki startles, and as soon as the flash goes off, he pushes you away – but only so he can tilt sideways. He’s taller than you, enough so his cheek rests against the top of your head. Four photos left. When you glances over at Shigaraki, you see that his tie’s crooked, so you fix it for him, burning another photo in the bargain. The fourth photo is Shigaraki shifting the neckline of your dress to cover your bra strap, which is weird but plausible for a couple’s photo booth experience. He has a birthmark just below the right corner of his mouth. You aim for it when you kiss his cheek quickly for the fifth photo.

Shigaraki startles again, and you sit back – but not too far. You’re still close enough that Shigaraki only has to lean forward a few inches for his lips to meet yours.

You weren’t planning to kiss him. It’s not much of a kiss, and it doesn’t last long, but your heart is still racing as the booth spits out your second sheet of photos. You’re almost scared to look. Shigaraki’s hesitant, too, and when you both flip the sheets over to check, he says exactly what you’re thinking. “Shit.”

The first set of photos were a joke. The second set – either you and Shigaraki are really good actors or you’re both really drunk, because they look way too plausible for comfort. The ones where you’re fussing over each other’s clothes are probably the worst offenders on that front, but you’re most alarmed by the last two. You’re smiling as you kiss his cheek. You can see the corner of your mouth turned up. And you didn’t see where Shigaraki’s hand was when he kissed you, but the photo’s preserved the evidence. It’s right by the side of your face, curved like he wants to cradle your jaw in his hand.

Exactly sixty seconds ago, the two of you were screwing around in here. Now it feels like there’s static running back and forth between you, and you scramble out of the booth in a hurry, almost tripping over your feet. Shigaraki gets out, too, leaning against the booth to steady himself. Without a word, he takes both of your sets of photos and tucks them into his suit jacket along with his sets, then fills your suddenly-empty hand with his own. “Now what?”

The static shock is between your hands now. “My hand is humming,” you say, like an idiot, and Shigaraki tightens his grip. “Um, I think there are some games outside.”

“Fine.”

It’s warm outside, but getting cooler as the sun begins to set. There are a lot of games, and most of them are being ignored in favor of a bunch of the goofiest guys from your office playing cornhole while their girlfriends/boyfriends watch. You determine instantly that you’re not coordinated enough for anything that involves throwing something, which leaves you exactly one option. “How about that one?”

“Jenga?”

“Jenga XL,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “My hand-eye coordination’s too bad right now for a throwing game. This will be safer.”

Whoever was playing the oversized Jenga last left the blocks in a heap. You and Shigaraki can’t hold hands while you stack them up, and as you do, your assumption that Jenga would be safer than something else gets tested in the most embarrassing way possible – and of course Shigaraki points it out. “You’re short. If this thing falls on you it’ll flatten you.”

“It won’t fall,” you say with more confidence than you feel. “I’m good at this.”

“Go first, then, if you’re so good at it.”

You get a block out without trouble, but you have to rely on Shigaraki to re-stack it for you, which he does, wearing a really frustrating smirk. “You should have worn taller shoes.”

“I can’t walk in taller shoes,” you say. “Or dance. Are you going to want to dance?”

“If it’s part of the wedding date experience, yeah.” Shigaraki carefully extracts his block and sets it on top of the tower. He’s not all that much taller than you. If the game goes on long enough, he’ll have trouble re-stacking. “They don’t exactly teach dance classes in juvie.”

“It’s not that kind of dancing,” you say. Shigaraki looks relieved. “If it’s going to be that kind of dancing, they warn you on the invitation. A friend of mine who got married last year only played swing music at her reception. She sent out a certificate for free lessons with her save-the-date.”

“Control issues?”

“I think she just wanted stuff her way,” you say. You ease another block out of the tower and hand it over to Shigaraki. “Hers was nice. Everything ran on time, and she sent out thank-you notes six weeks after the wedding.”

Shigaraki stacks your block, then pulls out one of his own. You realize with a jolt that he’s missing the index and middle fingers from his left hand. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been to?”

“Um.” You don’t want to say this. You really don’t – but you drank too much, and you should be honest. “Mine.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced,” you say. “Three months after the wedding. I didn’t have the ring on long enough to get a tan line.”

Shigaraki doesn’t say anything. The tower is getting unstable, so you’re careful as you wiggle out one of the side blocks on a row about halfway up. You keep an eye on Shigaraki’s shadow as you do it, bracing yourself for him to walk away. Would you walk away if he told you he was divorced? No, but you’re divorced, so it matters less to you. “Three months,” Shigaraki repeats. “How’d that happen?”

“You’re lucky you aren’t asking me that six years ago,” you say. “With how much I drank tonight, I’d have gone off.”

“Go off. I want to hear it.” Shigaraki actually looks interested. “Anyone who fucks this up deserves it.”

He’s gestures at you. You don’t know what to make of that, and you’ve got a block halfway out of the tower. You go back to work on it. “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

“I know,” Shigaraki says. “How’d it happen?”

“This is pathetic,” you warn. Shigaraki gestures for you to go on. You sigh. “We were together since high school. Midway through college I got a bad feeling that we were drifting apart and I couldn’t take the suspense, so I tried to end it. And he popped the question. We got married six months later and three months after that he knocked up my cousin.”

“Damn,” Shigaraki remarks.

“They’re still together,” you say. “The kid’s in primary school this year. And every year around the holidays my aunt and my cousin pick a fight with me about how I need to be nicer to him, because we’re all a family now.”

You finally manage to extract the block, and Shigaraki takes it from you before you can offer it to him. You can’t read his expression, and just like when you sensed things with your ex were falling apart, you can’t take the suspense. “Pathetic?” you prompt.

“Your ex is a loser.”

“You haven’t seen what my cousin looks like.”

“He’s still a loser,” Shigaraki says. He pulls out a block. “I get it, though.”

Your stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

“If my girlfriend was leaving me because I was dicking around, I might do something like that, too.” Shigaraki sets his block on top of the tower. Your options for blocks to pull are getting slimmer by the turn. “Popping the question. Not knocking up your cousin.”

“I have other cousins,” you say. Shigaraki snorts. “I thought you said you weren’t getting married.”

“I said nobody was going to marry me,” Shigaraki corrects. What’s the difference? “Your turn.”

You’re out of blocks at shoulder height. And chest height. And waist height. You crouch down instead, doing your best to balance in your heels, and start trying to wiggle a block loose on the fourth level up from the ground. Shigaraki’s voice follows you down. “If you were ready to ditch him, why did you say yes?”

Now you’re at a real risk of crying. Six years of intermittent only-when-you’ve-got-the-money counseling hasn’t made a dent in this one thing. You remind yourself that Shigaraki can’t see your face and work on keeping your voice steady. “I was the one who asked him out in the first place, back in high school. I always had this weird sense that we wouldn’t be together if I hadn’t. So when he proposed I thought it meant he was choosing me, like I chose him. Which was a stupid reason to say yes.”

You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe so badly that you were worth it, and now you’re divorced at twenty-eight, barely talking to the half of your family that took your cousin’s side, going on a grand total of one real date in the entire time since then that you got up and left partway through because you couldn’t fake hope or excitement for one second longer. The kiss you planted on Shigaraki in the photo both was the most action you’ve gotten in two years, and you’ve put more effort into the fake wedding-date experience than you have into even looking for a hookup. You’re pathetic. This is pathetic. You should be embarrassed, and you are.

But you got your stupid block out. You straighten up and hold it out to Shigaraki, who stacks it for you. You can’t read his expression, and you’re a little too dysregulated to be anything but blunt. “That’s my tragic backstory. What’s your damage?”

“What, going to juvie doesn’t count?” Shigaraki crouches down to pull a block from the opposite side of the same row you just weakened. He’s doing it right-handed; he’s waving his left with its missing fingers at you. “This doesn’t count? The fact that I don’t have eyebrows doesn’t count? Your problem is being a dumb kid with a shitty family and a shitty ex. My problem is that I exist. We’re not the same.”

He straightens up and drops his block on top of the tower. You can see that he’s tenser than before, and you can’t think of anything to say that won’t sound patronizing. “I didn’t notice about the eyebrows until you said something.”

“Great.” Shigaraki won’t look at you. “Your turn.”

You crouch down again. The row below the row Shigaraki just knocked down to one block seems like the safest bet. You start pulling at it, frustrated at the way it sticks. “Careful,” Shigaraki says after a second. “If you don’t watch out –”

The tower topples. You’re crouched down, with no chance of getting out of the way in time, and all you can do is sit there, stunned, while three dozen giant Jenga blocks crash down around your head. The corner of one catches your temple, digs in, and you flinch. But the blocks are light. You’re startled, and humiliated, and possibly bleeding a little bit, but you’re fine. “Are you okay?” Shigaraki asks. You give a thumbs-up, and he crouches down next to you. “I don’t believe you. You look – shit, your face is bleeding.”

“I’m good,” you say. “It’s a good thing we took pictures already. This is not part of the wedding-date experience.”

“I’m done with that,” Shigaraki says, and your heart sinks. Even though it shouldn’t. Even though none of this mattered to begin with, even though you know better, you hoped. You weren’t hoping for anything much – just to keep having fun, just to not spend the rest of the wedding alone. “You have a purse, right? Do you have napkins in there or something?”

“Your suit comes with a pocket square.” You pluck it out of his pocket and press it to your temple. “I’ll pay for cleaning it.”

“Don’t bother. It was my dad’s. He doesn’t have much use for it in solitary.”

Shigaraki helps you up while you’re still processing that one and tugs you away from the wreckage of the Jenga tower, onto a bench. The view of the sunset is really good from here. Further down the lawn, you can see Himiko and Ochako and their photographer doing a last round of pictures, and you slide your feet out of your shoes. It’s that point in the wedding. You’ll probably stay here for the rest of the night.

“Do you need ice?” Shigaraki asks. You shake your head. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe the fact that the sinkhole in your chest is eating the tarp you put over it just hurts more. “Do you still want to dance?”

“You said you were done with the wedding date thing.”

“Yeah. I’m done with the part where it’s fake.”

Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought you did. “What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” Shigaraki sounds annoyed. “I let you put a flower crown on me.”

“Is that some kind of mating ritual in juvie?” The instant you say it, you feel bad, but Shigaraki laughs. “If you’re trying to say something, say it. I don’t do very well with ambiguity on my best night and I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Same here. Otherwise I’d sit on this, and my friends would spend the rest of their lives listening to me bitch about how I didn’t ask out the girl from Toga’s wedding.” Shigaraki’s hand lifts from his lap, rises to his neck, then falls back. “I want to dance with you. Toga and her wife are having an after-party at their place, and I want you to come to it with me. And I want your number so we can hang out again sometime when we’re not wasted. Because I like you.”

You must have hit your head really hard. “We met three hours ago.”

“So? Toga said she knew she was going to marry the wife the first time they made eye contact,” Shigaraki says. That sounds like something Himiko would say. You’ve met her a few times at work parties and she’s always struck you as a little intense and a little off-the-wall. “Do you want to dance or not? Make up your mind.”

You want to say yes. What comes out is something really stupid, so stupid that you can’t look at him while you say it. “This is the kind of thing that happens to other people.”

“What, meeting somebody who asks you out?”

It sounds stupid when he says it like that. You keep his dad’s pocket square pressed to your temple and try to explain. “The whole thing where you meet somebody when you weren’t expecting to meet anybody and things click, at least on your end, and since you know it’s just on your end you try not to get your hopes up – but the other person tells you that it clicked for them, too –”

“That’s dumb.” Shigaraki doesn’t sound like he’s being mean. You could almost call it affectionate. “Forget who it happens to. I’m asking you out. Do you –”

Screw it. If this is some kind of hallucination, you want to enjoy it. If it’s real, you don’t want to miss out. You turn back to face Shigaraki. “Yes.”

He grins, and you notice a scar over his mouth, too. “Good. Now what?”

You think about kissing him. You decide to try hugging first, which involves getting at least as close to him as you did when you were in the photo booth, on purpose this time. Shigaraki isn’t particularly tall or bulky, but when you hug him, you’re surprised to notice that he’s hiding some muscle underneath his suit jacket. Kind of a lot of muscle. Huh. Shigaraki notices that you’re investigating a little bit. “What?” he asks, his mouth against your ear. “Did you think all I do is game?”

“I don’t know what you do all day,” you say. “We didn’t get to that part yet.”

“We will.” Shigaraki draws back from you, and you loosen your grip even as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. This time you see the kiss coming from a mile away, and this time, you lean in.

Everything’s different this time, except the thing that startles the two of you apart – the bright flash of a camera going off. “Tomura-kun!” Himiko squeals from somewhere nearby. “I told you you’d have fun at my wedding. Who is that? She’s so cute!”

For a second you’re worried Shigaraki doesn’t know your name, but he must have been paying more attention than you thought he was when you introduced yourself, because he introduces you to Toga without missing a beat. “She’s one of my coworkers,” Ochako explains, smiling at you. Even through the smile you can see the incredulity on her face, and you know you’ll be getting a lot of questions about this when she gets back from her honeymoon. “I’m so sorry we had to put you at that table. I wanted to put you with everybody from work, but they all had plus-ones –”

“It’s fine,” you say faintly. Himiko’s photographer takes another picture, this time of all four of you talking. “It worked out.”

“She’s coming to your party,” Shigaraki informs Himiko. “I invited her.”

“Oh, good!” Himiko turns her attention to you. “It’s going to be so fun! We have games and movies and we’re going to stay up all night.”

“You should come inside now,” Ochako says. “There are mosquitos out here, and we’re supposed to have cake soon –”

“And we’re going to do the Time Warp. I put that on the playlist for you special, Tomura-kun,” Himiko says. She glances at you. “It’s the only dance he knows.”

Shigaraki flushes, grimaces, but you tilt your head against his shoulder again, lacing his fingers with yours for the third time tonight. You don’t know what he does all day when he’s not at weddings he doesn’t want to go to. You don’t know if what he said about his dad being in solitary confinement was a joke or not. You don’t know what happened to his hand or where he got his scars, or even where his eyebrows went. But you know he likes you. You know you like him enough to give things a shot, at least for tonight, and that’s better than you’ve felt in a long time.

And you know he can dance, even if it’s only the Time Warp. For right now, you don’t need to know any more than that.

[vividxpages]

Hi, could you possibly do either 12 or 29 with smut ? 💙 pls.

a/n: I kind of combined these two, I hope you'll like them! <3

vivid's little autumn writing: If you want, you can now send me a number (or two combined!) from this list of visual prompts and I'll write a little drabble (fluffy and/or smutty, you decide) for it.🧸

🍂

Jace stepped into the apartment with an exhausted sigh on his lips.

Today had not been easy, but so was no day when his mother’s side of the family spent time with his grandfather’s second wife’s side. Jace despised those tense dinners, so unlike the ones he shared with you and his family, and by the end of it, he always felt ready to push one of his asshole uncles in front of a cars outside the restaurant.

All these awkward and double-sided conversations were reason enough for him to spare you and although you didn’t like to leave him alone in such bad company, you had let him go alone tonight. Jace pulled off his shoes eagerly before taking a quick look in the mirror. Now, this long-awaited evening with you began and he could shake it all off, your company enough to soothe the dark clouds away.

He could hear the quiet sound of the record player coming from the living room, your favorite album playing softly on its needle, but he willed himself to step into the bathroom quickly, to wash his hands and splash some water on his face.

He turned the lights on and stopped, looking at the small red heart drawn onto the mirror over the sink. He recognized the shade of your lipstick instantly, the color often adorning his neck if you had your way, and smiled as he washed his hands and looked at it. A warmth filled his chest at your attentiveness, the way you always knew he needed a little cheering-up after a family meeting like tonight.

With his steps already a little lighter, Jace walked down the hallway and melted once again at the sight greeting him. The living room was lit with dozens of candles, their warm light flickering over the walls and painting you in a golden glow.

You had curled up underneath a fluffy blanket on the couch, two half-filled white wine glasses on the table in front of you. At his entrance, you looked up from the book in your lap and beamed, lifting yourself up on your knees as Jace approached you. The blanket pooled down your body, only hidden by one of his sleeping shirts you liked to claim for yourself.

Without a word, Jace cupped the sides of your face and bent down, kissing you hungrily as if you two had not seen each other for days instead of just a few hours. You smiled into the kiss, happy to be reunited with him as one of his hands slid down your spine and pressed you closer against his chest.

“How was your evening?” You asked a little out of breath when you eventually separated, playing with his big hand in yours as he still towered over you.

Jace sighed, giving you a smile back. “Better now that I’m with you. I’ve seen your little message on the mirror.”

You chuckled as he sank down on the couch beside you, pulling your legs to rest in his lap as you handed him a glass. “If you can even call that a message.”

“Nonetheless, it made me happy.” Jace pointed out, his free hand drifting over your calf as he clinked glasses with you and took a sip. “Everything you do makes me happy.”

You watched him softly, your lips still tingling from his passionate kiss. “I can always see your exhaustion when you crossed ways with your uncles. Is there something else I can do? There’s still some dinner on the stove, if you want.”

Jace couldn’t believe he really had to ditch your homemade dinner for unpleasant company and bad jokes from his drunk uncle for a moment, his heart belonging to you aching to make it up to you, although he knew you’d never fault him for it.

He put down his wine glass and lovingly squeezed your knee. “Right now, I only need you, my love.”

You sighed happily as he leaned over to you and kissed you again, your back arching to meet his searching hands on you as they drifted over your back and down the sides of your waist. Shivers followed where he went and soon, you moaned quietly as his lips began to travel down your neck, suckling gently on the spots he knew were sensitive. The smell of your sweet shampoo and perfume made Jace all dizzy as he sunk down between your spread legs, the fluffy blankets having carelessly landed on the carpet in the process.

He felt the little shudders going through you when his hand snuck underneath your (his) shirt, ghosting over your warm belly until he could tease the band of your panties.

“Do you want to…” He whispered against your lips and you nodded eagerly, your foreheads pressing together and hot breath mingling as his hand disappeared inside of your underwear, a broken gasp leaving your kiss-bruised lips at the brush of his fingertip against your sensitive core.

“Jace…please…” You held on to his curls as he covered your body with his own, wanting nothing more to keep you underneath him all night and make love in the glow of the candlelight.

“You don’t have to beg for me, my love.” He mumbled, his hot gaze never leaving yours as he drew slow and tantalizing circles around your clit. “I’ve been wanting you all night long…now, let me enjoy you, baby.”

You melted into the pillows behind you, drawing your head back at his skilled hand in your panties, his hand playing with the edge of your shirt and lifting it higher and higher until he could touch your warm boob and groan at the taste of your bud around his lips.

You had been so good for him all night, had given him the warmest welcome he could’ve dreamed of…and now it was time to reward his sweet girl for it…

[nahoney22]

Hi ! Congrats on reaching 4000 followers, I'm so proud of you and you totally deserve it ! ❤️

Can I request a Crosshair x fem!reader one-shot with the prompt "every time i see you, i fall in love all over again" with Crosshair saying this to the reader after seeing her do something silly/cute (and they've been married for a few years already) ? I just feel like it'll be so cute 🥰

4000 Prompt List Celebration

Crosshair X Fem!Reader

word count: 1.2k

prompt

• “Every time I see you, I fall in love all over again.”

Warnings: Fluffy goodness, married couple, female reader, kisses, reader is a terrible cook, baking chaos, pet names, soft crosshair.

Authors note: so sorry for the wait my darling! @coraex , hopefully this is fluffy enough for you! Enjoy 💜

Life on Pabu was a paradise. The weather was always idyllic, the beach pristine, and your husband, well, he was nothing short of perfect. Yet, amidst this perfection, there lingered one imperfection: your baking skills, or rather, lack thereof. However, fate bestowed upon you an opportunity to fix this flaw while your husband ventured off on a supply run for the people.

And so with meticulous precision, you measured each ingredient, ensuring nothing fell short of perfection. You had even ventured to local vendors and handpicked the finest ingredients to craft a savoury delicacy introduced to you by Phee so naturally, you had to make it. Or give it a go, at least.

As the oven worked its magic, you stepped onto the balcony to your home, allowing the warm breeze to tousle your hair and the sun to caress your skin. Your gaze wandered to the sky, where the familiar silhouette of the Havoc Marauder emerged.

Remaining on the balcony, you observed as the men and the lone girl disembarked the ship. Crosshair, as always, locked eyes with your shared home, a smirk adorning his features. With a wave and a beckoning gesture, you invited him to join you inside.

As soon as the door hisses open, you eagerly dash across the threshold and leap into his arms. The man staggers momentarily before finding his footing, wrapping one of his long arms around you. "Missed me, pretty lady?"

"As always," you grin, leaning back to plant a kiss on his lips. "Even if it has only been a few hours."

"At least I got a hug this time," he chuckles, placing your feet back on the ground and bestowing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

Stepping back, you let Crosshair settle his belongings and smile fondly at him. "Well, last time, you went 'what? No hug for me?'" You recall, earning a playful eye roll as he places his helmet on a table next to a framed holophoto of your wedding day. Every time you look at it, nothing but fond and loving memories fill your mind.

"Very well," he declares, launching himself onto the couch, kicking his feet up on an ottoman. He pats the spot beside him, and you gratefully accept, snuggling into his side. "So, what are you trying to bake this time, then?"

"How did you know I was baking something?" you inquire, a hint of surprise in your voice, as you glance towards the kitchen where you were certain you had hidden any sign of evidence of you baking.

Then, he leans forward and as you think he’s about to steal a kiss, a mischievous glint dances in his eyes. His thumb playfully swipes across your cheek and nose, leaving behind traces of flour and sugar on his finger that he holds up that makes your face flush with embarrassment. "Ah," you chuckle, realising the source of the sensation.

He chuckles too, but his amusement is tinged with concern as he sniffs the air with a subtle frown. "How long have you been cooking for?"

Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, then back at him, you reply, "About two hours now. Should be ready in the next hour or so." Your grin conveys eagerness, but his expression remains neutral, a hint of skepticism lurking in his eyes.

“Babe, I think it’s already done.”

Again, you blink at him, momentarily taken aback. "Huh?"

“I smell burning.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the shrill sound of the smoke alarm fills the air, and you wince at the piercing noise. Cursing above the noise, you rush towards the kitchen, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and urgency.

“Gloves! GLOVES!” Crosshair's urgent voice rings out, but you're focused on the task at hand and it falls on deaf ears. Ignoring his plea, you yank open the oven door, confronting the billowing clouds of black smoke that engulf the kitchen. Fetching your hand inside the burning oven, you grab a hold of the tray of the baked goods, yanking it out with a small yelp.

Crosshair springs into action, swift and decisive. In a matter of seconds, he's by your side, checking on you with a mixture of concern and determination etched on his features. But after you insist you’re fine, he shifts his focus to the task at hand, pushing open the window to let the smoke out and silencing the alarm with a practiced hand.

“Come here, run your hand under the tap quickly,” he instructs, his voice gentle yet firm as he guides you towards the sink. Switching the water on, he ensures the temperature is just right before gently urging your hand underneath the cool stream.

“Crosshair, I’m fine. Honestly,” you assure him which was not even a lie because you were. It was pretty much a miracle you somehow didn’t burn yourself but as for the savoury treats… burnt to a crisp.

Crosshair moves away from you and inspects the smoking tray, blinking at the almost incinerated food. “Well, maybe they taste better than they look.”

“Oh, stow it,” you retort at his sarcastic comment, though you know he means it playfully. Disappointment paints your features as you glance at the charred remnants of your baking attempt. “Why can’t I cook anything?!”

“You can. Just, badly.”

“If you’re trying to hurt my feelings, you’re succeeding,” you pout, flinging water droplets from your hand at him before switching the tap off and folding your arms over your chest in annoyance.

Crosshair comes back your way and drapes an arm over your shoulder, using his hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “Don’t worry about it. You can try again?”

“What’s the point? I’ll probably burn our home down.”

“That’s true.”

You playfully slap his hand away and begin to tidy up your mess, Crosshair helping you along the way by washing up the tray before you move back to the sofa and faceplant onto it with a heavy sigh. The soft cushions provide some comfort as you let out a frustrated groan.

You hear the running water switch off, a small clang of him putting the washing away, and then faint steps towards you.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he starts, quickly earning a loud and unwilling-to-listen whine before you ask what about.

“That every time I see you, I fall in love all over again.”

You roll onto your back and stare up at him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you being soft?”

He laughs, warm and soft before he scoots you into his lap, taking a seat and peppering kisses over your cheek. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“I don’t care,” you giggle as you let him gush over you, “you are.” You grin at him with bright eyes. “But why did you say that?”

“It’s true,” he shrugs casually. “You may try and burn our home down all the time, but I love you all the same for it.”

You playfully squint at his jokey insult, but instead of trying to be smart and think of a retort, you kiss your husband and tell him exactly how you feel too, cherishing these moments of love and laughter.

“Let’s go out for dinner. It’s on me.” Now that’s an opportunity you won’t pass up on.

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[voxmortuus]

Hi! May I ask number #9 ☆ { holding } their shoulders for stability with Ben Leonard? I'm so in love with Ben! It's a crime there is nothing with him :( Thank you so much! ♡

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Ben Leonard x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ Savages ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 495 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Smut from behind | P-i-V | PWP | Rough quickie in the kitchen | Maybe a broken dish or two, but surely not his favorite coffee cup | Shoulder gripping | Internal Finish | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. Also side note Anon... if you're meaning anything else with Ben... well, no there is nothing else with this character, but if you mean the actor... I think you need to look up the cast of Savages because there is a ton of Aaron Taylor-Johnson out there. I hope you find more of his work you enjoy!! ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙ ⇘ My Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist ⇙

With a gasp you grab at what you can, feeling your skirt hiked up around your waist, you bite your lip, realizing there's nothing to grab, he thrusts himself into you with a force. Wimpering you accidently knock a dish off the counter, the plate breaks, nothing to worry about. But he moves that cup so you don't break his favorite cup. His thrusts are hard, they're fast, and they're with a sense of mission.

You don't quite care, you have the same idea in mind, and truthfully, this was your fault, you asked for it, teasing him unforgivingly. He warned you the moment you walked through that door he'd bend you over and he did just that. With each bare cocked thrust, came a whimper, the sound of skin thrusting and slapping against each other caused you to wimper a little more. Biting your lip you smile against the tightness of that lip bite.

There were no words that needed to be exchanged between you two other than a few escaped fucks. Your hand looses grip on the tile counter top and slips again, knocking off a cup. He snarls. Thrusting a little harder he's gripping at your hips but it just isn't enough. It's not the right angle, he can't get that perfect thrusting stability.

His hands snake up your back as he grips at your shoulders. Not only will this stop you from breaking his dishes, it will also give him a deeper penetration, and better momentum. With each thrust, you moan louder, filling that kitchen. Knowing this won't last for hours like you two usually do, you cherish this rough quickie with Ben. At times, you love when he gets rough and man handles the fuck out of you. At the same time, you love his soft, tender passionate side.

Gripping into your shoulders you bite your lip a little harder the faster he goes. Your moans and wimpers and become more frequent, your breaths become more shaky, your sounds are like music to this stoners ears. Your jaw slacks, your eyes flutter and that pressure quickly builds. Feeling as his pace quickens even more, you can tell he's about to bust himself. So maybe the pace was perfect.

A clench of your jaw, a harder grip on your shoulders, firmer thrusts, quicker pace, louder moans and grunts. Before you both know it, that quickie, was just that, a quickie, and your dripping all over the floor, from both of you. Biting your lip, you chuckle. Feeling as he slows his pace before pausing a moment and slipping from between your folds.

Once you take a moment to breath, you stand up, feeling the mess start to slip down your legs, you turn around and look at him with a smirk, he looks at the floor then to you and hands you the broom and dustpan. You chuckle, nod, and proceed to clean up your mess... in more than one way.

[trashmouth-richie]

the boy is mine // ziggy’s version ♡

@carolmunson prompt

♡firstly, i’m so excited about this, for the unification this could have for all of us fandom wide— hopefully there are more ideas like this in the future 💕

tw: depictions of hard times, established relationship, blue collar (?) vibes, money troubles, but you’re in love so it’s a non issue. fluffy, illusions to smut but nothing mentioned.

1.3k

the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer.

props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook.

dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order):- "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" - "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true."- "and you like that?"- "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

Birthdays.

Something rarely celebrated between the two of you. Even though you both agree every year would be different, every new year’s resolution—sworn to do it, but always falling short.

Until this year.

It wasn’t a pony or a working television, and still with the daily struggle of bills piling up and work slowing down— Eddie promised himself, your day would be special.

He dipped into the ‘broken window’ fund— started when some little shits tossed rocks at the “freak’s house”. It consisted of an empty pickle jar that lived in the same dark bottom cabinet holding the potatoes.

Just a few bucks, that’s all he would need until payday on friday.

The shopping basket was nearly pathetic looking as he scoured aisles for a special treat, realizing he had come up short when he needed an extra few bucks for gas.

Putting back the cake mix, the card, and a pack of twizzlers—Eddie left the store with a single can of vanilla frosting, the off brand kind.

He rushed home, hoping to still have enough time to beat you there before your shift ended at work.

Scrounging for the small notebook you got him for christmas, he flipped through the pages filled with past conversations about the pros and cons of leaving the trailer park, a forgotten list for groceries, and an even shorter list of bills that could be pushed back a few days.

He finally finds a clean sheet, clear of pen marks and gets to work. His hands flew with D&D esque inspired calligraphy, scrawling “happy birthday baby!” with a tiny jagged heart at the bottom with his initials.

A car door slams on creaky hinges and he knew you were home before even hearing your soft footsteps on the worn concrete— giving him only seconds to do a quick sniff of his pits and rake through his hair with his fingers— rings getting stuck along the way.

Your keys jingle on your finger as you lug your purse by its strap, nearly to the ground like you were walking a dog on a leash.

“There she is,”

The same cheesy charmer line he had greeted you with since you were teens meeting between classes by your locker, faces wedged almost as one to kiss as much as you could before being late. Hormones on fire.

Eddie ‘benjamin button’ Munson aged backwards, you were sure of it. Where you looked exhausted at any given hour, Eddie's puppy dog eyes grew bigger every day, not a single wrinkle on his cherub face.

“Hey babe,” you yawned with a hand covering your mouth, “did’y have a good day?”

His smile, all dimples and porcelain teeth stretched a mile wide along with his arms as you walked into them, pressing your cheek to the middle of his chest, arms slung lazy on his hips.

“Always a good day babe, never bad. And..someone, not sure who, has a birthday.”

Lifting your head his chin is dipped to you, “someone doesn’t like their birthday, Eddie— it’s a waste.”

You never had, it was never happy before Eddie— stemming from divorced parents fighting about which one should pick up the cake, and who was buying the gifts because ‘I did it last year’ which ultimately dissolved into you telling them not to worry about it because it was just another day.

“Aw don’t be like that,” Eddie frowns, “that’s not even true.”

You grumble into his shirt tossing your head further into him inhaling his scent. He kisses your hairline and strokes your back before working to remove your coat.

“Five years we’ve been together, it’s time we celebrate shit, sweetheart.”

Mumbling a drawn out ‘fiiine’ into him he tips your chin, with a curl of his forefinger, a little smirk on his lips.

“You’re really cute when you pout y’know it?”

“and you like that?”

His lips slot against yours, and you hum with content, “oh darlin’” he says with a fake southern drawl, “I love it.”

-

The tub was filled with the warmest temperature the water heater would allow— which wasn’t a lot, but still, it felt nice on your sore muscles from your shift at the same plant both Eddie and Wayne worked at, opposite shifts from you.

Eddie’s rings clacked on the plastic edge as he slid his long legs around yours into the water, sitting on the other end of the tub. He had helped you undress, hanging your coat on the back of a chair, giving you the beautiful homemade card that made tears spring to your eyes.

He followed behind you into the bathroom, running the water and putting the drain stopper into the drain before he ran back out to the kitchen returning with arms filled with stuff that he kept hidden from you until you were comfortably sitting in the cramped bathtub.

He plugged in an emerald strand of colorful christmas lights that you didn’t even know you had. It filled the cluttered countertop, weaving around the bar of soap and kitchen cup designated for holding your toothbrushes, lighting the bathroom in a cozy Christmas ambience… in April.

“We ran out of like, nice cups— is this okay?” He asked before pouring a can of Busch light into two red cups that were nabbed from Benny’s before it shut down.

Scrunching your face you move your arms from the depths of the water to reach out for his extended offering of warm beer, “when have we ever had nice cups?”

He laughed shrugging, “yeah, you’re right.”

Sitting square in front of you, long legs bent and wide open, Eddie holds up his cup in a cheers, “to you, my love, my sweet beautiful hotter than hell girl who for some reason fell for my charm, happy birthday.”

Clinking a his cup with yours you both smile before taking a swig of the cheap warm beer.

“mm, that’s nice.. what year?” you tease, never even having wine in your life.

He plays along like he always does, swirling the cup and putting the tip of his nose to the rim, “ah yes, a refined 1989 I believe— a good year for Busch I've heard.”

You both laugh until your sides ache. This is why you adored him, making a normal day special by just being him—corny, cheesy, poor— and you had never been happier.

“Oh, wait!” he exclaimed, reaching out of the tub, ribs stretching taunt against his skin, soap sliding down them.

He grabs a lighter from the counter and opens the tub of frosting. Brandishing a white waxed candle tucked behind his ear with the flair of a magician, he plants it in the center before lighting the wick and sitting down roughly in the tub, water splashing onto the floor.

The flame lit up his features, his tongue poked out in concentration, the yellow light filling his dark pudding eyes with a boyish glee, and then they met yours.

“Should I sing?”

You shake your head, happy tears stinging your eyes, “no, this is perfect,”

“Well make a wish.”

You close your eyes tight not knowing what to wish for because all you’ve ever wanted is right in front of you. Blowing out the candle you lean forward and kiss him square on the mouth, hard and deep.

The beer tipped into the tub and was long forgotten as your lips worked down his neck, wet strands of hair curled around, his arms pulling you in, making you sit on his naked lap, the frosting birthday cake sitting on the floor.

You kiss for awhile, your chest pressed into his, his hands squeezing your ass, the heel of his foot knocking the plug from the drain.

“If you don’t stop,” you mutter between kisses, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

Eddie smirks, dimples poking out, stroking your cheek thumb sweeping your swollen bit lip, “throw pillow is already on the bed, besides, I’m not afraid of a little trouble baby.”