#and i need to come back with something cool i HAVE to

[aciddrattboyy]

Wԋҽɳ Yσυ Mҽʂʂ Wιƚԋ Lσʋҽ

┆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - "your boyfriend arrives late for your study date and things(sex) happen"

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛꜱ: ★ Starring: Mark Grayson x F! Reader ★ Run Time: 3.9k ★ Genre/Warnings: [Rated R: Drama/Rom/Adult Film] smut, both reader and mark lose their virginities, fingering(f!receiving), vanilla sex tbh, there will be eventual angst, set in au where they are in college before... (gulp) chicago incident, two part story ★ soundtrack: karma police, basta ya ★ pls pls pls any invincible fans HIT MY LINE i have no friends in this fandom and i desperately need them ★ 01 . 02 .

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noon. you invited mark over to your dorm at noon. it was three o’clock now, with no text messages or calls from your boyfriend; even after he assured you he’d be there about four hours earlier. mark had been… distant. constantly ditching you, not even showing up to dates or hangouts, or asking for rain checks if he had the decency to do even that. today was supposed to be a typical study date, with exams coming up you thought it would be nice. because even though mark left you hanging seemingly more often than not, the time he was there was, well, amazing. when he did manage to find the time for you he treated you like you were the best thing that ever happened to him, acted as the perfect, doting boyfriend. whether it was picking up your favorite food without asking or buying you a plushie of your favorite animal you didn't even remember telling him about, mark was loving.

but as the minutes ticked by, your phone continued being pathetically dry, and your dorm mark-less, you were starting to think maybe the good no longer outweighed the bad. with a sigh, you push back in your desk chair, slumping in the seat as you tipped your head back. you glanced over at your phone sitting atop a pile of books, almost mocking you with the lack of notifications, and thought about texting mark. again. dragging a hand down your face, you began to spin slowly in your chair, watching the room swirl by out of boredom. 

as you spun lazily, you could see your door slowly opening. and then there was mark, peeking his face through the crack, sporting that same guilty expression you were starting to think you saw more than him smiling. you plant your feet on the ground, coming to a halt as you looked at him with narrowed eyes and a frown. 

“if your excuse is you had to help your dad with work, lost track of time, or ‘had something to take care of’, save your breath,” you turn back to your desk, staring at the open textbook with your jaw clenched and brows pinched together. mark grimaced at your words, his hand twitching hesitantly on the doorknob, not sure if he should even come inside.

“alright no excuses,” he murmured softly, scratching at his nape as he stared at your back. sheepishly, he held up a plastic bag, the contents inside rustling softly. “but… how about an apology? starting with some food from that place you said you wanted to try?” mark’s voice had a hopeful lilt to it, although he knew he couldn’t keep fixing everything with food. he was entirely sure he’s been fixing anything at all, like a bandaid on a broken bone. but he also couldn’t exactly say: “sorry for being late to our study date. i promise i wanted to be here but my alien space dad made me go train with him since i just got super cool powers.”  it wouldn't be a secret identity if he started telling people. and unfortunately, people included you, no matter how much he didn’t want it to be this way. 

your glare aimed at your text book softened at his words, once again he had gone out of his way for you. acting as if he cared for you even as he was constantly blowing you off. a few quiet moments of you contemplating what to do pass by before you speak, turning in your chair slightly to look at him. 

“i guess that’s not a completely bad start.” marks face immediately lit up like an excited puppy as you spoke. it wasn’t a hard get the fuck out of my room and that was as good of a start as any when trying to make up for his major fuck ups. without missing a beat, he steps inside, closing the door behind him before toeing off his shoes, dropping his backpack near the foot of your bed and making his way over to you.  

“i uh got you a little bit of everything- well not everything everything but y’know a reasonable amount of-”

“thank you mark,” you cut him off quietly, not entirely sure how mad at him you still were. you take the bag from him, not able to meet his eyes as you set the bag down on your now limited desk space. mark stood somewhere to the side behind you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

“yeah, yeah no problem,” his voice cracked slightly and he winced at his own tone, feeling helpless and not at all sure how to really fix this without coming clean about his secret identity; something he could not do. the silence seems to drag on as you looked through the different containers. his eyes trailed over your desk and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him when he the notes scribbled into a notebook. “you.. um you got a lot of work done,” mark said awkwardly, grasping at straws to try to fix what he was rapidly breaking between you two. 

“yeah well it would’ve been easier if you had been here to help.” both of you freeze at your words that came out just a bit more harsh than you intended. mark frowned, not sure what to say. he reached out a hand, hovering it over your shoulder as he slowly opened his mouth. but you sighed before he can get anything out, running a hand through your hair before you turn in your chair to face with a faint frown of your own. “look, i’m sorry for talking to you like that. let’s just eat yeah? i’ve done enough studying for the both of us” you offer mark a small smile, one that he returns hesitantly. he takes a step back when you get up from your chair, grabbing the bed and heading over to your bed. 

“yeah that… sounds good.” mark nods, following you over to the bed. he sits next to you, mirroring your cross legged posture with his back leaning against the wall. he slowly scoots closer as you pull out the various containers until your knees are touching. you didn’t acknowledge it, but you didn't pull away and that was as good of a win as any. his eyes light up with an idea before leaning over the edge of the bed to grab his laptop. “thought we could watch something while we ate.” he offers softly, already turning on youtube and putting on the type of videos he remembered you telling him you watched sometime in the past. you nod at him softly, your smile growing both in size and genuineness just a bit.

“good thinking,” you respond softly, the anger already subsiding just from being with him. mark had a way of making you feel good, even if it wasn't for long, even if he upset you more often than you’d really like. you knew deep down he was still a good guy, and you desperately wanted to see him be better. wanted to see him start living up to his apologies.

the two of you eat in a somewhat comfortable silence, interrupted by laughs or brief commentary on what you were watching. and everything starts to feel normal again. for you, but also for mark. for just right now he wasn’t Invincible. he was mark grayson, a freshman in college with the more amazing girlfriend by his side. it felt nice to feel normal again, even if he had been waiting his whole life to get powers, to be just like his dad. you find yourself curled up against mark’s side, watching random videos with your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. the sun was starting to set, the fading sunlight casting shadows and warm orange light through the blinds. 

when you tilt your head to look up at mark, he meets your gaze. his lips slowly pull into a goofy smile that makes you huff with amusement.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you murmur playfully while tracing idle shapes over the fabric covering his chest. he pulls you closer, the movement almost imperceptible as his expression turns warm.

“you’re just so pretty,” mark answered just as softly, getting lost in your eyes with a stupid smile. only a second passes before he realizes what he’s said; his eyes widen, face flushing red as he sputters out apologies while trying to pull away. “oh shit that was so stupid- fuck im sorr-” before mark could run away and hide, you grab his face and pull him into a kiss. he lets out a muffled noise of surprise, eyes wide before his brain catches up to what was happening. then he’s humming softly instead, hands finding your waist as he kissed you back gently. “wha… what was that for?” he whispered breathlessly when you pulled away, your faces only inches apart. 

“am i not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?” you ask teasingly, smile only growing as your swipe your thumbs over his cheeks.

“no- i mean yes- uh yeah you can kiss me,” he lets out an almost self deprecating laugh, hands squeezing your waist gently. “i’m fucking this up aren’t i?” you pull him into another kiss, languidly moving your lips against his.

“i think you’re doing just fine,” your fingers tangle in mark’s hair, deepening the kiss, starting it off slow, gentle, but one thing led to another and soon enough you’re pulling him closer as you fall back against the sheets. mark follows you willingly, hovering over you with his hands on either side of your head. one of mark’s legs slot in between yours, involuntarily pressing his knee against the apex of your thighs. you gasp softly against his lips, grip tightening in his hair. when you roll your hips, a shudder runs through both you and mark when he realized what you were doing. the revelation only served to send blood straight to his already semi-hard dick.  

the kissing grows frenzied, the air between you heavy with harsh panting and even messier kissing. your laptop had been precariously moved out of the way and onto the corner of your desk. both of your shirts? thrown god knows where. was this all happening just a bit too fast? maybe… probably… definitely. but slowing down seemed to be the last thing on your mind along with mark’s. who was now practically buzzing with nervous excitement and lust. he’d kissed you before, many times actually. but never like this. never half clothed and making out with you as if you were trying to eat each other’s faces off while you ground your hips against his knee.

shifting slightly, mark props himself up on his elbow, body pressing more firmly on top of yours. he smooths his free hand up your waist, hesitantly thumbing over the hem of your bra as he waited for some sort of signal to stop. but none came, in fact, he could feel your back slightly arch into his touch. he let out a low groan, muffled by your lips, the obvious tent in his sweats pressed snuggly against your thigh. for a brief moment he thought maybe he should be embarrassed. but how could he when you seemed to just as affected. and somehow a lot more confident… with a gasp, and much reluctance, mark pulls his mouth off of yours, panting heavily against your lips.

“have you uh… y’know… before?” his voice was barely a whisper, face feeling hot and eyes slightly widened as he looked down at you.

“no…” you start, your voice equally as quiet as you prop yourself up on your elbows. “is it that obvious?” your brows twitched, just barely pinching together with a hint of worry and newfound self consciousness. 

“no- no no!” mark quickly squeaks out, shaking his head with wide eyes. “i just- you seem so- so…” he trails off, not entirely sure what to say anymore.

“we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to. do you want to stop?” your voice was soft, a small smile on your face in hopes of making sure mark knew his comfort was important above all. but it only served to make mark feel more… feel more of whatever was making his stomach flip and his cock twitch against your thigh in a way that was getting harder to ignore. he swallowed the lump in his throat when thought about what ‘keep going’ would actually entail. 

“um… no. not really,” he murmured softly, a sheepish smile on his face. he feels his face heat up all over again at the admission. but before he can doubt himself, you’re smiling at him. and then you were kissing him, and it was like you had never even stopped at all. 

the kissing quickly grows heated, hands fumbling to rip each others pants off through breathless giggles and sloppy kisses until mark was seated between your open legs; both of you in nothing but your underwear and your bra long gone. mark smoothed his hands over your inner thighs, chest still somewhat heaving from the rather heavy makeout session just moments ago. he swallowed thickly, thumbs tracing over the lacy edges of your panties. his head snaps up when he hears a small noise leave your lips. the kind of noise that has his body going hot all over again.

“can i…?” mark wasn’t sure what he was exactly asking permission for. but the way you were looking up at him made him pray to any existing god that he was granted the sexual prowess of a veteran pornstar just for tonight. upon seeing you nod your head, he sucks in a deep breath, feeling both a wave of arousal and anxiousness. with shaky hands, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slowly pulls them off of you. looking at your naked body, mark was afraid he’d bust right then and there. but then your voice, soft and playful, cut through his thoughts currently being led by his dick. 

“c’mere,” you reach out, tugging on his hand and pulling him closer until he was hovering over you again. the backs of your thighs resting atop of his, the bulge in his boxers not too far from your pussy. you could tell he was a little nervous. and although you never got verbal confirmation, it was clear to see that mark was a virgin; somehow more a virgin than even you were. you card a hand in the hair at his nape, pulling him into a kiss that seemed to make mark relax just a bit. kissing was good. kissing was familiar territory. and after a small while, you placed your free hand on top of his hand not supporting his weight and slowly inch his palm downwards. 

marks breath hitched in his throat, body temporarily going still. that is until he felt how fucking wet you were as you guided his middle and ring finger through your soaked folds. a guttural groan vibrates through his chest, only barely muffled by your tongue in his mouth. 

you were panting against his lips now, soft mewls escaping you led his fingers to circle your clit. teaching him what you liked, how you wanted to be touched. and to mark’s credit, he was a very fast learner. soon enough he was moving on his own, your hand holding onto his wrist instead as he pumped two fingers inside of you. he ground his palm against your clit, making your hips buck into his hand as the pleasure just kept building. 

“o-oh fuck-” you cry out when he hits that sensitive spot inside you, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face against the sensitive skin just below his jaw. if it were not for the string of muffled moans leaving your lips, even mark was able to tell you were getting close almost embarrassingly fast by the way your thighs trembled against his and how your hips snapped up to meet each thrust of his fingers. “fuck- fuck ‘m gonna- hah-” 

mark felt like he was almost there with you; he could feel the damp patch on his boxers growing as his dick continued to throb in it’s confines, leaking a lot of precum. his hips twitched involuntarily, searching for some sort of relief. but he would continue to push his own wants aside, breathing heavily through his nose as he peppered your collarbone with wet kisses and focused solely on making you cum. and that he did. biting back a moan of his own at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers, your whole body going taut under him as you held onto him tighter. 

after a few moments filled with only heavy breathing, your body goes limp against the sheets as he pulls his fingers out with a soft squelch. there was a very satisfied smile on your face as you looked up at mark, who somehow looked more fucked out than you. 

“you were… surprisingly good at that.”

“ha, thanks… hey, wait what do you mean surprisingly?” you giggle softly at the small pout on his lips, lifting your head just enough to press a kiss against his lips.

“don’t think about it too much,” you mumble as you pull back, trailing your hands down his sides until your palms met the waistband of his boxers. “uh there’s condoms in the drawer if you…” you trail off, eyes widening when you realized what you had just implicated. “i- i didn’t buy them they were uh- a gift from my roommate a while ago…” you look up at mark with narrowed eyes after seeing the way his lips were pursed, twitching with the force he had to use to keep himself from smiling. for now, mark would bite his tongue, not wanting to face your wrath when his dick was so hard it was starting to hurt. 

“condoms. got it.” the words were strained under the weight of his stifled laughter, but before you could comment on it, he was already leaning over you. rummaging through your night stand, he was able to pull one out, settling between your legs with the gold foil in his hands. “but are you sure you want to do this?” there was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, sounding almost worried that you’d regret being with him, or you were for some reason only doing this out of pity. but then you were giving him that warm smile and nodding your head, and suddenly all doubt jumped out the window. 

through more muted laughter and clumsy, inexperienced hands, the two of you manage to get the condom on without mark blowing his load then and there. placing his hands on your hips, he leans down to kiss your lips, rubbing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs. you hum into his lips, gently holding onto his biceps as you kiss him back just as passionately. but when mark reaches a hand between your bodies to line his tip with your hole, the energy shifts. less playful and more so intense, romantic. like the both of you realize what you were doing, and what it means for the relationship going forward. 

“are you sure?” mark whispers against your lips, eyes fluttering open to gauge your reaction.

“yeah, yeah i am,” you breathe out, eyes shining with something that made mark’s stomach flip in an almost scarily good way. he nods, adams apple bobbing before he presses his lips against yours again. he snakes his free hand up the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head as his hips slowly push forward. it takes a little while of patience and whispering sweet nothings to each other before the two of you are comfortable enough for mark to start moving, the whole situation intense for both of you in a way that was both exciting and a little nerve wracking. 

“h-holy fuck-” mark’s voice comes out as a shaky pant, head hanging as he looked down at where your bodies met. his hand in your squeezes gently, the other holding onto your hip as he slowly rolls his hips; pulling out until only the tip was inside before slowly pushing back. “feel s’good,” he groans softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as he continued to slowly fuck into your wet heat. his hand leaves your hips, entwining his with yours and pinning you to the mattress. you bite your lip, muffling the whimpers and moans spilling from your mouth. squeezing his hands tightly, you tilt your head when you feel mark starting to suck and nip at the skin of your neck

“y-you can- nngh- go faster,” your breathy words do not fall on deaf ears. mark’s whole body stills for just a second before slightly readjusts on top of you. the moment he quickens his pace, both of you are turning into moaning messes. kissing sloppily and exchanging spit as the cheap bedframe rocks slowly with mark’s movement. he lets go of one of your hands, reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb.

it didn’t take long for mark to get close, hips already stuttering as he teetered on the edge as your cunt fluttered and clenched around him. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling any and all embarrassing noises that leaves his lips. your hips buck up to meet his with each thrust, thighs shaking with your own impending orgasm. your nails rake down his back in a way that has mark groaning against your skin.

intense orgasms hit you both at the same time; mark’s thighs trembling right along yours as his hips jerkily buck his dick inside you until he spilled every last drop into the condom. collapsing on top of you, the room is silent save for heavy breaths and the smell of sex. after a few moments, mark presses a soft kiss to your jaw before slowly pulling out and flopping onto his back next to you with a content sigh after tossing the condom into the trash bin under your desk. 

“that was…”  mark turns on his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your back flush against his warm chest. nuzzling his face against your hair. “was… amazing,”  he murmured softly, voice full of bliss as he held you tight. you giggle softly, letting your body melt into his warm embrace. at some point, you both clean up; with shrugging on a shirt and underwear and mark slipping back into his sweatpants. cuddling up under your sheets, it was easy to fall asleep in his arms, perfectly content and feeling loved.

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3 ʟᴏʙʙʏ ﹕ꜰɪʟᴍᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

[writeriguess]

hiii can i request katsuki x reader where they call each other by their first names for the very first time?

Say It Again

The rooftop was quiet except for the faint hum of the city below, a distant melody of cars, chatter, and the occasional siren. The night sky stretched endlessly above, painted in hues of deep blue and black, speckled with stars that flickered like tiny embers.

You sat beside Bakugo, the cool concrete beneath you barely noticeable as you stretched your legs out. The two of you had ended up here after a long day of training, neither quite ready to return to the dorms just yet.

Bakugo leaned back on his hands, his usual scowl slightly relaxed, though his sharp red eyes remained fixed on the skyline. It was rare to see him like this—silent, still, almost peaceful.

You took a deep breath, the crisp air filling your lungs before exhaling softly. "Tired?" you asked, glancing at him.

He snorted. "Tch. As if. I don’t get tired that easily."

You smiled, already expecting that answer. "Right, right. Pro Hero Bakugo never gets tired."

His lips twitched, as if he was holding back a smirk, but he didn’t say anything.

Silence settled between you again—not awkward, but comfortable. You’d known Bakugo long enough to understand that he wasn’t one for useless conversation. Being able to sit beside him, enjoying the night without the need to fill the air with words, was something you had come to appreciate.

Still, there was something different tonight. A shift in the air between you.

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, hesitating before you finally spoke.

“…Katsuki.”

The name felt foreign on your tongue, almost strange to say out loud.

Beside you, Bakugo stiffened.

You felt your heart lurch at his reaction. Maybe you shouldn’t have said it. Maybe it was too—

“Say it again.”

His voice was quiet, but there was something intense beneath it.

You swallowed. “…Katsuki.”

His breath hitched, barely noticeable, but you caught it. His gaze snapped to you, and for once, he didn’t try to mask what was in his eyes—shock, confusion, and something else. Something softer.

You bit your lip, suddenly self-conscious. "Sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize, dumbass," he muttered, running a hand through his messy blond hair. "It's just… no one's ever called me that. Not like that."

Your brows furrowed. "What do you mean? Your mom, Kirishima, they—"

"They’re different." He exhaled sharply, as if frustrated by his own inability to explain. "They've always called me that. But you… you never have."

He was right. You’d always called him Bakugo, or Blasty, or even just "angry Pomeranian" when you wanted to push his buttons. But his first name? Never. It felt too personal. Too close.

And yet, you had wanted to say it.

You watched him carefully. "Do you… not like it?"

He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. "Dumbass, if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have told you to say it again."

A laugh bubbled up in your throat at that, and the tension between you lessened just a little.

"Alright, alright," you teased. "Katsuki."

This time, his ears turned red.

"Shut up," he grumbled, looking away.

You smiled, leaning back against the rooftop railing. It felt nice. Natural, even. Like something had shifted between you in a way that couldn’t be undone.

And then—

"Y/N."

Your heart stopped.

Slowly, you turned to him, eyes wide.

He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the skyline. But his fingers were curled into fists against his thighs, his shoulders tense.

"Katsuki…" you breathed.

His jaw clenched. "Yeah, yeah. I said it."

You barely heard him over the pounding of your heart. He had never called you by your first name before—not once. It had always been “dumbass,” “extra,” or some other gruff nickname. But now…

"Say it again."

His head snapped toward you, eyes narrowing. "The hell? Why?"

You grinned. "Because I like it."

His breath hitched. He looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck. "…Y/N."

The way he said it, so raw, so unguarded, sent warmth flooding through your chest.

"Mm," you hummed, nudging him with your shoulder. "I could get used to that."

"Yeah?" His voice was quieter now.

You nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah."

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then—

"Just don’t expect me to say it all the damn time."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Katsuki."

He groaned, but there was no real annoyance behind it. And even though he looked away, you didn’t miss the small, rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The night stretched on, the stars above twinkling like they approved of whatever had just changed between the two of you.

And neither of you wanted to leave.

[00valentina-writes00]

please please put the self harm fic back up, it was really good, and as someone who’s struggled before, it brought me some comfort. i really wish people just didn’t interact with things they don’t like, it’s appropriately tagged, and it’s not hurting anyone. i genuinely didn’t see anything wrong with it

You know what. Yeah I will. Here you go mamas <3

♡♥︎Grayson and Sevika catching you in a self harm relapse♥︎♡ (reuploaded)

Warnings: self-harm, mental health struggles, depression, angst, cutting, blood, sensitive topics

Disclaimer: This post isn’t meant to offend anyone (I already deleted it once), and I don’t recommend reading it if you’re not in a good place/can’t handle it. I wrote this because some people find comfort in reading things like this, and just because you don’t want to read it doesn’t mean you have to ruin it for everyone. Please just don’t interact/read the post if you don’t like it. For those who do read it and find comfort in it, I hope things get better for you. It sucks being in a place where you mind is your worst enemy, and my heart goes out to all of you.

♡Grayson♡

The weight of the silence in the house feels like a tangible thing—thick and suffocating. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, not really seeing anything. The quiet hum of the air purifier and the faint creaking of the old floorboards are the only sounds breaking the stillness.

It’s hard to pinpoint when the darkness started creeping back in, but it’s here, and it feels heavier than ever. There’s a weight on your chest, as if something is sitting there, pressing you down until you can’t breathe.

You feel it—how the world looks like it’s slipping through your fingers, how you can’t keep your head above water. The struggle is so exhausting. You can feel the tears building, the tightness in your throat as they fight to spill over, but you swallow them down. You can’t burden her with it.

Not now. Not when she’s already dealing with so much.

Grayson’s voice echoes in your mind, the soft yet firm way she always tells you, “If you need anything, you just ask. Don’t shut me out.” But asking for help feels impossible when it feels like you’re crumbling from the inside out. You know she means it when she says it, and you know that deep down, she’ll always be there for you. She has been.

But she’s been working late recently. You know the weight of her job—how demanding it is. How much responsibility she carries on her shoulders, always so composed, so calm. She’s always the one who carries others, the one who stays steady when everything else feels like it’s about to fall apart.

And yet, here you are, falling apart in the silence of your own mind.

You press your hand to your arm, feeling the familiar pull of that dark urge. It’s like a quiet whisper, promising you release, promising relief. You know it won’t fix anything—it never does. But for just a moment, the thought of it feels comforting. Control, a semblance of control, over a mind that is spiraling.

The sharp sting of a blade against skin is an old friend, one that promises to quiet the storm in your head, if only for a little while.

You grab the razor blade from the drawer by the bedside table, your hand shaking as you press the cool metal against your skin.

The moment it cuts into you, it’s like the world finally exhales. The pain is sharp, but it’s also grounding. It’s familiar. The blood wells up beneath the surface, the warmth of it seeping through your fingers as you press harder. The relief is fleeting but enough to keep you from drowning, at least for a little while.

You exhale shakily, closing your eyes as the tears finally come, hot and uncontrollable.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell yourself you’re better than this. It doesn’t matter how many promises you’ve made to Grayson that you’re okay. You’re not. You never are, and right now, the world is too loud, too chaotic, and all you want is for it to stop.

When you hear the door creak open, your heart skips a beat. Grayson’s home.

You panic for a moment, suddenly aware of the blood on your fingers, the rawness of your own skin. You want to hide it, to pull away from her, to bury it and pretend that everything is fine.

But it’s too late. She’s already stepped into the room.

Her gaze locks onto you immediately, and you see the shift in her expression—a flicker of concern, followed by something else, something darker. Her eyes move to your hand, still clutched around the razor, then slowly trail up to your face, where the tears are still streaming down.

“Baby…” Her voice is low, filled with a quiet kind of devastation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The words are trapped somewhere deep inside, stuck behind the lump in your throat. Grayson is across the room in an instant, her long strides making quick work of the distance.

She kneels down in front of you, gently taking your hand with the blade in it, pulling it away from your skin, and tossing it onto the bedside table. She holds you, and it feels like the weight of the world has shifted, the tension in your chest finally starting to ease. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you to her, as she presses her face into your hair, murmuring soft words of comfort that you can barely hear over the rush of blood in your ears.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink into her, the warmth of her body and the scent of her cologne grounding you in a way nothing else does. Her arms tighten around you as she pulls you closer, as if trying to protect you from the storm inside your own mind.

“You don’t have to hide this from me,” Grayson says, her voice a mixture of pain and resolve. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

You can hear the underlying frustration in her tone, the helplessness that has started to creep in. She’s used to being in control, used to being the one who takes care of everyone else. But right now, she can’t fix this. She can’t make it go away. And that hurts her, you can see it in the way her brow furrows, in the way her hand gently caresses your arm as she inspects the damage.

Her fingertips brush against the cuts on your skin, and you flinch, not from pain, but from the guilt that rises in your chest. You can see it in her eyes—she’s not angry. She’s not disappointed. But she’s scared, and that’s almost worse than anything else.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I just… I didn’t want to bother you with this. You have enough on your plate.”

Grayson’s grip tightens around you, pulling you closer, her voice soft but unwavering. “You’re never a bother. You’re my wife, and I love you. You’re never a burden.”

You bury your face into her shoulder, the tears coming faster now, as everything you’ve been holding inside comes crashing to the surface. The guilt, the shame, the weight of it all—everything that you’ve kept hidden from her, from yourself, spills out in a flood of emotion that feels impossible to stop.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I can’t stop. I can’t stop it. It’s too much, Grayson.”

“I know,” she murmurs, her hands gently smoothing over your back, offering comfort in the only way she knows how. “I know, baby. I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Her words are like a balm to the rawness inside you, but the emptiness lingers. You feel lost, adrift in the dark waters of your own mind, and nothing seems to anchor you. Not even Grayson, though you know she’d do anything to keep you safe.

But you don’t know how to be safe anymore. You don’t know how to feel okay when everything inside you feels broken.

Grayson doesn’t say anything for a while, just holding you tightly, letting you cry, letting the storm rage inside you until there’s nothing left to say.

You eventually feel her fingers gently tracing over your arms, inspecting the cuts more carefully now. The gentle touch sends a shiver through your body, and you can’t help but wince, both from the pain of your wounds and the fear that she’ll look at you with disgust.

But when you look up, her face is soft, her eyes filled with nothing but love and concern. There’s no judgment in her gaze, only a quiet understanding that cuts through the fog in your mind.

“You’re not broken,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re not broken. You’re just hurting. And I’m here. We’re going to get through this together.”

Her words sink in, the weight of them settling on your heart like a gentle, steadying force.

You don’t have to fix yourself. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

Grayson will help you piece yourself back together, just as she always has.

♡Sevika♡

The quiet hum of the city’s underbelly surrounds you, but all you can hear is the pulse of your own heartbeat, the rhythmic rush of blood beneath your skin. Your breathing is shallow, erratic, barely keeping pace with the thoughts that whirl through your head, drowning everything in a familiar numbness. Every inch of you feels heavy—like the weight of the world is bearing down on your chest, leaving you gasping for air.

You’ve been here before. Staring down at your own hands, watching them tremble as they hold a blade. The same blade you’ve used countless times to try to carve out the pain, to silence the screams in your head. You think you’re past this—think that maybe you’ve come far enough, healed enough, but the reality is… you never really can outrun the shadows that lurk behind you.

Sevika’s voice still lingers in your mind, distant yet comforting. The low, gravelly tone that usually manages to settle your nerves is nowhere to be found. She’s been busy, off with Silco’s business. There’s always something. Something that pulls her away from you, and each time, the void in your chest grows a little larger. The silence between you two stretches thinner, and you start to wonder if you’re just another weight—something she has to carry, but doesn’t truly need. Maybe you were just a brief moment of comfort for her, something to fill the empty space in her own broken heart.

It’s pathetic, you think.

Your gaze flickers to the blade in your hand—sharp, gleaming, a perfect reflection of everything you’ve been trying to avoid. With a shaky breath, you press it to the skin of your arm, not sure what to expect, but desperate for release.

The first slice is almost too easy, like the blade already knows where to go, knows exactly how to break you. You hiss, biting back a gasp. The rush of blood that spills out is both soothing and terrifying, pooling around your wrist and dripping onto the floor. It feels like you’ve just cracked open a dam, and there’s no stopping the flood.

But you can’t stop. You need to feel it. The rush. The pain. The way it takes everything away, leaves you empty but somehow full at the same time. It’s familiar, comforting, like a twisted lover.

But this time, it’s different.

The bleeding doesn’t stop.

Your breath catches, the room beginning to spin as the crimson liquid flows freely, quicker than you can manage. Your vision blurs as the pulse of panic rushes through you. You try to hold pressure, but it doesn’t work. You try to stop it, but it’s like the blood has a mind of its own, pouring faster than you can keep up.

Why won’t it stop?

The panic sets in, clawing at your chest, a grip of cold fear tightening around your ribs. You try to move, to find something to hold against the wound, but your hands are trembling too violently, your fingers slick with blood. The room feels smaller, darker, and all at once, you feel the walls closing in. Every breath is a struggle, and every thought feels like a weight you can’t bear.

And then—footsteps.

Sevika.

Her voice, low and dangerous, cuts through the haze of panic. “What the hell is going on here?”

You don’t have time to answer before she’s in front of you, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the sight of you, the blood dripping from your arm, the panic in your eyes. You want to say something, to apologize, but the words are tangled in your throat, a mass of guilt and shame. Her presence, usually so reassuring, now feels like an inescapable force, suffocating you with its intensity.

She doesn’t need to speak, her gaze enough to make you shrink back. But she doesn’t leave. She’s here. And that alone is enough to send a wave of emotion crashing over you—relief mixed with guilt, pain, and that overwhelming, gnawing feeling of needing something you can’t quite define.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but it’s like your body betrays you, unable to form a coherent thought.

Sevika’s gaze shifts to the blade in your hand, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you two. Her jaw tightens, and her lips press into a thin line. But then her hands move, strong and steady, like the storm in her eyes isn’t enough to tear her apart. She takes your wrist with a force that makes you flinch, her fingers like iron bands around your arm, yet there’s no malice in her touch. Only a quiet fury—one that’s familiar to her, but so unlike you.

She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t ask you why. Instead, she moves quickly, her voice calm but filled with that hard edge of discipline. “Give me the fucking blade.”

You hesitate, feeling the cold, sharp steel pressing against your skin. For a moment, you wonder if this is it—if she’s finally tired of you. If this is where the weight of your brokenness makes her snap.

But instead of anger, you see something different in her eyes. Something sharp and raw. Something that looks like pain.

You don’t argue as she pries the blade from your trembling fingers. Her gaze never leaves you as she takes it, her lips pressed into a hard line. You can’t tell if she’s angry or worried, but you feel like you’re drowning in her gaze. In the silence between you two, the blood that still flows from your arm, the tightness in your chest, the burning shame—you feel it all. The weight of your struggle is too much for one person to bear, even if that person is Sevika.

She’s too quiet, too still, for too long. And you can’t take it.

“I—I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracked and fragile. “I didn’t mean to… to make you worry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away, her face unreadable as she carefully presses a cloth against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The way her fingers move so methodically, the precision of her touch—it makes you feel like you’re falling apart even more.

“You didn’t want to make me worry?” she says, her voice quieter than usual, a soft growl of frustration in her words. “Then why the hell are you doing this to yourself?”

You shake your head, biting back the tears that threaten to spill over. You don’t have an answer. You never really did. It’s always been a struggle, hasn’t it? One that you fight alone, because nobody could possibly understand. Not her. Not anyone.

But Sevika doesn’t need answers. She doesn’t need you to explain yourself, not right now. All she needs is to fix this. To stop you from bleeding out.

When she’s sure the bleeding has slowed, Sevika pulls you close, her strong arms wrapping around you. It’s the first time in what feels like forever that she’s not pushing you away. She holds you tightly, her breath steady against your ear, and for a moment, you forget about the cuts on your skin, the mess you’ve made of yourself, the guilt that weighs you down.

She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Her grip tightens around you, the warmth of her body seeping into yours. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she speaks, her voice low and rough.

“Don’t do this again.”

You nod, feeling a sob rise in your chest. You want to tell her you’ll be okay, that you won’t fall back into the darkness. But you don’t know if you can promise that. And for the first time in a long while, you let the tears fall, not because you’re weak, but because you don’t have to hide from her anymore.

Sevika’s not going anywhere. She never has been, not really. Even if she can’t fix everything, even if she doesn’t have all the answers—she’s here.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember 28: Roleplay

I got a little silly with this one. Sheon's meant to be a little jokester

Length 1.9K

Sheon X Mreader

Sheon quivered as the stranger kept her in place and continued his advances. She shook her head and refused, her voice steadily growing louder. You came into the frame a second later, pushing the man away from Sheon, who quickly moved behind you. “Please help me!” She shouted, “Keep him away from me!” You hold your ground, and when the man throws a punch, you dodge before striking him in the ribs, making him drop to the ground. 

“And cut!” The man gets up quickly, patting your shoulder and Sheon’s. “Thanks for stepping in. You’re a real lifesaver.” You nod and look over at Sheon.

“No problem, this worked out great for us too.” When you told Sheon you wanted to try out some roleplay, this wasn’t what you thought she’d come up with. Yes, you had told her it would be cool to be a superhero of some sort, but for her to get her college friends who were making a short film for a class involved was beyond you. You had to admit this wasn’t exactly how you’d thought things would go, but it worked for your goal; at least, that was what Sheon thought. Once filming wrapped up, Sheon waved behind her back to her friends as she brought you home.

Sheon practically dragged you home, “I just need to give my hero a reward.” She’d repeat that line over and over again as she held your hand. “You saved me today, and I need to make sure to repay my debt.” The emphasis she added really made her sound cheesy, but you didn’t want to bring that up, or she might just leave you high and dry.

“You don’t need to do that, ma’am. It’s just what heroes do.” You say, trying to stay in character.

“Ma’am? Do I look old to you?” You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You know, no matter what you say, Sheon would turn it around on you. It’s just who she was. She knew you wouldn’t say anything at this point and continued on. “Is it so bad if a damsel in distress wants to support her favorite hero?” Sheon walked ahead of you, raising the ends of her dress so you could get a better look at her. While her dress might’ve been a plain black one, the stockings she wore added a touch of color that pulled her outfit together. The lace design was enough to have you stare at Sheon’s lovely legs. She smiled as she noticed how you stopped in place. “C’mon hero, let’s get to my place. So I can give you your reward.”

Sheon quickly brought you inside her home, glancing over her shoulder with a smile as she brought you to her room. Sheon almost pushed you onto her bed with how excited she was. She stopped herself, though, wanting to do something before you fucked her.

Sheon kneels before you, her hands eagerly moving, pulling at your pants. She’s completely forgotten her role, too excited to get to what she calls the good part. She shakes her head, too happy to get started. The toothy smile on her face was undeniable as she rubbed her hand against your crotch, your underwear, the only thing keeping her from her prize. “Ooh,” Sheon murmurs as she feels your cock grow harder. She glances up at you, realizing she still has a role to play. “Oh, I mean. Umm…” Sheon looks around, embarrassed that she couldn’t think of what to say. Her mind had gone blank, too focused on what was just out of reach. 

You both break down, laughing at the situation. Sheon leans into you, pressing her head against your thigh as she laughs. She pats your thigh and says, “I told you I’m not good at this. Can we drop it? I’ll make it up to you.” She says, her hand already reaching into your underwear and pulling out your cock. She doesn’t wait for a second, pressing her lips together and planting them firmly on the tip of your cock. “Mwah!” She says loudly, giggling as she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, running it along the head. Sheon wraps her lips around your shaft, slowly bobbing her head as she stares at you. Sheon tried not to smile as she felt you move your hands to her head. She just knew you wanted to push your cock into the back of her throat, but you still wanted to keep the roleplay going. Sheon moved her soft hand along the base of your shaft, making sure not to ignore a single part of it. Her other hand was under her dress, circling her clit. You felt the vibrations around your cock; it made you groan. 

The pleasure was great, and Sheon just kept adding to it. She pushed herself further, taking in more of your shaft as her hand cradled your balls, giving them soft squeezes. You were losing yourself to the pleasure she gave you. You felt her tongue swirl around your cock as she slowly bobbed her head. Sheon enjoyed every moment; seeing her “hero” go weak at the knees because of her fueled her spirits. You look down at the beautiful woman between your legs, her short hair swaying back and forth as she bobbed her head. You felt yourself nearing the edge and instinctively grabbed her head, pushing her toward your pelvis. Sheon couldn’t help but smile as she was pressed against your crotch, your cock down her tight throat. She pushed her tongue out as far as she could, trying to lap at your balls as your cock began to throb. She looked at you with pleading eyes, and in the next moment, you began pouring your cum down her throat. 

“Shit,” you groaned. Sheon gulped every drop down with ease. Even as her eyes became watery and she was running out of breath, she didn’t dare let a drop spill out of her mouth. She drank everything. The moment you let go of her head, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth for you to see what she accomplished. Sheon looked like a mess, with her mascara ruined and saliva running down her chin. She wiped it off her face after she was sure you had seen her empty mouth. 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” She said, pulling herself to her feet. “I like knowing you have a rough side.” Sheon walked past you, bending herself over her bed and lifting her dress up, showing you her pale ass. She pulled her panties to the side. That was when you noticed how wet she was. Sheon ran her fingers along her slit before pushing her lips apart. “Can you be a little rougher?” She asks, giving you the same pleading look from earlier. You gulp, your thoughts focused on how wet she was. “I know you are big and strong. You don’t have to worry, I can take it. I’m a good girl.” Usually, you would’ve told Sheon that her being a good girl didn’t relate to fucking her roughly, but you were too taken with her correct her statement. You get behind Sheon, slapping her slit with your cock before pressing the head against her entrance. 

Sheon cooed as she felt you push into her, your cock spreading apart her lips and filling her cunt. “Oh, you’re so big,” Sheon moaned, looking over her shoulder. “You don’t have to be slow. Put it all the way in.” You followed along, grabbing her hips as you impaled her on your cock. Sheon threw her head back and cried out, loving the suddenness of it all. You pull out quickly before slamming yourself back into the warm cavern. You lose all control and begin to fuck Sheon senseless, just like she wants it.  She buries her head into the mattress, moaning your name as she grips the bed sheets with all her strength. You place your hands on either side of and continue to thrust in, bouncing against her ass as you drive your cock deeper with every thrust. “Fuck that’s it!” Sheon yells into the bedding. You could feel her walls tightening around you, but you didn’t want her to cum like this. You slow down and tug at her waist, lifting her off the bed for a moment so you can flip her onto her back. Grabbing her legs, you fold Sheon in half, knowing how much she loves this position. You see her smile as you slam your cock back inside her. She stretches her arms out, pulling you in for a kiss as you thrust into her with all your strength. 

Sheon moans into the kiss, her grip over you becoming stronger as she gets closer to cumming. You thrust wildly, letting nature take over. “I’m cumming,” Sheon mumbled weakly before repeating herself loudly. You watched her shut her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to hold back her climax. You drove yourself deep into her cunt one more time and sent her over the edge. She cried out as she came, but you didn’t stop moving. 

Sheon’s body felt like it was on fire as you continued to thrust into her. Her walls tightened around your cock, but her walls were so slick you slid in and out the same as before. Sheon could hardly speak; moans poured out from between her lips as she was being brought to another orgasm. She lost control of her body, losing her grip on you. With your new freedom, you pushed Sheon’s legs further, getting her feet by her head as you slammed yourself inside and shot your load into her hungry cunt. Sheon cried out again as you sent her spiraling into her second orgasm. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she came, the waves of pleasure that rushed over her making her body tingle all over as your cum poured into her cunt. 

Once you finished, you slowly pulled back and lay next to Sheon. She turned her head slowly, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. “You monster, you didn’t even take my clothes off.” Sheon chuckled and looked down as if that would change anything. She looked back at you and tapped your chest. “Well? Isn’t my hero going to help me out of these clothes? I can’t go to sleep like this.” You let out a deep breath and helped Sheon out of her clothes, getting rid of the black dress first and then helping her take off her shoes. 

“We can leave the stockings on, right? You look amazing in them.”

“Yeah, right. They may look nice, but I want to be comfortable when I sleep.” She says before sitting up and going to the bathroom. Sheon returns a few minutes later in an oversized t-shirt. “This is a lot better,” she says as she lays back down on the bed. “I know I didn’t do a very good job, but did you enjoy it? At least a little?”

“I always enjoy being with you. Even if you aren’t a very good actress.” You say with a smile. Sheon playfully slaps your shoulder before laying her head on your chest. 

“At least we had a good time.” She says before shutting her eyes. Sheon yawns, drifting off to sleep slowly.

[yara0546]

୨୧ When they confess their love, but you think it’s a joke .    .    .    반응 ; ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: enhypen x fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Light Angst, Comedy

୨୧ Word Count: 1,000–1,200 words

୨୧ Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, because I sometimes use a translator in some sentences.

୨୧ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

✦ Heeseung   ୨୧   ;   희승   !

You were sitting across from Heeseung at a café, laughing at a funny memory when he suddenly stopped mid laugh.

"I like you, Y/N. A lot." His voice was softer than usual, his gaze locked onto yours.

You chuckled. "Pfft, sure, Heeseung. And I’m secretly a billionaire."

His smile faltered for a split second before he leaned in, resting his arms on the table. "I’m serious."

You blinked at him, still half-expecting him to laugh it off. But when he didn’t, your breath hitched. His usual playful demeanor was gone his eyes held nothing but sincerity.

"I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N. Don’t laugh it away."

At that moment, you realized this wasn’t a joke.

✦ Jay   ୨୧   ;   제이   !

Jay had been dropping hints for weeks, but when he finally gathered the courage to confess, you just… laughed.

"Oh, Jay, that’s a good one! You almost got me."

His jaw clenched, and he exhaled sharply. "Y/N. I’m. Not. Joking."

You still grinned. "Come on, Jay, you’re always teasing me. Why would this be any different?"

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but keeping his cool. "Because this is the first time I’m telling you something that actually matters." His voice was lower now, more serious.

Seeing the shift in his tone, your stomach dropped. He wasn’t playing around.

✦ Jake   ୨୧   ;   제이크   !

Jake’s confession was clumsy but heartfelt.

"I… um… I like you, Y/N. Like, a lot. More than just friends."

You burst out laughing. "Jake, stop, you’re too funny!"

His face turned beet red, and he started fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. "Wait… what? You think I’m joking?"

You nodded, still giggling. "Well, duh! You flirt with everyone!"

Jake’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer. "Yeah, but not like this. Not with you."

Your laughter faded as his sincerity sunk in. Oh.

✦ Sunghoon   ୨୧   ;   성훈   !

Sunghoon confessed in the middle of a casual conversation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I like you, Y/N. It’s kind of annoying how much I do."

You snorted. "Nice try, Sunghoon. You’re hilarious."

He narrowed his eyes. "What part of that was funny?"

You smirked. "You? Liking me? No way."

Sunghoon crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. "Wow. You really think I’d joke about something like this?"

You hesitated. Sunghoon wasn’t laughing. In fact, he looked offended.

"I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N. Maybe you should think about that."

✦ Sunoo   ୨୧   ;   선우   !

Sunoo’s confession was all sparkles and confidence.

"Y/N, I have a confession to make. I like you, and I think we’d be the cutest couple ever."

You gasped theatrically. "Oh no, Sunoo’s finally lost his mind!"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then placed a hand over his chest.

"EXCUSE ME?!"

You giggled. "Come on, you love attention. This is just for fun, right?"

His mouth fell open. "How DARE you underestimate my sincerity! Do you know how many times I practiced this in front of the mirror?!"

His over the top reaction made you laugh even harder until you saw the actual hurt in his eyes.

"Y/N… I really meant it."

Oops.

✦ Jungwon   ୨୧   ;   정원   !

Jungwon confessed after days of overthinking.

"I like you, Y/N. Like… more than a friend."

You burst into laughter. "Jungwon, that was so deadpan. You need to work on your delivery."

His face remained neutral. "It wasn’t a joke."

You faltered. "Wait… you’re serious?"

Jungwon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why would I joke about something like this?"

Your heart pounded. You had just laughed in his face. Oh no.

"It’s fine." He forced a small smile. "I’ll just… pretend you didn’t say that."

Now you felt horrible.

✦ Ni-ki   ୨୧   ;   니키   !

Ni-ki’s confession was blunt and direct.

"I like you. A lot."

You immediately rolled your eyes. "Haha, good one, Ni-ki."

He frowned. "What’s funny?"

"You! You’re always teasing me, why would I believe this?"

His expression darkened slightly. "Because it’s true?"

You still looked skeptical, and he huffed. "You know what? Fine. Don’t believe me. But I’ll prove it to you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How?"

Ni-ki smirked. "Just wait and see."

And from that day on, he made it his mission to show you exactly how much he meant it.

[my-darling-boy]

Just saw a reel of a bookseller claiming to have found a letter from a WWI soldier left in a bible about the Christmas Truce and I was like oh boy here we go and he’s barely looking down at the paper as he “reads” what is essentially the epitome of all mainstream news outlet articles on the event, majority of it is not even worded how people used to write back then, I could tell immediately what photographs, illustrations, and articles he was extensively describing pretending it somehow all fit on the two little notebook pages and I’m cringing thinking “Surely no one believes this” and of course the comments are all of people believing it (except for one person who calls the seller out). This guy was just fabricating almost an entire story based off a letter written a day after Christmas which was not even about the truce at all. Now I don’t have beef with the comments which are all of people saying what a powerful example of humanity the event was, I have beef with a seller making stuff up for views and how quickly people accepted disinformation with only a couple out of 51,000 picking up on it. And before anyone can go “Not everyone is an expert in WWI!!!” he holds the letter up to the camera. Pausing to read even just the first sentence and you would’ve known this guy has made everything up (that one person in the comments even transcribed the real letter). There was an actual artefact from someone in the trenches but this clown figured that wasn’t cool enough for promoting his book business so instead of reading out someone’s actual words and following it up with explaining the truce, he just decided to pretend it was in the letter purely for clicks. Also half the content he reads out is from news articles where the historical information is only speculative or was even somewhat sensationalised by the soldiers themselves so what he reads out is also not even entirely true, but that’s another story. Point is, you don’t always need to be an expert in something to catch disinformation, especially when they hold the source they’re reading from up to the camera. Info these days is tailored to fit sales, so it should come as no surprise just looking at this guys account, he sells bibles priced in the thousands. He’s moonsrarebooks.official btw so you can avoid his videos, bro has 1 million followers on insta. Done with popular people making up bs for views

[reveuse-de-minuit-writer]

Flimsy Excuses (Caleb x MC)

Caleb is home for the summer, and the tension between him and MC is unbearable. When MC catches him having sex with another girl, things spiral out of control.

NSFW (18+). Jealous and possessive Caleb. Mutual Pining. Denial of feelings. Accidental Voyeurism. Rough sex. Loss of virginity. Squirting. Overstimulation. Multiple Orgasms. Mutual Masturbation. Explicit and gratuitous smut.

Full tags on AO3 here: x

There’s a note in the kitchen with an envelope. Gran’s gone away on a girl’s trip for the weekend. She’s left a list of emergency numbers and cash for groceries and gas. I leave both the note and the envelope as they are, so that Caleb will see them when he gets home. As the oldest and the man of the house, he’d always taken it upon himself to take care of me. He’d know what to do with the money and info more than I would. 

The thought of him now makes the sleepy warmth in my body burn hotter. He’d texted me while I was napping that he’d gone out with his friends for an impromptu game of basketball, and that he might go out with them to the bar afterwards. He’d even sent me a photo of him in the gym locker room, eyes bright and smile wide, before he headed out to the court. 

I wonder what my brother would do if he knew how that photo made me feel. How it made me react. The want, the need, was immediate. He sent me photos of him when he was gone all of the time. When I asked him about it in the past, he said that it’s his way of including me, of making it feel like I’m there with him, even when he can’t bring me. His reasoning is so sickeningly sweet that it turns my insides to goo, even though the pictures make my heart race for another reason entirely. 

I’m weak. I open up my phone to look at the photo again, and have to restrain the sigh that beckons to escape my throat. His hair is mussed just so, his thick, muscular arms are on full display in the white tank top he wears, and the silver glint of the necklace I gave him sits just between his full pecs. He’s so solid, so big, so powerful. Just the sight of him makes me want to burrow myself into his arms until I can fuse myself into him, into one being, so that we never have to be apart again. The ache for him is almost unbearable. 

I breathe deep and set my phone down. His location under his contact name shows he’s still out, so I have time to collect myself before he comes back home. I close my eyes and will the frantic beating of my heart to slow. 

The summer air drifts in through the open patio door, and the last glimmers of golden hour stretch out across the room, casting everything in warm sunlight. It was warm, too warm, despite the AC blasting throughout the house. I grab a sparkling water from the fridge and pop it open, chugging down a few swigs of it to relieve some of the heat. The burn in my throat feels good, and I wipe the condensation beading along the sides of the can across the skin of my neck and collarbone. 

Maybe I’ll go for a swim. Maybe that will help cool me down and distract me from my thoughts. Maybe the burn of the exercise will do me some good. With that in mind, I return to my room and change. My hands drift across the various suits in the drawer as I try to think about which one I want to wear. I see something red at the bottom, and my hands twitch, before digging it out. 

I’ve only worn it once.

The scraps of red that made up the bikini were scandalous. The triangle tops were tiny, barely covering even covering my areolae. The bottoms were a high-cut thong that left nothing to the imagination. Tara had drooled when I bought it, insisting that I had to wear it to the pool party. I wanted something that would give me attention, and this was certainly it. I threw on one of Caleb’s old shirts as a coverup overtop and left with Tara.

When we arrived together at the party, the house was packed. The music was loud, and the bass vibrated the walls. Every hallway and room was densely filled with people, to the point where we had to hold hands to not lose each other. We navigated our way to the kitchen first, eyeing the island filled with booze as we tried to figure out what we wanted to drink first. The shots of vodka we split back at my place swam languidly in my system already, warming me from the inside out. We grabbed our cocktails from one of the guys playing bartender, and headed to the backyard. 

The house and pool were large. It was raised on the side of a hill, overlooking the valley below. It was breathtaking. The music was louder out here, as was the laughter and conversation all around us. Tara dragged me over to the grass in front of the DJ that had been turned into a makeshift dance floor, and pulled me into her. We drank our cocktails and danced, uncaring of the strangers eyes feasting on us, and created our own little bubble of fun. 

Two guys appeared next to us and chatted with us while we danced. They offered to grab us more drinks, and Tara and I continued to twist and grind on one another. The heat of the day, the alcohol, and the dancing was enough to make me sweat like crazy, and I eyed the pool with longing. 

“Wanna go for a swim?” I asked her. 

She eyed the pool with me and enthusiastically nodded her head. We walked over to some chairs that were unoccupied on the fringes of the yard and put our stuff down. Right as I was about to strip, Tara’s voice was a cold sobering crash of thunder over me.

“Oh shit, is that Caleb? You didn’t tell me he was going to be here too.” 

I whip my head around and anxiety grips my throat as I scan the sea of partygoers with fresh eyes. It takes me seconds to find him, and my heart drops into my stomach. I don’t know how I didn’t notice him earlier. 

He lounges with his friends in a group around a fire, all passing around a joint. He’s shirtless, and the sculpted form of his muscles are on full display for every girl at the party to see. He’s relaxed, his legs splayed wide, and his broad shoulders spread across the back of his chair. He’s a picture perfect image of at-ease masculinity. The sight of him makes my blood race, and heat throbs through my core in an instant. 

The heat is doused almost immediately as a beautiful girl in a bright blue bikini walks up to him with a beer, and strokes flirtatiously along his shoulder. I expect him to push her away the way that he always does with women when he’s around me, but instead he smiles up at her, and takes the beer. 

Jealousy storms inside of me, a thick, ugly, turbulent thing that decimates every feeling of warmth and contentment in its path. Sickness roils in my stomach, and I want to drown myself in the pool. I know I have no right to react this way. It’s so wrong. But I can’t help it. I want to burn the girl alive with the force of my glare. I want to make him burn too, since he can’t burn with me. 

“Well, looks like he’s preoccupied. No wonder he hasn’t noticed you’re here yet. I think that’s Madison Bailey, she’s in the Deespace Pilot Program too. She’s really good.” Tara continues, oblivious to the storm raging inside of me. 

Madison. Caleb’s never mentioned her before. Despite all of the people he’s told me about in his program, she’s never come up before. He would tell me if he was seeing someone, right? He wouldn’t hide it from me, would he? Doubt festers inside of me like a poison, corroding every organ and cell inside of my body. 

I watch, helpless to look away, as the two of them talk. She leans in close to him where he sits, and places a hand on the back of his chair. He laughs at something that she says, and shifts slightly in his seat. 

I hate him. I hate her. I hate them both. 

“Do you wanna go say hi?” Tara asks. Her face falls a bit as she looks over at me, and I force myself to smile. It feels unnatural, like it pulls at my skin like a mask, but I maintain it as best as I can. 

“Nah, let’s leave him be. Wanna go swim now?” I ask. 

Tara nods, and the suspicion in her eyes clears away. As I pull at the hem of Caleb’s shirt I can’t help but feel ridiculous. My eyes drift towards them again, and the ugly jealousy inside of me compares us. We’re nothing alike. She’s tall and lean, with full breasts, and long blonde hair that shines with health. My own body is curvier, with wider hips and fuller thighs. While it’s given me a great ass, my own tits look like road bumps in comparison to hers. 

Is that what he likes? Does he prefer a woman with larger breasts? Does he prefer someone with a more model-like build to my own curvy one? Does he like the lightness of her hair? Insecurity eats away at me, and even though I’d felt confident in my bikini before, I’m now almost afraid to reveal it. What would I do if he saw me, so exposed, so on display for him, and he didn’t like it? How could I live with myself after that?

But no, I needed to stop. Caleb clearly wasn’t thinking about me right now, so I needed to stop thinking of him. Who cares what he thinks of me in my bikini? I’m just his little sister, right?

I tug his shirt off over my head, and let it fall in a pile on the table. I can feel the eyes of the men around me appraising my body, and it builds up my confidence somewhat. I resolutely refuse to look at Caleb as I saunter over to the other side of the pool, directly across from him, and take a deep breath, before diving in. 

The water crashes over me, soothing the fever from my skin, and washing away my doubts. I revel in the cool weightlessness for a moment before breaking the surface for air. I hear the splash behind me as Tara jumps in, and turn around, waiting for her to join me. I tread water, purposefully turning my back to where Caleb and his friends sit. I can’t obsess over him if I can’t see him. At least, that’s what I tell myself. 

We swim for a while. The two guys from earlier join us with more drinks in the pool, and we chat and lounge around with them. Tara is more interested in entertaining them than I am. Twilight dances over the horizon, and I sip at my drink, letting the buzz flow like liquid ambrosia through my body. I drift alone to the edge of the pool, taking in the view. 

Two arms come around me, caging me in to the side of the pool. My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s Caleb. If he’s finally come in after me. But when I turn my head to look at who is behind me, I see the face of the guy from earlier. He tries to flirt with me some more, but I make up an excuse to need to use the restroom, and escape from his arms. 

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s handsome, tall, friendly, and seems respectful once I set up the boundary. 

But he’s not him. He’s not Caleb. 

I make my way to the other side of the pool and grab ahold of the ladder to pull myself out. 

It’s only when I’m halfway out that I realize where I am. As I lift myself out of the water, Caleb is right there sitting in front of me. 

He’s noticed me now. 

And he looks furious. 

Before I’m on stable ground, he’s out of his chair and stalking towards me. Fear grips ahold of me, and I’m irrationally struck with the need to run. I pivot, uncaring of the fact that I’m dripping wet, and make my way into the house. I dodge through the crowd, hoping that he’ll lose sight of me as I all but run away from him. I turn down various hallways, until the crowd starts to thin. The third hallway I fly down is empty, and that’s when I feel the iron grip tighten around my wrist. 

In moments, I’m spun around and pinned to the wall. Caleb’s body towers over me, with his other hand clenched in a tight fist against the wall near my head. His violet eyes are dark with anger, and his cheeks and ears burn red. His powerful body is tight with tension, and my body burns with desire and fear equally. The heat of him is so sudden and so intense that it makes my heart race. He’s so scary when he wants to be. 

The glare he sears me with sends my pulse skyrocketing, and my core throbs with an everlasting, aching need. His violet eyes run down the length of my body, and I can’t breathe as they skim down my breasts, my stomach, and my thighs. His gaze is like a physical touch, and I yearn to lean into it, to feel it for real. 

I need to diffuse the tension before it boils me alive. “Hi Caleb. I didn’t know you would be here,” I begin breathlessly. 

“I thought you said you were seeing Tara,” he accuses, “Funny. I didn’t know this was her house.” 

He damn well knows it’s not. I hated when he played the overprotective parental card. I didn’t lie to him, I knew I would be seeing Tara, I just omitted that I would be seeing her at a pool party. I knew he would be annoying about it. 

But it’s not like he’s innocent either. 

“And you said you were hanging out with the guys,” I spit back, “so which ‘guys’ are you seeing today, the one in the blue bikini?” 

His eye twitches, and a dark shadow passes over him. Our lies simmer in the tension that thickens the air between us. A smirk tugs at his lips and he leans down until our faces are only inches apart. 

“Watching me closely, were you?” He asks softly. His voice is deceptive, as smooth as honey over the bitterness of his mockery. 

My cheeks burn with embarrassment as he calls me out. His smirk deepens, before he leans in closer, his mouth just barely grazing against the skin of my cheek, before resting just beside my ear. My entire body vibrates with the need to lean into him, to touch, to feel every solid inch of him pressed tight into every dripping inch of me. I bite my lip, and the pain clears my head as I stand my ground. 

“It’s okay, pip-squeak. I was watching you too. I was watching as every man in the party watched you prance around oblivious and drunk and naked.” 

My brows furrow in confusion, even as I shiver at the depth of his voice.“I’m not naked!”

His grip on my wrist tightens to the point of pain, and he leans back until our faces are inches apart. His violet eyes sweep a path from my face down the length of my body, before glaring back at me. “Then tell me, pip-squeak, what the fuck are you wearing?”

I spare a glance down at myself, and see the sodden red scraps of fabric that make up my swimsuit. My nipples are dangerously close to being exposed, and the hard peaks strain at the thin fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Water drips down between my breasts. The sight is undeniably erotic. When I glance back at him, his eyes are narrowed to furious slits. I’ve never seen him this tense or this angry before.

“A bikini?” I answer him breathlessly. 

His scoff is cold and incredulous. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days? Where did you get it from, huh, an adult shop?” 

My cheeks burn with embarrassment, even as my core throbs under his furious scrutiny. 

“I got it online, you dick,” I spit back, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh it is absolutely my business,” he says, leaning down until his mouth is right at my ear again. I can feel the heat of his breath, and I shiver as goosebumps prickle my skin. “It is always my business when my little sister is running around looking like she’s ripe to be fucked,” he continues with a sneer. 

The air between us is thin. The heat of him so close to me, but not touching any part of me other than my wrist, is unbearable. The ends of his hair tickle the heat of my cheek, and I want to lean into him like a cat. Even as his overprotectiveness drives me crazy, even as his words light an anger up inside of me, because he has no right to talk to me that way, my body yearns for him. 

“Stop it, Caleb. Now let me go, I wanna go back to the party.” I say, pushing at the firm muscles of his chest. 

But he’s an immovable object in my path, snarling his fury down upon me. His skin is molten, and his chest heaves as he breathes heavily under my touch. 

“Oh no, the only place you’re going is home.” He says with finality, “Where’s your stuff? I’ll get it for you.”

My heart drops. “What the fuck, Caleb? No, I’m not going home yet. You can’t make me.” 

He whirls around and pins me with a glare that could melt steel. “Oh I very much can and will make you. Do not test me right now, pip-squeak. Now answer me. Where. Is. Your. Stuff?” 

Our glare is a stalemate, before I finally sigh. There’s no point in arguing with him when he’s like this. I mumble where I put my stuff next to Tara’s and he turns to leave. 

“Can I at least say goodbye to Tara?” I ask him, my voice small and defeated. 

He turns his head over his shoulder, and with a flick of his wrist, gravity seems to push down harder around me, warping through the air until I’m pinned to the wall again. 

“You’re not going anywhere until I get back. You will not look at or even speak to anyone else but me. If you so much as move even an inch, I’ll make you regret it,” he promises.

As he walks away, he lifts his evol, but his threat restrains me all the same. The buzz from earlier is all but evaporated, and emotions overwhelm me now that he’s gone. The heat and the shame and the anger are all a frenzy inside of me. He didn’t deny that he was talking to the girl earlier. Did that mean that she was someone special to him? The thought stabs shards of ice into my heart, and tears sting my eyes. I sniffle and try to hold them back. He’ll be so annoying about it if he sees me cry. 

It seems like not even a full minute has gone by before he’s back in front of me. His violet eyes sweep down the length of my body again as he stalks towards me, and my core throbs pitifully, despite the betrayal in my heart. He holds the shirt out for me, but I glare up at him in stubborn refusal. 

“Oh, you wanna play dress up? Okay, fine.” He smirks in the face of my defiance. 

He uses his evol to yank my hands up above my head. He slides the shirt over me until it settles completely over me. He doesn’t bother to hide his satisfaction once I’m covered up, and he smirks as he looks at the shirt. His hand plays with the hem, his fingertips skating against the skin of my upper thigh. His hand is so close to where I need him most, so close to uncovering just how ruined I am for him. 

He leans in close to me again, as though magnetized to my body in the same way that I am to his. His other hand comes to rest on the small of my back, fisting the fabric of his shirt lightly in his large grasp. 

“Pip-squeak, is this my shirt?” He asks in a low, teasing voice full of dark promise. 

 I shiver at his tone, and there’s no way he doesn’t feel it with his hold over me. His eyes flicker across my face, taking in every minute expression, obsessively calculating and watching me. I all but blossom under his attention. The heat between us is unbearable and my eyes flutter as his thumb traces an idle pattern right along the sensitive skin of my upper thigh. 

I’m lost in his eyes, in his touch, in his heat. My brain is scrambled and focused only on the scant distance between us. If only he would lean in. If only he would ease some of the desperation that I’ve always felt for him. 

He’s merciless though. He sees how lost I am in the fog, and he leans in. His breath lands on my lips, and my spine arches beneath his hand. He gasps, and I feel his exhale wash over me. His scent, warm and rich and achingly familiar, saturates my nose, and I want to inhale him forever. I want to bury my head in his neck and lick and bite and mark him as mine. 

The pressure of his hands on my thigh robs me of all thought, and they tremble as his grip abandons my shirt entirely, to span across the back of my thigh. His hand is so large and so hot that it spans across the entire side and back of it. I’m engulfed by him. I want him to pull it up and fit himself between my thighs where he belongs.

“Caleb,” I sigh, unable to help myself. 

He groans and his chest heaves as he struggles to breathe deep. His fingers twitch against my thigh, and his hand on my back grips the fabric of the shirt tighter. “I asked you a question, pip-squeak,” he mutters low, a breath away from my lips, “did you wear my shirt here?” 

“Yes,” I whisper against his lips. 

His answering groan is a broken, needy sound that I’ll play on repeat in my mind for the rest of my life. His grip hardens until it’s all but bruising, and his chest heaves with his uneven breaths. 

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

It’s my turn to sigh, as his praises washes over me like an electric current. Every nerve in my body tingles with pleasure and warmth and yearns for more, for everything he can give me. I melt in his arms. 

The heat and hunger inside of me is mirrored in his violet eyes, and for just a moment there is no doubt, there is no fear, there is only the instinctual primal knowledge that he feels exactly the way that I do. 

But he pulls away. 

In a blink of an eye, that look is gone, and the warmth there is instead as familiar to me as the sound of my own name. The tension dissipates like smoke in the wind, and I return to my own body feeling empty and hollow. 

Of course I’m wrong. He’ll never understand how I feel. He’ll never feel the same way about me. After all, I’m just his little sister. 

“Come on, pip-squeak, let’s get you home.”

The memory plays on repeat in my head as I slide on the bikini and make my way down to the pool. It’s technically the second one, as the original mysteriously went missing from my closet days after the party. I purchased it again out of spite, knowing that Caleb had something to do with it, but I never had the guts to wear it again. 

The pool is heated, but it still is cool enough to chill my overheated skin. My head is lost in the heat of the memory, and if I close my eyes I can hear the sounds of the party going on all around me. I can feel the way Caleb crowded into me afterwards, how his eyes looked so angry and so hungry at the same time. It wasn’t the first moment we’ve shared like that, but it always leaves me confused and wanting. It will be an eternal mystery without an answer to understand what’s going on in his mind when he acts like that. 

I swim laps in the pool, pushing myself to at least get a good workout in, if my mind is determined to fixate on him. I imagine how he must look with his friends right now at the court. Is his hair clumped and dripping with sweat? Is he still wearing his tank, the white material clinging to his broad shoulders and made transparent with the slickness of his body? Or did he abandon it entirely, showing off his physique and my necklace for the world to see. 

I can imagine how his muscles twist and bunch as he moves around the court. If I were there watching, I know he would turn to look at me and wink before shooting. When the ball would inevitably sink in the basket he would mouth to me that his win was for me. 

My arousal is unbearable at this point. Dusk falls over the pool, and I pause, gasping for breath, as I will my body to calm down. I know the slick between my thighs is wet from more than just the pool, but I can’t bear to do anything about it just yet. I don’t know when Caleb will be home, and I can’t imagine what he would do if he found me fucking myself in the pool. The thought makes my cheeks burn and my nipples tingle. 

After a deep sigh, I groan as I pull myself out of the pool. My muscles burn from the exertion, and my legs feel like jelly. I wrap myself in the towel and give myself a few minutes to collect my breath. By the time I enter the house, the sky is a darkened blanket of stars, and the illumination of the kitchen stretches across the grass. 

As I make my way to my room, there’s a sound that makes me freeze. I pause mid-step, and my breath rushes out of my lungs at once. 

It was a moan. A high-pitched one. My ears strain as I will my heart to stop its quick beating so I can hear it again. Did I hallucinate it? Did I will my deepest fears into coming true? Again, a moan echoes throughout the house, this time longer and whinier. It’s followed by a masculine reprimand. I can’t hear what he says, but his tone is angry. I’m so startled that I drop the towel on the stairs.

Caleb’s home. And he’s not alone. 

The hurt that stabs into my heart is overwhelming. It’s like I can feel as it disintegrates piece by piece, the cracks fissuring out into nothing until it resembles a husk of something that can never be repaired. I feel adrift in my own body. Unmoored. My feet walk me in a trance towards the door to his room, and I don’t know if it’s better or worse that it’s left partially open. 

I can’t even pretend I don’t feel a wave of self-loathing as I peer through the opening in the door to look inside. 

Caleb is on the bed, some woman collapsed and all but prone underneath him. His naked back is rigid with tension, and his hips furiously pound into her. I can see his profile, see his thick, long cock as it batters into the girl’s cunt. She whines again, her pleasure obvious as she fists tightly into the sheets below. 

Caleb’s face twists in fury. And his hand comes down hard on her ass. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb growls. His voice is dark, monstrous, and if it weren’t for the fact that I saw the words coming from his mouth, I wouldn’t have believed it was him at all, “I don’t want to fucking hear you,” he snarls, “make one more fucking noise and I’ll gag you. Nod if you understand.” 

I hear a needy, breathless whine, and she nods her head. Caleb hisses before the vicious smacking of skin on skin fills the air as he fucks her again. 

I can’t breathe. I shouldn’t be watching this. But my feet are frozen to the spot. The drops of pool water dripping down my skin no longer leave me chilled, but the subtle sensation sets me on fire. 

I know the feelings I harbor for him are wrong. But in all of the ways I’ve imagined him fucking before, I didn’t know he could be this cold, this dominant. I always imagined him as a passionate lover, as someone who gave and gave and gave until the point where he was so wound up he had to take. I imagined he would whisper sweet words and praise in my ear while filling me up slowly, tenderly, forcing me to feel every slow inch of his cock. 

But I was wrong. Caleb’s hands grip hard on the girl’s hips, and his pounding thrusts are brutal. They rock the bed with their ferocity, and I can see his skin glisten with sweat from his exertion. The girl tries to turn her head around to look at him, and he fists her hair and pushes her face back down into the comforter. 

“I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to see your face. I just want to see your ass.” He pants. 

He’s so cold, so detached, it leaves me breathless. But the sight of him being so dominant, of him being so ruthless in his pursuit of pleasure, makes my cunt flutter, aching and empty around nothing. 

I never imagined him to be so rough, and now I can’t imagine him any other way. I imagine it’s me instead of her that he’s fucking so ruthlessly. I imagine the battering of his thick cock, long and hard enough to hit my cervix over and over again, uncaring of how much pain or pleasure I feel as long as he gets to fill me again and again. 

“S-slow d-down. It-it’s too—” the girl moans through broken breaths. 

“No,” he growls, and if anything, fucks her even harder. 

The girl wails, and his hand comes down hard on her ass again. It leaves a bright red imprint that stands out against her pale skin. 

“Please!” She whines. 

Caleb growls in frustration and grabs the girl by the throat. He pauses his fucking, while deep inside of her, but his body is anything but relaxed. 

“If you want me to stop, then say your safe word,” he demands, “otherwise I don’t wanna hear you speak again. Do I make myself clear?” 

The girl’s face is wet with sweat and tears, but she keeps her mouth shut. Caleb once again pins her down by the throat and begins to roughly fuck her in earnest. This time, when he throws her down, he’s angled more towards me. I can do nothing more than watch, transfixed, as his abs flex and roll as his hips smoothly thrust back and forth. His head falls back, and his neck is stretched, slick with sweat, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he groans with pleasure. 

Despite the betrayal in my heart, I’ve never been more aroused in my life. My thighs are all but soaked from the arousal that trickles down from my weeping cunt. In a daze, my hand trails down my stomach and grazes gently along the outside of my folds through the fabric. The slight touch is enough to make me gasp and my eyes flutter. But just as quickly as they close, I open them again to keep watching Caleb. 

I pull the bikini bottoms to the side, and swipe a finger through the slick heat of my cunt. It’s obscene, the amount of moisture that coats my hand immediately. It drools out of me, with stray drops puddling on the floor. I insert two fingers almost immediately and try to match the pace of his thrusts. It’s intense, almost too much, and yet it’s so severely not enough. The feeling of fullness, even if it’s only partial, is bliss after aching for him for hours. I can’t help the sigh that escapes me, and my other hand grips tight on the doorframe for support. 

“Oh fuck,” Caleb groans, his pleasure mounting higher. The sound makes me flutter against my fingers, and I hold back my whine in response. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, as I fuck myself to the sound of his cock driving back and forth. When I glance back at him, his eyes are closed in pleasure, and his neck and chest are stained deep red. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moans. His hips stutter as he drives hard into her over and over again. I match his pace, and within seconds I feel like I’m on the edge with him. “Mmm, fuck just like that. Take my cock, just like that. Fuck, I’m cumming, y/n,” he groans. 

It’s the sound of my name moaned breathlessly between his lips that sets me off like dynamite. My orgasm is intense, wracking every sense in my body until I’m shaking and sputtering for breath. The puddle on the floor is large now, from the force of my need for him. My spine tingles all the way down to my toes, and a high lifts my body to the heavens. 

He moaned my name. 

He may have been fucking her, but he moaned for me. 

The knowledge chases away some of the bitterness in my chest. It prolongs the tremors that crash over me again and again. 

I watch with bleary eyes as Caleb slips out of her and peels off the condom. The girl whines, obviously not finished yet, but Caleb just glares down at her. A flash of anger and disgust wash over his face, and it sends a chill down my spine. I almost don’t recognize him.

“C’mon, Caleb, make me cum. I’m so close,” the girl gasps. 

He pulls back from her and ties the condom into a knot before throwing it in the trash by his bed. “Do it yourself,” he says coldly. 

The girl flips over and looks at him. “Don’t be like that,” she says, shocked. 

He just raises a brow at her while he catches his breath and leans back against the headboard. “Don’t be like what? You’re just a hole to fill. Now that I’ve used you, I’m done.” He states coldly. 

The girl glares at him before getting off of the bed. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never should have fucking come here. Don’t ever talk to me or call me again.” She says as she furiously finds her clothes and puts them back on. 

Caleb just rolls his eyes in the face of her anger. “I wasn’t planning on it anyway,” he just says, rubbing salt in the wound. 

The girl lets out a huff of frustration while Caleb rolls off the bed. I take in the sight of him completely unhindered, and despite being soft now, he’s still a magnificent sight to see. He reaches for the discarded boxers on the floor and slips them on easily. 

I should leave now. With my heart pounding, I all but run towards the bathroom and turn on the shower. Not even seconds later, I hear as two pairs of footsteps walk past, one angry and one lazy. I hold my breath, not even daring to breathe, until I hear the door slam shut. 

I exhale and close my eyes, before stripping my bikini off. I hop in the shower and rinse off my hands, before rubbing them over my face. I’m shaking, I realize belatedly. My skin feels like it’s stretched too thin over my muscles, and the blood that races in my veins is near a boiling point. I don’t even know where to begin to decipher how I feel. 

The sight of his orgasm with my name on his lips plays like a record in my head, and I can’t feel anything except for the heat that refuses to dissipate from my body. I’ve never felt a need like this before. It’s all-consuming, chasing away every other stray thought from my mind. 

He thought of me as he came. It was my name he called out. Did he wish she were me? Is that how he wanted to fuck me? The thought makes my legs shake and I have to brace myself against the slick tile wall of the shower. I’ve never even thought of having sex that rough before. 

To be fair, since I was still a virgin, I had no basis of comparison, but I didn’t think it was possible to be like that. Was Caleb kinky? Did he want the whips and chains? Did he want me to call him ‘sir’ and let him fuck me into submission? The thought makes my pulse pound and my core clench. Did I want that too? 

Every fantasy I had of Caleb kissing me tenderly as he made love to me seems foolishly naive in retrospect. I always knew there was a darkness inside of him, but I had no idea he would unleash it like that. Did I like it? Was I okay with it? 

My thoughts continue to spiral out of control. The only thing I know is that my desire for Caleb is a constant. No matter how he wants me, I will want him in turn. Whether that means rough and degrading or soft and tender, I’ll take any shade of him as long as it means having him to myself. 

And he called out my name. 

A sudden bang on the bathroom door makes me yelp, and I flinch beneath the spray. “Pip-squeak, hurry up,” Caleb calls from the other side, “I gotta take a leak.” 

My heart is caught in my throat and my breath stops. There’s another bathroom down the hall. I know he knows that. So why is he here bothering me? 

“Fuck off,” I shout back. 

I force myself to sound normal, to sound like I didn’t fuck myself to him railing a random girl into next Tuesday. I hear the muffled sound of a growl before he bangs again on the door. 

“I’m coming in, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he shouts. 

He barges into the bathroom, and makes a beeline for the toilet. 

“Caleb, what the fuck?” I shout at him, covering myself up despite the fact that the curtain that separates us is completely opaque. 

He groans in exaggerated pleasure and I hear the sound of his piss hitting the water. I’m so shocked, so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the last thirty minutes, that I can’t even react. What the fuck is he doing? What is he playing at? 

I hear the stream taper off, before the soft closing of the lid. At least he has the decency not to flush while I’m in the shower. 

“Pip-squeak,” comes his voice from the other side of the curtain. He sounds unrecognizable, his voice husky and deep. I’ve never heard him say my nickname like that before. It makes my pulse pound and my pussy drool, and it’s all I can do to keep myself upright against the tile. 

“Y-yeah?” I ask him belatedly. My voice is small and breathy in the bathroom. It echoes back to me and makes me cringe from how needy I sound. 

“Where did you get this?” He asks. 

My brow furrows and I struggle to think about what he could be referring to. Swallowing the tattered shreds of my dignity, I pull back the curtain just enough to peek around and see what he’s referring to. 

He’s so close. Too close. All at once I’m hyperaware of how naked and vulnerable I am in front of him. He stands there, all power and menace, naked except for his boxers, with the bottoms of my bikini dangling from his fingertips. My face flushes scarlet, as I see him holding them. 

They must be saturated with my arousal by now, and he must mistake the wetness for pool water. He stares down hard at the fabric, a tension vibrating in his muscles that I’ve never seen before. Not even moments ago when he was balls deep in some random woman. 

“What do you mean?” I ask him breathily. 

He rubs the fabric between his fingers, and makes a point of gliding his thumb through the gusset, collecting the slick on his hands. My mortification is enough to make me wince as I see him rub it back and forth on his fingers. I want to tell him what he’s doing so he can at least be informed, but speaking those words aloud makes me want to die. 

“I thought I confiscated this bikini from you,” he says coldly, before finally turning to look at me. His expression is hard and restrained. Like he’s on the brink of something terrifying and out of control. “Did you take these from me?” 

I can’t even point out the absurdity of his question with how intensely he’s glaring at me. Did that mean he kept it? I thought he just threw them out. Does he still have my original bikini now? Why?

“I bought a new one,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. 

His hand clenches tight, and his muscles twitch. He laughs to himself, but the sound is humorless and cold. 

“You always enjoyed testing me, didn’t you, pip-squeak,” he says, before glancing back at the bikini bottoms in his hand. He makes a point of gliding his hands more intentionally through the remains of my arousal before bringing up his hand between us. My slick shins on his thick fingers, and my brain short-circuits. 

He knows. 

I don’t know how he does, but it becomes immediately clear that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows that he’s feeling my arousal on his fingertips. He knows. 

“You never knew when to stop, did you?” he asks, his voice accusatory and deep. His violet eyes lock onto mine, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth. He breathes deep, filling his lungs with the scent of my musk, and his eyes flutter closed. He pauses, breathing it in for several moments, and his massive chest heaves with the force of his inhale. 

I can’t speak. I can’t think. Like the moments before, I’m frozen, unable to do anything more than watch. The arousal I tried to subdue before roars to an inferno at the sight of him reveling in the scent of my musk coating his fingers. I must have died. I must have drowned in the pool and this is all some kind of delirious fever dream one sees before their death. There’s no other rational explanation for why Caleb is doing any of this. 

“I have to wonder, is this my penance? My punishment? That you got to watch me, but I’ve never been able to watch you?”

My uneven breath is his only answer. I grip the curtain tight in my grip and can do nothing more than stand there with heat radiating between my thighs. 

“Do you want to?” I ask him. The question is out of my mouth before I can process it. It hangs in the tension of the humid air between us, thick with unspoken need and anticipation. 

Caleb freezes, and his eyes flutter open. The darkness, the hunger, the yearning in his purple eyes is a palpable touch on my soul. I tremble with the intensity in his stare, and watch as he guides his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. He moans at the taste, and works at each digit with a lascivious diligence. His eyes remain fixed on me, giving me no mercy but to allow him the sight of watching me watch him taste me.

“Do you really want to cross that line?” He asks in a low, dark voice, “because if you do, I’ll want to do a lot more than just watch.” 

My heart flutters like a hummingbird in my chest, and I feel a wild, animalistic need overtake me. I feel like I’m watching an out of body experience as my hand tugs at the shower curtain and pulls it back, baring my body for his viewing pleasure. Caleb’s eyes dip immediately, and his chest heaves as he gasps for breath. 

He looks ruined just from looking at me. His eyes survey every inch of skin that has never been seen by him before. His gaze is covetous, molten, and scorches me from the inside out. I thought I would feel self-conscious if I were ever naked before him. I imagined he would make me feel shy and insecure. 

But all I feel now is power. The way he looks at me is like a sinner looking up at his god. His gaze is worshipful, devoted, and full of a need that echoes inside the very depths of my being. I like being naked in front of him, I realize, if he can make me feel this desired from just a look alone. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and his voice cracks. The sound is so endearing that my heart swells and surges, stitching itself over the ruptures he caused so recently. I hold my hand out to him, beckoning him to join me in the shower. 

He strips in a daze, stepping out of his boxers with his eyes unblinkingly fixed on my body. As he steps towards me, the heat between us climbs to an unbearable level. He takes my hand tenderly, the skin of his palm gliding delicately against mine, before his larger hand engulfs mine entirely. 

He reaches out for me with his other hand, but I step back. Immediately, he freezes, and a look of confusion and alarm breaks him out of his trance. 

“I don’t want you to touch me after you just fucked someone else.” I say sternly over the pelting sound of the shower. 

He swallows thickly, and his violet eyes fill with guilt and regret. “She meant nothing to me,” he says earnestly. I believe him, after seeing the way that he treated her. “If I had known that I could have had you instead, I never would have looked elsewhere. You’re the only person I’ve ever truly wanted.” 

The hand he holds he brings up to his forehead and leans into my touch. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, the weight of his guilt crushing down on his broad shoulders. He is every bit the sinner come to repent and beg for forgiveness. 

“Why did you take another woman?” I ask him, my voice trembling despite myself. 

He sighs, and the sound is choked, like he’s breathing around a lump in his throat. His grip on my hand grows tighter, and he presses it deeper into his face. 

“You have no idea how much being in the same house as you, being around you again, drives me crazy. There isn’t a single thought I have that doesn’t involve you. That doesn’t involve all of the things I want to do to you,” he confesses, nuzzling into the palm he holds captive, before pressing a kiss to the skin, “Every smile, every sigh, every touch, every breath you take, and I’m a slave to this need, this obsession. It burns inside of me. And I needed a release. An outlet. Because I couldn’t have you.”

His eyes fix on mine, and the weight of his hunger settles deep into the marrow of my bones. Obsession. That’s what he called it. I can see it in the darkness that shadows his eyes, in the need that coils tight between his muscles and tissue. It beckons to something inside of me, a mirrored desire and fixation, coaxes it to the surface at the slightest tremble of his lips. 

“But you’ve always had me,” I whisper. 

Caleb groans, and he nuzzles further into my touch, kissing my palm before sucking the skin into his mouth. His chest heaves as he gasps for breath, its the same unevenness in my own. 

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it up to you. I’ll do anything, as long as you tell me that I haven’t ruined this chance,” he begs. His other hand tentatively reaches out towards me, and when he sees that I don’t back away this time, he tenderly cradles my face in his palm. 

The air between us stretches and thins as he leans down closer to me. His lips are mere inches away, and his eyes study mine closely. The sensation of power rushes through me again, as I realize that I hold the weight of his heart firmly in my hand. I know that I can break him with a word, that I can shatter his heart as coldly and as cruelly as he shattered mine. 

I lean into his palm and stare up at him. I brace myself, prepare myself for the worst, but I have to know before any of this continues. “Tell me everything you did to her.” 

He answers immediately. “I kissed her neck, used my hands to warm her up, and then fucked her until I came.” 

“You didn’t kiss her?” 

“No.”

“Did you put your fingers inside of her?” 

“No, I just rubbed her clit.”

“Did you think of me?” 

“Yes, always.”

“I want you to do to me exactly what you did to her,” I demand, “I want to feel what she felt.”

But Caleb freezes. His eyes flicker back and forth between mine, searching for something in the depths. 

“No, I can’t,” he whispers brokenly. 

“Why not?” I ask him.

“Because I would never treat you the way I treated her. I can’t. You don’t deserve that.”

“But she did?”

“She isn’t you.”

His answer makes the breath catch in my throat. His thumb strokes idly along my cheekbone, wiping away at the stray drops that collect on my face. His expression is so full of adoration and need that it scrambles my ability to think. My heart races at its implications. 

“Then I want you to do to me what you would have, if she was me,” I say quietly. 

Caleb’s eyes close and he lets out a broken moan. His other hand drops mine and wraps around my waist, pulling my body tightly into his. The sudden feeling of his slick skin pressed tightly into me makes my brain short-circuit. His cock is rigid and twitches between the tight press of my belly. The knowledge that it’s Caleb’s cock that rests against my skin nearly sends me into a frenzy. I’m overwhelmed by him, every sense taken over by need and desire and yearning that I’ve felt since the day that I could first form memories. 

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” He moans in my ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking gently. The feeling of his mouth on my skin sends me into overdrive, and I cling to his shoulders for support. My spine arches into him, pressing our bodies even tighter together, and he groans, rutting his hips into me as his cock twitches eagerly. 

Everything in me screams to give in, to finally surrender. But my hand on his shoulder pushes back, and he gently responds, unlatching his mouth from my ear to peer down at me curiously. 

“Not yet,” I say, “Not while you still smell like her. Clean yourself off first.” 

He immediately reaches for the soap behind me. He pours a liberal amount of shower gel into his hands before working it all over his body with a mechanical precision. He’s rough with himself, swiping over his body with firm, indelicate gestures. I take the bottle from him and squeeze some out into my palm. He freezes as he cleans himself, instead focused on me as I begin to rub the soap into my skin. 

In contrast to him, I take my time with myself. I run the soap along my shoulders and arms, tracing each inch of skin slowly before running my hands back up. I spread it over my breasts, rubbing it into my nipples with slight rolls and pinches, before cupping the full weight of my breasts in my hands. Caleb’s heated gaze is glassy with his lust, and his hand idly strokes down his chiseled abdomen to palm at his erection. 

The sight of his soapy fist wrapped around the thick length of his cock makes my breath stutter and my core clench. I can’t look away from the veins of his lower abdomen, and my eyes track them as they lead down the thick veins of his cock. It looks large, even in his hand, and the thought of taking it inside of me makes me feel apprehensive. 

“I like the way you’re looking at me. So brazen. You like looking at my cock, pip-squeak?” He asks with a throaty groan. 

A flush spreads down from my cheeks to my tits, and his eyes trace along the length of it with greed. He licks his lips and his smirk deepens. All I can do is nod, while my eyes fix on his hand clenching and pumping at his length. He groans, and I see his cock twitch, and my mouth floods with the thought of feeling that twitch against my tongue. 

“Keep going, baby, I want you to be nice and clean for me,” he commands. 

Somewhere along the way, somehow, the power dynamic switched, and I find myself helpless to his demand. My hands follow his instruction, continuing to spread the soap down my abdomen and to my legs. I raised my foot on the edge of the tub and work the soap into my calves, massaging the muscle as I work my way higher. Caleb groans as I part my legs, but his eyes follow my hands as they work. 

When every inch of my body is clean, I finally trail my hands towards my messy cunt. I swipe my hands through the thick slick of my arousal, and I lean back against the tile to hold myself up. Caleb bites his lip, and grips the base of his cock with an iron fist. The head of it is deep red, and shines with a mixture of water and pre-cum. 

“Let me see what you were doing to yourself earlier. Let me see how you made a mess of yourself on the floor,” he demands. 

I whine as mortification flushes my cheeks. Is that how he knew? Did he see the puddle of arousal I made? How did he know it was me? But despite my shame, I follow his command. I part my labia, exposing my hole to his gaze and slowly slide a finger inside myself. 

The stretch makes me sigh, and I push it in as deep as I can before pumping slowly. Caleb moans, his hand still gripping tight as he stares at my hand disappearing into my cunt. 

“Add another finger, baby,” he requests. 

I do as he says and add another finger, and the feeling of fullness makes me clench down hard on my fingers. 

“Mmm that’s it,” Caleb hums, “Did you fuck yourself so gently earlier?” 

I shake my head, distrusting of my voice. 

“Then show me how you fucked yourself. Show me how you made yourself cum.” 

I increase the speed of my hand, mimicking the fast, hard thrusts of his cock earlier. The pace is relentless, and my muscles tighten as I push myself rapidly towards the edge. I whine into the air, and the sound buzzes in my ears as my orgasm creeps closer and closer and closer. The weight of his eyes on me, on the heat and greed in his gaze, does more for me than my own hands, and I’m on the brink before I know it. 

“Caleb, I’m gonna cum,” I moan. 

His eyes flutter shut and he moans, before his hand pumps hard on his cock. “Cum for me, pip-squeak. I got you. Let me see you.”

It’s like my body waited for his permission before it crests over me. The orgasm seizes my muscles tight, and I throw my head back against the wall. My cries are loud and echo in the bathroom, mixing with the obscene sounds of my hands fucking into my cunt. Caleb moans, and I open my eyes in time to watch as he spills into the tub, his cock twitching furiously as he pumps himself to the point of overstimulation. I watch the creamy white of his spend swirl down the drain with a tinge of disappointment that I don’t understand. 

Our panting breaths are loud, and for a moment we both just look at each other, as if neither of us can really believe what’s happened. Caleb recovers first, and stalks forward, crowding me into the wall. He reaches behind me and turns off the water. His face hovers close to mine, and despite the waves of my orgasm receding, the hunger in his eyes sets me on fire. 

“That was the last orgasm you’ll ever have without me, pip-squeak.” He vows. 

He slams his lips into mine with all the weight of his pent up need, and I melt in his arms. His lips devour mine as he plunders mine with a passion that takes my breath away. He grabs ahold of my thighs and pulls me up and into his arms. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist and my hands grab at his hair, bringing his head closer into me. He groans into the kiss, and begins to walk us towards my room. 

He tastes like everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Like apples and musk, and freedom and home. His cock is still half-hard as it nestles against my core, and I rock my hips experimentally against him. His hands on my hips are bruising, and he groans into the kiss, ripping his mouth away with a punishing nip at my bottom lip. 

“Behave,” he growls. 

The reprimand sends shivers down my spine, and he smirks as he feels it. 

“Does my little sister like being told what to do? I can feel how wet that just made you,” he groans. 

“Don’t call me that,” I pout. I nip at the skin along his jaw in retaliation, and his fingers twitch. 

“What do you want me to call you then?” He asks in a husky voice.

“Yours. Call me anything of yours. Except for that.” I say into his skin. My mouth continues its exploration of his neck, and I lick along the path of water that trails down from his hair. 

He groans and nods. “I can do that. Do you like it when I call you baby?” 

I nod as I continue to lick and suck at his neck. His skin reddens beneath my touch, and the sight of the marks does something feral inside of me. 

He presses me back into the bed and climbs over me. He settles between my parted thighs with a teasing rock of his hips, and his cock glides slowly over my clit. My hips jump at the stimulation, and I moan, my nails digging into the strong muscles of his biceps. 

“Anything else you wanna tell me before we continue?” He asks. 

I wrack my brain to think of anything that he could do that I wouldn’t like, but I draw a blank. As long as Caleb is the one doing it to me, I am open to trying anything. 

There is a massive elephant in the room that I need to address though. The thought of bringing it up makes a sudden wave of anxiety settle over me, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck again. Caleb senses the change in me, and pushes my wet hair back from my face, and strokes along the skin of my shoulders. His touch is soothing and familiar in a way that helps make it easier to open up to him. 

“I’ve never done it before,” I whisper into his skin. 

Caleb freezes above me, and a shudder wracks through his body. He breathes in deep, his heart racing against my palm that hovers against his chest. 

“Did,” Caleb begins, before swallowing hard and trying again, “did you wait for me?” 

His voice is so tender, so full of emotion, that I feel the hot prick of tears sting my eyes. I squeeze them shut and cling even tighter to him, trying to swallow past the emotion that threatens to drown me. I nod. 

It’s like I can feel the shift in his body, as he exhales deep into me. His touch, while gentle before, is downright covetous now. He presses a kiss into my hair, and clings to me tight, as though it will calm the trembling in his body too. 

“What have you done?” He asks softly. 

“I’ve only ever kissed. Everything else is, um, something I’ve done to myself.” I confess. 

He groans, and I feel his cock twitch from half-hard to erect. I can feel as it lengthens and hardens against the slippery folds of my cunt, and Caleb absently rocks his hips gently back and forth, barely hinting at the stimulation his cock promises. 

“Have you only ever used your fingers?” He asks me. 

I shake my head no. “I have a toy.” 

“How big is it?” He asks, “I want to know how much I’ll need to prep you.”

My cheeks burn, and I can’t move my face from his neck to have this conversation face to face. “It’s smaller than you, but I already broke my hymen the first time I used it.” 

He moans into my ear, and the feeling of his breath is hot and warm against my skin. Still a seed of doubt lingers in me. 

“Is that okay?” I ask him, my voice small. 

“Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?” He asks, genuine confusion in his voice. 

I can only shrug. “I thought you would want to do it yourself. Are you…disappointed that you can’t?” 

His idle strokes along my skin find my wrists, and he loosens my tight grip on him enough to pull back. One of his hands finds my chin and lifts my face up to look at him. 

“Nothing you can do will ever be a disappointment to me. The fact that you saved yourself from me,” he trails off, at a complete loss for words. His eyes glimmer with an unnamed emotion, before his resolve seems to hit him at once, “I will spend the rest of our lives letting you know every single second of every single day how much that means to me. How much you mean to me. And then I’ll do it all again in the next lifetime after that. And then the next one after that. And then the next one—“

“Okay, okay I get it,” I giggle, my eyes wet with emotion. He smirks at my reaction, before his face gets serious again. His eyes are imploring as he looks down at me, his hand cradling the side of my face. 

“Do you?” He asks gently. 

And I know what he means without words. The tears in my eyes spill over, and he catches each one with his thumbs, wiping them away tenderly. I nod, and smile past the lump in my throat. “Yes, I do.” I gasp. 

He kisses me again, and this time it’s tender. While the passion is still there, it’s shifted. No longer frenzied, but instead worshipful, devoted. His tongue traces along the swell of my lips as though committing their shape to memory with its touch. His hands cradle my head, fingers tangling in the damp strands of my hair as he holds me in place to receive his kiss. 

My hands skate along his skin in kind, tracing along the path of his shoulders in the way that I’ve always longed to. They map out every bump and smooth expanse of his skin in the same desperate need to commit his body to memory. 

His mouth descends from mine to make a path down my throat. His large hands sweep tenderly down my arms, his touch just light enough to raise goosebumps along my skin as I shiver with the need for more. He seems to delight in my sensitivity, as I feel him smile into my throat, before his mouth dedicates itself back to marking me up as I did to him. 

Despite having orgasmed so recently, my blood runs hot, and my core aches with need. Every teasing breath and every light touch only makes me yearn for more. I wonder if his tenderness is because he’s afraid of handling me any rougher. Does he see my virginity as a need to treat me like glass? What if I want more?

“Caleb,” I moan, “stop teasing.”

He bites down gently on my pulse, before he soothes the mark with his tongue. “Don’t rush me. I’ve had over ten years to imagine how I would savor you for the first time. Let me indulge myself a bit.” 

I can’t really argue against such a sweet response like that, but Caleb does take the hint and progress things along. His mouth descends to my breasts, and he tenderly kisses my left nipple, while rolling and caressing my right. The feeling of his mouth on my body is more than I can bear, and I sigh, my back arching into his touch. He pulls back with a messy pop, and his violet eyes are glassy with lust. 

“Hi,” he whispers to my nipple. 

I peer down at him and giggle at his absurdity. “Did you just greet my boob?”

Caleb looks up at me and winks before capturing the bud in his teeth and gently pulling. The soft pinch of pain, makes me whine, and Caleb studies my reaction greedily. 

“They’re so perfect they deserve a proper introduction. After all, we’re going to be very acquainted with one another,” he grins into my skin. 

I roll my eyes, but he captures my nipple again, and bites harder. The pain is sharper, and sends tingles down straight to my core, and my hips rock into him automatically. He hums against my skin, and sucks and soothes at the tight bud in return. With every swipe of his tongue and twist of his fingers, the ache between my thighs grows worse. My hips rock and surge against him, and the tip of his cock glides along the folds of my cunt just enough to provide a hint of stimulation, but not enough to give me what I want. 

I huff, and buck my hips up properly, rocking my cunt hard against the tip of his cock. Caleb moans around my nipple, and bites hard in retaliation, while his hips flex and rock into me. 

He leans up and his lips are swollen and red, slicked with his saliva. The slight makes my pulse pound, and my cunt flutters against his thick length. He grinds his hips more purposefully into me, intentionally dragging out the sensation of his cock sliding against my clit. I keen into the air, my fists twisting tight into the sheets, while my hips raise and chase after the sensation. 

“So fucking greedy. So desperate. You always were so impatient.” He groans, before sliding further down. 

I moan at the loss of his cock against my clit, and he chuckles deep and dark. He uses his hands to pry my legs even farther apart, practically pressing my knees into the mattress. He toys with my flexibility experimentally, before hoisting my legs over his shoulders. Caleb turns his head and presses kisses down the skin of my knees up to my thighs, taking his time to enjoy every tremor and tremble his mouth elicits from its touch. I’m practically shaking by the time he turns to repeat his gentle seduction along my other leg. 

“Caleb, please!” I whine into the air, my hand threading into the soft locks of his hair. He hums and flashes a wicked grin at me, his purple eyes narrowed in mischief. 

“Well since you asked so nicely,” he purrs. 

He trails his nose along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, before hovering just next to my weeping cunt. His eyes drink it in, and he inhales deep, his nostrils flaring as he savors my scent. He groans and his hips twitch against the mattress. His hand releases his grip on my thigh to gently stroke between my folds, spreading my labia apart so he can see every inch of me. 

“It weeps so pretty for me,” he marvels in awe, as his fingers swipe through the thick layer of my arousal. It weeps from my core, staining a puddle into my sheets. The feeling of his fingers, knowing that Caleb is doing this to me, has my heart racing and my cunt flutters in anticipation. He groans at the sight, as more slick dribbles out, and catches it with his tongue. 

Caleb eats me out like a starved man. His tongue is relentless, spearing over every millimeter of my cunt, collecting every drop of arousal that spills out of me. My head is thrown back, and my spine arches, and my grip on his hair tightens. He moans as I pull at his hair, and the vibrations on my cunt make me shriek. He enters my hole with his tongue, fucking me with it, while his thumb traces circles over my clit. 

My hips buck wildly, and he uses the rest of his hand to push down on my abdomen, holding me in place. His other arm wraps around my thigh, holding me open so he can continue to feast on my cunt. The sensations overwhelm me, and I’m reduced to putty in his hands. He’s always been so intuitive with me, always known exactly what to do and how to do it. His knowledge translates perfectly into playing my body like an instrument he’s studied for years. 

It takes mere minutes for me to be on the edge again. My cries of pleasure are loud in the room, interrupted only by the lewd sucking noises he makes with his mouth and occasional groans of pleasure. His thumb moves faster over my clit, combined with the feeling of his tongue stretching me out and filling me over and over again, and my body seizes. 

“Caleb, I’m gonna—“ I shout. I can’t even finish warning him, before he groans into my pussy, and sends me over the edge. The pleasure that crashes into me is transformative. My ears ring, and my lungs stop, and I swear my heart stops beating, as every nerve and every cell in my body is reduced to pleasurable sensation by his hands and tongue. 

He rides out the orgasm by swapping his mouth and hands. His tongue seeks out my clit and sucks it hard into his mouth, as he swiftly plunges two fingers deep inside of me. They’re so thick, and so much longer than my own, and he rocks them in and out relentlessly. My cries are continuous, and my hips buck against his other hand that pins me down. The stimulation is too much, but it’s not enough. I can feel him expertly pushing me towards another peak. 

My cries are guttural, as he crooks his fingers inside of me, finding that spot that I could never reach on my own, and fucks me over and over and over again. 

“Caleb!” I scream, as I crest another powerful orgasm. He detaches his mouth from my cunt and instead keeps pistoning his hand inside of me, his glazed purple eyes watching me closely as I fall apart for him. 

“So fucking pretty when you come for me,” he groans, while keeping his hand pressing down hard on my abdomen. 

The sensations flood me, and I feel a pressure building inside of me that I can’t explain. The release is endless, and gushes out of me, spraying all over his hands and face. Caleb’s eyes flutter and he groans as I squirt over him. It’s only after my hands tug at his wrists that he finally gives my overstimulated cunt a break, and I lay there gasping for breath. 

Caleb looks all but drunk as he pants heavily over me, as though he just experienced an orgasm with me. He watches me for a moment before grasping my chin firmly with his hand and crashing his mouth into mine. I can taste myself on his tongue, and the knowledge that it’s me, that it’s my arousal, that saturates his tastebuds fills me with a heady kind of power. I suck on his tongue, desperate for more of it, and he groans into me, his hips grinding against my thigh as he responds to my eager passion. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, pip-squeak,” he slurrs against my lips, “didn’t know you were a squirter.” His hands rub and soothe my thighs that have yet to cease trembling. 

“I didn’t know either,” I breathe into his mouth. 

He smirks against my lips. “I’m honored to be the first.” 

He kisses me lazily, giving me more time to calm myself before pushing me to move forward. My body is languid and lazy from the aftershocks of my pleasure, but my hands roam his skin, greedy for more. My hand trails down along his shoulder to his chest, and follows the trail of my necklace down his pecs. 

I’ve always admired the strength of his body, and his dedication to keeping fit. His muscles are carved from stone, and the heat of him is solid and strong beneath my palm. It’s at odds with the frantic pace of the his heart beating furiously in his chest. As dominant as he may be, he’s still just as effected by me as I am by him. The thought makes my heart soar.

My hand trails down further, following the ridges of his defined abdomen. He gasps at the light touch, and his muscles twitch in response to my gentle exploration. I can tell he wants more, but he restrains himself, allowing me to go at my own pace. My hand continues to dip lower, idly stroking along the veins that run down his adonis belt, before wrapping around the base of his cock. 

The touch of my hand around him, makes him hiss, and I feel him twitch against my palm. I’ve never held a cock before. I don’t know how to make him feel as good as he did to me. But I want to learn. I want to repay the favor. 

With a glance at his face to gauge his reaction, I slowly glide my hand down the length of him from root to tip, slowly tightening my hold around him. He squeezes his eyes tight, and the hand he has supporting himself on the bed tightens into a ball. His other hand wraps around mine, and tightens my grip considerably, until I’m squeezing him in my fist. 

Caleb groans and his whole body shivers as he guides my hand over him, showing me how to pleasure him. After a few strokes, he lets go, and I continue to pump him as he demonstrated. He hisses in pleasure, and his breath is heavy and uneven as he leans into me. 

“Just like that. Doing so good for me, baby. Fucking perfect, like I knew you’d be.” He mutters before capturing my lips in another kiss. 

I experimentally pick up the pace, while swiping my thumb along the slit at the end, smearing his pre-cum down his length. His abs twitch, and he groans into my mouth, before pulling my hand away entirely. 

“Of course you’re a natural. Gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” He growls before devouring my mouth in a breathless kiss. 

When he pulls away, my body is hot and needy, and I think if I have to wait any longer to properly feel him inside of me I’m going to lose my mind. 

“Do you still want it, pip-squeak?” He asks against my lips. “We don’t have to today. We’ve got all the time in the world. I don’t wanna push you.” 

While I’m touched that he’s willing to hold himself back for me, I’m more focused on the obsessive need building inside of me that only he can take away. I grab ahold of his hair and jerk his head down to look at me. He hisses in pain and glares down at me, but waits for me to speak. 

“Caleb, fuck me right now. That’s an order.” I demand.  

His body ripples in pleasure as his pupils blow wide. He captures my lips in another kiss, before pulling back. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers cheekily. 

He pulls at my legs until my knees are pressed to my chest, and guides his cock towards my entrance. He holds my gaze as he slowly pushes in, feeding me his cock inch by inch. He’s big. So much bigger than my toy or his hands. But I’m so wet that the stretch is only a dull aching pinch. He fills me about halfway before rocking gently back, and I can’t help but glance down at his length. It shines with my arousal, and I whimper with the need to feel him inside me again immediately. Caleb’s hand gently grasps my chin and guides my face back to looking at him as he pushes into me again. 

“Eyes on me,” he demands.

This time he goes deeper, and the pressure builds until I have to grip him tight. It’s an ache that only expands until finally he stills, all of him inside of me. The stretch is almost more than I can take, but Caleb stays put, allowing me to slowly get used to feeling him inside of me. His shoulders tremble, and his eyes flutter shut before fixing on me again. 

“So fucking good. Feel perfect around me. Like I knew you would. Your cunt is made for me. Only me. Only I will ever fill this pussy up,” he mumbles as his mouth grazes across my neck, nipping and sucking at the skin around my collarbone. 

His possession makes me flutter, and he groans, nipping at my skin harder. 

“You like it when I tell you that you’re mine? You like it when I tell you that my cock is made to fill you up? That it will never feel empty ever again, because I will always be there to make it full?” He continues his filthy promises against my skin. 

I whine as my cunt flutters tighter around him, and the sharp edge of pain slowly begins to ebb away. His hand trails down to slowly circle my clit, and the stimulation makes me gasp, and I dig my nails into his shoulders.

He rocks his hips experimentally, before pulling about halfway out, before slowly gliding in again. Sparks dance inside of my body as he moves, and the waves of pleasure quickly overtake the pain. He captures my mouth, and moans as his hips slowly start to pick up the pace in earnest. 

With each thrust, the pain dulls to a whisper, and I feel that need for more clawing its way down my spine. He maintains his maddeningly gentle pace, and I think back to how hard, how viciously he fucked the other girl earlier, and my cunt clamps down tight in jealousy. He groans, and thrusts harder, before catching himself and slowing down again. 

“Harder,” I pant into his mouth, “please fuck me harder.” 

His hands tighten on my body, but he pulls back to study my face all the same. “Are you sure?” 

“Please, Caleb. Please fuck me harder, I’ll be so good for you, please, please, please,” I beg. 

It’s like a cord snaps inside of him at the sound of my begging, and his touch becomes iron. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming his hips hard into mine, and I wail out my pleasure into the room. The sound of it is obscene, and only makes me wilder for him. 

“You want me to fuck you hard, is that it?” He asks, while his thrusts become deep and bruising. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” I shout, my eyes rolling back in pleasure as he finally gives me what I’ve been wanting. 

His hips snap viscously back and forth, thrusting his cock deep into me over and over again. His cock bullies into my walls deliciously, and stretches me out until I can’t think, I can’t even speak, because all I am is reduced to how he feels inside of me. 

“Was trying to be nice,” Caleb growls, “but my dirty girl wants to be fucked good and hard, is that right?” 

“Yes, please, Caleb!” I scream. 

He moans and grabs at my legs and throws them together over his shoulder, bending me solidly in half, so he can continue to pound deep into me. The angle makes me grip him even tighter, and I can feel the stretch even deeper. My hands fly out, fisting in the sheets, and it’s all I can do to hang on and take his furious pounding. 

He rises up on his knees, and the sight of him, sweaty and towering over me, flushed from the exertion of fucking me, drives me to the edge. I can tell from the wild look in his glassy purple eyes that he’s close behind me. 

As if he can read my thoughts, his eyes narrow down on me like a predator, and his fucking becomes all but savage. “You gonna cum for me, sweet girl? Are you gonna cum all over my cock?”

I moan at the sinful words and stutter for air. I can feel his cock throb inside of me, and I spasm as I try to find a hold on the sheets beneath me. His thrusts are frenzied and ruthless, and it takes only a few more before I’m coming for him. His cock is relentless, dragging out the pleasure of my orgasm as my cunt spasms around him. I wail my pleasure loud into the room, and scream his name as I cum. 

“That’s it baby. Feel so fucking good. Gonna make me cum. Where do you want it?” He asks, his words half drunk as he fucks me to oblivion and back. I gather what little strength I have left in my arms and pull him down onto me. His weight smothers me, and our skin is slick with our sweat.

“Inside, please,” I whine. 

He moans and his thrusts become erratic. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and bites down while his hips rutting mindlessly as he comes. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside of me, and his hot cum filling me up brings me to a soft peak, and I clench around him, milking his cock dry. His moans and heavy breaths fill my ear, and I pull him to collapse completely on top of me. His heavy weight is grounding, and makes me feel even more connected to him as we gather our breaths. 

Finally, he rolls off of me with a huff, and pulls me with him so that I’m burrowed in his arms. He grips me tight, and his hands stroke idly along my skin, uncaring of the sweat that covers it. As our bodies cool down, he pulls back and cups my face in his hand. The look in his eyes is heavy and fills me with an emotion I can’t name. He kisses me softly, sweetly, pouring everything he feels into it. I grab tight onto his wrists and kiss him back, hoping that he can feel my response as clearly. 

“Can we do this forever?” He asks me softly. 

I turn my head and kiss the palm that cups my cheek. “Forever and ever.” 

His smile is soft and sleepy, but still filled with his trademark mischief. “And forever after that?” 

I let out a sleepy laugh and burrow tighter into his chest. The feeling of rightness, of being home, has never been stronger. “And forever after that.”

[bookworrm1999]

How Far Away? Part 7

Caleb x Mc

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication, miscarriage scare

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she's pregnant. She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Caleb awoke to a very dry mouth and a pounding head.

It felt like a really nasty hangover and he had had plenty of those back in flight school. His memory was hazy for the moment so he wondered how much he had drank to feel like this.

He stretched his arm out and met the cool metal of some sort of rail.

What is this? He blearily opened his eyes and focused on his surroundings. A window with ugly green curtains, a wall full of cabinets and drawers, a small sink, a patterned curtain in front of the door, then the machines.

The pain in his arm made him hiss as he moved the wrong way. There was a needle and a tube in his arm, he followed it up to a bag full of liquid dripping down the tube.

Oh, it’s a hospital. Now it’s coming back to him, the shouting, the frantic energy of nurses and doctors trying to keep his heart beating.

He knew this hospital, it was Willow Medical Center in Skyhaven. How did he end up here?

The worst hangover he’d ever felt and it was no wonder. A few weeks of constant evol use on low food and not drinking as much water as he should have.

A recipe for disaster but he was here, he was alive.

It was dark from what he could see through the curtains drawn over the window. Other than the pounding in his head and dry mouth, he was otherwise uninjured.

His crew had actually gotten him safely out of the deepspace tunnel.

A warm feeling in his chest made him cough in embarrassment.

They had somehow gotten him out of the Fleet’s clutches, away from Ever’s influence to a safe place.

All that effort he had expended in getting them home must have left them feeling indebted to him.

He was very grateful for it, if he had been left to Ever’s clutches. They would’ve fixed his chip and taken advantage of his weakened state to upgrade him even more. Sinking their slimy fingers even more into whatever individuality he had left.

He’d worked so hard to fight the chip, it was at 50% integrity now and going down without a fight wasn’t an option.

His crew deserved something in return as thanks but he’d have to think on that more.

Where was his stuff? Only dressed in a hospital gown without a stitch of anything else, Caleb felt very exposed.

Oh there’s his stuff, a neat pile on the side table. His phone off to the side of his clothes.

Caleb really wanted to see her face, even if it was through a picture. Cell phones glitched weirdly in the deepspace tunnel, so he usually relied on his memory and the hidden photo in his pocket to keep her with him.

Then a nurse came bustling in, keeping the light low, he could see a clock behind the curtain she had just pulled aside.

2 am, well, not the worst time to be alive.

The nurse noticed he was up, looking a little shocked before recovering.

“Hello Colonel, how are you feeling?”

He grimaced

“My head has a band playing inside it and I really need some water.”

“Well, I can go and get water for you right now, I’ll send a note to the doctor to put in an order for some pain medication too. Okay?”

“Right.”

“I actually came in to grab some blood for labs, we need to make sure all of your levels are normal now.”

“Go ahead.”

She quickly took out her butterfly needle along with a few vials, sanitizing his arm and quickly drawing blood out.

Snapping her gloves off, she asked

“Anything else I can get you?”

“Can I have my phone from that table?”

“Oh sure, here you go!”

After handing Caleb his phone, she went back out into the hallway. Hopefully to return with water and something for this headache.

There was a universal charging cord attached to the hospital bed for his convenience. Plugging it in, it only took a minute to boot back up.

He saw the day, the fact that it was still a few days shy of his original return date made him a bit relieved.

That is, until he saw the slew of messages from her.

100’s of them, his phone kept going off and it felt like it was going buzz its way out of his grip.

What in the world?

Caleb was very concerned now, she almost never sent him this many. Not while he was gone and couldn’t respond.

Very worried at this point, he opened the earliest message.

Watching it left him in a daze, her bright smile seared into his mind as she had proudly proclaimed that you were pregnant.

Pregnant with his baby?!

He sat in astonishment for just a minute before it really hit him.

Caleb was going to be a father!

He eagerly opened each message after that.

All her cute little complaints about being sick, wanting food but not being able to eat it, her pants not fitting.

The weight loss did indeed worry him but he was reassured just seeing the way she struggled to wear pants now.

Hearing about stealing his clothes made him a bit feral to be honest but also stoked his male pride.

Then Caleb got to the point where she showed him the newest ultrasound, the little bean had little arms and legs now.

He stared at the image for a long while, the heartbeat of his child, his little baby, in the background.

All the joy came to a halt as the love of his life’s crying face came into view.

He had been pronounced MIA and presumed dead?

Oh no.

He noticed the background was now only showing her at his house in all the videos after that, her eyes hollow, her face limp, only the thought of their baby keeping her going.

He clenched his fist, the one that could punch through walls to get to you.

Caleb desperately wanted to call her now, but he didn’t want to do it over the phone. Not to mention that it was still the middle of the night.

He played the next few videos, his heart breaking as his love’s decline was put on display for a man that she thought was dead.

The last video though, it was only yesterday that it was sent.

Oh, oh now he wanted to rip the building apart.

Zayne, that sly bastard swooping in as soon as he smelt blood in the water.

Trying to take advantage of a grieving woman.

The confusion, the phone was laid down as he heard faintly, is that blood.

The word blood made his own run cold.

She was hurt? No, something worse as sobs came over the phone.

“Please don’t let me lose you, you’re all I have left of Caleb. Please baby, just stay with me!”

Desperate pleas came over the phone before the camera was back in her face, utterly wrecked as the video ended.

What the hell?

That’s how it ends?

He needed to leave now.

He started to rip the IV out of his arm and the nurse came back in, carrying a packet and a cup of water.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m leaving!”

“You haven’t been cleared yet!”

“I’m going and you can’t stop me.”

He stood up and towered over her. The nurse shrank a bit before standing firm.

“Why?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“I do if you’re going to leave AMA! You were in bad shape when you first came in. You’re still recovering.”

“She needs me and I’m going!”

“Wait she?”

He grimaces at the slip before spitting

“Yes, she needs me, there’s something wrong happening and I need to be there.”

“Maybe I can help.”

He stared at the small woman before shrugging.

“If you can tell me what hospital she went to, sure.”

“Are you referring to the woman listed as your emergency contact?”

“Yes.” He grits out impatiently.

She goes to the monitor in the corner of the room and looks at few pages before pulling something up.

“You’re in luck, she’s here in the labor and delivery ward.”

“Great, I’m leaving.”

She stops him with a hand to his chest.

“What is it now?” Snarling at the interruption.

“You can go, but in a wheelchair.”

So thus, Caleb is rolled all the way from intensive care all the way to L and D.

She had bandaged his arm up from where he’d ripped the IV out, he hadn’t even noticed it bleeding.

The nurse asks the night nurse working where she is and they’re directed to a room at the end of the hall.

He’s wheeled through the door and there she was.

Sleeping, looking so small and weary even in the dim light.

The nurse whispers

“I’ll have to go back but just hit the call light if you need anything, ok?”

He nods but doesn’t dare disturb the peace of the room with his voice.

But as the nurse leaves, he’s desperate to touch you.

So he pushes the chair forward by the wheels until he’s by her side. Caleb can now see something miraculous.

A baby bump, a true proof of their love.

Were they okay though? There was no one to ask, but he spies a chart at the end of the bed.

Grabbing it eagerly, he reads

‘Patient presented with mild bleeding at 18 weeks of pregnancy. Scans done and slight placental abruption was found. Mildly invasive procedure done to correct issue. Patient to be kept under observation for 24 hours.’

A very short summary of the situation but it was enough.

The baby, their sweet baby, and her were going to be okay.

Shoulders shaking as a few tears escaped his eyes as he laid a gentle hand on their child.

“Hello little one, I’m your daddy. I’m sorry I haven’t been here so far but don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

A slight bump against his hand and he was instantly in love.

Caleb wanted to scoop them both up and never let them go. His two loves in his arms forever.

A slight noise behind him made him turn his head from the beautiful sight.

Zayne.

His gut tightened.

“What are you doing here?” Caleb tried to keep his voice low but the protectiveness came through.

Zayne pushed his glasses up before answering

“They called me here to check on her heart and so that she’d have a member of her care team here. She couldn’t make it all the way down to Akso hospital so her OB told her to go to Skyhaven’s hospital for now.”

What a perfectly reasonable explanation but he’d heard what Zayne had been doing while he was away.

“You sure move fast Dr.Zayne.”

A raised eyebrow was the only response he got.

“She’s not yours.” Caleb made that clear with a growl.

“From what I hear, she wasn’t truly yours either. Scared of commitment, colonel?”

“That will soon be rectified so you can butt out.”

“Fortunately for you, she told me to butt out before you even came home. I have no plans to stay where I’m not wanted.”

“Good.” The baby bumped against Caleb’s hand again, making him smile.

“But if she needs me again, don’t think I won’t come running.”

With that ominous warning given, Zayne turned around and left the room.

Well, at least that’s done. Where does Zayne get off telling him that though?

She was more important than that sly bastard anyway and Caleb settled in to stay with her until she woke up.

He knew he had to take care of Ever somehow, he had been steadily wearing the chips integrity down so that they wouldn’t have hold over him anymore. It seemed that it was time to move the timeline up.

His two babies deserved him at his best and without these shackles.

He could wait for her eyes to open though. They had a lot to talk about after all.

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22 @tinnyrabbit @gavin3469 @marina27826 @crowleysthings @tabi-callico @midiplier

@his-ocean-emissary @rosalyne08 @xaviers-pookie-bear @tsunamethyst @thejujvtsupost @cherrybeomgyu

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[rieamena]

operation dasher ꩜

doordasher!takuma and cosplayer!reader

word count: 1.1k

riea's comments: i might make this something long running with spontaneous additions so we don't get another full throttle (sorry about that one....)

you order in one evening because all the leftovers were done due to an impromptu visit from your nephews and nieces and with so much to do, you simply didn't feel like cooking anything (or had the time to). you had to finish your makeup, put on the costume, record and edit a video, and the list goes on and on. so yeah, no way you're cooking. yes, your heart did shatter a bit seeing the price but cravings were cravings and cravings need to be satisfied! 

with haste, you started on your to-do list and just when you were finished putting on your outfit, a notification pinged on your phone and the doorbell rang. speed walking to the door, you yelled out a coming! before they could ring it again. unlocking the door, you greeted your dasher. it was a guy who looked about your age, maybe a little older, so you guessed 22 or so, with brown hair peeking out of his black beanie that went with his all black outfit. you two stared at each other for a while, making you wonder what was wrong. until you remembered what part of the to-do list you were on just before you came to the door. 

"oh! s-sorry!" you scrambled to cover yourself with something anything, but to no avail. not even a blanket was near enough. he chuckled, looking you up and down before speaking,

"saiki, right? the character you're dressed up as?" the man in all black handed you the bag after taking a picture of it

"oh, yeah, haha..." you forcibly laughed, embarrassed due to your appearance at the moment (and the fact that your dasher was so...... let's not finish that thought.)

"cool! my little sister cosplays too. for the last con we went to, she cosplayed as sakura kinomoto and she made me sakura's older brother, toya."

you physically felt the air get lighter with his confession, "aww thats cute. does she have any socials where i can see?"

not missing a beat, he navigates to his sister's tiktok account and flips the screen to face you. typing the username in, you found her account and was shocked at how intricate her outfits were

"does she... make this all herself?" you asked, gasping with every scroll

the man wore a proud smile as he recalls the dedication of his sister. "yeah, she spends weeks, usually months, planning and making every little thing for her cosplays. it's tiring but she loves it!"

"my god... this is insane..." it was impossible to think twice when hitting the follow button. she was amazing, like simply incredible

"maybe you'll get to see one of her cosplays in person soon," he smiled, adding a second later,

"and maybe i'll get to see you again."

with that, he winked and jogged back to his car, driving away within seconds, leaving you frozen at your front door

"yeah... maybe."

you stood at the door, still holding the takeout bag in one hand, heart pounding in your chest. what was that? what the hell was that??!?! the thought replayed over and over again in your head as you slowly closed the door behind you. his wink had been so casual, like he did it all the time, but the way it affected you was anything but. not that it affected you though. cause it definitely didn't. like no, there wasn't a flutter in your heart when his eyes glistened and twinkled under the glow of the setting sun. no, you didn't feel anything throb or your knees buckle when you felt his eyes drag across your frame. no, you didn't— just no!

you leaned against the door for a moment, replaying the brief interaction in your head. his sister's cosplays, his smile as he talked about her, and the way he knew who you were cosplaying as without hesitation. it wasn't every day someone recognized saiki on the spot, let alone complimented your look without a hint of awkwardness. and, well, the guy was cute. very cute. society would say he's conventionally attractive but to you… there's just something else about him that makes you wanna— woah. that's too much to get into right now

after a few more moments of contemplation, you finally peeled yourself away from the door and made your way to the kitchen. the takeout container was warm in your hands, a comfort you didn't know you needed after the hectic day you'd had. setting it down on the counter, you opened the bag to reveal your meal, taking in the scent with a content sigh. maybe tonight wasn't so bad after all

as you plated your food and prepared to settle in for the night, your phone buzzed. you picked it up, expecting another reminder about your to-do list, but instead saw a notification from tiktok: [inodaisies] followed you back

your lips curled into a smile. it was his sister. she'd followed you almost immediately. not only that, but there was a new comment under one of her cosplay posts: "hope you two meet at the next con! :)"

you blinked. had he gone and told his sister about you already? the thought made your stomach flip, and not in a bad way. you scrolled through a few more of her videos, impressed yet again by her level of craftsmanship. the girl was seriously talented

and then another thought hit you

maybe you would run into him again. the con scene was big, but it wasn't that big. it was entirely possible your paths could cross if you kept attending. and judging by the way he'd spoken to you, he probably wouldn't mind seeing you either

"get it together," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head with a self-deprecating smile. you weren't the type to get swept up in a random interaction like this, but tonight had definitely thrown you for a loop, and damn you didn't mind it at all. dare i say, you even enjoyed it. oh, you definitely enjoyed it

you unlocked your phone to send a text to your friends. you told them about everything, a small interaction like this could blow up into full scale delusion, and god you needed that right now

my dasher is so hot

—

the girl who i just dashed to was so pretty

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[lizsos]

Between The Lines

Genre : fluff

The rain had been falling for hours, soaking the cobblestone paths of Seoul University and pooling along the edges of the courtyard. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of wet earth and old books through the nearly deserted halls.

You should have been home by now.

Instead, you found yourself standing outside his office door.

Hwang In-ho

Your fingers hovered over the doorknob, your pulse thrumming in your ears. This wasn’t the first time you had lingered outside Professor Hwang Inho’s office, debating whether to step inside. But tonight felt different—he had asked you to come.

That alone should have been enough reason to turn around.

Instead, you swallowed the hesitation rising in your throat and pushed the door open.

The warm glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room. He was there, waiting.

Hwang Inho sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, fingers idly tapping against the spine of a book. His dark eyes lifted as you stepped inside, scanning you with that unreadable expression he always wore.

“You’re late.” His voice was smooth, edged with something you couldn’t quite name.

You hesitated before closing the door behind you. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close. “And yet, here you are.”

The room suddenly felt too small, the air thick with something unspoken.

You stepped forward, dropping your bag onto the chair across from him. “You said you wanted to see my revisions.”

Inho leaned back in his chair, gaze still fixed on you. “Did I?”

Your stomach flipped at his tone. He was doing it again—this. The way he spoke in half-truths, the way he let his words stretch into something heavier than they needed to be.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, low and soft. “And you’re impatient.”

You watched as he reached for your papers, flipping through them with slow, deliberate movements. His fingers skimmed the margins, tracing over the handwritten notes, his brow furrowing in thought.

Minutes passed in silence, but it wasn’t a comfortable one.

It was charged.

Then, he spoke—quiet, observant. “You changed this section.”

You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on the desk. “Is that a bad thing?”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours. “No.”

A pause.

“Just unexpected.”

The weight of his attention sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes—dark, intense—held you there, like he was searching for something beneath the surface.

You wet your lips, heartbeat quickening. “You make it hard to think.”

His hand stilled against the paper.

Then—slowly, deliberately—he closed the file.

Your breath caught as he leaned forward, the desk between you suddenly feeling like nothing at all.

“Then stop thinking,” he murmured.

Your fingers curled against the wooden edge of the desk.

The space between you felt unbearably thin, stretched tight with something neither of you had dared to name.

And then—neither of you stepped back.

You weren’t sure who moved first—maybe it was you, maybe it was him, or maybe this moment had been inevitable from the start.

But suddenly, his mouth was on yours.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was months of unspoken tension unraveling all at once. His hands gripped your waist, pulled you forward, closer, until there was no space left at all.

You gasped against his lips, fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. His lips were hot, demanding, consuming.

One of his hands slid up your back, threading into your hair as he angled your head, deepening the kiss. You felt the quiet groan rumble in his chest, the heat of his breath as he exhaled against your lips.

Your back hit the desk as he pressed against you, his body firm, overwhelming in the best way. His fingers curled against your hip, holding you there, grounding you.

You broke apart for air, but he didn’t let you go far—his forehead rested against yours, his breaths uneven, mirroring your own.

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, voice shaking.

Inho let out a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Too soft. Too careful.

“Probably,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours again—teasing, testing.

Your heart pounded as his fingers traced the curve of your jaw, slow and deliberate. His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, dark with something unreadable. Something dangerous.

“But tell me to stop,” he said softly. “And I will.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Because you both knew the truth.

Neither of you wanted to.

And maybe—neither of you ever would.

[redheadspark]

hii!! may i request for the feb prompt session? specifically our boy eddie munson with numbers 2 & 5! like eddie pulling reader aside to confide abt their little crush to someone and reader just thinks oh ahah its nothing but as time goes on we can slide in prompt number 5 for ultimate pining from reader 🤓 perhaps even angsty,, mwhehe >:)

A/N - this is great for Eddie! Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

Be Brave

Summary - Eddie asks you for advice.

Warnings - Fluff with a hint of Angst

“Hey!  I wanna talk about something with you,”

“If it involves Hellfire you’re on your own.  I’m not going to be getting you out of your shit hole situations anymore,” 

“No no!  I mean….that’s nice when you help with that, but no.  It’s something else,”

You poked your head out of your locker, seeing your best friend look at you with an image of nervousness on his face. His wild hair framing his face and his backpack half-hazardly over his shoulder.  You could see the look in his eyes that this was serious, and knowing Eddie Munson, he was rarely serious.

He was serious about a few things: Hellfire Club, his love for metal music, and the need to be his own different.  So what would it be?

“What’s going on, Eddie?” You asked as you grabbed a few books from your locker to put in your backpack.

“You won’t make fun of me?” He questioned, you grinning as you raised a brow at him.

“Since when do I ever, ever make fun of you?” You asked him in a teasing way.  

“I’m not going to answer that,” he replied, “Just…I wanna talk to you because you’re a girl and you probably are better equip at this than me,”

That made you pause again as you finally closed your locker and faced Eddie.  You both were close as friends, ever since you were recruited to join Hellfire club thanks to your older brother who knew Eddie.  They both were in the same grade and your brother knew you liked playing Dungeons and Dragons, he taught you the game. He figured you playing with Eddie would both get you something to do and to get you out of his hair.  Both worked, and you were a decent player at the table.  It made Eddie admire you all the more, not that he didn’t think girls could play Dungeons and Dragons, he just loved how you played.  The same vigor and bite, just like how he played. 

Which in return made him get a small crush on you.  Not that he knew that you were crushing on him back.

“I wanna tell this girl that I like her, but I don’t know how to do it,” he explained, your heart both beating a pinch faster and plummeting at the same time. You were never one to be yearning for drama that others went through, especially girls and their crushes. It seemed too time consuming and petty, which explained by you hardly had any girl friends. Just a few, but you liked it that way.  You had no time for drama and boy trouble, you had too much homework and after school activities to deal with than to figure out who liked who and who was dating

One of your friends was a cheerleader named Danielle, good friends with Christie Cunningham who was pretty much great with everyone at Hawkins High.  You and Danielle study together in the library on Tuesdays during Study Hall because you both were the top students in your science class, in all your classes really, and one afternoon she asked you about Eddie.

“What about him?” You whispered to her since the librarian was notorious for shushing those who were not whispering. Danielle grinned, chewing the back of her pencil as she was tapping her fingers on the top of her opened science book.

“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?”  She asked you in a shrug.  You kept it cool, something you brother taught you since you were notorious for not having the best poker face. But deep down, it felt like she kicked you straight in the stomach and you were about to vomit all over the desk.  

“He’s alright,” You hummed, Danielle rolling her eyes.

“Oh come on, you don’t think he’s cute? With at will hair and how he loves his music?” She asked, keeping her voice low.  You wanted to roll your eyes, clearly knowing deep down that Danielle had no idea about the music he likes or the kind of hobbies he was into.  Maybe you were protective of Eddie since you two were close and confided in each other from time to time, and to hear that someone else liked him only as a surface crush, it was not sitting well with you.

“He’s my friend,” You could only reply, Danielle shrugging and going back to work on her notebook.  You passed for a few long seconds, thinking of the worst possibility that Danielle and Eddie would be a couple in the future.  It made you mad, sad, confused, and heartbroken at the same time. But you could only bury it down and not mention it.  That was social suicide, not even worth it.  

So it was buried, along with your own feelings for Eddie.

“The best thing to do is to tell her how you feel,” You explained as you and Eddie walked down the hall, side by side while Eddie watched you in earnest to hear your suggestion to him, “Girls like honesty, not flirting around the bush,”

“That sounds…weird,” Eddie explained with a confused look on his face.

“You know what I mean,” You reasoned as you grinned, “Look, Eddie, whoever this girl is, I bet if you tell them and you’re honest about it, it’ll work out.  You’re a great guy,”

“I think you’re forgetting that I have the nickname Eddie “the Freak” Munson around here,” He reminded you as you huffed.

“That stems from the popular kids who don’t know how to wipe their own asses,” You joked, Eddie was chuckling as you made it to your English class.  You turned to face him, seeing him watch you with warmth in his brown eyes and a small smirk on his lips.  Reach over to squeeze his arm gently within your fingers, you tilted your head up at him since he had a few inches on you.

“Be brave, Eddie.  Girls dig it,” You explained, then slipped into your class right when the bell rang. Eddie stood there for a few long seconds, drinking all you said before he jogged down the hall to get to his math class.  He could be brave, it was easier said than done but he could.  You made it sound so easy, like a normal chore to do throughout the day.  But maybe he could do it just to make you smile.

It gave him a pep in his step.

“I rolled a 20!”

“Roll for damage?”

“13?”

“Hell yeah!  How do you wanna do this?”

You leaned over the table, your D20 dice perched in front of your spot along with your papers and notepad etched out in notes as you were describing how you were killing the beast in the middle of combat.  The others around the table were cheering, egging you on as you were drinking in the victory that was in your hands.  

Eddie, in his Dungeon Master chair, was watching in amazement a massive grin on his face as you were using your hands, and your eyes lit up in joy while you were giving every single detail with precision.  He’s seen the others in Hellfire give great details when they would end or an enemy, but you were on a different level.  You loved storytelling, and the way you spoke, and played the game with creativity and enthusiasm. He wished the others would take a page out of your book.

In that moment as the others cheered, Garret clasping you on the shoulder and Dustin and Mike cheering loudly, Eddie watched with a cocked head and love in his eyes.  You were laughing, blush on your cheeks and your light brown hair dancing in the low lighting made his heart flutter.

You didn’t know that Danielle was shot down by Eddie a few days before, Danielle asked him out to study together after school and Eddie politely declined.  He knew Danielle was not the one for him, and she never held a flame for him to be entranced to.  Not like you, Eddie was a moth to your flame and he liked it that way.  He knew what he liked, and he remembered what you told him in that hallway.

You told him to be brave.  And maybe after the game, he would finally ask you on a date.

The End.

[ladykailitha]

Heartbreak in Overdrive Part 1

Yeah, I know this is supposed to be Spellbound, but like this has five chapters in backlog, and it really needs to be let out before it breaks containment.

The title comes I'll Wait by Van Halen, as I wanted something to do with fashion and @bookworm0690 really came in clutch with these lyrics.

Summary: Eddie is a top model know for his temper tantrums. Steve is war photographer coming out of a traumatic experience by doing fashion photography. When hotheaded Eddie runs up against Steve's cool under pressure attitude, sparks fly.

Also I tend to make up fictional brands so I don't have to keep running for google every time I need a brand name for something.

~

Eddie Munson fought hard to be where he was. He had climbed up from the literal fucking gutter to being a top model. Fuck that bitch for ruining that title in the minds of the masses, making it meaningless, but he earned it.

He had full creative control over every little aspect of his shoots and everyone knew it. They knew what they were getting when they hired him. Every part of him was what they fucking paid for. His whole glam metal look was a package deal. His long hair, his tattoos, his style. That’s what they got when they hired him.

His current gig was St. John Whiskey, they were trying to appeal to the younger party crowd with their new canned cocktails. Eddie had tried them and they weren’t half bad. If someone served them at rave he went to, he would happy down several of the damn things. But he wouldn’t ask for them. Like ever.

Eddie briefly wondered who was going to shoot the ad, because they hadn’t told him before he signed on the dotted line. Not that it mattered, whoever they got would try to fob it off to someone else. That little detail made the little demon in Eddie curl up and purr. That companies would trip over themselves to get Eddie to model for them, while the actual photographers were fighting over who had to photograph him.

He arrived on set which was made up to look like a club, there were about a dozen extras all tarted up in club gear. To the right was his hair and makeup artist, Vickie Cameron, to his left was his manager next to a row of clothes that Eddie would choose from for the shoot.

Tucked behind a little partition were three photographers; Jonathan Byers, Argyle Ramirez, and Tommy Hagan. They were all playing roshambo. They were playing several games before Tommy groaned.

“Fuck!” he cursed and then walked over to get his kit. His assistant Carol immediately started setting up the lights and shit from his stuff while Argyle and Jonathan celebrated their win.

“Hello, boys,” Eddie said sweetly, causing everyone nearby to jump in the air.

Jonathan had the decency to look embarrassed, Argyle just grinned at him. Tommy on the other hand, his expression soured.

“Munson,” he said tersely. “Keep the tantrums to a minimum and maybe both of us will fucking survive this day.”

Eddie’s face transformed into a feral grin. “Do you job properly and there won’t be a tantrum to be had. Be the hack you usually are and I make no promises.”

Tommy surged forward, likely to start swinging, but Jonathan held him back. Eddie batted his eyelashes at him innocently, then he turned on his heel and made straight to Chrissy and wardrobe. Hopefully they had something good in there he could wear.

Eddie walked over to Chrissy as she was separating some shirts for him.

“They want a dance club vibe,” she said as she handed him four shirts, two jackets, and three pairs of pants. “Everything here has your style but with that club flare they’re looking for.”

He smirked. “Someone, somewhere is learning.”

She swatted at his ass. “Go get dressed, dick. Then hurry back so we can get your accessories picked out so we can get Vickie started on your hair and makeup.”

Eddie nodded and took his prizes to the dressing room. The first jacket was a blueish-black racer jacket and the other was a suit jacket with black sequins embroidered in a brocade pattern. The shirts were all button ups. Of the two black options, one was a soft cotton and the other was satin. The white shirt was of the same material of the first black shirt and the remaining shirt was a silky grey. The pants ranged from tight leather to ripped denim with a tuxedo pant thrown in for funsies.

He tried on several combinations before he settled on the leather jacket, the silver shirt, and tight leather pants. He padded back out to Chrissy who had an array of watches, necklaces, bracelets, chains, and shoes.

He immediately pulled out the shiny combat boots and started layering the jewelry just the way he liked it. Once he was satisfied, he sat down at Vickie’s chair and flipped his hair. “Miss DeMille, I’m ready for my close up!”

Vickie laughed. “Let’s get this pretty face even prettier for the camera.” She got to work on his hair first, washing and conditioning it to take the hair products it would take to tame Eddie’s famous curls.

By the time he was finally ready, so was Tommy and Carol.

She eyed him and then nodded approvingly. He matched the vibe they were going for, but stood out in a fashionable way.

“Ready when you are, princess,” Tommy sneered, pulling out a camera from one of his bags.

Eddie grinned at him and then got into position. Tommy called out poses and shots while Carol managed the lenses, cameras and filters. Things were going well until they weren’t.

“Can someone please tell me why this asshole extra keeps standing in my fucking light?!” he growled.

Tommy stood up from where he had been crouched on the floor. “There is no one in your light, I’m literally taking the pictures and there is not single shade over you.”

“Not that light, dumbass,” Eddie snarled, “the light from the disco ball. It’s supposed to be glittering on my face to bring in the club vibe but some asshole is literal blocking it.”

Tommy went through the memory card and went back as far twenty frames. “Shit, he’s right.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m right, so are you going to get this asshole to stop mugging the shots or am I going to have to lock myself in my dressing room until you do?”

“I don’t even know who it is,” Tommy snapped back. “How am I supposed to find a needle in a fucking haystack?”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “The disco ball is there!” He pointed behind where he was sitting at a table and to the left. “So it’s obviously NOT the people to my right or in the foreground! Use your fucking head!”

He stood up and stalked toward dressing room, leaving a path of destruction in his wake of knocked over chairs and people glaring at him as he pushed by them.

It took Tommy and Carol about an hour to find out who had been blocking the disco ball’s light and coach Eddie out his dressing room.

All the news articles blew up that Eddie Munson threw a fit on the set of his most recent photo shoot again. Talking about what a diva he was and how unhinged he was.

Chrissy sat him down to talk about the articles. “You probably shouldn’t have thrown the chairs, let’s be fair. But all the pictures that were taken after you came back were the best shots Tommy took.”

Eddie sneered. “They were in the way and I didn’t throw them, I tried pushing them out the way and they got tangled up and they fell. I just needed to be somewhere else in that moment or more than just chairs would have been flying.”

Chrissy sighed. She knew. She knew better than anyone how much space Eddie needed when he got into his head.

“Well,” she said, “we’ll ride it out like we always do. If Tom Cruise can come out of coach jumping with a career intact, you will come of this one just fine, too.”

Eddie threw his head head back and buried his hands into his hair. He counted backward from twenty until he got his thoughts under control.

“I wish Carol was the photographer,” he said mournfully. “She actually seems to understand the artistry behind taking the perfect shot.”

“And we both know she’s never going to a chance,” Chrissy said ruefully, rolling her eyes. “Because she’s a woman. But it wasn’t her who found the extra who was getting in the way of the shots.”

That made Eddie sit up. “Yeah, then who did?”

Chrissy shrugged. “Some friend of Tommy’s who was visiting. He’s some hot shot war photographer that Tommy met in art school and was in town for a couple of days for some award show.”

“Maybe hire him next time,” Eddie said with a snort.

~

When Eddie heard that it was going to be Argyle Ramirez doing the shoot for the Eva Laurent cologne that he was mildly annoyed. He wasn’t the incompetent asshole that Tommy was, but he was far too laid back for his tastes.

Eddie got to the set which was in Argyle’s studio. Everything was white and would be lighted to the appropriate colors. In the middle was a single black leather chair; one of those overstuffed kind.

There were about a half dozen people milling around and that brought him up short.

“Um...” he said glancing over at Chrissy briefly. “I thought it was going to be a closed set?”

Argyle looked up at him with that hazy, dopey smile of his. “The man of the hour has arrived. Awesome!” He looked around at the other people in the room. “Don’t worry my man, once you’re ready to drop robe, most of these people will have cleared out.”

“Most?” Eddie asked, trying not squirm.

“Sure,” Argyle said, blinking at him in confusion. “I’ve got to have my assistants to move things around and shit. But everyone else will have cleared out.”

Eddie bit on his lip. He couldn’t argue with that. Though he had tried. Several times before. Whenever he pushed back on being naked in front of strangers he was told that he was baring his ass to the world, what was a few extra people on the day of the shoot.

He went to go get his hair and makeup done, with Vickie trying to ease her nerves but talking about her long distance girlfriend who also did hair, but always needed help with her smokey eye makeup.

Eddie let her chatter wash over him and he relaxed, getting out of his head and into his body. His body was his job, his sanctuary, and his weapon all rolled into one. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, releasing the last bit of tension in his shoulders.

When he came out of hair and makeup he was pleased to find there were only two other people there besides Argyle. One knelt by a bag, while the other stood by the lights.

That was more than he would have liked, but he had to let it slide. He knew that there were some photographers who had full on teams and all they did was take the pictures. But Eddie had it in his rider that if they wanted him to model for them they couldn’t use those photographers.

He was about down to his underwear when Argyle came bursting into the room. He shrieked and pulled his pants over his crotch.

“Don’t you knock?!” Eddie roared in outrage, clutching his pants close to his body as a shield.

Argyle held his hands up and backed out. “Sorry, dude, I thought hadn’t gotten undressed yet.” He closed the door.

Eddie could tell the man was waiting awkwardly outside so he hurried to get undressed and throw on the black satin robe he was given. He tied the sash tightly around his waist and slid the slippers on his feet. He slowly opened the door and peeked out to make sure it was just Argyle waiting for him.

He stepped out into the hallway and Argyle looked up from his phone.

“You ready now?” he asked.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but if you had been like a minute later or two minutes sooner, I wouldn’t have been in the middle of getting undressed.”

“I’m going to be seeing you naked in five minutes anyway,” Argyle groused. “I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Eddie bit his tongue. He wanted to say the difference was consent, but it seemed like nothing would penetrate the thick fog of weed smoke around the photographer’s head. He just strolled past, his head held high.

Once he had warmed up enough he dropped the robe and the assistant in charge of the lenses rushed forward to grab it.

He sprawled on the leather chair, the material sticking to his ass.

After a few minutes of struggling to get comfortable he finally snapped.

“Is there anyway we can put something down on the chair so my skin isn’t being peeled off with every move I make?”

One of the assistants, Eddie couldn’t be assed to care which one, rushed forward with a long golden drape and laid it over the leather chair. Then when Eddie sat back on it she draped it over his body artistically, making the shot more provocative and less in your face nudity.

“Good thinking, Karla,” Argyle huffed as he knelt to take the next shot. “Pull his hair out a little bit so that it lays flat over the drape.”

Karla hurried to do as she was told. The shoot went more smoothly after that, but he could tell Argyle was annoyed for not having thought of the drape first.

Eddie didn’t spend the whole shoot covered by the drape, but it added something special to the ad that the Eva Laurent people loved.

But Argyle told everyone that Eddie had been reluctant to disrobe in front of people and that’s why the drape was added.

It pissed Eddie off, but with people wanting to believe the worst of him, trying to refute it was like pissing in the wind.

But he made sure to tell the Eva Laurent people that it was Karla’s idea for the drape on his way out, just to fuck with him back.

~

Tag List: NINE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chaotic-waffle

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

The key is... - E.M

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings: Extreme pining, kissing, handjob, oral (m&f recieving), spit kink, Reader swallows, choking, not fully proofread and edited (Sorry)

Description: Eddie and reader attend a key party

Dividers from @strangergraphics (I follow your main, hi! hope you don't mind me actually tagging you on this)

Tags: I know I've been MIA for a long time so idk if anyone wants to be tagged or not but @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly

The concept of a key party almost felt ridiculous. The only time you had heard about something like this was in tv shows and movies. Usually for older people too. You and all your friends were in your early to mid-twenties. Something about the party felt juvinial too. A handful of your friends dragged you there, promising it would be fun.

As soon as you got there you searched out the drink station. If you were going to even attempt this, you needed a drink. After grabbing the traditional red solo cup, you poured yourself a drink and took a large gulp. You cringed at the barely cold alcohol, the ice you tossed in not having time to really cool the drink.

"Ahem,"

You turned, shoulders sagging at the person in front of you. Heather grinned, holding a large glass bowl full of car keys. She gently shook the bowl at you, making the metal keys clink against the glass. "Don't think I idn't notice you try and hide in here. Keys, please!" she giggled, holding the bowl out to you. "It's required for the party. You know the rules. I made sure everyone knew the rules."

"Heather," you groaned, trying to give your best puppy dog eyes, but the young woman shook her head.

"Re-qui-ered," she shook the bowl again. "Look, even if your key gets picked and you head out with someone, you aren't required to do much. Remember the rules I laid out. At minimum, a little date! At most... well, that's up to you two." she giggled, a gentle smile on her face.

"A little date? Why?" you questioned, wondering why that was even made a requirement in the first place.

"Yes. And you both have to corraborate that you at least went and did something. I decided that cause this is a Valentines Day key party after all," Heather explained, "I assume since you're here that you don't have a Valentine."

Your shoulders sag. "You're right. I've never had one before, honestly. I... hate the holiday. Hence, this," you admitted quietly, holding up your cup before taking a swig again with a wince.

"You aren't the only one here who's said that to me. You never know. You might like who you get." Once again, Heather shook the bowl. "Keys?"

You sigh, reaching into your jacket pocket and fishing out your keys. A skull keychain was the only thing adorning your keys. You dropped the keys into the bowl. "There, my ticket is in."

"Perfect!" Heather held the bowl with one hand, using her other to mix the keys around so yours disappeared into the pile. "We'll be starting soon. Report to the living room in about thirty minutes!" With that, Heather turned and disappeared to harrass other party goers for their keys.

Just as Heather promised, thirty minutes later everyone still there participating was called to the living room. There seemed to be some keys missing from the bowl, probably people who paired up before the drawing even happened. The mix of people in the room was interesting. Young adults from all over Hawkins from different cliques from back in school, even some individuals back from college for a time.

"Hello everyone! Thanks for coming to my little get together where I hope some of you guys get together!" Heather grinned with a wink. "So, the way this goes is simple. A volunteer comes up, picks out a key, and they go with the key owner. At minimum, you guys go on a little date. Can be to grab a bite to eat, a skinny dip in lovers lake, or hell even just a walk together. At most, you can do whatever you both want to each other. Consensually. Don't be a prick." Heather explained, looking around the room. "Okay, who's going first?"

"I'll do it." Steve got up from his seat, not to anyone's surprise.

"Shocker, Dingus." Robin laughed, shaking her head at him.

Steve approached the bowl, sticking his hand in and fishing around as he looked up at the ceiling. He pulled a set of keys out, a tiny heart keychain hanging from the ring alongside a large flower keychain of a daisy. He turned, showing the keys to the room.

A small voice spoke up from the couch. "Uh, those are mine..." Chrissy held her hand up. She set her beer on the coffee table, standing up and scooting past her friends to Steve.

"Ready to head outta here?" Steve asked with a smile, handing the girl her keys back.

A light blush dusted over the strawberry blonde's cheeks. "Yeah, yeah!" she nodded, grabbing her purse and jacket before the two left for the night.

"Perfect! Who's next?" Heather grinned, shaking the bowl of keys.

A few more people picked out keys, making the pickings smaller and smaller. Then there were no more volunteers. Heather looked around the room and hummed. "If no one is gunna volunteer then I'm gonna start calling people out," she warned, surverying the remaining partiers. After a moment of silence, she decided it was enough. "Munson!" Heather grinned, holding out the bowl. "Come pick."

Everyone looked at Eddie. A few party goers whispered and snickered to one another. You rolled your eyes. You guys had all been out of high school for a few years now, yet it seemed some people couldn't grow up. For a moment, it seemed like Eddie was going to wuss out. Instead, he tossed back what was left in his cup before setting it aside. He walked up to the bowl and stuck his hand in. Clinking was heard but you weren't sure if it was the keys moving around or his rings hitting all the other metal.

Eddie finally picked his keys, turning and holding up a set of keys... with a skull keychain on it. Heather looked at you and grinned, the others glancing at one another for a moment as they didn't know whose keys they were.

"Robin, don't tell me these are yours." Eddie laughed, eyeing his grinning friend.

"Oh no, those have car keys on them. I don't drive, remember? Guess again!" Robin laughed with a shake of her head.

"Actually, those are mine." you spoke up, stepping away from the wall and towards the metalhead. You held your hand out patiently for your keys.

"You up for this?" Eddie asked, dropping your keys into your palm.

"Rules are rules. Let's go?" you turned, heading towards the door.

Now, you weren't afraid of Eddie. You never took anything anyone said about him seriously. It was all just judgemental bullshit. He didn't fit the mold they wanted, so naturally they thought something was wrong with him. You never did. A nerd? Sure, but there wasn't anything wrong with that. You found it cute, actually. Especially when Robin would tell you about their latest 'nerd-scapades' as she called them. Eddie did make you nervous though. He's handsome. Incredibly handsome, adorable, hot. It was never something you thought about persuing though. You assumed you weren't his type and that if he had any interest, he would have made a move. It wasn't like you both didn't know one another. You did through your mutual friendship with Robin from band and with Nancy on the school paper when you all attended together. You had also spoken to him yourself before, when he checked out books at the library in high school. You had helped with sorting book returns and had talked about books with Eddie before.

As soon as you both got outside, Eddie headed for his van. You followed behind him since your friends had driven you all there. "I can drop you at home." Eddie finally spoke, making you stop in your tracks.

"What?" Was he serious?

"I said, I can drop you off at home. Your friends drove, right?" Eddie looked at you, a brow raised.

"Well, yeah, they did but what about our date?" you asked, now even more confused.

"Oh, that," Eddie chuckled, "I figured we'd just make something up. I take you home, we tell Heather that we... I dunno, watched a movie or something and that's it. No biggie."

"No biggie?" you scoffed, hands finding home on your hips as you stared at him.

"Shit, I said something wrong didn't I?"

You felt a pang of irritation. "Look, I know I'm no Chrissy Cunningham or Heather for that matter, but if you really didn't wanna go on a date with me at least say so?" you turned away from Eddie, heading towards the direction of your house.

"That isn't what I meant!" Eddie called out to you, but you kept walking. You heard his boots crunching on the asphalt as he ran to catch up to you. "I assumed, okay? Will you stop walking?"

"You know what they say when you assume..." you murmured, trying to ignore him.

"You make an ass out of you and me," he finished.

"That's how it goes but this time, just you."

"Bunny, please."

You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him. "Bunny?" you ask.

Eddie smirks, feeling victorious he got your attention. "Yeah, it's cute." he shrugged, "Will you come back to the van?"

You stared at him for a moment, silence stretched between you. "I want french fries." you demanded, starting back towards his van. You heard him following after you and when you got to the van you climbed into his passenger seat.

The van itself was messy, but then again so was your car. Similarly to yours, Eddie had random receipts and other papers tossed down onto the floor of the passenger side. A couple random items tossed around the center console ranging from a pack of cigarettes to a couple of loose dice. As Eddie climbed in to join you, the whole van shook with the force of him closing his door. "Fries, huh?" Eddie asked and you nodded.

"Fries and a soda. It's all I ask, then you can take me home if you really want to," you answer, buckling up. You didn't flinch as Eddie's music blased through the stereo once the car was on, watching him turn the dial down anyway before pulling away from Heather's house.

The diner was a little more busy than usual, probably considering the holiday. You slid into a booth across from Eddie, not bothering with the menu. Eddie didn't pick one up either. A waiter was there quickly, asking what you both wanted.

"A Coke and some fries, please," you ordered with a small smile.

"A burger combo with a Coke," Eddie ordered, a set of straw being dropped onto the table once your orders were scribbled down and then the waiter was gone. "Surprised you don't have a date already." Eddie finally spoke up after a few minutes.

You picked up your straw, starting to strip the paper off of it when he spoke. "You need someone to like you to have a date, Eddie." you chuckle, balling up the paper from your straw and flicking it towards him.

Eddie reached out, flicking the paper ball back at you. "I'm sure plenty of people like you, bunny." he murmured.

You raised a brow, making binoculars with your hands and holding them up to your eyes.

"What're you doing?" Eddie laughed.

"Oh, I'm looking for the people who said they liked me. Cause I sure as hell can't find 'em." you said, looking around the diner like that.

"Well I know one for sure." Eddie shrugged.

You dropped your hands, brows furrowed as you looked at him. "Who?" you ask, but he shakes his head. "Eddie!"

"I'm not giving it up that easily." he laughed, "you at least are getting food with me, that's a start. I expect this information to gently be coaxed from me."

"You're a dork."

"Yes, I am." Eddie grinned, "Tell you what, you come back to the trailer with me to watch a movie, like I said we were fake going to... and then I'll tell you."

You watched him for a moment, tilting your head to the side. "What's in it for you?" you ask, just as your sodas as placed down. You stick your straw into the sugary drink and take a sip, savoring it more than the cocktail at the party. If you could call it that.

"You'll find out." Eddie murmured, taking a sip of his drink.

It didn't take long for you both to eat your food. You would've thought Eddie hadn't eaten all day the way he inhaled a burger. You finished your fries in a timely manner before trying to pay for the food. Eddie protested, trying to snatch the bill from you.

"You're hosting the movies and, I assume, drinks and snacks for it. So I'm getting this!" you argue, slipping a few bills into the leather folder and holding it away from Eddie's reach.

"I don't have much at home, so we'll stop at a gas station or something. Brat." Eddie mumbled, but a soft smile was spread over his lips.

You both returned to his van, only driving a few minutes before stopping at a convenience store. You immediately gravitated to the candy aisle. "Eddie, what's your favorite?" you call out to him.

"Anything chocolate, but also red licorice!" he called back from somewhere in the store. "Favorite drink?" he called back.

"Cherry Coke!" you call out, grabbing a bag of M&M's. You also grabbed some Red Vines, Milk Duds, gummy bears and stovetop popcorn.

Eddie came around the corner of the aisle, carrying a bottle of cherry Coke for you and some Sprite. "Think we got a good enough spread?" he chuckled, eyeing your full arms.

"Yes, yes I do. We're gonna have a sugar rush." you laugh, heading for the counter. You sat all the candy down, nudging Eddie when he stopped beside you and put the sodas on the counter. The clerk started to ring them up, eyeing the assortment of candy. You looked around, taking in all the advertisements.

Eddie reached into a bin beside him on the floor, flowers sticking out of it for the holiday. He pulled out a singular wrapped rose, placing it on the counter. The candy and soda was bagged up, Eddie handing a few bills over as you grabbed the bags. You pause, eyeing the flower. Eddie picked it up, before taking your hand and tugging you outside. Your palm and fingers tingled where you and Eddie's skin touched, making your hand feel warm.

He unlocked the van, opening the passenger door for you. You set down the bags on the floor of the passenger seat, turning back to Eddie as the rose was presented to your face. "No girl should go on a Valentine's date and not get a flower," he murmured.

The rose itself was struggling to stay alive. Who knows how long it had been there. The petals weren't perfect, a bit of brown to them, but you didn't care. Your cheeks warmed as you took the flower from him. "Eddie," you murmur, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his middle. You laid your head on his chest, trying to ignore the feeling in your chest and the slight burning in your eyes.

Eddie froze, feeling his heart thud hard and fast in his chest. He prayed you couldn't hear or feel it with your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, tempted to say 'it's just a flower, bunny'. Then he remember you telling Heather you'd never had a Valentine before. He didn't mean to snoop. He had just wanted another beer. It just felt funny how he had said the same thing to Heather not an hour ago when he had gotten to her house. He rubbed your back for a moment before loosening his hold. "C'mon, lets get to my place." he held the door open as you let go of him and slid into the van again.

The trailer was cozy, in your opinion. As soon as you were in there, Eddie was running around trying to clean up. You ignored him as you surveryed all the hats and mugs on the wall. You eyed the fold up bed in the corner, no doubt for his uncle. You moved into the kitchen, ignoring Eddie running around you as you started to unpack everything, leaving your rose on the counter. The bottles of soda got slid into the fridge and you took the paper off of the stovetop popcorn. You found a large bowl to dump the popcorn into and started to cook it up on the stove.

"If the phone rings, don't answer it." Eddie joked from behind you as you heard more empty cans clink into the garbage can.

"Oh? What's the wrost that could happen?" you played along, wanting to see what he'd say.

A warmth pressed against your back and it took you a moment to realize Eddie was pressed against you. His hands slid onto your hips and you felt his hair tickle your neck as he leaned in. "Because there might be a psycho on the other end with just one question: what's your favorite scary movie?" Eddie murmured into your ear, trying to impersonate the Ghostface voice.

A shiver ran through you and you reminded yourself to shake the popcorn as it started to pop. "Personally?" you answer, turning your head to look at Eddie. You hear his breath hitch when you do, your faces barely an inch apart. You'd hardly have to lean to kiss him if you wanted to... and you kind of did. "I do love Scream. Billy and Stu are very hot, but Saw has a special place in my heart." you grin, glancing down at Eddie's full lips before tearing your eyes away and looking back at the stovetop.

"S-Saw, huh?" Eddie swallowed hard, trying to remember how to breathe and not just press you against this counter and mark up your neck like you decided to go necking with a vampire.

"I like the gore and the concept. Obviously, the first one is the best, but the third has a special place in my heart too." you go on, finishing the popcorn. You carefully unwrap it, dumping the popcorn into the bowl and scooping out any unpopped kernals you come across.

"Which Scream is best?" Eddie asked, gently squeezing your hips before letting go.

"The first, of course. Can't beat the original. And Stu is absolutely alive."

Eddie scoffed. "A TV fell on his head, bunny."

"So?" you laugh, turning to face Eddie. "He could just be horribly disfigured."

"Would you still find him hot then? Even if he looked like a stitched up mess?"

"Mm, yeah. He's got personality. Funny, eccentric. It's hot. Reminds me of you, really, when you're joking around with Hellfire."

Eddie put his hand on his chest, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You callin me hot, bunny?"

You pick up the bowl of popcorn and grab the candy. "Pour us some sodas, stud." you laugh, heading to the living room. You set the bowl down first before sitting down to open up all the candy.

Eddie came back with two glasses, setting yours down first before his. He sat down next to you, keeping a respectable distance as he grabbed the remote. Seeing as how you both had similar taste in movies, you decided to trust Eddie with his possible picks. He settled on My Bloody Valentine. "Feels appropriate almost," he commented, sitting back on the couch and tucking himself in the corner at the arm of the chair.

"It does," you answer, picking up the popcorn. You slide your shoes off, tucking your feet under you as the movie starts. Through the movie, you offer the bowl of popcorn to Eddie who snags handfuls. Occasionally he leans over to grab candy too. He eventually picked up the package of Red Vines and sits back with them.

You suddenly decide the way you're sitting is uncomfortable. You move your drink closer to Eddie's and grab the M&M's, taking the bowl of popcorn with you as you slide closer to him. Eddie side eyes you, but says nothing as you move his arm to tuck into his side with your legs laying on the couch towards the spot you just abandoned. You set the bowl of popcorn on your lap and the M&M's at your side.

You continue snacking, surprised that Eddie says nothing about you deciding to cuddle up to him. He just wordlessly grabs a couple kernels of popcorn. After a few minutes, you reach over and swipe a Red Vine from the packet. You stick one end into your mouth.

"Theif." Eddie murmurs and you giggle.

"It's just a Red Vine, Teddy."

Eddie's cheeks flare red at the nickname. "It's my Red Vine." he argues back, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

"Sharing is caring." you counter, taking a bite from the Red Vine now. You hold up the rest to him. "I'm sorry," you playfully pout at him. Eddie leans in, taking a bite from the licorice.

"Finish it," he tells you, "and be thankful!"

"Thank you, sir." you grin, wiggling back against him.

The movie ends, and by then most of the popcorn is gone, your soda is finished and you both made a dent in the candy. You pull out your cherry chapstick, applying some to your lips to fight off the chapping the cold has been trying to do.

"I gotta use the bathroom, be back." Eddie told you, wiggling out from under you. You sat forward, watching him go. You set the candy and popcorn back onto the table and get up. You start cleaning up, pausing as you walk around to go into the kitchen. Ahead of you is a doorway, cracked open but you can tell it's Eddie's room. You hum, biting your lip as you think about it. You set down everything in your arms onto the counter top and start towards his room. Someone's room could tell you a lot about them. How could you resist?

You gently push the door open, sliding into his room. It's messy, but you expected that from a guy. A couple clothes sat around the laundry hamper as opposed to being inside of it, the walls were covered in posters and a large 'Corroded Coffin' banner that he clearly made. The desk was covered in notebooks, dice and small figurines. You thumbed through the open notebook, skimming over campaign notes for a D&D session. Books were scattered all over the room, from the night table to the dresser. You glanced at the night table, seeing a worn down copy of The Hobbit, an ash tray and an alarm clock.

You turned, stopping at the large mirror on the wall. You wandered over, eyeing the electric guitar hung up in front of the mirror. It didn't have the body shape you were used to seeing on a guitar. The paint job was a speckled red and black. It suited Eddie for sure. You reached out, intending to just run your fingers over the strings.

"Don't even think about it."

You jumped out of your skin hearing Eddie directly behind you. "You're fucking quiet, Jesus Christ!" you breathe, looking back at Eddie.

He had a serious look on his face. "No one touches her but me, bunny." he told you, "and you're snooping. I never said you could come in here." A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"You never said I couldn't," you countered.

Eddie grabbed your hips, pulling you away from the guitar. "Snooping around is snooping around," he answered.

"What? Got somethin to hide?" you teased, "I didn't even check under the bed yet! I bet there's dirty magazines there." You giggle and try to power over to his bed, but Eddie tightens his hold on your hips.

"Hey! No, bad girl." Eddie laughed, now wrapping his arm around your waist.

"What? I wanna know what you're into," you tease, yelping as you suddenly are lifted off of the floor.

Eddie tosses you onto his bed. "You're such a brat. Maybe I shouldn't have brought you here," he joked, pressing his knee onto his bed.

You roll over, trying to blow your hair off of your sticky lips from the chapstick. "Liar, you've had fun with you." you accuse, pointing at him.

Eddie hums, crawling onto his bed and on top of you. His left forearm holds himself up as he hovers over you, your legs tangled together. "I have had fun with you here," he admits, reaching with his right hand to pull your hair away from your lips.

"Thank you," you murmur, unsure if you mean for the compliment or helping get your hair away from your mouth.

Eddie's fingers skim your cheek before his hand gently cups it instead. "You're welcome," he murmurs, watching you.

You reach up, gently pushing his bangs from his eyes. You slide your hand down to his jaw, then his neck. You knew maybe going here was a mistake but you had been curious about the whole 'I know someone who likes you' thing. You were never the type to have a bunch of prospects in that region. You focused a lot on school, then work. You hardly were approached unlike your friends who had multiple prospects. So you were curious, but it also was dangerous since you like Eddie, too. Especially now that you got to spend time with him. It was dangerous. This was dangerous.

"Eddie," you whisper, unsure if you wanted to ask him for the information he had or ask him what you both were doing. Cuddling was one thing. Eddie looking at you like he wanted to kiss you was ano-... oh. Oh.

You gently pull at the back of his neck, trying to urge him down. Eddie complies, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. It barely took you tugging at him for him to comply. You shivered as your lips moved with his, feeling the tingling and warmth that you had felt earlier when you held hands. Eddie groaned quietly, deepening your kiss. Your free hand moves to his chest, gently rubbing there before moving your hand down to his stomach. Eddie can't help the butterflies at your touch. You slide your hand up under his shirt, feeling the sparce scattering of hair leading down into his jeans before moving your hand farther up his stomach.

Eddie breaks the kiss with a gentle click of your lips. "Jesus Christ," Eddie breathes, "you taste like cherries. You and fucking cherries," he breathes a laugh.

"I like it!" you giggle, "Don't tell me you don't like it."

"I love it," Eddie mumbles, pressing his lips to yours again. His kiss is firmer this time, hungrier as he teases his tongue against your cherry flavored lip. You happily oblige, parting your lips to taste his tongue. At the first brush of his tongue, you try not to laugh as he tastes like mint. No doubt having scrubbed his teeth while he went to the bathroom, maybe in preparation for this. You moan, moving your hand from his neck into his hair. You gently tug, pulling a moan from him too.

You pull away this time to catch your breath. "It's you." you murmur, "The person you know that likes me. It's you."

"Fuck yeah, it's me." Eddie breathes, stealing a kiss again. "I almost died when I pulled your keys from that fucking bowl."

"So you did know they were mine?"

"Yeah. I've seen 'em before." he admitted, pressing gentle kisses to the corners of your mouth.

"Why didn't you ever-"

"I was scared, bunny." he sighs, nudging his nose against yours. "We barely talked in high school. His right hand gently brushes over your waist. "I've had a stupid crush on you since I went to check out Lord of the Flies from the library."

"So years? Eddie!" you scold, laughing as he whines and presses his head into your neck.

"I'm fucking pathetic for you, bunny. I've been a pining fool." he admits, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. You moan, dragging your nails over his belly.

"You should've said something forever ago, you idiot boy." you pout, tugging on his hair again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," Eddie mumbles, lifting his head to kiss you again. Your fingers dip back down, sneaking into the waistband of his jeans. "Jesus, fuck-mm," Eddie moans, reaching down to grab your wrist. "Dangerous game, bunny. Hold on,"

"Whyyyy?" you whine, "I wasn't doing anything!"

"I will fuck you, if you stick your hand any farther into my pants. I promise you." Eddie sternly said, watching you. Your eyes widen.

"I-uhm-you," you ramble, not sure how to wrap your head around that.

Eddie grinned. "Made you go dumb and I haven't even gotten to taste this pussy yet, damn."

Your brain malfunctions more. "Talking to me like that doesn't help." you tell him, gently pinching his stomach. He wiggles at the contact and laughs.

"Good to know you like the thought though," he wiggles his brows with a laugh. "I won't fuck you tonight, not unless you ask me very nicely."

"Teddy," you purr, seeing his smug expression fall into an almost patheitcally horny one. "Let me touch your cock, please?"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie breathes and you realize he had been holding his breath. "I don't know if I'm gonna survive."

"You will. I'll give you CPR," you giggle, trying to shake your wrist from his hold. Eddie lets your wrist go and you let go of his hair. You go for his belt, easily getting it undone. You pop the button and pull down the zipper. "Last chance to stop me," you warn.

"Never. Fucking never. Please touch me, baby, please." Eddie groans. You push his jeans and boxers down, reaching around to get them off his ass too. Eddie shifts so you can have better access to him as his erection hangs heavily between you. It's red, leaking gently at the tip begging to be touched. You sit up a bit, gathering some spit in your mouth before slowly spitting the wad into your palm. "Fuck," Eddie moans, turned on just watching you spit into your palm.

You wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking and getting his length covered in your spit. "Got plenty more spit where that came from." you told him, giving his shaft a gentle squeeze. "I'd wanna get it all over this though, taste you."

Eddie's free hand was gripping the mattress under you both, shaking as you stroked his length. You sped up, watching the way his brows furrowed in pleasure with his eyes squeezed shut. You loved how you had him in the palm of your hand. Figuratively and literally. "Your h-hands," Eddie whimpered and you grinned.

"Teddyyyy," you coo, giggling at his whine. "Have you... done this before?"

Eddie's cheeks flared red. That bit of confidence earlier melted away a little bit. "I-okay, mm fuck, I-I've not, uh. This, I've had this, but..." he trails off and you try not to get too excited at the prospect of being Eddie's first.

"So no one has taken this cock, huh? You spoke so dirty earlier I thought maybe you'd had your pick of groupies at the Hideout." you swipe your thumb over his tip and his hips twitch forward at the contact.

"I know how to talk, sweetheart. Seen enough--nevermind--to know," Eddie grabbed for your wrist again as you gave him a squeeze at his base. "Lemme fuckin think for a second, J-Jesus," he choked out, "I've had handies, been blown once... didn't last long. And yes, I've had sex before. Just... not often."

"I like it," you shrug, deciding to do as he needed and stopped stroking him so he could think. "I think it's cute that you can talk."

"I sound like a loser admitting all this." Eddie groaned, letting go of your wrist to cover his face with his hand.

"A hot loser," you giggle. "You've got a few options here. I can either keep doing this til you cum on my stomach, I can blow you ooor we can go all the way."

Eddie felt like he was being boiled alive. He felt hot all over at the options you gave him. What was the right answer? He had no fucking clue. "I'm not gonna last long in any of these situations." he admitted, "and I really, really wanna taste that pussy."

You let go of his length and pat his side. "Switch," you instruct, trying to wiggle out from under him. Eddie does as you say, laying back on his bed and watching you. You tug his jeans and boxers down off of his legs while Eddie tugs his shirt off. You hum, crawling over him to touch the tattoos on his chest. You're straddling him, leaning down to kiss the tattoos exposed to you.

"God, what a view." he groans, watching you on top of him.

"Just wait," you laugh, sitting back up. Your shirt goes next, followed by your bra and you swear Eddie's eyes might fall out of his head from how widely they're open and staring at your bare chest. You work your jeans off next, Eddie helping you tug them off but you swat at his hand when they go for your panties. "Watch it or I'll tie you up," you joke, but Eddie's eyes slide to the other side of the room. You follow his gaze and laugh seeing a set of handcuffs. "Next time," you promise.

"Thank fuck cause I would lose my mind if I can't touch you right now," Eddie chuckles, watching you slide down his body. He groans at each soft kiss you place on his chest an stomach. "Baby, please," he begs, even though he doesn't need to. You trace your tongue over the thick vein running along the underside of his cock, watching him intently as you get to work. Your tongue swipes up the bead of precum forming at his tip, humming at the taste of him before wrapping your lips around his head and gently sucking. Curses leave Eddie's lips as he watches you, reaching a hand down to tangle in your hair. You whimper around his tip, sliding down to take more of him into your throat and start bobbing your head.

"I-I'm not gonna last, babe," he warns, gently tugging on your hair. That admission just makes you up your efforts, bobbing your head faster as you take more and more of him into your throat. Your name falls from his lips as your work him down, going unto your nose is tickled by the patch of hair you admired earlier. At the same time, you moved your hand to stroke and play with the weight under his length, feeling him jump at the touch to his balls. You giggle, making yourself gag on him as you pull back up to catch your breath. "You okay?" Eddie finds it in him to ask after seeing you gag.

"I'm fine, baby." you reassure him, kissing his tip. You shift to sit up more, letting him see your bare breasts again as you jerk him off.

"Fuck, I died. I'm fucking dead and in Heaven. No one take me back," Eddie moans, eyeing your tits as your hand works him.

You giggle, shaking your head at him. "Enjoying the view?"

"So fucking much. Please remind me to fuck your tits one day,"

"Happy to." you hum, leaning down to dribble spit over his length. You get back to work, shifting down again and swiping your tongue over his balls before taking him back into your mouth. You start slow again before building up speed as your suck him off. Before you know it, Eddie is tugging on your hair, hips canting upward as he moans your name. You pull back a bit just in time for his seed to spill over your tongue instead of choking on it. You moan at the taste of him, jerking him off to milk him for all he's worth. You collect it all, lifting your head and opening your mouth to show him what all you have.

"Swallow it." Eddie growled, watching you shut your mouth an swallow it down. You open your mouth again, sticking out your tongue to show that you took it all. You let go of him, crawling up his body.

"You're hot when you're demanding. I won-eep!" you barely get to finish your sentence before Eddie is flipping you over onto your back. A searing kiss is pressed to your lips before he's disappearing down your body now. "Eddie," you groan as he spreads your legs.

Eddie presses a kiss over your hole through your panties, groaning at the scent of you. There's a wet patch there already, unable not to get wet hearing her whimper and moan for you. He reaches up, tugging your panties down and getting them off your legs. He tosses them behind him uncaringly but you laugh as it gets caught on his deodorant on his dresser.

He wastes little time, licking a stripe up from your entrance to your clit. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden feeling and then he doesn't stop. Eddie laps at your cunt desperately, moaning into you as he does so. He moves your legs onto his shoulders, holding onto your thighs as he eats you out like he was starving. He had wondered for so long what you tasted like. Spent many nights thinking about it as he fisted his cock to the thought of you like this. Eddie's tongue swirled over his clit, losing the sounds it pulled out of you as he did so. He wrapped his lips around the sensitve bud, sucking gently. He coats his finger in your juices before gently prodding at your entrance. He slowly pushes his finger in, moaning against you as your walls suck him in desperately.

"F-Fuck, Eddie." you moan, reaching for his hair. You just had him in your mouth, so you know his size, but his finger swill burned as it stretched your neglected walls. His fingers were thicker than yours and it had been a long, long time. It made a feeling stir in your belly as you wondered just how much his cock would stretch you. Would he even fit? You bet he could make it fit. As he curled his finger, you shot up and gasped, crying out his name as he found that spongy spot inside you. Eddie chuckled against you, kissing your clit.

"Found it," he grinned, adding a second finger into you. He moved his free hand up, pressing down on your stomach to make you lay back down. You obliged, watching him as he fucked you with his fingers and lapped at your clit with the tip of his tongue. "Look at you, taking my fingers so good. You gonna cum for me, bunny?" he cooed before swirling his tongue over his clit. "Can't believe you're letting me do this, fuck, I could live here forever if you let me. Will you let me, baby? Please?" Eddie babbled into your cunt as he fingers you faster.

You felt the coil tighten in your belly, knowing you'd be crashing over it soon. You watched Eddie, whining at the sight of him grinding into the bed. Was he hard again already? Just from eating you out. "Y-You can live there, Eddie, please. Make me cum!" you whine, tugging on his hair. Seconds later as Eddie suckled on your clit again, your orgasm washed over you. His name moaned out loudly in the trailer and you prayed that his neighbors were dead asleep by now. Eddie fingered you through your orgasm, moaning against your clit. He pulled his fingers free and you whimpered at the loss of them, gasping when that stretch was replaced with his tongue as he devoured all that you gave him. He groaned into you, detaching his mouth with a line of flui going from your to his lips. Spit or your essence, you weren't really sure at this point. Eddie licked his lips though and crawled up, cock at attention again. It made you wet seeing it. How much he wanted you. Panting, you reached for him. "Sweetheart," he cooed, trying to grab your hand.

"No, can't believe you got hard for me again." you murmur, tracing your fingers down his length.

"What can I say? I've waited a long time to have you spread out here..." he admitted.

You reached down between your legs, collecting what you could of your wetness that came roaring back. You reached out, stroking Eddie. "C'mon, baby," you cooed as he bent down to kiss you. You stroked him slowly, lazily at first. Eddie groaned, gently thrusting into your fist.

"Fuck, I can't believe you." Eddie kisses you again, one hand raising to wrap his hand around your throat. You whine at the feeling, stroking him faster as his fingers squeeze the sides of your throat. "That's it-fuuuck. Got yourself all over me and I haven't even fucked you yet. Bein so good to me, wanting me to cum again." Eddie babbled, pressing kisses to your cheeks and nose as you worked his length.

"I want it. Want you to paint me, Teddy," your whine, choking on your gasp as he squeezes again.

"Open your mouth." he growls and you do as he says. He leans over you, spitting into your mouth. "Swallow that too." He demands and you do as he says once his hold loosens a little on your throat. "That's my girl, fuck. Bunny, baby, please," He gasps as you speed up your hand. It doesn't take long before Eddie is rocking into your hand, moaning your name as he spurts white ropes all over your stomach, even getting it on your chest. He lets go of your throat, pressing kisses there. You let go of his softening length, whimpering at his kisses.

Eddie leans up, watching you as a grin spreads over his lips. "What?" you ask, reaching down to swipe up some of his cum from your breast and bring it to your mouth.

"God, you're so fucking hot." he groans, giving you a kiss.

You hum, feeling sleep tug at you. He definitely wore you out and it made you wonder how worn out you'd be if he did fuck you. Eddie kisses your face. "M tired," you mumble to him and he chuckles.

"Hold on, not yet. I'm sorry, babe." Eddie kisses your forehead and climbs off his bed. He disappears for a bit, returning with a wet rag and a glass of water. "C'mon,"

You huff and sit up a bit, taking the rag from him and cleaning his mess off of you. Eddie pulls on a fresh pair of boxers before rooting around for a t-shirt. He walks back over, handing you a t-shirt before taking the rag to toss into his hamper. You unfold the shirt, pulling it over your head and down your body. You rub your eyes, frowning at the mascara that comes off. You know you should go pee and try to wash off the makeup. You move to stand but Eddie stops you. He points to the glass of water. You take it, taking a few gulps before setting it aside. Once he's satisfied, you go to the bathroom and pee before trying to wash your makeup off with soap and water. A bit of black is still smudged aroun your eyes but it's better than nothing.

When you get back to his room, Eddie is laid in bed waiting for you. His TV is on, playing some late night show as he waits for you. You admire the view before finally walking over and crawling into bed. Eddie grins, pulling you close and holding you. "Hi," he murmurs.

"Hi," you mumble back, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Can't believe this is happening right now," he whispers and you can't help but laugh.

"I can hear you." you tell him, rubbing his belly.

"Oops, was just thanking God real quick, sorry." Eddie laughed, kissing your head.

"You're a dork," you mumble.

"I am."

"But you're my dork now. If you wanna be, I mean," you mumble shyly.

You feel the bed jostle. So you open your eyes to see Eddie fist pumping in victory. You laugh, Eddie joining you as he realizes he's caught. "Yeah, I do wanna be." he answers, tilting your head up to steal a kiss. "Get some rest, bunny."

"You too, Teddy," you mumble against his lips before wiggling to settle down and sleep, dozing off to the soft sounds of the TV and Eddie's quick beating heart, the metalhead following soon after.

[loverboysturn]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!nick lets slip to popular!matt the secret he’s been keeping but he doesn’t realise who’s listening in

this is only a short blurb but i promise, it’s important !!

“i know you know who it is,” matt says, aggressively biting into his burger aggressively as he sits across from nick in the diner booth, “you’ve been actin’ so fuckin’ shady ever since chris pulled that tiara out of his bag in the car.”

“i told you, i don’t know who she is.” nick argues, trying to keep his cool but he was fidgeting in his seat, “if i knew, i would have said something by now.”

matt leans forward, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “come on, you’ve been avoiding every conversation chris brings up about her, you know something i don’t and i’m not fuckin’ stupid.”

nick tries to stay calm and collected, but he can feel the pressure building. “i haven’t been avoiding anything, she’s all he talks about, get boring, you know?” he sighs, avoiding eye contact with matt as he plays with the food on his plate.

“you’re a shitty liar, nick.” matt leans back in his chair, shaking his head and taking another bite of his burger. “a real shitty liar.”

“i don’t want to talk about it anymore.” nick says, his patience with matt starting to wear thin.

“why? ‘cause you know who she is and you don’t want to tell me?”

“oh my god, matt.” nick groans, “just shut your fuckin’ mouth about it.”

“who is she?”

nick’s gaze instinctively drifts to you, watching you rush around the diner, collecting empty glasses and wiping tables. he catches himself, but it’s too late, matt has already noticed.

“no fuckin’ way,” matt says, his voice rising a little too loudly. “is i—is it her?“

nick’s silence confirms everything matt needs to know, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“diner girl? that’s who who chris has been talking to?” matt’s voice a mix of shock and confusion, “like, chris is in love with the girl that serves us most nights at this diner… and he has no idea?”

nick lets out a heavy sigh, the weight of the secret he’d been keeping tense on shoulders, “i have only just figured it out myself,” he admits, keeping his voice low. “i saw her at the party wearing the tiara, the one chris has been holding onto like it’s a piece of fuckin’ treasure. she knows that i know too, that’s why she didn’t take our order tonight.”

“holy shit” matt muttered. “this is so crazy.”

nick shrugs, “but we’ve just gotta let things play out the way they’re supposed to.”

they both fall into a quick silence, the weight of the secret from their conversation hanging heavy between them but little did they know, the head cheerleader was sitting in the booth directly behind them and she had heard every. single. word.

[darlinluxx]

— 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐏 | 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐎 ౨ৎ

↳ pairing : natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : mentions of cigarettes, mentions of alcohol, mentions of nightmares

𝐓he latch clicks so softly you almost miss it. your breath hitches in your throat anyway. you’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, wishing sleep to come, but every creak of the house, every rustle outside the window, has you jumping.

your heart hammers against your ribs as a dark shape detaches itself from the inky silhouette of the tree outside. it’s a familiar shape, one that’s etched into your memory. relief floods through you, so intense it’s almost dizzying.

“Nat?” you whisper, barley audible.

the shadow freezes, then a muffled voice answers, “yeah, it’s me. open the window.”

you scramble to your feet, the familiar ache of your loneliness momentarily forgotten. the cool glass presses against your palms as you push the window up with agonizing slowness. the hinges groan in protest, a sound that feels deafening in the quiet of the night.

“sorry.” you whisper, your voice barely a breath.

a grin flashes in the dim moonlight as Nat hauls herself over the sill, landing with a practiced ease that speaks of many clandestine visits. she’s wearing her usual uniform of dark jeans, a band t-shirt, and a leather jacket that smells faintly of cigarettes and pine needles. just the smell is enough to ease the tension in your shoulders.

“took you long enough.” she teased, her voice low and husky.

you roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips. “the window’s old, what do you want me to do?”

Natalie steps closer, the moonlight catching her silhouette. her eyes, usually sharp and guarded, are soft and crinkled at the corners. “i want you.” she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

your stomach flips. you’ve been seeing Nat for months, but the pull she has on you still catches you off guard. the way she looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, makes you feel seen in a way you never have before.

she reaches out, her fingers brushing against your cheek. they’re calloused and rough, but the touch is gentle. “you okay?” she asks, her brow furrowed with concern. “you look tired.”

you lean into her touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment. “just missed you.” you admit, the words barely escaping your lips.

Natalie’s hand moves to the back of your neck, her thumb tracing circles against your skin. “i missed you too, doll.”

she pulls you closer, and the cold fear that’s been clinging to you all day begins to dissipate. you bury your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her — cigarettes, leather, cheap alcohol, and something uniquely Natalie.

“nightmare?” she murmurs into your hair.

you nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. you don’t have to explain it. she just knows. she always does.

Nat leads you to the bed, pulling the covers back with one hand. she doesn’t ask you what the nightmare was about. she doesn’t need to. she knows the shadows that creep into your dreams, the ones that whisper of the past, the ones that still haunt both of you.

you climb into bed, shivering despite the warmth of the blankets. Natalie slides in beside you, pulling you close until she’s spooning you, her arm a heavy, comforting weight around your waist.

“better?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

you nod, pressing closer to her warmth. “yeah. better.”

the world outside feels less scary with her here. the house creaks, the wind howls, but here, in this small circle of her arms, you feel safe. the tight knot in your chest loosens, and you finally allow yourself to relax.

she’s your anchor, your lifeline in a sea of chaos. you breathe in her scent, the familiar comfort of her presence, and close your eyes.

the anxieties of the day slowly melt away, replaced by the steady rhythm of her breathing. you might not be able to control the nightmares, or the world outside, but in this moment, with Natalie beside you, holding you close, you know you can face anything.

sleep finally comes, a sweet, dreamless oblivion, guided by the soft beat of her heart against your back. you are finally, blissfully, at peace.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Like a Phoenix (10)

Pairing: Mercenary!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Series Summary: An attack on your palace thrusts your only hope for survival into the hands of a mercenary who is forced to protect you, all due to a vow he made many years before. Though, those are circumstances neither of you have chosen.

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: mentions of knives, dead parents, death; talk of arranged marriage; suggestive themes; heated make-out session; self-doubt; small mention of kidnapping

Author’s Note: Omg we are nearing the end here. Only the epilogue is left. Thank you for sticking with me! Hope you enjoy! ♡

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Your wrist tingles from where Bucky’s fingers had pressed too gently against your skin.

He has soothed the bruise left by Lord Ward, but there is nothing to be done for the ache settling in your chest.

It’s been silent for a few moments between you two. It’s thick and charged with some kind of electric buzz you can’t quite make sense of. But it makes you feel shy all of a sudden.

“You should probably go,” you state weakly, barely able to force the words past your lips. “They will be here soon.”

Bucky lets out a slow, unreadable breath. He gets to his feet, shaking the water droplets off his hand. The one he used to dip your hurt wrist into the cool water of the fountain. “Then we’ll have to be quick.”

Your head snaps up and you quickly get to your feet yourself. Something frigid curls down your spine. “What?”

His expression is blank, but his jaw is set.

“We leave. Now.”

His words rattle through your ribs, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“We? Bucky I- We can’t-”

“Can’t what?” he cuts in, almost flatly, but with a determination underlying it. “You think I’ll walk away and leave you to that prick? You think I’ll let them lock you in here and make you play queen to some bastard who doesn’t deserve you?”

Your throat is thick and you swallow hard. “I don’t have a choice.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You do have a choice, princess.” He says the title like it’s a curse, something wretched and wrong, something that shouldn’t be wrapped around your throat like a noose. “And you damn well know it.”

You narrow your eyes. “I never had a choice in anything.” Your voice is rough.

“You do now.”

A sharp breath pushes out of your lungs. “How?”

Bucky leans forward, eyes forcing yours to stay locked together, looking at you with the precision of a man who is hoping for something again after a long time.

“You come with me.”

Something wild careens through your ribs, something intoxicating and terrifying.

He says it so easily. As if you could just go ahead and say yes, grab his hand, and run off into the woods again.

And god help you, you want to say yes.

But it is not that simple.

You shake your head slowly, fingers digging into the fabric of your gown. “This is not about me.”

Bucky’s jaw works hard. His lip twitches “Like hell, it ain’t.”

“I just- I want to help those people. The townspeople. I want to help them.” Your voice is breaking, twisting into something unfamiliar. “They deserve it. They-”

“-don’t need another noble locked in a fuckin’ tower, paraded through halls built on their backs,” Bucky snaps. His tone is not rising but it is low, carrying an edge.

Your breath hitches.

Bucky presses on, voice not unkind, but still strong with sharpness. Coiled with something he’s barely keeping in check. “You think you’ll be helping them in here?” He throws a deliberate glance at the castle. “Sitting and rotting on a throne built by a man you don’t love?” He scoffs. “C'mon, darlin’, you’re smarter than that.”

Your pulse roars in your ears. “And what do you think I should do then? Run away? Disappear?” You bite out the words, frustration bleeding through your fear. “How does that help them?”

Bucky exhales through his nose, the breath fanning over your face. He shakes his head, running a hand along his stubble, but keeping his eyes on you.

“I don’t have all the answers, princess,” he says then, softening his tone but not the intensity of his voice. “But I know this - staying here, being his wife, playing their game - it won’t fix a damn thing. And I know that if you let them take you, you’ll never get out.”

The churning in your stomach deepens, turning around in slow circles only to leave you stranded and feeling helpless. Again. You hate it. You hate feeling helpless.

Bucky is considering you, looking at you so closely, you can’t hold his gaze anymore.

“You really wanna stay here and marry that bastard?” Bucky’s voice is rough, quiet, edged with something that might be disbelief. Might be anger. Might be hurt. Might be disappointment. Might be something else entirely - something sharper, something that writhers in your gut and mind.

Your breath comes out shuddering. “It’s not about wanting to.”

Bucky exhales a low breath. He swallows. “That’s not an answer, princess.”

You look away. Sweeping your eyes over the many flowers around you. Perhaps you’ll catch a glimpse of forget-me-nots to pretend they are Bucky’s eyes so you would not have to look at the actual ones.

His gaze does not sway from you. He watches you carefully, too carefully, eyes tracing your face like he is searching for every smallest twitch of your features.

There is no expectation in his eyes, no demand. But there is something else there. Something sensitive. Hopeful. Unsure. But still so unwavering. A belief that you can make this choice. That you should.

But it is crushing you.

Because no, you do not want to marry that man.

But what if it is the right thing to do? What if, in time, you could make a difference from within the castle? You could be queen - a good queen. You could pass laws that bring food to the villages, mend the wounds your father never cared to see. If you stay and play their game and become the ruler like how you should, then maybe you could make their lives better.

But would they let you?

Or would they mold you into something unrecognizable before you ever had the chance?

They would see to that. Lord Ward would see to that.

Your husband.

The thought might as well break you.

You see it too clearly now - the life you would have under this thumb. His queen. His prize. You’d be draped in silks, painted and polished to be something pleasing, something obedient. Your words, your thoughts, your very breath would be dictated by men who see you as nothing more than a means to an end.

It is basically the life you’ve always lived, only worse.

Would you be locked away in golden rooms, paraded in pearls and brocade, expected to smile while they rule through you?

Would they let you make a difference?

Or would they hollow you out until you are nothing but a puppet? A shell?

Bucky is still watching you.

“Think you’ll be happy with that guy?” he asks, quieter than before. There is something pained in the way he says it.

It’s an absurd question. Happiness. What does that have to do with any of this? You made yourself believe that you were happy once. Even before the forest, before the lies, before knowing of your father’s sins that made your ribs crack open and bleed. Before Bucky.

You always forced yourself to believe you had been happy.

But even if you weren’t, there still is no point in that question.

“It does not matter if I am happy.” Your voice sounds hollow. Rehearsed even.

Bucky’s expression doesn’t shift, as if he expected you to say that. But something about him goes still. Too still.

“The fuck it doesn’t.” His voice is low. Convicted. Almost hard.

Your eyes sting.

“Look at me.”

You do.

“You wanna stay?”

You don’t.

“It’s not that simple,” you whisper.

“It is. It can be,” Bucky counters, stepping even closer, and suddenly he is too close, heat rolling off him and slapping you in the face. He is a gravitational pull you could never hope to resist. His forefinger lifts your chin, to gradually tilt your face up to his. “Look, I'm not tellin’ you to come with me, alright? I'm askin’ you. That’s all I can do. I’ll get you the fuck outta here if that’s what you wanna do. But I kinda need you to want that. Not tryna make any decisions for you. You get the last word here, darlin’. You choose. And we’ll figure out the rest.”

Your ribs are closing in on themselves, locking the air away. Each inhale you try for is a struggle, a climb up a steep, endless slope. Your lungs are reaching, grasping, but never quite filling up the way they should.

A stinging heat rises in your limbs. It’s a weightless feeling, but so without rest. You feel like your body is hovering just outside itself, adrift in shallow air.

Bucky asked you to come with him.

Your father never gave you choices. The crown never gave you choices. The kingdom never gave you choices. Nobody did.

But Bucky does.

Could you do it? Could you walk away from everything expected of you? From all the years of conditioning, the training, the expectations? Could you defy your old self like that?

Could you leave it all behind - forsake the crown, the court, the man you are meant to marry? And go with him?

You told him it doesn’t matter if you are happy.

But looking at Bucky now, feeling the heat of him, the sincerity of him, the way he waits patiently for a choice that is completely your own, even though it seems to edge him.

And it makes you wonder, why not?

Why shouldn’t it matter?

You have spent your entire life serving something larger than yourself. A kingdom. A crown. An idea of duty that never asked if you were willing. That never cared what it cost you.

You’ve never been selfish. Not once.

And the thought of saying goodbye to Bucky a second time-

You can’t.

The first time was barely manageable. And it wasn’t even for a day. You left him standing there, walking through that gate, feeling his eyes on you. It had felt like watching your own heart step away from you, leaving nothing but a cavernous, painful emptiness behind.

You don’t think you could survive a second time.

Your father sent you here to be traded. A bargain to be struck.

But Bucky really looks at you. He looks and he sees you.

Not just a princess. Not just a duty-bound daughter of a king.

A person. A woman.

And when you think of the life you would have at Lord Ward’s side - cold, controlled, strangulating - you know.

You know.

You can’t be certain of what is going to happen no matter what you choose to do.

Maybe you could help the kingdom as his wife, but at what cost? Your voice? The freedom you only briefly glimpsed? Your soul?

Bucky is right. You can’t fix a broken kingdom from inside a cage. You can’t lead if you’re shackled to a man who wants to own you.

But if you leave, if you go with Bucky, you might find another way. A better way.

One that doesn’t require you to give up every piece of yourself in the process.

It means stepping into the dark with no safety net. No crown. No title to protect you. But considering it all, you never felt more protected when walking by Bucky’s side.

It would be just your own mind. Your own choices.

And Bucky.

Bucky, who has never been a guarantee. Bucky, who has always been on the run, just like you are now. Bucky, who might leave again someday.

But right now, he is here. And he is offering you a chance.

You meet his unrelenting gaze again. Just studying, watching each other.

And then his eyes light up. Ever so slightly. But it still manages to blind you.

Because he sees the nod you are about to give him in your eyes before your head can go through with the motion.

He doesn’t look triumphant. Not smug. Only grateful. Relieved. Almost exhilarated.

And he doesn’t hesitate.

His fingers brush against yours delicately, before taking hold of your hand completely. Your fingers tremble slightly in his hold and he squeezes gently, reassuringly, but keeps his eyes on yours to watch your reaction. You try not to let him know how much his touch affects you. But your pulse thunders against his skin.

And then he moves, tugging you along.

And just like that, you leave the castle behind.

****

Your hand stays in Bucky’s. His grip is firm but not crushing. His pace is quicker than before, less careful, less measured.

You have no time for slow steps now. Because you are no longer just traveling. You are running.

Shadows are spilling over the narrow path ahead as the trees rise above.

You should be afraid.

And you are, in a way.

But the fear is layered, jumbled in something deeper - something more complex than simple terror. It is not the fear of leaving. Not the fear of the darkening woods enclosing around you again.

It is the fear of what comes next.

You cannot organize the thought properly. Your mind tries to tuck it into a neat little space, into a box labeled decisions you have made, but the corners are too notched. The lid won’t close. You have done something irreversible. You have stepped across a line that you cannot redraw.

But there is still excitement coursing through your veins.

The thrill of it burns hot in your chest, unfurling like flames reaching for parched leaves.

It is not just the rush of escaping an arranged marriage, or a life you would have spent as a marionette with strings attached for your so-called husband-to-be to move you around with.

It is not just about the fact that you slipped from the grip of a fate that was never truly yours.

It is the realization that you have finally done it.

You have finally chosen yourself.

You have chosen to do what you always wanted.

For years, you have watched the forests from your balcony, their darkened outlines distant, unknowable, untouchable. You imagined them wild and free, the kind of place where the rules of the court could not reach, where names and titles had no bearing whatsoever. And you dreamed so big about running into them, of escaping a life that didn’t feel meant for you.

And now, here you are.

Running.

Fleeing.

The very thing you have wanted since childhood is finally happening.

And it is happening because you wanted it. Because you chose it. Not because you were thrust into it.

You are doing it for yourself.

No more palace halls, no walking in pre-measured and composed steps across marble floors for show, no more of that expected display of poise and beauty.

You are running towards something unknown. Something yours.

And it might not just be freedom. It is uncertainty. It is fright and exhilaration and the painful, intoxicating realization that you do not know what happens next.

You don’t know where you are going. You don’t know what waits beyond the next stretch of trees, or the next town, or the next day.

And that is - as strange as a thought it might be - so beautiful.

It’s the most exhilarating feeling you ever had.

Because this is what you always longed for. This is what life was meant to be. Full of surprises. Not knowing what comes next. Adventures. Things being uncontrollable.

The air starts to burn in your lungs, but you suck it in and relish it. Everything is sharp - the scent of bark, the sound of snapping twigs under your pounding footsteps, the slashes of light sweeping between the branches above.

You feel alive. Not the careful kind of way, the kind that means staying inside the lines drawn for you, the kind that means breathing only as much as you are allowed to.

You feel truly, wholly, terrifyingly alive.

Bucky pulls you along, always knowing exactly where to step, where to lead. There is a sort of urgency in his steps, the need to put as much distance between you and that castle - Lord Ward - as fast as possible.

But you catch the glint of something in his face when he takes a glance back at you to check how you are keeping up. Something like satisfaction. Something light.

Maybe Bucky doesn’t know where to take you now either. Maybe he doesn’t know what waits beyond the next stretch of trees, or the next town, or the next day.

But the knot of emotion that spins in your gut never hardens into panic.

Because there is adrenaline.

It flows through you, loosening the tangled thoughts before they can squeeze the air from your lungs completely.

And Bucky is still holding your hand.

He slows then, his boots crunching against the forest floor. And he stops entirely. Right in front of the thick trunk of a tree.

It catches your attention. You believe it to be a sycamore. The shape of its leaves, the curve and texture of its bark, the way its roots snake over the ground.

Your eyes follow the trunk up into the branches. You have seen it in books. You have read about trees like this, pored over their descriptions in dusty tomes stacked high in the royal library.

You have knowledge of them - so much knowledge. Their wood, their uses, the way their bark was once ground into remedies for fevers and infections, the way their roots pull deep into the earth, older than the stone walls of that castle.

But you have never really seen one for so long.

Not growing tall before you, unbound by pages and ink.

You have been walking through forests for weeks, been surrounded by trees, running, traveling, living in the very world that was once kept away from you.

But have you ever really taken a second to look at one? To observe it? To study it?

You do now. And you relish it.

Every tree. Every warped root. Every low-hanging branch and every bramble that has snagged at your skirts.

You begin to learn to cherish it. To drink it all in. To see it for the first time even though it isn’t and never take those things for granted again.

Bucky turns to look in the direction where the castle is standing. But it’s not in your eyesight anymore. Its looming towers are smothered by thick canopies and winding trunks.

He exhales, long and slow, shoulders rolling back. And then his eyes sweep to you.

Studying. Analyzing. Making sure you are holding up.

You feel his stare on your skin, but you don’t meet it.

You are too busy averting your gaze from the tree to the path behind you. The one you will not walk back.

The certainty of that fills your chest with something delightfully bright. It starts deep, looping in your ribs, growing warm and soft, spreading across your body like the first rays of sunshine in the morning.

And before you can catch it, before you can smoother it into something quiet and contained - you are smiling.

Panting, breath hitching from the fast pace, lungs burning with exertion - but smiling.

It feels strange on your lips. Unprompted.

Not the practiced smile of a princess performing her role. Not the polite, close-lipped curve you have been taught to wear in court.

This smile is real.

Bucky watches you, something wary in the way his gaze sharpens, like he doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

His fingers brush your arm. “You okay, princess?” His voice has a gravelly quality, laced with subtle concern.

You clutch at your side, chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths, your body still trying to catch up to the choice you have made - but God, yes.

“Yes,” you gasp out, chest heaving, and something bubbles up inside you, something so unexpected, it startles you. A laugh. It is light and breathless, spilling past your lips just like that.

Bucky eyes you like you are something unfamiliar. Like you are something he’s never quite seen before.

Not in all the weeks he’s spent with you, sleeping beneath the same stars, traveling the same roads, moving through the same dark woods, and with only each other’s presence to fill the spaces between heartbeats.

It’s the smile. Your smile.

The way it breaks across your face so out of control. The way your shoulders loosen. The way your eyes glint - not with fear or helplessness, but with something else entirely.

Something like freedom.

He wasn’t expecting it. That much is clear.

His brows twitch like his body is catching up on what he’s seeing, instincts warring between amusement, relief, and just that little bit of caution he has never quite learned to shake off. His lips part slightly, but no words come, no sharp-witted remark or gruff warning. Just a pause. A heartbeat’s worth of simple observation.

Then, he exhales.

It’s quiet, him trying to make it subtle. But the breath visibly enters deep through him, dragging off some tension from his shoulders, softening something rigid in the line of his stance.

He chuckles. It’s so low and so rough that it seems to have been held in his throat forever before it came out.

“What?” His voice holds something unreadable. A touch of humor. Warmth. A hint of curiosity.

His head tilts, eyes still flickering across your face still tracing the way your lips are curved, the way your constricted chest is rising and falling from the effort of running - of choosing to run.

“You laughin' princess?” He drawls, and there is something unreadable in his gaze now. Not quite teasing. Not mocking. More like he is testing something. Prodding at it.

You shake your head, still breathless. Still grinning. Unrepentant. “No.”

Something is soaring through your chest. You can’t control it. It is uncontainable. And it makes your legs burn to push forward anyway. It makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

It makes you want to sing. To shout. To throw your arms out and feel the wind bite at your skin and know, for the first time in your life, that you are truly free.

He huffs amused, smirking. “You’re smilin’,” he points out.

“Am I?” The smile is still in your voice.

Bucky snorts, shaking his head, but there is something almost fond in the way he does it. A breath of laughter slips through his lips.

His eyes then immediately flicker back to the woods, as though he doesn’t know how to do anything else. Back to the reality of your situation, of what comes next. His fingers flex at his side.

“We should keep movin’,” he says, but there is a rasp in his voice. Something contained.

And just before he turns wholly, before he takes hold of your hand again to tug you along gently, his gaze catches yours another time.

He is smiling.

****

Bucky made you walk longer into the night this time.

It’s important to put as much distance between yourselves and the castle before dawn.

You didn’t ask how far he meant to go.

Didn’t ask if he thought they were already after you.

“They’re gonna think you were taken,” he had told you. So flatly. So unbothered.

But it made your blood turn to ice. And you had stumbled over a root. His hand shot out to steady you.

Well, but why wouldn’t they think that?

It made sense. Lord Ward had seen you with Bucky, had held your arm in a vice grip, had looked upon you as though you were his to command. His to marry. Now, with you missing, with Bucky’s name already tainted by whatever past he had with your father, whatever history existed between them - who would believe otherwise?

You imagined Lord Ward pacing in front of the king, spinning lies like fine silk. So he wouldn’t be standing in the picture of a fool who left his betrothed alone.

You felt your knees threaten to buckle, but Bucky caught your arm before you could stumble fully into your thoughts. He had stopped, standing in front of you, his head tilted, watching you carefully.

“Breathe, darlin’,” he had ordered. He didn’t coddle, didn’t tell you that everything would be fine. But he squeezed your arm gently and waited for you to compose yourself.

And after you calmed down your breathing, he was walking again with a simple “we’ll deal with it.”

Now, It is nearly dawn and Bucky finally decides to stop. But you just know that he is not going to get any sleep.

You know it before he sweeps your surroundings. Scanning. Watching. You know before he sits, back against the rough bark of a black oak, one knee bent, hand curled over it. Knife in his grip.

It is like you came to know the lines of determination set in his shoulders.

You want to sit down yourself. Lay down. But you hesitate.

It has nothing to do with the dirt, the inevitability of mud streaking across the fine fabric of your skirts. That’s the last thing on your mind. You couldn’t care less about the ruined luxury of your gown.

Actually, it is quite ironic that you started this the same way as before - fleeing into the woods in silks and embroidery, escaping something tragic.

But this one hurts.

Not just the meaning behind it. The physicality of it.

You attempt to sit down, but the boning sharpens its hold, the laces biting, tightening, restricting. A band of steel and lace and force that does not yield.

You exhale through your nose, biting down in the discomfort. You’re used to it. It’s nothing new. The breathlessness, the burn, the way it forces you into stillness and grace. You have worn worse. You have endured worse.

And you manage to compose yourself, except for the barely-there wince.

But of course-

“What was that?”

Bucky's head is turned towards you. His sharp eyes catch everything. The flicker of strain in your jaw, the slight flaring of your nostrils, the way your fingers twitch against your lap, the subtle way you brace yourself against the pressure of the corset.

His brows are drawn together tightly.

“What was what?” You feign innocence, but his stare is already pinned on you, drilling past whatever poor attempt at pretense you think you can manage.

His eyes narrow disapprovingly. His mouth pulls tight. He doesn’t move at first, just watching you.

“You made a face.” His voice is gruff.

You tilt your chin as if you could somehow dismiss the look of scrutiny now cutting through you. “I did no such thing.”

The moon is a thin sliver above, half-hidden behind clouds, barely enough to light anything in front of you, so how in the hell did he even see that? He must have been already looking at you.

Bucky leans forward slightly, exhaling profoundly before he really lets his gaze drag over you with even more intent.

You can feel the assessment in it. The way he pieces things together. He spent too much time learning to read people, to anticipate weakness.

Because it does not take long for his eyes to catch on the bodice. The tight lacing. The pristine white of the gown, too fine, too rigid, too much a thing not meant for this life - your life.

His expression darkens.

His jaw ticks.

And before you know it, he is up.

One second, Bucky is seated, with hard eyes and brooding in the dim glow. The next he’s on his feet, stalking over to you with an intent so firm it makes your breath catch.

Your voice hides somewhere deep in your throat.

You instinctively shrink back - not out of fear, but out of suspicion - and press your palms against the earth.

Bucky is lowering himself onto the ground behind you, his warmth now suddenly at your back, his presence now a barrier between you and the night.

You stiffen.

“What are you-” you start, unsure.

His voice is close to your ear. His tone is gruff. “You want this thing off?”

But his hands are already at the laces before you can even begin to form a reply. Tugging. Loosening. Deftly undoing the knots. There is a strength in the way he does it. As if the very sight of you caged in this gown offends him.

The corset clamps down on your middle, but as soon as he pulls at the first few loops, loosening the strangling fabric, you feel a rush of air finally filling your lungs. The relief is instant. Involuntary. You suck in a deep breath, ribs extending, your chest rising.

Bucky doesn’t miss it.

“There we go,” he coos. His voice is a low rasp at your ear. Encouraging you to take in more deep breaths.

Your own voice comes clambering up your throat again, but you are still shocked by his swiftness.

“Bucky, you cannot just-”

“You’re breathin’ easier, ain’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then you might notice I can-”

His fingers undo another loop. He is not rough. Not careless. Just confident. Certain that this thing needs to go off.

Your hands fly up to hold the slackening fabric together at the front, even as your shoulders sag from the newfound freedom.

You swallow harshly, pressing your lips together.

He tugs another lace free.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric at the front, heart hammering against the boning.

Another lace undone.

Another breath released.

His hands move slower now since you are able to breathe steadier again.

He leans in slightly. You feel the shift of his weight behind you, the way his hands brush your back as he works. He is warm. Warmer than he should be in this night air.

His breath is on your neck. It moves to your ear. Plump lips are almost touching you.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” There is amusement in his tone. But it’s a low rumble, dipped into something rough.

You inhale sharply.

“‘Cause I can.” His words roll out huskily. He is still so close. He doesn’t move away.

He tugs another lace free, but he moves so achingly slow now. You inhale deeper than you have all day, oxygen rushing in so fast it almost makes you dizzy. Or that’s just Bucky.

Your hands are still clasped at your chest. And you can only think of saying the one thing that never really worked when you needed to distract yourself from your current situation, but you still always mentioned anyway.

“I still don’t like you interrupting me.”

Bucky huffs a laugh. It’s a knowing sound and it delicately drags over your skin in caresses. You shiver. Bucky feels it.

You can feel his sly smirk at your ear. Your head stays locked in place.

His voice is a slow drag of heat. And it pierces your core. “You wanna tell me what’s on that pretty mind’a yours, then? Won’t be interruptin’ ya, princess. Cross my heart. Can tell me anything.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you. I just don’t like it.”

“That right?” He’s smirking so wide.

You twist slightly at the way his voice slips through the air. Looking at him over your shoulder, his face definitely is way too close. His eyes gleam with something, something that makes your whole body tingle.

“Yes. I did not miss it!” But it sounds weaker. Too defensive.

“C’mon, princess,” he drones out, a smirk on his lips. His eyebrow lifts almost smugly. But there is more to it. His eyes shine with a fierce clarity. “You missed it.”

“I did not.” It still sounds small in your eyes.

His smirk deepens. “Missed me, then.”

The air seems to grow tense under his stare and you break away from it, turning back around.

Heat latches onto the back of your spine, crawling upwards deliberately.

You feel his fingers resting against the now unsecured laces at your spine, idle, as if waiting for your response.

He is so close. So intense. But still somehow not close enough.

You basically feel everything about him behind you. The heat of his body. The way his breath shifts the air between you, rustling the stray wisps of your hair, rough but deep. The way his fingers stay at your back, poised against the loose laces of your gown.

Your heart fights against the cage of your ribs, pounding with a force that you are sure he can feel.

You don’t know what to say.

Well, that is not quite right. You do know what to say. But you don’t know how to shape it into words, how to breathe them out into the night without choking on them.

But why should you hold back?

You have him back, after all. He is here again. You are with him.

After all the distance and separation and fear, after thinking you would never see him again, never hear that gruff voice again, never feel his presence beside you again - he is here.

You never believed that to happen again.

And there is no universe, no force of fate, no damn destiny that could convince you that that isn’t exactly what you wanted.

So hell, yes you missed him.

You missed him in ways you cannot even comprehend, in ways that have scratched at your walls deep inside, stealing your sleep and making a ghost of you in your supposed new home. It branded your mind, body, and soul, almost scorching every nerve with thoughts of him, his absence something you felt rather than simply noticed. You did not just miss him, you ached for him.

Even when they spoke of your marriage to Lord Ward, even when your fate was sealed with words behind closed doors, you could not think of anything but Bucky. Because you did not want Lord Ward. Not for a second. You do not want a loveless future wrapped in velvet chains.

You want him.

He was the most prominent thing on your mind in the time you were apart.

And he deserves to know it.

Your knuckles turn white. You wet your lips, chest rising beneath the pressure of your next words.

“I did miss you.”

You feel the moment the words reach Bucky because he freezes.

A stillness takes hold of him, so suddenly, so completely. It’s the kind that comes with shock - something having cut cleanly through his composure. Like your words caught him utterly off guard. Like they hit him.

You barely dare to breathe. The corset no longer constricts your middle, but your breaths still grow shallow once more.

He wasn’t expecting you to admit that.

You can feel the disbelieving motion which drifts into the shape of his body, the way his fingers flex minutely at the laces. His muscles lock up and his breath halts. Maybe he tries to ground himself, trying to determine whether or not he imagined it. Whether or not he is hearing things he shouldn’t.

He goes so still as if he had only been joking, believing that you couldn’t have possibly missed him in the first place. As if he thought this was just a game, just banter, just another exchange where you would dodge and deflect and roll your eyes at him.

And the thought of that - of him thinking himself so forgettable, so undeserving of longing - has your stomach slump to the ground.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch the barest glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. He’s staring down at you, gaze unreadable, lips pressed into something that is not quite a frown, but not quite neutrality either.

Something dangerous lurks in the air beneath you.

And you don’t care anymore.

You turn fully, meeting his gaze head-on. And whatever he sees in your expression makes something flutter in his own - something dark, something irrepressible, something hopeful.

He exhales. It’s almost cautious. Long. Steadying himself.

When he speaks, his voice is different.

“Say it again.”

Your pulse jumps.

You swear you have never seen Bucky Barnes look like this before. This intense.

There is something so raw in the way he gazes at you, so stripped down, something vulnerable in a way he probably doesn’t even realize. His eyes are stormy and magnetic and full of something.

Your swallow. You feel the muscles in your throat constrict.

“I missed you.” It’s barely above a whisper as you repeat the words.

His lips part slightly. He is still staring at you. So close. Too close. Is he getting closer?

You are turned to him, but his hand is still at your back, fingers shifting just a bit to barely graze you. It’s a tickling touch. But the heat of it, the intent behind it, makes your skin sparkle with sensation. You shiver. He feels it. He sees it.

He shakes his head slightly, exhaling again. “You really mean it, huh?”

You hold his gaze. “I would not have said it otherwise.”

His mouth twitches and his throat vibrates with a harsh swallow.

You inhale.

You exhale.

Again.

You watch him do the same.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Again.

He is moving closer.

Definitely moving closer.

You feel the deliberate press of space folding between you. It’s not rushed. Bucky takes his time.

His hand lifts toward your face, the backs of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek with an intense slowness. A shiver of a touch, reverent and so delicate.

He trails along the curve of your face, down to your jaw, before his palm settles fully against your cheek, warm and firm. His thumb traces a slow, mind-numbing line along your skin.

So slowly.

Agonizingly slowly.

You do not move. You do not breathe.

Your pulse hammers beneath your skin as he tilts his head, his gaze flicking down. Down to your lips. Watching them.

You watch his in return.

Full. Plump. Red.

Poppies.

He pulls you to him and the world disappears.

The first press of his lips is not what you expect. You thought he’d be rough. Like the man who fights with clenched fists and gritted teeth, whose hands are more accustomed to wielding a weapon than offering softness.

But Bucky Barnes kisses like something stolen. Like he needs to be careful with what he is holding. Like you mean more to him than any weapon he’s ever had in his hands.

His kiss is soft where he is rough.

Warm where he is cold.

His lips are gradual in their movement against yours, coaxing rather than taking, guiding rather than demanding.

He tastes like salt. Smoke. Something that lingers. And something that is only Bucky. Like steel and storm winds. Like danger and safety all at once.

And he doesn’t stop kissing you. He rather shifts, and his touch gets urgent, fierce. But never rough. His fingers thread through your hair, his other hand curling around your waist, and his lips part against yours, his tongue sliding past them, sweeping into your mouth and exploring it so boldly, coaxing yours to meet him.

A soft, surprised sound escapes you.

Bucky groans into your mouth. It’s deep and guttural and it sends a hot shiver down your spine.

And he moves again, not breaking the kiss, never breaking the kiss, when his hand slides to your back, lowering you with him until your spine meets the ground and he hovers over you. Not crushing you, never crushing you, but solid and there.

His lips don’t stop moving, don’t stop claiming, don’t stop tasting.

A wall of warmth. A shield. Something that steadies you.

His fingers skim along your side, trailing fire over your ribs as he leans deeper into you, fitting himself between your legs like he belongs there. And maybe he does.

You grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, your body answering before your mind can catch up.

You can’t put into words what he is doing to you but you are sure to show him.

And Bucky shows you too. He is kissing you like he has been starving for it. Like he is drowning in it.

And you let him.

He holds you close to him as if he is afraid you might disappear again.

He is kissing you as if he is trying to make up for every second you were apart.

Like he won’t let it happen again.

The heat of him is overwhelming, drowning out the cold of the earth at your back.

Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as he goes in stronger, as his tongue sweeps over yours, leaving you dizzy and electrified. His thumb brushes your cheek, soothing even as he steals your breath.

“Say it again,” he roughly pants against your lips.

You breathe against his mouth, struggling to find coherence.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

The rumbled groan that comes out of him is basically a growl. It is something primal. Something torn from the depths of him. It vibrates against your lips, shakes through his body, and you feel it.

The hunger in the way he pulls you closer, one arm locked tight around your waist, locked beneath your body and the earth. The other cradles the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair with a carefulness that does not match the desperation in his hold. He tilts your head enough, just right, to deepen the kiss, to drink you in, to take more.

And you let him.

Because the contrast of him is addictive.

The softness of his lips. The rough scratch of his stubble. The steel in his body, pressing into you, against you, around you. The warmth of his breath, mingling with yours, melting into you as if he is trying to fuse himself to you.

It is too much but not enough.

The heat inside you grows stronger. It sparks in your belly. Then it floods your limbs, blooming in your chest, thrumming under your skin. Your pulse is erratic, pounding in places you never quite noticed before.

It pools low. Deep.

And instinctively, you move.

Your legs shift, your thighs closing around his, your knees pressing into his hips, pulling him closer to you even though he already is upon you. There is fabric between you, but god, you feel him.

For the first time, you really feel him.

Not just the presence of him, the idea of him. Him. His height. His weight. The hard muscles beneath his clothes, the shape of his body against yours. The way he fits between your legs.

And he shudders.

His breath stutters, catching against your lips. His fingers flex, tighten. His body tenses.

And he groans.

It’s a sound you feel down to your bones, something that rips through you and sends a fresh rush of heat into your bloodstream.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice wrecked, pulling away from your lips to drop his forehead to yours. His eyes are closed. His breath is uneven, his control slipping.

You can’t breathe.

You don’t want to breathe.

Because he is opening his eyes and looking at you like he is a second away from ruining you and you might as well just want him to.

You crave him.

His lips, his taste, his touch, his hands, his everything. The feeling is molten, unshakable, and implanted somewhere deep in your belly, running through your veins, buzzing under your skin.

Maybe it is the adrenaline from running through the woods, from leaving behind the life you have always known. Maybe it is the way he is here, hovering over you, pressing you into the earth, his scent all around you, the taste of him still on your tongue.

Or maybe it’s been brewing inside of you all along.

So you reach for him again.

You tilt your head up, your fingers fisting a buckle of his armor, pulling him down to you. He goes willingly, eagerly, with a hunger that ignites the very air around you. His mouth crashes onto yours like a storm meeting the sea. His lips are hot and urgent, taking and giving all at once.

You arch into him, your body moving on instinct, drawn to him. You shift slightly, rolling your hips up - not much, not enough - but it sends a shockwave through your system, a slow, burning ache that makes you grip him tighter.

Bucky stiffens.

Immediately, his body coils, tension increases. His hand tightens at your waist, his grip suddenly rigid, bordering on restraint. And then, he pulls away.

You chase after his lips, but he stops you with the hand on your cheek, keeping you still, keeping himself from diving back in.

His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw is tight, his breath is broken. And that makes you pause. Because he didn’t sweat a single drop while running through the forest earlier the day, but now he is panting above you like a man who’s just fought for his life.

He swallows hard, shakes his head, and looks at you.

Really looks at you.

“We can’t, darlin’,” He is breathless. His voice is hoarse. But firm.

His words should be a warning but they don’t sound like one. They sound pained. Strained. Regretful.

You know he wants you. You feel him. Even through the many layers of your skirts between you, he is hard, achingly so, pressed against your hip with a desperation that should be impossible to ignore.

But he is ignoring it.

Even though he wants you. Even though he is starving for you.

“I gotta do this right.” There is something solemn in the weight of his tone. Something real. His fingers twitch against your skin before he pulls away, enough to still hover closely over you.

Your brows furrow.

“I can’t have you like this. Not like this. S’ not right.”

It’s almost funny. Almost.

Because of course, he could. He could take you here right where you are the way he wants. He is stronger than you, faster than you, and he has you beneath him, pliant and willing. And yet, he holds himself back.

He looks down at you with something that almost looks like remorse, but not because he doesn’t want this. No, he does what this. It’s because he started it in the first place. Because he let himself taste you, let himself sink into you, let himself feel what he could have - what he could take - but does not.

“You really care about that,” you whisper, still catching your breath. It is more an observation than a question.

And you don’t mean it cruelly, not at all. You just did not expect it. For him to have this kind of restraint, this kind of morality. He is a mercenary, who kills without hesitation, whose hands are rough and bloodstained.

But you already came to see his caring side. So, really, it should not be all that be surprising.

“I didn’t think I would,” he admits quietly, voice rough, almost holding something amused. But then, just as quickly, a small grimace crosses his face and he looks away shortly.

But then his eyes are back on you and they soften.

“But I do.”

You don’t feel yourself breathing.

“I gotta do this right, sweetheart.”

There is something different in the way he says that. Something gentle. Something warm.

His calloused fingers brush against your cheek, his thumb running along the line of your jaw. It’s such a contrast to the way he has been kissing.

Your hands are still gripping him but your hold has loosened, fingers splayed against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his it.

Bucky’s arm winds carefully from beneath you, sliding free and making sure you lay comfortably.

You feel his fingers skim along the slackened fabric of your gown, adjusting it across your chest with an absentminded sort of tenderness. He pulls it back into place to keep the fabric from exposing you too much.

His other hand props himself up on his forearm beside your head to keep some of his weight off you.

Calloused fingers stay at your stomach, tracing idle patterns along the curve of your ribs. His eyes move with them. Then, again so achingly slowly, he trails his knuckles up over your chest, following the dip of your collarbone, to the side of your neck, where his palm cups your cheek with a softness that has you lying there completely limp.

A slow stroke of his thumb skims the shape of your cheekbone. His eyes meet your own again. His breath fans against your lips when he speaks.

“You deserve more than this.”

The words are spoken low. Filled with things deeper than regret and heavier than longing. His eyes travel down to the makeshift bed of dirt, leaves, and moss below you. He takes in the tangle of fabric, the stray twigs caught in your hair, the way your body is still half-pinned under him in the darkness of the woods.

His expression sours.

There is an instant flash of frustration. Displeasure. Something unfulfilled.

He wants to give you something better. More than the dirt, more than the forest, more than the running.

His eyes sweep back to yours and you hardly have a chance to suck in a breath before he bends toward you, so leisurely, voice husky and burning with a controlled heat that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“But trust me, darlin’.”

You swallow, shaking slightly.

His lips graze your jaw and he places tiny, but lingering kisses over the curve of it to your ear where his mouth finds the sensitive spot that makes you gasp quietly. He lingers there. He savors it. You feel him smirk.

“I’m gonna make it up to you.”

His voice drops to a sly whisper, only for you, only for this.

“Just you wait.”

****

The world wakes slowly.

The air is still cool, the lingering breath of night remaining in the leaves and the earth beneath you.

But you are warm.

Not because of the breaking dawn.

Because of him.

You are wrapped in Bucky’s arms, his body a furnace against yours. His heartbeat thumbs beneath your palm where it rests against his chest.

You don’t remember falling asleep exactly, only the feel of him, the deep rise and fall of his breath like he is able to get full breaths in for the first time in his life. You only felt the way his fingers had traced mindless patterns against your back until your body had melted into him completely.

Your breaths deepen as your senses slowly come back to you. Stirring against his chest, you feel the way his grip instinctively tightens at the movement, pulling you closer.

You blink against the first rays of the morning.

Bucky is awake.

You don’t know if he ever truly slept at all, or if he simply laid there, holding you, guarding you, letting his eyes slip closed only when he was sure you had drifted off first.

But when you tilt your head to look up at him, your breath catches.

Golden light dapples his skin in shifting patterns. And it paints his smile. His smile.

It is lopsided, lazy, and warm, the kind that tugs at the corners of his mouth like he isn’t used to smiling but can’t help himself right now.

“Mornin’, darlin’.”

A shiver runs through you.

His voice is rough and slow, like gravel smoothed over by honey. You inhale sharply, taking in the scent of leather and earth and him, pressing yourself closer without meaning to.

Bucky notices.

He smirks just slightly, shifting to pull you even closer.

Neither of you moves to get up.

Instead, you melt into him again, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, letting the warmth of him seep into every inch of you. His fingers press you tighter to him.

Carefully, he moves and you feel his breath over your skin, lips touching the corner of your jaw, before he dips lower. He kisses your neck in a slow and unhurried drag of his lips.

He doesn’t rush. He simply tastes you, presses his mouth to the place where your pulse flutters, lingers there, lets his teeth graze just enough to make your breath shudder and goosebumps rise.

Each kiss is softer than the last one and you feel them setting a fire in your belly.

You sigh, pressing further into you.

Bucky smirks against your skin.

“You sleep well?” he asks, voice a low murmur, thick and knowing, his lips brushing against your jaw between words.

You hum, a soft wordless sound that vibrates against his lips, still too caught in the haze of his touch.

He rolls slightly, so that his weight presses more firmly against you, pinning you beneath him. His hand slides lower, fingers skimming the curve of your waist, dipping beneath the loose folds of your gown, calloused fingertips tracing slow and aimless lines on your back, your waist. He is leisure about it, memorizing the shape of you like he never means to forget, and watching your reaction.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, gripping it slightly as you try to even your breaths, but it’s impossible when he is looking at you like that. Like you are something he intends to take his time with, something he is in no rush to let go of.

You blink up at him, still drowsy, still trying to process the fact that you woke up like this - with him wrapped around you.

“Am I overwhelmin’ you, darlin’?” he muses, speaking softly, but the smirk is still in his voice.

You let out a huff, tilting your chin up in mild indignation, but your attempt at a glare is short-lived. Because he chooses that exact moment to smooth another kiss beneath your ear, so consciously, his lips barely there, teasing the spot he already knows will unravel you.

The sigh you let out this time is less innocent.

Bucky chuckles, the sound deep and satisfied, vibrating through his chest where it’s pressed against yours. “Mm. That’s what I thought.”

Another kiss. “You want me to stop?” It’s an earnest whisper and he lifts his lips off your skin to look at you.

“No,” you breathe out.

“Good.” He dives back in.

Neither of you seems to be in a hurry to move any time soon.

You stay in his arms, feeling his breaths against your temple.

The world feels so quiet like this. So small. Like it only consists of the space between you.

But there’s that question burrowing in your mind since you left the castle - since you chose him and yourself over everything you had ever known. And as much as you’d like to keep living in this moment, you know you need to ask.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, darlin’?.”

The comfortable tone of his voice settles over you. His hands come to a halt on the dip of your spine, still lying between the folds to give you his full attention.

You hesitate, tracing small and lacy lines along the ridges of the brown leather strap crossing his chest.

“Where do we go now?” It’s a whisper.

His body shifts and you feel him exhale, his chest rising and falling slowly against you. Almost absentmindedly, he resumes the movements of his fingers at your back, as if weighing his answer in his silence.

“I know a place.”

You tilt your head up slightly, to catch his gaze. He looks back at you immediately. “That does not tell me much, Bucky,” you say lightly, but throw him a small expectant smile.

A corner of his lips quirks, but his eyes remain unreadable. “You’ll see soon enough,” he hums.

Leaning back just slightly, you try to search his eyes for more than his usual cryptic deflections. You study the way the light catches in the depths of his gaze, the way his features still are relaxed but somehow holding a guard up. As if there is more he’s not saying.

“Tell me something,” you plead in a whisper, keeping your tone soft.

His eyes switch between yours, his thumb grazing over your hipbone. He exhales through his nose but it lacks frustration.

“What do you wanna know, princess?”

“Are there others?”

He smiles a bit of a sad smile. Eyes on you “My friends.”

“Your friends?”

His smile falls into a smirk, a twinkle in his eyes returning. “Surprised I got ‘em?”

“No,” you retort quickly. Then softer, “Maybe a little.”

His low chuckle resounds in your own body and his arms around you tighten.

“Who are they?” you continue, eager to learn more. “And how many? Where do they live? Are they all together? Do they know you’re coming?”

Bucky lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting his head back against the mossy ground, feigning utter exhaustion at your curiosity. But his smirk doesn’t waver. “Again with those damn questions.”

You fight the smile threatening your lips, but it lifts your cheeks nevertheless. Shifting to prop yourself up on one elbow, you can see his face better. “Hey, you told me to ask.”

“Right.” He clicks his tongue, tilting his head with the motion. “That was my mistake. Shoulda seen it comin’.”

“I want to know more about you, Bucky,” you say after a beat, quieter this time.

His expression softens at that, eyes falling back to you. Looking at you for a long moment, he studies you the way someone would examine a delicate being. Long fingers trail up to brush against your cheek, his rough-skinned thumb grazing the high point of it before settling along your jaw and mapping the curve of it. He follows his fingers with his gaze before going back to your eyes.

And when he speaks again, his voice is lower. More careful, but sounding somewhat hollow.

“It ain’t no castle,” he says, gaze dropping to his fingers briefly, before returning to yours. “Or palace.”

There is something in the way he says it - like a warning, or an apology. He says it like a man who has been told his whole life that he could never offer something worth keeping.

You don’t believe him to think you might be dissatisfied, or that it won’t come close to any standards you might have. More like that some part of him believes he cannot give you what you deserve. Or what he might think you deserve.

A shadow of doubt.

Your heart clenches.

You don’t want him to doubt. Not even for a second.

You reach for him before you can think twice, letting your fingers skim over the rough scruff of his jaw. He lets you trace the line of his cheek, his temple, as if you could memorize him with your hands alone.

He doesn’t seem to breathe. His stare is piercing.

“Well, it is a good thing that castles suck,” you assess almost flatly.

There is a beat of silence and then Bucky laughs. Out loud. It resonates among the trees like something out of nature. It rumbles out of him, shaking his shoulders and you a little with it. His mouth curls into something wide and almost boyish, so utterly amused. He shakes his head in disbelief.

You grin at him. Can’t stop it.

With a wistful sigh, he fixes his gaze on your lips. “I do like that mouth of yours, princess.” He bites in his lip to suppress a snicker. There is a glint in his eyes, something playful, something teasing, something more in the way his gaze drops even lower still, raking it over the length of you.

His voice is dipped low. “If you keep talkin’ like that,” he drawls, something dark and sweet in his tone, “I might just have to take you right here.”

His words roll off his tongue in an indulgent kind of slowness, laced with something wicked - but not serious. His smirk deepens at the blush that starts to heat your skin, his eyes glinting with mirth. There is a deliberate lightness in the way he tilts his head, gauging your reaction.

He watches the way your throat bobs, the way your fingers twitch ever so slightly against his chest. You might as well have to fight the urge to just grab hold of him and pull him closer. He looks at your reactions so devastatingly patient, reveling in it, it makes your pulse pound against your chest. You can’t meet his eyes.

With a quirked brow, he leans in and leaves a small kiss at your ear before whispering, “Though I can’t have you for myself with that audience all up in the trees.”

A bird calls just as he says it.

And before you can tame the hotness bubbling in your belly, his hands at your waist start moving. Fast. He’s tickling you.

“Bucky-” you shriek in surprise, squirming in his hold, giggles spilling from your lips. He seems to know exactly where to touch, where to press to leave you gasping. He did take his time to memorize your body last night.

“Or would you like that kinda audience, princess, huh? That somethin’ for you?” It’s clear in his voice that he holds back his own laughter, shoulders shaking faintly.

“Stop,” you laugh, cheeks on fire, but you don’t do much to swat his hands away.

With a chuckle so full of smug satisfaction, he relents, easing up and letting you catch a breath. You keep giggling against him, hiding your face in his chest. His fingers stay at your waist, giving you a quick squeeze.

His grin softens and his own breathing evens out. A finger meets your chin to make you look back at him and his gaze traces your face as if he needed this. Needed this excuse to see you flustered, to hear you laugh.

And it takes a moment of regaining your breath before you realize just how light you actually feel.

Weightless.

Unburdened.

Not even as a child, when you ran barefoot through the palace halls, had you felt this way. Even then, you were never truly free.

Even in the secluded spots of the gardens, where you once thought solitude could feel like freedom, there was always a link, a bond encircling your wrist in the form of duty, expectation, obligation.

This.

This is freedom.

It is him.

“And how brave you are for letting go of everything that’s no longer for you.”

- Evan Sanders

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