#black!femreader

[deadgirlsnoring]

“Oh Tate, you’re so cute.” Your full lips swallowed his, a small squeak escaping his lips.

Your boyfriend was just the best, even though he was a ghost he was the most perfect boy ever.

“Mmph, fuc—mommy stop.” Tilting your head you frowned, eyeing the pretty little thing under you, “Aww, but bunny.” Your tone laced with fake condolence, “Don’t you like it when I do this?”

Tate gasped, quickly biting his lip to control himself while your hand rubbed his bulge through his boxers.

He was sooo hard, you could feel the heat radiating off him. Poor boy couldn’t stay still, he could feel it in his head he was so dizzy.

“Does it feel good, hm? Tell me. Mommy’s doing good?” Nodding his head while biting his hot plump lips made your panties drenched.

“F-feels so good, mhm I love it so much, please I want you.”

“You already have me.” In a swift movement you pulled his cock out of his boxers, the cold breeze sending chills down his spine, straightening his back out.

“F-Fuuckkk p-pple—Oh I know baby, I know.” His pre cum already lubricated his needy boner, it pulsating with every breath.

Your soft voice just gave him life, it sounded so smooth he just couldn’t get enough.

“Ah, more, more, moree. Shit I need it, c-can I have it mommy ppleassee?” Tate was chasing your hand with his hips, them rising up and down with every thrust of your hand.

“Shut up and keep going, you know, you look so pretty all desperate?

The boy was just so pretty, his slick covered along your French tip manicure, the purple blueish marks kissed all along his waistband.

“My baby looks like such a slut, don’t you think?” You leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I just love pretty sluts like you, you like it when I do this? Your body does.”

A whimper came loose from him, heavy pants following after, his eyes looking up at you with such adoration. “F-fuck, gonna cum, mm—mph I’m so fucking close.”

God, he was soo adorable.

Xoxo,

[dreamdrbbles]

TRUTH OR...DARE?

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a cheater babe, sawry!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aaron pierre as himself & the black!fem reader as you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, oral (female receiving), adultery, protected sex, dirty talk, and some more stuff. also, please do not try this at home, pretty babies. minors, do not interact.

It had been four years since you stepped foot in a club, and it showed. Marriage had introduced your social life to a bright red octagon, halting any late nights out or wild adventures with friends. But when your girls planned an impromptu trip to New Orleans to celebrate your big promotion at work, you couldn’t say no. You needed the break, no, you deserved it. You were especially grateful they chose a spot that fit your aesthetic. The club was classy, with dim lighting that set a sultry tone and a strict over-25 entry policy. The drinks were strong, the music was hitting just right, and the men? Fine as hell. You were married—somewhat happily, but there was no harm in looking. Right?

“Ooh! Let’s play truth or dare!” Ashlee’s voice cut through the bass-heavy beat of Glorilla rapping about her love for being outside.

Her mischievous grin told you everything you needed to know: trouble was coming. You and Layla exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing that your friend was already on one. The three of you had been thick as thieves since college, and truth or dare had a history of bringing chaos into your lives. It was never really truth or dare—it was dare or dare, and Ashlee’s ideas always toed the line between bold and outrageous. “Ash, you need to put the Casamigos down. I see you already on some bullshit,” you said, side-eyeing her as she poured another round of tequila shots.

“I’m not!” she defended, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. “But since you got so much to say… truth or dare?” Your competitive spirit flared instantly. Ashlee knew how much you hated backing down from a challenge. She fixed you with a smirk, her eyes glinting with the kind of energy that let you know she’d already thought this through.

“Oh, what the fuck… dare,” you said, waving her on. You figured she’d keep it simple; a dance with a stranger, getting a man’s number, something light. But you should’ve remembered who you were dealing with. Ashlee’s grin widened, wicked and full of intent.

“I dare you to have a one-night stand.” You nearly choked on your lemon drop. “Excuse me?” Ashlee didn’t flinch. She just crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with the confidence of someone who knew she’d just dropped the gauntlet. “This heffa is crazy.” you muttered under your breath, wiping your mouth as you set the glass down. You shot her a look that could’ve burned through steel. She knew you were married. She’d been standing right there when you said “I do,” the one who held your bouquet and straightened your veil before you walked down the aisle. Sure, Ashlee had never liked Derrick—she thought he was controlling and boring, but this? This was outrageous. “Daring me to commit adultery is insane. No,” you said firmly, shaking your head.

But Ashlee didn’t back down. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, locking eyes with you. “It’s not like you’re happy with Derrick anyway.” she teased, her voice just loud enough for you and Layla to hear over the music.

You stiffened. Ashlee had struck a nerve, and she knew it.

You looked down at your drink, swirling it in the glass as the weight of her words settled over you. Your marriage wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. Derrick had been distant lately, and the spark between you had faded into routine. You loved him… but sometimes you wondered if that was enough. Layla cut in, sensing the tension. “Ash, come on. That’s a little much, don’t you think?” The most logical of your friend trifecta added, bringing some levity to the situation. “Fine, fine.” Ashlee said with a shrug, raising her hands in mock surrender. “But if you don’t take this dare, then you have to at least… flirt with someone. You’ve been locked up in that marriage too long. Have a little fun.” You sighed, your sense of spontaneity battling with your sense of loyalty. It wasn’t like flirting was cheating… was it?

You tilted back your glass, letting the last of your drink slide down your throat, the burn of the vodka sharp and unforgiving. The cocktail glass hit the table with a decisive clink as you set it down, and the tension at your table crackled in the air. Your best friends were watching you closely, Ashlee with a look of smug challenge, and Layla with quiet pleading in her eyes, silently urging you to stay grounded. Tonight, you knew you were about to break one of their hearts. Would it be the devil on your shoulder or the angel? Taking a deep breath, you pushed back from the table, standing to your feet.

The movement was smooth, deliberate, almost as if you were psyching yourself up for the dare. You smoothed your hands down your dress, tugging it slightly to make sure it covered what needed covering—but there was no hiding the bold tattoo on your thigh: a coiled snake intertwined with roses. That tattoo was a relic of your younger, wilder days, when you were eighteen, impulsive, and drunk on a spring break trip you’d never forget.

Back then, you were reckless, bold, and free. For a brief moment, the memory of that version of yourself stirred something deep inside. “Flirt with a random man, got it.” you said, nodding as if to convince yourself. Your voice carried a mix of determination and resignation, a subtle reminder that you didn’t back down from dares. The beat of the club vibrated through your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching for your unsuspecting target. A few pairs of eyes lingered on you as you stepped away from the table, the confidence in your stride undeniable, even if you were faking it. Tonight, you weren’t just completing a dare, you were testing the edges of who you used to be. But where to start?

‘The bar’, you thought. Because you’d definitely need another round of liquid courage to go through with this. You sauntered to the crowded bar, sifting through bodies until you reached the counter. The bartender was a beautiful woman with bohemian locs that fell to her waist, beads adorned the feature. God, you loved New Orleans. The date was the flirt with someone, not a man in particular. Could making eyes at the gorgeous mixologist count? Probably not. Before you could pipe up to speak, you were bumped out of the way. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you looked up at the towering figure. “Uh! Excuse me!” You called out, her voice only carrying a few inches away from you, but apparently it hit the intended target.

The male turned around and you were instantly stunned. Not only was he tall, but he was fine. Fine was an understatement. When God was done molding him even he had to give himself a pat on the back. From his chiseled jaw line to his ocean blue eyes that were covered by gold wire glasses, his features immediately enticed you. Fuck. The top two buttons on the shirt he wore were unbutton, revealing a gold chain with a simple cross pendant, shit had you ready to confess your sins. “Oh, my apologies love. I didn’t see you there.” He responded, a british accent stunned you, but the depth and rasp of his voice almost made you melt where you stood. “Let me buy you a drink, since I cut you in the queue.” His smile, FUCK. You giggled in response, as if you weren’t about to give him a piece of your mind just ten seconds before you got trapped in his eyes. Flirt. “Good idea, that’ll save you from my wrath.” You responded, your orbs holding his as you naturally tilted your head to the side. “A lemon drop, please.”

“Lemon drop.” he repeated, nodding toward the bartender. But his eyes never left yours, and the way they raked over you, slow and deliberate, made you feel like the most captivating thing in the room. “And an old fashion for me.”

As the bartender prepared your drink, he leaned in slightly, closing the already narrow space between you. His scent wrapped around you, warm, woodsy, and intoxicating. You could almost feel the heat radiating off him, and it took every ounce of composure not to let your knees give out.

“I’m Aaron, by the way.” he said, his voice lower now, meant just for you. You swallowed hard, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you replied, “Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’m…” You trailed off, momentarily distracted as his gaze flicked to your mouth.

“Beautiful name.” he said before you could finish. Your cheeks warmed, but you held his gaze, determined not to let him see how flustered you were. “I didn’t tell you my name.” You replied, confused.

“No,” he said, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush against your ear, “but I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

Your drink arrived, breaking the moment, and you reached for it, your fingers brushing against his. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Thank you,” you said, raising the glass slightly, your voice steady despite the way your pulse raced.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his eyes darkening slightly as he leaned back, his smirk now a full-fledged grin.

Flirting had never felt so natural, or so dangerous.

Suddenly, Ashlee’s dare didn’t seem so far-fetched. The idea of a one-night encounter felt thrillingly close, the kind of reckless decision you hadn’t made in years. As Aaron turned to walk away, you acted without thinking, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. The firmness beneath your fingertips sent a jolt through you, and he stopped, glancing back at you with curiosity in his eyes.

Boldly, you slipped your arm around his, letting him guide you through the lively crowd. The club’s energy buzzed around you, but it all seemed to fade, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His confidence radiated with every step, and you found yourself mesmerized by the ease with which he moved.

Eventually, he stopped at a table in a quieter corner, turning to face you. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. “If I’d known buying you that drink would bring you this close, I would’ve done it the moment I saw you walk in.”

Your cheeks burned, the compliment sending a rush of heat through your body. But then it hit you-he still didn't know your name. You opened your mouth to tell him, but he cut you off, pressing a finger gently against your lips.

"You're going to be whoever and whatever I want you to be tonight," he said, his tone commanding but laced with an edge of teasing. "Understood?"

Yes, fuckin’ sir.

You felt his words settle deep in your core, your heart hammering as you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. Then, remembering yourself, you let out a soft laugh. “I guess I should thank my friends for daring me to flirt with someone tonight,” you said, your tone light but tinged with nerves.

His brow arched, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Just flirting?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk. “That’s a pretty tame dare.”

“Well…” You hesitated, glancing down briefly. “They actually dared me to have a one-night stand, but ⸺.”

“Am I not worthy of that dare?” he interrupted smoothly, his voice playful but edged with curiosity. Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to his suggestive quip.

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling your heart race under his gaze. “But it’s complicated.” You lifted your left hand, the glint of your wedding band catching the light. His eyes followed the motion, lingering for just a moment before returning to yours. There was no judgment there, only intrigue. He leaned back slightly, sipping his drink, his calm demeanor unshaken.

“Is he here?” Aaron asked, his tone casual, though his words held a weight that made your breath catch. “Your husband? Is he here?” He continued when you didn’t respond quick enough.

You shook your head slowly, the honesty in your response surprising even you. “No.”

“Then it sounds like you have a choice to make, Love.” he said simply, setting his drink down on the table. His hand brushed yours lightly, a fleeting touch that felt electric. For the first time in years, you felt truly seen, the weight of routine and expectation momentarily lifted. The noise of the club melted away, leaving only the pounding of your heart and the magnetic pull of his presence. This wasn’t about making a decision yet; it was about the possibility ⸺ a spark of something wild and untamed.

Indeed, you did. Was one moment of indulgence worth betraying the vows you made? Was your competitive nature driving this, or something else entirely? Every rational thought warned you to step back, but then you caught sight of Aaron’s smirk; mischievous, yet inviting—and all logic slipped away. The heat in his gaze made your pussy throb, and the thrill of the unknown sent a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s go.” You said, the words spilling out before doubt could creep in. Your voice carried a conviction that surprised even you.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing grin, one that sent a wave of heat down your body. He finished his drink in one smooth motion, setting the glass down with a deliberate air. “No hesitation,” he murmured, almost to himself, before reaching for your hand.

His touch was warm, firm, and commanding as he led you through the crowded club. The air inside felt suffocating now, charged with tension, but as soon as you stepped outside, the cool New Orleans night greeted you like a cleansing balm. Yet even the breeze couldn’t temper the heat coursing through your veins.

While you waited for the valet, Aaron stood close, closer than he needed to. The faint scent of his cologne lingered between you, earthy and rich, making it harder to think straight. His hand remained on yours, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin in small, soothing circles.

A tinge of self-preservation kicked in, and you fished your phone from your purse, typing a quick message in the group chat.

“Leaving with him. Keep an eye on my location.”

You hit send and glanced up at him, finding him watching you with a curious tilt of his head. “Taking precautions?” He asked, his voice low, teasing, but with an undercurrent of respect. “Of course.” you replied, meeting his gaze with a faint smirk. “You’re still a stranger, no matter how fine you are.” He chuckled, the sound rich and inviting, as the valet pulled up with his car, a sleek, black luxury vehicle that seemed to match the polished disposition he exuded. He opened the passenger door for you, stepping aside with a small bow that was both playful and impossibly smooth.

“After you, beautiful.” he said, his tone soft yet dripping with intent. You hesitated for the briefest moment, one last flicker of restraint threatening to pull you back. But then you stepped forward, sliding into the plush leather seat, the door closing behind you like the start of a story you’d never expected to write. As he rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t help but glance at him, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation swirling inside you. He caught your gaze and smiled, a slow, devastating twitch of his lips that seemed to promise everything and demand nothing.

The car ride was steeped in a quiet tension that buzzed between you like static electricity. Neither of you said much, but the silence wasn’t awkward ⸺ it was charged. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and in that brief exchange, a mutual understanding passed between you. This is really happening. Aaron’s right hand rested on your thigh, warm and firm against your skin. The casual intimacy of the gesture gave you goosebumps, but it also grounded you. His thumb occasionally traced small, idle circles, igniting tiny sparks that made your breath hitch. Meanwhile, he drove with practiced ease, his left hand guiding the sleek car through the city streets like he’d done it a hundred times before.

As the neon lights of the club district gave way to quieter, tree-lined roads, your heartbeat quickened. His place wasn’t far, and the realization settled over you with the weight of inevitability. You had crossed a line tonight, and every passing second carried you further from the point of no return. When he finally pulled into the driveway of a modern, elegant townhouse, he killed the engine and turned to you. His gaze was steady, his aquamarine eyes searching yours as if to make absolutely sure. “You ready?”

The words were simple, but the way he said them ⸺ low, careful, and tinged with concern, made your chest tighten. You nodded, your voice momentarily caught in your throat. “Yeah.” You managed softly. It was way too late to back out now, and honestly, you didn’t want to. Aaron smiled, a subtle grin that made your stomach flutter. He stepped out first, walking around to open your door.

Always the gentleman, it seemed, an unexpected touch for the man who now held the reins of this impulsive, reckless night. As you stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushed against your skin, heightening your senses. Aaron’s hand found yours again, his grip firm yet reassuring as he led you up the short walkway. The sound of your heels clicking against the pavement felt louder than it should have, like a drumbeat marking the anxiousness building between you. At the door, he paused, his keys in hand, and turned to face you one more time. “If you’re not sure, we can stop here.” he said, his timbre gentle but resolute. “No pressure, no hard feelings.” Your heart raced at his sincerity, but there was no hesitation left in you now.

“I’m sure.” you reassured, your voice steady this time. You were so fucking sure. With a small nod, he unlocked the door, holding it open for you as you stepped into his world, leaving everything else behind.

You barely made it through the threshold before you were engaged in a steamy kiss, and you were ripping each other’s clothes off like it was the end of the world. Patience was no longer a virtue, the only thing that mattered was the dare you had to complete. You two left a trail of clothes to the bedroom, where he pushed you down on the bed and demanded that you get in your favorite position. He would take you anyway you wanted. Without a second thought you rolled over on your stomach, pushing your ass out with your top half pressed firmly against the bed. The arch in your back made him hiss. You spread your legs just wide enough so that he could see your plump sex. “That’s a pretty pussy. Almost as beautiful as you.” He commented as he walked up behind you, slamming both of his hands down on your ass before he kneeled down behind you and released a wad of spit onto your throbbing mound. His tongue followed, gliding up and down your leaking slit with precision, he moaned as he tasted you.

Your nectar satisfying the male’s natural sweet tooth as he continued to indulge himself in your waters. “Oh my god…Aaron.” You squealed as his tongue ventured inside of you, caressing your walls as he thumbed your clit in a slow, figure eight motion. “You’re gonna make me cum already!” You exclaim, causing him to pop his plump lips off of your southern lips.

“Not yet…this is a one night stand.” He mumbled as he stood up behind you, gripping your waist and positioning you just right. He gripped his manhood in his hand and he slowly worked his tip up and down your opening, watching as your glaze coats his thick tip. “That means I got you all night.” He uttered as he slid inside of you, your walls clenching tightly to envelope him inside like a glove. You whimpered with every inch, he had your husband by at least three inches, but you were a determined one. You relaxed your body fully as he buried himself inside. “Good girl, keep opening up for me.” He praised, and you listened, forcing your walls to take every bit of his manhood until his body was flushed with yours.

“You feel so good…” You bellowed, clawing at the comforter underneath you as he began to stroke. He patterned in and out of your slick cunt, your juices flooding his pole with every impel. It felt like his dick was made perfectly for you, like you settled with the wrong man way too soon. All the time, your soulmate was less 500 miles away.

“You dripping all over my dick, baby. Who got you this wet?” The question was a rhetorical, but got dammit, the man had a right to know that he was doing his big one.

“You! Only you…” You replied breathlessly as you began to counteract his grinding with your own. Throwing your ass back at him, the sweat and other natural fluids from your bodies causing your plump cheeks to glue to him each and every time you pushed back. He grunted, encouraging you to continue fucking him back, the more comfortable you got with his size, the more you took, until you were sliding down on his entire cock, ramming into his pelvis. You were fucking him like you would never get the chance to again, because that was your reality.

The phone rings, and for a second, everything stops.

“Uh oh, is that hubby calling?” The male asked in a gruff tone as he placed his hand in the center of your back, slamming his pelvis into your plump cheeks, plummeting his manhood deeper and deeper into your guts. Before you knew it, he was handing you your phone, without even thinking you took it in your trembling hand. You had two missed FaceTime calls, and now he was calling on the regular cell. He had somehow gotten through the do not disturb function, even though he wasn’t on the approved list. “Answer it.” He demanded, bringing his hand up into the air before he smacked it down on your ass, undoubtedly leaving a palm shaped bruise.

“N-no…” You stuttered as he continued to thrust deeper into your abyss, his curved tip thrashing against your g-spot.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, beautiful. Answer it.” He directed once more, his strokes slacking up some until he completely stopped, leaving you full of his girth; your bodies pressed together.

The phone rang again, and this time you accepted the call. “Hey…babe, hey…” You slurred, trying to make it seem like you were drunk, even though the only thing intoxicating you was the man leaning over you, now pressing kisses to your shoulder as he stroked you deeply. You bit down into your lip, masking a moan as the familiar tone came through the phone. You clumsily hit the speaker phone and laid the device next to you.

“Hey, I was just checking on you. I know y’all were going out tonight. Did you have fun?” Derrick asked casually. Aaron chuckled in your ear, only loud enough for you to hear it. “Sounds like you had fun, you slurring your words.”

“Y-yes….so much fun! C-Can I call you back? The service isn’t good out here.” You powered through, despite being long dicked through your conversation with your spouse. Before he could even answer, Aaron reached over and ended the call. Kicking his foot up onto the mattress, he abandoned his steady, pointed strokes for brutal, merciless thrusts, sending shockwaves through your body. “FUCK! Right there, right there!”

“Your husband doesn’t fuck you this good does he?” He asked as he slipped in and out of your fortress with clear intentions, he wanted you to think of him even when you went back home. Even when it was your husband behind you. You shook your head no, but that just wasn’t good enough for him. He slid his hand into your fresh silk press and wrapped your tresses around his hand, yanking your hair until your back was flushed with his torso. He turned his head, planting soft kisses on your earlobe before he spoke again. “Answer me. Use your words.” Both of his hands wrapped around your body, one landing on your neck, and the other against your throbbing sensitivity.

He squeezed the column of your neck, while slapping his hand down on your clit to provoke an answer from you. “No! He could never fuck me like you…” You declared boldly. One night with this man and you had already thrown your husband’s boring bedroom skills under the bus. Your silk-lined walls spazzed, your clit pulsated with anticipation as your stomach muscles tightened. The curl of your toes told a story, the contortion of your face was the foreword. You were about to unravel, harder than ever before. He needed no introduction to your orgasm, he could feel you tightening around him. “That’s it princess, gimme what I want.” He encouraged as he sent one more swift pop to your engorged bundle of nerves, sending your body into a frenzy as you came. Frothy, ivory cum coated the latex between the two of you as a shrill cry left your lips. “Shit…shit…” you cursed as he placed another kiss to your temple.

“Keep cumming like that and I might have to keep you.” He murmured, a promise he couldn’t keep. He slid out of you, only for a moment to replace the condom. Grabbing your leg, he used it to flip you over on your back. He positioned himself between your thick thighs, pushing them up to your chest as he tapped his throbbing tip against your sensitive clit. He didn’t waste time entering you once again, pressing both of his hands on each side of your head as he leaned down on top of you. His gold cross pendant dangled right over your line of sight. The symbol was so fitting, because he was nailing you to that motherfucka.

This had to be the most dangerous position. His gaze felt like something you weren’t sure you could pull back from. Those piercing blue eyes of his—deep and endless like the ocean—held you captive, silently daring you to dive in, to let go of everything else. The sexually charged as the air between you thickened, it became harder to grasp onto reason. All you could focus on was the way his skillful phallus edges you closer and closer to glory.

“You don’t love him…who do you love?”

“I love you!” You blurted out mindlessly. You didn’t love this man, you’d just met him. But you absolutely loved the way he felt inside of you, so, same thing?

“I love you too,” He retorted, pressing his lips to yours to steal a few kisses. “Keep giving me this pussy, make me nut.” He grunted as he closed any gaps between the two of you, his sticky, sweaty frame clinging to yours. The religious symbol carved from gold swayed above your mouth as he defiled you. You impulsively grabbed the pendant with your teeth and held onto it, causing the male to growl in response. “Sexy ass…” Your action clearly arousing him, you could feel his erection twitch insiders of your fortress.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, letting them fall further down to his muscular ass, sinking your french manicure into his skin and holding him in place. “You wanna nut so, bad. let me feel you, daddy…” you purr into his ear, and lock clockwork his entire body tenses, he gives you a few more choppy strokes, a throaty snarl covering a string of obscenities as he filled the latex between the two of you, another orgasm ripping through your own body simultaneously. The two of you laid there in silence for a few moments; enjoying the feeling of your bodies sticking together. Finally, he reached between you and pulled out. Placing a soft kiss against your duo before pulling away all together.

You watched as he swaggered to the bathroom, his beautiful round butt on display. You’d just cheated on your husband, and you honestly had no regrets. He would never know, you would get back to your life in a few days and forget this ever happened. Or would you?

You heard the sound of the toilet flush before he walked back out to you, in all his glory. “You okay?” He asked, your lips curved up into a smirk. “Let me get you some water…”

As promised, he made you touch every wall in the house. From the kitchen while he was “getting water” to the living room floor, back down to the hallway, until you circled back to the shower and ended in the bedroom again.

Normally, you loved the sunrise ⸺ it was your favorite time of day. You were an early riser, always savoring the quiet peace of dawn. But today, you hated it. The soft, golden light spilling through the curtains was an unwelcome reminder that your night with Aaron had come to an end, and reality was waiting just outside that door.

Carefully, you slid out of bed, moving as quietly as possible to avoid waking him. His steady breathing filled the room, and for a moment, you paused, watching the way the morning light kissed his face. He looked so peaceful, so perfect, and it only made it harder to leave.

You tiptoed around out of the room, gathering your clothes from where they’d been discarded the night before. Piece by piece, you dressed in silence, your movements deliberate, almost hesitant, as if you were trying to hold on to the last remnants of the night.

But as you reached the front door, a tug of longing made you stop. You couldn’t leave ⸺ not yet. You needed one last look at him.

Turning back, you crept down the hall and peeked into the bedroom. Your heart stuttered when you saw him staring back at you, his dreamy eyes half-lidded as he rubbed the sleep from them. His voice, low and raspy from sleep, broke the silence. “You were just gonna leave like that?” The corners of his lips displayed a faint smile, and the vulnerability in his tone hit you harder than you expected.

“Yeah, before you make it even harder to leave,” you admitted with a matching smile, your voice barely above a whisper. You lingered at the doorframe, taking in the sight of him one last time, trying to commit it all to memory. “Goodbye, Aaron. Thank you for last night.”

The sincerity in your words hung between you, unspoken truths layered beneath them.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching yours. “Before you leave… what’s your name?”

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to tell him, but instead, you offered a soft, enigmatic smile. “Let’s just leave it as ‘Beautiful,’” you said, the words laced with finality and a hint of playfulness.

Aaron leaned back, his smile widening as he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Beautiful it is.”

Without another word, you turned and slipped out of the room. Outside, your best friends were waiting for you, their faces alight with curiosity and mischief. They immediately bombarded you with questions, eager for every last detail. But as you settled into the car’s backseat, you held onto the memory of last night, knowing some moments were better left unspoken, cherished in quiet secrecy.

[caws5749]

Useless in A Good Way

A/N: oh, another fic where she writes a pregnant reader… YES IM SORRY but I’ve dreamt of being pregnant since I was little and it’s my biggest dream so here we go again 😭I’m working on requests as well but this just popped into my head. I felt very... out of practice with the last few pieces but writing this... I feel good again.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head at some inappropriate joke Tony made after Clint won the round of whatever card game they were playing. Natasha’s hand rested on your thigh, squeezing accidentally while she laughed. The music played in the background, barely heard over the nearly hundred voices that filled the main room of the compound for the latest party Tony had deemed necessary.

You turned your head towards your wife to admire her for a moment. Nat caught your eye, sending you an admiring smile that she reserved only for you.

“You look radiant,” she murmured, leaning in closer to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You blushed, loving the red that still tainted your cheeks after four years of marriage.

"You look like home," you replied quietly, just barely loud enough for her- and Steve (curse that super soldier's hearing)- to hear.

She really did look like home. Her dress was long sleeve and snug, ending just below her knees and made of the softest cashmere. It was cozy and warm and loving, just like her, just like home.

The smile she let show threatened to overtake her lips, so she ducked her head as she always did. Perhaps even more so, considering the amount of alcohol she'd ingested.

You were the only one not drinking, which probably had something to do with the fact that you were seven months pregnant... with twins. You felt like you could hardly move and you the thought of two more months made you simultaneously groan and smile. Not to mention, you hadn't used your powers in a few months; the pregnancy hormones had affected your abilities in a questionable way, and the last time you had tried to let the familiar cool water flow from your hands, nothing had happened. It simply seemed that they had.. petered out. And you were warned by Dr. Cho to avoid trying to use them too much anyway.

"I should probably go check on the intelligence report," you said, sighing. Given that you were the only completely sober being present, it was your task to check on the latest intelligence report currently running after some curious and daunting messages of late.

Natasha nearly pouted, before standing and gripping your forearms with the gentle strength that only your wife could perfect. You groaned, all of your muscles giving maximum effort to stand from a seated position, your large abdomen giving you little room to move.

"God, I have two more months of that," you muttered.

"And it's only going to get harder," Clint chimed in, chuckling sympathetically. You sent him a mock glare.

"I'll go with you," Nat stated, a hand falling to your back. She hardly let you go anywhere alone, not that you minded. Living in the Avengers compound was one of the safest places there was, but it also was a target.

"Sit, I'll go," Steve said, "I've got to check on Bucky anyway."

"Finally, Natasha, it is your turn to lose so one money," Tony grinned, shuffling the deck of cards. Your wife retook her seat, rolling her eyes.

Steve met you next to the couch, offering an arm, which you took gladly. The team had been nothing but supportive after finding out about the pregnancy. They were all in agreement regarding your safety and protection. It was automatic at this point for them to watch over you, something that warmed your heart daily.

"How is Bucky?" you questioned.

"He misses being able to walk," Steve chuckled. "That's what he gets for fighting on a torn knee."

"It's been a week since surgery, right?"

He nodded. "And another week before he'll be able to get up and walk on it."

You hummed sympathetically. It was what all of you hated the most- feeling useless, being unable to be an Avenger. You had grown quite accustomed to the feeling.

Your friend, reached out with his other hand to open the door for you, following you inside the intelligence room, curious what the report would say too.

You studied the screen and briefly leafed through some papers, stopping at another odd message printed. Your brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"It's a date. Today," you answered, looking up to read his expression.

You'd seen the confusion and slight nervousness in his face before glass shattered in the not-so-far distance. Steve looked at you, panicked.

"We need to get you to the bunker."

"We don't even know what's-"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. Shouting then could be heard, growing closer in a split second. "Now."

You moved as quickly as you could, exiting only after Steve cleared the hallway. The two of you moved with expertise, albeit a bit slower than normal, towards the stairs. He helped you down the stairs, hurrying you along without rushing you. When you turned down the hallway that held the bunker, several beings masked in dark leather suits and glowing face shields awaited you.

"Stay back," Steve commanded, not even waiting for a response before running toward them at full speed. He pulled a knife from his pocket and set to work. You felt utterly useless, powerless, as you watched them swarm him. A few tried to sneak past to you, but he wouldn't let them come even close. You stood, anxious, barely breathing. Two swift hits to the stomach and knees had Steve knocked on the ground, stumbling for his footing. On instinct, you stepped forward, hands out in front of you.

You had no thoughts as you summoned the familiar tingle of your powers, forgetting completely that they may not even work for you. When coolness flowed through your fingertips, you only then realized you hadn't been able to do that for a while, and you probably shouldn't be doing it now.

But it didn't matter, there were enemies at hand, and you were an Avenger.

So you let a wave hit the men with everything you had. It was nowhere what you had attempted to do, but it worked nonetheless. It gave Steve the opportunity he needed to jump up and take them out quickly.

He took the remaining problems out with ease and then ran back to you.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, you?"

"You shouldn't have used your powers," he said aloud, more a fact and realization at what you had done rather than a scolding.

"I know."

"Bunker," he stated, gently pushing you towards the door. "Stay inside until you get the 'all clear."

You nodded, finding the hidden keypad and locking yourself inside.

++++++

When Steve returned back up to the party, he found several similar bodies strewn about and a few slightly out of breath Avengers.

"Y/N?" Natasha demanded.

"In the bunker, safe and unharmed."

She nodded, a thanks to her good friend.

"Anybody know what the hell is going on?" Clint asked, setting his bow and arrow down.

"Just today's date written down in a message, we just saw it in the report but couldn't piece anything together," Steve answered.

Natasha heard that and knew there was nothing to answer for now, so she started towards the hallway.

"Nat, she used her powers."

Your wife turned on her heel at that, whipping in the soldier's direction faster than lightning.

"Call Cho," was all she said.

++++++

"Natasha is entering," JARVIS announced, causing you to sit upright, eyes glued to the door.

"Oh, thank god," your wife muttered, seeing you sitting unscathed. "Are you alright?" She rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you, eyes scanning your form, hand coming to rest against your cheek after she found nothing.

"I'm fine. Are you?" You turned to plant a kiss to her palm.

"Fine. You used your powers."

"Well, somewhat. They didn't work exactly right," you responded, frowning.

"What happened?"

You told her how you had saved Steve, well only by giving him a slight edge.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asked gently, picking up on your rather displeased tone.

"I feel useless," you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes as you shifted your gaze downward. Gentle fingers tugged your chin upwards until you were forced to meet those familiar emerald eyes.

"You are growing two human beings. That is not useless. I know you aren't avenging right now, but you did just save Steve, even if your powers were limited. Just because you can't do what you normally used to doesn't mean you aren't doing other things that aren't just as amazing, baby."

The corners of your lips twitched upwards, your mood already lifting.

"That's my girl. Now let's go upstairs, Cho is going to check you out."

"Natasha, I'm-"

"I don't care if you're fine," she tutted. "I'm not taking any chances."

With that, she kissed you softly and helped you upright.

++++++

BONUS

"And you know what she said?" Steve asked, a hand placed over his heart as he sat next to Bucky in bed. "You look like home." He sighed softly, as he thought of his two friends who were so beyond perfect for one another.

"How is that supposed to make my knee better?"

[wh0reforoldmen]

I'm no Porcelain doll

Pairings: RE6!Leon Kennedy X fem!reader

Summary: You and Leon have an agreement, no strings attached, no questions, and no feelings.

WC: 839

Warnings: Smut (MDNI), PinV, unprotected sex (wrap it up), self worth issues, soft sex, soft Leon, tired Leon, probably OOC this if my first time writing him. Let me know if I missed any

AN: Two things. I have asks in my inbox, I am slowly getting to them, I am sorry that I'm posting this instead of thoes but writers block is kicking my ass and I'm getting there slowly.

Secondly, this is pure self indulgent. Just had my first major breakup and this is my most healthy coping mechanism so here we are :D.

You were used to the hard, rough and shameless sex. Being used and fucked was your norm, it was like another every day thing that happened. The way people would pull your hair, wrap their hand around your neck as they abused your poor pussy, waves of pleasure shooting to every inch and crevice of your body. 

Leon was no exception. You used each other to get off. All that pent up energy, anger, sadness, whatever it was, you would fuck till it subsided. That was your deal, no emotions, no attachments. 

But this felt different. This is different. 

His rough hands laid softly on your cheek, the same hands that used to wrap around your neck and squeeze till you were gasping for air, the same hands that left bruises all over your body. Now those hands were gentle, soft, kind. 

His hips grinded into you, still hitting those places that made you keen and mewl, but it was gentle, careful even like you were a porcelain doll, fine china. You weren’t that. In fact, if you were fine china, you would’ve been broken and put back together so many times that there was no point in repairing you again if you did break and shatter. The cracks on the delicate porcelain was too much for people, they gave up on you before they could see your potential, worried if you’ll break again. 

But Leon was different this time around. His eyes looked into yours with something you feared most, the ones that you both promised won't come into your arrangement, but you couldn’t help but enjoy it. You missed the feeling of being taken care of, the feeling of being treated like that piece of fine china. But somewhere, deep down in the pit of your stomach, you were scared. He was going to leave eventually, and there is nothing you can do to stop that from happening. But you can enjoy it this once, let yourself be cocooned in just this once.

“Leon,” You whispered, your hands coming to his face. His gorgeous face that you dream of each night, each bump and dip you remember like it was your own work. His tired eyes from working too late and the missions he went on for weeks on end had worn him down, he needed a release and you were the one giving it to him. 

“Shh, shh.” He hushed as grunts traveled from his throat. “Let me take care of you, let me- fuck baby, let me take care of you.” His face showed he was slipping his mask, the mask he so carefully built piece by piece was falling off like a broken glass window; shards dropping into your skin. But instead of drawing blood, love was pouring out of you. He took care of you in ways no man has ever done, even if this was a no strings attached agreement, but the strings were piercing into your skin, the only thing that is drawing blood. 

He pushed himself up and onto his knees, still inside you. God, Leon couldn’t help but admire you, how pretty you looked like this. On your back, looking up at him with such gorgeous eyes begging for him to not stop, how your tinted lips looked in the soft light of the moon. Your hair messy and knotted on the pillow while your arms gripped a pillow tight. You were perfect. 

Leon’s hand laid flat on your stomach, soft compared to his rough and used hands, before he glided down and his thumb gently pressed on your clit, slow and gentle circles. He relished the sounds you made, needy, full of life, and so, so sweet. He said he was going to take care of you, and he doesn't go back on his word.

You fluttered around him as pleasure bloomed from your core and into your bones, legs trembling, brain going quiet, but not silent; just pure bliss. You could feel that tight knot in your core tightening as white began to appear behind your eyes. “O-Oh Leon,” You gasped, extending your arms out and pulling him back down to you, his cock driving into you sporadically as he felt his own orgasm building up. 

“I love you, fuck, fuck, fuck! I love you, Leon, I love you.” You almost chanted, not realising what you’re saying as the knot releases and pure ecstasy and euphoria took over your mind, ringing filled your ears as Leon said something but you couldn’t tell what. Before you could come down from your high, Leon released inside you, coating your walls in his spent. 

You didn’t want him to move. For once in your life, you felt secure. Safe. You didn’t want to leave the safeness of his room, of his body, his scent that lingered in your clothes, your hair, your bedding. But it was going to happen sooner or later, but for now? You can let your shield down for a while, let him take care of you. 

[imtryingbuck]

It’s okay

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Black Widow!fem!Reader

Summary: falling out of love is okay, even if it does hurt.

Word count: 1,516

Warnings: angst. tiny bit of fluff.

Masterlist

The forbidden relationship between the two Black Widows where they kissed in the dark, held hands in secret, yearned for each other even when they stood side by side, became a relationship where they could do all of it in public and know that they wouldn’t be punished.

For ten long years they stood side by side, defending the other when needed, had each other’s back when on missions, it had been ten years full of love and affection - okay that’s a lie.

Maybe seven years or eight.

Neither one of them could pinpoint the moment where the love they had for each other dwindled, it just kind of happened - almost slowly and yet it didn’t seem to surprise either one of them.

There was no betrayal or accusations of cheating - there was never any doubt that they would do that to each other. There was no big argument that caused one to storm out of their room, no harsh words spoken or insults thrown at each other.

There was nothing that led to the breakdown of their relationship other than simply falling out of love with each other.

And that hurt more if they were honest.

They had known each other since they were children that went through so much tougher, the pain and suffering they endured was done together, escaping from the Red Room together, starting a new life with the Avengers even though Y/n was skeptical at first Natasha refused to leave her side stating that if she didn’t want to join than neither would she.

Their conversations once full of deep and meaningful words or talks about how their day went became pretty much non-existent. When they spoke now it was full of awkward silences as one tried to rack their brain to come up with something to fill in the awkwardness.

Once upon a time neither one could keep their hands off the other, it wasn’t always sexual but rather a comfort or a reminder that they were together just by simply resting a hand on the other's thigh or linking their pinky fingers together as they sat in comfortable silence as they read a book or watched a film. But now sex became almost a chore, kisses were quick, their hands now remaining to themselves.

For two maybe three years they kept it up, neither one wanted to be the one that said the words that would end everything they knew and grew to be comfortable with.

Both of them had tried to keep a hold of the love they had, even tried to force it but nothing they did worked.

It was a week after their eleventh anniversary - one that they didn’t celebrate because Y/n was on a mission with Steve and Bucky, the two super soldiers sharing a look of confusion as the woman didn’t make a run for it the second debriefing had finished like she always did to get to her other half, instead she told them that she would do the paperwork, waving them off when they asked if she was sure.

Stretching with a dramatically loud groan she checked the time on her phone, her eyes instantly closing in frustration. She hadn’t realised how late it was.

Pushing herself off of the semi comfortable chair, she made sure that everything was turned off before leaving the office and slowly made her way towards the bedroom she shared with her girlfriend.

Creeping into the room, making sure to keep her footsteps light as the last thing she wanted to do was wake up the redhead, noticing that the lamp was on she expected to find her girlfriend asleep - nearly screaming when she saw that she wasn’t.

Letting out a low chuckle, Nat smoothed out the blanket she had covered herself with. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” The redhead kept her eyes downward as Y/n changed into her nightwear, the air in the room became thick as the silence grew.

Choosing to sit on the chair near the bed Y/n twisted the ring gifted by Nat around her finger. There was so much both of them wanted to say but neither one wanted to break the other's heart. “Wh- what are you looking at?” She decided to ask breaking the tension - gesturing to the box sat upon her girlfriend's lap.

Lifting up something from inside the box Y/n sat puzzled by the small piece of paper. “Remember the first time we went to the cinemas? It was a completely new experience for us.” A small smile lit up her tired face. “Then you tripped up the step and dropped the popcorn.”

Groaning in embarrassment they both burst out laughing at the memory. “I couldn’t see where I was going!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She winked. “Remember getting told off because we couldn’t stop laughing?”

“Yes! They were so bossy!” Y/n laughed, prompting Nat to roll her eyes but couldn’t disagree with the statement. “Did- did you keep the ticket?”

“I’ve kept pretty much everything.” She whispered shyly. Pulling out a small very dried petal. “From the first bouquet of flowers you gave me.”

“You had been on a mission that went wrong, I wanted to cheer you up so I brought flowers because that’s what Tony does for Pepper when she’s sad.” The other Black Widow shrugged - remembering how lost and out of place she felt when she stood in the florist shop, listening intently as the shop owner explained the different meanings behind each colourful flower. “I had never seen you smile so wide before, and I was so proud of myself-”

“Then Tony mocked the bouquet because it was small.” Nat cut in. The redhead hated the way her girlfriend's eyes turned sad and the way she tried to make herself look smaller as the billionaire laughed loudly at the bouquet that Natasha proudly showed off. “I always hated him for that.”

Shrugging as if the laughter that came from the man she calls a friend didn’t still bother her. “He was right though, I should have gotten you a-”

“No. Don’t even say that.” She cut in again. “I loved them and all the rest that you got me over the years.”

“I know but-”

“No buts.” She smiled softly. Wanting to change the subject she looked through the box again, Nat pulled out a few prize tickets from the first time they went to an arcade. “I’m still pretty convinced you were cheating that day.”

“Wha- why? Wasn’t my fault you kept getting distracted!”

“Y/n you had over a thousand tickets within half an hour.”

“And? I was just better than you.”

Nat rolled her eyes at the comment but made no attempt to correct her. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?”

“It was, I don’t think we’ve ever laughed so much or-or even felt like we were just normal people.”

The redhead smiled sadly as her head bopped slowly up and down, as the room went silent she kept looking through the box, with each item she saw the more her heart ached, as each memory played on a loop around her head tears began to blur her vision - desperately trying not to let them fall down her cheeks. “Y/n-”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Hearing those words come out of her girlfriends mouth didn’t hurt as much as it should have, the reason the tears fell from her eyes freely was because it was confirmation that their relationship had come to an end. They may no longer be in love with each other anymore but that didn’t mean they didn’t have love for the other, Nat would forever consider the beautiful woman sitting on the chair across from her with her own tears falling down her cheeks - her best friend. She would still trust her to defend and have her back on and off missions. She would always be there if Y/n ever needed her.

Natasha would always have love for Y/n. Always. “I'm so sorry it came to this.”

Y/n would always have for Natasha. Always. “There’s no reason to be sorry. You know I will always love you, don’t you?”

Nodding with a sad smile on her lips, she hastily wiped the tears with the back of her hand. “And I will always love you.”

“So this is it?”

“I-” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nods. “I’ll go and sleep else-”

The redhead quickly interrupts somewhat dreading the response she will get. “No stay, please. Just for one more night please let me hold you.” A small smile on her lips as her now ex-girlfriend, forever her best friend, nods with a smile on her own lips as the tears continued to fall.

Maybe one day they could fall in love with each other again, feel the spark they once had, go back to feeling whole when the other one is nearby, even learn new things about the other, maybe get the ending they both craved and planned.

Maybe.

Tags: @bycinnamoons

[all444glo]

DONCHANO

🎞️: After a tough argument and a string of silent nights, Andrew comes home… but not even his kisses can silence the voice in your head. When everything feels like too much, will his love be enough to quiet the noise?

⚠️: Body image issues, social media harassment, emotional vulnerability, self-deprecating thoughts, anxiety, mild language

“Baby, I know that you don't see yourself as one of them, But honestly, girl, I believe that you're a hundred out of ten”

You sat on your bed, knees pulled tight to your chest, phone balanced on your thigh, the screen lighting up your tear-streaked face. Your shoulders shook with every quiet sob. It had been like this too often lately. You hated admitting it—even to yourself.

The comments on your latest post were eating you alive.

You’d uploaded a cute little photo dump from the night before — your outfit, a drink in your hand, Andrew’s arm slung casually around your waist in the last pic. He was smiling at you, not even the camera. It should’ve been sweet. It should’ve been harmless.

But your notifications were full of bullshit. Teenage girls with parasocial relationships who didn’t even watch basketball for real. Unemployed, grown-ass men mad about parlays and deciding to take it out on you.

“What am I doing wrong 😀” “Posting in a bikini and yo man shooting 20% is crazy” “Oh… they were serious…” “Yikes.”

It was endless. Microaggressions. Backhanded compliments. Downright threats. You’d tried to brush it off—like always. Swore up and down to Andrew it didn’t bother you. Told him you had tough skin, that you weren’t fazed by a bunch of strangers who couldn’t even spell.

But you lied.

Every time you posted a pic, it was like opening a door to hell. Your brain twisted it up, served it back to you on a silver platter: You’re ugly. You’re too big. He could do so much better. You didn’t always believe the comments—you knew you were far from ugly—but all it took was one argument between you two for the insults to feel valid.

You and Andrew had just gotten into a screaming match, which ended with you staying home and him flying to his game in Miami alone. You’d let your mind wander in your vulnerable state, automatically spiraling to worst-case scenarios. Ever since then—even though you'd never say it aloud—you’d been deeply insecure about your relationship.

You missed when Andrew wasn’t as known. When he was just a role player on a random team and nobody bothered you. You were his biggest, and pretty much his only, female fan. All it took was one TikTok highlighting “underrated face cards” in the NBA and your man was took.

You pulled your legs tighter to your chest, mind racing. Your body, your face, your worth—it all felt wrong.

That was when Andrew came home, loud as hell, shouting through the house like always.

“YOOOO!”

You hurried to wipe your face, grabbed the TV remote to look normal. When he barged into the room, he didn’t even notice your red eyes—he was too busy full-on launching himself onto your bed.

“Yo stink,” he grinned, rolling over you, peppering your face in kisses. “I missed you, damn.”

“Hey,” you mumbled. It came out small.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just hey? I ain’t see you all week.”

You let out a little laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Shut up.”

You were laid up in bed with Andrew, legs tangled under the blankets, one of his hands tucked under your hoodie, resting heavy and warm on your stomach. It was supposed to be a chill afternoon—finally a break in his schedule. No team obligations. No practice.

He was scrolling TikTok with that lazy half-grin, thumb flicking up the screen every few seconds.

At first, it was dumb shit—some dude trying to dunk off a trampoline and failing, a prank video that made Andrew snort. You laughed along, warm under his hand, liking how natural it felt.

Then the algorithm did what it always did.

Another scroll, and there was some girl doing a dance in tiny shorts. Stomach flat. Skin smooth. Her hair falling perfectly over her shoulder.

Then another.

Then a girl turning around to show off her ass in jeans that barely clung to her hips.

Then another. Lips glossed. Waist tiny.

You tried not to react, but your stomach clenched under his hand, and you shifted just slightly.

Andrew didn’t even notice. He was chuckling at a caption, completely oblivious.

“Bro, people be so raunchy on here,” he muttered.

Yeah, I would be too if I had a body like that.

You pulled at the hem of your hoodie, tugging it lower so it bunched awkwardly around your hips. You hated how it felt—soft, squishy, like it was telling on you. Your thighs pressed together tighter.

He kept scrolling. More girls. More perfect bodies.

Of course this is what he sees all day. It’s what he likes. It’s what he could have—easily.

You turned your face into his shoulder, trying to focus on his scent, the warmth of him. But your brain was already racing.

You picked up your own phone, needing to get off his. Scrolled Twitter. Then Instagram. Then right back to Twitter, eyes glazing over.

Then a notification popped up. New comment on a post.

You didn’t even want to look.

But your dumb ass did.

“His standards are really in the gutter huh lol.”

Your stomach dropped.

It was like someone poured cold water over your head. Your mind stacked it all up—the TikTok girls, the comments, your body under his hand.

You locked your phone. Didn’t want him to see the screen shake.

You went quiet. So quiet he finally noticed.

“You good?” he asked, eyes still half on his phone.

“Yeah,” you muttered.

He didn’t buy it. He never did. He set his phone down on the nightstand and looked at you fully.

“Nah, what’s up? You mad weird today. You barely looked at me.”

“Bro, I’m chillin’.” You tried to keep your voice light, but it came out thin. Forced.

“Nah. You lying. Come on, what is it?”

You swallowed. Your throat felt thick. Words stuck behind your teeth.

“Just…” You exhaled. “Don’t really feel good about myself right now.”

His brows furrowed. “What you mean? Like sick?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Nah. Like… about how I look.”

He blinked. “Why?”

“Your fans are assholes, for one,” you said, eyes darting anywhere but him. “You see the shit they say. And then… your TikTok, bro. It’s just girls who look nothing like me. So yeah, I feel shitty.”

He made a face. “You mad about my TikTok feed? That shit’s random—”

“It’s not random. It’s an algorithm. It shows you what you like. And it’s all skinny girls. Perfect girls. Nothing like me.”

He rubbed his hand over his face, exasperated. “Man, stop. That shit means nothing. You know that.”

“Do I?” you snapped, voice cracking a little. “Cause sometimes it feels like I’m just a stand-in ‘til you find someone better. You could have someone with an ass, perfect body, and I ain’t never been skinny—”

He stared at you, jaw tense. “Why you always do that? Why you always assume the worst shit about yourself—nah, about how I view you—us?”

You pulled away from him, hugging your knees to your chest. “’Cause it’s easier than getting blindsided. You think I don’t see how people talk about me? How they act like I’m ugly, or that you’re settling? Like I’m some big fat-ass joke.”

He was quiet. Too quiet. You hated it.

So your brain kept going, filling in the silence.

“Plus I gained more weight while you were gone. Stress eating, whatever. And I know it’s noticeable. I look at myself in the mirror and I hate it. I can’t even stand seeing myself sometimes.”

His face fell. “Yo. Stop.”

“Why? It’s true. I see it. They see it. Everyone sees it. I know you like me ‘thick,’ but you could have so much better.”

He moved quick, grabbed your wrist, and tugged you right back into his chest. His hands cupped your face, forced you to look at him even as your eyes burned.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice low, steady, almost pissed off in how serious it was. “I don’t give a fuck about my TikTok feed. Or random-ass hoes on the internet. Or what my fans think. I want you. I love you.”

Your breath hitched. You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“You hear me?” he pressed. “I don’t want nobody else. I don’t want no manufactured-ass girlfriend. I want you.”

You stayed quiet, eyes glossy.

“And as for this belly you keep worrying about?” His hands dropped under your hoodie, resting on your stomach, fingers spreading wide. “I love this. Missed this. I was damn near losing my mind on the road thinking about laying right here again.”

You snorted, rolled your eyes, but it came out wobbly.

He kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then your lips. Slow. Like he was trying to stamp it all in.

“So… we gonna play Just Dance or what?” he teased finally, voice lighter.

“No,” you grumbled, burying your face in his neck.

“Whyyy,” he whined. “I been waiting all week to bust your ass again.”

“’Cause I don’t feel like doing allat jumping,” you muttered, half-joking, half-serious.

He pulled back just to give you the most disgusted look. “Bro, shut up. Get up. We’re playing.”

You groaned but let him drag you off the bed anyway.

He set up the game, pulled you close. “I’m deadass only doing this so I can watch your ass jiggle. You know that, right?”

“You’re sick.”

“Yeah. Sick for you.” He smirked, kissed you again—and this time, you actually melted into it.

’Cause maybe he was right. Maybe your brain was the problem. Maybe he really did want you—all of you, even the parts you picked apart. And right now, that was enough to keep you standing.

[yoursecrett]

Alone

Theo Nott X FemReader

Summary: Becoming a deatheater, betraying your family was something you never saw coming, but love got in the way, after losing your father Sirius. Theo, The Malfoy's and Bellatrix immediately took you in... But little did you know it was all a lie.

You felt eyes on you as you walked through the hallway, you knew exactly who was watching you they always were 'The Golden Trio' they somewhat believed you should rely on them and not the Slytherins, but why would you do that you weren't a Gryffindor like everyone wanted you to be.

Your father couldn't even bring himself to accept you being a Slytherin, he rarely ever spoke to you. Believing you were evil just like his cousins, but after a few years he began respecting you once again inviting you to dinners, but he was not impressed when he soon found but you were involved with a deatheater. The one and only Theodore Nott... Once your father passed away they were the only ones there for you, you had almost began believing that Harry was his child since everyone checked up on him and never you.

You grew a hatred towards Harry, he made your fathers death all about him, you knew deep down your father was probably helping Harry once again which led to his death so you vowed to make his life hell, the only way it doing that was joining the side he hated. Becoming a deatheater.

"Y/N"you heard him call after you, you ignored him as always, you knew he wanted your fathers ring claiming it needed protecting, "Y/N" he calls out again gaining your attention "What" you say turning to him "Listen I know your fathers ring means alot to you, but Voldemort is after it, you can't let him get a hold of it." You couldn't help but chuckle at him before walking away ignoring his pleas.

"Hey baby" Theo says smiling at you softly as you walk over "Hello" you say taking the cigarette off him dropping it on the floor "you know I hate cigarette breath" you say attaching your lips to his "I actually need to talk to you privately" Theo says pulling away, you nod confused following him into an empty classroom.

"You curled your hair today" He says leaning against a desk "Yes I decided to change it up for the special occasion, following aunt Bellatrix don't I just look like her". you say twirling around "you do, listen you trust me don't you" you nod slowly "Tonight I don't think we should stick around long, I think we should do our task and then leave."

"What why, our tasks are boring the only thing I need to do is deliver Harry to the dark lord" you say rolling your eyes "And I remember the dark lord telling me he doesn't care how he is delivered as long as he is alive, you really think I'm not going to have a little fun first" He nods before speaking against "I need you to trust me, give Harry to the dark lord then meet me at the tower."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The war had begun, Hogwarts was already destroyed you didn't realise how much it would affect you seeing your home ruined, but you had one job to do and you were doing it.

You had searched everywhere, yet he was nowhere to be found, the only place to look was the library, as soon as you walked in you saw him stood reading a book, almost like he was waiting for you.

"I knew you would arrive at some point" He says closing the book, "Are you here to kill me?" he questions making you shrug and raise your wand "Wait before you do I think you should see something" He says before disappearing through the shelves, you followed him your wand still pointing at his back as he stopped in front of a mirror.

"Making sure you look good for the dark lord huh" you walked beside him fixing your hair "He loved you, you know alot more than you know " Harry says breaking the silence "He always spoke of you, he was proud" you were growing more angry by the second "Don't you speak of him" you say pointing your wand back at him, his eyes weren't on you but instead on the mirror.

You turned towards it seeing your father staring back at you, his eyes on your dark mark you felt ashamed seeing the disappoint in your fathers eyes, causing you to immediately pull your sleeve down to cover it, "I never led your father to death, yes he helped us but the only reason he was there was due to the words of you too being there" you felt stuck in a trance staring into your father eyes.

"I know you won't believe me, but those close to you killed your father. Bellatrix, the dark lord, the Malfoys, Theo" He was lying he must of been, but you knew deep down it was true it made sense.

The night your father passed you were with Pansy reading. It was quiet in the great hall it seemed the people you mostly spoke too weren't here, Theo and Draco claimed they needed to catch up on work and it was never rare for Harry, Hermoine, Ron and the others to be missing.

“you are lying” you mutter feeling yourself begin to grow angry again, trying to stop the tears welling up in your eyes, you has never fully processed your fathers death I mean how could you. “I have no reason to lie to you”

You felt everything turn dark around you, Your father blowing you a kiss before disappearing “i have to go” you mutter before running out leaving Harry and the mission behind. The one place you were heading for was the tower, soon seeing him stood there smoking a cigarette.

He heard your footsteps causing him to turn around, confused by the hurt expression on your face, “are you hurt my love” he says beginning to walk forward concerned you wasted no time pulling out your wand holding it towards him.

“don’t you move any closer” you threaten watching him move back quickly holding his hands up “woah baby, what’s happened, put the wand down talk to me”

The tears were falling quickly from your eyes, the betrayal written clearly on your face “you killed him” your voice cracking, his face showing guilt immediately “baby, i haven’t killed anyone” he says walking closer again “i said stay back or i swear i will knock you off this tower” you threaten watching him nod and stop walking. “you killed my father, you made me hate him, you turned me into a death eater, you have ruined me” you shout, you could see him slowly begin to tear up.

“you destroyed my life” you sob breaking down, you hadn’t realised you hadn’t lowered your wand, Theo taking the opportunity to try and steal it from you “no” you shout as he tries to grab it, you begin to shout a spell towards him feeling the anger rise up in you again, only for your wand to fly off the tower, as arms wrap around your shoulders and collar bone, a wand being held up against your temple.

“you really think you can kill him” mattheo mutters into your ear, “you have really fucked yourself over” he says digging the wand deeper into your temple. “Matt it’s fine i can handle it” you glare towards Theo, “i would rather be locked up than be near him” you sneer hearing Mattheo chuckle. “as you wish” you close your eyes feeling Mattheo travel as you end up outside the Malfoy Cellar.

“Your father was a no good, a blood traitor” Mattheo says shoving you inside, “and i hope my father lets me have you when he realises you’ve betrayed us just like your father did” he kneels down stroking your face with his thumb “you always were beautiful, but at least you’ll die with a pretty face” he says chuckling standing up locking the gate behind him.

“fuck you” you say hearing him chuckle again, “now wouldn’t you love that” he says walking away

You didn’t know how long you had been sat in the cellar for feeling yourself grow insane, until you finally heard footsteps rushing down, you couldn’t lie you were truly frightened, but it was soon replaced by anger once your eyes set upon Theo.

“you’re alive” he says in relief unlocking the gate “it’s over, the dark side lost” he says, you stand up shocked “really” he nods “we can leave and be happy together, just like we talked about.” he says holding your face softly “we can forget all about here and start over, even if you want to live in the muggle world i’ll go with you” you sigh moving back.

“i can’t be with you” you watched his face fall, panic beginning to rise in him as he begin fidgeting with his suit “i can prove to you, how sorry i am, i can change, i’ll show you please, i love you y/n”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, it felt as though the whole world was silent. “I can’t love you Theo, i’m sorry” you mutter walking past him. Never looking back, you could hear his sobs as they echoed throughout the empty cellar.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to turn back around.

Should she forgive?

Could there be a longer part two.

What will the future hold for Y/n and Theo

[machinetemplevs]

𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘹 𝘖𝘤!𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 — When your job at Tuckersoft turns into a metaphysical nightmare, you realize that nothing is exactly what it seems — not even yourself, or your boss. Colin Ritman, the game-development genius, remembers every version of the multiverse that you two have already shared. He wants you to stay, to help him find a way out together… while you slowly fall for him at the edges of each new reality. Your heart wants to say “yes”—but what he’s trying to tell you is that the end might be the end of everything… or the beginning of something greater.

𝐎𝐫 — when your job as a designer at Tuckersoft becomes a time loop alongside your boss.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: SMUT 18+, multiverse, fluff, angst, slow-burn, time loop, boss-employee relationship, shared consciousness, reality manipulation, first time, lemon, existential doubts, sacrifices.

●ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀꜱ●

𝟏 — 𝟎.𝟎.𝟏 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤’𝘴 𝘖𝘊 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 — 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 :)

[timetravellibrarian]

Sanji x reader

Some thoughts on Sanji.

Sanji x femreader

_________________________________________

What happens when a simp meets another simp.

Sanji's advances toward women were never really taken seriously or even paid attention to.

He mostly cooked and waited tables at the Baratie, occasionally kicking ass if needed to. One thing he wasn't expecting was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen – you– enter through the doors along with a green-haired man and another gorgeous orange-haired woman.

"Hello ladies, what would you like to order?"When he had smoothly delivered a pickup line to both you and Nami– much to Zoro's annoyance at not getting proper service– he expected the usual his advance ignored.

"Well, I'd order you but you aren't on the menu." You threw back. It wasn't intentional. You weren't that much of a flirt, only used to doing or saying something to challenge or fluster others occasionally.

When the waiter in front of you seemed to have frozen on the spot and then smirked you were left with two words on your mind 'oh shit'.

Fast forward to the same man being in your crew, serving you guys the most delectable meals and kicking ass you were ready to give up on having a peaceful life.

Though he sent all his simpery to Robin and Nami he left you out of the loop. At first you didn't mind but overtime you questioned his actions. Wondering if he didn't try to flirt with you because of the first time you met or maybe he didn't think you were beautiful. Then you looked in the mirror and realised it must have been some other reason cause you knew you were drop dead gorgeous.

You weren't being vain, you knew you were pretty because you were told so by Apis when the crew helped her with Grandpa Ryu. Kids never lie about such matters.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji didn't treat you the same because he knew that he wouldn't be able to save himself from loving you and confessing.

Your eyes, your voice, the grace in which you would do things. Even when you were being a menace to society. All of those he loved. You'd think he couldn't simp enough till he saw you not look glamorous and just chose to where baggy clothes. Not gonna lie he'd think you were gorgeous in a chicken costume, you never know with this man

As much as he was too shy to approach you he wasn't afraid yelling at Zoro to stop being so close to you.

You were close friends with Zoro. It couldn't be helped if you were the weapons expert, always checking if cannons were clear, swords were sharp and helping with new inventions with Franky.

So instead of noodle dancing around you he did the little things. Checking everything that he cooks didn't have anything you were allergic to. Always making sure you had a little lunch bag whenever everyone left to explore the island. Giving you extra cupcakes or other baked goods of you ever want more.

If you're a picky eater, he'd make sure to make your food according to your taste. Leaving multiple options on the dinner table for your palate.

He also made sure not to be away from your side too long. Wherever you turn you'd find a swirly-browed cook casually wrapping an arm round you to stave off any threats.

When you get sick he'd be calling in Chopper for any problem you would even slightly complain about. He'd be beside you 24/7 like you were dying or something. Which is kinda sweet but he was needed in the kitchen.

Overtime it just became normal for all this to happen. You got used to it. In fact I think y'all would be the kinda couple that just happened but then later confessed your undying love for each other.

To top it off, you were his number one supporter. Everytime you caught a glimpse of him fighting you'd cheer like you saw a celebrity. Some would swear that his behaviour rubbed off on you because you were also cheering and doing a noodle dance whenever he wore a different suit or set of clothes.

"YOU'RE DOING GREAT, SANJI-DARLING!" – 😍

But sometimes there were some downs in the relationship, for example his smoking.

You'd worry over him whenever he pulled out a cigarette one after the other in a day. Which led to you talking to him about it.

"If you don't atleast limit your smoking, you might as well be Black-lung Sanji."

He was a bit flabbergasted with the statement but he got what you meant.

Or if you had terrible coughs in reaction to his smoking he would try to smoke at a distance so he wouldn't and I quote, "Damage your gorgeous lungs"

As we all know Sanji, he didn't like women fighting too much or getting hurt but you immediately shut him down on that one, saying that as much as some of his morals were so gentlemanly and some old fashioned he had to accept that you wanted to fight. You wanted to help Luffy become king of the pirates. You wanted to be able reach your dream. So that needed you to be strong. That needed you to fight.

Since then he just aimed to be able to support you in any event that you needed help but he wouldn't be overbearing.

Would allow only you near the kitchen if you wanted to cook or bake something and you would allow only him near your forge/ workspace if he wanted to be near you.

Unfortunately for him you had connections wherever you went so you found out about his life in Peachy Island and never let him rest about it for a while.

And before anyone says anything about Fishman Island Sanji. Let's just say you were besties with Zoro there. Much to the cook's dismay.

"Stop being around that mosshead, Love."

"Stop losing blood around mermaids, Sweetheart."

Long story short, y'all were a confusing couple around that time. In fact, once he saw you were hanging out with the swordsman he would butt heads with the man. Leading you to pull him away before anything crazy happened.

Most times you told him to sit down and let you cook for the crew, especially if he was injured. He wouldn't allow it on account of Luffy's stomach being a literal black hole but you'd convince him otherwise.

When y'all fought together it was sure to leave the enemy in broken bones, hopes and dreams.

With Sanji kicking them away with his special moves and you pulling out a large cannon from the bag you carry around ( which was comically small but it was your magical inventory), nothing could stop you two. Sometime you'd trade opponents if he found himself fighting a woman.

Sometimes you helped him clean up after meals. Making sure that he didn't get all the work.

Most times he'd sit with you beneath the blanket of stars, his head on you chest/belly and you'd both share secrets about yourselves.

All in all, Sanji would love you to infinity and you'd love him just as much.

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Dear John

Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences.

Genre: Angst

CW: Intimidation, angst, pureblood's ideology, toxic family dynamics

Word count: 1.6K

This is part of my Speak now (Marauders' version) collection.

“Maybe it's you and your sick need. To give love then take it away

And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand

And I'll look back and regret I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can"

You wished you had listened. The argument you had with Sirius when he learned you were dating his brother was being replayed in your head while you ran towards your boyfriend’s room. 

“He’s going to ruin you, you don’t know him like I do.” Sirius had said, voice low with anger and worry. “The moment my mother hears about you two it’s over.” 

“You’re the one that doesn’t know him!” It had angered you, Sirius assuming that Regulus’ love for you was fragile. “I really love him, and he loves me. End of discussion.” 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into. My brother would never prioritize you over our mother. and she’s never going to accept a Gryffinfor Muggleborn as a suitable partner for Regulus” 

You knew he was right, but some part of you naively thought that Regulus truly loved you.

“I’m saying this because I care about you. You should leave while you can” you could tell Sirius was worried and meant no harm, but that argument ended your friendship with the oldest Black brother. 

That was almost a year ago, you used to have a close friendship with him, but now he wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You refused to break up with Regulus, and you really thought you were doing the right thing. Regulus had shown you every part of him, you knew about his family and all the things he had done and regretted. But you also knew about the caring, loving and kind person he was. 

Even when the war was starting to become more and more imminent as the dark lord and deatheaters won power and followers, he never showed any interest in joining into the dark lord’s lines. The abuse and intimidation became worse and worse for mugglerborns who had the bad luck of running into slytherings in the hallways. 

Regulus was very aware of it, he became like your shadow, never leaving your side until curfew forced him to. And he was the first to greet you every morning, waiting for you outside your house’s common room. 

At least it was like this before Christmas break. It had been a week since you come back from the break and Regulus was acting weird, at first you thought it was because he had to adapt again to Hogwarts - It took him some time to come back to his normal self ater staying in his house - but after a week of almost no contact with him you became worried. 

On your way to the dungeons you ran into Snape and Evan. You had tried to avoid them, head low and pace hurried, but it seemed like they had a special radar to spot possible victims for their tortures and mocking. They blocked your path, you were cornered against a wall as they got closer than it was safe. 

“Look who is here” Evan had teased you, his wand pointing at your face. “Regulus’ little pet”

“Why are you separated from your guardian dog?” Snape taunted you. “Has he finally realized that he’s got more important things to do rather than take care of a filthy mudblood?” 

You didn’t like a bit where the situation was going, you had tried to reach your wand, but Snape had noticed and raised his wand at you. 

“Don’t even think about it” 

“You know, Snape? I’m curious.” He hadn’t stopped looking at you. “What are you doing here, there’s no way you’re going to see Regulus right?”  

He knew exactly that it was the only reason you would ever step into the dungeons. His face turned into a look of fake pity. 

“Oh. Poor little thing, he hasn’t told you has he?” Evan was mocking you, playing with your psyche as all slytherings liked to, still his next words made your blood run cold. “He’s become the new right-hand for the dark lord. As he ought to, at the end of the day he’s a Black.” 

That’s when you started running, Snape and Evan probably tought it was enough torture to mess with your head and they let you pass them by without much hussle. 

And you ran all the way to the Slythering common room. Usually you wouldn’t dare to enter alone, but you needed to see Regulus. You didn’t want to believe Evan’s words, ‘He’s probably trying to confuse you, make you confront Regulus and cause an argument’. You were trying to convince yourself, but you couldn’t deny that the possibility was there. 

You made it to Regulus’ dorm, without even knocking you entered. Inside Regulus was laying in his bed, Barty was in one of the desks, working on homework, or a plan to destroy civilization. You didnt really care, all you could focus on was Reg. 

“Regulus” your voice didn’t feel like yourself, it was void of any emotion other than obvious tiredness from your running. 

Regulus jolted out of bed when he heard you. Barty turned around and his lips morphed into a teasing smirk. 

“Oh well, look who’s here -” “Leave, now.” Barty was cut short by Regulus’ demand, for a second you thought he was talking to you, but he was facing Barty. 

“okay, okay. No need to get aggressive…” Barty said before getting up from the chair. He walked past you, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, and closed the door behind him. 

───✥───

Regulus knew this was coming, there was no way you wouldn’t notice his absence or avoid entirely the rumors of the new deatheater in Hogwarts. He just wished it didn’t have to be this way. He coudn’t face you, from the start you and him were on opposite sides of the war, but he getting the mark was what made it definite. 

“Reg-” “What do you want?”

 Regulus’ voice was icy, not a single emotion in it. He saw you flinch at his tone. He never talked to you like that, his tone was always sweet and words picked with care whenever he referred to you. His change in demeanour angered and saddened you, he could tell. 

“Are you really asking me what I want?” your tone was colder now, you stepped closer with each word. “I’ve barely seen you for a week, and the moment I step into the dungeons the first thing I hear is that you’re the new right-hand for the dark lord. Please, tell me it’s not true”  

He could hear your voice crack and your waterline become wet with unsed tears. He knew you so well, he knew you were not going to cry, he knew you would give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. He knew that if he would tell you the truth, how he was forced and tortured to take the mark, you would understand, try to find a way to help and stand by his side. 

“It’s true” 

And he couldn’t allow that. If he were to let you in again, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to do. End things, for your sake. 

“You’re lying to me, this is all a big joke, it has to be” you cried. 

He didn’t reply, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. At his silence you reached for his sleeve, pulling it up. He didn’t even flinch, and he let you stare at his bare arm. Well, not bare, as the deatheater mark was there, taking up half of his arm. 

You dropped his arm and stared at him in absolute shock. He didn’t say anything, that was angered the most, how he was not even able to say anything. 

“You didn’t want to, right?” he stayed silent “Please, say something” you implored. 

“It's my duty, it’s what 's right.” he deadpanned. 

You chuckled humorlessly “What’s right? That 's right? You’re joining a pureblood supremacist cult, there’s nothing right about it!”  

“And what about us, do I mean that little to you? Does our relationship mean anything at all to you?”  you said in a softer tone. 

“No. It was a mistake, from the start. I shouldn’t have dated a mudblood” Regulus had to make an enormous effort to not flinch at his own words. But this would make you leave, it had to. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, but the heartbreak you were feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt. Regulus had been able to make you feel special, loved for almost two years. He held your heart in his hands and treated it with care, now he was ripping it and giving back to you. 

He didn’t want to fight for your love and you were not going to beg anymore. 

“You’re right. It’s funny, really, Sirius warned me this would happen, but I was too blinded to see that he was right” bringing up Sirius was a low blow, you knew how much he meant for Regulus. But at that moment all you wanted was to make him feel the same heartbreak you were feeling. 

“At the end of the day you’re a Black.” You repeated the same words Evan had said to you on your way to the dungeons. 

Regulus just stood there and nodded. You left his room, clearly distressed and crying. Regulus’ heart was shattered beyond repair. However, this was the best option. He would rather see you leaving, crying and heartbroken for the last time in his life, than lying on the floor lifeslessly as his family had promised if he didn’t leave you and took the mark. 

At the end of the day he was really just a Black, it was the family he was born to and the family he’ll die for. 

Author's note: this one is so sad, I'm sorry Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

[instabratt]

Defending | Rodrick Heffley

𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉

𝒷𝒶𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔.

Reader’s POV

Rodrick, I think that was his name, he was a quiet kid, we had all classes together, and I wanted to talk to him but did not know how to start a conversation nor how to keep a conversation going.

He doesn't have many friends and stays to himself, that's what I like about him, he's not a popular kid, not a class clown(sometimes), and doesn't talk unless he's being talked to.

It was always lunch when I wanted to go up to him and sit down and talk, he didn't look lonely but at the same time he did, and he and I would make eye contact, and smile at each other when one another was staring for a little too long.

Right now was lunch time and some people I knew were walking and talking about random stuff “Wait what about him?” Sarah pointed out a boy “ous he cute” They giggled and laughed.

“What about him?” Tammie pointed out where Rodrick was sitting, eating and looking at his phone with his headphones on not paying attention to anybody.

They side-eyed each other and laughed really loud making me roll my eyes and do a little sigh, they looked back at me “What about you?” I frowned my eyebrows “What about me?” I ask.

“Don’t you have classes with Rodrick?” Sarah ask smirking “yea? Why?” “so you’d fuck him? I would talk to him and fuck him” Tammie said as Sarah giggled.

“I mean yea I want to talk to him but that doesn't mean I wanna fuck him” I stated, they made a face “Y/n cmon we know you so much better than that, we know you wanna fuck the Rodrick Heffley” “plus why would you? He's emo, weird and not talkative” Sarah pointed out looking at him.

They made eye contact and she looked away but I stared at him as he continued looking her down and made a face, looking back into his phone making me giggle and looked back at them.

“How's he weird?” I questioned her “Because he wears black 24/7, doesn't talk, and doesn't have friends” I looked at her “So just because he stays to himself he gotta be called weird? And so what about him wearing black all the time? I do! And I don't hear y'all whining and complaining about it! And so what if he's not talkative people don't always have to talk”

I told them “Why are you defending up for him?” what she said caused me to scoff “Because you are so quick to judge others about the little things that they do when it has nothing to do with you”

She laughed “I know but just look at him, he's weird” They both laughed again, it was to the point where I wanted to bitch slap them.

“You never know what people have going on at home and coming to school how they are, I mean Sarah your parents fight all the time and you call me wanting me to comfort you and you don't see me telling you to suck it up” Sarah looked at me with pain in her eyes.

“And Tommie your mom abuses you so bad you had to go to the hospital and you called me also wanting me to comfort you and you didn't see me telling you to stop crying like a fucking crybaby” She stared at me.

“So stop talking about him when he didn't do nor say shit to your cold heartless asses” I stated and walked away from them.

—

After school, it was the end of the day, I sat on one of the benches that sat under the shade, I had my headphones listening to my music as I waited for my ride.

Me, Sarah, and Tommie made eye contact as they walked off to wherever, the eye contact was soon cut off by someone standing in front of me, I looked up And saw him.

Rodrick

We stared at each other for a little “Thanks” he said which led me confused “…what?” “For defending me to your friends” he pointed out.

“They're not my friends, never were, just associates” he nodded his head a little and it was now quiet “But your welcome, people doesn't deserve to be talk like that when they know nothing about the person”

He sat down next to me leaving a good space between us “well thanks…again” I chuckled at him and looked at him “so you have any friends your waiting for?” he shook his head “Nah, just waiting for my ride”

“What about your van? The löaded diaper one?” he looked at me with eyebrows frowned, I notice his stare “I'm not a stalker or anything its just, that's the only white van I see with something written on it”

I quickly said and he chuckled “Relax, something was wrong with it, it’s in the repair shop” I nodded my head, “Well…are you doing anything after school?” “Why? You wanna hang out with me or something?”

I shrugged “Maybe” he smiled a little and shook his head “You have Instagram?” he asked and I nodded and he put his hand out “Can I see it?” I opened up the app and went to the search bar and handed him my phone.

He typed something and pressed a button and handed my phone back, that's when we heard two cars horn we looked and saw our parents.

“Well I have to go” “Yeah me too” We both got up and started walking to our car that was behind another “I’ll see you later?” I ask he cracked a smile and nodded “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow” I smiled and got inside the car.

Once I was inside the car my mother noticed my smile “Who got you smiling like that?” she asked teasing me as I giggled “Nobody” I saw the look she was giving me making me laugh.

-

Rodricks POV

“I’ll see you later?” she ask I cracked a smile and nodded “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow” she smiled and got inside her car and so did I.

Once I was inside the car my mother noticed my smile “who's the lady?” she asked and I rolled my eyes “Nobody Mom” I said “She's a really pretty girl” My mom said “Yeah, too pretty to date you” Greg said and I scoffed.

“Shut it dickweeb” “Hey! Language, plus I think you too would make a great couple” I sat up “Really?” I asked and she nodded “Totally” “Don't get his hopes up,” Greg said and I punched him in his arm.

“OW!” I grabbed him and whispered in his ear “Keep talking and I’ll cut your fuckin tongue off” I shoved him back in his seat as we made our way home.

[deadgirlsnoring]

Sub!Ethan Landry

oral, anal play, mention of fingering, praise, degradation, mention of strap, smoking thc involved.

Ethan was the prettiest on his knees, the way he’d sink to his while looking at your pretty face.

He’d say Mommy am I doing good? Diving back into you before you even have the chance to respond.

“Mm, fuck, you’re so perfect at this baby.” Poor boy would whimper against you, his cock being pressed against your foot.

Your mouth wrapped around the tip of the joint you were almost done smoking, eyes watching him intensely and he was eyeing you.

He was just so good, having your pussy ate and smoking a joint he rolled for you was heaven. The cutest boy ever.

You blew it into his face, a giggle escaping your lips as you ashed it, sliding the container away from you.

His hair was sooo soft, ruffling through the curls and softly scratching. You were close, he knew it. The way your breathing got the tiniest bit heavier, you’d start tugging with more violence, like you needed to.

He was just so obedient, you wanted a finger he’d add a finger, take it out? He did just that the minute you spoke up.

You pulsated around his tongue, his hand trailing up to caress your left tit. “Gonna cum, you’re gonna make mommy cummm.”

“Oh. F-fuc—mmpf, such a pretty boy hm?” You’d had to use strength to push him away from you, your hands tangled in his disheveled hair.

His lower face was completely covering in your juices, looking at you with such an innocent look like he didn’t give you a hard attack.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, a blush creeping up on his face. Your brow raised, watching him as you felt him rub against you.

“Eth,” It’s like he had some dog ears the way he perked up, “Mm?”

“Get up on the bed with me, c’mon.” Ethan looked so fucked already, slowly making his way to you. You sort of straddled him, but instead you spread his legs and sat in the middle.

“You okay?” Nodding he looked down at his needy cock that had been left with no attention, “I want you, s’bad.. please fuck me.”

Ethan wasn’t the one to smoke a lot, he’d take a little bit from you but you’d smoke majority of it. This time he only had 3 puffs, but you’d occasionally blow it in his face while he was eating you out.

He didn’t mind, he liked it actually. You got high pretty usually so the effects weren’t on you crazy like they were on Ethan.

The boy wasn’t highhh, but he was high. Ethan was brought back into reality when you caressed his thigh, a bit too close to his pulsating cock.

“Mmhi, can I touch myself mommy? Pleasee, ha—hah, ffuck, god pleaseplease.” You brought him in your hand, sliding your thumb across the tip, he was leaking precum already.

“Oh my god Eth, are you serious? You’re so wet already..” A broken whine excited him, you just had to be so dirty with your words.

Covering his face, you almost squealed. Just the cutest, “Stop I-It, don’t say thattt.”

Tilting your head, your pace didn’t stop, relentless speed on just his tip. “Goddd! Mm—mhmmp-pleaseee.”

His stomach was caving in, “You like that?” His head nodded but that wasn’t enough for you, while squeezing his tip, poor boy got the idea.

“Yes! Yess, I love it s’much mommy. Feel like I’m gonna cum, c-can I?”

“No.” A gasp mixed in with a moan left his throat, his brain hated denial but his body just couldn’t get enough.

“No..W-Why—fuck! Please?” You just shook your head, going for atleast 10 more seconds before you stopped.

“Why! Mmommy I was so close.”

“Shut the fuck up Eth, legs up.” His cock twitched, the words making sense to his fucked out brain.

With hands on either side of his waist you pressed your lips against his, almost swallowing him. You guy’s sex sometimes got soo rough, but you both always kissed so slow and romantically.

You didn’t wanna pull away, but he always lost his breath so quickly.

“Make yourself useful and get mommy’s finger wet, why don’t you?” Your right hand came up to massage his cheek, your thumb slipping in and out of his mouth just to prepare him.

“Please.” Is what it sounded like, before you plunged two fingers in his mouth, pressing all the way back.

He gagged, eliciting a smile from you. You grabbed ahold of his hair, almost fucking his face like you would with a strap.

“You look so pretty, y’know? I almost wanna fuck you with my strap instead.”

“Oh? Seems like someone is excited.” You weren’t referring to him, he was trying to hide with your fingers in his mouth.

You pulled, your fingers just coated in his spit, “Did just the best job huh? I should just use your mouth from now on.”

Your left hand rubbed circles into his waist while inching your hand down to his needy hole.

He’d gasp every time you slowly pressed in, only to quickly pull out. Did it 2 times before he got all desperate, “Mommy.” He huffed, looking at you all pouty.

You pressed your two fingers in, he could take it, obviously. “Uhnnmm—mommyy, so..so big.”

“If this is big, how can you take my cock then? Shh, be a good boy.” You tapped his thigh, slowly exiting out, telling him to get on his hands and knees.

Pressed his ass closer to you, you just had to rub and smack it.

“Hah! Mmfuck!” It was easier to slip your fingers in this time, pressing into his back dimples, he let out a desperate whimper.

“I want it rough, h-hard..please?”

“So good at saying what you want, making me proud.”

His mouth dropped, a silent moan escaping while his cock bounced at each hard thrust of your fingers you gave him.

“C-can I touch?” You hummed, smirking at the sound he made once he connected his palm to his base.

“Fee-Shittt! So, so.. gooddd—Is it?” You whispered in his ear, placing kisses on his back.

“Yes yes yes! Uhhh, ohh! Right th..there, mmfuck.”

“Here?” You curled your fingers again into the spot, his back immediately arching, pressing his ass back into your fingers for more.

“Uh uh! Please, Can I cummm! I need to, godd.” You gave him another slap on the ass, giving him permission without having to say it.

“C-Cumming! Mm-fuck, I’m gonna cum for you mommy, ughhshit!”

The knot in his stomach very quickly unraveled, his body almost folding into himself the way it hit him like an immediate explosion.

“Such a good boy, come give it me. Mmm I love you puppy.”

“Pleasepleasepleasee, I’m s-still cumming mommy.”

You stifled a laugh, you slightly slowed down just to go faster, a choked gasp making it up through his throat.

The thrusts started to become too much, you figured when his spread legs pressed together, trying to make it harder for you.

“Sstop!.. Uhnn, sensitiveee.” You massaged his prostate for one last time, a whine soon followed into a deep moan when you kissed his ass only to bite it playfully.

“I love y-you too mommy.”

Xoxo,

[caws5749]

Hi, can you do nat x reader? Reader can walk through walls so the avengers hired her because she can be an asset to the group. What she's not telling them is she could see the red string of fate. She sees tony is connected to pepper, scott is connected to hope and etc. But she couldn't see hers that is until she met natasha

A/N: this is such an absolutely beautiful idea and I am so honored to be able to write this, this genuinely may be one of my favorite requests I have ever received

The music provided the perfect ambience for the scene. It was loud enough to be heard and felt, but quiet enough for conversations to be had. Voices came from every direction, some laughs floated above. The party was your first since joining the Avengers team.

You let your eyes wander about the room as you sat on the couch. Red, faint, glowing strings could be seen about the room. Some connected to another person at the party; some went out the window.

Your heart warmed seeing Tony and Pepper, their strings relatively short given the closeness between the two as they shared a private conversation. A smile tugged at your lips as your gaze fell to Hope and Scott. They were a bit further apart, their string a bit longer, glowing brightly under the lights. When they shared a loving look, you couldn't help but feel hopeful about your own life.

You couldn't see your string, you couldn't see your fate. But you could see everybody else's. Well, not everyone had one. Some people just didn't have someone they were to end up with. Some people's person wasn't here anymore, as sad as it was. Steve didn't have a string, but you knew at one point he certainly had. Natasha didn't have a string either. You weren't quite sure why. Perhaps she had had someone and they were here no longer. Or maybe she just didn't have someone and never would. Perhaps she wanted that. Perhaps she didn't.

You hadn't actually met the red-head yet. When you'd joined, she'd been gone on a mission and was supposed to return this evening. Perhaps you'd finally get to meet her. You found that she was often on your mind, for a reason you still hadn't figured out. It just seemed that no matter what you did, Natasha Romanoff was there.

But your ability to see that fate of lovers wasn't even why you were on the team. In fact, the team had no idea about that little gift at all.

You'd been hired for quite a different skill-set, one that even you couldn't quite seem to figure out why it happened. While it seemed odd to say, you could walk through walls, something that was incredibly useful for mission. You and Vision shared that little gift, and once it became apparent you could fight and were easy to train, they were happy to have you on the team. It helped that you often knew just how to pressure certain adversaries, possibly because you could see who they were connected to. You could see their weakness, as much as you hated to exploit it.

"There she is!" Clint's slightly intoxicated voice rose above the rest. You quickly looked in the direction of the doors, eyes going wide. Natasha Romanoff stood in the doorway, smirking slightly at her best friend, donning a skin tight black dress. She was practically glowing.

She moved into the room, her hips swaying. She seemed to move in slow motion. Her eyes quickly swept across the room, starting at the opposite side of the room and moving towards you. The Widow stopped in her tracks as her emerald eyes met yours. Her smile faltered, brief shock and an unknown emotion flickering across her face.

You felt a sort of pull, a tug and you looked down to see a red string emerge from your chest. You watched as it lengthened and met another string. Your breath caught as you saw that string had come from her. And while she had been practically glowing before, she was actually glowing now, a soft red hue surrounding her silhouette.

"Nat!" Clint yelled. She ignored him.

You stood from the couch and she switched her direction to you. You met in the middle.

"I'm Natasha. Why haven't I met you before?" she questioned softly.

"I'm Y/N. I just joined."

She hummed and tilted her head. You could tell she couldn't quite tell what was going on.

"Why do I feel... drawn to you?" You couldn't decipher if she had asked that rhetorically.

"It's a long story," you murmured. She quirked an eyebrow.

"I've got all night."

[missyandthemisfits]

✿MASTERLIST✿

-

MY HERO ACADEMIA

Katsuki Bakugo

i. My Chubby GF

ii. Hispanic Partner

Shoto Todoroki

i. Waiting On Later

Eijiro Kirishima

i. My Chubby GF

Denki Kaminari

i. My Chubby GF

Hanta Sero

i. My Chubby GF

Mashirao Ojiro

i. Cherry Blossom

Tenya Iida

i. An Improbability

Himiko Toga

i. Hello Nurse!

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Yuji Itadori

i. How Romantic... - SMAU

Megumi Fushiguro

i. How Romantic... - SMAU

Nobara Kugisaki

i. How Romantic... - SMAU

Maki Zenin

i. How Roamntic... - SMAU

Toge Inumaki

i. How Romantic... - SMAU

Kento Nanami

i. How Romantic... - SMAU

Satoru Gojo

i. How Romantic... - SMAU

Suguru Geto

i. How Romantic... - SMAU

ONE PIECE

Usopp

i. My Favorite Mechanic

Franky

i. My Favorite Mechanic

Trafalgar Law

i. My Favorite Mechanic

Sabo

TOKYO REVENGERS

Manjiro Sano - Mikey

i. Bullet For My Valentine

ii. An Angel

iii. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

iv. Apathy

v. Sex Before Marriage

Ken Ryuguji - Draken

i. An Angel

ii. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

iii. Apathy

iv. Sex Before Marriage

Takashi Mitsuya

i. An Angel

ii. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

iii. Apathy

iv. Sex Before Marriage

Hakkai Shiba

i. An Angel

ii. Sex Before Marriage

Keisuke Baji

i. An Angel

ii. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

iii. Sex Before Marriage

Chifuyu Matsuno

i. An Angel

ii. Baji's Older Sister

iii. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

iv. He's a Virgin - You're Not

v. Sex Before Marriage

Kazutora Hanemiya

i. An Angel

ii. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

iii. Sex Before Marriage

Shuji Hanma

i. Sex Before Marriage

Nahoya Kawata - Smiley

i. An Angel

ii. Lockscreen

iii. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

iv. Newlywed Weight Gain

v. Apathy

vi. Sex Before Marriage

Souya Kawata - Angry

i. An Angel

ii. Baji's Older Sister

iii. Contrasting Colors

iv. Where's The Romance? - SMAU

v. Newlywed Weight Gain

vi. Apathy

vii. Feisty Partner

viii. Sex Before Marriage

Takemichi Hanagaki

i. Sex Before Marriage

Atsushi Sendo

i. Sex Before Marriage

Hajime Kokonoi

i. An Angel

ii. Sex Before Marriage

Taiju Shiba

i. An Angel

ii. Sex Before Marriage

BLACK CLOVER

Asta

i. Chubby Crush

Noelle

i. Chubby Crush

Luck

i. Chubby Crush

ii. Unorthodox

Magna

i. Chubby Crush

Finral

i. Chubby Crush

Vanessa

i. Chubby Crush

Gauche

i. Chubby Crush

Grey

i. Chubby Crush

Charmy

i. Chubby Crush

Secre

i. Chubby Crush

Henry

i. Chubby Crush

Gordon

i. Chubby Crush

Zora

i. Chubby Crush

Nacht

i. Chubby Crush

Yami

i. Chubby Crush

FIRE FORCE

Shinra Kusakabe

i. Reserved Crush

Arthur Boyle

i. Reserved Crush

Akitaru Obi

i. Reserved Crush

Takehisa Hinawa

i. Reserved Crush

[po3tbbygirl]

La La Land 🎞️

[TEASER]

Remus Lupin x fem!oc

🎥In which a young woman making her way through the film industry struggles to break into it and her friend Marlenne knows just the right people.🎥

content warnings: industry pressure, burnout, self-doubt, mental exhaustion, career struggles, substance use (drinking and hella smoking), anxiety, unhealthy habits.

[chocutesy]

void stiles x black!fem reader

send in request for anybody! i need some inspo.

You don’t sleep that night.

You leave every lamp on and sit with your back against the headboard like you’re afraid of the dark pressing in from the corners. The house hums with the refrigerator and the heater and the old pipes that knock in the walls, small domestic sounds that shouldn’t make you jump. You track every shadow, every car that passes outside, every whisper of branches against the windowpane. Your phone sits face-up on your nightstand, Scott’s contact pinned to the top like a lifeline you haven’t realized you’d need until now.

You last maybe an hour like that before you cave.

By the time you’re outside, morning is only a rumor on the horizon. The air’s got that wet, cold bite that sinks through your sweater, and you move fast across the empty street, sneakers whispering on damp pavement. Your breath fogs. Your hands shake. You tell yourself it’s the temperature.

Scott answers your knock immediately — too immediately — and you remember he’s a light sleeper when he’s tense. His porch light spills over him in a too-honest way: sweatpants, t-shirt, tired eyes that sharpen the second he sees your face.

“Y/N?”

“I…” You swallow. The words feel stuck. “I need to ask you something. About Stiles.”

Something shutters in Scott’s expression. “Come in.”

You shake your head, glancing back over your shoulder like the night might be listening. “Out here is fine. I don’t want to wake your mom.”

“Okay.” He steps onto the porch, shutting the door halfway so it won’t click loudly. The world feels small and close: the two of you in a cone of warm light while the neighborhood lies asleep. Scott studies you the way he studies a storm on the horizon. “What happened?”

You tell him. Not everything — not the way the laugh crawled under your skin or how your name sounded like a dare in his mouth — but enough. The late visits. The wire-tight smile. The way he stood too close and asked if you’d follow him. The moment last night when Stiles wasn’t Stiles anymore, not behind the eyes.

Scott doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t even breathe loud. His jaw gets tighter with every sentence.

“I thought he was just tired,” you finish, and your voice cracks on the last word. “That’s his whole thing, right? Coffee and not sleeping? I thought it was just… him. But it wasn’t him, was it?”

Scott’s silent long enough that the porch light buzz feels loud. Then he exhales and shakes his head once, careful and precise, like he’s defusing a bomb with his hands.

“It’s not safe,” he says quietly.

A frayed sound in your chest: half-anger, half-fear. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means if he comes back, you don’t let him in. You call me. Immediately.”

“But it’s Stiles,” you insist, and you hear how desperate that sounds. “Or it looks like him. And I’ve… Scott, I’ve been hanging out with him like normal for weeks. If it’s not safe now, why was it okay then?”

Scott closes his eyes for a heartbeat. “It wasn’t okay then either,” he says, voice rough with something you recognize as guilt. “We’ve been trying to get ahead of it, to handle it without—” He stops himself and opens his eyes again, looking at you with all that careful honesty that makes Scott Scott. “There’s something inside him. A trickster spirit, a Nogitsune. It feeds on pain and chaos. It… wears a face.”

Your stomach drops so fast you have to brace a hand on the porch railing. “It’s inside him?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he— Is Stiles still… there?”

Scott’s throat works. He nods. “He is. But the Nogitsune’s in control.”

“So what do I do?” It comes out small. “What am I supposed to do if he shows up again?”

“You call me,” he repeats, a little more fierce. “You don’t argue. You don’t try to talk to it. You do not go with him. And you don’t open the door.”

“You want me to leave him outside?” you whisper, and you hate the way your eyes sting because this is bigger than your feelings but those feelings are loud anyway.

“I want you alive,” he says, and there’s nothing boyish in his face now; there’s only an alpha under a porch light, choosing his words like they’re shields he can put around you. “Promise me.”

The night presses on your shoulders. You nod. “I promise.”

“Text me when you get home,” he says, softer. “I’ll come by tomorrow. We’ll figure it out.”

You nod again, because “figure it out” feels like a plank thrown into a flood. Scott squeezes your shoulder in a way that says I’ve got you and then lets you go, and you walk back through the sleeping neighborhood with your arms crossed tight against your ribs, trying to hold yourself together.

You text him from your front door. His reply comes before you’ve even turned the key: Good. Lock up. Try to sleep if you can.

You stare at the door once you’re inside. You turn the deadbolt slow, quiet, like the act itself is a spell.

Try to sleep if you can.

You don’t.

You hold out for two days.

You play normal like it’s a role you auditioned for — school, dishes, shower, homework. Your body moves through the steps because it knows them, but your brain is nowhere you can reach. You keep noticing small things: the sound of the hallway settling, the creak of your bedroom door if you don’t close it just right, the exact number of steps from your bed to the window. You keep your curtains shut and your lamp on as if light is a fence you can lean on.

Scott comes by the next afternoon like he promised. You can feel his presence before he knocks, a press of certainty at the edge of your awareness that feels like the opposite of the static Void brings. He asks if you’re okay in that precise way that means he expects you to say no and he’s ready to carry the weight of that. He tells you they have a plan, that he and Lydia and Kira and everyone are working on it, that there are leads they’re following, that Stiles is strong.

“Will he know?” you ask. “That I told you?”

Scott’s gaze flicks toward your front window. “The Nogitsune will assume you told me anyway. It doesn’t really care.”

You hate that answer. You hate that it feels true.

He leaves with one more reminder, call if he shows — and the house is too quiet again.

You last through one more sunrise before your resolve frays.

Night three doesn’t ask permission. It just slides into your house the way cold slides under a door.

You’re in the kitchen, phone on the counter, tea steaming. No rain this time — the sky so clear it looks brittle. You let yourself believe that clarity means safety until a shadow crosses the doorway.

You don’t scream. Your body wants to, your throat tightens for it, but the sound lodges when your brain feeds you a simple fact: he looks like Stiles. Your muscles get confused, fear colliding with familiarity, and you freeze in place, mug halfway to your mouth.

“Hi,” he says, conversational as a neighbor. His smile is narrow, too many edges. “You left your light on again.”

Your heart kicks so hard it hurts. “You can’t be here.”

“I can,” he says easily, strolling past you close enough that the hem of his hoodie brushes your hip. He doesn’t touch your mug, but the steam shifts as he moves, like even the air recalibrates for him. “And I am.”

“You need to leave.” Your voice gets stronger because you can hear Scott in it, because the words are more his than yours. “I’m not— I don’t want—”

“—a visitor?” he offers, amused. He leans against your counter and tips his head, watching you. His eyes are wrong in a way you can’t simplify: not darker, not lighter, just… intent, like there’s a net behind them and you’re already inside it. “Scott came by,” he says, almost sing-song. “Alpha house call. How responsible.”

Your mouth dries up. “How did you—”

“Shh.” He lifts a finger. Not a threat. Not yet. A suggestion. “Don’t insult either of us by pretending you didn’t tell him. He already knew. He always knows.” He cants his head, mock-wondering. “That’s what he’s good for.”

“You don’t get to talk about him like—”

He moves.

It’s not fast, not really; it’s just timed to your heartbeat, to the exact moment you inhale to argue. One blink and he’s closer, the counter at your back. He still hasn’t touched you, but every nerve in your body thinks he has. His attention lands like a hand.

“Careful,” he murmurs.

Your fingers tighten around the mug. You set it down on the counter because you’re suddenly afraid you’ll drop it. “You should leave,” you say again, but it’s softer, part plea, part prayer.

“Or what?” He says it like he genuinely wants to hear your version. “You’ll call him?”

You remember the promise you made on a porch: You call me. Immediately. You remember the deadbolt clicking like a spell. You remember the truth that rot can wear a familiar face.

You reach for your phone.

His hand closes around your wrist before your fingers make contact with glass.

Not hard. Not bruising. He holds you like he’s trying to decide whether to restrain or reassure and hasn’t chosen yet. His skin is warm. Stiles’s hand has always been warm.

“Shh,” he says again, closer now; you can see the tiny scar near his eyebrow, the constellation of sleep-deprivation freckles he jokes about, the tremor that’s not fear but something like excitement in his jaw. “No alpha. Not tonight.”

“Let go.” You’re proud your voice doesn’t shake.

He does. Immediately, like it pleases him to prove he can. He steps back half a pace, giving you space on purpose, knowing the space itself says, See? You could run. (You couldn’t. Your legs feel like someone replaced the tendons with wire.)

“Better,” he says, and smiles as if you’ve passed a test. “I didn’t come to hurt you.”

A laugh punches out of you, humorless. “That’s not comforting.”

“Isn’t it?” He pouts. It’s almost comical, except that nothing about him is. “You’re scared.” He tastes the word. “Do you know what I like about your fear?”

“No.”

“It means you know the difference now.”

Your mouth is sand. “Between what.”

“Between him and me.” He says it simply, like this is math, like he’s proud of you for showing your work. “Recognition is intimate. Don’t you think?”

The kitchen feels miles wide and one breath wide at the same time. “Why are you here?”

“You know why.” He leans his hip against the counter like he lives here, as casual as a nightmare can be. “Because you’re interesting. Because he’s drawn to you.” He tips his chin like he’s borrowing the memory, like he can pull it up like a file. “Because you keep the light on.”

You flinch. He notices. He notices everything.

“You should stop doing that,” he says, thoughtful. “It’s an invitation.”

“It’s a lamp,” you snap, because anger is easier to carry than fear.

“It’s a beacon.” His voice goes softer, more dangerous in the quiet way. “You made it very easy for me.”

For me. Not for us. The distinction lands like a drop of cold water at the base of your neck.

“Stiles,” you say, because you can’t help yourself. You watch his mouth for the way that name sits there.

He doesn’t flinch. He smiles wider, the expression bright and wrong. “He likes when you say it. Do you?”

“Stop.”

“Say mine.”

Your heartbeat stumbles. “What?”

“Say my name,” he says, delighted now, like a teacher in front of a clever class. “If you can find it.”

“I don’t know your name.”

“You will.” He’s pleased about that in a way that curdles your stomach. “Next time.”

“You’re not coming back.” You push the words out like stones in your pockets.

“Of course I am.” He takes the idea gently from your hands and sets it on the counter between you as if it were his to keep. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m patient. He taught me that.”

He closes the distance by inches this time, a quiet, inevitable tide. You tell yourself to step sideways, to duck under his arm, to do anything but be a fixed point, but the part of you that still recognizes the line of his shoulders and the shape of his mouth is treacherously still.

His fingers lift toward your face. You jerk and he pauses, eyes bright with the data point. He shifts tracery-light, knuckles grazing your cheekbone instead of your jaw, barely there, a whisper of contact that leaves your skin burning. His gaze drops to your mouth. You feel that look like a touch, too.

“Don’t,” you say, but your voice betrays you by turning it into a question.

He laughs, soft and delighted, and obeys you precisely enough to break you: he doesn’t kiss your mouth.

He kisses the corner of it.

It’s nothing. It’s everything. Warmth, pressure, the ghost of breath. Your hand fists in the hem of your sweater like you can anchor yourself to cotton. The tile is cold under your bare feet. The kitchen light rings the edge of his irises, and for one dizzy second you could pretend. If not for the stillness inside him. If not for the way your fear feels curated.

His mouth drifts. Lower. A pause at your jaw, a hum that vibrates against your skin like a secret. He stops at the hinge of your jaw, at the place where your pulse kicks traitor-strong beneath a thin layer of skin, and for one spare second you think he’ll be kind.

He isn’t.

His teeth scrape. A quick, neat bite, not deep enough to bleed, not merciful enough to be called gentle. You clench around a sound that wants out and it becomes a hiss between your teeth. Your hands go somewhere without permission, one braced on the counter, one pressing flat to his chest — and that’s when you feel it: the stillness. Not the jitter you know, not the anxious electricity of Stiles’s heartbeat, but a calm that feels like a held knife.

He lingers there, not sucking, not soothing — just present, mouth at your neck, breath tasting the sting he put there. And then he’s at your ear.

“This is the part where you ask why,” he says, his voice a blade you could cut your reflection on. “Why you. Why now.” His breath kisses your skin, warm and precise. “Ask me.”

You swallow. “Why.”

“Because you keep the light on.” A smile in his tone. “Because he does, too, when it comes to you.” Closer still, almost a secret against your earlobe: “Because I wanted to see what would happen.”

“What’s… happening?” you manage, and it’s earnest enough that he emits a pleased sound you hate.

“Oh, next time?” he murmurs, turning the phrase like a coin between his fingers. “Next time you’ll know.” He pulls back just enough that you can see his smile. It’s beautiful, if you pretend it’s not made of knives. “I promise.”

He steps away like he didn’t have his mouth on your skin a breath ago. Like none of it weighed anything to him. The air rushes back into the space between you and feels thin.

“Don’t—” Your voice roughens. You swallow and try again. “Don’t come back.”

“You don’t mean that.” He says it like a kindness, like he’s relieving you of the burden of lying to yourself.

You reach for your phone because it’s something you can do, something Scott asked of you, something that acknowledges you are not alone. You fumble the passcode. Your fingers won’t behave. The screen blurs with your pulse.

“Call him,” he says softly, almost fond. “Tell him I said hi.”

Your head snaps up. “Why—”

“You’ll understand.” He turns toward your hallway like he’s mapping your house. “Not yet. Soon.”

He doesn’t go to the door. Of course he doesn’t. He ghost-walks through your living room, glances at the lamp with a grin that’s almost appreciative, and then he’s simply not there, a subtraction you feel in your bones. The house exhales with you.

You stare at the space he left as if the air might hold his outline. It doesn’t. Your neck throbs. When you touch it, your fingers come away unbloodied. The mark will bloom later. You know it. You’re grateful and you’re not for that small grace.

Your phone finally cooperates. You hit Scott’s name.

He picks up on the first ring. “Y/N?”

“He was here.” Your voice is steadier than you expect. Maybe the steadiness is shock wearing a mask. “He’s gone. But he was here.”

“Are you hurt?”

You glance at the mirror by your front door and catch a flash of yourself: bright kitchen light, eyes too wide, hair mussed, sweater askew, your mouth a little red at the corner. You touch your neck again like that will make time go backward.

“I’m okay,” you say, and for once the word feels like it belongs to you even if it’s not entirely true. “He… he said next time I’ll know what’s going on.”

Silence crackles. “What did he do?”

You consider lying. You consider protecting something fragile and foolish inside you as if that vulnerability needs privacy to heal. But Scott’s already carrying more than his share. You promised.

“He kissed me,” you say. The words feel like stepping into cold water. “And he bit me. He didn’t— It wasn’t— I’m okay. I’m okay.” You say it again because you hear how Scott’s breathing shifts and you want to head off the apology you know is coming. “Just… tell me what to do.”

“Don’t leave the house,” Scott says, the command layered over care. “I’m on my way. Lock up. Stay in the kitchen. Keep your phone in your hand.”

“Okay.”

“And, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sag against the counter because that sentence hits something you didn’t realize you’d been bracing all your muscles to carry. “Okay,” you say again, too soft for the phone but loud enough for you.

You hang up and lock the door even though it’s meaningless to something that can slide through the seams of your life like smoke. You don’t turn off the lamp. You don’t turn off anything. The house glows like a tiny ship in a huge, dark sea, and you stand at the railing with your hand at your throat, feeling the drum of your heart under the place he left his attention.

You breathe. You listen. You wait.

Scott arrives faster than a normal person would. You hear his car, then his feet on your front step, then his knuckles on your door — a human rhythm you can place your faith in. You let him in and he sweeps the rooms with that strange sense of his, that radar for threat, shoulders loosening a fraction only when he’s satisfied the air holds only you and him.

He sees your face. His gaze drops to your neck. He doesn’t flinch, which somehow makes you feel steadier.

“Okay,” he says, already moving, the plan clicking into place under his skin. “Okay. We’ll stay up. You can sleep on the couch if you want. I’ll take the chair. In the morning, we go to Deaton. Lydia’s been working on something. We keep you with people. We keep you safe.”

You nod because the structure of the words is something to climb. You slide down the cabinet until you’re sitting on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, and Scott sits across from you, back to the opposite cabinet, the two of you creating a small square of quiet where panic can’t quite fit.

“He said I’d know next time,” you murmur, staring at the grout lines. “What does that mean?”

Scott’s voice is careful again. “It means he likes an audience.”

“I don’t want to be his audience.”

“I know.” He rests his forearms on his knees, watchful but not intrusive. “You’re not alone.”

You stay like that a long time, until the sound of your own heartbeat stops being a drumbeat in your ears and returns to a bass line you can live with. Somewhere in there, you doze with your head against the cabinet door, and when you startle awake the house is dim with early morning and Scott’s still there, his posture the patient tension of someone who didn’t sleep on purpose.

The day comes. It always does. The mark on your neck blooms low and delicate like an ugly flower. You keep your phone in your hand. You keep your light on, even in daylight, because you’re not ready to give up the small comfort of it.

You don’t know if that makes you brave or foolish. You only know the lamps are a promise you make to yourself: that you’ll see him coming, one way or another.

And somewhere in the deep part of your mind you don’t point a flashlight at yet, you feel the truth arrange itself like chess pieces: the next time he walks through your door — because he will — you’ll know what game is being played.

You won’t be the only one watching.