#but the fact remains they say they were simply never attracted to a man until one day they Were

[butchviking]

those women who are like "yeah i thought i was a lesbian for a long time but then i realised i was actually always attracted to males i just didnt really recognise what it was because there were so many different social issues and personal issues i had around the idea of being with men. but eventually i realised that what i was experiencing was definitely attraction and i'd actually been bisexual all along" well they're one thing. but the women who are like "yeah i just literally wasn't into dudes my whole life but then one day i realised i was attracted to this one specific guy, and since then it was like a door opened or something and i've been attracted to plenty of men." ? yeah they fuck me up

[afterglowsainz]

max verstappen and 58

you’re just a man, it’s just what you do | max verstappen

song; norman fucking rockwell - lana del rey

part of the spotify wrapped special

Being a woman in motorsports was tough. Being anything other than a rich white man was especially difficult in motorsports, but of course, you couldn’t complain at all—that’s what everyone expected from you. Still, you couldn’t hide how hard it was that no one took your opinions seriously. Everyone expected you to give up, and when you did, they’d say it was obvious because “this is a man’s world.” No one expected much from you, and the anxiety of making even the smallest mistake haunted you, fearing they’d find an excuse to blame you. Meanwhile, no matter how many mistakes your colleagues made, they were never judged the same way.

It was a blessing to be an engineer for a prestigious team like Red Bull, but it was also challenging. Even so, you could say one of the positives of working in Red Bull's garage was their star driver, Max Verstappen. Of course, your attraction to Max was personal; if anyone found out you liked him, the typical misogynistic comments your colleagues loved to make would surely follow, comments you chose to ignore for the sake of your peace of mind.

But Max wasn’t like that.

Max didn’t care that you liked him, because he liked you too. Away from the paddock, when no one was watching, he enjoyed being with you. He loved making you laugh with his dry humor, seeing your eyes light up when you talked about something you were passionate about, kissing you while holding your face in his hands, waking up next to you in the same bed.

Of course, it was all a secret. Besides the fact that you worked together, you were a woman working in his garage—it's pretty obvious why. But even though the request to keep the relationship a secret came from you, Max didn’t go out of his way to hide his affection for you in front of others. He brought you coffee every morning or hugged you before anyone else when he won a race and everyone crowded the podium to congratulate him. Small gestures like those began to stir rumors among the other engineers, but since no one confirmed anything, they remained just that—rumors.

You knew workplace gossip could be a little damaging for you, but as you always did with that type of comments, you simply ignored them and focused on working, letting the championship-winning car speak for itself.

It wasn’t until one evening, when you stayed late working and were heading to the hotel, that you passed by the break room and heard your colleagues talking and laughing. You didn’t stop to listen to them—you stopped because of Max, who was there with them.

“No, but seriously, Verstappen. All those hugs and looks between you and Y/N—you’ve already gotten something, haven’t you?” one of the engineers asked Max, making your breath hitch.

“Of course he has, mate,” another engineer replied. “How else do you think she’s gotten as far as she has?”

Max said nothing for a few seconds, and you hoped he might defend you, but then you heard him laugh.

“A big step for women in motorsports,” he said. His voice sounded a bit uneasy, as if he didn’t know how to respond, but he still said something. And it was the wrong thing to say.

It’s just a comment, you repeated to yourself mentally. It’s just a comment. It’s just a comment. Then why did it feel like your heart was breaking into a thousand pieces? Why did you feel ready to go to war and confront every man on the team for all the misogyny you’d endured in the garage? Why did you feel tears falling down your cheeks—not of sadness, but of rage? Why did you feel betrayed?

In the end, you didn’t do any of the things you’d imagined. You simply turned around and returned to your hotel room, just as you’d originally planned. That night, when Max knocked on your door, you ignored him completely, not even bothering to answer when he asked why you weren’t opening or if you were already asleep. You didn’t want to see his face or hear his voice.

In the end, you remembered that Max, as incredible as he might be, was still a man. That’s what they do.

[rimatsu]

Ok convince me to reject caution and embrace delusion. Why are you so hopeful? 

the safe bet is definitely caution. but regardless of initial intentions, nothing is ever set in stone in the 911 writing room and that’s reason enough to remain hopeful. still, when people say the chances of a reconciliation are non-zero, i think that’s low-balling it. at the very least, we’re at 10% chance, 90% faith.

granted the interviews i (unwillingly) absorbed via osmosis don't exactly inspire confidence but again: 1) tim is fickle as the wind and writers can change their minds at the drop of a hat, 2) nothing that was directly stated by actors or showrunner contradicts the idea of a makeup arc, 3) if the breakup was intentionally designed as a temporary hurdle they’d imply otherwise anyway (oh god i sound like Them don't i.... this is a cry for help)

the reasons why 8x06 could qualify as a temporary split have been extensively discussed so i’ll try to be brief (spoiler: i failed) before tackling what i’d like to see in 8b. buckle up buttercup, i’m a yapper:

1) the breakup wasn’t written as definitive or unfixable. buck and tommy didn’t part because of irreconcilable differences or because passion/attraction fizzled out. if they wanted that door closed, tommy could’ve simply said he was uninterested in pursuing long term commitment with buck, that they’re not compatible in the long run — there: a clean, uncomplicated break. instead, we’re told that tommy desperately wants to be the person buck settles down with, but he’s convinced buck is propelled by the excitement of novelty, that he suspects buck is latching onto him for the wrong reasons, that he can’t allow himself to merge their home life together in fear he’ll never recover once buck wants out. the implications here being tommy is in love with buck already. for his part, buck came to the realization that he wants a future with tommy and immediately decided to pursue it because that's just the type of man he is: never one to do things by half-measures, seeing no value in waiting once his mind is made up. so there’s no conflicting desire there. they want the same thing: permanence with each other. the next two episodes also paint a strange picture if the goal is a definitive separation. buck bakes excessively in an attempt to cope when he never needed a coping mechanism following a breakup before, and we’re told several times that he wants to reach out — in fact buck was about to reach out until he was physically stopped. in total, 3 tommy mentions so far. usually we get the one and then buck moves on to greener pastures (abby notwithstanding, but she's an exception and not the rule, main character privilege and all). we were even deliberately shown that tommy considered contacting buck on his own. that's establishing regret and a desire for reconnection on both sides of the equation. again, that’s a never seen before: tommy is an outlier. completely unnecessary if the breakup is a done deal. whether they follow it through or not, the aftermath was written in such a way that there’s ground for a reconciliation if needs be

2) this is the first buck break up to happen during the first act of the season, something that’s normally reserved for the finale for maximum impact. why this distinction? strange placement for the end of a romantic storyline if you ask me.

3) they're never going to replicate a LI that checks out as many boxes as tommy does, or recapture the romcom magic that was 7x04-7x06. and it's fine if they don't, not all endgame romances need to be the most memorable of the bunch, but it'd be stupid to let the remaining potential go to waste. it's undeniable, the show is nearing its end, i don't imagine they get renewed past s10. if they go the natalia route again and introduce a LI at the last moment, it's going to pale in comparison to the other viable option, one that has pre-established history and connection to buck/the 118. inadvertently or not, they set up an epic love story of intertwined fate. tommy has literally haunted the narrative since the pilot: one of the very first thing abby reveals is that she’s not over tommy breaking off their (retconned) engagement. as such, tommy has played a pivotal role in shaping buck into the man he is today: if tommy hadn’t transferred out to harbor station, buck wouldn’t have found his family and his life purpose. if tommy hadn’t left abby, buck wouldn’t have realized that emotional intimacy and romantic connection is what he seeks. if tommy hadn’t kissed him, a huge part of buck’s identity would’ve remained buried and unexplored. how are they possibly going to top a red string theory dating back 8 seasons? they can’t. i’m sure they’re aware of that.

4) why bring our attention to tommy’s admiration and envy for a tight-knit unit like the 118, on three separate occasions, if the ultimate goal isn’t to reward him and integrate him into the makeshift family?

5) idk what it's worth, if it's worth anything at all, but there’s been a substantial amount of displeasure voiced over their breakup. tommy is buck’s most well-received LI to date. they took a risk with the Big Bisexual Reveal and it paid off with increased engagement and viewership. if they were still debating a reconciliation, surely they've heard that at least some people will eagerly welcome a makeup arc with open arms.

i'm a broken record so i'm probably repeating myself but here goes my ideal timeline for the rest of the season (not a speculation, not wishful thinking, but a secret third thing):

i'm gonna operate under the assumption that the breakup happened solely so buck could be at his lowest for the kidnapping plot line with a minimal/reduced support system (no boyfriend AND no best friend around when his pregnant sister is abducted). in other words, i don't think buck will be in a place to venture back into the dating world by 8x09-8x10 quite yet (i don’t actually buy the buck-dates-the-serial-killer theory). he's handled the breakup fairly well but now with the kidnapping & eddie gone/in the process of moving, i assume that's when he really starts to spiral.

(if we get a fourth tommy mention here, i'd say it's a promising sign. it’d be a purposeful way to keep him in viewers’ radar after the 4-month break)

i think getting maddie back after a few days of fear and uncertainty will be a breakthrough for buck and he’ll make a conscious decision to move on from his funk by the end of 8x10.

ideally “jumping back into the pond” would take place in 8x11 to 8x13, starting with a comedic montage of buck in a string of various failed dates. this is the part of the season where i expect him to utter the word bisexual, probably when the topic of exes comes into play. every other queer identity in the show gets labeled and stated in no uncertain terms, but bisexuality is ever only vaguely implied (nancy in ls) or shown but not explicitly spoken (buck and eva). it’s frustrating. personally i choose to believe buck’s lackluster reaction to maddie’s questionable “how many men did she turn gay?” joke was intentional on the writers’ part. it was the perfect opportunity to reaffirm his sexuality but buck didn’t bc he's not fully in tune with his queerness yet. yeah he speedran through his coming out but recalibrating your entire identity after 3 decades of presumed heterosexuality is a complex process rifled with ups and downs. i hope it gets explored with more care and depth in future episodes.

supposedly we know two things: the fling is another form of coping mechanism, and it's short-lived. chances are it's going to be a woman, and i'd love for it to be a bi girl bc 1) yay bi4bi m/f representation, 2) he's dating someone who can intimately relate to his experience and can maybe offer some additional clarity where clarity is still needed.

my other preferred scenario is that he meets a guy who immediately clocks that buck is still hung up on his ex and not emotionally available for anything more than casual fun. basically give buck a sex friend who can expose him to the LA gay scene. if my memory serves me right, OS said he'd like to see buck in queer spaces. i would like to see it too (we could’ve had that exploration with tommy but i digress….)

long story short, he eventually meets someone he has chemistry with, but it's still not as easy or companionable or butterfly-inducing as it was with tommy. buck gets back home from the seemingly successful date and he just... starts baking — wordlessly communicating to the audience that he’s still plagued by Tommy Thoughts.

now if i put on my clown shoes, i’d say the bts pictures of the 217 engines suggest an upcoming bucktommy reunion on a call (surely they were made for a reason. right. RIGHT????), ideally in 8x14. i’ve babbled about it here, but the sparknotes version is:

- there's a 5 alarm high-rise fire requiring ground and aerial ops. tommy is tasked with delivering firefighters to the roof, including the 118. the chopper ride to destination is understandably awkward but professional enough

- tommy joins ground ops once he’s completed his maximum hours of flight. he ends up trapped in a pocket of rubbles with buck after a partial structural collapse. that’s when they hash it out. it’s not pretty: they’re on edge and exhausted and full of adrenaline and words aren’t sugarcoated or minced. but they’re honest, and afterward they understand each other’s perspective.

it has been said before, but i don't think buck registered the underlying message of the breakup. we know he doesn't handle rejection well, and it's likely he was so hyperfocused on being told no that he didn’t compute the “no matter how much i want to be (your last)” part. that’d explain the 118’s strange response to the split. if i was told “my boyfriend broke up with me because he thinks i'll eventually break his heart once i figure out he's not who i truly want” i’d strongly advise communication before calling it quit prematurely. but if my friend told me “my boyfriend broke up with me when i asked him to move in bc he doesn't think we'll last bc i don’t know what i want” i would trust that they relayed the correct story and i too would discourage contact.

anyway buck has stated that he doesn’t want to chase after someone who doesn’t want him before, but now he knows that wanting was never the issue with tommy, that the breakup was fueled by insecurities and fears and trauma rather than disinterest. at first, it’s presented as reaching a necessary closure: once the fire is contained, buck and tommy part way with another “see you around, buck. i truly hope you find what you’re looking for” and a bittersweet smile. except now buck has had another breakthrough, he’s full of renewed resolved and clarity, and he’s ready to fight for this relationship, so he shows up at tommy’s doorstep the next night and pleads his case.

in 8x15-8x16, we see them readjust to being a couple except this time, it's with the knowledge that they both want serious in the long run. maybe they discover facets of each other previously kept under wraps for the sake of 'keeping it light and breezy'. also they fuck/fade to black on screen (this is imperative)

the last two episodes are focused on the closing disaster, whatever that might be. in this hypothetical timeline, we get a few more glimpses of domesticity. maybe even establish the setup for a move-in next season when bucktommy discuss buck’s lease.

you can have the helicopter crash as a treat for s9. once they're truly settled with each other and it's bound to be more devastating.

voilà <3 apologies and congratulations for your perseverance if you made it this far. the answer was never supposed to be this lengthy or tangencial oops can you tell i’m obsessed. terminally ill even

[misspelledwordswizard]

Can I request a Time content?

The Chaín except Time asking Reader his type or things she likes of a man. She mention some qualities but she specify "Older Man".

Time all blushing because he is in love with reader and Reader likes him too.

Time Content, yeay! I loved writing this asdfkqaj I hope you like it! <3

I like older men

— Oh, come on, you have to have a type! – Warriors exclaimed, referring to me. He’s been pestering me for a few minutes to tell me what type of man I’m attracted to. 

— I don’t think I have an exact type. – I kept giving the same answer. My taste can be quite flexible, I’d say. 

We were all around the campfire, talking, sharing stories, after the meal. The conversation was going smoothly until they got to the subject of relationships, which Sky dominated, by the way. The Captain has some experience in short-term relationships, so to speak, some of the others seem to have traumas, while the rest simply have never had anything with anyone until now, totally fair.

But, apparently, my romantic life became the central point of the entire conversation after I said I was single, and had never been seriously involved with anyone before. From what I understand, this information is somewhat shocking to them. 

— But not even some things you find attractive in men? – Wild suggested, he wasn’t helping me either. 

Unconsciously, my thoughts took me to the leader of the group, who was the only one who wasn’t bothering me with the subject. I can’t tell if it was because he was not interested in the subject or simply out of respect for my dignity. 

He didn’t even seem to be paying attention, to tell the truth. Leaning so calmly against a tree, with both eyes closed, I couldn’t even tell if he was awake. Avoiding looking at him and ending up generating comments among the heroes, I sighed and accepted my fate. Okay, I just need to wind them up. 

— Hm, let me think. – I said, raising expectations in the boys around me. – I guess we can say I like tall men. – Out of the corner of my eye, I had the impression of seeing Four wilt in his place, did he feel offended? – And strong ones too, something more natural... – I could feel my cheeks blushing. I wouldn’t mind talking about it at a sleepover with my friends, but with the men I’ve been living with for the past few months? What a nightmare. 

They remained silent, indicating that they expected more. Damn, damn gossips. 

— Well, I find light eyes attractive, I would say. And tattoos... Oh, and men who wear black, especially those tight, high-necked shirts. – Okay, I think I’m going too far. My cheeks looked like bell peppers. Oh, right, there’s one last very important one. – And, mainly, older men. 

I concluded, unable to bear all this pressure of stares while I talk about something so personal. I closed my eyes, expecting their provocative comments or something like that, but I was surprised to notice the silence that followed. Was that really that shocking? 

I opened my eyes to see their reactions, and, to my surprise, they weren’t looking at me. All eight boys looked with shock, surprise or curiosity in Time’s direction. Confused, I turned to look at him too, and, after some time processing the information, I understood the reason for their exaggerated reactions, feeling my face even hotter than before.  Time kept his eyes closed. His face, so relaxed before, was now tense, his lips pressed together in a line and his good eye closed a little tighter. What was surprising, in fact, was how rosy his cheeks were. 

In all my life, or rather, since I met him, I never thought I would see the hero of time blush. Because of me. Damn, am I not going crazy?  Well, I am definitely to blame for this, without realizing it, I ended up almost describing him in this silly joke. 

Oh man, I want to bury my face in a hole, I couldn’t have made it more obvious! Great, now I will have to deal with the provocations of this bunch of idiots. I looked away, no longer having the courage to look at him, and just accepted my cruel fate. 

— Look... – Warriors began, and I was already mentally preparing myself for the humiliation that was to come. – ... it seems that we have finally discovered the Old Man’s type as well. 

I turned my head abruptly to look at him, in time to see his eye widen and his mouth open in surprise and indignation, but nothing came out of his mouth. With his face even redder, he sighed and stood up, leaving the group in search of a moment of peace. 

These brats are still going to kill Time with these provocations, and in addition, they are going to kill me too. 

[riizegasm]

Melt || P.WB

❀ pairing: nerdy!wonbin x gn!reader

❀ genre: college au, suggestive, fluff

❀ word count: ~4.8k

❀ warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, somewhat dialogue heavy, wonbin is slightly ooc, one heated kiss scene that kinda doesn’t end…oops?

❀ summary: Getting snowed in with your socially awkward project partner isn’t ideal. But maybe it is, when he’s as attractive as Park Wonbin. And who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself someone to keep you company until the snow melts.

❀ a/n: I have honestly never loved a fic concept more than this one! I hope you all love it as much as all do. As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated and encouraged. Happy reading!

masterlist

Deep eyes remain trained on a space outside the window, their darkness absorbing the stark whiteness of the snow. At this point, it has covered everything, leaving the entire town blanketed in white. You can only see his profile, but the white reflects beautifully in the rich brown of his eyes, doubly projected onto the lenses of his glasses. You wish you had your sketchpad, hoping to capture even a small portion of his beauty. A drawing wouldn’t even begin to compare, though. 

“It’s still snowing,” Wonbin says, smiling sheepishly. 

He turns to you for the first time in a few minutes, eyes now sparkling with the reflection of your interior lights rather than the freshly fallen snow. He’s still breathtaking, a fact that you’ve never been quite able to get over since meeting him. To think that he was sitting in the front row of the class, left by himself for the year end project…it must have been fate. It must have been a higher power that turned his wide eyes to land on yours while a soft blush bloomed on his tan cheeks. 

It must have been fate when your professor noticed that you two were the only ones left without partners. It must have been fate when the first time Wonbin came over to start on the project, snow began to fall. At first it was simply light flurries, not enough to stick. But after an hour, the snow began to come down in blankets, blocking all entrances and exits, leaving all public transportation stuck in place. 

It must be a higher power that has you snowed in your apartment with the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

“I’m so sorry for intruding like this,” Wonbin mutters as he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “If I had known it was going to be this much snow, I would have suggested another day to work on the project.”

Thank god he didn’t. 

“Don’t apologize,” you reassure from your spot on the couch. “You can’t control the weather. And besides, it gives us plenty of time to work on the project. Who knows, maybe this is a sign that we should be friends or something!”

Wonbin seems confused by your remarks, a familiar blush beginning to dust his cheeks. “Friends?”

The man’s confusion doesn’t quite come as a shock to you. Although you had never really seen him before being paired together in class, it was obvious that Wonbin was more of a loner. All you knew was that he had a roommate, Eunseok, which is why you suggested your own place for the project. His social skills were…questionable, to say the least, so it doesn’t surprise you that he’s hesitant to lean into the label of friends. Although, you’d be lying if you said that was all that you wanted from him. 

To say that Wonbin is attractive is an understatement; he’s nothing short of absolutely gorgeous. His long, dark hair constantly falls forward to conceal his wide, dark eyes, forever framed by his thick-rimmed glasses. His mouth remained enticingly pink, full lips slightly chapped from his habit of biting them and the harsh winter cold. Despite his habit of shrinking into spaces, it’s clear that his shoulders are impossibly broad, tapering into a thin waist that could only be maintained through hours at the gym. 

Even now, as the man stands with his hands politely clasped behind his back, it’s impossible not to notice the subtle flex of his triceps underneath his short sleeve tee shirt. Never had you been more thankful for the man wearing layers, all because he simply runs warm. You can’t help but wonder if his skin would be hot to the touch, if close proximity would warm you to your core. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “We can be friends! I mean, we should get to know each other a bit anyways. That might make the project more bearable.”

Wonbin seems to mull the suggestion over for a second before he breaks out into a wide smile. “Yeah, let’s be friends.”

It’s hard not too coo at the prominent apples of his cheeks, painted that faint pink that seems to permanently color Wonbin’s face. You have rarely seen the man smile. Normally, he seems nothing short of absolutely miserable, forever closed off and not sparing anyone a second glance. But something about the genuine excitement swimming in his eyes has a pleasant warmth blooming in your gut. 

“Why don’t you come sit down,” you pat the space next to you on your worn couch. “It seems like we’re going to be here for a while. Wine?”

Wonbin’s smile grows impossibly wider. “Yeah, wine sounds good.”

The rosé is crisp on your tongue when you finally settle back into the couch. Wonbin seems to be enjoying it as well, despite his overly stiff body language. He remains rigid on the opposite side of the couch, which is more like a loveseat, seemingly determined to keep as much physical space between you two as possible. It’s adorable, but you know that needs to change. 

You let some time pass with both of you enjoying your wine and the music that you had put on earlier as a backtrack for studying. The studio apartment that you call home is small enough that the sound fills all four walls, the space forever feeling cozy. Wonbin seems to enjoy it as well, if the way his fingers tap out the beat on his thigh is anything to go by. 

You imagined that it would be awkward between the two of you, as Wonbin doesn’t seem to do the best in social situations. But the man seems content to sit in relative quiet, just enjoying the music. It isn’t until the both of you are about halfway into your second glasses that you speak again. 

“So, what do you like to do for fun?”

Wonbin seems a little surprised as he turns to you, as if not expecting to do much talking at all. 

“I like playing video games. I also like to go to the gym with Eunseok and some of his friends sometimes.” The man’s nose scrunches as he thinks for a moment. “Oh! And I really like to play the guitar.”

You can’t help the way your eyes flit down to his hands, taking in the way his fingers wrap around the stem of his wine glass. He clearly has a few callouses, fingertips rough from years of plucking guitar strings. A few prominent veins run down from his forearm and stretch through his hands, indicating a subtle strength behind his grip. Suddenly, your core feels warm, and you’re sure that the wine is not to blame. 

You clear your throat roughly before responding. “That’s so cool!”

Wonbin’s eyes seem to sparkle when he turns them to you. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean. I’m sure it’s a hit with the ladies, men, whoever you date.”

“Oh, well…” A pout begins to form on Wonbin’s lips, his seemingly permanent blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “I haven’t really dated anyone before.”

It shouldn’t come as a shock to you, but it does. Wonbin’s undoubtedly attractive, and on a campus as big as yours, you’re sure that someone would snatch him up if they got the chance. But with his quiet, awkward demeanor, you’re not surprised that he hasn’t quite let anyone. In an odd way, the news makes you a little giddy. 

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow. “You haven’t dated anyone? Like not even a situationship?”

“Situationship?”

Wonbin’s evident confusion is extremely endearing, but startling nonetheless. Has he really never experienced romance before? It seems impossible, but with the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, there seems to be no other explanation. 

You sigh, taking a long swig of your wine before responding. “Yeah, it’s like, a mutual crush but you never actually date.”

“Oh, then no.” Wonbin’s flush deepens, almost impossibly so, the wine and embarrassment creating a beautiful combination on his face. “I mean, I’ve had crushes before. But they’ve never liked me back, I don’t think…”

Wonbin’s voice trails off into a soft whisper, his eyes growing glassier behind his clear lenses. It’s clear that the boy doesn’t seem uncomfortable admitting his lack of experience, the wine probably doing wonders for his confidence. But he still seems shy, secretive, refusing to meet your gaze as if eye contact would reveal something—too much, maybe. 

It’s impossible not to wonder what kind of secrets lay hidden behind Wonbin’s meek exterior. You wonder if he becomes a different person entirely when he relaxes. When the glasses come off and the shy demeanor dissipates, who exactly is Park Wonbin? And why do you feel like you’d want him no matter what?

“Wait, so how—?” You cut your own question off by clapping a hand over your mouth. “I’m so sorry! I just realized I’m being so intrusive. I didn’t mean to interrogate you, I swear!”

A soft smile blooms on Wonbin’s face, never faltering as he drains the contents of his second glass. “It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not! Here, ask me something…or a few things. That way we can call it even.”

“Oh, I don’t need to do that. I promise it’s okay.”

“No, seriously,” you insist. “We can even make a game out of it! Like 21 questions or something.”

The look of confusion on the man’s face tells you everything you need to know. Sure, the game is somewhat outdated, but it’s still a classic. And as a man in his twenties, you had at least expected the man to have participated in a way too sexual game of 21 questions. It was like a rite of passage! But Wonbin seems to be full of surprises. 

“It’s basically a game where you just ask each other questions back and forth that the other person has to answer.”

Wonbin cocks his head cutely. “What if I don’t want to answer?”

“Then you don’t answer,” you shrug. “Some people play where you have to drink if you don’t want to answer, but we don’t have to do that.”

Surprisingly, Wonbin’s eyes light up with a newfound mischief at the explanation. It’s a stark contrast from the wide-eyed confusion that normally crosses his face, or the shy blush that continually colors his cheeks. Instead, he appears like a normal college student, for once, ready to take on a challenge. The look ignites something in your core that you force yourself to ignore. 

“I think I want to do it that way. You know, where you drink and stuff!”

His excitement forces you to shrug, immediately grabbing the bottle of wine and splitting its contents between your two glasses. It seems like the alcohol has allowed Wonbin to relax a little bit, if the way he sinks into the couch is anything to go by. You struggle not to track the stretch of his biceps when one arm rests on the back of the loveseat, unintentionally putting you in his embrace. 

Your voice comes out shaky despite your attempts to steel your nerves. “You ask first.”

“Uh…” Wonbin’s nose scrunches cutely as he thinks, clearly using every corner of his wine-tipsy brain to come up with a question. “Oh! What’s your favorite color?”

You can’t help but snort at the man’s generic question. It’s clear that he didn’t know the game, so he would have no idea what other things that question would lead to. For a moment, you consider telling Wonbin how that question always leads down a rabbit hole of debauchery. But you can’t bring yourself to dampen the innocent glisten in his eye. 

“It’s green, but not like a light green or a lime color. I like a good, deep, forest green.”

Wonbin hums, seemingly satisfied by your thoughtful answer. “Okay, your turn.”

“What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Gotten a tattoo,” Wonbin answers immediately.

You’re sure your eyes are popping out of your head. You expected his answer to be something akin to getting a bad grade on a test or attending a shady party, but this is on a whole new level. Subconsciously, your eyes roam his form, trying to get a peek of ink, wherever it is. When you can’t seem to find any, you can’t control your follow up question. 

“Where is it?”

Wonbin smiles cheekily, rosy cheeks deepening in color. “It’s not your turn anymore.”

As the game progresses, the two of you sink into comfort. It’s easy to trade questions and swap answers like it’s nothing, only a few questions causing either of you to drink. You learn that Wonbin gets giggly as he gets tipsier, lips bitten into a deep cherry shade that matches the flush on his cheeks. It would be cute, if it weren’t for the way his eyes bore holes into your face, the man suddenly no longer scared to maintain eye contact. 

You wonder if this is an act, a persona that Wonbin puts on to win over whoever he’s interested in. It would make sense: act shy and innocent, find a way to hang out, slowly let his confidence begin to show over a few drinks and shared laughter. But then there’s all those little moments that betray the confident aura that the liquor has bathed him in. 

At one point, Wonbin attempts to drink from his cup a little too quickly, the glass clashing against his teeth and causing him to wince. At another, he gets so excited about his love for guitars that he starts rambling, fumbling over his speedy words as he tries to include you in his interest. It’s endearing, and so incredibly genuine that you can’t doubt for a second that this is him. Once again, you find yourself wondering how a man like this could be single. 

“Your turn,” Wonbin chirps before taking another sip of his wine. You’re surprised he’s been able to make it last so long. 

“Hmm,” you ponder dramatically, tapping your index finger against your chin in a way that makes Wonbin giggle. “How old were you when you had your first kiss?”

The man freezes. His hand remains hovering awkwardly above the coffee table, about to place his wine glass down. He slowly turns to you, eyes wide and face scrunched in a permanent wince. You simply blink back at him, not sure why the question would elicit such a reaction. 

It takes Wonbin a second before he’s able to snap out of it, letting out a breath. He finally places his glass on the table before shooting you a sheepish smile. It seems like second nature when his hand comes to scratch at the long hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I, uh,” the man flounders for a bit, clearly racking his brain in hopes that his next sentence will magically appear. “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

Park Wonbin really is full of surprises. 

You guess that the information shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you, considering all of the other things that he hadn’t experienced. But you still expected the man to have some experience. Hell, even having a peck in elementary school is more expected than never kissing anyone. 

Despite the way that Wonbin lets out a soft chuckle, it’s clear that the admission makes him somewhat uncomfortable. His body is stiff in the loveseat, despite the way he tries to feign nonchalance. He can’t seem to keep his gaze on yours, looking anywhere else but at you. 

You hate it, the way one simple question has altered the vibe of your entire interaction. Things had been going so well, the two of you getting along much better than expected. But of course, your big mouth had to ruin it. Curiosity must have truly killed the cat, because Wonbin looks like he’d rather be six feet under than sitting next to you. 

A quick glance towards the window reveals that the snow is still coming down heavily, with no signs of stopping soon. It’s clear that Wonbin will still have to be here for another few hours, at the least, so discomfort is not an option. You just sigh, placing a reassuring hand on Wonbin’s thigh. 

“Hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you soothe. “I’m sorry, though. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Wonbin shakes his head, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m not…you didn’t…it’s fine, really. I should have just drank instead of answering. That’s how you play the game, right?”

You don’t buy the man’s unbothered act, especially as his thigh muscle remains tense under your touch. Before you can respond, Wonbin pipes up again, words coming out in a rush. 

“I mean it’s not a big deal anyways. Like I’ve just never had the chance to do it, you know? It’s not like I’m saving it for anyone special or anything. It just hasn’t really come up. And I feel like it doesn’t have to be so serious. I’m sure my time will come soon.”

As the man rambles, you can’t help but watch the movement of his mouth. His lips look so full where they curve around each syllable, perfectly pink and slightly glossy from saliva. Every now and then, you get a peek of his perfectly white teeth; you can’t help but wonder how they would feel sinking into the flesh of your own lips. 

“Wonbin,” you call softly. 

The boy doesn’t seem to hear you, still caught up in his ramblings. 

“Wonbin,” you repeat, louder this time. 

It still doesn’t seem to be enough, the man clearly lost in his own explanations. 

“You can kiss me!” You blurt. When the man turns wide eyes towards you, you immediately begin to backtrack. “I mean, only if you want to.”

Wonbin flounders for a moment, his mouth stuck in a helpless cycle between open and closed. You brace yourself for the impact of rejection, silently cursing at how you’ve killed the vibe once again. With the ongoing snow, you know you’ll have to bear the awkwardness for at least a few more hours. 

“I want to.”

What?

“What?”

Wonbin’s no longer looking at you, instead staring at where he’s picking at the loose threads of his ripped jeans. 

“I want to,” he mumbles softly. “I want to kiss you, but only if you mean it. I get it if it was a joke or something, though.”

Your heart breaks at the thought of what Wonbin’s been through, no doubt having been teased during his growing years. But you can’t imagine how anyone would joke about wanting to kiss him when that’s all you’ve wanted to do since you first laid eyes on him. 

“Yeah…I mean, no! I’m not joking,” you rush out. “I mean, you said you never had the opportunity, so what better time than the present?”

Wonbin nods, still unable to meet your gaze. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Despite the icy chill of the winter weather, it suddenly feels one hundred degrees hotter in your apartment. Although you and Wonbin are seated at opposite ends of the loveseat, the space between you feels almost nonexistent. If you just shifted a bit to the right, you would be able to make the contact that you so desperately crave. 

“So,” Wonbin starts after a moment of silence, “um, what should I do?”

For a second, you pause, wondering how exactly you should go about this. It’s Wonbin’s first kiss. There’s an immense pressure to make it great, perfect even. When you think back on your own first kiss, it was anything but, which just deepens your desire to make this everything he has ever dreamed of. 

The liquid courage that your glasses of wine have given you allows you to slide into Wonbin’s lap. You try to ignore the way that the man instantly tenses, reminding yourself that this is normal for a first time. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper, almost nose to nose with the man.

Wonbin swallows thickly before nodding, hands hovering awkwardly in the air. At his confirmation, you allow yourself to relax into your position, thighs cast on either side of his hips. Like this, you can see the faint freckles that dot Wonbin’s face, some hidden by the thick frames of his glasses. He’s gorgeous, you notice, not for the first time. 

The music is still playing softly in the background, a calm R&B melody flooding the small space. It’s cozy, slowly melting your discomfort away. Wonbin seems lost though, hands twitching where they hover aimlessly. You can’t help but smile at the display of nerves, choosing to soothe them by placing them on your hips. Wonbin’s fingers flex and then relax, slowly gaining confidence where they hold you. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask. 

“Yeah, I—,” Wonbin swallows heavily. “Please.”

You ignore the sharp flutter that rushes through your stomach, instead wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You can feel the longer strands of his hair tickle the skin of your forearms, soft and delicate. Wonbin’s eyes flicker down to your lips, once, twice, before he goes back to meeting your gaze. 

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

All you get is a quick nod before you’re leaning in and placing a chaste peck on his lips. It’s nothing special, just a soft meeting of lips, but it feels electric. You pull away with a soft sigh, lamenting the fact that it was over all too quickly. Wonbin is slow to open his eyes, blinking at you slowly. 

“How was th—,”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before Wonbin’s lips are on yours once again. It’s firmer this time, his lips more insistent where they blanket yours. The grip on your hips tightens as Wonbin tilts his head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. It’s still fairly modest, but the feeling of him against you has goosebumps erupting on your skin. The kiss only lasts a second longer than the first, but you feel doubly breathless when the two of you part. 

“Was that good?” Wonbin asks, dark eyes sparkling behind glasses that are slightly askew. 

You don’t trust your voice at the moment, choosing the answer his question with a simple nod of the head. The confirmation has a bright smile blooming on the man’s face, his fingers pressing more firmly into your hips. 

“Can I kiss you again?”

This time, you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, pulling the man directly into a liplock. Wonbin seems to have gained a bit of confidence, tilting his head to the side as his lips move against yours. He even goes as far as to trace his tongue along the seam of your mouth, somewhat smiling when you grant him entrance. 

Wonbin’s kiss is nothing like you expected. While he lacks some finesse, he still kisses you breathless, lips moving smoothly against yours. Even as you both are properly making out, he seems to keep up with your demands, copying your movements every so often. He’s a quick learner, making up for what he lacks in experience with enthusiasm. 

The two of you part with an obscene wet sound, your shared saliva making Wonbin’s lips glisten. He looks properly fucked out from just a bit of kissing. His glasses sit askew on his nose, hair tousled from where your fingers were playing with dark strands. It makes your imagination run wild. If this is how he looks after making out, how would he look after he—?

You clear your throat as an attempt to snap out of your daze. Carefully, you untangle yourself from Wonbin’s lap, immediately missing the heat of his skin on yours. Wonbin seems to miss it, too, if the way his hands begin to play with the fabric of his jeans again is anything to go by. After a moment, he straightens out his glasses and takes a deep breath. 

“So,” you start, breaking the tense silence. “How was that for your first kiss?”

Wonbin sighs, staring at an unspecified point in the apartment. “It was good. Really good.”

You can’t help the soft chuckle you let out at the man’s honesty, helplessly endeared. It’s a wonder how the man can go from the sole object of your desire to the target of your cuteness aggression so quickly. It’s refreshing, but also dangerous in the way it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. 

Wonbin still looks dazed when he finally turns to you, cheeks painted with a fresh flush. He seems oddly nervous, more nervous than one should be in the presence of someone they just made out with. 

“Can I tell you something?” He blurts. 

The outburst startles you, but the determination in his dark eyes piques your curiosity. When you give an affirmative hum, the man sighs, seemingly hyping himself up before he speaks. 

“I think I like you.” He seems disappointed in his own admission, brows furrowing cutely as he rushes to correct himself. “I mean, I know I like you. Like, more than just a project partner. I have a crush on you.”

Your heart sinks at the confession. Of course Wonbin would be convinced that he has a crush on the person he shared his first kiss with. The combination of the wine and the smooth music hasn’t helped either, likely clouding his head with a vision of romance that he doesn’t truly believe in. As much as you’d like to believe it’s real, you know that this is just a result of circumstance. 

“Wonbin,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way he lights up at the simple call of his name. “I think you’re just saying that. I mean, a first kiss can really change your perception of someone.”

“What?”

You run a hand through your hair, fighting the disappointment that sinks in your core. “I’m just saying that you probably don’t actually have a crush on me. I think it’s the emotions of the kiss, the wine, the close proximity, you know, all that stuff.”

Wonbin looks utterly confused. “I had a crush on you before I kissed you though. Even before I came over here today, I thought you were pretty.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What?”

“I thought it was my lucky day when we got paired up. I mean, I knew you would never notice me otherwise.”

“You mean…”

“I’m happy my first kiss was with you,” Wonbin admits, smiling softly. “But I would have been ridiculously into you even if I didn’t get to kiss you. Even if I never got to kiss you! I mean you’re just so pretty and smart and I love when the professor calls on you because you always know the answer and your voice sounds so nice in the morning, but it’s sometimes so distracting that…”

“Wonbin,” you call. 

“I feel like I lose my focus in the class, which is part of why I sit in the front because I knew that if I could see you I would never be able to pay attention, which sucks because I don’t want to ruin my GPA, but…”

“Wonbin!”

You’re able to put a stop to the boy’s rambling by cupping his face, fighting a coo at the way his plush cheeks squish together. His mouth is left in a forced pucker, lips enticing you for a kiss. This time, you don’t resist.

“I like you, too,” you admit once you pull away, “as more than a project partner.”

Wonbin is silent for a moment, blinking rapidly behind his thick lenses. It seems to take a second for his brain to come back online, but when it does, his face blooms into a squished smile. 

“Does that mean you’ll be my second kiss, too?”

Your own chuckle surprises you, forcing you to release Wonbin’s face from your grasp. You don’t bother to fight your giggles, happy to notice that Wonbin has joined in on your laughter. 

“I’m pretty sure we’re beyond two kisses, but yes, Wonbin. That means I’ll be your second kiss. And if you play your cards right, I’ll be there for many more kisses after that.”

Wonbin smiles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “I wish I could kiss you forever, until all that snow out there melts and forever after that.”

You can’t help but lean forward, placing a quick peck on Wonbin’s lips. 

“There, that was another one. I guess we still have a long way to go until the snow melts.”

Wonbin traps his bottom lip between his teeth, gaze stuck on your mouth. “I guess we better get started, then.”

[kuro-ttsuki]

Three | One Good Mistake

What in the absolute fuck?

I didn't even realize I said that out loud until I felt another shift of movement next to me causing me to shut up quick.

Did I just get called out, on fucking twitter? Who even does that? This is a famous sports entertainment company and one of their wrestlers just insulted me on a fucking social media platform. What is he? Twelve? I don't even understand why that got to me the way it did, I deal with trolls every fucking day of the week, why is this any different?

I could just ignore him and be a grown adult about it, but why should I? He came at me unprovoked and insulted me as a fighter, as a champion and as a woman. This is war.

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

"What are you going to do?" Eva asked again for the hundredth time as we unload the car. She's been bugging me about the damn tweet after I showed her once we met up at the hotel. Literally after I wrote my number on the mystery boy's chest.

What? I was being romantic in a way. Plus he was attractive. Extremely attractive.

"Yovanna, You can't ignore me forever." I decieded to challange her claim by still remaining silent. Yeah, I was surprised to be called out because Vince never said anything about it. Especially about them dropping the news about me and wwe, especially since I haven't even made it final with Vince himself.

This was all poor planning and it was honestly aggravating at the least, but I'm a big girl. I can handle some shit talking.

With two bags in her hand, Eva stopped in her tracks once she realized where we are, telling from her face; she was either confused or pissed. I don't know, it's hard to tell. "Why are we here? You don't even have a match or anyone to face.."

I just simply looked at my bestfriend with a smirk on my face. "First of all baby girl, I'm a champion. I do what I want, and second we are here to talk about Mr. Ortan. Everyone who follows me seen that tweet by now so it's best to confront him and clear the air in the most major event that has nothing to do with me." I satated in a "matter of fact" tone, glancing at Eva only to see her mouth wide open for a few minutes before it closed.

"But it's Ronda-" I stopped her midsentance, yes this technically was Ronda's public press conference with another fighter but who cares? The girl stopped being relavent when she lost her winning streak and decided to throw a temper tantrum. "Eva. Do you really think I give a fuck about Ronda and her press conference right now?"

"Well, no but-"

"Exactly now let's go." I interrupted her again, wanting to end the bickering so I can confront the man baby is woman's underwear.

As we head in the building, we were greeted by the staff in the back. Like Eva, they also threw questions at me on why I was here and tried to nag me out of my decision but they couldn't stopped me. I had to loose them by dashing down the halls like a crazed fan. Luckily they weren't very fit so I lost them within the first few minutes of running, suckers.

Once finding the stage, I stood in the far back with a mic in my hand, watching Ronda and her opponent throw verbal shots at each other, the small audience was eating it up. Just as they were about to go toe to toe, I walked onto the stage.

I can feel Ronda's eyes burning in the back of my neck as I stood in front of her but just like a water on a ducks back; I brushed it off, facing the crowd who seemed happy to see me. God I love my fans.

"Sorry to interrupt ladies...well, not really. I just have something to say that involves not just me but us as women in the company we work in. Last night, a wwe champion decieded to gain some balls and throw shots at me and basically every woman in sports entertainment. Apparently I'm nothing but a dick sucking, wannabe diva in his eyes. " I smiled as the crowd reacted with boos, I glanced back at Ronda who seemed to be listening as well as her opponent.

"I just wanted to clear the air a bit. Yes WWE offered me a job there, yea if I join I'll most likely get my ass handed to me because WWE and UFC are two different things but I'll be damn to let a old man in a thong insult me. Look at who you are talking to Randy, I am a two timing champion who's been kicking both men and women's asses since I was eight-teen."

The crowd began to go wild with cheers and claps as I turn my attention to the camera that was now facing me. My smug smile disappeared within a second as my face just harden.

"I'm not the one to mess with little boy, I been doing hardcore shit since I was a kid. I made and broken more records than you did in your whole 20 years of kissing triple H's ass. No matter what company I go to or what ring I'm in; rather it be a squared ring or even a circle, I will dominate and I will come out as a winner. You wanna talk shit, you better be about shit because you just made an enemy out of me Randy Ortan."

Dropping my mic, I held up my championships above my head proudly, before leaving the stage, the sound of cheers began to fade as I continue making my way out with a devilish smirk plastered on my face. Was this a bad choice or was this the best decision I ever made. It could be both but who cares? I embarrassed that asshole and probably upset WWE but he came at me first. He deserved it.

Right?

My smile soon dropped once again as I came face to face with a not so happy Eva. Her face held and a unamused look like a disappointed mother. And just like a daughter, I couldn't help but held my head down in shame. Only for a second though.

"You didn't like it?" My question definitely made her more pissed, her unamused expression quickly changed to a 'Are you fucking kidding me?' Look.

"Really Yovanna? I'm not sure if that was the dumbest decision you could ever make or the best one!" She said, placing her hands on her hips. I could tell she was about to go mom mode on me so its best I shut up and listen.

"First of all this could ruin your opportunity to go to WWE. Second of all you just picked a fight you can't win because you can't wrestle! He's going to make you look like a fool and third...Yovanna, you have a 5 year winning streak what if wwe breaks it by forcing you to loose to Randy which probably why he's talking shit now. They could be setting you up for failure like they did Chyna."

Eva had some incredible good points, points that I couldn't argue against but I have a good feeling about WWE. They wouldn't do that to me especially with the contract that I'm going to sign. Maybe its arrogance or confidence but nothing can beat this good feeling I feel about my decisions. I'm confident that I'll beat Randy and then dominate WWE.

Just as Eva was about to nag me some more, my phone ranged.

Thank god.

I answered but couldn't even get a hello in before getting interrupted by a familiar voice. "Ms. Silva, I just seen your promo and its trending everywhere. You not only made Ortan pissed off but drove the WWE fans crazy with excitement. I was wondering if we could keep building up this tension between you and Ortan till your debut."

I'm surprised Vince hasn't torn me a new one but really? I just embarrassed the face of his company and he liked it? Jeez, Vince is more messy than a teenage girl.

"Uh sir..I haven't even signed the contract nor even quit my job which is something I wanted to talk to you about, I kinda want to keep doing ufc on the side. I'll drop MMA but UFC is my home since I was 18. I can't just give it up."

There was silence on the other end, I was scared that I just broke a nerve and ruined my chance but you had to understand how that this was not just a job that I'll leave behind but a whole family and friends that I grew up with.

"If it means you come to WWE and put it on the map...then, deal." I could feel my heart skipped a beat after hearing that. Did he just agreed? Oh my god I don't have to leave my family after all!

"Thank you Sir, this means so mu-"

"No need to thank me Ms. Silva. Just sign the contract that holds your request and start training asap so we can plan your debut." And with that, he hung up.

Wait..the hell he means by training?

[keicordelle]

An Arrangement of Convenience, Ch. 3

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: E Pairing: Estimeric Word Count: 4.9k Tags: Pre-Canon, Temple Knights Days, Friends with Benefits, First Time Together, Awkwardness, Relationship Discussions, Establishing Boundaries, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Consent, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, POV First Person, POV Aymeric de Borel

Summary: Before they were the Lord Commander and the Azure Dragoon, they were Temple Knights. Before they were lovers, they were friends. Before their feelings grew into something more, they came together when there were no other options, in an arrangement established entirely out of convenience and mutual attraction.

Aymeric knows full well he's not the only man in the world attracted to other men, but he never expected his best friend to reveal that not only is he aware of Aymeric's preferences, but he shares them. When Estinien proposes that they might find pleasure with each other when the need arises, the offer seems to come straight out of Aymeric's fantasies. If they could maintain such an arrangement without ruining their friendship, it would be everything he'd ever dreamed of... But if they couldn't, he risked losing the only friend he'd ever had who saw him as more than a novelty. Because once he said yes, one way or another, everything was sure to change.

-

It was another three days before we chanced to be alone together again. The frustration that gnawed at me grew with every night I spent alone in my bedroll wallowing with pent-up need. I could tell Estinien felt much the same: he was surlier than usual, snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him. Barely contained hunger burned in his eyes when no one was watching, as if he'd simply been shoving down his lust until he had a target for it, and now it was uncaged and threatened to consume him. Which was a fairly accurate account of how I felt as well. Knowing he was within my grasp and I might finally find my release in the embrace of another after so many months alone and yet being denied every opportunity to do so burned me up inside and made every minute feel like hours dragging on interminably.

A hand came down on my wrist as I chewed absently on a piece of hardtack and pretended to listen to whatever Tiraneaux was saying. I jumped, too lost in my own thoughts to have noticed Estinien come up behind me. "Come with me," he said, face serious. "I need your assistance."

Tiraneaux trailed off, looking at him in concern. "Is something the matter, Ser Estinien? Have you uncovered one of those dravanian whoresons?"

"Nothing so serious as that. There's no point in mobilizing until we know more. Ser Aymeric and I can investigate and see if there is indeed a threat. Be on your guard, and remain here in the event that we need your aid."

"Understood," the older man said, despite the fact that he outranked us. The command in Estinien's voice was indomitable, and for a moment I felt like I could see the man he would be in 10 years, an implacable general and trusted leader, the vaunted Azure Dragoon who guaranteed the safety of our city. Already he was an incredible warrior; with another decade of experience and the power of the Eye at his beck and call, he would be an avatar of Halone herself. If our friendship could survive the rigors of the intervening years, together we would be able to exact great change in the Holy See.

I blinked, and he was just my friend Estinien once more, his fingers flexing on my arm. His eyes shifted from Tiraneaux to me, an invitation in their intensity. "Will you come?" he asked, voice rough.

My chin dipped, a finger of anticipation sliding down my spine to replace the tightness of frustration in my gut. "Of course."

-

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[hardynwa]

Stop premeditated injustice against Igbo –Archbishop Onuagha

Archbishop of Okigwe Archdiocese, Methodist Church Nigeria and Bishop of Okigwe Diocese, Most Rev. Biereonwu Onuagha has expressed anger over what he called premeditated injustice against the Igbo in Nigeria. The cleric expressed the fear that unless Nigeria and Nigerians stop the premeditated injustice against the Igbo, the country would never work optimally to the benefit of all citizens. He also claimed that the continued detention of the Leader of Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), Mazi Nnamdi Kanu and the result of the recently concluded presidential election were ploys to push the Igbo nation into physical combat. He, however, said the Igbo would remain law-abiding in Nigeria. Onuagha disclosed this in the presidential address presented at the 42nd annual Synod of the Methodist Church Nigeria, Diocese of Okigwe, Imo State. He tasked the judiciary to be firm in its judgement on the ongoing presidential election tribunal. He warned the judiciary against being compromised or creating the perception that they were cheap and that politicians would steal other peoples mandates and have the effrontery to tell those cheated to go to court because they have the judiciary in their pockets. He suggested that in future, any presidential election in contention, would attract the suspension of swearing in of the president-elect, until the case is determined. He also flayed the use of state resources to pursue party matters. He, however, suggested that if Nigeria would continue its premeditated injustice on the Igbo, it was better they allowed the Igbo have Biafra. “The Igbo man is the only nation builder I know in this country. Why I get more worried is the fact that Igbo man as selfless as he is, in his development of the nations, the Nigeria society hates him, do I say it again? Yes I think I should. The treatments against Ndigbo is the reason the marriage called Nigeria is simply not working and there is nothing that will make it work until they reverse the treatment meted on Igbo race… “I will, therefore, suggest that if Nigeria will continue to met its premeditated injustice on Igbo race, the best thing is to allow Biafra to go to enable the Igbo race to go and build themselves.” Read the full article

[sukirichi]

Hello! Can you write one about Nanami where the reader is oblivious and they're really close to Gojo so he gets jealous often. Sometimes Gojo does things purposely to annoy him and one day he just lost his composure and accidentally admitted his feelings for you.

I hope u accept if you're not too busy. Thank you!!!

— a little push

— sometimes all nanami needs is a little push.

nanami kento x fem! reader

thank you for the request anon! i’m not sure if reader is oblivious enough but i hope you like it! there’s some thick pining here hur hur, i hope you like it! i never knew i needed an easily flustered and awkward nanami in my life also this is unedited as usual

check my bio for masterlist and my milestone event! (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Do you mind?”

Nanami sighs, silently praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear the way his heart is absolutely panicking and beating wildly right now. You’d randomly pushed him inside the teachers’ office the moment he got back to the institute at work, and now he’s doomed to hide his feelings while you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, a shaky yet excited grin painted on your face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you wave your hands in front of you, although he can tell you’re not apologetic at all. Nanami clears his throat when you step backwards to give him space, unsure if he’s happy or sad about the distance. “I was just really excited to see you back.”

Your carefree, lighthearted voice, along with that little jump in your toes combined with your statement – you’re basically asking Nanami to shrivel up already.

The stoic man remains composed, though, only shifting to adjust his tie while he stares down at you. You’re still somewhat bouncing on your feet, teeth biting your lip – a habit you had when you want to say something but contemplating whether you should. Tilting away to hide the slight flush in his cheeks, Nanami sighs again, pretending to be tired.

The last thing he wants to admit that even though he is exhausted from work, is that you’d never bother him. In fact, having you bombard him like this makes him feel like he didn’t deal with special grade curse by himself all alone just an hour ago.

“If there’s something you want to say, I suggest you get it over with. I don’t want to stay overtime and wait until the blindfolded creep comes around.”

You giggle at his insult, hiding behind your cupped palms. Crap, Nanami looks away and focuses on the birds outside instead, suddenly finding them so interesting despite never paying attention to them before. Maybe that was the curse of crushes – it had people acting differently and in complete contrast with their behavior.

“About that,” you begin almost shyly now, and Nanami practically bursts when he sees you tapping both of your pointer fingers together, gaze tilted away from him.

It makes him wonder you’re nearly on the same skill to Gojo, yet still somehow look like a small, innocent being that makes him want to protect you from everything – even if you were more than capable of handling things yourself. Well, Nanami concludes to himself, maybe you’re really just that paradoxical that it makes sense why he can never think straight around you. Maybe he’s really not supposed to understand the complexity of his feelings when you were a phenomena to begin with already.

“You see…Satoru asked me out.”

Nanami stiffens at your statement for a split second before his head whips to you so fast. You’re observant – of course you are, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer – and you easily pick up in his sudden change of demeanor. Your brow raises at his abrupt reaction, to which Nanami conceals by flexing his neck and rolling his shoulders back.

“I am simply tired from work,” he haf-lies, “So, Satoru asked you out? Will you say yes?”

His words and tone are monotonous, almost bored even, but deep inside he’s so close to beating the crap out of his co-worker. Well, not really, Nanami isn’t a man of violence, but he’s jealous. Of course he is – he’s liked you ever since Principal Yaga hired you.

He’s never told Satoru about his little crush on you. He would be stupid to do such; Satoru would tease him to no end and maybe even be as childish to go as far as pushing him to you. Typical elementary shit, Nanami cringes to himself, watching as you look down at your feet with a pout. Now that confused him. He isn’t sure what your body language means at all, but patient as ever, Nanami only waits.

“Well,” you scratch your forehead, “I’m really flattered. I want to say yes because Satoru is a nice guy—”

“He is not. I do not respect him.”

You roll your eyes at the way his eyes darkens, “—but also I’m not sure if I should. I mean, Satoru doesn’t really date, you know? He’ll be with like one girl and be with another the next week. I just don’t want to…like, fall for that, I guess. Not that I won’t, because he’s totally not my type—”

“It’s just a yes or no,” Nanami cuts you off, his words coming out a lot harsher than he intends it to be. It’s not that he’s annoyed at your rambling, he actually finds it so adorable when you get so lost in your train of thoughts that your mind just travels from one place to another, and seeing how your eyes just leave farther from reality is something he’s always find such an attractive quirk, but not now – not when his infuriating co-worker is intending to mess with your feelings. “Do you want to go or not? Yes or no? It’s as simple as that.”

You blink back at him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that Nanami was a no-bullshit man who hit things right on the head, a huge contrast to your happy-go-lucky self, but he’s right.

It is that simple – and you’re complicating things all over again.

When you give him an answer, Nanami has to muster all his energy to not deflate. He’s tired – but now his exhaustion and even the heartbreak comes crashing down all over him that he’s immediately weighed down and overwhelmed – so much so that all he wants is to go home.

“Yes, I want to go.”

It’s his day off.

Like everything else in his life, Nanami plans everything down to the last minute of his day. His day off consisted of him having the privilege to sleep in until 8am, then breakfast with coffee from that great café a five minute walk away from his apartment, then he’ll be reading books in his study for two hours. Comes after that is lunch, and he’ll brows through some TV shows, pick up his clothes from the dry cleaning, get that special limited edition dinner of his favorite sushi, read books again and call it a day.

Simple, peaceful, no hassle – it’s the perfect day to relax.

Except it isn’t.

Because it’s your day off too, and you’re out on a date with Satoru. He still remembers how happy you looked then upon accepting the white haired man’s invitation, your nimble fingers wrapped around his sleeve as you shyly asked him to come with you.

He doesn’t know why you had to bring him, but he doesn’t question it, nonetheless. Nanami wants to see how Satoru would react, if there could be any indication from the man behind his blindfold that he had ill intentions. Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any. Satoru only beamed and deflated into a chibi, enthusiastically nodding along with you while you planned your date together.

Nanami took it upon himself to leave.

With a silent scoff, Nanami placed his dinner down on the counter. Because it’s his day off – and mostly because he doesn’t feel like himself – Nanami went out to buy the limited edition sushi wearing a white shirt and some gray sweatpants, too forlorn and a little jealous to even bother dressing up.

It’s stupid, really. He’s been looking forward for this sushi for a long, long time, but now that he’s had it, he can’t even enjoy the taste. His mind keeps going back to you.

Were you having fun with Satoru? Were you enjoying your time? Was Satoru treating you well? What was Satoru’s intentions when it came with you? The last time Nanami checked, you and him got along really well and you’re mostly the one who whacks the taller man in the head upside down when he’s being stupid, almost like two peas in a pod, except you were the smarter one. He’d been so sure you’re nothing but friends and yet…it all lead to this.

Nanami pushes his sushi away. They no longer taste like anything, the texture like dried paper on his mouth. He wipes his lips with a napkin, staring longingly at well…nothing. His walls were plain and empty, and suddenly, Nanami can’t help but compare himself to Gojo.

You both planned to go to the local carnival. There’d be lots of foods and even parlor shops, ferris wheel rides and photo booths to create memories. Of course you and Satoru would go there; both of you enjoyed loud, bustling crowds, claiming there was something amazing about basking in the “lives of humans when ignorant of curses” while Nanami prefers his peace and silence.

Had you gone out on a date with him instead, Nanami can’t guarantee he’ll be any fun. He most definitely wouldn’t ask you to go to a carnival with him either. It was loud, cramped, crowded, and it’s too chaotic for him to ever enjoy your presence and enjoy it alone.

Nanami closes the sushi box, turns on the TV and lets is play on the background, a wet towel above his eyes to relax his tired eyes.

He hopes you’re having fun. He hopes Satoru is treating you well. Nanami just ignores the slight pain in his chest when he thinks of you, laughing and touching anyone but him, and he could picture it already. You’ve always been so open and welcoming to everyone, he knows you’ll have fun today, too.

That’s one of the things he finds most endearing about you – that your smile never fades and you never forget about the simple, little things in life to focus on to keep your sanity after facing curse after curse.

He’s fine, he tells himself. Satoru may be annoying, but he knows you could have fun with him, and you deserved to be happy more than anyone else.

Nanami is about to fall asleep on his couch when his phone vibrates on the coffee tables. Groaning, he flicks off the towel to his shoulders, grumbling about how Principal Yaga better be respecting his day off, but the last thing he expects to see is your contact name flashing on the screen. In the contact photo, you’re winking with a peace sign held above your head.

You look so utterly adorable Nanami just wants to kiss you. He remembers this photo was taken when Yuuji got bored and asked to play games on his phone. Upon finding that there was none – of course there was none – the strawberry-haired student opted for taking pictures of everyone instead. There’s one with Nobara growling, Megumi sipping his boba-tea with dead eyes as if he’s so done with the world, more than twenty pictures of Satoru flexing his muscles and posing like an idiot, and then there’s yours.

Nanami remembers staring at his phone for a solid minute, his gallery actually blessed with your face in it. The sun shines behind you on that photo and you’re absolutely shining. He thinks that’s when he truly fell in love.

And it just so happened the love of his life is calling, making his heart skip a beat because shouldn’t you be with Gojo? Why were you calling him? Did something wrong happen?

Nanami doesn’t waste another second before swiping the green icon, already standing up from the couch as he grabs his jacket. He had this weird inkling something is wrong, why else would you call him?

His theories are proven true when your voice comes out shaky. “H-hello?”

“Good evening,” he greets stiffly, brows furrowed as he listens in on the way you seem to be shuffling around. “Is there something wrong?”

“I, uhm,” he hears you sniffle through the other line, “Yeah, I guess there is…Satoru just texted he can’t come because Principal Yaga suddenly sent him to a mission overseas…and then I just realized that Satoru’s been summoned by the elders and he’s just refusing to show up, so now they cornered him, I guess… anyways, I’m talking too much and I don’t want to be a bother, but would you maybe…like to hang out with me?”

Nanami’s hand freezes on the doorknob. “Hang out…professionally?”

He immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead for that. Out of all things he could’ve said, he just had to utter something unintelligent. He hears you snicker in the background and Nanami’s ears redden. 

He quickly regains his composure with a clear of his throat, suddenly remembering that Satoru’s ditched you, so now you’re asking him instead. It kind of feels like he’s just a replacement, but Nanami buries this feeling down before it consumes him, wondering if he’s already regretting changing into better clothes because he actually agreed to go to a carnival with you.

Upon hearing your happy, “Okay! I’ll wait for you then!”, Nanami realizes that he doesn’t actually mind. Especially not with you.

The carnival is loud.

Nanami dreads the moment he steps out of his car, his body swallowed by the bustling crowd and defeaning music of banging drums and clashing instruments. There’s a hundred scents everywhere – smoke, fish, glazed apples – he doesn’t know where to begin or how to focus.

He nearly turns back to his hair, about to shoot you a text that maybe this is beyond him after all. His head begins to spin when he’s only pushed deeper into the crowd, people bumping into him with every single second and it’s so suffocating. It doesn’t make sense to him how anyone could possibly go on a date like this and enjoy it. He knows for sure this chaos won’t let him enjoy his date’s presence because he’s too busy trying to get away from it all.

Nanami staggers for a bit when a strong hand tugs him to the side. Soon, he finds himself pressed flush against you in a tight corner, your hips warm on his. “Hi,” you breathe out airily, lashes fanning and fluttering in that same manner that always made his heart do complete flips.

“Hello,” he greets back with a small bow out of faux respect, but really, he’s just keeping his head down because you look so beautiful in that moment he doesn’t even know where to look. You’re warm and soft next to his hard and stiff muscles, the scent of roses and vanilla mixing in with the street smoke and Nanami’s head grows dizzy, his hand around yours tightening for comfort. “Y/N…I do not prefer this crowd. Can I take you back home instead? You must be tired – I’ll prepare dinner for you.”

Nanami blinks back in surprise when he sees you nod, a slight grimace on your face, and you practically bury your face in his bicep as you groan, “It’s too noisy for me too. Let’s just hang out at your place.”

So you end up in his immaculately clean apartment, admiring and staring at the boring furniture. Nanami changes into more comfortable clothes and whips out something to cook, not wanting to feed you measly take out when you’re probably famished. He watches with side glances as you pick up a photo of him with his parents when he was younger, cooing and giggling at the baby version of him.

“Nanamin, you’re so cute!”

Nanami scoffs and turns back to the heated water in the bowl, arms hard as they cross against his chest covered with an apron. “Please do not call me cute. I am anything but.”

“No, you’re really cute,” you insist, but after seeing Nanami’s flustered frown, you eventually give up and give the poor man a break. Later, you wobble next to him, watching with curious eyes and a small smile as he adds the vegetables into the soup, moving expertly as he diced up the onions to the side. The sheer focus and attention on his daily tasks makes him falter, and he suddenly finds it so hard to function now.

“Why are you staring at me? Is there something so interesting about slicing up onions?”

“No, not really,” you say absentmindedly, the slight plop of the ingredients echoing. “It’s just – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this way. Domestic, I mean, but it looks good on you,” you nod to yourself, and Nanami finds himself struggling to act as if your presence wasn’t making him go crazy while he proceeds to cook. “In fact, everything looks good on you, and I find you really interesting!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, assisting him silently with mixing the bowl even when he didn’t ask you to. Unaware that he’s now focused on you, watching you cook with him with you pressed up against his side, almost as if it’s right where you belong, Nanami feels the same with you. You also look good being this domestic with him, and he suddenly blurts out, “Would you like to stay with me? Like this?”

Your eyes slide over his in a slow fashion, slow enough that his brain hotwires at the fear maybe he’s said something wrong. But Nanami immediately swallows it down, huffing and turning away from you with that stoic expression again. “Forgive me. That was weird—”

“Why would it be weird?” you laughed to yourself before bumping your hips with his, “You’re the one who invited me here. Of course I want to stay.”

That’s…that’s not what he means.

Nanami is left staring openly at you while you help him set the table and you proceed to talk about how you didn’t really want to go to the carnival but Satoru insisted you’d have fun, so you went anyway even if you’d much prefer to be somewhere else. He’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your lips move and how you swing the house slippers on your big toe, your legs crossed on top of another and your figure slightly hunched across from him.

You look so comfortable and welcomed in his home that it puts him at ease too, not worried that he has to impress you anything because it’s you, and Nanami could actually be vulnerable enough to laugh with you over a bowl of vegetable soup.

It’s fine, he lies to himself again, it’s fine that you don’t know he likes you even if he tends to slip and be obvious sometimes. Because at least you’re with him in that moment, and he lies to himself again that it’s fine, that maybe next time he’ll tell you, but he doesn’t worry about. How could he worry about it when you’re snorting so loud over a lame joke he said that rice nearly came out your nose, and he’s so drunk over the sound of your bubbly laughter that something flutters deep within his belly?

When you help him wash the dishes and bask in the silence instead, comfortable over the lack of words and nothing but the sound of his faucet running and the slight rubbing of towels against dishes heard in the background, Nanami is unsure whether he’s glad that Satoru ditched you on your first date.

It doesn’t stop there.

Nanami only keeps falling in love with you more. He’s been doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself because the last thing he wants is to have you stay away from him, but Satoru was really getting on his nerves.

He’s just come back from exorcising a curse when he sees you and Satoru play-wrestling in the field with the other students. Megumi is grumbling to himself in the corner, Yuuji is laughing and cheering on you to tackle down his sensei who’s currently going down in high-pitched laughter, Toge pumping his fists and screaming, “Salmon, salmon!”

It’s a chaotic sight – one that he usually doesn’t mind – until you finally pin Satoru down on the ground, your ass above his crotch. Satoru’s hands then come up to squeeze your ass and hips under the false pretense he’s struggling to push you off him, but Nanami knows better.

“Give up already!” you tease the other sorcerer who’s still wriggling underneath you, and Nanami sees it before it happens.

Satoru’s legs bend beneath you and he tries to pin you under him in quick movements, but Nanami is faster, his reflexes taking over. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami tugs you and pulls you forward until you collide on his chest. He’s breathing hard, eyes narrowed at the arrogant smirk painted on Satoru’s features. Meanwhile, you’ve softened in Nanami’s grip, hands fisting his shirt that has him hardening up out of sheer protectiveness.

“Oh, Nanamin!” Satoru beams while wiping the dirt on his hands across his uniform, “Glad to see you here. You wanna join training too?”

“This is hardly training,” he retorts with a clenched jaw, “You’re harassing and disrespecting your fellow sorcerer because you can never keep your dirty hands to yourself,” before Satoru could defend himself, he’s already all over you, his hand tilting your chin side to side to check for any injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere? Did this bastard do anything else?”

“No, not really—”

“Why do you care so much, Nanamin?” Satoru teases, and the students all huddle to watch the commotion. Everyone can feel the tension rising, and Nanami only stiffens up further when he feels you lean closer to his warmth almost absentmindedly. “She and I were just playing around, no hard feelings, no foul play. We’re just having fun, right, Y/N?”

“She is not someone you can just have fun with, Satoru. You’ve already crossed the line when you ditched her on your first date, and you didn’t even bother texting or calling back when I drove her home. It’s disrespectful, and she deserves better than that.”

“Nanami—”

“I was busy,” Satoru sighs dramatically, “And if she deserves better than me, then who would it be? I can take care her of her, you know, she and I have been besties for like what, a year now? I’ll be good to her,” he smirks, and Nanami wants nothing more than to punch him square in the jaw. “Besides, it’s not like she’s dating anyone else. She’s single and ready to mingle—”

“Maybe she is, but I’m not,” Nanami deadpans, his harsh tone shocking everyone.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you squeak under him, and Nanami falls silent. He’s never thought of confessing to you, especially not this way, and Nobara is biting Yuuji’s jacket behind them to muffle her squeals. Panda is clapping his hands and whispers oh, here we go, followed by Toge’s salmon salmon.

It dawns on him now that everyone knows he likes you after all, and now that he’s confronted with the situation, he can’t run away from it. Not that Nanami plans on running away, for he is a man and his pride doesn’t allow him to evade situations like this.

He just wishes it could’ve gone out better.

“Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable,” Nanami releases his grip on you, loosening his tie that makes him feel like he’s choking both on air and his words. Through his cool stature, he’s actually sweating inside his clothes, and it doesn’t help you’re patient with him too, head tilted to the side curiously and so horribly cutely he might combust. “But I have always been, and I still am, utterly in love with you.”

Nobara and Yuuji no longer hold back as they scream to themselves, the former slapping the latter in his back while Megumi only shakes his head, muttering “about time,” under his breath. Maki snickers to herself and Satoru is stunned, but it’s nothing compared to the way you shrink under his gaze for a moment.

He believes you’re going to run away from him because of his blatant confession; it wasn’t romantic at all, and the kids are still screaming too loudly for him to form coherent thoughts.

Nanami begins to form a deep bow, ready to apologize wholeheartedly and to politely ask you to forget this if you wish – he would respect your decision. But just as his gaze met the ground, he’s thrown off balance as you jump on him, soft glossy lips crashing into his.

The screams and cheers of everyone are suddenly drowned out when he feels your lips molding onto his, and he can feel you smiling happily, giggling while his hands tentatively run down your hips to hold you close. It’s unprofessional, displeasing, and downright horrendous to be kissing someone during work hours while the students are watching, especially because his clothes are crumpled from your eager touch and you’re on top of his chest, but Nanami absolutely doesn’t give a single fuck because he’s kissing you back fervently.

It’s what he’s always wanted – you’re the one he’s always wanted, and now that he has you in his hold, he’s not easily letting you go.

“See? I told you guys,” Satoru proudly puffs his chest up in the background, “All Nanamin needs is a little push.”

[ricciardostoast]

GR63;;Throw a fit [one]

you planned to get what you wanted, and make him work for it along the way

[a/n: mini series. been saying i was going to write for george for ages and here i am]

wc: 4k

warning: mild;; language

masterlist | next

“George Russell.” He smiled exposing his perfectly white teeth. The posh accent draws your eyes, unable resist the proper drawl amongst the cruder advances you’d received tonight. Noting glint of interest in your posture, he laughed lightly, extending his hand.

Offering your name, you couldn’t help but want him. Already wanting him.

The media view of him did his real image no justice. He was even better up close. His hair always looked so put together on screen, but tonight it looked a little unruly, like he’d taken a firm hand through it just before stepping out. And that smile, it was enough to kill any self control you’d had built up to this point. Mr. Put-Together obviously came here with a plan in mind and you decide you would be his first and only.

You’d have this man, preferably before day break.

“You’re already everything I want in a woman, and I’ve just learned your name.”

“You’re already everything I want in a woman, and I’ve just learned your name.”

“You’re already everything I want in a woman, and I’ve just learned your name.”

Names were just learned to be polite. You hated being on the end of a one night stand being called anything and everything but your own name.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Now, it was your turn to smirk. George chuckled, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Really now? Just not too bad? Cause the way you’re looking at me now makes me believe otherwise.”

You bit back a curse. His eyes were like a freaking whirlpool sucking you in. You couldn’t look at him without at some point meeting his gaze. This one would be a tricky one. But frankly that just made it more of a challenge.

You softened your stare, letting your eyes glance lazily over the club before returning back to him “That’s all.” you smiled innocently through your lies.

In honesty, George Russell was far from ‘not bad’. In fact, you were sure you had never been more attracted to someone in a long time, maybe ever. Whatever it was, he had it, and you wanted it.

“Well I think I can say with support from the majority of the female population that I am more than ‘not bad’ ” Again, he smiled. A subtle curl of the lips that wasn’t smug or challenging. As if he’d already paced the future and was just riding the script. It was effective and you couldn’t deny the fact your body tingled when he did that.

“Cocky.”

He shook his head and reached out a hand; you noticed his tanned skin and strong, veiny arms. “Confident.” He replied simply, his fingers pushing a loose lock of hair behind your ear. You swallowed, hard, noticing the definiteness of his abs through his shirt every time he made a slight movement.

This was definitely more than a challenge.

“Told you I was better than ‘not bad’.” His voice interrupted you as you turned your gaze back up to him. He was back to that bright smile, one that said ‘Me? I could never.’ “I can see you checking me out. Again.”

Running out of options, you knew you needed to hook him quick before he entanged you.

You shifted your eyes immediately, mirroring the smile he’d presented to you thus far.

“So, you might look good. That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re probably still a cocky little, self loving, obnoxious sports star.” You smirked, satisfied with your own response, while your eyes managed to remain serious.

He laughed lightly again, shaking his head. “Let me prove you wrong.” He said, edging slightly closer to you. “Let me take you out sometime.” He smiled.

Those were the words that would normally send you packing. A guy that asked for a date normally would request another and another and string a girl along into a sense of comfort until he could get in your pants.

Whether George was that guy or not didn’t matter. You didn’t need the frivolity of propriety in order to get what you both wanted.

You just didn’t date.

You shook your head immediately knowing that it was out of the question. “I don’t do dates.”

“You don’t?” He asked, an eyebrow rose. You reasserted with a shake of your head. He was silent for a moment, almost waiting for the ‘just kidding’. That ‘just kidding’ was never going to come, you was serious, and eventually – he realized that. “Why not?”

She turned to face him more, their bodies even closer than before. The height difference between you is even more evident now, despite your heels. “You and I both know dates are only used to get on a girl’s good side so a guy can take her to bed and fuck her senseless. Guys don’t really want to go to that restaurant, they really aren’t interested in the terrible day you had, and they really don’t want to be paying all that money for a dinner that their ‘fucking’ conquest probably didn’t even finish.” you stated diplomatically.

You watched George, unable to read his expression – his eyebrows were furrowed but there was still that smile playing on his lips. “I can’t change your mind, can I?” she shook her head.

He couldn’t. No one could.

“But, I think you’re wrong.” You felt your own eyebrows furrow then, you didn’t like being wrong.

George judged your reaction in an instant and continued to talk. “I love to eat and especially love a girl with an appetite, and my friends tell me I’m a good listener and I bet I could make you laugh so hard you’d forget about your bad day and, honestly? I couldn’t care if you finished your meal or not, ladies don’t pay.”

You were speechless.

You couldn’t help it; you didn’t even try to fight it.

The boy was good. No denying that.

You let a sarcastic laugh leave your lips. “Smooth George, I’ll give you that much.”

“So, you wouldn’t like to go on a date with me?” He asked moments later, his face the image of pure seriousness.

“I don’t do dates,” you repeated, “With anyone.”

You weren’t used to that reaction. Normally guys would kill to get one night with a girl without any drama or emotions. George on the other-hand was questioning it, defying it.

“You can’t really be serious’ There was a hint of humor speckled disbelief, though you didn’t seem to find it funny. “I mean, what do you do if you like a guy?”

“Cut out the chase.” you smiled, batting your eyelashes slightly more than before – hoping he’d get it. Hoping he’d be quiet shut-up and get with the program. Your program.

“What about boyfriends? You can’t date someone just because they’re a good lay.”

“I’ve dealt with boys,” you told him truthfully, “I don’t like their definition of relationships.” you shrugged. You could feel his critical eyes watching you suspiciously again, as if he still didn’t believe you, still didn’t get it, and still didn’t understand.

“So what now? You just don’t bother trying. I have to tell you, you’re missing out.” He was intrigued, but meant every word he said.

You could feel your facade falling. It was then that you realized that George Russell wasn’t just some guy. George wanted to ask questions. He wanted to know more. And, for the most part – from the way things looked right now, he really did want to date.

It was then that you normally would have given up, smiled and retreated back to the bar and waited for another one to come along. But, with George – there was something. There more you listened to his voice got mesmerized by his eyes, his body – even his damn mannerisms got you. Licking his lips before he began a sentence, you didn’t just want George then. She needed him. Her body almost craved him.

And you needed him to feel the same way. Preferably without the commitment.

“So, you’re telling me that if I asked you to come home with me right now you wouldn’t?” you smirked playfully, gauging his expression carefully. He was hard to read, you noticed that immediately. He would laugh warmly, not awkwardly, not because he thought the comment was hilarious –Just because. He would smile, then trace his tongue across his lips, his expression more serious.

“I can’t answer that.” He stated.

“Why?” you almost sighed, sick of him playing the game that seemed to go nowhere. Sick of him being a ‘good guy’. ’ nice guy’. No guy was like this in real life. They all had their secret motives.

“You haven’t asked me.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

You hated this. You were the smug one, mostly. You sighed audibly, visibly annoyed with him. He only smiled in response, happy with that reaction.

“You know, I’m unsure if you’re even going to be worth all of this shit.” you stated simply, cocking your head to one side as you glared at him. But you silently prayed he would come around and see things your way. God, it would be sinning if a man like that was to go to waste.

“Oh I definitely am, that I can promise.” He spoke seductively, biting his bottom lip as he finished his sentence. You knew it was put on, but, you didn’t care –it was working, he was making you want him more than you had anticipated.

“You know, I still think you’re a cocky self-loving, obnoxious sports star.” you told herself it was still true, yet in those brief few moments he already slightly swayed your judgment. Slightly. He was still a man, men still lie.

“And I’m pretty sure you still want me despite that. Plus, I’m starting to think you’re a stuck up, man hating sex maniac.” He almost choked on his words with laughter.

“But I’m pretty sure you still want me.” you stated, yet it came out like a question. Honestly, now you weren’t sure if he did.

“ Maybe. But-” He smiled playfully; he knew what he was doing. “But not in the way you apparently want me too.”

“Why are you so damn adamant?” you asked genuinely wondering.

He reached forward, closing the small gap between then his strong hand clasping at your side – pulling you closer to him. “Because a girl like you doesn’t come around everyday. And you’re worth more than I one night stand.” He whispered gruffly.

You watched his eyes reconnect with yours, before they fell to your lips.

They were softer than you imagined. They way they moved against your in such a passion it was unreal. It was different than those sloppy drunken kisses you shared in the past. It was unlike anything you ever experienced. You felt almost felt like there was something else. Something more meaningful.

You pulled away quickly suppressing a gasp. Your fingers brushed against your lips; your mind clouded. This boy was dangerous. Maybe you were a little too in over your head.

“Let’s make a deal” He said the second your lips parted. You looked up at him, he paused for a moment a thoughtful look on his face, before returning his attention back to you. “But first, let me point out that I’m not going home with you tonight.” He stated, and, you felt your stomach drop. The excitement, lust, anticipation disappearing in an instant.

You looked at him, now looking for the ‘I’m kidding’.

That ‘I’m kidding’, never came either.

Nothing should be a surprise at this point.

“But tomorrow night I will” he spoke up suddenly gaining your attention.“If you promise to go on a date with me the morning before.” He finished, watching you expectantly.

Now you were really looking for some guys to come out informing you that you just got pranked. Because this guy wasn’t serious, he couldn’t be. Did he not hear what you had been saying this whole conversation?

You. did.not.date. What was so hard about that to comprehend?

Yet here this guy was blatantly asking you out after you just explained to him.

“You know you’re dumber than you look,” you muttered disappointedly. Here you were thinking you were going to take an athlete home. What a waste.

George suddenly reached for your waist forcing you to meet his gaze. The same gaze that got you in this mess in the first place.

“Would you just hear me out, love?” There was a new edge to his voice, something that made spoke volumes about how adamant he was about swaying the night.

You instantly recoiled at the sound of the pet name. Jerking your head to the side, you avoided his gaze before it sucked you in.“No I won’t. What don’t you understand? I don’t date!”

There was a silence between you.

George looked up after a moment,“ Eleven o'clock sounds reasonable for a breakfast date. Meet me at Seaside for brunch.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. This man was ridiculous.

Wrenching out of your hold you didn’t bother to respond, hoping your abruptness would get you answer across. You didn’t date. That was your final answer and you was sticking with it.

Even though you didn’t look over your shoulder to confirm, you were hoping he would reconsider and look at things your way. You prayed that your little player would come pawing behind you like a lost puppy.

Finally noticing his loss before it got away.

But he didn’t. That night, you went home alone.

. . .

“Sara! Will you turn your damn keypad tones off? My head is throbbing!” You moaned, pulling back the door of the restaurant. That mixed with the sound of your friends fingers clicking audibly against her keys was enough to make you want to lie out, then and there.

“Are you still pissed off about that athlete dude? The car driver?” She asked as the male waiter led you to the table. You closed your eyes tight briefly, throwing your head to the ceiling in annoyance. You couldn’t care less about George.

You couldn’t care less about the fact that he turned you down. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

“I don’t care about him, in the slightest!” You spoke more defensively than anticipated as the waiter pulled out your seat. You smiled, sitting and taking the menu as he disappeared.

You turned your attention to the menu, hoping Sara would stop, give up, shut up.

“You’ve been a bitch all day,” Sara stated, causing you to look above your menu. You dropped your eyes towards her. Sara was like you in that sense. She said what she really meant, she didn’t hold back – and, even though you shared that trait you hated her for it.

“So don’t try tell me something, namely some athlete isn’t bothering you.”

“He isn’t.” You snapped, “Now just order some damn food and drop it, okay?” You could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t going to drop it. The way she stared right back at you, trying to read you. Read you like you’d had tried to read George the previous night.

She cocked her head slightly as she stared at you across the table. “What ? Have you developed a girl crush or something?” you hissed.

“It’s because he rejected you, isn’t it? Because he didn’t actually come home with you?” You felt yourself swallow, hard.

“Sara if you don’t drop this, I’m leaving. Seriously, drop it!” You retorted defensively.

George did reject you, but that was nobody’s business. No one but yours and his. There was a long pause as her warm eyes continued to look at you, she stared before they widened slightly, almost in shock.

“Oh, my god.” She said slowly, a half smile appearing on her face. You wrinkled your face up in confusion waiting for her to continue. As much as you loved your best friend, occasionally this she could grate your nerves. “He’s the first person to reject you, isn’t he?”

She said almost triumphantly. You felt your breath hinge in my throat. You cleared it before turning back to the menu.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sara.” You scoffed, your eyes not even focusing on the list of choices offered.

“Oh come on, even the damn waiter is smitten on your ass!” She nodded to her right. You lifted my eyes from the menu, noticing the university aged waiter staring right back at you.

Smiling awkwardly, you returned your gaze to Sara. “You cannot tell me you’ve given any other guys the option of having fun, no strings attached sex with you and they’ve declined it?” You scoffed again, causing her to smile widely. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

She was right. You didn’t answer. You wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“I am.” She said smugly, leaning back into her chair.

“George’s the first person to ever say no to you.” You hated her smugness.

“And? So what?” You scoffed, turning your attention back to the menu, as if it didn’t matter. As if you didn’t care. But, the more Sara pushed it. The more you thought about it, the more you thought of him, of his rejection you did care. It did matter.

“And now you’re pissed.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So, you want him more because he rejected you.” She pushed, smirking from across the table.

Fuck.

“Why do you care so much Sara, really? What satisfaction are you getting from this?” you wondered genuinely, as she smiled.

“I just want to know if you’d try again.” She said almost slyly.

“Why?” You huffed louder than before, your frustrations growing. It was over, it was done. It was none of her business.

“Because, he’s right over there.” She almost laughed as she finished her sentence. You furrowed your eyebrows, following the direction of her eyes. You felt your stomach drop, she was right. You watched as he walked towards his seat, his loose jeans still cut fitting, exposing his tall posture. His hair was better kept today, matching the persona you’d known from newsfeeds.

You hadn’t even put two and two together when you’d taken Sara up on her offer for brunch. The idea of citrusy mimosa blinding you past anything other than the refreshing drink.

‘Eleven o'clock sounds reasonable for a breakfast date. Meet me at Seaside for brunch.’

Jesus Christ.

Before he could take his seat you snap your attention back to your friend. You propped an elbow on the table, covering your face slightly with your hand as you stared at the menu. “Are you trying to hide?” Sara snickered, almost choking on her words. You didn’t answer; you just narrowed your eyes towards her.

She was right. You didn’t know how to deal with rejection.

“Good morning’ ladies.” Your eyes widened as you looked at the menu. That rich, sexy voice.

He remained a gentleman, guestering to the empty seat politely to which Sara nodded exuberantly.

You swallowed, forgetting last night’s events as you smiled back towards him. Nobody won against you, no one. “Good morning, stalker ” He laughed lightly, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

“What are you doing?” He asked innocently. Because that’s what he was, innocent…

You looked at him, gesturing to the menus. “What does it look like?” You snapped without a thought. You realized then that you were more affected by his rejection than what you had previously thought.

Looking at his wide smile, his full lips, his blue eyes.

Jerk.

“Looks like someone is a bit eager, early bird,” He grinned playfully as the food was placed between yourself and Sara. You waited for him to get the hint, to politely leave you to eat. He didn’t. He joked with Sara as you stuck your fork loudly, annoyingly into your meal. “What’s wrong?”

He asked minutes later, turning his attention back to you. You ignored him, surprisingly getting good at that as focused on your food, continuing to eat.

You didn’t get it. You didn’t get him. He didn’t want you; 24 hours ago he rejected you. You knew from the moment you met George he was hard to read, but now? Now, he had you down right confused.

“You know,” George began, leaning forward towards you, his voice lower than before. “Is this what you consider a date? No wonder you gave up. .” Across the table, Sara muffled a squeak of glee.

“No, this was called ‘I’m trying to eat and you won’t go away’”. You replied snort, watching his smile never falter, like what you said didn’t matter –didn’t affect him.

That was new. He wasn’t offended easily. Sara sensed the tension, as she excused herself. You watched as George nodded, licking his lips slightly.

“Ok, fine. This wasn’t a date.” He said simply. You smiled, you had won. “Kind of a shame though.” He said simply, his lips turning into a smile just slightly.

Sneakily.

“Why?” You questioned confused.

“Date’s end with a kiss, right?” His gruff voice asked, you nodded. “Kissing can lead to anything.” He smirked, biting his lip as he finished his sentence, his eyes burning through you. You felt it again, that energy.

That tingle. Sexual chemistry. You swallowed, before shrugging.

“And here’s me thinking you were a good guy.”

“I am,” He grinned again, exposing his white teeth. “I’m just wondering whether this was a date or not.”

“Not.” You confirmed, wondering inwardly if you said ‘yes’ would you get what you wanted, him. George continued to look at you, waiting. Waiting for you to say it. You wouldn’t give in, not to him, not to anyone.

“Anyway,” you continued, pushing your chair back, brushing against his jeans purposely. You watched his reaction closely, the way he looked down as you did so, the way his lip disappeared between his teeth. You knew at that moment, he wanted it just as much.

“I better get going.” You lied; you had nowhere to be.

You felt his eyes burn into you as you stood up, reaching for my bag.

He sighed your name. As you turned to him, his smile faded. His tongue traced his lips again, sending shivers through your spine. You wouldn’t let him see.

George laughed lightly, running his hands through his hair almost in annoyance. “You’re so frustrating.” He said simply, honestly. You ignored him, knowing he was right. It was true.

You turned on your heel, hearing him follow behind. You reached inside your bag as he pushed slightly past. Looking up, you caught as he handed the waiter the payment, pointing to our table- your table. He paid, before pressing his hands against the glass, pushing it open and leaving.

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but in reality it was only seconds.

He had paid. He wasn’t lying when he said he always would. You sighed, shoving the money deep within your bag, simultaneously shoving your pride deep within your stomach. Your shoes smacking loudly against the floor as you followed him out the door.

“George,” you called his name quietly seeing him a few steps ahead, he turned around as your breath hinged in your throat. There was an awkward silence as he waited for you to speak, as you waited for you to speak.

“- Thanks.” you barely mumbled.

“No problem, darling.” He said again simply. How he said everything, he wasn’t fazed at all. He turned again; you felt my stomach drop in disappointment. You groaned quietly, staring at the sky.

If you were to get what you wanted, you had to swallow your pride.

You followed his steps, reaching him and tapping his shoulder. You didn’t take in his reaction, you didn’t care. In an instant, you pressed your lips against his.

Within seconds you could feel him smile against the kiss. His strong hands holding your waist, his strong assured grip that you longed to feel elsewhere.

“So, I can count this as the first of many?” He almost groaned against your lips. You opened your eyes, staring into the honey pools staring back.

You were most definitely ready to count as many as you could.

[comfortscripts]

Do Your Job, No Matter What ¬ Draco M.

Plot - Following your boss's orders was part of the job but you never realised how far he'd take it.

Genre - Smut ♧ {16+ Only}

Pairing - CEO!Draco Malfoy x Fem!reader

Notes/Warnings - Power play plot with porn, harsh names, Dom/Sub, penetrative, choking, unprotected sex with creampie (dont be stupid like them irl). Astoria is the ex-wife in this as I couldn't bring myself to write about a cheater and I apologise in advance if this is terrible, I haven't written smut in years.

Word Count - 2.3k

The day had bled into night and as the gentle rays of sun disappeared, so did your co-workers. Mutters of goodbyes and heels clacking faded till all that remained was the muffled sound of Mr. Malfoy on his conference call.

You were used to being the last one to leave, often deep into the night. A common requirement for a personal assistant was to be there till the boss leaves but unfortunately, Mr Malfoy wasn't exactly rushing home most nights.

The simple hardwood desk was more familiar to you than your own bed nowadays. Nights got later as business got busier and Mr Malfoy became more involved with potential investors, but you never complained. You were always the best and you were planning on staying that way.

"Y/N, get in here!"

Being so involved in the setup for the next morning, you didn't listen out for the conference call or how it ended but from thunderous and rude tone of your boss, you could imagine.

Shuffling to your feet before straightening out your skirt, you made hastily made your way through the large oak doors that housed the king, as you co-workers often joked. You understood their distaste, a powerful and attractive man was already intimidating but Draco always found a way to rub people up the wrong way, except you. You always had a certain affection towards the man, not that you would ever admit it.

Entering the darkened office, you felt your breath catch in your throat as you faced your boss. His once tamed hair, now wisps of silvery blond streaking across his forehead. Veins prominent on pale arms where he had rolled up his sleeves. He stood behind his desk, with one hand leaning on the dark oak table whilst the other nursed a crystal glass of whiskey. Even in his frustration, he still looked like the most powerful man in the country.

Draco lifted his eyes to yours and you felt yourself squirm under his gaze, you'd be lying to say that the man wasn't gracing the thoughts you had in your more intimate moments. This simple act made you think that this could be more than a fantasy with how his eyes traced over you.

"Well that meeting was a total disaster." The man sighed before manoeuvring to sit on what could almost be described as a leather throne. "I told my father that trying to work with Potter Industries was useless but the stupid git wouldn't listen so I had to deal with them bastards for nothing!"

Whilst you tried to focus on his words, your thoughts were more taken with his hands. Strong, thick fingers graced with three solid silver rings and the way they wrapped around the crystal tumbler was so sinful, you let yourself imagine what they would feel like around your neck.

Snapping yourself out of your sinful thoughts, you notice the silence as if Draco had expected a reply to his rant. Whilst he valued your opinion, you weren't sure what to offer.

"I'm sorry they wasted your time sir. Is there anything I can do?" Whilst it sounded innocent enough, part of you couldn’t help but mean it in a suggestive manner.

Draco debated your offer for a moment. He always knew what you thought of him, how your thighs would clench together during car rides where he was just slightly closer than normal or how you would blush at the simplest praise. You were wrapped around his finger.

He knew you wanted him sexually, he too held this secret but he wondered if you were harbouring more than sinful thoughts towards him. He needed to know, to see if he was just seeing what he wanted to see or if there was something between the two of you. Draco knew that by tonight, he would have his answer.

"Come over here" He beckoned.

Obeying before thought, you carefully manoeuvred so you were standing behind the desk and in front of your boss.

Mr Malfoy patted his right thigh in a non-verbal demand for her to sit on his lap. Once again, you were obeying before thought or reason, you gently placed yourself on his muscular thigh, allowing your skirt to ride up.

Draco rested his hand on your exposed thigh, toying with the edge of your tight skirt. With the other hand he gripped your chin in a gentle but firm manner, turning your face to meet his, only centimetres away.

"You know exactly how you can help me"

"I'm not sure what you mean Mr Malfoy"

"Don't play dumb my dear. I see how you look at me, how you respond to me. Would bet money on the fact that you are getting wetter by the second just from being this close to me." His hand inched up closer and if on instinct, your legs moved apart to allow him. The tips of his fingers graced the edge of your panties before pulling them to the side, allowing his fingers to feel your wetness. "Just as I thought, always knew you were my little slut".

He slowly pushed a digit inside, allowing the warmth to coat his pale finger. The action caused a small whimper to leave your lips involuntarily and as you felt the cold metal of his ring graze your folds, you could barely stop the moan from escaping. Draco kept a slow pace, almost teasingly slow. Your body was begging for more but Draco wanted to hear it, needed to hear it. He could see you getting restless at the gentle pace but he needed more from you so he delicately removed his finger, which was met with an annoyed groan from you. Sliding his digit up your soaking slit, he brought his finger to your sense bud. Rubbing in careful circles, you felt your need for Draco grow even stronger.

"Please, I need more"

"Tell me what you want baby"

"I want your fingers. Want to cum. Please make me cum"

This was what he needed, you falling apart for him. Begging for something as simple as him to finger fuck you, and god the sound of you was better than he imagined. A cocky smirk grace his whiskey coated lips before colliding his lips with yours, a collision of tongues and teeth but it was exactly what you both craved. The messy kiss resembled the messy dynamic you were both about to enter.

Placing his attention back on your weeping hole, he broke away from the kiss. You felt your eyes flutter shut as he entered two of his thick digits into you, this time at a harsh speed. Moans were escaping your body as your orgasm built but Draco was quick to drink them up. The combination of the anticipation and how he was perfectly hitting every spot whilst massaging your clit was getting you there quicker than ever before.

Draco could feel your body getting closer to release, clenching and tensing against his fingers. "Cum for me, show me what a little slut you are."

His words were what pushed you over the edge as you came hard all over your boss's hand. You connected your mouths again in a brief moment of ecstasy. Breaking away from the kiss, you rested your head on his shoulder attempting to catch your breath.

You could feel his harden length through his trousers and the feeling alone was enough to make you need more. Carefully grazing your hand over the evident bulge, you felt the man tense under you.

Before you could do or say anything more, the phone rang.

The sharp sounds were enough to remind both of you that you were still in the office and technically still on the clock. Breaking your stare from the phone, you turned to Draco who simply stated "Better answer it sweetie, it is your job after all".

Rolls of frustration filled your body as you wished he would have simply thrown the phone out the window and taken you on the desk but no, here you were. Standing up from his lap, you picked up the phone.

"Hello, Mr Malfoy's Office. Y/N Speaking."

"Oh, Y/N, hello. I was hoping you would answer" You knew that buttery voice, Astoria Greengrass. Ex-wife of the man who just made you cum, of the man you were hoping to fuck.

"Hi Ms. Greengrass, how are you?" As you said her name, you spotted Draco rise from his chair.

Astoria started on a small rant about how hard dating is as a single mum but you could barely focus on her. The blond haired man had made his way behind your figure, and was slowly undressing you. Button after button until your bra-covered chest was exposed, a quick zip of your skirt left you standing in only your panties and finally, Draco decided to rid you of your panties as well with a quick rip of the fabric.

Whilst Astoria talked your ear off, Draco leaned down towards the other and whispered "Be a good girl and do your job, okay".

You shakily nodded whilst attempting to focus on the words the woman was speaking but you were rendered incapable when you felt his enlarged tip tease your folds. You couldn't help but intake a sharp breath.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Astoria paused, she was always a thoughtful woman who made sure Y/N was leaving enough time for herself between work but now here Y/N was, fucking Astoria's ex-husband whilst on the phone to the woman herself.

"Yep, I'm sorry. I jus-" Her sentence interrupted by Draco fully entering her tight pussy. His cock stretching her out in ways she had never experienced, she couldn't help but whimper in an attempt to hold back a moan. "I stubbed my toe really hard. It's all okay truly."

"Always hurts more than it should." You attempted a chuckle at the woman's remark but it became a strangled moan as Draco picked up the pace. Astoria continued "Anyways, sorry for ranting but I was calling to remind Draco about Scorpius' play on Tuesday, can you please make sure his schedule is clear".

"Yes, of course I will." You manage to respond, trying to focus on being professional rather than focusing on your boss pounding you into oblivion.

"Great, I won't keep you any longer. Thank you dear, have a good night."

You replied a quick 'You too' before slamming the phone down. A plethora of pent up moans rushed from your throat as you felt Draco's full size threaten to split you open, you had never felt this full and god, you loved it.

His slender hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer to his chest and gaining more force. "What a good little whore you are! Taking my cock like you were built for me". His words made you clench around him which caused an guttural moan to escape the dominant man.

"Please sir, I need more. I need to cum, please." You were close to seeing stars but you needed more, you craved more.

Draco had never felt more powerful than he did at that moment. Slipping out of you before lifting your body as if you were a ragdoll for his amusement, you were now seated against his desk and face to face with him as he re-entered your soaking pussy dangerously slow. The new angles were enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head, moaning strings of swears as you approached your peak.

The pale businessman pounded you with such force you thought his desk might break under the pressure, holding your hips so tightly that you were sure to have bruises the following morning. Moans of your name graced the man's lips as he approached his orgasm, as his pace faltered and became uneven.

Grabbing your throat with force, Draco brought his face down to yours. "Cum for me."

His words were all you needed as you felt your climax hit you like a freight train. Moaning his name so loudly that you suspected anyone left in the building would have heard. Your vision darkened as the pleasure rolled over you in waves, feeling the release of all the late nights with your hands between your legs whilst fantasies of Draco fuelled you. The reality was better than the fantasy.

Your climax had left you clenching Draco, milking him dry as he released inside of your warm welcoming pussy. All frustration from work was gone, all the desire he felt for you was enhanced, just everything was right in this moment. He felt his cock soften and carefully slipped himself out, watching as his seed slowly trailed down your plump pussy.

Catching your breath, you slipped off the desk before finding yourself in Draco's arms once again. "That was incredible but I am still mad you fucked me whilst I spoke to your ex-wife"

"Very bold aren't I, kitten?. You have to do your job, no matter what" He chuckled. "What did she want anyways?"

"Wanted me to remind you about Scorpius' play on Tuesday." Answering in a nonchalant tone, which is never how you spoke to him but you were now feeling the repercussions of what just happened and were feeling insecurity, causing you to use attempted nonchalance to hide it. "So I guess I will see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, technically. I will see you tomorrow as well but for now, we are heading to back to my house. Have some dinner and see what happens from there." His gaze was often fierce and stubborn but now it was gentle and almost hopeful, showing that he was also scared of what this meant for your relationship, but hoped that you wouldn't reject his offer of something more romantic.

Even with already flushed cheeks, his words caused light blush to appear "That sounds like a perfect plan to me, Draco."

Draco's fears were put to rest as soon as he heard his name roll of your tongue. You may be wrapped around his finger but he was wholly wrapped around yours. Just took a bold move to release the truth.

[mountswhore]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 — mason mount

summary: chelsea’s massage therapist, and mason’s long term crush, had moved to a different club. but after reuniting at nationals, you realise just how much you missed him.

notes: requests are open, just ask! this is so fucking long, please read when you have time.

“I will take care of you.” + “I could never get tired of you.”

for @masterclassbaby

“she’s pretty,” mason hummed, chin in the palm of his hands and eyes gazing at you. chelsea’s newest sports massage therapist. he watched as you conversed with a few of the injured teammates, the boys on either side of him laughing at his blushed cheeks.

“mounty’s in love.” chilly sang, pushing mason gently. the three of them were laying on the turf, waiting for their trainer to arrive and being introduced to the pretty lady who would be massaging their injured limbs from now on. “go on, make a move before kai does. you know he will.”

“i’m not making any moves,” mason huffed and pushed himself to his feet, ben following suit and pulling a ball towards him with his foot, “can i appreciate her beauty without wanting to make a move?” ben rolled his eyes at his friend, eyes now focused on the ball for the first time in twenty minutes.

“so you’re just going to stare at her, like a creep.” ben stated, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to mason. “noted.” mason was barely focused, looking over to you every time you laughed or your voice echoed. he’d laugh with you, crinkling his nose when you did, it was sickening.

ben had kicked the ball to mason’s feet, where is stilled and hadn’t even broken his stare. he had ‘regained control of the ball’ by kicking mason’s ankles, which had definitely caught his attention and caused him to hiss in pain. “you fucker, what did you do that for?”

“i just gave you a reason to talk to her, you clown.” ben revealed sarcastically, mason limping over to you as you held a look of concern.

“everything okay, mount?” you politely asked, the slight touch on his back as well as hearing his name fall from your mouth was sending him into a frenzy. he just nodded, and followed you inside to where your new office resided. “what the hell happened? last time i looked, you were kicking a ball about with chilly.”

your voice was as silky as he’d imagined. “yeah, he’s a bit slow. so he thought kicking me in the ankles would be a wise idea.” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man’s joke, avoiding his gaze as you were sure to blush. this man was attractive, but it was your first day, you had to remain professional.

“i better get to work,” you huffed, rubbing some hand sanitiser onto your hands and pulling his socks down. “we can’t have chelsea’s best player injured a few days before the game,” you’d finally met eyes and stared at each other for a brief second, before bashful looking away.

“you think that?” mason almost sounded unsure of himself.

“of course,” you grinned and applied some pressure to the side of his ankle, “i’d say you’re one of the best.” mason hummed almost silently, resting his head back on the table. it didn’t hurt, and if anything, he’d have to thank chilly for kicking his ankles, as it got you two talking.

weeks had passed, mason visiting your office most days with random excuses.

“my legs are fine. but maybe a shoulder rub for good luck?”

“i bought you a smoothie.”

“it’s cold outside, and i told the boys my thighs were sore.”

“now i’m just bored.”

every time he’d appear, you’d just pull up a chair instead of prepping the table. he’d talk to you about the most random of things, the pair of you having an intense debate on whether or not ross and rachel were on a break. he’d quickly become your favourite visitor.

“mr. mount, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you questioned, knowing it was him just by the way he fiddled with the handle before opening the door. he grinned at the nickname, sitting in the desk chair beside you.

“i actually came to ask if you wanted to go for a drink tonight. the boys were meant to, but now it looks like i’m all alone.” mason explained, a white lie thrown into the mix. he wasn’t being left by the boys, he asked them to cancel, so he could spend some with you. “so, you fancy it?”

“sure.” you smiled, accepting his invitation before you could overthink your way into cancelling. “i’ll text you my address.” he nodded his head, resting his head on his hands as you got on with paperwork. you could see out of the corner of your eye, he was staring at you as you worked. he had no training to be getting on with, and saw a better pastime in watching you work.

when you’d finally finished work and gotten yourself dressed up, mason was even more in awe of you. you looked adorable at work, and now he’d seen you in a new light. it’s like seeing your crush outside of school, it’s weird not seeing them in uniform, but seeing a new layer of them was good. he’d picked you up and taken you to the nicest pub he could find, it was a quiet one. it was a pub you had to pay extra for to sit on the terrace with a table to yourself. but he was willing to go the distance.

“it’s weird not seeing you in your kit.” you mentioned, staring at his impeccable sense of fashion. like he’d been ripped from the front page of asos. mason chuckled loudly and sipped on his beer, after doing a brief ‘cheers’ with you. it was british tradition, after all.

“i know. i’m used to seeing you in leggings and a chelsea top.” mason observed, his cheeks blushing at the way you looked at him. he felt the butterflies begin to swarm in his stomach, like they did on the way here. “now you’re in a dress, i can see your legs.” his eyes widened at the weird statement that just fell from his lips, face burning with embarrassment. “sorry, that sounded so creepy.”

you burst into laughter, feeling anything but disturbed. in fact, you felt more comfortable with him. “don’t worry about it, you’re easy to feel comfortable with.” mason took this chance to hide his rosy cheeks by sipping on his beer. the pair of you conversed for well over an hour, your conversations from work spilling into the mix too. and soon enough you were laughing on the walk back to your home.

“that’s hilarious. i can’t believe we could’ve almost met years ago.” you exclaimed, mason proud of recalling that memory. the pair of you remembered an awful christmas concert that happened in a town near central london, and were almost inches apart unknowingly covering your ears at the screeches made by the backup singers.

you’d ended up at your door, mason standing just centimetres away from your face. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to. so, with the confidence given to you by the mixer you’d just downed a while ago, you closed the gap between you and engaged in a sweet kiss with him. it was well overdue, mason’s teammates would say as he told them the following day.

you’d settled in really nicely with the team, enjoying every day you spent at the training grounds. you’d only been on that one drink date with mason, always planning to reschedule another but you’d both be too busy to do so. it didn’t stop you from texting nonstop and have some late night facetime calls. you were really beginning to like each other. it was as if nothing could ruin your happiness you felt with your life at this moment.

until you’d been pulled aside and told by chelsea’s own manager that a man united massage therapist had quit, offering you the job. it would mean your whole life would shift, you’d have to move, you’d have to make friends with a team all over again, and leave mason. you couldn’t bear telling him, which you’d also been told to do. you’d have to break the news to your beloved team, who would come and cheer with you after a win, and always pester you with random requests. you were each of their’s personal assistant almost, loving your relationship with them all. and mason, you knew he’d be crushed, the girl he was so deeply falling for, being told to move to another club.

you were on edge since that very morning, not being your usual joking self with your boys as they came in for their sessions. you’d weakly smile at them and make small talk whilst tending to their stiff joints, then let them leave. all the boys carried on with their day, assuming you were just having a bad day. but mason could see through you, he could tell something was playing on your mind.

as you were putting pressure on mason’s ankle, which he’d been take off the pitch for last week, he grabbed your arm gently. sitting up, he pulled you close to him and held you how he usually did. his hands grazing your sides and his eyes almost burning holes into your own. “talk to me, pretty. what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head. “i’d go easy on the foot today, mount. i don’t want to see you benched next game.” would you even be able to see their next game? it brought you close to tears throughout the day, but being trapped in a room with mason, you were bound to cry and tell him everything.

his grip didn’t leave your arm, instead he pulled you closer to him and held you close to his chest, now standing and towering over you. you felt a sob erupt through your chest, opening the flood gates as you cried into him. he’d never seen you like this, you were always his smiling ball of sunshine. “talk to me, y/n.”

“they’re moving me.” you simply stated, hoping not to say another word and him just understand completely. but it didn’t work like that, none of the team knew. mason would be the first to know, and you had to tell the rest of the team before the day was up. as this weekend you’d be arranging accommodation in manchester whilst you looked for permanent residence, as well as meeting the team and staff you’d be working for.

“what?”

“they’re moving me to united, mase. a therapist quit over there and they asked for me, your manager signed me over a few days ago. and i’m gonna be leaving you boys.” you explained, mason’s grip on you loosening as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying. he’d had his fair share of bad news in his life, but this was the biggest blow he’d felt in a while.

“they can’t do that,” mason stuttered over his tears, a frown cast upon his face, “they can’t just expect you to pack up and leave.” you placed your hands over his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you. that’s when his tears began to fall, looking so vulnerably at each other in this time of sadness.

“they can, mason. and they have, i need to go this weekend to meet the team and look to move up there.” you admitted, your hands refused to leave his face. you were soaking up every bit of mason you could before you left. long-distance didn’t work for either of you, especially with how busy you both were. the only time you’d see each other would be if chelsea were to play united.

“i can’t lose you, y/n.” he confessed, pulling you into him and resting his head above yours. it wasn’t just losing a girl he was seeing, it was losing someone he loved. he’d fallen deeply in love with you — but telling you would just hinder your movement. he couldn’t make it any harder than it was, it would ruin you. he just had to let you go.

that afternoon, you’d thought about what you were going to say and met the boys on the pitch. the second mason saw you, it took everything in him to not cry into his hands. but he managed to stay strong. you stood weakly beside the team manager, avoiding everyone’s eyes and fiddling with your jumper sleeves.

“afternoon boys,” you greeted them, hearing a few cheers and whistles, they loved you, “i have some news. today will be my last day working with you. i’ve been transferred to united, which will take full effect this weekend. you guys have my number if you just want to talk rubbish, or have any questions for me.” it was a long while of hugging them all, laughing with them and repeating little inside jokes with them.

“what are you going to do without me, huh?” you asked reece, who just chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “i’ll miss you all, you know who i’ll be cheering on if you ever go against united.”

you’d settled in at united perfectly, but something was missing. it was always going to feel this way, nothing would ever break the bond you shared with the chelsea boys. even when they went head to head, and you’d catch mason’s eyes on the pitch, you’d have to hide your smile when they scored, and try even harder if mason was the one putting it in the back of the net. you got on well with the boys here, but you found yourself missing the boys back at chelsea, and most of all, mason.

months had passed since your move to manchester, and you were heading out of your office on a particular tiring friday afternoon, walking past united’s manager, who always seemed to be on his way to something.

“ah, y/n, just who i needed to see.” he commented, stopping you as you were headed out to find a late rashford for his session. “keep an eye on your emails tonight, please. you’ve been included in an international offer.” you nodded, not hearing anything past the word ‘email’. and when you’d gotten home that evening, waiting for your takeaway to arrive, you mindlessly scrolled your emails.

something about the upcoming world cup, saying you’d been selected as the teams massage therapist. it burned your eyes as you danced around your tiny living room; so happy to have a chance at seeing any of the chelsea boys again. you’d thought that after all these months of just seeing mason’s face in his instagram posts, he’d have forgotten about you and moved on. but it was the furthest from the truth.

mason watched over your socials for months, seeing your various pictures with the likes of rashford, shaw, and lingard. he made sure you had friends and was having a good time up north. but every night he’d go to bed, yearning for you and the time you both spent together. missing your first kiss, missing hearing the sound of your laugh in real life, not just through another footballers videos. he missed spending hours on the phone. and although he had a chance to reconnect with you, it would be too much for the both of you to handle. he’d miss you so much more, knowing you were simply unobtainable.

after signing all of the correct documents to show you could in fact work for the national team, you were on your way to the training grounds and coping with living in the camp alongside the boys and other members of staff. it was better than your tiny manchester apartment, that was for sure. you weren’t really needed outside for training, so you set up your office and began on your paperwork. time passed a lot quicker here than it did when you worked at united, it was nearing your lunch break already. a knock was placed at your door, bringing your out of your work daze.

“hello, stranger.” you heard from behind you, heart overjoyed that it was actually him. it was your mason. you turned round to greet him, standing up and immediately pulling him into a hug. it felt familiar, the only bit of familiarity you had in this place. “god, i missed you.” he even smelt the same, as creepy as it was to say.

“i knew you’d be called up,” you admitted to him, looking up at his red face. it was just like the first time, he was so nervous to talk to you, “you’re still my best player.” his hands found your cheeks, taking advantage of the affection not feeling awkward. it was as if you never left.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you all these months, y/n,” he whispered, face centimetres away from yours. “how much i’ve wanted to kiss you again.” you wanted it too, you finally felt like you found your missing piece. but you had to remain professional, this was national level now, not just club level.

“trust me,” you whispered back at him, holding your hands above his own, “i’ve wanted to kiss this pretty face, too. but we have to be professional.” he nodded, understanding that if they were caught, you’d be the one facing repercussions, not him. so he respected your choice and stood back.

“what about when the day’s over, and we go back to the camp,” he suggested, a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning around, “what would you say to me then?” you just shrugged, sitting back down in your chair and continuing your work. the remainder of your day was quiet, just talking about a few people tomorrow that have stiff joints that need loosening. you’d made your way back to camp, opening your door and sighing as you took your shoes off.

what room are you in? mason texted, waiting outside his door.

you’re eager, i just finished work. but i’m on the floor above you, room 39. you texted him back, speedily changing your attire for something more comfortable and freshening up. mason would be up here within seconds. and whilst there were no rules stating that the squad shouldn’t be in staff members rooms, it felt wrong.

“you’re gonna have to leave when nobody can see you.” you sighed, opening your door to an eager mason. he wormed past you and sat on your bed, semi annoyed that your bed was comfortable than his.

“so not only do you get a room to yourself, you get a bed that doesn’t feel like a plank of wood.” mason stated, clearly getting comfortable on your bed. “i just might have to stay here.” you rolled your eyes and sat beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “you tired?”

instead of saying anything, you nodded and inched closer to him. his right hand was drawing delicate patterns on your exposed arm, whilst the other was wrapped around you. this was the moment he wanted with you, even when you were working at chelsea. but it’s happening now and that’s all he cared about. holding the girl he still deeply loved in his arms.

“i’ll go down to dinner soon,” he mentioned, even if you could hear him or not, “maybe i’ll bring you something up.” a small kiss was placed on your temple, mason snuggling into you a bit more.

the next day, you knew you had some sessions. so you were up early, a text from mason on your phone.

i left late last night, i fell asleep once i came back from dinner. i hope you had a good night.

you blushed at his text, getting yourself prepared for the day. the boys had a match coming up soon and you wanted to be on top of your game, making sure they were all stretched and ready. you sat in your office, prepping your table and your paper work for the first person to enter.

you’d worked with grealish, bellingham, and lingard today. and they only had a few more hours training until they were done for the day. you sighed in your seat and rested your head against your desk, arms and hands sore. your handle was violently shoved down, your door opening in the process. startled, you watched declan carry his best mate in.

“he rolled his ankle taking a kick,” declan explained, helping his friend onto the table. you quickly sanitised your hands and pulled his sock down to observe his ankle. “will he be okay for the game in a few days?”

“yes, dec. he’ll be out in no time.” you reassured his friend, mason smiling through the sharp pain shooting through his ankle. declan had left shortly afterwards, leaving you to giggle at mason.

“what you giggling at, hm?” mason questioned, a finger tickling your side. you squirmed and brushed a hand over his head, his features relaxing under your touch.

“it’s always the ankles, hm?” you retorted, mason rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh of his own. “let’s get you back on your feet in time for this game.” you had taken his boot and sock off, applying gentle pressure to the sides of his ankle and seeing how badly he reacted to the pain.

after the next few days of training, it was finally time for the match. you stood nervously on the side of the pitch, watching the ball being passed around. you watched as it had gone to mason, someone from the opposing team sliding into mason, and knocking his ankles together. he fell and began to yell in pain, the medics rushing over to him and assessing the pain. after realising it was not too serious, but he still had to be taken off, they’d given the job to you.

mason sat on one of the chairs beside you, head leaned back as you pulled his socks down. he winced as your small, cold fingers had pressed different parts of his ankle, but it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it was quite relieving. “it really is always the ankles,” mason finally agreed, making you chuckle and sit on the floor opposite him, “god, it fucking hurts.”

“i will take care of you,” you mentioned, your hand sliding into his. he smiled at the contact, his free hands gently tickling your side. this small amount of public affection felt scary, but good. you knew someone would pick up on it, but you didn’t care in the slightest. you had been away from mason for far too long. months and months apart, yearning for each other every second you were awake.

when the match was over, england scoring a whopping 4-0, mason was by your side for the rest of the evening. even getting onto the coach to go home, he sat beside you the whole way; his hand in yours and his head gently resting against your shoulders. when heading back to camp, knowing you had a day’s break before the boys were back on for training again in time for the next match, mason followed you to your room. you didn’t mind, neither did anybody else really.

you’d gotten into bed beside him that night, eyes heavy from the amount of work you’d both put in today, and the buzzed feeling from declaring victory had awoken something in him. he had the urge to kiss you, like he has every moment he’s spent with you recently, but more than that. he wanted to tell you he loved you, but decided to keep quiet. he wanted to save it for another day, maybe someday more special, when you weren’t trying to catch up on sleep between games.

“are you tired of me?” mason asked, releasing his voice into the darkness. he had no idea whether you were awake or asleep, as half an hour had passed of you both enjoying each other’s presence. you were wide awake, although your eyes told a different story.

“i’m tired in general,” you admitted, rolling over to face him, barely catching his pearly whites in the dark, “but i could never get tired of you.” mason’s heart was beating through his chest, reaching out for your hand to place onto it. it was a special moment — feeling his heart rapidly paced from your words, you’d barely noticed mason’s arm around you as he pulled you into him.

“good, because i’m not letting you go again,” he spoke quietly, your hand now replaced with your head, feeling his pulses on your cheekbone. you smiled for the millionth time that day, happy you had your mason back.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 2,947

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

Cillian’s POV

Shortly after Denise got home from her rather miserable date with Jeremy, Cillian went to bed. It was only 9 o’clock but he thought that he would spend some time finishing reading the book he had started to read two nights ago.

The problem was that, even when he tried hard to focus on the content of the book, he couldn’t.

His mind was overrun with guilt about what had happened between you all so suddenly and unexpectedly and he still wasn’t so sure why he had given into you so easily. It was almost like he had lost all of his self-control in that moment.

This kind of behaviour was unusual for him. Usually, he would have been more sensible than this. After all, he was 45 and never had a one-night stand in his entire life.

Would you share this with anyone?

Probably not, he thought. He had known you for a while and you weren’t the type of woman who was actively seeking attention. You were always somewhat nerdy and a bit of loner. For years, he had known you to be sensible and he always liked that you were looking out for his daughter Denise. You were more mature than her and were always somewhat shy and reserved.

With this in mind, he was even more surprised by your actions. You seducing him the way you did seemed out of character for you which made him nervous.

Did you have feelings for him?

He certainly hoped that you didn’t. For him, this was nothing but sex and he would hate to give you the feeling that it was something more. He didn’t want to hurt you.

He should never have given into you. He knew that it was wrong and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he acted so selfishly because, in his mind, this was exactly what it was. An act of selfishness.

You were young and clearly inexperienced which made this whole thing even worse. It was obvious to Cillian that you hadn’t been with many men before and he felt as though he took advantage of you even despite the fact that you were the one who made a move on him. He should have stopped you.

The fact that he is seeing someone else in Manchester didn’t help either and, whilst it wasn’t anything serious or exclusive, it felt wrong to him to be intimate with you which, in his own mind, brought him to another dilemma all together.

Why didn’t he use protection when he slept with you?

He knew that he could have simply walked into his son’s bedroom and find what he needed. But he didn’t. Instead, he was so consumed by lust that he forgot all about the need to be play it safe. Of course, he always reminded his adult children about the importance of protection and yet, he failed to adhere to his own rules.

Whilst he knew that you didn’t have many sexual partners and any risk associated with contracting STDs was somewhat low, he worried that you weren’t on birth control.

Why on earth didn’t he at least ask you about it? Was it too late to ask you now? Why did you make him pull out?

WHAT THE FUCK HAD HE DONE???

He panicked and he knew he had to talk to you in order to ease his mind.

YOUR POV

After you listened to Denise about her date gone wrong and what an asshole Jeremy actually was, you also made your way to bed. You felt terrible for her but knew that she would meet someone else who would make her happy and treat her well.

But her date with Jeremy wasn’t the only thing you felt terrible about. Even more so, you felt terrible about sleeping with her father which you knew was wrong and yet, you tried to justify it in your head.

Why did you act so selfishly and gave into your sexual needs?

This was something you had never done before. You were rather careful when it came to getting yourself involved with guys.

You had taken a liking in your friend’s father several years ago when you were 19. But then, it was just a silly crush you thought.

When you heard about his divorce however, you began to fantasise about him in your sleep and this was simply a fantasy you had finally acted upon.

This, however, didn’t change the fact that he was your friend’s father.

Would she mind if she knew?

Maybe she wouldn’t. She might just think that you are disgusting for sleeping with her dad but, in the end of the day, you are two consenting adults.

Why couldn’t you stop even when you realised that what you were doing was wrong?

When you made the first move it was almost like you were in a trance. You were overwhelmed. You wanted every bit of it but you never experienced sex quite like this. It was intense and he certainly knew what he was doing.

Whilst Cillian was much older than you, you were extremely attracted to him. Everything about him was perfect in your mind and he felt incredible when he was inside you.

You wanted so much more and thought that, perhaps, if it was just sex, it wasn’t wrong after all.

Together Again

Just as those thoughts raced through your mind, you heard a quite knock on the door.

Thinking that it was Denise, you didn’t bother to cover up as you were sitting on the guest bed in black cotton panties and a tight cotton singlet.

To your surprise, however, it wasn’t Denise who walked into the guestroom when you called out ‘come in’. It was Cillian.

His chin dropped as soon as he saw you. For some reason, he took a liking in your rather simple but yet revealing outfit, your messy hair and your black framed reading glasses.

‘Hey’ you simply said shyly as he was standing there speechless.

‘Hey’ he responded, swallowing harshly before telling you that he needed to talk to you.

‘Sure’ you said, putting the magazine down which you were reading along with your reading glasses. Then, you scooted over on the bed and indicated to him to sit down next to you.

His scent was intoxicating. He was freshly showered and his hair was still wet but you could still smell a hint of his aftershave on him.

‘So, what do you want to talk about?’ you asked without bothering to cover up your naked skin and you could see Cillian’s mind working overtime while the tension was building.

‘About what happened between us’ he then stammered while he observed your eyes wandering towards where they shouldn’t. But, you couldn’t help it and, when you noticed that he was reacting to your presence, you bit your lips seductively.

‘What happened between us was just sex. It’s not a big deal. People have sex all the time and you can trust me Cillian. It will remain our little secret’ you said in a seductive voice while moving your hand over Cillian’s upper thigh, through the hairs on his exposed skin and then all the way towards the rim of his boxers.

‘Y/N’ he barely managed to stammer, swallowing harshly.

‘Yes Cillian?’ you then smirked, noticing the effect you were having on him and moving your hand farther up his legs and beneath his boxers where you began to stroke his cock.

‘You are so hard’ you then whispered as you received no response from him other than a groan and, just as you did, Cillian took hold of you and pushed you beneath him in one swift movement.

Without words, Cillian’s warm lips met yours in a passionate kiss. The kiss was more urgent than before and you loved the way he asserted his dominance as his tongue circled around yours.

He felt such desire for you that he thought he would explode and, whilst he was normally quite vocal, every word he tried to say and every question he was going to ask you, were caught in his throat.

Wrapping your arms round him you ran your hands up and down his firm back as your mouths ground together. Sucking on each other's lips and plunging your tongues into each other’s mouth.

You couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to be kissed in such an experienced, almost sophisticated way and Cillian was marvelling at how someone so young could have learned to kiss so well.

Within split seconds and in between heated kisses, Cillian’s t-shirt and your singlet landed on the floor.

It wasn’t long until Cillian’s mouth left yours and began to wander over your firm breasts and then all the way down to your stomach which is where they came to a halt.

He interlocked his fingers with your panties and pulled them down, letting them join the other clothes on the floor before his head gracefully disappeared in between your legs.

‘It goes without saying, but you need to be quiet’ Cillian chuckled and you barely managed to nod before you covered your own mouth with the palm of your hand as Cillian dipped his tongue straight into your wetness.

‘Oh god yes’ you whimpered quietly as the rasping roughness of his tongue slid along your velvety wetness and sent enormous tremors through you.

You had little experience of either, receiving or, giving oral sex. In your world of mainly inexperienced boys, it was hardly on the agenda as they were generally too keen to get their rocks off to worry overly about your pleasure. In any case in the usually rushed episodes in the back of cars or downstairs with parents in bed there was hardly the time let alone the opportunity for languid pussy licking or sensual cock sucking. In the world of the forty-five year-old man lying between your opened legs, however, it very much was on the agenda and he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did.

You moaned loudly as you were holding Cillian’s head in both hands as he licked the length of your pussy. He did it slowly with just the right amount of pressure making sure that the tip of his tongue fully anointed both lips and licked just inside them on that especially sensitive area.

When you moaned a little too loudly again, he reminded you to be quiet just before he sucked and kissed you again, covering every inch of the outside of your pussy before pushing the straightened tip of his tongue inside and probing upwards licking the insides as he started to tongue fuck you.

‘This feels so fucking good’ you stammered, legs shaking and quivering while Cillian held you tightly and it wasn’t long until you reached an orgasm which sent convulsions through your body.

You moaned a little too loud again as your whole body tingled and felt tender to the touch and tears of pleasure and relief, with a tinge of guilt, poured down your cheeks.

‘That was amazing’ you eventually huffed out as you slowly came down from your high and Cillian kissed his way back up your body until his lips reached yours.

‘You taste so fucking good’ he then whispered into your ear after your lips drifted apart and, just as he did, you reached in between his legs and began stroking his cock which was still rock hard.

‘I want to feel you inside me again…please…just once more’ you begged and the sound of you begging alone made Cillian groan.

‘Fuck Y/N…I want you so much’ he whispered as he pulled down his boxers and his wiggling body urged your legs to open so that his cock lay between your thighs with the bulbous end of it pressed against your lips.

‘Then take me’ you groaned marvelling at the fact your friend's dad was about to fuck you.

With the tip of his cock just slightly parting the lips of your pussy and his arms round your body with his hands gripping your taught bum he muttered something you couldn’t understand. It was obvious to you that his mind was hardly able to accept what was happening. Nonetheless, he wanted it so badly and, with a shrug of his hips, he sank his cock deep into your gorgeously tight and wonderfully welcoming pussy.

‘Oh god yes, Cillian’ you groaned as your fingernails were digging into his back.

He pushed himself in as far as it would go, eliciting more groans from you which he had to quickly silence with his lips.

You felt light-headed and deliriously happy. You also felt very filled. Cillian was bigger than the other guys you had been with and you loved the feeling of being stretched. The folds of skin that guard your clit seemed to be open and that so sensitive place felt to be exposed, so as Cillian started moving slowly up and down it was as though his cock was rubbing on it. You had never felt anything like it before. Just as you had never felt like cumming when a man's cock had only been inside you for a few moments.

Somehow, however, you managed to delay your release just a little bit longer, enjoying as Cillian thrusted into you hard and deep until, eventually, the inevitable happened.

‘Let go, there is no need to hold back’ Cillian reassured you and, just as he did, you allowed your orgasm to wash over you.

‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you shouted out and he quickly covered your mouth with his hand as he continued to thrust into and watched you lose control.

Your legs were shaking once again as you gave in and, when you finally came down, Cillian pulled out of you.

Thinking that he was done and that he wanted you to proceed as before, you scooted up but, to your surprise, Cillian pulled you on top of him instead.

‘Your turn to take what you need Y/N’ Cillian whispered and you couldn’t help but shiver at his words. He wanted you on top and that was yet another first for you.

‘You can cum again’ he then said but you couldn’t help but shake your head.

‘I don’t think I can, but I am willing to try’ you smirked. He had already given you four orgasms that day which were four more orgasms than anyone else before him had given you.

‘I bet you can’ he then winked and you nodded shyly before taking his hard cock into your hand and lining it up with your entrance.

‘I will be sore tomorrow I think’ you whispered as, with a moan, you sank down on his hard cock.

‘Yes, you will be’ Cillian chuckled as, all of a sudden, he thrusted upwards and deep into your mound, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

Once again, he covered your mouth with his hand as you began to ride him.

‘You feel so fucking good, you know that?’ Cillian groaned as you began to move up and down on his hard shaft. He certainly had become vocal now and you loved it.

‘So tight around my cock’ he then groaned as he met your thrusts and he could hear you starting to whimper.

‘Oh god…yes, fuck my pussy’ you moaned quietly, holding his hand and keeping it near your mouth while sucking on his fingers.

‘Cum inside me Cillian. I want to feel it. Fill me with your cum’ you then demanded as you began to ride his cock harder and faster and, by this point, Cillian had lost all self-control.

The dirty talk, the tightness of your pussy and the way your lips played with his fingers was too much for him.

‘Cum with me Cillian’ you then moaned as you let go and so did he.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes…fuck’ you groaned as such amazing feelings flooded your body and you felt him push into you as far as he could go.

‘Fuck Y/N’ grunted as you both climaxed simultaneously and you soared to a height of pleasure you had never previously experienced when Cillian’s cock exploded sending streams of his cum into you.

‘Oh god that was amazing’ you eventually huffed out when you both stopped moving.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian grunted almost at the same time before his eyes shot open and he saw your satisfied smile.

Carefully, you climbed off him, releasing his cock from your tight pussy before you sat down on the bed next to him.

You spread your legs and, with curious eyes, you looked down on yourself and watched some of Cillian’s cum leak from your core.

‘That feels so fucking good…so warm and wet’ you observed as you collected some of his cum with your finger and brought it to your mouth while Cillian cocked an eyebrow, wondering what you were doing.

‘Uhm…?’ Cillian chuckled, watching you almost speechlessly but yet somewhat turned on.

‘I never had a guy cum inside me but this is so fucking sexy’ you observed with a laugh before reshuffling yourself and collapsing into his arms.

‘Yeah, about that…’ Cillian went on to say…

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@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[lesp1een]

Indulgence. (Undertaker x Goldust)

Request for the sweet @strangedreamlandmagazine !

Thank you for requesting this 💕 I hope you like it even though it came out longer than I thought

Content warning: NSFW

"Thanks for inviting me over, my darling"

The man remained silent. He had sensed a foreign presence in his house by the time he walked in, yet he did not expect to find Goldust in his living room, golden figure splashed on his sofa in the most comfortable way.

He was so stunned he didn't find a way to react. Paul wasn't there. He was the one who did the work, the one who told him what to do, and he would obey.

Paul hated Goldust. To him, he was nothing but an eccentric freak looking for some men to lure.

Undertaker wasn't sure about that. They had spoken before. Goldust was not an evil man. He was simply too much for him. Too much color, too much conversation, too much hedonism.

He could just take him by his long, swan neck and break it, leave him dead on the dark ground of his room. Goldust was a big, strong man, but Undertaker was stronger. He was no human, after all.

However, he was no monster, either. He was nothing everyone thought of him, so he decided to step into the living room, boots creaking under the old, weak wooden floor.

"I brought you some fruit" Goldust told the other, while slipping a grape in his own lips, savouring it. He was ready for the deadman to jump at his throat at any given moment. He was soon to understand that the Undertaker was not as predictable as he seemed, because he did not move a finger towards him. He did not burst out in anger. He sat stiffly on a little armchair, in front of him, and stared.

"I do not need to eat."

Goldust ate another grape, a sly smile on his painted lips. "That does not mean you are incapable of doing it, or does it?"

He knew about Taker's little secret. At first, he thought he was fucking with him just like he did with his audience, making him believe he was actually dead or something like that.

That was until they had their first private moments, after months of Goldust trying to get into the other man's skin to get him close to him. He was touching his chest, adjusting his tie, his shirt, finding any excuse to feel him up, since it was basically impossible to get any clothes off of him, when he discovered that all the rumors were true. His heart was skipping beats. Too many beats… in fact, it was not beating at all.

"I came here to apologize." Goldust broke the sudden silence, looking right at the other for the first time since they had seen each other. "I should have not disrespected you. I was shocked, and that is no excuse for what i did."

He stormed off. As soon as he found out his date was really undead, he was so shocked and scared he ran away from him. Like he was some kind of monster.

"You did what everyone would do." Undertaker was not even looking at him, finding better enjoyment in checking the level of dust on the table beside him.

"Except I know you're no monster."

There was a certainty about those words that made the deadman believe them. Goldust was telling the truth, or at least he really thought what he was saying was true.

He couldn't see him as a monster, he couldn't see him as a freak, because that would mean he would be a freak himself.

They were both strange, they were both feared because they were different, in their own ways. Monsters were unknown, a vague concept of something evil and unrelatable. Undertaker was pretty much there, beating heart or not, and he was the first creature Goldust had ever related to. He was no monster, he was a misunderstood, lonely pretty little thing.

"You are forgiven. You may go, now."

"You have so many books, I never took you as a reader." Goldust was walking through the whole room, attracted by the old, dusty books filling up almost every inch of the place.

After apologizing, he did not leave, and was wandering around, talking about everything and nothing at all, his questions being left unanswered by a silent Undertaker, still sitting on that armchair like he was being held at gunpoint.

The blonde man pulled out a book with a little laugh and threw himself on the couch again. He even brought wine, and forced Taker to take a glass. It was still in his hand, left untouched.

"Oh, you've read this one! It's full of notes. You have such a delightful handwriting, by the way."

He was finding out some really interesting things about the deadman, that day. Like the fact that he had a shelf full of erotic novels like the one he was checking on the sofa.

"Come here, my darling. Come next to me." If he was someone else, he would never dare to call him like that. However, he was no stranger to what the bigger man liked. Praise was something he never expected Undertaker to enjoy, yet everytime he called him lovingly, the big, dark man would turn softer.

He heard a little grunt come from the other side, and giggled softly as he felt his weight on the sofa, right next to him.

"Good." He praised him, and he gently brought the still full glass of wine to his pale lips. "Now indulge."

Undertaker didn't need to drink. He had lost all his mortal needs after his death. He didn't even know if he was still able to get drunk or to enjoy alcohol. It was all new to him, and it was because of Goldust that he was having his first human experiences after so much time.

He had never kissed someone before Goldust. He had never been attracted to anyone before him. He made him feel for the first time, he made him experience human touch and intimacy after years of being cold.

He took a sip of wine, to the other's delight. A grape was brought on his lips by the other man, who was looking at him so lovingly under those long lashes, and he could not refuse, savoring, letting his body feel again. It tasted sweet in his mouth, filled him with a strange enjoyment he never thought he could achieve by eating some fruit and drinking wine. Yet there he was, letting another man feed him grape and sipping on wine.

It was one of those rare moments when Goldust could see the man who was hiding behind that cold, dark persona. He couldn't get enough of him trying new things, of the expressions he made when he found out he liked them.

So close to him, he could see the freckles on his nose, the red roots of his dark hair, his wine stained, glossy lips. He had those piercing green eyes that captivated him.

"You are gorgeous." He lifted up the other's chin a bit to get a good look at his face. Undertaker was everything Goldust loved in a man. He was masculine, he was strong and he was dangerous. He was mysterious, unapproachable, he was a challenge worth taking.

His adulation was left unanswered, his pale date wrapping his lips around another grape, eating it out of Goldust's fingers. It was alluring how he didn't know how much power his beauty had on others.

"No words would suffice to describe how erotic you look, right now, eating out of my hands, getting drunk on wine and vice."

"I am no hedonist." Tone darker, his words sounded like an accusation, that Goldust took with a smile. He was a vicious man, he couldn't deny that statement.

"You sure aren't, deadman. However, you do have your vices." Goldust tapped on the book he was holding on his lap. It was a well bound copy of a Marquis De Sade novel, very well kept despite the age. Undertaker's lips curved into a knowing smile. "You have gotten too comfortable snooping around my belongings."

"Oh, my darling, I'm so glad I have. Or else, how could I have known you were such a degenerate?"

"Sounds like self-projection, to me."

"So we're getting cocky, deadman?"

As much as he was enjoying that playful bickering, Goldust was starting to warm up. His date was dangerously close to him, chest pressing against his shoulder as he spoke to him, hand reaching on his lap to put away the book.

"I have learned a lot about this one, actually."

"Oh, I beg you to tell me about it." His voice was low with desire as he spoke, hoping the deadman would get the innuendo.

The book was put on the table, a now free, gloved hand having access to Goldust's thighs. He felt it make its way under his robe, caress his legs so invitingly, the man opened his thighs, leaving space for his lover to take over.

Undertaker was looking at him with piercing, green eyes as he started to stroke him in between his legs, pushing his palm on that clothed, growing erection.

He grabbed the dark man's shoulder with his hand, squeezing, his head thrown back as he felt a cold palm let itself into his pants to stroke him, the ice cold grip on his hard member making him jump out in pleasure. It was a new sensation, an addictive one, as he moaned sweet nothings, his voice echoing through the room. He was good at it, squeezing his tip enough to let Goldust see stars behind his eyes. Too distracted by his own pleasure, he barely noticed the man removing his purple glove. The thing he noticed well, though, it was that his touch became even colder on his skin as a single, thick finger entered his body, making him jump.

"You are evil." He panted, muscles tensing up, sensations too strong to stand. He wasn't given enough time to get accustomed to all of that. Another finger entered him, and he moved. He thrust them inside him, and it felt like being fucked with ice, the temperature contrast so strong it only intensified the pleasure, making it almost unbearable. "You are an evil man-" his voice broke as Undertaker found that sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. And he felt a cold breath against his neck as the rhythm increased.

"Here we go." The deadman whispered, with a gravelly voice, and he started to fuck the other without any mercy, pushing against his prostate again and again, his arm tensing, his pace rough, until Goldust was moaning messily and crying onto his own painted face. He gripped his lover's hair, to have something to hold on to, and he tried to find the other's mouth, being met with a soft pair of lips, cold as grave, kissing him tenderly as he was being fingered mercilessly, his spine curving to meet those thrusts, to receive more and more, so much he wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

He moaned loudly into Undertaker's mouth, a long tongue caressing his own, teeth biting at his lip, and he was coming hard on the other's fingers, his cock jumping as he splashed his own stomach with come. He was left trembling, those long fingers exiting his body, leaving him empty, head still fuzzy with aftershock.

"You…" he whispered, breathlessly, lips still caressing each other. "I adore you."

He was thrown on the couch, not given enough time to cool off after his orgasm, Undertaker's body casting a shadow over his own as he messily loosened his tie and basically ripped Goldust's robe off his body. He didn't undress himself, only lowering his tight pants to free his erection. Goldust instinctively licked his lips at the sight, and he thought that maybe, another time, he would have loved to feel that on his tongue. His body was turned around by strong hands, his chest pressing against the couch, and he gripped the fabric hard in his fists when Undertaker entered him, hands grabbing his hips as he pushed his cock fully into him with a deep groan. Goldust cried out, feeling himself be stretched wide by the other, and of course he was big, that man had no flaw whatsoever.

A courtain of dark hair fell on Goldust's face as Undertaker started to thrust in him, slowly, deeply, making the other feel every inch of him, filling him up so good he would remember it forever.

"You sure know what rigor mortis is." Goldust panted out, and Undertaker took it as an incentive to fuck him hard enough to shut his mouth. He was surprised with a strong thrust that hit his already abused prostate, making him writhe and cry out onto the couch. A hand grabbed his head and pushed it down, forcing Goldust still as Undertaker started to fuck him hard, making him scream, making him drool in pleasure and stain the fabric with makeup and tears. He was a mess. He lost control over things, and was enjoying every second of it. Undertaker was so big he could split him in half, and he was doing it, Goldust unable to do anything but cry until he came again, and again, the man above him not stopping for a minute. He was fucked on his back, pushed against the table, bottle of wine crashing on the floor, his legs unable to stand on their own, hips bruised by the other's grip. He was sure his makeup was now completely gone, washed out by tears and spit and Undertaker's lips. His lover's face was a mess too. He had black marks on his mouth and golden dust staining his pale face.

"I can't do this anymore." He pleaded, his body aching, his head spinning with so much pleasure he thought he was gonna die at any moment.

"Only one more. You can do it."

No, no he could not. Or so he thought, before Undertaker was fucking him again, this time deep and passionate, slower, a hand pressing Goldust's wrists above his head to keep him still. Behind blurry eyes, he saw and heard his lover moan his name low, before furrowing his brows, expression tensing, body spasming against Goldust's hips, and he felt ice shoot deep inside his body. He held the man tight in his arms, and came weakly for the fourth time, only little drops of come leaving his weakened body.

He was breathless, unable to move, and he waited for Undertaker to lift him up carefully and place his tired body on the sofa. He was caressed tenderly until he regained full consciousness, looking up at his lover, head rested against his still chest.

"You passed out. Are you okay?" He could hear worry in Undertaker's tone as he spoke, hand still stroking his back.

"I'm feeling fantastic, my darling." he smiled, trying to assure his lover. "It was just intense."

Undertaker looked over at his own living room, red wine splashed all over the carpet, a broken bottle on the floor. "Yes, it was… Sorry."

"Do not ever apologize for being intense again. I enjoy that a lot actually." Goldust chuckled, and he kissed the other softly.

"For the love of God, Undertaker! What happened here?" Paul screamed with his usual high-pitched voice, his protégé sitting quietly, back hunched as he was being scolded, hair completely covering his face. "I'm sorry."

"Since when have you started to drink alcohol?"

"I found it in the kitchen. I'm gonna clean it off, now."

"You better do! Oh, you've become unmanageable!" As Paul stormed out of the living room, face red with rage, Undertaker raised his head, and felt a little pang of excitement run through his skin, warming him up. He was lucky Paul didn't notice those lipstick stains on his face.

It would be his little secret. It would be their little secret.

[cherienymphe]

Stranger Beside Me (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, toxic relationships, domestic abuse, I don’t know if I’ve ever written anything this angsty in my life

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

Here is the long awaited boyfriend!Steve fic.

summary: you and Steve have the perfect relationship, and you want to keep it that way. It’s why he can never discover your secrets, but your secrets wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for his own.

~

The first time you got pregnant, you had never been more disappointed with yourself in your life. Not even failing a major class during college had made you feel as bad as you did when you were staring at that little plastic stick, trying and desperately failing to convince yourself that you were just seeing double. How could you be so careless? How crazy it was to think that a small insignificant piece of plastic could change your mood and life so drastically.

You had sat down on the toilet and remained there for hours. So many thoughts were swirling in your head, possibilities that you didn’t even want to entertain but you found yourself doing so anyway. Eventually, you came to a conclusion that was easy to say: you weren’t ready for a baby. Admitting and accepting that wasn’t hard at all. The hard part was the question that followed. 

What were you going to do about it?

You had struggled with that particular part for days, and you were grateful more than ever that Steve was on a mission. You knew what he would do if he found out, what he would say, and it was an argument you were unprepared to have. You weren’t ready to break his heart like that and face the possibility that this could be the end for you.

Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. You were Pepper’s stylist, hired for special events, and having been in town for a company party thrown by Tony Stark himself, that was where you met Steve. The attraction was mutual, but you were a woman of the world, constantly jetting off to whatever celebrity needed you at the moment. A stationary girl trying to have a relationship with a superhero would be hard enough, let alone one whose feet never remained on the ground.

And that was what you told the blond avenger after the second time he slept over at your place. The first time, a week after the party, was only meant to be a one time thing. At least, that was your impression, but Steve liked you, and no matter how much you pretended you didn’t, you liked him too. Before you knew it, you were leading him into your apartment for a second time, mouth starved and hands searching. 

He was the most attentive lover you’d ever been with, touching you like you were nothing less than fine china, desperate for the taste of you on his lips. He held you like he was afraid to break you, and considering that the man was a super soldier, you understood that, but still. His touch, combined with the way he looked at you, made you feel like you were literally the only woman in the whole world. It was intense.

“I know,” he had sighed, staring up at the ceiling as you looked at him. “You just...make me feel so comfortable.”

You had frowned, never considering that. After all, this was only the second time you’d slept together. 

“I do?”

He turned to look at you, a small smile on his pink lips, blue eyes sparkling.

“Of course.”

You rolled over onto your stomach, resting on your forearms as he continued, watching as he reached out to brush a finger over the skin of your back.

“You don’t look at me like a superhero, but instead just some guy who is really great in bed.”

You let out a sheepish chuckle, dropping your head, and he joined you.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s surprisingly refreshing. It makes me feel like I have room to...be less than perfect,” he murmured.

Your eyes met his then, and despite the words never escaping his lips, they were front and center in his eyes, and you sighed.

“We would never work, Steve,” you whispered, surprised at how disappointed you sounded. “You’re always off saving the world, and I’m always off dressing it.”

He didn’t respond right away, mulling over what you said.

“Maybe that’s exactly why it would work,” he said, surprising you.

You frowned a bit before raising an eyebrow at him, curious as to how he came to that conclusion.

“I’ve tried to date. God knows I’ve tried to find a girl who wants Steve Rogers and not just the face of America…”

Steve sounded sad, maybe even a bit bitter.

“...but nevermind the fact that they only see the suit and shield, they’re always left to their cozy lifestyle while I'm off saving the world. They’re always waiting around for me, eating dinners alone, sleeping alone. Having a superhero boyfriend is never what they think it will be, never worth it, and while the breakup is expected, I still feel bad.”

Your heart clenched, and you found yourself scooting closer to him. He wrapped his big arm around you, pulling you into his chest, and his whole face shifted. He smiled at you, eyes hopeful.

“...but you? You’re running around the world almost as much as I am. By the time you even have time to miss me, I’ll already be there, and if not…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say it. Your lifestyle wasn’t exactly compatible with a relationship. At least, not a conventional one anyway. Spending nights alone was normal for you, and having a boyfriend that wasn’t there half the time would hardly impact your lifestyle. 

You slowly returned his smile.

“Okay, Rogers. Maybe this could work.”

And work it did. 2 years and 7 months later, and the two of you were happier than ever. Tony was surprised that Steve found a girl who stuck around, and Pepper was surprised that you’d found someone who convinced you to settle down. You simply told her that Steve had made a convincing argument, but the truth was that Steve was genuinely the perfect boyfriend. You two talked whenever you could, and he had been right. By the time you even had time to miss him, he was somehow always there, knocking on the door of your apartment, doing so until he upgraded to waltzing through the door of your shared apartment. 

Steve treated you like a queen, constantly making you question how you got so lucky. He always kissed you like it was going to be the last time, and he made love to you like he was personally trying to drive you crazy with pleasure. You loved him, you loved him, you loved him. You had even told him first, and he had been sad because he had wanted to tell you first for a long time, and that made you sad. So you let him tell you, and then you said it back, and he’d made love to you like he never had before, and it was there, coming undone in his arms, that you told him you loved him again and again and again.

That was why he couldn’t find out you were pregnant. It would start an argument that would ruin you, ruin everything. Steve was hardly home, and you were no different, and while it was never a problem before, it was no environment to raise a baby in. This was the truth. This made sense. Your doctor agreed, and while Steve was off saving the world on an early weekday morning, you were doing what you felt was right.

The 2nd time you got pregnant, you weren’t just disappointed at your carelessness again, but you were also angry. It was no secret that Steve wanted a baby, probably since the first moment he saw you. You always noticed the way he looked at families, the way he smiled and waved at awestruck children. The man had probably come out of the womb ready to be a father, and you loved that about him. And it wasn’t like you didn’t want children too, you certainly did, but just not anytime soon.

You still had a thriving career, and so did he, and neither one of you seemed ready to give that up in the near future. A baby required sacrifice, and you weren’t ready for that yet, and if the way Steve readily took on missions was anything to by, neither was he. You knew that if he found out, he would fight to convince you to keep it, and you would fight to convince him that neither one of you were ready. Like before, you thought to yourself that it would start an argument that could very well be the end for you.

That was where the anger came in.

Why did you keep doing this? How did you keep doing this? Both of you had always been safe, never going without a condom, but after the first pregnancy, you had even gone on birth control too, paranoid and determined to be more responsible. Yet, here you were, pregnant again. You knew what this would do to your relationship, so how could you be so negligent again? It was as if you were subconsciously trying to ruin everything and you hated yourself for it.

Steve had not been away on a mission this time, and you immediately took all of the garbage out under the guise of cleaning the house. He seemed far more attentive that night than usual, but it could have just as easily been your own paranoia. His mouth covered yours in a heated kiss as he pressed his hips to yours, pulling a moan from you.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured into your mouth, pulling back before sliding into you again. 

Your legs were tight around his waist, and his hands were tight on yours. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of heavy moans and harsh breathing, occasionally interrupted by whatever Steve chose to say. It never not surprised you how much Steve enjoyed talking to you in bed. Praising you, degrading you, teasing you. He enjoyed making you squirm from more than just his cock.

“You know what would make you even more beautiful? Radiant?”

“What?” you breathed, hands running through his hair.

“A baby,” he mumbled, lips ghosting over your chin, making you freeze.

At first you thought that maybe he knew. Although there was no logical explanation for thinking that, you’d been very careful, you couldn’t help it. Your heart picked up the pace, but then you realized that Steve was just being Steve. He had mentioned children in passing, but it was done in the way that you mentioned children. Always in a future tense. It had never been like this, so straightforward and with a sense of urgency. 

He wanted a baby now.

“Come on,” you chuckled, trying to brush him off, attempting to press your lips against his.

He moved out of your reach, and you tried not to let it show how much you were bothered by this conversation. His blue eyes searched yours, a faint smile on his face as he hovered over you.

“I’m serious. Think about how beautiful you’d be, round and glowing with my child,” he continued, finally kissing you.

His hips snapped into yours, more force behind his thrusts, like the idea of you swollen with his child was the biggest turn on. You never even got a chance to truly voice your displeasure, a moaning and quivering mess until you finally came around him. Once your heart finally settled, you laid there, thinking about the fact that Steve wanted a baby now despite the fact that neither of your lifestyles could accommodate one. 

When he came back to bed after disposing of the condom, he pulled you into his arms, and you settled against him. He pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in, and you closed your eyes, feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world.

“I can’t wait til we never have to buy those again,” he whispered.

Your heart clenched, and you forced yourself to go to sleep by listing every reason you could think of as to why you were doing the right thing. A week later, Steve kissed you goodbye in the early hours of the morning before he had to leave on another mission. 2 hours later, you were in a doctor’s office doing what you felt was best.

The 3rd time you got pregnant, you were no longer disappointed. Not even angry, but just confused. You were leaning against the closed door of your bathroom, once again staring at that little piece of plastic with nothing but confusion. You were as careful as you could possibly be. After the 2nd pregnancy, you always triple checked to make sure that you never forgot your birth control. You made sure that the house was always stocked with condoms.

You didn’t understand it.

You had been startled by a knock on the door, and you hurriedly rushed to get rid of the test. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been in the bathroom, and Steve had started to get worried. At least, that was what he told you through the door.

“Are you okay?”

What a loaded question. Were you okay? Here you were, pregnant for the third time within a year and you couldn’t figure out how. Of course, it was obvious as to how, but it should have been very unlikely. You knew that condoms, even when paired with birth control, weren’t going to be 100% effective. You were an adult with common sense. That you understood. One unplanned pregnancy wasn’t the most ridiculous thing in the world. Shit happens.

Two within the same year still wasn’t absolutely crazy, but it was a little mind bending when you were more than careful.

But three? Three was concerning.

You opened the bathroom door with a soft smile, nodding at Steve as you stepped out.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but being the great boyfriend that he was, he didn’t press you further.

“Okay. Breakfast is on the table. Come eat?” he offered, holding out his hand.

You took it and allowed him to lead you to the dining room. Breakfast was as it always was. Steve told you about the last mission he’d just gotten back from only days ago, and you told him about the latest celebrity going through a meltdown over a dress. You enjoyed these talks with Steve, these moments with just the two of you, and you weren’t ready to alter that in any way. Not yet. 

Sometimes you felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, wondering if you were being selfish for wanting it to remain just the two of you for a little while longer. You adored children, but having them wasn’t just some hobby. You would no longer be able to put yourself first, and with so much of your life still ahead of you, you weren’t ready to stop being selfish.

And that was okay.

What wasn’t okay was the lies. No matter how you tried to spin it, no matter how many justifications you made, you were lying to Steve. Perhaps in one of the worst ways possible. Sometimes you felt like you should tell him, but what purpose would it serve? Nothing could be done about the past, and he’d only end up hating you. That was what you were really afraid of. Having Steve stare at you like he didn’t even know who you were.

But you knew how Steve could be. How clouded his mind could get when it came to children and starting a family. The man enjoyed a simple life. He was nostalgic for what he felt he missed out on, and while there was nothing wrong with that, you knew that he wasn’t going to hang up the shield for it. Just like you weren’t going to put your career on pause for it, and you had no intentions of just letting some stranger raise your child. 

You knew that neither one of you were willing to sacrifice in order to raise a baby in the proper environment. That was why during breakfast, as you held Steve’s hand while you two talked and ate, you decided to go through with it for a third time.

The first time had been hard. You kept second guessing everything. You knew that it was the right thing to do, but was it the right thing to do without telling Steve? Without getting his input? Without even giving him the chance to love this baby before you snatched it away? Your body, your choice right? But was it really that black and white? Was any of this fair to him? 

The second time had been easier. You still hadn’t felt any better about it, but at least you weren’t going through an internal crisis. At least you knew what to expect, because that had been the most nerve wracking part, fear of the unknown. Afterwards, your mood wasn’t as sullen for as long as it was after the first time. You had moved past it fairly quickly, but after all, you had been sure it would be the final time. 

The third time wasn’t anything like that. The guilt still ate away at you, but it seemed more like a standard doctor’s visit. A routine checkup. That was what you told Steve it was. He had offered to take you, but you had declined, and he had sent you off with a lingering kiss. You went to get some coffee from Starbucks afterwards.

The months that followed were filled with the usual bliss that surrounded your relationship. You two went to Tony’s parties, occasionally hung out at the compound with the rest of the team, and Steve took you out whenever he was home. Despite your relationship ruining secrets, everything was perfect.

Almost.

“Everytime you come to one of my little soirees, I keep expecting to see you 4 months pregnant,” Tony said, making you bark a laugh.

Steve only chuckled, and you squeezed his hand, sending him a soft smile. The baby talk had increased as of late, but truthfully, it had been gradually increasing for pretty much a year. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was now. Steve was ready to have children, and while it had been a topic that was only thrown into conversation here and there, you found yourself skimming over the subject at least once a week these days.

Surely you would get to a point where a serious discussion about it would be unavoidable. Steve loved you, and you were sure that you could talk him into waiting. After all, it wasn’t like you would be saying you never wanted kids. Just not now.

“I’m serious. All ‘Capsicle’ here talks about is kids. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of you had been trying for months,” the dark-haired man continued, taking a sip of his drink.

He was throwing his annual holiday party tonight, always placed in between Christmas and New Year’s, despite the fact that he threw parties on those days too. You just thought that Tony liked any excuse to party and drink.

“Sadly no,” Steve said, his tone surprising you. “We’re still just enjoying each other as much as we can. Right?”

He looked at you, and your smile faltered a bit, but you nodded. That was what you always told him whenever the topic came up. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Steve sounded bitter, upset even. You turned away from him, taking a sip of your champagne with a frown. You suddenly wondered if he knew, but that was easily dismissed. If Steve knew that you had secretly aborted 3 of his children, you’d be on the receiving end of more than just a strained smile and a passive aggressive tone. 

You worried that tonight would be the night where you’d have the big talk, where you’d have to come out and tell Steve to give you more time. It was wild to think that even though there was nothing wrong with waiting to have kids, you felt horrible about asking Steve to do so. Maybe it was because he’s so sweet? Or because he’s literally never asked you for anything else? Or maybe it was because you had deprived him of what he wanted three times over and the guilt was getting to you.

However, you weren’t able to do that. You hadn’t even realized that you had started to sway until the glass in your hand hit the floor, shattering upon impact. Steve had only a second to turn towards you before you were collapsing in his waiting arms. Against your will, you succumbed to darkness.

When you woke up, you were in the compound. You had been in the infirmary a handful of times so it was recognizable almost immediately. Nat was there when you woke up, and she sent you a small nervous smile.

“Well, hello sleepyhead. You gave us all quite the scare,” she murmured.

You hummed, briefly shutting your eyes as you pressed your hand to your head.

“Sorry. What...what happened?”

“You fainted,” she said, handing you the glass of water that was beside the bed.

You gratefully took it, gulping it down, surprised at how thirsty you were. You thanked her when you handed it back to her and was just about to ask her where Steve was when he strode through the door. His lips were pressed together, and you worried that he’d worried about you, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him, and you frowned.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Nat said before making to leave. “Take care of her, Steve.”

He was at your side just as the door shut behind her, and your frown deepened when a blinding smile spread over his lips. You were confused as he took your hand, keeping his lips there as he kissed it.

“Steve…?”

He shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting down next to you on the bed, facing you as he held your hand. 

The other reached out to brush over your cheek and across your jaw. Despite your confusion, you placed your hand on his, blinking at him, a bit unnerved by the look in his eye. 

You hadn’t seen that look since before you two officially became a couple.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Everything is more than okay.”

He leaned in to press his lips against yours, soft and loving, and you kissed him back. When he pulled away, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen, like you’d break with one touch.

“You’re pregnant,” he told you.

Your lips parted as his words washed over you, and you struggled to find something to say.

“...what?”

He repeated it with a smile, kissing you again before pulling you into a hug, one you did not return. Everything after that was a blur. Tony came in to make sure everything was fine. Dr. Cho said you were 4 weeks along is what he told you. He’d offered his congratulations, Steve took you home and wasted no time before wrapping his arms around you.

His touch was gentle throughout the night, but it lingered as if he never wanted to stop touching you. You don’t know how many times he made you come around him, but Steve didn’t seem to care about your exhaustion. With his lips constantly attached to your skin, he only cared about getting drunk off the taste of you. You let him have you as much as he wanted. You let him rejoice in this, because it was the least you could do before you broke his heart. 

He was awake in the morning before you, and the smell of breakfast cooking made your stomach growl. Gratefully, you didn’t seem to have any morning sickness, but your stomach still twisted from something entirely different as you made your way to the kitchen. Steve looked like anyone’s dream as he stood there in a fitted t-shirt and pajamas, pushing food onto a plate for you.

“Morning,” you mumbled.

He looked up and approached you with a smile, pressing a kiss to your lips as he returned your greeting.

“Go sit down. I’ll bring you your food,” he told you.

Reluctantly, you did so. You were quiet as he joined you, and you started nibbling on your food.

“Sweetheart,” he scolded at the action. “You’re eating for two now. You need to eat all of it.”

He was right, and under different circumstances you would do as he encouraged, but there was no point in putting this off.

“Steve, I don’t want to have this baby.”

You hadn’t mean to say it so bluntly, but there was no easy way to say it. There was no sense in hesitating. Steve froze almost immediately, and you reluctantly met his eyes as he stared at you. He rested his forearms on the table, a small frown on his face. He looked equal parts floored and confused and hurt, and you sighed.

“...what?”

“We’re not ready,” you whispered.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head at you.

“Of course, we are,” he argued.

“So you’re ready to give up being Captain America?” you asked him.

He hesitated, and you nodded.

“...exactly. You’re not, and that’s okay, and I would never ask you to, but that’s what's going to be required if we’re going to start a family now. You like doing what you do, and I like doing what I do. Neither one of us are ready to put a stop to any of it, at least not for the time being.”

“To be fair, I save lives. There will always be some Hollywood starlet who needs a dress or the latest shoes,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, looking at him like he’d slapped you.

He suddenly huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he eventually said. “I’m just saying that putting that on hold for a few years will hardly impact you. You can always pick it up again like you never left.”

“And why am I the one who has to sacrifice, Steve? You aren’t the only superhero-!”

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” he cut you off as your voice started to rise, reaching for your hand.

He brushed his thumb along the back in what was meant to be a soothing getsure, but you were still a bit heated at the way he’d diminished your career. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just… I know that it’s going to be difficult-.”

“It’s going to be more than difficult. We’re talking about a baby! Both of us need to be here,” you told him.

He heaved a sigh, staring at you.

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t want to have a baby right now. Maybe in a few years, sure, but neither one of us are willing to sacrifice.”

You watched as his jaw ticked, eyes narrowing just a bit as he considered your words.

“So what does that mean?”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you leaned back, avoiding his eye.

“Y/N?”

“Steve-.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

You flinched, not used to Steve cursing, and you knew that he was angry. This very conversation was what you had tried so hard to prevent, and once again, you were cursing yourself for your negligence. How on earth did you manage to get pregnant again?

You stood from the table, trying to put off this fight for five more minutes, the same fight you’d been trying to prevent for a year. You and Steve hardly ever fought, but when you did, it was for the silliest of things. Things you’d both look back on and laugh at.

Not this.

You heard Steve follow you, and his grip on your wrist was hard as he pulled you to a halt. You spun around to face him like he’d lost his mind. You tried to get out of his hold, but he wasn’t budging. He knew what you were implying, what you planned to do, and he was angrier than you’d ever seen him.

“This is my decision,” you quietly told him, making his eyes darken. “You don’t have to agree with it, you don’t even have to like it, but you can’t make me go through with this pregnancy. Neither one of us are ready.”

“So I get no say?”

He tilted his head at you, and you blinked away tears.

“I don’t want this right now, Steve. I don’t, and I’m not going to change my mind, so what do you suggest we do?”

His face softened a bit, and he stepped closer.

“Let’s give it a try. Don’t put your career on hold, okay? We’ll try to make it work-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head.

“No. I’m not going to take a gamble with our child’s livelihood. There should be no ‘trying to make it work’. When you bring a baby into this world, everyone involved should be 100% on board. Things need to start moving into place to accommodate that child. This is not how it should be.”

Steve swallowed, nostrils flaring as you argued, and you sighed again. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension and anger and an impending sense of doom. You loved Steve, but not enough to force yourself into having a baby for him. Your chest ached, and you wanted to cry.

“If...if this means that you don’t want to be with me anymore, then I understand, but… I’m not having this baby.”

He let you go, crossing his arms over his chest, and you stood there, waiting for the verdict. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, jaw moving as he grinded his teeth.

“We’re not breaking up.”

He continued before you could feel an ounce of relief.

“...and you’re not getting rid of my child.”

You rolled your eyes, swallowing another sigh as you rubbed your forehead.

“Steve-.”

“Do you hear me? You are not getting rid of my child,” he spat.

He stepped closer, and you found yourself narrowing your eyes at him.

“I went through a great deal of trouble to make sure you got pregnant in the first place, and you think I’m just going to let you get rid of it? Let all of it be in vain?”

His words sucked the air out of you, and your eyes widened as the gravity of them fully hit you. Your mouth parted, but no words came out because what could you say? You couldn’t even describe the shock and horror and disgust that tore through you in that moment, and you slowly took a step back from him.

You raised your hands in front of you as your mind whirled, eyes focused on the floor as you blinked. His confession finally put things into perspective. His words put the pieces together, and your breathing grew shallow as you processed the truth.

“I knew it.”

Your words were barely a whisper, but Steve heard you nonetheless, and you took another step back when he walked towards you.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it,” you quietly chanted to yourself.

That was the only thing running through your mind. Had your love for Steve allowed you to ignore what was right in front of you? You were diligent with your contraceptive, so so many pregnancies in such a short time had never made sense. You kept blaming yourself despite what was so obvious. Sure, Steve was family obsessed, but you had never considered the possibility. Or did you simply never want to?

You looked up at him like he was a stranger, vision blurry from your tears, and you shook your head.

“I knew it,” you cried. “I fucking knew it.”

Steve’s eyes were narrowed, and his head was cocked to the side, something in his eyes that scared you. 

“I kept wondering and wondering how it kept happening. How did I keep getting pregnant? It made no sense,” you said, more to yourself than him. “...and everytime...I felt bad. I felt like such a horrible girlfriend, and the whole time…”

You yelped when Steve’s hand made its way to your neck, pushing your back into the wall. His blue eyes were dark and venomous, a thunderous look on his beautiful face.

“You killed them?”

You didn’t respond, opting instead for fighting against him, but he wouldn’t move.

“I knew you should’ve been pregnant a long time ago. I made sure of it! And here I was thinking I did something wrong, that I messed up-.”

“Get off of me!”

You didn’t want to hear anything else about his fucked up plan, about how long he’d been doing this. You wanted him off of you and away from you. He pulled you away from the wall before slamming you back against it, making you gasp. You reached up to his chest and neck, desperately trying to get him off, but he only pressed himself more firmly against you.

“Steve,” you begged.

“You don’t know how badly I want to hurt you right now for what you did,” he sneered.

Your heart sank, and you thought to yourself that his lack of self awareness was astounding. How long had Steve been this way? Had he always been like this? How was it possible that you didn’t know your boyfriend at all?

“...but I’m sure that I can look past your betrayal when you are swollen and glowing with my child. That will make it all worth it.”

He kissed you, hard, and you screamed into his mouth. His hands pushed at the t-shirt you were wearing, his shirt, and your hands pushed at him. He lifted you until your thighs were on either side of his hips, and the sound of your hands hitting his skin filled the room. The food was barely thought about as he pressed your back to the table, pinning you down.

You were more terrified than you were five minutes ago, knowing what was about to happen no matter how much you wished you were wrong. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, your boyfriend, was about to rape you and force you to keep his baby. It was a sentence you had the hardest time accepting, and all of your overwhelming emotions spilled over, turning you into a sobbing mess.

Did you really miss this, or was he just so good at hiding who he truly was? 

Your hits were doing nothing as he reached between you, struggling to release himself with all of your movement. His free hand grabbed both of yours, holding them to your stomach just as he pushed into you. You threw your head back and cried, wondering how you got here. To think, you had thought that you were so lucky. You had thought that you were a terrible girlfriend for what you had been doing. Life was funny that way.

Your body had grown to crave Steve’s. He’d learned how to condition you so well that your core immediately started to clench around him with every thrust. You hated it, and you turned your head away, not wanting to witness him taint something that had never been anything but loving for you. His lips were on your jaw, searching for yours, and you tried to push against his hand.

With his other hand now free, he used them both to pin yours down beside you, lips finally finding yours despite your evident protest. You kept turning your head away, and he kept following. He tasted the inside of your mouth, hips pressing into yours over and over. The table beneath you shook from the force, and your stomach clenched with the pleasure that he was forcing onto you.

How did he do it? Clearly he’d poked a hole in every condom, but you knew it required more than that. Had he replaced your birth control with placebos? Had he acted alone? Tony had just about everything known to man at his disposal. Had he been in on it too?

“You’re going to look so beautiful,” he whispered into your mouth.

Another sob hit you, and you shook.

“You’re going to be absolutely radiant, and you’ll be just as beautiful when you walk down the aisle.”

You gasped at this, increasing your struggle, but he simply pulled your wrists away from the table before slamming them down. You winced in pain, and he hummed.

“...and I’ll fill you up again and again and again.”

You kicked your legs around him, body trembling as hysterical sobs left you, shuddering with every thrust into your dripping core. A particularly hard thrust pushed you over the edge, and the way you fluttered around him triggered his own climax. He came inside of you with a groan, wrapping his arms around you, preventing you from fighting back at all as he pinned your arms to your side.

His cock was still hard and still inside of you, his lips pressing kisses to your face. You felt like you were in a bad dream, and you wanted to wake up so badly. His lips traveled to your ear, brushing along the skin, and a shudder passed through you.

“Everyone will know that I tamed you, that I broke you until you were mine in every way.”

~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​​​ @xoxabs88xox​​​​ @harryspet​​​​ @readermia​​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​​ @nickyl316h​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​​ @villanellevi​​​​ @lokislastlove​​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​ @trinittyy​​​ @hyoyeoniie​​​ @kellyn1604​​​ @sherrybaby14​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​ @mandiiblanche​​ @gotnofucks​​ @oneoftheprettynerds​​ @doozywoozy​​ @sapphirescrolls​​ @threeminutesoflife​​ @searchforanotherway​​ @mcudarklibrary​ @ksjksjkv​

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

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