#comfe: words

[dark-concerned-moony]

did I install tumblr.com so I could RAGE against that shitty ass last season of TUA on my main instead of *only* on my cryptid fanaccount?

Y E S

[shutupvincent]

my own modern queer experience

wake up early with explicitly queer music made by explicitly queer artists blasting in my ears

be grateful i have not been killed or otherwise maimed for my identity as a queer teenager

eat breakfast

be grateful i live in a world just a little bit more accepting than the last few decades—dream about a future where i can grow old and still be queer—hope that this world supports that dream

eat lunch

play some video games

think about all the queer lives lost, both young and old, from the 1800s to the current

think about my own death. will i be able to die of natural causes like old age or will i murdered for who i am

make relatives friends colleagues uncomfortable because i am the way i am

kiss a boy

cry when i see myself

wish i wasn't different

have dinner

read walt whitman freely, without demonization of my queer soul

feel sorry for queer people born before me and think of the lives they lead and the lives they could've or wanted to lead

think about how many humans grew uncomfortable depressed or didn't even get to grow because of their queer identity

sleep and dream of our future

[7ndipity]

Limbo

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You and Yoongi have been friends for over a year, but when Yoongi realizes that his feelings for you might be something more, he pulls away, fearing the pains of the past will repeat themselves. You just want to give him the love he deserves; can he accept it, or will he hide away from you?

Word Count: 3.5k(whoops lol)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, angst, mutual pining, mentions of drinking, swearing, mentions of bad/toxic past relationships, eventual smut at the end, handjob, subby Yoongi bc I said so, not proofread

A/N: I got several requests while I was gone wanting some angst to fluff/smut with Yoongi, so I kinda combined them all into this mess hehe. It def got away from me, but I hope you'll all enjoy it!

Masterlist

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It’s strange how little things that seem almost insignificant at first glance, take on so much more meaning to us than we ever expect them to. Songs on the radio, a specific perfume or food, random little trinkets that can be found in almost any gift shop. Like the keychain that Yoongi fiddled with absentmindedly as he rode the elevator up to his friend Hee-jun’s apartment.

The tiny bear figure was nothing particularly remarkable on its own, but it had come to hold a certain sense of peace for Yoongi whenever he held onto it, like his own little good luck charm, something to help keep him centered when he was feeling overwhelmed, much like now as he stepped into his friends crowded apartment.

He quickly found his usual place, tucked safely into the corner of the sofa, steering clear of the noise and chaos of the main group as they talked and drank.

His friend was always encouraging him to come over for his weekend hangouts, insisting to Yoongi that all the energy and music would help clear his head and give him inspiration for work. Yoongi wasn’t particularly in the mood for this much noise and stimuli though. He’d spent the better part of the past week holed up in his studio working several new songs, though his results had been underwhelming by his standards. He was tired and had half a mind to just slip back out the door and go home without saying anything.

His mood however perked up instantly as he caught sight of a familiar figure slipping through the front door, his eyes following you as you grabbed a drink and glanced about the room, your face breaking into a huge grin as you spotted him watching you.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming this week?” You asked, taking the empty seat next to him. “What happened to “I’m too busy being a musical genius” or whatever?”

“I was persuaded otherwise.” He replied dryly, ignoring your growing amused grin.

“I’m glad.” You said.

“Didn’t say it was you, I’m just here to get back the whiskey that Hee-Jun owes me, one glass at a time.” He responded, tipping back the last of his drink as he spoke, making you laugh.

“Whatever you say, bro.” You relented.

“Yah! I’ve told you not to call me bro.” He complained.

The two of you fell into your usual routine of conversation and bickering, much the same as every other night you had spent together since you’d first met over a year ago, when Hee-jun had invited you to a group dinner and introduced you to everyone.

Yoongi had found himself instantly charmed by you, your friendly but sarcastic attitude matching his perfectly. He had spent the majority of that first night talking eagerly with you, much to the surprise of the others, not used to seeing this side of Yoongi.

Your friendship had quickly grown after that. He had found himself completely drawn in by you, finding it remarkably easy to talk with you and wanting to learn every little thing about you. Yoongi’s friends loved to tease him about his being whipped for you, pointing out things like how he always claimed that he was too busy to hang out with them, but he somehow always managed to make time for you, but he didn’t pay them much mind. He was happy around you, really truly happy. He felt safe and comfortable with you, which was something that didn’t come very easy for Yoongi.

There were times though, usually on late nights when you were still hanging out long after one of you should’ve gone home, when he would wonder if there was some truth to his friend’s jokes, feeling a faint but insistent twinge in his chest, as if something were struggling for freedom, but he quelled it down, passing it off as just a passing thought, a flicker of something that didn’t really mean anything… Right?

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of drinks and talking to you and his friends over the too loud music until late. He was in the middle of a discussion with one of the members when he felt a sudden weight against his shoulder.

Glancing down, he was met with your sleeping figure, your face nuzzled against the material of his jacket, 

All at once, that twisting feeling in his chest had returned, far more pronounced and forceful than usual, his heart stuttering like the moments before the drop on a rollercoaster. His mind went blank as he stared down at you, a familiar warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system.

Fuck, he loved you.

He loved you, with your dumb jokes and peach flavored lip balm, your terrible playlists and your quiet little hums when you're nervous, and the way you hid behind your hands when you laughed. He loved every little thing about you and he suddenly can’t breathe as he stared down at your sleeping form, taking in how perfectly you fit against his side. He stayed there for a while, not quite sure what to do now.

“Y/n?” He whispered.

“Mhm.” You stirred, shifting closer, but not fully surfacing from sleep.

He was quiet for a second, mind whirring as he tried to decide what action he should take.

He could just tell you, nudge you again gently till you woke properly, blinking up at him all drowsy and confused and utterly adorable.

“I think… I love you.” The words were simple enough in theory, mumbled out as his dark eyes bore into your own, begging for this to not be a mistake.

For a moment you didn’t move, staring as if unsure of what you’d heard, before suddenly pushing yourself up, seeking out his lips.

He wrapped his arms around you, savoring the taste of you as he pulled you closer, letting out a soft groan as your hands found their way into his hair, nails scratching over his scalp and raising goosebumps over his whole body-

The sound of glass breaking in the kitchen behind the two of you shattered the moment, ripping Yoongi roughly from his daydream.

“Yah, you see?! This is why I don’t let you help!” Jin scolded loudly.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Joon snapped back, equally loud.

“How was that not-?!”

The chaos from the kitchen had pulled you from sleep, sitting up quickly and blinking around in confusion and concern.

“What happened?” You asked groggily, shaking off the last hints of sleep.

“It’s just the guys being dumb-asses, don’t worry.” He assured you, but he shifted away subtly, a strange sense of relief flooding his system.

Mumbling out a faint excuse, he ducked down the hall to the bathroom, catching sight of his expression in the mirror as he splashed some water on his face in an attempt to clear his head. 

His cheeks were flushed a deep rosy hue, his eyes slightly too big, pupils blown wide.

What the fuck was wrong with him?! He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t say those things to you. He’d fallen down that hole before, letting his feelings get the better of him confessing, only to be viciously rejected. Or worse yet, having his feelings falsely returned, and ending up with his heart twisted into something he didn’t even recognize for the other person's benefit and pleasure, leaving him to pick up the warped pieces when they had used him up.

He couldn’t let that happen with you, he couldn’t risk ruining one of the best friendships he’s had in years over some stupid infatuation.

Taking care not to be noticed, he silently slipped out the door and made his way home, sending a half-assed text to you and his other friends about not feeling well before turning his phone off and flopping onto his bed.

He would fix this, he promised to himself, he just needed to give his little crush some time to run its course and get out of his system, like a cold or the flu. In the meantime, he decided it would be best to put some space between the two of you, try and wean himself off the dependency that he had developed with you. It wasn’t good for him to ‘need’ someone as much as he did you, it would only lead to regret if he wasn’t careful.

He could do this, he tried to convince himself. He could correct these feelings and go back to how your friendship was before.

He had to.

For the next few weeks, he did his best to avoid you without being too obvious, claiming things like busy schedules as why he was suddenly never around.

He tried to convince himself that this was necessary and the better of two options, but the full truth was that he was miserable.

He hadn’t realized just how much you had been seeped into his day to day life until he tried to go without you. There were no silly texts convos to keep his spirits up during the day, his evenings dull and quiet, no warm laughter or teasing jokes to pull a smile out of him, no encouraging touches on his hand when he was feeling frustrated or random little backhugs that brought more peace and comfort than he ever thought was possible.

He knew he could easily remedy the situation and just face his feelings and talk to you, but the ghosts of his past kept creeping up on him, whispering in his ear that he would ruin everything if he dared open himself like that again. 

His heart argued however with him constantly in your defence. This time it could be different, you were so different from all those people in his past, so kind and warm and patient.

He knew deep down that you would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, but his fear left him in a constant state of limbo, frustrated with himself and confused about how to move forward.

He decided to take Holly on a long walk to try and help clear his head, fidgeting with the tiny bear charm on his keyring in his pocket as he often did when he was frustrated.

Even this made his thoughts circle back to you. You’d given it to him not long after you’d become friends, having taken him out for dinner one evening when he had been having a tough week. You’d wandered around the city without any real plans, eating snacks from street vendors, talking and goofing around till he felt his chest finally begin to lighten. You’d won the keychain charm in a random gatcha capsule machine and had insisted that it resembled him, dropping it in his hand and saying that he should keep it as a good luck charm.

He’d humored you somewhat reluctantly at first, but he’d found himself toying with the charm whenever he was anxious or uneasy, a sense of comfort and certainty creeping through him whenever he held onto it, your words echoing through his mind.

Apparently the universe was as fed up with Yoongi’s bullshit as he was, deciding that since he wouldn’t make a decision on his own, it would give him a push in the form of you on his doorstep as he returned home with Holly from their walk.

The tiny dog rushed to greet you, having missed your presence almost as much as his owner had the past few weeks, excitedly bouncing around your feet as you tried to pet him.

Hi buddy.” You giggled before glancing up to meet Yoongi’s eye. “Hey Yoongs.”

“H-hey.” He swallowed nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hi.” You said, still playing with Holly.

He watched the two of you, a tiny smile making its way across his face as he took in the way your expression lit up as you cooed over the little poodle, your smile warming him more than the lingering hints of summer in the air, instantly weaving your way back into his heart.

“You wanna come in?” The words had a slight wobble as they left his mouth, as if he was asking himself more than you.

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

He let the three of you into the house, debating awkwardly on what he should do before settling next you on the sofa.

It was quiet for a moment, neither of you quite knowing where to start.

“So, how’s the new album going?” You offered.

The two of you talked for a while, quickly falling back into your usual routine, talking about everything from work to friends to the new project you’d been working on, but there was clearly an unspoken ‘something’ hanging in the air between you, Yoongi gradually losing himself in just listening and watching you, the way your eyes flashed as you spoke, the way you talked through your hands. 

It was several minutes before you noticed the way he was staring at you, his eyes distant, an almost dreamy glaze over them.

“What?” You asked.

He shrugged.

“You just look happy.” He replied.

“I am happy.” You confirmed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.”

Your words sent a quiet thrill through him, warm and hopeful, but your next words also triggered a twinge of guilt.

“I’ve missed this, you, the past few weeks.” You admitted, playing with your hands on your lap. “I was honestly starting to think you were avoiding me.” You laughed nervously, trying to lighten the weight behind your words.

He was silent for a moment, the decision that he’d been avoiding hanging in the air again.

“Actually… I kinda was.” He admitted. “No, I know I was.” 

Your expression fell. “Why? Did I do something-?”

“No no, it wasn’t anything you did.” He quickly assured you. “It was-, it was a ‘me thing’ I needed to figure out.”

“What kind of thing?” You asked.

He hesitated.

Fuck it.

“The fact that I haven’t been honest with myself, or you, about a lot of things, like the fact that I like you… as more than a friend.”

Your mouth fell open at his admission, but Yoongi pressed on, fearing that if he stopped now, he might never get it out.

He laid everything out, his feelings for you and his fears and scars from the past and why he pulled away from you, his gaze never straying from the ground in front of him as he spoke.

“Through all of this, I realized a couple things.” He said. 

You waited for him to continue.

 “I could live without you, but I would fucking hate it.” He finally glanced up at you, his eyes unusually vulnerable. 

“I hated not seeing you, hated not hearing your laugh, not smelling your perfume of your stupid coffee order in my car after driving you to work. I hated it, but it was all my own fault, because I was too much of a coward to admit that I liked you more than I thought was possible, more than I should. “

“Yoongi-” You tried. but he kept going.

“And you can tell me to fuck off and that you don’t feel the same, and I’ll gladly leave you alone, or go back to being just friends, but I just wanted-”

“Yoongi, shut up.” You said, not harshly, but firmly enough to snap his mouth closed instantly. 

His heart pounded loudly in his chest, the silence stretching between you deafening as he waited for you to speak

“You really think you’re the only one who’s been feeling like this? Who’s been afraid?” You asked quietly, your voice trembling with emotion. “You think I haven’t thought about if we?... If I told you…” You took an unsteady breath, Yoongi staring at you in disbelief. “Why did you say something before-?

“I was afraid,” He admitted, feeling tears beginning to prick at his eyes. “Afraid that you wouldn’t want this. Or worse, that you would.”

Your eyes saddened as you reached out, fingers brushing against his cheek. “Why would that be worse?”

“Because I don’t wanna break this, I don’t wanna lose you” He whispered, his voice cracking. “Not when you mean so much to me.”

Suddenly, the distance between you felt unbearable, the space filled with the weight of thousands of unspoken feelings.

Before he could think, you closed the gap, leaning so close you could feel each other's shaky breaths, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Say it,” You whispered, the words barely audible. “I won’t hurt you… just say it.”

For a moment, you thought he might retreat, that he might hide behind the walls he’d built around himself again. But then his gaze softened, a quiet resolve settling into his chest.

“I love you,” He breathed, the words falling from his lips easily, soft and unguarded. “I love you so fucking much.”

He leaned in, letting his forehead rest against yours, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if you might disappear if he held on too tightly. 

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not when you’d just been offered the world in his hands.

You couldn’t find your words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a way that felt both brand new and familiar all at once, like finally coming home.

The world around you melted away, his arms wrapped around you tightly, shielding you from everything that could ever dare try to distract from this moment, pulling you close, feeling how perfectly you pressed against him.

His lips were soft and warm on yours, his touch achingly tender, every brush of his fingers against your skin like a spark of electricity.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, his eyes stayed scrunched closed, as if trying to savor every ounce of this feeling.

His fingers traced gentle paths up and down your arms to your shoulders, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know-,” He whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability and need, drawing away slightly. “Fuck, I want so much, but I don’t know if we should-”

“Don’t hide away from me again, please.” You begged, following him to keep close, your lips brushing against his as you spoke, sending shivers rippling through him. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but don’t be don’t hide. Show me what you need. Please.”

At your words, Yoongi felt the last remnants of his fear crumble away, replaced only by a deep craving and need for you. 

Crushing his lips to yours again, he gave himself over to the kiss fully, gripping your waist and pulling you to straddle him properly.

His lips trailed down down your jaw to your neck, sucking marks on the sensitive skin as he went and causing you to writhe and squirm in his hold, grinding down against the growing bulge in his pants.

He let out a pained groan. 

“Touch me, god please, touch me.” He begged into your neck, bucking up into you desperately.

There was a blur of fumbling with buttons and zippers, your shirt thrown away somewhere behind the sofa, leaving your heaving chest bare for him to paw amd suck at hungrily.

You snaked a hand between you to stroke his aching length through his boxers, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he bucked up into your touch, moaning into your skin.

“Please.” He begged, for what he didn’t even fully know.

You shifted back just enough to free him from the confines of his underwear, his cock springing up against his abdomen, the tip red and leaking, desperate for any sort of relief.

As he watched through glazed-over eyes, you let your spit drip down onto his cock for lubrication, wrapping your hand around him and stroking him slowly to spread it over him, reveling in the way he twitched and whined under your touch.

“Fuck, Y/n, m-more please.” He moaned, his hips bucking up to chase your hand.

You sped up your movements, twisting your wrist just right as he clung to you, your foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air. The whole thing almost felt more intimate than if he were actually inside you.

”I-, fuck, I’m gonna-” He panted, pulsing in your grip.

“Let go baby, I got you.” 

He came with a shuddering groan, curling into you as he painted your hand with streaks of white that dribbled back down onto his twitching length, making him shiver with oversensitivity.

“Fuck, Y/n, that was, I-” He struggled to catch his breath, leaning against you heavily.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too.” You kissed his lips lightly, moving to detangle yourself from him so you could clean the two of you up, when he caught you by the waist, pulling you back down on the sofa, pinning you under him, his eyes dark as they stared into yours.

“Where do you think you’re going, darling? We’re just getting started.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @universal-travel-er @k4ngelz

[mtheonott]

Are you serious? Not kidding?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⌗ raw!reader, comf, declaration of love, drunk!TheodoreNott, party, jokes and banter, flirt

word count: 2.2k

note: I'm tired of writing this... but it seemed to work out fine.

Theodore, the smartest student at Hogwarts, stood at the classroom door, looking at the large and thick walls that had been cracked for a long time. The guy didn't like to think about time, it drove him crazy. He tried to look at his time at Hogwarts from a more positive perspective, even though he was doing poorly.

The Slytherin noticed a human approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned around, "Ah... you're awake. I thought you were dead, sleeping beauty.", He grinned, keeping his hands on his hips.

A frail figure in a blue uniform was walking towards the guy along the empty corridor, clicking her heel, which was unforgivable for the Ravenclaw prefect. But we'll miss it. When you heard the greeting, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. A new day is a new batch of jokes and tricks. Nott just giggled at your reaction, waved at you and turned his head towards the classroom.

"Zabini suggested a drink after dinner. Are you with us?", He knew that you have a good relationship with a nice alcoholic. Standing next to him, you also looked at the closed doors. Transfiguration lesson. You crossed your arms over your chest and confidently stated, "I'll be busy." It is quite expected that a person like you will have things to do. But the guy's grin made it clear to you that he had come up with an interesting joke again.

"What's up? You didn't tell me. Have you found another boy who will make fun of you in the evenings?" You just sighed a little, "You're enough for me, nerd. I'm going to play chess with Potter."

Nott clicked his tongue, frowning. What an abomination, "Since when do you play chess? Are you trying to get closer to that ideal for half of Hogwarts?" You just giggled, slightly covering your mouth.

You've been in love with this Slytherin since freshman year and haven't looked at the other candidates. He is warmth and comfort. Calmness. Even though you don't want to admit it.

There was an orange landscape in the courtyard, which both Theodore and you liked, so your couple was in a better mood than the others.

"He offered, and I was just free. Nothing special," you said, looking a little more confident. Nott scratched his head, looking at his shoes, "You could have hung out with us then.", the guy sighed, "Okay. Come on, sleeping beauty."

He took your arm and led you to class. He took your arm. Took your arm for the first time. Your heart started pounding, literally trying to jump out of your chest. You followed him obediently, no matter where. All your thoughts were occupied by the fact that he was holding your hand.

The guy entered the office, which was filled with students. They were all waiting for the professor and watching another argument between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw, not noticing Theo and you.

Nott came over to your desk, leading you along, "Hey?" he said, bringing you back to reality. You just looked at him absently and nodded. What for? You don't know. "I'm sorry, I was thinking."

The guy grinned, leaning towards you and resting his hands on the table, "Are you fantasizing about me? Baby, I can make all your dirty fantasies come true, just ask." He grinned and went to his friends, leaving you. You rolled your eyes and looked away. Idiot.

The girls have already taken you into their company, telling you about the latest gossip, and you were trying to distract yourself from thoughts of Slytherin. Just for a minute.

────────────────.✦

Basically, the day went as usual: boring lessons, Tarot cards (jokingly) at breaks, discussion of Daphne's outfit for the ball and Nott. Theodore Nott has taken literally every second of your time. Not just thoughts. The guy showed up at every break, at every meal, and at every free minute. It's fun for him. Maybe for you too.

In the evening, when Potter reported on important matters with "urgent questions," you still decided to go to Zabini. Why not?

Entering a noisy room, you waved to a familiar bunch of guys at the door, hugged your friends and only glanced at Zabini, who had already found a girlfriend for the evening. You'll say hello to him later. The main thing is different: Nott. He noticed you too and immediately stood up, inviting you to sit next to him, "Little witch, sit down.... It's good to see you."

Of course, sitting down with him is a bad idea. What if the jokes get to a physical level? Although, it's kind of good... nonsense. Okay, calm down. You sat down next to him, nodding at his greeting, "Potter is busy, I decided to stop by."

"Oh, so our hero is busy? It's a nuisance. Okay, here, ah... firewhisky and like... that’s all..." Nott looked thoughtfully at the table, remembering what else he could offer. Unable to think of anything, he turned to you and smiled. "You always have me, you can eat and drink me."

You raised an eyebrow and squinted in his direction, "Sorry, I'm on a diet. I prefer not to eat after 6"

The guy first blinked, trying to figure out your joke, and then grinned and nodded, "Yes, yes, I understand… I just, well..." He lazily pointed at a couple of bottles of alcohol. They were pointlessly empty on the table, almost shouting: "Nott is drunk out of his mind."

You nodded in disappointment, "Every time you're not in class, you're fucking around." Theo smiled brightly, closed his eyes and nodded confidently. Like a dog, which is not like him during lessons and Quidditch practice. "That's right. That's why I'm given a life here."

Sighing, you were about to get up, leaving the drunk guy, so as not to get any problems. You never know. But he stopped you by first pulling you by the arm, and then holding you by the shoulders with both hands. Nott made fake sad eyes and almost whimpered, "Heeeeey... stay with me, at least for a couple of minutes. You're always leaving in my dreams, and now..."

In dreams? What kind of nonsense is this? You tilted your head to the side and frowned, "Did you dream about me? What the..." Theo didn't let you finish. He put his finger on your lip, silencing you and leaned in, "It's a secret. It's better not to tell anyone that I have dreams at all. Suddenly, someone will get into my head..." he whispered, and then looked around. The guy met her gaze again and continued, "I heard someone here can do this."

Your surprised eyes slowly became irritated, "Nott, this is a story for children. Are you nuts?" The Slytherin laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling your collarbone. Your ears turned slightly red, which made you want to push him away so that no one would notice. But you didn't do it.

The guy said sleepily, "Did you know that you smell great? Patchouli, cedar leaves, bergamot... it smells like autumn." Your heart skipped a beat. Compliments like "Cool lipstick," "Wow, great styling," or "Cute boots." had no effect on you. But this description of your scent... Nott hugged you around the waist, breathing heavily, "You're right. I must be crazy to be in love with..." but he couldn't finish.

Blaze ruffled his hair, silencing him with his abrupt arrival and smiled happily at you, which made you feel calmer, "Hey! Did you come anyway? I see that the idiot is already drunk... keep an eye on him, and I'll leave with... uh... in short, with the pretty Gryffindor. Don't be bored."

You didn't even have time to greet him, let alone respond to his request. He disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone on that couch again. More precisely, there were people here... but they are not felt. Absolutely.

Nott looked out into the crowd, trying to spot his friend, but to no avail. Then he turned to you and grinned, drunkenly rather than cockily, "Would you sleep with Zabini?"

The question has brought you to a standstill. You stared at his alcohol-reddened face and blinked a little, "Well... you know, such questions shouldn't be asked. But I would rather answer no than yes." Theo nodded and rested his head on your shoulder again, which made your heart beat faster again, "And with me? Would you sleep with me, Y/n?" he muttered, closing his eyes.

You blushed again and swallowed, "You know... I'm not going to answer that question. This is unethical and uncivilized, Theodore Nott. "His hands were resting calmly, without movement, on your waist. He nodded again and sighed, "But I would with such a beauty." You are used to skipping such comments, it's not the first time you hear. But now your eyes were darting in different directions, nervously and touchily. You don't even understand why you're offended. Because he's drunk and says things like that? Maybe.

"Okay, Theo, let's go for a walk. Let's try to slow down the negative effects of alcohol's toxic substances on your brain." You gently helped him up, still holding him in your arms. Not because you wanted to, but because he wouldn't let you go. When you straightened up, he finally released you from his grip. Surprisingly, his drunken state still allowed him to walk and stand, but you still helped him get out of the noisy space.

The Slytherin common room was cold and empty. You quietly went out into the hallway of Hogwarts, holding his hand. Nott didn't take his eyes off you, smiling drunkenly. After looking around, you walked on, wandering through the already night-time corridors of the school. He was still holding your hand, now looking at the floor. The silence was pleasant rather than embarrassing. Quiet footsteps, rustling of clothes, faint wind and sighs. Nothing more.

After going out to Ravenclaw Tower, you went to the window overlooking the lake. The clean air allowed you to think clearly again. Theo leaned against the wall, looking up at the night sky, "Sorry about tonight. I... well..."

"You'll sober up and apologize, Nott. There's no need to annoy me again." you replied, still looking at the lake. His gaze fixed on you and he grinned, "That's what I like about you. So serious. Like you are ready to kill… This little walk brought me back to my senses a little bit, don't worry. Accept my apologies."

You still looked at him and nodded, "Okay then, nerd, I forgive you."

Theo leaned over to you, smiling a little brighter, "So you're ready to forgive me? Are you not indifferent to me?"

Raising an eyebrow, you looked at him in surprise, "You seem smart, but the train of thought is not logical... do you want me to feel something for you so much?"

The smile faded from his face and he nodded with a serious expression, "Yes. Why not?"

You shook your head and turned back to the lake. It stood out from everything else, which caught your attention. Like Nott.

The guy touched your cheek, silently forcing you to look at him, which you did. He bent down a little more and said, "Even though I'm drunk, but when I talk about love, nothing affects the words. I want you to feel something for me. Because I am. I... just, hm..." This time, he let go of his gaze. Theo stared at the floor, trying to find the right words.

You stared at him dumbfounded, trying to digest the words he said. Then you swallowed and replied uncertainly, "Well, I... feel... something." He looked up and stared at you hopefully, "Yes? You're not kidding? Fuck, I'm drunk, for sure..." The guy ran his hand over his face and looked at you through his fingers, "Are you sure you said that? Are you serious? Not kidding?"

You chuckled softly and shook your head, "Not kidding." Nott immediately pulled you by the waist, eagerly biting into your lips. It was as if he had turned one of his million bedtime fantasies into reality. You were stunned, but you accepted the kiss by hugging his neck.

The moonlight was spying on this moment, illuminating your faces. No, although you needed the kiss so much, it was rather gentle, warming you on this autumn night.

Soon you broke away from each other. Nott leaned back to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know... I don't remember why anymore. But I'm sorry." You nodded, also not knowing what he was apologizing for, "Okay. Anyway, I forgive you, nerd. You know... you have an insanely long tongue. Shut up already." You grabbed him by the collar of his black shirt and pulled him back for a hotter kiss.

You spent the rest of the evening walking around Hogwarts. Silently and contentedly. The wind contrasted with the warmth of his hands, leaving a pleasant feeling, like brownies with ice cream. And you don't need anything more. You will remember this moment for the rest of your life.

[your-local-simp-writers]

The Heartbeat of Nekoma

Word Count: 809

Warnings: None

Headcanons: Nekoma x Fem! Manager ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The gymnasium of Nekoma High was alive with the sound of volleyballs thumping against the floor, the sharp whistle of the coach, and the occasional cheer or groan from the team. In the midst of this controlled chaos was Y/N, the team’s manager and the only girl among these lions. She moved with a purpose, her clipboard clutched in one hand and a first aid kit swinging from the other.

Kenma Kozume, usually lost in his own world, often found himself watching Y/N. Her ability to anticipate the team’s needs before they even voiced them was something he admired silently. He didn’t say much, but when he did, she always listened, her nods and thoughtful hums encouraging him to share more than he usually would. She knew exactly when to offer a silent nod of encouragement or a gentle nudge to join the team’s activities. Her notes on his gameplay were always precise, helping him refine his strategies without a word wasted.

Tetsurou Kuroo, with his wild hair and wilder schemes, relied on Y/N to keep him grounded. She had a knack for cutting through his antics with a sharp word or a pointed look, bringing him back to the task at hand. Yet, she was always there to share a laugh or a moment of triumph, her presence a steady beat in the rhythm of the team.

Lev Haiba, his enthusiasm often got the better of him, leading to more than his fair share of scrapes and bruises. Y/N was always there, her first aid kit at the ready, her gentle chiding mingling with Lev’s sheepish apologies. “You’re like a guardian angel,” he’d say, and she’d roll her eyes but smile all the same while she patched up another scrape. Her gentle scolding about being careful was something he secretly looked forward to.

Morisuke Yaku, the team’s rock, appreciated Y/N’s quiet strength. Her meticulous records helped him track his progress, and her motivational words before matches always seemed to strike the right chord, pushing him to dive deeper and reach further.

Taketora Yamamoto, would often find himself pouring out his heart to Y/N, her easy manner inviting confidences. She listened with an open heart, her advice always practical yet kind. She reminded him that fire needed air to burn bright, a lesson he took to heart both on and off the court.

Nobuyuki Kai, the vice-captain, saw Y/N as the glue that held the team together. Her organizational skills ensured that every practice ran smoothly, and her ability to juggle responsibilities was nothing short of miraculous.

Shouhei Fukunaga, ever the quiet observer, found a kindred spirit in Y/N. Their conversations were often just shared glances and knowing smiles, but the understanding between them ran deep. He enjoyed the quiet moments he shared with her, often helping her collect the volleyballs after practice. Her soft-spoken advice resonated with him, teaching him that strength didn’t always have to be loud.

Sō Inuoka, loved Y/N’s encouraging pep talks. Her pep talks were the fuel to his fire, her words igniting a passion for the game that he channeled into every leap and dive. 

Coach Yasufumi Nekomata, saw Y/N as a rare gem, her dedication to the team’s well-being reminding him of the true spirit of the sport. Their discussions on strategy and player development were highlights of his day, her insights often illuminating paths he hadn’t considered. 

Despite her involvement in other clubs and her tendency to stretch herself thin, Y/N never let it show. The team knew, though. They saw the exhaustion hidden behind her smile and the way her eyes would sometimes flutter shut during long strategy meetings.

It was during one such after school practice that Y/N’s head began to nod, her pen slipping from her fingers. Kenma was the first to notice, gently propping her up with a cushion. Kuroo signaling for a break, Lev draping a jacket over her like a blanket. Yaku adjusted the air conditioning to ensure she was comfortable, and Yamamoto stood guard, ensuring no one disturbed her rest. As Y/N slept, the team exchanged looks of silent agreement. They would finish practice early today. It was their turn to take care of the person who always took care of them.

When Y/N awoke, she found herself surrounded by her team, their practice finished, each face wearing a soft smile. “We’ve got it from here,” Kuroo said, handing her a bottle of water. “You’ve done enough for today.” Her heart swelled with affection for these boys, her team.  Kai  “You take care of us; now let us take care of you.” They were more than just players she managed; they were her family. And as they walked out of the gym together, she knew that together, they were unstoppable.

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part 5

Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, swearing, violence

A/N: I figured I should put part 5 out early because i feel bad for the mix up i did with the parts last night 🫶🏻

Masterpost

---

You sit in the quiet office, the faint hum of the rink beyond the door only amplifying the deafening silence in your head. Bucky’s laughter and the cruel words you overheard replay on an endless loop, cutting deeper every time. Your back presses against the desk, your legs shaky as you reach for the lock. The soft click of the bolt sliding into place feels like a feeble shield against the chaos threatening to consume you.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring blankly at the papers scattered across the desk. Your chest rises and falls unevenly as you try to push back the tightness in your throat. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now. You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing, at shoving everything into a box in the back of your mind and sealing it shut. This moment will be no different.

With trembling hands, you grab the clipboard, flipping through the practice schedule as if it holds the answers to your unraveling thoughts. You move on autopilot, sorting paperwork, organizing tasks for later, going over all the shots you need for later, clinging to the routine as though it can steady you. The motions help, but only slightly. The ache in your chest refuses to ease, no matter how many times you tell yourself to breathe.

Your phone buzzes on the desk, the sharp vibration breaking the heavy silence. You glance at the screen, Steve’s name lighting up in bold letters.

S: Hey, gave Natasha your number. She just went to the washroom. Also, where are you? I got a couple minutes before I have to get on the ice—hurry!

You take a shaky breath and type back: Office. Almost done here.

The phone buzzes again before you can set it down. This time, it’s an unknown number.

Unknown: Where are you?

You know who it is without even thinking. Your fingers hover over the screen before you type: The office.

Unknown: OMW.

You exhale softly, the weight in your chest shifting slightly as you unlock the door just as Natasha steps in. Her sharp gaze sweeps the room, instantly locking on your face.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, her tone more curious than accusing.

“Nothing,” you reply, too quickly. You shuffle papers around as though you’ve been deep in work. “Just catching up on some things. I’ll head out to the stands later to grab pictures for socials.”

Natasha crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Aren’t you usually out there for the whole practice? You know, for all the pre-action shots?”

You shrug, trying to sound casual. “I can miss one half of practice. I’ll just go out at the end for the important stuff.”

Her brows knit together, and she leans against the doorframe, studying you. “Everything okay?” she asks, her voice softer now, concern lacing her words.

“Yeah, totally,” you say, forcing a smile. It’s the kind of smile you’ve perfected over the years—wide enough to seem real but not enough to fool someone like Natasha. You pick up your camera, fiddling with the strap. “Nothing to worry about.”

She doesn’t push, though you can tell she doesn’t believe you. Instead, she walks over and perches on the edge of the desk. “Alright,” she says lightly. “But you know, if you ever want to talk, I know we barely know each other but I’m here.”

The sincerity in her voice nearly cracks the wall you’ve built, but you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to say anything else. “Thanks,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eventually, you shove the paperwork into a folder, eager to escape the suffocating stillness of the office. “You coming with me?” you ask, glancing at Natasha.

“Of course,” she says with a small smile. She loops her arm through yours as the two of you step out into the rink. Despite the ache still weighing you down, her warmth feels comforting. For a fleeting moment, you’re reminded of how rare and precious this budding friendship is. It’s always been you and Steve, and you’ll always be grateful for that, but this is different—something you’ve been missing without realizing it.

The sharp sound of skates cutting across the ice fills the air, grounding you in the familiar atmosphere of the rink. You immediately spot Bucky. His effortless movements, the way his broad shoulders shift with each turn, draw your eyes like a magnet.

Your breath hitches when his gaze meets yours. He offers you a smile, easy and warm, and the ache in your chest sharpens. You hate how your heart flutters, even now, after everything.

“Hey,” Natasha says, gently nudging your arm. “Snap out of it.”

You blink, realizing you’ve stopped in your tracks. Natasha tilts her head, her expression cautious but knowing. “Have you talked to him yet?”

You shake your head, gripping your camera tightly. “No,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Natasha sighs, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she sits beside you on the stands as you adjust your camera, focusing the lens on the team below. The steady click of the shutter becomes your anchor, each snap a momentary distraction from the storm swirling in your chest. But no matter how much you try to lose yourself in the task, you can still feel his gaze on you, burning through the lens, making it impossible to ignore the weight of everything unsaid.

---

Natasha stops just before stepping onto the stairs leading down to the ice, turning back to you with a sharp gaze. “You coming to wish Steve good luck? You always do. He calls you his good luck charm.” She smiles, trying to lift your mood.

Your stomach twists at her words. You stare at your shoes, your fingers gripping your camera strap tightly. “I think I’ll skip it this time,” you murmur. “It’s just one game—it’ll be fine.”

Her eyes narrow, and you can feel her studying you, her sharp instincts zeroing in like a laser. “Okay,” she says slowly, clearly unconvinced. “This is more than just skipping photos or not wishing Steve good luck. Did something else happen?”

The air feels heavier, your chest tightens, and your throat constricts. “Nothing,” you mumble, avoiding her piercing gaze. “I’m fine.”

Natasha crosses her arms, her jaw tightening with determination. “Alright,” she says, her voice leaving no room for argument. Before you can protest, she grabs your arm, not harshly but firmly enough to let you know she’s not letting this slide. “We’re talking. Now.”

She pulls you toward the girls’ locker room, and the sharp sound of the door locking behind her makes you flinch. The quiet of the room is deafening, and Natasha spins to face you, hands on her hips, her expression set like stone. “Spill.”

Your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths as you fight the lump building in your throat. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and no matter how much you try to push them down, they spill over. You take a shaky breath, your voice cracking as you finally say, “I… I heard them in the locker room.”

Her brows furrow, her expression softening with concern. “Who? What did you hear?” she presses gently.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Their teammates. They… they were laughing about the picture.” You swallow hard, each word dragging out of you painfully. “He said I was easy. That it meant nothing. He laughed with them, made stupid jokes with them about me.”

Natasha’s eyes widen, the softness vanishing in an instant, replaced by a storm of fury. Her jaw tightens, and her fists clench at her sides. “What?” she snaps, her voice low and sharp. “He said that?”

You nod, wiping at your tears furiously as though erasing them could make the situation less humiliating. “I should’ve known better,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s Bucky. He’s been so kind all year, gone out of his way to… I thought he cared, I thought he was different, one of the good ones, god I'm so fucking stupid."

Natasha’s face hardens, and she looks like she’s ready to tear through the locker room door. “I’m gonna kill him,” she growls, already turning.

“No, no, no!” you plead, grabbing her arm with both hands and holding her back. “Please, don’t. It'll just make it worse.”

She freezes but glares at the door, her fury simmering just beneath the surface. “You have to tell Steve,” she says firmly. “He’ll want to know.."

You shake your head violently, your breath hitching as more tears spill over. “I can’t,” you whisper. “It’ll crush him. Bucky’s one of his best friends…He just picked him to be the assistant Captain.... I know he loved having a guy friend, I don't want to take that from him.....I just… I can’t handle this right now.”

Natasha takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair as she processes your words. Finally, she exhales sharply. “Fine,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “Okay....but you can’t keep this bottled up forever, you know that, right?”

You nod faintly, clutching your camera like it’s a lifeline. “I just want to do my job,” you say, your voice trembling with desperation. “That’s all.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and she brushes her hand over your arm in a comforting gesture. “Why don’t we stay here until the game starts?” she suggests. “I’ll be right back—I just need to wish Steve good luck.”

“Send my luck to him too,” you manage to say softly.

Natasha nods, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. Left alone in the quiet room, you let out a shaky breath and sit down on the bench, your body trembling as you try to collect yourself.

You pull out your camera, focusing on transferring the photos to your phone. The task feels mechanical, something to occupy your hands and drown out your thoughts. But no matter how hard you try, the sting of Bucky’s words keeps echoing in your head.

Your phone buzzes, breaking your focus. You glance at the screen and freeze when you see his name.

Bucky: Hey, where are you? Are you okay?

Your throat tightens as fresh tears well in your eyes. You stare at the message, your hands trembling as you fight the urge to respond. Instead, you cough softly, trying to clear the lump in your throat, and set your phone down beside you, ignoring the message entirely.

Focusing back on the photos, you swipe through them, editing as best as you can with unsteady fingers. But no matter how much you try to distract yourself, the ache in your chest remains, raw and relentless, as the weight of everything threatens to overwhelm you all over again.

---

The locker room buzzed with pre-game energy, the air thick with the smell of sweat and adrenaline. Laughter and shouts echoed off the walls as the guys hyped each other up, their sticks tapping against the floor in rhythm. But amidst the chaos, Steve stood like a statue, his face set in stone. His mind wasn’t on the game—it hadn’t been for hours.

“Buck, a word.” he called out, his tone sharp and cutting through the noise like a knife.

The room fell quiet almost immediately. Heads turned, wide eyes watching the Captain call out his teammate. A few of the guys exchanged amused smirks, one even whistling low under his breath, but Steve’s icy glare shut them up fast. Bucky, standing by his locker, raised a brow but didn’t argue. He slung his stick over his shoulder and followed Steve without a word, his skates clicking softly against the floor.

Steve led him to the office and closed the door behind them with a firm click. For a moment, he leaned against it, exhaling sharply, as if trying to steady himself. When he turned, his hands were on his hips, and his jaw was tight.

“What’s this about, Cap?” Bucky asked, though there was a hint of unease in his voice, the usual cockiness nowhere to be found.

Steve didn’t waste time. “You saw the picture,” he said bluntly, his voice low and sharp. “You knew about it, and you didn’t do anything.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Steve, I didn’t even know about the picture until it got sent around today. I swear, as soon as I saw it, I’ve been trying to figure out who took it.”

Steve’s arms folded tightly across his chest, his blue eyes boring into Bucky. “So you just didn't try to find her? To talk to her about it? All day?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, guilt flickering across his face. “Look, I tried to find her earlier. She wasn’t anywhere, and I texted her, but she hasn’t responded. I didn’t mean for this to happen, Steve.” His voice softened, his blue eyes meeting Steve’s. “She’s not just some… one-night stand to me. You know that, you gotta know that."

Steve stared at him, his expression unreadable, though his hands had curled into tight fists at his sides. Finally, he let out a long, slow breath and pulled a chair over, sinking into it heavily. “You’re a good guy, Buck,” he said, his voice measured. “But she has baggage, a lot of it. And when she feel things, she feels them hard. This isn’t just about you. If you’re in this with her, you better be damn sure, because she doesn’t deserve to get hurt, not after everything shes been through already."

Bucky’s gaze hardened, his voice steady. “I’m already in it, Steve. I care about her.”

Steve leaned back, his expression softening slightly, though his eyes were still clouded with frustration. “Alright,” he said after a beat. “I’m gonna trust you. But if you screw this up—”

“I won’t,” Bucky interrupted firmly. “I swear.”

Before Steve could respond, there was a knock at the door. Natasha stepped in, her fiery green eyes immediately locking onto Bucky like a laser beam. Her presence filled the small room, her sharp gaze unrelenting.

“Steve,” she said, her voice tight with restrained anger. “Can I talk to you? Alone.”

Bucky, sensing the shift in the air, raised his hands in mock surrender. “That’s my cue,” he said, his voice lighter than the tension in the room warranted. “Almost game time, Cap. See you out there.” He slipped past Natasha, avoiding her piercing glare as he left.

The sound of the team’s laughter spilled into the room for a moment before Steve shut the door again, sealing them in quiet. He turned to Natasha, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Natasha crossed her arms, her posture tense as she leaned against the desk. Her fiery demeanor softened slightly as she glanced at the closed door, then back at Steve. It was clear she was weighing her words carefully.

“What is it?” Steve pressed, stepping closer. He rested his hands on her shoulders, his voice gentler now. “Nat, talk to me.”

She exhaled sharply, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Steve… I have to tell you something. Y/N told me earlier, i promised i wouldn't say anything, but fuck it you deserve, no, need to know.”

Steve’s stomach twisted, a sinking feeling spreading through him like ice. “What'd she say?”

Natasha hesitated, her green eyes flickering with something between anger and sadness. “When she got here before practice, she came through the office. She heard Bucky and some of the guys talking.”

Steve’s face hardened instantly, his jaw tightening. “What'd she hear?”

Natasha ran a hand through her hair, her frustration palpable. “One of the guys made some gross comment about her. Something like how they knew she’d have a nice rack. And Bucky…” She paused, her teeth clenched. “Bucky laughed. Said she was easy. That she practically begged for it.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed on. “Then he said it wasn’t even that good.”

Steve’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, his face a mask of disbelief and fury. “You’re sure that’s what she said? What she heard?" His voice was dangerously low, each word like a blade.

Natasha nodded firmly. “She’s too scared to tell you because she knows you’ll kill him.”

Steve stood there, frozen, the weight of Natasha’s words sinking in. His breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling as his rage simmered just beneath the surface. “She knows me best, because I'm going to kill him,” he muttered, his voice like steel.

Before Natasha could respond, there was another knock at the door. The coach stuck his head in, oblivious to the storm brewing in the room. “Game time, Rogers. Let’s go. Wrap it up.”

Steve didn’t move right away, his body tense with anger. Natasha stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “Good luck out there,” she said softly.

Steve nodded tightly, his jaw still clenched as he stormed out of the office. His mind was a whirlwind of fury and betrayal, but he knew the locker room wasn’t the place for a fight that's for the ice.

As he headed toward the rink, the team’s laughter echoed faintly in the distance, each sound like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. But Steve’s focus had narrowed to one thought: this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

----

The arena buzzed with the electric energy of the game. The crowd roared with each pass and shot, a wave of noise echoing through the building. You stood at your usual spot near the boards, camera in hand, your focus shifting between capturing the action and watching Steve. Something about the way he was playing tonight seemed… off.

Steve, typically a controlled and calculated player, was skating with an unusual edge. He was throwing his weight into every check, slamming opponents into the boards with a force that drew cheers from the crowd but left you uneasy. His movements were sharp, almost reckless, and you caught yourself flinching every time he collided with another player.

Your camera clicked away, capturing the intensity of the game. It was the second period, the score tied at 2-2, and you knew every moment mattered. When the puck found its way to Steve’s stick, he moved in like lightning, his eyes locked on the net. You held your breath, the camera lens trained on him as he wound up for the shot.

He fired, but the puck sailed just wide, barely missing the post. You could see the frustration etched across his face as he muttered something to himself. Before you could process, the rebound came flying toward Bucky, who was perfectly positioned in front of the net. With a clean slapshot, Bucky buried the puck in the top corner, the red light flashing as the arena erupted in cheers.

Normally, Bucky would skate over to Steve, their silent but familiar way of celebrating their teamwork. But this time, Steve didn’t even glance at him. Instead, he skated off, his jaw tight, leaving Bucky to celebrate with the rest of the team.

You lowered your camera, frowning. Something was definitely wrong.

As the period progressed, your attention kept shifting between the game and Steve. He was more physical than ever, throwing hits and barking at the refs. But what really caught your eye was the way Bucky kept glancing at you. Even from your spot on the sidelines, you could feel his gaze between plays, his blue eyes searching for yours like they always did. Normally, it sent butterflies fluttering through your chest. Tonight, it made your stomach twist with unease.

You weren’t the only one who noticed.

During a line change, Steve caught one of Bucky’s fleeting glances in your direction. His eyes narrowed, his face darkening. The tension was almost palpable, and you felt the shift in the air before anything even happened. “Hey Natasha?” You questioned as your eyes stayed on the ice.

She leaned forward from her seated position beside you. “Yeah?”

You swallowed, as you recognized the look in Steve’s eyes, the way his jaw was set. “Did you tell Steve by any chance?” She didn’t get the chance to answer.

Steve was skating hard, charging into the offensive zone when he veered sharply toward Bucky—his own teammate—and slammed him into the boards with a force that made the glass rattle. The crowd gasped, the sound cutting through the game’s usual noise.

“What the hell, man?!” Bucky shouted, spinning to face Steve as he skated past.

Steve stopped abruptly, turning back with fire in his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m not beating your fucking face in right now.”

“What are you even talking about?” Bucky snapped, his brows furrowed in confusion.

The referee’s whistle blew, signaling a stoppage, but Steve wasn’t done. He skated closer, shoving Bucky hard in the chest. “She heard you.”

Bucky froze. “Who? Heard what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Steve growled. “Your whole little shebang with the team. Saying she was begging you, calling her desperate.”

Bucky’s face fell, the color draining from his cheeks. “Steve, let me explain—”

“Explain what?!” Steve shouted, his voice carrying over the ice. “That you’re a lying piece of shit? That you treated her like she was nothing? I just said I was going to trust you!"

The refs rushed over, trying to separate them, but Steve wasn’t backing down. He shoved past one of the officials and ripped Bucky’s helmet off with a furious yank, sending it clattering to the ice. “You’re done talking, and I'm done listening.”

Before anyone could react, Steve’s fist connected with the side of Bucky’s head, sending him stumbling back. The arena gasped in unison, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.

Bucky recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with anger. He dropped his gloves, grabbing Steve by the collar of his jersey and landing a clean uppercut that snapped Steve’s head back. The two of them were a blur of fists and fury, blood splattering the ice as they went at each other like enemies, not teammates.

The benches cleared as their team skated over, trying to break them apart. The crowd roared, some cheering, others shouting in disbelief. By the time the refs and assistant coaches managed to separate them, both men were bleeding, their jerseys torn, and their faces etched with rage.

“Get them the hell off the ice!” the head coach bellowed, motioning for the assistants to escort them to the locker room.

As Steve was guided toward the tunnel, he twisted out of the one of the assistant coach’s grip just enough to turn back to Bucky. His voice was cold and venomous. “If you ever fucking look at her, go near her or talk to her again, you’re dead.”

[prettyoatmeal]

That Damned Attitude of Yours (John Price x Fem!reader)

A/N: I got the inspo from @ r0achluvr on tiktok for this. Their HC's are too good to not write about.

GENRE: Smut :3

Summary: After coming home and finding you immediately pissed with him over small, petty things, he fucks that attitude out of you.

Warnings: Dacryphilia, brat taming, unprotected sex, creampie.

Names Used: Darling, gorgeous, baby, greedy girl, good girl, beautiful fussy girl.

Word Count: 582

Masterlist here!

NSFW UNDER CUT

***************

"What's the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?"

All you could do was let out a muffled moan in response. If you didn't know any better, you would've thought hours had passed by that point. You very quickly lost track of time, barely tracking it in the first place. You couldn't even remember what you were pissy about to begin with. Now you were bent over with your face firmly shoved into the bedsheets, face down ass up with John gripping the flesh of your hips and leaving bruises along your skin as he pounded into you like there was no tomorrow.

All you could hear was your moans mixing with the erotic sound of skin slapping together. Every thrust hit against that sweet spot deep inside your greedy cunt, driving you wild. John had driven orgasm after orgasm out of you and now you've been left a sobbing mess, drooling and moaning against the sheets as you left a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

"I can't hear you, gorgeous. Speak up," snickering, his grip tightened on your hair as he pulled your tear stained face from the sheets.

"Fu-uck! John-" you squealed before he let you go from his grip again, satisfied with your fucked-out response. He only earned another loud whine as his hand snaked down your front and between your legs, his rough fingers pressing against your throbbing, sensitive clit.

"Shh, I know baby. Just one more for me, okay?"

His voice was husky right against your ear. Eyes rolled back, your cries and moans were muffled by the mattress again as he fervently worked your clit. It was too much almost, John eating up your sobs and cries of sensitivity as he coaxed you through another orgasm.

"Just gotta fuck this damned attitude of yours out, don't I? Greedy girl." he growled with a particularly harsh thrust into you, jolting you forward with a yelp.

You accepted your defeat.

Angling his thrusts, it wasn't long until you felt yourself trembling with the overwhelming feeling of your final orgasm of the night, releasing all that tension and build up with a loud cry into the mattress.

"Thats it, that's it, oh you're such a good girl."

With a few more forceful thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm, he pulled your hips back towards him as he spilled his hot seed inside you with a loud groan. Your walls clenched around him with a whine as to milk him of every last drop.

Your poor, overused body would've collapsed against the bed if John's strength wasn't holding you up as if you weighed nothing, going limp in his grasp.

Catching his breath, he leaned down and pressed his lips against your neck, his huffs hitting against your damp skin as he spoke, "I'm so proud of you, baby. You always take me so well."

He pulled out with a sigh and you immediately felt his release seeping down your thighs as he finally settled you back down onto the comfort of the bed. Laying down next to you as he continued to place small kisses along your shoulders, you felt the warmth of a wash cloth wiping away at the mess between your thighs.

Turning your face out of the plush of the mattress, your half-lidded, glossy eyes stared up at him, and he immediately pulled you into a soft kiss.

"There she is. There's my beautiful, fussy girl." He whispered against your lips with a giggle.

***************

This made MY OWN tummy do the thing, okay. I should be studying... but tumblr needs me *batman moment*.

*************** DISCLAIMER Under no circumstances do I give permission to copy, repost, or manipulate my work in any way. I am not comfortable with this. If you wish to translate my work, message me privately. My inbox is always open.

[rooksamoris]

I've come to humbly request and spread propaganda for Jamil L/N.

Jamil taking his s/o's name strikes 3 birds with one stone: freedom from the Asims (you can't tell me there hasn't been a single Viper who didn't marry into another family and adopt their trade), freedom to marry the love of his life, and guaranteeing freedom for his descendants. Depending on how things go with Najma, they could erase the Viper name and, by extension, their servitude.

Also how does he react being called Mr.L/N?

💞 — in which jamil marries you and takes your last name.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 1.2k words. i ended up writing a mix of drabbles and headcanons <33 your propaganda turned into me making even more propaganda for this idea. honestly, seems very plausible that he would do something like this.

“I’ll take your last name. If we want to get married, I have to take your name, or else you’d be stuck serving with me,” Jamil said, breaking the silence. His eyes remained on the book in his lap, looking through the various pictures from his parents’ wedding. He would be wearing his father’s old garments. 

The man had an intricate belt with a jambiyah (dagger) tied around the waist of his thobe (long dress-like garment), and his hair was done in various braids with a shemagh (men’s headscarf) tied over it. He had a few ornate pieces of fabric draped over him like a cape and a spot of henna on the inside of his palm. The usual kohl (eyeliner) was a bit smudged from all the festivities—Jamil had never seen his father look this happy. 

His mother was dressed similarly, with old pieces of gold and silver jewelry about. Her big earrings had matched the rings his father wore, and she had kohl drawn on both her eyes and her chin, in the shape of ancient tattoos. Here hair had scented plants interwoven in the strands, and Jamil wondered if he should do the same with his hair, draping a shemagh over it. It seemed like something you would enjoy, and he would enjoy you taking them out at the end of the night. He spoke again, “What do you think of that?” he asked, concerning him taking your name.

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, flipping the page to another picture of his parents’s wedding, this one featuring his mother shyly lifting a piece of her sitara (long piece of fabric with various designs which directly translates to ‘curtain’) to hide her face from her husband, “I think it's a wonderful idea.”

🩷 — Taking your last name was probably the best decision he could have made. He indulged in the marriage festivities with you for both your sake and his parent’s sake. What he was excited about was signing the contract that officially gave him your surname—freeing him from the shackles of the Viper clan.

🩷 — He did it after the festivities when it was just the two of you guys and the imam as well as a legal advisor. You both were still in the wedding clothes, sitting on an ornate rug with a little table in front of you. 

🩷 — Jamil could feel the tremors of his heart in his hand as he lifted the pen and signed his name beside yours. This time, Viper was nowhere to be found.

🩷 — With that, Jamil shook hands with the imam and then handed the page to the legal advisor to be put in the Scalding Sands’s records. It all felt so surreal. He glanced over his shoulder to see you gleefully talking to the imam about the marriage and showing off your wedding band. 

🩷 — It was a thin gold ring that he had made with the antiquities left by his family. Nothing fancy—he wanted to give you diamonds, and yet you were so smitten with it and him.

Once nightfall came, Jamil lay beside you in your bed. A bed for the both of you. It was a bed he bought under his new name, Jamil (L/N), under the surname you gifted him. His charcoal eyes watched as you sat down at the edge of the bed, your night robe dipped down your back. It matched his nightgown, save for the patterns. He helped you fall in love with the comfortable garb of his homeland.

You turned slightly to see him, your eyes growing tender at the sight of him all disheveled. This was a sight just for you, “What are you thinking about?” you asked, reaching out to take his hand.

Jamil pulled you closer to him by your hand, forcing you to lay on top of him. He kissed your knuckles, “Thinking about you, hayati (my life),” he muttered, before letting his hand trail up your arm and to the back of your neck. His gaze had softened and his features relaxed, “Thank you,” 

You did not need to ask why he thanked you. You knew he felt indebted to you for being patient with him and becoming his spouse. You gave him the greatest gift ever, freedom. Free to be yours, free from Kalim Al-Asim. You freed his descendants… he would spend the rest of his life as your husband, repaying you with kisses across your skin and warm meals in your belly.

🩷 — It takes him a long time to get used to his new name, as well as his newfound freedom. After your wedding, he takes you out to do many of the things he could not do before, such as travel to another country, but even simple things like going out to parks.

🩷 — He did not have to worry about Kalim anymore, just your and his enjoyment.

🩷 — Jamil still has yet to get used to being called by your surname. When he notices it, he is filled with a smug and quiet pride, but most of the time he just ends up ignoring whoever is calling for him, or glancing over at you in confusion, thinking that they are speaking with you and not him.

🩷 — This was particularly apparent when it came to the reunion at Night Raven College.

🩷 — He did not want to go, but he could not reject you either. You were excited about seeing your silly friends, and who was he to stop you from going? Instead, he just sighed and went along with you, standing off to the side and watching as you ran about to gather Ace and Deuce, as well as greeting your other friends.

“If it isn’t the new Mr. (L/N),” Azul approached his former classmate with a suave grin. He had grown up, but it was clear he still kept that usual ‘evil businessman’ charm to him. His suit was freshly pressed and his hair, which had grown a bit, was brushed back neatly. Though, he was still wearing the same thin-rimmed glasses.

Jamil turned around when he heard your surname being called, and it took him a moment to realize what was happening. He was your husband. Sure, he remembered your wedding—he carried a picture from it all the time, but it was still strange hearing it affirmed by someone else. He tried to hide how happy he was to hear it behind a raised brow and his usual frown, “What do you want, Azul? My spouse isn’t going to be pulled into one of your schemes anymore,” he said, arms crossed.

Azul laughed at that, tilting his cane a bit as he leaned away from Jamil, “You wound me, Jamil. As if I would try anything like that anymore,” he replied, and the irony was not lost on him at all. Instead, he sighed and watched as Jamil’s eyes found your figure again. You were chasing Epel around, trying to get a hug from your old friend. It was just like before, except now you wore a ring from Jamil and he wore a name from you.

“You don’t seem so poor and unfortunate now,” Azul said.

Jamil could not bite back the slight twitch of his lips, “Not at all.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

hello

ima big fan of your work and read it all the time

and I was wondering if you do more Plastic Man clone reader stuff if it isn’t to much trouble

plastic Man is my favorite hero and I really enjoyed that one shot

Dick Grayson x Plastic Man clone male reader

Headcanons

You didn’t say anything specific, so I cooked this up, as I remember watching the animated show that was batman and plastic man years ago. So, this combo felt fun. Not the longest, since I’m dealing with a lot right now.

Patrick worked with Bruce on the semi-regular for a moment during the years, meaning you got dragged along. It was around the time Patrick had just found you, meaning you were still getting used to this whole… being alive thing.

At least Robin was nice, when he wasn’t annoying. Because you two were teens… of course you would find each other annoying. It led to a lot of bickering, some valid and some not, but you two grew close anyways.

When Dick stopped being Robin and became Nightwing, it didn’t really make a difference for you. You didn’t make a habit out of hanging around Gotham, since you didn’t respect Batman’s authority, so if you could hang with Dick in Bludhaven instead? Then it would all be great.

Youd make a game out of it whenever you visited, taking the form of some vigilante of rather sidekick. Shaping yourself to look like a little Nightwing with some tweaks to the costume, some color changes, and boom! Nightwing had a sidekick.

Your friend group all had a great laugh when Nightwing started hearing from the locals of Bludhaven, asking about his sidekick, and what his name was. Apparently, Dick wasn’t a big fan of the name “Nightboy” or “Winged crusader”.

Dick just didn’t appreciate all the work and effort you put into “Redwing”, after the red winged blackbird, of course. To match the color scheme you gave your little sidekick form.

It also led to a whole intervention from Bruce, and the rest of the bats, when they thought Dick actually got a sidekick. Only to see the so-called Redwing, stretch and change color, only to become you, who cackled and fell over, literally turning into a puddle from laughing too hard.

In the end Redwing was only something you pulled out when you two were bored and had time, or if Dick really needed backup and you couldn’t show up as yourself.

You didn’t truly have a place of operations of your own. In your own words, you weren’t a hero, so you didn’t need a city to watch over. This just meant you wandered a lot, did some petty theft, or very extreme theft if they were a corrupt person, and just… hung out.

You knew Oliver was SICK of seeing you around star city, but it’s not your fault that the place was filled to the brim with corrupt rich people. It also allowed you to take potshots at Oliver when you got the time. Roy may have forgiven him, and they may have made up, but you didn’t forgive as easily.

This was also why you found yourself in Bludhaven so much, just lounging around Dicks apartment or safehouses. It was a common sight for Dick to see you literally stretched across his couch, or see you worming across the floor like a snake towards the kitchen.

Anyone else might have found it sickening, but Dick had been around you so long that it was normal. Plus, you made a great blanket when you would slither back from the kitchen and drape across him.

And maybe it was overexposure, but he did find your stretched out grinning face cute, in its own weird way.

It was so easy to take cuteness aggression out on you, since he could pull, bite and pinch as much as he wanted, it wouldn’t hurt you. It also resulted in you being Dicks personal stress ball, meaning hed massage and pull at your face when he was deep in thought. Your face always looked like some kind of Picasso painting afterwards.

There were other times you’d shrink and hang out in his toolbelt, if he had one on, or in some other compartment in his suit, just so Dick could stick his hand into that pocket and you could hold his finger, for comfort, mainly his.

It also worked great for surprise attacks. You never knew when Nightwing had plastic man 2.0 in his pocket before it was too late!

And yes, your hero name was plastic man 2, no matter how much your friends begged you to change it. Why would you change it? that’s literally what you were. Having a different name should be enough.

You did joke a few times about changing it to Flamebird to match Dick though, just to see him blush.

[diorchids]

RETURNING THE FAVOR, CORIOLANUS SNOW, SEJANUS PLINTH.

oral (all receiving), DEGRADATION, praise, SWEARING n more

nsfw ahead !

sejanus knew you were a great girlfriend. always up for everything, even for questionable things. he just needed a small favor.

your back arching on top of sejanus’ chest, fingers intertwined while your cunt gets abused by coryo. “she likes it, keep goin’.” sejanus bucks his free, clothed cock up onto your ass as you moan and sob under coryos touch, his nails digging into your thighs as he laps at your swollen cunt. his tongue slides into you, so easily, and his nails dig further into your thighs. 

“i think she’s ready, coryo.” rough hands moving across your chest and stomach. sejanus coos into your ear, nails digging into your hips, “feel good? gonna fuck you stupid.” breath hot against your neck, covered in small bruises. you nod as sejanus delivers sloppy kisses to your ear and shoulder.

sejanus’ readiness doesn’t stop coryo, though, only making him speed his tongue up, a finger finding its way to your hole. slipping in, coryo breathlessly groans your name, rutting his needy hips against the bed. 

red, slick lips attach to your swollen clit and you instinctively grip his blonde hair, locks spilling out between your trembling fingers. “so wet, so, so wet.” coryo’s warm breath fans your clit.

long fingers curl up inside of you, brushing that soft, spongy spot. your moans resemble that of an animal as sejanus slides his thumb over your wet lips, running his fingers through your hair, soothing you. 

your eyes snapping shut as coriolanus pumps inside of you, moaning and biting your plush lip that quivers with every thrust from him. your cunt squeezes around his fingers when sejanus’ hand roams your stomach, again soothing you. “there’s my girl, go ahead,” a grin spilling onto his face seeing you react to the abuse of your clit, how good it feels. 

coryo’s speed only increases, him making sure to hit that spot, tears prickle at your waterline as you look up at sejanus who can only run his thumb across your cheek. your stomach can’t help but tighten as coryo digs his fingernails into your hips when they stutter against his knuckle. 

“don’t move, almost done.” breathless words leave his mouth while he still humps the end of the bed, subconsciously. “doin’ so good, so good.” sejanus says while his eyebrows furrow, reassuring your trembling body. 

coryo’s fingers feel so good in you, curling just right as his warm tongue runs over your clit. “stay fuckin’ still, taste – good.” he groans into you. the sound of your wet pussy fills the room along with moans and groans from all three of you. you know you won’t last any longer when your cunt constricts around his fingers. 

a soft moan leaves your lips as sejanus whispers, “go ahead.” his low voice only makes you spasm around coryo’s chin and fingers.

juices fall onto the bed under you while coryo cums from his cock rubbing against sejanus’ bed, warm liquid filling his boxers while he soothes his red, puffy tip. 

sejanus’ warm body leaves yours, standing before motioning for you to come closer. “knees, please.” two eager sets of eyes watch your naked body, breasts and all. 

coryo groans when you rub your cheek against his boxers, hard cock waiting for your warm tongue. his cock slaps his stomach, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you, so ready. your hand wraps around his cock while sejanus sits on the bed, matching the way your hand strokes coryo to no end before you lick at his tip, he’s so sensitive. fingers snake their way through your hair before grabbing a fistful and tugging backward.

your plump lips all around his cock make him groan at the sight, his hips bucking up into your mouth. “f– so warm,” red lips being sunken into by his teeth. your nails dig into his thighs as you bob your head up and down, needing all of him in your mouth, ready for his cum all down your throat. “taste s’ good.” you moan onto his skin. his free hand grips your neck, finding comfort in you being this close.

his fingers loosen their grip on your hair, his legs tremble under your nails’ constant abuse. his hips can’t help but buck into your mouth, so warm, so inviting. warm cum coats your throat and your tongue, leaving you to taste what you’ve done. “so fuckin’ good, f’ so good on me.” his thumb on your chin, fingers cradling your jaw. “so nasty for my cock, look at you,” his chest heaves over you, hands shaking.

“c’mon, your turn.” coryo speaks to sejanus who's already fucked out from his fist, covered in pre-cum. 

he shuffles over to you, on your knees, lips all wet looking up at him in all of your glory. eyelashes fluttering, eyes so determined to help them. “m’ ready.” you said it so sweetly, even giving a smile. 

sejanus taps his tip on your lips, signaling for you to open them. “so pretty.” he groans while you take him all in your throat, trying at least. his hand grabs your hair and holds it, occasionally squeezing when your nails dig into his thighs. the room fills with thank yous and praises while your tongue runs over a vein, hips bucking into your mouth almost instantaneously. 

your mouth goes up and down on his cock, making his hips stutter and eyebrows twitch. his hand can’t help but find its way to your cheek, running his thumb over it. “tastes good, want you all in.” your moan only egging him on as coryo watches, running a finger over his slit. he’s jealous. jealous sejanus gets all of you, jealous of how good you’re being to sejanus, how he can have you any time. 

sejanus’ eyebrows furrow at your words before groaning, your hand roaming his stomach, “m’ gonna cum, mouth so fuckin’ warm,” legs about to completely give out. his hands grip your hair and push your head farther onto his cock, him needing your warm mouth to cum. “f– cummin’.” fat cock twitching in your throat.

cum seeps down your throat and down your chin as you keep sucking, his load not stopping. his legs nearly buckle at the constant overstimulation, your tongue running over his slit again and again, earning one last thrust into your mouth, muttering praises and curses.

sejanus lifts you from your knees onto the bed, “gonna make you feel so good, doll, just wait.” coryos finger taps your ankle, silently telling you to open them.

sejanus’ breath against your mouth, “let us return the favor.” 

ok lmk what u think. cs i bit my finger a lil bit idk

[ihatedtoadmit]

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

[ash5monster01]

hey!! could you please write more neil perry smuts? they’re so rare and your writing is amazing

your wish is my command 🤍

It’s Just Practice

Pairing: older!Neil Perry x actress!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, smut, dirty talk, language, oral f & m receiving, p in v, fluff, MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s Neil’s first sex scene on a new acting job and not only is he terrified but he’s afraid he’ll be so uncomfortable it will affect his acting. You provide a solution.

word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

You don’t miss the way Neil wipes sweaty palms on the front of his jeans, eyes darting to the filming schedule for the week, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Ever since you both had started filming this movie he hadn’t been nervous, in fact he was a natural, which you appreciated considering you had been doing this your whole life. That’s why his behavior has caught you off guard, the script pages fanning against your fingers as you flip through them in search of the lines you’d have to brush up on this week.

“What’s up with you?” your voice comes out sharp, startling him as he jumps to turn and spot you in your director chair, legs crossed, and script open on your lap.

“Nothing, I’m fine” he says unconvincingly and it almost makes you snort considering an actor should be much better at lying than he is.

“No you’re not, take a seat Bambi” you tease, watching the doe eyed boy nervously approach his own director chair beside you and take a seat. You know he hates when you call him that but someone so innocent looking like him exploring the world of acting on unsteady legs reminded you of the sweet deer.

“I swear I’m fine” he says, stretching his fingers over his thighs, looking anywhere but you as he clearly battles with whatever inner thoughts currently had him this on edge.

“Neil, I’ve been doing this a long time. So let’s skip whatever this is and get to the part where you confide in your experienced friend” his cheeks burn red, taking your words in a context you don’t quite understand yet, because he was currently freaking out about the scene scheduled for tomorrow.

“It’s about tomorrow” he nearly whispers, causing you to lean closer to make sure you don’t miss what he says.

“What about it?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed together as you close the script and plop it on the ground beside your chair. A nervous hand meets the back of his neck, massaging the flesh there as he attempts to find his words.

“I-I’ve never filmed a sex scene before” he whispers again and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles past your lips, shocked that of all things you two had already filmed together this was the one that shook him the most. “Please, it’s not funny”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just-, usually the men I act with look forward to those scenes the most” you offer, trying to calm your laughter down. Neil shakes his head so you reach to place a hand on his arm, offering as much comfort as you can.

“I’ve never done one before and if I’m being honest the guy who went to an all boys high school wasn’t actively getting laid in college” he tells you and this is something new about him that you hadn’t known, it could explain why he was still so nervous and sweet around women unlike some people in this industry.

“You have… right?” you find yourself asking and Neil wears a panicked expression.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been with a woman. Just not on camera, not like this” he gestures to the script, knowing the scene the two of you were to perform tomorrow was a high stakes passionate moment between lovers.

“Take a breath Perry, it’s easier than you’d think” you assure him, squeezing his arm once more before letting go.

“How could it be easier?” he asks, exasperated and little shaken up about this whole thing. He’s nearly positive that if he had known there was a sex scene he may have never taken the job.

“It’s easier because not only are we professionals but we’re friends. You can’t look at it like an intimate moment being watched by an audience, you have to be comfortable and trust me” you tell him, reaching for your water bottle. Neil lets the words sink in as you take a sip, eyeing how some of the water dribbles along your lip and your tongue darts out to catch it.

“Friends don’t kiss each other” he says with the shake of his head and you snort, twisting the cap back on your water bottle.

“In this business they do, it’s nothing, it’s friendly!” you assure and Neil can’t help but chuckle, finding a semblance of amusement in this minor crisis of his.

“Well if you don’t remember, this is only like my third acting job that isn’t theater” Neil says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and rub his hands together. You watch as his biceps flex under that thin material of his shirt and gulp lightly.

“Alright, here’s the deal. After filming today, come to my place, I’ll cook you dinner and we can…. practice the scene. Make sure you’re comfortable” you suggest, wringing your hands together and hoping the boy doesn’t take it in some weird way. You had been doing suggestive scenes a long time, long before it was probably even appropriate, so this should be nothing. How hard could it be to make Neil comfortable with you?

“Okay, that sounds good. Thank you” he says and you crack a smile even though you were suddenly the one who was nervous. There was nothing normal about cooking dinner for a man and practicing fake sex but then again nothing about this job had been normal so far. So you nod your head and prepare for the worst.

“Yeah, anytime”

It’s taking everything in you to tear your eyes away from them nearly empty casserole dish, the very one you and Neil had just picked at in order to delay the next part of this hangout. You felt silly even making it considering it was the only thing you ever learned how to cook and you had to double the recipe to feed more than one person. It was even more embarrassing digging through your kitchen for more than a single serve dish to cook it in.

“The food was great” Neil offers and it springs you into action, shoving the chair away from the table as you collect the dishes and start towards the sink.

“Thanks, I’m not much of a cook” you say, smiling as he meets you at the sink with his own used plate. He smiles back as you take it from his hands, setting it in along with the other stack.

“I brought my script, you know, just incase. Even though there isn’t a lot of dialogue” he says and you giggle, realizing your were more comfortable with him than you had previously thought.

“Great, why don’t we go to my room” you sound silly saying it, like a teenage girl unsure of how to get a boy in her bedroom but Neil doesn’t even flinch as he nods at you and waits to follow in your direction.

You use the opportunity to snag your empty wine glasses and the rest of the bottle from dinner to bring with you, flashing him a quick smile over your shoulder as he follows you up the stairs and to your room. He’s ever the gentleman as you set the glasses on your dresser, pouring fresh glasses as he eyes the minimal belongings around the room.

“Cozy” is all he says and you smile, handing him a glass while sipping from your own.

“Temporary, I travel too much for work to ever get comfortable in one place” the notion surprises Neil, considering he stayed in the same place for nearly his entire life. Even through all of college and into his adult years he still hadn’t even spent as much time out of Welton as he did in it.

“Sounds lonely” he suggests as he moved to sit on the end of your bed and you tip back the rest of the wine before joining him.

“Maybe, but I’m used to it” you tell him, taking the script from his hands and opening to the pages. If you were to survive this, you’d have to be as professional as you could.

“Alright coach, how do we do this?” he asks, lacing his fingers and stretching his arms out in front of him. You chuckle, shaking your head lightly at the boy who was so nervous about this earlier.

“Well the beauty of a sex scene is we have creative freedom. You only have a few marks you have to hit, other than that there isn’t much direction to follow” you explain, holding out the script to show how the script indicates where they kiss, where their hands should be, certain sounds, in only various places.

“Okay so make it your own but also hit the marks” he nods, glancing at the script as he lets the new information sink in.

“I find it best to count and also pace it as if it was real. So from the moment we first kiss, count to five and then put your hand on my cheek” you explain, pointing to the written direction on the page and Neil nods.

“Okay, so it starts with us at the end of the bed and I lean in for a kiss” Neil says, holding the adorable glasses he wore up to his eyes. You smile as he drops them back down into his front shirt pocket again.

“If it makes you more comfortable we can practice, I promise I don’t bite and I haven’t been told I’m a bad kisser” you shrug and he bellows a laugh, moving the script from out of between you both. He was nervous earlier but he also liked you, thought you were funny, and if you were this willing to work with him there was really nothing he should be afraid of.

“Tell me if I do something wrong” he whispers, ducking in close and tracing the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours. You suck in a sharp breath, unprepared for his causality about the whole thing.

Slowly you tip your head up, eager to chase his lips with your own and finally, just as in the script he meets you, unpracticed lips fumbling together as he kisses you like it’s real. You kiss back slowly, sighing softly as his hand meets your cheek and slowly slides into your hair, fingers lacing through the locks and grabbing a fistful to steady your mouth against his own. If Neil was truly unexperienced it would not be this good.

Following the next part of the script he slowly eases you onto the mattress, chest pushing against your own until your head meets the soft cushion of your bed. For once you’re thankful your character doesn’t have to do much of the work, you just let out soft sounds of delight as his lips trail down your neck and meet the front of your chest. You’re not even sure if you’re acting anymore when you roll your hips into his own.

“We can stop here” he mutters against your skin but you feverishly shake your head, hands meeting his face and keeping him where he was.

“No, it’s okay. We’re gonna see a lot of each other tomorrow, better to just get it out of the way” you urge and he nods, continuing to kiss your neck as he starts shoving your dress up the sides of your hips just like it is in the script.

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable” he mutters, lips kissing along the fabric on your chest and stomach, inching his way down.

This would be the scene where he removed your panties, the camera would be just on your face as you moaned out words of pleasure, as if he was actually giving you head. Ever the actor though, Neil has found himself with his arms hooked under your legs and head awfully close to your underwear where he can undoubtedly see the wet patch beginning to form there. You both freeze, realizing fairly quickly this wasn’t a scene surrounded by a hundred workers, that you were alone and he had made you wet.

“I-I’ve never” Neil suddenly says and your cheeks tint pink, hands already reaching to shove your dress back down and over your hips. “Could I?”

“What?” you can’t help the shocked voice that leaves you as the brunette boy gives you a sheepish look.

“I know we don’t actually have to but I really am comfortable with you and if you’d let me?” he suddenly feels like an idiot, coming over here for help and then nearly begging to eat you out. You can practically see the thoughts racing in his head and you slowly pull your skirt back up.

“Go ahead” you urge and despite the initial shock Neil doesn’t let it falter him as he slips his fingers into the hem of your underwear and slowly begins to slide them down your legs. If you had known the night would turn out like this you probably would’ve never invited him over but it was already too late, you wanted him hopefully as much as he wanted you.

“Just, make sure I do it right” he says and before you can respond with some sort of agreement his tongue darts out and glides through your folds, a squeak escaping the back of your throat as your head drops back against the mattress.

Neil realizes the reaction you made is a good one so he dives right in, relishing in the taste of you as he licks and sucks, exploring all the new parts of a female body he’d never understood before. When his nose nudges against your clit a loud moan break free from your lips, making Neil’s eyes widen as he dares to do it again in order to confirm that was the spot to get such a reaction out of you. When he realizes it was no mistake he moves to suck hard on that one spot and your eyes nearly roll back in your head.

“Shit Neil, you really sure you haven’t done this?” you pant, whimpering as he slides a finger into you. Neil hums in response, the vibration of it tingling up through your whole body. He doesn’t pull away to give a verbal answer and instead speeds up his movements that you begin to feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

It’s when he slips a second finger into you and he moans against your clit do you feel your orgasm near the edge. On instinct your hand flies down to tangle into his hair, thighs slowly tightening around him as his movements never cease. Your other hand is wound so tightly into your sheets you miss the sly look he gives when he realizes you’re about to finish. With one last pump of his fingers and harsh suck to your clit you’re cumming swiftly, tightening around his hand as he continues to coax the orgasm out of you. The whines that leave your mouth are delectable and when your body finally relaxes against the mattress he pulls away, a happy smile on his face as his heart thrums in his chest.

“How was that for practice?” he says, breaking the silence, and you laugh quickly. At least he was able to be confident in this situation.

“I’d say we were a little too professional” you respond, breath coming out in heavy pants and Neil stands from the ground at the end of the bed, smiling down at you. Yet it’s impossible to miss how hard he is in his jeans, the length of him pressed uncomfortably against his zipper, and you gulp. Neil notices your eye line immediately, suddenly nervous all over again.

“You know the next part of the script is me helping you out?” you say in the form of the question even though you both know it’s not. Neil chuckles even though nothing is entirely funny about how your suggestion has suddenly made him harder and the look in your eyes proves you’re not going to let him off that easy.

“You don’t have to, I’ve kinda already stepped over the line” he shyly says, that nervous hand once again returning to the back of his neck. It doesn’t matter though because you’ve already sat up and started tugging at the zipper of his pants, fingers fumbling the button open.

“Shut up for once Perry and let’s finish what we started. Practice or not” and with one fowl sweep your tugging his pants and boxers down in one go. You had never considered the size of him before today but you’re not disappointed, in fact you’re shocked to see he had been hiding all that all this time.

Neil’s the one whining now, member standing tall and proud, grazing his lower abdomen and leaking with precum. You smile at him, hands pushing the T-shirt up and over his head before standing and pushing him down in the place you just were. He shifts, clearly in need of some relief, but you don’t touch him just yet. Instead you reach for the bottom of your dress, slowly tugging it up and over your own head just to reveal you had forgone a bra.

“Oh God” Neil says at the sight and you just grin, hands falling to his thighs as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling where he just was. Neil can barely watch as you place a soft kiss on his thigh, hand rubbing up to his pelvis and dangerously close to where he was desperate for your touch.

“You know Perry, of all things I never expected you to be so desperate” you tease and he goes to give a witty comeback, he really wants to, but you have your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and any words in his mouth are swallowed in an instant. You wait a beat before pumping your hand softly, when you earn a soft moan you finally dart your tongue out and slowly lick the tip.

Neil’s squeezes his eyes shut so tightly there is almost tears coming out of them. You smile at the sight before taking him into your mouth fully. The gasp he lets out is music to your ears and you take as much of him as you can. What you can’t reach you use your hand and just like that Neil Perry is a mess of a man in your bed, when not so long ago this was supposed to be an innocent and professional practice. When you speed up your movements he’s quick to snap his eyes open, sitting up in an attempt to push you off.

“Baby, I’m not gonna last if you keep going like this and personally I’d like to be inside you when I do finish” the pet name and the sentiment has your ears burning red but you release him with a pop anyway, arm wiping at your chin as you smile up at him.

“How does it go in the script? Me on top?” Neil blushes and you lift from your knees, crawling above him on the bed. His eyes dart from your own, to your breasts, to where the two of you will meet, and you can nearly see the gears turning in his head.

“God I’m in trouble” is all he says when you grind down onto his length, covering him in your slick.

“Why’s that?” you ask, an innocent look on your face as you settle above him and grind against his length again, not quite lining him up to slip inside yet.

“There’s no way I’m not going to get a hard on, on set tomorrow. Especially after I already know what it’s like to be inside you” he pants, hands gripping your hips as you move slowly against him, nearly killing him.

“You haven’t been inside me yet, in fact we could just stop right now and save you the embarrassment” you start to say lifting up, but his hands grip tighter, and bring you back down. You’re sure he might leave finger marks but at this point you don’t really care.

“Baby, I am painfully hard and this either ends with me inside you or me awkwardly going to the bathroom to resolve this little issue, and I’d much prefer the first one” the sentence makes you giggle loudly and Neil finally breaks a smile, grinding his hips up into your own and you’re quickly reminded of the sheer length of him nestled deliciously between you.

“I prefer it too” is all you say before you grab his member without warning and line it up with your entrance. Neil squeezes your hips tightly and watches with wide eyes as you slide down his length. Slowly, slowly, until you’re flush against him and your head is tipping back at the sensation.

It’s better than he could’ve ever imagined and without you looking he gains the courage to reach and grope your tits, shamelessly feeling them up. The action makes you grind against him and he stiffens, trying to make sure he lasts as long as he could. He didn’t want this to end. Yet you seemed to have enjoyed the feeling as well and without warning you’re grinding quickly against him, using his hold on your chest for balance. When the feeling doesn’t become enough you place your hands on his own chest and lift off him. His hands instantly leave your breasts and return to your hips where he guides you back down on him.

You stay like this for a while, filthy moans leaving both of your lips as you bounce on his length, your eyes rolling back every time he hits that spot inside you. When Neil is sure he can’t take it anymore he’s flipping you onto the bed, hovering above you and giving no warning as he starts drilling into you. The moan you let out is pornographic and as he continues to drive into you he leans down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. When he feels you tightening against him he smiles and meets his lips with your own.

“Come on baby, finish one more time for me” he encourages before pulling back and thrusting into you faster. When his fingers meet your clit and begin to rub, you feel the coil tighten in your stomach, ready for release.

“Shit Neil” you gasp, hands gripping his arms and holding on tightly. Neil smiles and never slows his pace.

“Come on baby, so fucking pretty like this” he says breathily, moaning softly in your face and it’s enough for the coil to snap. You tighten down around his length, legs trembling as they try to close together and he never ceases his movements as you cum hot and fast.

“I’m not gonna last much longer” he warns and you wrap your legs around him, indicating to finish in you, and it causes his hips to stutter. When your lips meet his own he’s finishing, warm ropes filling your inside, and he pushes in deeply once more as he settles against you.

You both lay there for a moment, letting the weight of what just happened settle in. You had never let a coworker step over that line before but it wasn’t regret you were feeling. In fact your stomach was warm with desire that hadn’t quite burned out yet. You had found Neil charming and kind from the start but you had not realized the feelings that bubbled there all along. Brewing into something much bigger and deeper than you ever realized. Something that made you go through with what you just did.

“So that just happened” Neil breaks the silence and you giggle loudly, hand falling against the back of his head and keeping him against you. The warmth spreading from your stomach and all the way up your chest.

“I told you there was no reason to be nervous” you say, fingers grazing through his hair and he chuckles, arms wrapping tighter around your bare waist.

“That may be true but now I’m more nervous everyone on set will see how into you I really am” Neil admits, lips brushing against your chest softly and ending with a soft kiss.

“Good acting is all, Oscar worthy” you say and he laughs again, head lifting to look in your eyes. They’re so full of adoration your heart stutters in your chest and you realize just how gone for him you really are.

“Hopefully that wasn’t all it was, acting” Neil says softly and you shake your head, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

“No, that was real” you admit and he smiles before leaning and pressing a firm kiss against your lips. One that conveyed he had no interest to stop kissing you after this moment. Maybe you were done for, in over your head, but at least you had this moment. A feeling, the idea of hope, that you could hold onto forever.

“It was real for me too”

[gojokive]

❥ Beg For It, Petal.

» RATING › 18+ [M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T] » GENRE(S) › smut/fluff » PAIRING(S) › geto suguru x female!reader x gojo satoru » WORD(S) › 2.8k+ » SYNOPSIS › You simply want to make breakfast for your boyfriend's but they have something else in mind. » SMUT WARNING(S) › oral (female receiving), fingering, squirting, gojo & geto kissing, a smidge of dirty talking, allude to sub!geto, allude to anal, praise kink, begging, nicknames (petal, peach, love, pretty girl, honey, & gorgeous), loads of cuddling between the three of you, vacation vibes only! (half-ass edited so beware lol) » POST DATE › 03/21/2024

thank you for reading! & remember: you nice, keep going.❤️ comment/reblogs(s) and like(s) are totally welcomed! › read more work here: masterlist ‹

It’s merely morning when the sun begins to rise, casting a surreal glow into the room. Your body and mind decide to stir as you wake from your slumber. The black curtains hardly catch the glare that hits your face when you try to turn over. It’s then that you realize you’re laid snug on top of Satoru. You can feel his even breath against your neck as he smushes his face against your chest. His grip on your waist is tight and it stops you from being able to turn like you want to.

“Stop.” Satoru groans when you shift your body, leaving Suguru to grab you from his arms (or more importantly, before you can get up to leave). His hold is much firmer than Satoru’, his face is buried in your neck and you can feel him press soft kisses against it.

“Pretty girl,” Suguru chuckles the moment you moan. “Where are you trying to go, honey?” His eyes remain closed, his voice is soft but raspy and for a second, you melt into his embrace as he smothers you closer to his chest. One of the things you love to do is simply listen to this beautiful man talk. His voice is so calming and reassuring that you often fall into this state of bliss. You appreciate the feelings both he and Satoru give you while you're tucked into their arms. A sense of safety and security that everything will be alright. You close your eyes and savor the moment, knowing this feels like home.

“You’re staring, baby.” He wolfishly grins, bringing his hand up to caress your bottom lip. “It’s still early… It's only eight and you’re already trying to leave us.” Glancing over at the clock on the dresser, you realize he's right. It's eight forty-three and honestly, you can use a little more sleep. “Sleep.”

“I want to get up though,” You whine as he only chuckles about how cute you are. You want to get up, take a shower, maybe even get breakfast started for them but you can't do that since Suguru won't let you go. “And It’s not that early, ‘Gu. I could be cooking breakfast right now. I’m hungry.” As if on cue your stomach growls, alerting him of the basic need that hasn't been met. “Suguru…”

“But I’d rather you stay here.” He peeks through his left eye to get a good look at you. The ray of sunlight shining through the balcony door just right to radiate not only the room but you too. An angel in disguise. He can't help but reach up to brush his thumb against the side of your cheek as you lean into his warmth. You can't lie, you love being sandwiched between both of them and right now is no different. “That’s why we hired people for this so you wouldn’t have to move a muscle, honey.”

“But I wanna do it…” You frown, “I-It’s not t-the same-”

“Oh, but It is.” You don't see the smirk present on his face the moment he feels you bury your face in the crook of his neck to attempt to hide. “It's okay to relax. It's your vacation as much as it's ours, Petal. Just sleep.” He says, settling back with you in tow and you lose your breath. You can’t believe how beautiful this man is. He laughs, leaning back to rest his head against the pillows again. You snuggle into his chest, tracing circles on his collarbone.

As time goes on, Suguru’s out like a light again, and you decide to maneuver yourself back between them to get comfortable. Both men snore, one louder than the other. You feel Satoru cuddle up into your back as his hand finds your stomach. He rubs against it as both play tug-a-war with your body to see who gets more to cuddle with. 

The warmth feels good. And the butterflies in your stomach make you feel alive as you’re laid up and fiddling with Satoru’s fingers. 

It's times like this you cherish. The moments where Suguru isn’t in one of his moods and Satoru isn’t off doing god knows what. And neither of them has to leave for days on end. It makes you wish you could stay like this forever and keep them chained to the bed but sadly, you can’t. At least not in the way you want to. Suguru might like it. Satoru? Not so much. Then again, who truly knows? As much sex as you and Satoru have, you haven’t tried that yet. 

Which is surprising in itself and well, you make a mental note to visit a sex shop down the street from your apartment complex one of these days. 

Glancing at the clock again, it's nine-ten and you can't justify laying in bed much longer than you have. You want to see the scenery and all that so you decide it's time to get up and shower. You can even feel the grime of last night's activities start to feel crusty and gross and you can't take it anymore. You run a couple of scenarios through your mind or rather, solutions so you can get up and move freely without waking your boys.

Solution one. Try with all your might to wiggle your way out of their grasp. In which, you do but that plan ends in utter failure when Suguru groans for you not to move again. He turns over to throw his arm over your waist to keep you still. And with Satoru's hand awkwardly sprawled on your ass, they've got you locked in place again. 

Failure.

Solution two. Try to put a pillow in your place but, of course, that was also a failure because they can tell the difference. Hell, they won't even allow you to get up long enough to do the switch.

You're exasperated as you roll over to stare at the ceiling, groaning to no one but yourself. You glance to either side of you. They look adorable with Suguru’s face buried in your chest now and Satoru’s face mushed against the pillows, it makes his lips pucker. You just want to kiss both of them but right now is not the time.

Solution three. Try ripping yourself from their grasp. You try for about five minutes until you realize that's futile.

“Really?” It only serves to annoy you when you hear Satoru chuckle, no doubt listening to you struggle. And if he’s awake then you know Suguru is too even if he doesn’t utter a word. You just want to get up! Your stomach has been growling for a hot minute and you're hungry and gross and ugh!

“Just stay with us, Petal.” How can you say no to that? You don't know but you fix your mouth and tell them to get up when Satoru leans in close. His lips barely touch the skin of your neck and you can feel his gust of breath on your neck that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I was going to make us breakfast though…” You gasp the moment he nibbles against your ear, his warm hand resting against your thigh. So close to where you would like it to be but not right now. You try your best to sit up again but it’s no use. With them holding you the way that they are, you’re shit out of luck. “Well, can I at least take a shower?”

“Mm-mmh,” Suguru mumbles while kissing your shoulder. “Later...”

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend as a sigh falls from your lips. For both of them to be grown men, they’re acting like straight children right now but giving up is the last thing you want to do. Hunger overtakes everything. So you wait, somewhat impatiently for what seems like hours. You knew they were going to fall asleep again soon. 

It was just a matter of time. 

You end up wasting time on your phone, playing some mobile game Satoru told you to download until you hear both men snoring a little louder than before. 

With a shift of their bodies, you're finally able to slip out of their arms to get to the bathroom. You made it your mission to take a quick shower, trying to figure out what you want for breakfast. You don't want to linger in case they wake from their slumber again and try to tug you back into bed. Or you know, in case they decided to hop in the shower with you because breakfast will never be made then.

“Aww,” You coo, seeing them closer with Satoru’s face buried in Suguru’s neck while his leg is hiked onto his front. The blanket covers nothing but their lower half. his arm loosely draped over his tiny waist. Suguru’s waist was a gift from the heavens, you loved it. Especially whenever he’d wrap your legs around it.

You quickly shake those thoughts before they even enter your mind, instead, you snap a picture to tease them later. 

Waltzing over to the drawer, you pull out one of their band shirts, a random one they let you have (since they had so many), and settle for some black panties. Being comfortable was the main thing. 

Stepping out, you close the door quietly and start toward the kitchen. Searching through the fridge to find something to make something simple came to mind, a little bit of both of their favorites.

You're so into what you are cooking, that you don’t hear the door to the suite bedroom open. You also don’t hear either man making their way to the kitchen. 

“Baby?” Satoru whines, wrapping his arms around your waist. You’re startled, mind drawing blanks as you almost drop the hot skillet.

“J-Jesus,” You giggle, turning to face him to push him away, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Satoru smiles. He peppers kisses down your neck as his hands caress your inner thighs and you can feel the start of his bulge poking into your ass. Suguru stands from the island and pulls you to stand in front of him while Satoru sandwiches you from behind.

“I’m trying to cook,” You whine, feeling Satoru’s hand dip into boy shorts as he rubs his finger over your slit. You throw your head back with a soft moan. Suguru steps away long enough to turn off the stove so the food doesn’t burn, but he steps forward to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist to sit you on the counter. Neither one says a word, Satoru attacking your neck to hear you groan as Suguru kisses your lips, your body melting into their touches, “I just wanna finish cooking...”

“Maybe we just want you for breakfast,” Satoru growls, nipping at your earlobe before yanking your underwear down and off your body.

“You can finish after we’re done,“ Suguru teases, “You’re already so wet for us, Petal.”

“Fuck yeah, she is,” Satoru smirks, tilting his head so he could get a good look at you. You’re blushing softly, the tint of red turning you into a tomato. “Was it from me touching you or is it the thought of what we’re going to do to you.”

“What’s turning you on, baby?”

“‘Toru…” You don’t want to say it out loud, resulting in you simply nodding your head. Of course, they’re not falling for it. Suguru grips your chin a little harshly but you can’t help but nibble on your bottom lip. Your cunt clenching around absolutely nothing at the blatant show of dominance. Satoru knows that look on your face, you’re slowly falling into that headspace of yours but Satoru doesn’t want you to completely lose yourself. 

At least, not yet.

“Words baby,” Suguru mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth once you take a deep breath to try and ground yourself. 

‘We need to hear you, Peach.”

“Yeah! Yes! Please…” You’re breathless as you throw your arms around Suguru who gets a grip on your thighs to be able to pick up and move you to the kitchen island. You’re going to need more room for the orgasm he’s about to give you. Your hips buck the moment he starts to slowly ease his middle finger inside you. 

“So tight.” Suguru places kisses on your trembling thighs, and all the while, Satoru hops onto the island to settle behind you. He’s glad he sent the chef and maid away for a couple more hours. Let’s be real though, they would have gladly given them a show too. He didn’t care but he knows you do.

“You’re so wet, Peach.”

“She’s sucking my fingers right in.”

Satoru chuckles, bringing his finger to press into your clit before rubbing it while Suguru's fingers continued to pump in and out of your cunt. The sounds cause both men to grow hornier as they watch your orgasm build, you're falling back against Satoru’s chest as he moves to the area above your clit. Suguru takes the opportunity to roll his tongue over your clit before flicking it a couple of times.

“That’s it, love.” Satoru kisses his way down your neck as your mouth falls open and your breathing continues to pick up. You’re right there if the way you try to squeeze your thighs around his hand and Suguru’s head says anything. It’s so hot. Fuck, you’re fucking gorgeous. “Let Sugu take care of you. Feels good doesn’t it?”

You moan in response, reaching for Satoru to bring him closer for a heated kiss. Your eyes close as he wastes no time, his tongue dancing with yours for dominance but ultimately winning.

“Taste sweet.” You throw your head back once more when Satoru starts to play with your bottom lip, gently running his thumb over it. You take it into your mouth, rolling it around your tongue and sucking on it lightly. You can feel how hard he is in your back, wanting to take care of them like they were taking care of you. You let go of his thumb with a soft pop as Suguru leans up to face both of you and quickly runs his palm back and forth over your clit.

“Please- ‘m- Fuck!”

“That’s it,” Satoru teases, running his tongue up your neck and over that spot that makes you shudder. “Don’t be shy, love.”

“Let it out, Petal. Let us hear you.” He whispers, looking at Satoru whose eyes are fixated on you. He wants to taste you until you scream their names. Nibble at your exposed skin until you’re whining for him to stop. He loves the sex-crazed look you get in your eye when you’re about to cum, especially when it’s directed towards him. 

Their faces are so close that Suguru's lips hover not quite touching yours as Satoru is still buried in your neck.

You’re fucking dripping onto the counter, their goal obvious once they catch each other's eyes again and smirk.

“You going to squirt for us, Petal?” Suguru keeps going, hearing you whine but your moans grow louder the moment your body lets go. He leans down, not wanting it to go to waste as his hands slow down but his tongue makes up the work. He continues to lap at your pussy as Satoru watches with sharp lust-filled eyes. 

“Taste good?” Satoru asks as Suguru smirks, giving your pussy a lasting kiss before coming up to meet you and Satoru. It doesn’t take long for Satory to grip his chin to tug him closer. Running his tongue from his chin to his mouth before making out and tasting you all on Sugur’s tongue. Satoru moans into the kiss as Suguru deepens it, all the while, you try to catch your breath before leaning forward to rub Suguru through his boxers.

“Fuck…” Suguru gasps, feeling you lap at his neck while Satoru still has his tongue in his mouth.

This is fucking heaven and god, he doesn’t want to break this.

“Beg for it,” Satoru smirks, pulling away from Suguru but keeping him close enough to feel his breath on his lips. “Beg us to take care of you.” You give Suguru’s cock a gentle squeeze before leaning back against Satoru’s hard chest.

Suguru closes his eyes, swearing he could cum right now. Your gaze is so intense that he knows he’s going to be in for it once you get back to the room.

“Satoru. Petal. Please touch me.” He’s practically begging both of you to do what you want with him. 

“You think that was good enough, Peach?”

You grin, pushing him down to kneel in front of you. 

“I think you can do better than that.”

Satoru hums as both of you stand in front of Suguru with wide grins on your face.

“I know he can too. Guess we’re going to have to fuck it out of him, right Suguru?”

And god, does Suguru's mind grow completely cloudy just thinking about it. 

He can’t fucking wait.

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[targaryenmarvel]

A Stark Legacy (3)

Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Summary: The life of a Stark is tumultuous, especially when you are the only daughter of the technology magnates. You find yourself at a crossroads, struggling to meet your father's towering expectations while also pursuing your desires. This turning point is marked by the arrival of a certain green-eyed girl, a meeting that not only disrupts your world but also sets your heart on fire. Will you finally follow your heart or conform to your father's expectations?

Warnings: Language, Homophobia, Sexism

Word count: 7,257

A/N: Happy New Year's everyone! Here's a longer chapter since I haven't posted in a long while. Enjoy!

Wanda huffed, exasperated by the long trek up the apartment complex stairs. Indications of her physical exertion appeared in the form of a cold sweat, unsteady breathing, and a burning in her thighs. Although Wanda recognized neglecting the gym was a part of her current state, she preferred to put all the blame on the apartment building for its shitty maintenance. Oh, she hated the got damn place.

Only hours before, the elevator had been fully functional. Even though it made a concerning amount of noise, it got the job done. Now, the steel doors were tapped with a notice warning of its unavailability. Just weeks ago, it had been the heating in her apartment. Wanda briefly wondered why she had yet to move out but quickly discarded the fleeting thought. New York was expensive, and despite having a decent salary as a secretary, it wasn't enough to afford a better place while also paying off her student debt. Especially now that she had been let go from her job.

Wanda clutched the takeout foam container as she fumbled with her keys, promptly jiggling the key into the lock and pushing the door open. The lavender smell she loved struck her nose as she strode inside, throwing the keys to the coffee table before heading to the kitchen. After the long commute, Wanda only wished to relieve her desert-dry tongue with a cold sip of water. She went to the refrigerator and retrieved a water bottle, twisting the cap off before taking a swig of the chilling liquid.

Wanda plopped on the couch, her mind wandering to her interview at Stark Industries. Despite her doubts, the interview had gone exceptionally well, and Agatha's extroverted personality dissipated Wanda's nervousness. Now, all she could do was wait for the call.

Wanda yawned, her body heavy with exhaustion, and she lifted her arm to cover her eyes. Her legs ached in a way they hadn't since Pietro had dragged her to the gym as a teenager. She kicked off her heels, sighing in relief at the liberating feeling as her body melted into the furniture. Slowly but surely, her breathing began to slow down as her mind flickered into unconsciousness, returning to a distant childhood memory.

A young Wanda Maximoff ran through the streets of Novi Grad in pursuit of her twin brother Pietro. After an exhausting school day, the twins only wished to head home. Struggling to keep up with her energetic twin brother, Wanda felt the warm breeze on her face as he playfully pulled at her hand, his laughter echoing as they dashed through the familiar neighborhood, making their way home. Others watched some nostalgia for their childhood and others with sorrow; despite the range of emotions, all could amount to one thing: the country's current state. Something most children, including the Maximoff twins, were ignorant of.

After an exhausting run that seemed to last forever, the twins finally arrived at a dilapidated building. Breathless laughter filled the air as they dashed up the worn stairs and burst into the top apartment, catching their parents off guard with their sudden entrance.

As she entered the room, she noticed her father sitting on the couch, slumped over with his elbows resting on his knees and his hand cradling his head. Her mother was beside him with furrowed brows and a downcast look in her eyes, gently rubbing his back in a comforting gesture. As the twins made their approach, the pair subtly adjusted their posture, their eyes revealing a hint of apprehension even as they forced a smile onto their faces—something Wanda had seen her teachers do as well. Wanda and her brother did not really know what it meant.

Instead, they ran up to the pair, hugging them tightly and ranting on about their day at school. Wanda fumbled with her pant pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper with four figures. Although wanky, it was clear to discern that the four figures represented their family. The tall bearded one, her father; the one with long flowing hair, her mother; Pietro with a lightning bolt on his shirt; and her with a doll in hand. The work of a child, yet the only thing that could get a genuine smile from her parents as the two proudly displayed it on the wall.

Later at night, the family sat on the couch, their attention on the old television as the VR of "I Love Lucy" played. Laughter filled the small apartment as Lucy and an Italian woman tousled in a large grape barrel. It was Wanda's last happy moment with her family, and she was reminded of it when the atmosphere suddenly changed. The apartment light began to flicker intermittently, casting eerie shadows on the walls. As the illumination wavered, the television image became increasingly distorted, with the colors bleeding into each other and the audio crackling in and out. In the distance, a loud noise grew ever-present, sending a chill down Wanda's body.

The sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the air, causing young Wanda to freeze in fear. She looked at her family, bewildered by their lack of reaction, as they remained engrossed in laughter while watching the comedy show. Wanda wanted to scream at them and tell them they had to run, but it was as if an invisible force prevented her from opening her mouth. Her chest heaved as panic overtook her body when she realized she couldn't save her family. She could hear the loud explosion hit, leaving her ears ringing afterward. The sound only grew louder until she clutched at her ears in pain.

Wanda awoke with a start, heart hammering in her chest and eyes wildly darting around the room before settling on the ringing phone on the table. She rolled to her side, reaching for the cell phone with her left hand. The screen lit up with an unknown number, and Wanda strained to see it through her teary eyes, heart pounding with apprehension. She briefly considered rejecting the call, emotionally drained by her dream.

It could be important. Wanda countered her desires by pressing the green button.

"H-Hello," she said, willing the grogginess and fear in her voice to disappear.

"Did I wake you, dear?" asked a familiar voice. Still somewhat sluggish, it took her a moment to recognize the voice. Her eyes widened, her body shot up into a sitting position, and she carelessly wiped at her eyes.

"Oh, not at all, Agatha," Wanda responded, running her fingers through her messy locks as if the woman on the phone could see her state. "Did you need something else from me?" She questioned, deducing they forgot to cover something during the interview. They had spent a great deal of time talking about personal matters.

"I do. I need to know when you can start."

"When can I start?" She repeated, mind slow to comprehend the words.

Agatha chuckled across the line. "Yes, dear. Miss Stark has approved your hiring. All we need is to sign the contract, and we are ready to go. So how about it, dear?"

"Immediately." Wanda stood and paced the room, containing the urge to scream in excitement. "I can start immediately," she clarified.

"Wonderful. Why don't you drop by tomorrow? We can look over the NDA and your contract. Who knows, maybe you'll meet Miss Stark."

Wanda's mind flashed to the glimpse she had gotten of her now boss. The wildness of her thoughts as her eyes danced across your figure. She could feel her face reddening as they returned with force. Working couldn't be so bad with such eye candy, she thought before shaking her head in reprimand.

"I'll be there."

When the call ended, Wanda plopped back on the couch, this time with a shit-eating grin. Any remnants of her nightmare were forgotten as she reveled in the news. Finally, something good, Wanda thought. The past few months had been emotionally draining for Wanda, and her dissatisfaction with her life increased the longer she worked a job she did not enjoy. When she was let go from her last job, she wasn't sure if you should thank the heavens or rot in bed with shame. Wanda did a bit of both, a part of her thinking maybe it was finally her moment to shine. The rational, nagging side reminded her of her adult responsibilities and that any job was good as long as they paid the bills. She probably would have returned to a similar job if not for Natasha.

Wanda shuffled in her spot, eyeing her most recent calls and selecting one. The phone rang a couple of times before a raspy voice responded from the other side.

"Wanda?" called her friend out of breath. She could hear children screaming in the background, drowning out her voice. "Can you hold for a moment?"

Wanda huffed a laugh, amused as her friend's voice cut off the loud screaming. "Time out, guys," she said and returned to Wanda. "Hey, sorry about that."

"I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?" Wanda asked in a playful tone, amused by her friend.

"Not at all. In fact, you're my savior, Maximoff," she laughed. "Barton's devil spawns have been chasing me for the better part of an hour. They are killing me!"

Wanda giggled, imagining her friend hunched over her hand on her knees, trying to catch her breath as a bunch of children swarmed her. "I thought detectives were supposed to be in shape?"

"Hey, I am in shape. It's just hard keeping up with nonstop bundles of energy, okay?"

"Oh, so it's just the age?" Wanda teased, twisting one of her locks with her index finger. Oh, how she loved antagonizing her friend.

"Oh, babe, don't play that game with me. We both know that you're worse off out of you and me. You were huffing and puffing the last time we went hiking. And you know what? I still have the video evidence!"

Wanda's face dropped in horror. The expedition lived fresh in the forefront of her memories. How she had nearly collapsed twenty minutes up the hiking path, a sharp pang under her ribs as her lungs called out for oxygen. Clint had been filming a video for Laura, where you could see Wanda struggling in the background, and of course, Natasha had gotten a hold of the video.

"You wouldn't," Wanda deadpanned, trying to sound intimidating.

"Try me, Maximoff," responded her friend in a low voice.

Wanda scoffed with feigned offense and said, "You are ruthless, Romanoff."

"What can I say? It comes with the job," Natasha retorted, and Wanda could tell the woman was holding back a laugh. "So what can I do for you, Wands?"

Wanda's lips curled upwards at her friend's question, recalling the reason for the call to Natasha. She took a deep breath, preparing to tell her friend the news.

"Nat," she began pausing in anticipation before exclaiming into the phone, "I got the job." Wanda did not expect the silence that followed. For a moment, she thought her friend had not heard. That phone service perhaps gave out, given Clint lived in a remote location. She was about to repeat herself, but the voice across the line beat her to it.

"Oh, my god, Wanda! That's amazing! They must have been impressed with you if they hired you within hours. Maria told me it's an extensive process that could take weeks. Tell me everything. Did you meet Y/N?"

"Does seeing her from afar count as meeting her?" Wanda asked, recalling the moment her eyes landed on your figure. "Her assistant Agatha was the one who interviewed me, not her."

"Really? That's unlike her," Natasha said, remembering all the tales she had heard of the Stark heiress—something about you being involved with every aspect of your job, including hiring.

"Speaking of Y/N, you never told me I would be working for her. I thought you meant Tony," Wanda scolded, shaking her head even though her friend could not see the action.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't do that to you, Maximoff. I hear he's a real playboy."

"Then I won the lottery. Agatha says Y/N is a sweetheart, so I won't have a problem with an asshole boss. It doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes either," Wanda mused, biting her lips with a dreamy look.

From the other line, Wanda heard Natasha chuckle, amused. "Oh, Maximoff, are you crushing on your boss?"

Wanda thanked the heavens that her friend could not see her state as she turned red from her comment. It's not her fault you were so attractive, she thought.

"No. I'm just making an observation. She's attractive," Wanda replied matter-of-factly, downplaying the situation. She could not let Natasha know her true feelings. She would rather twist the facts than admit the truth, but it was not so easy to deceive her friend.

"Sounds like a crush to me."

Wanda groaned into the phone, rolling her eyes. Nothing she said would change her friend's mind. Her opinion is unchanging, like the mountain in a raging storm. She would not submit herself to her relentless teasing. "Oh my god, Natasha, I'm hanging up."

"Wait!" Natasha called out as Wanda went to hang up, and Wanda waited, curious. "Let's meet up for drinks tonight. Get the whole gang and celebrate your new job. What do you think?"

Despite the power nap, Wanda could still feel the heaviness in her limbs, begging her to remain in the comfort of her bed. However, she found her desire to celebrate surpassed her tiredness.

"I'm in," she agreed, with anticipation growing in her chest at the promise of a good celebration.

"Perfect, you just get your pretty ass to Shaw's. I'll take care of the rest."

"It's a plan, see you there."

"See you there, babe."

Wanda hung up the phone, feeling grateful for Natasha's friendship. Not just thankful for the job opportunity she had given her but also for her companionship. Since childhood, Wanda had found making friends a difficult task. On the contrary, her naturally extroverted twin made friends left and right. Even then, it never interfered with his relationship with Wanda; they were each other's most important person.

Wanda felt gutted when her brother decided to accept a scholarship at UCLA across the country. Of course, she left home in New Jersey, too, but not leagues away from their hometown. Something in their relationship shifted for the worse. Wanda had never been without her brother, so the adjustment had been difficult, and a part of Wanda felt resentful towards her brother for leaving. Wasn't she a good enough reason to stay? Why didn't he keep his promise? Wanda had questioned as she watched his plane fly away, the vague memory of a small boy holding on to her shaking body promising to protect her forever running through her mind. Over time, Wanda's resentment vanished, transforming into something else.

After graduation, Pietro stayed in LA and opened his own business. Compared to her brother, Wanda felt a failure. Professionally and as a sister. What kind of sister is jealous of her twin brothers' success? Although she knew Pietro held zero blame for the way she felt, Wanda could not help distancing herself from her brother.

Wanda felt her chest constrict at the thought of her brother. She missed him, his wide smile and mischievous jokes, or the way he'd tease her for being older than her. The way his arms would feel around her body and the security in knowing he would protect her. She did miss him, but Wanda didn't know how to bridge the chasm she had created. How can she explain her feelings to her brother without making him hate her more than he probably did after their last call?

The last time they spoke, she lashed out at him after he offered to house her in LA. It was a noble gesture meant to ease Wanda's stress, yet all she could feel was the sense of failure that often overran her mind.

Wanda fiddled with her phone, indecision lingering as she looked at her brother's contact. It wasn't the first time she found herself with her thumb hovering over the call button. She had wanted to apologize immediately after hanging up, but the shame that had filled her body prevented her from doing so. Wanda sighed. She couldn't magically fix the relationship, but she had to start somewhere, so she pressed the button. The phone rang and rang, but unlike Natasha, no one answered. Wanda felt the anxiety building in her chest, uncertainty taking over. What if Pietro didn't want to hear from her anymore? What if she had lost him? Her fear only intensified as the call went to voice mail.

"Hey Piet, it's been a while since we talked," she sighed, picking on her nails nervously. "I know I said some horrible things last time, and I am very sorry. I didn't mean any of it. All that about not needing you, it's total bullshit." Wanda paused, feeling a knot in her throat. "The truth is I am terrified of a life without you, Piet. There's so much I need to tell you, but I don't want to leave a voice message crying, so call me. Please call me. I love you, Pietro."

Wanda felt a single tear running down her cheek as she sniffled. Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her mood slightly dampened. After a long moment, Wanda stood and made a beeline to the bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, thankful for the lack of puffy eyes. It's the last thing she needs. Wanda wandered into her bedroom and began rummaging through her closet. She would try to have a good time tonight; she deserved it.

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Your work was long from over after leaving Stark Industries in the late evening. Instead, you settled in the comfort of your home office, reviewing reports and sending emails. Your fingers dance graciously across the keyboard as you detail an email to the Stark Industries lead engineer and product development manager. However, your concentration was soon thwarted when strong hands landed on your shoulders, and a face leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Hey, sweetheart," said Bucky, sitting on the ledge of your desk.

"Honey," you replied, playing along even though there was no one to act for. "What are you doing here?"

You rested your chin on your knuckles as you stared at the man. Bucky didn't need a reason to be in your apartment, considering you basically lived together. He had his apartment not far from yours, yet he disliked being alone, so like the gracious friends you were, you hosted him in your home.

"Oh, I have come with a proposal," Bucky declared, taking hold of one of the picture frames on the desk—a picture of you and Tony at his M.I.T. graduation ceremony.

You hummed cocking your head in your hands. "Another one? We're already engaged, you know?"

"Not that kind of proposal." Bucky set the frame down, shooting you a mischievous smile. "I booked a VIP at Paradise. Ah ah ah, I know what you'll say, 'I have work.' I don't care, Y/N. You were frantic during our lunch today. It's obvious that you need to destress."

You pout at the man, considering his words. It's true; you needed to decompress and unload the massive wedding stress on your shoulders.

You sat staring at the man, weighing your options. You knew Bucky would not force you to go if you did not want to accompany him. Still, you could see the glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. Bucky quirked an eyebrow expectantly, and you rolled your eyes, knowing he had won.

"Alright," you conceded, and Bucky made a noise of victory.

"Get dressed, beautiful. Maybe we'll get lucky and find you a special someone for the night." He winked, a smirk gracing his lips.

You scoffed, slapping at his arm.

"First off, that's an odd sentence to say as my fiancé. Secondly, I don't need luck, buddy," you retorted matter-of-factly. "I could have anyone I want."

Maybe not anyone, but that didn't detract from the point. Yes, most people in your circle wanted you for your name, but that didn't mean you weren't attractive. You could see how both men and women observed you and the underlying desire behind their gaze. So no, you didn't need any luck.

Bucky chuckled, amused, and crossed his muscular arms. "Which is why you're marrying your gay best friend, huh?"

"Haha, very funny," you said in a monotone voice. "So funny that I am starting to rethink going out tonight."

"Nooo! Please forgive me!" He clasped his hands together, raising them in front of his body. "I beg, don't abandon me."

"You're an asshole." You pushed his shoulder, holding in a laugh. "I'm gonna go get ready."

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The bar was dimly lit, its air thick with the hum of overlapping conversations and faint notes of classic rock filtering through old speakers. Neon signs flickered against exposed brick walls, casting soft glows on rows of liquor bottles lining the back shelves. Wooden stools creaked as patrons shifted, laughter occasionally cutting through the noise. The faint aroma of spilled beer and fried food lingered.

Despite being there to celebrate her new job, Wanda was the last to arrive. Wanda navigated through the tables and crowd, following the faint instructions of her friend on the phone. Wanda glanced around, trying to catch sight of her friends, when suddenly, two arms circled her waist. Wanda squealed, feeling her back press into a strong body and warm breath close to her ear. Wanda fumed, preparing to turn around and slap the audacious individual. How dare they touch her without her consent?

"Hey there, sexy," they rasped, squeezing her waist. In that instant, Wanda recognized the voice and the mix of citrus and leather emanating from the person.

"I was about to punch you, Natasha," Wanda informed, stepping out of the embrace. She crossed her arms, staring the woman down with a frown. Natasha's eyes might sparkled with a quiet humor, and the corners of her mouth curved into a restrained smile.

"As if you could, Maximoff," Natasha quipped with a chuckle, and Wanda rolled her eyes. She knew Natasha was right, yet she couldn't admit it. Thankfully, Natasha wasn't expecting it either. "Let's go there waiting for us," she said as she pulled Wanda towards their friends.

"Wanda!" Monica greeted, opening her arms to hold the brunette. Wanda had known Monica since her college days and remained friends throughout the years. The only close relationship she kept from those days.

"Hey, Mon!" Wanda embraced the woman, glad she could be there despite her demanding job. Wanda moved to the other people at the table: Maria and Clint. She met Maria the same night as Natasha, considering they were already dating. As for Clint, they had met after Natasha invited Wanda to Clint's for game night. Over time, she introduced Monica to her new friends.

"So, Nat said there was something important you wanted to tell us," Clint inquired, sipping from a tall glass. "You pregnant or something?"

"What?" Wanda stared at the man in horror. She could hear the others chuckle at Clint's absurd assumption. Wanda knew Clint was most likely joking around; I mean, who would announce a pregnancy with drinks? Wanda shivered at the idea of being pregnant. Of course, she wanted kids eventually, but not when she was finally getting her life together. "What did Laura ever see in you?"

"My good looks," Cint responded with a wink. Wanda raised an eyebrow, ready to retort, unwilling to lose the battle. Of the two in the group, Natasha and Clint always seemed to be teasing her, but she had grown up with a twin brother and learned never to back down.

"Settle down, kids," Natasha cut in, sliding a drink toward Wanda. "Why don't you tell our friends the good news."

Wanda took a swig off the drink, feeling the cool liquid lightly burn her throat. "Well, as you all know, Maria got me that interview at Stark Industries and..." she paused, eyes dancing between her friends. "I-I got the job!" She exclaimed, still feeling in disbelief.

The table erupted in congratulations at the news. They had all known Wanda's frustration and lack of passion for her job. They were all thrilled about this new opportunity.

"I'm so happy for you, Wands," Monica whispered into her ear as she went in for another hug. Wanda squeezed her frame appreciatively, feeling her chest swell from the simple words.

The group ordered a round of drinks to celebrate, the noise of clinking glasses ringing over the music. The infectious energy continued through the night as the group caught up, leaving half-empty glasses scattered across the table, and a light buzz had begun to set. Wanda could feel the warmth spread through her chest like a slow-growing ember, her thoughts softening at the edges. She felt light, not enough to tip her balance, but just enough to make her thoughts fuzzy. Wanda hummed, momentarily distracted by a song that began to play; she almost didn't hear when Monica suggested they head to a place her co-workers had ragged about.

"So what do you guys think? Should we head to Paradise?" Monica asked, eyes dancing between her friends but settling on Wanda.

Wanda considered the suggestion, leaning back in her chair and taking in the familiar charm of the bar. The dim lighting, the mismatched picture frames on the walls, the jukebox in the corner full of classic hits, and even the shelf behind the bar full of odd trinkets all wrapped her in a comforting embrace. She loved this place—how it felt like home, but tonight wasn't about comfort. No, it was about celebration. The thought of a club—the pulsing lights, thumping bass, and the wild energy of a packed dance floor—tugged at her.

Wanda agreed, so they all left the bar, with the exception of Clint, to continue their night. Despite the long waiting line, the quartet could avoid the wait due to Monica's connections. Inside the club, they found what they needed. The atmosphere was alive with energetic music that pulsed through the air. Colorful, flashing lights danced across the space, casting vivid patterns on the walls and ceiling. In the center, a crowd of energetic dancers moved rhythmically, their bodies swaying and spinning in harmony with the infectious beat, lost in the moment.

Wanda and the other women wove their way through the pulsating crowd, the bass from the speaker thudding in their chests with each step. They continued until they made their way to the glowing countertop stretching along the club's side. Bartenders moved with practiced speed, shaking cocktails and sliding drinks down the bar with effortless precision. The air was tinged with the sharp scent of citrus and the fizz of spilled soda.

Wanda leaned on the counter, calling the attention of the bartender. "Hi, can I get four tequila shots?" she asked the bartender, who nodded in acknowledgment. She turned to Natasha as the other woman wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"On me," she said as she handed her card to the bartender. "Keep the tab open. It's going to be a long night."

After downing their drinks, except for Maria, who was content with one drink from the other bar, the four joined the dance floor. The four moved together in a loose circle on the crowded dance floor, their laughter mingling with the pounding bass of the music. Each of them had their own rhythm—Natasha swaying her hips with effortless grace, Monica spinning in playful circles, her hands raised high in the air. They leaned into each other as the song hit its peak, their smiles wide and unrestrained. They didn't care about the people around them or how they looked.

The VIP section stood at another section tucked away behind a sleek black rope guarded by a stone-faced bouncer. Inside, the atmosphere shifted from the chaotic energy of the dance floor to something more refined and exclusive. Sitting on one of the leather couches, a small group of people animatedly conversed, starkly contrasting the deafening bass outside. A server made his way to the group, balancing a tray of cocktails and a champagne bottle with practice eased. From this elevated perch, the view of the packed dance floor was perfect—a kaleidoscope of lights and motion, just distant enough to feel detached from the frenzy.

Despite the club's outstanding reputation, no one in your social circle roamed these streets. It was a great relief, considering Bucky was setting you up with a woman you had encountered upon arriving. You could immediately see the interest in her eyes as they roamed down the silky blouse and high-waisted black trousers. They stayed a little longer on the multiple rings adorning your fingers. Not your engagement ring, of course, that had stayed tucked away at home.

She was attractive, too, you admitted. Long golden hair cascaded in a soft wave down her back, and a sleek black mini dress with fitted long sleeves hugged her figure perfectly, revealing her long-toned legs. Her eyes were a striking shade of amber framed by long dark lashes and a smokey eyeshadow, her lips full and tainted in red. As she moved, she exuded confidence, her graceful posture commanding attention without effort, and in that moment, she had wanted yours.

You had been reluctant to accept her flirtations, but Bucky had basically shoved you towards her. Going as far as to invite her and her friend to the VIP section. It was not the best idea, as you could see her friend interpret his friendliness as flirty.  

Natalie—she had told you her name —raised her hand and rested it on your arm while smiling seductively. She leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as a way to draw attention to her chest. Then, her soft and melodic voice dropped an octave. "I can't tell if it's the music or the company, but something about tonight feels... electric. What do you think?"

You refrained from cringing at the cheesy pickup line and froze at the words instead. She was overdoing it, but still, the words hit you like a jolt, freezing you in place. Your eyes flickered to Bucky for any indication that the man had heard her words, but he remained engaged in his conversation. Your eyes returned to Natalie, taking notice of the teasing glint in her amber eyes. Despite her undeniable beauty, you were hesitant to accept her advances fully—the habitual need to measure the words and intentions of those around you taking over. Taking a leap and taking your friend's advice to unwind, you took a swig of your cocktail before responding.

"Definitely the company," you replied with an unwavering gaze, and you watched her smile grow. You hoped you weren't making a mistake.

On the dancefloor, Wanda's friends continued dancing while she made her way to the bar. Threading her way through the crowd, she kept her eyes on the bar ahead, her mind already rehearsing her drink order. But just as she turned the corner, she collided with something—or rather, someone. A broad, unyielding chest halted her movement, and she staggered lightly, but strong arms steadied her. Wanda's gaze lifted, meeting a man with a strong, square jaw, piercing blue eyes, and perfectly styled blond hair. Broad shoulders filled out his fitted black shirt, and his confident stance radiated an effortless charm. His lips quirked into a half-smile, both apologetic and amused, as his hand gripped her elbow.

"Oh, sorry!" she blurted, her voice barely audible over the music, heat creeping up her cheeks as she stepped out of his hold.

"That's on me. I wasn't paying attention," the blonde man excused, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "Were you heading for the bar?" He asked, signaling backward with his thumb.

Wanda shifted in her place, uncomfortable with her stoic position amongst the energetic crowd. She eyed the man cautiously before responding, "Yeah, I am."

"I'm heading that way, too. Do you wanna...?" He tilted his head toward the bar, inviting Wanda to join him. Wanda hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. The man before her was absolutely gorgeous as if sculpted by the gods, but he was still a stranger. He seemed to sense her unease and chuckled, embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm Steve, by the way, and very much gay."

Wanda's breath caught for a moment, stunned by his casual revelation. She blinked, processing his words. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, any apprehension at his invitation fading away.

"Well, that explains the perfect hair," she teased, her voice light. He grinned, leaning slightly closer as though to share a secret.

"Guilty," he said with a wink. Wanda snickered, her tension forgotten. "So..." Steve said, waiting for her answer.

"Why the hell not," she said, stepping toward the bar with him.

"You didn't tell me your name," he said as the two waited for the bartender. Wanda's face reddened, ashamed of her lack of manners, and she was glad the lighting hid the hue.

"I'm Wanda," she answered, fiddling with her fingers.

"Nice to meet you, Wanda," Steve said with a grin before proceeding, "Why don't you let me buy you a drink as an apology?"

"Oh, that's not necessary," Wanda refuted, shaking her head. "My friend is taking care of the bill for tonight." Besides, she was sure she had bumped into him.

"Is it a special occasion? Your birthday?"

Her birthday? No, she disliked celebrating the date ever since Pietro left her. Even with the persuasion of her friends, the date seemed dull without her brother. The curse of being twins living worlds apart.

"No, uh, not my birthday," Wanda responded, watching the bartender mix a drink. "New job." She tried to sound uninterested, not wanting to gush.

"Really? Congratulations."

"Thanks." She brushed her hair behind her ear, embarrassed by the attention, something that had followed her from her childhood.

"Can I ask where?"

Wanda did not want to seem like she was bragging, but she could not contain the wide smile as she responded, "Stark Industries."

She watched Steve's eyebrow rise to his forehead and whistle. "Now that is impressive. I've heard getting a job there is harder than getting into the FBI." Wanda nodded; she knew without Maria's help, she would have never gotten the opportunity due to the company's selectiveness.

"Might as well be. I was lucky my friend put in a good word for me," Wanda downplayed, motioning for the bartender as he approached.

"I'm still inviting, by the way," Steve interjected. Wanda wanted to protest, but she could see Steve would not back down, so she nodded. "I'll take an old fashioned and the for the lady a..." He looked at her expectantly.

"Virgin Mojito," Wanda shouted over the music. "I need to slow down with the alcohol," she explained to Steve, shuffling on her feet as self-awareness crept in. Considering the milestone, she should be drinking the night away, yet here she was, doing the opposite. Steve simply smiled at her, and she instantly felt her anxiety ease away. The two were left in conversation as the bartender tended to their order.

"And you, what do you do?" She asked Steve, not wanting to make all the conversation about herself. She leaned her back on the countertop, waiting for his answer.

"I manage a nonprofit that helps homeless youth," he explained. "Specifically teens and young adults who've been through tough situations—runaways, kids who aged out of foster care, or those kicked out."

She tilted her head, intrigued. "Wow, that's incredible. What made you start something like that?"

He shrugged modestly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's personal, I guess. I've seen how hard it can be for some kids to find their footing. I figured if I had the ability to help, why not? It's not flashy, but it's worth it when you see someone get a second chance at life."

Wanda's struggles as a child came to mind, and she felt her chest tighten. She smiled, her admiration for him growing. "You're giving them a future."

"That's the hope," Steve said, his blue eyes reflecting a quiet determination. Steve took the glass placed in front of him, bringing it to his lips; the smoky aroma of the whiskey mingled with the subtle sweetness of the sugar washing over his senses.

Wanda accepted her mocktail gratefully, appreciating the crisp, cool taste with its perfect hint of sweetness. The minty aroma and tangy lime made her feel re-energized. They sipped on their drinks, easily falling into a conversation to the point of exchanging numbers. They remained that way until Monica fell upon the pair on her search for her friend.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she informed, taking notice of Steve, her eyes surveying the man with intrigue, clearly getting the wrong impression. "I see you're in good company," Monica teased with a grin, and Wanda fought the urge to roll her eyes. Internally, that is all she would do.

"Steve, this is my friend Monica, and Monica, this is Steve. I bumped into him on my to get a drink."

"Pleasure to meet you," Steve greeted, extending a hand, and Monica gave Wanda a pleased look. Steve's boyish charms had also fooled Wanda as she assumed the man's intentions towards her. Now Monica did the same.

"Pleasures all mine," Monica responded before returning her attention to Wanda. "I'm gonna hit the dance floor again. You two coming?" she asked, trying to be a wingwoman.

Although Wanda was enjoying the conversation, she could feel her body pulse with renewed energy. Wanda nodded and turned to Steve, who was looking through the crowd. She couldn't see what he was looking at as his gaze landed on a group of people removed from the crowd. They were on a platformed space reserved for the VIPs. Steve observed as the woman holding hands walked away from the man before he moved to join the general crowd. The man wore a tailored charcoal coat, fitting his body-like skin, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim frame. Beneath it, jet-black silk glimmered faintly under the warm club lights as he moved through the crowd.

"Are you joining?" Wanda asked, uncertain of his answer.

"Ah-" Steve glanced at her before returning to look at the much closer man, and as if he could sense Steve's gaze, his own landed on him. "I'm getting another drink," he said, distracted.

"Oh, okay. Good luck," Wanda responded, noticing the exchange. Beside her, Monica's face shifted to confusion as her eyebrows furrowed, her mouth opening to voice out her thoughts. Before she could, Wanda pulled on her hand. "Let's go."

"What? What are you doing? What about Steve?" Monica's head turned to look at the man still at the bar.

"He's gay," Wanda revealed nonchalantly, and Monica stopped dead in her tracks. She stood there dumbfounded, and Wanda could see the wheels turning in her head.

"I see it now," she said, and Wanda bit her lip, containing a laugh.

"Come on, let's go."

The two navigated through the crowd, scanning the packed dancefloor as the music pounded around them. Neon lights flashed across moving bodies, making it hard to recognize anyone.

"There they are!" Monica shouted, pointing, and the two joined their friends.

"I thought you were only getting a drink. Where did you go?" Natasha asked Wanda when she noticed them. She turned to Monica. "And you, did it take you that long to find her?"

"Sure did, considering she was chatting up Adonis himself," Monica responded. Natasha raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk already forming. "Not so fast. I thought the same thing, but it turns out he has other interests."

Natasha tsked. "You need to get laid, not make friends. Must we also find you a lover?"

"Please stop," Wanda begged, to look around, hoping no one was paying attention. She was relieved most seemed lost in their own world. "Remember, you're supposed to be celebrating me, not torturing me," she reminded her friend.

"Come on, Nat, don't tease her. You were no better when we met, remember?" Maria defended with a wink. Natasha's eyes narrowed in a dramatic manner as she placed a hand over her chest in mock offense. Her lips parted in an exaggerated gasp. Mara pulled her on her hand, bringing her forward and kissing her lips. "Sorry, babe."

"We are so single," Monica whispered into Wanda's ear, and she couldn't help but agree. She couldn't remember when her last relationship had ended. A year ago, perhaps? She was not sure. "Maybe we can dance the loneliness away." Wanda huffed a laugh but consented, and the group resumed their activities, each paired off.

Wanda and Monica moved together in perfect rhythm, their laughter spilling over the thumping bass of the music. Monica spun the Wanda dramatically, her hands brushing as they twirled, drawing amusement from Natasha and Maria. Their movements were carefree and full of energy—shoulders bouncing, hips swaying, and feet tapping to the beat as the flashing lights danced across their skin. When they became exhausted, they moved to sit at a small table and soon after decided to head out.

The four friends stepped out into the cool night air, the bass of the club's music still faintly vibrating through the walls behind them. Laughter bubbled between the women as Monica recounted a story from one of her and Wanda's college parties.

"Okay, okay enough," Wanda said in between giggles. "It wasn't my fault. I had no clue he was lactose intolerant when I gave him the drink."

"Poor guy, he had to leave early," Monica recounted, linking her arms with Wanda. She pulled out her phone and squinting at the screen that displayed 1 AM. Not as late as they had planned to stay, but the dancing had finally begun to take a toll. Luckily, Maria had measured her drinks, only sipping a low-alcohol cocktail so that she would be driving them home—no need to Uber anywhere. The women slowly made their way to Maria's car, talking animatedly.

Wanting to take one last glance at a club, Wanda momentarily turned her head backward. She found a surprising sight as her eyes landed on a familiar figure she soon identified as Steve and, with him, a man she did not recognize. She couldn't see his face as he had his back to her, but she took notice of his silk jet black sleeveless tank, fitted trousers, sleek loafers, and, resting on his arm, a charcoal coat. She was close enough to see a wolf silhouette tattoo on his back.

"Good job, Steve!" Wanda said, and her friends turned around right as the two men kissed passionately.

"Oh, that's Steve? Good for him," Natasha mused as they continued walking.

Wanda hugged her jacket tighter around herself, her heart light with the joy of the night. The perfect mixture of dancing, drinks, and the kind of carefree energy she rarely let herself indulge in. Even with the familiar ache in her feet from hours of dancing, she didn't mind. Tonight had been just what she needed.

Taglist: @sgm616 @xxsekhmet @xenaizogie

[faretheeoscar]

TURNING FROWNS

into soft touches

Pairing: Marc Spector x Gn!reader

Warnings: just fluff, poor Marc needs to be comforted from time to time, although gets a bit suggestive at the end

A/N: English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there’s any mistakes, no proof read.

Word Count: 1k

Listen… taking care of Marc by giving him small featherlight kisses and soft caresses when he’s all grumpy and frowning after a hard day and being away from a mission, he ends up reluctantly letting you help him and your touch turns him into a tired, grateful and maybe horny mush.

After returning from a grueling three-day mission, Marc collapsed onto the couch, his clothes clinging to his body with sweat and dirt. Despite the pressing need for a shower and fresh attire, exhaustion rooted him in place, rendering even the slightest movement an arduous task.

His brow furrowed deeply, like the creases of a turbulent sea, Marc sat, amidst the chaos of his thoughts. The weight of the day hung heavy upon his shoulders, each line etched into his features a testament to the battles he fought within.

You slowly approach him and climb on his lap to try to help him relax. Startled by your sudden presence, he jolted slightly, his frown deepening at the intrusion.

"Not right now baby, I'm tired," he grumbled, his voice a weary murmur, as if carrying the weight of the world in each syllable. Yet, despite his protests, his hands found their way around your waist, drawing you closer to him as if seeking solace in your embrace.

With a tender touch, you began to massage his temples, your fingers tracing soothing circles against his skin. The tension in his muscles slowly began to melt away, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over him like a gentle tide. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the serenity of your touch as if seeking refuge in the tranquility you offered.

"It's okay," you whispered, your voice a soft murmur against the hushed silence of the room. "Just breathe."

And as he exhaled, a sigh of relief escaped him, carrying with it the burdens of the day. In the quiet intimacy of that moment, surrounded by the gentle cadence of your breath and the tender caress of your touch.

“I’m here my love, let me take care of you”

As you whispered in his ear, the words washed over him, bringing peace to his rattled soul. Letting out a deep sigh, he let out a faint smile, the corners of his lips curling up as he continued to surrender to you.

You gently trace your fingertips along the furrowed lines of his forehead, feeling the tension slowly dissipate beneath your touch. As your fingers work their magic, his frown begins to soften, melting away with each stroke. His breath steadies, deepening into a more relaxed rhythm as he gives into the sensation.

As you continue to work your magic by massaging his temples, your other hand begins to trail delicately along his jawline, tracing the contours of his face accompanying it with feather-light kisses. Each touch and kiss is filled with tenderness, a silent reassurance that you're here for him, to ease away the weight of the world, Marc cannot do anything but softly hum and let out small sounds of satisfaction.

Your lips brush against his furrowed brow, leaving a trail of soft kisses that slowly erase the creases of worry. Moving downward, you plant gentle kisses along his closed eyelids, coaxing them to flutter open and meet yours with a newfound warmth, a glint of appreciation on his eyes.

And as he finally opens his eyes, there's a softness in his gaze, a gratefulness for your presence and the solace you've bring him, but you let Marc close his eyes again as he sighs and let’s you keep kissing every single part of his face.

Your lips trail across his face, your hands delicately weave through his curls, fingers gently massaging his scalp in a rhythmic motion. With each touch, his tension begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that washes over him like a gentle tide.

You whisper words of comfort against his skin, your breath mingling with his as he lets himself be consumed by the soft trail of your lips when you brush them against his cheekbones, the slight curve of his nose, going down to his jaw, stopping on his beard stubble to brush it against your lips before you make your way down to his neck.

Caresses and kisses on his neck pause momentarily as you accidentally make a gentle tug against his hair, and a small gasp escapes your lips, trying to quickly apologize for the discomfort you could've caused. But to your surprise, instead of a complaint, you're met with a satisfied low grunt from Marc. His eyes, still closed in bliss, flutter open slightly, a hint of amusement dancing within them.

“Careful there…” he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a playful undertone, he squeezes your hips and his hand ends up going down further to your lower back to push your body as close as he can get you to him.

Marc's hands squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, as if wanting as much contact as possible with your body. Leaning his weight back against the couch, he pulled you into his arms and you settled properly on his lap, your weight resting against his frame.

As your soft lips continued to kiss his face, he tightened his grip on your hips, his muscles pulling you into him as your bodies pressed together, your breasts squished against his chest.

He buries his head on your shoulder, you feel his warm and hot breath against your skin, mixed with his musky scent, it sends tingles down your spine. Specially when his hand slowly guides your hips to his, and there’s when you finally notice what your soothing and sweet touches have been doing to him, feeling the hardness against his tight jeans.

“Oh.. Marc baby, weren’t you tired?”

A small hum escapes from Marc's lips when he finds the sensitive pulse point on your neck, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His husky voice, laced with desire, stirs something within you, that has you squirming on his lap and making him chuckle.

“I was… I am…but… I really want this… No I need this” Marc quickly corrects himself. ”Although you’re probably gonna be doing all the work baby, is that a problem?”

A playful grin tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze, your own voice a whisper of desire. "No problem at all," you reply, your tone dripping with anticipation. "I've got you, Marc. Always."

And of course you wouldn’t complain why would you? You’d gladly volunteer for that kind of extra comfort he seeks any day.

I might start a TAGLIST, cause I've been writing more lately? Let me know if you wanna get on it!

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

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[lovelettersforthedamned]

Frat!peter Parker and “stay where you are. i'm coming to get you." And she’s at a party and maybe she’s went with a friend and then she’s left alone and calls on her number one pookie bear for help…? You write frat Peter so well I pass away every time 🫶🏻

One Call Away 

✮ frat!tasm!peter parker x f!reader

✮ word count: 0.9k

✮ summary: when you're friend gets mixed with the crowd, you're left to stand alone at a party you didn't even want to go to. luckily peter is always one call away from making your shitty night a decent one.

✮ warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol, one kiss, language.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ peter parker m.list ⋆ four-hundred follower bash

not my gif. credit to the owner:)

Pre-gaming at your friend Amanda's apartment earlier that evening set the standards high. Drinks were poured, the music was loud, and laughs echoed in the room. You don’t usually go out, but if your friends needed a plus one, you were always there. 

But now the excitement you’ve felt for this party has suddenly turned sour now that you’re standing alone. You’ve been holding your drink for so long that it’s warmed from the heat of your palm. 

Amanda was whisked away within the first fifteen minutes of stepping foot in the dingy off-campus house. You were happy for her, of course, but being pushed into the corner while people danced around you made you reconsider coming. 

The air around you became hot and suffocating. Combined with the various couples making out beside you, you decided to step outside for a moment. Texting Amanda your new location you begin your journey out the door. It takes a few shoves, but you finally feel the cool air of the night wash over your cheeks. 

It feels like you were finally able to take a breath as you walk further out past the front yard. Looking back at the house, you can tell that the space was filled to the brim. Even the front lawn was crowded with empty solo cups and groups lingering on the porch. 

In all honesty, you’re over this environment. The internal debate between staying and leaving plagued your mind. Amanda knew a bunch of people here, and honestly, she probably forgot about you by now. It’s settled, you're leaving.

Pulling out your phone, you call Amanda. The dial tone rings a few times before she picks up, the music loud in your ear. “Hey girl,” she shouts, making you laugh and pull the phone farther away from your ear, “what’s up?” 

You speak loudly into the phone, hoping she’ll hear you, “Will you be alright if I leave? I’m just not feeling it, I’m sorry.” A wave of shame floods your mind. 

“No, go ahead! I’m sorry for dragging you to this stupid thing anyways,” she slurs a bit.

“Don’t worry about me, Amanda. Go have fun!”

She pauses, “Wait, how are you getting home? I can call you a taxi no problem.” 

“I’m going to call Peter,” you start, “I know he’s just sitting at home right now, so I’ll be fine. Pinky promise.” You sit on the sidewalk, watching more people walk right past you and into the already crowded home. You can’t help but wonder how many people can pack into there. 

A song comes on in the background of your call, causing Amanda to squeal, “Okay, okay. Tell Peter I said hi!” 

“Of course. Have a good night and call me if you need anything at all, okay?”

You can hear her shuffling through the crowd, “Mhm!” 

And with that you hung up, sighing as a smile creeps on your face. Nothing keeps Amanda away from a good party, that’s for sure. 

Standing up, you walk over to the makeshift trash can in front of the house, throwing away the rest of your warm beer before walking back to your spot on the sidewalk. You look at the time, mentally calculating if Peter would still be up and awake enough to pick you up. 

You press on Peter’s name on your phone and hope he’ll pick up. And to your surprise, he answers on the second ring. “Hey,” his voice is warm, “how’s the party, bug?” 

Sighing you respond, “Yeah about that…Do you think you can pick me up?”

Peter immediately rises from his comfortable position on the couch, his mind on high alert. He’s always had a terrible habit of assuming the worst, so with your question, he’s already putting his shoes on. His phone is sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he is tying his shoe, “Did something happen? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you pick at the gravel beside you, “Amanda found a suitor as soon as we got settled which left me awkwardly standing in the middle of madness.” You shrug, forgetting that Peter couldn’t actually see you, “Just wasn’t feeling it.” 

“I’m sorry, babe,” he frowns, “I’ll be there in ten.”

Ten minutes passed by quickly before Peter found you on your phone, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. Hearing footsteps approach you, you look up and find your boyfriend wrapped in his fraternity’s merchandise. “Hey, stranger,” you smile as he offers a hand to pull you to your feet. 

You greet him with a warm kiss. He welcomes you with open arms, literally. Wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug, you melt into him. Peter pulls away to look at you, “It’s freezing out here.” He takes off one of his sweatshirts, “Arms up please.” The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, the warmth enveloping your body. 

A loud crash is heard from inside the house, causing you two to look back at the commotion. “Let’s go home,” you hold his hand, pulling him away from the party. 

Peter can’t take his eyes off the madness coming from inside the house, “If one of our parties looks like that, you’ll tell me right?” 

You laugh as you tug on his arm, causing him to finally follow you. “Like you’d ever let it reach that point, Pete.” 

“You’re right,” he says before turning back to the party, he shouts, “fucking amateurs!” 

✮ author's note: FRAT!PETER IS BACK. IM SO HERE FOR IT!! i love frat!peter because he is so cutsie and such a stereotypical college guy with a very sweet side for our dear reader. come join my follower bash!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support my work! ok, ily bye!