#five minutes outside is better than not going out at all and an hour off the phone is better than not going offline at all!!! mwah ily | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 1 month ago

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“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind.

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later.

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job��a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words.

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?”

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out.

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture.

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them.

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable.

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position.

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes.

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know.

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell. It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more. He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration.

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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rambling-at-midnight · 3 months ago

Text

Please Come Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You never realized how many places there were to hide in your apartment, but you’re pretty sure someone else is in here with you. Whatever they want isn’t good.

Word count: 3.3k

TW: home invasion, violence, curses as insults

Your spare key is missing.

Fuck. You always keep it in this drawer. Where the fuck is it?

When you told Jason he could just grab your keys to take your car instead of his bike to the store, you’d been relying on using your spare to lock up the apartment when you left for work. You never, ever moved it, but it was gone all the same. Did he take it instead of your keychain? Nope, that’s missing from its hook next to the front door.

When was the last time you used it? Not too long ago. Had you been careless about putting it back?

You text Jason, Did you grab my spare key?

Shit. You had to leave for work, like, five minutes ago, and you have no key to lock the front door.

At least you have a fire escape. You bolt the door from the inside, then slip out the window. You can’t latch it from the outside, but it’s a little harder to break in through the window than the front door.

You’re only two minutes late to your waitressing shift. Your manager swipes you in, lets you know that a server called out so you’ll be handling two sections today, and the host runs up to tell you that you’ve already been sat.

In the middle of the shift, when you have a minute to catch your breath, you check your phone. Jason had texted, No, I took your keychain. Is your spare missing?

I think I lost it.

I’ll look for it when I come home before patrol. Will I see you before heading out?

Not looking like it. Things haven’t slowed down at all.

I’ll see you when I get home, then. Don’t wait up.

I’ll have dinner in the fridge when you get back. Gotta get back to work. Love you

I love you, too.

A couple hours later, Jason texts that he has no luck locating your spare. Since he’s paranoid, he’s going out for a new lock tomorrow, but there’s important business with a drug ring that he can’t miss tonight.

That’s okay. It’ll be a pain to climb up the fire escape, but you don’t really mind that much. You’ve been meaning to get more exercise, anyway.

You finish work at six and the walk back to your apartment building is pretty peaceful. Unusual for Gotham.

It lulls you into a false sense of security.

You’re not really in the mood for leftovers, and not really in the mood to cook. You stare between your phone and the pantry. Takeout is easy. So is pasta.

With a sigh, you decide to spare your bank account. Delivery fees are getting ridiculous nowadays.

You text Jason just to see how his night is going. You’re not sure he’ll respond; sometimes, like during stakeouts, he turns his phone off completely so the sound or vibrate doesn’t reveal his presence. He doesn’t respond after a minute, which means he’s busy. You sigh and set down your phone, then change into comfier clothes. As soon as you’re out of your room, you grab a pot and box of pasta. You can’t sit down, or you’ll put off dinner for at least another hour.

The water is set to boil when you turn around to look at your phone, vaguely hoping Jason has responded by now.

Your phone isn’t on the counter.

You frown. You’re pretty sure you left it there.

Maybe it’s in the pantry when you grabbed the pasta?

It’s not.

You must have left it in your room when you changed. You check, and it’s sitting right on your bedside table. “Jeez,” you mutter, picking it up and slipping it into your pocket. After a long day, it’s okay to be scatterbrained, but this is a bit much.

Still no response from Jason.

You walk out of the bedroom to see that the stove turned itself off and the pasta water is barely warm. “Gotham appliances are such pieces of shit,” you mutter. You know what, fine. A shower and feeling clean will make you feel better to try again. The saying is that a watched pot never boils, but hopefully a watched Gotham stove never turns itself on and off randomly while you cook.

The apartment’s a bit chilly, so you take your pajamas with you into the bathroom and sit under the water spray until all the grime of the day washes away. It’s a bad habit, but you bring your phone with you in the shower to scroll through social media until your skin starts to get pruny. You step out, wrapping the towel around yourself in a vain attempt to stop shivering, and… your pajamas are gone.

The pajamas that you’re sure you took with you. You distinctly remember putting them on the sink counter.

And now they’re gone.

Something clenches in your stomach. You text Jason, Hey are you home yet?

He doesn’t respond right away.

Jay, this isn’t funny.

Still nothing.

Is it possible you forgot to bring the clothes with you? No, you distinctly remember the thought process.

Someone moved them, and you can’t think of s single reason anyone you know would do that. That kind of prank isn’t funny.

You text Jason, I think there is someone in the house with me. Then you try calling him.

You go straight to voicemail.

You bite your lip, trying hard not to panic. Jason never sends you to voicemail. He’s answered your calls in the middle of shootouts, voice strained, “Hey, kinda busy right now, is it an emergency?”

His phone is turned off, so who knows when he’ll see your texts. He might not turn it on again for hours.

You text your best friend, I think someone broke into my house. Don’t call me. Please help.

You chew on your thumbnail.

Either she calls the cops, or she shows up with a baseball bat and her scary-ass motorcycle dude boyfriend. He’s secretly a softie, but his appearance doesn’t match his personality.

He’s a lot like Jason, actually. Who would have thought you two had the same type?

You call Jason again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Your best friend texts, Omw. That’s it, but it’s the best text you’ve ever seen in your life.

Okay. Either cower in the bathroom until someone shows up, or play along with the same game the possibly-real-intruder is playing, that everything is normal.

No matter what happens next, you want to be dressed for it. You peek under the door, but you don’t see anyone’s feet.

Maybe this is all in your head, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it isn’t.

Your heart pounds, but you maintain a leisurely stroll into your room through the kitchen, palming a knife as you go, and locking the door behind you. The intruder may be in your closet, so you hold the knife out as you swing the door open.

Empty.

You throw on the first clothes you see and debate hiding in your room until your friend arrives. But adrenaline is pumping and you think you might shake out of your skin. You sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.

There’s a window in your room, but it only opens three inches and it’s not connected to the fire escape, so that’s not an option. The window that leads to the fire escape is in the main room, so you’d have to walk through the kitchen to get to it, and the intruder may be hiding in the pantry.

You could try the front door, but the storage closet is right next to it: another likely place for someone to hide and jump out at you.

Your room is only as safe as the strength of the door. And the wood is pretty thin.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes, and you drop it. You snatch it up to see an incoming call lighting up the screen with your boyfriend’s handsome contact photo.

You accept the call immediately. “Jay?”

“I’m on my way,” he rushes out. You hear the roar of his motorcycle in the background. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You whisper, “I think someone is here.”

“I know.” His voice is strained. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m five minutes away. Can you get out?”

“I don’t know. I’m in my bedroom, I locked my door. I think he’s hiding somewhere in the apart—”

A hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs your ankle.

You scream.

Your phone flies away when he yanks you off the bed. You go down swinging with the knife and make contact, accidentally swiping your own ankle in the process. The man grunts with pain and lets go, and you scramble to the door. You don’t even feel the pain in your ankle, although you’re actually bleeding a lot.

He’s wriggling out from under your bed when you get to your feet and twist the doorknob. “Get the fuck out of my house, you fucking pervert!” you scream. You yank the door open and run…

Right into a stranger’s chest.

There are two of them?

An iron grip clamps over your shoulder. His other hand fists in your hair. “Well, hello, pretty. You’re not the Red Hood.”

You stab him in the stomach.

Unfortunately, that only makes him mad.

“You bitch,” he groans. The slap is so powerful it nearly breaks your neck. You can’t breathe for a second, and then the first man catches up to you. His hand is bleeding. Like, a lot. They transfer you over so the stabbed man can groan about being stabbed. It’s only in his gut, so he should be fine. “Walk it off,” you goad. It’s the Gotham in you.

The first man digs his bloody knuckles into your cheek. “Fucking whore cut me,” he says. “Where’s the Red Hood?”

“He’ll kill you both,” you spit. “He’s on his way to shoot you in the head.” The threat should have scared them, but they were dumb enough to break into the Red Hood’s apartment and beat his partner. They had not been blessed with many braincells.

“Good,” he says. “He’ll get here just in time to see his pretty pet die.”

Someone pounds on the door and everyone freezes. Fear flashes over their face, but Jason wouldn’t have knocked. He would have kicked the door down or gone through the window.

Your best friend calls your name through the door. She’s trying to sound casual, but things are so far past casual.

The man holding you sees you draw in a breath to scream. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Do it and I’ll kill them, too.” The barrel of a gun presses to the side of your head.

Where is Jason?

You don’t think he’ll get here in time. He doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of that failure, but he will. Your Jay thinks he’s responsible for every bad thing in the world.

The man’s ugly face explodes.

You register the concussive sound of gunfire half a second later. Your ears ring. You lose your balance.

More gunfire. It’s so loud all you can do is cover your ears. Who’s shooting who?

It stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t look up. You can’t hear anything. You don’t want to see their ugly faces anymore.

Then hands grab you again, and you shriek. Your kitchen knife is still buried in the second man’s gut, so you have no defense. A man with a gun is going to kill you in your apartment.

Despite all your attempts at fighting, he’s too strong. Iron hands pry your hands away from your head, but you still can’t hear anything. Your ears are still ringing too loud. Your eardrums might have burst.

Then gloved hands cup your cheeks.

You know those gloves.

Jason is kneeling on the ground in front of you, absolutely frantic. His mouth moves, but you don’t hear anything. You don’t even hear your sob, but you definitely feel it right before you throw yourself at him.

Strong arms wrap around your back. Jason cradles you, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe, tries to hide you from anyone that might hear you. You still can’t make out his words, but you’re beginning to hear a muffled voice.

You’re sitting completely in his lap, his legs behind you to support your back. You cling to him, trying not to shake. You’re a pretty unflappable Gothamite, but a home invasion is enough to rattle anyone. You’re supposed to be safe here.

Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead. His green eyes squeeze tight like he’s in pain, and a single tear slips from the corner of one.

You wipe it away.

Jason wipes the blood on your cheek away.

You read his lips when he asks if you’re okay. You nod. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.

Jason holds you still when you try to look around. He says something that you can’t read. He must know that you don’t understand, because he just uses one huge hand on the back of your head to pull you forward. His mouth presses against your forehead, not quite a kiss, just relishing the connection.

You hear the banging first. Then you hear the shouting.

Oh, God. Your best friend.

You scramble out of Jason’s hold so fast he can’t stop you. You stumble past two dead bodies, both with three bullets in their heads. The floor is ruined beyond belief.

Jason helps support you. He needs to touch you somewhere to reassure himself that you’re okay, that you’re alive. You unlock the door, and barely open it a crack before your friend pushes it all the way open.

She gasps at the sight of you. “Oh, my God!” Her arms wrap tight around your neck, and you squeeze her. Jason’s hand remains pressed against your back. Her boyfriend stands behind her in the hallway, and he eyes Jason somewhat suspiciously. The two have never met before.

Your best friend pulls away, and Jason folds you against his side. His hand runs up and down your arm.

“Are you okay? There’s blood all over you.” Her eyes drift past your face and land on the bodies on your floor. Her mouth tightens, but she doesn't scream or call the cops immediately.

“It’s not mine,” you say faintly. “Well…” You look at your ankle. “Most of it.”

“Jesus,” says Jason. “They did that to you?”

"I did it to myself," you admit. "But I stabbed that one." You point.

He kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself. I never should have left you alone." Jason fixes your friend with a look so stern that she actually gulps. "Can you watch them for a little bit?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll take care of them."

"Good." Jason takes your face in his hands. His eyes blaze. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You hear me? You're not gonna be alone ever again."

You nod numbly.

Jason carries you to the couch, then coaches your friend through applying pressure to your ankle. He gently places an icepack in your hand, then moves you until it's pressed to your numb cheek. Then he kisses you. Pulls back. Kisses you again. It's not sweet—he tastes like blood, or maybe you do—but it's firm, and it's real, and it's a promise.

He stands up and asks your friend's boyfriend, "You wanna help me with these?"

As far as you know, the other man's never hidden a dead body in his life. But to his credit, he hardly hesitates before nodding.

Jason's already calling someone when he walks out. One of his criminal contacts, you're sure. You don't know and you don't want to know.

They're gone for twenty minutes. You're still in shock when they get back. You know you're in shock, but you can't snap out of it. You don't think you want to.

He gently nudges your friend's hands away to peek under the gauze. "You want stitches for this, honey?"

You shake your head. The cut's too close to bone, and you don't want a needle going anywhere near your bones.

"Okay." He changes the gauze, then tapes it in place, then puts a sticky wrap over that. "I'll change this in the morning. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm glad you're all right," your friend's boyfriend offers. You don't know each other all that well, but he just helped hide two bodies that you and Jason killed, so he must be an all right dude. You nod, give him a shaky smile, try to wave.

Your best friend bends over to hug you. "I'm going to text you in the morning," she says. "You'll be okay with Jason. I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad you're okay."

You hug her back until she puts the icepack back in the freezer.

When they leave, Jason stands up from the couch. You make a pleading, confused noise in the back of your throat, and he smooths your hair away from your face. "I'll be right back, honey," he promises. "I'm gonna lock the door. No one's ever getting to you again, you hear me?"

As soon as he pulls away, you shiver. The only thing keeping you warm was his body.

True to his word, he locks the front door, then heads right back to you.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Jason asks softly.

You shake your head. There was a man hiding beneath your bed tonight. It was worse than any monster you used to be scared of as a child.

"Okay," he says softly. Jason eases onto the couch, but he has so much bulk that it's impossible to lay side-by-side on your backs. Jason twists onto his side, and after a moment, you do too, using one of his massive biceps as a pillow. He smells like gunpowder. You smell like blood. You fit together like two terrible, violent puzzle pieces.

He kisses your forehead again. Pulls a blanket over the two of you, makes sure it's snug around your feet. You enjoy the fussing.

When he has nothing left to fiddle with, Jason sucks in a ragged inhale, then says, voice cracking, "When I saw those texts, I was terrified."

"I'm glad you checked your phone," you say. "For a while, I thought you wouldn't."

"I could feel that something was wrong."

Your throat hurts. "Did you mess up your mission tonight because of me?"

"Honey, I would do anything for you," he says. "I'd abandon a thousand missions to keep you safe. I'd burn this city to the ground."

Another night, you would remind him that he's a hero. That he fights for the greater good. That he is good.

Tonight, you take comfort in the vow.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "You were so brave. You did so well."

Your fingers twist in his shirt. Your nose nestles into the hollow at the base of his throat perfectly, so you hear every breath he takes, every rumble in his throat when he talks. You press a kiss to his chest just above the neckline of his shirt, and his throat jumps.

Jason makes a strangled noise, then wraps his arms even tighter around you. He throws one leg over your hip, completely covering you, pressing you into the couch. You would feel suffocated if it was anyone else.

You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, secure that Jason won't let anything happen to you during the night. The last thing you register before unconsciousness is his dry lips pressed to your forehead again. Making sure you're alive. Reassuring you that he's here and always will be.

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know any requests you guys have or if you want to be added to a taglist!

#reader insert #jason todd #jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you

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xiaq · 27 days ago

Note

Did you ever work in customer service? You give off been-in-the-trenches-and-are-better-for-it vibes.

Hi, this is slightly unhinged, but thank you!!

Now you're going to get the story of how I was offered a job on the spot for the first ever position I ever interviewed for (which was, indeed, customer service).

Okay, so, I'm 15, my birthday is in two days, and HEB (Texas grocery store) is hiring baggers for $7 an hour and cashiers for a whole whopping $10 an hour. Cashiers have to have prior experience OR have to work as a bagger for a year first. But I am full of teenage verve and I want that cashier position. I want it now.

I show up on my motorcycle, so I'm in my "professional" outfit but carrying my helmet when I enter the hiring manager's office, which really sets the tone for how things proceed.

The interviewer is like, "how old are you?" and babyface mcgee me, five foot tall and all of 90lbs says, "Fifteen. But I'm sixteen in two days."

And he's like, "...we can't hire you if you're fifteen."

And I'm like, "bet, but you can get the paperwork started now, yeah?"

And he says, "wait, how did you drive a motorcycle here if you're 15?"

So the first 5 minutes of the interview turn into me showing him my license, explaining DMV rules re 15-yr-olds and permitted engine size for motorcycles and pointing out my bike in the parking lot.

"Okay," he says, clearly trying to rally. "So you have a method of transportation, that's great, but we can't consider you for the cashier job if you don't have experience. We can only consider you as a bagger."

I'm prepared for this. I lay out my most recent report card, as well as copies of the sports and academic awards I've achieved in the last year. I give my "I'm a fast learner, I'm a hard worker, and you'll benefit more from me working as a cashier, interacting with customers, than a bagger" speech. I've been buying groceries at this store my whole life, so I know that cashiers are ranked by how many 'Item of the Week' they manage to hawk at checkout (typically batteries or soda or chips). "I'll be top of the ranking for Item of the week, just you wait."

I think he is reluctantly charmed by my bull-headedness. "Okay,” he says, reaching for the can of coke on his desk. "Fine. Sell this to me, then. Right now."

This man is mid-forties. He has bad handmade artwork hung up on his office wall.

"Do you have kids?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Two," he says. "Boy and a girl. The girl is just a year younger than you, actually."

"Ah," I say, "is it getting harder and harder to connect with her? Monosyllabic answers? Spends all her time in her room."

"...yes," he says.

“I was the same,” I say somberly. “Until, one afternoon, my dad came into my room and handed me a Coke.”

I tap my fingers on the Coke in front of me.

“He told me to come share a drink with him while he grilled on the back porch and that once I’d finished my Coke I could crawl, hissing, back to my room, but he wanted company until then. And see, I did, actually, want to spend time with my dad. I just didn’t know how to initiate it, and my teenage hormones made it difficult for me to express that. So I took the Coke and stomped my way outside but once I was there, I drank it slowly. And I answered his questions about school and cheerleading and asked him about work and we planned a weekend father-daughter motorcycle trip into the hill country. And ever since then, every few days, he’ll come to my room and offer me a Coke, and I’ll spend half an hour drinking it in his company.”

I slide the coke across the desk to him. “Might be an approach to try with your daughter, what do you think?”

He catches the Coke automatically. He sighs.

"Yeah, alright," he says. "Cashier job is yours. Come back in two days when you're actually sixteen and we'll get your paperwork sorted out." I worked there for the rest of high school and I was, typically, top of the rankings for selling Items of the Week the entire duration.

Entirely unrelated, I hate coke. I don’t drink soda, and the only beverage my dad has ever shared with me on the back porch is a margarita. But he didn’t need to know that.

#Lol #Shout out to all the folks in the customer service trenches #Storytime #mylife #If I had nothing else I had the audacity

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oncasette · 8 months ago

Note

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

OK LAST ONE I PROMISE. but you know I had to send in a theseus request so … theseus + "You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!" teehee 😋

'𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗡 (𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢)

theseus scamander x fem!reader

summary: 1.7k

“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.

or the one where theseus can't stand your secretary.

warnings: none that i can think of, semi-possessive theseus?

masterlist

He was just your secretary. That’s what you keep telling yourself. And Theseus. All he does is your filing and allow people entry into your office. And bring you your morning coffee without you needing to ask for it, with the exact amount of cream and sugar you take without you ever having told him in the past.

Of course, this was just him being excellent at his job, it was why you’d kept him on for so long. There was a quick turnover rate for secretaries at the ministry. A year or two, at most, before they were either fired by their respective bosses or they left to pursue a field they were actually passionate about. But not Richard. No, you’d been working with Richard for the better part of five years. Long before you’d ever met your now boyfriend–if you could even call him that, only having been on a dozen or so dates at this point. Not that the question hadn’t been on the tip of his tongue since the first time you batted your eyelashes at him.

That didn’t stop Theseus from clenching his jaw every morning when he stopped by to say hello only to find your secretary to have abandoned his post outside your office in favor of holing up in your loveseat and carrying on with whatever annoyingly dull topic of conversation he’d chosen to occupy your time with. It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes at the way his hand lingered over yours as he dropped off the accounts you needed that afternoon during your lunch break, little more than a glance cast askew at him as he sat beside you. It didn’t stop him from biting his tongue so hard it bled each time you brought Richard up in the evenings when he walked you out of the building.

No, it didn’t matter how long you’d worked with the man. Theseus knew a crush when he saw one.

“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been tense all day,” you say, gently placing a hand onto his shoulder. He’d been sitting in your office for a little over an hour, his work day having already drawn to a close but you’d had to finish up a last minute assignment your boss had thrown on your desk fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave. Theseus hadn’t minded waiting.

“Nothing,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Richard had been especially irritating that day. He’d barely had five minutes alone with you before you’d forced your secretary to go home once the clock hit six.

“It’s nothing, lovely. Promise,” he says. At the very least, having this time with you was beginning to dull the headache that had formed earlier in the day. He thinks it started when Richard had once again waltzed into your office during your lunch hour with the hopes of taking you out to the bakery a couple blocks away.

“Okay,” you drawl, eyebrows drawn together.

It’s then that Theseus notices the parchment stuck to your desk lamp. It was a charmed doodle, one that poorly illustrated a man with smoke shooting out of his ears sitting at a desk played on a loop. To keep you company while you work - Rich. Of course.

“You ready?” you ask, shuffling around documents and files on your desk to deal with on Monday when you return before grabbing your bag off the ground and slipping your coat on. You circle around the furniture in your office to stand in front of Theseus. He ran a firm hand across his brow bone as he stood to meet you. He leans forward to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth as he nods.

It’s hard to ignore how stiff he’s become.

“Are we still good for dinner at yours tonight?” you ask.

“Of course,” he hums. He wasn’t going to let this ruin the one of the few evenings a week he got to spend with you. Or, at least, he was going to try to not let it ruin it.

Once he was sure you’d both collected the remainders of your belongings, he takes your hand in his to apparate the two of you to his flat. Since you weren’t going back to your place, he didn’t feel the need to walk the two of you all the way across the ministry just to disapparate from there. He only did that to spend a couple extra minutes with you, anyway.

It’s only the second time you’ve been to his place, but the short wave of nausea prevents you from feeling too overwhelmingly nervous about it. You set your bag beside the door before you move to the kitchen to sit and let the urge to vomit begin to dissipate. Theseus smooths a palm over down your arm as he slides up behind you.

He leans down to whisper in your ear. His nose brushes against your cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe a penny…” you trail off.

“A penny?” he huffs amused.

“For your thoughts,” you say.

“I told you it was nothing.”

“Darling, I know something’s wrong. I want to help if I can,” you say, tilting your head back enough to look at his face. He bends again to kiss your forehead. It’s tender, sweet. Nearly domestic.

“It’s just work stress, I guess,” he says. He wasn’t technically lying.

“I’m sorry,” you hum, bringing a hand up to smooth across his cheek for a second. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you get some of it off your chest.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you, love,” he says as he begins to move away from your chair. He meanders around the small kitchen as he starts to gather the things he needs to cook dinner. You hardly notice as he charms the cutting board to dice vegetables for him.

“It wouldn’t be a burden. Richie’s always telling me about the kinds of things that bother him at the office,” you say. Theseus’ jaw clenches. With his suit coat already having been slung across the couch in the living room, he’s quick to roll his button-down sleeves up to his elbows.

“Fucking Richard,” he mutters. It’s so quiet you almost miss it. Your brows raise. He runs a palm over his jaw, resisting the urge to bite down on one of his fingers.

“This is about him?”

“What?” he asks as he turns away from you to grab noodles from his pantry. The first time he’d asked about Richard had been harmless. A one-off question at the end of your evening when he’d been walking you back to your flat. A question you’d answered simply. He’s just your secretary. Then he’d asked again. A second and a third time.

“This. Your… mood. It’s about him, isn’t it?” you ask. You’re attempting to sound understanding, but you know there’s an edge to your tone. He doesn’t elicit an answer. “I thought I told you he wasn’t anything to worry about. He works for me.”

“I know,” he grumbles.

“Then what’s this about, hm?” you ask, standing from your chair and moving into his space.

“It’s just.” He’s cracking, slightly. He hates that he’s allowed himself to get affected by something so trivial. “He’s always there.”

“You’ve got yourself in a fit because my secretary comes into my office during work hours?”

“It’s the way he is around you, you know? He’s always around, always touching or trying to touch. You should see the way he looks at you,” he huffs. The box in his hand drops onto the counter suddenly, his hands following as he pushes his weight against them.

“Thes-” you start.

“You think I like being like this? You think it’s something I want? To be so angry and aggravated about something that I can’t control? That you can’t control?” he asks. “Everytime he touches you I want to rip his fucking hands off.”

You step behind him, winding your arms around his middle until he’s stood straight again. His hands find yours and interweave between your fingers.

“It’s not you,” he sighs. “Well, I mean, it is you. I don’t see how there isn’t a single man left in the world not wrapped tight around your finger.”

You press a kiss between his collarbones. He relaxes into your hold.

“I don’t want Richard,” you say.

“I know.”

“I want you.”

“I want you, too, darling.”

“But I also want you to talk to me,” you say as you urge him to turn to face you with a tap of your fingers against his torso. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t say I haven’t noticed him being a little closer to me than some of the other secretaries have been with their bosses, because I have. So, I’ll talk to him. But, I need you to talk to me, too.”

His forehead falls forward until it’s pressed against yours.

You continue, “I need you to tell me when stuff like this bothers you. You can’t just be all angry at the world and do nothing about it and expect it all to change. Okay?”

“I can do that,” he hums.

“Good,” you nod.

“Good.”

“You also need to remember that I’m a grown-up and I can handle myself, too, right? Just because another man may or may not have his eyes on me doesn’t mean I’m going to go running off into the sunset with him,” you say. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest, his eyes crinkling with a soft smile at the sides.

“Alright,” he says.

“Now,” you say. “What’s for dinner?”

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #callum turner #callum turner x reader #harry potter #fantastic beasts and where to find them

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rafesangelita · 5 months ago

Note

hi angel! i love your work so much and fell in love with bambi!reader, so i was hoping you could write something for me ^_^

can you pls pls pls write bambi!reader comforting rafe after he gets into it with ward? i feel like she’d know exactly how to comfort himmm (pure fluff pls, i read too much smut lmaooo)

warnings: ward cameron, arguing, shouting, a little bit of physical violence, poor rafe who deserves so much better, mention of murder (i’m not referencing peterkin), fluff, soft petting, words of affirmation

a/n: aww bambi!reader has been getting so much love, it makes my heart happy to know that you enjoy the works that she’s in <3

“you had one job, rafe.. one!” ward had been shouting at rafe for nearly an hour already, his face flush with anger. “you really have a way of fucking things up, huh? i should put a caution sign on your forehead.” rafe’s fist clenched as he listened to his father, trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest with every word that ward spat.

“i already told you that i couldn’t close out the business accounts and wire the money to a different one. apparently i’m not next in line to own cameron development anymore. ‘you know something about that?” rafe was in disbelief when he had to find out from a service representative that his own father took him off of the family business, something that he worked hard all these years for in order to prove he was worthy of running.

ward froze. he had forgotten about that. “were you ever gonna tell me, or were you just gonna be a coward about it?” rafe stood up, towering over his father with that crazy look in his eyes. “what you forgot to do before you faked your own death instead of facing your problems like a man, was take my name off of the inheritance of tanneyhill.” he laughed, “i own this shit now.” rafe stepped closer, backing ward into the wall. “get out of my house.” ward was seething, his hand coming up to fist rafe’s shirt.

“your house? i’m the one who worked like a dog to get us here.” ward said through gritted teeth, shoving rafe in his chest. rafe stumbled, scoffing out a laugh as he then pushed his father. “worked like a dog to get us here but you were more than willing to leave me here while you start a new life in fuckin’ guadeloupe.” rafe fought to keep his emotions at bay.

“leave. and don’t ever come back.” ward’s chest was rising and falling, both him and rafe glaring at one another. “you’re cut off. good luck keeping up with this place on your own.” ward smiled bitterly. “cut off?” rafe narrowed his eyes, “i’ve been cut off, dad. i haven’t used a cent of yours since i was nineteen. all this time i’ve been making money my own way, and a lot of it too. ‘seems like your old man brain forgot about that.” rafe nudged ward as he walked past, his father following him out of the master bedroom.

“i’m leaving. when i come back i want you out of here,” rafe grabbed his truck keys, his skin on fire as he looked up the staircase, “and by the way, asshole, i’m not by myself. i got the prettiest girl on the island on my arm everywhere i go.” ward watched as his son walked out the front door. rafe was seeing red the whole time he drove to your house, cursing under his breath as he recalled his father’s words.

“the fucking nerve that guy has.” he punched the steering wheel, nostrils flaring as tears pricked at his eyes. he was the only one who was there to take care of things when ward was ‘gone’. even going as far as committing crimes so his father wouldn’t face any kind of scrutiny. yet, there he was telling him that he was a fuck up.

rafe spent the next five minutes mumbling to himself, his hands shaking as he parked outside your driveway. you were curled up on the porch swing, an open book in your lap when he walked up the stone path. all it took was one look at your boyfriend to have you scrambling up from your seat, eager to soothe him in any way you can. “oh, ray, what’s wrong?” you guided him inside, locking the door shut before both of you made your way up to your room.

“it’s ward. he came back just to tell me shit about not closing the bank accounts under cameron development.” you knew all about rafe’s conflict with his father. from the way he favored everyone else over his eldest, to the constant nagging and insults. sitting rafe down on the edge of your bed, you couldn’t help the way your heart sunk at the sight of defeat in his shoulders, his eyes void of any emotion.

slipping his shoes off, you took your usual seat in his lap, stroking the outline of his jaw as he vented. “i’ll never be good enough for him. i killed for him goddamit, and what do i get in return? ‘i should put a caution sign on your forehead.’ rafe imitated ward’s voice from earlier. you blinked, pecking his cheek. “you’re an amazing son, rafe. shame on him for not recognizing that.” rafe stared up at you, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

you were the only one that looked at him with pure adoration, the only one who made him feel like he had a purpose. “i think you’re amazing, rafe. you don’t sit around, waiting to get things done, you’re so helpful, and so, so kind— to me.” he chuckled at the clarification, rubbing a large hand over your knee. “you think so?” he leaned his head against your chest, your arms coming up to hold him. “i know so.” you sighed, breathing in his scent.

“wanna be little spoon tonight?” your voice alone made him relax, his eyes fluttering shut.

“..yeah.”

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artsninspo · 5 months ago

Text

"CHEERS 🥂 "- RIO X READER

Summary: Rio's planned date night. Finally, you get a front row seat to who he is and a taste of what he's capable of. This one's steamy 🌶️

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Black Reader

Word-Count: 2.5K

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

Read the first three parts of this Rio miniseries:

“Baby-Girl”

“Whisky, neat”

"Jealous Type"

Rio’s been applying pressure. A quality you enjoy in a man. He’s been a great communicator, texting and FaceTiming you when he’s free for the past four days. His cool demeanour is never ending. Neither are the lazy promises about what’s awaiting you the next time you see him in person. After that kiss you know it’ll be good, straight to the point, signed, sealed, delivered - sincerely Rio. In the past few days you’ve come to appreciate him. There were no forever promises snapping you out of the thrill of the here and now with him.

8:30 Sharp. Don’t play with me either baby girl.

-Rio

The way he’s asserted himself leaves little room for anyone else to be entertained. He’s a handful. It’s the last message he’s sent you hours ago now. Clad in your robe you turn to face your closet. Your hair and make up is what it is already. Now onto the conundrum of what to wear? Did it really even matter? Swallowing you walk from the nudes to the colourful section of the closet. Pausing you shake your head with a finger to your lips turning around to the blacks. You don’t want to clash with him, you want to blend in to his low-key air. You don’t want to do too much at all. You skim over dresses better suited for wow factor and settle on one that will do the trick. Accessories are easy and you choose simple ones that flatter your dress. With a final turn you look yourself over. It gives calm cool and collected, simple, not too fussy. Checking your watch you see you have thirty minutes until Rio arrives. You ensure your necessities are in your purse before spraying perfume.

The thrumming in your chest is a pleasant reminder of wants to come. You don’t remember a time outside of adolescence where someone had this kind of effect on you. Only this time you aren’t sneaking out of the house, you’re ignoring your brothers warnings. Deciding against games or grand entrances you head down to the lobby to be on time and step out five minutes early to see Rio in the parking lot of your condo leaning against his G-Wagon giving his phone his undivided attention. You're halfway to him when he senses you. You smile first allowing his raised brows and caution to settle into a pleased smile.

“Who were we texting?” You ask making him chuckle. His eyes drink you in making their way up slowly before he looks displeased. His jaw settles and when his eyes meet yours again he looks angry.

“Don’t disrespect me with this simple shit. I know you have way better up there” he comments acutely. There’s little to be said about his choice of clothing, nor are you his personal barbie.

“Didn’t think it mattered when you’re just going to take it off me?” You shrug leaning against his car to match his nonchalance. His frustration fades quickly and Rio doesn’t know exactly what to do with you. He tries his best not to smile as you snicker. He gets the door helping you in. When he gets in he reaches in the glove box and takes out a jewelry bag handing it to you.

“Instead of flowers” he says. You open it to see a pretty tennis bracelet. It’s definitely a first.

“Much better than flowers, a consolation for your asshole remark just now” you tell him holding out your wrist. He takes the bracelet putting it on and you admire the shine.

“You not going to accuse me of buying you fake diamonds? No smart remark?” He asks pulling off.

“It’s no fun when you expect it” you shrug leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks”

Rio turns reaching for your chin he takes it between his thumb and index finger to kiss you properly, claiming you as his for the moment. “You’re welcome” he says having given you two reasons to smile tonight..

Your dinner is on the water, just the two of you on a nice boat sailing around the cities skyline at night. Each of the dinner courses are delicious and conversation with Rio is easy so long as the conversations float over the personal. He keeps his guard up setting a clear boundary you're comfortable respecting. He gives you his jacket when you shiver playing the role of a gentleman well. You feel none of the first date jitters or dread, it’s like you’ve known Rio for some time. He’s meticulous in having things perfect for you. You don’t get the sense he’s showing off but more like he’s a stickler for order and satisfaction which bodes well for you later. Away from the dinner table and rnow outside on the deck you pour two shots of tequila.

“Truth or drink?” You say raising the glass and taking a shot for good measure. Rio throws one back nodding - ready for whatever. He opens the bottle pouring out another two shots.

“When’s the last time a man made you cum?” He asks being the forward asshole he is.

“Awhile” you respond evasively.

“A few months or a few years?” He asks.

“Months, now I get two questions” you tell him.

“Go on baby-girl” he says like he’s talking you through it leaving you to blush because he is hell.

“Why doesn’t my brother like you?” you ask and he grimaces; it’s a surprise. In Rio’s mind there are too many reasons to name. Reasons that’ll have you off the boat and ironing his calls.

“That’s between us, nothing to do with you” he responds taking a sip.

“If the roles were reversed would you want your sister sitting where I am?” You ask and Rio smiles, you know the answer before it leaves his lips.

“No” he confirms. “What to you like most about me?” Rio asks and it’s a surprise to you. His confidence makes the question seem a little out of place. Racking through your brain you try to narrow it down. There are more physically attractive guys, taller guys, richer guys, better dressed guys… Losing yourself in your thoughts you look back at him looking him over.

“I don’t know, that you have yourself together and you’re not afraid to put in work.” you shrug surprising him.

“What do you do for fun, hobby wise?” You ask.

“You don’t want to know what I like about you?” Rio asks.

“No” you tell him outright and he laughs.

“Boxing, helps me put the stress away” he responds and you feel the boats engines stop. Turning you realize you’re back at the dock and turn to find Rio watching you intently.

“Don’t kill the fun now by falling in love” you tease getting your bag.

“You’d fall first baby-girl” he taunts smoothly.

“Not likely” you comment heading off of the boat.

“Not likely?” he chuckles like it’s a first. “Keep playing with me.”

“Or what? I’ll probably like whatever punishment you can think of,” you shrug being forward turning back you see a blush on his cheeks as he smiles. You stop walking to let him catch up and find him chuckling a little like he’s broken character.

“Most likely, if I’m nice” Rio says into your ear as he holds you from behind. Chuckling you allow him to lead the way forward to his car. His cologne is perfect, the entire night has been perfect.

“Don’t call me unless you’re being nice” you respond.

“Mhm?” Rio raises a brow as he gets in.

“I thought you might like me being mean?”

“No, I don’t intend to underestimate what that means. Not my kind of surprise” you shrug looking over at him and his smile turns into contemplation. There you were right again. He’d passed curiosity, the cat and mouse was over and now he was considering your words a valid warning. Having a son and family were enough of a liability in his work. Things with you could get complicated especially with his involvement with Ruby and Stan. The pussy will be good; that Rio is for certain but now’s not the time he needs to be spending wide open chasing his next hit or the next thrill. He already knows you don’t know how to behave, taming you won’t be as fun as coming in and shutting shit down every time. For now there was a very clear scheduling conflict as well as ethical concerns.

Besides, Rio can’t quite decide your type of crazy yet. One round won’t suffice and after a few … would you slash his tires for his involvement with Stan and Ruby? Would you ignore him or worse? He could see the promise of mutually assured devastation in your eyes should you have to go head to head.

“Second thoughts, wow. Didn’t think Mr. Christopher would bitch out first” you taunt.

Fuck it

Rio mutters leaning over to kiss you. It’s not what you expect. The switch from contemplative to sensual heats your body in an instant. Unbridled passion, no time for logic.

Its on.

You can feel the seat going back and steady Rio as he maneuvers the seat flat not letting up. His tongue spelling promise of his other talents. Better than in the bathroom. You feel your body relaxing into it, the sensations rushing to your core as it readies itself in anticipation of pleasure. His hands run featherlight touches up your legs before lifting them to wrap around his torso.

It’s a first, sex in a car.

The thought of it flushes you sending goosebumps to cover your flesh. You feel pliable under his touch as he takes the lead. “Quiet now huh?” His voice is low as he peppers kisses on your neck. Before you can speak you feel him pressing into you and a moan of pleasure is your response. “Doesn’t feel like you’re the whore you pretend to be” he whispers enjoying the grip on his fingers.

“Shut up” you moan before your eyes close he comes in for another kiss that is messier an more frenzied. The nights foreplay has come to an end. Honestly there had been other plans but there was no way either of you were doing anything other than getting what you came for. His size is impressive and leaves you reeling to catch your breath as he uses technique that tells he’s no novice. He hits all of the right spots leaving you a pillow princess as he gives and takes until you're both sated and breathing hard. He slides off the condom leaning back and you smile seeing the fogged glasses until flashing lights snap you out of the fantasy. A knock Rio’s glass startles the both of you as a figure peers in. Instinct makes Rio shield your indisposed body from view. It’s a frenzied rush to cover yourself and Rio manages to put his dick away.

The cop demands you to get out of the car and you both do. Rio makes no effort to hurry, his aura reeks disgust and impatience. So much so that there’s no charming your way out of a seriously tacky potential charge. You rage silently as you’re cuffed and placed in the back of the cop car with Christopher.

“Bonnie and Clyde huh?” Rio whispers earning him an elbow. Rio chuckles not understanding the gravity the situation or your embarrassment. “Relax, love I have a few more rounds in me” he continues ready for more as you seethe by his side. The precinct is lit in tacky fluorescent lighting that is jarring on the eyes after a night of warm romantic hues. All eyes are on you and so is the chatter. Your stomach falls in your ass the moment you realize Stan was once one of them.

“Would you like your phone call or do we head outback and you take care of me like you did him?” A portly cop propositions.

“Fuck did you just say?” Rio snaps finished with his call. Cops pop their heads up and the phone rings.

“Buddy don’t try to look tough for the girl” the pig says balling his fists.

“Stop!” A female cop says popping her head up holding a phone. “Stop now and let them go” she demands and there is some shuffling as the phone is passed around. Rio waits impatiently seemingly bored by the process until the cuffs are removed from his wrists and then your’s. The look he gives the dirty cop makes you nervous for the mans well being as he takes your hand walking you out. You stop now feeling the gravity of it. A man who can fuck like him and stay that cool under pressure is dangerous. A man cops tread lightly with is something else entirely. The big leagues, very major. Looking up at him you curse yourself knowing the date and any romance between you is done. For the first time your brothers protective instinct really was trying to shield you from serious trouble. The part of your brain that loves a thrill is ready to fight against it but you stand firm. Instead of making a scene you re enter the car once the two of you are returned to the marina with profuse apologies. Reveries of how he felt wash over you, the feeling of being kissed and the fresh memories dance around your mind. You don’t have to ask - Rio drives you home and parks in your parking lot.

This time the silence between you both is thick once the engine shuts off. Its like all the progress and familiarity has been washed away in spite of you still being able to feel the effects of him on your body.

“I’m sorry, I planned to take you to my place. Everything will be wiped your record and reputation will be fine” he says speaking first. Everything about him screamed he wasn’t fond of apologies. Turning you see his eyes are sincere and you swallow letting your seatbelt loose.

“Rio...”

“Don’t say it” he smiles looking down into his hands. “Don’t say it baby girl” he sighs holding your gaze. You want to invite him up and ride him till your frustration fades. You want rounds two three and four if your bodies can take it but for once your head is resigned against the thrill.

“I had fun” you admit earning a disappointed nod from Rio. He gets out of his car with you and heads into the trunk and walks towards you with a large bottle of Ace of Spades champagne.

“Cheers” he says bidding you goodbye with Champagne what was supposed to kick off the fun in his hand. Looking up at him as the gold bottle sparkles along with the newly gifted bracelet in the light you look at the forbidden fruits contemplating a few more rounds or if you plan to kick the habit cold turkey.

“Cheers” you respond with a smile.

_________

Author's Note: Thank you for all your support and patience on this series. It means more than you know. I love writing for character I feel like we should have got more of. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment, like and reblog to let me know 💖

#masterlist #rio x you #rio good girls imagine #good girls rio #manny montana x reader #manny montana fanfiction #rio good girls #rio x reader #rio

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samandcolbyownme · 11 months ago

Text

Summary: Your work trip ended early but you haven't told anyone but your one friend, who subtly plans a last minute get together as a way for you to surprise your boyfriend, Jake who can't stand being away from you any longer.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, hair pulling, choking, biting, oral (f rec), scratching, unprotected rough but sensual sex, general filth

Word count: 3.4k | not edited & not a request

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"My flight lands at five.." you speak into the phone, "Then it's an hour to your house from the airport, so I would say have them come over by six thirty? Seven maybe?"

"It feels like months since I've seen you." Kat laughs, "I know Jake is itching to get his hands on you."

"You haven't told him that I'm coming home have you?" You sit up slightly.

"No, I haven't told anyone. I promise." She assures you and you sigh, "Okay. Good. I want to make a dramatic entrance."

"I know, that's why I haven't. You know damn well if Jake knew you were coming home early, he'd be at the airport right now waiting for you."

You smile, nodding to yourself, "Oh I know he would. He thinks I'm in a meeting right now. I feel bad lying to him but.." you shrug and Kat laughs, "I'm sure he'll understand when you walk through my door later on tonight."

"I'm thinking we play it off as I'm the pizza person, you can say you're ordering pizza.. you call me instead and have Jake answer the door?" You bite your lip, thinking about seeing him for the first time in almost three weeks.

"That's perfect. Oh.. Sam is coming. Gotta go. Love you!" Kat says and you smile, "See you soon. Love you."

You take a deep breath, seeing a message from Jake that you can't answer because you want to keep the jig up, hurts. You want nothing more than to tell him, but you know it'll be a better surprise if you hold on to being the pizza delivery person.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You had twenty minutes until you were at Kat's house, and you were getting anxious because you were so excited.

You kept picturing seeing Jake. His smile when he first sees you. His arms wrapping around you tight. You were also, at this point, getting antsy.

You had to repeatedly fight the urge to tell the Uber driver to step on it. Go faster. Do anything to get you there before your actual arrival time.

You glance down at your phone, seeing a message from Kat, Everyone is finally here. I already told them I ordered the pizza.. How much longer??

You glance up at the gps screen, looking back down at your phone to type, Ten minutes. I'm actually kind of shaking, Kat. Is Jake in a good mood? I haven't answered him in a while.

You tap the side of your phone, waiting for her reply to pop up, He keeps saying it's not the same without you. I keep telling him that you'll be home in a few days and we can party it up when you get home.

You laugh quietly, thank you for doing this. I'm sure it's not easy keeping a secret like this. You're a real one.

You rest your phone down, bouncing your leg as you watch the arrival time go down minute by minute.

"Can we park a little bit down the street? I'm surprising people and I don't want them seeing a car pulling up outside the house." You explain to the driver and he's all for it, "Of course! I love a good surprise reunion."

He stops down the street and you get out, taking your suitcase with you, "Thank you so, so much!"

"Have a good night!" He smile with a nod and drives off. You pull out your phone, texting Kat, I just got dropped off down the street. I can see your house now.

As you walk up to the house, the windows are open so you can hear the chatter of everyone inside. You bring your hand up, pressing the little white button to ring the door bell.

"Jake, go get the pizza." Kat demands, "Please."

"Why do I have to go get it?" Jake argues and you can't help but smile. Kat raises her voice, "Just go get the damn pizza, Jake!"

He huffs, "I don't know why I have to be the one to go get the fu-" the door opens and he stops talking.

He stands there in shock as you smile and laugh, "Hi, baby."

He lunges to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close as he lifts you off the ground, "No fucking way." He leans his head back, eyes scanning over your face as he smiles, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I finished work early and there was no meeting today. I was catching flights." You wrap your arms around his neck tighter, "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well you succeeded because boy am I shocked." He laughs, burrowing his face into your neck.

"I've never seen Jake act like that with a pizza delivery guy." You hear someone say and Johnnie speaks up, "I have."

You laugh and Jake sets you down, "I'm.." he laughs and shakes his head as he cups your cheeks, "wow."

You smile and pull him in for a kiss, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more than anything. You have no idea." He kisses all over your face and you laugh. He slings his arm around your shoulder, "Come on."

He walks you in the house and everyone shouts different things of surprise.

"Oh my god!"

"Y/n!"

"No fucking way!"

"Welcome home!"

You smile, "Hey guys." You looking Kat and she runs over to you, "My turn." She hugs you and you hug her, "Hello to you, too."

You laugh and rub her back and Jake sighs, "Okay. Okay. Last time I checked, she was my girlfriend."

Kat leans back, looking at him, "I knew her first, Jake. But fine.. I have to go call in the pizza anyway."

Jake scoffs and groans, "Kat! You said you already did that."

"Would you rather have had pizza or y/n?" Kat raises a brow and Jake snaps and points to you, "Y/n of course." Kat smirks, "That's what I thought."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You're sitting on Jake's lap, twirling a piece of his hair as you stare at him, "Two weeks was enough." He nods, tilting his head into your hand, "i wish you would have told me. I would have came and got you."

You smile, "I know.. but I wanted to have a moment, you know?"

He chuckles, "Yeah, no. I get it." He turns his head, kissing your palm, "Can't wait to get you home, though." He raises his eyebrows and moves you off of his lap.

You scoff, "Hey. Hey!"

He looks back at you with a smile as he walks over to get a drink. You keep your eyes on him until Kat comes over, stealing his spot, "Okay, so I have to know.. what was Milan like?"

"Oh my god. It was absolutely beautiful. You would have died." You take your phone out, clicking on your pictures to show her.

Each picture is followed by a quiet, "Oh my gosh."

You smirk, "We're going back. I need to take you."

She lays a hand over her heart, "Oh y/n. I love you." You smile, "if I could have brought you with I would have. But I love you, too!"

Your phone vibrates and you internally groan as you hope it's not work. You look at it and do a double take as you see it's a text from Jake, Been absolutely craving you since the night you left.

You look up, searching for him. Your eyes widen when you see him leaning against the counter, phone in hand staring at you.

Another text comes through, Let my tongue explain how bad I crave you, baby.

You swallow, and tilt your head as you look up at Jake. You feel a hand on your arm, "What is going on? Are you and Jake having another moment?"

You look over at Kat, "Uh, yeah." You clear your throat and cross your leg, "You could say that." You smirk slightly and she shakes her head, "Girl, just go home with him already! You two deserve it."

"You won't be mad?" You pout slightly and she laughs, "Get out of here already."

You stand up, walking over to Jake who looks at you with an innocent smile, "Hello my lovely girlfriend."

"Don't start pretending that you didn't just-"

"Just what? Hmm?" He sticks his tongue out, quickly wetting his lips and your eyes flick from them to his eyes, "Just take me home so your tongue can explain what you texted me."

He raises his brows, "Well, if you insist." He winks and sets his cup down, shoving his phone in his back pocket, "M'lady." He holds his arm out and you laugh, "you're so weird."

"But you love me." He glances at you and you nod, "I sure do." You walk into where everything is and you wave, "Bye guys."

"Leaving already?" Sam asks as he looks up at you and Jake. You nod, "Yeah, I've flew on three different planes today. Jet lag, you know."

Johnnie laughs, "Nah, they're going home to bone!"

Jake does finger guns to him and nods, "You are so right, my boy." You pat Jake's chest and scoff while trying not to laugh, "Jake. Oh my god."

"Have fuuuun!" Kat yells, "And be safe!"

"Safe? What's the fun in that?" Jake jokes and you pull him with you to the door, "Let's go. Before you embarrass me some more." Jake laughs and grabs your suitcase before walking out with you.

"Come on, y/n. You know I had to have a little fun before we dipped." Jake smirks at you as he slides your suite case into the backseat. You roll your eyes, "I know. But I just want to get home."

You go to open the car door but Jake's hand slides under yours, "I know you probably haven't had anyone open your car doors the last two weeks, but you're home now. So that mean.." he opens your door, "I do."

You giggle as you get in, staring up at him with a smile on your face.

You were glad to be home.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The drive home was simple. You filled him in on the stuff he didn't know, which wasn't much considering you talked to him every chance you could. His hand holding yours like he isn't going to let go again, thumb dragging gently over your skin.

You soaked up the sweet moment, because you knew as soon as you got back to your shared apartment, there wasn't going to be anything sweet about it.

Jake missed you and he was going to show you just how much he did.

"Alright. Home sweet home." Jake smirks as he puts the car in park, "Ready?"

You look over at him, "I've been ready since I knew I was coming home today." He smirks, nodding, "Yeah. I can imagine." He bites his lower lip, "Come on, then." He gets out and you wait patiently for him to walk around and open your door.

"What a good girl." He jokes, but that just made you want him more. You get out, hands immediately going to the sides of his neck as you push your body against his.

His hands lay on your waist and he spins to pin you up against the car. He kisses down your neck and you tilt your head back, moaning quietly as he bites down onto your skin.

You tilt your head back up, laying your hands flat on his chest, “Let’s go inside.” You breathe out, “It’ll be better.”

“Yeah it will.” He grabs your hand, pushing the door shut as he walks you up the steps to your door. He quickly unlocks it, pushing it open before pulling you infront of him.

His hands lay on your hips as he guides you backwards into the dark house. You reach over, flipping the switch as he closes the door.

“C’mere.” He bends down slightly, grabbing the back of your thighs and catching you as you jump. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands go back to the sides of his neck.

Your lips meet his, moving in a quick, yet beautiful sync. Your back meets the couch as he lays you down.

His hands move to untie your sweats and he was thanking you mentally for wearing something easy for him to get into it.

“You’re going to taste so good.” He mumbles as he kisses back your jaw line, “Been thinking about you so much lately.”

“I’m home now.” You smile, gasping as he sucks a well deserved mark into the skin of your neck. Your hand moves up to lay on the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he works his way down.

His hands move up to push your shirt up, fingers gently dragging up and down your torso, “Sit on my face.”

You bit your lip, looking up at him as he leans back, “Please.”

You nod, “okay.” You go to get up but he stops you, making you lay back down so he can remove your sweats and panties, “Let me get these off for you.”

He smirks as he pulls down your sweats, discarding them to the floor before sliding his hands up your legs, “And these.” He glances up at you then back down as he reveals your soaked pussy.

His lip pulls between his teeth and he lets out a sigh through his nose, “Yeah.” He smirks up at you, “I can’t wait any longer.”

He pulls you up by your hands, taking your place on the couch, “Come on, baby.” He wiggles his fingers, indicating he wants you to straddle his head.

You move up next to him, grabbing the back of the couch as you swing your leg over. He licks his lips, eyes on the prize as his hands slide up to grip your hips.

You lower yourself down, instantly moaning as you feel his tongue slip into you.

The sucking and slurping of your pussy sends you into a frenzy. You felt like it was forever since Jake was between your legs, usually it’s every other night or so.

Your nails dig into the couch as your other one tangles into his dark hair, “F-fuck.. fuck..” you fight to not squeeze your thighs shut, “Yes.. y-yes..”

Your head falls back, eye squeezing shut as he brings you to your first needed orgasm.

His tongue doesn’t stop. His nose bumps your clit at the right angle, sending more of a pleasured sensation through your body.

Your legs are shaking, your hips buck as he pulls you down onto him more, “J-Jake.. baby..” you moan loudly, panting as he brings you through your high.

He lifts your hips, looking up at you with a smile, “You like that?”

You look down at him with a smirk, “Yeah.. maybe a little.” You bite your lip as you go to get off, but he pulls you back down, “Gotta make you like it a lot.”

His tongue is back to work and you moan, tugging his hair as you grind your hips down onto his face, “Shit.. shit..”

He slides his hand over, rubbing circles onto your clit as his tongue laps on your folds.

You quickly take off your shirt, revealing your bare chest. His eyes widen at the sight and he slides his other hand up to toy with one of your nipples.

Your brain goes fuzzy, moaning as you knead your other boob with your own hand, “Fuuuck.” You moan, whispering at the pinching of your nipple, “Gonna cum..”

The pressure on your clit hardens at your words and your hand goes back to gripping the back of the couch, moaning and whimpering as he brings you to another orgasm.

Your legs shake around his head and you gasp, “Jake.. Jake..” you lean back slightly and he pulls away, “How was that?”

“That was fucking fantastic.” You smile as you look down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, “Now fuck me like that.”

He raises his eyebrows and nods, “Say no more.”

You move off of him, taking your original spot back. You watch as he strips down, eyes grazing over the tattoos you love so much.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” You lay your hands on his shoulders as he moves his body to hover over yours.

His one arm hooks under your thigh and pushes it back, “I’ve missed you more, babe.” You stare up at him as the tip of his cock rubs against your slick opening.

Your lips part as he slips in. Your moans being cut up by his lips closing the space. His thrusts are slow at first, soaking up the feeling of you finally being home.

Your arm wraps around his neck as your back arches, pressing your chest to his, “You make me feel so good.” You whisper in between kisses, “So.. fucking.. good baby.”

He smirks, groaning as he nods, “You always feel so good to me.” He pushes his hips in, bottoming out so you can feel every inch of him, “I want you to know how much I missed you.”

You gasp as he pushes hard, grinding his hips slowly against yours. You lick your lips, moving your hips to try and get more, “I know you missed me.”

He rests his forehead against yours as he pulls out, thrusting back in, and repeating his actions a few times before picking up the pace.

He slides his free hand up your side, resting his elbow by your head. His other hand grips the inside of your thigh that his arm is wrapped around.

“Cum for me.” His words are deep sounding as he brushes hair from your face, “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

His lips kiss up and down your neck, over your collar bone to the other side, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You tilt your head back, moaning as he thrusts into you, “A-lmost there..” you whimper, “Fuck.”

His hand slides into your hair, tilting your head back so he can kiss under your jaw. You squeeze his cock, moaning as you move your hips to meet his, “yesyesyes!”

Your back arches as you cum. Jake wraps his lips around your nipple, gently biting down and sucking as your eyes roll back.

Your legs wrap right around his waist as he fucks you through the high, causing you to become a whimpering, moaning mess under him.

“That’s my girl.” He whispers into your ear as you settle down, “So fucking good.” He tilts your head up so he can meet his lips with yours.

Your hands slide into his hair, holding him to you as he swallows your moans, “Cum in me.” He nods, “Yeah?”

You nod, “Yes..” you feel his thrusts get sloppy, “Please baby..”

He buries his face into your neck as he moans lowly, “Fucking hell.” You drag your nails up his back, digging them into his shoulders to leave little crescent marks in his skin.

He groans as you repeat the process, moaning along with him as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

He relaxes his body on top of yours and lets out a sigh, “That was the best welcome home I’ve ever gotten and I wasn’t even the one who came home.”

He laughs as he leans up, reaching over to grab his shirt to clean you up with. You smile and nod, “I should go away more often.”

He instantly glares at you, “No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” You laugh as you sit up and he leans in, “You cant leave me again. I was like a lost puppy without you.”

You smirk, “But you had Johnnie.”

“I can’t have sex with Johnnie.” Jake tries not to laugh but inevitably fails and you shrug, “I mean…”

“Don’t even, y/n.” Jake laughs and leans in, pecking your lips quickly, “I’ve missed you being mean to me.” You scoff, “That wasn’t mean.”

He fake pouts, “Well my feelings are.. hurt.”

“Awe. Do I need to make it up to you?” You fake pout back and lean in, “I’m sorry.” Jake runs a hand over your head, “You know what.. I think you do..”

“Can it be in the shower?” You raise your brows, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “it can be anywhere you want it to be.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

I’m suuuuper proud of this one. Let me know what you think! Love yas!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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zegrasdrysdale · 9 months ago

Note

Could you write some thigh riding smut with Ethan Edwards? Reader and Ethan are just friends when it happens so maybe they’re hanging out and it somehow leads to sex. Bonus points if there’s jealousy and dirty talk lol

[ that way ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : jealousy gets the best of Ethan's best friend when she comes into town to watch him play some hockey

warning(s) : smut ! spoilers for "my best friend's wedding" (1997 movie), jealousy, dirty talk, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, p in v penetrative sex, protected sex

author’s note : you asked, i rewrote multiple times bc i wasn't happy w it, it deleted itself once, then i delivered (i hope). enjoy <3

༺═──────────────═༻

The puck finds the back of the net. The lamp lights up and the horn goes off. Everyone that’s wearing a yellow and blue jersey in Yost Arena is on their feet immediately. (Y/N) celebrates with the crowd in her borrowed jersey. She smiles and cheers while all the Michigan boys come out onto the ice to celebrate their overtime win right in front of her.

Ethan looks up into the stands right at his best friend. He points at her with a smile on his face even though she’s about six rows off the glass. She waves at him before he goes back to celebrating with his team. He gives helmet taps and he gets helmet taps.

He looks good in full gear on the ice. She may have to come to Michigan more often to come watch him play. It's very rare that she gets to come out to watch Ethan play for Michigan. It's not like she hasn’t been watching him play their entire lives. Even when she wasn’t allowed to go out and watch him play.

One time when she was grounded at 13, she snuck out of the house to go watch him play despite knowing both of Ethan’s parents were at the game. They didn’t snitch on her though. She was thankful because she got to watch him score two goals and get an assist on the game winner. She's been like a daughter to them since she and Ethan met in preschool.

Slowly, the players make their way off the ice and she finds her way to the hallway with the door that leads to the locker rooms. She leans against the wall outside the door because she doesn’t want to see something that would scar her for life.

She shoots Ethan a text so he knows she’s waiting for him. He doesn’t respond so she assumes he’s either talking to his coach or taking his postgame shower.

To keep busy, she scrolls through her social media and likes a few posts. She tweets pictures of Ethan on the ice when he was warming up and when he scored a goal in the second period. They quickly begin to circulate on Twitter and Instagram.

The door opens and some of Ethan’s teammates begin to start walking out with their wet hair and casual clothes on. Some of them say hi and that it's nice to see her as they walk past. Rutger tells her that Ethan is coming out “soon”. Soon for Ethan Edwards is either five minutes or a half an hour.

“Soon” this time means ten minutes. Ethan comes out in a button up, his letter jacket, nice dress pants, and a Michigan beanie. “Hey,” he says. “Glad you could make it. Sorry I didn’t get to see you before the game started.”

She smiles and gives him a side hug. One of his arms drapes over her shoulders and her arm wraps around his waist. “I’m here for a few days so you can make it up to me,” she tells him. “What do you think of the jersey? Stole it from your closet after Seamus let me into the house.”

Ethan backs away and looks at (Y/N) in his jersey. She turns in a slow circle so he can get a good look at her in the jersey. “Looks better on you than it does on me,” he admits. “Good to know that you still rock my name and number on your back.”

(Y/N) laughs but she wishes she could rock his name in another way. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” she asks. “Just hang out? Watch a movie? Show me around Ann Arbor?”

Before he can respond, a girl comes running up from behind Ethan and jumps on his back. She wraps herself around him. “That was a sexy goal you scored tonight, Eddy,” she says into his ear. “Looked good doing it too.”

Ethan smiles and turns his head to look at the girl in the Michigan hockey hoodie. “You think so?”

“Know so,” she giggles. “You’re so hot when you put the puck in the back of the net.” The girl begins pressing kisses against his jaw. He laughs and (Y/N) bites her bottom lip so she doesn’t say anything. It takes everything not to say some snarky comment.

She knows girls constantly throw themselves at him. Ethan isn't afraid to call her after one of his one night stands. He is one of the most attractive guys she knows, he’s super smart, and one of the most talented hockey players that she's ever seen play. He knows it too and doesn't shy away from the attention.

It isn’t a secret that girls on this campus want to hook up with him or be with him.

What is a secret is her feelings for her best friend. She is no better than the girls that throw themselves at Ethan. If she could then she would, but they’re friends and that would be crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. There's no going back if that line gets crossed.

And she's terrified of crossing that line. It doesn't mean she doesn't get jealous of other girls that tell Ethan how sexy he is and how good he looks when he scores goals without crossing that line. She wishes she could be one of those girls that gets to throw herself at him.

"You and your teammates should come to the party that happening at the house tonight," she suggests. "I think it would be super fun to hang out with the hockey team. To hang out with you. You can even bring your little friend here. She looks like she could use a good party." The girl looks her up and down in Ethan's jersey.

That last comment really pisses her off though. She completely loses her filter, and she's not even sorry.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" she asks, eyes boring into the girl on Ethan's back. "You can hop right off my boy's back now and find someone else to fuck tonight because I promise you that he isn't interested in fucking you. Bye bye." She waves goodbye to put some emphasis on her words.

The girl lowers herself back to the ground with a roll of her eyes. Ethan looks between the nameless girl and (Y/N) as the nameless girl shoulder tackles her. She resists every urge to punch this girl in the face despite the pain in her shoulder as she walks away.

She looks back at Ethan when the nameless girl leaves the arena. She follows her outside so they can go home after a minute. He blinks at her when they get in his car before he says, "I don't think I have ever seen you get like that."

"Like what?"

"So possessive," Ethan tells her as he starts his car. He pulls out of the parking spot and heads toward the house he lives in with Dylan, Tyler, and Luca. "Almost like you were jealous of her."

Her head snaps in his direction to look at him. "I wasn't jealous of her," she lies. "I was protecting you. The amount of calls I've gotten at two in the morning because you're upset that another girl left you in your bed is a little ridiculous."

"You're not wrong about that," he comments. "I guess it is ridiculous."

Every time Ethan's girl of the night leaves him after a party or bringing a girl back after a game, he calls his best friend and she gets to hear all about the sex or how he thought she was the one that wasn't going to leave him.

She's gotten very tired of it so she's taking a stand for him.

"So, you never told me what the plan was for the night since it's my first night in Ann Arbor," she says as Ethan turns out of the parking lot. "We could go to that party she was talking about if you want, or I'm perfectly okay with staying in tonight since you have another game tomorrow."

Ethan glances at her as she drives. "Is there something you'd like to do?" he asks. "You're here for a week so I'm also okay if you don't want to go out tonight. There will be parties during the week we can go to if you're okay with snacks and a movie or two. I'm pretty sure my roommates are going out tonight anyway so we'll have the house to ourselves to catch up."

Ideas flow through her head. She wants to do a lot in the next seven days that she's in Michigan before she heads back to Alberta.

Tonight though, she just wants to spend time with Ethan without worrying about which girl is going to throw herself at him next.

"Movie night with snacks sounds really nice," she eventually tells him.

He smiles and makes a turn. "You can look through my Netflix when we get back to the house," he tell her. "I need to take a longer shower when we get back so while I'm in the bathroom, you can find a movie that we can watch."

She nods and scrolls through her phone while Ethan drives. It's not a long drive from Yost to the house he shares with three of his closest friends and teammates. It's maybe ten minutes before Ethan pulls into the driveway. There are no other cars in the driveway so he was right about them having the house to themselves tonight.

A very excited (Y/N) gets out of the car and Ethan is quick to follow her. She has an idea of what movie she wants to watch but she has to check to make sure it's on Netflix before she gets too excited about it.

Ethan disappears into the bathroom that's attached to his bedroom. She disappears into the kitchen to gather some snacks for them to eat while they have their movie night.

She makes some popcorn but also puts together a candy bowl filled with M&Ms, Reese's Cups, mini Twix, and Hershey Kisses. Sweet and savory choices for them. She even grabs two cans of soda that are in the fridge so they have something to drink.

When she walks into Ethan's room with the bowls of snacks and cans of soda, he is walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She has to look away before she stares at the water droplets rolling down his chest.

"Jesus, E," she gasps. She almost drops the snacks and drinks so she can cover her eyes. Ethan uses his hands to cover his crotch like she can see through the towel around his waist. "You couldn't have brought clothes into the bathroom with you?"

"I did," Ethan replies. "I forgot underwear. I opened the door so see if you were in here and you weren't so I wrapped a towel around myself. You were in here when I came out to put on underwear."

She glances at Ethan as he pulls up the pair of boxers over his waist. His back is to her so she admires him from behind for a second. His thighs are insane and every single back muscle works as he dresses himself. He turns his head to look at her as soon as he's wearing a shirt again. She quickly looks at the snacks in her hands to act like she wasn't watching him get dressed.

"Warn a girl before you walk into a room with nothing but a towel on, Ethan," she tells him as she sets the bowls and cans down on the table next to his bed. She crawls onto the mattress and grabs the TV remote.

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked before," he says.

"It has been literally like fifteen years since I saw you naked," she retorts. "It's your fault we were even in that situation because you decided to cover both of us in mud. Your mother decided that it would be funny to bathe us together."

Ethan laughs and crawls onto his bed next to her. "My bad," he says. "Anyway. Did you find a movie to watch or are we winging it?"

She loads his Netflix account and replies, "I think I know what I want to watch but I have to make sure it's still on here. If it's not then we'll wing it."

"Okay," he slowly says. "What movie?"

As soon as he asks, My Best Friend's Wedding pops up when she goes into the romance movies section. Ethan raises his eyebrows and looks over at her when she clicks it. "Seriously?"

"What?" she asks. "It's a romcom. I know you don't watch many of those so I thought we could watch one of my favorite ones." Ethan frowns. "Come on, E. You'll love it. I promise."

He sighs as the movie begins to play. “If I hate it then we are going to watch Miracle or Mighty Ducks,” he tells her. Sounds like a plan to her so she nods in agreement.

She hands Ethan his soda and he cracks it open.

Picking My Best Friend's Wedding was kind of a hint in a way since Julia Roberts' character is in love with her best friend, who is marrying someone else. She didn't lie when she said it's one of her favorite romcoms though. She adores this movie and loves Julia Roberts.

He seems very into the movie though. Not once does he complain about how stupid it is. It's throwing her off a little bit.

Ethan reaches over her to grab one of the snack bowls around what she thinks is the halfway point of the movie. "I could've given it to you, asshole," she tells him. "You didn't have to reach over me when I'm trying to watch the movie."

"I just wanted some candy," he replies with a mouthful of chocolate. "I need to munch while watching the movie, (Y/N)."

She laughs and looks over at him as he stuffs a Reese's Cup in his mouth. She steals one of the Hershey Kisses out of the bowl and tosses it into her mouth. Ethan smiles and does the same. She shakes her head and goes back to watching the movie.

As she watches one of her favorite scenes toward the end of the movie, she's slightly on edge. She's very still the entire time. It's the scene where Julia Roberts' character Jules tells her best friend Michael, played by Dermot Mulroney, that she is in love with him and they share a kiss.

When she quickly glances beside her at Ethan, she finds him already looking at her. She quickly turns her head and looks away from him. Her cheeks begin to heat up like she’s embarrassed that he caught her looking at him.

He catches her chin and turns her head back so she’s looking at him again before she’s fulling facing the movie.

“Eth-”

“Please don’t say anything or else I won’t be able to do this,” he says to interrupt her.

She raises her eyebrows in confusion as Ethan’s thumb brushes over her bottom lip. His eyes flicker down to her lips before moving back up to her eyes. The eye contact they’re holding makes her entire body shake with excitement and anticipation.

Ethan doesn’t make any moves. His eyes float and study every part of her face, taking in every detail that he can see in the mostly dark room.

Very hesitantly, she throws a leg over one of his thighs and she straddles his leg. Ethan pushes her hair behind her ear and cups her jaw.

The entire time, they hold each other’s eyes. The tips of their noses touch every time Ethan moves in then backs away like he’s unsure.

“Do something,” she whispers, desperate. Her hands rest on his chest. “Ethan. Kiss me.”

He wastes no time.

Ethan sits up and wraps his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him. He crashes his lips to hers like he’s done holding back. She leans into him and deepens the kiss, pushing him back until he’s sitting up against the headboard.

The movie is soon forgotten about behind her. All she can hear is her own heart pounding in her ears. She no longer had any idea of what is going on behind her because she’s so focused on what’s in front of her.

She feels Ethan’s hands slither up the back of the jersey she’s still wearing. She never took it off and switched to a pair of black Lululemon shorts after she took off her leggings. A smile forms on Ethan’s lips when he realizes that she still has on his jersey.

Ethan’s fingers run up and down her back at the same time hers find their way under Ethan’s Michigan hockey t-shirt. She presses her fingers into his abs and sighs. All she has wanted to do since Ethan built up the muscles he has now is touch them.

Now she can.

“Take it off,” Ethan mumbles into a kiss as he pulls at the jersey. “I love seeing you in it but it needs to come off right now."

She reaches down between them and pulls the jersey over her head, breaking the kiss in the process. When she gets the jersey off, she sees Ethan’s eyes are on her body. She bites her bottom lip and grabs the bottom of Ethan’s shirt.

Might as well get it off now before they get distracted again.

Ethan gets the cue and sits up. She pulls the thin fabric off of him and tosses it to the floor with the jersey. Her eyes meet his and she finds a hunger in them that she's never seen before.

Friends definitely don't look at friends that way so something is changing between them. Goosebumps form on her exposed skin as she realizes that this could be the beginning of something new. Their whole relationship is changing with every second and every touch.

He cups her jaw with both his hands and runs his thumbs over her cheekbones.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this," Ethan softly confesses, looking between her eyes.

"I think I have an idea," she whispers as she leans in to connect their lips again.

Their lips make contact with each other and she presses her chest flush against his. In the process, she rolls her hips and grinds her clothed core on his thigh. She gasps at the pressure and Ethan's hands fly to her waist.

She tries it again and lets out a soft whine. She's surprised at how good it feels. Ethan smiles into the kiss as she begins to use his thigh to get off.

It makes sense to her that she would like this. She was just thinking about his thighs earlier when he was getting dressed.

The kiss breaks and she rests her forehead against Ethan's. Soft pants pass her swollen lips and Ethan smiles. "Gonna use my thigh to come?" he asks. "You gonna get off using my thigh, baby?"

"Mhm," she hums. "Feels good. Kind of in love with your thighs, E."

He laughs and helps her move her hips.

She can feel how muscular his thighs are through her shorts and his sweatpants. Just like she thought earlier - his thighs are insane.

A knot already forms in the pit of her belly. Her breathing has gotten very labored and she claws at Ethan's chest, definitely leaving behind some scratch marks he'll get teased for later by his teammates.

"Ethan," she breathes out. "Fuck."

He presses kisses to her jaw. "I got you," he tells her. "Go ahead. Come."

Almost like she was waiting for his permission, she comes with a cry. She ruins her panties and probably her shorts at the same time. Her fingers find Ethan's hair and she lightly grips his locks because she needs something to hold onto.

Ethan peppers her jaw and cheek with light kisses as she lays her head on his shoulder while she comes down from her high. He lightly brushes her hair out of her face and she hums a little "thank you".

"Feel better?" he asks. "Got it out of your system?"

She rolls her eyes and lifts her head as soon as she has enough strength to. "For now," she retorts. "Right now though, I need you to get inside of me because it's all I've been thinking about for years."

He smiles and quickly rolls them over so she's on her back. "Your wish is my command," he says as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her ruined shorts and panties. "Hope you don't need to walk in the morning."

Her eyes widen as he pulls off the shorts and panties in one go. She lifts her hips off the bed to help him out. She's completely exposed to him now since she went without a bra under the jersey. She crosses her arms over her chest.

Ethan is quick to grab her hands and uncover her body. "Don't hide from me, baby," he tells her. "You're beautiful. I've always thought you were beautiful. You never have to hide from me."

She nods and Ethan gets on his knees between her legs. She watches as he pushes off his boxers and sweats. His dick pops out of his boxers and she bites her bottom lip.

Yeah, she’s not going to be able to walk in the morning. It really is a good thing she doesn’t have to go anywhere.

He leans over and reaches into his bedside table. He had a tiny silver package between his fingers when he comes back to hover over her.

“I need to make sure you are absolutely okay with this,” he says. “You aren’t going to regret this or anything like that. I don’t want you to think that I’m pressuring you-”

“Ethan, if you don’t fuck me in the next two seconds, I am going to get up and go find someone who will,” she interrupts.

His eyes darken when he makes the comment about going to find someone that will fuck her. “Oh hell no,” he mumbles before he tears the condom package open with his teeth. She smiles as he slides the condom onto himself.

Her fingers find a home in Ethan’s hair when he leans over her. She holds his locks from falling into his face since he does have longer hair. He lines himself up with her and meets her eyes. “I trust you, E,” she tells him. “I have always trusted you.” I love you.

With her reassurance, Ethan slowly pushes into her. She gasps and bites her lip. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he breathes out. “So tight. God.”

Being tired of hearing him talk, she leans up and presses her lips to his. She wraps her arms around his neck as he bottoms out in her. Ethan presses his hands into the pillows on either side of her head so he doesn’t crush her.

She rolls her hips so she feels Ethan move inside of her. A soft sigh passes her lips into the kiss. Ethan leans into her and deepens the kiss. Her fingers drag down his back as he finally begins to roll his hips so he moves in and out of her.

The sound of soft whines and moans fill the room until the sound of the bed creaking follows when Ethan speeds up his movements. She breaks the kiss and arches her back off the bed and Ethan kisses her chest.

“Such a good girl for me,” Ethan pants. “Making these pretty noises. Does my cock feel good inside you, baby?”

“S’ good,” she breathes out. “Feels so good, E. You make me feel so good. Fuck.”

He smiles against her skin. He pushes one of her legs up and lets it hook around his arm, and he’s able to move even deeper inside of her. She cries out in pleasure and her head begins to spin.

It’s been years since she realized that she was in love with her best friend. He is all she has wanted since they went to prom together in their senior year of high school.

Even if he doesn’t love her, the fact that he is on top of her means that he has to feel something for her.

Right?

This is a welcomed change in their relationship. Going from friends to this is welcomed.

Her legs begin to shake as her second orgasm of the night starts to build in her belly. Ethan changes his pace every so often but continuously moves deep into her so he’s completely inside of her.

She’s pretty sure her breasts are marked up because of the way Ethan keeps nipping and sucking at the skin. It doesn’t bother her.

Getting marked by Ethan is never going to bother her.

Ethan pulls out then slams into her. “Holy fuck,” she cries out. “Shit, E.”

“Just wanna make my girl feel good,” Ethan pants.

He does it again and she clenches around him. She comes without warning and with Ethan’s name on her lips. Her entire body shakes and her vision goes white.

It’s probably the hardest she has ever come in her life. No one has made her feel as good as Ethan has.

It must be a minute before she comes to because he has a cloth in his hand and is cleaning her up. Her breathing is extremely labored and her entire body feels heavy. He tosses the cloth to the floor with their clothes and she looks at the TV.

‘Are you still watching’ lights up the screen and she can’t help but smile at the realization of what just happened.

Ethan pulls the blankets over their naked bodies and asks, “What’s with the smile?”

She looks up at him and says, “I really liked it. I liked being able to touch and kiss you.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you wouldn’t mind doing it again?” he questions.

“Absolutely not.”

A loud knock rings out throughout the room and Luca is on the other side as he says, “Walls are thin! I don’t feel like buying ear plugs so please keep it down! Also, it’s about damn time.”

She covers her mouth and laughs. Ethan rolls his eyes and gets comfortable. “I need to move out and get my own place.”

“I second that.”

༺═──────────────═༻

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geekforhorror · 1 year ago

Note

pls pls plsssss i want older!anakin to fuck me where everyone could hear us so baaaaad!!! want obi wan to yell at us for being so reckless & disrespectful!! also daddy kink! imagine age gap!

pls write something about his i love your writing!!!!!!!!!

I PRACTICALLY MOANED AT THIS. ALSO I APPRECIATE THE FEEDBACK

shameless

pairing: older!anakin x fem!reader

warning(s): SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!anakin, sub!reader, established age gap (anakin is 35, reader is 20), anakin is a master in this (not readers master tho!), unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, pet names, divorced au (sorry miss amidala!), etc.

————

You always had a thing for Skywalker.

You didn’t know what made him so alluring. Maybe it was his confidence, good looks, personality, or perhaps it was all three. You had developed a crush on him from the very moment you encountered him in the temple’s halls. From then on, you could barely keep your composure around him. It started off with blushing and now it had gotten to the point where you had to clench your thighs together whenever he spoke to you. You tried your best to shield your thoughts from the confident Jedi and you thought you succeeded in doing so.

Oh, how wrong you were.

See, unbeknownst to you, Anakin had picked up on your behavior and instantly wanted to know what it was that was making you that flustered. He already had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on. Luckily, he would have the opportunity to see if he was right or not. One night, he had been assigned to be your dueling partner since your master was out on a mission. You were nervous to say the least. How the fuck were you supposed to spend an entire hour with him when you could barely keep your composure around him for more than five minutes? All you knew was that you were screwed.

————

The time had finally come where you had to meet Skywalker in the dueling chambers. Here you were, outside of the very room where the man you had grown feelings for was, yet you were too nervous to actually enter the room. You didn’t know how to describe it. Being around him was so… intoxicating, but also nerve wracking. You knew better than to let these thoughts surface during your session with him, but it would be rather tricky when you had to duel at the same time. Besides, what would he think? He would probably report you to the council the first chance he got for inappropriate behavior on your behalf. That’s why this couldn’t come to light.

To prepare yourself, you took a deep breath in and collected yourself enough before finally entering the room. As soon as you entered the room, you were met with those mesmerizing blue eyes you loved so much. They had a way of making you gaze into them until you were in a dazed-like state. It was hard to look away, but you managed to do so, keeping in mind that you couldn’t be caught doing a thing like that.

“Hello Master Skywalker. It’s a pleasure to duel with you again,” you say too cheerfully. Fuck.

“The feeling is mutual,” he replies with a rather nonchalant tone to his voice. You didn’t know what it was about his voice that always had you dripping through your panties, but fuck. Maybe it was the way his voice sounded like pure velvet.

“Are you ready?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you said a little too quick.

“Alright then. Positions!”

You do as he says and take your normal stance, which you had learned from your master. Anakin takes his signature pose, the room now filled with silence that wasn’t there before. Suddenly, his lightsaber strikes in the air and gives you barely any time to react. However, you know better than to let his hasty movements derail yours. You decide to use your instincts to your advantage.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you,” he says with a cheshire smile.

“Good,” you confidently reply.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your rather fierce response. He always admired your boldness and confidence. It was what set you apart from all the other Jedi. However, you were also selfless and willing to sacrifice everything for the ones you loved. He saw parts of himself in you. That drive and desire.

He saw your response as an invitation to go harder on you as he swayed his body around while attempting to strike you with his wielded weapon. You blocked him with every breath you took and focused on finding his weakness. Fortunately for him, your focus on defeating him allowed him the perfect opportunity to lodge himself inside that pretty little brain of yours and see what you were hiding from him. After all, his mind reading abilities were way stronger than yours, so it was likely you wouldn’t even notice.

Suddenly, he was met with a vision. It was one of you: all alone in your quarters, wearing nothing but your lacy bra. He was met with the sight of your cunt, all covered in slick and creamy arousal. There you were, all sprawled out on the bed while plunging two of your fingers inside your needy pussy—imagining it was him stretching your tight hole until you were practically begging to cum. Just as he was about to strike, his ears were met with your needy moans.

“Fuck- Ana- Anakin,” you whined out, loud enough for bypassers in the hall to hear.

The vision disappeared just as fast as it was displayed and was replaced with another, only this one was more of a thought and more dirty than the last. This time, it was you thinking of his hands roaming your body and pounding his cock into you until you were a crying and moaning mess around him.

How could a girl like you have such nasty thoughts about her superior?

He felt himself grow hard in the confines of his pants and knew he had to get out before you noticed. When he came back, he was met with your leg swiftly coming up in the air in order to counter his previous actions. Despite being distracted for some time, he somehow overpowered the thoughts of you just enough to hit you right in the leg with his training saber, declaring victory.

“Well, well,” you heard him say.

“What is it?” you say, sounding intrigued but also confused.

“It seems like I beat you despite getting into that pretty little head of yours,” he finally admits.

“Wait what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me… I know every dirty little thought you have of me,” Anakin chuckles confidently. “It’s quite adorable, actually.

You felt a flush of embarrassment fill your cheeks as they were now a rosy shade of pink. “It’s not that hard to sense in you, angel,” he replies, reading your very thoughts. “I found them quite amusing. The way you want me to kiss all over your pretty little body, how you want me to ruin you and make you mine, the feeling of what it would be like to be taken by a man, not a mere Jedi boy. They don’t know what you want like I do,” he says cockily.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“Then I’ll do the talking. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I had to have you. I mean, why else do you think you ended up with me all these times your master was out? It’s because I told the others to let me train you even if it was temporary.”

“I had no idea, Master Skywalker,” you say truthfully, but also surprised at what you were hearing right now.

“I think we’re past all the formalities, don’t you? Call me Anakin,” he says.

“Anakin, I had no idea,” you correct yourself.

“That’s better. Now do you want to take this somewhere a little more… private?” he asks.

“Like where?” you ask playfully.

“Perhaps my quarters?” he suggests.

“I’d like that,” you say with an ear to ear grin, clearly showing you had gotten over your shyness.

“Follow me then,” he says before reaching his hand out to yours. You take his hand before he walks the two of you out of the room and into the dark halls of the the temple. The two of you look for anyone who may be lurking in the halls, but there’s no one. Before you know it, you guys have reached his room and that’s when he hastily opens the door and slams it just as hard.

He wastes no time before hungrily kissing you on the lips and pushing you against the wall of his room. The kiss is primarily fueled by pent-up desire that had been built up in the two of you for what seemed like forever.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this... wanted you," you pant against his lips.

"Trust me...I do," Anakin clarifies. He then moves his lips and latches them onto your neck, sucking roughly at the surrounding skin.

"Anakin..." you whine.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he responds.

"I want you to fuck me," you confess.

"You do, huh?" he rhetorically asks, already knowing the answer you would give him.

"Please Ani.. don't tease me," you pathetically say. You know how you sound right now, but you're too lost in the moment to care about any of that.

"Anything for you, baby," he coos.

With that, he swiftly grabs your hips before letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He guides the two of you toward his bed and gently lays you down. "I'm gonna treat you so well that you won't be able to think about any other man besides me... gotta have you all to myself, baby," Anakin says full of passion while undressing you until you're all bare for him and only him. He knows you want to undress him, but he stops you before you can even lay a hand on any of his garments. He starts to strip himself of any and all clothes he previously had on and maker, his body did not disappoint. Despite his age, he had kept most of the lean physique he had when he was in his twenties. His abs were sculpted to absolute perfection. The way his waist was so defined practically had you drooling. He was perfect in every way. Even his dick was. It was all red at the tip and sat upright, but the thing that stood out the most was how long and thick it was.

"Eyes up here, darling," he says with a slight laugh.

"I don't know if I can take all of that," you shamefully admit.

"You want it though, don't you?" Anakin asks.

"Yes."

That was all you had to say before he positioned himself on the bed and instantly inserted himself inside your tight pussy, giving you no time to adjust to his size as he thrusts into your greedy walls. You immediately felt full of his thick cock and felt yourself clench around him.

"Need to train this hole if you're gonna be all mine," he grits.

"Please!" you cry out, digging your nails into his defined shoulders, which only eggs him on even further.

"Need to ruin you for any other guys, yeah?" he goes on.

You can only nod your head yes due to the newfound pleasure filling your body. No other man had made you feel this good. Maybe it was because one of them had experience like Anakin did. Relationships were strictly forbidden for Jedi to have, but there were rumors about Senator Padme Amidala being pregnant with Anakin's children. You thought they were merely rumors, but that was before you had his cock deep inside your weeping cunt, thrusting until you were all raw and sore. Before tonight, you never knew that's what you wanted.

"Harder!" you beg of him.

"Poor little thing... hasn't been full of my cock for more than 5 minutes and is already begging for more" he tuts.

"Please, daddy!" you scream.

"That's right baby," he says in a soft yet promising tone.

Fulfilling your needs, he spreads your legs even further to get an even better angle of your pussy before animalistically pounding his fat cock into your swollen walls. You couldn't help but loudly moan at his movements. You knew you were giving other people the chance to hear what was going on, but you were too cock drunk to care. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the thin walls of the room and probably the entire hall, as a matter of fact. You felt too full to even form coherent thoughts. He wasn't planning on slowing down anytime soon now that you had given him the green light to go harder. He wouldn't stop until you were a crying mess.

A familiar feeling started to form as you saw stars in your blurred vision. You felt a rope of heat fill your stomach and knew you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"'M so close Master...please let me cum!" you cry out.

"Just hold on for a bit longer... wanna make you feel as good as possible," he replies. You nod your head at this and comply with his words. He suddenly then ruts his hips even rougher on yours, knowing you would be bruised for days to come.

"I'm gonna-" you start to say.

"Let go for me baby. I've got you... cum all over my cock."

With his permission, you finally let go and spill all over him while he's still fucking you through it. He groans at the feeling of your warmth around his hard cock and cums shortly after. He pulls out of you before lying down next to you. "You did so well for me, darling," he says in a reassuring manner.

Just as you're about to speak, there's a sudden knock on the door that alerts the two of you. The two of you rush to put your clothes on, not wanting to answer the door naked for whoever is on the other side. Once the two of you are fully dressed, Anakin opens the door and it's none other than your master Obi-Wan.

Shit, the two of you were screwed.

"I see that the two of you are finally done engaging in....activities. However, please remember that some of us were forced to listen to your obscenities. Please come with me otherwise you will be dealing with far worse!" he says in an almost lecturing dad tone.

This was gonna be a long night.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin star wars #hayden christensen #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #star wars anakin #anakin x reader #attack of the clones

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lillchris · 6 months ago

Text

You with the dark curls; You with the water colored eyes (Two Shot)

Chapter One: A Sour Apple Can Spoil The Whole Bunch

Responding to @my-favorite-sign-blog Word Count: 1.7k

a/n: The book title is inspo from the song "Dear Arkansas Daughter" Anyway seeing that this is my first fanfic in a while, I thought it was no better time to start than the present. Most of the plotlines in this book will be ideas from my delusional brain. In this fanfic, Jalen and Paige actually dated so just keep that in the back of your minds ;) I hope you all like this first chapter! <3 TW: Angst, Jalen Suggs, Mentions of cheating and divorce, Swearing, Homophobia

It was Christmas morning in the Fudd household, and with that came Christmas breakfast, it was a tradition the family had yet to break.

It was precisely 8:30am when Azzi looked at the alarm clock beside her bed, and heard the sound of her father's voice ring down the hall as he banged pots and pans that woke up all those who were sleeping.

"Come on everybody up! Rise and shine it's Christmas morning and you know what that means!"

Tim Fudd's morning enthusiasm was not reciprocated as Azzi rolled back over, and pulled the comforter back over her head, in hopes of blocking out the loud ruckus outside her room.

"I'll rise but I sure won't shine." Azzi mumbled groggily.

Just then the door burst open, and she soon felt a dip in the mattress as she groaned from the sudden disturbance.

"AZZI! AZZI! AZZI! Wake up! Come on get up!" The sound of Drew Bueckers voice blared in her ear as she rolled over once again.

"Wow I guess that didn't work, maybe you should try since your besties." Drew shrugged before getting off the bed and walking out of the room.

"Come on you big head, get up. It's rude not to greet your best friend after it took three-plus hours to get here." Paige said in a teasing tone as she attempted to pull the comforter off of Azzi.

"Just five more minutes Paige, pleaseee. You know I'm not a morning person."

"Okay fine, but I'm sitting on the edge of your bed waiting here until you decide to get off your ass and wake up." Paige teased as she picked up a mini basketball that was lying on the floor.

The constant sound of the ball hitting the door and bouncing back, over and over was enough to drive Azzi nuts, she sighed before pulling off the covers.

"When, and how did you even get here? I thought you were going back home to celebrate Christmas with your mom's side of the family in Montana?" Azzi asked sleepily as she rubbed her eyes.

"Well, it took me a minute to realize after I said goodbye to you at the airport a month ago, that I wanted to spend Christmas with you instead. So I bought tickets for the next flight out to Virginia, and viola here I am."

"Paige do you need me for anything else, me and Jose want to play Fortnite," Drew said with a sigh as he trudged back into the room with a PS5 controller in hand.

When Paige didn't respond, Drew took it as a sign, rolling his eyes before leaving once again.

"Come on Azzi I want some of your mom's famous maple apple pancakes fresh off the griddle before your brothers eat them all". Paige says with a long pleading, drawn-out sigh.

"Don't make me force you out of bed".

"Noo Paige Please. Just let me wake up naturally. Jose forced me to watch some stupid ass Christmas comedy movie, and I am so tired." Azzi says with her eyes closed still as an annoyed groan falls from her lips.

"You're getting up whether you like it or not, come on," Paige says mischievously as she swats at Azzi's knee lightly as an incentive.

"Alright guess I'm going to have to carry you out like the princess you are." Paige says before picking up Azzi and slumping her over her shoulder carrying her out.

" Think you might want to carry Azzi more gently, she is Sleeping Beauty." Tim Fudd laughs upon seeing his daughter carried out Fireman's lift-style.

"Well, she is a princess after all," Paige says with a smirk before carrying Azzi bridal style in her arms.

"Wait before you put her down," Jose says laughing, before taking a picture of a sleepy Azzi, as Tim and Katie just laugh.

"Alright, Paige wake up Azzi it's almost time to eat." Katie says with a smile as she sets the last of the pancake on a plate.

"Wakey, Wakey princess, it's time to wake up for real this time." Paige says with a smirk as she bops her best friend on the nose, as she puts Azzi down forcing her to stand up despite how groggy she is.

"I'm up, I'm up! " Azzi says yawning as she puts on one of Paige's hoodies that she's currently "borrowing"

"Hey, that's my hoodie! Haven't you had it for over six months now?" Paige says jokingly with an eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered on her face.

"Whatever Paige. I like it, it's so comfy and it smells like you. I've worn it for the past month since I missed you." Azzi says as she leans against Paige's shoulder, and everyone sits at the table.

"She has hardly taken it off since we picked her up at the airport a month ago." Katie states as she passes the syrup bottle.

"Yeah, she practically lives in it." Tim chimes in, as Drew and Jose give each other knowing looks, as they look across the table at the two girls, who seem utterly comfortable and relaxed in each other's presence.

"Oh? So you actually missed me?" Paige says teasingly to Azzi as she eats her scrambled eggs.

"Of course I missed you! Is that even a question!" Azzi says with her mouth half full of food as she half-jokingly rolls her eyes. She glances over at Paige, before nudging her in the side playfully.

In Azzi's mind, she wanted to say: of course I missed you I always miss you. But she refrained, something in her mind stopped her.

Just as everyone was finishing eating, the sound of the doorbell ringing shifted their attention.

"I'll get it" Tim said as he rose from the table, before heading to the door.

"Is Paige Bueckers here by chance?" A young man says as he stands on the snowy outside steps.

"And who are you?" Tim asks curiously.

"I'm Jalen Suggs, Paige's- friend. I would like to talk to her for a second.

"Oh, so you're- never mind, sure come in," Tim says clearing his throat, letting the young man inside.

"Paige, someone's here to see you."

"Here to see me? On Christmas? I don't know who could possibly want to see m-." Paige's words stopped just as quickly as they had been spoken. Her mouth suddenly goes dry, upon seeing him standing there.

"I need to talk to you, please." Jalen says with a insistent look as she approaches him, firmly grabbing his forearm, and leading him into the living room.

"What the hell are you doing here Jalen on all of the days Christmas! I thought I made myself clear-"

"You did, baby, but I-I want to apologize, for everything." Jalen pleads as Paige's blood almost boils upon hearing him call her baby.

Paige sighs, looking down and shaking her head, before glancing over at Drew who is watching them talk. He quickly snaps his head toward the TV acting like he isn't staring.

"Look, can we just- talk about this outside. The at least decent thing you can do is not have this conversation in front of my little brother." Paige sighs in frustration as she and Jalen walk out onto the small front porch.

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

Meanwhile, Azzi is helping her mom and dad clean up the kitchen.

"Whoa, what did that plate ever do to you?" Tim jokes as Katie shoots her husband a not the right-time look.

In Azzi's mind, the thought, the sight, the mention of that person, that man- Jalen Suggs, makes her blood boil to no avail. He was a dick, an asshole, hell, every insulting name in the damn book of insults, for what he put Paige through the last year and a half.

She despised him, how could he do that to Paige, Her Paige. She dismissed that thought quickly, as her mind trailed back to Jalen the more she thought about him the more her mind reeled and turned at just how much she disliked him.

"Azzi." The sound of someone's voice and the feeling of her mother's hand brought her back to reality, and it was only then did Azzi realize that she had been washing the same damn pan for over five minutes. She released the death grip she had on the pan before taking a deep breath.

"Azzi, are you alright?" Her mother's eyes met hers as she looked up from her feet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. its-just why the hell did he have to show up, right here, right now, on Christmas of all days- I just." Azzi sighed and threw her hands up in the air.

"I'm walking out there, I know it's not my place but I'm giving Jalen a piece of my mind."

Azzi says determined, walking out of the house before Katie can tell her not to.

"ooooh weeeh, man! Watch out! Here comes Azzi. That boy is gonna see some Fudd fury from her! That's my girl!" Tim says proudly as Katie shoots him another unamused look.

"One! You are not calling me baby, and two! Don't you dare bring my parent's divorce into this! I might have been only three but that does not make it irrelevant. " Paige says beyond angry.

Azzi stomped out onto the snowy driveway about to give Jalen a piece of her mind, but she stopped beside the two, seeing that she had come at a bad time.

"And don't bring Azzi into this either leave her out of this!" Paige says before realizing Azzi is standing right there.

"Oh I'm sorry did I hurt your "girlfriend's" feelings." Jalen shoots back.

"Don't talk to her like that don't you dare!" Azzi says stepping in front of Paige protectively.

"Oh does Paige need her best friend- or shall I say girlfriend to fight her battles for her? Is that why you broke up with me just so you could fuck your best friend instead?"

That was it Paige had officially snapped.

"I'm not the one who cheated, with my used-to-be friend Hayley Van Leith! And no that's not why I was going to break up with you! I broke up with you because you kept fucking continuously lying to me!" Paige says with venom in her voice.

"You need to leave now." Azzi says firmly as she once again steps between Paige.

"Yeah alright, whatever Paige, at least I tried apologizing. Yeah, you just have fun with your girlfriend here. She'll never be able to give you what I could." Jalen says mockingly.

Before leaving Azzi and Paige in the snowy driveway.

a/n: lmk what y’all think :)

#pazzi #pazzi fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wlw #angst #paige buckets

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superprofesh · 5 months ago

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The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Epilogue

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: Eighteen months after you and Colt have declared your love for each other, there's just one thing that could make life better — actually getting to spend time together.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.5k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: You know I couldn't resist a little epilogue for these two :D I hope this brings you all as much joy as this series has brought me, and I appreciate each and every one of you who has taken the time to read and/or respond to this story. Thank you :)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. The steps leading up to the apartment have never seemed so long, and Colt honestly can’t clear them fast enough so he can get home to you.

Home. What a word. What a feeling. Colt Seavers has had a home before, but home has never felt so warm, so kind, so welcoming as the one he shares with you. And his soul is at home wherever you are.

It’s been eighteen months since he confessed his love for you on the airport greenway, eighteen months since the two of you started a relationship that has weathered all sorts of trials. Lengthy separations, serious injuries, art-related frustrations, meddling outsiders — sometimes it seems like the whole world has conspired against the two of you.

And still, you are his. You choose to be his every day. Your love has never wavered, and his love for you has only grown stronger as you’ve shown him what it means to be beloved.

Colt still smiles to remember the night he proposed. The two of you had barely been officially dating for four months when he couldn’t stand it another minute and asked you to marry him. You were slightly less impulsive about the idea — you took a full two seconds to agree and ask how soon you could get married. Neither of you had ever been more sure about anything than knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together.

Marriage hasn’t been easy all the time. Colt’s work takes him all over the world, and yours keeps you busy 24/7. Sometimes weeks will go by without you getting to spend time together, and sometimes the moments you can steal are spent simply falling asleep on each other’s shoulders. You and Colt have learned to treasure every second you get to spend together, hoping that one day, you’ll have all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s company. Colt feels a flutter of excitement knowing that time may come sooner than you think.

For now, though, both of you have a full two weeks off from your different jobs. Colt’s latest movie finished filming yesterday, and you’ve been done with your latest Broadway set design job for three days. Colt has been on a plane for the last fourteen hours and is bone-weary, but all he can think about right now is getting through that door and seeing your smile.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. Colt hits the top of the steps, and the hallway is flooded with soft golden light as you fling the door open, clearing the distance between you in half a second and throwing yourself into his arms with a beaming smile that makes his heart feel like it will burst with joy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, the two of you are snuggled together under a blanket on your couch, listening to the gentle night rain outside. You’re both thoroughly worn out — you had three weeks’ worth of catching up to do — and now you’ve both settled in for the simple pleasure of basking in each other’s presence.

You sometimes catch yourself wondering if this could all be a dream. Is it possible that you could actually be married to Colt Seavers, world’s greatest stuntman and the kindest, most dedicated man you’ve ever met? The way he showers you with his attention, the way he is so intentional about demonstrating his love for you, all his unconventional ways of letting you know he’s thinking about you even when you’re hundreds of miles apart… sometimes, it feels too good to be true.

The past three weeks haven’t been easy. You always miss Colt when you’re both far from home on jobs, but this past separation has seemed to last an eternity. Every night, you fell asleep longing to be with him, and every phone call, every text message seemed so inadequate to express how much you missed him. You’ve found yourself craving a time when the two of you will be able to spend every evening this way, wrapped in each other’s arms and unworried about anything else in the world.

Like this moment. He’s almost asleep, his cheek resting against the top of your head while you’re curled up in his arms. In these quiet moments, listening to his steady heartbeat and enjoying the abundant amount of heat he manages to give off at all times, you’re tempted to wonder how any life could be this sweet.

The two of you have been good for each other in more ways than one. With you in his life, Colt has started showing more caution in the stunts he performs. He’s still the same fearless daredevil he’s always been, but now he takes a few extra minutes to make doubly sure he’s safe when he leaps off a building or dives straight into a pool of dark water. It’s amazing how a person starts caring about themselves a little more when they know someone else cares for them.

Colt isn’t the only one changed, either. Before, you never thought twice about staying awake for three days straight to finish an elaborate set piece, or going without meals for a full day, or obsessing over a job almost to the point of a nervous breakdown. Colt has made it his mission in life to check on you throughout the day and make sure you’re taking care of yourself, and somehow you’ve made it a habit, too.

With your head tucked under his chin, you feel Colt stir slightly out of his sleep. You start to shift away to give him more room to stretch out, but he just wraps his arms around you tighter and smiles down at you.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

Your heart swells with gratitude at his simple ways of saying I love you. “I missed you, too,” you reply, reaching up a hand to thread through his hair. He sighs and closes his eyes at your touch.

“So, what are we going to do with our two weeks off?”

You hum in answer to his question, pretending to think it over. “Actually, I was thinking about just getting a ton of work done in advance,” you tease him, grinning at the way his face warms into a smile. “Just locking myself in my studio, working all hours of the night…”

“That’s fine,” Colt tells you mildly, reaching one hand up to stroke down your arm. “I was actually planning to work, too. Your car is seriously lacking in scratches and dents. I thought I might borrow it to practice for a car chase through the neighborhood.”

You lean forward to press a kiss against his shoulder. “While you’re doing that, I could repaint your truck with some psychedelic decals.”

“I could also work on smashing through windows in the living room.”

“At least put down a tarp first,” you instruct him, your kisses gradually working up his shoulder to his neck.

Colt grins and tilts your head up with his fingertips. Your lips meet in a sweet, unhurried kiss that makes shivers travel the length of your spine. Even after all the kisses you’ve shared, the feeling never grows old for you. His lips are soft, gentle against yours, his arms holding you close to his chest.

“I don’t care what we do,” Colt whispers against your cheek. “As long as we have the chance to do this anytime we want to.”

You smile and nod in agreement, relaxing into his arms and letting your head fall onto his shoulder. The rain continues to fall steadily outside, the soft lamplight cascading through the windows and casting a golden shade over Colt’s skin. The contentment and warmth of this moment envelopes you, but something still tugs at the back of your mind.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask softly, wondering if Colt is still awake to hear you. “Being apart so often for so long?”

Colt senses the hesitation in your voice and lifts his head to look down into your eyes. “Does it bother you?” he asks. You’re touched by how serious he sounds.

“Not terribly,” you answer honestly, not wanting to sound as forlorn as you’ve felt the last few weeks. “It’s hard sometimes, but it makes catching up even more fun.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Colt smiles. He doesn’t ignore your question, though, and he pushes himself up so he’s sitting up straight beside you, tugging you over so you can sit up on your knees and face him. He takes both your hands in his. “I don’t know how much longer,” he tells you. “Are you trying to say you’re ready for a change?”

“Not necessarily,” you say carefully, caught off guard by how serious he suddenly seems. “I don’t think either of us is ready for that. But to be honest, I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. Being able to see you every day, both of us coming back to the same place every night…” You hear the wistful note in your voice and try to curb it, not wanting Colt to feel any pressure from you.

But he finishes your sentence for you. “...spending evenings together like this instead of with a goodnight text across the country.”

You nod, realizing that Colt has been feeling exactly what you’ve been feeling. “No matter how much I love designing sets, I get so tired of sleeping in hotels and only seeing you on video calls.”

“I know,” he says, reaching up to comb some stray hairs behind your ear. “Me, too. I thought about it more this last trip than ever before.”

You beam a relieved smile at him, suddenly feeling like you’ve released a huge burden just by sharing your feelings with him and knowing he's been going through the same thing. “Maybe we should start thinking about a new arrangement,” you reply softly.

“Are you suggesting divorce?”

You laugh out loud at his serious tone, and Colt laughs with you as he pulls you into a hug. “You are so ridiculous,” you say through a grin. You give him a peck on the cheek, thinking the conversation is over now that you’ve gotten that worry off your chest, but Colt surprises you by disentangling from your arms and launching into another serious tone.

“What do you say to this,” Colt proposes. “One more job each, and then we think about going into business together?”

You sit bolt upright at that. “Going into business together?” you echo in surprise. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“What, you’ve never heard of married people going into business together?”

This is almost too much to process. “Colt, you’re a stuntman,” you remind him. “I’m a set designer. Those aren’t exactly compatible professions.”

“They could be very compatible if we started a joint venture as movie consultants,” he insists. His eyes are beaming with pride, and suddenly you realize that this isn’t a spur-of-the-moment suggestion from him. “That way, any company that hired us would put us on the same jobs, and we could each do our separate thing on the same sets. I could be a stunt consultant, and you’d be an art consultant. We could expand it as we needed to.”

Colt’s grin is infectious, and you impulsively reach out to frame his face in your hands. “Am I crazy, or does it sound like you’ve put some thought into this?” you ask in disbelief.

“I already told you, I missed you,” Colt shrugs. He takes your hands in his, then flips one over to kiss the inside of your wrist. But you’re not finished asking questions.

“What do you mean, ‘stunt consultant’? That sounds dangerously like you’re thinking about a career shift.”

“Not necessarily,” he continues, using his fingertips to trace the inside of your wrist now. “It’s more of a way I could pick the jobs I want instead of being Tom Ryder’s faithful shadow. Plus, I’d have the chance for more of a stunt coordinator job one day.”

You’re amazed at how much thought he has put into this idea, as well as how it so perfectly solves the problems you’ve been wrestling with for the last three weeks. “I thought you weren’t interested in climbing the ladder,” you counter with a smile.

“I never have been,” Colt admits, still swirling his fingertips over your inner forearm. “But if it means I have to be away from you all the time, I’m willing to take a little leap.”

“How long have you been thinking about all this?”

“Not long. I ran into Dan Tucker on this last set. He gave me the idea for the joint venture.”

“Remind me to send Dan a bouquet of flowers.”

Colt grins wide at that, and he leans forward to close the distance between you, pressing a gentle kiss into the corner of your mouth. “Does that mean you’re interested?” he murmurs.

“I might be,” you say, feeling your heartbeat speed up. “If I think I’d be compatible with my future business partner.”

“I can arrange for some compatibility exercises.”

You smile at his response, sliding your arms around his neck as he moves to pull you into his embrace again. “Will there be a fee for training?”

“No charge,” Colt mumbles against your jaw.

“Good benefits?”

“Lots and lots of benefits.” His lips are moving down to do something wicked to the skin of your neck, but you pause him briefly by lifting his head up to meet his gaze. His dark blue eyes are focused on you with the intensity that melts you every time you see it.

“Let’s do it,” you declare, hardly daring to believe that this perfect idea could become a reality. “I don’t know how, but let’s make it happen.”

Colt gives you a smile that seems to brighten the entire room. “You got it, da Vinci.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Believe me, it’s good to be home.”

Colt demonstrates his statement by pulling you into his arms and dipping you back so you’re laying across his lap. You laugh and pull him down to your level, resting one hand on the back of his neck while he kisses you. His kiss is gentle, almost mischievous somehow, as if he’s already planning his next move to surprise you.

“I suggest a two-week vacation right here,” you say breathlessly when he finally lifts his lips off yours. He kisses the tip of your nose as you continue, “I don’t care if we don��t do a single thing, as long as we’re together for all of it.”

“Mmmm, now you’re talking,” he tells you in the husky voice that always sends goosebumps over your skin. Another kiss, this one on your forehead. “But I bet we can think of lots of things to do.”

“You think?” you ask slyly, and your smirk prompts Colt to gather you up in his arms and stand, an impressive show of strength even from him. Your grin widens, and you capture his lips in a kiss that leaves you both heated and flushed. This is worth all of it, you think. All the lonely nights, all the uncertainty — it all fades in the heat of his gaze, this man you love with every fiber of your being.

“Definitely,” Colt replies against your lips, and you can feel his smile even through the words. “In fact, if we’re going into business together so soon, we’d better get started on those compatibility exercises right away.”

#what a joy to write a little closing for this story :D #fanfiction #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fanfiction #original #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #the five times colt seavers almost kisses you (and the one time he does)

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hungermakesmonsters · 11 days ago

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Devotion & Desire

Chapter Seven

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Forced claiming bites and very subtle allusions to SA (neither are graphically depicted), and some blood/injury mentions. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.4k

A/N : 😭😭 sorry this too so long. Also sorry for being terrible about replying to comment on last chapter, work has been kicking my ass.

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seven

There was a hollow place in his chest, carved out and left to fill with rot and decay. It had been there for as long as he’d been himself again, the space that used to be occupied by the Winter Soldier, by violence and bloodshed.

Little by little, he’d been trying to fill it, trying to become whole again.

And, for a brief moment, he’d dared to think it was working.

For a few sweet minutes, he thought that hollow inside him might be filled by you and the feelings you’d caused to grow inside of him.

It played over and over in his head; the moment he’d fucked up and ruined everything.

You’d looked so - fuck, he wasn’t even sure what the look was. Hurt. Angry. Betrayed. Scared. All the things he never wanted to make you feel, all the things that made the alpha in him feel sick. He was supposed to protect you, supposed to look after you, and what had he done instead?

He’d tried to claim you without consent. He’d tried to take more than you wanted to give.

That thought caused him nothing but pain of the worst kind, forcing him to realise that Bucky was no different from the Winter Soldier. They both hurt you and neither cared.

Only, that wasn’t entirely true. Bucky did care. Of course he did. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have felt so bad. But reality came a close second to his feelings of self loathing.

Not only had he tried to claim you - wanted to claim you - he’d then abandoned you. You were suffering through your heat and he’d just walked out and left you there. God only knew how you were coping on your own.

Fuck, he hated himself, but it wasn’t enough to make him return to the apartment for another two hours.

Something felt off the moment he stepped inside.

The bathroom door was open, so was the door leading to your room, but your scent seemed weaker than it should be and, before he even reached your bed and found it empty, Bucky knew that you were gone.

You’d run.

He knew that it was all his fault.

He moved back towards the door, already knowing it was too late to try and catch your scent, but he had to try. You were gone. Almost as if you’d never even been there to begin with.

In his panic, he called Sam, and the conversation that followed was a rushed garble of words that, ultimately, resulted in Sam telling Bucky that he’d be there in ten minutes, but Bucky wasn’t prepared to wait. He was going to head back to your apartment and look for you there.

Sam met him outside, already on the phone to Torres, trying to track you down after Bucky found your apartment empty.

Bucky felt like he was crawling out of his own skin, his chest tight with worry as he tried not to think about all the terrible things that could happen to an omega in heat out in the city on their own.

“Torres says a police report was filed outside your apartment building a couple of hours ago,” Sam relayed as Torres continued to speak on the other end of the call. “A taxi driver reported seeing the omega that he’d just dropped off being forced into the back of a car. The taxi driver confirmed picking her up outside the safehouse and that she was in heat.”

“Does he know what kind of car or the direction it went - anything?” Bucky asked.

A smile quickly grew on Sam’s lips.

“Even better, Torres is going through street cameras tracking where they took her...” Sam said, his attention returned to the call, listening as Torres worked. “You’re sure? Okay, great. I owe you one.”

“Well?” Bucky asked before Sam could even end the call.

“Gravesend, Brooklyn. There’s a warehouse. Torres is going to call back with more intel,” Sam answered, already moving towards his car.

“Fuck,” Bucky said, his voice a frustrated growl. “You got the suit?”

“Yeah, it’s in the car.”

“Get the fucking suit, Sam. I’ll meet you there.”

“You sure?”

“The longer she’s with him, the more time he has to hurt her,” Bucky said, already heading for his motorbike

“Should we call it in? Get back-up?” Sam asked.

“No. Not yet. We don’t know he’ll react.”

He started the engine and paused, watching as Sam pulled on his wings, waiting to see if the other man had any further questions.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Is what Sam chose to ask, reminding Bucky of that gnawing emptiness inside of him again.

Bucky didn’t answer, he simply put in his ear piece and peeled away from the curb.

Following the speed limit, he knew the drive could take almost an hour. But Bucky wasn’t going to follow the speed limit.

It wasn’t long before he saw Sam fly overhead and, despite his best efforts, there was no way of keeping up with the wingsuit while weaving through traffic. But the journey passed in a blur - twenty minutes of splitting his attention between other vehicles on the road and how he was going to apologise to you when he saw you again.

Sam tried to make conversation through the earpiece but Bucky wasn’t interested. He was single-minded in his need to rescue you and fix what he’d broken.

By the time he reached the warehouse, as directed by Sam, Torres had managed to give them a pretty good overview of how many ex-Hydra goons were inside and what hardware they had.

It wasn’t well set up, clearly you were the only reason they were even in New York. In some ways that made it better, but also so much worse. Rumlow wasn’t going to give you up without a fight. Add to that the fact that you were still in heat and Rumlow was an alpha obsessed with you...

“Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Sam’s voice broke through Bucky’s internal panic, almost causing him to flinch.

“Where’s your head, Bucky?”

“It’s right here.”

“Oh really? Then what did I just say?”

“You’ll drop in from the roof, I’ll sneak in from the back,” Bucky answered, hoping he hadn’t missed anything.

“Getting her out is the mission,” Sam said. “Dealing with Rumlow comes after.”

“Agreed.”

Before Sam could continue, Bucky started to move, knowing that they’d already wasted more than enough time. You’d been with Rumlow for over three hours and he knew that anything could have happened in that time. More than that, he knew you; he knew you were a fighter, that you liked to get under people’s skin, and he wasn’t sure how Rumlow would deal with that.

He jumped the fence with ease, landing with a cat-like grace, barely making a sound.

The sun was already starting to set and that made things a little easier for him. Bucky channelled years of training and muscle memory, slipping behind one guard and leaving him incapacitated. If Torres’s intel was right, that left another fifteen men, including Rumlow.

“I’m inside,” Sam said through the comms. “She’s definitely here, I can, uh, smell her.”

Bucky’s stomach knotted as he tightened his grip around the throat of a second goon until he went limp in his grasp.

All he could think about was getting to you, barely noticing anything or anyone that got in his way. He forced open the door and managed to drop another one of Rumlow’s men. It felt like he was losing himself, giving himself over to the part of him that was still the Winter Soldier. He didn’t care if he hurt anyone, didn’t care if he took it too far.

“Bucky, upstairs. I’ve found her, she’s not -”

The sound of gunfire echoed through the warehouse, the element of surprise finally wearing out. Bucky took off at a run, heading towards the stairs.

“She’s what, Sam?” He asked, worry filling his tone.

A goon appeared from a doorway, only to find a vibranium fist slammed into his chest, knocking him backwards and halfway through the room he’d been leaving. His other hand was already reaching to unholster his gun.

He headed up the stairs, onto the walkway, heading towards the sounds of fighting.

When a knife flew towards him, it was instinct alone that had Bucky catching it mere inches from his face.

“Good to see you again, Soldier.”

The voice caused the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck to stand and his features twisted into an angry snarl as Rumlow stepped out onto the walkway.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked in a barely contained growl, throwing the knife to the ground.

He took in the sight of Rumlow, his heart threatening to stop at the sight of blood on his shirt.

“She’s exactly where she’s supposed to be,” he answered.

Rumlow started to step forward, closing the distance and Bucky did likewise. Bucky lifted his gun, getting off a couple of shots but, in close quarters, it was easy for Rumlow to knock the gun from his hand.

Both men quickly threw fists, both hitting their mark. Bucky staggered back, momentarily shocked by the power behind Rumlows hit.

The gauntlets. They were making him stronger.

Rumlow needed a second to recover, but both were toe to toe again in a matter of seconds.

This time Bucky feinted, swinging his fist but changing to a knee at the last second, slamming Rumlow into the railing. Then came the punch, super soldier strength, forcing Rumlow to take a step back.

Rumlow retaliated, bringing his foot down against the side of Bucky’s knee, forcing him to stagger backwards to regain his balance. But, for Bucky pain was secondary, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for getting to you. He needed to save you.

He drove forward again, landing a blow to Rumlow’s kidney before grabbing his shirt and forcing him back against the railing, managing to lift him off his feet.

That was when it hit him, the cloying and sickly scent that was all over Rumlow - it was you, but not the you that Bucky knew. There was something wrong with the scent, something unpleasant, something sour. It reminded him of distress and despair, of pain and suffering.

“What did you do to her?” Bucky demanded.

Rumlow laughed. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.”

He took advantage of Bucky’s momentary lapse in concentration as he worried about you. Rumlow kicked out again, this time wheeling Bucky around so that he was the one pressed against the railing.

“Can’t believe you came all the way here for another alpha’s omega,” Rumlow grit out, reaching for another knife and driving it into Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky let out a grunt that was more anger than pain as he let go of any sense of restraint.

“She’s not yours.”

He pushed Rumlow backward before lifting him off his feet again and slamming him into the railing, over and over, ignoring the crack of bones and the rattling sound every time Rumlow gasped for breath. The other alpha went limp in his arms and Bucky lifted him, about to drop him over the side of the railing and to the ground thirty feet below.

“Bucky!”

Sam. It was Sam.

The voice pulled Bucky from his anger.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” Bucky dared to ask, the question catching even himself by surprise.

“I’ve got back-up on the way, they’ll take him to The Raft, he -”

“He doesn’t deserve that.” Bucky snapped, his eyes fixed on Rumlow’s face, on the blood bubbles that formed at the corners of his lips every time he tried to draw breath

“You’re right, he doesn’t,” Sam said. “But you don’t deserve to have his death on your conscience, and there’s an injured omega through there who needs you.”

It was all he needed to hear to let Rumlow go, letting him drop onto the walkway, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to move with the damage that Bucky had inflicted. In the distance he could already hear the sirens. Rumlow would pay for what he’d done, just not in the way that Bucky would have preferred.

But Bucky still didn’t know exactly what Rumlow had done, and that thought had him quickly moving past Sam, following the scent that was you but not you into a small room. Another scent soon filled his nose; the coppery tang of blood.

You looked so small, huddled in the corner of the room on a small camp bed, a bloodsoaked scrap of fabric pressed to your neck.

“Mouse?”

He was at your side in an instant, though you seemed unable to fully focus on him. Your lips parted but no words came out.

“Come on, I’m going to get you out of here,” he told you.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, ignoring the knife wound in his shoulder and the blood soaking through his shirt, quickly carrying you out of the room and out of the warehouse where the sirens were getting louder.

“It’s okay,” he told you, over and over, even though you’d lost consciousness at some point. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, mouse. I’m so sorry.”

“Bucky...” you managed in little more than a soft sob.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re safe, mouse. Just hold on to me.”

You did as he asked and wrapped your arm around him as tight as you could while keeping the cloth pressed to your neck.

For the second time that day, he lost himself to the blur of it all as you were quickly loaded into an ambulance and the EMTs started to work on you. They wouldn’t let him travel to the hospital with you, but Sam quickly made sure he was pushed into the back of a second ambulance to have his stab wound dealt with.

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

Your eyes opened and for the briefest moment, you felt nothing but relief; your heat was over and the pain in your abdomen was finally gone. But once your eyes started to focus and you realised where you were, you started to remember.

The monitor at your side started to beep wildly as you desperately tried to sit up.

Hospital.

You were in the hospital.

The cold, sterile smell filled your nose and it was almost enough to make you vomit.

There were hands on your shoulders and voices trying to settle you, but none of it got through to you. You wanted to sit up. Get up. Run.

The beeping seemed to get louder and more frantic. Your neck hurt as you tried to move and you found yourself clawing at the bandages, too panicked to remember what had happened to you. Breath caught in your chest as you struggled, desperate for freedom, desperate to escape the new hell that you’d found yourself in.

You heard someone say something about sedation and, after a few seconds, things started to get blurry and you quickly slipped into darkness.

The second time you woke the panic set in slower, your mind finally clear enough to think, to remember. You were in the hospital. You were safe.

Well, at least a little safer than you had been.

You’d never liked hospitals and the letters OEC painted on the walls did nothing to help settle you.

Months of your childhood had been lost in rooms like the one you currently found yourself, hours and days spent being made to feel weak. Broken.

When your hands dared lift to your neck again, it was gingerly and with the sort of hesitation that came from not knowing if you really wanted to know. Fingers brushed over gauze and bandaging and the slightest pressure had you wincing.

Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to fight back the memories that began to flood back. Brock had tried to claim you. He’d bitten you. Over and over, trying to force you to submit.

You wretched, only just managing to lean over the side of the bed in time, bringing up nothing but fluid. At some point someone else entered the room and there was soon a bucket held out for you until, finally, your stomach completely emptied itself.

The doctor helped you settle back in bed and quickly took your temperature.

“Your heat symptoms have finally abated,” she said, sounding quite happy about it.

“How - how long have I been here?” You asked, your voice raspy and dry.

“You were brought in two days ago,” she explained, pouring you a glass of water and handing it to you, “we had to operate immediately and, because of your heat, we had to keep you sedated yesterday to allow recovery.”

Operate? It was still so fuzzy, it was always harder to remember things that happened during your heats, but this felt like something else. It almost felt like you didn’t want to remember, like some part of you already knew that you were better off not remembering.

You took a slow drink before you spoke again, your throat feeling like it was full of sandpaper.

“What’s wrong with me?” You finally dared to ask, causing her to stop dead beside your bed. “What - what did he do to me?”

The doctor set you with an uncomfortable look which caused your stomach to coil and tie itself in knots. Bad news. It had to be bad news.

She took a breath while you tried to ignore the tears that were prickling at the corner of your eyes.

Not bad news. Awful news.

“When you were brought in, you’d suffered severe trauma after rejecting several forced claiming bites” she said slowly, gently. “There was extensive tissue damage around your throat and neck, particularly over your mating gland. The surgeons did everything they could, but they were unable to repair the damage that had been done to your gland and, ultimately, they had to remove it.”

She continued talking a little while longer but her words were nothing more than a static hiss in your ears as the memories started flooding back.

He’d tried to force a claim on you, over and over, his teeth at your neck, tearing at skin. You’d refused him, denied him. You remembered bleeding. You remembered the pain, begging him to stop.

(You remembered Bucky holding you, carrying you to safety.)

“My... gland?” You said. “It’s gone?”

“I -” she took a slight breath, “- I’m afraid so.”

“What does that - I mean, how can I -” you tried desperately to understand what you wanted to ask, to understand what had been done to you and how it was going to affect you going forward.

“There’s no easy way to put this,” again she hesitated for a beat, “without your mating gland, you will never be able to be claimed or mated.”

The words left you feeling numb, even though some part of you didn’t really understand why. You’d never wanted to be claimed, never wanted to mate. You’d always tried so hard to reject the omega side of you but, now, you felt broken.

“But,” the doctor continued, her tone perking up a little, as if she wanted you to know it wasn’t the end of the world, “you’ll still be able to have a normal life; you’ll have your heats, you’ll still be able to bear pups. Though you may find your scenting is affected...”

Again, your mind drifted away from what she was saying, watching as her lips moved but not hearing a single word. Soon enough your gaze was drifting away from her, looking at the wall, at that garish OEC sign, hating that you were there.

You hated everything in that moment, every little thing that had led you to that point in your life. It felt like everything was unravelling and you had no idea how to stop it.

Your eyes snapped back to the doctor in time to catch her question.

“The alpha who came in with you is still in the waiting room, would you like to see him?”

Still? He’d been sat out there for two days?

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

“You don’t have to stay,” Bucky said, for at least the fiftieth time that day.

Since being patched up and checked over, Bucky had remained in the hospital waiting room, only receiving the barest of updates about you. He knew that you’d been taking into surgery straight away and that you’d been taking into recovery a few hours later, and they’d told him that you’d been kept under sedation so your heat symptoms didn’t cause complications, but that was all.

He had no idea the extent of your injuries or how effective surgery had been.

Of course, he understood that he wasn’t next of kin, that he was really nothing to you, but it frustrated him no end not knowing if you were really okay.

Sam had been home to sleep, and he’d tried to get Bucky to do the same. But there was nothing that anyone could say or do to get Bucky to leave that chair. He wouldn’t leave you, not again.

(Never again.)

“How about I stay and you go get some rest?” Sam countered. “I can call you if anything happens?”

“No,” Bucky answered, not even considering it. “I’m not leaving her.”

“You’re going to be no good to her if you make yourself ill, Bucky,” Sam answered back. “Just because you’ve got that cyborg brain doesn’t mean you don’t need to rest.”

Normally he’d roll his eyes at Sam’s dumb jokes, maybe even say something pointed in response, but Bucky was tired. More than that, he was worried.

“This is my fault, Sam. I can’t just leave her.”

“It’s not your fault, Bucky. You’re not the one who hurt her and beating yourself up over it isn’t going to help anyone, least of all her.”

Bucky shook his head. “I fucked up, Sam. I lost control. I tried to claim her when she didn’t want it and that makes me no better than Rumlow.”

In the time that they had spent in the waiting room together, Bucky had explained rather loosely what had happened between you and him, but it was clear to Sam that there was so much more to it.

“You stopped when she told you to. Rumlow didn’t,” Sam stated. “That’s a big fucking difference, Bucky.”

“I left her - she was in the middle of her heat and I -”

“You did what you thought you had to do to keep her safe.”

“But she wasn’t safe, was she? If she’d been safe, none of this would have happened.”

Bucky got to his feet and started to pace, not sure what else he could do with all of his nervous pent-up energy. Sam let out a sigh, knowing that there was nothing that he could say or do to stop Bucky from spiralling right now. He needed time to work through it, but he wasn’t going to allow himself that time until he knew for certain that you were alright.

Sam just hoped that moment would come sooner rather than later.

“They’ve finished processing Rumlow at The Raft,” he decided to change the subject. “After all the shit he’s pulled, he’s never going to see daylight again.”

“It’s still more than he deserves.”

“You still pissed I stopped you from killing him?”

“Yes,” Bucky snapped before pausing a beat. “No.” Then; “I don’t know.”

“That’s not you, Bucky. You’re not that guy.”

Not a killer. Not the Winter Soldier.

(But would the Winter Soldier have let this happen to you? No. The Winter Soldier would have kept you safe.)

“Maybe I -” Bucky started and stopped as the door to the waiting room opened and your doctor stepped inside.

Sam got to his feet, moving to stand beside Bucky.

“She’s groggy, but she’s finally awake,” she said.

“How is she?” Bucky asked.

The doctor took a breath before answering, deciding how much she was able to share.

“She’ll live. Thanks to you two,” she answered. “She’s recovering from the surgery well and there were no complications. Though she is going to have to remain under observation for at least the next couple of days.”

“Can I see her?” Bucky asked.

“She -” the doctor hesitated, “- she’s refused all visitors.”

“No, I need to see her. I need -”

“I understand your frustrations, but ultimately it’s the patient's choice, and given that she’s here because of injuries inflicted by an alpha -”

“That’s why I need to make sure she’s okay,” Bucky tried again, not even trying to hide his frustration.

“Bucky...” Sam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You need to give her time. She’s been through a lot.”

“I just -” his eyes flitted to the doctor who didn’t look like she was doing to change his mind. “You’re right,” Bucky conceded, not wanting to think about what Rumlow might have done to you and how you must have been feeling.

It turned his stomach inside out to think that you were less than a hundred metres away and he couldn’t get to you. Bucky ached to hold you in his arms again, to apologise for fucking so much up. More than anything, he wanted to confess to you, to tell you that it had never been about biology. It had always been you. He wanted you.

The doctor took a beat, her eyes moving from Bucky to Sam and back again.

“Normally this would be the part where I call the police to report crimes committed against an omega but...” she trailed off, looking at Sam. “Is that necessary with Captain America here?”

“No,” Sam answered. “Everyone involved has already been dealt with.”

“Good, no alpha who’s capable of doing that to an omega in heat should be allowed to walk the streets,” the doctor said.

For a moment Bucky had to wonder just how much she’d seen in her time working in the OEC, and he found himself reminded of everything you’d said about being an omega. Finally, he was starting to understand what it was really like for you. And, more than anything, he wanted to change it.

“Could you tell her that I’m sorry?” Bucky asked. “Tell her that I’m sorry I fucked up.”

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

Sorry. What part was he sorry for?

You didn’t have the heart to ask the doctor to check for you and, besides that, you were certain she had more important things to be doing than playing messenger between you and Bucky. Whatever he had meant by the comment, you were sure he wasn’t sorry about what you wanted him to be sorry for. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

Bucky was an alpha.

Perhaps not the most traditional alpha, but you were almost certain that he had no idea why you’d run from him.

No, he wasn’t sorry about that, wasn’t sorry about reducing you to nothing more than a good little omega. He was sorry that you’d been hurt and, really, even you understood that wasn’t Bucky’s fault.

When the doctor delivered his message, she told you that he was still in the waiting room if you changed your mind and wanted to see him.

He was there the next day too.

And the next.

On more than one occasion you found yourself in tears, still devastated and reeling over what had been done to you. You almost broke, almost asked them to let Bucky in so that he could hold you and tell you that everything was going to be alright.

(It wasn’t. You already knew that it wasn’t.)

You mourned lost opportunities and things that might never have happened - things you’d never really wanted or expected in the first place.

So many times you’d wished not to be an omega and, now, it seemed like you weren’t even that.

And the real irony was Bucky, sitting out in the waiting room, not knowing that you’d been ruined, that you’d never belong to him now. You could already picture it, the pity in his eyes if he saw you again; the poor little omega.

The more time you were given to sit with your new reality, the worse you felt about it, the numbness of shock finally giving away and leaving you to feel the full extent of your trauma. You became despondent to the point that a psychiatrist was sent to assess you.

She asked about you, about your life, and about what had happened to you and, as you always did, you gave half the story and heard all of the things you expected to hear in response; it wasn’t your fault, you shouldn’t blame yourself.

You knew she was right, but knowing it and feeling it were two different things. It felt like it had been your fault. If you hadn’t let your guard down with Bucky, you would have stayed in the safehouse, you would have been able to finish your heat with him, and then you would have been able to leave, able to avoid Rumlow.

Instead you’d let yourself believe that there was something more than biology at play, you’d let yourself hope that he cared, that he saw you as more than just an omega. You’d allowed him the perfect opportunity to hurt you without him even realising it and all because you didn’t want to be a good little omega.

On the sixth day in the hospital, you were brought a bowl of Cookie Crunch cereal, the nurse telling you that the alpha in the waiting room had told him that it was your favourite. Whatever had been holding you together in that moment finally broke and you started to sob uncontrollably, hating that Bucky could care so much without knowing it was too late, and hating even more that he’d come to know you better than anyone had in years in just a few months.

He knew you.

He cared about you, in his own way.

And that just made your heart ache more, knowing that it was too late. Even if you could get over what had happened between you, why would Bucky ever want a damaged omega like you?

Still, every day you would ask if he was in the waiting room and it wasn’t until the eighth day that you were told that he’d left and hadn’t come back.

He’d finally given up on you.

It should have come as a relief knowing that he wasn’t still out there, hoping for a future that was impossible. He’d get over it, get over wanting to claim you, have you as his good little omega. And he deserved to because, as much as you might have hated him only a few weeks ago, you knew now that Bucky was a good man. A better man than you deserved.

You decided to leave the hospital that night, checking yourself out against the doctor's advice. You had no idea where you were going to go or what you were going to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t stay there, couldn’t keep wallowing in your own trauma and self-loathing. You wanted to push it all away and bury it down, just like the first time you’d escaped from Rumlow.

Your apartment was still paid up until the end of the month so, you supposed, that would be the best place to start, even if it meant trying to dodge Bucky while you found somewhere else to live.

It was late when you got home.

His scent lingered in the hallway and caused your legs to tremble beneath you, and your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze when you realised that your door had been repaired - someone had cared enough to make sure your apartment and your things were kept secure. It wasn’t something you expected and it made you think about what he’d told you, about how people cared.

You cast a longing glance at Bucky’s door, wondering if he was in there, if he was sleeping, if he was suffering through nightmares of finding you covered in blood. Part of you was desperate to go to him but you knew it was too late to say or do anything, too late to change anything. The time for talking had passed and none of it mattered anymore. You couldn’t be what Bucky wanted and he couldn’t give you what you needed.

If you were lucky, you’d be able to save you both the heartache of having to face each other again.

End Note : 😭 I can't believe this story is almost over. I think the next chapter will be the last. I don't know if it'll need an epilogue, but we'll see. Hopefully the next/last chapter will be up by the end of November (it should be quicker to write that this one, I'm just hella bad/slow at writing action). Also I'm really tired so so I'm sorry if any dumb typos slipped through

As always, reblogs/comments/likes/asks are always appreciated. Thanks so much for reading, hope you have a great day!

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